A Captive Path Chapter 9: A Quiet Stand, a harry potter fanfic

A Quiet Stand

Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.

One would have expected the Ministry to fall completely apart once Voldemort swept through, but it was not so. In fact, it was sickeningly remarkable how quickly and how many pureblooded officials swore loyalty, after seeing their fellows fall to The Dark Lord's wand, and after they were promised the new worlds choicest spoils. Very quickly, those who were exterminated were replaced, and new departments went into place while others fell away. Thus it was that one of the Dark Lord's likeliest chances for complete chaos was taken over swiftly, seamlessly, and in a silent stream of blood.

Michael Corner had counted his blessings daily. Having discovered a new use for his once Lothario-esque charm, he'd managed to keep himself alive and get himself placed in the newly arranged Ministry of Magic. At first, he was just moving papers between the extermination offices, a grunt worker who was thanking Merlin he wasn't stuck under imperius killing his friends. He was just killing them via paperwork. That was another thing he'd discovered…even in the brutal new order, if it was on official parchment, it was gospel.

Case in point, his marriage to Alicia Spinnet: completely nonexistent, save on paper. But he was keeping her alive and keeping himself from getting paired off on some inbred pureblood wench. Michael also knew that there were plenty of people out there who weren't dead, who should have been, and he was likely the only person at the new Ministry who did. Some, like George Weasley, probably thought he was being pretty noble. The reality was, he had a weight of guilt on his back for not dying for the cause along with so many of his friends.

On the 13th of March, he woke up rather late, as usual, rolling out of bed, running a hand through his hair and making his way across his open studio flat to the kitchen area. His lovely roommate was already awake, sitting at the table and reading a book over her cold cereal, "Here," Alicia held up a letter, not looking up from her book, "Owl came for you earlier, nearly pecked my eyes out, too…"

Michael smirked, "Thanks," stealing a metal clip from her hair, he slit the rather old and tattered envelope. Now that was odd. He studied the musty muggle paper for a moment, a slightly confused frown crossing his face. If he got mail from anyone, it was usually on crisp, Ministry standard parchment. Opening the letter, he felt a rather panicky, cold sensation settle in his stomach, "Huh," He said shakily, "We're ah…going to have company tonight."

"Oh?" Alicia looked up, frowning as well when she noticed the look on his face, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," He mumbled, turning and looking back at his corner of the flat, "I'm going to get dressed, and…work on some things…"

"You're doing the thing again," Alicia rolled her eyes, as Michael hurried off to rummage through his clothes, "Where you…leave out words and as such make no SENSE…"

"George Weasley's back in England," He tossed her the letter, as he yanked a shirt on over his head, "With Bill and…and Stephen," His old best mate. Michael shook his head in disbelief, while Alicia just stared at the letter in her hands, "I have to figure out how the hell I'm going to get them into London…"

Ottery St. Catchpole was yet another abandoned village, though the damage there was considerably less than that in Hogsmeade. Most of its houses lie untouched and empty, the countryside slowly growing over the cottages and houses, some of which had survived for hundreds of years. There had been one of the first extermination camps in the main village, but it too was now empty and deserted, the scorched and blackened ground in the town square the only signs that it had been there.

Sifting through the layer of dust that had settled over the Burrow, Bill, George and Stephen waited where they were, only able to hope that George's owl hadn't gotten checked. While his brother sat by the kitchen window, staring out over his mother's dusty pots and pans, Bill wandered the house, gently picking up family pictures and long-forgotten projects started by Molly, Ginny, Hermione or Luna. In the living room, he spotted Ginny's basket of knitting. Within were half-finished scarves in red and gold, as well as various spools of house colored yarn, and the many sets of knitting needles she and Luna used to make, hand painting flowers on them with nail polish on summer days while his mum made lemonade. Bill swallowed once, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, and tucking the basket into the sack he'd carried over his shoulder.

"Oi, look here," George sat up at mid-morning, alerting Stephen, who'd fallen asleep at the table across from him. Bill returned to the room just in time to see their owl flying back, holding a far crisper and cleaner letter than the one they'd sent out. Plucking it from the bird's beak, George read over it quickly, grinning, "Good man, knew I could count on him!"

"Yeah?" Bill asked, and George nodded,

"He's got a secure place for us to floo to," He folded the letter again, standing up at the table, "And then it'll be lots of running through back alleys in muggle London. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up some more of my old clothes…"

"Can I bum some off of you?" Stephen asked hopefully, as he was still wearing his old tattered uniform trousers and one of Justin's old jumpers. George smirked,

"Plenty of old Weasley wares for the taking…"

"They gave you a building?" Were the first words out of Stephen's mouth, after he tumbled out of the floo in Diagon Alley and hugged Michael, who shook his head,

"Ministry's short-handed, surprise, surprise," He laughed somewhat nervously, keeping his voice low in the small printing office, that Stephen felt he vaguely recognized. Michael looked out of the windows cautiously as Bill and George showed up, before turning back to his guests, "When you're the clerk in charge of writing up lists, you are the only one in the department. I come here once a week to print up reports," His hands were still twitching, and his eyes were wide, "Sorry but I won't feel safe until we're back at my flat," He whispered, looking at Bill, as he seemed to be carrying the most belongings, "Have you got cover?"

"Oh yeah," Bill nodded, and after digging around in the sack for a bit, he pulled out the three black cloaks. Pulling up his own hood over his face, Michael smirked,

"Right then! Off we go…"

Alicia was pacing back and forth in the flat, having drawn all of the shades closed over the large windows, and putting on hot water for tea with lunch. The door opened and she jumped slightly, shutting her eyes and letting out an anxious breath when she saw Michael, "Merlin, I thought we were getting swept…"

"I told you we'd be quick," Michael replied, pushing back his hood and motioning the other three men inside. Alicia laughed,

"Yeah, after getting me all freaked out before you left," She looked over just as George was pulling off his black robe, and she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly, "George!" She cried, "How are you?"

"Squished!" George grinned, kissing the top of her head, "Katie sends her love,"

"Katie," Alicia sighed, "I miss having her around so much…" She glanced toward the kitchen, where Bill had taken off his cloak and was setting their belongings down. She blinked, "Wow you're…still tall,"

"…Astute observation," Bill replied, smirking, while Stephen began plying Michael with questions. They hadn't been able to talk, while running through the mostly deserted backstreets of London, avoiding undue attention…

A few hours and a few warm meals later, the shades were still pulled and the city outside was darker than it had ever been in the old days. The flat was filled with candles and a few charmed electric lights ("Not much electricity running in You Know Who's city," Michael had reminded them all), and the record player Alicia had turned on, to cover the sound of their softly speaking voices, even as the door was warded. The boys took turns at taking hot showers and washing their clothes, all the while with Michael and Alicia catching them up on how things were in Europe, and in the ministry.

"At least the rules of Quidditch have stayed the same," Alicia was saying, "Even though I CAN'T PLAY," She huffed, helping Stephen mend his old pair of trousers in the middle of the room, where cushions were thrown on the hardwood floor as a makeshift living room, "Apparently the Slytherin rules live on. I'm just a ref now."

"Better than nothing," George nudged the corduroy pillow under her bum with his foot as he passed, and she stuck out her tongue at him. Gloomy as the world was outside, somehow, nobody really wanted to talk about anything excessively serious, at least not yet. The flat was warm and filled with a cheery glow and a gathering of friends…something that very few of their peers were around to enjoy.

"…And the last ruffian cleansed," Bill said as her exited the washroom in standard black t-shirt and jeans, his hair dripping as he struggled to get a comb through it. George squinted as he leaned against the kitchen table, studying said hair for the first time, as for quite a while his brother's trademark hair had been back in a knot. Bill paused in his battle with his tresses, looking back at George, "What?"

"Mate, when was the last time you cut it?" Stephen provided the words for the speechless Weasley, as he took in the elbow-length, split-ended ginger nest. Bill shrugged,

"We haven't exactly been near any salons," He grumbled, yanking the comb through with a wince. George finally found his voice, laughing,

"Yeah Bill, but," He forced out, shaking his head, "You had to have scissors at some point. I mean, there's Rock-Star and then there's drag queen in a bad wig…"

"Alright!" Bill growled, giving up the battle. Looking up from the pillow-living room where she'd been snickering with Stephen, Alicia grinned, untangling herself from a cross-legged position and standing up, setting aside wand, needle and thread,

"I've got trimming scissors in here," She made her way to the kitchen, opening a drawer and pointing to the chair across from Michael at the small table, "Romeo here can't cut his own hair either. Sit." Blinking once, Bill shrugged, doing as she said and handing her the comb.

"So," He cleared his throat, as Alicia started in on slowly combing his damp hair into sections. Bill looked over at Michael, who looked back at him, clearly feeling less jovial than everyone else in the room, "Ginny."

"I know," Michael sat back in his chair, letting out a long sigh, paired with the soft snipping sounds of Alicia carefully trimming away the long-neglected split ends and Snow Patronus on the record player, "What you're saying…well I can't say it surprises me," He said plainly, "I'm the one who gets the camp records and copies them off for the official lists, and I've never seen her name anywhere. And the rumor mill at the Ministry has always whispered about him keeping a girl in his House, as secretive as he is," He winced, really not wanting to think about it. He and Ginny had been…pretty close, "But it's also common knowledge that nobody gets in there. Nobody. You can't even get close to where his House is, and very few of his big-name followers have ever been there, at least since he's warded it."

"And he never takes her out?" Bill asked, leaning forward. Alicia frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. George and Stephen were also listening closely, the latter still mending his clothes. Michael shook his head,

"Like I said, even the fact that he had someone is just a rumor," He shrugged, running a hand through his own messy brown curls. Ginny… "I don't know what to tell you," He finished softly. Once again, the only sound was Alicia's scissors, the music, and George's scuffling feet. Bill sighed, wondering if his ward-breaking skills were enough to match Voldemort's protection. The snipping stopped for a moment, and Bill felt a hand slide through his hair once…he shut his eyes.

"There is…a slim chance…" Michael said slowly, scratching his chin, "I mean, it's a long shot, but. He's throwing this huge gathering to celebrate the Anniversary of…when he killed Harry," He bit his lip for a minute. Now granted, there had been plenty of times when Michael had wanted Harry out of the picture, but still, "It's going to last a week, and all of his bigwigs are going to be there. Extra security spells are being put into place where the gathering is being held, because he's planning on showing off his spoils," Michael winced again, "It's the theme I'm guessing. He could take her out on show…"

"She is one of his prizes," Bill murmured, noting the amount of ginger hair on the floor. A few slightly shorter bits were near his face, in his eyes, and he blew them aside…apparently he had layers. He smirked wryly, "So I suppose…I could…see if he brings her out," He pondered, "And work out a plan from there…"

"Definitely slightly less insane than going straight for You-Know-Who's house," Alicia said above him, carefully trimming away the last few sections. George and Stephen looked at each other, and then back at Bill,

"Sounds like something distantly intelligent," George nodded, smirking with forced bravado. Michael looked up, giving them as much of a supportive smile as he could manage. George tilted his head, "So that gives us a few weeks of slumming it at Mr. and Mrs. Corner's…"

"Bite your tongue!" Alicia said sharply, inadvertently giving Bill's hair a tug. He laughed, giving his hair a shake as she stepped back. At her behest, Stephen tossed Alicia her wand, and she gave her subject a quick drying spell, "There you go," She grinned, as he left the table and bent down to look at his reflection in the oven glass, "I trimmed off about five inches…"

"Yeah you did," Bill nodded, impressed. The once ratty mess now fell smoothly around his shoulders and framed his face, as it hadn't in over a year. Not since…well, not since Tonks had died. He'd just let it go. And now it was lying in piles on Alicia's kitchen floor. Standing straight up again, he instinctively tied it back in a ponytail before facing her again, with a very small smile, "Thanks," Alicia smiled back, grabbing a broom from the closet and smiling back,

"Don't mention it."

Author's Notes: The formatting of events drove me nuts here, and while it might not be entirely smooth, everything I wanted to have in it is there, hehe. Enjoy the foreshadowing of various plot twists? Of course you did. More stuff next chapter!