Updated: Tuesday 29 August 2006

Disclaimer: Anything familiar shamelessly borrowed from OotP / HBP. If I was receiving any financial retribution for my surrender to the plot bunnies, I wouldn't have to work for a living and would thus have the time to update in a more timely manner…

A/N: Author's profile updated.

Chapter Twenty-three: The Department of Mysteries

It was strange, descending into the bowels of the Ministry without having passed through a single layer of security checks. As young people in the magical world, they had all invariably come to the Ministry at some point in their lives; all were familiar with its processes.

"I never thought I'd say it, but I kinda miss not wearing a name tag," mused John nervously, eying down at the empty space on his robes where the standard-issue badges would have gone. He rubbed a hand over the finely woven house crest self-consciously. "And it feels mighty strange wearing school robes!"

"Yes, well, it would be all too convenient for identification purposes if the Death Eaters all went around with name tags on," drawled Reg. "Though you'd think they'd need them for each other since they hide their faces behind those pathetic masks."

"I don't even want to think about what they might have stated as their 'business'," said Ron, gulping loudly. There was a collective shiver.

"Yes, well as long as our business here turns out as a rescue mission and not a suicide mission, I don't care!" said Ginny, still managing to place her hands on her hips even though the elevator seemed impossibly small.

"Department of Mysteries," a cool, automated female voice reverberated throughout the loud elevator as it ground to a hot. Caught by surprise, the teenagers flinched, and were instantly on their alert when the golden grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Cautiously making their way towards the door at the end of the corridor, they slipped in one by one; finding themselves in a large, circular room. Everything in here as black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was a dark water underfoot. Instinctively closing the door behind them, they were unprepared for the loss of light which the brightly burning torches in the corridor had cast into the room; the blue flames bathing the place in a eerie midnight blue glow, but only bright enough to discern shape from shadow.

The process then, of selecting the correct door to walk through was hindered by the fact that the circular wall would spin around them every time a door closed. Already in breach of about a dozen school and ministry rules just by being there, however, no one felt any reservations about using their wands, and so each door was carefully and methodically marked as it was checked.

One room that left a most unassuming impact upon the trespassing students was an abandoned amphitheatre with imposing stone terraces and a lone dais in its centre. A simple archway was all that stood on the raised platform, a tattered curtain preventing them all from seeing through the displaced doorway. Though the others heard nothing, neither Harry nor Estella could quite shake the feeling of unease that came with the ghostly whispers that seemed to have singled them out. Finding nothing of interest in the room, they pressed on; next finding themselves in a brilliantly lit room full of clocks of every description. In the months before Harry began receiving proper Occlumency tutoring, the weary Gryffindor had recalled a recurring dream that traced a particular path through the Department of Mysteries. It had been the only way Harry had been able to tell where Voldemort was keeping Sirius, and now it was showing them the way.

Bustling past the man-sized bell jar that was made of crystal and sitting atop a desk as wisps of glittering wind billowed within it, Harry led them to another door.

"This is it," he said quietly, as the door swung open.

Their destination was a room that stood high as a church and was filled with nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals between the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind then, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

"Dad isn't here," said Estella suddenly, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't know how she knew what she did, but she couldn't help but stop cold in the realisation. "This is a trap… Harry… he wants the prophecy!"

Looking from Estella, to the long aisle of shelves, the scene from his vision no doubt replaying itself in his mind as he tried to subtract fact from fiction, Harry pursed his lips into a thin line.

"I think…" said Harry slowly, his eyes widening. "I think you may be right! Estella, what was Padfoot wearing when we left last night?"

"Um… the Reebok Pumps Tonks got him for his birthday, those jeans with all the rips in them, and that moth-eaten grim reaper t-shirt that Mrs Weasley hates…" said Estella without hesitation. Her father had become increasingly bored of late, and had, since Easter, taken to dressing in clothes that would 'draw the criticism of all the mother hens in the Order'. That previous night's choice, had been particularly memorable for Estella after her father had told her that her mother had bought him the t-shirt during her first visit to a Muggle mall. The first store Selina Black had walked into had been quite popular with bikies and heavy rockers, but being so relatively clueless on Muggle fashion, the young Hogwarts graduate had assumed that everyone dressed like that, and bought the shirt for her boyfriend (and a few other choice items of clothing for herself, asides, that Sirius had expressly forbidden their daughter from 'looking sideways at').

"What's the likelihood that he would have changed into robes between the time we left and the time I woke from the dream five hours later?" said Harry quickly.

"Slim to none," said Estella, paling. Turning to the others, she gestured back in the direction from whence they came. Frowning slightly, she tilted her head towards the place in Harry's robes where she knew he always kept his mirror; her own hand reaching inside the folds of her own cloak to retrieve her own. "Maybe we should try another mirror-call. If he's all right, he'd surely have noticed his mirror missing by now and found it on Kreacher…"

The two dark-haired teens pulled out their identical hand mirrors simultaneously, and after casting a quick spell to ensure their voices would not carry, began calling for the missing man.

"Filthy half-blood is covering my Mistress' face!" the distinctive screech of Kreacher rang in their ears, the crotchety old house elf evidently affronted at seeing the image in the mirror split evenly between the two people trying to contact its real owner.

Whilst Harry growled and began muttering something about filthy, disobedient house elves who steal their master's things, Estella's keen eyes had picked up on something in the elf's other hand; something that was almost obscured by the mirror's limited field of vision.

"Kreacher," she said in a high-pitched voice of her own. "What's that in your hand?"

Kreacher's eyes narrowed into slits and he continued to glare at the side of the mirror that showed him Harry's reflection.

"Oh Mistress," he said with false sincerity. "Kreacher is trying to clean the blood off the desk. Master made a dreadful mess of his father's study… Kreacher is using Master's bloodied shirt. Left it lying on the floor, he did… torn and tattered like a rag."

Harry shared a solemn look with their surrounding audience and sightlessly gripped Estella's arm in silent support. The mirror slipped from the girl's hand, falling to the floor with a dull thud, as she started to shake.

"He can't be here… they couldn't have gotten into headquarters… he can't be here… this doesn't make any sense!" she mumbled incoherently, her eyes wide in shock. Though she had fully believed that her father was in danger when they'd left the school, the sudden mention of blood being spilt alerted her to the reality that her father was hurt. Her head still spinning from the gash she'd sustained upon her awakening, her mind was awash with conflicting thoughts; the brief moment of coherence she'd felt fled her mind.

Beside her, Harry bristled with barely contained rage, the boy turning swiftly and smashing his hand mirror against a shelf in his anger. No one stopped to consider that, perhaps, the missing Animagus had simply cut himself and had removed his mirror from his waistband with the intent of changing his bloodied shirt…

"Well that's it then," said Harry firmly. "He is here…"

Subconsciously picking up on Estella's own fragmented line of thinking, Hermione was quick to voice her doubt.

"But just how could they have descended upon Headquarters and taken Sirius?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "Earlier, when you said Death Eaters had him, I assumed he must have left the safety of the wards…"

"The Fidelius has been broken before," snapped Harry darkly. No one dared to question him… all it would have taken was for one of Dumbledore's notes to land in the wrong hands, after all.

"All right then," the determined Gryffindor added, breaking the awkward silence that had descended upon them after he'd drawn indirect reference to the false sense of security that had seen his parents killed. "It's row ninety-seven. This way. Keep your wands ready."

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

"Prophecies that have already come to pass," muttered Estella, running her finger across the dusty label of one such orb and reading a date that was centuries old.

They pushed on.

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione read the silver-plated number on the next row.

Bypassing most of the neglected orbs in favour of heading straight to the end of the aisle, where Harry's false vision had taken place, the seven teenagers began searching for anything with Harry's name on it.

"There!" said Ron, pointing… no, stabbing, his finger towards an orb on a shelf just above Harry's eye line.

Standing back against the opposite shelf and standing on her tip-toes, Estella could just make out the spidery writing on the label if she trained her eyes hard enough. The date was listed as some sixteen years previously, which was in line with the timing in her mother's journal, and she recognised the initials immediately. Crossing the aisle, she took her place alongside Harry, nodding to him in encouragement as he hesitated and sought her eyes. No sooner had the teen's fingers closed around the orb, however, were they made aware of another person's presence.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me," the smug, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy seemed to appear out of thin air until, suddenly, they found that they were surrounded by a dozen hooded Death Eaters.

"To me, Potter," repeated Lucius as he held out his hand, palm up. "Now!"

Pushing her fear aside, Estella moved slightly in front of Harry, her non-wand arm hanging loosely to the side closest to Harry, her wrist at a ninety-degree angle, palm cupped and resting slightly behind her. Years of catching a tiny Snitch giving him a proficiency for the slight of hand, Harry let the hand holding the orb drop to his side, out of the Death Eater's sight, before dropping the pearly weight into Estella's waiting hand.

Narrowing his eyes at the raven-haired girl between himself and his goal, Lucius took a step forward; this time his hand was held out towards Estella.

"Step away from this folly, Estella," said Lucius in an almost kind voice. "You'll have no part in this. I won't have my son's prize harmed."

"Oh that's rich, coming from you," drawled Estella, edging away from his hand and backing herself into a bookshelf. "But if you are at all to be considered a man of your word, I suppose I can expect no harm if I…" she pulled the orb out from behind her and started to let go "…do this?"

SMASH.

Before wisps of the prophecy's contents could be divulged to the growing crowd of Death Eaters, Estella flicked her wand at the forming mist, banishing it from existence. Several of the Death Eaters began to shuffle nervously and scowl, but Lucius hardly flinched as he returned his attention to Harry once more.

"The prophecy, boy," he said, clearly not buying that Estella had just destroyed the real prophecy.

"I don't have it," said Harry stubbornly. "Estella dropped it – what are you going to do about it?"

"You're lying! You have it behind your back!" snapped Lucius impatiently. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the six wands of the three witches and wizards on either side of him rose to join his. "Don't do anything," Harry muttered. "Not yet-"

A woman, one of the Death Eater's closest to Lucius, began laughing raucously.

"You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" she levelled her wand at Harry and shrieked: "Accio proph-"

"Protego!" Harry shouted, building a shield around himself before the woman could even finish casting.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," the woman said, her mad eyes staring through the slits of her hood. "Very well, then-"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it -!"

"Oh do tell us what your precious master would do to you if it were smashed…" said Estella, her lip curling into a sneer. "If he can't think of anything, I'll be happy to send him some ideas…"

At this point, Estella could feel the icy gaze of the woman staring at her. All too suddenly, she realised who it was.

"Bellatrix Black," she said, knowing the woman had married, but not particularly caring.

"Aw," leered the woman in question, giving Estella a shrewd look. "If it isn't my newest baby cousin…"

Her lip curling in distaste, Estella shuddered; the term 'baby cousin' being a near sacred endearment between the cousins in the family she did associate with freely. Tilting her head in Lucius' direction she leered; "I would have thought my great-uncle did you a favour, scamming you with Narcissa's hand… she seems to be the sanest of the lot… but then we all know why that is…"

"Silencio!" Lucius Malfoy fired the spell at Estella quickly, but the teasing girl had seen it coming a mile off and dodged it. Beside the light-haired wizard, Bellatrix Black bristled at the implication of her own mother's impropriety.

"Don't you dare!" she spat at the youngest member of her extended family, her wand poised. "'Cissa's blood is purer than pure; our mother would never have defiled herself with anything less!"

"Pity you can't say the same for yourself," snapped back Estella, in what was a not-so-veiled insult about the purity of her husband's line: the Lestrange family were even more inbred than the Blacks, ensuring all manner of genetic displacements. Striking a chord within the deranged woman, Estella was, for once, abstractly glad for Lucius' vested interest in her; the possessive Malfoy patriarch intervening before the slighted witch could physically attack her.

"So tell me, what does Voldemort want the prophecy for? He already knows the first half-" said Harry, drawing attention away from Estella.

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare to speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix, throwing back her hood so that the true extent of her anger could be known.

"Of course," said Harry, "though you know if I were to really refer to VOLDEMORT by name, I would call him by the name given to him at birth-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare-"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Estella maliciously. "He was even named after his Muggle father! Or did you suppose 'Lord Voldemort' was actually on his birth certificate… or that he came out of a cauldron the first time as well?"

"STUPEF-"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered, causing a thick mist to swirl into the air.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY! I NEED THE GIRL!" yelled Malfoy.

"He dared – she dared -" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently.

"WAIT UNTIL WE HAVE THE PROPHECY!"

The teenagers all looked to the Death Eaters, to the smashed glass of the orbs, to each other, and nodded in silent agreement. Waiting until Bella had entered into another of her tirades, Malfoy turning to face the woman completely and shake his wand at her in threatening, Harry nodded.

"REDUCTO!" seven voices bellowed, sending pointed beams of light hurtling towards the various points in the shelves that bore the weight of the structure. The supporting joists splintering and cracking with the impact, the shelves began to twist and buckle, the movement sending a hundred glass spheres rolling from their places and crashing to the floor. A shower of glass, splinters and fog filled the air.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed some more and additional orbs spiralled downwards.

Though they had momentarily gained the advantage and managed to get past the Death Eaters in all the confusion, they soon became separated; each person having run at their own sprint level. As they tore through the rooms, back to the circular room from where there were many different doors to hide behind, things went from bad to worse. Initially, they had only been split into two groups… but now they had broken off to try and find each other in various rooms, the seven-strong had split into pairs. That they had managed to incapacitate one Death Eater on their way out of the prophecy room was but a small comfort when over ten remained.

Lady luck was on their side, however, for the Death Eaters – impatient to retrieve the prophecy that they still believed Harry to have – had split up in their attempts to locate the teens. Slowly, the students began to find each other and regroup, finding their strength in their number. One by one, Death Eaters were picked off, with minimal retribution. In the room full of clocks, Harry had Stunned a Death Eater and sent them flying back into an unfortunate grandfather clock; and Hermione had done likewise.

The D.A.'s first casualty fell in a small cluttered office, just a few moments later. Reg had placed one Death Eater in a body-bind, and Hermione had silenced the other, who was trying to give out their location. Unfortunately for the teenagers, especially Hermione, they had been so caught up in the moment that none of them considered that the silenced man could still throw a non-verbal spell in their direction. A sudden slashing moment and flash of purple flame later, and Hermione was down for the count. Reg, who was closest to Hermione at the time, dropped to his hands and knees to see to their fallen comrade. Letting down his guard, he was in no position to avoid the kick to the head that the silenced Death Eater threw in his direction, breaking his nose. Estella twisted around, her own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry; the pair of teenagers both recognising the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts.

Jabbing his wand at Harry in frustration, his fixation on not being able to communicate due to the Silencing Charm on him causing him to be just that little be slower on the draw, Estella acted fast and put the man into a Body Bind. Then, checking the fallen girl's vitals, she led the way whilst the two boys carried Hermione between them, each of them keeping a hand free for their wand, and headed back towards the circular room and, hopefully, their exit.

It was while considering which direction to choose when a door to their right sprang open, expelling their three missing people. All feeling of relief, however quickly replaced by concern when they noticed something not quite right with Ron.

"Ron!" croaked Harry, dashing towards them. "Ginny – are you all-?"

"Harry," said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes, "there you are… ha ha ha… you look funny, Harry… you're all messed up…"

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the all into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered John, who had been helping Ginny walk and was now bent over her, appearing unhurt. Looking up, his eyes sought out Estella's, and, seeing his friend unhurt, he seemed to relax ever so slightly. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark-"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus – ha ha ha - "

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst.

"- anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but…" John gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed. "I don't even know what they hit Ron with… it's been hard enough to get him along…"

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry firmly, his eyes flying to the two able-bodied boys amongst them. "John, if you can keep helping Ginny, Reg and I will carry Hermione-"

John deposited his wand in a holster on his sleeve so that the tip was still sticking out against his wrist, ready for use, and then moved to put an arm around Ginny's waist, to help her.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" said Ginny impatiently, but the next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed John for support. Estella pulled Ron's arm over her shoulder and looked around: they had a one in twelve chance of getting the exit right first time –

But their luck ran out. Discovered by three Death Eaters, the numbers may have technically been in their favour, but with their injuries to consider, they were vulnerable. Had they been Death Eaters, they could have abandoned their fallen comrades and fought for themselves quite competently, but no member of the DA could ever leave a person behind. It was just not in their nature… and the Death Eaters knew it, aiming for the defenceless as much as possible.

Running for a door and hoping for the best, they didn't have time to feel disappointment as they found themselves in a room full of brains. Knowing that he was the primary target – for the Death Eaters still suspected that he had switched the Prophecy and had it with him – Harry drew their attention away from his weary and injured friends, running out into the circular room again and picking a different door. He had been totally unprepared for the steep descent of stairs as he re-entered the large amphitheatre they'd searched earlier, and his resultant crash down the stairs had prompted Estella to tear through the door after him, her face white with concern.

She had just reached Harry, who was flat on his back in the middle of the sunken pit, next to where the veiled archway stood on its dais. No sooner had she helped him stand, was the room ringing with the Death Eaters' laughter: looking up, the teenagers could see that several of the Death Eaters they had stunned had been revived, the odds now five to one.

"Potter, your race is run," drawled Lucius Malfoy, pulling off his mask, "now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."

"Let – let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" said Harry desperately.

A few of the Death Eaters laughed. From her place at Harry's side, Estella felt the effects of her pendant burning. Mentally slapping herself, she realised that she could have avoided all of this if she had just thought to have them all touch the unassuming Portkey when they were all together. A wave of nausea sweeping over her as the potion she'd imbibed before they left began to wear off, she noted that she hadn't even paid attention to the heat the charmed necklace was giving off – she had truly been that distracted.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," said Lucius Malfoy, his pale face flushed with pleasure. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you… Estella get away from him, or you will not like the consequences!"

"Bring it on," said Estella, scowling. "If you want to get to Harry, you'll have to go through me first!"

"You foolish girl," said Lucius, with a mixed expression on his face. "I may have plans for you, yes, but my Master comes first – you are still expendable."

"I'll be sure to tell Draco," said Estella, "I'm sure he'll not agree."

Lucius Malfoy looked as though he had just been slapped, and it occurred to Estella that if the Malfoy patriarch could appear so threatened by Draco's sentiments towards Estella, then perhaps she held more influence over the boy than she had given herself credit for. Luckily for the two teenagers, Malfoy's poorly-timed moment of hesitation cost him dearly for, before he could react to Estella's comment, two doors burst open above them and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Remus, Moody, Tonks and Kingsley.

Malfoy turned, and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. Neither Harry nor Estella wanted to wait to see whether it had made contact, and so dove out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Instinctively moving into a defensive squat, the two teenagers took a brief moment to consider their options, now that they were momentarily out of the line of fire. Slumping against the cool stone wall of one of the terraced seats, Estella felt the adrenalin seep out of her. Tired and cold, her headache potion was wearing off – the suppressed feelings of her concussion returning full force.

"Whoever said taking up the piano was not a dangerous activity…" she said, rubbing at the tension building in her forehead, the back of her head feeling too tender to touch as it began to thrum with increasing intensity. She ducked as a stray curse hit the stone on the step above and grimaced at the noise. "…I beg to differ."

"Are you all right?" said Harry. Just then, he noticed her pendant glowing from where it had come out from underneath her shirt, now visible as it rested on the clasp of her robes. His face twisted into one of self-incrimination as he reached the same conclusions Estella had a moment earlier. Grimacing, he gestured towards the forgotten escape route. "Maybe you should use the Portkey-"

"No way!" said Estella, fiercely shaking the cotton wool from her head and looking at Harry determinedly. "Everyone I love is in this room – I'll not abandon ship!"

Harry, then, did not have time to argue with the girl as he was suddenly grabbed around the neck and pulled upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "give me the prophecy-"

Looking around herself for help, Estella could see that they would be alone on this one. Her father was busy duelling with a Death Eater some ten feet away; Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix – all of them too preoccupied to notice their dilemma. Tearing her eyes away from the sight of all these people she respected fighting – fighting well – Estella came to her senses and raised her wand.

"Stupefy!" she said, the slight buzzing of the concussion in her head making the spell lose its effect; the man taking longer than expected to let go of Harry and succumb to the Stunner. When the man did finally fall, she motioned for Harry to reapply the curse, gesturing to her head in explanation. "My head's screwing with my magic!"

Pulling Estella aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, duelling so fiercely that their wands were blurs – the look of concentration on Sirius' face to intense that he had all but completely unacknowledged their presence – Harry looked at Estella in concern.

"If your magic's affected, you really ought to go…"

"NO!" said Estella, pulling away from Harry and stalking backwards, promptly falling over an unconscious body.

It was Moody. Lying on his side and bleeding profusely from the head, his magical eye was missing and he was breathing shallowly. Harry jabbed his finger at the famed ex-Auror as though proving his point.

"See! Not even Moody was safe! You have to go!" said Harry desperately, but Estella stood firm, the recurring fear of being left on the sidelines whilst everyone she loved was getting killed enough to wretch a ragged sob from her.

Why couldn't they understand that she needed to stay? That she couldn't go back alone…

Just then, Moody's attacker lunged at them, a nasty curse flying from his lips as he levelled his wand at the pair. The teenagers quickly erected their shields… though Estella's was nowhere near strong enough to absorb the effects of the curse. Luckily for her, however, her father had appeared out of nowhere, ramming the Death Eater with his shoulder and sending the man – and his curse – off course. Now, Sirius was duelling with the displaced Death Eater, determinedly standing between danger and his children, vehemently protecting them as his wand flashed around like a sword.

Rushing to their guardian's assistance, Harry sprang up and threw a Body-Bind at the Death Eater at the same moment that Estella threw a Stunner. Knocked unconscious by the adrenalin-fuelled strength in Estella's spell, the Death Eater was unaware as his limbs snapped together, keeling over backwards to land on his back with an undoubtedly painful crash.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, turning suddenly and using his body to push both children aside, out of the path of a pair of Stunning Spells. "Now I want you to get out of-"

They all ducked even lower; a jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius. Swallowing back a sob, Estella sucked in a breath and met her father's eyes. From her vantage point facing her father, she had seen the tell-tale light of the Killing Curse flying towards them and had dropped to the floor, pulling her father down with her. That he had come so close to dying had taken her breath away, and she started to shake. Looking beyond her father's shoulder warily, she grimaced as she saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back towards the fray.

"I'm sorry!" she started mumbling over and over, shaking her head; her hands still fisted in the front of her father's shirt from when she had pulled him down. Overwhelming guilt flooded through her as she realised how foolish they had been to not see the holes in Voldemort's fake vision. Had they not fallen for it, none of them would be there now, fighting for their lives.

Gripping a shoulder in one hand, Sirius gave his daughter a little shake. Reaching up to stroke the hair at the back of her head affectionately – knowing that it would soothe her – he jerked in alarm as the girl flinched, stickiness meeting his fingers.

"My God!" Blinking up at her father blearily, Estella had never realised it was possible for a person to pale so quickly. His eyes clouded with concern, her father had gone as white as a sheet. Turning to Harry, he could not manage to keep the shakiness out of his voice. "Harry, take Estella. Take her and run!" he yelled, before dashing up to face Bellatrix.

Seeing the fear in her father's eyes had brought a measure of sense to Estella. She could not keep up with her attackers, and the pain in her head was returning in full force. Staying would only make her father worry about her, and the distraction could likely prove lethal. Accepting Harry's assistance as the dizziness set in, her legs feeling like jelly underneath her, the teenagers were resigned to their fate and prepared to leave.

Before they could so much as both get a firm hold on the small Portkey around Estella's neck, they had drawn the attention of two Death Eaters… one, a sinister looking wizard with a pock-marked face, and the other, Lucius Malfoy. Bracing themselves for battle, they were relieved when the Death Eater closest to them was pulled into a duel with Kingsley, but still that left Malfoy.

"Estella!" shouted the familiar voice of her godfather, the man's voice sounding positively primal in its rage as its owner jumped between them, firing an impressive curse over his shoulder as he did so, one that hit Malfoy square in the chest and sent him flying back into the dais. Looking at the two teenagers analytically, he took a brief moment to reassure himself of his loved ones' safety. Gently running the tips of his fingers down the side of Estella's cheek, unwittingly tracing her tears, all traces of the feral fighting machine they had just seen gave way to the gentle and kind-hearted man they were all more acquainted with.

"GO!" he said to them urgently, nudging them towards the exit. "Find the others and get yourselves out!"

Nodding, Harry wrapped a supportive arm around Estella's waist, taking the pressure off of her shaky legs as they began to climb up the first tier of stone steps, now intent on getting all of the DA out together. Suddenly, a spell hit the stone bench beneath their feet; crumbling it out from under them and causing them to fall. When next they looked up, both teens drawing on each other for assistance as they regained their footing, the welcome sight of Dumbledore filled their heart with hope.

Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Through all the relief and security that came with the man's presence, however, Estella could not help but dread how much of that anger would be directed at them when it came out that they had so foolishly walked straight into the Dark Lord's trap. A chance look in Harry's direction told Estella that Harry was thinking the same thing.

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Estella and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realised he was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line –

Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Suddenly, the rising cheer of seeing Albus Dumbledore in action was plummeted back into heart-stopping concern as Estella watched her father duck Bellatrix's jet of red light. Watching her father fight was something finer than a fluid ballroom dance… she'd seen her father and godfather give demonstrations before, yes, but seeing her father matching his opponent filled her with pride.

When the man started to laugh, however, Estella found herself narrowing her eyes in concern. If there were one thing her uncle had instilled upon her, it had been to never get too sure of oneself when facing an opponent. She cringed as her confident father began to goad his attacker.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

A sick feeling descended into Estella's stomach as she considered the likelihood that her father, assured by their favourable odds, was deliberately showing off. Placing one foot in front of the other with increasing urgency, Estella instinctively edged away from Harry and towards the duelling cousins. Catching sight of his daughter visibly approaching the danger he was trying to protect them all from, a stoic look of determination on her face, Sirius faltered in his goading of Bellatrix.

"Go!" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, reaching out sightlessly and physically pulling his daughter behind him, where she would be safe. Focused wholly now on protecting his child, Sirius was suddenly back in the game; his eyes never leaving his opponent as the woman hurled a red jet of light towards him.

"Is that all you've got?" he quipped at his cousin, his bravado distracting him once more as he deftly dodged the stunner. What he didn't expect, however, was for the woman to follow up the relatively tame Curse with a 'Reducto' aimed at the flagstone a few feet in front of him. Whilst his hastily erected shield was able to deflect the flying debris of shattered stone, the force of the explosion sent him sailing backwards, careening bodily into child he lived to protect.

Upon hearing his daughter's cry of surprise, Sirius whirled around just in time to see Estella stumbling back uncontrollably, her eyes filled with shock as she looked a him with a stricken expression. In his peripheral vision, he could see Remus and Harry leaping down the stairs, closing the distance between them, but only he stood a chance of breaking her fall. Feeling Dumbledore's eyes on him as the elderly wizard turned towards the scene, the old wizard's omniscience doing nothing to assist him the one time he needed the man's help most, Sirius flailed his arms out towards his daughter and grasped but a whisper of fabric, the edges of the girl's robes slipping through his fingertips as she was pulled back.

"No!" he choked out in barely a whisper; all laughter had died from his face now as his eyes found the pair so like his own, the fear and helplessness mirrored there flickering to sad resignation when it became apparent that the distance between them was too great; he could not pull her back in time.

It seemed to take Estella an age to fall: her body curved into a graceful arc as she sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. A wave of nausea swept over Estella as the first shadows of the realm beyond the veil pulled at her soul, the last thing she saw as she fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil being the shock and despair on her father's face.

'I'm sorry,' she thought to herself as she passed through the arch, tightening her grip on her wand and bracing herself for what would come next. She would have liked to have said the words aloud to her father, but it had all happened so quickly; as it was she had barely been able to cry out the spell that repelled her father away from her after he initially knocked her back, saving them both from falling behind the veil that had been so precariously close to them both. More than anything, Estella wished she could tell her father not to blame himself, as she just knew he would be quick to do.

Realising, then, that she had neither landed or gained momentum in her descent, Estella found herself gripped with fear. Blinking quickly, she noted that the veil had closed before her without her even being aware, and she was now surrounded by darkness. The air was cold, but not unbearably so, and still; yet still she seemed to fall into the abyss. The whispers that she and Harry had heard earlier were again present, but surprisingly being behind the veil did little to help her understand what they were saying; in any event she was too distracted by what she could still hear to pay attention.

Bellatrix's scream of triumph was muffled, but somewhat close. Feeling the wand still in her hand, Estella felt an undeniably urge to curse something, but held back for fear that the lack of any sort of discernable atmosphere might cause the spell to rebound and hit herself. Afraid that if she pocketed her wand, it might fall out without her being aware, she grasped it firmly in both hands and strained her ears to hear what was happening on the other side. Upon hearing Harry screaming her name, Remus' cry of alarm and her father's unrestrained wailing, she could not help but let out her own strangled sob. Part of her wanted to call out, converse with them in some way that would reassure them, but she highly suspected that if she attempted to communicate with her loved ones – or in fact anyone within the confines of the veil – the only thing that would be heard would be a unintelligible whisper.

Scowling to herself, fear overtaking her frustration as her wand failed to light at her command, Estella's eyes widened in surprise as she felt her pendant begin to burn.

'Of course!' she said to herself, letting go of her wand with one hand to wrap her fingers around the small stone that her father had given her, and her uncle had later charmed.

"Sanctuary," she whispered hoarsely, squeezing her eyes tightly in hope as she waited for the familiar tug behind her navel.

Bellatrix's triumphant scream fell on deaf ears as Sirius slumped to the floor. As much as part of him held onto thehope that his daughter would simply reappear on the other side of the veil, he could not get the look on her face out of his head. Staring at his big, empty, incapable hands, his shock gave way to anger. He was just about to pull himself up and charge through the veil after his daughter when something stopped him. Someone stopped him.

"Estella!" Harry screamed, causing Sirius' head to whip around, his mind wrapping itself around their loss.

Hearing Harry's protests, the broken words of his child's godfather dimly registered in his mind as he slipped deeper and deeper into despair. Hearing Remus Lupin admit that Estella was gone, did him in… a dam of emotion burst from within and he started to scream. His anxiety exerting a vice-like grip on his chest, Sirius gasped for breath, falling forward on his hands and knees, his limbs shaking with the onset of a full-blown panic attack. In his peripheral vision, he could see his child's godfather holding Harry back; the distraught Animagus abstractly commending his friend for keeping a hold of himself enough to be there for Harry.

'I couldn't stop Estella, and now look at me!' he scolded himself, shaking the oppressive fog from his mind as he pulled himself to his feet. If his best friend hadn't there to hold Harry back just now, the boy could have taken off behind the veil before he'd even regained control of his own faculties. Letting out an angered growl of self-loathing, Sirius was surprised to find his throat roar and voice hoarse from overuse. Harry needed him now, and it was selfish for him to allow himself to be consumed by his own emotion. He staggered towards his godson and friend.

"It's okay, Harry," he said, more to reassure himself than the boy who now looked at him with wide green eyes. Denial settling in, he seized on the trust inherent in the boy's look and clung to his own. "It'll take more than that to knock a Black down… we'll get her back…"

Pained though he was to admit it, Remus Lupin shook his head and cut his friend off before he could placate his godson with a hollow promise. Taking a firm grip of his friend's shoulders, his words came harshly and cruelly as he yelled at both of them, driving the point home once and for all; his voice cracking with his own grief by the time he was done.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible robes; Mad-Eye Moody had awoken and was crawling across the room to where Tonks lay, his wand out as he attempted to revive her. Behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries – when Sirius had fallen to his knees, in shock, Kingsley had run forward to continue the man's duel with Bellatrix.

"Here," Remus' voice trailed off, the tenseness of his jaw and paleness of his skin remaining the only sign that he felt anything at all; years of keeping secrets and trying to fit in enabling him to cast aside his own debilitating grief to attend to the matters at hand. He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder and looked at Sirius meaningfully, but a shadow of helplessness flicking across his eyes as he noted that this was one pain none of them could take away from each other. "…Harry. Let's – let's find the others, Where are they?"

Remus turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain, but Sirius had to give the man credit for being able to form coherent sentences. Caught up in a moment of his own grief, he couldn't act fast enough when a loud bang alerted the teenagers to Bellatrix's triumph over Kingsley – the man's cries of pain the only thing that assured them of his survival.

Turning tail and running as the noise had turned Dumbledore's attention unto her, Bellatrix fled. Filled with a mix of adrenalin and strengthened by the solidarity his friend's presence had provided him with, Sirius shot up without warning and took off after the woman who had taken his daughter away from them all. Harry too, leapt up and joined the pursuit, Remus hot on his heels until he found his eyes lingering on the flimsy material fluttering about the archway. Holding back, the devastated werewolf took a moment to inspect the unassuming veil that had taken all that he lived and fought for. He wasn't aware that he was moving closer to the threshold of the netherworld; oblivious was he to his surroundings as he fixated on the whispering that came from beyond.

"REMUS!" A woman's voice startled him from his trance-like reverie, the man snapping back his hand in surprise as his fingertips whispered across the tattered fabric. He turned around slowly, somewhat startled, and peered across the room towards the voice. To the left of the dais, where Bellatrix's most recent victim had fallen, Tonks had been revived by Moody; the pair now seeing to Kinsgley's injuries.

"Get away from there, Lupin!" Alastor Moody snapped gruffly, the man's head never looking up from where he was bent over the fallen Order member. Despite this, Remus could feel the man's eye – the man's omniscient magical eye – watching his every move as he stepped down from the dais and approached them, dazedly.

Looking in the direction where Sirius and Harry had taken off after his goddaughter's… cousin (he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'killer', even in his mind) Remus contemplated his next course of action. He'd always imagined that in the event that harm befell his beloved cub, the wizarding world would find themselves with a wild werewolf in the middle of the lunar cycle. The fire of righteous anger had been aflame in Sirius' eyes, all right; much like it had been the night they had cornered Wormtail in the Shrieking Shack. But where Remus had been as equally bereft and capable of murder that night, now all he felt was emptiness.

When Sirius and Harry had spied Bellatrix making her escape and sought to intervene, Remus had begun to follow out of pure instinct. Seven years of school being firm friends with the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black, loyally following the leaders from one hair-brained scheme to another as a Gryffindor was wont to do, Remus had found it a hard habit to break. But where he was unsure of if he would have simply covered his best friend's back in a confrontation with Bellatrix Lestrange or been proactive in his own attack, one thing he was sure of was that there was one thing holding him back. The veil called to him, and for some inexplicable reason he couldn't bring himself to stray from the place he had last seen his goddaughter's face.

"Remus," an older, graver voice called to him softly, causing the plagued wizard to blink his eyes back into focus and look around him once more. There, slightly behind Tonks, Moody and the semi-conscious Kingsley was Albus Dumbledore; the man having completed restraining the remaining Death Eaters and was now regarding him with a forlorn expression. Upon seeing that he had gained the younger wizard's attention, he sighed. "Where are Sirius and Harry?"

"Sectemsempra!"

Sirius reeled around and gaped at his godson with wide eyes, the man torn between the paternal instinct to protect the boy and the small part of him that missed the child's father and wanted to encourage the traits that reminded him of his belated duelling partner the most. But then not even James was readily familiar with that kind of magic… or if he were, Sirius had never seen him use it. His questions were the last thing on his mind, however, as the dark spell hit Bellatrix square in the chest, knocking the woman off her feet, a crimson streak criss-crossing over her torso as the flesh was torn open. She began to scream, stopping only when Harry lowered his wand in surprise, and Sirius could not help but wonder, dimly, just what Dumbledore was permitting the students to learn in the self-proclaimed army Severus and Estella had cooked up.

"I'm impressed, boy," she yelled, quickly casting a healing spell on her person and standing up straight; the situation no longer something she could mock. "Did Daddy's precious little star teach you that one?" she leered at Sirius and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Such a pity, such a shame… I would have liked to have had the chance to taste what her Uncle Sevvie had taught her. She had potential, you know, Sirius. Surprising, really, when you consider who sired her…"

Sirius gripped the handle of his wand until his knuckles were white; his palms slick with sweat as he fought to deliver a curse heinous enough to give his daughter justice. Whatever he chose, he knew it would have to be non-verbal, for his throat was too constricted to form even the most simplest of words. Beside him, the Boy-Who-Lived radiated unadulterated rage, distinctly reminding the wrought Animagus of the time a spectacularly affronted 15-month-old decided to stage his first display of Accidental Magic. Casting a sidelong look in the direction of his now fifteen-year-old godson, the teen's jaw set in anger and posture rigid, so like James, he thought again, Sirius could only wish that the boy's anger this time was triggered by something as trivial and meaningless as his mother taking his toy broomstick away and forbidding James from giving him rides on his own.

"Crucio!" the boy in question yelled at the woman before them. Again, Sirius' mouth fell askew. When Harry's anger had reminded him of the boy's first display of magic, he had not been able to help remembering also how fond the toddler had been of the word 'No'; hearing the curse of an Unforgivable on the child's lips was unfathomable.

"Harry, get back!" he snapped, realising straight away that the boy's attempt would not be strong enough to incapacitate his malicious cousin. His protective urges had won. "Get help!"

"I'm not leaving you," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I lost her too!"

Having just nonchalantly sealing her wounds with a wave of her wand, Bellatrix laughed as the known Unforgivable seemed to have no effect on the woman. Recovering her strength, she stood and fired a counter-spell at Harry, which he dodged. It hit a statue behind them, blowing off its handsome head and sending it sailing over twenty feet.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" she yelled. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won't hurt me for long – I'll show you how it is done, shall I? Give you a lesson-"

Bellatrix's sickeningly condescending voice was cut off as Sirius sent a Disarming Spell at the distracted woman, sending her wand flying out of her grip. The woman now looking to the father of her victim, her eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise. Maintaining eye contact, Sirius stepped in front of Harry, carefully stalking towards his intended victim.

"You always were easily distracted, Bella," said Sirius lowly.

"Well isn't that the Potter-lover calling the cauldron Black, hmm?" said Bellatrix in a sing-song voice, her face screwing up in fiendish glee as the old play on words hit home; her cousin knowing as she did that if he hadn't been distracted in their earlier battle, his daughter might not have fallen through the veil. Prancing around the pair of Gryffindors in a goading, predatory fashion, she jeered at the broken man she shared blood with. "So what are you going to do now you have big bad Bella's wand, you ickle-wickle S.O.B?"

Bristling as the deranged woman drawled out his initials as though they were insinuating of a grand insult, he fell into step.

"You wouldn't want dear Aunty 'Purgie hearing you calling me an S.O.B," he leered back, in reference to his late mother.

Bella grinned indulgently as the two cousins slipped back into a familiar, childhood banter.

"Of course, the woman never liked being called that either, so consider us even, cousin," said Bellatrix, as though either of them still had to answer to the deceased woman. Then again, with the Dark Magic Sirius knew Bellatrix to be capable of, turning his mother's corpse into an Inferi just to spite him was not completely out of the question.

"You're missing the point, Bella," leered Sirius, the nostalgic tone of their exchange distracting him from his grief. "I never said I considered it an insult. As a matter of fact, I am inclined to agree that I am a Son of a…"

Sirius' victorious win in the battle of words was cut off, however, by his godson falling to his knees, screaming in agony as he clutched his scar. The hairs on the back of Sirius' neck rose instinctively, and he felt as though he were back in Azkaban – helpless and with a round of Dementors about to make their sweep – as the presence of another person in the room made itself known.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, emerging from the shadows of the elevator bay beside them just as Sirius laid eyes on the glinting red eyes of Lord Voldemort for the first time. "The Aurors are on their way-"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent a Killing Curse at Dumbledore but missed, hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Upon seeing the most lethal of curses being thrown around, Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him up, assisting the near-incapacitated boy towards the headless statue.

"Stay here," he said firmly, noting then that the boy must really be feeling the link to Voldemort when he did not argue with him. Doubling back, he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder and peered at the teenager in concern. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Lupin! Lupin!" Moody's voice was growling, not even the man's superficial injuries preventing him from taking charge of the situation. The morbid amphitheatre was full of official-looking wizards in full D.M.L.E dress; form-fitting Auror robes that were personalised with name and ranking. With 'suspected Death Eaters' still running loose in the bowels of the Ministry, it had been deemed too dangerous to permit entry to medical personnel. Basic first aid was being provided by those with triage certifications in their ranking, but the majority of the wounded needed to be evacuated. In this instance, the retired Auror was gesturing towards Tonks, who was busy brushing off the help of two of her squadron. "Get her out of here!"

Remus knew the importance of protecting the secrecy of the Order of the Phoenix. Whilst Scrimegeour's administration acknowledged the threat the arisen Dark Lord posed to society and was grateful for the intelligence Dumbledore's vigilante group could offer, it was not due process to publicise its alumni. Order members who were uncovered as such were indiscriminately targeted, and after seeing so many of his young friends fall fifteen years previously, he did not want the same for his goddaughter's cousin.

With one last fleeting look at the veil, he closed the distance between himself and the young woman. Placing a heavy hand on her shoulder, he was taken aback when his presence was welcomed by the young Auror leaning into him and crumbling into tears.

"It's time for us to go," he said quietly, embracing her awkwardly as he tried to steer her into an unnoticed corner of the room. The Apparition Wards had been lifted the moment the alarms had gone off, in order to enable the Aurors to respond promptly; it would now provide them with their exit. Preparing to Side-Apparate with the distraught, limping witch, he sighed. "It's over…"

"How could you say that?" snapped Tonks suddenly, pulling away from him with unseen strength; the habitually clumsy witch stumbling in pain when weight shifted onto her splinted leg. Out of habit, Remus reached out and grabbed the woman before she could fall, jolting with shock as he felt a ripple of anger towards his best friend course through him. Why hadn't Sirius been able to stop her?

Noticing the dark look that had crossed over Remus' face, Tonks stopped her tirade and levelled her eyes at the man she dared to love.

"There's… there's a rumour He's in the building," she said in a shaky whisper; eyes darting back and forth as though fearing the said villain would suddenly appear. "Do… do… do you think… Sirius and Harry… not them too…"

Closing the distance between them once more, Remus embraced the woman, assuredly this time, and rested his chin on her forehead.

"Hush," he crooned, his heart aching as the act of giving support and comfort drew memories of soothing his goddaughter after she'd had a nightmare or some such fright. He swallowed heavily and found his voice again. "Sirius will look out for Harry…"

Neither of them doubted the man's determination to protect the children in his care, but after what had happened to Estella, they couldn't help but recognise that even good intentions had limits. Looking up at the man she had sought reassurances from, Nymphadora Tonks frowned at the werewolf's unconvincing tone. Rather than draw recent examples to light, she stared directly into the man's eyes.

"And who will look out for Sirius?" she asked pointedly, a slight edge of frustration in her voice as her bodily injuries betrayed her.

"Dumbledore," said Remus without hesitation. As soon as the old headmaster had learnt that Harry and Sirius had left to seek out Bellatrix Lestrange, the formidable wizard had cast a complex charm and Apparated away, silently.

"And if He is there?" said Tonks, pressing on.

"Then He will be wishing he was never born," said Remus ruefully. Between Sirius' infamous temper and Albus Dumbledore's equally notorious power, he didn't envy Tom Riddle one bit.

"And Bella?" Tonks spat, the hatred inherent in her voice not just from what the woman had recently done, but born from years of witnessing her own mother's anguish. She did not doubt that it was having sisters like Narcissa and Bellatrix that prompted Andromeda Black to deny her only daughter siblings.

Remus made a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a sob, his eyes glinting dangerously with renewed anger.

"That's one witch I wouldn't mind paying a visit to on a full moon," he said lowly. As a human he may allow his emotions to exercise restraint, but as a wolf… there was no telling what the next full moon would bring.

END CHAPTER.

Next Chapter: I know I haven't really been keeping to these dates, but the story is primarily in the editing stages so I feel confident in saying that the next chapter will be out this time next week. But then of course now that I've said that, I've probably gone and jinxed myself… in any event we're on the downhill stretch… thank you all for your patience.