Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns it all. Yes, indeedy do. She shure does. *nods wisely*

"Minerva, are you quite all right?" Dumbledore asked, turning his head slightly to look at Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall waved her hand absently. "Yes, Albus, I'm fine. I'm fine. Just a little out of breath."

Dumbledore's eyes were still concerned. "You took quite a hit," he said slowly.

"And gave one right back," McGonagall said fiercely. She swiped her hand over her soot blackened cheek and grimaced.

Dumbledore smiled wryly. "Yes, indeed you did, Minerva. I thought turning that one into a bush was an inspired idea. A prickly pear bush, no less. Very fitting."

McGonagall preened slightly. "Yes, I thought so myself, Albus." Then she looked up as several other weary and battle-marked people walked into the room. Hermione and Draco shared a resigned glance within the cupboard. How do we always manage to get into these situations? Hermione wondered with a mental sigh.

A lean man with a shock of white hair and features as young as a teenager's closed the door behind him. "All present and accounted for?" he said wearily, and there was a chorus of weary murmurs from those assembled.

He sighed in relief and then slumped into his own seat. "Twenty Deatheaters, Dumbledore. Why the hell were they so close to Hogwarts? Voldemort wasn't even with them. I don't think they'd try a siege on Hogwarts if their leader wasn't around."

"I don't think they were trying to lay siege to Hogwarts, Justin," Dumbledore said, and to her surprise, Hermione heard a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

A woman in black robes with black hair cut in a smooth bob spoke up. There was a slash of charcoal on her cheek marking that she had also been in the battle. "Then why would they even venture into the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore? There's nothing in there except wild creatures."

"There is a great deal more in there than 'wild creatures', Arnora," Dumbledore said sadly. "But most of those things have been forgotten. In most cases, that's a good thing. Some of the objects hidden within the Forbidden Forest should remain hidden. But some of them--some of them were once objects of great power."

"Things of evil," Arnora nodded, but looked surprised when Dumbledore shook his head.

"Power isn't inherently evil or good, Arnora. The power is just there--the intent and the use lies with the wielder."

"So basically, the big bad stuff in the Forest is just lying around, and if Voldemort finds it then we're screwed." This was from another witch with a sharp featured face, and eyes that darted everywhere.

This time it was McGonagall who spoke up. "None of the things--whether important or no--are just lying around the Forbidden Forest. There have been guards and wards placed on these items. They're not just waiting for someone to pick them up and use them."

"So are we going to go out and find one these things and use it against them?" snapped a red-haired man who had been slouched in the corner, his blue eyes brooding.

Within the confines of the closet, Hermione's fingers dug into Draco's arm and she muffled her gasp.

Dumbledore shook his head. "The risks are much too great, Bill. I don't even know that I could acquire one of these items," he admitted.

"So why are we worrying about it?" Bill snapped. "Two great Aurors just died. Why are we worrying about items that nobody can get to?"

"I didn't say no one could get to them," Dumbledore said quietly. "And no one's forgotten about Cassie and Kevin, Bill."

"Well it sure as hell seems like it," Bill said furiously.

"They knew the risks, Bill," Arnora said softly. "They knew what they were getting into."

"Yeah, well I didn't," Bill shouted. "I didn't think I was going to lose people, Arnora. What if tomorrow it's you that falls at my feet? You that I fail to save?"

Arnora's eyes were compassionate and filled with tears. She rose and went to stand close to Bill. "I don't need you to save me, Bill," she said softly. "They didn't need you to save them. You did what you were supposed to."

"I was supposed to help people," Bill said jerkily. "Protect people. It's in the job description."

Hesitantly, Arnora's hand reached out and touched Bill's bright red hair. "And so is following orders, honey. We went there to stop the Deatheaters from coming any closer to Hogwarts. That's what we did. Nobody blames you."

"I do," Bill said roughly. "Oh Merlin, I do."

A single glittering tear slid over Arnora's cheek as she knelt beside Bill and pulled him into her arms. He stiffened for a moment as if he would push her away, then his body shuddered in her arms as if he wept. But his eyes stayed dry. Dry and burning with such grief that Hermione felt tears wet her own cheeks. Her hand found Draco's and gripped tight.

The other witches and wizards in the room looked down at their respective desks, and Hermione saw a few surreptiously swipe away tears. Dumbledore's voice was tight with emotion when he spoke. "No one's forgotten, Bill," he said simply. Bill didn't answer, just stayed within the circle of Arnora's arms and wept tears that never fell.

Finally Arnora looked up at Dumbledore, her eyes brilliant with tears. "I'm going to take him to lie down," she said softly.

Dumbledore nodded, and Arnora helped Bill to his feet. He seemed dazed, and passively let her lead him from the room. There was silence for a minute after they left the room, then a witch with softly rounded curves spoke up. "Bill's right about one thing, Dumbledore. If the acquisition of all these objects is theoretical, why are we even discussing it?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked old. "Acquiring these objects isn't impossible. Just difficult," he said quietly. "And I'm sure Voldemort knows about them. Which would explain the Deatheaters' presence in the forest."

"But if they're so difficult to reach, then why is he sending minions?" The white haired wizard named Justin demanded. "Why wouldn't he come himself?"

"Insomuch as I know, the objects are each guarded by several levels of wards. I'm sure to Voldemort's thinking, he'll just wear down the wards."

"But Albus," McGonagall protested, "that's a waste of his good followers. Why would he do such a thing?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Voldemort doesn't think in terms of human lives as we do, Minerva. He thinks in terms of chess. And all of his Deatheaters are just pawns to use as he sees fit. If some need to be sacrificed for his cause, then he has no qualms about it."

McGonagall's lips pressed into a hard line and she said nothing. Justin spoke up again. "These are all just assumptions. We don't know that Voldemort wasn't trying to get into Hogwarts. After all, the famous Harry Potter is here. He could be after him."

Dumbledore pursued his lips. "It would not do for us to rule out that possibility and then be wrong. I'll put up more security about Harry, Justin, you may be sure of that."

"But we're still dancing around the real subject, Dumbledore," said another witch with bright pink hair. For one moment, Hermione was sure that she was Tonks, but this witch had darkly tanned skin and slanted brown eyes. "Our main concern is how to keep the Deatheaters under control. Did your spy even know about this attack?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "He mentioned nothing."

Soft murmurs swept around the room, and Justin demanded, "Are you sure he's trustworthy, Dumbledore? Or do we have a snake in our midst?"

"I'm sure," Dumbledore said firmly. "One time when he did not inform us of danger does not make him a traitor, ladies and gentlemen. It is very possible that he was completely unaware of the possibility of this attack."

"That's true," Justin said grudgingly. Then he sighed, and his hand went to his head to absently rub his temple. "I'm at a bit of a loss, Dumbledore. Two of my best Aurors died today, and I want to know why. But we're dealing on suppositions and half-baked theories here. That isn't good enough."

"I know that, Justin. But it's all we have." Dumbledore looked up at him with blue eyes that were filled with sadness.

Justin moved to his feet with a nimble grace that surprised Hermione. He moved like a dancer in a ballet, but with a more dangerous movement. Like a big, dangerous cat, she decided. Justin started to pace up and down the room, reminding Hermione strongly of Draco's movements just a little while ago. His robes swished around his ankles as he walked back and forth across the room. Finally he slammed his hands down on the surface of a desk and shouted, "I want to know why, dammit! Cassie and Kevin were damn good Aurors, Dumbledore! They didn't deserve to die in some pissant skirmish."

"No one deserves to die, Justin," McGonagall said in a steady voice. When Justin turned his heated gaze upon her, she held it calmly. Finally he tore his gaze away and resumed pacing, muttering under his breath to himself.

Finally he spun on his heel and faced the room again. "We need one of those objects. If we can get one, then we'll have something to beat Voldemort with!"

"No one can defeat Voldemort except Harry Potter," Dumbledore said quietly, watching Justin with a wary look in his eyes.

Justin dismissed that with a wave. "The prophecy never thought we would have one of these objects. If we have one, then I don't think even Voldemort could withstand that."

"Justin, be reasonable. You know that it would have said something in the prophecy if there was a loophole. There's not. Harry and Voldemort will have to fight each other."

Justin turned to glare at Dumbledore. "So you're saying that some kid is gonna fight this asshole, and he's gonna win, when some of my best Aurors have died trying? Sounds like a load of crap to me, Dumbledore."

"Are you doubting the validity of the prophecy?" Dumbledore asked calmly, as if they were discussing whether or not to have sugar in their tea.

"Hell yes, I'm doubting it!" Justin snapped. "I don't think that it's possible that some kid has more skills than highly trained Aurors, dammit!"

"Maybe he just has more heart," Dumbledore said quietly. Justin turned on him with a snarl.

"More heart? More heart? Cassie and Kevin had heart, Dumbledore. They died for this cause. And just because this kid bounced an Unforgivable off his head and lived to tell about it--he has more heart than my Aurors who go out every single day and fight, knowing that they might not live to see the end of the day?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Justin, I never said that what your people do isn't an admirable feat, or an honorable one. And I don't feel like getting into an argument with you about something that we both agree on."

"Fine," Justin muttered sullenly.

"I think that we all need rest," McGonagall said calmly. "We're all upset, tired and on edge. Things will look clearer later. Bill's set a good example. Let's follow it."

There were uncomfortable mutters around the room, but everyone rose and reluctantly filed out the door. Justin talked quietly to each of his Aurors on the way out, then came face to face with Dumbledore. Justin looked at Dumbledore, and his eyes hardened. "We'll continue this later, Dumbledore," he said coolly.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "At your earliest convenience, Justin," he said calmly. Justin nodded curtly and stalked out of the room. Hermione saw Dumbledore and McGonagall exchange a quick look, then they too exited the room, closing the door softly behind them.

Hermione started to move to get out of the cabinet, but Draco held her back. "Wait," he whispered. "Just to make sure they're gone."

Reluctantly, smelling the rank odor in the cabinet even more keenly than before now that she wasn't engrossed in the actions in the room, Hermione waited until Draco cautiously opened the doors to the cabinet and jumped out. He glanced warily at the door, then turned around and lifted Hermione out of the cabinet and set her on the floor. She looked down at her clothes and grimaced. "Yuck," she sighed. "I smell terrible."

"That you do," Draco agreed, and she shot him a dirty look.

"Well you don't have to agree with me," she muttered, and he smiled swiftly, then sobered.

"That was Bill Weasley, wasn't it?" he said quietly.

Hermione nodded slowly, and felt her lip tremble. "Yes," she whispered. "That was Bill." Her hand found Draco's and clung. "Two Aurors died out there today, Draco."

Draco nodded, his gray eyes thoughtful. "I wonder why the Deatheaters were out," he mused.

"D'you think your father would mention it, by chance?" Hermione ventured.

Draco sighed. "I doubt it, Mione. But hopefully." He glanced swiftly at the watch on his wrist, and saw that it was blinking, 'You're an hour late to Herbology', and swore softly. "Look, baby, I've got to go. I have to wash all this stuff off me, then run to Herbology."

Hermione nodded. "I've missed most of classes today," she said with a sigh. She held up her hands and grimaced. "And I desperately want a bath."

Draco grinned down at her. "You desperately need one."

She wrinkled her nose at him, then pressed a light kiss to his lips. "We need to talk about what we heard later," she said seriously.

He nodded, his gray eyes solemn. "We will."

Hermione nodded back. Draco went to the door and cracked it open and peered around the corner. The hallway was clear--no professors in sight. He kissed Hermione quickly. "Be careful," he stressed. "I don't want to have to rescue you again."

Hermione sniffed. "Well fine then," she muttered rebelliously. He rolled his eyes and then darted down the hallway.

She smiled after him, then headed the other way, her thoughts occupied by dead Aurors and a warm bath.