Welcome, Foolish Visitors!

Warning: violence

We were greeted with the smell of burning flesh. Someone had released a volley of Fiendfyre, and the crimson flames hungrily ravaged the once-pristine central lobby of the Ministry. All around us, wizards, giants, goblins, werewolves, and the occasional giant fought, their dancing forms blurred shadows in the hazy smoke from the fire. The noise was almost deafening, as the building protested loudly at the Fiendfyre's rampant pillaging, and the floor was slick with blood.

"We need to get you wands," I yelled, ducking to avoid a silver hex. I scanned the chaos, feeling hopelessness threatening to send me, crying, into a crumpled heap on the ground. "Where are we going to find three wands just lying about in this chaos?"

"Two," Al said suddenly, his voice quiet. "We only need two more wands."

Shoot. Cursing myself for my insensitive mistake, I looked at him, my lips forming an apology, and he shook his head, his lips curved into a small, sad smile. Then, turning away from me, the Auror scanned our surroundings, his body half-veiled with smoke.

"There!" he shouted. He pointed at two fallen wizards lying behind a column six meters to our right. "Cover me," he said and, upon seeing me nod, sprinted towards the men. I ran after him, narrowly managing to deflect a curse before it could hit the Auror. Al leaped over a smoking pile of rubble, his face grim, and bent over the fallen men. By the time I'd caught up, he'd already plucked their wands from their stiff hands. His hand hovered for a moment over their frozen faces, and I watched as he gently brushed their eyes shut.

Then, still silent, he stood, his face streaked with soot. His hands were tight around the wands, and his mouth thinned as anguish flickered in his eyes. What, I wondered, must it feel like to touch a wand and feel only emptiness in response? My own hand tightened reflexively around my wand, and the answering rush of power left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Al-" I began, and the Auror's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "What good am I, Adela?" he whispered, almost too quiet for me to hear. "I can't cast the simplest of cheering charms, for Merlin's sake, and all the time I am fighting this-" he gestured angrily at the runes curling up his forearms.

"Al," I said firmly, stepping closer so that he had no choice but to look at me. "Although I, of course, wish you were somewhere safe, there is no one I would rather have at my side. Magic or no magic, you are still you, and, Al, you are one of my favourite people on this world. So, what good are you, Al? I'd say you're pretty damned good."

Al hesitated, his face drawn -

"Here," he said suddenly, his arm jutting forward. Aleksandra took the wand, the runes on her hand flashing scarlet. Ginny Potter's mouth opened but, seeing her son's expression, shut almost instantly. Instead, the witch touched her son's face gently before taking the remaining wand. I saw Al's eyes briefly close under her touch and felt another surge of anger. Luke would not get away with this. I looked at the chaos around us and grit my teeth. None of them would get away with this.

Ginny gave the wand an experimental flick, sending a spray of harmless gold sparks cascading to the ground. Nodding to herself, she turned to her son. "I'm going to find your father," she said, shouting to be heard over the continuous din. "I'll catch up with you later." Her mouth wavered as she looked closely at her son, and I edged away, wanting to give them some privacy.

"We are so very proud of you," I heard her say, and I felt the lump in my throat grow. Selfishly, I thought of my own parents. Where were they? Yes, I hadn't spoken to them in years, and, yes, I still hadn't forgiven them for scorning me for being a Ravenclaw, but that didn't mean I wished them dead. I could only hope that they were safe. In a happier world, my parents would hug me, as well, and tell me how proud they were of my growth. And, because I was imagining this happier world anyway, we would be somewhere surrounded by quills and cats and enough brownies to make even me sick. Hearing the tell-tale scream of magic, I pulled myself abruptly from my thoughts and, slashing my wand in a downwards motion, sent the curse hurtling back towards the caster. I heard a distant cry and winced. I was not made to be a soldier, but I knew what I had to do.

When I looked back, Ginny had gone, and Al's face showed only hardened resolve. "Come on," he said, studiously looking away from my wand. "All of the most dangerous artifacts are housed in the Department of Mysteries. I'd bet my last flask of pumpkin juice that Ragnuk is there."

Smiling slightly at his last claim - it was good to hear that some things, at least, hadn't changed - I nodded, turning to the Bulgarian. "Aleksandra, you spent more time with Ragnuk and Luke. Do you think there's any chance of them turning on each other?"

The witch frowned, her dark eyes unreadable. "Perhaps," she said slowly. "But we must hope that they do not. I fear the consequences from a battle between the Elder Wand and the power of the runes would be catastrophic."

Right, so that was another thing to avoid, then. Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. Still, it did no good to wallow in self-pity. I forced a confident smile. "Well," I said firmly. "As my brother would say, there's only one thing to say in a situation like this."

"You mean, a situation that almost certainly involves our painful and drawn out deaths?" Aleksandra said helpfully.

I pointedly ignored the Bulgarian's entirely unnecessary comment and instead turned to Al. Al grinned, making my heart stutter (Merlin, how did the bloke manage to do that?), and bellowed, "Battlecry!"

Then, pulling an entirely confused Bulgarian closer, I Apparated us away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

We stumbled to a halt outside of the imposing stone archway that guarded the Department's entrance. After the screeching din of the lobby, the silence was stifling, and I shivered, feeling goosebumps appear on my skin.

"Right," Al said, his voice a welcome interruption to the solemn silence. "Let's go save the day."

"Wait," I said suddenly, remembering Vane. No way was I going to repeat my earlier mistakes. I knew now that I wasn't alone - that I'd never been alone - and I certainly wasn't going to march into certain death without at least letting my friends know. Pushing aside the fear and anger lurking within Numberita, I focused instead on flashes of light - Al, pressing his lips against my forehead; Seth, hugging me tightly; Rose, scolding me with her hands on her hips -

"Expecto patronum," I breathed, and watched, half-smiling, as a familiar, squat owl appeared. True to character, my Patronus promptly began bouncing clumsily around the dim stairway, and I heard Al let out a muffled laugh. I sent it spinning away, feeling a pang of loss when the last tendrils of blue-white light disappeared.

"I've sent it to notify Vane, Seth, and your mother, Al," I said, and the Auror gave me a grateful smile. I felt his fingers brush against mine, and I felt another surge of determination. Al was going to live. He had to.

I gave his hand a squeeze before reluctantly moving away. "Let's go," I said and, holding my wand aloft, ran through the archway and into the swirling darkness.

We passed with little difficulty through the long, narrow corridor and, upon reaching the central room with its twelve identical doors. As the stone door slammed shut behind us, Aleksandra spun, her hands clawing uselessly at the handle-less wall.

"We're trapped," she said, her voice high with panic.

I frowned, looking at the circular room. The last time I'd been here, I'd - here, Numberita worked furiously, trying to remember - moved seven and three quarters of a meter to the left, and that door had led to a particularly nasty encounter with, of all things, the sun. Right, so that door was out. That left ten doors and, without Unspeakable Lysander's aid, I had no idea which led to the trove of dangerous artifacts, and it wasn't like there was a helpful directory posted on the wall.

If there had been a map, I could only imagine what it would say: Welcome, foolish visitors, to the Department-of-Mysteries-Themepark-Land-Thing (DOMTLT for short)! You have the wonderful opportunity of meeting your death in 9,391 of our newly renovated attractions! Take your pick and, remember, keep all limbs inside the vehicle at all times!

Al knelt before the door on the right, his hand reaching forward to touch the gleaming stone -

"Don't!" I shouted, and the Auror snatched his hand away instantly. "They suck you in if you touch them," I explained, lowering my voice to a normal speaking level.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aleksandra edge warily away from the nearest door. The Bulgarian frowned, tapping her hand (which, I noticed with considerable alarm, was now half-transparent) against her squared chin. She turned suddenly towards Al, her black eyes intent. "The ritual should have connected you with Luke," she said. "You should be able to feel his pull."

I opened my mouth automatically to protest, to say that, no, Al was certainly not going to risk his life again, but something caused me to pause. Yes, I hated the idea of Al getting any closer with that madman, but if my disastrous experience in sixth year had taught me anything, it was that I had to trust Al. It was my own foolish belief that I knew better than Al that had cost me any hope of a relationship all those years ago, and I wasn't going to repeat that mistake.

So, when Al glanced at me, I merely said thickly, "I'll watch your back."

The Auror blinked, a slow smile playing on his lips. "I'd expect nothing less," he said quietly, and we stood there, just looking at each other, until Aleksandra coughed loudly.

"Less PDA, more stopping Luke," she said sharply, and I felt my whole face burn.

"PDA? We weren't even touching," I protested but, seeing the Bulgarian's arched brow, shut up immediately.

"Disgusting," the Bulgarian said pointedly. Then, turning to Al, she made an impatient gesture with her hands.

The Auror closed his eyes, his whole body becoming quite still, and I bit back a startled yell when the runes curling around his arms and neck began to smoke. The outline of his body blurred, melding flesh with stone, as the smoke curled sinuously around the elegant lines of his limbs.

Then, just as I was about to burst with terrified impatience, his eyes flew open and his body was whole once more. He marched forward wordlessly, halting directly before the door opposite me. "This is it," Al said hoarsely, sounding like he'd just swallowed a dozen sheaths of sandpaper.

I approached the door cautiously, my hand pressing lightly against Al's (out of Aleksandra's eyesight, as I certainly didn't need another overly loud comment). The Auror smiled wanly at me, and I noticed with considerable concern that the runes had spread, the black strokes curling possessively towards the sharp line of his jaw.

I wiped my sweaty hands on the hem of my shirt and, glancing at my two companions, asked, "Ready?"

"Ready," Al said, his green eyes gleaming.

"Just go on already," Aleksandra said.

I pressed my hand against the stone, sucking in a sharp breath when the door pulled me forward instantly. I felt the strange, semi-solid material clinging greedily to my clothes before I was through, tumbling onto a precarious, pitch-black rock ledge shot through with glowing red streams of lava. Great. More fire, more smoke. Just what I wanted.

Not.

Behind me, the grim stone door, which hovered in mid-air, spat out Al, then Aleksandra, before disappearing with a loud pop. Al got to his feet with considerably more grace than I had (prat), his eyes already searching our dismal surroundings. "Are we - are we in a volcano?" he asked.

I looked around us, edging towards the ledge's end to peer below. Numberita estimated a few dozen meters between us and the angrily bubbling lava below. Occasionally, a bubble burst to the surface, releasing a hiss of gas that sent waves of heat shooting up. The dark, smooth rock below our feet was treacherously slick, and I feared that one wrong step would send us, tumbling, to our (decidedly warm) deaths.

Our ledge was one of hundreds, each one floating, unsupported, in the air above the molten rock below. The two ledges closest to ours drifted lazily away, and I resisted the urge to utter a stream of curses. Of course the floating rocks moved. I watched as the second of the ledges slowly sank and couldn't quite stifle my cry when, upon coming within six meters of the lava, was subsumed with a sudden wave of sickly green gas and burst promptly into flames.

I stood shakily, wishing that my shoes had better traction, and turned to my companions. "Well, now we just have to find a werewolf, a goblin, and a former Squib. That shouldn't be too hard."

In answer, the lava below let out a loud belch, and I flinched. Al frowned, his heat tilting slightly, before moving to kneel at the rock's edge. He squinted below us and, beckoning for me to come closer, pointed at one of the rocks floating below ours. I pressed my body against the rock, wincing at the harsh heat radiating through my clothes, and looked at the figures below.

Ragnuk, Greyback, Luke, and five werewolves I didn't recognise stood on a rock slightly larger than our own. Fortunately, they were too caught up in heated discussion to notice our presence. Unfortunately, they were too far away for me to hear anything they were saying, so I sent our rock ledge a few meters closer with a careful wave of my wand.

"-consequences of your actions! If we wish to secure the support of the others, we cannot participate in such senseless acts. Killing all those vampires was unnecessary foolishness, Greyback, and I will not stand for it," I heard Ragnuk say.

Greyback snarled, and I realised with a horrified start that he - and the other werewolves - had completely shifted into their beastly forms. The werewolf sniffed, stalking forward, and his fellow werewolves followed suit, cornering Ragnuk and Luke to one edge of the precarious rock. The beasts' bodies rippled with muscle, and their bloodied lips pulled back to reveal gleaming white fangs. The goblin, however, didn't react other than to twist the Elder Wand pointedly between his gnarled fingers.

"My foolishness? Goblin, I tire of your unnecessary interference. It is high time we settle who truly holds the power," Greyback said, and his voice was an unnatural clash of howl and human speech.

"I suggest you think, Greyback, before making any foolish action," the goblin warned, and his eyes gleamed with such cold malevolence that I was reminded, again, of who the true leader was. It was Ragnuk who had spearheaded this plot for vengeance, and it was Ragnuk who, despite being outnumbered, would make it out alive.

The werewolf, however, had apparently failed to come to the same conclusion, for, with a loud growl, he leaped, his body a savage arc against the barren rock -

"Luke," Ragnuk said simply, and I sucked in a sudden breath at the horror standing below. The former Squib was almost unrecognizable, as his body seemed to have doubled in size since the last time I'd seen him. Runes flickered angrily all across his swollen flesh, and his eyes were mere pinpoints of light in the brutal expanse of his face. I saw his tongue, stained black with runes, dart out as he licked his lips and, as the closest werewolf leaped, Luke slashed his wand - Ginny's wand - down with a savage roar. His magic - Al's magic - scorched the air, and I caught a glimpse of startled panic in the werewolf's black eyes before he was cleaved in half, his upper body sailing harmlessly over the rock's edge. Luke kicked at the lower half, his boot colliding with a sickening thud, and sent it, too, over the edge.

Snarling with rage, the remaining werewolves circled Luke warily. Luke laughed, then, and I shuddered at the sheer wrongness of the sound. Luke stood and, mouth still opened wide in a mocking grin, beckoned for the werewolves to approach. With a snap of teeth, the werewolves leaped as one -

And yelped as Luke, with another slash of his wand, froze them all mid-leap. He ran a hand across their dark fur, humming merrily to himself as their eyes bulged from the pressure. Then, the runes writhing on his skin, he cast the same cleaving spell, sending the magic sailing like a whip across the circle, and I flinched at the horrible wet thuds that followed.

Luke stepped neatly over the wolves' remains and, still smiling pleasantly, turned to face Greyback. The werewolf snarled, his eyes darting between his fallen soldiers and the former Squib. Then he looked at Ragnuk, and I caught a glimpse of rage flash in Luke's eyes at the slight.

"You will pay for this," Greyback snarled and, running forward, leaped towards the goblin, his claws gleaming red -

Luke started forward and Ragnuk halted him with an outstretched hand. The goblin looked placidly at the rapidly approaching werewolf and, his eyes cold, sent a bolt of green light, clean and deadly, into Greyback's chest.

The werewolf slumped, his body skidding to a stop mere centimeters from Ragnuk's feet.

"I could have taken care of him," Luke said, and I noticed his eyes lingering hungrily on the Elder Wand.

"Hm," was all the goblin said in response. He looked contemplatively at the fallen form of his former ally. "Do not worry, Luke. You will have more opportunities for practice, I assure you."

Practice? Luke had just brutally murdered five people without blinking an eye. And what did Ragnuk mean by "more opportunities for practice"?

I, unfortunately, soon got my answer: Ragnuk tilted his head up, looking directly at me, smiled with the same placid malevolence as before.

"We have visitors," Ragnuk said, and Luke, seeing me, grinned, the runes sparking to life on his flesh.

"Wonderful," he breathed. "I was hoping the giants wouldn't get to you before we had the chance to get...reacquainted."

Author note: 1000th reviewer gets a oneshot! ANNOUNCEMENT: As there are only two chapters + an epilogue after this one (ahhh), I've officially caved and posted the first chapter to a new OC fic (Marauders era)! Check it out if you're interested c: