Chapter 69 – The Final Hope
Draco Malfoy flopped down on his bed with a groan. He was hard pressed to think of another time in his life that he had hurt so much. He lay there for some minutes trying to will himself to move, for his tired muscles to respond. When he could not summon the will, he simply lay there, thinking of the past days since he had come to the Dark Lord's lair.
The Dark Lord was a hard taskmaster. Though in truth Draco supposed that the Dark Lord was not generally involved in the hell of training that Draco had been forced to undertake, still, it was by the Dark Lord's commands and through his direction. It mattered little in the end—Bellatrix was capricious and cruel, not hesitating to mete out punishment if she felt that he was not giving the required effort, and the other Death Eaters with whom he frequently worked, while not as mercurial as his aunt, also did not go any easier on him. Draco was tired of it all.
But one thing kept him going—the promise of revenge. The Mudblood would pay, and Draco would enjoy being the one who exacted that payment. The Dark Lord had promised him, after all, and the Dark Lord never lied.
Still, there was a benefit to this relentless activity, Draco supposed. He had improved by leaps and bounds during the course of his life at the manor, to the point where he was now certain he could easily beat that jumped-up Potter. The Mudblood or the creature would now be child's play—of that he was convinced.
Other than the continual hell of training, though a little dreary, being in the Dark Lord's domain was not all bad. There were few others his age, it was true—really only Crabbe and Goyle, who he had seen a few times, and they were really too dull to be companions outside of school. He almost wished for Nott's presence and his overly glib tongue to relieve the boredom. But the sense of being part of the Dark Lord's plans, of being trusted to complete an important assignment, was a heady feeling. Draco was determined to do him proud.
The one with whom he had had little contact was his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was clearly out of favor with the Dark Lord, but whether that was because of what had ultimately happened to his father, or because of what she had said to Draco before he had left Hogwarts, Draco was uncertain. It mattered little in the end, as Draco had little desire to see her. She was his mother, and was owed respect for that fact, but he remembered Bellatrix's words from when he had arrived. His mother simply was not strong enough to do what was needed, and would not be an asset in the Dark Lord's mission to take control of the magical world. Regardless of the fact that she came from a long and distinguished family line, his was greater through his father. Perhaps there would be a reconciliation of sorts when this was finished, but for now he preferred to concentrate on what was important.
The fact of the matter was that Narcissa really had nowhere else to go, though on occasion when Draco did happen upon her, she appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else but in the Dark Lord's lair. Since Draco had arrived at the Dark Lord's lair, the Ministry had seized Malfoy Manor and had searched the place vigorously, uncovering caches of dark artifacts, which meant that the manor was off limits for her and for anyone else. For similar reasons the Malfoy fortune had also been confiscated and locked down by those damnable goblins in collusion with the Ministry. And with Malfoy Manor unavailable for her use, Narcissa had no other place to go.
For Draco, his mother's plight was secondary. What truly mattered was the fact that the Ministry had seen fit to deny him his inheritance—the legacy passed down from father to son through a long line of distinguished and influential Malfoy generations. That could not be allowed to stand.
It was in the midst of these ruminations that Draco's tired body and exhausted mind began to give in to the blessed oblivion of sleep. But that did not last for long.
The door to his room opened and Bellatrix appeared in the doorway; much to Draco's disgust, the woman appeared to take no thought for his privacy. At least she had yet to walk in on him when he was undressed.
Having learned very quickly that a failure to rise and attend her would be seen as a lack of proper respect—which would, of course, be accompanied by a rather painful object lesson—Draco ignored his protesting muscles and stifled a grown, rising to his feet with alacrity.
"Yes, Aunt," he asked with a respectful nod.
"The Dark Lord wishes to see you, Draco," his aunt intoned.
Sometimes Aunt Bellatrix more closely resembled an inferi, Draco reflected. It was incongruous and a trifle alarming at times, the extreme swings in her moods and behavior. She could be dour and distant, while at other times, almost giddy, cackling with glee and capering about like a madwoman. She bore careful watching, as regardless of her mood, she could dish out punishment at even the hint of disobedience, real or perceived.
In this instance, Draco decided not to reply to her directive—he merely nodded his acceptance and followed her from the room out into the hallways of the manor. There were times when not speaking was beneficial, though it was difficult to determine when the woman expected an answer, and when she expected obedience without question.
The manor itself was much the same as it always. Twisting corridors meandering through larger rooms, filled with threadbare furniture and faded and worn carpets. It was certainly nothing to Malfoy Manor, which his parents had always kept in immaculate condition and decorated with the latest and most expensive fashions.
All of this penetrated Draco's consciousness, but he ignored it and focused on his upcoming audience with the Dark Lord. Though he still missed those days of luxury, one did not go into the master's presence with anything but the most serious mind and concentration. The Dark Lord did not suffer fools lightly.
They entered the throne room a few moments later to find the Dark Lord speaking with a half dozen Death Eaters. Bellatrix motioned him to wait and stood beside him, taking in the room with her piercing, suspicious gaze. It was only a moment before the meeting before them broke up and the Death Eaters filed from the hall.
"Ah, Draco," the Dark Lord called. "Please approach."
Doing as he was instructed, Draco knelt on one knee before the Dark Lord's throne, noting with some vexation that Bellatrix did not—in fact he had never seen her make her obeisance before the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord never called her out on it, though to the best of Draco's knowledge, she was the only one afforded this privilege. It rankled, to be honest, though Draco was careful never to allow such thoughts overcome his control. One day, when he took his father's position, he would also be allowed the same liberties.
"Rise, Draco," the Dark Lord commanded. "I have need of you."
"Of course, Master," Draco replied, rising to his feet. "How may I be of service?"
The Dark Lord smirked and glanced at Bellatrix. "Pretty words. It seems that you have made a great impression upon our young friend, Bellatrix."
"As my lord commands," the woman replied with a slight bow, much to Draco's annoyance. A Malfoy bowed to no one, after all, though the Dark Lord was an exception to the rule. Still, for them to refer to him as nothing more than a servant was something he could not countenance.
Still, he kept his reaction carefully hidden, and patiently waiting while looking slightly away from the Dark Lord's eyes. Like most Pureblood children, he had been taught the rudiments of Occlumency from a young age, but he was well aware that a Legilimencer of the Dark Lord's talent could likely pull thoughts from his mind without his even knowing. It was one of the things he was endeavoring to improve about himself—the need to keep his thoughts within his own head was paramount.
"Yes, well Mr. Malfoy, I would ask you a question," the Dark Lord continued. "Are you aware of your mother's present location?"
Startled, Draco peered back at the Dark Lord, before turning to Bellatrix when he could not read anything from the Dark Lord's countenance. Unfortunately, she did not give anything away either.
"I assumed she was somewhere within the manor," Draco finally replied, this time looking the Dark Lord directly in the eye, aware that the man was reading the truth of his words.
"One would have thought," was the reply. "But it appears that she left some time yesterday, and since she is known, the guards did not think to question her. She has as of yet not returned.
"As you can imagine, your aunt," he nodded at Bellatrix, "is most concerned for the wellbeing of her sister, as am I."
Privately, Draco thought it extremely unlikely that either cared in the slightest about the fate of his mother, but Draco did not make such a comment.
"I am sorry, my lord, but I do not know where she is."
"She has made no comments lately that would give you suspicion?" the Dark Lord probed. "Any innocuous seeming comments that led you to believe that she would attempt to flee?"
"None, my lord," Draco replied. "In fact, I have seen relatively little of my mother since I arrived here. I rather thought that she was still feeling the effects of father's death, and secluding herself as a result."
"She may be at that," the Dark Lord mused. "This disappearance may be nothing, but I do dislike loose ends. She cannot have gone back to her home, as it is still under the control of the Ministry. Is there anywhere else she may have gone?"
"If I may, my lord?" Bellatrix spoke up.
The Dark Lord gestured for her to continue.
"If you recall, I have another sister, one who married a Mudblood."
"Ah yes," the Dark Lord replied with a sneer. "The other dirty little secret of the family Black. Though I suppose Sirius's unfortunate choices are not exactly a secret any longer." The Dark Lord's expression subsequently changed to a wolfish grin. "In fact, I rather enjoyed hearing about those years your cousin spent in Azkaban for apparently betraying his closest friend. You spent time there due to your unstinting loyalty, but Sirius was there because of his irritating penchant for trying to be clever. Poetic justice, is it not?"
"Indeed, my lord," Bellatrix intoned in response, before she returned to the topic at hand. "Narcissa has not seen Andromeda for many years, but they were close as children. It is possible that Narcissa has gone to her sister for refuge."
A slow nod met her suggestion. "It is possible at that. Assemble a team and pay a visit to your sister. If Mrs. Malfoy is there, return her to me so that I may discover her intentions. As for Mrs. Tonks… She may be spared as, regardless of her unfortunate choices, she is still a Pureblood. If her husband is there, then you know what to do."
"Of course, my lord," Bellatrix responded. And though she had been as animate as a corpse only moments before, Draco could now see a fire in her eyes, and the hint of a cackle in her voice. The woman was seriously around the twist, though she was still his aunt.
"And as for you, Mr. Malfoy—how are your studies coming along?"
"Very well, my lord. I am learning many things from my aunt, and the other trainers. I believe that I am now better able to serve you."
A pleased gleam could be seen in the Dark Lord's eyes, though Draco knew that he must already be aware of Draco's progress. He basked in the feeling of having pleased the Dark Lord—surely his elevation to trusted advisor could not be far away.
"You may go, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said with a wave. "I believe you have an appointment with one—or perhaps even both—of your sisters. It is time that I made young Draco aware of his role in the coming events."
With a bow, Bellatrix stalked from the room, leaving Draco alone with the Dark Lord, excited that he was about to learn what the Dark Lord had in mind. His days of drudgery would finally come to a close and his revenge was at hand. He could almost hear the Mudblood's screams as he paid her back for all she had done over the years, could almost smell the sweet metallic scent of blood as she bit her own tongue, the writhing of her body as he held the torture curse on her. Yes, it would be a good day.
"Now come closer, Draco," the Dark Lord commanded. "This is what you shall do…"
"Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?"
Startled from where he had been ostensibly engrossed in a textbook—in the past week he had spent a lot of time looking at his books and very little time actually reading them—Harry looked up and noted Ginny standing in front of the sofa, looking at him, with a hint of her old shyness evident in her manner. Ginny had been a little distant since their return from the fight with Nagini, though Harry knew that it was not because he had made her angry. On the contrary—like himself, he suspected she had been consumed by thoughts of a possible solution to their shared problem, and had been caught up in reflections concerning the choices she had made. Harry knew that he had—he had realized how selfish he had been, and had become determined to mend his ways and make it up to his friends, and to Hermione and Fleur especially.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry looked up at Ginny and motioned for her to continue. "Sure, Gin. What's on your mind?"
A little nervously, Ginny looked at Harry's lady friends, who were sitting on either side of him. "Actually, I'd like to speak to you alone, if possible."
She turned to Hermione and Fleur and smiled a little. "I promise to return him to you right away, and in the same shape I found him."
Fleur and Hermione shared a brief smile and turned back to their own homework, after Hermione made shooing motions toward the two of them.
Shrugging, Harry rose and made to leave the room. But before he could go more than a few steps, a voice spoke up.
"What's up, Potter?" the voice of Seamus Finnigan interrupted his exit. "Off to another hot date with another Gryffindor? Merlin, aren't two enough for you?"
It was more the concealed venom which usually colored Seamus's voice of late which got Harry going. For the most part, Seamus seemed to be a good supporter and a good member of the club, but there were times when Harry could almost hear the jealousy dripped from Seamus's voice. It appeared that he resented Harry for not only being betrothed to Fleur, but also being in an acknowledged relationship with Hermione, and took to teasing him whenever he had the chance. For the most part it did not bother Harry—Seamus could think what he wanted, after all, and after some of the insults which had been directed at him over the years, Seamus's envious rantings were nothing. But it cast aspersions on Ginny's character, and as a result, it roused Harry's protective streak.
"Why don't you just shut up, Finnigan?" Harry shot back. "Remember I've stood up to snake face half a dozen times and lived to tell about it. A punk like you wouldn't be too much of a challenge.
"And you'd better not suggest anything about Ginny," Harry continued when Seamus's ears started turning red in anger. "She's a lady, and she's too good for the likes of you."
"Besides," Ginny spoke up, "we'll sick Hermione on you. And remember—she knows more curses than any three seventh years put together."
"Oh shoo you two," Hermione said, exasperated. "Fleur and I will take care of Mr. Finnigan."
The evil glare she shot at Seamus had him looking away in consternation, and Harry, feeling proud of his girls, winked at Hermione before leading Ginny from the room.
"How private do you need this to be?" Harry asked as they moved away from Gryffindor tower.
"We won't be discussing state secrets," Ginny replied with a small smile. "Any classroom with a door will do."
Accordingly, they were soon ensconced in a classroom near to the Gryffindor tower, but enough out of the usual path that they would not be casually interrupted. Harry was curious—Ginny was acting a little like she used to do when she was shy of him, but it was also different in a way. It was more like rather than being nervous of being in his presence, that she was nervous about something else. He could not decide whether that boded well for this discussion—any hint of her continued interest in him as a prospective marriage partner would likely not go well for her. For the time being, Harry had determined that he was not going to venture any further than Hermione and Fleur.
"I just wanted to talk you for a minute, Harry," Ginny said after she hesitated a few moments.
"Sure, Ginny," Harry replied. "What's on your mind?"
"I just want to let you know…" Ginny paused for a moment, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "What I mean to say is that I think we've gotten a lot closer in the last bit, what with the hunt for Nagini and all."
Fearing, Ginny's purpose was exactly what he had hoped it would not be, Harry attempted to forestall her. "Ginny, I'm sorry, but I'm comfortable with Hermione and Fleur right now."
Far from what he expected, Ginny actually smirked at him, her manner suggesting triumph. "I knew you would say something like that," she said a little smugly. "Don't worry, Harry, I'm not here to propose to you."
Now truly curious, Harry smiled at her and gestured for her to continue.
"You are well aware that I've had a crush on you for years," Ginny stated, somewhat bashfully.
"It would have been hard to miss, Ginny," Harry replied gently. "Even though I don't suppose that I know much about girls."
Ginny ducked her head at his words, but she then responded with a grin. "I'm guessing that the cure for that particular malady won't be long in arriving, with Fleur and Hermione training you."
Laughing, Harry had to admit she was correct.
"I just wanted to let you know that I've grown out of it to a certain extent." She then paused and laughed lightly herself. "Oh, who am I kidding? If you showed a hint of interest at all in me, I'd be happy to allow you to sweep me off my feet!"
Harry allowed himself to laugh right back at her words. He sensed that this was cathartic for Ginny, and that she was in a way finally allowing herself to leave her childish fancy behind, and allow herself consider other options. Harry was more than willing to allow her to speak as she would, particularly if she would find some peace because of the experience. It was the least he could do.
"But something has changed throughout the last year, and due to what has happened. Or perhaps more particularly due to our experiences together. At one time I would have done just about anything to attract your attention. It's not that way any more. I wanted you to know that I'm now open to considering you as another brother, rather than just a husband."
Taking a deep breath, Harry considered her words. He was happy, again, that she had opened herself up to other options, primarily because he was almost certain that her future did not lie with him. Ginny was a great girl and she deserved the best, but Harry was certain by now that he would never feel for another like he felt for Hermione and Fleur. In that sense, he would never be best for her, as she would always be third in his heart.
On the other hand, he was almost certain that though Ginny was trying to move on, she still harbored some vestige of hope that he would return her feelings. In part, this discussion between them was an attempt on her part to let go and move on. However, on another level, he knew that she was giving him one last chance to declare himself to her, to allow her some measure of hope.
Delicacy was required. He would not hurt her for anything, but it was time to truly allow her to put her feelings in the past where they belonged, and give her a reason to do what she apparently could not quite manage to do on her own. He needed to let her down, but softly, gently, so that she would fall on a bed of feathers, rather than down the side of a cliff. As such, he paused, considering his words carefully, before he responded.
"I'm glad you feel that way, Ginny. And I'm glad that we've gotten so close over that past year. I think that you're a great girl, Ginny, and I'm sure that you will make some lucky guy very happy.
"And I'll warn you now," he continued with a teasing grin, "when you do find someone, he'd best be careful, because he'll have seven brothers interrogating him. And Merlin help him if he ever mistreats you!"
Ginny laughed, but it was soon replaced by a disapproving expression. "I'm pretty sure that I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she replied a trifle primly. "I've been taught by the best, you know."
Shrugging, Harry replied, "That may be. But I'm sure he won't miss the implications of pissing your brothers off."
"Just what I need," Ginny replied with a dramatic sigh. "Another overprotective brother!"
They made their way from the room soon after and returned to the common room. Harry was inordinately pleased with himself, thinking that he had handled the situation quite well indeed, and Ginny, though she had initially shown just a flash of disappointment, seemed well able to put it behind her. They sat as a group for most of the rest of the evening, and though not a lot of studying was done, they had not really been getting much done anyway.
It was after Ginny had gone up to her dorm and most of their other friends had departed for the night—even Hermione had bid them both good night and had retreated up the stairs—that Fleur turned toward Harry and raised a brow at him. "So, what did Ginny want to discuss?"
"Nothing much," Harry replied with a shrug.
"'Nothing much,'" Fleur echoed.
"She just wanted to clear the air," Harry replied, wrapping his arm around his betrothed and drawing her close. He kissed the top of her head as she settled into him with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Everything is fine, Fleur. But I think that I should keep the contents of my discussion with my sister to myself for now."
Though she made no overt reaction, Fleur obviously caught his emphasis as she snuggled into him even closer, and Harry felt rather than saw the smile which suffused her face. Harry knew that Fleur did not have anything against Ginny, but the uncertainty over her exact status had the potential to become a distraction. But now that had been removed. It was a good day indeed.
Andromeda Tonks found herself with an unusual problem in the form of her younger sister weeping in her living room. She and Narcissa had been close as children, and unlike Bellatrix, who had always carried a hint of madness even as a child, they had been affectionate with one another. Of course, that had changed when Andromeda had married Ted, though Andromeda was not certain if that was because Narcissa herself had been as disgusted with her choice as had the rest of the family, or because it had simply been expected as a Black that she shun Muggleborns.
Regardless, that subject was at the present neither here nor there; Narcissa had shown up in quite a state, and Andromeda retained enough emotion—or at least the memory of happier times—for her sister that she was not going to turn her away.
"Cissy," Andromeda said gently. "I need you to tell me how you got here."
Still sniffling, Narcissa lifted her tear-filled eyes up to regard her sister. "I left the Dark Lord's manor yesterday when I had a chance. I wasn't sure if you'd accept me, so I stayed the night at the Leaky Cauldron before I mustered the courage to come here."
"We've had our differences, but I'd hope that you would come to me if you were in trouble," Andromeda assured her sister. "Now, what is troubling you?"
Narcissa sighed and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. The expression on her face was so forlorn that Andromeda's heart went out to her. This was not the self-assured woman her sister had grown to be. It appeared that the reality of the man her husband had been had finally penetrated her consciousness, and she was paying the price for that now.
"I didn't know," Narcissa finally whispered.
"Didn't know what?" Andromeda prompted.
"I didn't know just what Lucius had done."
At Andromeda's openly skeptical look, Narcissa huffed irritably. "I knew Lucius was no saint. I knew that there were things that he had done in the service of the Dark Lord which I would find . . . distasteful at the very least. But I did not know the extent of the things he'd done. I didn't know how . . . disgusting he had been, how . . . how he reveled in doing those things to other people. I thought it was just a means to an end."
"The ends justified the means?" Andromeda prompted. Though she and Narcissa had been close as children, Narcissa had always tended to be a little more fastidious about certain things. She had bought into that tripe most of the Black family had been spewing for centuries, and quite frankly, if Narcissa still believed it, then she would find no refuge with Andromeda—Ted was a Muggleborn after all.
"I suppose, though to be honest I never truly considered just what those means consisted of." Narcissa sighed and lowered her eyes. "I suppose I was blind, from choice rather than anything else."
At least her sister could admit to it, Andromeda thought. "And now?"
"I don't know," Narcissa admitted. "If I'd known what Lucius had done before this, I don't doubt I would have left him some time ago, though Lucius was not a man one leaves lightly—he could be vindictive, as I'm sure you know. But the thought of… of… of being with him, knowing what he had done…" Narcissa shuddered, a reaction Andromeda felt could not be feigned. "It is in every way repugnant."
"And do you still have your opinions and prejudices about Muggleborns?"
"I'm not going to fly off the handle and snub your husband, Andromeda."
"I'm well aware that you will do no such thing, Cissy," replied Andromeda. "However, you've always been more than ready to believe that rubbish your late husband's master stands for, and if you still believe it, then I'm not sure I can allow you to stay. You do know my husband, after all."
Narcissa was silent for several moments, staring at something only she can see, and Andromeda could tell that she was seriously considering her response. The question would be whether she would be honest in her response, or if she would attempt to lie in order to gain her sister's favor. Andromeda had considered the possibility that she was here as part of some elaborate plot to capture Ted, though that seemed to be a little more subtle than Voldemort's typical style.
"I've met your husband briefly, on occasion," Narcissa finally admitted.
Andromeda nodded—she knew that they had run into each other a time or two, though this was the first time Andromeda had actually seen her sister in many years.
"He seemed like a… a nice, intelligent sort of man, though I can't say that I spoke with him or did anything other than listen to him speak."
"And?" Andromeda prompted. "Do you still hold to the same opinions?"
Shaking her head, Narcissa looked Andromeda in the eye. "I won't lie to you, Andy. I do not know what I believe any more, but it's… difficult changing the beliefs of a lifetime.
"But I've had to reevaluate everything I've thought and done over the past weeks, and I admit that I don't like what I've discovered."
Narcissa paused, and Andromeda looked on her younger sister with some sympathy. This could not be easy, though she was well aware that Narcissa had been more willfully blind than anything else. But at least she was not a criminally insane madwoman like their older sister—this time it was Andromeda's turn to shudder. There was no road to redemption for Bellatrix—of that Andromeda was certain.
When Narcissa continued, it was in a tone of contrition. "The thing that strikes me over and over again, is that those Purebloods in the Dark Lord's service, like my husband was, claim to be better than everyone else. They claim superiority by nothing more than the fact that their ancestors were all magical. And yet, to a man, they are willing to do these repulsive things in the service of the Dark Lord. And they justify it by claiming they are doing so to improve our society." Narcissa snorted. "I can't even describe how appalled I was when Lucius's crimes were revealed."
Turning to her, Narcissa's expression became serious and pleading all at once, and when she spoke, her tone was urgent and pleading. "Andy, I want you to know that though I've believed we were superior to Muggleborns and Halfbloods, I've never thought that they should be treated like my husband treated them. I wanted Muggleborns to either be bound and left in the Muggle world, or for them to be taken from their parents at a young age and raised in our world. I've never held with the idea that we should kill and torture them."
"And yet you supported Lucius."
"I supported my husband," Narcissa said with some affront. "Had I known what Lucius was truly like, I would not have supported him, I assure you."
Peering at her sister, Andromeda tried to work out if she believed her. Narcissa had always been a prim and proper sort, and even when they were younger, she had rarely seen this depth of emotion and passion in the other woman. And her words about Lucius carried an air of truth about them.
"What of Draco?" Andromeda asked.
Narcissa's head bowed. "He is his father's son. I've tried to make him understand, but he's set on getting in the good graces of the Dark Lord." Narcissa paused and laughed, though there was a bitter undertone to her laughter. "Even with the eyes of a mother I can see that Draco will never be the man that Lucius was. For all his faults, Lucius was a very competent man. Draco is more bluster than anything, and I've seen the way the Dark Lord looks at him, and know that he can see it as well. Even should the Dark Lord ultimately win, I doubt Draco will last long. My only hope is that the Dark Lord is overthrown and that Draco has not gone so far that he can not be pulled back from the edge."
Privately Andromeda doubted that, considering the things she had heard about her sister's son, but she would not give the disillusioned woman any more sorrow if she could help it.
Andromeda was just about to respond when she heard a keening wail erupt and felt the wards buckle and fall. Narcissa looked about wildly and her face drained of all color.
"They're here for me," she whispered. Turning wildly, she looked on Andromeda with horror.
"That they are," said Andromeda, her voice carrying a slightly sardonic edge to it.
"I'm sorry, Andy!" Narcissa exclaimed, rising from the sofa on which she sat. "I've put you in danger."
"I've been in danger since I married Ted," Andromeda cut her sister off impatiently. In one hand she clutched the necklace which had been made into an escape portkey, before releasing it with a conscious thought, while her other hand brandished her wand, crying "Expecto Patronum!"
The ghostly form of a bulldog leapt forth from her wand and stood still, gazing at her and waiting for instructions.
"Go to Ted. Death Eaters have arrived and I'm escaping to the safe house. Do not come home!"
Her instructions complete, the bulldog burst from the room in a flurry of light. Andromeda turned back to her sister, who was gazing at the floor, apparently accepting her fate. Well, it would not be her fate if Andromeda had anything to say about it.
"Come here, Narcissa. It's time we left."
"But your home—" Narcissa tried to say when Andromeda cut her off.
"We've been prepared to leave since before the Dark Lord was exposed in the Ministry," Andromeda replied impatiently. She crossed the room to Narcissa and grasped her by the arms. "As I Pureblood, I doubt I'm in any danger as long as I don't provoke her, but I can't allow you to be taken back to the Dark Lord. Now we need to leave before they get here. You can be certain that Bellatrix is leading whoever the Dark Lord has sent."
At that moment, as if on queue, a singsong voice rose up from outside the room—one Andromeda had not heard in years.
"Oh sisters! Come out to pway!"
By the sound of the voice, Bellatrix's grip on what sanity she had, had eroded even further due to her years in prison.
"Come now, sisters. Can you not greet your elder sibling? I've never been subject to such rudeness in all my years."
The door to the room swung open, and there stood the smirking form of their eldest sister. The woman Andromeda had known was still evident in her features, but Azkaban had hardened her countenance, and the lines on her face were more pronounced, and not only due to age, Andromeda expected.
"Bellatrix," she said. "Why did you not let me know you were coming? I would have had tea prepared for you."
Her sisters reacted in different ways—Narcissa with a start, and an incredulous glare, and Bellatrix with a gleeful cackle.
"How nice of you to welcome me to your home," Bellatrix crowed. "Is your husband here that I might meet him too?"
"No, Ted is at work. And I believe that he would like to postpone the pleasure indefinitely."
"A pity," Bellatrix said with a sniff.
Her features then hardened and all hint of the previous childishness was gone. In its place was a cold killer.
"Now, Narcissa, you will come with me. Our master wishes to have a word with you."
Narcissa shivered, but Andromeda held her head up high. "I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Bella. I don't trust your master where my sister is concerned."
"I'm afraid you have no choice." Bellatrix fingered her wand and the childish voice once again came out. "You see, the master bewieves ouw sister is gwieving her husband and wishes to offer his condowences. I hope that she has not been unfaithful, for her own wellbeing."
That last was once again said in Bellatrix's hardened tones, and Andromeda shuddered at the madness in her eyes. The woman was beyond saving, and though she had known this for many years, Andromeda knew that she had harbored some small hope that her eldest sibling could be saved. Any such thought was well and truly quelled.
"Now come. Do not make me force you."
Andromeda reached up and grasped her necklace, while taking Narcissa's arm with her free hand. "Not today, Bellatrix."
And with that, she and Narcissa disappeared from the room, Bellatrix's shrieks of rage echoing in their ears. They materialized in the safe house set up by the Ministry for the families of their employees and were immediately greeted by a man who was administering the location. Narcissa looked around in bewilderment while Andromeda spoke with the man and arranged for word to be sent to Ted that they had arrived safely. Once the information had been given and their stay had been settled, Andromeda led Narcissa from the room toward the rooms which had been assigned to her and Ted, and to her sister.
"How did we escape?" Narcissa blurted as they walked down the hall.
"I said the activation word," Andromeda replied smugly. "But the phrase does not actually work until I am holding the portkey in my hand."
Narcissa turned her attention on her sister and said, "What was the word?"
"Bellatrix," Andromeda replied with a laugh. "Come, sister. The man I just spoke to knows you're here and where you came from. I expect the Minister will wish to speak with you as soon as may be. Your information will almost certainly be valuable in the effort against Voldemort."
They entered the room, and Andromeda ushered her sister inside, ignoring the shudder which went through her younger sister at the Dark Lord's name. Andromeda had been forced to abandon her home, but she had always known that was likely. She had something much more valuable—her younger sister back with her, and apparently ready for redemption. It was more than she had ever hoped for.
"You wished to see me, Headmaster?"
Albus looked up as his potions master walked into the office, noting the distant expression adorning the man's face. Severus had been coldly indifferent since their conversation in the aftermath of his confrontation with Sirius. It was hardly surprising, Albus supposed, though he could remind Severus that he had largely brought his fate upon himself. It did precisely no good, however, to point such a thing out to him, as he would not listen, Albus was certain. Besides, by this point in the game Albus was more interested in focusing on ensuring the Dark Lord's defeat than on placating Severus's wounded pride or working toward his redemption. Severus had to want redemption first, and Albus could not see any sign whatsoever that he did.
"Yes, Severus, I did," Albus replied, ignoring the man's ill humor.
Severus took the seat that Albus had indicated and sat there on the edge of the chair saying nothing, merely waiting for Albus to come to the point.
"I wished to speak with you about a matter of some import," Albus began, thinking that for all Severus's desire to see the Dark Lord defeated, he likely would not appreciate what Albus had to say. "There are matters afoot and I believe that we will require your help very soon."
"Go on," the man responded.
"I shall be blunt. You are aware of the Dark Lord's location, having visited him several times." Albus chose to forebear mentioning how he had also sent Harry there, as mention of Harry's name alone would cause the man to be even less cooperative than he always was. "Given what is happening all about us, the time is swiftly approaching where you will need to share the Dark Lord's location so that we may finish him once and for all."
To say that Severus was displeased was an understatement, as Albus knew would be the case. Unsurprisingly, he chose a familiar target upon whom to release his vitriol.
"I had understood that Potter had to die before the Dark Lord could be defeated. As he still draws breath, it appears as though attacking the Dark Lord's lair is a fruitless exercise."
"Measures are being taken to deal with that issue," Albus replied. "We have a great deal of hope that that problem will soon disappear."
"A pity," Severus replied with a derisive sniff.
"A relief," Albus corrected. "But be that as it may, Voldemort's forces and their general activities of late mean that we will soon have no choice but to strike at him to contain the damage he is doing to our society. In fact, I recently had a visit from Minister Bones, and she indicated to me that soon the choice would be removed from her control. At some point you might be compelled to give up your information."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you are not only refusing to assist in a Dark Lord's downfall, of which the Ministry would take a very dim view, but you also could be potentially contravening your own oaths. You are well aware of the consequences of doing so."
Severus's response was his typical sneer. "I am very well able to interpret the state of my own oaths, thank you. And if I believe that the possibility of harming our goal of overthrowing the Dark Lord is more likely, then I may blithely ignore your assertions."
Taking his glasses off his nose, Albus rubbed his eyes, reminding himself that the time was soon approaching where he would not have to deal with this man any longer. Invariably, the 'pleasure' of speaking with Severus left him with a headache and a desire to strike something. Severus could try the patience of Merlin himself!
"Do you wish to see Voldemort defeated?" he asked pointedly.
His nostrils flaring, Severus returned his glare with one which could have curdled milk. "I do."
"Then forever waiting in the shadows will not do. At some point, you must take the chance and trust to our forces to see to the Dark Lord's defeat."
"And what of Potter? Was he not supposed to defeat the Dark Lord?"
"By himself?" Albus asked mildly. "Surely Harry will not confront and defeat Voldemort without any help at all."
"You know what I mean."
"And you are well aware of my meaning," Albus snapped.
"And what if this little plan of yours fails?" Severus demanded. "The Dark Lord will surely know that I have given out the location of his base. At that point I will become useless to you—I will never be able to go back. My life will be over the moment I step beyond the walls of this castle."
"I think you exaggerate the issue, Severus," Albus rebuked. "If Voldemort has not turned the suspicion on you after the killing of Nagini, then why would he do so after an attack if he should escape?"
Severus ignored that. "And what if he has moved to another location?"
"I can't tell you that," Albus replied. "However, I can tell you that I believe that Voldemort can be defeated, and we have the resources to bring about his defeat. Once Harry's problem is resolved, we must strike quickly so that we may stop his depredations."
Pausing, Albus looked on the man with some compassion, though he was careful to avoid allowing it to show in his countenance. Severus truly had had a difficult life in some respects, from his home life with his abusive father, to the rivalry with James Potter in school. The fact that Lily had ultimately chosen James had broken something in Severus.
But though this was all fact, Albus was also well aware of the fact that much of Severus's problems he had brought upon himself. The man refused to see certain things, and that willful blindness had brought him much grief in his life. Now, at the age of more than thirty-five, Severus was set in his ways, and his opinions were so unmovable, that prevailing on him to change them was akin to trying to push a mountain out of the way. He was a sad, lonely, and angry man and would continue to be so, if he never changed his ways. And as Albus could not imagine that ever happening, he also knew that Severus would continue to be so, likely until his dying day.
But what he did want—what he burned for, though this intense desire was in truth little displayed—was for vengeance upon Voldemort, the man who had killed his friend. And though he had never had the courage to try to do the deed himself, Albus knew that he wanted it above all other things. Albus hated to use that against his potions master, but he was well enough acquainted with the man to know what would gain his compliance. The fact that Severus knew that he was being manipulated was irrelevant—he wanted Voldemort dead enough that he would go along with it regardless of that fact.
"At some point, Severus, you will be required to take a chance," Albus told him in a quiet voice. "I am well aware of the fact that you want to avenge Lily. If that is truly your desire, then you will need to cooperate. Otherwise, you risk the country falling further under the sway of the Dark Lord, and your chance for success dwindling by the day."
"Ah, the great manipulator finally makes his appearance," Severus sneered. "I was wondering when you would use that particular argument."
"Am I wrong?"
A slight pause ensued, where Severus just glared at him. "Though I wish to say you are, I cannot," he finally said, though his glare was murderous.
"You can say of me all that you wish, Severus," Albus returned. "In fact, whatever you say, you may be right. I have had to do many… distasteful things in order to influence events so that Voldemort may be defeated."
"And you certainly won't refuse the adulation which will come your way for seeing that another Dark Lord is defeated."
Albus shook his head. "I've had enough credit with one Dark Lord, Severus. I believe that in this instance, I am more than willing to cede whatever congratulations flow in to Harry."
"Which will make his already insufferably big head all that much bigger."
"You may believe what you like about Harry. You will never admit the truth, so your opinion is of little value in any case."
The two men stared at each other in silence for several moments, and for perhaps the first time Albus could see the personal dislike the other man held for him. He knew that his ideals and methods were distasteful to Severus—it could hardly be missed. But for most of their time as confederates, Albus thought that he had managed to have a cordial professional relationship with Severus. It was now clear that whatever amiable feelings between them had previously existed, they had now all but evaporated. It would be a relief to see Severus gone when the Dark Lord was defeated.
"Very well," the potions master finally replied. He rose to his feet. "Do I have a little more time, or must I divulge the secret now?"
"The time to act is imminent, but not immediate. Regardless, it will not be before the end of the week."
"Very well," Severus replied. "If I am called to the Dark Lord's side, it will verify that he has not pulled up and moved because of what happened to Nagini. If not, I shall invent some reason to go to him. Assuming he is still holed up in his original location, I will reveal it to you."
"Thank you," was Albus's quiet reply. "And Severus…"
The potions master stopped at the door, though he did not turn. "I believe that you have made the right choice. Though I don't necessarily hold with your reasons for acting as you are, I can certainly understand them. Give us the location; I will do everything I can to see that the Dark Lord is defeated this time, once and for all."
"I hope—for all our sakes—that you are correct."
He then exited the office, leaving Albus to his thoughts. He was bone weary. It would be good when Voldemort was finally defeated and he could rest.
The expected summons to the Headmaster's office—though it had only been a few days, it seemed like it had been much longer—came on Friday after dinner in the Great Hall. During the intervening days, Harry had seen relatively little of either Professor Dumbledore or Remus, and nothing of Samuel Grant. Hermione had joined them in the room on occasion, though she had reported that they were discussing methods which were far beyond her present understanding, and she was able to let him know that progress had indeed been made, and that they were increasingly hopeful that a solution would be found.
It was therefore unsurprising that all Harry could feel was a kind of surreal relief when he entered the Headmaster's office—briefly bemused by the fact that their numbers appeared to be growing to more than the office could conveniently handle, for all that this was a sensitive and secret subject—and noted that far from being disheartened, those who had worked on the solution appeared to be very upbeat.
"Harry!" the Headmaster greeted him with about as jovial a manner as he had ever seen in the ancient man. "Please take a seat."
Harry did so in the company of his friends—Hermione and Fleur had, as always accompanied him, and the Weasley siblings had trailed behind. But though the Headmaster appeared to be in a very good mood which could only bode well, he still felt as though he was on pins and needles as he waited for someone to tell him what they had discovered. Luckily, Dumbledore's ebullient mood appeared to render his ability to obfuscate null and void.
"As you can all probably tell from our demeanors, we believe that we have a solution," the Headmaster began after everyone had found their seats.
"You 'believe' you have found a solution?" Minister Bones pressed.
"We cannot be absolutely certain until it is actually attempted," Samuel interjected. "All the signs, however, point to it being a viable counter to the horcrux ritual."
"Then let's get on with it!" Harry blurted out.
"It is not quite that easy," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "The horcrux ritual is just that—a ritual. I shall not go into any details, but suffice to say that it is as Remus suggested it was—a very vile and disgusting piece of magic. As the creation of a horcrux is in essence a very old magic brought about by means of a ritual, so too must the counter be. We have designed something that we believe will work, but there is some preparation which must be done, and it must be done under a very controlled environment."
"But we must state in advance," Samuel picked up the explanation, "that nothing is certain, and there is some risk."
It was nothing more than Harry expected—the horcrux was a very complex bit of magic, after all, and he knew the counter must be complicated as well, regardless of his earlier outburst. But that was secondary—the horcrux had to go, and if there was even the smallest chance of success, Harry would take that chance in a heartbeat. First, however, he wanted to understand these risks of which they were speaking.
"What do you mean?" he asked aloud.
A shaken head met his question. "It's impossible to determine," Samuel replied. "As the Headmaster stated, the horcrux is a very complicated bit of magic, and the art of magic through ritual is not a subject which is at all taught any longer. The advent of wands, incantations, and advanced Arithmancy has rendered rituals almost obsolete, though there are some few societies in the world today who still practice them.
"Beyond that, there is always the possibility, however remote, that we may have made a miscalculation in our equations. I say that it is a remote possibility, as we have all checked the Arithmancy many times over looking for errors. We do not feel that we have missed anything, but it is always a possibility."
"And what happens if you have made a mistake?" Ginny asked, voicing the question for them both.
"There is unfortunately no way of knowing," an older, plump woman who Harry knew to be Professor Vector, responded. "It would all depend upon the nature of the mistake we made."
"Could it make the situation any worse?" Ginny asked.
"How could it be any worse?" Harry interjected. "The horcrux is already a death sentence, whether by Voldemort taking over our bodies, or by our death being necessary to defeat him once and for all.
"And at least this way Ginny and I have a fighting chance. If we don't do it, then we're just waiting for Voldemort to do his worst, and his worst might mean us losing our bodies. I'd much prefer to take this chance."
Silence descended over the assembled, and Harry knew that he had just scored a significant point.
"I suppose the question then becomes when," Sirius quietly stated.
"Why wait?" was Harry's offhand reply. "Voldemort is out there doing what he wants while we try to figure out how to remove his horcruxes. The longer we wait the more damage he does. Let's get on with this and try it as soon as possible. At least if it doesn't work we'll know."
More than a few fearful or sorrowful looks met Harry's suggestion, but in this case he knew that he was correct. There simply was no time to wait. And why would they wait? It was clear they had done the best they could to design something that would be safe and effective, and Harry was convinced that this group of people would find the answer if any such existed. If this was not ultimately the answer, then maybe one did not exist.
Regardless, Harry was tired of the fear and uncertainty. One way or another, he wanted to know if this solution they had found would work. If it did not, then there was not much else that they could do. At least he would know.
"I believe that Mr. Potter is completely correct," Dumbledore said. "There is no point in waiting any further."
"Then how long will it take you to prepare?" the Minister asked.
"We can have everything ready for tomorrow," Samuel stated.
"Very well."
"But who goes first?" Ginny asked, glancing at Harry.
"Me, obviously," Harry replied, firmly attempting to quash any suggestion of Ginny going first.
"Shouldn't it be me?" Ginny replied, a hint of steel in her eyes. "You're more important in the fight against Voldemort. If something goes wrong the first time, then there may be another chance to get it right."
"I don't think that's really how it works, Ginny," Harry replied, not giving an inch. "Besides, I've got this stupid prophecy about me which says that I have to be the one to defeat Voldemort. The fact that it has not yet been fulfilled means that I might have a bit of an advantage."
"I'm not sure that is a valid conclusion," Dumbledore replied. "The prophecy only states that you have the power to defeat the Dark Lord—not that you will."
"It's a better assurance than Ginny has," Harry replied. "Either way, I'm not going to let Ginny take this on herself. It makes much more sense for me to go first."
Dumbledore regarded him for several moments in silence before he nodded. "I agree. We will attempt it on Mr. Potter first, and then move on to Miss Weasley. And good luck to us all."
Updated 07/21/2014