A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. I'm glad that people have been enjoying it. And a special thanks to Bonnie and Mainsail for beta reading this and thus improving on the original. If you have questions or concerns about what's going on, feel free to include them in a review or a PM — I'll try to answer.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "Souls Abound" by robst. In The Chamber of Secrets, the Diary Horcrux nearly caused Tom Riddle to come to life. What if all of the horcruxes could do the same thing? Even worse, what if several of them actually did... at the same time? H/Hr.
Chapter 21 - Civil War
Saturday, October 2, 1995, Late Morning.
The first Hogsmeade day of the fall term was as bright and clear as Jasmine had ever seen. The cloudless sky was a deep, beautiful blue, and the sun warmed the village in a way that brought everything to life, despite how late it was in the year and the touch of cold that nipped at them when the wind picked up. It was always nice to get out of the castle, even for a few hours, but on this day it seemed especially pleasurable and Jasmine intended to take her time to enjoy it. Who knew what the future might bring?
Everyone had gone to Hogsmeade more or less together, considering that they had to take several carriages, but they split up into smaller groups once they'd arrived. Ron, Neville, and Blaise had gone to Zonko's together. Ron still wasn't very accepting of Slytherins generally, but Neville had been spending more and more time with the taciturn wizard, and Ron had learned to tolerate him in order to hang around with Neville. Jasmine strongly suspected that Blaise's tendency to remain quiet played a big role in Ron's success on that score, and she was pleased to note his progress.
Susan and Hannah had taken Ginny to Gossypamer & Organza's. The younger witch had objected, saying that she couldn't afford anything there, but the others had all chipped in to get her a late birthday present. Susan and Hannah wanted to go anyway, so they volunteered to help Ginny pick out a few things. Daphne and Tracey had gone to pick up some owl treats and promised to meet Hermione at Tomes & Scrolls. Padma was meeting with her sister and Lavender somewhere, while Luna had wandered off on her own right at the start, which was typical for the younger witch.
Jasmine and Hermione were together, of course, with Gabrielle close at hand. She was rarely far from the two — mostly when she was in class — and constantly shifted between gazing at Jasmine with reverence and looking around at their surroundings with suspicion. Jasmine had thought the behavior odd when Hermione had first pointed it out, but eventually she attributed it to Gabrielle's understanding of the prophecy and no longer noticed it much.
It was an absolutely perfect day, and the three witches were already relishing it. That was when they were startled by a loud noise and saw a cloud of smoke rising from a few streets over.
Then the screaming started.
Jasmine didn't notice when her wand shot into her hand, nor was she conscious of how she started moving towards the screaming rather than away like the rest of the crowd was trying to do. When she thought she recognized the screams as coming from a certain ginger wizard she knew well, she started running. Hermione and Gabrielle were close on her heels.
Ron was by himself when it started, looking for some joke products while Neville and Blaise were on the other side of the store. Glancing up at the commotion, he saw other customers gathering at the front windows, agitated about something. He was about to join them when the whole front of the store exploded inward, sending him flying out the window behind him and into an alley beside the store.
He was dazed and his ears were ringing when he managed to stand up. He clutched at his head, only realizing that he was bleeding when he saw the blood on his hands as he staggered up the alley and towards the main street. Several men in long, black cloaks were standing there, laughing. Well, that was a little insensitive, wasn't it? The thought dimly entered his mind that they might have had something to do with the explosion, but before he could say anything one called out, "Hey, look, it's one of them blood traitors! What say we have a little fun with 'im?"
Ron paled as he fumbled for his wand, but the blood had made his fingers slick enough for it to slip out of his grasp. He stared, dumbfounded, as it clattered along the stone street.
"You go ahead, Travers — we still have other targets the boss wants us to hit," came another voice.
Ron stumbled towards his wand, but a large boot connected with his abdomen, tossing him up against what was left of Zonko's front wall. "Not so fast, little blood traitor!" the man called Travers said. "Sirius Black sends his regards!"
Ron was about to ask why Padfoot would be sending a message with this man when he heard "Crucio!" Thousands of knives stabbed him all over his body. Had he the ability to form coherent thoughts, he'd have expressed amazement that Jasmine had been able to survive having this curse cast on her multiple times. As it was, all he could do was scream and wish that the pain would end.
A minute or possibly an eternity later, it finally stopped and Ron felt like he could take a breath. Still twitching, he rolled his head to the side where the black-cloaked Travers stood over him, cackling in glee. He looked like he was about to cast another spell at him when he heard a softer voice incant, "Reducto!" and Travers went flying away.
Ron turned his head slightly and saw Luna run up and kneel down beside him. She brushed her hand across his cheek, saying sadly, "Oh, Ronald..." Before he could do anything more than twitch again, her head whipped up and her eyes narrowed. Suddenly her wand was up and pointing at something as she cast multiple Reductor curses. Judging by the yells of pain, she connected with several of those curses, too. Then she cast "Stupefy!" and "Incarcerous!" before turning her attention back to him.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position as she reluctantly helped him. "Bloody hell," he groaned.
"Language, Ron," he heard a familiar voice chiding him from behind. Twisting around, he saw Hermione, Jasmine, and Gabrielle run up, their expressions somewhere between concerned and murderous. Hermione put a worried hand on his shoulder and started checking him over for injuries.
"He was hit with the Cruciatus curse," Luna said. "I stunned and bound the one who was doing it, but I think there were more."
"Yeah, there were... ugh, sorry, I'm not even sure. There were several. I think they went that way," he said, gesturing down the main street.
"We'll go after them," Jasmine assured him. "Can you and Luna help whoever was in the store?"
"Neville!" Ron exclaimed abruptly. "Zabini, too! They were on the other side of the store when I was blown out of it." He struggled to stand, anxious to see what had happened to the others.
"Take it easy, Ronald," Luna said to him before turning her attention to the other witches. "I'll stay with him. You go on." Ron could barely walk, but that didn't deter him as he stumbled through the wreckage of the front of Zonko's, desperate to find his friend and that annoying Slytherin he insisted on hanging out with.
Jasmine jogged down the main street of Hogsmeade, focused on what was ahead of her. She was confident that the adults she'd seen in Zonko's would handle things, especially with help from Luna and Ron. They'd certainly be able to do more for the injured than she could.
She didn't understand why, but she felt a powerful urge to keep moving. It was much like her usual desire to be on the move, but it was stronger than normal. It was also accompanied by an edge of fear that something dreadful would happen if she stood in one place too long.
She hadn't gotten far when a scream stopped her. Ahead and to her left was a storefront that was recessed from the street. There, in the shadows, were three raggedy, feral-looking men standing around three witches on the ground. Jasmine quickly recognized Parvati, who was unconscious, Lavender, who was all bloody and leaning against the wall, and Padma, whose wand was out as she tried to shield her sister.
"My, my," one of the men said, "you three look good enough to eat!"
"Greyback will promote us in the pack for bringing home such scrumptious morsels," a second said.
"I've never tasted such soft, pretty witches before," said the third as he licked his lips. "I'll bet they're tastier than the muggle girls we usually play with."
"Werewolves," Gabrielle growled from behind her. Jasmine and Hermione looked at each other and nodded, knowing what they had to do. Trusting that Gabrielle would watch their backs, they raised their wands and incanted, "Sagittas Argentas Profundo!" sending out two streams of silver arrows.
The werewolves didn't stand a chance. Too busy drooling over what they wanted to do to the three witches at their feet, they never noticed the three new witches that had come up behind them. They were completely unprepared when the first of the arrows struck, and their screams from the burning silver could be heard all over Hogsmeade. By the time they fell to the ground, dead, each had more than a dozen arrows each sticking out of different parts of their bodies.
Once Jasmine and Hermione had ended their spells, they ran to help their friends. While Jasmine crouched beside Padma to help her with her sister, Hermione knelt down next to Lavender and incanted "Episkey!" to stop her wounds from bleeding. The blood only slowed to a sluggish trickle and the wound wouldn't fully close, telling her they must have been at least partially cursed, caused by a werewolf who wasn't transformed.
Ripping off pieces of her robe, she said, "Here, hold these against the cuts. You'll need to get to Madam Pomfrey — I'm sure she knows spells that can help." Lavender simply nodded, pain and fear clear in her eyes.
Meanwhile, Parvati had been woken up and was slowly getting to her feet, unsteady due to whatever had hit her. "Luna and Ron are up the street," Jasmine said, gesturing back in the direction they had come from. "They were going to help people who had been injured when Zonko's was attacked. If either or both can be spared, have them help you get back to the castle." Padma nodded as she supported her sister, then reached over to grab Lavender and help her too.
Knowing that Gabrielle was keeping watch, Jasmine and Hermione had been focused entirely on their friends. They were still kneeling on the ground with their backs were turned when the black-cloaked Death Eater emerged from the shadows of the alley across the street. He raised his wand, intent on cursing and capturing the Girl Who Lived.
Without a second's hesitation, Gabrielle pulled her foot-long bronze short sword from her robes and hurled it at the Death Eater. With a precision born from scores of hours of practice with both mundane and enchanted weapons, she struck her target squarely in the side of his head. He was dead too fast for shock to even register on his face, and he dropped bonelessly back into the shadows from which he had emerged. Gabrielle flexed her fingers, and the sword flew back into her hand.
When Jasmine and Hermione finally turned back to her, she was wiping off the blade of a bronze weapon that looked like it would have been a prized item in any museum's collection of ancient artifacts.
"What happened?" Jasmine asked.
Gabrielle gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Nothing of consequence."
Jasmine was tempted to inquire further, but the noise of a pitched battle down the street drew their attention.
Daphne and Tracey were browsing books about ancient magic and traditions when they heard spellfire outside. Racing to the window, they saw figures in black cloaks attacking a group of students. Daphne was about to suggest that they stay inside until it was over when Tracey asked, "Isn't that Astoria? There, in the middle?"
Daphne felt her blood run cold when she recognized her little sister among the group of young students being cursed. Astoria could be an annoying brat, but she was still her sister. Daphne didn't hesitate. "We have to save them!"
Tracey didn't try to talk her best friend out of this. It may have been terribly Gryffindorish to charge into a fight against unknown foes, but sometimes recklessness was unavoidable. "You take the left, I'll take the right," she said, trying to inject a little forethought into their mad charge. Daphne nodded once, and like a flash they were both out the door, moving into position behind the group of four Death Eaters.
She and Tracey had spent hours practicing with the others, but none of that had included tactics — like how to attack a superior force from behind. All they could do was use the spells they had learned and hope that their limited training would suffice. Her pulse was pounding in her head, and her throat was the driest she'd ever felt it, but she resolutely looked over at Tracey and mouthed Now, then they simultaneously incanted "Stupefy!" As soon as two of the wizards dropped to the ground, the other two spun around to see where the attack was coming from.
When they realized they were being threatened by two underaged witches, they smiled ferally. "More volunteers for target practice," one said as he incanted,"Bombarda!" Tracey nimbly dodged his spell while his friend incanted "Enervate!" to revive his two downed companions. Daphne hit him with a second stunner as he did this, but she wanted to scream in frustration because the other two were quickly on their feet.
In the meantime, Tracey had cast a few more stunners at the other wizard, but he shielded himself and then started flinging far nastier curses back. Tracey was forced into constant motion in order to avoid them all, taxing her to her limits.
"Stand still, you little witch!" he called out, apparently expecting his victims to meekly accept being cursed without resistance or protest.
Daphne found herself dodging as well when the two revived wizards started casting their own spells at her, and she mentally thanked Fleur for the viciousness of her training. Just think of practice, she kept chanting to herself. Just think of practice and of dodging Fleur's hexes.
Luckily the two wizards attacking her didn't consider an underaged witch to be much of a threat and so didn't take her seriously. This allowed her to slip in a reductor curse that knocked one off his feet. Before the other could get over his shock, he was hit with a stunner in the back. When he fell, Daphne saw her little sister, one hand holding out her wand and the other clutching her side in obvious pain.
She could only give Astoria a quick smile and nod before incanting "Stupefy!" at the wizard she'd just knocked down. "And stay down this time!" she spat.
Daphne then turned and started casting spells at the wizard who was putting so much pressure on Tracey. He clearly had some skill, but the sudden introduction of incoming fire from a new direction proved to be too much for him. It only took seconds for them to have him stunned and bound. The girls wasted no time in casting new stunners at the rest and binding them as well before checking the younger students for injuries.
Daphne barely had a chance to hug her sister before Jasmine, Hermione, and Gabrielle came running around the corner. It was only a couple of seconds later that Luna appeared as well, wand in hand, letting them know that several of their other friends were already on their way back to the castle.
"But where are the others?" Hermione asked.
It had been a wonderful morning for the girls in Gossypamer & Organza's. Ginny was feeling pampered by getting to buy some expensive clothes, and the two Hufflepuffs were enjoying getting to know the younger Gryffindor. All that was forgotten, though, when a loud commotion drew them to the store's front window. The sight of men in black robes casting curses at people and buildings sent a thrill of fear through them, but whereas the store's workers ran into the back, the three witches looked at each other in an attempt to decide whether they should go out to help.
The screaming of a child made that decision easy. As they exited through the front door, they saw what appeared to be a large family being tortured. All five of the men in black cloaks were facing away from them, apparently not expecting anyone to even try to attack them from behind.
"Stunners?" Hannah asked in a whisper. One thing they'd learned from their research over the summer was that Death Eaters rarely paid much attention to their surroundings — once they had victims cornered, they pursued their pleasure with single-minded fervor.
Susan nodded. "That's easiest. The aurors can interrogate them later." Another thing they'd learned was the importance of getting prisoners to question about future plans — something that had happened far too rarely.
They only needed a few seconds to stun and bind the attackers; even after the first three were down, the other two didn't turn fast enough to prevent their own capture.
"We'd better get back to the main street," Susan said while Hannah checked the family, none of whom had been hurt too badly yet.
"Good idea," Ginny responded. "If people are being attacked here, they're probably being attacked where most of the shopping is. The others might need our help."
Once they had returned to the main shopping area, they almost immediately found and joined the others, with everyone participating in a large group-hug. None of them had had to fight for long and no one from their close-knit group was injured, but it was the first such fight for most of them, and it had been far more stressful and difficult than any of them could have imagined. Throughout their practical defense training exercises, Hermione and Jasmine had repeatedly told them that real fights were fast and brutal — that training could give you the tools you needed to survive, but nothing could truly prepare you for what it was like to fight for your life or the lives of your loved ones.
Everyone had believed them on an intellectual level, but none had fully understood how true their words were. Not until now. As the adrenaline rush began to fade, a few sat heavily on the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted, and one started sobbing for no reason she could immediately discern. Before they could truly calm down, though, the air was filled with loud cracks of apparition.
Instantly all nine witches were on their feet with their wands in their hands. "Protect the others!" Daphne shouted. The witches didn't hesitate to surround the younger students, even as they found themselves encircled by a new crowd of robed figures. Astoria and her friends also pulled their wands, including those who had been injured.
They had just formed a circle with their wands pointed outward when they heard the shout, "Drop your wands!" After the desperate fights they'd already engaged in, none were inclined to heed such a command. Instead, they all tightened their grips, picked targets, and prepared themselves for another battle.
Fortunately for all involved, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward from the newcomers, having already recognized some of the would-be combatants. "Stand down!" he ordered those behind him. "Don't you idiots recognize your own boss's niece? Or if not her, then Jasmine Potter?" This produced a lot of nervous shuffling on the part of the aurors, though they all had the good sense to stop aiming their wands at a group of underaged witches. "Spread out! Look for suspects."
"Auror Shacklebolt?" Susan said, suddenly registering all the red robes around them. Relief washed over her as she sagged a little, then she visibly pulled herself together. "There are five stunned and bound over by Gossypamer & Organza's," she directed him.
"There's another one by Zonko's," Luna added.
"And we have four right—" Just as Susan was gesturing to the stunned and bound wizards who had been taken down by Daphne and Tracey, they all disappeared. "Wha—?"
"Damn!" Shacklebolt exclaimed. "Portkeys of some sort." He turned back to the aurors and barked, "Hurry to those locations to see if any of the rest are still around. If they are, strip them fast to remove any portkeys!" Most of the aurors left at a run while Shacklebolt and two others remained. "Your aunt will be here shortly," he said to Susan. "I sent her a signal right after I recognized you."
The students were all shuffled off to the side of the street, and Shacklebolt started casting diagnostic and healing spells on the injured while the other two cast spells around where the fight had taken place. It was only a few minutes before Amelia Bones arrived with another group of aurors. She quickly pulled her niece into a tight hug.
"What happened?" she asked as she looked around at the friends Susan had told her about at the beginning of the summer.
"We were all shopping in different places," Susan answered, "when we saw or heard people being attacked. So we tried to help. I was with Hannah and Ginny getting clothes."
"Daphne and I were in the bookstore over there," Tracey said as she gestured across the street.
"You should get help or hide when things like that happen," Bones scolded her niece. "You shouldn't rush into danger."
"Maybe not," Susan said as she tried to stand a little straighter, "but none of the adults around here tried to do anything. If we hadn't helped, then others might have been hurt pretty badly. Or killed."
"Or worse," Jasmine interjected. "Three of our friends had slobbering werewolves standing over them, discussing how yummy they looked and how much fun they were going to have with the witches before tucking in for a meal." Everyone went a little green, and Madam Bones didn't have an easy retort to offer.
That didn't stop her from trying, however. "I'm glad you were able to save your friends, but going up against grown wizards is dangerous — never mind werewolves with their enhanced strength and speed, even when they aren't transformed. You were all lucky that you weren't hurt, and you shouldn't trust that you'll be lucky again in the future."
"Of course not," Hermione replied a little indignantly. "That's why we train and practice regularly."
"We'll have to step it up," Daphne said, still standing protectively next to her sister, one arm around Astoria's shoulders. "Madam Bones is right: we were lucky. The wizards Tracey and I fought had their backs to us to start with, and we still had trouble. If this is the sort of thing we have to look forward to in this country in the near future, we need to get better, otherwise things may not go as well next time." The others nodded vigorously in agreement.
Amelia Bones looked taken aback that words intended to discourage the young witches from getting involved in fights had only inspired them to train harder, but her responsibilities meant that she couldn't continue the debate. "Regardless, I think you should all get back to the castle while we start the cleanup. I'll have some people come to interview you all later on today, OK?" After getting another hug, she returned to directing her aurors while the students began the long walk back to school.
Saturday, October 2, 1995, Late Evening.
Albus Dumbledore looked over the students who were spending the night in the Hogwarts hospital wing, cursing the violence and warfare which had brought so much pain to his school. Of course it was going to affect us here in Hogwarts sooner or later, he thought, but I was certain that it would be later — that Tom wouldn't dare make such a move while he was still able to hide the fact that he'd returned. Why did he strike now, risking exposure? And why didn't Severus warn me?
He sighed deeply as he turned away and headed back to his office. Along the way, he pondered the direction the current conflict was going. We're lucky that far more students weren't hurt, he thought, but at the same time, Miss Potter and Miss Granger brutally killed three wizards. Werewolves, to be sure, but also wizards. There's no telling how many of the others were also killed, though most of the girls reported using more appropriate, non-lethal spells.
"Headmaster Dumbledore?" came a voice from behind him, pulling him out of his musings. He turned and saw his new Defense professor approaching. "Are ze injured students alright?"
"Yes, Professor Delacour," he responded, using a more formal form of address because he didn't yet feel comfortable enough to be familiar with her. "I was just stopping by to check on them. The worries of an old man."
Fleur nodded gravely as she began to walk beside him. "It is to your credit zat you worry about all of your students."
"Unfortunately, worrying about them isn't enough to protect them," he replied a bit morosely. "I was glad to see that your sister wasn't injured today."
She flashed a brief smile then, and it struck him as oddly satisfied. "So was I, but I was not surprised. She has received extensive training and is quite formidable."
"I was unaware of that. The same sort of training you have received, I presume?"
"Yes, exactly ze same. I am not sure zat I could beat her in a fight anymore. I am older and more experienced, but she tends to fight with more passion and commitment."
Dumbledore nodded, starting to put a few things together. "If I'm not mistaken, you and your sister have been doing a bit of work with Miss Potter and her friends."
Fleur frowned slightly before responding, "We have all worked together on skills like spellcasting accuracy, yes."
Dumbledore remained silent for a few moments, considering what had been said and what had been left unsaid. Finally he ventured, "It is unfortunate, is it not, that some resort to such violent measures when responding to threats?"
"Indeed," she said. "The Death Eaters are truly a plague upon Britain. I will never understand why zey feel so threatened by ze presence of witches and wizards who are different from zem in some minor way."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I meant the response to the Death Eaters, actually."
"Oh? I always zought that a violent response to ze immediate threat of being tortured, raped, or murdered was appropriate. Violent times breed violent measures."
"I've always said that it's violent men who breed violent times," Dumbledore countered.
"And somehow it is we witches who so often bear ze brunt of ze violence from such men," Fleur pointed out, causing Dumbledore to flinch slightly. She stopped to face him directly, forcing him to stop as well. Her words were clear and precise as she spoke with an intensity he'd not seen in her before. "A victim who reacts violently against oppression and attack is not to be condemned, but at worst pitied for being forced to take such extreme measures. In my studies, I have learned that equating the violent reactions of the victims with the violence of the attackers has always been another tool of oppression. It is how those in positions of power and authority tell the victims that they should stop resisting and simply be happy to be left alive. Conflict in every society is inevitable, but not all those who respond with violence are wrong, and not all those who preach nonviolence are right to do so."
Dumbledore didn't respond, but instead remained silent as she looked around and noticed that they'd already arrived at the cross-corridor near the Defense classrooms. "I'm afraid zis is where we must part ways. Goodnight, Headmaster," Fleur said before walking away with her head held high.
Dumbledore watched her until she turned a corner, weighing her words and wondering if perhaps his decision to eschew violence and killing so long ago was less morally clear-cut than he'd thought.
Voldemort looked down with contempt at the quivering husk of what used to be a promising new Death Eater. He remembered how creative the young wizard had been with the muggle girls the night he'd been marked; now he was more dead than alive, and Voldemort felt nothing for him — he was a failure, like so many of his other followers were. "Dispose of this," he commanded, and two other recruits dragged what remained of the man out of the throne room.
Based on the information he'd managed to rip from the minds of those who had gone on the mission — all but one of whom returned alive, if not standing and victorious — they'd been bested by students. By underaged witches, in fact!
Not that all those who returned alive remained alive, though — not after the Dark Lord was done interrogating them. Voldemort was furious at the incompetence of his servants and wondered if he should be equally furious at Snape. On the one hand, he had provided the original idea for this mission; on the other, he hadn't created the plan of attack. Moreover, he had suggested the use of timed portkeys which ensured that everyone had been able to return.
We shall have to think about what to do with him before summoning him, Voldemort concluded.
Saturday, October 2, 1995, Night.
Gabrielle was alone in the fourth-year girls' dorm, sitting behind sealed bed curtains and staring at the bronze short sword she'd been gifted by Areto in early August. "Use this well," her Amazzi trainer had said. "This was my mother's sword, and it was her mother's before her. I'd be honored if you would carry it into battle in defense of your two charges. I'm proud of how much progress you've made, and I know that you will make not only your family but all the veela proud."
"Would they be proud of me?" Gabrielle whispered. She'd killed today for the first time, an act she'd known she'd end up doing sooner or later — all that training with deadly weapons hadn't been done for physical fitness! — and her tutors had prepared her for that. She'd killed a wizard who'd raised a wand to her charges, a wizard who would have raped, tortured, and/or killed them without a second thought. He deserved to be put down.
Then again, she thought, I killed him without a second thought, so what does that make me? What's more, I don't feel bad about it — which is worse, right?
This was the problem the Sorting Hat had alluded to and which she hadn't wanted to deal with. She was so completely devoted to her part of the prophecy — and to helping Jasmine in particular — that she felt no compunction at the prospect of hurting or even killing anyone who was a threat.
For a while now, she'd been suppressing any concerns about this by reminding herself that such actions were obviously expected, otherwise the prophecy would never have stipulated that the Chosen Couple would need shieldmaidens. Whatever changes had occurred in her psyche to make her this zealous and ruthless had occurred as part of her prophesied bonding to the Couple, and that wouldn't have happened if the goddesses hadn't wanted it, right? If Magic hadn't wanted it?
But if that's the case, why would I be worried about what others would think? she wondered. Would Fleur be proud of what I did? Would Maman? Would... would Jasmine be proud of me and what I've done?
Sunday, October 3, 1995, Morning.
"Hermione?" Ron asked as he sat gingerly at the Gryffindor table.
"Oh, Ron, there you are," Hermione responded. "How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad," he answered as he dished up some breakfast. "Madam Pomfrey said that the wizard who cursed me wasn't very strong, so the aftereffects shouldn't last too long. I'll be sore and twitchy for a few days, but that's it."
"I'm glad to hear that," Jasmine told him. "We were all worried about you."
"Ickle Ronnikins is still a Weasley," one of the twins said as they sat on the other side of the table.
"Even if we've publicly questioned that a few times," said the other.
"Or maybe even more than a few times," the first added.
Ron blushed from the teasing, but pressed on with his original intentions. "Hermione, is your offer to help with extra practice and training still open? I know that there have already been some basic lessons for Gryffindor, but after yesterday..."
"You mean with our study group?" Hermione asked. When he nodded, she said, "Normally we would have met yesterday, but it was delayed until today because of Hogsmeade. So, if you think you're ready, you can join us after breakfast." When Ron hesitated, she went on, "I know you may not be feeling your best, but the sooner you start, the better."
"You'll have to work hard to catch up as it is," Jasmine interrupted, "but the harder you work, the better you'll be. Do you know if Neville or Blaise will be released today?"
Ron shook his head. "Not until tomorrow. They weren't cursed like I was, but they received a lot of injuries in Zonko's and had to be given a ton of Skele-Gro." Jasmine shuddered, remembering her own experience with that potion. After a long moment, Ron finally said, "Yeah, sure... I'll join you today."
On the other side of him, Luna smiled shyly.
Everyone in the study group was surprised when Fleur showed up to the practical defense training with Professor Flitwick. "Good morning, everyone," Flitwick said, "I know I don't normally participate in your practice sessions, but I'm here for a special purpose: to talk to you about what you experienced yesterday. I know your experiences were difficult, but talking about it can not only help you get past the trauma. It will also help you understand what you did right and what you could have done better. I'm told you've already given statements to the aurors, but I would help you approach events from the perspective of learning from them, not simply reporting them."
As he looked around at their skeptical faces, he added, "I've already done this with Miss Potter and Miss Granger, and it's helped them." All the skepticism fell away when the others saw Jasmine and Hermione nod in agreement. "Alright then," Flitwick continued, "Let's sit so we can be comfortable as we talk. Who'd like to begin?"
Jasmine volunteered to start things off since she'd done it the most. This was the first time any of the others except Padma had heard that the werewolves encountered by Jasmine and Hermione had been killed instead of simply stunned, and it shocked them quite a bit.
After listening to her story, Flitwick said, "Normally I wouldn't agree with resorting to deadly force right from the start, but from what you heard I suspect that they'd killed young girls before — and probably quite a few times. Werewolves are also somewhat resistant to magic, and that's in addition to their enhanced physical strength and speed, so low-level spells might not have worked. You needed to start with a strong attack regardless, and while your choice was quite brutal, it was reasonable under the circumstances."
Padma went next, and her story was short, given how quickly she and her friends had been incapacitated. Overwhelmed by emotion from the memory of what had almost happened to her, her sister, and her sister's best friend, she got up and hugged the two witches who had saved them.
Once the others had told their stories, Flitwick looked around and asked them what they thought they could have done better or might change if they had to relive the same day over. Daphne was the first to respond. "I'd use something other than a stunner — something that couldn't be easily cancelled."
Flitwick nodded. "That's a good observation. When fighting multiple opponents, anything that can be easily countered or undone can bring a downed opponent right back into the fight. So you are always faced with the decision: should you use a weaker spell that won't hurt your opponents much but will put you at substantially greater risk, or should you use a stronger spell that will cause greater injuries but reduce the risk to yourself?"
"This is something that I've talked to Miss Potter and Miss Granger about numerous times," the diminutive professor continued, "but it's clearly something you'll have to wrestle with as well if you are going to get involved in some of the situations that affect them."
"What would you have done, Professor?" Hannah asked. "What sorts of spells would you have used?" She, more than anyone else, had the most trouble with the idea of going into a fight. She had been willing to back Susan the previous day, and the presence of Ginny had given her more courage, but it had still been hard on her.
"That's a difficult question for me to answer, Miss Abbot," he replied. "I'm quite a bit more powerful and experienced than the rest of you. I'm also a lot faster and more accurate. I could have afforded to use less dangerous spells because I would have known that I could take them down without causing them serious injury. You, however, have fewer options."
He looked around at them and thought for a few moments, then concluded, "In your place, with what I know about your skills, I would have used the strongest spells I knew that wouldn't have put any innocent victims in danger — and that's something you need to keep in mind. Almost all of you were facing opponents with victims right on the other side, always at risk from stray spells."
"Do you have any recommendations?" Padma asked.
Flitwick nodded. "In most cases, a strong reductor curse or blasting curse will put an opponent down, but you need to aim high and accurately to avoid innocent victims. Fire spells can transfer flames to victims too easily. Beyond that, well..." He trailed off and looked uneasily at Jasmine and Hermione. "There are other spells designed to cause more serious harm to opponents. They aren't truly dark spells, but by their nature they aren't light, either. They are usually taught to aurors, hit wizards, and people in similar occupations: cutting curses, bone breaking curses, that sort of thing."
"Do they make that much of a difference?" Tracey asked. "I mean, those other spells can break bones too, right?"
Instead of answering immediately, Flitwick looked again at Jasmine and Hermione. "Yes, they can make a big difference," Jasmine finally said. "Last term we told you about how Hermione and I had been learning more serious spells in case we were attacked. General purpose spells may break bones, but they may not. A spell designed for that purpose will hurt a person more quickly and seriously — that's why they're so effective."
"It's also why they aren't to be fooled with," Hermione added. "They're not only dangerous for your opponents, but for you as well if you aren't careful. They require that you be able to accurately visualize the specific sort of damage you want to inflict. Being able to do that changes you, even if you use such spells with the best of intentions."
Flitwick nodded in approval.
"Can we learn those?" Susan asked. "I'm familiar with such spells because of my auntie, but I've never been taught any of them."
"I think that Professor Delacour here will be able to teach you the general spells quite well," Flitwick replied, "but I'm reluctant to teach the rest of you the more serious spells. Miss Potter and Miss Granger absolutely needed to learn them, and that's been proven. The rest of you, though, have a choice about whether to get involved with this conflict."
"I disagree," Susan asserted. "These aren't random criminals that are running around, causing trouble. They're terrorists. This is a war — a civil war. Unless someone manages to eliminate You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters quickly, we'll all be drawn into this war sooner or later. No one's completely safe."
"We can't choose whether we'll be involved or not," Tracey added. "We can only choose how prepared we'll be and how well we can defend ourselves when the war finally comes to us."
"Or more accurately, comes to us again," Daphne pointed out, and there were murmurs of agreement all around.
Jasmine and Hermione traded a look, recognizing the same arguments and issues they had struggled with last term. At the same time, Fleur placed her hand lightly on Flitwick's shoulder and said, "We should talk later." The Charms professor inclined his head, then told the others that he'd let them know his decision soon.
After that, Flitwick decided to stay for the rest of the meeting to help supervise the practice. While he, Fleur, and Gabrielle ran the others through accuracy and dodging drills, Hermione and Jasmine worked with Ron in order to get him up to speed as quickly as possible. Because of the residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse, he couldn't move or aim as well as he normally would be able to, but he still managed to improve, and they promised to keep working with him.
Before the group broke up, they agreed to move the first mass DA meeting to that coming Friday evening. Because of the attacks in Hogsmeade, interest in the DA had increased quite a bit with many more students — especially the younger ones — asking about opportunities to practice defensive spells. Classes with Fleur had taught everyone a lot so far, but now they knew that they needed more.
Sunday, October 3, 1995, Late Night.
Severus Snape's hands trembled as he poured himself a dose of a special potion he'd developed to help him deal with the aftereffects of repeated exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. It didn't eliminate the pain, sensitivity, or shaking, but it did minimize them, making it easier for him to maintain his impassive facade. After quickly downing the potion, he carefully poured himself a large measure of firewhiskey and sat by his fire to wait for the curse's effects to subside.
He hadn't been surprised when he was called to the Dark Lord's side that morning; if anything, he wondered why he hadn't been called the night before. Once he'd learned how the Death Eaters have been subdued by a bunch of students, he knew that he'd be paying the price sooner or later. His fear increased exponentially when the Dark Lord informed him that Thaddeus Nott had died during the raid, his body being returned via portkey like the others.
It seemed that it was only his suggestion that they use automatic, timed portkeys that saved him from the Dark Lord's wrath, though now he'd have to inform Nott's son about what happened.
Luckily for him, Nott had been the one who had brought in the three werewolves — without Snape's knowledge and against his original recommendation, too. The Dark Lord had agreed with Snape that bringing in werewolves would have caused problems for the long-term plan and would have severely punished Nott had he made it back alive. As it was, he took out his anger on Travers for having helped.
The mission hadn't been a success, but it hadn't been a complete failure, either. The Death Eaters had terrorized the village as they were supposed to do and had spread the idea that they were working for Sirius Black. Not terrorizing everyone a bit more was a minor issue. Being embarrassed by a bunch of underaged witches was far worse, but not something Snape was blamed for — those who had been brought down by the witches suffered for that failure, not him.
Now, though, I have to identify the witches and explain how and why they were able to fight so well, Snape thought. I didn't dare tell him that I recognized them all immediately in the memory, much less that a couple of them were in Slytherin! None of them were especially skilled, but they were more skilled than the Dark Lord's servants expected. That allowed them to win more by surprise than anything else. Still, they were better than they should have been. I have no idea what they would all... Potter! Snape groaned in annoyance. One thing they all have in common is spending more time with Potter!
That is not something I can go back to tell the Dark Lord, he concluded. That's not the sort of news you deliver and then walk away alive. I'll need to find out more about what those stupid witches are doing, but I'll also need a better explanation to go back with next time. He hoped he could find one.