A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the other characters or situations associated with Harry Potter. Or much of anything else.
The Orphans
After the fall
Two young women strode down the darkened street, staying out of the halos of light that the streetlights gave off. To a casual observer, the pair seemed somehow indistinct. More than one young man that had passed them in the street this evening had at first thought 'wow', only to pause in mid stride a few steps later wondering what it was he had just been thinking.
The pair had no time for the distractions that come from the attentions of the opposite gender.
Had anyone been capable of paying attention to the pair they would have seen the two women turn onto Grimmauld Place, making their way into a residential district gone badly to seed. The pair paused for a moment on the pavement between #11 and #13, and then seemingly disappeared between the two houses.
The pair made their way to the door of the unseen #12, the result of their first collaboration, the recast Fidelius that had once again removed the knowledge of the existence of the house from the collective memories of the world.
Padma Patil reached the door first, pressed her wand against the knocker on the door, and spoke the first part of the password the pair had added to the house in case the Fidelius was ever broken. "Always Pure." She said, evoking the Black family motto.
Hermione Granger laid the tip of her wand alongside that of Padma and gave the second part of the password. "My Arse."
The door swung open and the pair found themselves facing Dean Thomas with his wand drawn and at the ready.
"Why didn't you kiss Harry at the Yule ball?" the Muggle born wizard challenged Padma.
"Well it might have been because he was my sister's date, or it might have been that he was being a prat and refusing to dance," she answered. Dean always had the most… unique challenges.
"Thank you Padma." Dean smirked. "Alright Hermione, if that's your real name, when did you break off your rather torrid romance with Greg Goyle?"
"Dean, I am going to kick your arse, and then I'll spread your pathetic remains all over the Hotspur's pitch."
"Ouch. You're Hermione alright; no pureblood would know how to hurt a West Ham fan so utterly."
"Is everyone alright?" Hermione asked eyeing the wizard's paint spattered form.
Dean nodded. "Susan and Justin are in the kitchen trying to fix dinner, which is amusing unto itself. Hannah is in her room, she still won't talk to anyone, not even Sue. Seamus is in the library trying to hit on Luna who doesn't seem to understand what he wants. And Harry, well he's still in the attic, training."
"And what have you been doing?" Padma asked.
"Oh, I've been communing with our resident sentry." He gestured toward the oddly silent portrait of Walburga Black that was surrounded by a stepladder, several vials of what the girls recognized as paint, and Dean's brushes and palette. "She was being rather hateful, so I made a few modifications to her portrait."
The women moved to face the portrait to find that the woman's Victorian gown had been replaced by skin tight black leather S&M gear, and her mouth filled with what appeared to be a ball gag, and her face made up like a movie whore.
"That seems effective." Padma noted.
"A bit disturbing, but effective." Hermione agreed.
"She called me a wog this morning." Dean sniffed. "It turns out that this is a load bearing wall, so since we can't get her off the wall and we can't make the wall go away, this seemed the best way of dealing with the evil bitch." He turned back to the painting. "Who's a pretty girl then?"
Seeing the look on Hermione's face, Padma struggled not to laugh at the painting's struggles in her restraints.
"We'll leave you to it then." Padma said gasping to control the laughter. "Sue and Justin will need the food we bought." The Asian witch took hold of Hermione's hand and pulled her toward the kitchen while Dean continued to speak to the portrait.
"Maybe I'll add my Uncle Clayton to your portrait Walburga, so that you'll have company. Muggle Dock worker you know. Saw him coming out of the shower once, his John Thomas hung almost to his knee…"
The door to the kitchen swung closed, cutting off the one sided conversation, and Padma lost herself to her laughter. Hermione appeared to be disapproving for a few moments, then surrendered to her own case of the giggles.
"You've seen our resident artist's work I take it?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Merlin, I needed that." Hermione gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Justin disapproves." Susan giggled from the range where she had three pots boiling. "I think he's jealous of her new boots."
"Watch it Bones." The tall boy huffed. He returned his attention to Padma and Hermione. "What did you get us?"
"Food isn't going to be a problem." Padma said producing the shrunken bags she carried from her jacket pockets. "Hermione showed me how to use a Muggle supermarket."
"Using a market isn't really all that hard Padma, I'm just glad for Harry's money." Hermione protested. "He had the foresight to move a big chunk of it out of Gringotts before everything went to hell when I was telling him everything was going to be alright." The brunette hung her head, the humor of a few moments before forgotten. "Nothing is going to be alright again."
She felt a pair of arms wrap around her. "Hermione," Justin breathed in her ear. "None of us believed that everything could go to hell as quickly as it did. Not even Harry. He was talking about the collapse of the Ministry taking months, not a week. But, he rescued me and Sue; he killed the Death Eaters that killed our parents. Harry saved us all, and he's going to kill every one of the bastards that did this to us. We'll be there, because we'll have his back."
"This is not your fault Hermione." Padma said joining the hug. "We'll get through this and we'll win."
The door opened and the upper torso of Harry Potter entered the room. "Good, you're here." He said spotting Hermione. "Dobby found some information for me." He said, pulling the invisibility cloak closed at the neck, leaving what appeared to be his disembodied head floating in midair. "I'm going out."
"Harry, you can't go out alone, let me grab a few…" Hermione began.
"NO!" The Boy Who Lived all but screamed. "I am not risking any of you. Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours." The hood of the cloak covered his head and all evidence of the raven haired wizard vanished from view, followed by a soft crack signifying that Harry had apparated away."
Hermione stood apart from the others in the room. "Damn you Harry Potter." She ground out. "Dobby!"
There was an immediate pop, and the oddly dressed elf stood before the four young magic users. "Yes Hermione Granger?"
"What did you tell Harry that has him rushing off alone?"
"Dobby found out what Harry Potter sir wanted to know," the elf said.
"And what did you tell him?"
"Harry Potter sir asked that Dobby not tell anyone what Dobby do for Harry Potter sir." Dobby said.
"Dobby I need to know so that I can help him." Hermione said.
"Dobby is sorry Hermione Granger. Dobby cannot tell you."
"Dobby," Hermione said, feeling her annoyance growing. "I'm ordering you to tell me what you told Harry."
"You is ordering Dobby?" The elf asked incredulously. "Harry Potter who Dobby would do anything for never orders Dobby to do anything. Harry Potter always asks that Dobby to try to do things after he asks Dobby to be safe, Harry Potter says Dobby's safety most important thing, but you order Dobby? Dobby is not slave. Dobby is free elf. You is bossy girl. You is worse than old Masters, you order Dobby with no right to order Dobby to do anything. You is not Dobby's mistress. You is never being Dobby's mistress. Dobby is free!"
Dobby popped away, leaving a mortified Hermione Granger, and three other magic users who were all shocked into silence.
"What have I done?"
-===oooOOOooo===-
"T'ank you for meeting wit' us Voldemort." The Dark Skinned Witch said.
The Dark Lord Voldemort settled into his raised throne. He looked down at the assembled magic users seated around the table before him, noting the ten who did not rise when he entered the room. Voldemort waited until all four of his inner circle Death Eaters had taken their places standing at his side, and then spoke. "Lord Voldemort."
"Lord?" an ancient wizard in flowing silk robes laughed. "My young friend, you may call yourself anything you want, but surely among such as this group we can be plain spoken and honest can we not? I am Tung-fang Shuo of China. We represent the Council of Elders. It has come to our attention that you seek to join our ranks, and we have come with… suggestions."
"Seek to join your ranks? Why would I do that? I am in need of no suggestions!"
"But you are young one," The dreadlocked woman who first spoke shook her head. "We have heard of your plans and goals, we suspect that your soul jars be doin' more than simply holding off death. Immortality be a completely different t'ing Mon."
"All too true." The man dressed as a noble from a 9th century Sultanate said. "You risk much and will survive only as long as your Horcruxes remain intact. If your enemies were to discover them, you would die. Our intelligence tells us that you have already lost two of your soul jars, and have lost control of two more."
Voldemort perked up at the suggestion that two of his Horcruxes had been destroyed and that two more were no longer where he had left them.
"Surprised you, did we?" The woman in a modern Muggle business suit said. "If you were smart, you would retrieve those soul jars that remain and reintegrate them to your remaining soul. Others have tried the path you are on, and their sanity suffered for it. Your fixating on the Potter boy leads me to suspect that you are further along that path than we thought."
"You dare?" Voldemort hissed. "Avada Kedavra!"
The aide standing beside the woman stepped between the oncoming spell and the woman, dropping to the floor as soon as the curse hit his body. Voldemort stood uncharacteristically stock still, stunned at the selfless dedication exhibited.
"You fucking bastard!" the woman spat as she rose to her feet. "Have you any idea how difficult it is to train and retain a competent assistant? Eh?" She looked over Voldemort's elite who were only then starting to draw their wands. "Ah, I suppose you don't know, not having ever actually done so." She waved her left hand and the four Death Eaters fell to the floor instantly dead.
Voldemort's eyes widened as he realized that whatever the woman had done had frozen him in place.
The woman approached him until they were nose to nose. "I'm going to explain this once boy. You don't want to fuck with us. We have real power. We are as far over you as you are over the average wizard in Diagon Alley. I clawed my way to power in the Yukon before your father filled his first diaper. You have no idea what we can do, while we know all about you." She turned her back to him and returned to her seat releasing him from the paralysis.
"You are lucky young one." The wizard that had identified himself as Tung-fang Shuo laughed. "A generation ago, Matilda would have killed you for daring to attack her. In addition, no, your soul jars would not have hampered her in the slightest. She is mellowing it seems."
The group smiled at the sound of the woman identified as 'Matilda' snorting.
"We exist," the wizard in the furs of a 19th century Russian nobleman said, "to guide newcomers to the proper use of their power. Given time, you will come into your powers, but for now, you are, shall we say, limited."
"We are the true power of the magical world, young one. We are the power behind the various governments that the sheep of the world believe protect them from the darkness." Tung-fang Shuo said. "But I wax poetic. You have potential young one. One day you may be welcomed into our ranks, but not today."
"What is it you want from me?" Voldemort asked. He had not, he reflected, reached this point by taking unnecessary risks. The man who had once been Tom Riddle knew how to bide his time and make his plans. He would learn what he needed to know about this 'Council of Elders' and then destroy it.
"Snake mon," The dreadlocked witch said shaking her head. "Weren't you listenin' when you were told of our power? We know dat you be plottin' against us, it be shining in dem red eyes of yours."
"He will learn Monica," the Russian said smiling widely. "He will learn. I for one find it soothing to see the energy and wild ideas of the young ones who come to us. What we want of you, Voldemort is that you take the time to consolidate your holdings before attempting to gain more."
"Why would I stop my conquest?"
"Because you have yet to completely subdue the peoples of Britain." The Wizard dressed as a Russian said quietly. "That, and if you or your minions run a single operation anywhere in Europe, I will kill you. You are allowed unrestricted operations in Britain. Europe is mine."
"Almost unrestricted operations in Britain, the Turk corrected. "There is a very important line that you must never cross."
This comment brought nods of agreement from the entire Council.
Voldemort decided to proceed cautiously. "What is the restriction you expect me to obey?"
"Simple really," the Canadian Witch said. "The Normals are off limits."
"Normals?"
"De Mundanes, mon. De ones wit' out de magics. What do de Brits call dem?" the Dreadlocked Witch called Monica asked the room.
"Muggles," Tung-fang Shuo laughed. "I've always like that term. You are to leave the Muggles alone. If your operations cause undue notice from the Muggle Authorities, you will be killed."
"Yeh Mon," Monica agreed. "Leave de Muggles alone. Dey's too many Mon, dey's got de weapons dat can kill whole cities."
"This is ridiculous," Voldemort spat. "You can't seriously expect me to cower in fear of the Muggles! I will conquer them!"
"It cannot be done my young friend," Tung-fang Shuo said. "If it could, it would have been done eons ago, when they were fewer and were armed with nothing more than spears and swords. Now there are just too many of them, and their weapons are far too powerful. They are to be left alone. These are laws that even such as we must follow."
-===oooOOOooo===-
Covered by his invisibility cloak, Harry Potter slipped into the darkest reaches of what had, until the conquest of Voldemort, been known as the Department of Mysteries. It had taken six weeks for Dobby to find out about this place, a place that new edicts had declared off limits to the House Elves that maintained the Ministry of Magic. Then it had taken Harry seven hours to penetrate the defenses to make it this far.
There he was. Neville Longbottom hung suspended off the floor, spread eagle, each limb tied off to point on the walls with ropes, his back arched over the surface of a huge wheel. Standing in front of his suffering friend was a Death Eater. Harry assumed that the man was the guard for this level, who instead of doing his duty and patrolling his station spent his time tormenting the prisoners.
No matter. The fact that he wore Riddle's mark meant he had to die.
Harry did not stun people or take prisoners any longer.
-===oooOOOooo===-
Something hit him on his chest.
It did not even hurt, but it did rouse Neville Longbottom's interest enough to fight his way through the pain to discover what was going on. The last of the Longbottoms forced his eyes to open and raised his head to look into the eyes of an unmasked Marcus Flint.
"Still with us Blood Traitor?" The larger man mocked Neville.
Neville thought for a moment, wondering if he wanted to try to spit on the Death Eater. Unfortunately his second day without water had left him too parched to be able to manage the saliva needed to that minor act of defiance.
"I thought," Flint continued, "that when your parents were brought here, and slowly killed in front of you, you would have told the Dark Lord what he wanted to know. But you didn't, did you Longbottom? That means that either you are a harder man than I have ever heard anyone give you credit for, or it means that you don't have the foggiest idea where Potter might be."
Neville was fighting to catch enough breath to issue a resounding 'fuck you' to the Death Eater Scum in front of him when Flint's head suddenly jerked backwards as if someone had taken a fist full of his hair and pulled back sharply, then a wicked looking knife being handled by a disembodied hand was buried into the underside of the man's throat and the blade driven up into the Death Eater's brain.
Flint thrashed and jerked for almost a minute before he was permitted to fall to the ground in death. Harry Potter allowed the hood of his invisibility cloak to fall backwards, making it appear that his disembodied head was floating in place.
"Harry?" Neville wheezed softly as his former classmate moved to cut the ropes that held him suspended against the wheel with the same knife used to kill Flint.
"I've got you Nev." Harry whispered as he lowered his friend to the ground. "I came as soon as we found you. I'll get you somewhere safe." Harry reached for his portkey.
"No," Neville said, grabbing on to Harry's hand with surprising strength. "Too late for me." Neville pointed to a black stain on his abdomen. "Dark Bastard infected me with a cursed fungus. Eating me alive."
"It's not too late Nev." Harry said blinking back tears at the thought of the death of another friend, all because he could not stop Riddle like that stupid prophecy said he had to. "Hermione and Padma are with us, they can figure out…"
"There's no point Harry," Neville whispered. "The fungus is in my gut. I'm already dead, my body just hasn't figured it out yet. I've got a day, maybe two. That's all." The fallen Gryffindor fought for his breath, and then continued. "Just leave me Flint's wand. I'll make it interesting for whoever finds me if I can."
Harry pulled a small canteen from his belt under the cloak, and pressed it into Neville's hand. "Drink a little, and then we're getting out of here."
Neville raised the canteen to his lips with shaking hands. Stale water had never tasted so good. "Vo...Voldemort is scared of you Harry. Terrified of what you might do. He's been down here every day, trying to force me to tell him where you are."
"Neville, we've got to go."
"I'm staying Harry. I'm going to kill someone for what they did to my mum and dad if I can." Neville pointed to the cell door to his left. "There's a girl in there. I've heard her crying. Take her. She got here five days ago, you can still save her." The young man slumped from the effort of speaking.
"Are you sure Nev?"
"Yeah. Go Harry, get out of here," the last of the Longbottom line said. "Do what you need to do to kill the bastards."
Harry pressed the fallen Death Eater's wand into his friend's hand, then rose from the floor and opened the cell door that Neville had indicated. The door was unlocked. Harry's frown deepened. The bastards were certainly sure of themselves. He pushed the door open.
She was huddled in the far corner of the narrow cell. Naked, used, and her face beaten beyond recognition. Harry knelt beside the girl and using his wand, cleaned her as best he could.
"Kill me."
As raspy as it was Harry recognized this young woman's voice before he recognized her battered face. "Tracey?"
"Come on you…" her body shook in a spasm of wet coughing. "Son of a whore, kill me. Aren't you man enough?"
Dear god, it was Tracey Davis. The last he had heard the entire Davis clan had been wiped out the day the Ministry fell. Harry wet his lips, and made a decision. He stunned the girl, and pulled her under his cloak with him after casting a feather light charm on her, one of the few such charms that would work on a living body. Harry lifted the girl and returned to Neville.
"Are you sure Nev? I can get you both out of here."
"I'm sure Harry," Neville wheezed. "Voldemort usually visits me before Flint gets off shift. He'll be here soon. Go on, get out of here."
Harry pulled the cloak over his head once again, and made his way out the way he came in. He fought against the tears that threatened to flow at the loss of yet another friend.
-===oooOOOooo===-
Arcturus Flint was the Commander of the new Ministry's guards, and as such had the responsibility and honor of accompanying the Dark Lord on his daily inspections of the building. This included tours of the detention facilities in the old Department of Mysteries.
This was one of the reasons that a Death Eater as junior as Arcturus' nephew Marcus had such an important shift. Arcturus saw much of himself in the boy, and was positioning him so that the Dark Lord would see him and keep the Flint name in mind when the rewards were distributed.
This is why finding his nephew's body lying in a pool of his own blood shocked Arcturus to his core.
Voldemort was immediately on guard at the sight of one of his Death Eaters lying dead on the dungeon's stone floor. The Dark Lord's wand seemingly just appeared in his hand as he scanned the room for threats.
"Harry said to tell you 'hi'," the Longbottom boy said from where he sat under the torture frame that should have, yet had not broken him. "He said that he'd drop by to kick your ass real soon, when he had more time and doesn't have something better to do." The dying boy lifted what Voldemort recognized as a canteen in a salute. "I just wish I was going to be here to see it."
In a fury, Voldemort lifted the boy bodily from the floor. "Where is he? Tell me!"
The boy coughed wetly, spewing bloody sputum over the front of Voldemort's robes as his body fought weakly against the fungus that was killing him. "Igneus Vir!" Longbottom spat as soon as he regained his breath.
Voldemort reacted to the indescribable pain of the bones in his right arm transmuted from calcium to phosphorus by dropping his Yew wand, as well as the last of the Longbottom clan and stumbling backwards in agony.
The oxygen in the tissue of his forearm reacted with the phosphorus that now made up his bones and burst into small gouts of flame. This caused the flesh to rupture, exposing more of the transmuted bone to the oxygen in the air. His entire forearm burst into flame and the curse continued to work its way up his arm.
Voldemort knew that he had only seconds to save his body. Fighting against the agony, he groped for his lost wand with his left hand. After a seeming eternity, his hand found the familiar handle and with a screamed severing charm cut off his own right arm at the shoulder, above the point the curse had reached. Rolling away from his flaming arm to douse the flames consuming his robes, Voldemort came to rest near the laughing Longbottom boy.
Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air incanting the spell that had given Wormtail his false hand the day of Voldemort's rebirth. A blob of what appeared to be molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Shapeless, it twisted in unison with the Dark Lord's wand movements until the silver mass shaped itself into a shining facsimile of a human right arm, which then fixed itself upon Voldemort's bleeding shoulder.
Voldemort's agony stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared at the silver arm, now attached seamlessly to his shoulder. He flexed the shining arm at the elbow, rotated the shoulder joint and finally manipulated all the fingers, then, trembling as the adrenalin washed from his system, he stood from the floor to confront Arcturus Flint who was still staring at his nephew's body.
"Your lord is threatened and you make no attempt to assist him?" Voldemort thundered.
Flint took notice of what was happening around him for the first time since entering the room, and threw himself at his lord's feet.
"I am sorry My Lord, your reactions were so fast I had no time to react," he babbled. "It was the shock of finding my brother's son dead here in depths of your strong hold… I couldn't believe it."
"Believe it," Neville Longbottom laughed before drawing a painful breath. "Harry Potter goes where he will. Nothing you can do will stop him. He's coming for you Voldemort."
Rage flooded Voldemort's mind. "Avada Kedavra!" he spat ending the elder Flint's life. His wand swung toward Neville Longbottom.
"You've got a bit of an anger problem there Voldemort," the boy rasped. "No wonder you can't keep good help."
"Avada Kedavra!" the Dark Lord incanted again, ending the Longbottom line forever.
Alone in the room, Voldemort stood for a moment panting from the exertion of the last few minutes. Finally, he turned on his heel and exited the dungeon. He needed to find a healer to ensure that he had caught Longbottom's curse in time, and mostly he had to get away from the damnable grin on the dead boy's face.
-===oooOOOooo===-
She slid through the darkness in silence. Her prey was still unaware that she had been following him for more than an hour.
Idiot.
"Tonks?" a voice whispered from the charmed button on her shoulder.
"I'm busy," she breathed. "We'll talk later, and I told you not to call me that."
The person once known as Nymphadora Tonks was a woman on a mission. She was not an Auror any longer. That had been taken from her by Voldemort when he had taken the Ministry. She was not a daughter any longer. That had been taken from her when Bellatrix LeStrange had lead a team of thirty five Death Eaters to her parent's home and tortured Ted and Andy Tonks to death. She was not a wife any longer. That had been taken from her when Fenrir Greyback and his pack had ripped poor sweet Remus limb from limb in a moonlight-fueled rage.
She was not even a mother any longer. That had been taken from her when Severus Snape had paralyzed her, forcing her to watch as Greyback murdered Remus Lupin, and then turned his wand on her for almost four minutes of the Cruciatus curse before telling her that an abomination like her didn't deserve to die like a witch, and he crushed her throat under his boot.
It was only her Metamorphmagus skills that allowed her body to reconstruct her air way and save her life, though not that life of her unborn child. The exposure to Snape's Cruciatus left her poor baby dead in her womb and left Tonks herself teetering on the lip of insanity.
Through it all, she was certain of one thing. Snape had made a mistake. He had left her alive.
She buried her son with what was left of his father in a fallow field. It was while kneeling upon the freshly turned soil of the unmarked grave that Nymphadora Tonks died. In her place was Vengeance. She would kill them until one of them killed her.
Now she was tracking a Death Eater, hoping that this one would lead her to Snape, Greyback, or 'Auntie' Bella. The ten before this one had not. Not that it mattered. They bled, they screamed, and they died knowing that the spirit of vengeance had found them.
This one would too. So would whoever it was he was traveling to see. She froze in the shadows as he crossed a lighted street, his boots echoing on the cobblestones. He climbed the steps to a door, which opened when it recognized his magic. The door sealed with a wet sucking sound and she smiled to herself.
Breaking such a simple seal was one of the first tricks Mad Eye had taught her. She ghosted across the street and broke the seal charm with a jab of her wand. She entered the entry of the house silently and shrugged out of her cloak, exposing what was left of her Auror's armor. The Dragon skin clung to her torso like a second skin, her arms and legs were bare allowing her unrestricted movement. She relaxed her features and allowed her body to flow into her combat form.
Her arms lengthened and her forearms extruded a ridge of razor sharp bone with a four-inch long spike at each elbow. Her knees reversed and her feet morphed into hooves made for slicing into flesh. The pain was indescribable. She concentrated for a moment, ensuring that her center of balance was perfectly tuned to this form. There would be no mistakes, not this time. This time, it was the Death Eaters who would die.
She pressed herself to the wall outside the room voices came from. She had found her Death Eater on the first floor, sitting down to his evening meal with two others. She made minute changes to the structure of her ears to allow an image of the room behind the wall to build. It was a small room, with a table taking up most of the space in the room. Three men were in the room, though one was… different.
Did she dare hope?
The trio looked up when she entered the room, and her heart soared. Fenrir Greyback sat at the table, a raw bloody steak in front of him.
The wands came out, as they always did, and the Death Eaters were shocked, as they always were when the speed of her combat form allowed her to weave untouched between the light pulses of their spells. Her hands became blades of thick bone that she thrust into the chests of the man she had followed to this house and the man to his left, while her right leg kicked out to disembowel Greyback.
The two Death Eaters died as she bisected their hearts, but Greyback, even untransformed, had inhuman reflexes. He moved so that she missed him in her attack, though just barely.
Her smile grew wider. She would have been annoyed if the Alpha Werewolf had died so easily, so quickly. This was so much better. She was going to make him suffer.
Greyback it seemed was of a like mind. Ignoring his wand, he drew a long black fighting knife. She recognized that blade from her time in Auror training. Mad Eye's hold out blade. The bastard was trying to taunt her?
"Wondered where you were little Metamorphmagus," the Were taunted her. "Snape claimed he killed you, but I never really believed that the mate of someone capable of challenging me would go down so easily."
"Remus would have killed you if you hadn't hid behind your pack," she whispered. "What kind of Alpha is a coward who hides from challenges?" her hands changed from bone blades to hands again, each finger tipped with a razor sharp talon. "That's probably why you use so much of the bane; for fear that the wolf would forget to hide."
Predictably, Greyback charged at that challenge of his Alpha status. In a blink, he was on top of her, and she would not have had it any other way. His blade bit deep into her belly before the handle snapped off, her claws shredded his abdomen, freeing his internal organs to spill from his body and cover them both.
Still they struggled together, neither capable of landing a blow that would instantly kill the other, each knowing that they would be at each other until one of them bled out.
It took nine minutes for Greyback to die. The part of her mind that still relied on her Auror training registered surprised at this; she had thought it would be much quicker. She pushed the Were off her body and struggled to her feet, relaxing her combat form and trying to push her Metamorphmagus skills into sealing her wounds.
She was in trouble with the blade in her gut, she would need help to get out of this one… it would be so easy to die, to join Remus and their son and her parents… but Bellatrix was still out there, and so was Snape.
She tapped the charmed button on her right shoulder. "I need help."
"We know that, when else to you call us?" The voice whispered. "We'll be there in thirty seconds; can you make it to the door?"
"Yes," she said simply
"Meet me there."
She struggled to the door, stopping to pick up her cloak. When she stepped out of the door a white delivery van that had obviously seen better days pulled up in the street. The driver's side door opened and a red headed man rushed from the vehicle to her side.
"Merlin's massive member Tonks, what have you done to yourself?"
Despite the blood oozing between the fingers of her right hand as she attempted to stem the flow, she grinned. "Don't call me that. And you should see the other guys."
The redhead nodded, and rummaged in a cloak pocket that seemed to be much deeper than it should be. He pulled out a small gray sphere. "Anyone left inside?"
"No one breathing." She said dismissively.
Again, the redhead nodded and tossed the gray sphere through a ground floor window. "Come on, let's get you in the van," he said taking the woman by the arm and gently guiding her to the rear of the waiting van. Opening the rear doors, he spoke again. "She's hurt again."
"Of course she is. Why else would she call us?" a woman's voice answered. "I swear to Merlin Nymphadora, I am going to have a plaque with your name engraved on it hung over your bed in the ward."
Stepping up into the spacious room the van contained, she hissed. "Don't call me that Poppy. Nymphadora Tonks is dead." With those words, the still young Metamorphmagus pitched forward unconscious.
"Help me get her into the Ward!" Poppy Pomfrey said, "Then get us the hell out of here."
Twenty minutes later, as the battered van turned onto the M6, the building where the young woman who thought of herself as Vengeance had so recently fought for her life vanished down to the foundation. If not for the patch of bare earth where it had stood, no one would ever be able to show that anything had ever stood on that spot.
The neighbors, of course, called the police.
-===oooOOOooo===-
Hermione had maintained her vigil in the kitchen of #12 all day and into the night. Harry, she knew, was a creature of habit. If he apparated from a particular spot, he would usually return to that same spot.
All she had to do was wait.
However, waiting was hard. Waiting for Harry was especially hard.
It was nearly 3 a.m. before her waiting was rewarded when a sharp crack sounded in the middle of the kitchen. Hermione watched as Harry shed his father's cloak to suddenly appear in the room… carrying a girl in his arms?
"Dobby!" Harry called his back to where Hermione sat.
Instantly the elf appeared with a pop. "Harry Potter, Sir?"
"We've got a new visitor Dobby," Harry said quietly. "She's in a bad way. Do we have an empty room for her?"
"An empty room, Harry Potter, Sir?" the small being asked. "No Sir, all of the rooms are taken."
"Damn," Harry said. "Ok, could you please move Hannah in with Sue? Hannah will just have to decide if she's going to deal with what's happened or not," Harry said before indicating the sleeping girl in his arms. "Tracey is hurt badly. She's going to need some medical help, but not from Justin, not just yet. Are any of the girls up on their healing?"
"Miss Padma Patil usually assists Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchly with his healings Harry Potter Sir," Dobby answered.
"Perfect. Could you get Hannah moved in with Susan for me Dobby? But before you do that could you ask Padma to come here?"
The elf nodded energetically before popping away, and Harry seemed to relax a bit, as if stress was bleeding off from his shoulders.
"Harry?"
Potter, still encumbered with the girl twisted to face her in surprise. "Hermione!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here."
"Who is that?" Hermione asked indicating the naked girl in Harry's arms, horrified by what she was seeing. The girl had obviously been… used. Hermione could not help but wonder if that would have been her fate if Harry had not…
"Tracey Davis," Potter said with a sigh. "She's had it rough for a while. Could you get some cushioning charms on the table so I can put her down? The featherlight charm wore off a while ago."
Ashamed of herself for not thinking of cushioning the table without having been asked, Hermione drew her wand and cast the needed charms.
Harry gently laid the girl down on the tabletop and flexed his arms to work out the cramps.
"Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Where did you go? Where did you find her?"
"I was at the Ministry. Dobby found information about Neville's location." Harry paused for a moment, wiping at his eyes with his left hand. "He's likely gone now. I was too late. Voldemort had infected him with some cursed fungus and Neville said it was incurable, that it was too late. He wouldn't come with me, and told me to take Tracey instead."
"What fungus was it Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I don't fucking know Hermione, and I don't really fucking care," Harry spat as he slumped into a chair. "What possible difference could it make? Neville is most likely dead now because I wasn't fast enough, because I didn't think to ask Dobby to try and find him sooner." The young man sighed. "It always comes down to me not doing enough, soon enough."
Padma rushed into the kitchen, tying off the belt of her dressing gown as she did so. "Harry, Dobby said you needed me? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine Pad," Harry said, standing up as if to prove his fitness. "This is your patient."
"Sweet Merlin!" Padma gasped when she saw the condition of the girl on the table. "I'd best get Justin."
"Get Justin if you really need him," Harry said softly. "But if you can deal with her injuries, it would probably be best to keep any of the lads away from her… at least for as long as we can."
Padma nodded and began the wand motions to scan the wounded girl to get a better understanding of the issues involved.
"She's badly hurt," Padma noted. "Justin is better trained than I…"
"When I found her, she asked me to kill her. Dared me to do it." Harry shook his head. "Dobby is moving Hannah in with Sue, when you're ready to move her, call Dobby and he'll help you. I'm heading upstairs to see if I can get any sleep. If you need Justin, call him, but I think the last thing she needs right now is any man touching her."
Hermione followed Harry from the kitchen, catching up with him as he stopped to stare at the portrait of Sirius' mother.
"What the bloody hell?"
"Language Harry," Hermione admonished her friend, more from reflex than from any objection to the words he was using. "Walburga called Dean a wog this morning. This was his way of expressing his displeasure."
Harry continued to stare at the portrait of the restrained, struggling, woman in black leather bondage gear for several seconds before an exhausted smile found its way to his lips. "Remind me to never call Dean a wog, would you Hermione?" Harry turned away from the portrait for the stairs.
"Harry, I need to talk to you," she said as she followed him up the stairs.
"Whatever it is, Hermione, it can wait," Harry said.
"It can't, Harry," she insisted. "It's about Dobby."
Harry stopped on the first landing. "What about Dobby? Is he hurt?"
"Not hurt…" Hermione hesitated. "When you left, I tried to get him to tell me where you went."
"Dobby wouldn't tell you," Harry noted, resuming his climb up the stairs. "You were wasting your time."
"I… I ordered him to tell me," Hermione admitted ashamedly.
Harry stopped again. "You what?"
"He was being obstinate," she explained, "and I needed to know where you had gone, so I…"
Harry held up a hand to silence her. "Dobby?"
The elf appeared between them with a pop. "Yes, Harry Potter?"
"Dobby," Harry said kneeling down on the landing so that he was eye level with the elf, "I understand you had a bit of a falling out with Hermione."
"Hermione Granger gave Dobby orders like a bossy girl," the elf explained. "Dobby lost his temper, Harry Potter. Dobby apologizes. It will not happen again."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Dobby," Harry said gently. "You are free, if someone presuming to give you orders angers you, which is your privilege as a free person. Hermione will not be making that mistake again. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
"Dobby is fine, Harry Potter."
"Good, because I need my friend Dobby," Harry sighed. "Padma will be asking for your help with our newest guest in a few minutes. After that's done, try and get some rest yourself, okay Dobby?"
"Dobby will rest, Harry Potter," the elf assured him before popping away.
Harry nodded at the empty space the elf had occupied before turning to his oldest friend. "You won't be making that mistake again, will you Hermione?" he asked tiredly.
"If you had told me where…"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "we are hanging on here by our fingernails. The very last thing we need is you chasing Dobby off because of your sense of entitlement. There are some things that I have to do alone. That is not going to change. There are somethings that you will end up doing alone, and that will likely nearly kill me, but I won't interfere. Padma will be doing things, Justin and Susan and Dean and everyone else will have things that only they can do, and we will let them. If we're going to survive, we're going to have to trust each other."
Hermione's eyes grew wide, "but you've always told me everything."
Harry reached out to gently cup her jaw with his right hand. "Hermione, I've almost never told you anything."
He turned and silently resumed his climb up the stairs to the attic, for the quiet corner he had claimed for himself.
-===oooOOOooo===-
A/N: This is one of my older incomplete ideas, and quite obviously on of my darker stories. It actually predates the release of the Deathly Hallows. Voldemort has won, the Ministry is in his hands. Unlike the Voldemort of Canon, this version of Tom doesn't have quite the death grip on the Idiot Ball and has eliminated all of his opposition he could
So, the Weasleys, beyond the Twins are gone. The Hogwarts staff, with the exception of Filius Flitwick and Poppy Pomfrey are dead. The sole survivor of the Order of the Phoenix is a very damaged Tonks, and the DA is down to the few survivors a somewhat more prepared Harry was able rescue and hide away at #12.
Poppy and the Twins are constantly on the move in a magically expanded up Ford Transit van, which includes, among other things the stolen complete Hogwarts Hospital Wing. They work with Tonks as they can, because she needs the help.
Flitwick has returned to the caverns of his grandfather's people below London and is part of the defensive forces keeping the DEs out. I've got a lovely 300 rip off planned for the little guy's last stand that I've never been able to write out.
Anyway, the story starts about 6 months after the fall of the ministry and I'm not really sure where I might take it if or when I ever pick it up again.
So, with the understanding that I might come back to it if inspiration strikes, I'm releasing it to a good home. Have fun.