Disclaimer: I make no money. JKR owns all the characters you recognize.
Author's note: Thanks reviewers.
In Fire Lies Redemption
By Marz
Chapter 14
The Unlocked Backdoor
"There's a metal plate in your head?" Chapman stopped stirring the tea he had been given.
McFeldy nodded and rapped on the side of his skull with a spoon, creating a dull clanking noise. "Sure, sure," the man said. He continued to tap with the spoon and seemed to forget he was doing it. "The mates and me was at the Nottingham and Kent match in '88. Ref was blind and the whole stadium went ta' hell. Anyway, me and the mates, we was showin' tha ref a thing or two, turnin' over his car, only I was standing on the wrong side of it, ya see and we were all drunk as all hell, so they didn't notice I was on the wrong side, when they lifted and then it tipped." The man's eyes went to the spoon tapping against his skull, as if suddenly noticing it, but he did not stop tapping.
"Oo' er you again?" McFeldy asked.
Chapman gritted his teeth and looked around the run-down apartment again. There was an overflowing trash bin in the corner, filled with beer bottles and take-out containers. Old football magazines covered the kitchen table at which he now sat, contemplating the point of this interview.
He had spoken with sixty-four people in last five days, who may or may not have links to the Harrington incident. Each possible witness was progressively less helpful then the last. People from the next town down the road, creatively named Nextham, could recall nothing of the night in question, besides the fact that an unusual number of people were playing their radios at an excessive volume. Relatives of residence were even less forthcoming. They seemed unwilling to admit that they had any family at all, and would not touch the topic of Harrington with a ten-foot pole. If this rather addled man was going to "break the case" Chapman would eat his own hat. At least he had not come across any dementors yet. For the hundredth time he wondered why he'd been assigned detective work. I suppose it's a lack of manpower he thought, repeating his cover story for the sixty-sixth time.
"I'm a private detective working for Mrs. Emily Hollister. She's trying to find her daughter, a former resident of Harrington." Chapman said slowly, trying very hard to keep the man on topic.
The man froze mid-tap. "Harrington did you say?"
Chapman nodded.
"I seem to recall being there once. The whole place stank of fish. Too quiet. I was visiting my aunt. Not even a stadium. All they 'ave is a little park in the center a town and two bars. Never was much of a place to be."
"Have you seen your aunt lately Mr. McFeldy?" Chapman asked.
"Not since she was buried last year," the man said, looking at the clock.
Chapman rose from his seat. "Thank you for your time Mr. McFeldy," he said, holding out his hand in farewell.
McFeldy did not take it. Instead his eyes went out of focus.
"Never been in a Blackout?" McFeldy asked.
"Do you mean when the electricity goes out?"
McFeldy shook his head.
"Ever met the devil? He don't look like nothing at all but you know he's there just the same. Cold hands grabbing at you." McFeldy's eyes drifted even more out of focus and he did not answer as Chapman called his name. Maybe this muggle had been around dementors recently. It would surly explain some of his odd behavior. Chapman found himself leaning forward a bit as the man spoke.
"The devil, he'll be back though, here or there, always about…" the man continued in an almost inaudible mutter. "Course we wouldn't a known if it weren't for her."
"Who?" asked Chapman, as he leaned in front of McFeldy, trying to recapture his attention.
"Her." McFeldy said, tilting his chin at the wall in front of him. Chapman started to turn. A wet rag clamped down over his mouth and nose. The sudden application of cold liquid to his mouth caused him to gasp, and immediately his head was spinning. Another arm snaked around his neck, pulling him back against an unyielding chest. He could barely feel his captor breathe through the thick vest they wore. He tried to yell but the rag muffled all sound. The room was spinning. Chapman pulled out his wand, but McFeldy leaned forward and tugged it effortlessly from his hand. The room disappeared in a final swirl of color.
"Didn't seem such a bad bloke, that one," said the man, who had a few minutes earlier professed to be Mark McFeldy.
"If he cooperates, we won't be too hard on him," the woman said, as she lowered the unconscious man onto the rug, and carefully began to roll it up.
The man, formerly known as McFeldy, walked across the room and opened the window to let the stench of chloroform out. "You took forever getting 'ere," he said to the woman.
"I took eight minutes, Hooligan, and that's in heavy traffic," she answered.
"Still seemed like forever. We don't have to take this guy on the motorcycles do we, Lim?" Hooligan asked as he lifted his end of the rug and she lifted hers.
"No, I've got my car back from decontamination. We're going with dignity today."
"Think there's time to stop off for a quick pint? This is working on my nerves," he grunted as they crawled down the fire escape and into the alley.
"I'll buy a couple a rounds tonight at The Goal," Lim said, opening the trunk of the car.
After a quick look around, they unrolled the rug and dumped in the unconscious man.
"You're a real princess, you know that, Lim?" Hooligan said with a chip-toothed smile.
"Course I do," she said, slamming the trunk closed.
*****
They sat in a circle on the floor of the sixth-year boy's dormitory. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville had notebooks and quills in each of their laps, and they watched Harry intently as he flipped through the book to the page they had stopped on last time. In the corner of Ron's wardrobe, the Verto potion bubbled softly over a magical fire, which, thanks to Hermione, did not incinerate Ron's clothing. The potion needed only one more ingredient and five more days of cooking, which meant the Gryffindors had only five more days to understand the potion they were planning to ingest. Harry found his place in the book and began to read.
"Within forty-seven seconds of consumption of the Verto potion, the skin of the attempter will noticeably alter, indicating absorption of the potion into all the body's cells. The attempter may feel lightheaded and develop a fever, but symptoms should pass within twelve hours. Should symptoms persist, a healer should be consulted. A sample of the potion should be reserved, in case an abnormality arises," Harry said, and stopped for a moment to turn the page.
"Chapter Five, The Form. The Animagus form one can assume is not the result of conscious choice, but rather the form most natural to the unconscious mind. Some persons or beings who attempt the transformation will be unable to alter their physical form, because their psyche cannot maintain coherency and function outside of their familiar natural state. For this reason it is advisable for the attempter to be prohibited the use of a mirror for his entire life up to the point of transformation, to avoid the imprinting of permanent physical characteristics on the mind." Harry paused for a moment. "Would you mind translating that, Hermione?"
She nodded thoughtfully and set down her quill. "It simply means that some people won't be able to change because they are too used to being human."
"What about that other stuff about being psychic and unconscious?" asked Ron.
"It means you pick your Animagus form, but you aren't aware you're doing it," answered Ginny, giving Ron a slightly contemptuous look.
Ron started to get red in the face, so Harry decided to head off an argument by continuing to read. Chapter Five went on to explain the mental disorders that caused partial transformations, and the disastrous results of trying to change the Animagus form your unconscious mind had settled on. There was a footnote in the chapter about a researcher who believed lycanthropy was the result of a misguided experiment to alter the Animagus transformation, thousands of years before writing was invented, and Hermione made Harry reread the footnote to her six times before they were allowed to move to the next chapter. It was nearly midnight when they heard Seamus and Dean coming up the stairs, forcing them to clear out, but they had gone over three more chapters by then. Neville hurried to uncover the magical portrait that Harry was convinced was spying on them. Harry smiled at their progress as he and Ron sealed up Ron's wardrobe.
Life did not slow down in the least for Harry as the potion neared readiness. He was swamped with homework. He had looked at his schedule for the next five days and nearly passed out. Day five of the count down began with Harry still awake finishing a transfiguration essay and ended with him passed out on his charms homework. Day four was even more hectic, as Ron insisted the Quidditch team cram in another practice session before the big Hufflepuff game the next day. The practice ended after three hours, when Ginny threatened to hang Ron naked from the center scoring ring if he told them to fly a particular play again. Harry decided the pressure of these two days must have been more then his brain could handle. It was the only explanation he could come up with for the strange dream he had.
Aunt Marge had come to Hogwarts to replace professor Snape as potions teacher, only in Harry's dream she was as he had last seen her, at the beginning of third year, bloated near bursting and floating around the potions class room like a terrifying balloon. Her bulldog, Ripper, was running about under the desks trying to bite Harry's legs and he was forced to kneel on top of his desk to avoid the animal. He was rather relieved when Hermione blasted him with a jet of water and told him to wake up and get off the common room table.
"Three days!" said Ron excitedly as he sat down to breakfast. Hermione and Harry just nodded. Harry kept nervously looking under the table, half expecting a psychotic bulldog to pop out of nowhere and try to take off his foot. He half choked on his oatmeal as an owl dropped the morning issue of the Daily Prophet on top of his head. The roll of paper bounced off his skull and landed in a platter of eggs. Without really looking up Hermione snatched the paper and slid it between herself and her food, reading intently.
"An entire muggle town's gone missing," Hermione said, still not looking up. "There's evidence that dementors were responsible. According to the paper a wizard named Chapman may have been involved. It happened over a week ago."
The rest of the group had gone silent. "It happened a week ago and they're only reporting it now?" Ron asked. "Bet Fudge was trying to cover that up as well. He never did care much for muggles."
"Does it say how many die…" Harry cut himself off, "Did it say how many were lost?"
"The population of the town was nearly a thousand, only a few have been found," Hermione reported quietly.
Harry dropped his spoon. "We should be doing something!" he said as he glowered down at his breakfast. "If I didn't have this stuff on my head I might have known, might have been able to warn them," Harry said, picking at the drying red goop over his scar.
"If you didn't have that stuff on your head, You-Know-Who could possess you," Hermione said. "It's a shame you never finished your Occlumency lessons."
"Can't you recommend a book or something I could read instead? Dumbledore hasn't mentioned teaching it to me again, but I think I might have better luck learning it on my own."
"I did look for books about it when you first started taking lessons, but they must all be in the restricted section, because I've looked everywhere else."
"I could get Hagrid to sign a permission slip after the game today," Harry said thoughtfully, as if he did not have enough to do already.
"The Game!" shouted Ron, leaping to his feet. "We should be in the locker room by now. Get going, Harry! Find Natalie and Katie, I'll look for Milton, Normandy, and Ginny. Where could they be? We only have three hours until the game starts!"
Ron rushed off in a near-panic. Harry laughed a little and started for the Quidditch locker rooms.
"Natalie where are you?! Ginny tuck in, you're half way to the green houses!" Ron bellowed. His face was almost as red as his Quidditch robes and Harry was slightly worried he'd pass out for lack of air. "Katie! Look left!" Ron's voice echoed through the stadium, nearly drowning out the new announcer Elizabeth Williams, the Hufflepuff third year who had taken over Lee Jordan's job.
Hufflepuff was putting up a good fight, but Harry was sure Gryffindor would win. The score was seventy to twenty, Gryffindor led, and the Hufflepuff seeker looked very confused. Harry turned suddenly, catching a flash of gold in the corner of his eye, but it was only a dead leaf blowing through the pitch. Harry tightened his grip on his Firebolt and rose higher above the field. The people in bleachers shrunk to ants. Harry searched intently for the snitch but it failed to show itself.
His attention was drawn to the lake and the mountains beyond. Hundreds of feet in the air Harry could almost forget the people below him. Dumbledore was down in the stadium. Taking a break from saving the world I guess, Harry thought, and the thought made his stomach hurt. He was tempted then to just turn towards the lake and fly, as fast as his broom could carry him. Away from wizards and the Ministry, maybe out of England even. But that thought faded and visions of escape left his head as reality intruded. His broom would fail if he tried to pass the wards, and thanks to his sleepwalking he was not allowed to go even as far as the lake shore. He did not know what kind of safety measure would be activated, but he was certain it would be embarrassing.
With a sigh, he angled his broom down in a steep dive. He hadn't seen the Snitch but he thought he ought to put the new Hufflepuff seeker through the paces anyway. The new kid didn't follow him even halfway to the ground before losing his nerve. Harry sighed again and pulled up, his boots scraping up the turf as he leveled out. He did a few high-speed turns over the spectators, intending to flush the Snitch. A Slytherin fourth-year threw a firecracker at him, and another nearly unseated him with a butterbeer bottle, but eventually the tiny golden Snitch came out of hiding.
It darted out from behind Professor Sprout's head and zipped towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Harry zeroed in. The Snitch went low, trying to lose him in the slightly overgrown grass, but Harry was not fooled. His hand was nearly on it when it made a sudden sharp turn. Harry whirled to follow and nearly crashed into a post. He threw himself to the right just in time. The Snitch circled dizzily around the center post, gaining height with every revolution. Harry darted in. The Hufflepuff seeker was closing too, but Harry knew who was faster. He shot upwards parallel to the post and his hand closed over the Snitch. The Gryffindors roared happily as Harry slowed to a stop over the goalposts. Harry smiled faintly as his teammates flew over to join him for the victory lap, but he could not shake the feeling that the victory was, in the end, meaningless.
******
His arms shook as he pulled himself up to the next beam. His shoes slipped as he tried to wrap his legs around the wood. He knew he'd scuffed them up. Gran's going to kill me when I come home for Christmas, he thought. Neville's legs shook as he pulled himself up on top of the beam and got to his feet. Why does she always sit at the top? he mentally moaned as he pulled himself up again. He'd been climbing about under the Slytherin bleachers for twenty minutes, but was only half way there.
She's not being fair, he thought for the hundredth time. It's not as if I told her she couldn't tell anyone I'm her boyfriend. He tried to clear his head again. Verdad said she liked him. She said she'd never felt the same way about anyone else. She'd said she was his girlfriend. She'd said if he told anyone she would kill him. It was all very confusing.
It was also the reason he was climbing under the bleachers, rather then just talking to her when he saw her in the halls between classes. She usually tracked him down in the library, but he had to talk to her, in case something happened. It wasn't as if he didn't trust Hermione to make the potion properly, but if something did happen…
He'd left a letter to his grandmother in his trunk, but he had to talk to Verdad in person.
After another twenty minutes he was there. He walked hunched over along the beam, his hands on the bottom of the seat over head to keep balance. Finally he found her ankles. She was sitting with some fifth year girls, discussing muggle tattoos.
"…and then it drives the needle into the skin and injects the ink" finished Verdad. She sounded as if she'd been laughing.
"And muggles pay people to do that?" asked a one of the girls.
"Hundreds of pounds. You got ta' understand that for muggles, tattoos are permanent, so you don't want the guy doing your ink to %#@& up. For quality, you got ta' pay." Verdad said.
"And I suppose you have one of those muggle tattoos to show off as well?" asked another girl, sounding less then impressed.
"Course not. Those things are wicked painful. It's like being flayed. I could recommend an expert though, if you ever get the urge to decorate."
Neville carefully reached up and snapped the elastic band on her sock. Her leg jerked for a second, but she didn't look down or mention it to her friends. Neville sat down on the beam and waited. He heard the Slytherins hiss as Harry caught the Snitch and won the game.
He heard Verdad's friends get up and leave and he heard her say she'd catch up later. A few minutes later she squeezed through the footspace and landed lightly on the beam beside him. He had planned to speak to her quickly and then get back to the castle to finish his herbology project, but half an hour passed before they got around to talking.
"Did you want to say something?" Verdad asked.
"Hu?" It took Neville several seconds to remember why he'd come. "Oh yeah. I was going to say goodbye in case I die on Monday."
"Taken up a death sport?" she asked, as she straightened her robes.
"No. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but if I die I just wanted to say that I think you're the most beautiful girl in the entire universe and that I'll miss you. If I die. Or if I turn into some sort of headless puss-oozing slug or something, I suppose its about the same thing, really. I left you Trevor, in my will."
"Your toad?"
He nodded.
"Cute."
"I'm serious. I could die."
"I didn't say I didn'' believe you."
She was smiling as she said it, though.
******
"Are you sure you don't want to eat something? You look terrible."
"I'd just throw it up."
"Jolly today, aren't you?"
Remus snorted and went back to his book. Tonks stomped across the living room and flopped down on the sagging sofa. She paged through Witch Weekly for a few minutes then stood up and stomped around the room again, to the window. She pulled aside the curtain and sinister orange light filled the room.
"About how long?" she asked.
"Moonrise isn't for another hour. If you're that worried I'll lock myself up early."
"I'm not worried, I'm just anxious is all. Are you sure you can't get the potion somewhere else?"
"Tonks, if I could get it from anyone other than Severus Snape I most definitely would, but I can't and even if I suddenly remembered someone else who could make the potion, it's too late for it to be effective. I need to take it for the entire week beforehand."
"I know, I know," she said, her hair changing color between words. "Have they figured out what's wrong with Snape yet?"
"They think it may have been some kind of as-yet unknown potion, but there was no trace of anything in the tests. Poppy thinks he's getting better. He seems to have regained the use of the word 'no', and he's stopped twitching as well, so that's a good sign."
There was a long empty pause in the conversation. Remus sighed and stood up.
"I'm going to double check the reinforcement charms on the door," he announced and walked down the stairs.
Tonks flopped back on the sofa. There was an electric quality to the air. That was the only way she could describe it. Her father had taken her to a muggle science museum once, before she had gotten into Hogwarts. The thing she remembered most about the trip was the exhibit on electricity. There was a big glass bubble with lightning trapped inside, and when you touched it your hair stood on end. She smoothed down her hair to check.
Remus rattled about in the basement. She wanted to go down there and keep him company, but she knew he'd just get annoyed. Despite her Auror training, she had never really gotten the hang of waiting. Guard duty just did not suit her. Kingsley was much better at this sort of thing, but he was attending a meeting with the head of the Auror division, and he couldn't just tell them, 'sorry I've got a secret society to guard and a werewolf to baby-sit.'
The next hour crawled by and Tonks went downstairs. Remus was already waiting in the basement. His clothes were folded up neatly outside the door, and his wand rested on top of them. Tonks checked over the spells once more. They were all working properly.
"Everything alright in there?" she asked loudly.
"Yes." Remus answered quietly. "You should probably cast the silencing charm now."
"I will, but are you sure…"
She was cut off half way by a groan, and a dull thump.
"Tonks…silence…" he hissed.
She did not want to hear him, but she felt guiltier about leaving him alone. She worried also about him leaving her alone. Just me and a werewolf, nice and stuck here for twelve hours. She considered just leaving the basement un-charmed. Walking around in big empty house in complete silence was sure to drive her insane. Maybe a bit of barking wouldn't be so bad…But that thought was dashed into oblivion by the screams. Her hand had half-turned the knob before she caught herself. Remus' screams took on a strange choked quality, and she thought he may have been trying to keep his mouth shut. He doesn't want anyone to hear that. A low growl and a snarl rattled the door, and Tonks decided she was better off in silence.
It was 2am and the card house was nearly five feet tall. The process had begun at about11:30 pm, when Tonks had startled herself awake for the fifth time, by falling out of her chair. She had been reading, but it was only a few easy steps from reading a book to falling asleep on top of it. She thought a card game would be a little more active, but discovered solitaire was not stimulating enough by half. She rolled the carpet up in the corner to make sure she had a flat surface. Tonks had initially planned a scale model of Hogwarts School, but gave that up for a giant pyramid when she realized how hard turrets were to assemble. She held her breath as she added another two cards. If she had not, she may not have heard them.
It was just a tiny clicking sound. It could have been one of the clocks, or just some beam in the house resettling itself, but to Tonks it was cannon blast. The alarms had not sounded, but she was certain that a door had just come unlocked. She walked slowly around the card house, snuffing the lamp as she went. The door to the parlor was already open, so she did not have to worry about the hinges creaking as she entered the dark hall. With a moment of concentration she altered her eyes. The house went from pitch black to a grayish haze. The knob reflected the faintest bit of light as it turned slowly. The door opened without a sound.
It was obvious that they had cast silencing charms. The hinges made no noise and their boots were equally soundless as they entered the house. They slinked off into the kitchen and up the stairs, not risking lights. One walked straight at her, but she slipped behind the parlor door before he got close. He passed her without noticing, entering the parlor, and another went down the hall, inspecting the loo and a broom closet before disappearing into the living room. Tonks heard a grunt of surprise and the soft slap of the cards on the hardwood floor as her house tumbled down.
Tonks thought quickly. Didn't leave any important parchment lying around, no magical objects, no Phoenix feathers. All I've got to worry about now is eight Death Eaters, and Remus. How the bloody hell do I evacuate a werewolf?
The plan formed so fast she amazed even herself. All that time studying most-wanted portraits was not wasted after all. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she concentrated. A moment later she was ready. She'd even produced a fairly good likeness of that ugly tattoo. Tonks walked into the kitchen.
A Death Eater was inspecting the pantry door. He turned his white masked face towards her as she entered the room.
"You are supposed to be searching upstairs," she said in Lucius Malfoy's cool quiet voice.
The Death Eater did not move.
"Are you stupid or deaf? Don't make me repeat myself." Tonks said, with all the threat she could muster.
"I am neither actually," the Death Eater answered in an equally cool manner.
$#1% was all Tonks had time to think before the real Lucius Malfoy fired a curse at her. Fortunately for Tonks, half of dodging involves falling down, and in falling down she had a talent unmatched. The curse shattered a cabinet and bits of china rained down on her as she rolled across the floor and shouted. "Stupefy!"
Malfoy deflected it and another Death Eater rushed into the room, and another a second later. Tonks had no other plan. She decided to give instinct a try. She fired a blasting hex into the ceiling and charged toward the Death Eaters as they dodged falling bits of rubble. An impediment charm cleared most of her path, and she was three steps from the basement door when an Expelliarmus hit her in the back. Her wand slipped from her fingers and she tumbled head first against a cabinet. She rolled over and looked at them, her face slipping back into its natural state. The Death Eaters were all filing into the kitchen now, nine of them, cutting off the back door and the hallway. Tonks was cornered.
"No one left to help you now little girl," said one of them. He lit the end of his wand, illuminating the group.
Tonks filled her mouth with shark's teeth and smiled at him. He drew back a bit but another stepped forward.
"What's behind the door?" asked Malfoy.
Tonks shrugged. She reached up behind her back, grabbing the knob.
"As last I recall it was the basement." Tonks said, trying not to sound scared.
"Kill her," said Malfoy.
Tonks turned the knob and lunged backwards. She missed her footing and tumbled down the basement steps, crashing into a shelf at the bottom. Jars of beans and jam crashed around her, cascading across the floor. The Death Eaters walked down the stairs after her.
"Nowhere else to run, little girl."
"Oh I'm right were I want to be," she said, to the four men now standing at the base of the steps. She whistled sharply. "Come on out sweetie, supper's on!"
The Death Eaters looked around in confusion for a moment, until the shadow detached itself from a pile of boxes to their left. A low growl filled the room, and even though it made the hair on Tonk's neck stand up she continued to talk in a cheerful voice. "Meet Remus Lupin. I hope being eaten doesn't give you a bad first impression. He'd be upset if he thought you didn't like him."
A Death Eater tried to run back up the stairs but he was knocked back as a huge, gray wolf crashed down on his chest. Tonks saw his arms come up to push the werewolf off, but there was a loud wet crunch. His arms spasmed for a moment, then dropped to the floor with a loud thud. The Death Eater's companions disapparated before the wolf could turn around. Red and green lights rained into the tiny space from the men upstairs, but the werewolf was un-fazed. It darted up the steps into the kitchen, and there were screaming and crashes, and popping sounds as the Death Eaters retreated.
Tonks climbed to her feet. She grabbed the shelf for support and her hand came down on broken glass. She hissed back a curse. Another jar fell, splattering the dead man with Mrs. Weasley's homemade tomato sauce. Tonks stumbled a bit, and realized the kitchen had gone silent. She looked up towards the door, and saw two glowing eyes.
"Hey Remus," she said slowly. She retreated further into the basement, scrambling over the remains of a spice rack. The werewolf stepped onto the staircase. Its muzzle was soaked in blood and its teeth were bared. Her eyes were drawn to red, stringy bit of meat stuck between the creature's front teeth. It paced her as she backed away.
"I don't suppose you remember me?" she asked.
The werewolf growled and its rear legs bunched. Tonks slipped on the spilled beans and fell backwards. The wolf lunged.
*****
His alarm had failed to go off. He usually did not need it. For the past eight years he had awakened at six-fifteen am exactly, so often he just woke up on his own. Kingsley mentally kicked himself as he tugged on his boots. It was nearly noon.
He blamed the head of the Auror division, Gregory Itelham. The man kept them in a high security meeting for five hours the night before, droning on unceasingly about new security regulations the Ministry was going to implement. Kingsley had found the man's speech entertaining at first, as Itelham could barely send a secure interdepartmental memo, but the humor disappeared rapidly after about twenty minutes.
As Kingsley filled the pockets of his robe, he wondered why Tonks had not fire-called him when he failed to show up on time. She was hopelessly clumsy but not forgetful. She probably fell asleep at her desk again, he thought, recalling she had been on guard duty with Remus the entire night. I'll check on her as soon as I sign in, he decided. He raised his wand and disapparated.
*****
The fire had burned down, nearly to embers when the call came. The sudden burst of light in the room startled the Headmaster from the slight stupor that had over taken him. Kingsley Shacklebolt's face appeared out of the flames, his usual calm replaced with anxiety. He said the words Dumbledore had feared all morning, ever since Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks missed check in.
"Den three has been lost."
"Survivors?"
"There's nothing but rubble. We're still digging."
Before Dumbledore could ask for more information an owl fluttered in the window. It dropped an envelope on his desk and flew right back out without pause. He inspected the wax seal on the flap.
Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Werewolf Division.
Slowly, he peeled it open.
*****
"Drop it!" Ron ordered.
Harry jumped and the book slid out of his lap, landing with a loud thump on the rug. Harry had been reading the Animagus book most of the afternoon, as the storm raging outside prevented any Quidditch practice. Ron walked around the chair and picked it up, inspecting the book's current cover. The taller boy quickly scanned the Gryffindor common room for observers before commenting.
"We've been studying and working all week. If you keep this up you'll turn into Hermione." Ron continued.
"We're taking the potion tomorrow. I just have to make sure we haven't missed anything." Harry said taking the book back.
"Check later, we're going to miss the feast." Ron said.
"Feast?" Harry looked up at the clock on the mantle. It was nearly seven.
"The Halloween feast? October 31st?" Ron ran his hands through his hair as if he were about to tear it out in frustration. "You look at your schedule every five minutes, how could you forget it's Halloween?"
Harry shrugged. "I'll just go put this away then," Harry said. "Is Hermione coming?"
"Of course she is." Ron said. He went to the stairs leading up to the girl's dormitory and shouted at the top of his lungs, "HERMIONE GET DOWN HERE! WE'RE GOING TO THE FEAST!"
Harry ran up to his room, tossed the book on his bed, and was back down in time to see the opening argument of that hour's Ron and Hermione fight.
"…is all I'm trying to say." Hermione finished.
"It didn't sound like it. It sounded more like you were calling me stupid!" Ron replied. His face was so red it was nearly glowing.
"Weren't we going to a feast?" Harry asked, sweeping past them and out the portrait.
They caught up with him on the stairs. The three Gryffindors managed to speak civilly all the way to the entrance hall. They were passing through the doors of the Great Hall when something caught Harry's attention. The doors of the school hung open. Thinking it was a little odd, Harry turned around to investigate. As he reached the threshold a bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds. Two tall cloaked figures were sprinting up the stairs towards the school, a magical stretcher floating beside them. Its occupant was concealed by a cloth. "Get Dumbledore!" Harry shouted.
He heard Ron's voice echoing through the halls. He drew his wand. The cloaked men came through the curtain of rain into the archway over the door. Harry saw their faces and sighed with relief. Kingsley Shacklebolt pulled back his hood and gave Harry a short nod. The other man kept his hood up, but Harry recognized him as one of the men who had helped drag Professor Snape back to the school. The relief evaporated as he looked more carefully at the form on the stretcher. Despite the cloth obscuring her face Harry could tell it was a woman.
"Tonks?" Harry asked, surprised to hear his voice cracking.
Kingsley only nodded again.
Dumbledore swept up to them at that moment, and after giving each of the men a long look he waved them inside. They took off towards the hospital wing, and Dumbledore did not object when Harry followed or when Ron and Hermione fell in behind him. Madam Pomfrey was the only one who gave them trouble.
"Go back to the feast, you've got no business here," she ordered.
"I could fall down a staircase and come back," Harry offered. The hospital matron gave him a scathing look, but then ignored him as the extent of Tonks' injuries was exposed.
Her face was covered in bruises, and there was a particularly nasty one at her hairline that had a cut through it as well. Her nose was swollen, purple, and smashed looking and she had another large bruise on her chin. Ponfrey lifted Tonks' hand and muttered a spell. The hand was covered in blood and as the magic took effect bits of glass floated free of the skin, settling in a bedpan on the floor.
"Granger, make yourself useful. Get me the anti-swelling salve out of the cabinet in my office, and for goodness sakes don't shake it. Potter, bring one of the privacy curtains over. Weasley, fetch me three cups of immobilizing potion from the storeroom." The three students ran off to their appointed tasks. Kingsley, Dumbledore and the stranger began to talk in low voices.
After a half hour of work Tonks groaned and Madam Pomfrey stepped back, apparently satisfied. Harry, Hermione and Ron were shooed outside then, but no one was in the hallway, so they all pressed their ears back to the door. Harry peered in through the keyhole.
"Wasss go'in on?" asked Tonks in a slurred voice.
"We were hoping you could tell us," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice.
Tonks sat bolt upright. "Remus!"
What about him, Harry thought. His stomach began to churn. He knew something must have happened, he was more sure of that than of his own name.
"The Death Eaters, they found the house," Tonks said. "I had to let him out, or they would have…have killed him. I was…I fell down the stairs. He was coming and I threw a box of pepper in his face, blinded him for a minute. I got up the stairs but the Death Eaters…there was a booby trap and …I think the roof caved in. What time is it? Have they found Remus yet?"
"He was not in the ruins of the house." Dumbledore said slowly.
"The rest of the Order is out searching for him then?" Tonks was wearing a heart-shaped face with short black hair. Harry thought he could see the resemblance between her and Sirius as she grew angry. Dumbledore bowed his head a bit.
"Nymphadora, you must be prepared. Though I have not given up hope, I have received word from a contact in the Ministry, that the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures was forced to kill a werewolf last night a few miles south of Hogsmeade. We are attempting to get an Order member in to see the body, but the description we have…"
Dumbledore paused for a moment as Tonks let out a strangled sob. "I must also ask you not to tell Harry. Not until we know everything. I fear he may attempt something foolish…"
Harry stepped back from the door. He tripped over Hermione and fell on the floor, but hardly felt the impact. He heard footsteps coming to the hospital door, and without thinking he turned and ran. He was not entirely aware that he was leaving the castle, but he felt the rain as he sprinted down the front steps of the school. He was nearly to the bottom when he slipped, slamming his right knee painfully into the stone and rolling to a stop in an oceanic puddle on the ground. He got to his feet, muddy and shaking, and hurried down the path towards Hogsmeade. As he neared the front gates of the school,l the air changed.
It felt as if he were trying to move through huge drifts of snow. It must be the sleepwalking safety net they put up, he thought, still fighting to move forward. He struggled on, as he reached the threshold of the gates it felt as if he was trying to walk into a sand dune, but as his foot passed through the gate the heavy feeling disappeared. He had one moment of elated success before he was yanked off his feet by the back of his robes, and dragged backward, through the mud, at a high rate of speed. He came to a halt at the base of the castle steps, slumped miserably in a puddle. Dumbledore stood on the bottom step waiting.
The ancient man leaned down, offering Harry a hand up, but Harry made no move to take it.
"I'm fine where I am," Harry said, lying back in the puddle. Water ran into his ears, and he could hear his own pulse quiet loudly.
"Harry, please get up." The Headmaster said.
Harry was tempted to say, 'why don't you make me?' but instead, just lay in the mud watching rain land on the lenses of his glasses. When he was moving, running off to Hogsmeade, he could think about ways Dumbledore could have been wrong, how it might not have been Remus. No one who knew him had even seen the body yet. But when Harry realized he would not be able to leave the school and find out for himself, when he realized how trapped he was, he could not think at all after that. It was hopeless.
"Harry, please get up. You'll make yourself ill."
Harry did not answer. The full moon was last night; Dumbledore must have known something was wrong since this morning. He didn't tell me. He still didn't tell me. A few more minutes went by, and then Harry heard feet splashing towards him through the water. Ron and Hermione's faces appeared above him blocking out the dark clouded sky. Without a word they pulled Harry to his feet, and helped him up the steps.
*****
"You've reached Lim. Talk or hang up."
"This is Roger. We turned up something that might interest you."
"Don't leave me in suspense, sweetheart."
"A house up in Scotland imploded last night. I've just got into the satellite photos. It's pretty spectacular."
"I need something more than that, dearest."
"I know. I know. The photos also show a series of pinpoint flashes in the area around the house over the next few hours. They were hunting someone."
"How do we know they didn't catch them? It is a long drive after all."
"I've hacked the real-time feed off the same satellite Lim, they're at it again. I'm e-mailing you the map now. Are you going?"
"I'm already gone."