"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."
~ Albert Einstein
Chapter 34 ~ Ginny & Neville Are Most Certainly NOT Alright!
ECOTS
It'd been over a week.
They were supposed to have been gone a day.
Finding a sick person had proven more difficult than anticipated. The outskirts were all but abandoned, and to get into Dublin meant running the risk of getting shot, even with their disillusionment charms. Military personnel in masks and hazmat gear guarded every entrance, many armed with heat detecting goggles.
Amarante had noticed those first, being the first to bark at them to all get the hell down. Apparently even a disillusionment charm couldn't fool those.They'd still see their heat signatures, and for some reason they were being used during the day.
Probably due to how cold it was. They'd be useful for spotting the ill and dying.
It was how the Muggles had kept the death toll from rising even higher. The government was hell-bent on their task: they wanted no one coming in, no one getting out, and no one outside period until the plague was contained, on orders of their president.
President Kenneth Bothan.
Remus Lupin had filled them in on the man before they'd left the week prior. The man was apparently amicable, kind. The Order had dealings with him before. They'd convinced him that the previous attacks on his family had been a first strike, an attempt by an evil wizard to start a World War.
The man had believed them, and done his part to prevent it erupting. Like Professor Lupin had said, he was apparently kind.
Sheltering beneath a bridge littered with the wreckage of abandoned vehicles, her hair blowing fiercely every time the wind gusted, Ginny had trouble picturing a kindly soul being in charge of all of this.
And that was without mentioning the Death Eaters.
Neville had spotted them first, cleverly disguised as Muggles, but he recognized two from Hogsmeade. One of the had been the one to knock him out in the end.
They too were armed, with guns.
Ginny knew full well that their wands were also stashed on them. The Muggles probably had no idea that the whole cause of this entire debacle hid amongst them. But why would they? They didn't exactly know about the wizarding world.
"What the hell happened here?" It was the thousandth time one of them had asked that question, Neville being the one to growl it this time. It was a fair question. Dublin's outskirts didn't look quarantined; it looked like a war zone.
Abandoned, frost-covered vehicles lay along the main roads, and in many places off the roads, as far as the eye could see. It was like all the occupants of Dublin had tried to flee at the same time, bottlenecking and dying all at once.
The stench was slightly less here. Most of the bodies had already been burnt, tossed into massive funeral pyres by the military.
They could only tell this from the remnants of charred bones they'd stumbled upon.
The four of them hid in a rather large drainage ditch beneath a low bridge, several flipped over cars within it. The poor occupants had still been inside when their cars had gone off road, falling several meters. They could only tell by the remains of a severed hand.
It was enough to make bile rise in her throat. "Why," Ginny choked out, "is everybody armed?"
"Not normal," Amarante muttered, looking disturbed. "Ireland's peaceful. Citizens aren't armed. If this were Texas maybe…"
"Leave Texas out of this," countered Professor Gai, spotting her, Amarante and Neville's disbelieving looks. "What? They have good ribs."
Amarante snorted, his warm breath misting in the frigid air. Neville just furrowed his brow and returned his attention to looking for a way in.
Ginny just wanted to stay warm. Wrapping her fingers around a rusted piece of scrap metal she met Neville Longbottom's light brown gaze with her own. "We have to try something," she whispered heatedly, hearing a military truck called a Humvee rolling overhead. Pieces of debris rumbled, dust raining down on where they hid as she pressed, "The rest of the Order probably thinks we're all dead by now." Her mum probably did.
Neville scowled. "Think they'll have erected us all tombstones by now," he dryly muttered, "or that they'll wait another week?"
Ginny smacked his arm, irritated. Over the course of the past week his demeanor had grown darker and darker. Any traces of the nervous Neville that had taken her to the Triwizard's Gala had rapidly evaporated. "Not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be," he muttered, looking past her to where Professor Gai and Amarante were hiding behind a flipped over truck. "Considering it might be true in a week."
Ginny scowled darkly, refocusing on the task at hand. They'd scouted this location before, several times now, but they'd not gotten this close before.
It was hard to pick when the worst time to try to sneak past the barriers to Dublin would be. During the day the guards and Death Eaters in disguise would be able to see them easier. Even if they were disillusioned, the Death Eaters were sure to spot the tracks they'd leave in the snow coating the ground everywhere. There was no way around that.
And if they tried to sneak in at night the heat detecting goggles would definitely pick them out in the cold, January landscape, disillusioned or not.
They were officially desperate.
The only good thing about all of this was that their first experiment, the stray dog, had went well. It'd taken two vials of every potion, but the last one had worked.
Ginny had informed the others that the dog would be coming back with them. But first they'd have to get past these guards to test the cure on an actual human.
"I still don't get it," she muttered seriously. "We haven't seen anyone other than these guards and the dog. I thought people were supposed to be sick? Wouldn't they be looking for help? Someone at least?"
"Maybe they found it, and it wasn't the kind of help they were looking for," Neville muttered forebodingly.
Tres looked unamused. "That's what worries me."
In the cold Ginny just shot him a skeptical look. "Didn't you used to be positive? Tres Gai?" That's what his name meant wasn't it? Very happy?
"Cruel parents," Neville muttered, ignoring the look the two Gai brothers shot him.
The DADA Professor merely shook his head. "Fair go, Ms. Weasley. Not exactly a jovial time when surrounded by bingles," gesturing curtly at the wrecked vehicle he was behind, "and the dead. When we get back I assure you, I'll be more than happy to smile. In fact, I will show you how to do an Irish jig. For now though, let's just concentrate on getting inside."
At Hogwarts the DADA Professor had struck her as so giddy that he had seemed borderline incompetent. It actually scared her a bit, seeing him acting more serious. She was starting to understand now while Dumbledore had thought he could be a good professor.
Too bad he hadn't been as serious at Hogwarts.
"Screw this," Neville suddenly muttered, slipping out from behind one of the many abandoned vehicles, ducking low and disappearing.
Tres frowned. "Where does he think he's going?"
Ginny hissed through her teeth, squinting against the surprisinglybright gray sky to try to pick Neville out amidst the snow covered, debris-laden landscape. It looked like giants had staged a war with Muggle cars. This really wasn't how she had pictured a quarantined city to look.
Another tendril of black smoke had begun to curl into the sky, rising high on the other side of the barricade. How could there possibly be more bodies to burn?
And that was when Ginny saw where Neville had gone. He was crouched near a sharp turn in the road, hiding behind yet another abandoned vehicle, a Humvee approaching, slowing to avoid sliding on the ice thickly coating the ground.
What happened next happened fast.
As the Humvee slowed, Neville Longbottom threw himself with shocking speed, skidding on the thick ice and sliding beneath the vehicle, rolling and snagging onto the bottom of it.
A second later he'd pulled himself up into its undercarriage, disappearing from sight in a blur of disturbed snow.
Ginny could only gape as it approached the barricade's gap, the driver questioned, before being waved inside.
Neville had gotten into Dublin.
The Dada Professor let out a quiet, gleeful-sounding cackle, "Now that's a Gryffindor! I'm not even sure I can do that." His hand dropped firmly on her shoulder, whispering and sounding almost jolly, "Now, Ms. Weasley, I will smile."
Amarante flipped his wand in hand, not bothering to restrain his grin as he echoed Neville's words from a week prior.
"Let's do this."
ECOTS
Remus Lupin had managed to avoid her for the better part of the week. Her of course was Nymphadora.
Ever since she'd kissed him it'd been all he could think about.
Naturally, given the situation – the war, his werewolf status, Voldemort's unbelievably slow recruiting of all known werewolves, and the potion he'd taken from Lucius Malfoy that had given him that minor issue of a lust for human flesh – he couldn't justify it being a good idea.
After all, he liked Tonks. He didn't want to accidentally eat Tonks.
Years ago, he'd already killed someone he'd loved. It'd been an accident, through his own foolish pride. He'd thought he could keep Cassilyda safe. He'd kept his werewolf status from her.
He'd, of course, been wrong.
So, given that Tonks was officially haunting his dreams – very good dreams – he'd taken to avoiding her.
He'd thrown himself into the war effort. So, so many more Muggles, and even wizards, had died in the past week. Severus had been correct.
The plague was spreading at an exponential rate. Even wizarding areas in the U.K. had turned into verifiable ghost towns from the fear alone.
Besides, he was on edge as it was. Ever since he'd received the cryptic owl invite to meet with the other werewolves during the Hogsmeade attack, and ever since Dumbeldore had asked him to accept it for the good of the Order, he'd been on edge.
Naturally it hadn't been an invitation without teeth. Lucious Malfoy had forced him into a corner: drink the vial that would give him a desire for human flesh, or die. It really had been a test, to see if he was sick of the wizarding world's prejudice, to see if he was ready to join them.
They still didn't trust him. He'd heard nothing since.
Snape was allegedly working on a cure for that recently acquired bloodlust, but until then he'd be avoiding Nymphadora like the plague, and he'd been doing an admirable job of it.
Which was why it was somewhat surprising to arrive home, to find her sitting cross legged on his bed, going through an old photo album.
"You know Wolfy, I think I like this one of you," she greeted, holding up a photograph of he and Sirius with identical antennae growing out of their ears. Charms class had gone rather wrong, so they'd documented the occasion.
Tossing his cloak over a chair, he found himself begrudgingly repeating a question that was becoming somewhat common with her. "How," he grunted, "did you get past the wards?"
She just smiled sweetly at him. "I'm a fully qualified Auror, Remy. Plus," she continued, "Bill." Weasley. He'd have to have a talk with that cursebreaker. He didn't need anyone else in kahoots with her. Dealings with Nymphadora were already akin to wrangling a rabid shark as it was.
As it was Remus Lupin stared at her for a moment, unamused. "I'm going to have to move." She kept breaking into his house. It was the obvious solution.
"Of course you are," she placated, "but until then…" she tapped a place on the bed next to her, grinning maniacally.
"Tonks," he stated, as if talking to an unruly child or perhaps a bad puppy that had just chewed its owner's new slippers, "no."
She positively pouted, "Whyever not? I have told you how flexible I am?"
Remus was not a man prone to violent urges, or even strong urges of any kind, but when she proceeded to stretch her leg out first over and then behind her head, he found two warring voices in his skull: one urging him to hex her – it'd only hurt her a little – and the other urging him to take her up on her offer – he deserved a little fun.
He was fairly certain that last voice was Padfoot's. Sirius always had been such a bad influence.
"Did the small fact that there is a war going on," he instead questioned, exhibiting award-winning control, "escape your attention?"
"All the more reason," she mused aloud, now getting comfortable on his duvet, her hair bright blue with pink streaks today as she waved her hand airily around. "That whole 'seize the carp' thing."
"Carpe diem," he corrected, rethinking the whole 'hex her' idea.
"Yes! That's the one." Tonks now was fully laying on his bed, stretched out like a common house cat. The metamorphmagus grinned at him.
"Tonks," he groaned, "I could accidentally eat you."
Her grin was full on wicked. "Now that's the-"
Immediately he interrupted her, "Nymphadora, at what point did you cease to understand negative responses?"
"Kingsley's of the opinion that I am actually missing that entire portion of my brain."
Remus groaned. In his time he'd faced down Death Eaters, a werewolf, students, the Ministry of Magic, Severus Snape, a traitor of a best friend, and a multitude of dark creatures, yet he'd never had as much trouble as he was now, currently facing down one Nymphadora Tonks.
Abruptly Tonks sat up on his bed and looked at him more seriously. Remus still had not moved from where he stood, leaning against the windowsill. "Remus Lupin," she half snapped, "what is the matter with you? Do you or do you not like me?"
Remus was fairly certain that his internal organs had all decided to clench up at the same time. Like? It occurred to him how very incorrect she was. "My…feelings for you have very little to do with this particular situa-"
"Hodge podge, Remus," Tonks was off his bed, hands on both of her hips. It took him a second to tear his eyes off the neon green, form fitting leggings she currently wore. "Those feelings of yours have quite a bit to do with it actually."
He had always been an excellent student, but he should have paid better attention in Ancient Runes rather than goofing off with James, Sirius and Peter at the back of the class. Had he done so his wards would have been better, and he wouldn't now be facing down a petite, gorgeous Auror that wanted him.
Feeling somewhat stiff and tense, he grimaced. "Beg to disagree, Nymphadora." Ignoring her wince at the hated name, he continued, "You know as well as I that the last time I was involved with someone they died at my own claws. And that was before I had been gifted with this desire for raw meat that you continue to trivialize."
"One day Remus you are going to have to forgive yourself for that," she countered hotly, green eyes narrowing. "Do you seriously think she'd have wanted you wallowing and celibate for the rest of your life?"
Tonks was one of the few people who he'd divulged his long and torrid history to, right down to the death of his fiancée. It was a fact that he now regretted. Had he not done so previously, he could have brought up that dark moment for the first time. With any luck it would have traumatized the witch and sent her running.
As it was, since she'd had a chance to process all of that while they'd just been friends, it didn't flummox her at all.
"Cassilyda also," Tonks pressed, taking a bare footed step closer to him – where were her shoes? – eyeing him with a glint of annoyance, "wasn't a full-fledged Auror, fully capable of handling herself."
She was right. Cassilyda hadn't been an Auror. She'd been a shopkeeper. "I fail to see how one's profession has anything to do with this," he argued stiffly.
Tonks ignored him with practiced skill. "Did I also mention," stepping closer, "that I had full marks in Care of Magical Creatures?"
Remus made an annoyed sound. "Again, a non-relevant point."
She just grinned at him. "Nope, Wolfy, I disagree. You see, you never did say you didn't like me."
"I despise the ground you walk on," he quipped immediately, assessing his situation. Tonks was still a few paces off, which might give him enough time to break through the glass of his bedroom window and jump.
If anything his rebuttal seemed to make her happier, the witch's lips remaining in a tantalizing grin. "Of course you do Remy, you haven't cleaned in here for days. But I don't see what your bedroom floor has to do with me."
The witch was impossible. Remus had to bring out the big guns. Glowering down he drummed his fingers on the windowsill. "I am not," he growled, "attracted to you, Nymphadora."
Her finger was out, poking him in the chest. "Not. Nice. Remus. You're going to pay for that one."
Salazar. He'd lost his chance to jump. "That mean you're leaving?" He couldn't tell if he sounded hopeful that she'd say yes and bid him adieu or hopeful that she'd stay.
"As if."
Remus Lupin felt his heart pounding. The witch was clearly insane. Beautiful and insane. She couldn't possibly mean that she truly wanted him. He had never been debonair. In fact, with his tattered, used clothing and many scars he was the antithesis of that. Whereas Tonks was youthful, vibrant, skin as smooth as any he'd ever seen…
This was obviously just a phase.
That phase's fingers were crawling up the front of his robes, the gentlest of pressures felt against his chest, Remus stuck where he was against the windowsill. "Tonks…"
"This might actually go better," she suggested mischievously, "if you don't talk." Tonks fingers gave the top button of his shirt a pointed flick, Remus fairly certain that his arms had stopped working; otherwise he would have stopped her. "You always were such a square."
A second button was undone, Remus still watching her, unable to do anything to stop her, to stop this. He didn't want to. "I am not," he disputed, "a square."
Outside a flock of birds flew past, sending shadows racing through the window across Tonks' visage. It was obvious he wasn't thinking, because his hand rose abruptly, finding the side of her face, his fingers going stiff as the intelligent part of his brain rethought what he was doing.
The contented murmur she instantly made though, and the way her face leaned against his hand…
She flicked open a third button, raising a challenging eyebrow.
That was all he could take.
Remus grabbed her with a carnivorous growl, Tonks' giddy yelp loud enough for even the birds outside to hear.
Somewhere in the depths of his mind, the parts of Sirius and James that lived on laughed.
ECOTS
Ginny's shoulder bashed into the frozen ground, and it bashed down hard.
She hadn't fallen off the Humvee gracefully. First, she'd had to wait for it to stop. Then she'd had to wait until the occupants had gotten out of it and walked away. Then she'd had to give them another sixty or so seconds to make sure they weren't still within eyeshot.
By the time she'd let go, her arms were shaking violently and she felt like she'd just run a marathon.
A strong hand snagged her, yanking her up. "Come on Ginny, I thought you Quidditch players were tough," Neville remarked, a trace of humor on his otherwise serious expression.
The red head brushed his hand off, shooting him a glare. He wasn't even looking at her to appreciate her effort. Instead he was scanning the area they'd wound up in.
It looked like a completely deserted city: vehicles were abandoned, trash uncollected, and once again that stench.
A steady dripping could be heard. It wasn't until Ginny looked down that she saw the source.
"You're bleeding, Neville!" she whispered, dropping down by his feet to inspect.
Her housemate seemed unconcerned. "It's not that bad."
When they got out of here Ginny was going to positively bat boogey hex him. Right now she was rooting around in her jacket for a pressure bandage. "It might not be that bad but it could still get infected here." The rash idiot had obviously cut himself under the Humvee.
It took her all of 60 seconds to hit it with a sterilizing charm that Professor Gai had actually taught in class, sealing it with a waterproof dressing. The cut wasn't large, but it wouldn't take much to let the plague into the body.
She really wanted to kick Neville for seeming so unconcerned.
Professor Gai, whom had been impatiently bouncing around, was already gesturing for them to move, chameleon charms cast as they all got into line, sticking to the alleyways to be doubly cautious. Every so often Ginny could hear the crinkling of their map being consulted, Amarante calmly directing them from the cross street they'd wound up at and towards the nearest hospital.
St. Jame's Hospital wasn't what they'd expected.
The building was somewhat low to the ground, a rather modern, almost artistic entrance greeting them. It was all beautiful lines and glass, the city's old world buildings meeting new world architecture. Curved gray bricks stretched out from its doorway in an almost wave-like pattern, almost like a smile.
None of that caught Ginny's attention though
The ground to roof glass of the entire entryway was shattered, broken glass sprinkled across the bricks like surreal, reflective pieces of sadistic glitter. An ambulance sat out front, its back doors open, swinging and creaking in the winter wind. Blood could be seen coating its interior, black pus staining the sheets of an abandoned gurney, an IV line and its tubing hanging halfway out of the ambulance.
And just inside the entryway lay the abandoned, frozen body of a child.
It looked like it had been a little boy, younger than a first year. The kid's skin had gone black with frostbite, the weather having taken its toll on the remains.
The body's fingers had been clutching a tiny toy duck.
Ginny's throat spasmed, it all she could do to manage the sudden gagging. Or perhaps she was crying, she couldn't even be sure. Neville moved in alongside her, finding her despite the chameleon charms on them, his arm wrapping around her shoulders for a quick moment, squeezing her hard. "It's not okay," he stated emotionlessly, "but there's nothing we can do."
She desperately wanted to wipe at her eyes again, but the bubblehead charm made that impossible. She also didn't want to touch her T zone. McGonagall, Lupin, and Professor Gai had all expounded upon how that, a simple eye wipe here, a scratch of the nose here, a misplaced hand while coughing there, could potentially expose them.
And then they would die if the immunity spell had not worked.
"That poor boy." Tres had approached the entrance, boots crunching against the strewn glass as he stared at the child.
"I think the reports coming in from Dublin obviously down played the intensity of the situation."
"Obviously."
"Either that, or it's gotten considerably worse."
The youngest Weasley concentrated on her breathing. She was shaking. How could the reports have down played things? They had been horrific enough. And yet….here they were, not a living soul in sight.
"How are we going to find," Amarante stated, giving a piece of glass an irritated kick, sounding unmoved and actually annoyed, "someone still alive here?"
And that was when the dead child's hand twitched.
ECOTS
"You what?!"
Tonks shot Kinglsey a manic grin, both of her feet propped up on the table at Number 12 Grimmauld. "I slept," she stated, as if this were a perfectly normal breakfast conversation, "with Remus."
Her boss, the Head Auror of the entire Ministry of Magic, let out a loud groan and looked like he was going to vomit.
They were waiting to speak with Minerva about dire plague matters, and Tonks had felt that a bit of good news was in order. After all, she didn't want Kingsley getting depressed about the world's presently poor overall state.
"You okay, Kinsley?" she asked, feigning concern. "You're looking a little green."
"Do the phrases," he stated, as if afraid of the answer, "too much information and personal lives staying out of the office mean anything to you?"
She made a negating murmur. "Perhaps if you translated them? I always was rubbish at foreign languages, Kinglsey."
The man shot up from the table and dropped his bagel. "I've lost my appetite."
Tonks snatched it up and took a large bite of it, chewing thoughtfully before making a face. "Cream cheese? At this time of day?" Making a tisking sound, she persisted, "Really Shacklebolt, I thought we were watching your cholesterol."
Her boss made a disgruntled sound and stormed out of the kitchen. Fleur Delacour, who had been sitting at the table as well, sent a curious look after him. "Ze British men…do zey all have zis aversion to discussing zeir sex lives?"
Tonks shot her a grin and took another bite of her bagel. "Like you wouldn't believe." There was very little that could affect her currently giddy mood. She'd woken up with Remus, and despite him partaking in more of his self-deprecating talk the morning had gone surprisingly well.
He had, for instance, stopped threatening to flee the country and move.
"So," Fleur said curiously, "zis Remus, how vas he in the sack?"
Tonks' eyes widened in utter delight. Yanking her feet off the table so quickly that she nearly knocked over the orange juice, she leaned forward, eager to spill details about what an animal Remus was, in multiple senses, only to be interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open.
Kingsley was being forced back inside, Remus the one bodily shoving him. Wolfy took the opportunity to also shoot her a seriously annoyed look. "You broke Kingsley."
Knowing exactly what he was talking about, given that she could see that wildly concerning vein twitching in her boss' forehead, she drummed her fingers on the table top. "What," she questioned innocently, "I had to tell someone?"
"Half of London?"
Tonks pouted. "Yes, I chased you for over a year. You're lucky I didn't take out a circular in the local paper."
Remus just groaned, straying towards the opposite side of the kitchen, moving far away from where she and Fleur sat, eyeing her as if she were a recent Azkaban parolee.
She just smiled, twiddling her fingers and grinning pointedly at him.
Remus could protest about why it was a bad idea all he wanted, because she swore that his mouth just twitched.
Before she could pursue her ritualistic torturing of Remus-Wolfy-Lupin further, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Molly Weasley, Mundungus, and Mad Eye all swarmed in, quickly followed by Minerva.
The head of Gryffindor house looked around, eyes almost eratic. "This was all I could gather on a short notice," she said, looking like her nerves were somewhat frayed and cutting straight to it. "I received word from Albus and I am afraid it is as he had feared."
Instantly some of the levity drained right out of her, Tonks' good mood spoiling.
She sat up much straighter, both her and Fleur listening.
Dumbledore wasn't really still recovering. They'd told Harry that, and the other students, but he'd actually recovered within only a few weeks. They'd only lied to the students so that the Ministry of Magic and others wouldn't catch wind of the fact that Albus was alive, well, and mobile. The lie had to be believable.
Instead, Dumbledore had been out on his own mission, trying to find proof of something he'd suspected ever since Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter had wound up in the Chamber of Secrets with Voldemort's school diary, years ago.
"Voldemort," the acting Headmistress stated grimly, "has created horcruxes."
"Move, move, move!"
The door careened shut behind them, Ginny landing hard on the floor, the bottom of her jeans tearing away in that thing's fingers.
"Did it scratch you?!" Professor Gai demanded, bodily throwing himself against the door
as something powerful crashed into it. The impact nearly threw the DADA Professor off his feet, and it would have, had it not been for his brother launching himself at the door as well, both of them straining desperately to hold it shut.
On the other side of the entry something was attempting to beat the door down.
It was all they could do to keep the thing out.
"Ginerva! Did it scratch you?" Now it was Amarante, the Australian wizard throwing both hands against the door and digging his feet into the sawdust covered floor, trying not to slip with each subsequent hit the entrance took.
She was already scrambling, pulling her jean leg up, hands still gloved, brown eyes searching her skin for any sign. Any scratch. Any pinprick of blood…
Only pale, smooth skin stared back.
Heart about beating out of her chest she quickly shook her head. "I'm clean!"
"Neville! Check her!"
BOOM!
Ginny's mouth literally fell open, realization dawning on her. With this plague they weren't about to trust her.
Neville had slid down by her a second later, grabbing at her leg and almost flipping her over as he inspected. "Sorry Ginny," was barely mumbled, her house mate's gaze so intense she scarcely recognized it.
A second later he'd dropped her leg, affirming, "She's clean!" Neville's wand was then levelled at the door, "Colloportus!" boomed, a locking charm slamming into the door just above Tres' head.
So powerful was the spell that the door frame actually dented out.
Both of the Gai brothers ducked. "Oh yes!" Tres snapped, light brown hair slung in his eyes, "Don't worry about me I'll get my own head out of the way of your hex!" Their feet were digging into the ground, both of the grown wizards looking beyond strained.
"You think that's going to work?" Amarante practically shouted over the thunderous assault occurring. "It's undead. I don't think it cares about locks!" The entire wall shook.
Neville half growled, throwing his hands out angrily. "Well at least I'm doing something!"
Amarante's bitter laugh was as cold as the frigid temperatures biting at them. "This thing will tear the door right off its hinges and throw it like it's no more than an irritating fly before a locking charm works!"
"Way to stay positive, bro," Professor Gai grunted, face turning alarmingly red from exertion.
"Well at least I didn't point out that it could also do that with our heads ya dingle."
Ginny made an upset sound, scrambling off the workshop's dusty, freezing ground. They'd ran here, to the nearest building, bursting through the first windowless doorway they'd found. Even that had barely been enough to keep them away from that child.
When the dead kid's hand had twitched they'd all had a second of hope that they'd been wrong, that the boy was still alive, just in very bad shape.
They'd been wrong.
The undead child had begun to move, its movements disjointed for a few seconds, the kid impervious to the glass digging into and sticking out of its body. As it had gotten up the burst boils could be seen on its face and arm, nothing natural about it. Ginny had almost gone to the kid, but Neville had placed a vice grip on her, preventing her from going anywhere near it.
That move had saved her life, because the second it was fully upright it had turned its unseeing stare on them, teeth clacking as if it were hungry.
It'd lunged so fast that Professor Gai's blasting hex was the only thing to save them, taking it in the chest and throwing it far back into the remains of the building.
They'd run, but even with that head start it had caught up to them.
Now that dead kid was almost tearing off the door.
"What is it? An inferi?" Ginny questioned, wand trained on the door, wracking her mind in a panic for something that could reinforce it.
"That thing is not an inferi!" Amarante shouted, needing to in order to be heard over the bludgeoning the door was taking. "They fear the light and it's broad daylight out! It wouldn't have chased us if that was the case. Not in sunshine!"
"Not to mention there's the miniscule fact that it's stronger than one!" Tres chimed in, twisting his wand around and muttering an incantation that would keep the wooden door from at least splintering in half.
"Then what is it?" Neville demanded, searching the room they were in for another exit. "A zombie?" The room was large, but very little was in it other than a bunch of workbenches, circular metal things with teeth on them, half-made tables, a giant metal box and sink, and things that looked like torture equipment that Death Eaters would use for interrogations.
This was how Muggles made tables?
"Seriously is it a zombie?" Neville's second demand broke through the booming noise, his breath misting coldly as it met the frigid air.
Her own fingers felt numb around her wand. "No, those are supposed to be slow," Ginny recalled, remembering from Defense Against the Dark Arts. "There's a whole colony of them in the United States."
BOOM.
Neville rounded on them. "Then what the hell is it?"
"A new and improved type of zombie?" Amarante hazarded, wincing as another bang nearly knocked them both from their feet. "I don't think this door's gonna last."
Neville cursed, Ginny spotting something in the corner. That large and very heavy looking Muggle box, and it looked like a great thing to shove in front of the doorway while they made their escape elsewhere, particularly given that it was metal.
Ginny rushed it, the thing feeling cold. "Neville-" she threw back, but he was already with her.
"Tres, Amarante, move on my count," Neville ordered, wand already leveled at the doorway. "We'll switch the frigaraderdor out for you two." BANG! "Ginny, you know to-"
"Yeah!" she snapped, ready to hex something. She didn't take kindly to being almost eaten.
The Gai brothers had braced themselves, waiting and straining to keep the door shut.
"One!"
BANG!
"Two!"
Despite the reinforcement charm, the door actually splintered, pieces of wood flying out.
"Three!"
The two Gai brothers dove violently away from the door, Neville bellowing a blocking charm to try to keep the creature where it was, Ginny furiously shouting the moving charm and throwing the industrial sized frigaraderdor towards the door to block it with an almighty screech of metal-
The blockade didn't get there fast enough. The door flew off the hinges before it could, the dead child bolting inside, as if solid objects were less physical obstacles and more states of mind that only affected the living.
Neville's hex directly to its chest was the only thing that blocked it, even for a second-
The freezer slammed into it a second later, flipping on its side, the kid beneath it, crushed.
The frigaraderdor's main door dropped open, thudding against the cement, and instantly the loud, thunderous assault became silent. All four wizards stared at the place where that thing had been, the freezer now in its place, food spilling out of it everywhere.
The creature had been so cold and brittle that the force of impact alone, one it was not inflicting, had caused one of its legs to break off, sliding across the room and landing to rest by the now gaping hole that had once held a door. Outside it the snow swirled.
Ginny stood where she was, shaking like a leaf, furious.
The thing's head now lay crushed beneath the freezer. In the aftermath they could only stare at it.
"What was that?!" Ginny snapped, regaining a sense of herself and repeating the question of the year.
"Mutant zombie from Mars?" Tres macabrely jested, nothing funny about it at all in Ginny's opinion.
Neville snapped out a word that would have earned them fifty points from Gryffindor. "Why in the hell," he demanded, everything still frighteningly silent, "would anyone run from these things for fun?!"
For lack of anything better to ask, Ginny swallowed. "What do you mean," she stated slowly, as if contemplating whether or not people could possibly be that stupid, "for fun?" It was silent outside, and it was silent inside. That fact alone suddenly made her very, very afraid.
"Terror Tours," he explained, already heading towards the entrance and looking outside, scouting for other friendlies. The toe of his shoe just barely touched the snow outside. "We talked about them in Muggle Studies. It's a tour company. They take imbecilic wizards on hiking trails in the Southern part of the U.S. so they get the 'pleasurable thrill,'" using air quotes, "of experiencing zombies in the wild."
"Yeah but those zombies can't chase this fast." Amarante had cautiously approached the zombie's remains, picking up a broken off table leg and poking it to make sure it didn't start moving again. "They were more fun."
Both Ginny and Neville stopped what they were doing, pausing to stare.
"What?" Amarante looked somewhat confused, his wand lifting in helpless gesture. "We were in Texas and got bored."
"Those U.S. versions aren't this strong either." Tres spotted the looks they were now shooting him, hastily adding, "Did we mention that we were very, very bored?'
Ginny hissed under her breath, her breath now misting in front of her nose, realizing that she was in the hands of men. "Mutants? Faster? Stronger? Well aren't we the lucky ones."
"Yeah well, at least we know why the city was so deserted."
"And why they were burning the bodies."
Now it was Ginny's turn to swear.
"Ten points," Tres said absently, scouting towards the rear of the room.
Ginny just gaped at him. "Seriously?! How come Neville didn't get docked?"
"Fine, twenty points from Gryffindor."
"Guys," Neville interjected, "let's talk about this later. I'm thinking with all that noise, if there were any other ones nearby they would have heard that."
Immediately every single one of them went very still.
Then, as if on cue, they all heard something moving on the floor above them, clearly awoken by the cacophony they'd just made.
ECOTS
He'd been summoned.
A piece of enchanted parchment had pecked at the common room door until someone had let it in, the magicked paper missive immediately finding him.
Harry had spent the past week in a whirl of training. McGonagall had upped the ante on the Room of Requirement's group battle sessions. Just before Ginny and Neville had left they'd finally mastered the flash-flood shield charm desert simulation, so the Professor had moved he, Hermione, Ron and Luna on to shield charms whilst under replicated Death Eater fire.
No one needed to tell them surviving that could be a matter of life or death.
Ron had almost mastered the werewolf transformation at will. He'd had three full moons in which to practice the real thing under Wolfsbane, with Lupin's help. Doing it whenever he wanted had proven a bit more tricky.
He, Hermione and even Luna had simply poured over everything they could find on the animagi spell. McGonagall may have looked away, mumbling about an urgent matter with a student while they had been in the library one evening. Then, as she'd gotten up to abruptly leave their study session, the Professor's wand had accidentally slipped, undoing the magicked latch to the restricted section of the library.
Her pointed throat clearing had made it obvious what she'd like them to do. Between him and the two Ravenclaws they'd combed through every book they could, checking some 'out' without exactly getting permission.
Ron had also tried to help, but he'd instead managed to nearly get eaten by three books in a row before declaring that he was out.
Kaylens was back to spending most of her time in the Potions lab. The only new thing was that she was also training with McGonagall and Hermione.
Harry wasn't exactly a fan of that piece. The acting Headmistress had taken to having Kaylens 'draw' on simulated Death Eaters every three days, allegedly trying to build up her magical endurance.
Harry had found her collapsed on the couch looking rather gray after one of those sessions, and Hermione's claim that she was improving wasn't exactly a major comfort.
Now an enchanted paper missive, shaped like a flying crane, flew right up to him and pecked his ear hard. "Ow!" Harry shot the thing a malevolent look, trying to grab it several times before he actually succeeded. The thing was quick.
And it was summoning him to McGonagall's acting office, while Dumbledore was still out.
No one was telling them about Dumbledore, Order members or not, and it was beginning to piss Harry off. What also pissed Harry off was the fact that no one had told him the new password to the tower, leaving him to spend twenty minutes tossing out the name of every magical and Muggle candy that he could think of.
He finally landed on it with Snickers. Great. McGonagall preferred Muggle candies.
Stomping up the spiral castle stairway and not even trying to mask how irritated he was, he found himself face-to-face with the doorknocker, which looked just as pleased to see him as he was to see it.
"Oh," Crusantheus groaned, its brass mouth opening in a bored yawn, "it's you again."
For a half-second Harry debated the merits of hexing Dumbledore's doorknocker, instead settling on giving it a threatening look. "Professor McGonagall asked me here."
"Every time you come up here, the entire office gets torn up. Do you know what that loud banging does to metal? It echoes, and I'm made of metal! I had headaches for weeks!"
Harry gave in to baser urges and lifted his fist to try to knock the hell out of the caustic thing, but it raised the actual handle and abruptly blocked him. "No need! Go in! Sick of getting my head bashed in by you brutes. He's expecting you anyway."
Before Harry even could ask what brutes the doorknocker was referring to or who was expecting him, since the last time he'd checked McGonagall was very much a she, it swung open.
Dumbledore sat at his desk, half-moon spectacles twinkling, looking very much as if he hadn't been out of commission for several months. "Why hello, Harry."
Harry froze before he could even enter. Dumbledore was alright. Harry had been pissed the Order hadn't been telling him anything, worried about the Headmaster, and now here he sat, right in front of him, looking a healthy as ever. "You're alright," he said dumbly.
"Why yes, it seems quite so. Though," the aged wizard said, somewhat more stoically, "I am afraid that I cannot say the same thing for the fate of my glasses." Giving the ones now resting on the bridge of his nose, he told, "These, dear Harry, are new."
Harry blinked.
"I went," the Headmaster persisted, "with green this time."
Teetering in the doorway, torn between the office and the spiral stairwell, Harry suddenly found that he was having a very hard time not directing his anger towards the wizard. He'd been worried about him, there'd been a plague going on, Ginny and Neville could be dead by now, and apparently Dumbledore had been picking out a new pair of glasses.
"I thought," Harry stated, not bothering to hide the hint of anger in his tone, "you'd died and they just weren't telling us."
Dumbledore offered a weary smile. "I'm afraid that I have been quite well." An aged, powerful hand rose, wand flicking and summoning two glasses of water. "Please Harry, have a seat. We have much to discuss."
With no other choice Harry entered the office, making sure to give Crustantheus a good hard knock with his fist on the way in, getting his knuckles grazed by the thing's metal teeth for his efforts.
Smashing the door knocker's teeth in would be well worth the bite marks.
"Why does everyone always do that!?" the doorknocker griped, jerking and swinging the door closed with a resounding whomp.
Disgruntled sounds drifted in after him, the words surly swine rather prominent.
Harry just angrily shook out his now bleeding fist, ignoring the slight smarting of it from the brass teeth. "What do you mean you've been well?" he demanded, not sitting yet. "Everyone thought you were injured and still recovering." It was said like an accusation.
"Oh I was Harry, I was," Dumbledore assured, wandlessly gesturing and sending the chair across from him sliding out in pointed invitation. "And I assure you, it was three of the most grueling weeks of bed rest in my life. However, I do hope that you never become so experienced in such matters as to have the plethora of comparative experiences that I have, in which you can then compare which bed rest time frame was the worst."
Harry stared, his jaw very tense as he debated whether or not to stay. Finally he reluctantly took a seat. He was glad to see Dumbledore. He really did feel relieved, but he didn't like where this implication was heading. If Dumbledore was alive and well, and had only been on bed rest for three weeks, then- "Then where have you been?"
The Headmaster merely sighed. "I apologize for the deception, Harry. I felt, that it was indeed, necessary." Summoning an old looking book, the nearest portrait shrieking and diving for cover as it zoomed past it and directly into Dumbledore's outstretched hand, the wizard continued, "We could not allow anyone to know that I was alive and well, on my feet, or the search I partook in may have been jeopardized."
"Search?" Harry eyed the most recently summoned item, starting to feel even more edgy. Amidst the baubles and buzzing trinkets on Dumbledore's desk now sat a tattered book, pages half torn out, a prominent and gaping hole right in the middle.
On the desk now lay the scattered and torn remnants of Tom Riddle's diary.
Instantly everything about that day flew back. Ginny. Young Tom Riddle. The basilisk. Getting bit. Dying, and then Fawkes healing him…
Alarm bells were going off in every part of his mind all at once.
"Water, Harry?" Dumbledore calmly levitated a glass of water towards him. "I dare say, we have much to discuss, and having a parched throat would be one of the many problems that we actually can solve at present."
Harry reluctantly took it, his grip on the glass stem so tight that it was a marvel it didn't snap. "What," he questioned, as if expecting Riddle to emerge out of the diary all over again, "is that thing doing here?"
The aged wizard before him sighed heavily. "It is what," he stated, "I wanted to discuss. You see Harry, I believe that you, you of all wizards, is owed a personal explanation, for I fear that an old man's mistakes may have doomed us." Adjusting his glasses, he requested, "If you would allow me to explain?"
Stiffly, Harry nodded. He actually took a sip of the water, for lack of anything else to do.
"When I was younger, Harry, new to my duties as Headmaster within Hogwarts, I fear that I made a grave mistake with Tom in my naivety." Dumbledore's normally twinkling blue eyes had lost something. "He had requested access to the restricted section, and as one of our best students I fear that I granted him it. I had rather hoped that his lust for power had been replaced by a lust for knowledge."
Shaking his head, he sadly continued, "I am rather afraid that I was mistaken. When I saw what books he had viewed, what they had contained," voice becoming more urgent, "I questioned him. I was assured it was for no more than a report on Dark Magic for his NEWT level DADA course, but by then it was too late. I had realized my error."
Placing a suddenly elderly looking hand on top of Tom Riddle's diary, the one that had corrupted Ginny Weasley, luring her into the Chamber of Secrets, he remorsefully told, "Tom had been researching horcruxes, Harry."
Something inside Harry's chest lurched. That name… "Like from those books you gave me to read?" There'd been several on the Dark Arts that Dumbledore had supplied him with, one in particular having listed every sort of dark and cursed item that a good wizard could imagine, and possibly ever need to destroy. He didn't remember the particulars of horcruxes, but he remembered that they were in one of those.
And that couldn't be good.
Dumbledore nodded, the line of his mouth drawn in uncharacteristic fashion.
"I'm…I don't remember everything it said," Harry admitted.
It was as if the mood of the entire office had fallen, portraits, baubles and normally active trinkets all going very still. "They are dark things, Harry. Dark objects created with the intentional purpose of living forever. But to do that…" Dumbledore broke off, tenor of his voice growing grave, "One must commit unspeakable acts to obtain such an end."
"We talking more unspeakable than normal?" Harry sarcastically demanded before he could stop himself. "Because when it comes to the standard for unspeakable, he's already set the bar pretty high." Starting not one but two wars, unleashing a plague to take out a good chunk of the Muggle population, corrupting the Ministry and his repeated attempts to take the wizarding world over through mass murder seemed a bit unbeatable in the unspeakable department.
Dumbledore merely frowned. "To create a horcrux, Harry, one must use dark magic…the darkest, and it must be performed while engaged in the act of taking another's life." Shaking his head, he pressed, "The effect is to fracture a piece off one's soul, a piece of it moving to occupy an object of choice forever, unless it is destroyed."
On the list of things Harry had expected Dumbledore to say, hearing that Voldemort had possibly fractured his soul into two pieces hadn't even made the top thousand. For a second he just sat there, processing that. Hell, he didn't even react. There had been too many horrific things that had occurred over the past few years for him to keep reacting every single time something terrible and world altering occurred. Finally…
"So, you're saying he checked out a book from the restricted section of the library," thinking of his own tucked away in the dorm and hidden with charms, "learned how to make a horcrux, and made one?"
Dumbledore looked almost sad. "I am afraid, Harry, that he made several." With a slow, smooth motion of the wand he flipped open the destroyed diary, pages turning so fast that the distinct sound of pages turning was actuallyloud for a moment.
The pages suddenly halted near the end. "I was researching his teenage musings here, and it appears that from Tom's studies in arithmacy that he was rather taken with a particular number. I fear…that he may have settled upon it, creating that number of horcruxes, so as to ensure his regime would never end."
Meeting Dumbledore's gaze, he looked between him and the book. Finally Harry leaned forward, looking down at the page. It took him a minute, scanning the overly articulate ramblings of what had grown to become a mad man before he saw it. Thirteen.
"Thirteen?" he blurted, looking up at the Headmaster. "You're telling me he split his soul thirteen times? How-how is that even possible?" Thinking it had been two would have been bad enough. Thirteen sounded insane.
Then again Voldemort was insane.
"I do not know for sure, Harry. One such as Tom, who is intelligent enough, paranoid enough, and afraid of death enough to create a horcrux would hardly leave a list of the ones he had made laying around. It would be the equivalent of leaving a 'how to kill me' guide for anyone to stumble upon. Though I have suspected, for some time now…" the man's eyes flickered to Harry's forehead, Harry instantly flattening his messy hair down over it out of habit, "that he has done so." Closing and holding up the diary, he continued, "Ever since you and Ginerva emerged from the Chamber of Secrets with this. I am afraid, Harry, that this was one of his horcruxes. It explains how his persona, what he thought, desired, was connected so intimately to it. It was because it was a part of him."
Harry's head physically hurt. If Voldemort hadn't already been bad, he'd somehow managed to get even worse. "So, what are you saying? That he can't die now?"
"Not unless all of the horcruxes are also killed first, or with him. It is why he failed to die so many years ago, when the killing curse rebounded from you to him."
Harry groaned. He actually groaned. Somehow he had expected that he'd have a different reaction to this kind of news. Helplessness, depression, tearing things apart maybe? Instead he just resignedly asked, "Then how do we find them, and how do we destroy them?"
"That, Harry," Dumbledore stated calmly, "is why I have been away these past two months. I was searching, looking for confirmation that he had indeed created horcruxes. I didn't want to assume. But to be sure…I had to first find a live one, an active one, one that you had not already personally destroyed." Looking at him with a whimsical smile, he gestured at the demolished diary.
Despite that Harry found himself grimacing, his fist clenching on thin air by his side. This seemed like the kind of conversation one had on a battlefield, not sitting down in a comfortable chair in a pristine office drinking water out of champagne flutes.
"You see, when a live horcrux is found, there will always be something dark about it, something harmful." Once more Dumbledore was looking at him strangely, Harry shifting uncomfortably. "They corrupt those they touch, anyone who dare draws near, twisting good men to commit unspeakable acts. They can curse those that come into contact with them, while others…will do their best to kill."
Harry really didn't like the way he was being looked at.
Any trace of whimsy swiftly vanished from the Headmaster's expression, the man leaning forward slightly. "I am afraid, Harry, that my worst fears have come to pass," he disclosed candidly. "He desires no less than the complete and total domination of our world. He seeks to not simply create a master race of wizarding kind, something I fear he has done to compensate for his own…inadequacies when it comes to his non-pureblood status, but he also desires to eliminate all those he deems unworthy."
"Muggles," Harry stated emotionlessly.
"Yes. He knew there were too many Muggles to do it by force, his own army too small, so instead he created the plague to do it for him, taking his object lessons from history. The black plague, avian flus…they were very effective in reducing the world's populace. Now he just seeks to do it in a more permanent way. I believe, once the dust settles, that he plans to overthrow the Ministry, so as to control our world thereafter. The horcruxes, in his eyes, were a necessary evil that had to be done, to ensure that he survived all of it to usher in the new world of wizardry, so that he could lead it."
"He sounds," Harry dryly muttered, "a bit busy for that. What with the whole mass murder of the world's majority and all."
Dumbledore offered him only a tired smile. "If only, Harry."
Processing all of that, Harry finally grimaced. "So that's where you've been then? All this time, looking for proof that he had made horcruxes?"
Within the many frames adoring the walls, the portraits stirred uneasily. "I am afraid," the Headmaster said gravely, "that I found the proof I was looking for." The fingers of his left hand uncurled, revealing an aged, poorly cared for pocket watch. "In his father's grave I found this, a…family heirloom, so to speak."
Dropping it on the desk, the thud of it was not loud, but every portrait's occupant scattered out of their frames at the sight of the ordinary watch.
"I found it fairly quickly, but I fear its power was strong enough to prevent even I from destroying it immediately. I am afraid, Harry, that in its presence I wrestled with many dark, forbidden ideas." Something in the Headmaster looked suddenly old, a shadow crossing behind the half-moon spectacles for but a moment.
It passed as quickly as it had come, Dumbledore heaving a great breath, pressing quicker, "Eventually I was able to regain a sense of myself, but…. I fear, I fear greatly what challenges the hunt for the others may bring, Harry."
"The rest of the Order is being informed as we speak, however…I felt that these were such dark matters that perhaps our newest recruits could be spared this knowledge, for a time." Before Harry could utter anything he thought about that Dumbledore quickly raised a hand, quieting him. "An old man's mistakes. I realized such thinking would be history repeating itself, so of course…the whole Order shall be informed. It is no longer my place to determine who can and cannot shoulder such a burden within a time of war."
Harry grimaced, but nodded. "They have to know. They'd want to help."
For a long moment the older wizard studied him, intently, as if searching for something. "So be it Harry," he stated. "I trust that I can leave it to you to inform them?"
He nodded, but there was one thing he still didn't get."Why talk to me…separate from everyone else?"
Harry expected evasion, but instead Dumbledore met his gaze directly, removing the half-moon spectacles and placing them down on the desk. "I would think," he stated carefully, "it would be obvious."
"It's not."
He nodded gravely, speaking apologetically, "I fear…I fear, Harry, that you may be one of them."
