AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 10 - A Symbol of Death
"Don't let your mother know you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley pleaded with Fred and George as they made their way back to the tents.
"Don't worry, Dad," Fred said with a grin. "We've got plans for this money," George finished with a fierce smile. "We don't want it taken," they chorused with a laugh.
Mr. Weasley pursed his lips but didn't say anything else. Ron, Ginny, and Charlie argued back and forth about who was the best Chaser the Irish team had. Harry privately thought it was Conolly because, while he didn't score many goals, he was instrumental in almost every play that resulted in a shot on goal. Ron thought it was Troy, who by far got the most goals of the three Chasers. Ginny wasn't sure if she liked Troy or Conolly more.
The good-natured arguments about the match continued until they returned to the tents. Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently lead him away from the others. "What did you think?" he asked in a low voice.
"They played nothing like the Hogwarts students do. Every formation and attack was coordinated and planned out in advance. You could tell the Bulgarians didn't have the same training or were simply outclassed by the better Chasers."
"I'm glad you had fun. I got worried for a while there. You had this angry look for a large portion of the match. I just wanted to make sure you enjoyed yourself."
"Oh, yeah. Those veela kept distracting my concentration of the match. I suppose that is what they are supposed to do, but still," Harry explained with a grimace.
"I wanted to talk to you about that too, but not tonight. You did well to ignore their song and allure. I thought I was going to fall out of my chair laughing when Ron was going to leap off the railing to get to them."
Harry snorted but didn't comment. He'd missed seeing that and wished he hadn't. "Thank you for getting us the tickets," he said after a moment.
"Harry, this was my pleasure. It's been a long, long time since I've seen a real Quidditch match. Even if you didn't want to go, I would have found a way to come. Your father and I snuck off to watch Puddlemere United get squashed in our last year. We got three weeks of detention for it."
"You got out while you were in Hogwarts?"
"We snuck over to Hogsmede and Apparated to the stadium. It was just our luck that somehow a professor was also in attendance. That was an awkward conversation in front of Dumbledore," Sirius remarked with a faraway look in his eyes. "Lily gave James such a hard time after that."
It didn't take long for everyone to eat and think about going to bed. "Oh, I'm glad I'm not on duty," Arthur remarked as he watched several wizards rush off to quell yet another round of green and gold fireworks arching high into the air. "I wouldn't fancy having to tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."
Harry snorted and took a deep sip of tea as he spotted Kingsley's form among the group of wizards rushing toward the fireworks. Sirius sprawled on the grass near him, dead asleep and snoring. "I'm sorry I left the other night?" he said into the silent night.
Mr. Weasley jumped and looked around at Harry. The older wizard sighed and rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head. "Molly wasn't happy, but I think she sees sense. She wants you there, of course, to protect you. She's a fairly powerful witch in her own right. Stronger than I am, for sure. Your leaving made her uncomfortable. She forgives you, even if she doesn't understand."
Harry grunted but didn't say anything. "Thank you again, Mr. Weasley. For everything," he said as he rose.
"It has been our pleasure to have you over, Harry. Our home is always open to you, no matter what," Mr. Weasley said in a soft voice. "No matter what."
Harry took one of the rooms in Sirius' tent and lay down on a surprisingly soft cot. He closed his eyes and searched his mind for the fresh memories of the match. He'd noticed his limited skill in Occlumency gave him better memory retention than he'd ever remembered having before. The idea he could review events of his life at will was both a scary and exciting prospect. If he could remember every detail of a lesson to review later, then he could learn from his experiences that much faster.
He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but a strong, worried voice cut into his dreams of moving images. "Harry, get up! This is important," Sirius' voice called again, shattering the image of Krum pulling away with the Snitch.
He opened his eyes to see his godfather standing over him, a troubled expression on his face. It took him a moment to realize the noise outside the tent were screams. The terrified shrill of a woman's outcry cut through his mind like a hot knife through butter. He threw off his blanket and adjusted his glasses. "What's going on?" he asked as he snatched his wand up from inside the blankets.
"I'm not sure yet, but Arthur is getting his group up. We're leaving, now. Especially with what we know," Sirius announced with a pointed look at Harry.
"Right. Hermione? Neville?" Harry asked, knowing his friends took the adjoining rooms in Sirius' tent.
"Hermione and Ginny are together over with Arthur. Neville is slowly getting up. Ron is, as ever, hard to wake."
"Dump cold water on him," Harry suggested as he followed his godfather out of the tent.
Bill, Charlie, and one of the twins stood with their backs to the largest of the Weasley tents, their wands pointed toward the commotion. Mr. Weasley appeared, his robes on backward, as he looked at his sons. "Get the others out of here safely," he ordered.
"I'm coming with you," Bill announced as he stepped forward. Charlie followed his brother's example but didn't speak.
"I need you to protect the rest," Arthur ordered, his voice clipped. "They don't call up off-duty Ministry workers unless something very wrong has happened. Get everyone back to the Burrow," he ordered before striding over to Sirius.
Sirius looked between Arthur and his sons. "We needed to move ten minutes ago. Groups of three. Bill, you're the strongest. Take Hermione and Ginny. Charlie, the twins and Ron. I'll get Harry and Neville out," he ordered in a tone Harry had never heard before.
"But," Charlie started to say before he was cut off by Bill. "You're right, Sirius. We need to get them out of here. Charlie, we need to move. Whatever is happening is headed this way."
It took another two minutes to get everyone in a group and moving. Bill led a terrified Hermione and an angry Ginny off first, away from the commotion. Charlie led Ron and the twins toward the front gate by going around the main tents. Sirius clapped Harry on his shoulder and looked at Neville. "Stay with me at all times," he ordered. "Do not, for any reason, run off alone. If I'm separated from you for some reason, stick together."
Harry nodded and looked into Neville's wide eyes. It was clear his friend was trying to hide his rising fear. "Let's move," Sirius ordered.
Flashes of bright, multicolored lights illuminated the camping ground. It was clear that the disturbance was in more than one place. Red and green jets of light flew into the air that arched high above the trees before winking out. "Those are Killing Curses," Harry announced, a growing horror rising in his chest.
"Maybe," Sirius grunted back as he eyed the skies where two red spells arced across the campgrounds.
Harry knew, in his heart, he was right and was scared of the implications. The Killing Curse used on another witch or wizard landed someone in Azkaban for life. He'd already counted seven jets of lurid green light. As he looked back down to scan the tents, he saw a ring of red and orange jets of light shoot out from a single point. Something told him it was dangerous. "Incoming!" he cried and pulled Neville down with him.
Sirius' cry of alarm was lost as Neville screamed in his ear. Tents all around them caught fire as the red spells hit the earth. Small creatures, indistinct in their burning forms, ran around the campsite lighting more fires. "Carrow!" Sirius bellowed as he shot a blue spell at a flaming squirrel that chased after a young witch. The spell hit the squirrel in the side but did little else. "A variation of Fiendfyre," the older wizard bellowed. "Move!"
Harry scrambled to his feet, hoisting Neville up with him. The screams somehow grew louder, more desperate, as Sirius tried to clear a path out of the forest of tents. Flames licked at Harry's heels as he roughly pushed Neville along.
"There will be so many deaths," Sirius murmured once they stopped by a small creek at the edge of the forest. The screams hadn't died down, and some had even cut off abruptly.
"Why?" Neville asked, his voice raspy from breathing in too much smoke. "Why would someone do this?"
"Terror," Harry muttered. "Someone wanted to make a statement or cause mass casualties. This would be the perfect place for it. Wizards from all over the world gathered in one place like this."
Sirius grunted and looked at him. "I wish you hadn't gone to that bloody Muggle school. Your mind is all warped," he said with a strained smile. "Not that it's a bad thing. I just wish you weren't so young."
Harry rolled his eyes and scanned the forest ahead of them. He didn't know where they were. A noise made him turn around, his wand at the ready. Three young women stumbled out from behind the last row of tents, clutching a fourth woman between them. The injured woman, older than the others, struggled for breath.
"Cover me," Harry ordered and shoved his hand into the pockets of his enchanted Muggle clothes, trying to find the correct vial. He made his way across the open field and heard feet shuffling behind him. "I mean you no harm," he called out. The three women gasped, and four wands greeted him a moment later. He was impressed the injured woman could still move. It was obvious she'd taken a serious burn to her left side.
"Stay back!" one of the witches yelled.
"Salem Institute?" Harry asked, trying to place the face he'd seen earlier. It was the wrong thing to say, as a moment later, four jets of red light flew at him. He reacted by jumping to the left and raising a Shield Charm. Neville, running up behind him, hadn't reacted fast enough and took a red spell to the chest. He crumpled onto his side without a sound.
"Hold your attacks," Sirius bellowed, cutting through the tense silence. "We mean you no harm. Well, we did. I might have an issue with you if you hurt my godson's friend."
"Stunners," Harry muttered as he crouched over Neville. His friend had slid a foot or more before coming to a stop. "Only one hit him. He'll be fine," he announced. "I came to help your injured friend," he called again. "If you want, we'll leave you to your business," he said, hoping they would decide to move on. He no longer wanted to help them.
"We'll be leaving," the brunette witch growled and started to pull the others toward the forest.
"Wait," the injured woman gasped before she fell onto her side with a cry of pain.
"Jules!" the three witches cried and rushed to her side. "Help her, if you can," the striking blonde-haired witch demanded as she looked at Sirius.
"It won't be me," Sirius growled and looked over at Harry.
"Fine," Harry muttered and revived Neville as gently as he could. "Rest for a moment. Let me see if I can't help them," he said to his friend.
"Stun her for me," Neville joked with a small cough. "That'll leave a bruise," he complained as he rubbed his chest.
Harry rose and checked on his friend once more before striding over to the proud witches. Jules, her pale face almost white with pain, stared back at him with defiance in her eyes. "Wigenweld," he muttered and passed it to the loud-mouth brunette. "It'll help with the pain while I look. Did she get hit by one of the Fiendfyre creatures?" he asked.
Jules' eyes widened as she looked at the potion in her friend's hands. "You just have that laying around?" she questioned with a pained grimace.
"I have enough experience to keep one or seven vials on me at all times, yes," Harry joked and placed the tip of his wand over the blackened wound. He closed his eyes and tried to do the simple Diagnosis Spell. The information he got back was too much for him to understand, so he shook his head and stood up. "I don't know enough to help more. I know my potion will work to at least help with the pain. No, it's not Ministry approved, but I stand by my potions and use them on myself regularly."
"Who are you?" the blonde witch asked, her earlier haughtiness diminished as the brunette helped Jules drink the vial.
"Harry Potter," he said before striding away. The muffled choking sound from Jules made him smile, as he'd timed saying his name for when the brunette started to feed her the potion. A little vindictive pleasure ran through him as the older witch coughed louder. The potion would still work, but she'd have numb lips for a few hours. He'd seen who's spell hit Neville.
"That was... interesting," Sirius commented as he led them along the side of the woods.
"Why did they attack us like that?" Neville asked in a low voice.
Sirius was quiet as they came to a stop outside a path that led into the forest. He cocked his head to one side and seemed to focus on something only he could hear. "The fighting has died down some," he growled. "However, there is a group of people coming this way, and I'm not sure they are friendly. Crouch down over there, and Harry, do you have your Cloak with you?"
"No, I couldn't figure out how to hide it on me," Harry admitted with a grimace.
"No matter, use a Disillusionment Charm on yourself and Neville. I don't want to leave you, but... but I think it would be better if we weren't here in a minute. We can't go back the way we came. There is a group moving fast this way from over there. Hide in the treeline and do not come out," he ordered before shapeshifting into a large dog.
"Right, you heard him," Harry grumbled and turned to Neville. "That stand of downed trees should work," he said and gestured little ways into the forest, just off the path. It took him longer than he wanted to get Neville hidden under a Disillusionment Charm. He knew he didn't have time to hide with magic, so he crouched down and held his breath behind a large bush.
"Drop the Muggle and move," a cultured voice ordered in a warbly tone.
"But, Prime," another voice complained, ratlike and servile. "She looks so good."
Harry felt his scarred skin crawl as he listened to the group close in on his hiding spot. He wanted to peer around the bush, but the prickly leaves had caught on his clothes. If he moved, the bush would move and give away his position.
"The Ministry is closing in," a distant voice called out.
"Carrow, drop the bloody Muggle," Prime ordered. This time his voice didn't sound distorted.
Harry frowned and suppressed the urge to look again. The speaker's voice sounded like Lucius Malfoy. The cultured, almost mocking cadence to his voice was something he'd never forget.
"Too late for you to escape the boundaries," a deep voice called from near him. Kingsley Shacklebolt, just visible through the sparse leaves near the top of Harry's bush, strode out from behind a tree, his wand held in a high-guard. "Surrender."
"Kill him," Prime ordered, his voice sounding warbly and distant once more.
Harry prayed to whoever would listen that he and Neville wouldn't be discovered. Pandamonium reigned as several jets of light appeared from the tree line, aimed where Harry heard the attackers.
"Die, Death Eater!" a voice, high and malevolent, demanded as several blue, crackling lights flew over Harry's head.
Kingsley used the tree to block the first volley of spells aimed at him. Harry cursed under his breath as a spell, lurid green in color, flew past his bush. He knew he had to move. A scream, high-pitched and desperate, pierced the sounds of shouted spells and miniature explosions. He crouch-ran, knowing it might be his only chance to do so, and ducked down behind a fallen, rotted tree. A knot of seven men, dressed in dark robes with horrible, twisted metal masks stood in a defensive formation. They worked in tandem to block the Ministry's uncoordinated attacks.
Harry located three groups of Ministry officials by following the trajectory of their spells. He had the feeling Sirius and Neville were still in the area but couldn't find either of them. With any luck, he and Neville could wait out the entire confrontation and escape. His hopes dwindled when several jets of red light arc toward the screaming Muggle girl hanging over the knot of Death Eaters. He glanced toward where he knew Kingsley stood with a small group of other wizards and grimaced. One of their members was down, a large gash down the side of his robes, and Kingsley was on the defensive.
Two Death Eaters attacked while one focused on a defensive barrier. The barriers of three masked wizards blocked the vast majority of the spells aimed at them and their comrades. Harry made a mental note of the formation the group stood in to research later. Just when he thought the fighting would stop for a moment, a green light, brighter than anything he'd seen before, shot into the sky from the tree line fifty yards away.
A colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue appeared in the sky. It rose higher and higher as greenish smoke billowed out from behind the skull. The snake, appearing again from one of the eyeholes, opened its mouth wide, fangs dripping with venom, seemed to hiss its anger at the world around it. Screams, high-pitched and terror-filled, broke the unnerving silence that descended on the campground after the skull appeared in the sky.
A thick, gurgling pop echoed around the woods as Harry looked around, trying to find its source. It became clear what happened when two Death Eaters Disapparated from within the knot of masked assailants. The battle resumed, fevered and quick as more jets of light, coming from the campsite, flew toward the entrenched Death Eaters.
"Prime!" a sickly witch's voice croaked, loud in the sudden silence after an explosion.
"Disperse," Prime ordered before Disapparating in an instant.
The Ministry officials seemed determined to capture one of the Death Eaters as five red spells flew at one dark-robed wizard near the back of the group. The spells ripped through his barrier and slammed into his chest. Harry watched in horror as the Muggle girl, suspended high above the knot of criminals plummeted to the ground. He raised his wand, knowing he would be too late to do anything when a hand clamped over his.
"Don't," Sirius warned in a sharp, low voice. "You'll be attacked," he hissed before pulling Harry away from the fallen tree.
The sound of a body hitting the ground echoed in Harry's ears, even over the din of battle. He stared, uncomprehending at the spot where he knew the young woman's life had ended, even though he couldn't see her body.
"Neville, come to me," Sirius hissed again. The sound of shuffling seemed distant to Harry's ears as he stared at the downed tree, trying to will himself to see past its rotting bark and to the ground beyond.
"There are people over there," a reedy voice called.
"Hold on tight," Sirius ordered. A moment later, Harry's world spun without the feeling of familiar pain.
It felt like a few minutes for his brain to reengage. When he looked around, Harry realized he was sitting in a chair in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The smell of sweet, minty tea assaulted his nose. "Are you with me?" a familiar voice called as the room came into focus.
"Yes," Harry croaked as he reached for the cup. He realized his hand was shaking so he stopped moving and took a deep breath. "Why?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"A judgment call," Sirius said as he shuffled over to the other side of the table. Neville, his head in his hands, stared at the polished table.
Harry thought he could see his friend shaking and fresh tears running down his face. "Neville?" he asked, realizing his voice sounded oddly distant.
"She... I... she," Neville spluttered before a terrible sob broke his voice.
"I made a judgment call to save the two of you, and possibly myself. We were in the worst place imaginable. Two groups of Aurors were converging on our location from the forest path, probably connecting the campsites. The Anti-Disapparation Spell broke when the panic from all those people trying to escape overwhelmed the enchantments. More officials would be arriving shortly. I stopped you from attempting to save the poor girl because it would expose our location. We'd have either been struck down by agitated and scared Ministry officials or, at best, stunned until the situation was over. You know they'll use any excuse to come after me... and you, Harry."
Taking a deep breath, Harry placed a hand on Neville's shoulder as his friend sobbed. "I... I don't think I could have gotten the spell off in time," he admitted.
"She... they didn't know who was holding the Muggle up. I'm angry no one tried to save her," Sirius growled, a deep grumble from deep within his chest. "The group near the campsite, the ones that stunned that Death Eater, had plenty of time and were close enough to see the danger. It just goes to show how little they are trained."
"Those... what, nine, Death Eaters held off almost two dozen Ministry people? How many of them were Aurors? I thought they were the best the Ministry had to offer when catching Dark Wizards," Harry questioned, his anger rising.
"The Hit-Wizards and Unspeakables are the true powerhouses of the Ministry. Kingsley alone could probably match that distinction but, remember, the Death Eaters were working together. That group was the old guard. The ones who escaped a sentence to Azkaban. Now, I need to get back to check on Arthur and the others. Are you and Neville going to be okay here?" Sirius asked as he rose.
"Yes, we'll be fine," Harry said as he looked at his friend. Neville's shoulders shook but he wasn't crying anymore. "Please make sure everyone got out safely. The Dark Mark... well, I've read enough to know what that means."
"There will have been other deaths tonight. The Fiendfyre alone," Sirius muttered as he stared into the distance. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Keep your wand out and ready. If I can, I'll get a message to Remus to drop by if I'm going to be any longer than a few hours."
Harry nodded and watched as Sirius Disapparated away with a quiet pop. He turned to Neville and sighed. "What a night," he muttered and reached for his tea.
"She... fell on her head. It would have been quick," Neville said into the silence.
Harry winced and put his tea down, thankful for the soft liquid cooling his throat. "I know I could have been faster. It's knawing at me. I know I could have saved her. Somehow I knew, just knew, she was going to get dropped," he admitted with a sigh.
"They... those Death Eaters," Neville muttered with his head in his hands. "They tortured my parents. I can't believe my parents fought people like them. They held off so many witches and wizards. I couldn't believe it."
Harry looked into his cup and had a strange feeling he was back in Professor Trewlawny's classroom, trying to read the future in tea leaves. "They worked well together. You might have seen it, but one always guarded two others. It allowed them to focus completely on attacking one opponent at a time before moving onto the next. I watched a wizard near Kingsley go down because he couldn't block the two spells sent his way. Why he didn't just move, I don't know, but still. They worked well together."
Neville hissed, a rasp of irritation as he looked up. "You admire that?" he questioned with a hard look in his eyes.
"I acknowledge they held the upper hand throughout the entire fight," Harry answered as he looked his friend in the eyes. "I don't admire what they do, what they stand for, or what this means for the country, but I can accept what I saw and learn from it. That strategy is a good one."
Neville deflated as the fire went out of his eyes. "You're right," he muttered and looked down again. "I just hate them. I hate all of them."
"I do too. Without Voldemort and his cronies, my parents would be alive. Your parents would be whole and a whole lot of people wouldn't have died years ago."
"I want to be able to defeat them."
"What?"
"I want to be able to defeat them," Neville repeated, his voice growing stronger. "I want to fight them if they are coming back. Ron and Hermione talked about why you left, what Pettigrew's escape means. They aren't dumb, Harry. I'm not either. I want to know what you do. I have that right!"
Harry felt his eyebrows climb as his friend's voice rose to almost a shout. He sat back in his chair and stared Neville in the eyes. After a moment, Neville seemed to draw in on himself and muttered an apology. "No, you do have the right," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I don't know what to think of what I know and saw. I want to believe it was a fever dream, something my tired brain came up with after taking an experimental potion. However, it was too real."
"You drank one of your experimental potions? The ones you've been working on for Fred and George?"
"How... never mind," Harry remarked with a snort. "Yeah, it wasn't the best idea. This is what I remember," he said before breaking off and staring into the distance. "Don't stop me until I'm done to ask questions. This will be hard enough to get right without losing my concentration. I'm going to attempt a trick I read in Master Ogata's book," he ordered before closing his eyes.
It took longer than he anticipated but Neville didn't speak while he mentally shifted himself to the memory of that terrible dream. "I slowly became aware of everything around me," he said as the memory played before his eyes. As he spoke, he felt every detail again and retold it to Neville, unable to stop until the entire memory finished.
"That was alarming to hear in person, Harry," a softspoken voice called out as Harry's focus returned to the room around him. Professor Lupin sat beside Neville, his pale face sickly. The scars on his cheeks stood out as the older wizard stared him down. With a deep breath, the ex-professor looked between Neville and Harry. "What happened tonight? I wanted to ask as soon as I got in, but Neville said to let you finish."
Harry took a shuddering breath and tried to still his shaking hands. "Death Eaters attacked the campsite we were in. There could have been others at other campsites but I don't know. Sirius said Carrow released a variation of Fiendfyre. They held off the Ministry in front of us. A Muggle young woman died," he got out in a shaky voice.
"Sirius went back?" Professor Lupin questioned, his voice sounded strange, strained.
"I think he went back to check on the others. We split up," Neville answered, his voice low. "The Ministry hit the Death Eater with a spell. She dropped from about twenty feet above the ground. She... she landed on her head."
Harry watched a pained expression cross Lupin's face as he wrapped an arm around Neville. "There are fates worse than death. Take some comfort in knowing she would have gone quickly. It never makes it easier and you will always remember her. There was nothing you could have done," he consoled as Neville broke out into fresh tears.
Harry felt sick as he stared at the table in front of him. He wanted to blame himself, Sirius, the Ministry, anyone for the death of the girl but he knew the ones who truly killed her. "I think Lucius Malfoy was the one they called Prime. He seemed to lead them. I can't be sure, because their voices sounded odd, distorted, but I'm fairly certain he was the one leading them," he said after a few minutes.
"He very well might have been," a gruff voice called from the hallway. Harry spun on his chair, wand in hand and ready to duel, when he realized it was Sirius' voice. "Nice reflexes," his godfather commented as he limped over to the counter and uncorked a crystal decanter. He took a large swig of amber liquid before shuddering and leaning back against the hardwood counter. "Thanks for dropping in, Remus," he called.
"Hermione, Ron? The others?" Harry questioned, setting down his wand on the table. His wand hand shook.
"Charlie got banged up. Bill got the witches out but he and Ron took a few stunners each when someone conjured the Dark Mark near them. The twins managed to hold off three Aurors for a minute until people could figure out that they were just kids. Arthur and Molly are livid. Ron and Charlie will be alright, they're at St. Mungos now."
"The Dark Mark," the werewolf murmured, his face somehow looking even paler. "Was it a hit? Did they have an objective? Why are they operating now?" he questioned, more to himself than to Sirius. His eyes flicked to Harry as he sucked in a deep breath. He was on the verge of asking another question when Sirius cut in.
"Terror," the dark-haired wizard commented, his voice laced with hatred. "Probably trying to relive the old days. No, Remus, I've given it some thought. Old Voldie wouldn't have wanted his most faithful," he sneered as he cut the air with his hand, "drawing attention to himself. Especially not in the form Harry described. A child could finish him in that form with a simple Levitation Charm, and he'd be nearly defenseless." Harry didn't agree with his godfather's assessment but kept his mouth shut. "No, I saw them. They were sloppy. So many holes in their defenses." It took Harry a moment to realize Sirius told Professor Lupin about his dream already. His thoughts felt slow, unresponsive.
"Could you have stopped them?" Neville asked, his voice rising in strength.
"Alone? No. If James were here... but, he isn't. No. I couldn't have taken them, kept you two safe, and still come out without injury. They might be rusty, but they are still dangerous."
"I don't want to hide. I want to fight them," the round-faced boy shouted. He jumped up, knocking his chair to the floor. "I could have helped. We could have saved her."
A flash of pain crossed Sirius' face before it was gone again. "I made the correct decision. Your lives were more important than hers. It is as simple as that. I hate what happened. But..." he said before Neville cut him off.
"You could have done something! Anything!"
"Neville," Professor Lupin chided in a soft voice. He too looked pained as he placed a gentle hand on the young wizard's shoulder.
Neville shook him off. "You just had us hide! We could have fought. I've seen Harry. You had the Ministry running circles around you for ages. You could have done something!" he raged.
"You're angry and have every right to be," Sirius remarked, his voice calm, detached. "However, I stand by my decision. The Death Eaters killed her. Yes, the Ministry had a hand in causing her death, but the sole responsibility falls on the Death Eaters."
"Carrow," Neville muttered, his rage and anger leaving him. His arms slumped as he fell backward. Professor Lupin waved his hand, causing the overturned chair to right itself and catch Neville's falling form. The round-faced boy never noticed. "He was the one that did the... fire too?" he questioned.
"Amycus Carrow and Alecto Carrow," Sirius answered with a distant look in his eyes. "Amycus is a master of the Dark Arts. Far more dangerous than his sister in that regard. However, Alecto is known for her cruelty and quick wand-work. Amycus is the one that cast the Fiendfyre, I'd bet this house on it. He's an arsonist through and through. Loves fire in all forms. Dangerous if he is allowed to think things through, but that takes time. He's... a bit simple. His sister too. There is a rather... strong suspicion the two are offspring of an incestuous relationship, which would explain much."
Professor Lupin coughed and looked away. "More than a suspicion," he muttered. "Voldemort used the pair of them, always together, as blunt instruments. They thrive on chaos. However," he said as he glanced at Sirius, "they are not without their faults. Of the Old Guard, they might be the weakest of the bunch."
"I'd agree," Sirius confirmed with a nod. "If something happens to one of them, the other falls apart. Also, if you get them trapped, both of them freak out. James and I had the chance to... never mind. Neville, I understand your anger and sympathize with it. However, I want you to remember this. You and Harry were and are my responsibility to keep safe. I couldn't do that if I had to contend with Death Eaters and the Ministry attacking us. Someone would have gotten hurt."
"I understand," Neville mumbled, his head down. "I'm sorry."
"There is no need for an apology. I commend you for your bravery and your compassion. You both are so young."
Harry felt awkward as his godfather looked him over with a strange look in his eyes. He didn't know what to say. "Will we be able to see Ron and Charlie?" he questioned.
"For now, no. We do have a project though. I need to make space for the Weasleys, Ms. Granger, and Neville. We'll be using this old place for a few days until you're safely back at Hogwarts. The Ministry will probably come round and ask questions. I know there were deaths tonight. Fudge is going to find someone to blame."
It took a little coaxing, but Professor Lupin was able to get Neville up and settled into the second-floor drawing room. Harry helped set up three rooms for the Weasleys before exhaustion hit him like a wet blanket. He staggered as the last of his Cleaning Charm scrubbed away a dark spot on the rug. A firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"Let's get you to bed," Sirius offered.
"I won't be able to sleep, not after tonight."
"You'd be surprised. Once your body relaxes, you'll be asleep in minutes."
"I can still help," Harry argued as he mustered his energy.
"We only need one more room set up. Remus or I can do that. You'll have a big day tomorrow. It's better to try and get a little rest now rather than deal with the Ministry while you're tired."
Harry grimaced and mulled over his godfather's advice. "Fine," he allowed with a sigh. "I'll lay down, but I don't think I'll get any rest."
"Lay down, that's all I ask."
He took one of the cots Professor Lupin set up on the first floor, well away from the portrait by the front door. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to work through the rollercoaster of events from the day. Before he knew it, someone shook him out of deep sleep.
"It's time to get up," a soft, familiar voice ordered. Harry opened his eyes to find Mrs. Weasley standing over him.
"Ron? Charlie? How are they," he asked as he sat up, swinging his legs out of the cot.
Mrs. Weasley gave him a strained smile. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes as she looked him over. "I'm glad you're alright, dear. Ron and Charlie are fine. Ron's already been released from St. Mungos and is resting upstairs. The Sleeping Draughts will keep him out for a few hours yet. Charlie is still being seen to. How are you doing?"
Harry felt the lump in his throat loosen. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. Last night was rough, but I'm okay," he answered as he got up. He didn't want to talk about the events after the World Cup.
"I've got breakfast ready. I think the upstairs bathroom is safe to use," the matronly witch said with another strained smile. "This house..." she muttered before shaking her head. "The others will be up in a bit. Hedwig dropped by with a Daily Prophet for you."
Harry blinked and nodded. "I think I'll get breakfast," he started to say before a strange odor assaulted his nose. He grimaced, finally understanding why Mrs. Weasley mentioned the shower. "I'll get a shower first," he amended.
Mrs. Weasley gave him a wan smile before bustling off, closing the small door behind her. Harry looked around and realized he wasn't alone in the room. Sirius slept deeply on a cot near the door, his wand clutched in his hand. Harry fought back a smile as he waved his hand and pushed his will into the blanket around Sirius' feet. He didn't have to watch to know the blanket settled around his godfather's shoulders.
After a long, scalding shower, he made his way down to the kitchen. Professor Lupin sat at one end of the table while Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley sat on the other. "... Fudge is in a state," Arthur explained as he spoke to the entire table.
"How could he have let this... Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted as she rose from the table.
"Morning," he greeted as he slid into a seat beside Professor Lupin. The friendly wizard gave him a tight-lipped smile as he pushed a cup and saucer toward him.
"Harry, how are you?" Mr. Weasley questioned in a strained voice.
"Just waiting to hear the news," he answered as he peered into the warm tea. He thought he caught a hit of mint in the aroma. "How many died last night?" he asked into the silence.
Mr. Weasley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Officially, twenty-two witches and wizards," he responded after he shared a look with Mrs. Weasely.
"Unofficially?"
"We don't know, Harry. There were a lot of people there and... the Fiendfyre. After the Anti-Apparition Charm broke, injured people got away. We don't know if they sought medical attention. This is an international incident... with Britain in the center of it all."
Harry nodded, expecting the last bit of information. "So, there were a lot of serious injuries?" he questioned.
Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath. "St. Mungos was flooded with people that had burns, bruises, and broken bones. A stampede broke out to get away from the Anti-Apparition Charms. A lot of people were hurt," she announced as the lines around her eyes deepened.
"Sirius already talked to the Ministry a few hours ago. He got in touch with a mutual friend and got his story out before someone could make up their own conclusions. That being said," Professor Lupin announced as he slid the Daily Prophet toward Harry. "A certain reporter seems to have it out for him... and you."
Harry took a deep swallow of the soft, minty tea before looking over the article. He felt his lips draw into a tight line. "...spotted nearby the sign of the Dark Mark were the children of accomplished Ministry Official Arthur Weasley. In a surprise twist, a confidential informant informed the Ministry of Harry Potter's interest in the Dark Arts. Harry Potter, friend, and confidant of Ronald Weasley, was seen in the company of Sirius Black near the site of a battle with the instigators of last night's riot," he read aloud. "I don't have an interest in the Dark Arts! I just want to learn how to heal cursed burns."
"We know that, but... Harry, a lot of people read the Daily Prophet," Professor Lupin said in a soft voice. "Sirius is already trying to head off this issue, but what she wrote will stay in people's minds. Even if the editors of the Prophet release an apology."
Harry grunted and stared at the article. "They don't talk about the Muggle girl that died," he announced with a frown. He looked up at Mr. Weasley who had a sad expression on his face.
"You won't find an article in there about the family, Harry," the middle-aged wizard said as he sat back in his chair. He rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head as he seemed to struggle with coming up with the right words. Harry had a terrible feeling in his chest as he stared at Mr. Weasley. "At first, they didn't know who she was. I was with my boys while Kingsley led the investigation into the attack. Madam Bones arrived less than an hour after the Death Eaters escaped. Harry, they... well. Mr. Roberts and his family," he continued before trailing off again.
Harry knew and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening them again. "I think she was standing at the window when they Obliviated her father," he muttered as his mind replayed the events of the previous day.
Arthur grunted but didn't comment. Mrs. Weasley sat with her hands in her lap as she stared between her husband and Harry. "You don't have to eat, but I've got something ready for whenever you are ready," she offered with a troubled smile.
Harry nodded and went back to reading the paper. He blinked and reread a small article with Mad-Eye Moody's grizzled face on it. "Moody was attacked?" he questioned.
"About four hours ago," Mr. Weasley confirmed with a grimace. "Amazing that they got an article about that in the Prophet already. He says someone came after him and set off his enchanted dustbins that acted as an alarm system. It caused quite the ruckus. Longview informed me of the disturbance as soon as we got wind of it. As far as I know, no one was hurt and Moody couldn't give us a clear description of who wanted to come after him. Granted, with him coming out of retirement... He's made a lot of enemies over the years."
Harry snorted and continued to read. On the next page was a small article about Barty Crouch. "Mr. Crouch is ill?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. "They allowed this to be printed?"
Mr. Weasley's face took on another complicated expression. "His House-elf was found holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark. The wand belonged to a foreign dignitary from Bulgaria. Winky, the House-elf's name, was in the woods a little behind Ron, Charlie, and the twins. There was no doubt she cast the spell. They've allowed Barty Crouch to take leave to handle matters. I think they might sack him."
