4.
James Potter thought he just might curse someone.
Well, he reflected, not some random Adam, but Sirius, now there was a satisfying perspective target. And not any old curse, either. James was sure no Wizengamot in history would convict him of the use the Imperius on his best mate. It would even be for a good cause, James thought, forcing the errant Auror to turn up to work on time for once in his bloody life. The guilty party was, at that very moment, plunking down at his desk two hours late.
"Where were you?" James hissed, covering his voice with the shuffle of paperwork.
Sirius shot him an easy grin. He looked a mite bashful. "Well, it's not every night one of the Weird Sisters happens to be at your local pub, is it? Can't exactly pass up a chance like that."
James' eyebrows shot up. "Sirius, mate, hate to break it to you, but aren't they all blokes in that group?"
"New drummer." Sirius gave James a full grin. "Definitely not a bloke, with fantastic rhythm."
James rolled his eyes and shoved a pile of paperwork across this desk and onto the offending Auror's. "That's what I saved for you, for making your partner cover for you. Again."
Sirius merely shrugged and offered James his standard, "Thanks," smile. He withdrew a quill and nibbled on the end, staining his lip. James snorted at the sight. Sirius hadn't been brought up to be anything other than a perfect pureblooded heir, but he'd gone out of his way to adopt traits his parents considered ,"Mudblooded." It had been years since they'd done their son a favor and shoved off to the great beyond, but by then Sirius had become unconsciously accustomed to his new habits. His mix of pureblooded mannerisms and adopted "common" traits could be quite hilarious at times.
"How'd Lily say the new term was shaping up?" Sirius asked.
"Well enough. She reckons Syl is going hard at defense. Snape says she should pass her OWL. Harry, though. . . well I tried to tell her that boys will be boys." James shared a smile with Sirius, remembering their own trouble making years.
A parchment airplane wized by James' head and landed on his desk. Sirius watched, as he unfurled it and read, James' face turn darker and darker. James scowled and passed it off into Sirius waiting hands.
"Truthfully, I'm just glad Lils and the kids are back at school. Sometimes it seems like it just keeps getting worse out there no matter what we do."
Sirius shook his head. "Can't get to thinking like that too much, mate. It's not good for anyone." He balled up the parchment and threw it in the bin. "Besides, just because Avery got off this time doesn't mean we won't catch him again. He's sloppy."
James sighed. "I know, I know. It's just that. . . sometimes it seems like this stalemate goes on forever. And then. . . look, none of us can pretend the attacks haven't stepped up over the summer." He paused, dropping his voice. "We're loosing this war Sirius. It may only be in inches, but we're loosing. The Ministry hasn't made a major bust in six years. And the elections. . . every day we don't do something about it people are quietly dying. Something must change."
"You're barking to the choir mate." Sirius said.
"I think it's, 'Preaching to the choir.' Or so Lily tells me." James replied.
Sirius waved his hand. "Doesn't matter. Look, we both know what's happening. But we can't do more than what we do now. And I say we pay our newly freed Mr. Avery a visit." He grinned wickedly.
James smiled. Sirius usually knew the right thing to say, but if not, he almost always came close.
"Alright," James said. "To Edinburgh it is."
XXXXX
Harry was propped up on his side, intently examining the single breast that had slipped from beneath the covers. Ginny looked radiant, illuminated in the early morning sun from the only window in their small room. She maintained the scar that ran from her forehead, across her left cheek and down her neck gave her a distinguished air. Harry didn't notice it anymore. That scar was part of her now, just like all the others. It was a reminder of their hardness.
But the swell of her body, the sweetness of her kisses, the upturn of her nose, even the extensive patchwork of scars lining the rest of her body, these were also a reminder of a different sort. When Harry looked at his wife he saw what was still good in the world, why he continued on. After a great deal of careful consideration in the morning light, Harry leaned over and took Ginny's nipple into his mouth, sucking tenderly.
She stirred. "And a good morning to you too."
"Can you believe it Gin?" Harry whispered, "Today's the day. Everything is going to be different!"
Ginny laughed and pressed his head back to her breast, "Well then we don't have much time. Get to work Mr. Potter."
Harry smirked back up at his wife, his hand trailing down her stomach. "As always, Mrs. Potter, your wish is my command."
XXXXX
The largest moon of the year just happened to fall on the summer solstice.
Hermione had been cautiously pleased that their plans coincided with both the supermoon, the largest and therefore most powerful moon of the year, and the summer solstice, a day of great magical power in and of itself.
It was an unusually advantageous happening. In Hermione's experience, fate did not forgive any slight without taking something in return. And what they were about to attempt was the largest circumvention of the natural order Hermione could imagine. But, she reasoned as the four had silently marched up the hill at sunset, surly they had poured enough of their humanity into the ethos, again and again paid the price to simply survive, to buy them this one favor. Surly, fate could look the other way, just this once.
They reached the pinnacle of Arthur's Seat just as the sun set. Ginny and Harry had immediately began to cast the necessary privacy wards and charms as Luna carefully placed her cauldron at the right coordinates. A prod with her wand and a small fire sprang from beneath the deep purple concoction.
Hermione had withdrawn the dusty tome from within her robes. She attempted to maneuver it to rest on her left arm as she angled her wand toward the ground. Slowly, her wand crept in tightly controlled motions as the witch began to carve precise runes into the rock around them.
She worked with diligence. By the time Hermione was finished sweat had soaked her brow and begun to trickle down the small of her back. The book disappeared into the folds of her tattered robes once again. Hermione drew her hair back, shoulder length now. She was glad it had once again grown long enough to braid.
The four arranged themselves into a circle midway between the closest arc of runes and the cauldron. It was bright as day beneath the gleaming moon. Their cloaks fluttered as warm summer wind wafted over the hill. They were silent.
Harry looked around then, deeply into the eyes of each woman. His gaze seemed to steel them; they stood taller and fixed their faces into a mirrored look of determination. After a moment of pause, Hermione began to chant in Aramaic.
Her voice was a harsh whisper. She began to sway, to rock, as the force of the magic she channeled began to gather. Her voice grew louder. Now Luna joined in, then Ginny and finally Harry. Once all four had begun to shake Ginny withdrew a curved dagger. Its silver hilt glinted as the moonlight seemed to dance across its blade to the rhythm of their chanting. Ginny's eyes darkened, the pupils stretching, covering the whites until her eyes were fathomless pits.
And now the air was thick, laden with magic.
Ginny slashed the dagger into her left arm. She stabbed deeply and drug the blade down from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. A wave of crimson ran down her arm. Ginny moved quickly to tilt the flowing blood into the cauldron. It hissed and yellow sparks arced over them.
Luna seized the blade before it slipped from Luna's weakening grasp. She moved her robes aside, parting them in the front. Once her eyes became engulfed in the blackness she too sliced into flesh. Luna severed the artery in her left leg and was rewarded with a thick flow of red. She pooled it both on the dagger and in her hand before limping forward and depositing her blood. Green sparks shone from the potion.
It was Hermione's turn. Her entire body thrummed, but it was with steady hands she gripped the dagger. And it was without hesitation she slashed under her left ear. Hermione faltered, staggering toward the cauldron before righting herself and tipping the flowing blood into the mixture. Blue sparks erupted from within and she crumpled to the ground.
Now Harry was the only one left, the only one chanting. He began to rise, hovering over the stained ground, both arms extended slightly as white sprites of lightening shot from his body. Harry's eyes were pools of endless black as he wordlessly summoned the dagger form Hermione's still form. The dagger sprung to his waiting palm and without a second glance at his fallen friends Harry James Potter drove the curved blade deep into his heart. Crimson sprayed forward, drenching the potion. It exploded the moment his blood touched the liquid and Harry screamed as he had never screamed before.
Across the city, Lucius Malfoy dropped the corpse of an old man in a dark red room as the sound of an inhuman wail blasted across the night. He rushed outside behind the other Death Eaters, drawn to a growing light sweeping across the city. Lucius could only gape as a great wave of white engulfed them all.
