Day 1

The Order were fidgety as they awaited Dumbledore's arrival.

They crowded around the table at the Burrow as there wasn't a guarantee of Grimmauld Place's safety, not anymore.

Kreacher had voluntarily gone to Tonks through Andromeda, having sleuthed their true affiliation. The house, nobody quite knew who owned it yet.

Tonks probably could fix that, but they didn't really want to give Molly Weasley more access to the Black home, library and relics. She had done enough damage last year. Dung was still turning up with things Tonks had to nick when he wasn't looking.

Wondering what Dung was up to at the moment (he was not at the meeting), Tonks picked at their nails, shifting them different colours in their boredom.

Molly was complaining to them about Fleur Delacour, again, and how rude the witch was, and really, Tonks, won't you stay after and talk to him, he'll listen to you, you are the same age, he really is a lovely young man-"

Nevermind that Molly was one of those folk who staunchly refused to listen when Tonks politely asked her to refer to them as a Wix, not a Witch. Why would they try to help her with her son's love life? They hadn't even been in the same House as Bill, they'd spoken to him maybe three times total outside of Order business.

It was getting a bit weird, to be honest. (Also, they weren't the same age, Bill was three years older than Tonks, they weren't friends, Tonks was confused.)

Also, Fleur and Bill were literally standing at the far end of the room, had Molly no shame at all? It was clear the two were in love, and who was Tonks to stand in the way of true love. That wouldn't be very Dumbledore of them, would it?

Everyone knew that True Love was the one thing Dumbledore idolised.

Snape's absence was also getting more poignant by the day. Didn't Dumbledore have blackmail on him? If he wasn't going to be in the Order anymore, then Tonks was the main spy and that was an awful lot of pressure.

Also they missed the snide glances that he allowed during Order meetings. Who knew Snape had a sense of humour? He was a right bastard, there was no denying that, but Tonks missed his biting commentary.

The pair of them had a post-Order meeting ritual of staying behind and sharing a cigarette and just staring off into the distance, and it was in those moments Tonks felt that they had really learned how sad Snape was under it all. The few biting words, the occasional scrap of history shared in those quiet moments had really made them think. They didn't necessarily like him, but they missed him nonetheless.

The fire, out of sight in the kitchen, blazed and crackled loudly, the telltale whoosh of someone arriving. Bill and Fleur, who had been talking quietly in the doorway, moved to seat themselves at the end of the magically extended table (as far from Bill's parents as they could get) as Dumbledore swept into the room with the usual fanfare.

His brightly coloured robes today were a pale yellow with lemon vines blooming up from the hems, featuring wide sleeves that he was brushing ash off onto the Weasleys' tile floor. A floor Tonks had witnessed Molly sweep just a few minutes before.

He seemed calm as ever, but Tonks wondered if he was feeling the strain, because he didn't seem to notice the way Molly's mouth tightened.

They stifled a snort, and flicked their wand to siphon up the mess, earning a murmured thanks from the Weasley matriarch. Dumbledore took his seat and called them all to attention. With the new Minister's speech and the way he'd been whipping up the public, this was sure to be a long meeting.

Day 2

Remus Lupin's first thought after his first full moon without wolfsbane in 3 years was huh?

It felt… less painful than usual, but Remus remembered very little. Without his wolfsbane, he had no idea what he had done, had to piece it together from the evidence around him. This was a habit he had formed long ago. Normally, without the wolfsbane, he tore into himself, but he didn't seem to be injured, just aching from the transformation.

Take stock. Take notice. Pay attention to how it feels, he reminded himself.

He was lying naked on a clump of grass. The smell of rot surrounded him. He was shivering violently. He was covered in mud.

He could hear the rustle of wind,

Remus pushed himself upright and looked around. All he could see in every direction was marshland.

A bird call sounded, and he looked up to see several birds circling in the cloudy sky. No sun to be seen, it was a blanket of grey that was uncharacteristic of summer.

Well, at least he wasn't in a dungeon anymore.

He took a few deep breaths and looked around as if that would magically make his wand appear. Remus had never attempted wandless apparition and he wasn't great at it with a wand.

But his options were to die in the bog, be found by Voldemort and recaptured, or to apparate to somewhere safe.

Picturing the Burrow's apparition point in his mind, he breathed in-out. In-out.

Destination, determination, deliberation.

He turned on the spot, and-

Nothing.

Not even a hint of his magic.

Damnit. He'd never been good at wandless magic, it was the hardest form of magic to most wizards, forgotten once they picked up a wand and learned the better, more safe way of doing things. But if a wix never practised their wandless magic, then it would not advance in skill with their regular magic. He knew this, had learned it from his wizard father, but… it had never really been a priority.

And so, Remus didn't know how to apparate wandlessly and he was far too worried about splinching to attempt it again.

Looking around, he could see signs of his frenzied wolf-rampage. Broken branches, trampled bracken, pawprints in the mud, all leading in one direction.

That was probably the direction of the place he had been held, so… what to do now?

With the sun behind a cloud, he couldn't even calculate north.

He was well and truly lost, and who knew how long this swamp went on? He could see no signs of muggle life, either - the land around Voldemort's base was likely warded against muggles, so no chance of him getting help that way.

The wind rustled through the bracken around his ankles, and Remus grimaced, trying to figure out what to do.

And then-

A hiss-

The rustling wasn't the wind, it was a snake!

He let out a shout of alarm and stumbled backward, tripping and landing, painfully, on the patch of grass he had spent the night on.

The snake was huge, and approaching rapidly. He looked desperately around for anything he could see as a weapon, but saw nothing. The snake hissed loudly, raising its head up until it was hovering over his chest.

It was huge.

This had to be the snake that had attacked Arthur at the Ministry. …Nagini? Unless Voldemort kept several 12-foot snakes around his home, which Remus supposed was possible.

It… wasn't attacking.

Remus… crawled backward away from the snake. It followed, and let out another hiss.

Head tilted, Remus stared at the snake in confusion. It wasn't attacking him. He remembered what Voldemort had said - it is through Harry's grace that you yet live.

Did the snake know that, somehow?

"Are you…Nagini?" He asked hesitantly. The snake instantly stopped hissing and its head seemed to rise and fall in an imitation of a nod.

Well, damn.

"...am I allowed to leave, or will you hurt me?" He asked next, knowing the answer but figuring he could at least try.

She raised her head up and hissed again in clear warning.

She really was a very big snake, he thought as he tried not to break out into a sweat.

"Can you-... show me the way back?" Remus asked with a sigh. He wasn't going to get far without his wand or his clothes. She turned the way she'd come, toward the trail of destruction, and Remus reluctantly began to make his way after the snake.

How was this his life?

Day 3

Fleur woke up in her fiance's bed in his family's home every day and wondered how her life had gotten to this.

Normally, Bill had already left by the time Fleur awakened. He was working long hours at the London branch of Gringotts so she didn't have to, saving up for the home that they had already decided on, a small coastal cottage called Shell Cottage. The previous owner was an older muggle woman who was starting to develop an illness called Dementia. She was living there still, but her relatives had arranged it all with Bill and Fleur and they would be moving in some time in January when Katie Montgomery was officially moved back into her childrens' house.

But today, Bill was still asleep, and Fleur was mesmerised by the way the light caught in his ginger hair.

Molly Weasley liked to think that the only thing Fleur was interested in about Bill was his looks, but that simply wasn't the case. He was driven, brave, kind and most importantly he loved her for who she was, not her looks or her Veela beauty.

And sure, Bill was handsome too. Fleur constantly caught herself staring at him, still bedazzled by the smallest of things he did or said. She fell more in love with her fiance every day, in every word that came out of his mouth.

He snorted in his sleep, and she felt her love for him fill up her chest like the deepest inhale before fire-breath.

She pulled herself carefully away from him, and tucked the covers around his sleeping form. She'd go and get some air, and perhaps make him some tea to wake up to. It would be nice to get up before anyone else, for once.

Pulling on her dressing gown and taking up her wand, Fleur tiptoed out of Bill's room and down the stairs to the kitchen. A glance at the clock above the mantel saw that everyone was in 'bed' but for Ginny, who was in the garden, and Arthur, who worked night shifts and so was at 'work'.

She set the kettle to boil and prepared a set of mugs with a few flicks of her wand, remembering which Weasleys liked tea and coffee in the mornings and adding sugar to the twins' mugs.

Maybe Molly would see that she truly cared and wanted to be a part of this family through this?

The kettle would take a minute, so Fleur stepped out onto the front porch and collected the mail - two letters for Molly, one for Arthur, one for 'Messrs F & G Weasley', and one for her, addressed in her maman's handwriting.

She took the letters in excitedly and sat at the dining table to open hers, wondering what stories of Gabrielle would await. Her mother hadn't written since Fleur had left to stay with the Weasleys, and she'd been starting to worry.

The worry didn't exactly dissipate as she began to read. Indeed, her brow furrowed and her heart began to race. This letter… it was not merely a greeting, or a sending of news. This was treason.

My darling Fleur,

While I hope this letter finds you in good health, I cannot say that I have much hope. It was not long after you left that the Dangerous Magical Creatures Act was called into question by the ICW, and this is when we discovered that you do not have nearly as many rights in that country as we thought you did, and your grandmother and mother even less so.

To put it simply, you are not human to them, so you are dangerous. You are not permitted to hold a job in their Ministry, nor travel outside their borders without a permit. If you have children with your William and ever divorce, they will immediately have their citizenship revoked. They are unlikely to be allowed to attend Hogwarts, but as they would not be permitted to travel either, they would have to be homeschooled, which I know you do not have the patience for.

I am extremely concerned for your safety and for the future of our family, and I beg you to return home with all haste. If you are determined to stay, I ask that you make contact with the Dark Lord and beg his assistance.

His… work with the werewolves in the UK is incredible. In the one year he has been active, werewolves have been granted protections, reserves, increased safety and reduced surveillance. I know his methods are terrifying and violent, but so are the methods of the Ministry - they simply are hiding behind paperwork. While some of these protections apply to you, most are exclusively for werewolves and therefore would not protect you.

I want you to be safe, my darling.

If you will not come home, please ask for help. Our colony is all behind whatever you choose, my princess. You know you will one day be a veela queen, and the responsibilities that come with that are great. You cannot do that in a county that sees you as little more than a beast.

Be brave, my beloved Fleur, and make the right choice.

I love you so much, to the burning sun and beyond.

Love,

Your Mother.

It seemed Fleur had a choice to make.

Day 4

Winky, junior archivist of the Hogwarts House Elves, had a job to do.

And Dobby kept taking her books!

Winky's new position as junior archivist was a good one, she worked under her manager Plinky and checked over each of the books and restored some of them and when she was having a bad day, she was allowed to take as much time as she liked to just sit by the kitchen fire and cry. It was a good job.

It wasn't as good as her old job, with Barty and Young Barty, who she had loved dearly and wanted to serve for the rest of her life.

No, this job wasn't as good.

She was allowed her pick of the uniforms, or even to sew her own uniform! She had her own room beneath Hogwarts in the sprawling Elf Dens, below the dungeons and the lake in the dark where she liked it best. Elves, being nocturnal, always slept best during the day and worked at night, so the underground was perfect for them. Also, they were closest to the Ley Line and had first pick of the magic that bubbled up.

It wasn't as good as her last job, though.

There was a gap on the shelves where the Elf Ancient Histories sat, the first two volume copies were missing. At least they were not the original prints. Winky might have hit Dobby with a saucepan if they had been the original prints.

They were, however, the first copies and those were also valuable and Winky had said that Dobby could take them but she was still worried about those books.

It was like how she worried about Barty and Young Barty.

That was better, right? It was better before she had been given clothes.

"Winky, we is rotating the originals!" For the best storage of the books, Plinky liked to rotate which ones were kept where. When rotating, each book was carefully checked for damage, rot, fading, or anything that might necessitate repair. "Is you helping?"

Winky stopped fretting and turned to go and help her manager, wondering what sort of thing she would be doing if she was back with Barty and Young Barty.

Surely, surely, that would have been better.