Chapter Eighty-Nine
"… to report that the reward for the capture of Regulus Black has now increased from fifty thousand to a whopping eighty thousand galleons – that'll be sending a fair few snatchers his way, won't it, Burkley – while the price upon the head of Harry Potter remains at fifty thousand, with ten thousand galleon rewards for the capture of any of their proven family members, respectively, with the exception of that cheeky little chap, Malachi Black, who'll bring you in an extremely respectable thirty thousand galleons for his head and silence. Let's see how loyal those people taking cover behind the Foundation's wall are now with those tempting offers under their noses…"
Regulus met Lily's eyes across the desk, as the voice from the radio filled the office, and he was tempted to turn it off – the last thing they needed was to start distrusting their charges and crush their own morale – but he didn't.
Let the chatter of reality beyond the walls continue to fill the room, as he carried on in his task to write down the newly – at last – acquired addresses of the families of the muggleborns still trapped within the walls of Hogwarts.
There were only a handful left – those whose families had moved home since the initial invitation to Hogwarts letters had been sent out – but they were enough to have held up the process of the Order dispatches to install their magical defences, so that it had now been almost a week since Severus had provided the names of the muggleborn children in peril and Voldemort was already putting his own plan into motion as to how to retrieve them.
A knock at the door had him lift his head, while Lily quickly cast a disillusionment charm over the information on horcruxes she had been studying in front of her.
"Yes?"
Mad-Eye came in, along with Dedalus Diggle and Emmeline Vance.
"Gotta say, Lily –" Mad-Eye said, as he strode up to where they sat at the desk, " – that nephew of yours – whoosh – he's a big lad."
Lily got a small smile.
"You sure your wife's family are all accounted for, Regulus?" Dedalus asked him, as they reached the desk.
"All abroad and out of harm's way," Regulus said, as he got to his feet, handing over the parchments to Mad-Eye.
"Granger," Mad-Eye read the name on the first parchment, nodding as he took in the address, "These the last of 'em?"
Regulus nodded, "The charms are all in place for the others?"
"Any Death Eaters come knocking on those muggles' doors, we'll be hearing about it," Mad-Eye said, finishing up reading the remaining addresses, before he handed them over to the others to read.
"How many are out there?" Lily asked, looking up at him over her shoulder.
"Five. Two snatcher groups circling the perimeter, too. Managed to create a bit of a disturbance up on the mound by the brook that kept a few of 'em busy. But if that lot are still there when we try to bring in those kids –"
"We'll have the best on this one, we'll get them in," Regulus said, assuredly, before the voice on the radio got the attention of all.
"…confirm that the finalised list of those who failed to appear for their hearings proving their blood status has been released – first-class ticket to Azkaban for them, mind – and, look here, Burkley, just so happens the Black and Potter names have pride of place on that one too; Julia Black and Lily Potter. Mud for blood –"
"Why are y' listening to this tosh?" Mad-Eye looked at the radio in disgust.
"It's the most listened to station, we need to have an idea of what's going on out there, what people are hearing."
"What we really need is to get our own message heard," Emmeline said, "Round up support; make sure people know what to do, the purebloods and the half-bloods that are just sitting tight. Not all of those who would oppose him are on the run."
"Very true, Emmeline, very true," Dedalus agreed, "Our own wavelength –"
Regulus shook his head, "We don't have time to sit about in front of a microphone waxing poetic. If we're not coming up with strategy, people need us out there on the ground –"
"Get your boy on it," Mad-Eye said.
Regulus lifted his chin.
Mad-Eyed nodded.
"Malachi Black – former Max E. MacLean – ought to perk up a few ears –" he nodded at Lily, " – yours, too. Harry Potter and Malachi Black. Those boys over the broadcast; that'd soon have people moving in the right direction."
"So, people can spend their afternoons entertaining themselves listening to my fourteen-year-old son goading the most dangerous wizard alive over the airwaves?" Regulus eyed him – he could only just imagine the sort of things Malachi would say – and shook his head, "I'm not having him drawing that sort of fire."
"You're fooling yourself, Regulus, if you think either of those two boys aren't dead kids walking outside of these walls as it is," Mad-Eye said, tucking the parchments he held into his robes.
Regulus met Lily's eyes and she smiled, giving a nod – her own agreement to the suggestion – before he sighed, looking back at Mad-Eye.
"We'll talk to them."
"Good man. And you oughta be putting that lot to work, too, while you're at it."
"That lot – you mean the Foundation staff?"
"Aye. It's like you said, Regulus, we all need to be doing all we can, contributing to the war effort and that lot put the place to shame, sitting around on their arses playing bridge all day and preening their bloody fingernails."
"They're not soldiers, Alastor."
"So make 'em soldiers. Train them up. Or get 'em planting up on that farmstead and harvesting those crops. Have 'em teach the kids that are wandering around looking for ways to escape the walls –"
"They're on that, some of them. Starting this week when the muggleborns arrive, the kids will be taking up workshops, tutorials, anything to keep their spirits up and give a semblance of real-life before all of this."
"We better get on with this list, Alastor," Emmeline said.
Out the corner of his eye, Regulus noticed the little glow of the wooden box on the desk and gave the three of them a nod.
"Just send a patronus if you run into any trouble."
"Don't you be setting foot outside of these walls, Black, eighty thousand galleons is nothing to sniff at," Mad-Eye said, with a nod at the other two, and they made their departure – casting smiles his and Lily's way as they did.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Regulus lifted his wand, touching it to the tip of his finger and drawing blood, pressing it to the wooden box.
He stuck the finger in his mouth, sooking off the blood that remained, and lifted the parchment – the note – that Severus had sent them.
Regulus met Lily's curious eyes once he'd finished reading, giving her a nod.
"Tomorrow night."
Remus eyed the cauldron before him, the bubbling liquid inside it, that he had been working on for close to three hours now.
His fourth attempt at the brew necessary for the commencement of his lesson the next morning with the sixth years.
He lifted the belladonna, adding it to the cauldron – just as the instructions said – and then made a quarter turn left stir, and two full rotations to the right and – of course – the potion withered and released a puff of putrid gas, before turning a dull shade of brown.
Just as it had done every attempt beforehand.
Remus released an exasperated breath, hanging his head.
"You need to begin the turns at precisely the moment the ingredient is added to the mixture –"
Remus spun around at the voice behind him, finding Severus standing at the door of the potions classroom, arms crossed, with a raised eyebrow.
" – your indecision is costing you the concoction."
Remus looked back at the ruined potion, forlornly – it would take another hour, at least, for him to even get to this point again and utilize the advice – and when he glanced to his side Severus had reached him.
The man's lips twitched in amusement as he eyed the motionless liquid inside the cauldron.
"It has been arranged that the remaining muggleborns are to be transported by Hogwarts Express tomorrow at midnight to King's Cross station. They are to be under the impression that they have merely been expelled due to their inability to prove their magical ancestry during the interviews carried out by myself, earlier this week, and that they are being sent back home, to the muggle world."
"Under the impression?" Remus repeated, warily.
"Death Eaters will be awaiting the arrival of the train at King's Cross, where the convicted students will be escorted to carry out their sentences for their crimes in Azkaban."
Remus released a breath, looking away in disgust.
"Yourself and Minerva are to escort the students, along with Alecto and Amycus Carrow, to Hogsmeade Station tomorrow night –"
Remus met Severus' eyes.
" – at which point, Regulus will have arranged that the Order will intervene and retrieve the students. It goes without saying, I imagine, that under no circumstances are any of your charges to board the train."
"Yes. Of course."
"In the meantime, I need you to gather the names of all the Slytherin students who did not report to school upon the commencement of term."
"The Slytherin students?" Remus looked at him with a frown.
"As their new Head of House –"
"Wait – what?"
Severus simply stared back at him.
"Since when am I the Head of Slytherin House, Severus?" Remus said, straightening up, "In case you haven't noticed, I am not exactly the most well-regarded member of the faculty when it comes to the Slytherin students. If I were to be their Head of House then I would –"
"Would what, Lupin?" Severus interrupted him, silky, "You would feel out of place, perhaps? Misunderstood? Your intentions unduly under question and scrutiny?"
It was Remus' turn to stare, now, neither conceding to the statement nor the request. Or, rather, the order of the new Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"It is customary – and has been, for many years – that the Potions Professor and the Slytherin Head of House are one and the same. Enjoy it, Lupin. You may just find that ambitions and brains rub off on you."
Remus rolled his eyes.
Severus lifted up a hand, accioing a jar of goodness-knows-what from goodness-knows-where, and turned the lid, tossing it aside, before he plucked out two small, round objects from inside of it, and tossed them into the cauldron, carelessly.
The liquid suddenly bubbled back to life, returning to its previous vivid, purple colouring, and Severus put the jar onto the bench in front of him, before turning and making his way from the classroom.
"Commence from step fourteen. And have that list of non-returning Slytherin students on my desk by tomorrow, if you please."
"Omph!"
Harry landed hard on his back on the floor, winded – defeated – staring a bit in a daze up at the ceiling from where he lay.
Mr. Black's face appeared above him, lips twitching; "Alright?"
Harry grinned, grasping the hand that was held out to him, and Mr. Black pulled him up to his feet, giving him a pat on the back when he was upright.
"I don't know if you're trying to be intimidating, in your attempts to stare so deeply into my eyes out there, but let me tell you now, Harry, it is not working –"
Harry met Mr. Black's look, sheepishly, while the man grinned.
" – you need to stay focused on the here and now, anticipating the next move your opponent makes; you're quick – that's one of your strengths – and by trying to engage in the way you are doing now – I'm not sure who taught you to fight like that – is costing you a lot of opportunities to get a hit."
Harry nodded, slowly; knowing his mind was too wrapped up in trying to use legillimency – and Snape – to really engage in the dueling properly.
A method that was proving fruitless, as Mr. Black would neither stay still nor maintain any eye contact, whatsoever, while they engaged one another.
"Remember how you fought in the Battle of Hogwarts; it was reflexive – instinctive – allow that to guide your movements, each step flowing from the one that came before it –"
"I thought you said you were rubbish at dueling," Harry interrupted him.
Mr. Black grinned, eyeing him and nodded; "Believe me, I am."
Harry chuckled – knowing that wasn't entirely true, after he'd seen how he'd fought at Hogwarts – and shrugged; "What does that make me then?"
Mr. Black put a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly; "You are fighting against your own impulses to engage – wrapped up in your own head – in fact, I'd even go so far are to say you are simply thinking too hard. Calm down, anticipate their next move – yes – but, most of all, be in touch with your own instincts – and certainly don't hesitate in the way you've been doing. As soon as you deflect that spell, you fire one back – set up your own counter attack against mine – you only allow just enough time for that spell to be parried before you make your own move."
Harry nodded, closing his eyes, and drew in a breath; "Right. Instinctive. Right."
"Or one of a Gryffindor's great strengths, I've heard of, hm –" Mr. Black said, lips twitching, " – Impulsiveness."
Harry chuckled, glancing at him.
"So, use it. Utilise your own strengths, we all each have our own talents and methods that we bring to the fight. You just have to find yours. But you're good, Harry; don't doubt that."
Mr. Black patted his arm, before tucking his own wand away, "We'll leave it there, alright? Need to get everything all set up before this big sleepover party we're having this evening."
"Oh yeah," Harry nodded, slipping his wand up his sleeve, "Is that…what's going on?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "Must be something big, if my mum's going out so late, right?"
Mr. Black nodded, though he looked a little hesitant himself, now, before he answered.
"It is that. We have an opportunity…" he cleared his throat, nodding; "We have an opportunity. And, so, the rest of us will celebrate that with our own private slumber party."
Harry smiled, though he was a little disappointed, but he knew that, really, Mr. Black wouldn't risk telling him anything.
He surely knew Voldemort could be looking at any moment. Snape would have told him.
"Before you go, I wonder if you might do me a favour," Mr. Black said, as the two of them left the dueling room, making their way down the office corridor.
"Sure. Anything."
Mr. Black smiled, meeting his eyes, before he indicated with his head that Harry follow him into his office. He closed the door behind Harry once he stepped over the threshold, walking up to his desk.
"It's possible that the protections surrounding the Foundation can be enhanced," the man said, as he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a phial, "Not a guarantee – it'll take a bit of work – but, to get a move on it, it requires a little something from each of us so that we might look into it a little more."
Harry frowned, walking up to him, "From us? Like, you and me, us?" Harry was immensely curious, now; "What?"
"Blood," Mr. Black said, bluntly, before he went on; "When my brother – did what he did, he evoked a particular form of protective magic that still surrounds you. What we're hoping to utilize are called 'blood wards' that might be placed around these premises. It they worked, they would prevent any who mean harm from entering, even if the Fidelius should fail."
"Blood wards?"
"They can be evoked when a sacrifice from a bloodline has already been made, so long as they who made the sacrifice still has a close living relative that the beneficiary – that's you – is willing to share a living space with."
"Oh."
"Or, rather, a home. You and I don't, of course –"
"Well. This place could be home – at least for a while –" Harry said, keen to help – that him simply being there might actually protect people sounded perfect, especially when he was sitting safely behind the walls while other people were out there risking their lives – but Mr. Black smiled, shaking his head.
"I'm afraid it has to be intrinsically felt. And – much as we might be able to find the silver lining in all of us being crammed together in this place – both you and I know that this is not home."
Harry's shoulders dropped, disappointedly, but then his eyes found the phial again; "But you think you could fix it? So that, you and me being here together might make the Foundation safer?"
Mr. Black nodded; "Yes. But, to do that, I would need –"
"Yeah, of course," Harry nodded, quickly stepping towards him, tugging up his sleeve.
Mr. Black looked at him for a moment – eyes warm – before he lifted the phial and pulled out his wand, lightly touching it to Harry's wrist and, slowly, the phial filled.
Harry watched it.
Mr. Black capped off the phial once it was done before he accioed something from the bookcase – a chocolate bar, Harry realized – and handed it to him.
"This a prize?"
Mr. Black chuckled, "Best to eat something after getting your blood taken. And your dinner slot isn't for a couple more hours."
Harry nodded, eyes going to the timepiece which read just after three. Mr. Black having assigned both the Blacks and the Potters to the last of the three slots these past few days, Malachi saying his dad thought that sent a good message.
That they – the ones calling the shots – would starve all day, for the longest, after the breakfast packs of porridge, fruit and a pastry had been distributed in the morning.
"Thanks," Harry opened it, only now realizing how hungry he was, and took a bite.
He offered a bit to Mr. Black, who shook his head, declining, before the man turned, placing the phial carefully on his desk next to a wooden box sitting in the corner.
"I did think it might have been about Sirius," Harry said, as he carried on eating – and Mr. Black looked over his shoulder, a question in his eyes.
"When you asked me to come last week," Harry explained, "I thought maybe you wanted to talk about him or something. But, you know, obviously the dueling is even better."
"Oh."
Mr. Black's brow furrowed, slightly, and he looked like he was thinking for a second, before he turned and leaned back against the desk, "Well. What did you want to know?"
Harry shrugged, not really sure. He hadn't thought about it much, just immediately thought – if it wasn't Snape – it must be Sirius, and that was enough to spark his interest.
A little bit of longing, within him, that he might connect with someone who cared about him like Harry did.
"I dunno," Harry smiled, "Anything, I guess."
Mr. Black looked thoughtful, not really meeting Harry's eyes, and when he did the man's expression was a bit more guarded than Harry was used to.
"You knew him better than I did, Harry. Sirius and I were not –" he cleared his throat, " – well, we weren't exactly on the best of terms."
Harry looked back at him, palpable regret in the man's eyes and tone when he spoke, and Harry nodded, slowly.
He'd known that.
The regret was gone in a flash, Mr. Black pushing himself upright and giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.
"On that note, I'd better get back to –"
"Oh. Yeah," Harry nodded, before lifting the remaining bar of chocolate; "Thanks. Not just for the chocolate; for dueling too. It really helps."
"Glad to hear it; we'll keep it up."
Harry smiled – glad of the fact – and popped the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, before he made his way from the room.
"Creevey, Colin."
The fourth year Gryffindor stepped forward, drawing in a little gasp of a breath as he handed over his wand.
Severus took it, snapping it without hesitation, and dropped it into the basket of snapped wands at his feet.
Colin Creevey hoisted up his bag further on his shoulder, lip trembling, and stepped out through the doors, following his younger brother – who waited for him on the step – and the other students who had already handed over their wands and departed, making their way to the thestral-drawn carriages that awaited; the Carrows standing guard over those already seated within them.
Lupin stood on the opposite side of the doorframe, eyes all for the waiting students, while Minerva stood at the back of the short remaining line, glowering at Severus with the full force of her loathing and revulsion.
Severus' voice remained calm, as his eyes went to the next student in line.
"Granger, Hermione."
Hermione Granger stepped towards him, hands shaking as she held out her wand, that he took from her and snapped, briskly, before dropping it into the basket.
Minerva's nostrils flared as her hatred towards him burned in her eyes.
The Granger girl's eyes welled up, breath catching and her lip quivering as a tear slipped down her cheek, before she walked by him.
Severus caught the way Lupin's hand squeezed her shoulder as she passed through the doorway out into the night – a sob escaping her the moment she was across the threshold – and Severus addressed the next.
"Maloney, Irena."
Severus repeated the process.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."
The last wand was snapped in two and dropped into the basket, as the boy stepped by him – chin held high, proud as ever – and made his way from the school and down the stone steps to the carriages.
Minerva stepped up to him, then, lips shaking, teeth slightly bared and Severus lifted his chin, staring her down.
"Minerva," Lupin's voice said, softly
Minerva pursed her lips together. Composed herself. And knocked Severus' arm lightly with her shoulder as she departed, to perform her assigned duty to escort the students to the train station at Hogsmeade.
Lupin turned, meeting Severus' eyes briefly, before he followed.
Severus waited a moment before he, too, stepped out into the night.
He took a stance at the top of the stone steps, eyes on the carriages filled with all of the newly expelled muggleborn students, many leaning on one another, sobbing, as they were stripped of their wands and their rights to learn and practice magic; grief-stricken by the loss of their rights to their own magical identities.
Young and foolish and innocent enough to believe that this was the worst of it – that they were simply to be sent home, back to the muggle world, cast out of Wizarding Society – entirely unaware that Death Eaters awaited their arrival at Kings Cross Station, ready to transport them to Azkaban, never to see either magic or their families again.
For a crime nothing other than being born.
Severus' hands clenched into fists where they lay against his forearms, crossed beneath the folds of his robes, as the thestrals moved forward, the carriages making their departure with the tearful students.
Severus stood there, watching until the very last light of the carriages could no longer be seen in the distance, before he turned and went back through the doors of the castle.
"All set?" Mad-Eye said, as he eyed all of those Order members around where Lily stood in the basement area at the door that led down to the tunnels of the Foundation
"Two to intercept the route to Hogsmeade – Lily and Kingsley – with Remus and Minerva already set to be there as part of the drop off, that's four to two. The rest of us are going to try and head off those Death Eaters and snatcher groups that are circling the grounds. Give us half an hour, at least, before you bring them on back – where the hell is Tonks –"
"Right here, change of plan," Tonks said, appearing behind them, "Got a message in from my dad, he's not far from here. Uncle Reg and I are going to –"
"You wha –" Mad-Eye frowned at them, eyes going behind her and Lily turned, seeing Regulus approaching, donning his cloak; "You're mad, Regulus, there's snatchers crawling all over those gates; you'll never get back in."
"There'll be too many of us heading out at once for them to know what hit them," Regulus said, while Lily shot him a look, "This is the fourth time Ted's been driven away and there's a price on his head now; we need to get him in here."
"If you would allow us the time to –" Kingsley's deep voice began, while Regulus shook his head.
"If anything, it's better. The defences going in and out are never going to be stronger than right now, when we're bringing these kids back here," his eyes went to the timepiece, before meeting Lily's eyes, and Mad-Eye nodded, getting the hint that time was being wasted.
"Alright, let's go," the auror pulled open the door and the gathered Order members assigned to the mission – Mad-Eye, Lily, Regulus, Tonks, Kingsley, Emmeline, Dedalus, Bill, Fred and George Weasley – made their way down the few stone steps and into the tunnels, heading through the passage way in single file, not entirely sure where they were going to be stepping out.
Within the space of a few minutes, they found themselves spilling out at the east side of the building, passed the fences but still within the boundaries of the Fidelius as Lily had ensured when evoking the charm, and they each crept from the cover of the tunnels and out into the night, wands clutched tight in their hands.
Regulus nudged her in the side, nodding up at the trees ahead, and – sure enough – Lily could see someone, a few people, lounging about under the cover of the woodland – snatchers, who had opted to camp out and likely weren't expecting any departures at this time of night.
Regulus and Tonks disapparated without a word, off on their own mission, while Mad-Eye spoke lowly to the rest of them; "Lily and Kingsley –" he handed over the piece of parchment with the Foundation's location written upon it, " – of you go. The rest of us; two groups. Bill, you take Emmeline and Dedalus –"
His voice trailed off behind her, as Lily – tucking the address into her robes – and Kingsley made their way deeper into the woods, waiting, until – at Mad-Eye's nod – the two of them disapparated and arrived on the edge of Hogsmeade village.
They made their way in the direction of the pathway to Hogwarts, before eventually taking cover in the trees, lying in wait for the approaching carriages.
They didn't take long.
Three carriages made their way towards them, a professor and four students in two of them, and two professors – Death Eaters – in the final carriage with three students opposite.
Even from this distance, Lily could hear the sniffs and whimpers and sobs of the children who had been cast out of the school – deemed unworthy and untrue – and she swallowed down the lump in her throat, the surge of both offence and outrage at it.
Kingsley nudged her, as the carriages made their way by where they were taking cover. The fact that the two Death Eaters opted to sit side-by-side in the last of the carriages made this a far easier endeavor than any of the other missions Lily had been assigned to since the Foundation had locked itself down.
Severus' suggestion, no doubt.
Lily and Kingsley lifted their wands, pointing it at their backs, and stunned them.
The Carrows slumped forward.
The children sitting opposite them gasped – a moment of bewilderment – before one of them screamed – foolishly – and the children in the other carriages – Remus and Minerva, too – turned, quickly, to look at what had happened.
"Quiet, child," Kingsley said, approaching them, calmly, while Minerva stood – "Oh, Lily!" – in her own carriage and bid the thestrals to stop.
The carriages came to a halt.
"Everyone out," Remus said, jumping down – Minerva too – and the muggleborns did as they were told, looking bewildered passed their tearful eyes, as they all spilled out of the carriages and onto the road.
Lily flicked her wand at the two still Death Eaters, and two thick robes formed and bound tightly around them, while Kingsley accioed their wands and threw them into the woods.
There were murmurs amongst the students as Lily and the Order members present ushered them hurriedly down the road that led back to Hogwarts, looking for somewhere to take cover until it was safe to return to the Foundation.
"Wait here –" Kingsley finally said, when they were satisfied that they'd found somewhere suitable, nodding that the children gather up on the slope of the trees, "Twenty minutes or so and we'll start apparating them back."
Kingsley returned to the carriages, taking up a guarding pose by the restrained Death Eaters, while Minerva went to keep watch, leaving Lily and Remus guarding the eleven muggleborns whom they had come for.
Hermione Granger gave Lily a small smile, from where she was amongst the small group, that Lily returned, warmly, giving her a nod.
And then she glanced at Remus, casting a surreptitious, non-verbal 'muffliato'.
"How is it back there?" she asked him, quietly, despite the charm she had cast.
Remus cleared his throat, eyes still scanning the woods for any sign of ambush.
"Well. It's not unusual for strolls in the Forbidden Forest to be suggested by the new Headmaster as punishment for the low-level uprising that is currently bubbling amongst the students. If they're lucky. Often, the newly established disciplinary tactics involve the use of the Cruciatus – a favourite of the two professors back there, in fact – or, in less severe cases –" Remus' eyes narrowed, as he went on; " – the use of blood quills, even."
"What? Severus –"
"Does what he can."
Lily hesitated.
A silence that stretched until they met one another's eyes.
"How is he?" she asked, quietly, unable to help herself.
Remus glanced away.
"He's an arse. As always."
Lily's lips twitched – not quite satisfied by the response – and Remus, seeming to recognize that, went on.
"I am not quite sure how much of it is an act but either way, he plays the role well. He is despised amongst all – even his own two lackeys over there can't seem to stand the sight of him – and Minerva, in particular, is struggling to maintain her composure when in his presence."
Lily lowered her eyes.
They were silent a few minutes longer, then – Lily's mind on Severus and Remus on high alert for any sign of attack – before he finally spoke, in the same quiet tone as she had.
"How are the kids?"
Lily smiled, nodding.
"Good. Safe. Grace, in particular, is vastly enjoying the attention and having – almost – everyone who would spoil her at her beck and call."
Remus chuckled.
Another silence, then.
Before he asked, more quietly; "And Dora?"
Lily looked at him, quickly. Before she drew in a breath, giving him a reassuring smile, realizing he must be just as worried for her, as she was for Severus – if not more so, with Tonks out on the field everyday – and nodded.
"She's good, Remus. One of the best."
Remus smiled, the tension in him seeming to relax a bit at her words.
One of the students huddled in the woods tried to get their attention – "Professor Lupin?" – and Remus left Lily's side to speak with and reassure them as to what was happening.
Kingsley approached a little while later, indicating that Minerva come join them.
"Mad-Eye and the others should have the place clear for us bringing them in by now; someone scout it out, first. I'll stay by these two, keep watch, while the three of you take them in – two at a time – it shouldn't take long."
The three of them nodded, doing as he said as Kingsley returned to his spot by the third carriage, Lily disapparating first, alone, back to the Foundation to ensure everything was in place for their safe arrival.
It was almost one in the morning.
Far later than either Harry or Malachi had ever gotten away with staying out of their respective quarters since they'd been locked down at the Foundation.
But it was easy to slip away, what with Julia opting to take Grace back to the Potter quarters that night and staying there after Mr. Black was called away by Tonks – triggered, no doubt, by the fact Malfoy kept going in and out of the communal room wearing only his underwear; flat out refusing to even acknowledge Julia existed, much less was speaking to him, and swearing outright in front of Grace when Harry and Malachi tried to get him to sort himself out.
Malachi, fizzing with rage at Malfoy's insolence towards his stepmum and absolutely refusing to turn in until his dad got back, was the one who insisted that they do leave before he actually punched his cousin. Or worse.
So, they'd left and went to the main building.
Surprised and delighted to find that the ballroom was bustling, even at that time of night.
There weren't that many people, no. Maybe fifty or so, but they were rowdy and someone had decided the piano in the corner ought to be put to good use and a lively jig of a tune rang out while people swayed and jived together on the dancefloor.
"Yeah! Yeah, put that in!" Harry said, laughingly, doubling over where he sat cross-legged opposite Malachi up in the corner of the room.
"My dad would gut me if I said that," Malachi said, shoulders shaking with laughter, but still he wrote it down, his eyes glancing in the direction of the doorway – concern in his eyes when they did – before he shook his head, and went on, "Um. We're gonna have to do a run-down of – you know – the deaths that the Ministry are covering up. Mind my dad said that."
"Yeah," Harry said, sobering up a little at the reminder – it wasn't going to be all fun and games, this radio thing his mum had insisted he do – and he went on, "We'll do that before we go on about the success stories, though. So, that's the last thing people hear; that way they'll know there's hope and all that."
"Yeah," Malachi made a note of it on the parchment he was writing down on; "This is mostly for the safe people, right? I mean, the ones on the run aren't going to be sitting about listening to the radio or anything, are they? Maybe we should try and find out from my dad what sort of things they ought to be doing, the purebloods and that, that'd help. Ease up the work the Order has to do a bit."
Harry nodded.
"That mean you're actually gonna do it, then?" Harry asked, leaning back on his hands, as the music from the piano picked up the pace and played a folk song that all around it seemed to know, the singing and dancing kicking up a gear off to the side of them; "You shoulda seen your face when my mum mentioned it. You'd think they'd asked you to get up on a stage and make a speech or something."
"Well. They pretty much did," Malachi pointed out, "Just we don't have to look at them, that's all."
Harry glanced over at the jovial group by the piano – you'd hardly think they were in the middle of a war or something – before meeting Malachi's eyes.
"Yeah. Do you think it's…I dunno. Rude or something? Like, us safe and sound here, telling people on the other sides of the walls to go out and take all these risks when we're…well. Not really taking any risks, ourselves?"
Malachi looked at him, consideringly for a second, before he nodded.
"A bit," he glanced down, shifting where he sat, "Easy for us to say, to stand up to 'em, when we're doing it all behind parchment and radio waves, right?"
Harry glanced around them, carefully, before leaning in closer.
"I want to fight. To join the Order. Ron's brothers have and I'm not bad at fighting. Your dad's really good at teaching, actually, so – what?"
Malachi was fighting a smirk.
"Uh – no way is your mum gonna let you go out there, Harry. I don't even know why my dad's bothering, to be honest. She'd put one of those big metal ball and chains around your ankle and stick you in one of the holding cells if that was the only way to stop you."
"Fred and George Weasley joined; they're only seventeen and I'll be sixteen, soon. And I should be out there. Because – well – you know."
"If anything that's more reason for you to stay out of the way. You wouldn't be fighting, you'd be committing suicide. Besides, the only reason you're even sitting here right now –" Malachi puffed up, smirking, " – is because I saved you, at the battle of Hogwarts."
Harry shoved him, the two of them bursting into laughter.
Something out the corner of his eye caught Harry's attention, then, and he looked at the door, going still with astonishment when he noticed Hermione – and his mum – and a group of Hogwarts students Harry recognized slowly coming into the ballroom.
Malachi was on his feet, immediately, "They're back."
Harry quickly got up, following Malachi who was approaching where everyone stood, the new arrivals looking completely bewildered and relieved and more than a little bit shaken up as the two of them reached them.
"Hermione," Harry said, as he reached her, and she threw her arms around his neck, tearfully.
"Harry!"
Harry hugged her, sharing a look with Malachi, but it didn't last long because he quickly headed off – obviously looking for his dad – and Hermione drew back.
"What happened?" Harry asked her, looking her over.
"It was awful, Harry," Hermione told him, "Professor Snape, he – he's been conducting interviews with us all week. The muggleborns. When we weren't able to prove we had a witch or wizard in our family he – " she sniffed, " – he told us that we were unworthy of a magical education and that we had no place in this world," she lowered her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek, "And then he…expelled us all and snapped our wands. The Order intervened while we were on our way to Hogsmeade to be sent home. They brought us here."
Harry stared back at her, horrified.
Appalled.
Even when he knew it was obviously all an act – part of the ruse and role that Snape had to play – and if Harry was disgusted, then surely everyone else who didn't know the truth would be even more so.
Harry swallowed, shaking his head, "That's…you're the best witch I know, Hermione. That's…that's just…"
Hermione gave him a small, wavering smile, and Harry stepped forward, hugging her again; suddenly struck with the reality of what the muggleborns were facing right now.
So, so much worse than the snide comments and sneering looks of times before. Even if he had heard the threats on the radio directed towards his mum and Julia – he'd thought those were enough of a reality check, as to what people, the muggleborns, were actually going through right now – but seeing Hermione here, obviously saved from some terrible fate Voldemort had planned for her and the others he could see around them, took that understanding to a whole new level.
He glanced at the others.
Irena Maloney. Dean Thomas. Colin and Dennis Creevey. Others continued to spill into the ballroom.
Harry drew back from Hermione, giving her a smile, and tugging her over to sit down at the nearest table.
Even if it was so late, sorting everyone out was obviously going to take some time and Harry wasn't going to leave her to sit and wait, alone, to be assigned to her quarters.
"Have you been here this whole time?" she asked him, looking around the room, eyes lingering on the people around the piano.
He nodded, "Yeah. Since the Ministry fell. Ron's here too –"
Hermione's eyes lit up and Harry smiled, nodding.
And then he was suddenly struck with a thought, looking at Hermione, eagerly, "How's Daphne?"
"Daphne?"
"Yeah. I haven't been able to talk to her – not since before Christmas – and…I just wondered if she was alright, is all," Harry said, feeling himself blush.
Even if she was his girlfriend, openly, and surely everyone – even the Death Eaters – knew that, by now.
Hermione shrugged, shaking her head, apologetically.
"I haven't seen her at all, Harry. I guess she's been hiding out in the Common Room a lot or something. Same as me. Muggleborns weren't really leaving the dorms whenever we could help it. There's…they brought Death Eaters in as professors and…they were keen to teach us a lesson."
Harry looked back at her, scowling.
"Did they try to teach you a lesson?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip and then she swallowed and reached down, tugging up the sleeve of her robe.
The word 'mudblood' was carved into the soft flesh of her inner forearm.
Harry stared at it in horror.
"Mrs. Potter," Malachi was suddenly back, coming up to his mum who was a few feet away, reassuring some of the younger students, "Wasn't my dad with you? I can't find him."
Harry saw his mum look at the door with obvious concern, that she quickly smothered and gave Malachi a smile, squeezing his arm, "No, he…he had a different assignment. I'm sure he's – oh – there he is."
His mum looked relieved, smiling and nodding, and Harry looked over at the same time as Malachi just as Mr. Black stepped over the threshold into the room, looking more than a little bit beaten up – obviously having had a run in while he was out there – but still fine.
Not dreadfully hurt or anything.
But he wasn't smiling.
And that, alone, was always a warning sign when it came to Malachi's dad.
Malachi hurried up to him, giving him a hug, that Mr. Black returned – holding his son close – and Harry watched as he met his mum's eyes over Malachi's shoulder, ever-so-slightly shaking his head.
And then Harry noticed Tonks behind him – outside the ballroom door – making her way passed and Harry's eyes followed along the wall until she came back into his line of sight through the window stepping out onto the grounds.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she walked in a daze in the direction of the dormitories.
Harry knew exactly what grief looked like. What loss looked like.
He looked back at Malachi and Mr. Black, catching the man pressing a kiss to Malachi's head, before he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him from the room.
Harry lowered his eyes, fairly certain another of their family had been lost that night, before he glanced over at Hermione.
Noticed the way she watched the group by the piano flicking their wands, casting spells and making jokes amongst themselves, with a look that belied both devastation and longing.
Her own wand taken from her. Stripped of her own abilities to practice magic.
Harry shifted and moved his seat across the floor, closer to hers, and reached for her hand, that she gave him, gratefully, and leaned her head upon his shoulder, as more people came into the room.
"You are quite correct in your assertions, Alecto," Severus said, silkily, "It is not I to whom you must make your excuses. You will explain to the Dark Lord, himself, your failure this evening at the next available opportunity. I am certain he will do his best to … squeeze you both in."
Severus looked down his nose at the Carrows, who stood, furiously, opposite him in his office; mortified and enraged at having to have been retrieved by him, Severus finding them bound and futilely attempting to free themselves from the enchanted ropes that restrained them in the carriage once the muggleborns had made their safe passage to the Foundation.
Severus inclined his chin and the two of them shared a look, before they spun where they stood and left the room.
Just as the door clicked shut behind them, the wooden box in the corner of Severus' desk glowed.
Severus ignored the gleaming eyes and bright smile of Dumbledore's portrait – obviously pleased by what had occurred – as he passed, returning to his desk.
Severus drew blood from the tip of his finger, placing it upon the top of the box, and it opened for him.
A small roll of parchment laid inside, along with two phials of blood, that Severus lifted from inside as he took a seat.
He put the phials – marked 'H' and 'R' respectively – carefully into his bottom drawer, into the phial rack he had within it, and then unrolled the scrap of parchment, reading the single word upon it.
Success.
Severus smiled.
He waved his wand, so that the box resealed itself, and – with a glance at the timepiece that showed it was, indeed, very late – reached for the lists that the Head of Houses had reluctantly passed to him earlier that day, of all the half-blood and pureblood students who had failed to report to Hogwarts to continue their education as was now mandated by wizarding law.
The parents of any who refused to send them issued an immediate sentence to be carried out in Azkaban for non-compliance.
The families who would soon be hunted – on the run – for the sake of their children and need to be offered protection by the Order.
Severus had already finished writing up the list of names ready to give to Regulus – and the Dark Lord – from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Houses respectively.
The last of them to be added those from Slytherin.
Severus looked at the relatively small list before him – far less, compared to the others; only four names upon it - and wrote down only two from said list.
Malachi Black and Draco Malfoy's non-attendance entirely obvious to both Regulus and the Dark Lord already, after all.
These two, not so much.
Daphne and Astoria Greengrass.