Death's True Hallows

by Ensis96

She had electric blue hair and emerald green eyes that twinkled with mirth at their surprise, but what put her even more out of place was her clothing. She had no robe or House emblem, nothing Wizardly about her at all. The halfblood beamed at the Poltergeist of Hogwarts and brightly spoke words that had never once been said: "Hi Peeves, it's nice to meet you!" (A Next-Gen fanfic)

31. Ch 31 Respect Elders

Ch 31- Echoes of the Past

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~Happy Halloween~

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Harry Potter stood in the doorway of his private study, looking into the room as though it held all the answers to the universe. He could hear the roar of the fireplace just one flight of stairs away as Ministry Hit Wizards arrived in his living room through the Floo Network, greeted by Ron and Ginny and given a brief rundown of where they were going and what to expect.

Ginny had been making dinner when he arrived, and had dropped everything to rush to the living room. She hadn't expected him home for hours, which meant the unexpected arrival had her worried.

Harry had immediately greeted her with a hug and a quick kiss to assure he was all right, but the worry quickly returned to her face as he filled her in on what had brought him home. It wasn't the first time their living room had been used as a launch point for an Auror mission, unfortunately, and they were well prepared.

The married Potters had stashed spare auror uniforms in their house for just such emergencies, and Ginny had helped Harry grab his combat robes, assured she would rearrange the living room furniture so the arriving wizards wouldn't be cramped, and… and given another suggestion.

The soft ticks of the clock echoed loudly in his ears.

That suggestion was the reason that Harry now stood in the doorway of his private study, instead of greeting and motivating the arriving Hit Wizards. There were no more Aurors on hand. Him and Ron were it- the rest were either supporting the Ministry's Creatures Division on dementor patrol, or on the teams that had been at the other Horcrux locations. Ergo the gathering 'back-up' was made of Hit Wizards from Magical Law Enforcement.

While similarly trained, the difference in skill was like that between a muggle street cop and special forces. Not to mention that Harry had trained every Auror in his command personally, he knew their strengths and shortcomings like the back of his own hand and knew they'd follow his every command in the field without a moment's hesitation. The Hit Wizards respected him and his authority, but not on an individual level. They wouldn't be personally motivated to protect him, or protect the hurt or missing squad they were rescuing.

The Head of the Auror division knew he could trust the professionalism of the Hit Wizards, but he'd always preferred personal loyalties to badges. That's why he was grateful Ron would be coming, even though he'd been out of the Auror business for years.

Harry found himself watching the portrait of himself and his family that was mounted behind his desk, painted shortly after Lily's birth. Ginny was holding their new baby girl, brimming with happiness and playing with the babe who cooed adorably as she reached for a strand of her Mother's ginger hair. Harry held the one-year old Albus in one arm, his spare hand resting on a three-year old James's shoulder. The young Albus periodically hid his face against his Dad's shoulder, but James's eyes were alight with the determination that the three year old had shown when he insisted he too would stand on his own for the long time that the portrait would take, instead of sitting or being held as his younger siblings were.

While he normally looked to the image with fond nostalgia, Harry's mind was currently focused on what lay behind the portrait. On the magical safe he'd spent a small fortune to acquire, to protect and conceal the single most dangerous thing in his house. The most dangerous item in the wizarding world.

The Elder Wand.

He moved back into quick pacing, running a hand through his hair. Harry had barely touched the thing since it had killed Voldemort twenty-three years ago. He had meant what he'd promised, when he said he wouldn't use the wand, that he'd do his best to die a peaceful death so that the amassed power of the ancient weapon would cease to be.

Of course, the temptation to change his decision had always persisted. Harry had thought many a time about opening the safe. He had faced countless deadly situations since winning the Battle of Hogwarts, and every single time he was tempted to use the Elder Wand to protect himself, not only out of a desire to survive, but to prevent his defeat and the subsequent transfer of the wand's power. Every time he had tracked down yet another Death Eater, every time he led a raid into the property of a known Dark Wizard, every time he responded to a dementor attack, his eyes would wander toward the safe and feel the tempting power that lay in rest beyond it.

Harry had never done it, however. He had never so much as touched the safe since placing the Elder Wand inside of it.

This time, though… this time Harry didn't just face death. This time he risked losing not his life but himself, his memories, and his magic. His mind kept going back to Simmons. The Auror had been at his back for countless missions, had been a fixture in Harry's life. Simmons had a home and a family and though he wasn't dead he was still gone. Simmons hadn't recognised Sanderson, even though they'd joined the Auror training together. Simmons wouldn't even recognize his own home if he saw it, though he'd probably be at 's for a long time. He wouldn't know his visitors apart, his friends from his family. Simmons had forgotten his wife. His own children.

Now Harry, and every one of his wizards who were going into the Crystal Cave with him, risked the same fate.

His entire being quivered at the thought. The eleven year old that Harry had been- the miserable, abused muggle child that he'd been, balked at the very idea of losing his magic. The ability that had not only granted him his freedom but his friendships and life as he knew it. His own family. He looked to the portrait. His three children.

He wasn't the only one scared. Ginny had been the first one to voice the option, her voice wavering as she'd suggested, tentatively and regretfully, that if there had ever been a time for him to use the Elder Wand to protect himself, she thought this was it.

He couldn't take the chance. How could he? The power of the Elder Wand was a siren's call. Could Harry take the risk that this 'one exception' would turn into two, or three, and stretch until he no longer felt reluctance to wield the weapon that countless wizards had killed for? Until it was not merely the 'Elder Wand' but his own, replacing the phoenix-feather wand that had been by his side for all of this life?

On the other hand, Harry turned as he approached the wall, how could he not? Harry had put his wife through numerous scares. She'd watched him fight Voldemort, she'd nursed him at St. Mungo's Hospital more times than he'd care to admit, she'd hushed him through his nightmares about the true terrors he'd seen in his waking hours. How could he deny Ginny this comfort, this assurance that he was truly taking every possible precaution?

It had gone quiet downstairs. A glance at the clock told him that it had been twenty-four minutes since he promised Sanderson support. He looked back at the portrait again, this time looking at the young version of himself. A Harry Potter lean and fresh from Auror training, riding a high of catching the last of Voldemort's inner circle not one week before. Smiling and looking exactly like he'd felt- young, invincible, unstoppable. The man who'd denied the Elder Wand without a second thought.

If he looked in the mirror, Harry knew that his features would be the same. Same green eyes, same awkward ears, same black and unkempt hair- albeit with graying strands nowadays- but on the inside, Harry Potter was no longer the same person. He'd seen more, done more, survived more in his life than the Harry in that portrait could have ever imagined. His reflection would be a man who viewed the Elder Wand not merely as a deadly weapon, but as precaution against something that could be even deadlier. Protection for himself, for his family, and for people who were willing to risk their lives on his command.

As Harry walked down the stairs and spoke a few words to the gathered Hit Wizards, as he and Ron described where to apparate and how to reach the cave, as they warned about the inferi and the curse and the likely presence of dementors, he tried not to worry. The Hit Wizards, while well trained, were not Aurors, and not many of them could cast a Patronus Shield for long. As he hugged Ginny tightly, he promised he would be back, safe and memory-intact.

And as he finally vanished from his own living room with a small pop, Harry Potter carried not one wand in his possession, but two.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Albus cried for a long while. And then, he just sat, completely spent, staring at nothing.

Well not quite true, actually, Zoey Malam corrected herself. Albus was letting his gaze fall and linger every and anywhere except the person who was still sitting next to him. Also known as, Zoey herself.

She reasoned that he was embarrassed about crying in the first place, so she didn't call him out on what would otherwise be an undoubtedly rude action. She was even trying to find a way to break the awkward silence that had arisen when Lily Potter turned the corner and broke it for her.

The Second Year Hufflepuff took one look at her big brother, shook her head softly, and then chided that if he was going to cry about it, he should find other ways to solve his arguments than physical violence.

Albus sheepishly ducked his head and accepted the rebuke, though he shot Zoey a secretive look that held absolutely no remorse. She'd had to stifle a laugh at his unexpected cheekiness.

She must have made some sort of noise though, because all of a sudden Lily was looking at her.
"What?" Zoey asked, trying to keep her eyes big and innocent as she secretly dug her nails into her palm to hold back her continued amusement. Her efforts weren't helped by Albus, who looked amused himself at her current dilemma.

Lily stared at her a moment longer, obviously still suspicious before she whipped her gaze back around to Albus, looking back and forth a few more times. Then the girl seemed to decide that whatever the inside joke was it wasn't worth her effort- or at least, that's what Zoey mentally translated from the year long sigh the Hufflepuff let out.

"An-y-ways, Zoey, do you wanna work on the Charms homework together?"

"Sure, that'd be great." The Ravenclaw happily agreed, knowing that it wasn't so much as a pairing as Lily offering her help. Despite reading as much as she could, Zoey was still frustratingly behind in some areas of her classes and Lily was being amazing about trying to stay available to help. Because of her aid, Zoey was finding the Second Year Charms class a lot easier than her First Year Transfiguration.

They all went to the library to look up the books that they'd need for the assignment. Without wands, all of the classes had taken a strong turn toward historical and theoretical subjects. As they traveled Zoey heard the familiar light scratching of claws and felt and increasingly-familiar waft of cinnamon nearby, and new it to be Rasputin. The Albanian Murtlap, as promised, hadn't stopped following her since she'd left Jon's office. He'd been on the windowsill with her before Albus had come by, and was now jumping along the portrait frames to keep up with her movement.

"Whatcha looking at?" Albus asked, turning to follow her gaze but not seeing the jumping murtlap immediately.

"Nothing," Zoey was quick to assure him, and asked one last question that'd been ignored earlier. "What did he do? Did he deserve it?"

Funny. Her mind automatically jumped back to a very similar conversation she'd had almost a year ago with Scorpius after he'd punched someone for the first time. On the heels of that thought was the realization that it had been the same person. James Potter had earned a punch from not just one, but two of her friends. Huh.

Maybe she should avoid the guy. Drama never went anywhere good.

Albus was taking longer to answer than Scorpius had, looking down at his hand. Zoey panicked for a moment- she'd healed the pain magically during their conversation, but she didn't want him to notice- until his eyes shifted to the Gryffindor badge on his chest and she realized his focus wasn't actually following his gaze. "Yeah. He… yeah, for a lot of reasons. That thing I told you about the Sorting Hat? He- James knew, he was the only person who knew, and he was about to tell."

"Oh." She blinked a few times, not sure what to say, and so she ultimately didn't before they arrived at the library.

As soon as they walked through the door they were immediately shushed by the librarian- even though none of them were talking- and Zoey happily found that a benefit of working in the library was that even she wasn't expected to talk constantly. That was a good thing, she couldn't have kept her mind on track for a full conversation if she tried.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to the Potter siblings she was currently at the same table with, it's just that they weren't important right now. Not really. Neither was her charms homework, though she dutifully cracked open a dusting book to look up Jarleth Hobart. Most of her Ravenclaw intellect was still focused on the possibility that her Magic wasn't normal. That it was more like Jon's.

A familiar growl made her glade up at the bookshelf behind the two Potters, seeing Rasputin's hairless tail trailing over one of the higher racks. He was scratching trashed parchment into a makeshift nest. Rasputin had only made the mistake of mauling a book in front of Zoey once. He'd never do it again.

Zoey wondered if Jon was looking through Rasputin at this exact moment. It was strange to know that not only was Jon watching after her through his familiar, but now he was literally watching her through his familiar. Ultimately though the idea of Jon having another way to reach her was reassuring. Hogwarts was the first time in four years that they'd been living more than one room away from eachother. Only the second time in her life. The first had been when Jon got his magic.

...that made it sound like magic was something he'd picked up off the floor, Zoey reflected as she stared down at her book. Which, strangely enough, wasn't the craziest theory about how it had happened.

Jonovan Orion had been born about as magical as a molehill. Growing up, he'd shown no sign of being a new-wizard. He'd graduated muggle school and was about to head to muggle college to prepare for a muggle life when the accident happened. It had been a crazy series of events that had left them lost inside and then rescued from the Albanian Forest, something that always tugged Zoey's gut with guilt. Jon had been hospitalized, she'd been interrogated, and she'd thought the worst was over.

Until Jon's hospital had shown up on the news the next day. She was called back in for an even more extensive interrogation by the Ministry of Magic. There she discovered that it hadn't been a muggle bomb that had caused so much damage, but her cousin. Jon had woken up, with magic, and while she was relieved that he was safe the Ministry wanted to know if he'd ever shown any sign of being magical before. He hadn't. Jon, for the first eighteen years of his life, had been as muggle as they come.

The Ministry had immediately whisked Jon away and frantically wiped the memories of all the muggles involved. Days had gone by without a word, crawling into weeks and threatening months. Her Aunt and Uncle had been magicked to believe that Jon had successfully gone on to college, just as planned, so Zoey was once again burdened with knowledge in a house of ignorance.

She'd written the Ministry every day, begged Miss Cringle- her only contact from the Wizarding World- to help her, and after the longest part of her life… Kingsley Shacklebolt had showed up at her front door. The Minister of Magic, himself, had come to escort her.

She hadn't understood the significance of his position, and to be frank at ten years old she didn't care that the man on her doorstep was the most politically powerful wizard in Britain. He could take her to Jon, he would take her to Jon, and that was all that mattered to her.

They'd traveled deep below the Ministry, down to the Department of Mysteries and into the Magic Division. Through a dozen security precautions and maze-like halls until, finally, Zoey was brought before a glass observatory.

A few Unspeakable wizards stepped back so she could approach and look through the one-way window, to see a bedroom. Or at least, it would have been if it'd had a door. Or a roof. Instead it felt like she was looking down into a glass rat cage.

She shouldn't have recognised the person in it. She shouldn't. With claws, glowing eyes, a spindly body and a near-feral snarl directed up at a window he couldn't see through, Zoey should have fearfully asked what that creature was. Instead she placed a small hand on the one-way mirror, her bracelet clicking against it. "Jon hates being watched."

The Unspeakables had glanced at eachother, then looked over to Kingsley. The Minister- obviously wondering how he had somehow been volunteered to explain a complex situation to a ten year old child- had said "Unfortunately we don't have the choice. He's barely said a word since he arrived and his magic attacks anyone who gets close. We need to know when he sleeps, because it's the only time we can get nourishment into him."

"He's scared. He doesn't know about you- this- any of this." Zoey had snapped in anger to the group at large, wondering if they couldn't understand his situation because they were adults. "He doesn't know about magic, let alone about a Ministry of it! You're treating him like some kind of experiment. How's he supposed to know any different? How's he supposed to trust any of the food you send him?"

"We've told him repeatedly-"

"Oh I'm sure." she turned to the Unspeakable. "From this side of the glass, right?" She knocked on it, the sound making Jon jump to his feet and bare his teeth. His action had made the Unspeakable witch who'd tried to refute her jump back fearfully, and Zoey had her answer.

"Why is he so scary to you anyways?" This was her cousin, he wasn't scary.

"He can't control his own power. At this rate, he may form an obscurial." The witch answered again, eager to defend her apprehension.

"A what?" Zoey frowned, but from the way the adults had shifted their eyes at eachother she knew she wouldn't get the answer.

Instead they told her "Magic, when we are young, is mostly an emotional instinct. As witches and wizards grow we learn to sequester it from our emotions to give us our control. This muggle cousin of yours never learned any such distinction."

Zoey had taken another breath in anger when Kingsley had placed a hand on her shoulder, telling her more gently "A living creature suddenly becoming magical has never happened. Wizards can be born to muggles, but never have we seen magic manifest this late in life. We didn't expect such a change to be permanent, and assumed that once it left we could just send him home. But it seems that is not the case. He's only gotten stronger, and to be frank, we don't know how to help him."

She had released her breath and nodded once, then turned her eyes up to the Minister's. "Let me talk to him."

"Out of the question." The Head Unspeakable rejected her out of hand. "It's far too dangerous."

"I'm not talking to you." the ten year old had snapped with surprising authority, her eyes never leaving Kingsley's. She may not have cared for his power but she still recognised that he had it. "You want me to help? Here's how I can help. My cousin would never hurt me."

He'd looked at her for a long moment, long enough for Zoey to fear that he was about to say no. Long enough for Jon to crouch back down. Long enough to wonder if the Minister had even heard the question at all. Then Kingsley turned to the Unspeakables. "Get a pair of volunteers to escort her."

While the magic researchers sputtered complaints, Zoey had set her jaw. "I won't need them."

"You'll take them, or you won't go at all."

I was right, of course. Zoey mused as she looked back at the memory. Twin bolts of electricity had blasted her 'escorts' off their feet while she, standing right between them, had barely felt a breeze. Jon had looked at her in confusion for a moment, then his glowing eyes widened as he recognised her. He'd practically charged forward to pull her away from the men who'd accompanied her, standing between them.

As soon as they touched though Zoey had been overwhelmed by the feeling of his magic crashing into hers for the first time. She hadn't understood what was happening, only that something in Jon was wrong, wrong, wrong- and that though it felt nauseating, it hadn't actually hurt her to take it from him.

She'd pulled all the contaminated magic from him, a mass of literally bottled emotion that had been making it impossible for Jon to think rationally. Finally the two cousins had staggered apart. Jonovan Malam Orion had looked at his surroundings with clear eyes for the first time in weeks, then smiled at her. She'd smiled back for all of a half-second before vomiting on the floor, and Jon had cried 'Someone get a damn doctor in here this instant!'

Chaos had ensued, but Zoey hadn't regretted making the demand to Kingsley that day. In fact, it soon became apparent that her interference was the only thing that could calm Jon- and his new magic- when he lost control. The Unspeakables hadn't even had to ask, Zoey had immediately volunteered to do everything she could to help Jon master the ability he'd inexplicably gained.

A Muggle had become a wizard after surviving almost unbelievable circumstances. The Unspeakables had gone ballistic trying to work out all the variables. Was it only the near death experience? Had the untrained witch, when attempting to heal the Muggle's wounds, perhaps done something entirely different? Or was it exposure to something unique in the Albanian Forest- the bites of those specific creatures who'd attacked? The water in the river and spring they'd been exposed to?

Zoey had tried to help, but she hadn't exactly been marking their path. She couldn't so much as find the spring again let alone the exact berry vines they'd eaten from, and she wasn't skilled enough to extract a memory for the anyone to examine. She quickly found her best assistance wasn't examining the past but grounding the present- mentally, she rooted Jon in reality. Emotionally, she was his support. He'd been stolen away from the life he was supposed to have, college and career falling to the wayside by the Ministry of Magic's sayso. And Jonovan Orion was more an experiment than a person to the Unspeakables who watched his every move. Zoey knew that Jon never really trusted them, only her and barely Kingsley. Magically, Zoey's magic provided a balance for his- whatever new power he'd gained, it wasn't stable. It would get… infected, for lack of a better word, by his emotions or his environment. Like a polluted well it would sour and fester until eventually it would overflow, and though the Ministry did their best nothing beside Zoey helped.

It took time, a host of magical 'experts' that hadn't been able to fix anything and instead just put the pair through rigorous training for self-control, but finally, finally Jon had become more stable than not. Then had come a pretty tense conversation covering exactly where Jon was and why he was there, but that was ultimately worth it. Once Jon understood the danger in his fingertips he had readily agreed to the restrictions and the despicable lab-like setting of his quarters was changed. It was still a long time before he was allowed to leave the depths of the Department of Mysteries.

That was why Zoey had turned down the Hogwarts Letter she'd gotten at eleven years old. It had been all Zoey wanted, all she'd dreamed about, but when it arrived she didn't go. She wouldn't leave Jon. While Zoey had made the occasional trip home, Jon hadn't been allowed to so much as leave his room for months. It must have been so hard to live like that, and though Jon blamed the Ministry for not taking Zelina's magical items sooner Zoey still blamed herself.

She'd never live with herself if, on top of letting this happen to Jon, he had to go through the change alone. So though she'd gone to watch the Hogwarts Express leave on September 1st that year, Zoey hadn't gotten on board, and instead gone back to voluntarily live in the Department of Mysteries with Jon until he got better.

Jon had always been a quick learner, and so in four years he attained almost as much control over his magic as a true wizard would have. Over that time the Unspeakables had given up on removing his magic. All in all, the last four years of their lives had been a complete mess.

Speaking of messes- half of Rasputin's nest fell off the shelf in a confetti shower of shredded paper as he Albanian Murtlap finally laid down in the middle of it. He grumbled about the lost padding, but it seemed like he was either too comfortable or lazy to get up and replace it. Zoey voted on lazy.

She felt herself smiling softly. The one positive thing about the whole mess with Jon's magic was that it had led Rasputin to be a part of their lives. He wasn't the traditional magic companion and she supposed she could understand why other students seemed not to like him. The prickly creature was definitely not ideal for cuddles, but she wouldn't have him any other way. And Zoey supposed that it wasn't the worst thing in the world to have her surrogate brother looking after her. Even if he did go overboard. Sometimes way overboard. Like, off-the-ship-across-the-ocean over.

"Zoey, did you find the history of Leviosa?"

"Hrm? Oh, yeah." Zoey blinked back to the present and looked down at her book. "The charm was made by Jarleth Hobart in an attempt to fly, he didn't realize it was his clothes doing the floating until after he took off his cloak and fell to the the floor. Ouch… and in front of a crowd he'd invited to watch. Double ouch."

Albus and Lily laughed, Zoey joined along, and though her thoughts didn't wander again she wasn't truly engaged, her gaze wandering up to Rasputin at every chance.

"You okay?" Albus pulled her from her thoughts with his concern. "You've been pretty distracted. Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine." Zoey immediately assured, a knee-jerk reaction as she pulled out one of the other things that was bothering her instead of discussing the true dilemma she was facing. "It's… a lot, really. So much has happened. And to top it all off Professor Longbottom's been giving me a hard time lately. I think he still hasn't forgiven me for losing control of my magic in the Great Hall."

Lily and Albus shared a meaningful look for a brief flash, then Lily said hesitantly. "It's probably because you petrified Lorcan, actually. Longbottom's loathing for misusing those spells is notorious."

"Crackers." Zoey mumbled, never having gained the vocabulary or attraction for real swearing thanks to first her Aunt's and then Jon's protective streaks. "Any suggestions for how to make it up with him? You know, like an apple for the teacher? Is there a wizard equivalent for that?"

The muggle saying was clearly unrecognized, but they got the gist of what she was asking. "Maybe something for his plants?" Lily suggested.

Zoey pursed her lips. "Actually, Longbottom did mention a need for- uh, what was it? Lunar fertilizer?"

"Oh. That comes from moon calves." Albus said, and at her look of surprise quickly explained "I saw one at the edge of the Forbidden Forest not too long ago and had a bit of a panic about it- Uncle Hagrid told me they aren't dangerous at all though, and even really liked because they help fields grow."

"Is that so?" Zoey smiled a bit at the boy as she lifted a curled finger back to her lips, an idea forming. "Think you could find it again?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

This wind here was as cold as ever, Harry Potter reflected as he and his men arrived on the cliff outbank. Tempting as it would have been to apparate straight into the Crystal Cavern, it would mean assuming that not only was the Anti-Apparation Charm and Disapparation Jinx over the cave broken, but that they wouldn't be arriving into the middle of a battle. Harry had long ago learned that it was far from advisable to Apparate into a potentially dangerous setting, finding that it was much safer to enter on foot.

Frigid air rose from the frigid ocean and cut into them like icy daggers, quick to shred any illusion that their presence was welcome here. Were this the final destination he would have ordered warming spells- but this was still the travel step, and he wanted his wizards to save as much energy as possible.

He did a head-count when the apparating snaps of arriving wizards stopped, then lead the way, jumping down off the boulder to swim to the half-submerged entrance to the cave.

"Bloody hell," Ron commented in a mumble as they waded in chest-high water, teeth starting to chatter. "Why couldn't Voldemort have picked someplace tropic?"

Half the people who heard him chuckled in agreement, some of the greener hit wizards chuckled with nerves, but the rest grew more somber at the reminder of where they were, that this was once a place of power for The Dark Lord himself. Harry was part of the group that didn't answer.

When they got to the cave there was a collective sigh of relief as the space grew crowded, the arriving wizards were keen to reach the dry floor. Muttered spells echoed off the pristine walls as Hit Wizard and Auror alike summoned flames and other warmth to combat the wet chill.

The Healers from Mungo's responded by conjuring a bluebell flame, illuminating the otherwise dark cave and warming everyone. Their focus was mostly trained on their patient, though.

"Do you know where you are?" One Healer asked, shining a soft lumos in Simmons' eyes to test pupil reaction while the other tended the magical fire. "Can you tell me your name?"

The man only stared blankly at the wand, then at the blue flame that the wizards were warming around. It hovered and crackled three feet off the ground to spread its warmth and seemed to pull Simmons' to it a moth, the once-Auror's eyes glazed over in an empty reflection.

Harry felt his heart sink as the sight, searching the small cave until he spotted Sanderson.

The tall and lean Auror was standing guard by the doorway into the lake cavern, his eyes and ears tuned in to catch even the slightest noise from the other side. His teeth were clenched in either tension or anger, and his knuckles were tight on his english oak wand.

He caught Harry's gaze and the square line of his jaw softened. A few short orders later he'd called one of their other Auror's to take his place and stepped to the side. "Was I right?" he asked his Head. "Is it dementors?"

Harry took a deep breath from the dead air. It was still cold, and uninviting, but there was another element to it was he was unfortunately familiar with. A specific kind of chill that went deeper than the lungs to coil in the pits of his stomach and make the world seem that little less bright.

"Dementors." He agreed, hiding the swooping aversion even the name still inspired in him. Though he knew that his patronus was strong enough to protect his men and himself, that didn't mean he was immune to the utter dread their presence still caused. He would never get over it, he supposed- there was a reason his boggarts were still dementors. "If they haven't attacked yet, then we probably outnumber them."

Sanderson frowned. "If that's true though, then why didn't they attack me before you got here? And why did they let Simmon's get away?"

Harry didn't know. He'd never liked let alone wanted to understand Dementors, and wasn't about to start trying. Simmons had not been Kissed. His eyes though unfocused were still expressive and he was still interested in his surroundings, yet he couldn't deny there was something undeniably off about conversation.

As Harry pulled away he realized with a start that he wasn't the only one watching. Most every eye was watching the interaction between the Senior Auror and the two Healers. The focus of veteran and green recruit alike was dangerously divided because of it, the group of- Merlin- over thirty wizards that had been crammed into the small cave looking in a single direction.

He saw Ron frown, glance his way and give an assuring nod, before stepping forward. "What are you lot gawking at!" his voice echoed. "Bloody hell, has training gone that far downhill since I retired? Eyes up wands out and Merlin's beard who's watching the perimeter?!"

The Weasley temper truly was an unstoppable force, as every man jerked attention and followed the command without second thought, allowing themselves to be placed in more appropriate positions.

Harry smiled gratefully. Sometimes, he forgot that for all his jokes Ron had been a great Auror himself and invaluable as his right-hand man before retiring.

"Sir, are we sure bellowing is the appropriate approach?"

He chuckled softly. "Would you like to be the one to tell him that?"

Sanderson blinked, looked from Harry Potter himself to Ronald Granger-Weasley, a legend in his own right, and wisely decided not to volunteer.

"Besides," Harry went on. "I'd honestly rather the Dementors' be forced double-file through the entrance than our own men."

"Agreed." He supported, a wisp of patronus silver slipping readily from his wand.

"Let's focus on what we do know instead." Harry turned the conversation back to where it had been. "Any changes?"

"No. Like I said, when we got here Simmons and Anderson were just barely at the entrance. Anderson was already-" he glanced at the shroud covering her, then forged on "Susan Anderson was dead and half covering Simmons, who was about screaming his head off."

It spoke to how callous Harry had grown through experience that he felt a chill not at the description of finding one of his men dead, but at the detail of Simmons shouting. The man had always been the silent type, only speaking when needed and keen to downplay any injury. Merlin knew how many times Harry'd had to force him to visit a Mungo Healer. It was Simmons' biggest flaw and a pain in his…

Harry winced. It really was Simmons' biggest flaw. He glanced that the listless, unfocused expression the man had while watching the fire. Simmons wasn't the same person right now.

"We haven't seen or heard a peep from the cavern since we've been here, though the light shifts a bit."

"Thank you Sanderson," Harry muttered automatically when he recognised the tone as one of a finished report.

"Right." Ron walked up, rubbing his beard. "So, I've ordered three to go back with Simmons to Mungo and take Anderson as well. Each Healer has a brand spankin-new body guard, and I think about ten should cover the entrance."

Harry did quick math and nodded. That left twenty people, including himself, to enter the Crystal Cavern. He also looked at the people Ron had chosen and relaxed when he saw his best friend has assigned the greener, younger wizards to the less dangerous support positions.

Sanderson frowned. "Why not send the Healers back with Simmons?"

Ron met Harry's gaze grimly, but all he could do was shrug. The Auror job, despite maintaining the same purpose and goals, had changed since his brother-in-law's retirement. Ron had fought in the days of hunting down Voldemort's inner circle, when skirmishes against Dark Wizards had always ended in a duel and destruction and bloodshed on both sides. The modern criminal of the Wizarding World was polite, clever, and oh so frustratingly willing to along with the law. They were determined to have their day in court. Sometimes very long days. Usually multiple days involving multiple testimonies of the same events.

Verita Serum could only go so far, the rare ingredients and even rarer potioneer capable of brewing it suffering a shortage due to demand. Not to mention a group called Potioneers' Judgement Activists had backing a movement that argued brews like Verita Serum and Amortentia were basically bottled Imperius Curses, and suspended their use until trials passed judgement and authorization as being dire.

Still, Harry would have gladly been called to court to give his umpteenth testimony on the same case rather than be here. "Because," he finally answered, realizing his mental tangent had been to stall the unfortunate truth. "Some of us may need a Healer soon."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Four years ago Jonovan Malam-Orion had needed to relearn how the human body worked. From a functional standpoint, not an anatomical one. Changing his own body mass and height at a whim was easily disorienting. The process had been puberty all over again, with bumping his head and toes into things and mistiming his steps. It was embarrassing to remember how hard he found even the simplest of actions, changing even half an inch in any direction knocking his balance so far off he couldn't turn or bend without taking a tumble, but ultimately his effort was worth it. Now Jon wielded his shape-changing ability with glee at the freedom it gave.

The one limit to his transformations was that he had to remain humanoid. Two legs, two arms, and one head were parts of himself he couldn't change. Jon personally felt he'd been cheated of the ability to grow new appendages- imagine how much more work could be done with extra hands, or how great it would be to grow wings. Or how strangely mobile having four legs instead of merely two could be.

The last possibility was foremost in his thoughts as Jon's mind rested comfortably in the corner of Rasputin's, the Albanian Murtlap more than willing to allow his Master's presence. Rasputin moved and balanced the same way a rat did, able to climb and swim and jump with the mobility but not the cuddliness of a squirrel. Jonovan had been fascinated when his mind has first merged with his pet's, goading the normally lethargic creature into a show of acrobatics. It wasn't true possession of his familiar, though Jon did see, hear and feel everything that Raz did. Rather, it was a merge of the two of them, with Rasputin projecting to his Master what he was experiencing while Jon sent his familiar his desires and goals of the moment.

Currently, they were watching over his cousin and his Second Master, the meanings blurring solidly into a single idea. They had been there since Zoey had given the rather disturbing conclusion about her magic. Between getting his dinner and returning to his office Jon had merged with Rasputin periodically to make sure his familiar hadn't lost track of her. Though logically, Jon was well aware that she was safe in the halls of Hogwarts and now secure in the library, he couldn't shake the periodic urge to see for himself. Even if checking 'himself' was really a strange partial mind-projection mix of himself into the senses of his murtlap.

It wasn't a new urge, the need to constantly check on his cousin. Zoey called it paranoia. Jon called it practicality. After all, his magic was still unstable. Errant emotions still led to uncontrolled outbursts, and his rationality was literally blinded by his own power by the time he reached the end of a fuse that was admittedly short once lit. If Zoey wasn't on hand during such occasions, he could cause massive chaos.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, returning to his own body. He settled the miniature whirlwind that his magic had grown around him and blinked away the green glow in his eyes, taking a look around his office as he stretched back into his limbs and adjusted to his lack of a tail. Nothing had changed during his mental absence. Good.

Jon settled back into his skin, absently changing it from european white to indian copper and african dark before resuming its natural pigment. He was content with the reassurance that Zoey was peacefully studying in the library with Albus Potter. He'd watched the boy's identity crisis and subsequent breakdown, eavesdropping on the conversation but more distracted by what Zoey had been doing.

She had literally just promised to be careful about her own magical anomalies, and then what does she do? She uses her wandless magic to heal the boy's swollen wrist. An entirely superficial injury on someone she barely knew and therefore wasn't worth the effort let alone the risk that he'd realize the strange way her magic worked. Jon had noticed her eyes glint soft lavender and Rasputin had growled his Master's unhappiness. Fortunately it seemed the youngest Potter had been sufficiently distracted by Zoey's rambles, or maybe just wasn't as sensitive to magic as they were.

Still, it wasn't an action that she should repeat. Jon wouldn't take the slightest chance of the Ministry Unspeakables taking interest in Zoey. When he'd first become a wizard he'd been whisked away from everyone and everything, and though the time before Zoey's arrival was still a blurr, he remembered bits and pieces.

He remembered how at first, while he'd still had sanity, he had demanded answers. He remembered being denied any explanations, denied even the decency of privacy. He remembered being paralysed into helplessness before he learned how to break himself free. He remembered being tested and prodded like an experiment and fearing that he'd be literally dissected like a frog in biology class. Not even by the teacher, but by inexperienced, idiotic simpletons with no idea of what they were doing.

The Ministry of Magic was inept, inefficient, and beneath contempt. This much power handled by a group of incompetents, Jon sneered, and his muggle self had never had a clue. It was for his own safety and that of his family that he kept an eye on the Minister and therefore his whole organization.

His time in the last four years had taught him more than a few new tricks, it had shown him the world that had always been veiled from view. A world of myticism and impossibilities and if Jon was being honest, he'd been underwhelmed by what he'd learn. Wizards are antiquated and inflexible as a whole. They had a dangerous combination of power, ego, god-complex… Jon leaned back from his worktable with a smirk. And boring predictability. Which is why he didn't trust Zoey's safety to them. He would continue to see to it himself. It came down to a simple fact.

Magic is wasted on the magical.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Let it never be said that the Department of Magical Enforcement had lost its touch. Despite the wave of reformations that had swept through the Ministry of Magic, the Aurors and Hit Wizards always stood strong, and it never showed more than in the field.

They were a perfectly brewed potion as Harry led the group into the Crystal Cave, no words or directions needed for him to know that as he moved, he was being covered. Ten of his men took immediate defensive position at the entrance, five shields were cast in front of him and the three aurors with the next best Patronuses. The rest would spread along the bank of the lake, far enough so there wasn't a clump of targets but close enough that they weren't isolated completely. If the rest of Simmons' team was visible, their first priority was to save and cover.

Harry knew all this, and so he didn't look behind him as he marched forward, trusting his men's shields to protect him. Instead he scanned the eerily familiar cavern, his heart pounding in remembered terror as he looked through the gloom of dark to see the Inferi floating in the lake, the ceiling so high it wasn't even visible, and the small island in the middle of the water where Dumbledore had-

It didn't matter what had happened in the past, because in the present the same island was being swarmed by the largest gathering of Dementor's Harry had seen since the Second War. He halted the progression, waving his wand and calling forth the memory of James's birth. March 5, 2004. Harry had been a nervous wreck the whole labor, to the point that Healers had given him the calming draught not Ginny. But as soon as James was born, as soon as Harry heard the first cry of his first child, all his fears and worries about being a parent had vanished. This was his son. He had a son- he and the love of his life had a child, and it was almost too much perfection in his life to comprehend, spilling out of him in a wide smile.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Three other chants of the same spell rang out, and Harry's stag led the charge toward the island, a silver jack russell terrier and great dane flanking each side with an owl flying over head. A stream of silver flowed behind them, a latent barrier as overlapping waves of protection illuminated the darkness. He, Ron, Sanderson, and a Hit Wizard named Giles to were vulnerable while their patronuses were cast and had to depend on their comrades to protect them from any other dangers they might come across.

Their silver fog echoed off the surface of the lake and spidered over the motionless Inferi, lighting the dementors from below. Harry sent his patronus forward to scatter them, the dim fog that always accompanied a gathering of Dementors barring their path. He braced himself and focused more on the feeling of how precious James had been in his arms as he prepared to push them back-

-and instead felt a jolt as the stag hooves encountered a barrier and were forced back instead. [moment of intense anger] In his shock Harry found he had to cling more desperately to the memory, of how the exhaused smile on Ginny's face as she hugged their first child had ignited the bliss of the moment anew.

He felt rather than saw Ron give a similar start beside him as his terrier collided more forcefully with the wall of smoke, actually bouncing backwards and rolling off it's feet.

This time though Harry saw a faint ripple in the fog, in the shape of a soft dome. He redirected his silver stag to prance around its shape, shocked to find that it completely surrounded the island and dementors. Trapping the dementors like bugs in upturned bowl.

Murmurs traveled through his team as the other patronuses followed the stags' example, walking around the perimeter. Ron was the one who softly asked "Have you ever seen something that wasn't a patronus hold back a dementor?"

"No." Harry said grimly, and for once wished he'd brought a magizooligist as he cautiously stepped forward over the sandy bank.

"Contact on the left!" one of the Hit Wizards cried out, and Harry turned to see lumos spells being cast over a hunched form. Sandersons' great dane charged in the direction as well in case it was a dementor.

Between the glow of the auror's patronus and a dozen lit wands, a hunched form was slowly revealed. Morris, Lee, and Baker- the last three Aurors' that had been in Simmons group- lay unconscious at the knees of the oldest, frailest man Harry had ever seen in his life. Bare wisps of hair clung in patches to his scalp and bags of exhaustion hung dark beneath his eyes. His face was gaunt, bones jutting out from his cheeks and knobby hands which cradled Lee's head in his lap.

The man lifted his head to look at the advancing patronus, rusty brown eyes taking in the sight with something Harry could only describe as admiration. A hand reached from beneath his feathery cloak and lifted as though to touch the incorporeal creature, though he didn't rise from his kneeled position. "Magnificent," he said, the soft voice surprisingly strong and smooth as it spread across the crystal cave. "Simply magnificent."

Harry glanced at the three patronuses still circling the dome, then advanced toward the stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded, looking between the man and his incapacitated men.

"I am Apex." he met Harry's gaze as he looked away from the Patronus, giving the conversation his full attention. There was an unplaceable lilt to the voice as it spoke, a subtle hint of an accent so unfamiliar the the man could have claimed to be from anywhere and Harry would have had to believe him. "And you are Harry Potter. Head Auror for the British Ministry of Magic."

He had never grown accustomed to strangers knowing his full name, and his free hand still reached up to touch his scar subconsciously. Rusty eyes followed the motion while Apex hummed. "You are shorter than perceived."

A snort that sounded suspiciously like Ron's came from behind him. Harry glanced away to make sure that brother-in-law wasn't shirking his patronus due to the distraction.

When he looked back again a knobby hand was tucking a stray lock of hair from Lee's face. "There is no need to worry. I am keeping them at bay for now."

Harry narrowed his eyes and gestured to the smokey wall dementor and patronus alike seemed unable to penetrate. "That's your doing? How am I supposed to trust it?"

"However much you'd like, I'd suppose." Apex said with a small shrug, the feathers ruffling on his cloak.

Now that he was closer Harry could see more details of man, could tell his apparel was as old as the rest of him based on the bare patches where more feathers should have been and rips in the threadbare pants. He was bare-footed and bare chested, ribs jutting out like a skeleton.

A rush of sympathy went through Harry as the feathers again shifted in the dead air. Probably emphasizing a shiver in the freezing cave. Harry looked down though, his chest sinking as he realized that of the bodies around Apex, Lee was the only one still breathing. "What happened to my men?"

"Overwhelmed. They were hopelessly outmatched."

"And you're weren't?" Sanderson asked suspiciously, coming to stand loyally at Harry's side.

"That is a flock of two hundred and seven dementors." Apex reported. "A mere few patronuses could barely hope to stall them."

Two hundred and seven- that was nearly all the ones that escaped confinement in Azkaban, Harry realized. He looked back at the dome and three patronuses surrounding them to assure that their combined efforts were keeping them at bay. He calmly realized that whatever magic Apex was using it must have been extremely powerful to contain that many Dementors.

"As opposed to what you're doing." Sanderson prompted, "Which is what, exactly?"

"Not so very different from you yourself." Apex looked between the auror and his great dane patronus, which was still standing protectively between the old man and the rest of the Ministry Wizards. "It just has a different… motivation, shall we say, than this mutt of yours."

He spoke with the superiority that Harry had once thought exclusive to Pureblood society, as though by his very nature he was above the swarm of wizards that surrounded him.

The thought was shaken off almost immediately. Though he didn't know what Apex's motivation was, the man had clearly been here for a while, and was the reason the dementor swarm hadn't kissed anyone.

"You may collect your men, Head Auror Harry Potter." Apex lifted both hands to shoulder height, showing that he was unarmed. The feathers shifted on his shoulder but the cloak didn't fall. "It is why you are here, after all."

That was all the invitation he'd needed. A quick flurry of spells lifted their comrades from Apex, their robed forms levitating up and away. Harry smiled at the small victory. Lee was immediately taken to the waiting Healers while a few Hit Wizards grimly apparated away with the bodies.

The corners of Apex's mouth pinched slightly as he went to stand then stumbled and was forced to brace his hand for balance. The dome wavered for barely a second, but it was enough to make a marked change in the dementors it trapped. While before they'd been floating aimlessly, they now scrabbled and brushed against the very edge of their smoky cage, the chill of their presence growing colder until ice snaked over the water.

"I apologise," the voice was a warm contrast to the danger he contained, "I am weak, and some of you are quite frightened."

Harry glanced at Sanderson, nodded once, and together they gestured for some of their teams to lower their wands. Whatever else, the dementors were well contained for the moment, and such a show of trust toward a potential ally was important.

Although, Harry hadn't forgotten the other dangers of the Crystal Cave. He glanced toward the Inferi which still lurked in the waters, then did a confused double take. Some distant thought was buzzing insistently that he look, and it took a while for him to realize what it was about the scene that had set off the latent instinct.

Inferi were dead. Harry knew that. They had always been dead, always bodies that Voldemort had animated with Dark Magic to slaughter any that dared cross the lake to take his Horcrux, but- but, they were dead. The bodies floating atop the lake were not lurking in wait but drifting listlessly, slowly becoming entrapped by the ice that the dementors spread. They should retreat from its path, or push their way to the banks to ensure they could defend the island as they'd been cursed to. Their complete inactivity could only mean that the curse had been broken, and they were now but dead corpses once more. They might have been freed when the last bit of Voldemort died… but grisly as it was, Harry knew they were still too fresh to have been decomposing for over twenty years.

This didn't make sense. He was missing something. Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably for a few minutes, it taking that long for him to realize what was wrong.

He wasn't sad. Or scared, or hearing the sounds of friends and family screaming echoing in his ears. With that many dementors lurking nearby he should be feeling and behaving like the grouchiest pessimist there could be. Instead Harry was feeling calm. Even successful. And he should definitely have noticed the difference between these corpses and the inferi they'd once been much sooner.

Stifling the urge to pace Harry instead tapped his finger on his holly wand, his agitation making his patronus to increase from a prance to a canter. He was aware of his men moving across the lakeshore, double checking behind every crevice of the uneven walls and lighting another fire for warmth.

One of the Healers bustled in with their usual air of importance. There had always been a tense relationship between Ministry Aurors and Mungo Healers. They said his men were too headstrong and keen to ignore injuries, while the Aurors knew all about the dangers of Dark Magic and more importantly could tell for themselves when they were just fine, no more potions needed thank-you-very-much.

-and why was his mind wandering so much? He needed to be focused in the present, not the past. It had never been a problem before.

A thick blanket had been draped over Apex during his distraction, the corner of the old man's mouth lifting as he looked at it. "Aren't you a sweet one."

"Just doing my job." The Healer nonetheless smiled as he looked through the potions he carried.

Sanderson looked from them to the dementors, then shook his head. "Leave the intense care for later. We should get somewhere safer."

"I may need help to stand, I'm afraid." Apex took an offered hand, smiling peacefully at the Healer-"… I've got quite the appetite."

Harry snapped back to attention at the unnerving statement. "What does that mean?"

"Hunger is a powerful motivator, you see." This time Apex didn't shift his attention, rusted eyes still looking into those of the healer. The old man had a soft smile on his face, and Harry didn't know why it unnerved him so. Apex was between them a two hundred dementors, and an old man. An admittedly strange one, dressed only in frayed pants with no shoes and a feathered cloak which needed upkeep, but… why was he so focused on Apex? The Healer would take care of him, Harry should be focused on his patronus.

He had turned to just that when when a dull thud echoed louder than should have been possible.

Their positions had changed. Apex now stood strong, looking down at the kneeling Healer with the same confident smile on his expression. It seemed that the younger man's strength had simply- given out, and he now swayed visibly to stay upright. Apex braced him with a hand on his shoulder, nodding and sounding pleased. "Quite the sweet one indeed."

Harry and every other wizard felt something that could only be described as a shift, a change in the balance of the cave. As though they were suddenly standing on a steep slope and their descent was inevitable and already pulling at them.

The Healer gasped at the feeling, but his shock was gently shushed by the hands still holding him. Apex patted his head as though preparing to send a child to bed before releasing the man, who fell in a boneless heap at his feet. He brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply, humming. "Lovely appetizer."

The blanket fell from his shoulders, forgotten and useless as the feathered cloak moved. The grey mass split down the middle, spreading out and up into-

Wings. Large and imposing though still missing plumage, each nearly as long as Ron was tall. They dwarfed the old man as he straightened his spine a bit more, lazily sending small gusts through the otherwise dead air. His rusted gaze looked around at all the wizards, humming to himself as though he were perusing a shelf of books.

And yet, Harry realized, despite the change in the previously harmless elder, despite not even knowing what in the Wizarding World he'd just seen happen to the Healer- he still wasn't scared. Neither were his men, if the lack of shouting was anything to go by.

He set his lips in a thin line. He never thought he'd miss being scared, but he did. Fear was essential. Fear kept you on your toes, fear told you when- when you were in danger.

"Wands out!" He commanded with an urgency he unnervingly didn't feel, and banished his patronus to summon a set of restraints. "Sanderson, take Apex into custody."

"Harry?" Ron asked in confusion, frowning at his brother in law. Sanderson looked confused as well, but didn't question his leader as he moved to support him.

Apex though, smiled and clapped softly as he slowly walked over. It wasn't mocking or derogatory, speaking more to how incredibly little he thought of the wizards before him. "Impressive Mister Potter. You do live up to your reputation."

"What are you?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes in concentration as his mind started to wander down the path of comparing Apex to an enraged veela, like the ones he'd seen at the Quidditch World Cup in 1994 when- "What do you want?"

The beaming smile revealed his teeth for the first time, revealing they were sharp and far too pointed. "I am a unique, unrivaled singularity. And I am sorry, but as I said earlier: I have quite the appetite." As he finished he reached out a hand to grasp one of the Hit Wizards, who gasped slightly before his expression fell into blank apathy, even as he too slowly fell to his knees.

"Harry the dementors-!" Ron shouted with the first note of panic that Harry'd heard since they'd walked in.

He turned to see them swarming over the lake. The dome that had contained them was growing and expanding and they readily advanced behind it. Within moments the gray barrier was across the lake and over their own heads, dementors hungrily swarming all around them should they try to escape.

They cut off the exit, swarming between Harry, Apex, and the ten wizards who'd stayed back to guard the entrance. "Retreat!" Harry yelled at them, knowing that none of the Hit Wizards in that group had a Patronus strong enough to break through. Moments later apparating pops and snaps sounded their escape.

Harry took a closer look at the smokey fog that still kept man from dementor, inverted so that now the wizards were the ones trapped within the dome. The patronuses that were still cast once again tried to cross to no avail. Ron grunted when his terrier fell back the second time, looking at Harry grimly.

Who still was not scared. Looking around, Harry could tell that nobody was. Aurors and Hit Wizards alike were shifting stances and looking apprehensive, but there was very little urgency or even response to the imminent danger. His own mind and reactions felt… fuzzy, like it was Christmas and he'd had too much firewhiskey.

That settled it. Whatever was affecting him and his men, Harry could tell the reason if not the end goal. It was keeping them compliant and impassive when they should be ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice. And the most likely cause, he looked to Apex standing over a third felled wizard, was him.

On the heels of that thought was the realization that the dementors had been a distraction. "Sanderson, arrest him."

The tall Auror gave a start and hurriedly moved to do so, clearly befuddled by his own absent mindedness. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Sanderson said on instinct, the line something originally from British Law Enforcement that Hermione had insisted be instituted among her Wizard Law Revitalizations.

Apex gave a snort at the cuffs being presented to him and left his hands by his sides. "I think not."

"You're… resisting arrest?" Sanderson said slowly, like the idea foreign to him. Which was strange because it wasn't. The man was usually ready for action and should have cast a body-bind curse before Apex had finished speaking.

"If that's what you would like to call it, though I would like to remind that I am the one protecting you from two hundred seven dementors, which will overpower you as easily as your companions…" he paused and took in a breath through his nose, his eyebrows drawing together for a moment. "... though there is something incredibly powerful amongst you."

Harry had never been more glad in the field for his title as Head of the Department. No man felt the urgency of battle but they had all been trained to follow his command no matter what the circumstance, no questions asked when Harry was the one asking. Besides, immobilizing uncooperative individuals was plain standard procedure.

A dozen petrifying spells all rang out and struck Apex square in the chest, freezing him in place. Harry relaxed minutely, glad to have dealt with at least one of the confusing dangers that he should be but still wasn't feeling threatened by. But then the giant wings twitched, just the tiniest bit, the feathers shifting in taunt. Then Apex moved a finger, blinked slow and meaningfully, stretching his neck before his face settled back into its eternal condescension.

That finally got the proper attention. Ministry training kicked in and soon wave after wave of spellwork was fired, a staggering display of the strength beyond their numbers.

Apex's starved frame lurched to and fro from the blunt force of the spells, but was quick to reorient. It reminded Harry of the the first time that he'd seen Giant's blood in action. Fifth Year when Umbridge tried to arrest Hagrid during the Astronomy final. The groundskeeper was only half giant, yet not a single spell seemed capable of doing anything that lasted more than a few seconds.

Though clearly not immune, the spells they cast weren't doing nearly as much as they should have. Knockback spells barely pushed Apex an inch across the soft sand. Stinging hexes briefly made skin twitch. And those were the ones that worked. Many of the spells being cast his way seemed to just- fizzle out upon contact.

Between the ineffectiveness of their spells upon Apex and their own slowed reactions, it soon became apparent that they were doing little to actually stop him. He strolled among them and eventually disregarded the spells being sent his way, further discouraging the unmotivated wizards.

Ron made a sound of frustration before spinning to the fight himself. His jack russell terrier gave a soundless howl as it charged with silver in its wake, the misty trail landing on Apex and prompting the first true reaction.

The winged creature hissed- hissed with displeasure and Harry felt a shiver at how the sound reminded him of Voldemort. Rusted eyes were almost red in the contrasting blue-silver of the patronus, ignoring the wizards to instead watch the magic as it weaved around him. "It seems Hallows have quite the range," Apex said, the snarl still marring his features even as he easily dodged the next charge of Ron's terrier.

"Expecto Patronum!" Sanderson cried, his great dane emerging once more. Harry saw the toll the powerful spell was taking on his comrade from multiple castings, but the Auror determinedly grit his teeth as he sent his patronus in to support Ron's terrier and Giles' owl.

The large canine charged forward, circling around him. Apex ducked and weaved away in a movement that was far too fluid considering the massive wings that trailed behind him. He seemed to be dancing in the illuminated cavern, his focus still trained on the three patronuses that followed him.

It left him open to the barrage of spells that Harry directed his men to resume. Every variation of disabling jinx, curse, and charm was sent at the winged creature, slowing it down enough for the patronuses to dip and weave and deal some true damage.

Apex scowled and ducked aside, making his way to Giles. The Hit Wizard, still green in the field, let his uncertainly waver through his owl and the patronus dematerialized instead of protecting its master.

Sharp teeth smiled as he once again moved fluidly, his wings masking the direction and goal until it was too late and Apex was behind the wizard. Apex placed a skeletal arm around Giles from behind, taking in a satisfied breath at the same time that the wizards gave a shuddering gasp before falling unconscious.

Harry lifted his wand, casting the tried and true spell that had never truly failed him before- "Expelliarmus!"

Apex's grasp was wrenched off the wizard, and dozen well-timed spells pushed him away as another Auror magically lifted Giles away to safety. Apex scowled over to look at the Head Auror. His rusted eyes took in the distance between them, and the many armed wizards that stood defensively between them, clearly well practiced in group combat.

The old man straightened from his fighting crouch, wincing slightly at the resumed assault of the two canine patronuses but no longer avoiding them. "Your conduits," Apex said the word slowly as though experiencing it for the first time. "are proving to be problematic."

Harry tilted his head. "That mean you're ready to give in?"

"Goodness no," the ragged feathers bristled and flicked a few times in the dead air. "It just means that this is going to be messier than I had hoped."

He only had time to frown in confusion, then-

Chaos. The barrier between them and the dementors vanished in less than a second and the cloud that descended was staggering. After the mind-numbing effect Apex had held over them the sudden despair that befell the Ministry wizards was crippling. Many of them fell to their knees as the chill of the cavern grew into bone-freezing despair, every man swarmed by more dementors than they could dare withstand even under normal circumstances.

Screams echoed in Harry's ear, and suddenly he was back on the Hogwarts train and meeting dementors for the first time. Hopeless before the crippling effect of a creature that forced the memory of his parents dying cries to flash behind his eyes. That made him remember the sight of Fred Weasley dead in the Battle of Hogwarts, cradled and mourned by his family. Of Dobby, the elf's huge eyes blank and dull with Bellatrix's dagger buried in his frail chest. Of every wizard and sacrifice he'd withstood and witnessed in his life as an Auror.

He couldn't- he'd failed. Lost the moment he'd stepped into this cavern that had haunted his memories for two decades, and Dumbledore's miserable cries joined in those of the many others.

It felt like an eternity but was likely only seconds that he was lost in memories before a hand grabbed and tugged his own. He followed it blindly and breathed in relief when he was pulled into the safe warmth of a happy memory, looking up to see Ron's terrier wagging its tail at him softly. Sanderson gave his hand another guiding pull, placing him further into the circle of protection that the two patronuses were struggling to maintain against the hundreds of dementors that descended hungrily upon them.

Not every wizard was inside the safe area, a problem that they were working to rectify as quickly as possible. Ron's terrier ran out to find and retrieved their felled comrades while Sanderson's dane did it's best to maintain their small shell of protection against the storm of cloaked monsters bearing down on them. Every man who could cast a patronus shield as support, and those who couldn't were casting every other kind of combat spell freely.

Harry held off on casting his own patronus for now, instead focusing on trying to find Apex in the chaos that surrounded them. Perhaps, an appallingly calm part of his mind suggested, he could used the old man's ego against him. He had seemed more than willing to talk about himself earlier.

"What," he called out, "Never seen wands before? Or just wish you had one of your own?"

"I am still growing accustomed to wizarding society. I am of course familiar with magical conduits. In my experience such items were wondrous. But to you, they are commonplace."

The tone changed back into derision on the last word. "You seem rather dismissive of something that's sent you into such a panic."

"Oh not panicked, Mister Potter. Although I will admit a certain degree of curiosity. I do wonder…" A grey mass suddenly pushed out of the dementors, and Harry spun around and sent a knockback spell flying at what he thought was a dementor trying to break into the protective circle. He didn't realize it was Apex himself until it was too late and the spell proved ineffective once more. The wings opened as the old man reached toward his wand before Harry had a chance to react. As soon as his boney finger touched the dark wood the wand screamed, louder and longer than Voldemort's ever had when attacked by its twin. The vibrations of it traveled up Harry's arm and seemed to pierce him as well, shaking him to the core as he quickly staggered away.

"Is that Holly? And- ah, the smoky element of a phoenix. Quite the combination."

Harry was no longer listening, distantly hearing Ron call his name as his eyes looked down at his wand that limped numb in his hand. The constant warmth of its support had faded away to nothing. He flicked it and the wood gave another wrenching cry in response, failing to summon anything.

Harry still didn't feel scared of Apex's presence, but he welcomed anger. The man had damaged his wand. He would pay for that. He looked up as the man approached, an eager and crazed gleam in the rusted eyes-

And then Apex stopped with a howl as a silver mass attached to his shoulder, ripping and clawing ferociously at where the large wing merged to its back. Ron's terrier attacked with the fierce loyalty that was reserved for the direst of situations, small claws and teeth wreaking havoc. Apex staggered as the joints in his wing was pushed in the wrong direction, forced to stumble back, away from Harry.

I've never seen a patronus touch anything before, that strangely detached and calm part of Harry's mind came out again to comment. He dismissed it and looked down at his wand again, trying desperately to get some kind of reaction from it.

Apex finally reached over his shoulder and grabbed the patronus by the scruff of the neck, yanking abruptly. The silver glow of creature dragged behind as only the grey of the small dog was flung away into the swarm of dementors. The lingering presence shrank as it was absorbed into Apex's fingertips. Ron grimaced and a bead of sweat traveled down his forehead as the spell failed, keeping his grip on his wand firm as he watched Apex approach.

Some kind of decision flashed in the Granger-Weasley's eyes as he determinedly put his wand behind him, using his body as a shield to protect it from Apex's touch. He took a deep breath, then with a battlecry charged forward and tackled his opponent with the same determination that his patronus had just displayed.

"Ron-!" Harry shouted in disbelief as he watched his best friend and brother-in-law move, waving his wand in yet another spell that failed.

Magic assaults on Apex were forced to stop as the two rolled on the lakeshore in a muggle duel, Ron's fists landing solid blow after blow on the boney frame while Apex battered him in return with beats of his large and surprisingly powerful wings.

Then Ron's swings started to slow and eventually he stopped altogether, his left hand still cocked back as a look of confusion crossed his face. Apex hissed a low chuckled as he got to his feet, grabbing and pulling Ron up with him by the front of his robes. "Fiery, this one. And loyal to a fault."

"Let him go!" Sanderson cried, but couldn't do much else. His dane was now their only defense against the dementors that bore down on them, and even with the help of the other wizards it was easy to see he was growing exhausted.

"I will soon enough." His tongue flicked out to swipe over his pointed teeth.

"Expelliarmus!"

-the spell landed firmly. It still was an appallingly simple spell, one that Harry had cast more times in his life than he could count. And yet, this time when it struck Apex, both he and Ron were jettisoned away from the other as though victims of a small explosion.

Ron groaned weakly as he was shoved into the sandy bank, blinking emptily at the cavern ceiling and making no move to get up. The Ministry Wizards immediately grabbed and started dragging him to where their other injured comrades had been gathered.

Apex had been thrown in the other direction, up and back, and his wings proved a functionality as the automatically spread to stabilize and slow his descent. His rust eyes looked red as they scanned and immediately found the source of the magic that had assaulted him. His eyes narrowed and the sparse feathers on his wings bristled as he barely whispered "A Hallow."

Harry tightened his grip on The Elder Wand, hoping his expression wasn't betraying his own surprise. The sight of his best friend in danger had prompted him to do what he'd never done before, and wield the weapon he hadn't touched since it had killed Voldemort.

And even then, for the brief moment that he'd held it, The Elder Wand had not felt like this. The gnarled wood was literally vibrating in his grasp, like a rabid creature pulling at the end of a leash in eagerness. He'd only pointed it in Apex's direction before a mass of near uncontrollable magic had spewed from the wandtip and he'd barely had time to direct it into the first spell he could think before the attack had been launched. He suspected he couldn't turn away from Apex if he tried, the wand spinning unerringly like a compass refusing to point anywhere but north.

"You are full of surprises, Mister Potter." Apex said as he landed back on the ground a distance away, his eyes still fixed upon the weapon aimed at him. "I will admit I was not expecting to see that."

The dementors swarmed around them, and Harry took a breath. He wanted to duel Apex- knew that it was inevitable- but as he saw Sanderson's patronus flickering in his periphery he knew that if he didn't do something about the dementors first, there wouldn't be much of a duel to fight. And besides, the calm part of his mind pointed out, hadn't one spell already proven more useful against this opponent than any other?

"Expecto Patronus!"

The Elder Wand snapped firm and sure in his grip, the slight glow compounding and growing and Harry felt not just his own magic but that of every wizard who'd ever wielded the ancient weapon behind the spell. When his stage emerged it was larger and more solid than any patronus Harry had ever seen before, towering several feet over his head.

Apex took a step back as he looked at the projection whose antlers reached the height of his wings.

The stag looked around the cavern, silver eyes lingering upon the dementors which hesitated at its arrival. Unlike every other time Harry's patronus didn't leave his side to charge ahead. Instead it braced its hooves in a stance more befitting a predator and cast its head back as though to howl. From the soundless cry waves of power emanated, the silver crests casting the dementors back from a force only they were crippled by.

Them- and Apex. The winged man could only stand his ground for the first few waves of power before he too was pushed back.

Well- he hadn't expected that to actually work. Harry took in ragged pants as he and all the wizards stood cautiously in silver shields that protected them. None of them expected it to last, he knew, and yet it did, long enough for them to catch a much needed breather. After a few moments Sanderson cautiously dismissed his own patronus, the aid insignificant before the power of the other.

First sign of danger we'll apparate straight out of there.

When Harry had said those words, he hadn't meant them literally. Aurors constantly faced danger, risked their lives on a daily basis. Some days and some situations were more dangerous than others, but danger had and probably would always be a part of his life. Over the years though Harry had learned to acknowledge when he was caught unprepared and in over his head. And unfortunately- this was one of those times.

He was far from outnumbered, but that was no longer an advantage. Most of his men were either unconscious or nearly so, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to protect everyone. The strength of the Elder Wand would be the perfect cover for their escape, but Harry wasn't even sure whether they had the manpower left to carry everyone to the tunnel out of here. Besides, the dementors were still between them and the only exit from the cavern, and the exit wasn't even manned for a protected retreat anyways. The ten wizards that had been on it-

Harry could smack himself. He probably would when he got the chance- those men had apparated away. Just like the other Horcrux hiding places, just like Malfoy manor, all the protections and magic over the Crystal Cavern must be gone. Which was why there hadn't been a blood toll to enter, why the inferi were no longer protecting the lake, and why it was now possible to disapparate immediately.

"Retreat!" Harry cried, the command startling everyone. "Grab a man and apparate out of here."

Dawning comprehension rose in the people around him, everyone turning to grasp the hand of their nearest comrade. One would cast their getaway while the other kept their wand ready to defend. A few men bent over to grab people in the pile of their wounded comrades, apparating them to safety.

"NO!" Apex snarled as the first of them started disappearing, pressing his hands against the silver barriers that were still pressing him slowly backwards.

Harry narrowed his eyes and strengthened the patronus as his men continued to retreat, some of them returning to grab more of the wounded to safety with Side-Along Apparition. A thread of unease went through him as he felt the endurance of the spell continue to wane faster than he would expect, though he supposed restraining two hundred dementors was a bit too much for even The Elder Wand to do with ease.

He continued to pour his effort into their defense, losing track of everything else until Sanderson placed an exhausted hand on his shoulder. "That's it sir. We're the last ones left."

Harry smiled slightly at that. Of course, exhausted as the man had been, the Deputy Head had refused to leave before the rest of their men were safe. It was why he'd chosen the Auror as his right-hand man in the first place.

"Do you have one last disapparation in you?"

"To be honest, sir, I can barely see straight."

He nodded and looked over the cave one last time, then froze abruptly at what he saw. Shit. The Mungo Healer was still crumpled on the other side of the cave, forgotten in the chaos of rescuing their attack force.

Apex saw his focus and smiled, making his own way over. The progress was slow and stilted as the walls of the patronus still bore down on him, but he had the head start and would reach the defenseless man long before them.

Harry stiffened. He didn't dare move near Apex again and restrained Sanderson from doing the same. He glanced from the stag patronus which still stood firm to the loyal man at his side. "Do you have one more in you?"

He nodded grimly and wiped the sweat off his face.

Harry turned back to Apex. "Grab my shoulder, don't break contact."

A firm grip took hold of him as commanded, and Sanderson pulled out his wand and closed his eyes in order to focus more on the memory he pulled to mind. "Expecto Patronum.

Harry waited, adding extra energy to his own patronus in an attempt to keep Apex from moving too quickly toward the downed healer. He wait as Great Dane emerged unbearably slowly from the fog, needing it to be able to take the full weight of the dementors once more.

"Ready?"

The hand gripped him tighter in confirmation, and Harry dropped his patronus and cried "Accio!"

Waves of fear and depression came pressing in again as Sanderson's dane tried to stand up to the onslaught. Living up to its reputation the Elder Wand's spell outshone the norms of magic as it pulled the Healer flying across the distance between them, far out of Apex's reach.

The winged man grimaced in frustration, and with ire ripped into the fading shields of Harry's patronus, pulling the silver gleam out of it so it went into him instead of back to the Elder Wand.

For one moment Harry was keenly aware of a void in his mind, but in the next the Healer's body crashed forcefully into him and Sanderson, true to his word, did not let his grip waver as he too was pulled down from the force of collision.

Apparition would never be his favorite way to travel, Harry knew, yet with the Elder Wand the journey was almost bearable, roomy despite his two Side-Along passengers. His ears popped before they arrived in the chaos of St. Mungo's Hospital waiting room.

He fell to the ground as the full force of his suppressed emotions hit him all at once. Anger at himself, for taking so long to work his way out of the trap that this creature had set for them. Confusion about what Apex wanted, what he had meant with his cryptic words that were suddenly far more important than he'd thought mere moments ago. Fear for what had happened to the wizards that he'd touched.

With abject terror that Apex had hurt Ron as well.

A blanket was draped over his shoulders and magic chocolate was placed in his hands to combat the dementor chill that wracked his body. He watched Ron and others being taken away for medical care, chaos and confusion that swarmed just as dangerously around him as the dementors had.

It wasn't until he found himself seated on a bench and halfway through his chocolate that Harry realized he still had the Elder Wand in a death grip, and pried his fingers loose. His hands shook as he put it back in his pocket and pulled out the other wand that been safely tucked away for the second part of the fight.

His holly wand was still dead in his fingertips, and as he turned it over his eyes found crack along its length, exposing the core. He grimaced and traced his fingers over it apologetically, resolving to visit Ollivander soon to have the wandmaker tell what he made of the events. Harry had no clue what Apex had done and didn't want to compound a problem with more magic, though the Elder Wand was still a heavy temptation that weighed upon him.

He shakily got to his feet and started pacing, the memory of what happened too much to let him relax as he waited for word from the St. Mungo's Healers. He was safe in the magical hospital, he knew, yet as Apex's words and actions turned over and over in his mind, his hand found its way to his pocket to tightly grip the Elder Wand.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hugo Granger-Weasley felt a very palpable sense of unease that he was sure any other student would agree with: It was so weird to see the Hogwarts Express in the middle of the semester. And even weirder for it to be departing so late at night, their occupants wouldn't arrive at Kings Cross Station until early in the morning.

A small crowd had gathered in the courtyard to watch, standing in pairs and clumps. Everyone had some excuse, some reason to be here- a book to read, and owl to pet, a shoulder to lend. The bystanders were clearly divided.

A rather somber group was watching gurneys from the Hospital Wing being lifted from closed carriages into converted train carts. Unfortunately, some of the magical injuries from the fight had compounded into conditions that would require more extensive care than Healer Prin could offer. Roxanne had been been worst among them, though luckily not even her case was truly dire. They were being transported physically to avoid complicating the conditions any further with more magic, and their friends were dumping chocolates and well wishes for their recovery.

The people on that section of the platform had made no attempt to hide their ire with the other group of students boarding the train, though they didn't dare try anything further with Headmistress McGonagall herself overseeing the departure of the students being suspended for their part in the fight. Her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd made Hugo nervous even though he knew he wasn't in any trouble at all. Prefects paced in an obvious display of authority while the interim Head Boy and Girl were standing by McGonagall herself.

McGonagall's judgement had been swift and decisive. As much as the shock about their confiscated wands had shook them, her personal questioning of students the next few days had been even more rattling to her charges. A few days after that a public notice of suspended students had been placed in every common room, the guilty parties under direction to pack their supplies and be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Hugo Granger-Weasley stood among his Gryffindor family in deliberately plain robes. Not everyone had made it because the departure time hadn't been preset- something about waiting on Mungo Healer schedules so professionals could oversee the medical transports. The Legacies who had made it had already said goodbye to Roxanne as her gurney had been loaded and locked into the train, and now stood in a small circle around James.

"This isn't fair," Lorcan mumbled, carrying one of his friend's trunks as penance. "I should have been suspended as well."

James glanced up but quickly looked down again, worrying his lip.

"I mean, it's my fault Roxanne started the fight. I never should have told her I got jumped." He glanced over to where the Ravenclaws were, seeking and finding some kid named Sam Holt who had confessed to being the person that'd cast the jinx at him the morning before the fight. Next to him was Emmaline Wilkes, temporarily suspended from her Head Girl duties, along with school. Her expression of indignation about the entire affair matched the one of her eagle owl, large wings banging in protest on the bars of its cage.

"You get attacked, other people argue despite you trying to stop them, and yet you're the one to blame." Fred II said in an unusually bitter manner, folding his arms. "Lysander would tell you to work on your logic."

James snorted tiredly. "Right. Along with some snooty 'I told you so's' and maybe a threat or two with his new standing."

Hugo grimaced, glancing back over to where McGonagall was still watching over everything. Lysander Scamander and the promoted Gryffindor Prefect Lucinda 'Lucy' Brenning were standing at her side in a display of their new authority as temporary Head Boy and Girl. "I mean, being Head Boy was never something Ly wanted to be. Too many people."

Lorcan looked over as well, then nodded agreement. "He's not enjoying this at all."

If you asked Hugo, Lysander never looked like he enjoyed anything outside of his books. But he supposed Lorcan was a better judge of the other Scamander than he was.

"If you say so," James didn't offer any further argument, instead hiking his book bag higher up on his shoulder. Since his and Roxanne's names had appeared on the suspension notice he'd grown more and more sullen and withdrawn. Hugo suspected his older cousin had been in denial that it would actually happen.

Nobody said much else as they loaded James's trunks and awkwardly gave him final hugs goodbye. Hugo shifted his weight nervously. He didn't like this- it wasn't like the times he'd seen his older cousins and siblings off from Platform 9 ¾ in previous years. Though the group was gathering their family fame's usual attention, the Hufflepuff First Year was feeling waves of animosity and spite instead of admiration from the spectators. It set his hair on end.

Personally, he agreed wholeheartedly with McGonagall's decisions. She'd suspended students from every House and issued even more detentions, which was more than fair on a school-wide scale. On a more personal level Hugo still hadn't forgiven Rose, James and Lorcan for what they'd done to Zoey with the Scandals. Merlin- his own sister!- but the division in the Legacies, in his family bothered him more. He wasn't sure what all this meant for the future.

"-at least the worst is over, yeah?" Lorcan offered hopefully.

"Are you kidding?" James said with his first bite of fire since they'd seen the Hogwarts Express. "Mum's gonna explode."

Everyone shuddered reflexively at the idea of Ginny Potter's ire, giving James pats of sympathy.

The support had him taking in a shaky breath, admitting "And Dad is… he'll be so…" he hung his head, not needing to finish for them to understand.

All James ever wanted was to be like his father. As much as he loved his mother, it was obvious who James had always looked up to, whose footsteps he tried to follow and the man whom he strove to make proud. The inevitable disappointment upon arriving home for suspension… just the idea was already breaking him down.

The Gryffindors in the family shared uncertain glances. They had no idea what to say, and as they looked down and around Hugo realized they were subconsciously looking for Lily to step up. She wasn't here though- she'd gone straight from dinner to check on Albus again. So when word had reached Hufflepuff Commons about the Express here to take students away, he'd had no way to reach her. It was also likely the reason that Dominique and Albus weren't here either, but it was Lily's absence that was felt most keenly. The family's interactions were a bit stilted and awkward as they realized she wasn't there to smooth any accidentally ruffled feathers from a poor choice of words.

Hugo sighed, and then stepped toward his cousin. He was a Hufflepuff too, after all, so loyal support was something he should be good at.

"He loves you." He told James, "He'll be mad as the rest of us that you were so owl-brained and idiotic and rude and I'm sure you're definitely grounded on top of everything-" maybe he wasn't as good at this as he thought he'd be… "-but he loves you, Aunt Ginny loves you, and nothing's gonna change that."

James had started to redden with indignation at the passing insults, but the tension in his shoulders eased with the finish. He nodded once, a bit of his usual confidence coming back to his eyes. "I guess I'll see you at Christmas then. Don't let the team skip practice while I'm out- we might not have any more scrimmages, but Slytherin and Hufflepuff do and I don't want them getting any edge."

There was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement from his Housemates before the train whistle cut their conversation off abruptly. James looked up at the train, shuffled his feet, and got onto the Express alone.

The crowd of gathered students sombered further and said their goodbyes, then watched the train pull away. There was no excitement, no waves being crammed out the small windows… it was definitely wrong to see the Hogwarts Express leaving like this, Hugo decided to himself as he watched the trail of smoke disappear in the setting daylight.

But maybe at the same time, he added hopefully, deciding to trust in McGonagall's decisions. Maybe it's for the best.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When the fireplace roared to life in the living room, Ginny Weasley jolted upright on the couch, instantly awake despite it being the dead of night. She had her wand in one hand just in case, but seeing the familiar figure that stepped out of the Floo Network had her breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

Harry practically fell atop her, exhaustion dragging at his every bone. "Hot chocolate," he mumbled, and though Ginny hugged him back she felt her heart sink in dread. She'd long ago learned to tell what her husband's moods were after missions. Best case he would arrive home, wrap his arms around her, and barely make it to the bedroom before he fell asleep, clutching her tight as though any moment she might vanish. But still, he would sleep, dead to the world before waking up and telling her about what had happened.

It was the worse cases that prevented him from even falling asleep first, that would keep Harry awake for hours with latent adrenaline and sometimes guilt or anger racing through him. Sometimes he would be able to talk about it with her, others he'd just sit awake the whole night. Sometimes he would hold her hand and others he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. Ginny braced herself for any scenario as she brought a fresh cup of steaming chocolate into Harry's study, with a few drops of Calming Draught in hope it would help even more.

Harry took the mug with a small smile, then turned back to the room. He was sitting in a guest chair instead of behind his desk, staring at the portrait that concealed the safe he kept the Elder Wand in.

Ginny followed his gaze and bit her lip. It had been pure selfishness that had prompted her to ask Harry to do what he'd sworn not to and take the Elder Wand on an Auror mission. As hard as it was to bid Harry adieu for work and know that he might not return safe, it was infinitely harder to know he might leave and not want to come back. Magics that messed with minds would always be her greatest dread, and the idea of Harry knowingly risking his memories was petrifying to her.

She could never ask him to stay. Harry had always been the one to lead a charge, had been born with danger dogging his every step. Ginny had known that when she fell in love with him and married him and she wouldn't ask him to change who he was.

But it had been a moment of selfish weakness when she'd asked him to take the Elder Wand. She hadn't expected him to actually do it, though. Seeing the frame pushed aside and the safe open had given her a heady relief… and a surge of guilt. She'd immediately put their family portrait back in place.

"... it saved our lives." Harry mumbled, staring at the portrait. The nine year old James waved, and Harry shook his head before clarifying "The Elder Wand. If I hadn't brought it…"

Ginny released a breath of tension. 'Saved lives' was always a good thing. "What happened?"

It seemed he was up to talking about parts of what went down in the Crystal Cave. Harry told the tale in stilting sentences, sometimes stopping mid-word to furrow his brow at nothing, or to just look at her before looking away again.

He ducked away when he mentioned how incredibly powerful his patronus had been from the Elder Wand and she asked what memory he'd used.

Harry paused, as he always did before sharing something so personal, then said haltingly "March 5, 2004."

She'd smiled gently as she thought of the day before letting him go back to talking about the winged man who had the power to contain hundred of dementors and, it seemed, break Voldemort's curses like candy wrappers. It seemed impossible.

She got the general idea though, and it made her reach out to hold his free hand tightly. He'd pulled the Elder Wand out and placed it on the desk at some point during the tale. The pale wood shone innocuously in the light, belying the power it contained, humming at the edge of the witches consciousness.

Harry admitted the events were hazy for him- this 'Apex' creature seemed to have really rattled him. "I can't even describe it, Ginny. As long as he was standing there I- we- none of us were really reacting right. The only time when I felt any kind of fear if him was when he touched Ron, and even then…"

He trailed off as he watched his portrait put young Albus down for a moment to kneel with James. Ginny waited another moment before daring to ask "What did the Healers say?"

"They don't know. It's- not good, though. They said something about him and the others that Apex touched being in shock. The staff was a bit overwhelmed, though. Not all their Healers were there and some of us were also Kissed when the dementors descended." He took a deliberate gulp of the chocolate at the reminder of the dementors that'd been there, still keeping his eye on the portrait. "But at least Ron was awake, though... Rattled. Confused."

"Confused?" Ginny repeated and followed Harry's gaze, wondering why his attention was so fixated.

"He didn't remember what we were doing. Or why he was wearing Ministry Robes- Ginny, he didn't even recognize me for a moment. Then he asked if I my hair had been pranked with something from George's-" He stopped and closed his eyes, painfully quoting, "if I'd been pranked by something from 'Fred and George's' Joke Shop."

She sucked in a breath. "He doesn't remember?"

"He doesn't remember." Harry agreed hollowly. "I don't know how much memories he lost, but he… he's better than Sanderson. Or the others. He just- he has no memory of what we were doing, and no idea of what he doesn't remember. I don't know how I'm going to tell Hermione."

Ginny slipped closer and hugged him gently. "You'll tell her he's alive, and at worst, she might have to recondition him to do pick up his dirty socks from the floor."

He chuckled half-heartedly, kissing her forehead before tiredly resting his cheek against her. They held eachother for a moment. Each just breathing in the other and relishing that fact.

When she glanced up and saw him still frowning at their family portrait she frowned as well, reaching up to put a hand on his cheek. "What is it?"

He looked away suddenly, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Harry. What's wrong?" she asked more sternly, leaning back.

"Don't hate me." Harry blurted suddenly, wincing and truly sounding like he believed it was a possibility.

"Never." She grabbed him tighter, looking between his eyes. "Darling, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

"What-" he licked his lips, his voice cracking as he asked "Ginny… what's our eldest son's name?"

---

I'm aliiive! And have officially decided that combat scenes are the bane of my existence. I am so, so sorry that this chapter took so long. there is a 7,000 word scene in here that I redid like a bajillion times but could NOT be happy with until I finally complained to my beta who went "Huh. Let me spew off a PERFECT way to make that Apex scene flow!"- and it still took me like a week to make it happen... I have no excuse. Combat scenes are the bane of my existence.

Lemme know what ya'll think! (One of my beta's suggested I add 'evil author' to my story tags)