A/N: These are stressful times, dear readers, and I'm sorry I can't update more often. I'm still plugging away with this story and my others, so please be patient as I drag myself on toward graduation from law school. Tomorrow morning I take the Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam (in other words, legal ethics for all occasions), which is one of the two big ones required for admission to the Bar. Wish me luck!
Canon Note: I've always had a persistent little idea that J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, while fiction to us, is a wizarding ancient history book. You don't need to know LOTR canon to understand this story, so fear not: all will be explained. Oh, and if you're wondering why Viktor's dropped his accent, remember he's had three years to practice his English. It also drives the spellcheck crazy.
Chapter Four: From The Ashes
When Viktor's team arrived in the United Kingdom, his first thought was that this country was a great deal colder than he remembered. Then again, the Shetland Islands were a great deal further north than the last place he had been in this country. He, Alexiev, and their comrades pulled their cloaks tightly around them as Hermann Schultz, the team leader, met their contact.
A moment later, Hermann called back to them. "Viktor. Come here." Viktor joined him, and Hermann muttered, "Our contact is to be from Hogwarts. Do you know him?"
The British wizard tramped across the snow and peered at them from the depths of his hood. "Well. At least there's one face I recognize." He lowered the hood. "How have you been, Krum?"
"Roger Davies," Viktor said, nodding to the other man. "I am glad to see you well. This is our team leader."
Roger shook Hermann's hand. "Schultz, isn't it? Come on. No sense making all the introductions in this weather. We're set up in some abandoned buildings about a mile from here."
Their resources were few, since use of magic was at a bare minimum to keep from giving away their presence to any hostile forces, but there was heat, there was food, and there were beds. "An embarrassment of riches," according to Davies's superior, a man by the name of Shacklebolt.
Viktor had come as part of Hermann's team by request of their allies in Britain, the mysterious Order of the Phoenix, who were working against the forces of Voldemort and rumored to have been founded by Albus Dumbledore. "We couldn't risk sending information back and forth, but here's the situation," Shacklebolt told them. "About two weeks ago, our intelligence picked up a powerful Dampening Ward about thirty miles south of here. Strong enough to inhibit just about any spell; there aren't many known wizards who could raise such a thing."
"Zey are saying You Know Who has a base of operations in zese islands?" one of Viktor's comrades asked.
Roger shrugged. "He's got bases all over this bloody continent; environment as inhospitable as this in the winter, can't be doubted. But no one can figure out why he'd want to prevent use of magic around him. So we don't think he's personally at that location."
"But still it should be determined what is going on there," finished Hermann, nodding.
"We sent a team up last week; only one made it back alive. There's a strong Death Eater presence up here; they never got near the site. But they were using magic. We want to try again, but this time, going in without it," Shacklebolt explained. "We heard your teams have had some success at this in Russia, Hermann. That's why we asked for you."
Hermann looked at his team, meeting each of their eyes in turn. Viktor and Alexiev exchanged glances, then nodded, as did their comrades. Hermann turned back to Shacklebolt. "We are at your service, friends."
They adjourned so their superiors could discuss plans for entry, and Roger replenished Viktor and his comrades' supply of coffee. "I have not been back to this country since the Triwizard Tournament," Viktor remarked. "I hope you have been well."
"Well as can be expected," said Roger, pulling a face. "We were hoping to see you at Fleur Delacour's wedding to Bill Weasley, but we heard what happened. Did you ever find your friend?"
Alexiev shook his head. Roger sighed. "Bastards. We're losing people every week: dementors, giants, werewolves, Death Eater raids. It's the same everywhere. You two remember Professor Sinistra? Professor Vector?" Viktor and Alexiev nodded. "Vector's dead, Death Eater hit. Sinistra's in St. Mungo's, probably permanently. Her two sons, brother, and niece died in that raid. Her husband was never found. Blaise Zabini turned on his parents and joined the Order; did good work until the Death Eaters got him last month, poor kid."
"I remember Zabini," Viktor said. "He was very intelligent."
Roger nodded. "We're hanging on here, but dunno how much longer that'll last if we don't make a breakthrough soon. You heard about Harry Potter, of course?"
"No!" exclaimed Alexiev, glancing at Viktor, who did not speak. "What of him?"
"Missing," said Roger grimly. "Last anyone heard of him was over six months ago: September, I think. There've been some happenings since, Death Eaters arriving trussed up without anyone knowing who caught them, information turning up anonymously, we thought it might be from Potter, but nothing definite. He left on some mission a few of the Order higher-ups know of, but they're fearing the worst."
Viktor did not say anything. Alexiev looked carefully at him, then asked Roger, "What of his friends? The two he was always seen with, Ron Weasley and Hermione?"
Roger shrugged. "No sign of them either. They follow wherever he goes. If he's…well, it's…pretty likely they all are."
They departed for the location of the wards at the next dusk. Alexiev was watching him. "I am sorry, Viktor."
Viktor kept his eyes on where he was putting his feet on the muddy, icy ground. "I knew it to be a possibility. We have lost many friends and family, and Harry Potter was at the center of it all. Hermione, his friend and Muggleborn…I knew it could come to that."
"It is not certain they are dead," Hermann pointed out. Viktor looked from him to Roger and Shacklebolt, who avoided their gazes. It was all the answer that was needed.
Harry Potter is dead. Ron Weasley is dead.
She is dead.
"Almost half of his victims are never found," said one of Viktor's team members, Giovanni, and he put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "We fight in their name as we do for those who are found, and it is our honor to them."
"How is Fleur?" Viktor asked Roger. "Have you spoken much to her?"
"Not recently; I've been in and out of the country. Last I heard from her directly was…February, I think." Roger shook his head. "She and Bill and the rest of the Weasleys are safe, but they're taking it hard, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gone. When we're finished up here, if you can spare the time, you may want to go visit Fleur. You and she, you're…"
Viktor nodded. "I was thinking the same. Hogwarts has given much since the Tournament. Cedric, their Headmaster, now Harry and his friends. So many others." It had only been three years, he knew. But it seemed far longer.
Those days in the library and the Yule Ball with Hermione seemed another lifetime, another reality divorced from this. He had at times felt guilty for his fascination with her, a girl younger than he, more innocent, but he had since realized that in most ways, he had been just as innocent as she. They all had been. The end of the Tournament had changed everything. He did not remember her as a tragic lost love or anything so trivial as that—nor, he suspected, had she thought of him so. Rather, the Hermione he remembered dancing with and laughing with was the embodiment of another time, a happier time. Although it seemed less and less likely that such times would be in his life ever again, he could still fight to preserve such times for those who would come after him, the children who would attend Hogwarts and Durmstrang in future years.
He suspected Hermione had thought of it the same way. We continue to fight so others may play Quidditch and dance at balls again one day and talk in the libraries. He saw another self in his mind, in another library in some vague future, trying to work up the courage to ask another girl to a dance, watching her at her work, thinking that her face might not be as pretty and her clothes not as stylish, but admiring her concentration, her obvious intelligence, her sense when so many others were boring and frivolous. Would that they would have a future better than the one that had awaited Hermione and Viktor, Harry, Cedric, and all their friends.
She was dead, but there was not time to mourn her yet. Neither for Marcel, nor Sven and Irina. There was never time anymore.
It was a long walk over the gray landscape; there had been a thaw here in April, then a freeze, now another thaw, and the air was cold and damp, the trees barren, and the ground muddy. That gave him some time to think, to face the initial admission and stab of emotion that came from yet another loss, and to push it from his mind again as they drew closer to their goal. It was always this way; a loss of concentration at the wrong moment at any time could lead to himself being added to the ever-growing list of casualties. In spite of the despair that sometimes coursed through him when the knowledge crept into his mind of all the friends he had lost, he would rather live to keep fighting.
And he no longer felt any guilt in admitting that he was fighting also for revenge.
"We're coming up on the ward's position," murmured Shacklebolt, reading from a map rather than using his wand to detect it. "Should be approaching the northern edge."
They had brought their wands, but knew they could only be used if in mortal danger—and if they wound up within that ward, the wands would be useless. All of them were carrying non-magical weapons: knives, swords, and two of the Muggleborns among them carried a Muggle projectile-throwing weapon called a gun.
At a signal from Hermann, the team split into pairs and shifted to a stealthy approach, spreading out and keeping trees and rocks around them whenever possible. Viktor and Alexiev gripped arms in their usual farewell gesture before Viktor moved off with Roger.
Roger handed Viktor a copy of their map, and peered around a boulder holding what looked like a pair of omninoculars. "Binoculars," he whispered at Viktor's questioning look. "Muggle-made. Just for distance-view…ah."
"What do you see?" Viktor murmured.
"It's a hill…more like a rock formation, really…can see three openings from here—probably full of caves, tunnels. You could hide anything in there."
Viktor made a mental note to suggest to Hermann that they acquire these bi-noculars for future use. There were few Muggleborns or half-bloods left in Eastern Europe who could advise on such things. Some distance from them, Hermann signaled with his hands that he and his partner were going in. Alexiev and an Irish wizard, Brendan O'Rourke, were heading for another entrance, but Viktor and Roger were ordered to hold back. He watched Alexiev go and said a silent prayer. Always did he wonder when beginning a mission if he or his friend would not be there at the end.
"We will not know how they are faring at this distance," he said to Roger.
They waited for a few minutes, but saw no signs of movement from the hill, so they cautiously moved closer. Viktor could see several of the other teams doing the same, trying to surround the warded hill. "I hate going Muggle," Roger muttered.
Viktor nodded to one of the other pairs, which included a Muggleborn witch who was now perched halfway up an evergreen tree. "What is she doing?"
"Muggle gun trick. She's a sniper."
"Sniper?"
"Just believe me."
A few moments later, there was a commotion from one of the tunnels, and two wizards who were unmistakably Death Eaters came scrambling out. Before Viktor could even jump out from behind his concealing rock, a loud BANG! echoed from the direction of the Muggleborn witch, and one of the Death Eaters pitched over, writhing on the ground. The other bolted back into the cave, and a second BANG! was followed by chips of rock flying off the hillside.
"That is a gun sniper?" Viktor exclaimed as he and Roger ran forward.
"Impressive, isn't it? Cover me!" Roger examined the wounded Death Eater, whose hip was bleeding profusely, then unceremoniously clubbed the man unconscious and motioned for another pair to retrieve him. "Let's move in."
They had torches, but as long as there was light from the entrance, they would not risk giving their location away. Viktor's palm brushed the dagger he wore, ready to snatch it out at a moment's provocation. Roger carried a quarterstaff (which he had demonstrated last night by knocking four of Viktor's teammates off their feet.) With the careful stealth of seasoned fighters, they moved one behind the other into the darkness, entire bodies taught with tension, alert for the slightest sound, motion, or change in the air that might mean the difference between life and death.
As it happened, their objective had no time for stealth; they heard voices shouting and bodies struggling yards ahead, and charged forward, bearing their lights ahead of them. Around a few more confusing bends toward the echoing noise, they found three Death Eaters trying to get past Alexiev and O'Rourke. Roger and Viktor tossed their lights against the tunnel walls to continue burning and launched into the fray. Alexiev, struggling against a Death Eater about six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than he, dove out of the way, and a few quick sweeping blows of Roger's quarterstaff left the big wizard in a stunned heap on the floor. Viktor and O'Rourke went at the other two; one was finally pinned, but the other refused to yield, and Viktor dispatched him.
Moments later, They all straightened, breathing heavily with exertion and adrenaline, and Roger motioned for silence. "Listen!"
Footsteps, moving hurriedly away. Alexiev grabbed one of the torches, and O'Rourke motioned to him and to Viktor. "Go! We'll back you!"
Moving low and fast, Viktor and Alexiev darted after the unseen figure. Soon they could hear him panting; no doubt he was starting to panic. Viktor lit his own torch, took aim, and threw it as far down the tunnel as he could. It didn't hit the fleeing wizard, but the light revealed him, and there was a yell of alarm as the figure pivoted and dodged frantically away from them. "Help, help!"
Viktor and Alexiev didn't have to speak to each other to realize the tactic, and they were ready when, out of another branching tunnel, the fleeing wizard's waiting ally struck.
Alexiev dodged a wild swipe of a silver sword and delivered a punch that threw the attacker against the cave wall, while Viktor drew his blade and readied himself as the first wizard spun back to lunge for him. But just then, as he heard the grunting of Alexiev struggling with the second figure behind them, the air pressure changed to his left, and he dodged to one side as a third figure came at him with a feminine cry of challenge.
Viktor swiped with his dagger, but the witch twisted away, and the first wizard landed on top of him, bellowing. Fortunately, for all his ferocity, the first wizard was rather scrawny, and Viktor sprang upright with the smaller man still clinging to him, and bucked him off. The witch screamed, and he heard Roger and O'Rourke arriving. Alexiev had pinned the second wizard—Viktor could hear him groaning—and a knife went flying against the wall as Rogers simply tackled the witch. And then…
"Bloody hell! Shit! Hold, you bloody fools, HOLD! "
Roger's shout forestalled the kick Viktor was about to deliver to the still-struggling wizard, and he backed off warily as his opponent rolled over, grunting. Behind him, he heard the witch coughing, but then… "Roger?"
"Good god!" O'Rourke exclaimed, and Viktor looked over his shoulder.
Roger was releasing the witch, backing up from her in astonishment as she turned toward Alexiev and the other wizard. "Get off him! Harry?"
"I'm okay…ow…" With the help of the witch and the bewildered Alexiev, the second wizard sat up, rubbing his jaw. "Bloody took one of my teeth out…" he glanced in Viktor's direction and froze. "Krum?"
Viktor could only stare. It was Harry Potter.
From behind Viktor, none other than Ron Weasley came staggering past to his friend's side, and the witch…
There would be no other with these two; he knew that. But the witch crouched at Harry Potter's side was almost irreconcilable with his memories of three years before. For one thing, she was filthy, and her rough traveling garments had seen hard wear. She bore the marks of fighting, not just this fight, but repeated magical and physical struggles.
Even with all that, he might have recognized the girl he had known at Hogwarts, but the eyes, the face, and bearing of this woman here were entirely unfamiliar. There was no longer any youthful softness in her face, and her thin, set features spoke of hardship and hunger in the past year. She carried her weight as all Aurors and fighters did who had seen heavy combat, ready to spring into battle on a second's notice. But her brown eyes…it had only been three years since he had seen them. They were hard now, and much, much older, and he could see them dark with remembered pain.
She had not moved when she saw him. Her voice was also different. "Viktor?"
It was several moments before he could find his. "Hermione."
Harry Potter had been bitten by a snake the size of a small tree. "How big around is it?" Roger exclaimed.
Ron Weasley demonstrated with his arms. "This big, give or take. Bloody near took my arm off, but she decided Harry would taste better, I guess. It's Voldemort's snake; she attacked my dad a few years ago."
"Where is she now?"
"Dunno," muttered Harry, leaning heavily on Hermione while Hermann and Shacklebolt examined his tightly-bound leg. He gestured to the sword, which was studded with rubies. "I know I got her at least once. Voldemort sent her after me. He can see through her mind, but we—ow!—thought he wouldn't try to follow her if he couldn't use magic."
"Oh, so you're the one who warded this place," said Roger. Harry nodded. "And you couldn't get the wards back down again after you were bitten."
The rest of the two teams had gradually joined them and were now forming a perimeter around the newly-discovered trio. Hermione had not left Harry's side and was peering grimly at the wound. "I bound it as tight as I could."
"You were chasing a big snake, and you didn't bring anti-venom?" demanded O'Rourke.
Hermione shot him a withering look. "Three maximum doses, actually. I wasn't bitten, so I split mine between Harry and Ron. Ron's hand is almost healed, but Harry got a deeper bite. It needs Healing magic."
"I agree," said Shacklebolt. "Let's get you lot out of here."
"We can't go yet!" Harry protested. "We have to finish Nagini off!"
"That thing has a name?"
"You Know Who's pet snake can't be that important."
"Oho, yes, it can," Ron retorted. "On the other hand, Harry, you can barely walk!"
"Ron, this is the last—bloody—one!"
"Harry, Ron, shush!" Hermione snapped. She looked up at the others, her eyes flitting briefly to Viktor, before saying, "But it is true that there's a specific reason Nagini has to be destroyed as soon as possible. If there's any chance she's still here, we need to find her, because once she goes back to Voldemort, it'll be that much harder to reach her."
Hermann and many of Viktor's teammates were frowning, but Viktor observed that Hermione's word was enough to satisfy Shacklebolt and the Order members. "Then let us send patrols to find it," he suggested.
"Be careful; she's wicked fast," Ron warned. Then he grinned, "Then again, you might just have the reflexes to handle her, eh?"
"Maybe, but I'm the one she'll come out for," Harry said.
"And you're about to pass out," Hermione snapped, like a scolding mother. (Harry sulked as if she were.)
Roger stood up. "Then why don't we—"
"AHHHH! BLOODY FECKING HELL, THERE'S AN EFFING BASILISK IN HERE!"
"There she is," said Ron.
Harry scrambled up. "Quiet everyone down and get them out of the way! She'll come to me!"
Hermann and Shacklebolt gave a collective bellow for silence that was instantly obeyed, and then Viktor heard a singularly odd sound from Harry Potter's lips. Hissing, lisping syllables echoed through the cave, and a moment later, they were answered. It dawned upon Viktor then that he was hearing the language of snakes. Even though he had been educated at a school where such things were not taboo as they were here, the sound still made him (and his companions) shiver.
Harry continued to call to the snake, and motioned with his hands for everyone on one stretch of the tunnel to move down until they were past him. Roger beckoned the two Muggleborns forward with their gun weapons, and sent all those with smaller weapons further down the tunnel. "Reach is the key here," he muttered.
"Haff you seen it?" Alexiev whispered.
"Mm-mm. Heard of it, though. Psst! Torches out!"
The only light remaining was the one held by Hermione, who stubbornly refused to leave Harry, but compromised by perching halfway up the tunnel wall, bracing herself against a small foothold and the ceiling. Several others had also readied themselves in that position, hoping to trap the snake without leaving a means of retreat. Then Viktor heard something sliding dryly along the dirt and gravel of the cave floor.
It sounded…very large.
Harry continued to hiss, backing himself down a branch that formed a "T" in the tunnels, with Order members just outside the reach of the torchlight on one side, and braced against the walls and ceiling on the side from which the snake would approach. Viktor felt his stomach lurch when the thing came into view; it was not a basilisk…but it was not small either.
The serpent began to raise its head when it spotted Harry, and Viktor saw the Muggleborn witch and wizard who used the gun weapons taking aim. One of them made a clicking sound.
Instantly, the snake reared up, baring its enormous fangs at the intruders and lunged toward them. The banging of the guns was deafening in the cave, and in the opposite direction, several of Hermann's operatives lit torches and threw them to the cave floor, letting them burn to block the snake's retreat. The guns punctured the snake's body, sending spurts of blood as the creature thrashed and hissed in rage, and Harry swept the sword at it. The blow was glancing, gashing the serpent, but it was still strong enough to be a threat, and now enraged. Its throes of pain and anger sent Harry flying, nearly landing him upon the burning torches, and the ruby-encrusted sword landed on the ground.
Then the thing lurched upward as another volley from the guns struck it, and as it swung its enormous head along the wall, it struck Hermione's foot, unbalancing her and dropping her to the floor. She hit the ground on her back and immediately scrambled away, grunting, but she was only feet from the snake, and it spotted her. Viktor lunged for the sword. Opening its bloody mouth with a savage hiss, the serpent began its strike, but Viktor did not think; he simply swung the weapon as hard as he could in a blow that made the bones of his arms ring from an impact that hewed the creature's head from its body.
Blood sprayed, Hermione shouted, and the length of the swing unbalanced Viktor and sent him staggering into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, the world was nothing but a chaos of noise and bright light, but when his vision cleared, he found himself face-down and covered in blood, and Hermione a few yards from him, raising herself up on her elbows and wincing in pain from her fall. Several Order members were still hacking away at the serpent, but Viktor could see it was dead.
"Careful," Harry was gasping from somewhere further away. "There may be—curses if she's—killed."
"You all right, mate? Harry, you all right?"
Viktor pulled himself up and went to help Hermione; she let him pull her to her feet without a second glance at the gore all over him. Ron was trying with little success to get Harry up. "Think I—hit my—head…"
"Shite. Someone give me a hand!"
Hermione stumbled over to them. "That binding's come loose. Kingsley, we need to get him out of here now."
"Right-o. Not to worry, his scaly friend is definitely dead. Abbott, Fawcett, Stebbins, see about getting these wards down. O'Rourke, Roger, stay with them until it's done."
"Yessir!"
Hermann ordered several of his operatives to remain behind as well, and Alexiev tugged at Viktor's arm. "Come. Ve should not linger here." They gathered up Harry and several Order members who'd been injured fighting the Death Eaters and departed.
The presence of the Death Eaters, it was suspected, had been due to Harry's Dampening Ward, the same curiosity that had drawn the Order to this location. "Didn't really think of that," Harry admitted. "I just needed to get at Nagini somewhere that Voldemort wasn't likely to try and go."
"Why would he fear the loss of magic?" Alexiev asked.
"Magic's everything to him," said Ron. "Without it, he's just Lizard Man." He grinned, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry smiled wearily.
Shacklebolt joined them as the Healers were finishing the treatment of Harry's wounds. "So Nagini's dead. Was she the…last?" he asked, giving Harry a significant look.
Harry nodded. "Vhat does this mean?" Hermann said, frowning at them.
"Should've made introductions," said Kingsley apologetically. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, this is Hermann Schultz, a senior operative of the International Confederation of Wizards. You know Viktor Krum, of course, and Alexiev Chekov was at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament three years ago. All this lot are more of the Confederation's agents—allies of the Order." To Hermann, he explained, "Potter was on a major mission for us, top secret, although," he glanced at Harry, "I'd prefer to put at least the team leaders in the know."
"If you trust them, that's good enough for me," said Harry. Viktor watched the boy thoughtfully, noticing that Harry's eyes had changed much also from the last time they had met. Three years ago, Harry had already seen horrors that would shatter other, less courageous wizards, but his had been the haunted, fearful eyes of an innocent child. Fleur had been right to call him a little boy. This elder Harry had the eyes and the voice of a soldier, like Hermione, like Shacklebolt and Hermann, and, Viktor supposed, like himself.
"Right. Let's have a chat then, shall we? I'll bring you up to speed on where we're going from here." Shacklebolt motioned Hermann to a separate room they were using as the team leaders' office and meeting room. "The rest of you, if you're not on watch, get to sleep!"
Viktor was ordered by Alexiev to stop trying to impress everyone with blood all over his clothing, so he took the hint and went to wash up. When he returned, his cohorts were muttering amongst themselves as they readied for sleep. They saw Viktor coming and fell silent. He narrowed his eyes at them.
"Your old friends from Hogwarts have an interesting arrangement of sleeping," said Giovanni, jerking his head further down the barracks-like sleeping room.
Viktor shook his head, but curiosity got the better of him, and he went to look. Although there was not a shortage of beds, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were sharing one, with Harry in the middle and Ron and Hermione on either side of him. It was rather odd, but they were all fully clothed and appeared more like siblings than anything untoward, so Viktor shrugged at his friends and went to his own bed, pushing aside a twinge of emotion.
He woke after only a few hours—an irritating quirk of his body—and could not go back to sleep. He was rising to go in search of something to eat when he saw Hermione coming from their bed, wrapping herself in an extra blanket. She paused uncertainly, then smiled at him, and they walked out into the kitchen together to sit by the stove.
She looked sideways at him as he put coffee on and guessed what he wanted to ask. "Harry, Ron, and I have been sleeping like that so long, we don't even think about it anymore."
"These months have been hard for you," he observed.
She held out her hands to the fire and shrugged. "Not really. Being cut off from everything else has its advantages. No newspapers, no casualty reports. At least, not every day."
"Where have you been?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Everywhere," she said wryly. "To Norway on a forty-foot boat, to the Sahara, to Siberia, China, North and South America—I'm not joking," she added, seeing his dubious face.
"It was very long, then, this mission of yours?"
"Let's just say we were looking for some things that Voldemort did a very good job of hiding," Hermione told him. She accepted the cup of coffee Viktor poured her, and drank it black. "None of us have seen a bed in four months, most of the time we just slept together to keep warmer. Voldemort's doing everything he can to track Harry, you see, so we tried never to use magic. Must've worked, since we're still alive."
Viktor said quietly, "The Order feared you were dead."
Hermione grimaced. "We figured they would. But every owl or call we sent was risk of being found. If Voldemort ever realized what we were after…" she shook her head. "We knew we were alive. So we knew there was still hope." The twist of her mouth made him realize she was being sarcastic. She looked up at him. "On the other hand, we've heard no news of anyone for weeks. Have you?"
"You mean the deaths?" he asked. She nodded. With a sigh, he thought back. "Professor Vector of Hogwarts is dead. Professor Sinistra's family was attacked in November; she survived, but her family is dead. Blaise Zabini joined the Order, but was killed last month. Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody of the Order are also dead."
Hermione listened with downcast eyes, but was completely calm, other than closing her eyes for a few moments. Viktor knew that look; all those fighting wore it. There was still pain, terrible pain when a name upon the list was that of one beloved, but there was no longer shock. Taking a deep breath without looking up, she asked, "What about your people? Did you find Sven?"
"No. It is no longer expected that we will find him. His sister Irina is also dead; she was killed in the United States, in a riot."
Her hand came to rest on his. "I was glad to see Alexiev safe. Roger says Alicia's all right; Alexiev was glad to hear that. What about Katya?"
Viktor leaned back in his chair and looked into the stove's fire. The flames' dance was hypnotic, helping to dull his emotions as he spoke. "When last I heard, she had gone to Canada. Marcel...she was with him in France, but they thought they were safe there. He asked her to marry him. She accepted, but by the time I received her letter, he was dead. It was discovered when they were signing the papers that she was from Durmstrang. They were attacked. She survived. He did not." He could not have gone on even if there had been more to tell, and Hermione's grip on his hand had become very tight. He looked at her and found that her eyes were still tightly closed, but tears were escaping from beneath the lids, sliding slowly down her face. She made no sound. He put his arm around her, and she sank into his embrace, pressing her forehead to his chest.
They said nothing, for there was nothing to say. In the morning, there would be new briefings held, possibly new missions or new orders from Headquarters—either Viktor's or Hermione's—or even attacks to defend against. But tonight, although there was no joy and little real pleasure to be found in their lives anymore, they might still manage to find a little comfort and a little peace.
Until it all began again.
And in the morning, it did.
Viktor volunteered to help prepare breakfast, even though he hadn't the faintest idea how one did this completely without the aid of magic, but everyone agreed it would be unfair to stick the Muggleborns with all the hard labor. It was…edible, which according to Roger was par for the course for the teams' meals. Hermione had gone to bathe as best one could in water that was tepid at best and without the benefit of complementary Cleaning Charms. Fortunately, every one of them had been out in the field long enough to get used to each other's slightly ripe scents, male and female.
Shacklebolt and two of the Order members departed on patrol while Hermann remained in charge of both groups. Giovanni and O'Rourke were doing the washing up while Roger began teaching a non-magical card game to Viktor and Alexiev when they heard shouting from the sleeping room.
Hermione and Ron looked moments away from drawing their wands on Harry, who was wearing all his heavy clothes as if about to go somewhere. "We go through this every bloody week!" Ron was saying. "We're sticking with you 'till the end, mate."
"This IS the end, don't you see that?" Harry protested. "You two have done all you can, but the last part we all know I have to do myself."
"No, we DON'T know that!" Hermione shouted. "If it does come down to you and Voldemort, fine, but until you're face-to-face with him, you need help. You can't go walking off looking for him alone."
"And what happens to you two when I finally am face-to-face with him?" Harry demanded.
"We're hexing the arse off any Death Eaters who try to get you from behind," said Ron, trying for a touch of humor.
Harry paused for a moment when he saw the Order members watching, but when Hermione and Ron turned to look, his face hardened. He glanced at Viktor, then returned his attention to his friends and said in a low voice, "No. What will happen is that the two of you will be considered 'spares.' Like Cedric."
Viktor stiffened in spite of himself, and Hermione hissed and looked over her shoulder at him. "That was low," Ron said tightly.
"It's also true," Harry replied. "Look, I'm sorry! I've made up my mind."
"So have we," said Hermione, crossing her arms.
"You two are NOT going with me!"
Ron started to shout, but Hermione shoved him out of her way so that she could get nose-to-nose with Harry. "And this is one thing we're not going through again, Harry James Potter—we do NOT take orders from you, you do NOT decide anything for us, and we'll fight along with you if we BLOODY WELL WANT TO, I don't care if you're the bloody 'chosen one' or not!"
Hermann and Viktor's team exchanged awkward glances, and Roger decided to cut in. "Good lord, what's this? Dissension in the ranks?" The trio's quarreling cut off abruptly, with a sulky and put-upon air from all three of them. Viktor saw Alexiev and Giovanni looking surprised, as if they hadn't been aware that the Great Harry Potter and his friends would ever reduce themselves to juvenile behavior, but Roger at least knew better. "Enough of that, you lot. Kingsley's sending a report to Headquarters, and they'll have a better idea of where to go from here."
"No problem with that," said Ron.
"Of course not; it can't hurt to work WITH the Order once in awhile," Hermione added, narrowing her eyes at Harry, who looked rebellious. A quick look from her to the others in the room was all the warning they needed to keep an eye out for her powerful, but dangerously reckless friend trying to sneak out the doors during the night. Harry glared harder at her, sensing her unspoken message, but then dropped his eyes, visibly relenting.
"He NEVER changes!" Hermione was ranting in the kitchen later while helping out with dinner. (Ron was keeping a subtle surveillance in case Harry decided to do more than sulk.) "And Ron and I can't figure out whether he's convinced he's untouchable or expendable—either way, he thinks he can just run off on a one-wizard crusade whenever he pleases like we're just a couple of tagalongs—"
"Easy, love!" said O'Rourke, laughing. "We don't need convincing!"
She grabbed a wet rag Giovanni had been trying (and failing) to clean up spilled coffee with and threw it at him. "Men."
The others laughed. Over the heads of Roger and O'Rourke, she could see Viktor at the table with Marianne Brandon, one of the Order's famed Muggleborn snipers. Marianne was cleaning her guns and explaining how they worked to the fascinated Bulgarian. Hermione felt a twinge of emotion deep in the pit of her stomach that had her turning quickly back to the foodstuffs. Scrounging up a remotely palatable meal was hard enough without nursing unfounded hostility for a fellow Order member.
Marianne's a lot prettier than me anyway. That thought slipped out before she could stop it, annoyingly undeniable: Marianne was older than Hermione, older than Viktor, probably, and her distance skill with Muggle firearms had kept her out of the heat of most fighting—and the physical wear and tear that went along with it. With her clean, neat, curly auburn hair and bright blue eyes, she stood out among the roughened Order members like Fleur Delacour had among the Hogwarts boys. Hermione, on the other hand, had long since reconciled herself to a perpetual state of dirtyness.
Get your mind on the job, girl! With a mental headshake, she resumed digging around the canned vegetables with vigor, but then the irony of it all struck her. At least I know my hormones haven't been completely buried by all this fighting!
She had to shield her eyes against the glare from the hillside and the sparkling water. The air itself shone with a gleaming mist that rolled up from the shore, partly concealing the island from the other side of the water.
She had to cross the water. She was needed there. Not alone, but there was a part that only she could play.
As though in a trance, she moved down to the water's edge, and the island became clearer to her, yet somehow she knew that no other on this side of the water could see it. Only her.
She had to go. She was needed. Someone beyond the mist was calling to her, bidding her to cross.
There was a boat there, waiting for her. It would permit her entrance. She moved down over the grass towards it, urged on by some will she could not see. She was not afraid. And small as it was, the boat did not rock when she stepped in…
The mattress rocked sharply, jolting Hermione awake, and she glared sleepily over to see Ron and Harry clambering their noisy, clumsy way off the other side as someone started banging around in the kitchen. With a groan, she rolled to the middle of the mattress and went back to sleep.
The boys were talking intelligence with Hermann when Hermione stumbled into the kitchen awhile later. "Would've been worse if Voldemort had realized what we were after. I think the Order's done a good job keeping him from finding out so far," Ron was saying.
"That'll have changed now that Nagini's dead," Harry pointed out.
"Vill he try to make new ones, do you think?" Hermann asked.
Harry shrugged. "Nobody knows. Dumbledore said he had a thing about the number seven. If he splits himself again…" He shot a cheeky grin at the sleepy Hermione as she sat down across from them. Viktor handed her the coffee pot and did her the courtesy of not remarking on her current groggy state.
"You think he vill not?"
"I've got no real reason," Harry mused. "I just have this feeling he won't."
"Your guts have a way of being right," said O'Rourke. "And those weren't the only power sources he was interested in."
"Anything new?" Hermione perked up enough to ask.
"We spent the better part of three months chasing him out of Stonehenge."
Ron whistled. "I can guess what he'd try to do with that place."
Giovanni shook the empty coffee pot and went back to the stove. "He is seeking locations to focus his power everywhere. His agents have been heavily invading Rome and Venice. Also Greece."
"He does like his ancient strongholds, doesn't he," Hermione remarked.
"He always does," said Kingsley, coming through the door. "That alone wouldn't be such a surprise. What is a surprise, and what's got our superiors bloody worried, is that in the past week, they seem to be pulling out of every position he's taken, even those we haven't got a prayer of dislodging him from."
Viktor leaned back in his chair. "Are you certain they have not merely concealed themselves as a trap?"
Roger shook his head. "They've pulled out. The Italian chapels, the Roman temples, Delphi, the Rhine…deserted. And what's worse, we haven't seen a sign of where they're massing now."
"A force that large has to go somewhere," said Harry. "Have we got a general direction?"
Hermione smiled to herself. Harry sounded like a general himself, these days. Whatever happened to our little Quidditch captain? she wondered wistfully.
Kingsley interrupted her reminiscence with a grim nod. "They're back in the Isles."
Marianne's eyes widened. "You think they're trying for a full takeover?"
"They may have an advantage, but it's not that big," Ron protested. "Why go all out when they're not even holding Stonehenge?"
"They do not mean to do that," Viktor said, reading the team leaders' faces. "It would be senseless."
"They've got something bigger," Harry concluded. "Something or some place more powerful than Stonehenge or all the other magical sites put together. Something he'll commit all his people to hold."
"What, Harry?"
"Beats me," he replied dryly. Ron rolled his eyes.
Hermione snorted, but asked Kingsley, ""Have we got any leads?"
Kingsley shrugged. "The Order's in disagreement. Some think it's inconclusive: wherever they are, they're well-hidden. And we're estimating he's got over a thousand Death Eaters with him."
"Shite," someone muttered. "Good thing they haven't tried to take us head-on!"
"So it's magically concealed on its own power," said Marianne. "Even Stonehenge couldn't shield that many of them from detection."
"Not Hogwarts either," added Ron.
"What if it's not your garden-variety magical concealment?" O'Rourke suggested. "What if it's something completely…separated. Separated from our plane."
"What are you thinking, Valinor?" Roger laughed.
"Never-Never Land," suggested Ron, grinning.
Kingsley chuckled. "Interesting idea, but I can't see Voldemort gaining entry to Valinor, even if the Valar weren't there anymore. Don't think he's their kind of people."
Amid everyone else's laughter, something klunked into place in Hermione's mind, and she sucked in her breath. The dream! The others fell silent and stared at her.
"Hermione?" Viktor asked.
Feeling a coldness inside at the possibilities of what it all meant, Hermione looked back at him. "Not Valinor," she breathed. "Avalon. He's in Avalon."
To be continued…
Coming Soon: The island of Avalon is a fortress of two magics than could spell the end of everyone if it has fallen into Voldemort's hands. But Hermione and the Order soon realize that the causes of this war go back further in history than they ever imagined in Chapter Five: Arthur's Sister!
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