Chapter One
I, Alone
--
She walked through the clouds and shadows alone, and wondered how she got where she was. Alone, she passed through the heart of cold and hate, but felt nothing touch her soul. She saw the visions of the greatest evils, and bore witness to the evil unleashed. And still, she couldn't feel. Alone, she couldn't feel.
--
Her bones ached.
She wasn't just tired; she was beyond the realms of simple fatigue.
Each limb was stiff with the cold and the lack of movement. Combined with the length of time she'd spent here, the desire to move was an incredible urge to disregard the mission for comfort.
Yet as the thought tempted the back of her mind, her eyes remained trained on the green glow across the street. The incandescent light pulsated from the top window in the shabby, run-down house. It had been poorly covered by a visibly thin, nearly sheer grey curtain. She was almost certain it used to be black, but the years of neglect had taken its toll.
Her right leg itched from the lack of circulating blood. She ignored it.
She had spent three long, fruitless days watching the seemingly deserted house, and was nearly ready to finally label the anonymous tip useless when the little man in black showed up.
She could tell he was small and on the scrawny side by the way his cloak hung loosely over his frame and over his ankles. He scurried and nearly tripped over the hem of his cloak with each step. He was clutching something in his hands. Yet despite with enchanted vision, she couldn't see his face, or what the object he held was.
So she stayed where she was among the heaps of rubble that may once have been a home, and hoped the Death Eater wouldn't be able to see past the enchanted cover that made her look just like the rubble around her.
But when the green glow appeared, poorly hidden, she let out a snort. Since when did the Dark Lord allow Death Eater amateurs?
However, when he didn't reappear for hours, the elation faded and left behind the feeling of cold, stiff limbs. So now, she was back at square one: waiting and watching.
She debated going in after him, but decided to corner him as he came out. Perhaps it was her own curiosity that won her over. She really wanted to know what the green glow was as soon as her curiosity was piqued.
She was beginning to think he'd caught onto her plan, apparated, and alerted the real Death Eaters, when the incandescent light suddenly winked off.
She frowned.
What could that possibly be? No potion she'd ever run into glowed like that for such a long period of time before being turned off with the speed of a light bulb. And what spell would need to simmer and charge like that?
Before her thoughts could go on, the Death Eater rushed out of the house, looking even more harried and clutching something in his hands yet again. She could detect the faintest glimmer of green.
Adrenaline quickened through her blood stream as she rose silently, the first movement shredding the cover charm. Moving to follow, she nearly ran into a waste bin of sheet metal when her numb, frozen legs refused to budge.
Cursing and casting a warming spell in her mind, she was moving clumsily before the spell kicked in. With a warm tingling spreading down her legs, she began to move easier as she followed the Death Eater around the corner.
Keeping to the shadows, her thin black cloak swished as audibly as her silent footsteps. The Death Eater was ahead, anxiously glancing this way and that but seemingly oblivious to the figure behind him.
Past rows of empty buildings, avoiding weak spots of lamp light, and trying not to tread on muddy puddles, she couldn't see the purpose of the route he'd taken. On the next turn, she found him standing in the centre of a walled-in alley.
She was just moving back out of sight when the Death Eater whipped around with a whirl of black cloth.
"Impedimenta!"
Barely batting an eyelash, a Protego already resounded in her mind, easily deflecting the paralyzing hex. She froze anyways and watched the Death Eater approach her.
His eyes were a wild green on the point of madness, seeming larger on his long, gaunt face. He cackled, only adding to the insane image.
"Auror. So proud and noble. So confident. Didn't think I would see you following me, would you?"
He pushed his yellowed grin into her face, his breath foul against her skin. "But I did! And I got you now. Ooh," the Death Eater crooned. "The Dark Lord will be pleased now."
He was so close to her face now that she could almost see the sweat exuding from each greasy pore, smell the oil on each strand of unwashed hair, and feel the spittle that flew from his mouth.
Rather than grimacing, she jabbed her wand into his ribs with a small smile.
"Petrificus Totalus."
It wasn't necessary to speak the words out loud, but she enjoyed the way his eyes widened with fear and realization that he'd been played a fool.
She caught his elbow so he wouldn't fall over once his body went rigid. Pivoting her body weight, she manoeuvred the Death Eater to the wall so he leaned against it like a slab of plywood.
His hands were raised awkwardly, fingers curled and empty of any object.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her small hands easily reached into the loose robe and drew out what she sought in the first pocket. The clear vile with a green liquid glowed warmly in her hand.
Her eyebrows rose. This truly wasn't like any potion she'd seen before.
"What is this?"
When she looked back at the Death Eater, she could see his wide-eyed terror. That was good. Perhaps then she wouldn't have to hurt him
She raised the vial so it was in his eyesight and so he couldn't possibly mistake it for anything else. Then she brought the tip of her wand down on his lips, and watched it gape open and shut on his otherwise frozen face.
She pointed at the vial, watching his eyes wheel around like pin balls in his eyes sockets.
"What is this, Death Eater?"
When he only continued to gape, she jabbed him in the ribs again.
"I asked you a question. Answer it."
He cleared his throat, sounding more like hacking then anything else. Then he began to sputter, spittle flying from his mouth with each word.
She grimaced now, a glare shutting the Death Eater up.
She wiped the spittle from her face.
"Bloody hell, doesn't the Dark Lord allow you filth to wash yourselves anymore?"
"The Dark Lord will have my head should I speak of this."
"Yes, charming bloke isn't he." She moved back so his eyes focused on her. "But he's not here. I am."
His lips stretched into a smirk.
"Oh, Auror. Do you think you can fool me? The Ministry of Magic has pussy-footed around this war for years. Aurors don't kill. You haven't the stomach for it."
She took a step closer until their faces were an inch apart. She held his gaze, keeping her eyes cold and emotionless. Her words were spoken low and flat.
"You've been sadly misinformed. Scum don't have the slightest idea what I would do. I could torture the information out of you. Gladly. But I'm afraid the Ministry frowns upon such actions for such mundane purposes. I could take you back with me where we have a team who can specially extract the information with a highly inventive process. Or -" she stepped back enough to show him the vial containing a clear liquid, "I could just pour this down your throat and get all the information I could possibly need."
The smirk instantly dropped from his lips, returning to a slack-jawed gape.
"No! Please. The Dark Lord will kill me. He will know I have spoken to you. I can't… his wrath… no, no…" the Death Eaters voice hitched.
She shrugged as she popped open the vial.
"Death Eater, you're buggered either way." She reached over and held open his mouth none-too gently. "Take the painless option."
She dumped the Veritaserum into his upturned mouth while pitiful mewling emitted from the back of his throat. She waited for a moment to be sure the potion had entered his system.
"Lets try again. What is this?"
His terrified eyes were locked on the green vial.
"I can't… no…" His eyes were beginning to slowly glaze over.
"What is it, Death Eater?"
"It's a Di-"
His throat suddenly convulsed. His eyes wheeled madly as sounds she'd never heard before began to sound. His throat bulged, constricted, and then bulged again, each contraction creating a popping, then crunch.
He couldn't gag; it was a helpless mewling that he made.
She pointed her wand at his throat.
"Anapneo."
Nothing happened. It only worsened.
Muscles strained as he fought the Full-Body Bind in vain, trying to clutch at his throat. The skin bubbled now as if he were dunked into boiling water. His face was turning blue and purple. And there was nothing she could do. She'd never seen anything like it.
It seemed like an eternity before he died, when in reality it had only been a little over a minute. Yet she knew the exact second he died, for his body lost the rigor as the Full-Body Bind lifted, and his bladder let go.
His small, skinny frame barely made a noise when his body hit the ground.
She stared at the vial in hand and then at the Death Eater at her feet. His limbs were splayed about as if he were a rag doll thrown across the room by a spoiled, upset child. A rag doll lying in its own excrement.
She shook her head as her stomach rolled from the smell of waste and burning skin.
"Not so bloody painless after all." Her voice seemed to bounce off the stone walls, echoing in the still night. It brought her back to how cold it was.
Gritting her teeth, she shut down her mind from what she had to do now.
She reached down and grasped the Death Eater's hand. He was still warm.
She wiped her mind clean of the image burning itself in, and concentrated on her destination. A smooth, graceful turn, and she, along with the Death Eater, was gone in the next second.
The old house stood empty and in rambles. The streets were quiet and deserted, and the alley was just a barren, walled-in alley.
It was nothing but a slight ripple of disturbance in the Muggle World.
--
"He's advancing through the North. The Giants all seem to be aligned under the Dark Lord's -"
"You mean Voldemort?" At the young man's cringe, the black-haired man lazily leaned back against the couch facing the fireplace behind him. "Oh, come on now, Dean. It's been a full out war for five years and you still can't take hearing his name?"
It didn't seem to matter that Dean was inches taller; he swallowed nervously as he nearly wavered under the piercing green eyes that held him pinned to his spot. They'd been to Hogwarts together, were of the same age. Still, the black-haired man felt older, far older and different as ever.
"Yes, V-Voldemort seems to have complete command of those Hagrid hasn't swayed."
"So how would you say our situation is up North?" he asked, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.
"Well… I'd say we're fairing poorly. In short, we're losing, mate."
The only emotion he displayed was a slight tightening in his jaw.
Before they could say anymore, there was the slightest rush of air that had both men turning to the fireplace. What had been just a plain brown rug now had a cloaked figure and what looked like a sack of black cloth on top of it.
The figure dropped what was in its hand as soon as it apparated completely.
"Dean. Harry," the figure greeted as it swept off the hood to reveal hard brown eyes and a great, frizzy bush of brown hair.
"Hermione," Harry acknowledged with an inclination to his chin.
He was staring at her, so she stared back.
He knew he hadn't changed. He was the same average height, the same black hair, the same green eyes, and the same beaten-up glasses no matter how many times they got magically repaired. The only real change was his hair. He wore it longer now, either from not bothering with a haircut, or to hide his scar. It didn't matter, anyways. Nobody needed the scar to recognize him anymore.
She, on the other hand, had subtle changes. Her body still had the same long lines, noticeable even under the old cloak. Her brown hair was just as frizzy, and her spells were just as wicked. Yet her brown eyes seemed harder, her disposition colder.
"You look better," she stated.
He shrugged. "Yeah, well, the last time you saw me was after the Ravenclaw Cup horcrux. That one was nearly the end of me."
Once, she may have worried, then tell him not to talk like that. Now, she only nodded. "Yeah."
"Uh, Harry?" Dean stammered when the silence stretched into tension. "I gotta finish that report on the North for McGonagall. Mind?"
"No. Go ahead," Harry said, mildly surprised. He nearly forgot about Dean. "Thanks for your time."
"No problem, mate," Dean replied as he made a beeline for the door. Hermione hadn't looked away from Harry. Harry didn't glance back either. Dean was probably glad; many hated getting caught between them. At least Ron wasn't here. He remembered the last time…
Harry tactfully shook the thoughts from his head. Nothing had been the same for a long time.
When Dean was gone, the tension continued until Hermione jerked her head towards the Death Eater, taking a step away at the same time.
"I found a Death Eater."
Harry shook his head, frustration evidently rising.
"Forget about that for a second, will you? I haven't seen you in months and you want to dive straight into business after a mission?" He scowled at her shrug.
"What else can we say? I say you look better, you say you are better, so now what but business?"
"That's rubbish, Hermione. You can't take a second to talk to me as a friend?"
She gave him an incredulous look that had his temper rising as well.
"If you haven't noticed, there's a full-scale war going on right now. There isn't time for pleasant chit-chat at the moment."
"You don't need to tell me there's a war waging," he said through gritted teeth. "And I don't want chit-chat. I just wanted to know if you're okay."
"If you see me breathing, then I'm fine."
"Stop it, Hermione. Stop being so bloody flippant. I worry about you."
She let out a mirthless laugh.
"Oh, that's rubbish, Harry. Don't you've too much on your plate right now? Didn't you hate it when I worried over you?"
"That was… This is different."
She cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"
"I… It… We're…" he dragged his fingers through his hair, giving her a glimpse of the famous scar. "Damnit, Hermione."
She waited a moment for the silence to settle before continuing.
"I found a Death Eater." Looking away from Harry for the first time, she toed the Death Eater over to show him his neck. She moved to the fireplace as she undid her cloak, letting it fall to the ground.
"I have him Veritaserum to tell me what this-" she flashed him the potion she'd palmed from her cloak pocket, "-is. When he tried telling me…" she motioned to his body. His neck looked even worse now, bruising purple at the welts. "That happened."
That was fine, that was just fine. He could play the game too. Harry checked his frustration and shifted into his Auror mode, his voice taking on a brusque tone.
"Do you know if it was a curse or the Veritaserum that did him in?"
"Well it would still be a curse either way. Veritaserum isn't lethal."
Harry frowned. "You know what I mean."
"And I don't know. That's why I apparated here."
"You're lucky you can still get past the identity enchantment for apparating in here."
She rolled her shoulders in a casual shrug, but it was so stiff that Harry could practically see the knots. "I went to the same Auror training as you." She jerked her thumb towards the Death Eater. "I need him inspected." With a wave and flick of her wrist, wand in hand, the body disappeared. "I want Fred and George on it."
He nodded. "I'll get them."
"No," she stated as she headed for the door, "I'll do it myself. Excuse me."
Harry let her go, watching as she exited through the door Dean escaped through earlier.
Nothing was the same… oh no, nothing was ever going to be the same again.
--
The boys stood on the platform and talked absently in whispers. Surrounding them were other teenagers, all talking in the same subdued whispers. Some stood quietly though, while others shifted from foot to foot with obvious nerves.
A group of first year girls laughed, but broke off quickly as heads turned.
The two seventh year boys didn't pay any heed to those around them. While one was dark and of average height, the other was tall, fair, and had hair the colour of flaming carrots. They were waiting, both occasionally glancing through the crowd.
They didn't have to wait long until a bushy haired seventh year approached them.
"Harry! Ron!" she said in a fierce whisper.
They both smiled and cried, "Hermione!" in unison.
Embracing Harry, they gripped one another tightly before she turned to Ron. Up on tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek. He flushed crimson.
"Am I too late?" she asked, her hands wringing together. "Oh dear, I told mum and dad to leave earlier. The train hasn't come? Is it going to come? I hope-"
"Take a breath, Hermione," Harry interrupted with a laugh.
"No kidding," Ron piped in with a grin. "School hasn't even started yet and you're already stressing us out."
She sighed, letting her hands fall limply to her sides.
"I know. I'm sorry. Let's talk about something different."
"Yeah, like how I haven't seen Ferret Boy around?" Ron asked, using his considerable height to scan the crowd again.
Hermione glanced around as well.
"After what happened last year, I'll be surprised if Dumbledore even allows Malfoy near Hogwarts."
"Dumbledore believes there's good in everyone though. Probably even that pale-faced prat." Ron turned to Harry who'd stayed quiet in their conversation. "What do you think, mate?"
Harry shrugged. "I think Dumbledore has good reason for everything he does."
Ron snorted. "You still hate that prat."
"Yeah, I still hate that prat."
A sudden steam train whistle blew through the whispers. Heads jerked up as a red train rambled around the corner. The gloom instantly lifted at the sight.
Hermione nearly squealed, as she gripped her two friends' hands in excitement.
"It's here! It's really here! I can't wait. We're going to Hogwarts!"
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry who gave a responding laugh.
"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically. "Let's hope we make it through the year first."
Gathering their things together, the three best friends boarded the train to Hogwarts. Together.
Happiness is just an illusion
Filled with sadness and confusion
--Jimmy Ruffin