Fair warning, this is most likely the second to last chapter. I'm planning a sequel, but it's going to take some time as I haven't even started the actual writing process. So if you want to have this vision of perfect before I destroy it for you, you might want to not read the next two chapters until I start the next story. Anyway, enjoy chapter twenty.

Chapter Twenty: Plans Change

My feet hurt. It seems trivial with all that's happened to have this thought; but it's all I can force my mind to focus on despite everything that has happened. I should be worrying about where I'm going, or possibly about the redhead that I know is behind me even though I can't see her and all that's likely running through her head right now. She did, after all, just watch her house burn to the ground. Worse, the ominous Dark Mark hung above it, the symbol that means death, and not the fairytale kind of death that you can bounce back from and be just fine and dandy. Everything about the experience was simply too real.

"Oof!" I grunt as my toe slams into a root and I hit the ground with a thud, clumsily feeling my way around in the dirt.

Great, I think to myself, Now my feet feel worse.

I feel a hand against mine and allow Ginny to help me stand, though not without biting back a curse.

"Kingsley," Ginny asks for the thousandth time, "Is this really necessary?"

The "this" to which she refers is the fact that I've been magically blinded with a rather painful jinx that coated them in something that stings. "This" also refers to the fact that I'm being led by a rope like a cow, headed off to who knows where. Why, you ask?

"You'll forgive me of course, Blaise, but I cannot take the risk. You can't know anything until I've placed you under Veritaserum and can prove your loyalty."

Stupid Kingsley, I think, but I don't voice this thought mostly because I know that he's right. In fact, if our roles were reversed, I'd probably treat him worse than he's treating me now.

"How much longer," I whine. Then I promptly smack into him, as he's stopped. I can feel him glaring at me.

"Please, Blaise," he says with a weary tone, "Be a credit to yourself and at least attempt to behave like an adult."

I hear a sniff from behind me and suddenly feel a bit guilty for my antics. Ginny has lost a lot, and I'm being insensitive. I've been trying to focus on trivial things instead, but truthfully, the scene is stuck in my head on loop just as much as it is in hers. However, during the last school year I've learned a lot about keeping your emotions under wraps. In my recent dealings, image is everything. Still, this skill does little to remove what happened from my memory.

I took Ginny's outstretched hand, a huge knot in my stomach and a nervous smile wavering on my lips.

I'm so dead, I thought to myself.

Surely the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't welcome Dumbledore's murderer with open arms: it would tarnish the man's good name. I expected hostility and possibly physical injury as well as a large dosage of Veritaserum. It's the only way to reconcile a traitor, and that's what I was: what I am. As far as any of them would see, I betrayed my heritage as a wizard and my duty to mankind.

Of course, there was Ginny, but would any of them take seriously the word of a child? Fifteen years old, Harry Potter's delicate little girlfriend, and known for a pointless stint of rage now and again. I didn't like my odds, but anything was better than going back to face the Dark Lord.

Whatever I had been expecting, I was wrong. As we arrived at the apparation point, the area was deadly quiet. It had a feeling of heaviness, as though something horrible had just transpired. I felt this cold like I hadn't felt in a long time and I drew my wand in anticipation, clutching the redhead's hand in support. We crossed hill after hill, and as we drew closer I swore that I could smell smoke. It wasn't a normal smell of smoke that puts you at ease and reminds you of long chats and even longer friendships. This smoke smelled of something else entirely. Like at Malfoy Manor, this not-quite-placeable smell encompassed everything with a scent that reminded you only of pain.

As the house came into view, all I could do was gasp and catch Ginny as she fainted. There—in a smoldering heap of destruction—was the Burrow. A large portion of the house had crumbled into itself, marked by large blackened splotches that spoke of powerful magic. The rest of the house limped pathetically around it, boards jutting haphazardly in various directions; the roof's thatch fighting a losing battle against the wind.

Worse than the house was the symbol that—while everyone dreads it—I've come to recognize with an unsettling terror. The snake slithered dangerously around the angry skull and an eerie greenish mist lingered over everything. As hard as it is to look at the horrible thing on my forearm, seeing it in the sky is a thousand times worse. I gaped mindlessly at the scene for several seconds before something worse caught my eye.

I swept Ginny into my arms bridal style and made my way towards the scene at an incredibly slow rate, the panicky desire to run away welling up inside to replace the knot that had been there only moments before. For there, leaning against the side of the worst of the rubble, lay the cold, pale form of Ronald Weasley. As close as I suddenly was, I could see the grime layering his clothes and the terror stretched across his face. This boy didn't die boldly: this boy died afraid. Still, he did die, and the thought wasn't close to comforting. I can't say that I knew Ron. In truth, I didn't even like him, but this . . . this was an injustice.

I nearly turned from the scene right then, but something caught my eye. Behind his limp body I noticed another tuft of red, though this red was singed in clumps, and—setting Ginny gently on the ground—shoved away some of the debris. My hand brushed a face as I pulled away the last clump, and I shrieked in response, backing away with the realization that this was Molly Weasley lying there, dead. I couldn't even muster the proper emotion for the scene, having seen so much death and destruction: so much of the Dark Lord's supposed cleansing of the world. This wasn't clean; this left a grimy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I swiftly scooped up Ginny and turned to leave, unable to stomach the scene any longer. It was then that Kingsley showed up, then that I fell to my knees and literally begged for my life, and then that he pulled me from the ground and jinxed me.

Every hour that passes as we walk seems to be longer. Long-distance walking never was big in the wizarding world and I find myself wholly agreeing with the decision to invent apparation and the Floo network. However, I know that apparation and the Floo network can be tracked. It takes a while to track apparation sometimes depending on the skill of the person apparating, but either way any sense of security is met with a twinge of doubt.

"Blaise," Kingsley whispers out of nowhere, "How much do you know about wandless magic?"

Ginny snickers behind me. "Hermione says it isn't possible," she says with some authority.

I laugh bitterly, knowing that Hermione is quite possibly dead or imprisoned somewhere.

"Funny you should say that," I say after several moments.

"Caderilus is the incantation. The coating will fall from your eyes." Kingsley says this slowly, as though trying to decide if I can actually do it or am simply bluffing.

I push away thoughts slowly, first of the irritation about my current situation. Next goes the image of the dead Weasleys, Ginny's wellbeing, and the state of the Order of the Phoenix. I shove away my growing worry about Hermione and my concern for Draco. Finally, I push away the gnawing feeling I have about Dumbledore's death and the fate of the world now that I've failed. All my focus instead goes to an image of a waterfall: falling and falling in an endless cascade of purity.

"Caderilus," I mutter. My vision clouds a bit, but after a second incantation, it clears until I can see my surroundings. I breathe heavily in relief, trying to take in everything at once. We're deep in a wispy sort of forest that has too many trunks and not enough leaves. Still, there's enough wood around that I can't see anything past it and the leaf-covered ground beneath me. Before us lies a path that's strewn with brush and a few upstart trees, fighting their way to the spindly standard of perfection set by their forest home.

It's almost . . . quiet here. It's quiet in a way that the wizarding world never could be. There I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, always on the alert for potential allies; but more than anything for potential threats. There I'm stuck in this perfect mold that I've created for myself; the mold that causes the things I love to hate me and the things that I hate to love me. It's not so here. The utter, complete, and somehow warming silence leaves me—for the first time in months—at peace.

"This is . . . beautiful," I breathe, a slight smile skirting my features.

"I could almost forget myself out here," Ginny adds in the same awed tone before switching to a darker one, "Almost."

I glance over to see Kingsley staring at me with what I think is . . . concern? I wonder again at the motives of people: what causes some to show this unmerited mercy? Everything I've done . . . yet somehow there is understanding; somewhere there is compassion.

"It's incredible that such a place could exist during these dark times, isn't it," Kingsley finally mutters as though to himself. He swiftly stiffens and repositions his feet, a grim look sweeping across his face.

"You're curious—I am certain—as to the reason that we're standing in the middle of a forest instead of fighting at the front lines."

I glance at Ginny and we both nod in affirmation.

"This had to be safe, you see. This is the only place to do it."

Ginny voices the obvious question before I'm given the chance, "And what is 'it'?"

Kingsley ignores her and brushes past us, grabbing his wand from his robes and smoothly casting spells in circles, warding the place. This is important, then. He now transfigures one of the many leafless branches around us into a low table and casts levitating charms to remove the leaves and moisture from three spaces around the table, presumably our seats. Wordlessly, he settles his wand back in his pocket and drops to the ground, his legs crossing with a practiced agility.

Ginny and I make to follow suite, and at Kingsley's wordless command I sit opposite both of them. The word 'Veritaserum' suddenly pops into my head and I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat at the thought. He had said that he couldn't trust me, that I needed to prove my loyalty. He said that I would have to be put under Veritaserum, and I can't see that there's another option.

"I'm ready," I stiffen my features, trying to appear emotionless and calm.

Kingsley nods in understanding and removes a vial from his robes. Uncorking it, he reaches across the table, placing it in my hand.

"Drink."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't trembling. But it's not like I have much of a choice. The smooth liquid slides down my throat. In an instant I can feel a buzzing quality to the air and a lightness that surges through me, for all my barriers and reservations have vanished. It's not a particularly nice feeling.

"Blaise, I need you to tell me a few things. First, did you kill Dumbledore?"

"Yes." I answer without hesitation, a freakish fervor to my answer as though I were happy to be a murderer.

"So you mean to say that you intentionally killed Dumbledore and feel no remorse?"

I never thought that Veritaserum heightened your emotions, but it's all I can do not to cry as I answer. "No, I didn't mean to. Everything's gone horribly wrong and I feel more guilt than I've ever felt about anything; more guilt than when my father left me." I can't believe I just admitted that, but there is no holding back with this stuff.

"And what was your original plan?" Kingsley raises his eyebrow expectantly.

"To save the world."

Kingsley mutters something under his breath and I feel the weight of reality returning as though I were rushing back into my own body with its secrets and lies. The unrestrained truth, while freeing, isn't the slightest bit comfortable and I'm happy to be done with my dose of it.

"I didn't believe him," Kingsley says with a solemnness that I've come to expect from the man, "When he said that you were on our side."

"Who?" I demand. I have to know where he got his information; where there's a leak.

"Why, Albus Dumbledore himself."

I simply stare, dumbfounded.

"So then tell us why we've been brought here," Ginny speaks up, thankfully filling the silence.

"I don't know how to say this. I wish . . . I wish things were different." Kingsley has a far-away look and blinks slowly several times.

"How to say what?" I can't help but speak up as a tendril of suspicion crawls into my skull.

"It's about Harry Potter."

"What of him?" I will him not to say the words, but I'm not at all surprised by what comes out of his mouth next.

"He's dead."

I gulp, an acidy burn scorching my throat. I feel my heart pounding against my chest, every drop of blood running through it again and again. Again and again, this pointless cycle of living and living some more, failing and failing, doomed to the same mistakes a thousand times over. Regret washes over me and I truly feel the weight of each choice I've made. It's unbearable.

The silence is suddenly so loud and yet so lonely. I break it.

"What now?" My voice sounds raspy in my ears and heavy in my bones, a feeling of thickness seeming to slow time.

"You save the world." Kingsley doesn't miss a beat.

I laugh heartily despite the look of horrified concern that takes over the faces of both Ginny and Kingsley. I laugh until tears stream down my face and my ribcage begs me to stop. I laugh until my tears become those of sorrow and then I cry bitterly. I must sound broken, because I allow my head to be guided by Ginny into her lap. She begins to stroke me like a small child, but I've lost any willpower to fight it and instead allow myself to be treated like a child.

I remain like this for some time, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I run out of tears and all that's left to do is move on, but I don't want to do it. I want to be done. I want to go home, though I know that there's no home to return to anymore. Maybe what I want is to die, though I know that I don't. I'm trapped in this terrible reality, and I know that the only way to go is forward. I swallow and take an enormous breath.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Ginny lifts up my chin with the hand that isn't stroking my head and stares into my eyes as though searching for some kind of hope in them. She's probably disappointed.

"Yeah . . ." I mutter, "I'll be fine."

"Okay then." Kingsley sighs, a dull sort of weariness shining in his eyes. I've seen that look before, but I'm not given time to contemplate it.

"You're going to pose as a Death Eater—"

"—what do you mean I'm—"

"—You're going to ride the wave of killing Dumbledore and blend in, finding Voldemort's weaknesses."

"What, like Harry Potter?" I demand incredulously, my eyebrow knitting themselves together.

"No. You're blending in as a Death Eater because you need to survive. You're the last one, Blaise! Don't you get it? You two—you and Ginny—you're all that's left. Look, most of the Horcruxes were destroyed. Voldemort has ½ of a soul. You must convince him to further divide it and entrust you with a piece. You'll need to destroy it and leave him with much less of a soul. Then you'll need to destroy him."

"How?"

"I . . . you're a smart man, Blaise."