Oh wow, guys. I cannot begin to thank all of you for your amazing comments on that last chapter. I may have cackled every time I got a message with one of you tweaking out. XD But seriously, confession time - I had just heard back from my choice university the day before I posted that chapter. It was for a Creative Writing Masters program and it was the only university I applied to, and they pretty much flat out rejected me. I was feeling really shitty about my writing, but all of your amazing comments made me feel loads better. So this is just me saying a quick thank you. I greatly appreciate seeing your reactions and hearing what you think. It was exactly what I needed at the time, so I cannot express how much it meant to me. Anyway, here is my apology for the cliffhanger. We get some action back up in here and shit's about to get crazy interesting, so sit back and enjoy the ride. Let me know what you think!
Chapter Eight
John gaped up at Teddy, mouth open wide and eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He blinked slowly, making a deliberate point to calm his suddenly racing heart before clearing his throat to speak. "Edward Remus Lupin, I need you to say that again and slowly. You said which is a what?"
"The blond one, she's a metamorphmagus, John, I swear to you." Teddy's words tumbled from his mouth almost before John could finish his question. "I'm absolutely certain. Whoever she is, she's a metamorphmagus, and a strong one at that. I swear on my parents' graves I'm telling the truth."
John's eyes clenched shut as he shook his head. "Fucking hell, you have to be kidding me. You can't actually be saying Mary is a metamorphmagus, that's she a fucking…a fucking witch! I have known her for almost two years now, Teddy, she cannot be a witch, that is not even bloody possible!"
"Who is she?" Teddy craned his neck around John as though he could peer into the kitchen where Mary and Sherlock were talking without being noticed. "Does she know you're a wizard and hasn't said anything?"
"That woman is my wife!" John seethed, hands coiled into fits at his sides. "And I ought to know absolutely bloody everything about her since I read every fucking document on that damn bastard of a flash drive!" John made to turn and storm into the kitchen, but Teddy jerked him back around to focus on him. John's breaths came in deep and jagged as he silently fumed.
"John, hold on. She's a metamorphmagus…is there any way she could be involved…in the murders? The ones that just so happened to start popping back up?" John's eyes flew up to Teddy's, an expression of mixed disgust and horror etched in the faint lines of his face. "Yeah, sorry, no, I just…it's probably a coincidence – "
"There's no such thing as coincidences." John released a shivering breath before composing himself with a strong sniff of his nose and a straightening of his spine. He grasped Teddy firmly by his shoulders. "Ted, listen to me. We need to get Sherlock and Cecy out of here as soon as possible. Do not let Mary see you, understand? Ring Harry as quick as you can, tell him to get a force of Aurors here right away." He steeled himself with a firm squeeze of Teddy's shoulders and made to enter the kitchen. Teddy briefly halted him with a somewhat choked noise.
"No, Merlin, John, I didn't mean to insinuate…just because she's a metamorphmagus, doesn't mean she's the one behind the attacks! I'm sorry, I jumped to conclusions, but don't just send them after her because of this one thing – "
"It isn't just the one thing, though, lad. She's tried to kill Sherlock before and damn near succeeded." John's voice went deadly quiet, so that not even Teddy could hear him. "I nearly lost him twice before, I'll be damned if I let someone take him from me again." Taking a last calming breath, he plastered what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile on his face and walked into the kitchen.
Mary had sat in the empty seat next to Sherlock while John and Teddy spoke. She glanced up from talking with Sherlock when she heard John enter, a giant grin on her face. It took quite a significant amount of John's military training to keep his smile from wavering at her response. "There you are, John. Who's this friend of yours, then? Anyone I know?"
"It's a case, actually," John quickly explained. He glanced down at Sherlock, whose only response was a single raised eyebrow. "Something we really need to take care of, unfortunately. Are you done at work already?"
"No, just on my lunch and thought I'd stop by. I was kind of hoping to join you two for a bit. But if you're busy, I can head out on my own, maybe see if Mrs. Hudson's free for a bite. I wouldn't want to bother you if you're on a case."
"That might be best. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind at least a spot of tea, since we've really been too busy with this mess to even send her a quick hello in passing. I'll pop in down there when we head out to say a goodbye if you're still there."
"Sounds great." Mary stood and placed a kiss on Cecelia's forehead. "She won't cause you any trouble while you're out, will she? I know the girls at the clinic wouldn't mind if it's only an afternoon."
"No worries, Cecy's fine," John was quick to reply. His haste caused a questioningly raised eyebrow from Mary, but she shrugged it off with an easy grin. She patted Sherlock's shoulder, placed a small kiss on Cecelia's head, and headed back down the stairs with a final wave. John's relieved release of breath was drowned out in her footsteps.
"What happened?" Sherlock muttered, the only sign of possible agitation showing in the slight increase of pressure around Cecelia as he held her closer.
"Mary's a metamorphmagus; Teddy spotted her instantly. We need to get the both of you out of here, Mrs. Hudson too if we can." John reached into his sleeve to pull out his wand. "I don't know how much you've read on it, but I'm making you a Portkey. I'll set it for five minutes from now to take you to Harry's. That's going to be our best option for the moment."
Sherlock began stroking an enormous hand down Cecelia's back without noticing he had begun the motion. "But it wasn't on the drive. Everything on Mary's past, everything to know, was on that drive."
"There isn't time, Sherlock. I need to get you two someplace safe." He searched around the room before settling on the kettle, muttering, "Portus!" with a focused expression. The kettle shuttered briefly, but John was satisfied the spell had worked properly. He turned back to Sherlock, who watched him with a mixture of amazement and uncertainty. "Right, this is going to be uncomfortable, but with Cecelia it's the best way. In five minutes, you'll need to touch the kettle, exactly five minutes, understand? You'll feel yourself being pulled away, sort of a bit like a fish on a line, and it'll send you to Harry's house. I've already put a fairly strong Griping Charm on the wrap, but you'll want to take hold of Cecy pretty firmly just in case. The spell will transport both of you, but you'll take the brunt of the pressure of it."
"What do you plan on doing? Approaching her? I'm not leaving you to face off against her alone, John."
"And I'll not let her do to you what she did to the others!" John paused to compose himself and grasped Sherlock's arm tightly. "Look, Teddy's contacting Harry and the Aurors, they should be along right at the same time you're off. But I'm not risking you or Cecy getting hurt in whatever might happen." John's grip tightened, impossible as Sherlock thought it could be. "Please, Sherlock, I need to know the two of you are safe. I can't risk it, not again."
Sherlock's expression wavered between determined and something John couldn't quite place. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, they heard footsteps coming back up the stairs and Mary call out. "Hey Sherlock, have you got any honey up here? Mrs. Hudson was out and I was wondering – " Her statement cut off with a strangled noise. The next thing they knew, she let out a muttered, "Shit!" and came rocketing into the living room, heading straight at Teddy. Just as she'd climbed up, Teddy passed the still open doorway and their eyes had locked in sudden clarity. Both of them reached for their wands at the same moment, Teddy diving instinctively for the couch as a makeshift shield.
John shoved Sherlock and Cecelia under the table, shooting out as many protective spells around the three of them he could think of. He glanced down at his watch and muttered a dull curse under his breath. At the same time as Mary and Teddy began volleying a series of curses back and forth at each other, the front door downstairs burst open and Harry's voice called up at them. John could tell his shields were wavering, his magic overused after such a long time being ignored. Silently hoping Harry and the Aurors would look after Teddy, John wrapped an arm tightly around Sherlock's waist and stared him directly in the eyes. "I swear to God, if you let go, I'll personally kill you myself," he stated with a firm squeeze around Sherlock's middle before clenching his eyes shut and Apparating them all away.
The trip may have been quicker that way, but that didn't make it any easier. John was moderately talented at Apparating back when they took their tests, but unfortunately seventeen was farther away at this point in his life than it was close. They landed with a dull thump in front of the statue honoring James and Lily, a spot where John knew there were anti-Muggle charms in place. Instantly he let go of Sherlock to check on him and Cecelia, wary of any potential splinching from the sudden and unexpected form of transport. Both seemed fine, if slightly shaken, and John could finally take in his own state.
His leg seared with pain once he had enough focus to attend to it. The curse he'd taken there during the final battle nearly always hurt after he Apparated, whether from the spell itself or from the rough landing. It gave out on him suddenly now, causing Sherlock to shoot out a free arm to help steady him to the ground. John leaned back against the base of the statue to stretch his leg out, cringing as the pull of rough muscles sent spasms of pain through his leg.
"John? Are you okay? Tell me what I should do." Sherlock fluttered anxiously at his side, seemingly unable to stop moving as he darted from being down at John's feet to up and studying his face. He stilled instantly when John reached out to grasp his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"I'm fine, Sherlock, it's fine. The residual curse always acts up a bit when I Apparate. Bringing the two of you along just added a bit more pressure is all. Give me a minute to rest and I'll be fine."
Sherlock's slight shaking finally melted into ease at John's comforting words. "That was Apparation, then? You weren't concerned about splinching?"
"Oh, I was plenty concerned, I just didn't have much choice. The Portkey didn't activate for another two minutes and I didn't want the two of you to get caught up in the crossfire. How's she doing?" John nodded at Cecelia resting in her wrap on Sherlock's chest. He pulled back the starry fabric enough to reveal her face, bright and thoughtful as ever. She stared out at them curiously, her eyes eventually roaming above their heads to where the statue loomed. She began to babble up at the stone figures, fingers poking and prodding at thin air as she gestured up at it.
"She appears to be well," Sherlock replied, running an enormous hand over her head in a manner meant more to comfort himself than anything. He followed her eyes up to where they focused and studied the statue, squinting up at it with a few sharp blinks. "Rather unusual place for a statue, since there are only a few random dottings of houses along this lane. Where are we anyway?"
"Godric's Hollow – it's where Harry and his family live. His parents were living here when they were killed, so the statue is in memory of them." John cocked his head to the side with a frown. "Hold on, it's got enchantments on it so only wizards can see it. It's not just an obelisk to you?"
"I am familiar with obelisks, John, and if this is one, it is a failure as a piece of artwork. There are three people, a man, woman, and child. I'm assuming this is a young Harry with his parents, from what you've said."
John nodded and attempted to stand with difficulty. "Yeah, right before they were killed. It's odd that you can see –" He staggered and almost fell, but Sherlock snatched at his arm just in time. "Thanks. I might need some help getting to the house; it's not far away, but my leg is damn stiff."
Without a word, Sherlock threw John's arm around his shoulders, body slightly bent to accommodate their height difference. John angled them in what he thought was the right direction from Harry's last descriptions to him and they set off. They were lucky they arrived at midday on a pleasant weekend in August, otherwise the street might have been crawling with wizards and Muggles alike. The sudden appearance of two men, one slightly injured and the other carrying a baby, would have been likely to cause more than a few raised eyebrows.
John led them down a side street to their left, pointing at a moderate sized house a few doors down. "I think that's them – check the number, we're looking for 183." They confirmed their search with the neatly printed mailbox, three shining gold numbers spelling out the correct location from two houses away. It took them a bit to hobble down the pavement, but Sherlock was surprisingly patient with John as he set himself a rhythm of movement and kept himself to it. Sherlock pushed the blue gate at the front of the house open for John at the same moment a fiery haired woman burst from the home to run out and meet them.
"Thank Merlin you're here, John, Harry was horrified something had happened," she exclaimed, rushing forward to take John's other arm. "What happened? How did you get here?"
"I set up a Portkey for Sherlock and Cecelia originally, but we ran out of time," John began to explain. "Mary and Teddy were already exchanging fire, I had to get us out as quick as I could. I managed to Apparate us to the square, but the spell set my old curse off."
The woman nodded sympathetically and led them inside. The house was homey and open, mostly decorated with photographs and the occasional painting than anything overly dramatic. As they maneuvered John into a chair in the living room, three bodies raced in from the back of the house, all jabbering loudly at the same time.
"Mum! Mum! Where'd Dad go, Mum? Do you think he'll still be able to give me that flying lesson this afternoon? Mum, he promised he would!"
"Mum, can I go over to Rose and Hugo's today? Hugo says they've got some bowtruckles living in the trees in their backyard and Aunt Hermione is going to teach us about them! I won't be out late, I swear!"
"Muuuuuuum, James took my copy of Quidditch Through the Ages again! He says he hasn't, but there are tea stains in it, and I never read it and drink tea at the same time! There was that one time, but it was a completely different book, and these stains don't look right! James uses more milk than me and the stains are way too light to be from my tea!"
"Okay, you monsters, enough!" Though a fairly unassuming woman in stature, their mother commanded the room to silence with the boom of her shout. The three children immediately fell silent, all gazing up at her with expectant and eager faces. "Lily, you're more than welcome to go over to see Rose and Hugo as long as Aunt Hermione has said it's okay. Al, I'll clean up your book in just a moment, even though I've seen you spilling tea on the thing more times than I can remember. And James, he's off to London for work, but I don't know how long he'll be gone. If I get a chance, I'll show you some moves myself. You're built more like a Chaser than a Seeker anyway." She stared at each of them in turn before making a shooing motion with her hands. "Well, off with you all, then! I have things here to take care of!"
"Is that Uncle John?" Lily, the youngest looking and only girl of the there, peered around her mother's raised arms to glance at John. "Uncle John, what's wrong? Did one of your mean robber men hurt you again?"
The woman let out a sigh of exasperation and lowered her arms in defeat. John chuckled and motioned the children on. "All right, you three, come on now, listen to your mum. I'll visit with you in a bit, if I get the chance. Maybe tell you a few new stories about the robber men?" The trio let out a cheer and dashed off, continuing to yell and stomp about until the sound was abruptly cut off by the crash of a sliding door opening and closing not far away. They could faintly hear them playing outside, but the noises made the homey scene complete. The woman chuckled weakly and fell into a chair, motioning for Sherlock to do the same. He did so tentatively, his instincts setting him on alert. As he sat, he slid Cecelia from her wrap to properly hold her, an unintentional anchor as he studied the woman and John.
"You're Harry Potter's wife," he stated before she could begin. "Obviously a Weasley. I remember from what I've read that you're the first female born into the family in quite a few generations. The descriptions of your hair do not exaggerate." His focus settled on John, who had slumped so far into his chair that it threatened to pull him into its depths. "Please tell me you are not corrupting these children with your ridiculous reenactments of our cases and simplifying them down to mere 'robber stories.'"
"You do realize that Lily's just seven, yeah? And James is only just eleven a few months ago, Sherlock, he's not even at Hogwarts yet and he's the bloody oldest. They don't even really realize the bits I tell them are actually true; I'm not about to traumatize them by including every single gory detail. They spend enough time just worrying about their father. They don't need to worry about me too."
"I'm sorry, you're Sherlock, right?" the woman interrupted with a grin. "And yeah, I'm Ginny. I'll tell you one thing, Mr. Holmes, John may change things a bit in his retellings, but he certainly has your characterization on point."
John shot her a weak smile and covered his eyes with a hand. "I'd never neglect the opportunity to show someone how amazing he is, and he's naturally exaggerated enough just being himself for me to change anything. I need to get back to 221b to make sure it's going all right."
Sherlock stood at the same moment John did, passing Cecelia over to a baffled Ginny without sparing her a glance. "Excellent idea, we ought to help Harry and his Aurors. If they're anything like Lestrade's bunch of idiots, they'll need it."
"No, you're staying here," John replied firmly, fixing Sherlock with a dark look and jabbing a single finger back at his chair. "You're not a wizard, Sherlock, you can't stand up to this sort of thing properly. Not that you should stand up to a load of men with guns and knives, but this one's particularly out of your element. Do as you're supposed to for once and let the proper authorities handle it."
"For God's sake, I'm not entirely helpless, John, and this is as much of a concern for me as it is for you. You're not leaving without me; this is far too excellent an opportunity – "
"She's killed you once by Muggle means and I'm not going to give her the chance to do it again!" John roared, bringing Sherlock to a stunned halt. He approached Sherlock as he yelled, only stopping when they were so close that the tips of their shoes touched. John pulled in a ragged breath that fluttered across Sherlock's cheek when he released it, causing Sherlock to instinctively shudder. When he spoke, it was barely loud enough for even Sherlock to hear. "She will never be allowed to hurt you again. As long as I'm alive and breathing, she will never hurt us again."
Sherlock studied John's face, eyes alive with determination. The expression dulled down Sherlock's own agitation, making way for a wave of warmth he refused to analyze too fully. Instead, he gave John a sharp nod. "If you get hurt, I will never forgive you."
John's returning smile radiated affection. "Yes you will. It's what we do – get ourselves into mischief just for the other so we can both come back home." He reached out a hand to take Sherlock's in a tight but brief squeeze before taking a step back and Apparating away. Sherlock let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and stood frozen until the sound of Ginny clearing her throat caused him to jump.
"Yeah, I feel the same way every time Harry leaves for Auror business," she said conversationally, gently rocking Cecelia back and forth in her arms. "Care for some tea?"
John and Harry returned together later that night, both looking drained but otherwise unscathed. Ginny led them into the kitchen where she and Sherlock had spent most of the afternoon together. The two got on surprisingly well, Ginny talking just enough and about the right sorts of subjects to keep Sherlock engaged and distracted. He even helped her to prepare dinner, Cecelia strapped across his chest as he moved through the kitchen with ease, though Sherlock make her promise not to tell John. They'd been chatting about some of Sherlock's cases when the familiar popping of Apparation came from the living room and Harry called out.
"Gin? You still up, love?"
Sherlock met John out in the living room, giving Harry and Ginny a few moments alone in the kitchen. The calming sound of their faint conversation just barely carried out to them as they both glanced the other over anxiously. "It went well – Teddy and Mrs. Hudson are both fine. But…"
Sherlock stepped toward John, slowly squinting down into his slightly lowered face. "She escaped."
John could only nod, refusing to meet Sherlock's eyes as he lowered the pair of duffle bags from his shoulders. "I grabbed some of your things, mostly a bit of clothing and the books I brought that I knew you hadn't read yet, and collected some of my things that were still at the flat. Luckily we keep Cecelia's diaper bag fairly organized – she should be set for a bloody month with the amount of stuff in that thing."
"John, look at me." Sherlock's voice was low but stern, and John let out a sigh of acceptance before letting his blue eyes drift up to Sherlock's own. They were a dark blue in the semidarkness of the living room, similar in shade to John's.
"You can't deduce it?" John asked, attempting a weak smile at his failed attempt to joke. When Sherlock's only reply was to continue to stare at him unblinkingly, John huffed and crossed his arms. "Right, yes, she got away, are you happy? By the time I got back, they'd managed to get Teddy and Mrs. Hudson safely out – Teddy did a fantastic job, by the way, managed to dodge and deflect every curse Mary sent at him – but she was going mad up there, yelling and shooting spells at anything she could find. The place is a mess - not that it wasn't already - but they finally managed to get the wand from her. She didn't change once through the whole thing except for her eyes. They switched from color to color faster than you could keep track."
"But she had her wand. That means she couldn't possibly be the metamorphmagus we're looking for, unless the wand we have isn't hers or she managed to get a new one."
"That's what I thought as well, until I heard what it was she was yelling. Just…constant apologies, my name, your name, my parents' names, all mish mashed together in a jumble. None of it made a bit of sense, but why would she be apologizing if she wasn't involved?"
"She may not have wanted to be," Sherlock mused. He hadn't realized how close they were to each other until John's head thumped down on his shoulder, causing him to blink down in surprise. He tentatively reached a hand up to stroke at the nape of John's neck with his fingertips, the pads barely touching the fine hairs on his skin. John shivered but melted into Sherlock's shoulder, so he continued. "There's every possibility that she was forced to be involved. It wouldn't be the first time."
"Because her real background of being an assassin, which actually turned out to be fake, wasn't bad enough." John chuckled, but the sound was hollow. "Just once, it would be nice to have something in my life turn out at least a bit normal."
"Normal is boring," Sherlock murmured into John's hair. "You'd never be able to settle for normal."
"As dreadfully touching as this little scene is, I have pressing business to attend to and really do not intend to spend all of my evening in Godric's Hollow." The drawling voice behind Sherlock caused them both to snap around, mouths gaping. Perfectly tailored as always and umbrella in hand, Mycroft Holmes stood stiffly in the kitchen doorway, a mixture of amusement and disgust warring on his face.
"The fuck?" John yelped, jumping away from Sherlock as though he were on fire. "Mycroft…why…"
"Oh, how ridiculous of me!" Sherlock proclaimed with a roll of his eyes. "I ought to have realized it when you came to visit after McGonagall. What are you, then, official cake tester to wizardkind?"
"Head of Muggle Relations, actually," Mycroft replied with the hint of a sneer. "I am the go-between. The British Government is not the only one to whom I owe a small part of my loyalty."
Sherlock snorted and crossed his arms, not unlike a petulant child. "You probably knew of this whole case the entire time and purposefully kept it from me. You should know by now, Mycroft, that if it's to do with John, I'll always manage to find my way in."
John couldn't help the small grin that formed at the comment. "I realize it shouldn't really surprise me anymore when you somehow manage to be involved, but here we are again. But you're not a wizard?"
Mycroft shook his head. "I am afraid not. I merely exemplify the Muggle half of Muggle/wizard relations. Though our bloodline does have a spotting of magical background, I've been told."
Sherlock's interest piqued at the offhand comment. "What sorts of background?"
"Now's not the time," Mycroft said with the wave of his hand. "Since the incident occurring at Baker Street this afternoon related to both a wizard and Muggle, it is my responsibility to see to it that the Muggle in particular is protected until the suspect is apprehended. I assume, John, you can be counted on to act as Sherlock's protection, as always."
"As always," John echoed with a stiff nod and clench of his jaw. "But where are we going to? Obviously 221b is out, seeing as Mary would expect us there, and the same goes with our flat. And it isn't exactly private that Harry lives in Godric's Hollow."
"You can use Grimmauld Place if you need to," Harry interjected. He and Ginny emerged from behind Mycroft with their arms linked. Harry's face was visibly a touch more pink than usual, suggesting that talking was not the only thing that had been done while they were alone. "I've kept it up over the years, including some of the more tame protection charms on it, and the only ones who know about it were in the Order."
"I'd much rather it be somewhere with a few other wizards on hand, honestly," John said, shooting Sherlock a peculiar glance. Sherlock's face turned thoughtful as he continued. "Just to be safe, particularly since Mary will most likely be looking for Cecy."
"Precisely why I contacted Minerva McGonagall earlier and asked if she had some spare room for the three of you," Mycroft stated with finality. "As soon as you both are ready, Harry and I are to conduct you both safely to Hogwarts."
Sherlock's face lit up with excitement at the news. "I was under the impression that Muggles couldn't even approach Hogwarts, let alone enter it."
"While typically that is the case, concessions have been made due to the circumstances. It's useful this all came about while school wasn't in session so that the professors could take the time to alter the charms around the grounds. Obviously once you arrive, certain rules will be set in place to ensure that you…don't inflict too much mayhem on the property or towards the professors. You'll be expected to be on your absolute best behavior, Sherlock; though the thought is nightmare inducing, I am not afraid to take you away if you cause too much mischief and secure you in one of my own personal bunkers."
"Heaven forbid we allow that to happen. I've spent enough time locked away in one of those with your people to last me multiple lifetimes." Sherlock shivered visibly, causing Mycroft to roll his eyes. He snatched up one of the bags John had brought and darted his gaze between John and Harry. "Well, should we be off? No time like the present."
"Sherlock at Hogwarts…dear God, I hope you all know what you're getting into here," John muttered. He huffed out a sigh and took Cecelia from Ginny's waiting arms with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Gin, really. Tell the kids I give them my love."
"Good luck, John. Stop by any time – we've missed seeing you around more often. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock."
Sherlock held out a hand to shake Ginny's, surprising them all. "I admit that this eventful little evening was not as misused as I originally expected. It is good to see that not all of John's acquaintances are as dull as many of them unfortunately turn out to be."
John rolled his eyes and linked an arm through his elbow. "He means thank you. And to think, you were doing so well. Pleasant, even."
"I'd hate to disappoint you by acting too out of character," Sherlock replied with a small grin. Ginny eyed them with raised brows, a tiny smile curling at the edge of her lips. Mycroft merely smirked before setting a delicate hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek before turning to John.
"Outside the Three Broomsticks sound okay?" he asked, grabbing another of their bags and slinging it over his shoulder. "It shouldn't be too busy this time of night, and we can walk up to the school from there. Are you sure you'll be okay taking Sherlock as well?"
"Sounds good, and I'll be fine." John glanced up at Sherlock, who was watching him intently. "All set? Hopefully this trip will go a bit more steadily than the last." Sherlock's only response was to grip John's arm tighter against his side. John gave him a quick nod and the three Apparated away.