A/N: So, I know I haven't updated in a while. This one was a rough one for me to finish. But it's done now, and I'm pretty pleased with it, though I hadn't planned for it to be quite so long.


"We've got another case," said Donovan, slapping a hand on the side of his partner's cubicle. He was a big man, still quite young, and the sound cut through the busy office like a like a Dark Mark in the night.

"Would you keep it down?" growled a voice. "Some of us have actual work to do."

"Sorry Mad-Eye," said Donovan, meaning it. Even though he had worked here for three years, Mad-Eye still awed him a bit. "You hear me Powell? Another case?"

"S'already?" said Powell, slowly sitting upright. His eyes were droopy with exhaustion. "How long has it been since the last one?"

The taller Auror checked his watch. The tiny thing looked out of place against his burly frame. "Nearly fifteen minutes, but if you squint a bit, you might be able to claim that it was sixteen."

"We've been working two days straight, and the biggest break we've had is an hour," grumbled Powell, standing up and stretching. As soon as he stood up it was clear just how much shorter he was then his partner. "What's it this time?"

"Another attack at a Muggle residence," reported Donovan, scratching at some stubble as he waited for the other man to grab his wand. Together they started toward the exit. "We only caught it because a kid had their trace activated by the Killing Curse, and since the Dark Arts were involved, we get to go and clean up."

Neither of them rushed. Though the two of them had only been working for the Aurors for a combined tally of four years, they had seen this happen too many times since they had started to have any hope that anyone was still alive.

"Another attack?" asked Powell, the exhausted lines looking out of place his young face. "This is what, the third body this week?"

"And a kid this time," Donovan let out a heavy sigh as they cleared the last of the cubicles. "Bloody Death Eaters."

"In complete fairness, it might have been the kid who started it," said Powell, as they turned into the corridor to the lifts. "He wouldn't have been the first one whose tried to get revenge."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," said Donovan.

"I didn't think that would," admitted Powell, stopping in front of the lifts. "But I thought I'd give it a try."

"Thanks," said Donovan flatly.

The lift doors opened with a little "ding" and the two Aurors stepped aside as a harried looking Barty Crouch, his toothbrush moustache quivering, strode through them, never even looking at them in his haste.

"Good day to you too sir," muttered Powell, entering the empty lift. He waited for the more senor Auror to squeeze in before he pressed the Atrium button. With a bang and a shudder, the lift started downward.

Five minutes later, the pair of them were scrambling up to the top of a hill, the rapidly sinking sun at their backs. Following procedure, they had Apparated over a mile away, on the chance that Death Eaters had set up enchantments against it.

The hill was both tall and steep, and the summer breeze did little to stop the men from sweating as they climbed. At several points, the two men were forced to climb on all fours to get over a few of the rougher spots.

"Nearly there," puffed Powell, after nearly twenty minutes of nonstop climbing.

"Fantastic," said Donovan flatly, hand going up to scratch at his stubble as he waited for the shorter man blocking his path to pull himself to the top.

"Next time, we're going to Apparate to the top of the hill," grunted Powell, hoisting himself to the top of the hill and sinking down to the ground, wiping sweat from the top of his head.

"Well," observed Donovan, clambering to the top of the hill to sit next to his friend. "It's not really that bad, if you don't keep stopping, like one of us kept doing."

"I seem to recall that we had a mission around here somewhere," said the other man sourly, running his hand through his hair. "That the place?"

He nodded his head to what might have been a large farmhouse situated in an empty valley, a handful of other assorted buildings clustered around it. The sun had already dipped beneath the crest of the hill, casting the collection of isolated buildings into an ominous shadow that both the Aurors noticed, but didn't remark on. They had long since given up wondering why these sorts of things seem to take place just as it was getting dark.

"Think so," said Donovan, looking down on it. "You see anything?"

"No sign of damage, lights still on, can't see anyone," reported Powell, frowning a little as he squinted down. "They could have cleaned up."

"It's not like Death Eaters to clean up after themselves," said Donovan. "Something's off here, I can feel it."

The two men stood there for a moment, racking their sleep-deprived brains for what was wrong with the scene.

"You're probably just feeling the urge to take a nap," Powell told him at last. "But let's take our time in any case."

The two of them started down the hill, casting measured glances at the farmhouse every minute or so. The only movement came from a lone cow that wandered in a nearby field, stopping here and there to eat.

At last, the two men stopped next to a shed with a pile of pallets stacked nearby, darkness truly starting to fall now. Hunkering down next to the quiet building, they took their time examining the house. Not exactly what the usual procedure for the recovery of a body, but a little caution never hurt.

The farmhouse was an old fashioned, two storey building, walls grey with age. A few old farm tools lay scattered around the lawn, half hidden by the long grass. To the left there was an ancient barn. To the right was a chicken coop, a steady light still shining from its one grimy window.

"Yeah," said Donovan. He had stopped examining the house and had pulled out his wand, waving it about in thin air. "It's a good thing we didn't Apparate much closer than we did, else they would have had to send a team in to put us back together. Guess that's why the higher-ups won't let Aurors Apparate directly onto the scene anymore, Eh?

"See that?" Powell nodded toward one of the upper windows. His tone was still neutral, but his eyes were suddenly wide in alarm. "I thought I saw a something at the window."

"There's a Caterwauling Charm around the house, looks like we're just outside it," Donovan waved his wand again, then frowned. "Why would the Death Eaters leave a charm that warns them...Oh no."

"This isn't good," said Powell, ducking behind the shed, youthful face suddenly alert. "This isn't good at all."

"They're still here," hissed Donovan, scrambling for the shed as well. "The Death Eaters are still here, Powell!"

"I know," Powell's voice was quieter than it had been all evening. "This isn't just another body, their waiting for something."

"I don't think their expecting us," said Donovan, after a moment's consideration. "They'd at least make it look like a fight took place, and we've managed to sneak pretty close without meaning to."

"Good thing they're not that cautious, huh?" said Powell. Even in the semi-darkness, the sheen of sweat on his face was easily visible. They both knew that they'd messed up, and badly.

"They're wasn't even a Dark Mark," said Donovan, slapping himself in the forehead. "That's what was missing. We should have noticed."

Powell nodded silently. Even though he had only been on the job a year, he shouldn't have missed such an obvious clue.

"We've must have some sort of luck, if they don't know we're here," marvelled Donovan. "They know about the trace, and they still weren't prepared for us."

"Maybe the kid looks older then they are," said Powell, running his wand-free hand through his hair. "The real question is if the kid's even still alive."

"Either way, we should get reinforcements, see if we can't fill up the cells of Azkaban a little tonight." said Donovan. "I don't fancy tying to take out any Death Eaters by ourselves, and it's hard to successfully rescue someone while you're outnumbered."

"How hard?" asked Powell curiously.

"Maybe if we were Dumbledore and Moody, we might be able to pull it off," said Donovan, shaking his head. "The only way we're going to do it is to get all the Aurors we can over here as soon as possible."

Alright, you head back and I'll stay here and try to see how many there are," said Powell.

"No, you go, I'll stay," said Donovan, peeking around the shed. He stopped when he noticed the Powell wasn't moving.

"You're fitter then me, you can make it out of here faster," pointed out Powell.

"You're what? Twenty-one?" argued Donovan. "How out of shape could you be?"

"Twenty-two now," said Powell, scowling up at the taller man. "And you're what, Twenty-six? Mike, we both know you're fitter then me.

"That's why, if anything happens, I'd be a better pick to get the kid out of there," said Donovan, gesturing vaguely at the silent house.

"You just told me that it's nigh on impossible to get the kid out of there with two of us, not to mention one," said Powell. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Just shut up and get going."

And then, before Donovan could open his mouth to do something that probably wasn't going to involve shutting up and going, a scream came from the house. Not a brief scream, but a long scream of the sort that only came from pure agony. Starting strong, it quickly puttered out. Though the two Aurors were too far away to hear it, they both imagined sobbing at the end of it.

"Guess the kid is still alive," said Powell, completely deadpan.

"Right, you run out, grab the rest of the department, and hurry back," said Donovan, real urgency in his tone for the first time. "I'll sit here and try to find us a way in."

Powell was already shaking his head when another scream rang out. This one was even more protracted, and it had scarcely died out when another one took its place.

"Hear that? That's the Cruciatus. I don't think the kid inside there had time to wait. How long do you think he can hold up before his mind breaks? Besides, as long as the boys in the Improper Use of Magic office are paying attention, they'll realize that the trace is being activated again."

Donovan looked into his partner's face, looking like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he looked away. Whatever he saw on that face convinced him that this wasn't an argument he could win.

"I know it's probably a lost cause, put I'll be damned if I don't give it my best shot," said Powell, determination set on his face, a face that should have been too young to have such deep lines on it.

Donovan was peering over the top of the chicken coop before Powell had finished speaking, all business. He did, however, spare a glance at his partner. "You never know, we might just pull this off."

"And the Chudley Cannons might finally win a match this year, but I still wouldn't bet on it," said Powell, joining Donovan in peering over the roof of the chicken house, though he had to stand on the pallets to manage it. "The screams sounded like they're coming from the bottom floor, so at least we don't have to manage the stairs. See a way around the Caterwauling Charm?"

Another scream came from the house, but the two Aurors ignored it. They were professionals.

"I can't find a way around it. They've changed it somehow, I don't think that the counter-charm will work, though that's probably the point of changing it, isn't it?" Donovan scratched the stubble on his chin again. "The higher-ups are going to be thrilled about that."

"What about the cow we saw as we were coming down?" asked Powell.

"It's probably very tasty," admitted Donovan. "But I don't see how that's going to help us."

"I was more thinking that we could use it to set off the charm," said Powell. "If I can get between it and the house, it should be too difficult to get it to move."

"And then we use that distraction to get the kid out," finished Donovan. "That's not bad. I got the kid, you get the cow?"

"I got the cow," confirmed Powell. "And then we'll meet over there, in that old barn. We can use it to block the Death Eater's view of us as we run away heroically."

Donovan turned his head to look in the barn in question. Its sturdiness was dubious at best.

"Don't do anything heroic, Powell," he said, turning back to look at the house. "Just get the cow moving and get back to the barn. Anything else and I'll let Moody give you the hero talk."

"Don't worry," said Powell. "We're probably going to die before that."

Donovan turned to look at Powell when he heard that, but Powell had already run off into the darkness.

"Good luck," he said, before he turned back to ready himself for what he was about to do.

Donovan said something, but Powell was already out of earshot, moving stealthily toward the far field, the air rushing past his ears. He skirted well around the house and the yard around it, hopping two fences before he reached the field that the cow was in.

The house shone like a beacon in the darkness, light steadily pouring from its windows, and Powell turned toward it, taking a moment to reorient himself to the change of scenery.

And then he was off again, moving toward the dark shape of the cow. Moments later, he stopped again, wary of spooking the cow. He hunched down, minimizing his outline against the sky, and considered the scene in front of him.

The cow was twenty or so feet in front of him. The house was almost seventy-five yards away. The fence around the field was roughly thirty yards in front of him. A quick check told him that the charm's boundaries was thirty-five yards in front of him, meaning that the cow would have to go through the fence to activate it. Clearly, whoever had set it up had foreseen that danger.

Powell muttered an extremely rude word under his breath. The only way to get the cow to trigger the Caterwauling Charm was to break through the fence, which meant that, unless the Death Eaters were complete idiots, they'd realize that cow had been 'helped' when it activated the charm.

Powell swore again. It seemed like the distraction had turned into a diversion, and it had to be said that Powell had never liked diversions, especially ones that used him as bait.

As the kid screamed again, Powell shrugged his shoulders helplessly and readied himself for the worse. Then, with a simple motion and a mumbled incantation, Powell made a portion of the fence topple over, leaving a ten foot or so gap in it.

No one came to investigate. Why would they? A sound of a fence falling couldn't be heard over the screaming.

Powell angled himself so that the cow was between him and the gap, then, with a little jinx he had learned during his Hogwarts days, he burnt the cow.

It wasn't much of a burn, barely noticeable at first, but within seconds the cow was starting to moo frantically as it tried to get away from the stinging in its backside. Powell grimaced slightly in sympathy, but kept at it, steering the cow toward the gap.

It almost smacked into the fence, but it managed to get through, squealing in pain as it charged right for the charm.

"Sorry," muttered Powell, letting go of the jinx and covering his ears. It was about to get really loud.

Two seconds later, the charm activated with a wailing shriek that could be heard for miles in this empty valley. Three seconds after that, both Powell and the cow involuntarily flinched as the door flew open and three Death Eaters ran out of it, silver masks shining like beacons in the night.

The smallest Death Eater yelled something that was lost in the wailing. The thin one pointed toward the panicked cow, gesturing wildly. The biggest one broke into laughter as he watched the second Death Eater continue his whip-like motions. Powell watched as the thin Death Eater stop gesturing and made a very rude gesture with his wand-free hand.

The big one snarled and started to advance on the thinner one, but the third Death Eater pointed his wand between the two of them and shot a jet of bright green light. With uncanny precision, it hit the cow.

The cow keeled over at once, quite dead. The two other Death Eaters turned to look at the cow, then turned as one toward the one who had cast the curse. Even from the field, Powell heard the mingled shouts, though the yelling and wailing of the Caterwauling Charm made it impossible to make out exactly what they were saying.

The third Death Eater, who evidently was in charge, made a sharp jab with his wand, and the Wailing abruptly cut off.

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME, YOU LITTLE TWAT,—" shouted the big Death Eater at his leader, pausing for breath. He undoubtedly was about to say more, but the third Death Eater, talking quietly, pointed calmly at the fence. More specifically, he pointed at the gap in the fence.

It took three seconds for the other Death Eaters to register what they were seeing. Powell counted them carefully, waiting for the moment when—

"THERE'S SOMEONE HERE!" bellowed the big Death Eater, who seemed to have an aversion to speaking in anything below a shout.

Powell heard a crash and a yell from the house, and knew that Donovan must have encountered resistance in the house. Before the Death Eaters had time to react, he stepped forward and, without ceremony, shot a stunner toward the biggest Death Eater.

The Death Eater dodged it, displaying reactions faster than Powell would have believed possible for a man so large. The leader sent a stunner of his own toward the field, but in the near dark, Powell was a good as invisible, and it flew some twenty feet to his left. Powell retaliated with a silver jet; it hit the thin one and sent him flying into the porch, destroying the porch swing and likely breaking most of his ribs.

The Leader swiped with his wand, and some of the grass five feet to the left of Powell tumbled, cut at the base. Powell dived as the biggest Death Eater levitated the part of the fence Powell had knocked down and sent it toward where Powell had been instants before; it missed him with barely an inch to spare. Jumping to his feet, Powell sent a Blasting Curse toward the ground at the leader's feet, hoping to knock him to the ground, but it was deflected and soared behind him instead, where it hit the porch with large detonation.

"ROSIER!" screamed the big Death Eater in anguish, starting toward the flaming porch, but was stopped by the leader yelling something. Swearing angrily, the big Death Eater started toward the gate, deflecting another stunner sent his way by Powell with nothing more than a flick of his wrist.

Powell was already running back toward the barn he was supposed to meet Donovan, quite sure that he'd done all he could here, when the first explosion hit the field, the concussion of it hitting Powell like a blow from a wet towel. Powell doubled his efforts as flames sprang up from where the first explosion had come from. A quick series of curses hit the field, and before Powell was even halfway through it, he could feel the heat of the flames grabbing at his back.

One of the Death Eaters most have seen his shape moving, for three spells hit the ground near Powell in ten seconds, the last one knocking him off his feet and setting his ears ringing. Looking up, Powell quickly saw that most of the field was rapidly catching on fire. The good part of this was that the Death Eaters could no longer see him through the wall of flames in front of him. That bad news was that the flames were cutting him off from his planned escape route.

Powell climbed back to his feet, instinctively ducking as more explosions hit the field. He looked around, quickly assessed his options, and then swore; everywhere he looked, there was fire, its heat already starting to sting at him.

Powell took a deep breath and ran through the flame, heading straight toward the barn, no praying that Donovan was already there, waiting for him. lf Powell was hoping that this knowledge was going to protect him from the heat, he was wrong; he could feel the fire trying to climb up his robes, heat searing his skin in half a dozen places—

Then he was free of the flame. He hopped the fence and doused the parts of the robe that were flaming, ignoring the pain coming from his legs as he sprinted toward the distant barn. His eyes darted frantically side to side, watching for any spells that flew at him from the night, but nothing came at him, and he hopped the last fence and turned toward the barn.

There were spells lighting up the night, flying from the house, punching through the walls and leaving holes as they flew through. Once every five seconds or so, a light would shoot out of the barn, flying towards one of the windows of the house, or the door. Without slowing, Powell sent his own spell toward the door; it missed and hit the wall, which crumbled under the abuse it had taken, effectively preventing anyone from using the door. Almost at once, spells from the windows shot toward him, missing by the narrowest of margins, as the Death Eaters in the windows caught sight of him.

Powell burst into barn, leaping through one of the larger holes. Three spells hit the wall behind him, splintering it into a thousand different pieces. Powell scrambled five feet to the left, where the wall was still mostly intact, and saw Donovan leaning up against the wall.

"Took you're time," said Donovan lightly. "Shall we go?"

"The kid?" asked Powell, peering around in the light of the spells flying in.

"Dead," said Donovan. "They got me in the leg. I can't put any weight on it."

Spells flying around you had a marvellous way of cutting out the more idle parts of the conversation.

Powell peered down at Donovan's leg, the barn helpfully lighting up for a second by a spell that flew in through the one of the many holes.

"Yes," said Powell, his voice quavering slightly. "I can see why you can't put any weight on it."

"That bad?" asked Donovan.

"You have no idea," said Powell, taking Donovan's arm and putting it around his shoulders. They started moving as quickly as they could toward back of the barn, aiming for one of the bigger holes that led outside. Through it they saw an open field, and the very distant tree line. Somewhere between there and here they'd be able to Apparate, if they could just reach it in time.

They weren't moving very fast, but they managed to clear the old barn moments before it collapsed, falling with an agonizing slowness. The two Aurors couldn't help but look back as it fell with a thunder-shaking crash, drowning out anything else for a few seconds. By the time they looked forward again, they could hear the Death Eaters yelling behind them.

"I can't run with this leg," said Donovan, and it was true; already they were slowing down, Donovan grimacing every time he put any weight on his leg, and Powell was already panting with the effort to hold up the bigger man.

"Here," said Powell, after forty more painful yards, pointing to an old foundation dug into the ground, the possible remains of an old house that might have once stood there. It was shallow enough that it wouldn't shield them if they were standing up, but at the very least it would protect them from being seen, though of course, with magic, being seen was the least of their problems.

"You should get going, mate," said Donovan, gingerly hopping down into the outline of the building and collapsing against the low wall almost at once. "There's no way I'm going to be able to make it to the anywhere close to a point where we can Apparate away.

"And leave you behind?" asked Powell, peering over the top of foundation at the collapsed barn. Already there were shouts and yells coming from close to it, and the fire that had started in the field had begun to spread, lighting up the whole scene with a backdrop, blending in with what little was left of the sunset. "I'm pretty sure it says in the Auror's manual never to leave someone behind."

"It doesn't make sense for us both to die," said Donovan, shifting his injured leg, and biting back a yelp as he did so. "You know it's only going to take the Death Eaters a few minutes or so to find me, and you need that time to get a head start."

There were more yells, something about getting the wounded and making sure that the Aurors where dead. The two men ignored it as best they could.

"Let me take a look at your leg," said Powell, squatting down next to Donovan. It was almost too dark to see, even outside, but he was shaking his head almost before he could see it. "What curse did they even use?"

"Not sure," said Donovan, watching Powell examine the wound. "It was just after I saw the kid had already been killed—There was one in the kitchen, and the sound of us fighting must have spooked the one guarding him—I got the Death Eater watching over him, made it back to the kitchen alright, and I was almost out the door when one of them came at me from behind. I blocked the first one, but the second managed to get me," here he paused to gesture at his leg, his eye now staring into the dark. "Crafty little bugger. I managed to limp to the barn before it gave out completely, and that's where you found me."

There was a note of dejection in his voice as he finished. From the dark came the sound of arguing, as one of the Death Eaters swore loudly that he had seen the two Aurors get out of the barn.

Powell was nodding along as Donovan finished his story. "It wasn't your fault. The bad news is that there's no way that I can heal your leg. The good news is that I think that if we put it in a brace, you might be able to stand."

"Do that," said Donovan watching Powell again. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to do it standing up."

"That's the spirit," said Powell sardonically, starting to conjure bits of wood from thin air.

"I did fail you know," said Donovan, after a moment. Above them, the sound of pieces of barn being moved came from the night, along with more shouting. "We had a good plan, but I messed it. If I had could have gotten the one in the kitchen before he saw me, that poor kid might have been next to us, instead of dead."

"Better dead then what was happening to him," said Powell consolingly, taking a break from the brace to give his friend a pat on the shoulder. "You couldn't have done more."

"I might have done something to save him," said Donovan, helplessness filling his voice. His eyes were still staring into the dark, but if they had been looking at Powell, they would have reflected how he felt too. "But I didn't to a damn thing, and another innocent died. We can't save any of them Mike, can we? No matter how hard we try, people still die and disappear and die and all we can to his pick up the pieces. We can't do a damn thing to stop them."

"Greg," said Powell, as a shouted question came from the dark, followed by a series of negatives, shattered the quiet again. "I'm not going to lie, you did fail."

"Thanks Powell, you're always find the way to cheer me up," interjected Donovan before Powell could finish, wincing as Powell accidently touched his leg.

"Stop that," scolded Powell. "I'm not finished yet. Anyway, yeah, you failed, but you ran into a building full of Death Eaters, duelled two of them, beat both, got hit in the leg with a curse, and still managed to get far enough away to give them a good fight. You might have failed Donovan—but you didn't do nothing."

"Thanks," said Donovan, after a moment. "That actually was a good talk."

"I've been practicing, in case this ever happened," said Powell, as loud shout of "They're not here," floated down to them. "Brace's done."

"You can still get out of here you know," said Donovan, but it was clear that he didn't really believe that he could convince his friend to leave. "Just fade into the dark."

"I'm not scared of death," said Powell, then hesitated. "Well, maybe a little, but that's not going to stop me from dying."

"Any last requests?" asked Donovan, shifting his leg experimentally. This time he didn't wince quite as much, but it was still clear that he wasn't going to win any races on that leg.

"I want to be remembered," said Powell, as wandlight cut the air above them. The Death Eaters hadn't found the foundation yet, but it was going to be a matter of moments. "I mean, I know that what's left of our families—that's to say, your sister and my uncle—will remember us, but I want the people out there to remember me."

"Why?" asked Donovan. It wasn't a mocking question, but a sincere one.

Above them, more wandlight joined the first, and the shouting died down to a quiet muttering. The Death Eaters had gone on the hunt.

"I want people to remember me as a hero," said Powell, and in the faint light, he suddenly looked his twenty-two years for the first time in months. "I know it's childish, and we're all going to die someday anyway, but if you're remembered, it's like a small part of you isn't dead."

The wandlight fell on the other side of the foundation, and there was a sudden quietness that was so much worse then the shouting that had taken place seconds earlier.

"I can't say if you'll be remembered," said Donovan, grabbing his wand and preparing to stand up. He was speaking softly now, the last words that he was ever likely to speak. "But not being remembered doesn't mean you're not a hero. So many heroes have lived, and we'll never know their names. Doesn't mean they're not heroes. Try to keep that in mind."

This was a long speech, considering the circumstances, and the wandlight was getting brighter by the moment. There was only one or two still shining, the rest of the wands having been extinguished in preparation for what was about to happen. There was no doubt, the Death Eaters knew they were there.

"Let's do it," said Powell in a whisper, patting his friend on the back once.

The two men stood up as one, and started fighting their last fight.


The date was the tenth of August, 1979. It would take another two years for the Dark Lord to be defeated. During that time, sixteen more Aurors died. Neither Donovan nor Powell was ever recognized for their efforts. Neither were the other sixteen. But they died trying to make the world a better place.

They were remembered, at least for a short time. Eventually, time crept on and those who knew them, Moody and the other Aurors, their own families, eventually joined them in death. Before an hundred years had passed, no one remembered the two of them.

But that's alright, because that's how life works. Time passes, heroes fade, and new ones are born.


A/N: that's not the original ending I had in mind for this story, but I like how it ended. I'm already halfway done with the next one, so that should only take me two months or so, if I keep writing the at the pace I'm going at now.

Thanks for reading!