A/N: Woot! Chapter 20 is out! Hope you enjoy it! Please be sure to Follow, Favorite and Review!

Chapter XX: Returning Home

(Harry P.O.V)

12 Grimmauld Place had never been particularly pleasant. The heads of former house-elves once decorated the walls and screaming portraits of Pure-Blood elitist hurled insults to any considered unworthy. Sirius and Emmeline Black had done wonders to improve the house with red wallpapers and heated floors. Harry, however, found little comfort in the home. He doubted a banquet of his favorite foods could do anything to alleviate the weight that pressed against his chest.

Quietly, Harry watched the flames. Every so often, Narcissa or Emmeline would come down to ask him if he was hungry or if he could hold Teddy or James. He declined them all. Harry's ears filled with the steady ticking of the Grandfather Clock and his eyes with the orange embers of the fireplace that he prayed would turn green.

How much longer? Harry wondered. The sunlight had recently begun to creep through the manor's drawn curtains, and with it, the realization of the time that had passed from the mission's start. A knot wound tighter by the second in the pit of Harry's stomach, and a phantom-like ghost of puke crawled up and down his throat. They can't be much longer, Harry repeated in his mind, they'll be here soon enough.

He pushed himself from the springy cushions and paced the carpeted floor. Over and over, Harry assured himself they'd all be okay. Yet, with every passing second, he doubted himself more and more. A yellowed smile of a grey-faced man hovered over his mind like an overcast. The Dark Lord's cackle rang in Harry's head like the worst-sounding tambourine. He swallowed hard at the flashes of green that swept through his mind before he stumbled into one of the many house bookshelves. Piles of well-worn, leather-bound books tumbled to the ground with a thud, and a curse ripped itself from Harry's lips.

"Keep it together, Potter. They're going to be fine. They're all going to be just fine." As if to mock him, Harry looked up only to catch a framed photo of him beside a pink-haired girl. From the looks of it, Harry doubted he could have been older than six. The smile on the girl's face was a dagger to his chest. Shakily, Harry placed the photo face down and hissed, "Damn it all."

"Maddening, isn't it," A soft voice called out from behind him. "Now imagine it's your husband out there, and you can't watch his reckless back because you're about as round as a beach ball with a human inside you for months." The silver-haired woman smiled at him gently, "Hard as it is to accept. There's nothing more you can do but trust that they'll come back. Whether you do so in an agonistic or productive manner is the only question. Come now, Harry, I just put on a fresh kettle, and you look to need a cup… or four."

The tea rang with a hint of cinnamon. The taste brought Harry back to the days with Daphne in the library. His life had never been simple, but Harry longed for the past. He longed for the days where every choice wasn't a matter of life or death. Emmeline sipped her cup in silence, though her purple eyes never left Harry's face. The saucer echoed with the touch of her cup, and a smile crept across, "I must say, I outdid myself with this pot. Delicious would be an understatement."

A smile cracked across Harry's lips. Emmeline had always been a wizard in the kitchen, and her tea was no different. He followed the witch and set down his cup softly. Harry twisted himself in his chair to glance at the fire behind him but stopped at the warm touch of Emmeline's hands on his. "Don't do that to yourself. Staring at the flames isn't going to make the time go faster."

"I shouldn't be here," Harry said distantly. "I shouldn't be able to sit here with you drinking tea while my friends; my family, are risking their lives out there."

"Ah yes," Emmeline said, "Because they are so incapable of success without you." Harry's eyes hardened at the witch, but the lady of the house stood unfazed. "Don't get upset. I'm just translating what you're saying, honestly. If you had even a lick of faith in them, you wouldn't be questioning if it was a good idea to let them go out alone on a mission."

"You know that's not true," Harry hissed. "I trust every single one of them with my life."

"Then start acting like it," Emmeline said, her voice smooth and unchanged. Harry sat back in his seat with a jolt. Emmeline took another sip from her cup and sighed. "Part of being a leader is delegating. Yes, it is essential that a good leader never give their subordinates a task that they wouldn't do, but it is equally critical that they trust their subordinates to complete their assigned mission. How do you think they'd feel if they knew you were waiting anxiously by the fire for them? Have you stopped to consider how disrespectful that could look to them?"

"I- Well," Harry stammered.

"They'll come back alive, Harry. My husband isn't the type of man to die so easily, and neither is Remus. You're friends have worked themselves to the bone to be ready for moments like this, and they will be rewarded for their efforts."

"But what if they aren't? What if something goes wrong?" Harry asked.

"And standing by the fire would do something about that?" The witch stood and walked to his side, her hand tight on his shoulder. "Each of them are aware of the risks, Harry. Yet they deployed regardless. If they do come back injured or dead, we'll deal with it and ensure that they didn't die for nothing, but don't ever discredit their sacrifices by underestimating their ability. It's a heavy burden, and as a mother, it makes me sick to think of a boy your age having to shoulder that. However, it is your duty as the general of this operation to handle that."

Harry slouched forward. A ghost-like chill through raced through him like a bullet. Emmeline knelt down to look at him and her smile radiated with the warmth of a fire. "We all have a role to play in the war to come. Focus on what you can do, and they will all do the same."

Focus on what I can do? Harry thought. The weight of the potion's recipe nearly burned a hole through his pocket at the notion. Steadily, he rose from his seat and turned to the silver-haired witch. He bowed gently to her with thanks. "I appreciate it, Em," Harry started, "I guess- well, normally I'm not the one who does the waiting. I guess I just let this whole thing get to my head. I um, I think I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Emmeline said. "You're precious to me Harry. I've come to think of you as one of my own, and I can't stand to see you torment yourself."

Harry smiled, "I'm glad Sirius has someone like you in his life. I don't know what he'd do without you." The two laughed, but his lacked the authenticity. The potions recipe burned against his thigh as he waved goodnight to the witch. Merlin, Em, I'm sorry. I hope one day you'll find a way to forgive me.

The upper floors were colder than Harry's perch by the fire. His teeth chattered from the sound of the breeze that rattled the windows. Even his bedroom was chilly, though Harry was unsure whether that was in his mind or not. His room had always felt a bit empty since Daphne had left. The thought of the witch's name made his throat dry, and Harry could almost hear her voice in his head chastising him for his decisions.

The low bubbling of a cauldron that Bones had set up in his room only amplified Daphne's voice. The floorboards creaked beneath him with every step until the pungent vapor from the vat ensnared his nostrils in a death grip. He swallowed at the ominous green fluids that bubbled within. But the flavor was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the potion. The message the Minister had given him hadn't vanished in the slightest. "Make no mistake about this Mr. Potter," Amelia had whispered. "If you go through with this, you will die."

The wooden ladle felt like steel in Harry's hand as he stirred the pot. His Adam's Apple bobbed at the look of the putrid liquid he'd pulled from the cauldron. Desperately, he held his breath to avoid the scent and forced his trembling hand still. "Well," he whispered beneath his breath, "Down the hatch."

The fluid burned like acid down his throat. He bit down on his tongue to stop the sound of his gag and stumbled back into his mattress. He gripped his neck and hissed in agony. He wanted to scream, beg even, for the pain to stop. He'd only ever experienced one pain worse than this; the Cruciatus Curse. Suddenly, much like the curse itself, the agony vanished, and Harrys gasped for air atop his sweat-stained sheets.

He slumped deeper into the cushion and glanced dizzily at the roof. He took another thick swallow of saliva and sighed. "No going back now."

(Michael P.O.V)

The green flames of the floo blazed tauntingly before Michael. The embers of the scorched town still flickered behind him like a road to hell. The scent of dead bodies permeated the damp air, and the cries of children filled his ears. Some asked about their parents, others about where they were going; Michael had answers for neither.

Tracy had been kind enough to give her report that Remus had stabilized. She wasn't the medical witch Daphne was, but it was better than nothing. Tepidly, Michael took stock of his surroundings. None of his comrades had perished in the battle, and for that, he was grateful. His fingers balled into a fist at the burnt village at his back. How many more would die before this war was over? How many battles were left to fight? Michael's throat dried at the questions. He wasn't sure how Harry handled this level of command. What Michael did know was he wanted as little of it as possible.

A hand gripped his shoulder tightly. "Keep your chin up. You did well," Sirius said from behind him. Bandages covered the curly-haired wizard's chest to the point he looked like a half-mummified man. Michael could feel the man's weight against him growing by the second. "We're almost done evacuating the civilians and then, we can head home."

"Thanks," Michael said. Slowly, he walked the Head of House Black to a nearby chair and propped him up. "But try not to move around so much. Thatcher probably needs to give you a once-over before we clear you completely." The start of an I'll be fine statement began to build on Sirius' lips before the Ravenclaw shook his head, "That's not your call."

Sirius wasn't Michael's only worry. The Order wasn't new to battle. They'd fought and taken lives before to survive. Damyan hadn't, and that was clear as crystal to the blue-haired teen. He tapped Sirius twice on the shoulder before crossing the ash-filled room. The curly-haired blonde sat silently in the room's corner. He'd curled himself into a ball, his arms tightly grasping his knees and his head buried into his stomach. Damyan's wand sat beside him, just out of reach, as if the Bulgarian believed it would harm him. The boy hadn't taken his first outing well.

"Oi!" Michael called out to the boy. Like a frightened rabbit, Damyan jumped from his seat. Michael jumped back and lifted his hands, "Hey, you're alright, just wanted to come over and have a chat."

The Minister's Boy trembled like a leaf in the wind. His shoulders dropped, and he once more sunk to the ground. A heavy groan ripped itself free from Michael's throat as his back pressed against the walls. Michael forced his best smile to his lips, but the boy couldn't even make himself look up to face him. "You did good out there," Michael started. "The first mission is never easy, but you kept your cool, and you saved a life. You should be proud."

"Yeah," Damyan said quickly before falling silent once more.

"Look, I'm not the pep-talking kind of person, and with the hell that I've been through these last couple years, my sympathy well is dangerously low, but I can guess what you're feeling right now," Michael said. "Stop wondering if you did the right thing. You did, and if you hadn't, a good person would have been dead right now."

"I hurt a man," Damyan whispered. "I took off a man's arm. I-"

"You took off a monster's arm," Michael said. "A monster that had taken the lives of tens of people with a smile on his face. A monster that would have gladly taken all of our lives had you not done something about it. You can't dwell on the morality of your choices in a situation like this. We need to win or this whole world is fucked."

The wind howl surrounded the fractured house, and the two shivered as if in a deadly chill. Damyan shook long after the wind subsided, his eyes still locked on the floor beneath them. "How many? I mean, have you ever had to... you know..."

"Yeah," Michael said, his eyes distant into the ash-ridden village.

"How many?" Damyan asked.

"I lost count," Michael said. Michael's face curled like he'd eaten a lemon whole, "Does it matter, though? Is there a certain number of lives you can take where you're not considered a monster? Is there some magical threshold? I did what I had to do to ensure that Claire, Daphne, Neville, Harry, and everyone else in the Order came back alive. If there's a hell that I have to burn in because of that once this is over, so be it. I don't regret any of it."

"This is war, kid," Michael said. "It's not like the tales in the storybooks. If you want to help, you've proven your usefulness to me here, and I'll vouch for you. But know this, when we get back, and if I do vouch for you, you're a member of the Order, and this is what happens here. If you can't handle that, there's no shame in it, but you should probably head back home."

"How am I supposed to know if I'm ready or able to help?" Damyan asked.

"You cut off a man's hand to protect a member of the Order," Michael smirked, "It's not a question about ability. All you need to figure out is if that wand was raised at your father or Astoria, and you did what had to be done, could you make peace with your actions? Would you take the life of a bastard to save the people you love and be able to sleep at night?"

"Do you sleep much at night, Michael?"

The blue hair boy chuckled, "No. I figure I'll sleep when I'm dead."

The wind howled throughout the desolate streets like a werewolf amid their transformation. Michael looked towards the warm fire, the last of the survivors now evacuated. In the shadows, Tracey's wand worked feverishly to connect with the floo and Grimmauld Place. It was at the sound of Emmeline's voice through the flames that the fire once more turned green.

"Come lads," Sirius called out to him. "Let's go home."

Michael pushed himself up from Damyan's shoulder, then stretched out his hand to the curly-haired boy. "Come on. Let's not keep the women waiting for long."

(Claire P.O.V)

Dragons. Claire had never once imagined she'd find herself on the back of a dragon. Even if she had, she'd never had expected to be in the air with it, clinging to her scales like her life depended on it. Worse, she looked to be the only one not enjoying the ride. As was to be expected, Charlie had straddled the beast and took the sky like a dragon rider out of a fantasy story. The man even had the audacity to laugh. Fleur, as usual, somehow managed to look like a warrior princess atop the dragon with her hair floating perfectly in the wind. Claire, however, felt she must have looked like a goblin atop the overgrown lizard, her body two seconds from being flung into the cold oceans beneath them.

"Just a little longer!" Charlie called out to them. "I'll nest her somewhere soon! The first flight is really important in establishing trust!"

Claire's stomach churned. Riding the dragon was worse than even the corkscrewiest rollercoaster. Tears swelled in her eyes, and for the shortest of moments, Claire considered the rough waves of the English Channel a far more comforting fate.

"Are you okay down there, Claire?" Fleur called out to her.

"Oh yeah! Having the time of my life!"

Fleur laughed, then gasped as the dragon took a plunge and skimmed the high-reaching waves. Ocean spray hissed at Claire's face, and groan trickled from Fleur's lips. "Sorry," Charlie called out, "Poor girl really wants to fly. Be prepared, she's going to jump to her full speed."

"This isn't her full speed!" Claire cried.

The air popped around her, and a scream boomed from her throat as her vision became tunneled. Silently, she strengthened the sticking charm to her hands just as the beast soared upwards into the clouds. "Merde!" She screamed, the baby vomit stuck in her throat.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Charlie called out as the dragon's speed stabilized. "Okay, we're going to take it slow from now on." Charlie pointed his wand towards the witches and formed a bubble charm around their heads. "We've got to get a little higher, so nobody from the Ministry spots us. Once we're over London, Fleur will apparate the two of you to Grimmauld place while I nest the dragon for when we need it."

"Will she work for us?" Fleur asked the dragon tamer.

"You feel the low purr she's giving off?" Charlie asked. Claire nodded, she hadn't realized it, but the dragon had begun to hum like a cat when scratched behind its ears. "Oh yeah, she'll work with is. Now get ready. At the speed we're going, you got about ten minutes until we drop."

"I hated literally every part about this mission," Claire moaned.

"It's about to get a bit worse," Fleur said with a wry smile, "Apparition's never been my strong suit."

"Perfect," Claire scowled.

The minutes passed like seconds. Claire had only just managed to catch her breath when Charlie had commanded them to jump. The second she released her sticking charm, her body flew from the dragon's back like a bag in the wind. Fleur leaped after her, and while their hug provided a bit of comfort, Fleur had been overselling her apparition ability.

The whole way down felt as if she'd been thrown down a canyon wrapped in black smoke. How the two managed to land on their feet, she was unsure. What she was sure of, as she walked the streets of Grimmauld Place, was if she had an option, this was to be her last mission with Charlie Weasley.

A/N: We're quickly approaching the end game now! It's been very great writing for you over these past almost two years now! It's been hard, and while I love the story I've written her, I am getting excited of putting this series to rest so I can work on other projects. Planning out these sagas can be very difficult but your support makes it all worth it!

If you enjoyed please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until Next Time, Peace!