A/N: After the bloodbath of the last chapter, I have people asking for more
character deaths?! Weird people. But I'll oblige. Just remember, you asked
for it.
Between ff.net being down for a couple days and completely losing Internet connection on the one computer I can actually use, this chapter was much later than I intended it to be. But it also gave me the opportunity to make it longer too. Closing in on the end here; it will hopefully be only 2-3 more chapters, but don't quote me on it. Still writing at all hours around my jobs.
Anyway, thanks for the deluge of reviews on that last chapter. I know I upset and shocked a lot of you with the body count, and I'm sorry to say it will get a bit worse before it gets better. I do everything for a reason, not just because I like killing people off. And I'm not writing them off entirely, yet. Wait and see. No, Harry will not be resurrecting people.
For those of you who questioned Harry's use of an Unforgiveable, this is one place where Order of the Phoenix actually helped. Go look at chapter 36, page 810 American version or page 715 British edition. The situation and reaction are basically the same; Harry's looking for vengeance against someone who has hurt him through another. And he didn't use the Imperius, he only threatened to.
I wish I could answer you all individually, but that would take way too long. But I have a few comments to some especially intrepid reviewers:
Max, thanks for your review, both of them. The first was entertaining in the fact that after I just killed 5 people, you want more blood. The second I found to be incredibly insightful and perceptive, which makes me that much happier that people enjoy what I write. No, I don't try to sugar-coat anything, for if real life and the Order of the Phoenix have taught us anything, it is that bad things happen even to good people, and a single mistake can have long reaching consequences. I'm incorporating a bit of philosophy in here when I can, but that's just because I'm a geek.
Fox690, your insights were dead on in several places, and yes, Harry is changing intentionally. Like Hermione said, separate personalities have developed (As if being a teenager wasn't hard enough already). Wraith is darker, fighting fire with fire and not particularly squeamish about it either. Harry however still gets disturbed by it, and so lets Wraith take over for all fighting. He's slowly becoming a bit OOC, simply because he's evolving to deal with the situations. And maybe a bit more. Here's a little spoiler: *whispers* Eva has something to do with it. She has been keeping a secret, not the one mentioned earlier in the story but another, darker one that is affecting both Harry and her. And who said she's the one blocking him?
Michu, I especially enjoyed your review. You flatter me. However, I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes: "Why get married and make one man miserable when I can stay single and make thousands miserable?" *winks*
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, in Order of the Phoenix Umbridge's office would have been firebombed right after that first detention. Mmmmmmmm, fire.
Chapter 28
Severus Snape wasn't the type of man to sing in the shower.
Of course, he wasn't the type to really wash his hair in the shower either. But regardless, sometimes he just felt the need to stand under the scalding hot spray as if to cleanse everything he had seen and experienced from his skin. This was one of those times.
He sighed with eyes closed as the water pounded the knots from his shoulders. Normally he would be finishing his last class for the day but with all the chaos of the morning that quickly spread into a panic, classes had been cancelled. Professor McGonagall has assumed the Headmistress duties as stated in the school charter and appointed him, Snape, Deputy Headmaster.
He appreciated the faith that she had demonstrated in him, but was less thankful for the first task of having to arrange the funeral and burial of Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps fortunately, with their world in such disruption and with so many to bury, it could be relatively small and semi-private. But small doesn't mean uncomplicated, and somehow it seemed unsuitable for a man of such reverence and stature.
Shaking his head, Snape turned up the hot water until his skin was red. They had had to arrange the clean up of both the bathroom and the headmaster's office, with the bodies taken down to the Hospital Wing for now until the funerals. Then he had descended into the dungeons to check on his students, only to find the older ones gone (as he expected) and the younger ones left behind in a state of terrified shock.
Apparently from what he could gather from overlapping panicked babbles, two Gryffindors with wands drawn had stormed their Common Room, threatened them with the Imperius until they told where the Death Eaters had gone, then ran out with promises of later punishment. Some thought that Snape, as Head of Slytherin House, had come to deal with them personally. That idea reduced some first and second years to tears.
Suppressing a sigh and the urge to join Potter and Weasley in whatever they were doing to the Death Eaters at that moment, Snape instead headed straight for his quarters. Noting the wards had deflected a final attempt to get at him, he had locked his door behind him and went straight for the shower.
As steam billowed around him, he tried to think of the next step. The Ministry, for all intents and purposes, was demolished, yet as the Minister was still alive it was possible (although, he admitted to himself, improbable) to retain control through reorganization of what little remained of the bureaucracy. With the emergency situation, crisis control needed a dictator to save the wizarding world from the ravages of the Dark forces.
But would that step be taken? And was it even worth it now? The Light had lost their most vocal leader, the majority of their army, the government and the economy with the fall of Diagon Alley and Gringotts in Britain. Raising his face to the pounding stream, he came to the sobering realization that they were indeed in trouble. Unless a miracle occurred, Snape could see no way that they could triumph from this point.
Hogwarts already effected their power shifts, and relatively easily, but what about the Order? With all the recent losses, they were at less than half strength and without a leader. He made a face as he realized that Potter, as Phoenix Lord, could take control of the Order as was his right. But would he? Snape doubted it; the boy was not a team player or a general and he knew it. He hadn't realized just how much they depended on Albus until he was gone.
The loss of Dumbledore hit Snape hard. The old man had been the only one to believe in him and give him a second chance when others would have gladly killed him on the spot. Albus always believed in the best in people even while discreetly planning for the worst. He had saved Snape form Azkaban and Voldemort, from his own self-imposed ruin.
Snape refused to let tears surface, shoving them back by iron will. He would grieve later, when circumstances allowed. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, using a dark green towel to dry himself. Walking into his bedroom to dress, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scowled.
Damn, his hair was clean.
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Together Ron and Harry slowly climbed the stairs they had recently dashed down, lost in thought. Ron clenched one fist by his side as if willing to strangle something, but was otherwise outwardly calm. Harry walked with his head bowed, contemplating the stones passing beneath his feet as he absently rubbed the back of his scalp with his fingers.
His friend noticed and commented in a casual voice, "Your hair's a nuisance at that length." Harry rolled his eyes eloquently. "You're telling me. I thought pulling ponytails went out in first year." "Nobody told that idiot apparently. Mind you, I don't think he was entirely sane anymore." Harry snorted. "I don't think he was sane to begin with. We just helped the process."
As they turned a corner Harry reflexively scanned in both directions, and his braid whipped around with the movement and slapped the back of Ron's knees, causing him to yelp in surprise. Scowling, the redhead grabbed the end of the braid and threw it at Harry's back, and the heavy coiled mass impacted his shoulder hard enough to jolt him a bit. "Hey, watch where you're swinging that thing."
Harry scowled back, his temper rising. "It's not my fault. It's not like I can feel where it is at all times." Ron arched an eyebrow and shot back sarcastically, "Oh really, a tail that long and heavy and you can't feel it." Not wanting a fight, Harry turned away and continued up the stairs, Ron joining him a moment later with his temper cooled. "Seriously now, do you really like your hair like that?"
"No." He ruefully fingered the long raven strands. "Definitely not. Sometimes I miss that uncontrollable mop I used to have. But I can't really do anything about this." Ron snorted. "Ever heard of a haircut?" Harry made a face. "I tried. It's back by the next day, with a vengeance." He sighed. "Not even my hair's normal. Completely unfair."
Again they lapsed into silence as that topic exhausted itself, thoughts and memories occupying their conscious thought while feet moved automatically up the stairs. As they emerged from the dungeons they became aware of more noise emitting from the Great Hall.
Glancing at his watch, Ron was surprised to see that it was already dinnertime, which was immediately confirmed by his grumbling stomach. Shrugging, he led the way towards the food like an arrow seeking a bull's eye.
The students were gathered as normal at their tables, but the food was barely touched as everyone seemed too busy talking loudly or crying in their seats. Many crossed over tables until three of the four houses were intermixed; Slytherin was nearly deserted, only a few despondent souls picking morosely at their plates. The two boys exchanged knowing glances, then headed for their seats by Hermione, who was waiting for them expectantly.
She frowned as they sat down, and clucking her tongue softly she wetted her handkerchief in her water goblet. "Ron, you've blood on your face." Tilting his head down, she scrubbed at the spots that mingled with his freckles, and Harry surreptitiously ran his sleeve over his own face just to be safe.
"So I even want to know?" Hermione asked tartly, some indefinable emotion in her eyes, and Ron shook his head, dislodging her grip. "Nope. Better off not." He sighed and looked away. "You can guess anyway."
He looked around at the other students, his brow furrowed. "How's everyone else been reacting?" She grimaced. "Not good, but you guessed that anyway." She eyed them warily and hesitantly continued, "More bad news came in while you were gone." Harry sighed wearily. "Not again. Now what?"
Hermione braced herself as she considered how to tell them, then just blurted out, "Diagon Alley and the Ministry were both attacked this morning by demons and Death Eaters. Near as we can tell, they were . . . well, completely destroyed, along with most of the people there. Afterwards they took a crack at St. Mungo's, but the Healers evacuated nearly everyone out beforehand." She glanced at Ron and heaved a deep shaky breath. "There was also an explosion in Hogsmeade. Fred and George were both targeted. Both stores were bombed . . . with them inside."
Ron blinked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language, then slowly it sank in and he buried his face in his hands. Harry shook his head incredulously and said softly, "My alarm didn't even go off." He glanced over at his friend sharply. "What about Percy and Mr. Weasley?"
Hermione sighed. "The few survivors were brought here, and Mr. Weasley was with them. He'd been cursed several times before the ceiling collapsed on him; they had to dig him out of the rubble. His back's broken in six places, and they're not sure whether he'll walk again."
She paused, chewing her lower lip. "As for Percy . .. they've found no sign of him at all. They know he was in the office this morning, but . . . well, they're still looking, but right now I think everyone not accounted for is dead."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace and Hermione sniffed back tears. Ron gave no indication that he had heard anything at all, but they knew he had taken every single word as a stab in the guts. Ginny, Percy, Fred, George . . . all dead within mere hours of each other, and his dad may be permanently crippled.
Unexpectedly Ron looked up and met Harry's eyes, a fire burning deep within. "I don't regret anything I did down there. Other than the fact that I can't do it all over again," he stated bluntly. Harry simply met his gaze with total comprehension and squeezed his shoulder in acknowledgement. Hermione looked away for a moment, then placed her hand on Ron's knee in support.
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It was after curfew, and nobody expect the professors out on patrol should have been creeping down the corridors. Yet Ron was, conveniently concealed beneath the Invisibility cloak he nicked from Harry's trunk.
With a stealthiness that belied his tall lanky frame, he made it to the Hospital Wing with no trouble and snuck in. At the far end lay his father, with his mother asleep beside him in a chair. The door next to them, he knew, led to the room where the bodies were being kept until the funerals.
His heart clenched at the thought of Ginny, lying cold and alone under a sheet. Memories plagued him: playing with Ginny as toddlers; chasing her around the house shrieking with laughter; the way they stood up for each other against the twins; the time he watched her dancing with Dad to music from the wireless; her pale face peering at him through the rock slide after the Chamber of Secrets; her laughing at him after beating him in a duel; yelling at her as she playfully made off with the socks she nicked from his trunk.
He refused to think beyond that; his heart already lay in shattered pieces on the floor with nearly half his family in one day, no use trampling them under a Hippogriff. Ron choked down his tears and crossed the ward to settle by his parents.
Even asleep Arthur's face showed the pain he was in despite Pomfrey's potions, and Molly looked wasted by grief as she fitfully slept, her head resting by her husband's on her arms. Reaching over, Ron ran a light finger over her hair, noting the white hairs amid the Weasley red that seemed to have sprung up overnight.
Molly stirred and blinked red-rimmed eyes awake, and after a confused disoriented moment focused on her son sitting there. They stared at each other, then unexpectedly she reached over for him and he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. His mother clung to him fiercely, reassuring herself that at least he was still there and alive, and let her tears flow unchecked.
Ron knew that he should have felt awkward with the role reversal, but somehow it wasn't. Instead he just held her tightly, smoothing hair away even as his own tears fell on the white and red strands. Brokenly he whispered, "I'm sorry Mum. I'm so sorry." There was nothing else he could say, but she understood just the same.
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It wasn't until the next night that the Order of the Phoenix could all make it up to Hogwarts. Harry watched from the corner as they filed into the Phoenix Chamber and took their seats. Over half the chairs stood empty, and he half-wanted to get rid of them, yet knew he wouldn't. It was a reminder and a memorial that needed to stand for now.
He tore his thoughts away from that depressing path and focused on the people, mainly his professors and adopted family, staring back at him with disconcerting intensity. He resumed his own seat and sighed. "So what now?"
McGonagall glanced at the other members before speaking. "We still stand against the forces of Darkness, but we need a leader. Someone to whom we can turn to for direction and control." She met Harry's eye. "As Phoenix Lord, you are the natural choice. Take your rightful position."
Immediately he shook his head vehemently. "No. I cannot and will not." He met all their gazes in turn as he spoke carefully. "I am not a leader. This Order needs a general, not a guerilla, at its head. Vote among yourselves for a new leader, someone who will not make the mistakes I have." Pausing, he added almost to himself, "Ron would be a better choice."
At that Ron's eyes widened, then he shook his own head. "No way. This job's too big for me to handle." Harry shrugged and sat back, chair creaking in the ensuing silence, and the Order members looked around at each other, as if evaluating.
Remus offered suddenly. "Why not you, Minerva?" She shook her head. "I have my hands full at the moment as Headmistress and answering for Arthur Weasley until he can regain his faculties and position." She favored the professor with a piercing stare. "For that matter, why not you Remus? You have the skills, as well as the trust and respect of those here."
Ron jumped in. 'Yeah Remus. You'd be good at it." Mad Eye Moody, now with a few extra scars and more pronounced limp, nodded in agreement. "C'mon sonny, you know what it's like out there as well as the situation here at Hogwarts. Take the job." Remus started to protest, but Molly cut him off. "Please Remus. Use this opportunity to fight back. I'm sure Dumbledore would agree."
His mouth gaping open, Remus looked at the expectant gazes in muted disbelief. "Are you sure you want me?" he asked weakly. In response, Harry began clapping and every one caught on quickly, even Snape although a bit reluctantly and with a disgusted expression. McGonagall glanced around and said crisply, "It seems to be unanimous, Remus."
Sighing, he stood up and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Very well. I'll do my best to make sure your trust in me is not unfounded." He sat again and, after a second, inquired, "What happened to the Death Eaters here?" Snape glanced over at Ron and Harry, who exchanged information-laden inscrutable glances.
Then Ron spoke up. "We only caught the tail end of them. Their Portkeys were set to go off in groups, so Malfoy and the other major bastards made it out first. Harry destroyed the last few Portkeys, but only ten people were left." Remus frowned. "You didn't bring them back upstairs. What happened?" Harry stared at the opposite wall and stated firmly, "We took care of it."
Remus glanced at him askance. "What do you mean, took care of it?" The teen repeated. "We took care of it. Justice was served. They won't harm anyone again." Snape scowled. "Fine. Where are the bodies?" Ron stared blankly at him. "What bodies?" "The Death Eaters." Snape appeared confused for an instant. "You did kill them, didn't you?"
Harry and Ron shot each other strange glances that nevertheless held dire import, and Harry answered cryptically, "They are dealt with. You will not see them again." Snape, clearly exasperated with them both, just favored them with an icy glare and turned back to Remus, who was watching them all pensively.
Clearing his throat, the lycanthrope changed the subject. "The arrangements have been made for the funerals, yes?" Snape and Molly both nodded, her sniffing back tears. "This Saturday morning. There will be a memorial service for all of them, then private internment afterwards." McGonagall sighed heavily. "Never before have we faced such losses all at once. I pray we never do again."
Molly squeezed her eyes shut in pain and mumbled brokenly, "Never again." Ron had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder in support and echoed, "Never again."
************************************************************
Harry sat motionless on the roof of Gryffindor Tower looking out over the dark recesses of the forest, lit only by dim starlight. His mood was as dark as this night, and his future seemed just as bleak. Just being up on the roof reminded him of Ginny and the way she had reached out to him after Sirius' death. Glaring up at the stars, he mused darkly that his entire life seemed to be defined by pain. *What did I do to deserve this?*
Angry and suffering, he reached out for Eva, seeking comfort and answers that she had always provided. His mind strained for that connection they had forged long ago, yet even as he traveled that path he found it blocked. Confused and fuming, he battered at it, mentally throwing his considerable strength against the solid wall that kept him from her.
It refused to budge and eventually he gave up, despondently letting the connection fade away to the back of his mind. Somehow this simple failure managed to crush him further, and tucking his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and buried his face on his knees. His chest ached with such a fierce burn it probably would have felt better if his heart had been physically ripped out and run over by the Hogwarts Express.
His eyes burned and itched, but he stubbornly refused to let the tears come. Things appeared hopeless as his world crumbled down around his ears, and right now he felt so helpless against the gathering strength of the Darkness. Yet he was still Harry Potter, and he would not cry. Instead he began to wall the pain away, deep inside him. He didn't want to feel it ever again; it just hurt too bad for him to cope.
Why? Why did they all have to die? And so ignobly? To be murdered without a fighting chance; he chafed at the thought. Especially Ginny; she was such a feisty spirit she gave off an air of invincibility, of near immortality. Yet the Death Eaters had robbed her of that. Fred and George . . . he supposed it was fortunate that both were dead, for he knew that neither would want to live without their other half for long. Still, why them? All they really wanted was laughter.
Deep within Harry, a simmering black rage rose slowly, blanketing his sorrow and pain with fiery anger. It cried loudly out to him, [Take your vengeance. Ease your pain with the blood of your enemies. Track them down, hunt them to the ground and make them cry out with fear. Let your loved ones rest in peace knowing their murderers died at your hands.]
He frowned even as something inside yearned to do just that. *No. If I do, I'm no better than they are. Everyone who has died deserve something better than mindless vengeance. They deserve justice.* The voice slyly answered, [Yes, justice. Justice bought by the sword. This is where justice and vengeance are one and the same. They are not mutually exclusive.]
Harry shook his head. *I will not be a murderer. That's how I passed the test for the talisman, by refusing to commit even supposedly justified slaughter.* [But you are already a murderer,] the voice, disturbingly familiar, countered smoothly. [Don't you remember all the battles? Remember how good it felt to destroy those Death Eaters, those who stood in your way?]
Without missing a beat he switched to a new front. [How about down in the dungeons? Justice was served, and you felt free from the pain, liberated by their screams and their blood. Remember the satisfaction? Even Ron wasn't disturbed by it. ] The whispers were seductive in their truth and power, and Harry admitted to that dark part of him that yes, maybe he had enjoyed it. Too much.
[Malfoy is still out there, alive and free, laughing at your impotence against him. You know he was involved with Ginny's murder. You can hunt him down and punish him for everything he has ever done, for every insult and slur and lie and injury. Spill his filthy inbred blood and erase your pain.] Harry shuddered, unable to respond to Wraith for all he wanted was to make it go away.
Finally he answered weakly, *Go away, you're not helping. I'm not going to descend to their level, to become a savage animal.* Wraith gained strength as he countered, [At least animals don't dwell unnecessarily on their pain. They do something about it, to stop it.] *But I'm human. I don't respond with wanton destruction.*
Wraith exclaimed, [So do it deliberately! And what's so great about being human? You're beyond human. More power belongs to you than any mere mortal can handle. Go show them why you are a War Mage!] Harry flinched at the shout but said coldly, *War Mages didn't hunt down and murder people because they could, or to prove their title. Now go away.*
Wraith sounded disgusted. [So the all-powerful, famous Harry Potter is going to do nothing. Except let the bastards laugh and murder more innocent people, because he's too noble.] He made it seem like a particularly derogatory insult. Harry let his lip curl. *They are not, and I am not.* [You're not what? Noble?] *No, you idiot. I'm not going to do nothing. I will do everything in my power to stop them before they can hurt anyone else.*
He hesitated. *And besides, they won't be able to hurt more soon enough, no matter what happens.* There was a long pause, then Wraith answered pensively, [There, we agree. We don't have much time left.] Harry nodded as he raised his head, searching the stars. *I'm thinking Halloween. Voldemort always likes the symbolic and statement-making actions.*
[Hmm. He'll go through Hogsmeade first then up to the castle. Probably try the front gate initially, but when he finds our traps what will he do then?] *Possibly through the Forbidden Forest, but the centaurs are already stirred up and will most likely attack regardless. If there's enough demons, he might just let them swarm and overwhelm our defenses, leaving Hogwarts itself to the Death Eaters.*
Harry mentally calculated the strengths of each side, trying to find any hope. *I don't think the Order can handle it by themselves. We need help. Desperately.* Wraith paused, then said slowly, [You could volunteer to teach the Dueling Club now, and prepare the students for the Death Eaters' assault. They will fight regardless, but this way they'll be helpful as more than just cannon fodder.]
Harry considered it; the possibility had occurred to him earlier. *At the very least, they'll keep the Death Eaters busy until I'm done with the demons.* [And then you can wipe them all out. War is not murder, even to your fragile sensibilities,] Wraith declared with relish and not a little contempt. Harry knew that there would have been a savage grin lighting his fierce eyes if he could see it.
Wait. If he could . . . then what . . . who was . . . Oh hell. Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud at the sudden realization. He had just been arguing with himself and losing. No, not himself, for Wraith was not really himself anymore, but another personality completely. [Yes,] he spoke up smugly, [Took you long enough to realize it. I'm inside you. We are the same. There's no escaping it. When the battle comes, I will destroy Voldemort and all his underlings. The grass will be stained red by the end of the day with their weak blood.]
Troubled and feeling abruptly violated and unclean, Harry shied away from the conversation, and as Wraith faded back he called out again with desperation, *Eva? Please, answer me.* His voice rang in the silence, but unexpectedly a voice answered. Unfortunately it wasn't Eva. "Harry?" Ron's voice whispered in the dark, and with some scrambling and thuds the redhead appeared huffing and puffing to plop down at his friend's side.
Harry gave him a nod but didn't look at him even as he felt Ron's eyes scanning him. Finally Ron broke the silence. "Hey mate, you okay?" Harry shrugged even as Ron winced at his words; of course he wasn't okay, nothing was okay anymore. Uneasily he cleared his throat. "Um, well . . . Harry, I gotta talk to someone, and Hermione's with Mum and no one else would understand."
Relieved at the interruption to his disquieting thoughts, Harry nodded and turned his head fractionally towards his friend. Ron breathed a sigh and settled back on the roof with his hands laced behind his head, gathering himself. "It's just . . . I thought that maybe . . . what we did down there, I figured it would . . . I don't know, somehow make it a little better. Not a lot, but . . . but now, all I think about is tracking down Malfoy and all those others that got away and making them pay. For everything."
Harry nodded with complete understanding. "That's exactly what I was thinking before you showed up." Ron huffed through his nose. "But at the same time, I can't. I just can't. I know it's wrong but . . . it's the right kind of wrong, see? It's not right, but not really wrong either . . . oh, I don't know. All I know is that something is holding me back from doing whatever I can to destroy them."
His friend smiled sadly. "Same with me." He stared up at the stars and mused, "Remember back in third year, in the Shrieking Shack? I stopped Remus and Sirius from killing Wormtail because I didn't want them to be murderers on his account." He shifted and laid back on the roof, mimicking Ron's position. "I guess it's kind of the same. Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, Dumbledore, Sirius . . . they all deserve justice, and I think on one hand they'd understand. But an even bigger part of them would disapprove. Taking a life, even justifiable, is momentous, and I don't want any more of it than I can. And neither do you."
The two friends sat in silence for a long time, thinking and battling inner demons, until Ron said quietly, "I miss them." He sniffed almost inaudibly, then continued, "It's only been a day, but I'm starting to forget things. Just little things about them, like what kind of cologne Fred wore, or what flavor of sugar quill Ginny always took to History of Magic. Now . . . I'm worried that I'll forget more of them, like their voices or faces." His voice turned husky as he murmured, "I don't want to lose them again."
Harry nudged him a bit. "Don't worry, you won't. Think about them in context, instead of just trying to recall random details. Only Hermione's good at that." Ron frowned. "What do you mean?" "Like, remember the first time Ginny beat you in a straight duel over the summer? That huge smile she had, with her hair a mess after your curse twirled her like a top, and that look in her eyes that told you she was going to tease you about it later?
Or the twins last year, when George distracted Hermione with the flying spoons while Fred slipped a Medusa Mint in her pudding? How angry she was when it turned green, and then her hair looked like it could take over a small country?" Ron sniggered softly. "I think Colin has a picture of it. Wonder if I could buy it off him."
Sighing, he reminisced, "Yeah, I remember one day years ago. I think I was about five or six at the time. Charlie was supposed to be minding all of us while Mum took Grandma Weasley shopping, but he was out in the garden trying to make friends with the Knarl most of the time. Percy locked himself in his room to read, so Fred and George raided the kitchen and Bill's room. Ginny and I had been playing in her room when we found them pouring honey in Bill's underwear.
"When we threatened to tell Mum, the twins tied my ankles together and dangled me upside down over the stair rail. Ginny started yelling and kicked George, who had blocked her in the corner and now dropped the rope. He went hopping around the landing in pain and nearly fell down the stairs. Fred couldn't hold the rope by himself, so I went down to land head first in a pudding Mum had put out to cool. She had put alarms around it to keep us from snitching, and they all went off at once. Ginny jumped on Fred and managed to break his nose and black his eye.
"Meanwhile Percy heard the ruckus and opened the door to tell us off, only to slip on the honeyed underwear and trip headfirst into a bucket of Bubotuber pus the twins had lugged up. Mum kept it around for Bill and Charlie; they may look good now, but back then their pimples outnumbered their freckles. Anyway, Percy comes up screaming, looking like a sour pickle with all the boils, and George starts laughing so hard he falls backwards down the stairs, hits the bottom and rolls into the hearth, where his hair catches fire.
"He's running around yelling, trying to put it out, and Charlie runs in with his wand drawn all panicking. Percy gets the bright idea to dump the rest of the bucket on George to put out his hair, which it does but also splashes Charlie. He's so startled and in pain he runs out of the house and dunks his head in the pigs' trough outside."
Ron was really getting into the story, hands tracing out different actions and his face more animated than Harry had seen in a good long while. He continued around little hiccoughs of laughter, "By now Mum demonstrates her knack for timing by showing up just then, catches one glimpse of Percy who by now resembles a very old goblin, shrieks, pulls her wand and banishes him out to the garden in a trice, where he lands in a gnome hold and gets his foot stuck. I'm sitting on the table, covered with pudding, still tied up and laughing my head off till I'm crying.
"Mum thinks I'm hurt and immediately starts screaming at Charlie, then the twins, and now Ginny's crying because I'm crying and Mum's shouting. Percy manages to get free and limps back into the house, only then Dad Apparates home for lunch and lands right on top of him. Fred's trying to stop a bloody nose, but slips on the spilled honey and falls right on the container. He's stuck to the floor now, and the container falls over the stairs and lands right on Mum's head."
He shook his head with extreme amusement as he remembered the chaos, laughing. "It took over an hour to settle everything down, and then George, Percy and Charlie all had to be bandaged up. Ginny and I didn't have a scratch, amazingly enough. Because of the bandages Mum didn't grown George's hair back until he healed, so one night Ginny snuck into his room and painted his head a Chudley Cannons orange. Bill threatened to take his picture and put it up in my room. Ginny couldn't stop laughing every time he walked in the room for a week. The best part is, after that Charlie never got another pimple."
Ron gave in to his fits of laughter, tears streaming down his face, and Harry laughed right along with him at the mental picture his words drew for him. He swiped at his eyes and sniggered, "Too bad no one got a picture of that." "Yeah," Ron agreed wholeheartedly, and then with a sigh and final burst of snickers settled down again.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to the night breeze swish through the branches in the forest. Eventually Ron spoke again, sadly contemplative. "Y'know, I don't think I ever really appreciated my family until this war started, especially Percy and Ginny. He was always the know- it-all older brother with a stick up his arse, and she was my baby sister. I mean, we got along fine for the most part, but I always saw them in these roles I'd created."
He shook his head. "Goes to show how people can surprise you. Percy did most of the work backtracking files to suspected Death Eaters once the news broke that they were actively serving You Know . . . Voldemort, again. He even uncovered most of the evidence against Malfoy for the trial. And here I'd thought he'd stand by the Ministry forever, even when they locked him away in a dead end back office."
"Ginny . . . well, Ginny stopped being a little girl a long time ago, but I didn't see it until she kicked my arse that first duel. Suddenly Gin-Gin wasn't tagging along with me everywhere, my best friend in the world." Ron sighed. "You have no idea how strange it was to realize my sister was an actual girl, and had her own life apart from me. Did you know she had a boyfriend last year? Or that she'd been tutoring younger students in Charms? I didn't until Hermione told me."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't either. We were friends, but not really until this last summer." Ron nodded, then shot a strange glance over at Harry before turning back to stargazing. Harry could sense that his friend still had something to ask, so he kept quiet, waiting for him to broach the subject. It took two shooting stars and a near miss by owl droppings but eventually Ron cleared his throat in preparation.
"Say Harry, um . . . I don't . . . well, I guess I want to know . . . but you don't have to answer . . . um, well," he coughed, "did . . . I mean, I know that Ginny still liked you, you know, like that . . . I, um, I'm wondering if you, well . . . if you liked her back, like that. As more than friends." He trailed off into silence as Harry pondered his answer, something that he had struggled with himself over for a while.
Finally he said slowly, "I don't know, Ron. I mean, I know I liked her as a friend, and she was pretty with a lot of qualities a bloke could like. I know she liked me, and I know that I cared for her. She was a bit more than a friend, I think, but not like a sister, and I guess . . . well, I just don't know. I don't know if I could have loved her. The possibility was there, I just don't know if it could have been a reality."
Harry sighed. "We needed more time." Ron softly answered, "We all did."
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Saturday morning dawned cold and grey, a typical last October day which matched the general mood of the wizarding populace. The memorial service at Hogwarts recognized the four Weasleys individually and Dumbledore, as well as the Aurors who had fallen in the line of duty. The house elves had taken Dobby and buried him quietly just inside the grounds, where the elves had their own plot of land.
In spite of the looming pall of war, many had turned out to join the population of Hogwarts in remembering the revered Headmaster and four extraordinary people. In contrast, the burials themselves were small, private gatherings. Just the professors and the Order were there to lower the caskets into the cold earth. Dumbledore was buried by the shore of the lake opposite the school, overlooking the crystal water and Hogwarts so that even in death he could keep watch on his beloved school.
Ginny, on the other hand, they took back to the land the Burrow used to occupy. After the attack, the house and open land had been burned to ashes, but the forest by the stream was relatively untouched. The remained of the Weasley family, with four lost but only one body to bury, all wept openly as Professors McGonagall and Lupin used their wands to lay her to rest beneath her childhood tree house.
Arthur sat stiffly, propped up in a chair and secured by a Sticking charm to keep him from moving and injuring his back further, while Molly clung to Bill sobbing. Once the grave had been covered over, Ron drove in the marker; a cross with a heart as the crux that simply read, "Beloved Ginny." In memorial around the tree, Charlie affixed three plaques, one each for Percy, Fred, and George.
The ceremony over, they all slowly wandered away to Portkey back to Hogwarts. Harry, uneasy both because of the funeral and by being back to the place where Sirius had died, wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this place as possible. Yet he stood by the grave, staring at the mound of earth and the marker, remembering the young woman who had touched his life in so many little ways.
He clenched his fists, then forcibly loosened them again as he found he had been doing all morning. Kneeling, he laid a hand on the earth, feeling it welcome its new addition to its cycle of rebirth, and softly murmured to her, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect you. I swear I'll end this, so that no one else I love will share your fate."
Slowly he stood and with one final look turned and walked away, knowing he would never be back. Ron stood with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley at the edge of the wood waiting for him. Molly saw him first and enveloped Harry in a tight hug, which he returned, clinging. He whispered to her, "I'm so sorry." She shook her head wearily. "It wasn't your fault dear, so you have nothing to apologize for."
Molly released him and turned away slightly, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. "It's a mother's worst nightmare," she confessed brokenly. "No one should have to bury their own children." Harry swallowed hard. "I promise that I will do whatever I can to make sure there are no more funerals, for any family." She smiled crookedly at him. "I know you will. Thank you."
Together they all Portkeyed back to the gates of Hogwarts and began the trek up to the school. Partway there, Harry faltered as he stared over at the imposing Whomping Willow. The tree, and the carved plinth just out of reach of the branches. Ron glanced over at him then the Willow, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. The two friends nodded to each other and as Harry headed for Sirius' grave, Ron ushered Hermione and his mum into the castle.
After showing Mrs. Weasley back to her quarters, Hermione stood with her boyfriend in the deserted corridor, feeling the need to speak but with nothing to say. He avoided meeting her eyes or even looking at her, fidgeting with his hands. Then tension grew more and more stifling . . . then Ron sneezed. Loudly. Three times.
Hermione started to giggle at his slightly dizzy expression and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Come on, the fire's waiting for us in the Common Room. Let's go warm up." Smiling thankfully, he held her close to his side as they climbed back to Gryffindor Tower, relishing her support in her mere presence. He had been afraid that she might decide to reject him after what he did, but apparently she wasn't going anywhere.
Together they claimed the sofa in front of the hearth in the Common Room, effectively shutting out the rest of the world as they cuddled and stared into the flames. That was how Harry found them an hour later when he finally returned, his cloak radiating the chill from outside to match his icily blank expression.
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"Death, what the hell do you think you are doing?!" The outraged scream echoed across the plain and reverberated in the ancient city, and Death glanced up to see a woman striding towards her at a rapid clip, her changeable hair streaming behind her like a meteor's final descent into atmosphere.
"Hello Fate." She nodded cordially, but Fate just glared at her with flashing eyes. "Answer me Death. What is the meaning of this?" "I am afraid that you will have to be more specific than that if you want an answer." Fate huffed, fuming at Death's imperturbable expression.
"All right. I want to know why you have taken it upon yourself to take more and more people early. One or two here and there you could get away with, but five in a row? You know the rules as well as I do; You can't touch them until their time has come. It's all recorded in the Book."
"Ah, yes." Death nodded. "As you said, I do know the rules. But as you also know, it is no longer my decision." Fate glanced up at the sky, neck muscles straining as she tried to reign herself in. "Alright, I don't know when you started taking orders that directly contradict the laws set up at the beginning of these realms, but now you need to stop."
Death simply looked at her. "I cannot." "Why not?! Don't you know that your actions are helping Lucifer, not us?! Do you want to be the servant of your former servant?!" Fate yelled, agitatedly playing with the dice in her hand. Death brushed at her black robes. "I do know well the consequences of my actions, and I do not particularly like them. But as I said, it is no longer my decision."
"THEN WHOSE IS IT?!?!?!" When Fate is frustrated, it's not very pretty, or quiet. This was comparable to a hydrogen bomb being let off in a monastery where all the monks had taken vows of silence. The explosion caused two people, who had been hidden behind the outer wall of the city, to jump so high that Fate caught sight of them. Irritated, she beckoned them forward and turned on Death.
"See?!" she cried, pointing at the two sheepish guys slowly approaching the Guardians. "This is exactly what I'm talking about! You had no right to take these two from their homes or their lives, but instead they are here eavesdropping on us! And you can't do anything about it?!" This last part dripped with sarcasm and contempt.
Death apparently missed it, or more likely chose to ignore it. "That is right. I can only do what I am told by the master. And you know as well as I who that is. After all," for the first time her voice exhibited some emotion; derision, "you are the one who set him up." She shot her counterpart a mocking look. "See what happens when you meddle?"
Fate scowled. "This was not what I had in mind." Death nodded. "Very few plans work the way they are supposed to. Especially when relying on the human element. Maybe you should have planned for that." She turned back to her city, silver hair cascading around her face. "If that is all, I have work to do. Say hello to Time when you see him."
Fate watched her walk away, grinding her teeth audibly. Suddenly she whipped around to see the two identical guys staring at her. "What?" she barked. One cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "My lady, my brother and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."
The other picked up the thread, flipping a lock of red hair off his forehead, "And since you know as well as we do that we are not supposed to be here . . ." "and that in fact it is Death's mistake that brought us here, we were wondering . . ." "if you could use your mighty influence and rectify that mistake . . ." "by sending us back to our humble lives, my beautiful lady."
As they finished each other's thoughts, Fate felt like she was watching a tennis match. When they finished with slight smiles and short bows, she thought for a minute that maybe she should be charmed. But her temper got the best of her.
"Fred and George Weasley," she gritted, eyes flashing blue and red, "you have no right to ask this of me. You have no idea as to the laws of the Guardians in conjunction to the realms and interactions with mortals, and if you ever try to meddle or curry favor again, I will personally make sure that Death introduces you to her other playground. The one you call Hell."
Whirling, Fate stomped off into the city in the opposite direction of Death, and the Weasley twins watched her leave before sighing. "Well," George commented, "It was worth a shot." Fred shrugged. "Didn't think she'd go for it. Maybe we picked a bad time."
They wandered back out of the city and over the hills until they reached a small group of people sitting in the grass waiting for them. "Hey!" Ginny jumped up from where she had reclined on the hill playing distractedly with the fern-like blades of grass. Sirius looked up and smiled. "So you two, how did it go? Any change in our status?"
Fred looked over at George. "Well, no, not really. In fact, we didn't even get to talk to Death. We ran into Fate." James looked up, interested. "You met Fate? She's never come here before. What did she say?" George shrugged. "We presented our request, and she didn't take it so well." Fred rolled his eyes. "In fact, Fate threatened to tear us a new one if we ever asked again."
Percy sighed. "Pity. I didn't think I would work, but you had to try." Cedric stretched back out on the grass. "So what's going on out there? Did you learn anything new?" George shook his head. "Not that we overheard, other than that Death's not following the rules as usual. But we knew that." Lily yawned a bit, a cozy as a cat curled up by James' side. "So, what was she like? Fate, I mean. We've never met her."
George glanced around at the people Death had unfairly seized early and deadpanned, "Fate's a bitch."
Between ff.net being down for a couple days and completely losing Internet connection on the one computer I can actually use, this chapter was much later than I intended it to be. But it also gave me the opportunity to make it longer too. Closing in on the end here; it will hopefully be only 2-3 more chapters, but don't quote me on it. Still writing at all hours around my jobs.
Anyway, thanks for the deluge of reviews on that last chapter. I know I upset and shocked a lot of you with the body count, and I'm sorry to say it will get a bit worse before it gets better. I do everything for a reason, not just because I like killing people off. And I'm not writing them off entirely, yet. Wait and see. No, Harry will not be resurrecting people.
For those of you who questioned Harry's use of an Unforgiveable, this is one place where Order of the Phoenix actually helped. Go look at chapter 36, page 810 American version or page 715 British edition. The situation and reaction are basically the same; Harry's looking for vengeance against someone who has hurt him through another. And he didn't use the Imperius, he only threatened to.
I wish I could answer you all individually, but that would take way too long. But I have a few comments to some especially intrepid reviewers:
Max, thanks for your review, both of them. The first was entertaining in the fact that after I just killed 5 people, you want more blood. The second I found to be incredibly insightful and perceptive, which makes me that much happier that people enjoy what I write. No, I don't try to sugar-coat anything, for if real life and the Order of the Phoenix have taught us anything, it is that bad things happen even to good people, and a single mistake can have long reaching consequences. I'm incorporating a bit of philosophy in here when I can, but that's just because I'm a geek.
Fox690, your insights were dead on in several places, and yes, Harry is changing intentionally. Like Hermione said, separate personalities have developed (As if being a teenager wasn't hard enough already). Wraith is darker, fighting fire with fire and not particularly squeamish about it either. Harry however still gets disturbed by it, and so lets Wraith take over for all fighting. He's slowly becoming a bit OOC, simply because he's evolving to deal with the situations. And maybe a bit more. Here's a little spoiler: *whispers* Eva has something to do with it. She has been keeping a secret, not the one mentioned earlier in the story but another, darker one that is affecting both Harry and her. And who said she's the one blocking him?
Michu, I especially enjoyed your review. You flatter me. However, I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes: "Why get married and make one man miserable when I can stay single and make thousands miserable?" *winks*
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, in Order of the Phoenix Umbridge's office would have been firebombed right after that first detention. Mmmmmmmm, fire.
Chapter 28
Severus Snape wasn't the type of man to sing in the shower.
Of course, he wasn't the type to really wash his hair in the shower either. But regardless, sometimes he just felt the need to stand under the scalding hot spray as if to cleanse everything he had seen and experienced from his skin. This was one of those times.
He sighed with eyes closed as the water pounded the knots from his shoulders. Normally he would be finishing his last class for the day but with all the chaos of the morning that quickly spread into a panic, classes had been cancelled. Professor McGonagall has assumed the Headmistress duties as stated in the school charter and appointed him, Snape, Deputy Headmaster.
He appreciated the faith that she had demonstrated in him, but was less thankful for the first task of having to arrange the funeral and burial of Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps fortunately, with their world in such disruption and with so many to bury, it could be relatively small and semi-private. But small doesn't mean uncomplicated, and somehow it seemed unsuitable for a man of such reverence and stature.
Shaking his head, Snape turned up the hot water until his skin was red. They had had to arrange the clean up of both the bathroom and the headmaster's office, with the bodies taken down to the Hospital Wing for now until the funerals. Then he had descended into the dungeons to check on his students, only to find the older ones gone (as he expected) and the younger ones left behind in a state of terrified shock.
Apparently from what he could gather from overlapping panicked babbles, two Gryffindors with wands drawn had stormed their Common Room, threatened them with the Imperius until they told where the Death Eaters had gone, then ran out with promises of later punishment. Some thought that Snape, as Head of Slytherin House, had come to deal with them personally. That idea reduced some first and second years to tears.
Suppressing a sigh and the urge to join Potter and Weasley in whatever they were doing to the Death Eaters at that moment, Snape instead headed straight for his quarters. Noting the wards had deflected a final attempt to get at him, he had locked his door behind him and went straight for the shower.
As steam billowed around him, he tried to think of the next step. The Ministry, for all intents and purposes, was demolished, yet as the Minister was still alive it was possible (although, he admitted to himself, improbable) to retain control through reorganization of what little remained of the bureaucracy. With the emergency situation, crisis control needed a dictator to save the wizarding world from the ravages of the Dark forces.
But would that step be taken? And was it even worth it now? The Light had lost their most vocal leader, the majority of their army, the government and the economy with the fall of Diagon Alley and Gringotts in Britain. Raising his face to the pounding stream, he came to the sobering realization that they were indeed in trouble. Unless a miracle occurred, Snape could see no way that they could triumph from this point.
Hogwarts already effected their power shifts, and relatively easily, but what about the Order? With all the recent losses, they were at less than half strength and without a leader. He made a face as he realized that Potter, as Phoenix Lord, could take control of the Order as was his right. But would he? Snape doubted it; the boy was not a team player or a general and he knew it. He hadn't realized just how much they depended on Albus until he was gone.
The loss of Dumbledore hit Snape hard. The old man had been the only one to believe in him and give him a second chance when others would have gladly killed him on the spot. Albus always believed in the best in people even while discreetly planning for the worst. He had saved Snape form Azkaban and Voldemort, from his own self-imposed ruin.
Snape refused to let tears surface, shoving them back by iron will. He would grieve later, when circumstances allowed. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, using a dark green towel to dry himself. Walking into his bedroom to dress, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scowled.
Damn, his hair was clean.
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Together Ron and Harry slowly climbed the stairs they had recently dashed down, lost in thought. Ron clenched one fist by his side as if willing to strangle something, but was otherwise outwardly calm. Harry walked with his head bowed, contemplating the stones passing beneath his feet as he absently rubbed the back of his scalp with his fingers.
His friend noticed and commented in a casual voice, "Your hair's a nuisance at that length." Harry rolled his eyes eloquently. "You're telling me. I thought pulling ponytails went out in first year." "Nobody told that idiot apparently. Mind you, I don't think he was entirely sane anymore." Harry snorted. "I don't think he was sane to begin with. We just helped the process."
As they turned a corner Harry reflexively scanned in both directions, and his braid whipped around with the movement and slapped the back of Ron's knees, causing him to yelp in surprise. Scowling, the redhead grabbed the end of the braid and threw it at Harry's back, and the heavy coiled mass impacted his shoulder hard enough to jolt him a bit. "Hey, watch where you're swinging that thing."
Harry scowled back, his temper rising. "It's not my fault. It's not like I can feel where it is at all times." Ron arched an eyebrow and shot back sarcastically, "Oh really, a tail that long and heavy and you can't feel it." Not wanting a fight, Harry turned away and continued up the stairs, Ron joining him a moment later with his temper cooled. "Seriously now, do you really like your hair like that?"
"No." He ruefully fingered the long raven strands. "Definitely not. Sometimes I miss that uncontrollable mop I used to have. But I can't really do anything about this." Ron snorted. "Ever heard of a haircut?" Harry made a face. "I tried. It's back by the next day, with a vengeance." He sighed. "Not even my hair's normal. Completely unfair."
Again they lapsed into silence as that topic exhausted itself, thoughts and memories occupying their conscious thought while feet moved automatically up the stairs. As they emerged from the dungeons they became aware of more noise emitting from the Great Hall.
Glancing at his watch, Ron was surprised to see that it was already dinnertime, which was immediately confirmed by his grumbling stomach. Shrugging, he led the way towards the food like an arrow seeking a bull's eye.
The students were gathered as normal at their tables, but the food was barely touched as everyone seemed too busy talking loudly or crying in their seats. Many crossed over tables until three of the four houses were intermixed; Slytherin was nearly deserted, only a few despondent souls picking morosely at their plates. The two boys exchanged knowing glances, then headed for their seats by Hermione, who was waiting for them expectantly.
She frowned as they sat down, and clucking her tongue softly she wetted her handkerchief in her water goblet. "Ron, you've blood on your face." Tilting his head down, she scrubbed at the spots that mingled with his freckles, and Harry surreptitiously ran his sleeve over his own face just to be safe.
"So I even want to know?" Hermione asked tartly, some indefinable emotion in her eyes, and Ron shook his head, dislodging her grip. "Nope. Better off not." He sighed and looked away. "You can guess anyway."
He looked around at the other students, his brow furrowed. "How's everyone else been reacting?" She grimaced. "Not good, but you guessed that anyway." She eyed them warily and hesitantly continued, "More bad news came in while you were gone." Harry sighed wearily. "Not again. Now what?"
Hermione braced herself as she considered how to tell them, then just blurted out, "Diagon Alley and the Ministry were both attacked this morning by demons and Death Eaters. Near as we can tell, they were . . . well, completely destroyed, along with most of the people there. Afterwards they took a crack at St. Mungo's, but the Healers evacuated nearly everyone out beforehand." She glanced at Ron and heaved a deep shaky breath. "There was also an explosion in Hogsmeade. Fred and George were both targeted. Both stores were bombed . . . with them inside."
Ron blinked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language, then slowly it sank in and he buried his face in his hands. Harry shook his head incredulously and said softly, "My alarm didn't even go off." He glanced over at his friend sharply. "What about Percy and Mr. Weasley?"
Hermione sighed. "The few survivors were brought here, and Mr. Weasley was with them. He'd been cursed several times before the ceiling collapsed on him; they had to dig him out of the rubble. His back's broken in six places, and they're not sure whether he'll walk again."
She paused, chewing her lower lip. "As for Percy . .. they've found no sign of him at all. They know he was in the office this morning, but . . . well, they're still looking, but right now I think everyone not accounted for is dead."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut with a grimace and Hermione sniffed back tears. Ron gave no indication that he had heard anything at all, but they knew he had taken every single word as a stab in the guts. Ginny, Percy, Fred, George . . . all dead within mere hours of each other, and his dad may be permanently crippled.
Unexpectedly Ron looked up and met Harry's eyes, a fire burning deep within. "I don't regret anything I did down there. Other than the fact that I can't do it all over again," he stated bluntly. Harry simply met his gaze with total comprehension and squeezed his shoulder in acknowledgement. Hermione looked away for a moment, then placed her hand on Ron's knee in support.
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It was after curfew, and nobody expect the professors out on patrol should have been creeping down the corridors. Yet Ron was, conveniently concealed beneath the Invisibility cloak he nicked from Harry's trunk.
With a stealthiness that belied his tall lanky frame, he made it to the Hospital Wing with no trouble and snuck in. At the far end lay his father, with his mother asleep beside him in a chair. The door next to them, he knew, led to the room where the bodies were being kept until the funerals.
His heart clenched at the thought of Ginny, lying cold and alone under a sheet. Memories plagued him: playing with Ginny as toddlers; chasing her around the house shrieking with laughter; the way they stood up for each other against the twins; the time he watched her dancing with Dad to music from the wireless; her pale face peering at him through the rock slide after the Chamber of Secrets; her laughing at him after beating him in a duel; yelling at her as she playfully made off with the socks she nicked from his trunk.
He refused to think beyond that; his heart already lay in shattered pieces on the floor with nearly half his family in one day, no use trampling them under a Hippogriff. Ron choked down his tears and crossed the ward to settle by his parents.
Even asleep Arthur's face showed the pain he was in despite Pomfrey's potions, and Molly looked wasted by grief as she fitfully slept, her head resting by her husband's on her arms. Reaching over, Ron ran a light finger over her hair, noting the white hairs amid the Weasley red that seemed to have sprung up overnight.
Molly stirred and blinked red-rimmed eyes awake, and after a confused disoriented moment focused on her son sitting there. They stared at each other, then unexpectedly she reached over for him and he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. His mother clung to him fiercely, reassuring herself that at least he was still there and alive, and let her tears flow unchecked.
Ron knew that he should have felt awkward with the role reversal, but somehow it wasn't. Instead he just held her tightly, smoothing hair away even as his own tears fell on the white and red strands. Brokenly he whispered, "I'm sorry Mum. I'm so sorry." There was nothing else he could say, but she understood just the same.
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It wasn't until the next night that the Order of the Phoenix could all make it up to Hogwarts. Harry watched from the corner as they filed into the Phoenix Chamber and took their seats. Over half the chairs stood empty, and he half-wanted to get rid of them, yet knew he wouldn't. It was a reminder and a memorial that needed to stand for now.
He tore his thoughts away from that depressing path and focused on the people, mainly his professors and adopted family, staring back at him with disconcerting intensity. He resumed his own seat and sighed. "So what now?"
McGonagall glanced at the other members before speaking. "We still stand against the forces of Darkness, but we need a leader. Someone to whom we can turn to for direction and control." She met Harry's eye. "As Phoenix Lord, you are the natural choice. Take your rightful position."
Immediately he shook his head vehemently. "No. I cannot and will not." He met all their gazes in turn as he spoke carefully. "I am not a leader. This Order needs a general, not a guerilla, at its head. Vote among yourselves for a new leader, someone who will not make the mistakes I have." Pausing, he added almost to himself, "Ron would be a better choice."
At that Ron's eyes widened, then he shook his own head. "No way. This job's too big for me to handle." Harry shrugged and sat back, chair creaking in the ensuing silence, and the Order members looked around at each other, as if evaluating.
Remus offered suddenly. "Why not you, Minerva?" She shook her head. "I have my hands full at the moment as Headmistress and answering for Arthur Weasley until he can regain his faculties and position." She favored the professor with a piercing stare. "For that matter, why not you Remus? You have the skills, as well as the trust and respect of those here."
Ron jumped in. 'Yeah Remus. You'd be good at it." Mad Eye Moody, now with a few extra scars and more pronounced limp, nodded in agreement. "C'mon sonny, you know what it's like out there as well as the situation here at Hogwarts. Take the job." Remus started to protest, but Molly cut him off. "Please Remus. Use this opportunity to fight back. I'm sure Dumbledore would agree."
His mouth gaping open, Remus looked at the expectant gazes in muted disbelief. "Are you sure you want me?" he asked weakly. In response, Harry began clapping and every one caught on quickly, even Snape although a bit reluctantly and with a disgusted expression. McGonagall glanced around and said crisply, "It seems to be unanimous, Remus."
Sighing, he stood up and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Very well. I'll do my best to make sure your trust in me is not unfounded." He sat again and, after a second, inquired, "What happened to the Death Eaters here?" Snape glanced over at Ron and Harry, who exchanged information-laden inscrutable glances.
Then Ron spoke up. "We only caught the tail end of them. Their Portkeys were set to go off in groups, so Malfoy and the other major bastards made it out first. Harry destroyed the last few Portkeys, but only ten people were left." Remus frowned. "You didn't bring them back upstairs. What happened?" Harry stared at the opposite wall and stated firmly, "We took care of it."
Remus glanced at him askance. "What do you mean, took care of it?" The teen repeated. "We took care of it. Justice was served. They won't harm anyone again." Snape scowled. "Fine. Where are the bodies?" Ron stared blankly at him. "What bodies?" "The Death Eaters." Snape appeared confused for an instant. "You did kill them, didn't you?"
Harry and Ron shot each other strange glances that nevertheless held dire import, and Harry answered cryptically, "They are dealt with. You will not see them again." Snape, clearly exasperated with them both, just favored them with an icy glare and turned back to Remus, who was watching them all pensively.
Clearing his throat, the lycanthrope changed the subject. "The arrangements have been made for the funerals, yes?" Snape and Molly both nodded, her sniffing back tears. "This Saturday morning. There will be a memorial service for all of them, then private internment afterwards." McGonagall sighed heavily. "Never before have we faced such losses all at once. I pray we never do again."
Molly squeezed her eyes shut in pain and mumbled brokenly, "Never again." Ron had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder in support and echoed, "Never again."
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Harry sat motionless on the roof of Gryffindor Tower looking out over the dark recesses of the forest, lit only by dim starlight. His mood was as dark as this night, and his future seemed just as bleak. Just being up on the roof reminded him of Ginny and the way she had reached out to him after Sirius' death. Glaring up at the stars, he mused darkly that his entire life seemed to be defined by pain. *What did I do to deserve this?*
Angry and suffering, he reached out for Eva, seeking comfort and answers that she had always provided. His mind strained for that connection they had forged long ago, yet even as he traveled that path he found it blocked. Confused and fuming, he battered at it, mentally throwing his considerable strength against the solid wall that kept him from her.
It refused to budge and eventually he gave up, despondently letting the connection fade away to the back of his mind. Somehow this simple failure managed to crush him further, and tucking his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and buried his face on his knees. His chest ached with such a fierce burn it probably would have felt better if his heart had been physically ripped out and run over by the Hogwarts Express.
His eyes burned and itched, but he stubbornly refused to let the tears come. Things appeared hopeless as his world crumbled down around his ears, and right now he felt so helpless against the gathering strength of the Darkness. Yet he was still Harry Potter, and he would not cry. Instead he began to wall the pain away, deep inside him. He didn't want to feel it ever again; it just hurt too bad for him to cope.
Why? Why did they all have to die? And so ignobly? To be murdered without a fighting chance; he chafed at the thought. Especially Ginny; she was such a feisty spirit she gave off an air of invincibility, of near immortality. Yet the Death Eaters had robbed her of that. Fred and George . . . he supposed it was fortunate that both were dead, for he knew that neither would want to live without their other half for long. Still, why them? All they really wanted was laughter.
Deep within Harry, a simmering black rage rose slowly, blanketing his sorrow and pain with fiery anger. It cried loudly out to him, [Take your vengeance. Ease your pain with the blood of your enemies. Track them down, hunt them to the ground and make them cry out with fear. Let your loved ones rest in peace knowing their murderers died at your hands.]
He frowned even as something inside yearned to do just that. *No. If I do, I'm no better than they are. Everyone who has died deserve something better than mindless vengeance. They deserve justice.* The voice slyly answered, [Yes, justice. Justice bought by the sword. This is where justice and vengeance are one and the same. They are not mutually exclusive.]
Harry shook his head. *I will not be a murderer. That's how I passed the test for the talisman, by refusing to commit even supposedly justified slaughter.* [But you are already a murderer,] the voice, disturbingly familiar, countered smoothly. [Don't you remember all the battles? Remember how good it felt to destroy those Death Eaters, those who stood in your way?]
Without missing a beat he switched to a new front. [How about down in the dungeons? Justice was served, and you felt free from the pain, liberated by their screams and their blood. Remember the satisfaction? Even Ron wasn't disturbed by it. ] The whispers were seductive in their truth and power, and Harry admitted to that dark part of him that yes, maybe he had enjoyed it. Too much.
[Malfoy is still out there, alive and free, laughing at your impotence against him. You know he was involved with Ginny's murder. You can hunt him down and punish him for everything he has ever done, for every insult and slur and lie and injury. Spill his filthy inbred blood and erase your pain.] Harry shuddered, unable to respond to Wraith for all he wanted was to make it go away.
Finally he answered weakly, *Go away, you're not helping. I'm not going to descend to their level, to become a savage animal.* Wraith gained strength as he countered, [At least animals don't dwell unnecessarily on their pain. They do something about it, to stop it.] *But I'm human. I don't respond with wanton destruction.*
Wraith exclaimed, [So do it deliberately! And what's so great about being human? You're beyond human. More power belongs to you than any mere mortal can handle. Go show them why you are a War Mage!] Harry flinched at the shout but said coldly, *War Mages didn't hunt down and murder people because they could, or to prove their title. Now go away.*
Wraith sounded disgusted. [So the all-powerful, famous Harry Potter is going to do nothing. Except let the bastards laugh and murder more innocent people, because he's too noble.] He made it seem like a particularly derogatory insult. Harry let his lip curl. *They are not, and I am not.* [You're not what? Noble?] *No, you idiot. I'm not going to do nothing. I will do everything in my power to stop them before they can hurt anyone else.*
He hesitated. *And besides, they won't be able to hurt more soon enough, no matter what happens.* There was a long pause, then Wraith answered pensively, [There, we agree. We don't have much time left.] Harry nodded as he raised his head, searching the stars. *I'm thinking Halloween. Voldemort always likes the symbolic and statement-making actions.*
[Hmm. He'll go through Hogsmeade first then up to the castle. Probably try the front gate initially, but when he finds our traps what will he do then?] *Possibly through the Forbidden Forest, but the centaurs are already stirred up and will most likely attack regardless. If there's enough demons, he might just let them swarm and overwhelm our defenses, leaving Hogwarts itself to the Death Eaters.*
Harry mentally calculated the strengths of each side, trying to find any hope. *I don't think the Order can handle it by themselves. We need help. Desperately.* Wraith paused, then said slowly, [You could volunteer to teach the Dueling Club now, and prepare the students for the Death Eaters' assault. They will fight regardless, but this way they'll be helpful as more than just cannon fodder.]
Harry considered it; the possibility had occurred to him earlier. *At the very least, they'll keep the Death Eaters busy until I'm done with the demons.* [And then you can wipe them all out. War is not murder, even to your fragile sensibilities,] Wraith declared with relish and not a little contempt. Harry knew that there would have been a savage grin lighting his fierce eyes if he could see it.
Wait. If he could . . . then what . . . who was . . . Oh hell. Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud at the sudden realization. He had just been arguing with himself and losing. No, not himself, for Wraith was not really himself anymore, but another personality completely. [Yes,] he spoke up smugly, [Took you long enough to realize it. I'm inside you. We are the same. There's no escaping it. When the battle comes, I will destroy Voldemort and all his underlings. The grass will be stained red by the end of the day with their weak blood.]
Troubled and feeling abruptly violated and unclean, Harry shied away from the conversation, and as Wraith faded back he called out again with desperation, *Eva? Please, answer me.* His voice rang in the silence, but unexpectedly a voice answered. Unfortunately it wasn't Eva. "Harry?" Ron's voice whispered in the dark, and with some scrambling and thuds the redhead appeared huffing and puffing to plop down at his friend's side.
Harry gave him a nod but didn't look at him even as he felt Ron's eyes scanning him. Finally Ron broke the silence. "Hey mate, you okay?" Harry shrugged even as Ron winced at his words; of course he wasn't okay, nothing was okay anymore. Uneasily he cleared his throat. "Um, well . . . Harry, I gotta talk to someone, and Hermione's with Mum and no one else would understand."
Relieved at the interruption to his disquieting thoughts, Harry nodded and turned his head fractionally towards his friend. Ron breathed a sigh and settled back on the roof with his hands laced behind his head, gathering himself. "It's just . . . I thought that maybe . . . what we did down there, I figured it would . . . I don't know, somehow make it a little better. Not a lot, but . . . but now, all I think about is tracking down Malfoy and all those others that got away and making them pay. For everything."
Harry nodded with complete understanding. "That's exactly what I was thinking before you showed up." Ron huffed through his nose. "But at the same time, I can't. I just can't. I know it's wrong but . . . it's the right kind of wrong, see? It's not right, but not really wrong either . . . oh, I don't know. All I know is that something is holding me back from doing whatever I can to destroy them."
His friend smiled sadly. "Same with me." He stared up at the stars and mused, "Remember back in third year, in the Shrieking Shack? I stopped Remus and Sirius from killing Wormtail because I didn't want them to be murderers on his account." He shifted and laid back on the roof, mimicking Ron's position. "I guess it's kind of the same. Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, Dumbledore, Sirius . . . they all deserve justice, and I think on one hand they'd understand. But an even bigger part of them would disapprove. Taking a life, even justifiable, is momentous, and I don't want any more of it than I can. And neither do you."
The two friends sat in silence for a long time, thinking and battling inner demons, until Ron said quietly, "I miss them." He sniffed almost inaudibly, then continued, "It's only been a day, but I'm starting to forget things. Just little things about them, like what kind of cologne Fred wore, or what flavor of sugar quill Ginny always took to History of Magic. Now . . . I'm worried that I'll forget more of them, like their voices or faces." His voice turned husky as he murmured, "I don't want to lose them again."
Harry nudged him a bit. "Don't worry, you won't. Think about them in context, instead of just trying to recall random details. Only Hermione's good at that." Ron frowned. "What do you mean?" "Like, remember the first time Ginny beat you in a straight duel over the summer? That huge smile she had, with her hair a mess after your curse twirled her like a top, and that look in her eyes that told you she was going to tease you about it later?
Or the twins last year, when George distracted Hermione with the flying spoons while Fred slipped a Medusa Mint in her pudding? How angry she was when it turned green, and then her hair looked like it could take over a small country?" Ron sniggered softly. "I think Colin has a picture of it. Wonder if I could buy it off him."
Sighing, he reminisced, "Yeah, I remember one day years ago. I think I was about five or six at the time. Charlie was supposed to be minding all of us while Mum took Grandma Weasley shopping, but he was out in the garden trying to make friends with the Knarl most of the time. Percy locked himself in his room to read, so Fred and George raided the kitchen and Bill's room. Ginny and I had been playing in her room when we found them pouring honey in Bill's underwear.
"When we threatened to tell Mum, the twins tied my ankles together and dangled me upside down over the stair rail. Ginny started yelling and kicked George, who had blocked her in the corner and now dropped the rope. He went hopping around the landing in pain and nearly fell down the stairs. Fred couldn't hold the rope by himself, so I went down to land head first in a pudding Mum had put out to cool. She had put alarms around it to keep us from snitching, and they all went off at once. Ginny jumped on Fred and managed to break his nose and black his eye.
"Meanwhile Percy heard the ruckus and opened the door to tell us off, only to slip on the honeyed underwear and trip headfirst into a bucket of Bubotuber pus the twins had lugged up. Mum kept it around for Bill and Charlie; they may look good now, but back then their pimples outnumbered their freckles. Anyway, Percy comes up screaming, looking like a sour pickle with all the boils, and George starts laughing so hard he falls backwards down the stairs, hits the bottom and rolls into the hearth, where his hair catches fire.
"He's running around yelling, trying to put it out, and Charlie runs in with his wand drawn all panicking. Percy gets the bright idea to dump the rest of the bucket on George to put out his hair, which it does but also splashes Charlie. He's so startled and in pain he runs out of the house and dunks his head in the pigs' trough outside."
Ron was really getting into the story, hands tracing out different actions and his face more animated than Harry had seen in a good long while. He continued around little hiccoughs of laughter, "By now Mum demonstrates her knack for timing by showing up just then, catches one glimpse of Percy who by now resembles a very old goblin, shrieks, pulls her wand and banishes him out to the garden in a trice, where he lands in a gnome hold and gets his foot stuck. I'm sitting on the table, covered with pudding, still tied up and laughing my head off till I'm crying.
"Mum thinks I'm hurt and immediately starts screaming at Charlie, then the twins, and now Ginny's crying because I'm crying and Mum's shouting. Percy manages to get free and limps back into the house, only then Dad Apparates home for lunch and lands right on top of him. Fred's trying to stop a bloody nose, but slips on the spilled honey and falls right on the container. He's stuck to the floor now, and the container falls over the stairs and lands right on Mum's head."
He shook his head with extreme amusement as he remembered the chaos, laughing. "It took over an hour to settle everything down, and then George, Percy and Charlie all had to be bandaged up. Ginny and I didn't have a scratch, amazingly enough. Because of the bandages Mum didn't grown George's hair back until he healed, so one night Ginny snuck into his room and painted his head a Chudley Cannons orange. Bill threatened to take his picture and put it up in my room. Ginny couldn't stop laughing every time he walked in the room for a week. The best part is, after that Charlie never got another pimple."
Ron gave in to his fits of laughter, tears streaming down his face, and Harry laughed right along with him at the mental picture his words drew for him. He swiped at his eyes and sniggered, "Too bad no one got a picture of that." "Yeah," Ron agreed wholeheartedly, and then with a sigh and final burst of snickers settled down again.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, listening to the night breeze swish through the branches in the forest. Eventually Ron spoke again, sadly contemplative. "Y'know, I don't think I ever really appreciated my family until this war started, especially Percy and Ginny. He was always the know- it-all older brother with a stick up his arse, and she was my baby sister. I mean, we got along fine for the most part, but I always saw them in these roles I'd created."
He shook his head. "Goes to show how people can surprise you. Percy did most of the work backtracking files to suspected Death Eaters once the news broke that they were actively serving You Know . . . Voldemort, again. He even uncovered most of the evidence against Malfoy for the trial. And here I'd thought he'd stand by the Ministry forever, even when they locked him away in a dead end back office."
"Ginny . . . well, Ginny stopped being a little girl a long time ago, but I didn't see it until she kicked my arse that first duel. Suddenly Gin-Gin wasn't tagging along with me everywhere, my best friend in the world." Ron sighed. "You have no idea how strange it was to realize my sister was an actual girl, and had her own life apart from me. Did you know she had a boyfriend last year? Or that she'd been tutoring younger students in Charms? I didn't until Hermione told me."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't either. We were friends, but not really until this last summer." Ron nodded, then shot a strange glance over at Harry before turning back to stargazing. Harry could sense that his friend still had something to ask, so he kept quiet, waiting for him to broach the subject. It took two shooting stars and a near miss by owl droppings but eventually Ron cleared his throat in preparation.
"Say Harry, um . . . I don't . . . well, I guess I want to know . . . but you don't have to answer . . . um, well," he coughed, "did . . . I mean, I know that Ginny still liked you, you know, like that . . . I, um, I'm wondering if you, well . . . if you liked her back, like that. As more than friends." He trailed off into silence as Harry pondered his answer, something that he had struggled with himself over for a while.
Finally he said slowly, "I don't know, Ron. I mean, I know I liked her as a friend, and she was pretty with a lot of qualities a bloke could like. I know she liked me, and I know that I cared for her. She was a bit more than a friend, I think, but not like a sister, and I guess . . . well, I just don't know. I don't know if I could have loved her. The possibility was there, I just don't know if it could have been a reality."
Harry sighed. "We needed more time." Ron softly answered, "We all did."
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Saturday morning dawned cold and grey, a typical last October day which matched the general mood of the wizarding populace. The memorial service at Hogwarts recognized the four Weasleys individually and Dumbledore, as well as the Aurors who had fallen in the line of duty. The house elves had taken Dobby and buried him quietly just inside the grounds, where the elves had their own plot of land.
In spite of the looming pall of war, many had turned out to join the population of Hogwarts in remembering the revered Headmaster and four extraordinary people. In contrast, the burials themselves were small, private gatherings. Just the professors and the Order were there to lower the caskets into the cold earth. Dumbledore was buried by the shore of the lake opposite the school, overlooking the crystal water and Hogwarts so that even in death he could keep watch on his beloved school.
Ginny, on the other hand, they took back to the land the Burrow used to occupy. After the attack, the house and open land had been burned to ashes, but the forest by the stream was relatively untouched. The remained of the Weasley family, with four lost but only one body to bury, all wept openly as Professors McGonagall and Lupin used their wands to lay her to rest beneath her childhood tree house.
Arthur sat stiffly, propped up in a chair and secured by a Sticking charm to keep him from moving and injuring his back further, while Molly clung to Bill sobbing. Once the grave had been covered over, Ron drove in the marker; a cross with a heart as the crux that simply read, "Beloved Ginny." In memorial around the tree, Charlie affixed three plaques, one each for Percy, Fred, and George.
The ceremony over, they all slowly wandered away to Portkey back to Hogwarts. Harry, uneasy both because of the funeral and by being back to the place where Sirius had died, wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this place as possible. Yet he stood by the grave, staring at the mound of earth and the marker, remembering the young woman who had touched his life in so many little ways.
He clenched his fists, then forcibly loosened them again as he found he had been doing all morning. Kneeling, he laid a hand on the earth, feeling it welcome its new addition to its cycle of rebirth, and softly murmured to her, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't protect you. I swear I'll end this, so that no one else I love will share your fate."
Slowly he stood and with one final look turned and walked away, knowing he would never be back. Ron stood with Hermione and Mrs. Weasley at the edge of the wood waiting for him. Molly saw him first and enveloped Harry in a tight hug, which he returned, clinging. He whispered to her, "I'm so sorry." She shook her head wearily. "It wasn't your fault dear, so you have nothing to apologize for."
Molly released him and turned away slightly, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. "It's a mother's worst nightmare," she confessed brokenly. "No one should have to bury their own children." Harry swallowed hard. "I promise that I will do whatever I can to make sure there are no more funerals, for any family." She smiled crookedly at him. "I know you will. Thank you."
Together they all Portkeyed back to the gates of Hogwarts and began the trek up to the school. Partway there, Harry faltered as he stared over at the imposing Whomping Willow. The tree, and the carved plinth just out of reach of the branches. Ron glanced over at him then the Willow, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. The two friends nodded to each other and as Harry headed for Sirius' grave, Ron ushered Hermione and his mum into the castle.
After showing Mrs. Weasley back to her quarters, Hermione stood with her boyfriend in the deserted corridor, feeling the need to speak but with nothing to say. He avoided meeting her eyes or even looking at her, fidgeting with his hands. Then tension grew more and more stifling . . . then Ron sneezed. Loudly. Three times.
Hermione started to giggle at his slightly dizzy expression and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Come on, the fire's waiting for us in the Common Room. Let's go warm up." Smiling thankfully, he held her close to his side as they climbed back to Gryffindor Tower, relishing her support in her mere presence. He had been afraid that she might decide to reject him after what he did, but apparently she wasn't going anywhere.
Together they claimed the sofa in front of the hearth in the Common Room, effectively shutting out the rest of the world as they cuddled and stared into the flames. That was how Harry found them an hour later when he finally returned, his cloak radiating the chill from outside to match his icily blank expression.
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"Death, what the hell do you think you are doing?!" The outraged scream echoed across the plain and reverberated in the ancient city, and Death glanced up to see a woman striding towards her at a rapid clip, her changeable hair streaming behind her like a meteor's final descent into atmosphere.
"Hello Fate." She nodded cordially, but Fate just glared at her with flashing eyes. "Answer me Death. What is the meaning of this?" "I am afraid that you will have to be more specific than that if you want an answer." Fate huffed, fuming at Death's imperturbable expression.
"All right. I want to know why you have taken it upon yourself to take more and more people early. One or two here and there you could get away with, but five in a row? You know the rules as well as I do; You can't touch them until their time has come. It's all recorded in the Book."
"Ah, yes." Death nodded. "As you said, I do know the rules. But as you also know, it is no longer my decision." Fate glanced up at the sky, neck muscles straining as she tried to reign herself in. "Alright, I don't know when you started taking orders that directly contradict the laws set up at the beginning of these realms, but now you need to stop."
Death simply looked at her. "I cannot." "Why not?! Don't you know that your actions are helping Lucifer, not us?! Do you want to be the servant of your former servant?!" Fate yelled, agitatedly playing with the dice in her hand. Death brushed at her black robes. "I do know well the consequences of my actions, and I do not particularly like them. But as I said, it is no longer my decision."
"THEN WHOSE IS IT?!?!?!" When Fate is frustrated, it's not very pretty, or quiet. This was comparable to a hydrogen bomb being let off in a monastery where all the monks had taken vows of silence. The explosion caused two people, who had been hidden behind the outer wall of the city, to jump so high that Fate caught sight of them. Irritated, she beckoned them forward and turned on Death.
"See?!" she cried, pointing at the two sheepish guys slowly approaching the Guardians. "This is exactly what I'm talking about! You had no right to take these two from their homes or their lives, but instead they are here eavesdropping on us! And you can't do anything about it?!" This last part dripped with sarcasm and contempt.
Death apparently missed it, or more likely chose to ignore it. "That is right. I can only do what I am told by the master. And you know as well as I who that is. After all," for the first time her voice exhibited some emotion; derision, "you are the one who set him up." She shot her counterpart a mocking look. "See what happens when you meddle?"
Fate scowled. "This was not what I had in mind." Death nodded. "Very few plans work the way they are supposed to. Especially when relying on the human element. Maybe you should have planned for that." She turned back to her city, silver hair cascading around her face. "If that is all, I have work to do. Say hello to Time when you see him."
Fate watched her walk away, grinding her teeth audibly. Suddenly she whipped around to see the two identical guys staring at her. "What?" she barked. One cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. "My lady, my brother and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."
The other picked up the thread, flipping a lock of red hair off his forehead, "And since you know as well as we do that we are not supposed to be here . . ." "and that in fact it is Death's mistake that brought us here, we were wondering . . ." "if you could use your mighty influence and rectify that mistake . . ." "by sending us back to our humble lives, my beautiful lady."
As they finished each other's thoughts, Fate felt like she was watching a tennis match. When they finished with slight smiles and short bows, she thought for a minute that maybe she should be charmed. But her temper got the best of her.
"Fred and George Weasley," she gritted, eyes flashing blue and red, "you have no right to ask this of me. You have no idea as to the laws of the Guardians in conjunction to the realms and interactions with mortals, and if you ever try to meddle or curry favor again, I will personally make sure that Death introduces you to her other playground. The one you call Hell."
Whirling, Fate stomped off into the city in the opposite direction of Death, and the Weasley twins watched her leave before sighing. "Well," George commented, "It was worth a shot." Fred shrugged. "Didn't think she'd go for it. Maybe we picked a bad time."
They wandered back out of the city and over the hills until they reached a small group of people sitting in the grass waiting for them. "Hey!" Ginny jumped up from where she had reclined on the hill playing distractedly with the fern-like blades of grass. Sirius looked up and smiled. "So you two, how did it go? Any change in our status?"
Fred looked over at George. "Well, no, not really. In fact, we didn't even get to talk to Death. We ran into Fate." James looked up, interested. "You met Fate? She's never come here before. What did she say?" George shrugged. "We presented our request, and she didn't take it so well." Fred rolled his eyes. "In fact, Fate threatened to tear us a new one if we ever asked again."
Percy sighed. "Pity. I didn't think I would work, but you had to try." Cedric stretched back out on the grass. "So what's going on out there? Did you learn anything new?" George shook his head. "Not that we overheard, other than that Death's not following the rules as usual. But we knew that." Lily yawned a bit, a cozy as a cat curled up by James' side. "So, what was she like? Fate, I mean. We've never met her."
George glanced around at the people Death had unfairly seized early and deadpanned, "Fate's a bitch."