A/N: Sorry for the delay in the chapter release. Honestly, I have been stressed out! School and work has been kicking my ass and honestly leaving me so drained! This chapter is a little longer than the last though, so I hope you enjoy it! If you do, please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review!
Chapter XIII: Mark Over the Ministry
(Neville P.O.V)
The chill in the air was unnatural. It was almost as if the dementors of Azkaban had risen from the ashes and returned to Hogwarts' snow-covered ground. Dread is what gripped Neville's chest when he arrived at the castle. It was lunch when Neville returned to Hogwarts, and yet, he couldn't find Hermione anywhere. Neville didn't exactly need the girl to wait on him hand and foot, but the lack of her anger towards him for his antics left him scratching his head. He'd returned to the common room to stash the diadem before he ventured out to find his friends
Had she decided to sleep in? It was an odd thought, especially when the witch in question was Hermione Granger, but after Neville checked the Great Hall, the Room of Requirement, and the Library, nothing else made sense. In Neville's heartbeat at a frantic rate, even if Hermione had overslept, rare as it was, it didn't explain why Tracey and Blaise weren't around either. Something was out of sorts, and whatever it was, it wasn't good.
Neville had no sooner arrived at the stairwell to Ravenclaw tower before the hairs on the back of his neck stood. The boy was familiar enough. He was an elite amongst the Slytherins and had stepped in after Malfoy's departure from the school. Theodore Nott wasn't so much the problem, but rather, it was his father and his father's connections. The smirk that donned the snake's face was all Neville needed to know that his instinct was precisely correct.
"Afternoon, Longbottom," Nott said, his voice even. The Slytherin ran his thumb beneath his fingernails like a file. "Have a nice trip this morning?"
"Why is that a concern of yours? If you were hoping for me to invite you on my morning strolls, I'm sorry to inform you I don't swing that way," Neville replied cooly.
"I'm quite aware of your sickening relationship with that mudblood bitch. She gave me an earful this morning about why I'd regret my decision and to not mess with her or else you'd come for me." Nott yawned, "For a witch proclaimed as the brightest of the age, she wasn't much when outnumbered."
Fire, Neville felt nothing but infernal flames in his bones. Nott coughed when Neville slammed the Slytherin against the stone wall and gasped for breath from the impact. Then, Nott began to laugh. "You're a riot! Are you trying to intimidate me? Like I'd ever be afraid of a filthy blood traitor like you. My lord is far superior to your leader, and eventually, you will die by his hand, just as Corner and Potter will."
"Where's Hermione?" It was less of a question than an order. Neville's fist curled into Nott's collar, but the boy only smiled. "I'll ask again, where's Hermione? Don't test me, I'm in a very foul mood."
"What if I want to? What are you going to do little Longbottom? Cry to your mom and dad? Oh wait-"
Crack! Neville's fist swung against the pure-blood wizard's cheeks and blood leaked from his shattered nose. Neville waved his wand and formed a silenced bubble before he looked back at the bloodstained boy, "Hermione's location, now?"
"You really have grown up. Remember when Malfoy jumped you third year. Merlin, that was funny!" Theodore laughed like a maniac. Neville readied his wand just before the clock tower rang, and the wizard lifted his hand, "Wait, wait! I just needed to stall you for a little bit. Let them get ready, but now I can tell you precisely where they are. Before I do, I let you know something, though; we've come to bargain, really. You can have your mudblood slut and those other two filthy blood traitors back; in return, all we want is the diadem? Deal?"
"You said you were going to tell me where they were, what I decided to do with the diadem after that is up to me," Neville growled.
"Fair enough," Nott said with a shrug. He called for his house-elf, and one beaten and elderly one arrived.
"Is this a joke? I'm supposed to trust that your elf is going to take me to the bargaining spot?" Neville asked.
"Doesn't look to me like you have much of a choice," Nott said.
It was true, though it made Neville's throat burn with acid to admit it. Neville dropped the twisted Slytherin boy to the ground. They were the same age, went to the same school, and yet, the madness in Nott's eyes were undeniable. Madness stoked by fear; fear of disobedience of the Dark Lord. Purebloods were believed to be the highest rank of wizard, and yet, those that followed Voldemort were nothing but shackled slaves. A truly pitiable life.
Neville squeezed the shoulder of the elf and steadied his breath. For years, he'd been the butt of jokes. Even after his join in with Harry and Michael, it was a secret to nobody that he ranked beneath them. It was true, Neville was never the highest or second highest rank member of the order. He didn't have his father's warrior's blood or courage, but he was strong, and they'd taken something precious from him. They'd pay for that transgression.
Neville had grown rather tired of apparition. That tightly coiled plunge never got any easier, but he honestly hadn't much time to worry about it. Muffled screams filled his ear, and his danger sense tingled from the wands that surrounded him. He'd expected as much, nothing rang out trap quite like the prelude to his situation, but Neville only shrugged. There was no point in overthinking it; he couldn't risk waiting.
"So you came, just as my son predicted," Nott Sr. said, his smile just as twisted as his son. They shared the same rabbity build with stringy limbs and the same cold eyes. "I trust you've brought the diadem?"
Neville sighed; the magical signatures in the room, for the most part, were of minimal threat. Neville wagered they were just wizards yet to prove their worth to the Dark Lord. Once again, the young Hufflepuff found himself underestimated, and this time, a vein in his forehead twitched at the notion. While Nott Sr. wasn't a slouch, the Dark Lord had certainly not sent his best to tango with Neville Longbottom.
Neville knew he should have been grateful, but truthfully, his teeth grit without his control at the mockery of his strength. Neville cracked his neck and hardened his glare, "I really don't want to do this right now. Let them go, and there won't be any trouble. Please, for the love of Merlin, don't push me; I've had a really, really, long day."
"You know, Bellatrix told me that your father had that same irritating confidence about him," Nott Sr. growled, "I'll enjoy breaking you just as she broke him."
"Yup, that's it," Neville said with a tightened fist. He released a heavy breath and lowered his knees, "Painful way it is."
Magic swelled in his core, and the floorboards beneath his feet cracked. Before Nott Sr. could even blink, Neville sprang towards him. The Hufflepuff tackled the man, and an audible gasp ripped from the Death Eater's lips. The blonde lifted his fist over the pinned man but rolled off him just as a green bolt raced at his back. Neville pointed his wand back towards Nott and conjured ropes to bind the man before he turned to the small army of Death Eater Wannabes.
Neville growled and steadied his stance before, with a wave of his hand, the wizards rushed him. Spells shot at him like parade fireworks, but they all moved too slowly. Those cloaked men weren't death eaters; they weren't warriors; they were just frightened men afraid of standing up to the likes of Voldemort. They stood no chance against Neville.
He blocked and batted away spells with minimal effort, and Neville almost licked his lips at the fear that began to grow in the apprentice-Deaters eyes. A gust of air sent one of the Death Eaters in Training through the cramped room's stone wall with a flick of his wand, and Neville smirked at the rest.
It was like a slow motion dance. Compared to speed of Michael or Harry's spell, Neville could confidently dodge each bolt with one eye closed. The names of spells rattled throughout the room but Neville needed to words to force one of the man's cloaks to combust with flames. Nor did he need to speak the bind another of the man's body completely. The next had escaped rather intelligently after Neville had disarmed him and snapped his wand. Soon, the only one who remained in condition to fight was the tied up man behind the whole scheme.
"Yield, and I'll try to show some mercy," Neville said, his tone ice-like. Nott Sr. only smirked before the conjured rope splintered a snapped. The Death Eater jumped back and got on his guard before Neville's shoulders slumped. "Why can't you idiots ever just make life easier on yourselves?"
"You think you can intimidate me?" Nott Sr. barked. "Compared to the Dark Lord, you're nothing! If he demands I retrieve the Diadem, then I will do so at all costs! You have no idea what terror disappointing him can bring!"
"Was that your way of asking me to pity you?" Neville asked. "You made your bed; you can die in it for all I care."
"And you're supposed to be the honorable side," Nott laughed, "Unbelievable."
"That was Dumbledore's Order, under Harry, we operate under a single rule," Neville lifted his wand, "If they don't surrender, exterminate the threat."
"Funny, the Dark Lord gives us similar orders." Nott lifted his wand and a bolt of crimson raced from the tip. Neville shielded himself then returned with a cutting hex that made blood splatter from the side of Nott's torso. "Fine, looks like we're playing for real then."
Neville rolled his eyes; how the man had still treated this like it was a game was beyond him. Though the flash of green that sprung from Nott Sr.'s wand showed that he'd finally gotten serious. Neville weaved out of the way of the spell; it almost saddened him how unfazed he'd become to a spell capable of instant death. Neville's wand whipped in the air and brought down a line of fire that shattered the death eater's poorly conjured shield, and a scream ripped from the death eater's throat.
"You're weak," Neville commented. "Your magical presence isn't small, but your skill is lacking. You didn't even make me sweat." Neville doused the man with water, applied a permanent sticking charm to the back of the death eater, and slammed him against the wall. "I'm going to retrieve my comrades. After that, we're going to have a little talk."
The cellar beneath the cottage where the Nott Family Elf had taken Neville was damp and muggy. Fungus grew along the wall, and even for a herbologist, Neville didn't much like the sight of it. Even the stairs had been coated with gunk that Neville was unable to determine the origin of. What he did know was that it was slippery, though he wouldn't dare to touch the support rail.
Neville had expected the place to be well-kept for a pure-blood-owned property, even if it was only for a prison. There was a certain level of cleanliness expected in all pure-blood homes throughout the wizarding world, and the Nott Family hadn't lived up to that expectation. Though none of that truly mattered, once Neville found the people he was on the hunt for, there wouldn't be any honor attached to the Nott family name.
What he'd found at the base of the steps was a sight that made his nose curl worse than the scent of dead rats that filled the air of the cellar. Hermione sat bound to a chair, her head leaned down and forward beside two others who had their heads covered in black bags. Neville rushed to his girlfriend's side and pulled the bags off the two Slytherins before he got down to eye level with Hermione. "Hermione! Hermione!"
It didn't matter how loud he shouted though, Hermione didn't respond. "What's wrong with her?" He barked at Tracey and Blaise, the two still dazed from the dim yet sudden light. Their faces were bruised and battered to the point that if Neville didn't know better made it look like they'd just lost a bar-fight badly. "Merlin, what the hell happened to all of you?"
"Hogwarts isn't safe," Blaise coughed, "Too many older Slytherins are falling in line with Voldemort now more than ever after his return."
"His return?" Neville asked. "He's been revived?" Blaise only nodded and Neville growled, "Shit."
"Did you give them the Diadem?" Tracey asked. Neville shook his head and she grinned through her busted lip, "Nice, Longbottom."
"Thanks, but can somebody please tell me what happened to Hermione?" Neville ordered.
"She wouldn't talk, none of us would, but that bastard Theo let his daddy know that she was important to you. He tried to probe her mind but Hermione resisted until suddenly, she just stopped moving. She needs to see a mind-healer," Tracey said.
"Right," Neville said quickly. He cut the ropes and leaned Hermione against his body before he called out for the Hogwarts elf. "Head to the Room of Requirement and rest there for a minute. The Diadem is still at the school so I need to grab it before we leave. If Hogwarts isn't safe anymore, and we have our Diadem, you three shouldn't stick around. Go back to Order HQ and make yourself useful there. I still have a mission to complete at the school."
"Are you sure you should-," Blaise started.
"Go," Neville ordered and slipped his communication mirror into Blaise's palm, "Get her to the school and then contact Daphne to send Dobby over to bring you back to HQ. Get Hermione the help she needs. I still have something to deal with upstairs."
The Slytherin's nodded before with a pop, they vanished. Neville's ears pounded with every step back up the grime coated step to find the Death Eater's limply hanging frame. Neville snarled and marched up before his calloused hand wrapped around Nott Sr.'s throat. The pale death eater quivered from the impact of his head on the wall and Neville barked, "Everything you know about the Dark Lord's plans, now."
"Damn," Nott muttered, "I'd hoped you'd have been foolish enough to walk out here with the prisoners. Guess you're smarter than I gave you credit for."
"Why were you hoping-," Neville question was answered with a blue glow that expanded from the Death Eater's chest. He jumped backward and conjured the strongest shielding charm he could manage before the lips of the twisted man curled.
"BOOM!" Nott roared and suddenly, the room became a blinding blue.
(Daphne P.O.V)
There had been a certain dullness in Grimmauld Place that was uncommon in recent times. Sirius and Emmeline tended to the needs of James, from which Daphne had just been relieved of, a matter for which her hair thanked her. She was unsure if it was the color of her honey-blonde hair or the texture of it that so incredibly intrigued the young heir to House Black, all the same, she was glad James was out of her's now.
Daphne didn't have a way with children. Astoria had once told her it was because she could best be described as a dementor with skin when they were younger, but surely she couldn't be that bad. Even if it was true, Daphne saw firsthand how frigid Harry could be, and Teddy loved him. It was a dumb thought to linger on; a war loomed on their doorstep, but the longer Daphne spent by Harry's side, she couldn't help but admit that dreams of their own little family filled her mind.
The quiet of the house made everything louder. The sound of James's food-stuffed mouth in the kitchen, the whispers of Arthur and Molly to each other at the edge of the fireplace, the herbs ground by mortar and pestle in Dr. Thatcher's room, all of it became more noticeable than before. If it wasn't for the general cloud of unspoken weight that hung over the house, it would be hard-pressed for someone to figure out they were key players in a war. Though Harry had said that for as loud as the house typically was, it always felt like a few people weren't there. She knew now what Harry meant vividly. Without Moody's vicious growl and glower around every corner, Grimmauld Place and the Order had lost a critical piece.
Daphne and Dr. Thatcher's laboratory had been made out of what had once been an abandoned storeroom. The dark and soggy room once contained a myriad of what could only be described as knick-knacks from hell that she'd quickly disposed of when the need for her alchemical skills grew. Though she and her mentor shared the space, it wasn't as if the two could work together within the cramped quarters. Most of the time, they took shifts between potion brews and ingredient preparation. It was a funky system, without a doubt, but it was all they had.
The lab's door open with a screech of a bat, and Dr. Thatcher's face mimicked Daphne in the way it screwed together tightly. The aged, plump woman shook her head to clear the sound and waved her over. "Daphne, child, be a dear and run this up to that Corner boy; it may help mend at least part of his exhaustion."
Daphne took the corked vial and slid it into her skinny jeans. "Right away Ma'am," she said. Michael's return had been a welcome surprise to the dreary home. His condition, however, had been less than fantastic. She'd never admit respect for the blue-haired boy. The two were both stubborn competitors in the, who mattered more to Harry competition. But, she had to say that the blue-haired buffoon had completed his mission in record time and secured a powerful alliance.
Daphne had read about centaurs in Care for Magical Creatures a few years back. They were a proud race, unwilling to accept help from wizard-kind. Yet, somehow, Michael had agreed to have them follow him into battle. Daphne shuttered at the implication of what the boy had to go through to reach that arrangement. Her knuckles knocked against the blue-haired boy's door, and with a flash of pink, the door opened.
"Oh, Daphne," Claire said in a low whisper. The French-Veela's brow was knit tightly before she smiled, "Pardon my confusion, I just didn't think you would actually check up on him."
"He's a member of the Order and Harry's best friend, I'm kind of duty bound to take care of him," Daphne said with a smirk.
"You know, you could just say you like me, Blondie," Michael said with a grin.
The Ravenclaw's brow wiggled playfully. Daphne hunched forward and pretended to vomit, "Gag me," she replied. The two shared a smile before she entered the lavender-scented room. She the desk chair to Michael's bedside and fished the potion from her jeans. "Drink this, it'll make your recovery much faster."
Michael took and downed the vial gratefully. Daphne placed the emptied glass-tube on the bedside table and finally asked the question on her mind, "Centaurs only follow one of their own. I gotta know, how'd you do it?"
"Killed the Quintaped, no biggie," Michael yawned.
"The Quintaped?" Daphne chuckled, "Give me a break. Seriously, how'd you do it?"
Michael shrugged, "That's for me to know and for you to be eternally grateful for, I suppose. That is, unless you're willing to admit I'm Harry's one true love."
"Fuck off, Corner," Daphne laughed. The Ravenclaw joined in for a while before his face softened, and concern filled his eyes like harbor fog. Daphne's laughter ceased instantly, "Michael, are you okay?"
"Hey, Daphne, seriously," Michael started, "I heard about what happened to Moody. I also know that Voldemort's back in full. How's Harry holding up? He came in to talk to me, but I know that he'd sooner cut his junk off with a box cutter than admit his pain to anyone else."
"He's," Daphne mulled over the best selection for the next word, "He's doing better than I thought he would. He's sad, sure, but he's mourning like an actual person now. We took a trip to the cemetery and everything. It'll take time for him to recover. You and I know how much Moody meant to him, so he'll never completely be the same. But he's still, well, Harry, you know?"
"That's good," Michael muttered. "How are you then?"
"Surviving," Daphne said simply.
Michael smirked and nodded, "I'd drink to that. But we'll get through this."
"Without a doubt." Daphne pushed the boy's shoulder back down into the bed and smiled. "Now rest, Harry's going to need his arguably fourth favorite person back as soon as possible."
"Fourth?!" Michael spat with mock offense, but Daphne didn't wait long to debate before she shut the door to Michael's room behind her and descended the steps to inform her mentor of the completed job.
Daphne strolled through the Black Family library after her report. The books' weight in her arms caused her muscles to strain, but they were nothing compared to the headaches she foresaw. Harry had told her back in third-year that the Black Family had a bunch of boring books. To him, that might have been a fair assessment, but to Daphne, it couldn't have been further from the truth.
The library contained answers to hundreds of problems but had little information on what she needed. How was she to cure Astoria? How was she to stop Carmilla? She'd told Harry to let her handle it; the boy had enough on his plate. While Daphne wasn't the type to admit that she may have bitten off more than she could chew, she imaged her sensation was what being on the cusp of drowning felt like.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and Daphne spun to meet Harry, who now stood behind her with Teddy in his arms. "Harry?"
"Send Dobby to the school," Harry said, his breath ragged.
"What? Why?" Daphne asked.
"Don't know, but Blaise just contacted me through Neville's mirror saying they need help," Harry said. "Something about Hermione, I honestly don't know, but he wasn't looking so great himself."
"Shit," Daphne muttered, "Dobby!" Her elf came at her command, and she listed her orders. No sooner had the elf appeared before he vanished once more. "It's just one thing after the other."
The fire from the living room in Grimmauld Place did little to defrost the chills that raced down Daphne's spine. For an elf, a simple grab and go should have taken no longer than a couple seconds, but two minutes had passed before Dobby finally returned with their comrades. Daphne's heart pounded in her ears as she looked at the damage and instantly raced towards her best friend's side.
"Tracey!" She called out and dropped to her knees to wrap the red-headed girl in a hug. "Holy shit, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Tracey muttered, "A couple cuts and bruises but I'm honestly not the one you should be worried about." Her friend's eyes darted towards Hermione, and she quickly hustled over to the Ravenclaw's side. She waved her finger in front of Hermione's eyes and clapped in her face, but the girl was utterly irresponsive. "Death Eater support in the castle, and Hermione she-"
"Her mind's been attacked," Harry said flatly. "She doesn't look like she's had her mind broken completely, but her occlumency shields have probably been completely shattered." He turned back to Tracey, "Is Neville alright? He'd never have let anybody do this to Hermione if he were there."
"Neville he-" Tracey said, "He went off on his own to find the Diadem. I think he got it, but we were attacked when he was out. We didn't even have a chance to fight back. At least, Blaise and I didn't; they stunned us in our sleep. Harry, Voldemort, he's-"
"Back, I know," Harry finished in defeat. "I'm working on that. You said Neville found the Diadem, where is he?"
"He said he was going get it to you somehow, but he's stayed behind. He says he wants to stay and protect the school," Tracey said. "You have to talk him out of it. With the Dark Lord back, who knows how many people will try to attack him to curry favor with Voldemort. It's too dangerous to-"
"Neville is one of the strongest people I know," Harry replied, "If he wants to stay behind to help defend Hogwarts, I'm not going to stop him. I trust Neville with my life."
"But-," Blaise said, "Harry it's dangerous to-"
"I hate to break it to you Blaise," Harry said, "But it's a lot more dangerous here."
"Harry's right, and we don't have time to question Neville's decision," Daphne said. "We need to get to work on patching you up and fixing Hermione's mind. Luckily, we have somehow in house adept at mind healing. Harry, can you go get her please."
Harry nodded and departed. A stunned silence filled the room, and Daphne traced Hermione's battered cheek with her fingertip. The war is approaching its climax. We need to act fast. But we can't rush in there blind. How can we improve our odds? How can we win this thing?
(Harry P.O.V)
Barriers and blockades, Harry had come across numerous in his short time. No matter how hard he worked to overcome an obstacle, another one appeared without fail. He'd thought back at the battle of Azkaban, for all he'd lost, he'd left with an advantage. But now, even that was untrue.
The dim light of his bedroom reflected his mood. Dark circles coated his eyes, and a quill danced through his fingers. Giants, Vampires, Werewolves, Death Eaters, Voldemort. The list of adversaries grew every day. He'd never say it to the entire Order, Harry knew he was far too important to the cause to ever say it, but as he looked at the list, their chances of victory were beyond slim.
Dr. Thatcher and Daphne were hard at work with the wounded that Dobby had brought and that only added to Harry's list of concerns. Neville was strong, and Harry had meant went he said about his friend. The Hufflepuff never considered himself to be at Harry or Michael's level, but Harry disagreed with that sentiment. Outside of Sirius and Remus, he only truly trusted Neville and Michael's strength.
But if the castle had fallen, or at least weakened its defenses due to Slytherin and other pure-blood defection, was his S.P.I.R.E safe? Harry had no doubt that Neville intended to keep them all safe, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. Even a skilled wizard could fall to an ambush, and while Neville may have been able to handle one, he doubted that Susan or Cho could do the same.
The wiggle of the blue-haired boy in his arm forced a smile onto his face. "What is it, Teddy? Do you have a suggestion for me?" The young metamorphmagus only goo'd in return. "Ah, excellent suggestion," Harry chuckled, "Of course, goo. Why didn't I think of that?"
His smile faded quickly. That had become the new norm for Harry. Joy never seemed to last long, though Teddy helped more than he could imagine. The problem was that the question of how to win seemed without an answer, but that wasn't an option. Then there was the matter with Astoria. He'd sent the son of the Minister a letter with Dobby's help, but Damyan had yet to reply. It was a long shot, Harry knew that, but Astoria needed help. Help that Harry felt was beyond his power to provide.
All the same, desperate to remove himself from his endless pile of problems, he pushed himself out of his bedroom and walked towards Astoria. She'd become a ghost around the house since the news, and it had been a while since Harry had last seen her. That needed to change. He knocked softly on her door, and he took the soft mumble as permission to enter. Astoria sat limply on her bed, her wand on the floor, and her even changing eyes dim and lifeless. "Hey," Harry whispered.
Astoria sent a pitiful wave that made Harry's heart sink, but he pushed deeper into the room regardless. "Can I sit?" He asked the young witch. Astoria nodded, and Harry plopped beside her on the bed. The two sat in awkward silence. Harry hated that; it had never been hard to talk to Astoria before, but now, he felt completely out of his element.
"Honestly, I figured you'd come sooner," Astoria whispered. "I heard about Moody, sorry that I didn't come check in on you then, I-,"
"Eh, we were both kinda shitty for not being there for each other when we needed it," Harry laughed, "Let's not worry about the past. Let's focus on now."
"I don't mean to sound rude, but in my case, there isn't really anything to talk about." Astoria sighed, "Hey, Harry, do you remember what I told you when you learned about my condition?"
Harry nodded. How could he not? It was one of the worst days of his life. "Do you think I was stupid for thinking I could live a normal life?" Astoria asked.
"No more stupid than me," Harry smiled. Astoria gave a half-grin, and Harry put his hand on her shoulder. "Astoria, you will live a normal life. Maybe you won't have access to your magic for a little bit, but Daphne will find a way for you to-"
"I don't want her to," Astoria said weakly. "I- I've been thinking a lot about it and, I think I'm okay with it." Astoria smiled, "With the way this curse is progressing, I'm going to be dead before I'm even twenty, but that's okay. I know she's my sister, but she's your partner, and in this war, her time is better spent at your side than mine. I just- I'm okay with it, you know?"
"Well, that's fantastic that you are, but I'm not," Harry said, "And I'm very selfish and stubborn, so I'm going to get what I want." Harry laughed at the way Astoria's eyes widened. Harry gripped her shoulder firmly, "I already lost one sister, Astoria, I'm not about to lose another."
"But unlike others, I know what it feels like to carry that weight." Harry said, "That idea that death is coming for you faster than anyone else, and how that can fuck with your head. You aren't wrong for feeling the way you do, but until you're buried in the ground, you don't get to throw in the towel okay?"
"The last line of my prophecy says either Voldemort is going to kill me, or I'm going to kill him. I promise you, I won't just give up, but I want you to promise me the same thing."
"Harry," Astoria whispered, "You know I can't-"
"Don't be so whiney it's not like you," Harry laughed. "I'll tell you what, if you do, I'll be right behind you. So take that."
Astoria sat in silence before; eventually, she smiled, and laughter filled the room. "Merlin, you're such an asshole." Harry shrugged, and Astoria nodded, "Fine, I'll keep trying to live, but that was super manipulative, and don't think I didn't notice it. I'm dying, not stupid."
"I would never accuse you of that, Short Stack," Harry grinned, "But come on, get up. Go shower, and when you're done, head to the kitchen and eat. You smell horrible, and you look starved."
"Has anyone ever told you how awful you are at pep talks?" Astoria asked.
"Oh, this is nothing. Wait until I'm a parent and start hitting my kids with 'When I was your age' stories, they're going to love me." Harry added. "Seriously though, wash up and look like a person; I'll make sure there's food ready for you downstairs."
Astoria nodded, and turned back to face him just before she entered her bathroom, "Hey, Harry, thanks." Harry didn't need to ask for what. All Astoria had ever wanted was for people to treat her normally. Daphne had good intentions, but she'd always be too protective of Astoria and her condition. This was a role that only Harry could fill. As for her to cope with the loss of magic for her treatments, that one required a certain curly-haired blonde Harry could only hope would respond.
Astoria had arrived at the table just as Harry placed the hot soup on the table. Teddy had been handed off back to his father, and Harry had only watched as Astoria began to refill on much of the nutrition she'd lost. It was peaceful, and Harry should have known that meant only one thing.
As if on cue by the universe, Sirius rushed into the dining room, and Harry braced himself, but the words that fell from Sirius's lips were almost inaudible to Harry the first time. Then, his godfather repeated the message, "The Dark Mark has appeared over the Ministry."
Harry pinched his bridge tightly and rose from his seat, "Fuck me."
"We leave in five, be ready, chances are-"
"Yeah, I know," Harry sighed, "I need Daphne to come, she's our best shot at evening the odds."
A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger guys, I thought it would make more sense to section it off this way. While Astoria may not be onboard with her treatment at least Harry's helped her a bit out of her funk in a way only he can. Also, if you love Neville, I hope you enjoyed this really badass chapter for him. It was very fun to write. Finally, though I don't get to focus on them much, the relationship between Michael and Daphne is always hilarious where they clearly care about each other but pretend like they hate each other is always a blast to write.
This chapter was something I really wanted to get out for all of you, even with the 2.6 billion assignments I feel I have to get done, so your support is incredibly appreciated. Please be sure to Follow Favorite, and Review if you haven't already and until next time, Peace!