Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Author's note: Before I say anything else, some of you may be wondering about one of the reviews....I was logged in under my own name, and my cousin wanted to read one of my stories. She decided to review it, and, er...well, I have a signed review from "myself". I do not review my own stories, just so you know. Why should I? You wonderful people do a good job of it, yourselves.

Speaking of which, thanks for all the reviews! I apologize for the delay in posting this. Several things came up immediately after I returned home, including a family reunion I'd not been told about and several urgent essays that needed composing, and then the site was down, and then my computer wouldn't let me online for some reason.... Bleargh. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!

I apologize for the state of mind I was in when I wrote this.

Chapter Seven: Expecto Patronum

The cold air had suddenly become colder, but that wasn't why James found himself shivering as he stared up at the island, which was completely covered in the smooth gray stone walls. There was nothing that could accurately be called a window--just small slits in the rock every few yards, obviously used for ventilation--except at the very top of the tower that extended above everything else, where a light flickered faintly and James could just see someone moving about inside. He looked up and down the rocky coastline and saw only rocks and sand, until a patch of clear land caught his eye. A few patches of scraggly grass clung to life on the bare earth, but the things that made him start in surprise and horror were the small, regular stones, perfectly rectangular, that were set at intervals onto the ground. James shuddered instinctively and turned back to look at Lacke and the other guards.

Lacke moved in front of the rest, wand held in one hand. He walked quickly up to the stone wall, touched his wand to it, muttered something unintelligible, and then there was silence, but for the crashing of the waves and the wailing wind. Even these seemed strangely remote and detached from the scene in front of him. Suddenly, a narrow crack began to form around the point where the wand touched the stone. It spread vertically until it was nearly ten feet long, and then the narrow opening widened. There was a rumbling sound, as of hidden machinery (which James knew didn't exist). The rumbling grew louder and finally died away again, and before them was an enormous black doorway that seemed to radiate cold, leading into the heart of the fortress.

Lacke turned to them. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and very controlled, barely audible over the wind and waves. "Follow me, all of you, and stay together. Lumos." He glanced in passing at Dumbledore and Prewett--the intensity of his gaze was obviously meant to convey some meaning, but James didn't know what--and walked swiftly, lighted wand held out in front of him, into the blackness.

He stepped forward. The other guards waited until all of the rest had entered before coming in themselves. One of them must have closed the door behind them, because the same sound of hidden machinery came from behind them, and all the light disappeared. The only exceptions were the guards' wands, each of which gave off a steady glow, illuminating the corridor they had just entered, and the dancing flames of two torches mounted on the walls.

The walls, floors, and ceilings were as smooth as the fortress had been on the outside. They were walking along an otherwise empty corridor. Peering ahead, James could just see the end of the corridor where it opened into a larger room, dimly lit with more of the torches that were mounted every thirty yards or so along the walls. He risked a glance behind them and saw only blackness.

He'd fallen in place behind Gregoram and McGonagall, both of whom were talking in low voices. Dumbledore was on his left side, wand held out in front of him (lighted, as the guards' wands were) with a grave face. He seemed lost in thought. Sirius and Peter were on his right, both silent and staring forward. Lily and Remus were somewhere in the back of the group. McCaffrey appeared suddenly just behind him on the left.

"Potter--feeling confident?"

"Not really." Honesty seemed a better course than unnecessary bravado, and he did feel rather queasy.

McCaffrey nodded. "I've only been here a few times myself, and you never quite get used to it. Nothing to be ashamed of, Potter." His voice was much quieter than usual--barely more than a whisper. Still, it and the other low voices echoed oddly in the air, trailing away down the corridor to the larger chamber Lacke had mentioned. "How are all of you coming along with the Patronus charm?"

"Remus is the best at it, but Sirius and I can manage pretty well. They've started to take on shapes, but I still can't tell what mine is. I don't know how Lily and Peter are managing."

McCaffrey seemed about to reply, but they had reached the central chamber. It was a large, circular room, with enough torches to light it brighter than the corridor had been. Well over a dozen openings branched off in other corridors. Fifteen men and women, dressed in the same gray robes as the guards, were seated or standing in the center, where wooden chairs had been set up in rows. They looked up as Lacke raised an arm in greeting.

"These are some of the other guards," he explained in an undertone as they neared the group. "There usually aren't as many here, because it's usually swarming with dementors, but we've called more in for the emergency."

A tall woman with dark gray hair--the same shade as her robes--stood up from where she had been seated. She moved toward the group quickly and spoke in a clear, precise voice that reminded James slightly of Crouch. "I'm glad to see that you have arrived. Some of the dementors are still here. We now have the situation mostly under control, but you need to be careful. In groups of four or five, plus one of the guards, you are to make a careful search through the fortress. Bring any of the prisoners, unharmed, if at all possible, back here to the main chamber. Remember that any dementors you meet are as likely to be dangerous as not. Follow any instructions the guards give you. Above all, stay with your group at all times."

She turned and spoke in a low voice to Lacke for a moment, then nodded and indicated that they should break into their groups. James soon found himself together with Lily, Remus, McCaffrey, Gregoram, and the tall, gray-haired guard who had just spoken to them. She identified herself as Artemia Quirrell, the head guard at Azkaban. "We will begin with the east corridors," she told them as they left the chamber for the dark, cold hallways. "Remember to stay together. You all know how to cast the Patronus charm, but some are more adept than others. Take this into consideration whenever you approach any of the dementors. Follow me, all of you." She swept imperiously across the stone ground, quickly enough that James and the others had to lengthen their strides to keep up. He couldn't see the others' faces that well, except for Lily's. She was walking next to him, looking very pale, but she gave him an encouraging (if quavery) smile when he caught her eye. He glanced back at the central chamber, where the other groups had formed and were also leaving. Sirius and Peter were together--it looked as though Sirius was torn between apprehension at disgust at finding himself in Snape's group.

They turned a corner and were swallowed by cold and darkness, the central chamber no longer in sight. There were barred doors, now, that lined the walls. James could just see inside the grates--the cells were bare and empty.

"Miss Quirrell?"

She turned her head sharply to look at him, slowing her walk slightly. "Yes? It's Mrs., by the way, Potter. You are Dorian's son, aren't you?"

"Er, yes. I am. I was just wondering--where are all the prisoners? The ones who were left behind, I mean."

Miss Quirrell regarded him with a stony glare that appeared more habitual than expressive of disproval. "They have been temporarily removed from the island. The Ministry has them all in custody--I am not at liberty to disclose the details of their current location." She turned back to staring down the corridor.

James felt hesitant about continuing the conversation, but he couldn't help it.

"Did you know my dad?"

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile that softened that hard face. "You wouldn't remember me, would you? He was my younger brother. I remember seeing you once or twice before I got married. Mr. Quirrell and I moved to the island you stopped at--we don't have much contact with the outside world. I really haven't bothered to keep in touch with your mother."

"Is your husband a guard too?"

She nodded. "He's at home now, though, with our son--we moved away from the island once Malcolm was born. Fortunately, we were all at our own home last night."

James lapsed into silence again as they turned another corner and continued in that direction. After several more minutes of walking, the sounds of their footsteps accompanied only by the quick, unsteady breathing of his companions, the air seemed to change, and he saw that, though there were several torches in the tiny circle of light created by their wands, they were unlit. The cold was not simply a lack of heat, here, it was a lack of everything positive, a sucking at his soul that robbed him of breath and any confidence he might have had.

Mrs. Quirrell slowed and stopped, but James, who was at the head of their party along with her, jerked to a halt. Lily, directly behind him, gasped as they collided, and then the rest of the group halted. James regained his breath and peered intently into the darkness, trying to make out whatever lay ahead, holding his wand out in front of him. Behind him, he heard Remus whisper, "Lumos magnus!" One of the pinpricks of light intensified to form a longer beam and widened until it threw the figures, no more than twenty meters down the corridor, into sharp relief.

There were four of them--tall, black-robed figures, that seemed to glide rather than walk over the bare stone. As they came closer, the cold intensified. Quirrell raised one arm.

"Come no closer," she called authoritatively. The figures paused and seemed to consider the five of them. Quirrell lowered her voice. "They may be no threat, but I do not want to take any chances. Wands at the ready, all of you."

The dementors--for that, James was certain, was what they were--had apparently made up their minds. They moved forward again, and there seemed a definite purpose in their steady glide. Quirrell exhaled sharply. "You three first. Vincent and I will take over if need be."

James closed his eyes and concentrated. His thoughts flew unerringly to the final Quidditch match of his seventh year--the championship game Gryffindor had won, and the elation he'd felt afterward. "Expecto Patronum!" He heard Remus and Lily repeating the incantation behind him, and opened his eyes to see Remus' beam disappear, replaced by iridescent strands of gray smoke.

"Expecto Patronum...." The dementors were closer, now, and it was getting harder to concentrate. He continued repeating the spell under his breath, and the wispy gray cloud began to solidify. Lily's voice continued to gasp out the incantation, but Remus had fallen silent. James was beginning to panic, even though he knew that Quirrell and Gregoram were ready to take over if it was necessary. Just then, he heard a sharp breath being drawn in from one of the people behind him, and Remus' voice bellowed the words out with an authority James had never heard before.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silver shape exploded past James on his right, and he made out four legs and a bushy tail as it charged, head on, for the dementors. He felt the cold evaporating, and his confidence grew. "Expecto Patronum!" His wispy cloud suddenly drew itself together and burst forward, just as a third Patronus leapt into view. The dementors fell back, but he scarcely noticed--he was staring at the silvery figure that had come from his wand. It had the legs, back, and tail of a horse, but a man's torso was set on the shoulders--a centaur, with windblown hair and a clear gaze. It turned its head back toward him, coming to a stop, and a smile touched its lips just before the figure evaporated into smoke.

It wasn't until then that he realized that the dementors were gone, having retreated into the shadows, and the torches were alight again. James turned around slowly to face the others. Lily was still staring after the dementors, but she turned her eyes to him and smiled. Remus was white-faced but quite obviously exhilarated.

"Excellent." That came from Gregoram, who was watching the three of them with a slight smile and a gleam in his eye. "You've all done extraordinarily well."

Quirrell, too, seemed more than approving. "I have no hesitation in saying that that was the best performance by a group of such young people that I have ever seen. I am impressed." She gave them a moment for this to sink in, then set off down the corridor again.

Lily fell into step between James and Remus. "I've never gotten a Patronus that clear before. What were yours?"

"Mine was a centaur. I don't quite know what that means...I've never met one."

Remus bit his lip thoughtfully. "It must have some sort of significance, though. Moody says each one is unique, and they relate to the person who casts them." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Mine was a wolf."

Lily reached out to squeeze his hand, whether in comfort, support, or approval, James wasn't sure. "Mine was some sort of bird, I think, but I'm not sure. I couldn't see clearly; it all happened so quickly."

James nodded. He wasn't feeling quite as apprehensive, anymore--he knew he could do this now. On the other hand, that didn't make the reason they were there any more enjoyable.

Despite their successes, everyone was only too happy to leave. Peter was very depressed, and not only because of the dementors. "His Patronus wouldn't form," Sirius told James in an undertone while they were on the boat, headed back towards the island. "Dumbledore was amazing, though," he went on, with considerably more enthusiasm. "He didn't even shout, and this enormous phoenix just exploded out of his wand...I didn't get it perfect at first, but I think I know what mine is--a hippogriff. Remember doing them in Care of Magical Creatures?"

"What do you think yours means?" Lily asked, clutching James' shoulder as the boat lurched violently.

"No idea, what about you?"

"I still haven't figured out exactly what mine was. James ended up with a centaur, and he says he doesn't know what that's supposed to mean either."

She smiled at him, bright green eyes close to his face (they were packed together tightly on the narrow benches), and everything he had been about to say died on his tongue. "What are you doing Wednesday night?"

She looked as startled as he did. Where had that come from?

"Er, I don't think I'm doing anything...."

"How about dinner again? I mean, Mum won't be home and I'm not much of a cook, but I could pick you up around seven and we'd go somewhere to eat...."

Lily stared at him, and then slowly smiled again. "I'd like that."

Sirius gave Remus and Peter a particularly evil grin.

********

Somebody was pounding on the door. Remus tried unsuccessfully to force one eyelid open. He gave up in a matter of seconds and rolled over.

"Remus, can you here me in there?" He let out a muted groan--it felt as though his head was about to split open.

"Moony!"

"Mmm." Whatever he was lying on was extremely hard and uncomfortable, but that didn't seem a good enough excuse to move.

"Alohomora!"

Somebody kicked at the door in frustration. Remus sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot across his back, and frowned.

"Remus Jefferson Lupin, if you don't come out of that cellar this instant, I'm going to break the door down!"

He stood up quickly and threw the robe, hanging high on a hook near the door, over his head, reaching for the wand in his pocket. He pointed it at the door. "Delio." The cellar door swung open to reveal Sirius, dressed not in robes but in a leather jacket and Muggle blue jeans, with one arm raised.

"My middle name isn't Jefferson."

Sirius shrugged, grinning at him. "Wild guess. What is it?"

"As if I'd tell you! What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you didn't tear yourself to bits last night, that's what. I was getting worried--your parents must have left early, and I couldn't figure out what spell you used last night to lock the door. But I told you yesterday, didn't I? You said you don't like to apparate the morning after the full moon, so I said I'd drop by and give you a ride."

Remus nodded. "I forgot. What time is it?"

"About ten to nine."

"What?" He pushed past Sirius, running up the stairs to the main floor. "We'll never get there in time, Sirius, and I'm not ready!"

"Take it easy. I've been late at least once a week. All Moody ever does now is roll his eyes and glare at me."

He didn't bother to answer, and fled instead to his bedroom, where he threw open the closet and started trying to find something clean.

"You'd better wear Muggle clothes," Sirius called from the sitting room. "I've tried riding my bike with robes on, and it just doesn't work."

Remus froze, a shirt pulled (backwards) over his head. "Your bike? You can't be serious."

"I am. In both senses of the word."

"Not funny. Sirius, I'm still not sure that thing's entirely legal."

"Neither am I. You'd have to ask Peter. Nobody from the Ministry's complained yet."

He emerged into the sitting room, pulling one shoe on and hopping on the other foot; the muscles in his legs protested loudly. "Ready?" Sirius asked.

"Just a minute." He'd learned a few useful spells for getting ready in the morning--using those, it only took another second or two to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair. Following Sirius out the front door, he caught sight of the motorbike parked in the street, and his stomach shriveled up. "Sirius?" he asked faintly. "You don't happen to have an extra helmet, do you?"

Sirius gave him an affronted look. "Don't worry, Moony. I'm not that bad of a driver. Forget about the helmets, just hang on tight." He straddled the bike and tapped the ignition with his wand, leaving Remus to clamber on behind him. The machine roared to life, vibrating oddly beneath them. "We're running late, but I've fixed this up with a nice Muggle repelling charm...kind of like the Knight Bus. They won't even notice us."

"What are you going to do?" He jerked backwards (grabbing onto Sirius' shoulders to keep from toppling over the back of the seat) as the bike began moving down the street.

"Just wait a minute...." When they got to the first intersection, the roaring noise changed subtly, and to Remus' horror, the motorbike rose several inches into the air.

"Padfoot...."

"Don't worry, I told you!" Sirius shouted over the noise. "It's perfectly safe. I haven't crashed yet. Well, except for the time...."

"Never mind."

By now they were well into the air, and Sirius adjusted their course so they were headed straight for downtown London. "Brace yourself!" The warning came only an instant before they were moving through the air at a considerable pace, Remus only just managing to hang on.

"Wonderful feeling, isn't it?"

He could sort of see what Sirius meant. It was a clear, sunny day, and the air up there was pleasantly cool, but Remus was sore and beginning to feel ill, and he couldn't forget his position in relationship to the now receding ground below them.

Scarcely ten minutes later, they came to a bumpy stop directly in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "Come on," Sirius said cheerfully. "I usually park out back."

Glancing at his watch (and trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation in his stomach), Remus was informed that they were now five minutes late. He groaned inwardly and followed Sirius through the archway into Diagon Alley, at a jog through the streets, and into the building where they regularly had their classes.

"Late again, Mr. Black?" the secretary called cheerfully. Sirius waved at her and hurried down the stairs, throwing the door open for them to go in. They both were only a few steps into the room before Sirius stopped with a funny sort of gulp, staring at the man who was regarding them sternly while standing in the front of the classroom. Remus followed suit. It was not Moody.

Crouch pursed his lips, looking them up and down critically. He paused over Sirius' leather jacket and Remus' now thoroughly untidy hair. "Mr. Black," he said shortly. "Lupin. Thank you for deigning to join us. Please take your seats."

Remus could feel all eyes on them as they made their way to their respective chairs. This was not good. James and Frank gave them each hesitant smiles as they sat down, but Remus didn't feel much better. What was Crouch doing here? Moody was sitting in a chair to one side, just as he had been the day they'd started on the Imperius curse.

"As I was saying," Crouch said in an irritated but tightly controlled voice, "you have each been taught to throw off the Imperius curse, though few of you can manage it perfectly. This will come eventually." He sounded as though eventually had better, for their sakes, be sooner than later. "You have also begun to master the use of the Imperius curse. Most of you are doing fairly well. This will also come with time. Rather than continue to spend all of our class time on that, we will move on to the next curse--Cruciatus. Before we even begin to practice this on spiders, it is imperative that you understand exactly what you are doing to the subject of your curse. This is not something you can go into without knowing every side of it. We will proceed as you did with Imperius; one at a time, you will each come up to the front of the classroom and be exposed to the spell."

Even Lockhart was perfectly silent--indeed, he looked as though he'd never be able to talk again. Moody was watching Crouch, face completely devoid of expression. Crouch cleared his throat. "Abressley. You first." Megan stood up from her chair in the front row and walked slowly forward. Her face was white and she cast a quick, pleading glance back at the rest of them. Crouch waved his wand at the door and said a few quick words that Remus recognized as a spell to cast a soundproof barrier around the room.

"Crucio."

Megan doubled up immediately, clutching at her stomach and trying unsuccessfully to stay on her feet. Her agonized screams rang in Remus' ears, and he wished that, somehow, he could get away from the sound. Her eyes were squeezed tight, and drops of liquid--was it perspiration, or tears?--ran down her face. Crouch stood over her impassively, and Moody was on his feet now as well. As the screams reached their pitch, Crouch suddenly raised his wand and Megan collapsed limply to the floor.

No one moved for a full second, and then Moody started forward, bent over Megan, and helped her to her feet and back to her chair. He took out his wand and was about to do something to her--Remus assumed he intended to relieve the pain--but Crouch caught the Auror's eye and shook his head. "There will be pain, and you will deal with it. An Auror's life is not easy. If you cannot be trusted to handle both physical and emotional suffering without a fuss, pick yourself up, and start over again, you will not be able to last. This is the first of many tests for each of you. Black, you are next."

And so it continued. Remus was unable to stand watching Sirius be tortured, and instead he fixed his gaze on the clock above Crouch's head and tried to imagine that the screams didn't exist. After returning to his desk, Sirius sat in silence with his head in his hands and didn't look around at anyone. One by one, row by row, Remus watched his Crouch torture his classmates.

When Lockhart had been deposited (shaking and moaning under his breath) in his chair and Frank Longbottom had returned to his seat, Crouch's gaze moved next to him, to Remus.

"Lupin, come here."

In a daze, he stood and walked down the aisle to stand in front of Crouch, who met his gaze evenly.

"Crucio."

As he lay on the floor, gasping for breath in between screams of pain, the part of his mind that was drifting apart from everything else registered that he was experiencing a strange sort of deja vu. Though he'd never felt a torment this intense, it had a familiar, alarming feel to it--particularly the fact that it all seemed to be centered about the old scar high on his left shoulder. He cast about for a connection (all the while, thrashing about on the floor in agony) and suddenly one burst into his mind as he put together the sensations he felt now and the conversation he'd had with Gregoram not too long ago, just as he felt the all-too familiar stretching and tearing of his limbs, the elongating of the teeth, the narrowing of his head and the way his jaw was pulling outwards from the rest of his face....

"Barty! Stop!"

Moody's voice, he thought dimly, and knew that Crouch had released him. It occurred to him to be terrified, but he didn't have the strength. He felt the bristly hair that had started to push itself out of his skin along his jaw and cheekbones recede, and all the while his scar burned as though it was on fire. He could hear screams and knew that they weren't his own; forcing his eyes open, Remus saw the class standing and pushing to get as far back from him as they could, all but Sirius and James, who were both standing over him with Moody and Crouch. The Auror had something in his hand; he saw a glint of silver and closed his eyes again.

Moody had him by the shoulders, and he was sitting up now. Reaching up to touch his face, his fingers found it smooth and human again, and he looked up at the Auror, who had his wand out and was raising it over his head. Remus braced himself with another thrill of fear and, to his astonishment, felt the aches disappear and his head clear. Moody looked daggers at Crouch.

"I think you'll agree, Barty, that some assistance might be wise in this case. Relax, son. We've got it under control."

Sirius and James were watching him nervously, as though trying their best to resist the urge to transform. "Come on, son. You two, give me a hand." Together, the two of them and Moody hauled Remus to his feet. He had a last glimpse of the terrified faces of his classmates before they were on the stairs leading to the main floor.

"Moony? You all right?"

He nodded, and it was mostly true. The physical effects of the spell were fast wearing off, but he was relieved to sink into the chair Moody pulled from the secretary's desk. He wondered dully where she had gone.

"It's all right, son. It wasn't your fault, and there's no harm done."

"What was that you had in your hands?"

Moody pulled something from his robes--a short knife, with a polished and obviously sharp blade. It shone brightly of silver. "A dagger, made of magically hardened silver. An Auror's tool. I usually carry one with me, along with a few other things." He must have seen the horror in Remus' eyes, because he shook his head and continued, "Most people think the only way to kill a werewolf is with silver, but there are other methods. I don't use those if I can help it, and then only in self defense. That's what this is for. It's a preventive measure, not to harm the wolf, but to keep a victim from becoming one."

Remus stared up at him, and James said hotly, "There's no way to do that. Once you're bitten, you're a wolf."

"I've seen it done. Few people know about this, and in some cases it's fatal, but if the bite is on the end of a limb, such as the hand or the foot, you can cut it off--with this--before it's had time to spread. Not pleasant, but better than the alternative."

"So how did it happen?" Sirius broke in. "The curse isn't supposed to have side effects like that, is it?"

"We don't know much about why the Unforgivable Curses were made," Remus said heavily. "One of the reasons Avada Kedavra was used, though, was because there aren't many spells that can harm werewolves during the full moon. That was one of the few, and in the periodic slaughters we read about in History of Magic...at least, those us who were paying attention..." Sirius had apparently recovered enough to look abashed. "Many people were killed who weren't werewolves. I think that's why the Cruciatus curse was invented--to simulate the effects of the full moon."

"That's enough talk," Moody told him gruffly. "You don't feel up to going back down there, do you?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine." He'd have to face Crouch and his classmates sooner or later. It might as well be now.

********

The mansion was quiet, all its occupants having long since gone to sleep, and it stood, pristine and impressive, on top of a gently sloping hill topped by trees. The leaves rustled in a light breeze, the only sound except for the quiet footsteps of the dozen or so black robed figures moving up the path. One held out a hand, indicating that the others needed to stop, and went on alone until he had reached the door and opened it. He waited a moment as the warding spells deactivated, then nodded to the rest, and they joined him. Only two remained outside, well outside the warded area, watching the surrounding hillside attentively. There were no other houses in sight, so their eyes swept only over the road stretching off in two directions. There was a cry from the house, muffled and quickly silenced, that caused them to start and look around in alarm, but they quickly calmed down once no other sounds reached their ears. Just as they were beginning to shift around in impatience, the door opened again, and their companions stepped out into the night.

"All finished?"

They nodded. "It was a quick job," said the one who had first approached the house. "They were all asleep."

"There's nothing left to be done here, we should go."

He shook his head. "One more thing." One arm was raised, a wand in his outstretched hand, and he muttered something under his breath.

The figures walked swiftly down to the road before apparating away, their shadows dancing wildly in the eerie light of the nearly full moon and the sign that now hung in the sky.

********

"Albus!"

Dumbledore swiveled around in his chair, setting his quill down on the letter he'd been composing. Barty Crouch stood in the doorway, breathing heavily and looking less self-possessed than Albus had ever seen him. Something had to have happened.

"Barty. Good morning. What is the matter?"

"Albus, Jonathan Prewett didn't show up for work this morning. I tried sending an owl and using the fireplace, but nobody answered, so I sent one of the junior workers down to see if he could find Jonathan. He's dead, Albus. All of the Prewetts--murdered in their beds last night, and the Dark Mark hanging in the sky above the house."