We often give our enemies the means of our destruction."
~ Aesop ~ The Eagle and the Arrow
Chapter 22 ~ Trust Me
ECOTS
"Hermy-owh-ninny."
Her name fell from his mouth, his unbelievably relieved sounding whisper sounding deafeningly loud. And despite the heavy shadows cloaking him, she was able to discern the sudden change overtaking his masculine features, as the anger drained right out of him.
She didn't believe his act for a second.
The orange light of the hall, spilling into the room, blinked out for a second as someone crossed the room's threshold. Now the frame of an equally large man filled the doorframe, his shoulders heaving in exertion, his ragged breaths sounding menacing amongst the impenetrable shadows.
Viktor's dark eyes, darker than even their surroundings, narrowed at the sound. Though he did not turn.
What transpired next happened within the spanse of a breath.
The shadow of a man whorled in the dark, right as the one unknown to her moved.
Viktor was no more than a blur, a colossal mass of sinew and muscle that flew forward. An unbelievably thick forearm shot out, smacking into the stranger's hand quicker than Hermione could comprehend.
The drawn wand, that had been aimed right at the seeker's heart, clattered across the polished floor, disappearing within the darkness. The stranger's arm had resisted Viktor's strength, the sound of their arms colliding failing to resonate as it ought to have.
Together they stumbled, off-balance, before crashing against the wooden door. The crafted cedar swung violently, striking and sinking into the wall, their massive bodies thudding against it.
Neither saw Hermione diving to the floor, her every muscle cell screaming in pain.
She did not care.
Her knees struck hard, her hands flying out, eyes widening as she desperately tried to get her pupils to dilate. She needed to see!
Above her someone's fist swung out. It missed, crashing into the wall, and a loud crack split the air as a fracture went splintering up it, sending dry wall sprinkling down.
Propelling herself forward, she sought out the spot where the wand had skidded.
An elbow smashed forward, a guttural sound of pain tearing from Viktor's throat as his nose's cartilage crunched under the blow.
Her fingers, tingling numbly from the curses she had been subjected to, swept across the floor. Where was it!?
Then, moving faster than she would have thought possible, Viktor seized the front of the man's robes, twisting him around and smashing him against the edge of the door frame. A second later his elbow slammed against the man's throat, effectively pinning him in place.
In the dark Hermione's fingers brushed against something. Her hand darted back, her fingers closing around her weapon.
She spun around, wand drawn and aimed, stunners on her lips...
And froze.
Neither man noticed her, shrouded as she was in the shadows. But she noticed them.
And what she saw crossing Viktor Krum's face shook her to her very core.
On his face he bore an expression of such raw, unadulterated hatred that despite the repertoire of curses spinning in her head, that she suddenly felt afraid.
Viktor's dark eyes bore into his assailants, while the attacker's hands curled around Viktor's hand, tugging and pulling, to no avail.
She watched in morbid fascination as Viktor simply widened his stance, assuring himself better stability, as he allowed his choking attacker to struggle.
And then, just as suddenly as it had arisen, the fight drained right out of the aggressor's eyes.
As if sensing this, the seeker loosened his grip, not entirely removing his hand as the other man began coughing.
"You," spat the man gruffly. " You aren't supposed to be here, Bulgaria."
Blood dripped thickly down his already crooked nose, but Viktor's features were frighteningly calm. "Vou forget," he growled, "That our lord said she vas mine."
The assailant's eyes did not blink, his hand stealthily creeping towards where Viktor's wand was sheathed.
Viktor noticed.
With a growl the muscles in his forearms suddenly reacted, his arm yanking the man back from the doorframe, violently slamming him back into it. "Next time vou vant a trophy," Viktor hissed, voice morphing into something so full of hate that she scarcely recognized it, "I suggest vou do something vorth revarding."
Hermione's eyes darkened, and with strength she wasn't sure she had left she rose.
She came from the rear, but the attacker saw her approach.
The man's eyes swiveled to Viktor's, something vindictive shining in them. "You should let me go, Bulgaria."
"Oh, and vhy's that?"
"Because your prize is about to kill you."
Though she could not see Viktor's face, she clearly heard the conviction his voice tried to feign. "Hermy-own-ninny vould never hurt me."
"Care to rethink that?" came her cutting reply. She watched Viktor's shoulders stiffen upon finding a wand pressed to the back of his neck.
The assailant watched her over his shoulder, eyes dancing in pleasure. "Still so eager to get some quality time in with your prize now, Bulgaria?"
Despite her shaking legs, she managed to hold her balance. Forcing the waver from her voice, she dug the tip farther into his neck. "If you move, I swear you'll never walk again."
Viktor's posture deflated, his hand now resting only loosely against the other man's throat.
The attacker though, simply started laughing.
"You swear he'll never walk? Is that the best you can do, Mudblood?"
Suddenly the pressure around the man's throat was renewed, but through the coughing she caught his next words.
"Bul-garia, h-here..." the man made a choking sound, but the sadistic gleam still shone in his crazed eyes, "can show you some good cur-ses."
Abruptly Viktor's hand released his grip on the man's neck. "Leave us," he hissed.
"I wouldn't do that," Hermione hissed right back.
Neither man moved, but Hermione's free hand slowly inched down, reaching for Viktor's wand...
In a second Viktor had whorled around, dodging to the side as she let a spell fly at his spinal cord.
The original attacker dropped to the floor, her spell striking the wall where his head had been only a second before.
The edge of Viktor's hand smashed into her wrist, sending her tendons recoiling reflexively, and her wand flying.
The next thing she knew she was the one against the wall, boxed in by Viktor's arms.
His eyes burned intensely. "Vorgive me."
Sputtering for the breath that had been knocked out of her, she defiantly raised her chin. "Forgive a Death Eater?" she practically spat. "Never."
Some of the fire left his eyes, but his voice spared no hatred as he spoke, once again addressing the other man.
"Leave us. Ve have much catching up to do."
The man laughed from his place on the floor. "So that's what they call it these days? Or is she like all your other Bulgarian whores?"
"This one has more fire," Viktor informed, the pleading look in his eyes strangely at odds with his tone of voice.
"You're both insane!" she gasped out.
"Oh that's rich! You hear that Bulgaria? Your little pet thinks you're insane!"
Viktor's gaze never left hers, but something strange continued to stir in it, unseen to the man on the floor.
"Leave," he stated, his heavily accented words drifting backwards.
"Fine, fine," snapped the man, rising. "But if you're not supposed to be here..."
"If I vasn't supposed to be here, I vould not let you valk avay so easily to inform the others."
The attacker cocked his head to the side, smirking.
"Sound logic."
Viktor turned his head, his piercing stare following the other's every move.
"Marcus," he had waited until the last, possible moment before calling out. "If vou ever think of attacking me again..." Viktor's threat trailed off, and what was unsaid hung heavily.
But now Hermione had a name to go with the man.
Marcus stood in the doorway's threshold, a flash of anger visible on his face for only a second.
Then his face broke out into a wide smirk, and he gave a curt nod in their general direction as he walked out.
"Have fun, Bulgaria."
ECOTS
As the door swung behind Remus' retreating figure, Harry felt, more than saw, Dumbledore's expression morphing into something far more grave than it had been seconds before.
"Harry," the man's voice reverberated deeply in the quiet room. "I think it's time you explained exactly what happened with Angelina."
Harry's darkened green eyes immediately swept around, locking with the Headmaster's ancient, deep blue gaze.
Something angry was slowly regaining its grip upon him, the sound of the traitor's name rekindling the cindering anger within him.
His expression hardened considerably. "I would have thought," he stated with unnatural calm, "that Remus would have explained that already."
Dumbledore's expression betrayed no emotion. "Remus relayed that the explanations would be best left to you, Harry."
"Apparently the wolf has joined the Boy Wonder's fan club as well," Snape drawled.
Anger flashed in Harry's malachite eyes. "If having my loved ones systematically murdered one-by-one is what it takes to accumulate one, then you're welcome to it," he stated venomously.
"I believe," Dumbledore interjected, "That enough of past hostilities have been hashed out for one day. Right now, I rather hoped that the both of you were wise enough to understand the need to address more pressing matters."
Snape did not even blink. The anger simply dissolved from his features, a blank mask replacing it.
The Headmaster heaved a weary sigh. "Harry..."
But Harry was already responding. "She's a Death Eater, Headmaster. I found proof of it in Kaylens' memories."
"I saw no such proof within her mind," Snape challenged.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth. "It's there," he ground out.
"Then that girl is as good as a Death Eater herself."
His eyes snapped open. "Kaylens is not..."
"Then how did she come by such knowledge? Or is the great Potter unable to explain that?" Snape spat, sounding almost snakelike.
"I never said it was her memory," Harry snapped frostily. "It was one of the unicorn's. And considering that Angelina was in possession of such hard to come by blood, who would you wager harvested it in the first place?"
Dumbledore heaved another sigh. "Harry, if you would permit me..."
"Go ahead," he answered preemptively, knowing full well that Dumbledore wanted to see it.
A sad smile graced the Headmaster's features, and the elder man slowly raised his wand. Harry unblinkingly met his gaze.
"Legilimens."
ECOTS
In a single, decisive motion, Viktor stepped away from her, kicking the door shut. The candlelight spilling that had been spilling in from the hall fled, draping the room once again in the blackest of shadows.
Hermione did not move. She couldn't. She simply stood, back pressed to the wall, and though her eyes were open the room's impenetrable darkness rendered her incapable of seeing.
Yet her widened pupils never strayed from the spot where Viktor had been standing but a second ago.
"Hermy-owh-ninny," his voice cut through the silence, startling her in spite of herself. "Are you alright?"
Slowly, startlingly, her clenched fists began to shake.
One footstep, followed by another, echoed along the wooden floorboards as he took tentative steps towards her.
"Hermy-owh-ninny?"
Somehow it was this second repetition of her given name that sent the fire within her blazing.
Her entire body was suddenly trembling. "Am I alright?" she hissed. "Am I alright?"
"Lumos."
Viktor's strong, masculine features were abruptly illuminated, far closer to her than she would have liked.
His dark eyes studied her fierce ones. "You are not alright," he whispered, shaking his head. "You look very angry vith me."
She couldn't help it.
She stuttered.
Hermione Granger, witch extraordinaire, stuttered.
Viktor's thick eyebrows slanted down, a perplexed expression crossing his face. "You are taking this vorse than I thought."
Without even realizing it, a coarse laughter began bubbling out of her. "Oh yes, vorse than vou thought," she mimicked. "Well how in the hell did you expect me to take it!?"
"I vas hoping vor the better."
Her bitter laughter caught in her throat.
"How," she whispered, voice deadly. "Could you possibly expect anything less than hatred from me?"
The light stemming from his wand flickered, Viktor's eyes wide with pain.
"Hermy-owh-ninny, it is not vhat you think."
Another laugh broke through her. "And to think! All those times..." she fixed him with an icy stare. "Did you know, I actually used to believe you when you said that you thought I was smart."
"Vou are the most smartest..."
"Then explain to me," she hissed venomously, "Exactly why you expect me to believe the word of a Death Eater."
Again his wand's light flickered, his pained face looking strained. "I am not vith these men because I vant to be."
"Oh?" she queried, eyes wide with feigned interest. "Then how exactly did you wind up with this job?"
He opened his mouth, but was interrupted.
"Let me guess," she continued, bitingly. "You just sort of fell into it? Quidditch wasn't exciting enough anymore? Decided a little Mudblood cursing was just the ticket?"
His lips became a thin, drawn line. "Don't use that vord."
"Why not? Don't you Death Eaters belittle your victims before you kill them? Or have you not read that far ahead in the handbook?"
"Don't talk like that."
"Forgive me, I must have forgotten that little rule about not mouthing off to my Pureblood betters."
Somewhere along the line, Viktor had begun to shake, the light of his wand vibrating steadily.
"Mi-owh-ninny, stop," he stated pleadingly.
Her brown eyes instantly narrowed. "You are never to call me by that name again. Only my friends have that privilege."
Without warning he shot forward, pressing her to the wall, his hands gripping her upper arms with a palpable desperation. Behind him, somewhere in the now dark room, his wand clattered to the floor.
His hot breath brushed her skin. "Hermy-owh-ninny," he entreated. "Please listen to me. I am here because I could not stand by and vatch these excuses of men kill vomen and children like vou and vour family. Someone had to do something."
Tilting her chin up, she glared through the darkness. "So you're being noble, is that it?" she hissed through her teeth.
She heard him swallow. "No. But I did not know vhat else to do. I thought if I could find out information on vhat these men vere doing, then maybe I could put a stop to some of it."
"I'm sure," she replied, almost admiring Voldemort's tactics. Torture her until she almost broke, and then send someone she was once close to in, spouting professions of Order-like aspirations in hopes that she would break, finally spilling explanations regarding the images they had stolen from her mind.
After all, Legilimency could only get one so far. That woman had only been able to extract memories, mere images of the past, but there were no accompanying explanations for them.
And now they had sent Viktor in, undoubtedly with hopes of tricking her into explaining some of the more obscure ones.
Like the one from this summer, when her parents had dropped her off in the middle of the seedier part of London, only for her to be met by Alastar Moody and Mrs. Weasley.
The two adults had taken her, by foot, to Grimmauld Place, just as they had the preceding summer. But the Fidelius charm protecting it had prevented the Death Eater from seeing the precise location their footsteps had taken. In fact, the Fidelius charm prevented the Death Eater from viewing anything that had occurred within a block of where the old Black family manor sat, let alone anything that had happened within its walls.
Oh how that had pissed the Death Eater off.
"Viktor, tell me," she said sweetly. "If what you just said were true, wouldn't it have occurred to you to have put a silencing charm on the room so your little Lord and Master's followers couldn't overhear your confessions of treachery?"
Her eyes were slowly adjusting, and though she could scarcely see him, she was able to make out the determined line of his jaw.
"He-Vho-Must-Not-Be-Named has already put a silencing charm upon this room."
Her eyebrows arched skeptically. "Isn't it just like a good little Death Eater to trust that vile man's word."
Again, he swallowed audibly. "Hermy-owh-ninny, I stood outside this very room vhen they vere torturing you." He paused, voice sounding overcome with emotion. "I vould have vent to you, Hermy-owh-ninny, but I did not know vhat vas going on at the time. I vas unable to hear a single thing, so I know there is a silencing charm already on this room."
She scoffed, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "And you don't think your Lord has ways of breaking that charm when it suits his purposes?"
Viktor sucked in his breath, sending an oddly satisfied feeling coursing through her.
"Ah, didn't think of that now did we?" she taunted.
For a moment he stood there. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling against her own, his scent permeating her senses just as it had years ago.
And then he was stepping back, reclaiming his wand, and firing off silencing charms in every conceivable direction.
Still trying to reclaim her breath, she folded her arms in a vain attempt to portray her thoughts.
She wasn't about to fall for his act.
ECOTS
Dumbledore stepped away, wiping his forehead. "Thank you, Harry."
Shaking off the disorientation that always accompanied Legilimency, Harry managed a weak reply.
"Anytime."
Snape, to his credit, had managed to keep up his glower for the duration of his and Dumbledore's exchange, and was practically tapping his foot in impatience.
"Well?"
If possible, the lines of Dumbledore's face seemed somehow deeper.
"It's true, Severus. Angelina, at the very least, helped Death Eaters to harvest unicorn blood for him. She bore the mark that night as well."
"I've never seen her amongst his ranks," Snape countered indignantly. "It has to be a false memory that Potter concocted."
Harry let out a barking laugh. "A minute ago weren't you proclaiming my incompetency in this?"
"So it wasn't your work!" Snape sneered triumphantly. "You admit it!"
"No," Harry growled. "But if you think I can't even construct a simple wall then how in the hell do you expect me to fabricate false images good enough to fool Dumbledore of all people?"
A vein in Snape's temple began twitching, an abnormally red hue beginning to overtake his features.
"Well Severus," Dumbledore responded, looking rather flattered. "He's got you there."
Snape's wand arm began twitching as well.
The Headmaster's searching gaze studied Snape, almost disappointedly. In the end the wisest man Harry had ever met said nothing,. He simply sighed, turning a searching sky blue gaze to him.
And it was right then that Mad Eye Moody entered, closely followed by a rather alert looking Tonks, and a man whose features were oddly blurred.
But it was the sight of the bound Angelina walking between them that sent Harry's muscles tensing.
His jade orbs instantly darkened, his voice coming out in a dangerous hiss.
"You," he growled.
Angelina's face flooded with guilt, and Tonks nudged her farther into the room. Instantly Harry found himself following her every move like a predator, his gaze scanning the traitor up and down to ensure that no weaponry resided upon her personage.
Dark curses could still be inflicted with bound hands. He had proven that only a day ago, and he wasn't willing to let anyone in the room suffer the same consequences of inattention that Dolohov had. The image of the man writhing on the floor, losing his sanity amongst the wreckage of the Three Broomsticks, was something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
And he had done that to him.
Tonks, as if just noticing him, flashed him a broad grin.
"Wotcher, Harry."
If he had not been so fixated on the dark events of yesterday, his most basic of animal instincts beginning to activate, he might have found her joviality funny. As it was, he could only manage a grunt in greeting.
With a slam of finality, the door to the room swung shut. Moody instantly turned, casting several silencing and privacy charms upon it.
"Never know who might be listenin' out there," Moody warned, tapping what was left of his ear vigorously.
The blurry looking man cast an odd look in Moody's general direction, before turning with a regal air towards the Headmaster.
"Maybe now someone can explain why we have been babysitting this girl," he said in a twisted voice, flipping a hand towards Angelina. "Who for some reason is tied up like an Azkaban-bound war criminal."
"I certainly hope," Snape drawled with slitted eyes. "That criminals worthy of that isle are secured better than she."
The unidentifiable man snorted something that sounded distinctly like, "You would know."
Snape drew himself up to his full height, eyes narrowed. "Who exactly do you presume to be?"
Moody's good eye darted between Severus and the blurred man, his magical eye remaining on where Angelina stood on the other side of the room, eyes carefully averted to the floor.
"Someone whose identity I would prefer to remain anonymous, for the moment," Dumbledore supplied, with an air of finality.
The Potion Master grunted in acquiescence, maintaining a suspicious glare on the stranger, who had taken to waggling his eyebrows tauntingly in Snape's direction.
Even as Harry watched this, for the life of him he couldn't declare what color the man's eyebrows were. It was as if every feature of the man were simultaneously present, yet muted beyond recognition. Harry could look at him, while still not seeing him.
And somehow he knew that the obscurity had nothing to do with his missing glasses.
"Considering Potter's newest revelations regarding treachery," Snape snarled, breaking into his thoughts, "isn't it a bit risky to be letting a stranger with a cloaking charm be privy to our conversation?"
"I trust him, Severus," Dumbledore stated.
Snape's jaw tightened, but he uttered not another word on the matter. Moody, on the other hand, fixed Harry with a definite stare.
"Heard you were the one to unmask the wench. Good work, Potter."
Tonks suddenly looked furious. "Ange is the traitor! That's why her hands are tied?!"
Harry growled in affirmation.
The hue of Tonks' face suddenly increased, the tips of her hair rapidly reddening. "And here I thought it was just Moody's paranoia..."
"If you've any in stock," Moody suggested gutterly, sending Tonks an annoyed look, "then we could expediate things and force some Verisiterum down her throat."
"I doubt that will be necessary," Dumbledore informed.
The Auror looked distinctly unsatisfied. "Traitors never talk willingly, Albus. But if we're out of truth serum, I suppose we could do things the old fashioned way. Potter here could do with a lesson on creative means of extracting information."
Angelina paled considerably.
"Alastor, that won't be necessary," the Headmaster restated, tempering the frighteningly hopeful expression on Moody's scarred and twisted face.
"I didn't tell them anything."
Everyone's heads bolted towards her, as Angelina's carefully articulated, measured words filled the room.
Moody scoffed, and to Harry's surprise, turned his good eye on him. "That there is a classic line Potter. They always start off with it. I suggest you take notes."
"How long have you been spying on the Order?" Snape demanded, cutting right to the point. "And how much have you told him about our activities?"
Angelina, having been released from Tonks' grip, backed away towards the far wall. "N-nothing," she stammered. "I told them I wasn't trusted enough to have learned anything of value."
For once Harry's inner thoughts echoed Snapes spoken ones.
"Surely," Snape drawled, "You don't expect us to believe that. I know how this game works. You had to of given them something."
"I s-swear..."
Moody turned a gnarled grin back on him. "Notice the stammering, Potter? A common tactic for eliciting sympathy. Don't be fooled though, it's really all a load of..."
"I only told them two things!" Angelina interjected, before the sadistic gleam in Moody's eye could grow any further. "I told them I knew where the Kaylens girl was going to be. I promised to supply a steady flow of blood samples for them."
"And the seco..."
An angry, animalistic sound resounded from the doorway, cutting Snape off.
Remus had returned, and had been in time to hear Angelina's statement.
Now the werewolf bore a furious expression Harry had never seen before.
"Do you have any idea," Remus questioned icily, stalking forward. "Of what they could have done to Kally if her blood was infused with dark magic?"
Angelina's head bobbed regretfully. "I do," she confessed.
"Angie," Tonks spoke up, sounding stunned despite her grim expression, "you really would have went through with it? She's only sixteen..."
"Seventeen," Remus corrected.
Angelina's dark throat rose and fell shamefully.
"Yes," she whispered shakily. "But...he said..."
"Who said?" Harry shot out, beginning to breath rather fast.
His former teammate visibly flinched. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He said he just n-needed it for his experiments. He said he wouldn't hurt her."
"And you believed him," Harry snarled.
"Nice form Potter," Moody complimented. "Keeping your comments pointed and cynical is precisely how us Aurors start off. And if that doesn't work..."
Angelina's dark eyes caught the way Moody fingered his wand.
"I had no reason not to believe him," she whispered.
Harry snorted. "Oh yes, because the self-proclaimed, hypocritical, lord of the purebloods is most assuredly trustworthy!" he countered cuttingly. "What reason would you have not to believe a murdering bastard?"
Moody exchanged a glance with the still slightly stunned looking Tonks. "He's pretty good at this isn't he?"
"Harry," Angelina plead chokingly. "You don't understand..."
"You're damn right I don't," he replied with deadly calm. "I don't understand how someone could turn their back on good people in favor of a pompous half-blood who takes a sadistic amount of delight in killing innocent people."
The Healer-in-training held his lethal stare for as long as she could, before breaking away to look at the others desperately.
There was no sympathy to be found in any of their gazes.
The girl's dark throat rose and fell, her ebony skin reflecting the light in what would have been a charming way, had Harry not been contemplating wringing her throat.
For a long time the traitor simply stood there, her shaky breathing the room's only sound.
Finally, after an indeterminable wait, she began talking. Her voice so quiet that at first, it was hard to hear.
"He's been experimenting for awhile now," she whispered. "He's brilliant..."
"Can I hex her?" Tonks asked, looking shockingly serious.
Angelina's watery eyes darted up. "I meant he's more than capable of achieving whatever his goals are. It's less a compliment than a fact."
Snape waved a hand dismissively, urging her to go on.
The girl drew in a deep breath, and continued.
"I was always good in Potions, which is why I was recruited in the first place. But, he's trying to harness the magical abilities of other species for himself. Can you imagine what it would be like? To have the immortality of a vampire? The resistance to stunning spells of a giant? Or a Veela's ability to manipulate others by appeal alone?"
"Surprise, surprise," Harry drawled. "Voldemort's power hungry. Who would have thought?"
Angelina jerked, as if struck. "I'm n-not," she stammered. "I'm not sure how far he's progressed in other areas. But I think he's already figured out how to transfer a unicorn's healing powers. But I don't know how..."
"Does that have anything to do with what you did to Kalliandra?" Remus demanded.
She bit her lip, shaking her head. "No. That was entirely my idea."
Harry jolted forward, only stopped by the restraining hand that suddenly appeared on his shoulder.
He threw a furious glance back at whomever had dared stop him from extracting revenge on Kaylens' behalf, and was surprised to see that it had been Remus. Only his father's friend was completely ignoring him, his serious stare focused across the room as Angelina continued.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't know I did this. I hadn't even planned this until today. But if he found out, I imagine he'd kill me."
"And what a horrible loss that would be," Harry snarled, shaking in anger.
Remus' firm, vice like squeeze on his shoulder stopped him from saying anything else.
Surprisingly Angelina's dark eyes rose, fixing him with a meaningful stare. "I had my reasons for doing what I did."
He practically felt Remus growl behind him. "What reason could you possibly have for desiring to drive a young girl to insanity?"
"That wasn't my intent..."
"Then what did you expect to happen?" Snape queried sarcastically, sounding mildly curious.
Her features twisted painfully. "I can't say..."
"Why. Not." Harry spat.
But the girl's eyes never wavered from his challenging stare. "Because it could endanger her if I did."
Both Moody and Tonks instantly looked confused.
"Elaborate," Snape ordered.
Angelina shook her head stubbornly. "I won't."
A vicious, maniacal grin bent Moody's face. "And I was beginning to think I wouldn't get to interrogate anyone properly today," he gestured with a gnarled hand. "Watch closely Potter. You're about to get a lesson in interrogation techniques."
"Alastor," Dumbledore warned.
The admonishment did little to subdue Moody's gleeful expression. "Come on Albus, it's just retribution. Nothing she doesn't have coming to her."
To Harry's astonishment, Angelina turned a little green. Her normally vibrant lips parted, as she began to stutter.
"W-wait. I know I d-deserve it but there's more."
Moody grinned like a viper. "See that Potter? They'll start talking when you can practically smell their fear."
Angelina grimaced. "That's not why I'm..."
Moody guffawed. The paranoid Auror retiree actually guffawed.
It was strangely frightening.
Her next words came out in a fast, barely intelligible string.
"He wants to shape shift like a Metamorphmagus, and he wants Tonks."
An icy shiver crawled down Harry's spine at the sound Remus emitted at that statement.
"What?"
Angelina Johnson, whom he had once thought to be a brave Gryffindor to the core, shuddered fearfully.
"Tonks, I'm so sorry..."
"Was that the second thing you told them?" Tonks interjected, looking thoroughly perplexed. "You only mentioned Kally earlier."
At this the girl lowered her head, her long, dark hair falling forward to obscure her face.
"Yes," she whispered quietly. "He's after you too. You're the only Metamorphmagus we know of and I had to promise to bring them something."
From behind him Remus spoke, his tone as dark as he had ever heard it.
"And did you bring them anything?"
Angelina gulped visibly. "Y-yes. The attack at Phoenix Park...when Tonks was unconscious afterwards I..."
"You stole my blood and gave it to him!" Tonks spluttered, sounding stunned.
"I said I was sorry," Angelina choked out. "But he promised not to hurt you or the girl. He doesn't have her blood though. I wasn't able to give him the vials before..."
She trailed off, and Harry remembered something with a dark chill.
The Detreck brother he had failed to kill...the one that had found them in the clearing...he had taken Kalliandra's blood..."
"He does have her blood," Harry choked out. "Last night, when we were stranded, Death Eaters ambushed us. One of them was able to take some blood from Kaylens before I could..."
He was too angry with himself to finish the thought.
"I'll begin working on protective potions for the girls post-haste," Snape filled the silence, sounding infuriatingly calm. "I am intimately familiar with the methods he might choose to use against them, and have ways of countering them."
Dumbledore nodded his appreciation. "Thank you, Severus."
For an inexplicable reason, Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards the infuriating Potions Master.
But it was tempered by a flare of anger, as the conversation with Angelina continued.
Tonks was still staring at the girl as if she had never seen her before. "Say the Dark Tosser does find a way to gain my morphing abilities. Then what do you think will happen?"
"I don't know," Angelina whispered.
Moody laughed, his wooden leg tapping on the floor as he tottered back and forth. "I'll tell you what would happen you ignorant buffoon! He'd be able to walk right into the Ministry and start killing people! So tell me girlie, are you proud knowing that they might happen?"
"My God," Remus suddenly said. "If they figured it was a Metamorphmagus who had done the killings, Tonks would be the first one blamed..."
The rest of Tonks' hair turned red, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. "How could you Ange?" she asked, accusation dripping from every word.
Angelina took a step back, looking like a dear in headlights. "I didn't have a choice."
A growl rose unbidden from Harry's throat. "There's always a choice," he seethed. "You were just too cowardly to make the right one."
She was beginning to look like a hounded animal. "You don't know what it's like," she stammered, scurrying behind the couch. "They threatened my family, my friends...everyone I ever loved! Even Fred! I..."
"Fred would have preferred the risk over you joining that vile snake," Harry hissed, feeling angry on her boyfriend's behalf. Once Fred found out...
He would be devastated.
The menacing sound of wood on wood filled the air, as Moody began to slowly advance on the cowering girl.
He saw it before Moody did. Angelina's backwards advance had not been random, or an act of fear. Instead she had been closing in on the incredibly silent and blurred man, getting as near to him as possible.
Harry moved at the same time she did.
She got there first, tackling the man behind the couch and out of the line of easy spell fire. An undignified grunt resounded through the room, and Tonks, Remus, Dumbledore, Snape, and Moody all moved at once.
But Harry had been closer.
He launched himself forward, toppling over the back of the settee and onto the two flailing figures.
He hit their bony bodies hard and awkwardly, and his momentum sent him rolling off of them.
But not before his strong arm had lashed out, wrapping around Angelina's shoulders from behind and taking her with him.
She screamed, throwing her head backwards and into his face.
The cracking of cartilage was followed by a groan of pain as his nose cracked. His vision blurred, burning white, yet he maintained his grip.
And then a foot shot out, and a well placed kick drove the wind right out of Angelina's lungs, her legs reflexively curling up as she doubled over right there on the floor.
Harry was on all fours, flipping her over and pouncing in an instant.
Her entire body shook, recoiling with the racking coughs that attacked her, and Harry had time to pin her while the unnamed man bound her feet as well.
"Ph-phanks," Harry gasped through the pain, knowing full well that it had been the cloaked man who had helped him.
The man stood, brushing his hands off with a disgusted expression as he surveyed his handy-work.
"Anytime, kid."
Harry still didn't move, his eyes blazing down in anger at the deceitful wench. And slowly, without even realizing it, his hand moved to her throat, applying just enough pressure to send her eyes wide in recognition.
"Harry, that is not necessary."
He didn't bother looking at the Headmaster as he spoke. "All pha same, Ibe ratha nah shance it."
Tonks walked around Angelina's pinned form, dropping down behind her head so that she was staring him right in the face.
"Accident prone eh, Harry?" she said with forced cheer, in a clear attempt to diffuse the situation.
Harry merely grunted, watching as Angelina's gasps to reclaim air slowly slowed as she caught her breath.
"Hold still a second," Tonks was muttering. "I'm no Pomfrey but I've had my share of accidents."
He snorted, then immediately wished he hadn't as pain blazed through him.
"Alright," Tonks said tentatively. "This may hurt a bit."
He hardly had time to register the 'bit' part before she mouthed a quick spell at him, followed by a shot of pain so acute that it was clearly worse than the actual 'breaking' part had been.
"Th-thanks," he sputtered, tasting the coppery taste of blood upon his tongue.
Tonks smiled dourly. "No problem."
"You can let go of her now, Harry."
Once again Harry did not look at the Headmaster, he simply re-narrowed his eyes.
"Not likely," He stated grimly.
"What are you going to do, Harry," Angelina asked hoarsely. "Strangle me?"
He gritted his teeth. "The thought has crossed my mind."
"Nice idea, Potter," said Moody approvingly. "And we haven't even gotten to the physical interrogation lesson either."
"Throttling her does sound good," Tonks mused, leaning back on her hands.
"I concur," grumbled the blurry man, looking extremely disgruntled at having been bowled over.
A flicker of fear passed through Angelina's eyes. "Harry, please...I didn't have a choice..."
"We've been over this," he scowled, wiping blood away with his wrist. "You had one. You just made the wrong one."
Under his hand he felt her swallow. "You don't know what it's like," she whispered. "He threatened to kill my family. You've never had one. You don't know what it's like to love someone enough to..."
"You're right!" he roared, suddenly losing his patience. "I don't! Which is why killing you won't weigh too heavily on my conscience!"
Tonks, directly in front of him, looked rather shocked at his sudden outburst.
"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. Too calmly. "You are not a killer."
He nearly laughed, thinking of he and Kaylens' escapades over the past 24 hours. Between the two of them they had quite the body count.
"Don't be so sure of that," he informed coldly, fixing his present hostage with a meaningful stare.
"You're wrong...you're not," Angelina choked out, prompting him to tighten the pressure around her throat.
"Care to test that?" he threatened. "I've already killed twice. At this point one more won't hurt."
Her bound hands made an attempt to claw at her neck, but he simply swatted them down with his free arm.
Dumbledore seemed undeterred. "You're not Harry."
His head pivoted to the side, the pressure against Angelina's neck never relaxing. "Care to tell that to Broussard Detreck?" he tossed out challengingly.
The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes sputtered, and though his expression remained impassive it was clear from his eyes that he no longer recognized the man in front of him. Harry's tone had been so cold...
A disbelieving expression befell Lupin. "Harry," he whispered, shocked. "You wouldn't..."
His jade eyes shone malevolently. "Not would, did."
"Pray tell, what gave you the impression that you had the right to play executioner?" Snape questioned, not bothering to mask his disdain.
"Forgive me," Harry snipped. "But when somebody tries to kill me more than once I tend to get a little angry. Tripping over my roommate's dead body was just the last straw."
"You can't just get away with killing people, Potter."
"Really?" he asked, dripping sarcasm. "I was under the impression that I already had."
"Potter," Moody said seriously. "Can anyone prove it was you? Did you leave behind anything that could link you to the scene?"
He shook his head in the negative. "How daft do you think I am?"
If possible, Moody's distorted brow wrinkled in thought. Tonks just looked impressed.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, sounding every bit his age, "there are better ways to incapacitate one's enemies. Killing is not something I ever wished for you."
"It's not like you have much choice in the matter," Harry replied seriously. "Considering that there's a Dark Lord who wants my head on a platter."
"Potter!" Snape bellowed. "How dare you..."
"Dare I what?" Harry countered. "Not buy in to the 'All Death Eaters are Capable of Reformation Club?'"
A dark look twisted Snape's expression. "So is precious Potter going to save the whole wide world from all the big bad Death Eater's?" he mocked.
"No," Harry bit back, "That would be giving them entirely too much credit. Personally I like to take it one country at a time."
"It may be a little late for that," Remus informed.
His eyes blazed a burning trail across the room, but he did not miss the sharp look Dumbledore threw the werewolf.
"What is it that you're not telling me?" Harry demanded.
"Something happened in Dublin."
His head jolted back towards the speaker, whom was doing an admirable job of ignoring Snape's exasperated look.
"I risk life and limb to gain that information, and the first thing you do you insolent girl is to blab it to the first teenager who asks?"
If Harry hadn't known better, he'd have expected Snape to begin spouting fire.
Tonks seemed unflummoxed. "He'd find out in a few days time with everyone else anyway. Besides, Harry deserves to know what's going on."
"That was not your decision to make..."
Snape's roar was cut off by Dumbledore's sharp voice. "I agree with her, Severus."
The greasy haired man looked aghast. "What!?"
"I agree," Dumbledore restated. "I simply would have rather addressed it later. Preferably when Harry was not perched atop someone whom he was threatening to kill."
"I didn't threaten to kill her," Harry corrected. "I simply pointed out that it was a possibility."
"Don't interrupt the boy's negotiating tactics, Albus," Moody commented. "He's doing marvelous."
The unidentifiable man snorted.
"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "I promise that I will explain everything to you, if you can be patient enough to wait a few hours. I'd prefer to know more before I relay everything."
He felt his brow crinkle, his anger subsiding ever-so-slightly at the revelation that Dumbledore was actually going to tell him something he wanted to know. Even if it meant having to wait a few hours.
Snape, however, seemed incapable of dropping the previous subject.
"You forgot to answer me, Potter."
Harry didn't even bother looking at the infuriating man. "Actually you are quite mistaken. I didn't forget anything. I simply refuse to engage in conversation with anyone I deem less interesting than an amoeba."
Snape let out a strangled, strangely dog-like sound.
Harry actually glanced up at this. "Down boy. No need to work yourself up."
Snape's wand was nearly out before Dumbledore halted him.
Off to the side, Remus was attempting to shove a fist in his mouth.
That was right up until Snape's next statement.
"You're a murderer, Potter."
The small burst of laughter that had been bubbling out of Tonks died a quick death at the black look that had crossed over Harry's features.
Struggling to regain control of himself so as not to choke the life from Angelina, he sucked a hot breath in through gritted teeth.
"Then that must make you twice as bad, considering I only killed in self defense," Harry informed calmly, rage flashing in Snape's eyes.
"Of course," Harry continued, "I'm also of the opinion that anyone ignorant enough to let that mark be burnt into their flesh willingly ought to get what's coming to them."
"Harry," Dumbledore suddenly cut in, "I'm not entirely sure I like where your thought process is going."
"I didn't expect you to," he replied honestly.
"Did it every occur to you, in that overly inflated head of yours," Snape hissed, "That information cannot be extracted from dead bodies."
"And where would you propose we keep them? So long as a Death Eater is alive, they're dangerous," Harry countered.
Snape looked livid, but Harry was not done. Not nearly.
"You know what? Never mind," he stated, as if thinking aloud. "Maybe the merciful, spare-all stance that the Order has been taking is right. I must be wrong. So let's keep just stunning the Death Eaters so we can send them to Azkaban and pump them for information. After all, we all know how safe that fortress is. This summer's mass break out taught us that much."
He paused, breathing harshly. "So hell, lets keep considering Azkaban a viable option. Why not? Then when there's another major breakout and another student, maybe Ginny this time, gets killed, then we can all honestly say that we didn't see it coming."
His deadpan was met with silence.
It was Remus who finally broke it.
"Harry," he began. "I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to want someone dead. But killing indiscriminately isn't the answer."
Looking over his shoulder, renewing the pressure against Angelina's throat, Harry fixed Lupin with a pointed stare. "You're right. But I'd hardly say it was indiscriminate."
"The boy's right."
Moody had finally spoken up.
"I never kill unless it's necessary. But it's getting to the point where there are just too many of them. If we try to spare all of their lives it'll only lead to more casualties on our side." Moody shook his scarred, wrinkled head. "The Death Eater's have had this coming for awhile. It's time we started fighting fire with fire."
Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "Now is really not the time for this discussion."
"Then when is?" Moody asked, a portrait of seriousness.
Harry tuned out their conversation, redirecting his attention back to Angelina. She had already caused enough damage, and had attempted escape. A futile attempt, but nevertheless an attempt.
So what to do with her?
Tonks scooted forward on the floor, hesitantly, until she was almost nose-to-nose with him.
"Well Harry," she breathed with a trace of a smile, "are we going to throttle her or not? I don't feel like waiting around all night."
He scowled at her, teasing his fingers around Angelina's throat. "Not sure," he replied staidly. "Unless of course, there's anything else she'd like to tell us?"
Both of them glanced down at Angelina.
Terror swarmed in the trapped girl's eyes.
"Well Ange? You heard the man! We haven't got all day and you've been awfully quiet."
Spying the slightly unhinged look in Tonks' eyes, as if she were just itching to curse someone, Angelina managed to formulate a reply.
"I've told you everything."
Harry interrupted her, a thought that had never really left coming back to his mind's forefront. "Not really. You've yet to explain why you did this to Kaylens."
Tonks glanced up at him, before turning her hovering gaze back down.
Angelina grimaced. "Telling you that would reveal things about her that I don't want others hearing."
Harry's expression morphed into one of blatant derision. "Really? If it's her 'condition' that you're referring to I'd have to inform you that Tonks is already aware of it."
Unsure of his bold statement, he glanced at the Auror for confirmation. She arched an eyebrow in amusement, nodding.
"There are others..." Angelina hissed quietly, forcing the two of them to lean closer to hear. "That work for the Ministry present."
And just like that, Harry understood what she was getting at.
"Got any charms to prevent them from hearing us?" he questioned Tonks, but the Auror was already casting a privacy charm around the three of them.
For the briefest of seconds, Angelina looked almost relieved.
Right up until she found both of their wands at her throat.
"Talk," Harry ordered. "Now."
The girl nodded vigorously. "The girl's a Reach."
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Ange. Got anything for us that we don't already know," Tonks asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.
"I wasn't lying when I said I didn't have a choice. But that choice wasn't form Voldemort."
Harry clenched his fist around his wand, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
"Care to expand on that," he inquired.
Angelina attempted to gesture, only to find her hands driven hard against the floor by Harry's knee.
Her face cringed. "I know what I did was risky," she croaked. "But the girl was going to die."
"That isn't written in stone," Harry snarled, his insides twisting painfully.
Angelina, surprisingly, looked him right in the eye.
"I'm a Healer-in-Training, Harry. I know the signs."
The hard, fearful edge to her voice was oddly absent. In its place was a wavering sadness that Harry felt all too acutely.
"That's why I gave Kalliandra the injection. I wanted..." She turned away, her ebony features drooping. "Damn't Harry, I wanted her to have a chance. She was going to die if something didn't change. No one will say it, but that's the hard truth."
Fury at what his former team and housemate had done was acutely present, but for some reason he found himself listening to her words very carefully.
"She was too young to die that way, Tonks," she continued, rolling her eyes up to look at the upside-down head of the Auror. "I thought that if insanity didn't take her, then the healing properties of a unicorn's blood could save her. I'm a Healer. I couldn't just stand by and not..."
Harry's malachite eyes widened into a stunned, unblinking stare.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
Beneath where he straddled her waist, he felt Angelina's diaphragm contract as she kept talking. "I did an experiment first, to see if there was a chance it would work. There was, so I did it."
Tonks' dark, critical gaze moved back and forth, between Harry and Angelina, watching the tension slowly drain from the situation.
And then, very carefully, Harry nodded.
"This doesn't mean I trust you."
Angelina Johnson swallowed hard. "I don't blame you."
And then Harry slowly moved off of her, leaving Tonks to quickly stun her.
Outside the privacy bubble, Dumbledore shook his head, relieved at what he was seeing.
Standing next to him, Snape pinched his nose tiredly. "I should've just got the Veritaserum," he bemoaned.
The unidentifiable man let out a Slytherin-like scoff. "And miss all the fun? You've gone soft in your old age, Severus."
Snape's penetrating gaze swiveled to the man. "Who exactly, in a frozen over hell, are you?"
For a second the man looked rather gleeful. "Consider me a ghost from the past."
"Just call him Casper," Tonks informed loudly, the privacy bubble clearly gone. "He likes it."
Remus let out a low chuckle as the man shot a malevolent glare at the young Auror.
"Why what a marvelous nickname," Dumbledore said aloud. "Now Harry, Tonks, why don't we continue this tomorrow. I somehow think this would go quicker under the influence of one of Severus' concoctions."
Suddenly realizing that the hostage was no longer conscious, his brow crinkled.
"Perhaps having her awake would aid the process as well," Dumbledore added.
Remus groaned. "This has been too long a night."
"Hate to break it to you, but it's barely evening, Wolfmeister."
Upon hearing Tonks' nickname Remus groaned even louder. "At this point the days are just blending together," he muttered.
Behind them, the tell-tale sound of a wooden peg dancing around exhibited Mad Eye's glee.
"Potter," he exclaimed maniacally. "We are going to have quite a time training you!"
Tonks expression grew panicked, and out of the corner of her mouth she immediately began hissing.
"Don't let him! He trained me, and his idea of fun is torture."
Harry barely heard anyone. Instead he found his feet leading him out of the room.
He was exhausted, and he knew exactly where he was going.
ECOTS
Hermione watched as the blue-gray light of the various silencing charms died down. Now, a new, softer light emitted from Viktor's wand as he murmured another Lumos.
"If he overheard me then ve do not have much time," he said hurriedly.
Not much time...for what? She thought, feeling something inside her begin fluttering with dread.
Merlin, that other man had said she was some sort of prize. She had heard rumors regarding what Death Eaters did with their human trophies.
She swallowed hard. "Of course," she muttered, forcing the fear from her voice. "I nearly forgot that I was your little prize."
She watched his reaction carefully. And while the seriousness did not leave Viktor's face, his eyes softened, as if he knew what she was afraid of.
"I vould never use you for something like that," he whispered sincerely.
He remained standing apart from her, as if rooted to that single spot. The light from his wand was so scant that his bulky figure was partially obscured, his lower legs and feet disappearing in shadows.
Only his face was properly illuminated, and she was able to see the pained expression crisscrossing his features.
"Hermy-owh-ninny, there is an attack being planned on a Phoenix. And they are planning it vith information they got from you."
"What?" The word escaped her lips before she could stop herself.
Viktor's intense eyes bored through the few yards separating them, as if he could will her trust with only his gaze. "Mi-owh-ninny, I vas able to overhear something about a location of this Phoenix. They vound an approximate location inside your head. Please, tell me vhat they saw. There may still be time to send varning to it, because it is in danger."
Something about this seemed wrong. Incredibly, undeniably wrong. The Death Eater that had attacked her mind had not been able to find out anything about the Order from her. Thanks to Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm there wasn't a single thing the woman had been able to access about it within her mind.
So how did they even know it existed?
Her chest rose, attempting to draw in breath that did not come. It was as if ice water had suddenly flooded her veins. The Order's Headquarters was so well protected, and yet...
The raw intensity of Viktor's voice was enough to make her question everything.
"Hermy-own-ninny, ve have to help it. Please tell me vhere this Phoenix is at. I may be able to do something."
Regaining the capacity to again breath, a cool breath suddenly filled her lungs.
She fixed him with a deadly stare.
"No." The word rolled furiously off her lips, the full weight of Viktor's betrayal crashing down upon her.
"Please! This Phoenix is in trouble! Vou must know that He-Vho-Must-Not-Be-Named is looking for magical species for his experiments. He vants a Phoenix. I do not know vhy, but I vould think he is trying to make himself immortal."
Her brow instantly creased. The Phoenix? He thought this was all over some magical bird!
His naivety sparked a treacherous thought within her. What if he was telling the truth? If he had never know the Order existed, he would truly have thought that there was no one doing anything to fight back against Voldemort. Maybe he really had gone rogue.
Despite her better judgment, every fiber of her being wanted desperately to believe him, and yet...
It was all a ruse. It had to be. A clever trick of that vile Muggle-hating man. Voldemort could have asked Viktor to aid him in tricking her into giving up the Order's information, and if she did...
"Hermy-owh-ninny?"
Never had her name sounded as dismal as it did right then when Viktor spoke it.
"I know you do not trust me right now..."
Her dark eyes shot up, a thousand thoughts flying through her addled mind.
"Trust you? Trust you!?" she loudly proclaimed, sounding slightly hysterical. "How utterly unfathomable! You must find it very unfair that I don't trust you, considering all the ground work you've laid, trying to earn it."
Raw pain flashed across his silhouetted face, but she was far from done with this feeling out session.
She needed to know whether or not he was telling the truth, and for the life of her the only plan she could formulate was to scream at him, and to gauge his reaction afterwards.
Faking the anger was simply not necessary.
"So tell me," she continued, "when we first met at Hogwarts, did V-volde..." Her breath came in ragged gasps as she fought to regain control of herself. "Did that vile man recruit you for the sole reason of trying to earn my trust even back then, or were you already on more than a Quidditch roster?"
"Hermy-owh-ninny," his voice held an unnatural note in it. "Can you remain silent vor un minute? Ve may not haff much time. So please, try to listen."
She choked back a hysterical laugh, but he was already going on.
"I need to know vhat they found out vhen they entered vour mind. It is very important vor you to try and remember."
She shook her head, sending her untamable hair everywhere.
"So what that woman forcibly extracted from my mind wasn't enough to satiate your pathetic lord's need for information?"
Viktor's expansive chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "I know you do not trust me right now," he repeated. "Vou do not have much reason to. But your options are a bit limited now. Iv you can help me, I may be able to prevent him from capturing this Phoenix."
She scarcely heard him. The crease in her brow deepened, and she racked her mind for a possible way that the Death Eaters could have found out about the Order from her.
"They said something about vanting to hurt the Muggles in the area, to draw the Phoenix out ov its hiding place. I did not understand vhy a bird vould be hiding, but..."
A cold feeling suddenly overtook her.
To draw the Phoenix out...
It was amazing. How a few simple words could send her heart pounding so hard that it felt as if it would tear from her chest at any second.
In the wake of the Hogsmeade attack the students might have been sent home.
And if they had...
Ron, Ginny, and Harry would be at Headquarters.
None of them would be content to remain within the safe confines of the Order's Headquarters if Muggles were being tortured in the surrounding streets. They were far too brave for that.
And the female Death Eater had extracted an approximate location from her head, when she had seen Hermione's Muggle parents dropping her off a few blocks away that past summer.
After that memory, things had gotten blurry for the Death Eater, and the woman had been enraged.
Somehow the woman had put it all together, realizing precisely why things had gone blurry within Hermione's mind.
Because the Order's location was nearby.
"Oh God!" The choked sound that tore from her throat was scarcely recognizable as human, but suddenly she understood.
The Order was in danger. And it was entirely her fault.
Rough, calloused hands suddenly wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "Hermy-owh-ninny. Please, you must tell me. Tell me now."
Looking up into his intense eyes that begged her to trust him, Hermione realized that for the first time in her life her knowledge couldn't help her make the right decision.
For once she'd have to go with her gut.
ECOTS
Dean Thomas stood at the base of the stairway leading to the virtually vacant girl's dormitory, screaming his head off.
It was virtually vacant because one Ginny Weasley still resided there. And it was her attention that he was trying to get.
"GINNY! Please talk to me!"
From behind him he heard footsteps descending the boy's dormitories, followed by a loud sigh and Neville's tired sounding voice.
"She still won't come down?"
Dean's dark eyes remained narrowed in frustration.
"No."
Cautiously Neville walked forward, coming to stand next to him. Several minutes passed in silence, before Neville again spoke, almost startling him.
"She's going to be alright. The isolation...it's a part of grieving."
Listening to his roommates words, he found himself unable to respond for some time. Finally, as if on autopilot, he felt himself nodding stiffly.
"I'm worried about her," he managed.
An awkward look crossed Neville's face, unseen by Dean, as the last of the Longbottom line raised a hand, placing it on his dorm mate's shoulder.
"Just give her time. She's a lot stronger than she looks."
Hearing this, Dean grimaced, recalling something Ginny had once told him.
"Don't I know it," he responded quietly. There was so much that Neville simply didn't know, and yet...
Somehow the quiet boy understood. For the past day Dean had slowly been coming to the realization that despite Neville's tendency to have remained in the background over the past few years, that there was very little that the guy missed.
Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would have been finding comfort in Neville Longbottom's words, over Seamus' death.
Of course, he had never expected his best mate to be murdered by one of his best friends before either were of age.
He swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in his throat. He needed to focus on something. He couldn't focus on what had happened. He had to keep moving forward. And right now there was nothing that could help Seamus, and Kally was far out of his reach. But Ginny?
He could actually be there for her, and he'd be damned if he let her go through this alone.
"You wouldn't know whose owl that happens to be would you?" Neville asked, cutting into his thoughts.
Dean's eyes darted over, following Neville's upturned gaze to where a barn owl sat in the rafters, staring moodily down at them.
His brow immediately wrinkled at the sight of it. To the best of his recollection, he had never seen any sort of owl perched within the common room rafters, let alone that particular owl.
"Maybe we could coax her down, and have her take a note to Ginny for us," Neville mused aloud. "The owl could at least fly up."
Dean's eyes suddenly lit up, the inkling of an idea forming in his mind. Without a word he turned, bolting up the boys' staircase, practically bowling into their room.
Sliding to a spot besides his bed, he dropped to his knees, ducking down in search of his broom.
If he couldn't walk past the wards on the girls' staircase, then maybe he could fly over them.
Rummaging beneath his bed, he shoved aside a stack of sketchbooks, sending one sliding off the top and onto the floor, its pages fluttering open.
Absentmindedly he reached out to close it, only to see that it what it had landed on.
His throat tightened, as if being strangled by an invisible foe.
Lying there, in heavy pencil, was an image he had drawn barely a week ago.
The shades of gray bent and twisted with a life of their own, enchanted into life by a spell that had taken him the better part of a year to master.
Swallowing heavily, he clambered to his knees, reclaiming the sketch from its unsuitable position amongst the dust particles littering the floor.
Placing the book carefully on his lap, he observed Kally's likeness with a bittersweet taste.
Like most nights, she was stretched out on the floor in front of the common room hearth. Her reading glasses were perched atop her nose, her legs stretching languidly out like a cat. And every so often he would watch one of her wispy strands fall in front of her face, her mouth pouting in irritation as she blew it away, wrinkling her nose.
And now she was gone. Missing. And he had no way of reaching her.
A guilty feeling swept over him. One of shame and the utmost loathing, for there was one route he could explore.
He was simply too cowardly to take it.
Unable to look at her any longer, his gaze swept to the side of the image, where Kally's satchel lay resting against the base of the couch, partially obscured by one of Seamus' legs.
Dean remembered that day. Seamus had sat there, leafing through an Astronomy book, batting Ginny away half-heartedly as she vied for his attention.
To Kally's credit, she had ignored the display admirably, only flinging ink in their general direction twice.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately considering her feelings for Ginny's brother, she had managed to nail Ron as he had been walking by on both occasions.
He vividly remembered having to actually drop his drawing pad to play mediator between the two, as a rather heated shouting match had begun between them.
Swallowing hard, he flipped the book closed. It would not do to dwell on people he could no longer reach.
Seamus was dead. And there was nothing that would change that.
Once again Dean began his methodical search for his broom, finally finding it amongst his haphazard possessions. He stood abruptly, drawing in a deep breath as he took a final glance at Seamus' empty bed.
His hands curled tightly around the unpolished, splintery wood of his broom.
"I'll take care of her," he whispered fiercely, eyes never leaving a spot where his best friend's ghost would, at least for him, always remain.
Drawing up his willpower he turned to the dormitory door, walking back out into the hall.
It was only then that he heard Neville's shouts, and his confused gaze once again followed his roommates, only this time the path led not to the rafter's, but to the girl's stairs.
And it was right then, at the exact same time that Hermione Granger made her decision hundreds of miles away, that he heard Ginny Weasley let out a soul-shattering scream.
Dean was over the wards, hexing the charms away from her locked door, and kicking it open within thirty seconds.
He was just in time to see her fiery, red-headed form collapse, her deep brown eyes rolling into the back of her skull.
Far off, at the same time, in Number 8 Grimmauld, a first year Slytherin was having dinner with her family, her tight blonde curls pulled up into a ponytail. She had no knowledge of Dean or the red-headed girl, and she was oblivious to the foreign memories flitting through her elder, golden-haired acquaintance's head. She was even oblivious to the powerful magic pulsating through a young, black-haired man's veins only two doors down.
Despite this, Tiffany was still afraid.
But not nearly afraid enough.
