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Chapter 28.

Weird taste in rugs

July.

Lara sat on the end of her bed, staring blankly at her open wardrobe. There was no organisation to it, no tidy arrangement. Clothes were half falling off hangers and nothing had been ironed for weeks. At the bottom, her shoes were thrown haphazardly around, not a matching pair in sight.

Her mam would be disappointed. Above all, Pamela Culpepper took pride in appearance; of herself, her house, her garden, her children. She loved everything clean and proper all the time, down to the very last detail. If she saw Lara's wardrobe now…Lara could already hear her mam's scandalised scream. She could imagine her mam pulling everything out and rearranging it all, sorting it by colour, clothing type and size. It would all be done by hand of course, because magic, as Pamela liked to say, was never perfect. If you wanted something doing right, you had to do it properly, which meant using your hands and brain.

It was something Lara had picked up over the years. She'd find herself cleaning by hand or building furniture without magic, purely out of habit. Her friends had always found it hilarious; Lara, the pure-blood, forgetting to use magic to do the simple things—the irony! Walter did the same, though he didn't know it. Sometimes he'd wash dishes by hand or iron his shirt manually without a second thought. It made Lara smile, for it was a symbol of their shared upbringing, a little quirk in their family to pass down.

Not using magic wasn't a flaw; it was an advantage. It taught integrity and problem-solving. It meant not settling for anything but the best. It had taken Lara years to see it (she had, like her friends, thought doing things by hand was rather silly, back in the day), but now she realised her mam had taught her a good life lesson.

Her mam. Her parents. Who she hadn't seen for months. And now she'd let her wardrobe get messy.

She was a bad daughter.

A terrible daughter.

When Lara had left her childhood home, she'd had every intention to go at least once a week for dinner. She had—for about three weeks, and then it had been once every two…once every three…once every four…until she stopped going all together. Not deliberately or out of malice, just simply because she was so busy. Sometimes she didn't even get enough time to eat or sleep properly, never mind stop to have a sit-down meal with her family.

Tonight, however, that changed. Tonight, she was going to her parents' place for tea for the first time in four months…with Walter.

Which was going to oh-so awkward, but it was her mam's birthday and she'd sent a letter and…

Terrible, terrible daughter.

"Are you ready—no, you're not," Walter came to the doorway, folding up the sleeves of his silvery blazer. "What are you doing?"

"Mam would be disappointed in me."

"What?"

"Look at my wardrobe," Lara sniffed, motioning to it. "It's so messy. She'd have a heart attack if she could see it. I'm a horrible daughter."

"How much sleep have you had?"

"About four hours."

"More than me," Walter smirked and then walked to Lara's wardrobe, blinking down at the array of clothing. After a moment, he quickly began to move things around and adjust pieces here and there. "There, it's a bit better."

Lara glanced up. Her clothes were now all on hangers and her shoes were sort of paired up. Although it was ridiculous, Lara felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. "Thanks, Walt."

"No problem-o," he reached for a hanger and threw it towards her. "Now put this on, we have to be there in five minutes."

He walked out and Lara could hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she disregarded her dressing gown before pulling on the dress Walter had handed her. He'd probably picked it because of the design—it had butterflies on, and his obsession with anything animal-related may have trickled down to his fashion choices—but it was one of her nicer dresses, so it would do. Knowing her mam, the dinner tonight was going to be a classy affair.

A few minutes later, Lara had put on sandals, make-up and pinned up her hair, and she looked at least relatively presentable. Rushing downstairs, she found Walter waiting for her by the floo network with a bag of presents. He gave her a quick smile before he stepped into the fireplace, disappearing in a flame of green. Not allowing herself to overthink the situation, Lara immediately stepped in after him.

She landed in her old living room, among music and laughter and the smell of spiced chicken. Barely having time to recover, Lara was pulled into a hug by her maternal Grandma.

"We haven't seen you for so long, Lara!" Felicity Macmillan cried, kissing her granddaughter's cheek. "Where have you been? How's your job?"

Lara managed to stumble out a few answers before she was pulled away by her Grandpa Samuel. Glancing around the house over his shoulder, Lara saw that the whole Macmillan side of the family was here to celebrate, Aunties, Uncles and cousins alike. Most of them were gathered around the table, passing around plates of food and chatting. Seeing their easy demeanours, their gentle laughter, made some of the tension in Lara's shoulders slowly melt away.

She walked over to the head of the table, where her parents were sat with a glass of wine each.

"Happy birthday, ma," Lara said, leaning down to kiss Pamela's cheek. "Walter has your presents, but he's been stolen by Auntie Heidi."

"She's having a boggart problem," Pamela said with a roll of her eyes. "Probably badgering him about how to get rid of them. Anyway, honey, how've you been? We haven't seen you for ages."

Lara crouched down, resting one arm on her mam's lap and the other on her dad's. For a second, her had span from it all—her job, the Order, her friends, Amanda's abandonment, Sirius' death, Fred's smile—and then she sucked in a breath and said. "I've been okay. Just busy, y'know?"

Homer patted her head in a comforting way, at which Lara smiled. Her dad had never been big on physical affection.

Felicity's voice suddenly rang through the house, "Everyone—everyone, sit at the table! Food's about to be served!"

The family sat at the magically altered table. Lara ended up between her cousins, Nicolas and Emily, who both worked at St Mungos. They all took turns talking about their jobs, then they made small-talk about the weather. Nobody, Lara realised, mentioned Voldemort or Death Eaters, despite the fact that The Prophet had not stopped talking about their return. Even her eldest cousin, Maude, who worked at the Ministry and was usually the first one to start heated debates and controversial discussions, stuck to off-handed comments and fake smiles.

Slowly, the night wore on. Felicity and Samuel left, saying they were tired and really needed to get to bed. Maude, Nicolas and Emily left soon after muttering something about work. Lara and Walter wandered over to the couches to sit down, while Pamela and Homer stayed at the dining table with Pamela's sisters and their partners. Eventually, however, they left, too, leaving only the Culpepper's in the house.

Pamela began to empty the table by hand, carrying everything into the kitchen. At first, Homer fidgeted with his wine glass, and then he began to help his wife. Silently, the duo walked back and forth.

"Should we go?" Walter asked quietly, nudging Lara in the arm.

"I dunno," whispered Lara. Usually, the four of them would have a game of cards after everyone left, just to finish off the night. But after everything that had happened…maybe they weren't doing that anymore. "Maybe we should, yeah."

Walter went to stand up, just as Pamela and Homer entered the living room again, their wine glasses refilled. They walked over to the couch area and took a seat on an armchair each. Homer placed his wine glass onto the coffee table. Pamela rested hers on the arm of her seat.

"So, eh…" Walter began awkwardly. "Maybe we should—"

"We have something to say," Homer blurted out suddenly. Walter blinked in surprise and settled back onto the couch. "Well, I have something to say…and that something is…I'm sorry."

Lara opened her mouth to say something—what, she didn't know—but no sound came out.

"I'm sorry for everything," continued Homer, shaking his head slowly. "For the argument, for what I said, for what I wrote. You were right…I was scared—terrified, even—and I didn't want to believe You-Know-Who was back. That article was a defensive mechanism—it all was. Deep down, I knew he was back. I've known for a long time that he didn't really die that Halloween night, but it was easier to believe he had than face the reality."

"We've wanted to say this for a while," Pamela said, licking her lips. "Since the Azkaban breakout, but we thought…we thought you wouldn't want to hear it."

Homer sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "You were both braver than I ever was—ever could be. I thought coming to you with a grovelling apology would just make you see how pathetic I really am and you'd completely shut me out of your life. So I thought I'd give you space and…I don't know, I hoped you'd find it in your hearts to forgive me. I know I embarrassed you both, but…I just…didn't know what to do."

"Oh, dad…" Lara murmured, her heart twisting in her chest as her dad's shoulders began to shake. Standing up, she rushed over and sat on the edge of his chair, wrapping her arms around him. "Of course we forgive you. We all make mistakes."

"Yeah. And admitting them takes a lot of courage," Walter nodded, his eyes wide. He looked completely stunned, as if he didn't quite know what to do. "Listen, I'm sorry, too. For what I said. I lost my temper. I didn't mean it. And you're right, I wasn't there in the first War. I don't have all the bad memories, all the lingering pain…I hadn't lost anyone I cared about, anyone good…but now I get it…but we have to fight. We have to win. Not just for ourselves and the future, but for the people that have died, too. For their memory. To make their deaths worth something."

Lara felt tears come to her eyes and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from sobbing. This War already felt like it had taken so much, yet it had only just started. The thought of what was to come made her stomach knot.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Pulling her arms away from her dad, she covered her face with her hands. Walter rushed over to take her place, comforting their dad, who was now weeping in sorrow. Lara felt someone come up to her side and wrap their arms around her. From the sweet, floral smell and soft skin, Lara knew it was her mam.

"Mam?" she whispered, her voice muffled by her mam's chest.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Can you come and help organise my wardrobe some time?"

Pamela laughed and squeezed Lara tightly, dropping a kiss into her daughters hair as she said, "Sweetie, I'd love to."

"I'm so EXCITED," yelled Stan as he bounded ahead, his hands clenched in anxious fists. "I've wanted to see this place for ages. Why didn't they open it while we were still in school—"

"Because we're older than them," Erin snorted. "And for us to use their stuff in school, they would've had to open the shop at sixteen."

"Totally doable."

"In all fairness, they had some things created by that point," Lara smirked. "Just not the counter spells. I remember Fred having a nose bleed for days after using a Nose Bleed Nougat."

"I remember that, too," grinned Omar. "McGonagall had little sympathy on the third day."

The group laughed together as they headed further down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. The summer holidays had started, so everywhere was busy, even the travel agents and the second-hand bookstore. A few times as they walked, the four friends had to stop to let running children past, while parents shouted in the distance for them to keep close and watch out.

As Lara pulled Erin out the way of a bunch of teenagers, Stan let out a joyful laugh.

"I knew it would stand out," he grinned.

Looking up, Lara saw the familiar orange shop. She'd visited only a few days ago to see Fred, so nothing much had changed. The windows were full of exploding fireworks and things that whizzed and sparked. Staring at the whole display too long made her eyes burn and she was about to look away, but then she spotted a new sign in the window:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU BE SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Lara shook her head; dear Merlin, those boys were just asking for trouble.

"Cool." Omar breathed beside her, then jumped forward to thump Stan on the back. "Let's go get some—we can use them on co-workers—"

"Boys," sighed Erin, as she and Lara followed slowly behind them.

The shop was extraordinarily busy, with customers ranging from young children who wanted to mess with their siblings to elderly couples looking to prank their grandchildren. Stan and Omar had already disappeared, leaving Erin and Lara to wander over to the Wonder Witch section, which was the only reason Erin had come along for the day. Apparently, muggle products 'just weren't cutting it'.

"Do they really get rid of every blackhead?" Erin asked, staring wide-eyed at a bottle named Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher.

"And spot, whitehead and milk pimple," said a voice and George Weasley appeared on the stairs. "Not that you need it, of course."

"Your charms won't work on me, Weasley," Erin replied without glancing up. "But it does sound better than a pore strip."

"A what?"

"It's a sticky thing you put on your nose. You wait about ten minutes, then tear it off and the blackheads come with it."

George looked horrified. "That sounds ghastly."

"Beauty is pain, my friend," she finally looked at him and they exchanged friendly smiles. "Nice shop, by the way. Very psychedelic."

"So is their flat," grinned Lara. "Their rug is like one of those freaky optical illusions."

"Blame Fred for that one."

"You rang," said Fred, coming up beside his twin.

"We're just talking about how handsome you are," beamed Lara, fluttering her eyelashes.

Fred put his hand to his heart and pretended to look embarrassed. "Well, how sweet."

"She's lying," Erin said flatly. "We're talking about your weird taste in rugs."

"Fair enough." Fred nodded solemnly. "It gives me a headache, sometimes."

Erin opened her mouth to reply, just as Stan appeared behind George. "Guys, guys," he said hurriedly, thumping against the railing. His arms were full of products, which tumbled out of his grip at the impact, clattering down on Erin and Lara's heads. "Oops, sorry—I've been looking for you two everywhere. This shop is amazing!"

"Thanks, mate," Fred grinning, patting Stan on the back.

"Yeah, cheers," beamed George. "You can have something for free, to say thanks for being a tester back in school."

Stan let out a laugh. "Ah, the tongue. I'll never forget the tongue."

"Stan, STAN—look at this! An Electric Shock Hand! Do you know how many people I'll get with this—oh, hey guys! Great shop."

The four boys talked excitedly for a while, leaving Erin and Lara to inspect the rest of the Wonder Witch products. Erin found so much she liked, she had to conjure up a basket, which she filled with potions and creams. Lara helped for a while, but she got distracted by the Pygmy Puffs halfway around and spent the next half an hour trying to get one of them to sing.

One of the purple Pygmy Puffs was making high-pitched squeaking sounds, barely detectable over the noise of the shop, when there was suddenly a very loud bang from somewhere in the distance. Several people screamed, others dived to the floor protecting their heads. In a moment of panic, Erin rushed over to Lara and grabbed her arm.

"What was that?" Erin hissed.

"Probably a firework going off in the backroom or something," murmured Lara. "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure—"

Another bang, followed by more screams. Lara realised they weren't coming from the back at all; they seemed to be coming from the front, outside the shop, which meant the streets of Diagon Alley.

Other people realised this, too. Parents protectively ushered their children to the back of the shop, while others hid behind counters and shelves. One boy, who looked about fifteen, dared to peer outside the window into the street.

"They're attacking Diagon Alley!" he yelled out, ducking back down. "The Death Eaters, they're outside!"

Many people burst into tears, mostly adults who looked old enough to have experienced the First War. Children, distressed by their parents' reaction, also started to cry out. Teenagers huddled together in groups, shaking with panic as they clutched onto each other.

"Nobody panic!" George called out. "We've got protective charms on the doors! We planned ahead for something like this!"

"Oh, thank God," Erin gulped in Lara's ear.

Fred and George walked towards the front doors. They were a second away from slamming them shut when Lara stepped forward, her knees weak, her body burning with anxiety. Erin reached towards her, trying to pull her back, but Lara determinedly continued.

"Wait, I'm going out there," Lara said quietly.

With arms that felt like they were made of lead, she reached up to tie her hair back. She was in no way equipped for any kind of fight, much less a fight with Death Eaters. It had been warm and muggy all day, leading Lara to pick a summer dress and sandals to wear to meet her friends. Her wand was shoved in her over-the-shoulder bag, the tip just peeking out from under the lid. She had nothing, literally nothing, for extra protection.

But what were the Death Eaters doing out there? Attacking families? Children? She knew they most likely were. And could she just stand in here, letting that happen barely ten feet away from her?

Cedric would have ran out there. So would Sirius, and anyone else involved with the Order. Tonks and Walter would already be in the thick of it. They may have even captured a Death Eater or two, just because they could. And they were bound to turn up any minute, right? Someone would send a Patronus—

She had to send a Patronus. She was, after all, a fully-fledged Order member now.

Taking a deep breath, Lara pulled out her wand before throwing her bag into the corner. She quickly cast a Patronus charm, which was non-corporal and probably much too weak to get to every Order member. However, if it got to even one, the word would spread.

"Attack on Diagon Alley," she said clearly. "Send reinforcements."

The Patronus flittered off into the air. Watching it go, Lara felt rather silly; Walter had spent hours teaching her how to cast a corporal Patronus over the past year, but she hadn't been able to get the hang of it yet. The closest she'd gotten was a rather fuzzy looking figure with wings, though it had disappeared as fast as it had come. She was meant to work on the charm with him after they got back from the Erkling outbreak, as apparently everyone in the Order could cast one, but they hadn't had the time.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, huffing in frustration before she began to head out.

"I'm coming, too," Fred suddenly said and began to strip of his magenta robes, leaving him in magenta pants and a matching shirt and waistcoat. "Like hell I'm letting you out there alone."

"Which means I'm also coming," George sighed in mock exasperation. "Guess I have to gather my inner Harry Potter and be the hero…"

Lara rolled her eyes at them both as she stepped into the street. It was deserted, the remnants of thrown over tables and chairs being the only indication something had happened. Wand drawn, a million curses going through her mind, Lara headed further down the street. From the corner of her eyes, she could see people hiding in shops and down alleyways, huddled behind things, their eyes and long robes just about visible. Many of them stared at her as she marched past.

Everything was silent, eerily so. Lara couldn't figure out if the Death Eaters had left or not, though it seemed unlikely. They'd turned up barely two minutes ago, they couldn't have got what they wanted already and left…unless they just wanted to cause havoc…but nobody was even hurt…

The door of Fortescue's Ice-Cream shop burst open. Three large figures in black, billowing robes appeared, dragging along Mr Fortescue in the middle of them.

"No…" the man cried out, kicking his legs. "No, please…"

"Incendio," Lara hissed, pointing her wand at the largest of the Death Eaters, for they had not noticed her standing a few feet ahead.

The Death Eater's robes caught fire and he jumped away, yelling and trying to put it out. The other two looked up and saw Lara, banishing their wands. They both shot curses towards her, but Lara ducked behind a table, the spells rebounding off the back. Quickly bending around the side, she muttered;

"Flipendo."

She didn't see if the jinx hit anyone, as she had to jump behind the table again. She felt another two spells hit the table, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters apparated away with Fortescue. Grabbing a nearby plant pot that had previously sat upon one of the tables, Lara hovered it in the air before sending it hurdling towards the Death Eaters. While they were momentarily distracted, she pointed her wand at the second-biggest and said, "Petrificus Totalus."

The Death Eater collapsed to the ground. The last remaining one let out a scream and threw Fortescue to the floor. As the old man groaned in pain, the Death Eater pointed at ground, sending knifes flying into the air…and towards Lara.

Lara gasped and hit the floor. Many of the knives passed by her, but two were extremely low. One grazed her head, leaving a gash along her forehead, while another plunged into her left arm.

"Shit," Lara hissed, pulling out the knife. On the whim, she grabbed the handle and hurdled it back towards the Death Eater. In a random spot of luck, it plunged into the Death Eaters hip.

Both injured and bleeding, Lara and the Death Eater engaged in a duel. Only seconds passed by, though it felt much longer, when Lara heard noises coming from behind her. Looking over, she saw Fred and George engaged in a duel with at least four Death Eaters. The sight shocked her so much, she lost concentration. She was hit by an Expulso curse, sending her flying back into a stone wall.

The world went momentarily black upon the impact, though she landed on the ground still conscious. The back of her head was throbbing and she was pretty sure something in her arm had come loose. Still, she managed to turn herself onto her side, just in time to see the Death Eater disappear with Fortescue.

"Dammit," Lara whispered, collapsing back onto the ground, her whole body aching and pulsing with pain. Her brain felt like someone had put it through a blender and her left arm was useless, hanging limply at her side. She had no idea where her wand was. If a Death Eater was to come now, she had no defence.

Someone grabbed her right arm, so tightly Lara flinched slightly. She got ready to fight, to at least scratch an eye or break a nose before she was taken, only to come face-to-face with Bill Weasley.

"You got my message," Lara muttered shakily.

"Yeah, just," Bill replied. "Everyone's on their way."

"The twins, they—"

"Tonks and Remus are with them."

"Oh," she whispered, resting her head back on the floor. "Okay, good."

Bill pulled his wand out, hovering it over Lara as he muttered a few spells under his breath. Lara could feel her wounds stinging and burning, as if they were being healed a little too fast. Then, she became light-headed as the thumping pain at the base of her skull began to dim.

"It's the best I can do," Bill said quickly. "I only know the basic healing spells—can you stand?"

"Yeah," Lara said determinedly, forcing herself up. Stumbling to her feet, she felt the world spin for a moment before she shook her head, trying to bring everything into focus. "You go, I'm fine."

Bill nodded and went to help the twins, Tonks and Remus, who were fighting the remaining Death Eaters. Lara wanted to help, to take the element of surprise and attack from behind, but her brain was spinning again and her neck was too weak to hold up her head…

"NO!"

Several popping sounds echoed through the street. Narrowing her eyes towards the group ahead of her, Lara could see that the Death Eaters were gone. Tonks was on the floor, as frozen as a statue, while George and Remus seemed to be recovering from a Knock-Back jinx. Bill had been the one to cry out and he was now kneeling on the floor with a look of horror, Fred trying to comfort him at his side.

Lara pushed herself forward, stumbling across the pebbled street. She came to a lurching halt beside Bill as she asked, "What happened?"

"One of them sent a Killing Curse and it only just missed Tonks, knocked us all off our game," Fred replied quickly, then looked away from his brother and towards Lara. Upon seeing her, his dark eyes widened. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Got hurt, healing spells are making me feel a bit off," she responded jerkily.

Fred patted his brother softly on the back before moving to Lara, where he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to her feet. The movement caused another head-spin, though it quickly stopped. "You look high," Fred snorted in her ear.

Lara snorted, then quickly caught herself. "Oh God," she whispered. "Fortescue …"

"We did everything we could," Fred murmured. "Tonks nearly got killed, for Merlin's sake."

"But…what do they even want with him?"

Fred didn't get to reply; with several pops, other members of the Order appeared in the cobbled streets. Moody glanced around the area, his magical eyes whizzing with the effort, before he marched over to the others and barked, "What happened?"

"Death Eaters attacked Fortescue," George replied, rubbing his injured shoulder. "They've took him."

"They've took Ollivander, too," Remus cried out as he came running over from the wand shop. "No signs of a struggle inside, but he's not there and he hasn't taken any personal belongings."

Moody growled. "When?"

"Fortescue was barely two minutes ago. Ollivander, I'm not sure. There's still an unconscious Death Eater over there."

Glancing over, Lara saw that the second Death Eater she'd attacked was still laid on the floor. Despite the situation, a sense of pride knotted in her stomach.

"I'll take him," Moody said. "The rest of you head for The Burrow. We're having a meeting."

Moody hobbled over to the Death Eater, grabbing him by the robes before he apparated away. Meanwhile, Bill slowly got to his knees and turned towards the other Order members, filling them in on what was happening. Lara felt her knees begin to buckle.

"I'm taking you to The Burrow," Fred said, "And you're going to sleep."

"I'm fine—"

"You're about to collapse."

Lara didn't argue—she couldn't. Her whole body felt like it was slowly shutting down. She turned to Fred, about to agree, and her world turned black as she passed out in his arms.

needed a break for a while but hope you liked the chapter. thank you to everyone that's still enjoying the story and hope everyone's doing good.