An echoing pop rang out through the silent stands of the Third Task. The cool summer air brushed against Severus Snape's left forearm, the one he was keeping concealed behind his back.
The hedges sank into the earth, leaving the barren Quidditch pitch behind. The Third Task was over. There was a stinging sensation coursing through his veins. The Dark Lord had summoned his followers. Karkaroff had made eye contact with him not long ago. Severus hadn't seen the man since.
He looked down pleadingly at the scene before him. His heart sank. It was only Delacour who had returned. She was quivering with body-wracking sobs. Ministry officials were rushing down to meet her. The wretched oaf Black was holding back the press. Potter hadn't returned. Neither had Weasley.
He needed Potter to be safe. For himself but for Lily as well. He'd made a promise, and he'd done his best to act neutral towards Potter since that first Potions lesson back in September. As far as he was concerned, Lily was alive and counting on the living to help her son. He would do so.
Until the end.
Luck was not on Severus Snape's side, however.
The girl was speaking in horse tones to Madame Maxime. Severus knew what they discussed. The Dark Lord had returned, and something had happened to Potter and Weasley.
Black was down there with Delacour now. He was attempting to calm her. Even from this distance, Severus recognized the wand motion for a translation charm.
What had happened to Potter and Weasley? Were they both alive? Had they escaped? There were far too many unknowns at the front of Severus's mind.
Well, Potter had Lily in his head. Surely that would count for something.
There was another trickle of thought making its way through Severus's mind, however.
Narcissa.
She had to know. She had to know the danger she was in. Once the Dark Lord retrieved Lucius, he'd be able to locate Narcissa and Draco through Lucius's dark mark.
Eyeing the situation appraisingly, he sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen for the adults to make intelligent decisions while he was away. He descended from the staff booth and strode as quickly as possible without breaking out into a run towards the gates of Hogwarts.
They seemed excruciatingly far, but he persevered. He made it to the gates and felt himself fall through Hogwarts' wards. Thinking Crail, Fife, he turned on the spot with an inaudible pop.
The village came into view, and he stumbled slightly upon arrival. He hadn't apparated this far in a very long time. The scent of the sea confirmed his location even through the gloom. He rushed forward through the streets. The street lamps cast odd shadows as his cloaked form bustled past. Few people cluttered the streets. It was late, and there was no reason for the muggles to be meandering about. He passed a small cafe, inspecting the address as he went by. He was close.
Narcissa had sent him a letter by owl containing information regarding her new residence. He was Draco's godfather, after all.
Her flat was immediately next to the café, and he quickly clambered up the steps.
The door held a plain brass knocker. It was mildly hilarious that a woman of such repute had gone from a splendid manor home in Wales to a dingy flat above a café. Ignoring the knocker, he wrapped his fist against the door four times, with a fifth knock following the fourth after a moment's hesitation. It was what they'd decided upon for their confirmation knock long before Draco arrived at Hogwarts.
He heard the faint rustling of footsteps before the door creaked open, its chain preventing it from swinging all the way.
A single grey eye stared back at him. Her elegant hair was visible beyond, and a smidge of her pointed nose made its presence known in the minute crack.
Her eye widened before the door shut. Severus waited through the sounds of her disconnecting the privacy chain and opening the door further.
"Severus," she greeted with a confused sigh. Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him.
Severus ignored this and pushed passed her into the flat. It was sparsely decorated, and he couldn't understand why. Potter had left her plenty of gold to fund her expensive lifestyle, surely, she'd have continued with it.
Instead, he walked into a room with little colour and cheap furnishings. The muggle kitchen had been modified somewhat to incorporate magical appliances, but for the most part, Severus felt as though he'd entered the Evans's house again.
"What do I… owe the pleasure?" she asked hesitantly. "I gave you my address a while ago… I thought you'd visit sooner,"
Severus began to pace back and forth. He didn't know how to broach the subject. Come to think of it, he should have brought Draco with him. That would have been the intelligent thing to do. Merlin, how had he allowed that oversight? He was a fool!
"Severus?" she said again. "Severus, what is it? It's the third task tonight. I was listening over the wireless. Delacour just got back with the cup, I thought-"
"He's back," Severus muttered. It was loud enough to interrupt her external musings and caused her to falter in the step she'd taken towards him.
"Voldemort?" Narcissa asked in a fearful whisper.
"Do not speak his name," he snapped.
Narcissa's left eyelid twitched and she glared at Severus. "Tell me,"
Severus swallowed, focusing intently on the floor, his pacing forgotten. He slowly lifted his eyes to hers and they shone with such a brilliant fury that his breath caught for a moment.
For the first time since he'd initially discovered her motivations, he could truly see that Narcissa Malfoy had chosen her side.
Absently, he scratched at the mark on his left forearm. Narcissa's eyes shot down to watch his actions. The pressure he'd always sensed a desire to apply was back with a vengeance. He squeezed his wrist to ease the pain.
With icy confidence, he spoke.
"Voldemort's back."
Regretfully Uncaring
Chapter 30: The Shattering of Ronald Weasley's Worldview
Hermione Granger listened as Sirius's worried voice rang out through the stadium. He stood at the center of the pitch next to a collapsed Fleur Delacour, his wand to his throat.
"Good evening, spectators, there has been an attack on our Champions. We ask for all of you to immediately make your way to the castle. The school's staff as well as our Ministry personnel will aid you in finding refuge within its ancient halls. This is an emergency, and I ask you to be as helpful as possible to any in need! Please, make your way to the castle, this is an emergency,"
His voice was wavering, and comprehension of the situation struck Hermione. Harry, Ginny, and Fleur had been taken, but only one had returned.
Voldemort. That was the only answer to any of this. Well, perhaps there were more possible outcomes, but the dark mark at the world cup had been on Hermione's mind all year.
That, and Harry's involvement in the Tournament.
She was no fool. She knew that neither Harry nor Ginny had entered their names into the Goblet of Fire. She'd needed a way to distance herself from Harry, and she'd taken it.
He'd cast her aside as nothing but an acquaintance. Admitted to having used her and confessed a secret he should've known he could share.
How ridiculous they'd been. So incredibly immature. They were both poor communicators, and neither had thought of the repercussions of their actions.
She couldn't even define what their arguments had been about. Harry had…
No, now she remembered.
Harry hadn't apologized. He'd told her he was a prat, that he'd used her, and that he wouldn't do it again.
But he hadn't apologized.
At the time, and for the months following, that had irritated the living daylights out of her. How could he not do something so simple as to apologize?
It all felt so inconsequential now. Sure, he hadn't made any attempt at making contact over the year, but neither had she.
She'd told herself that it took two to carry a friendship, which was true, yet she'd proceeded to do nothing. Waiting on a teenage boy to take the reins of a friendship while he was partaking in a life-threatening Tournament was such an unrealistic expectation.
They were both so incredibly stupid!
And now he and Ginny were missing. She felt people pushing her aside, attempting to get away and back to the castle. She could hear Fred or George, or perhaps both, crying out for Ginny and Ron.
Ron.
He'd been standing right beside her a second before this. Or perhaps it had been a few minutes. She was fortunate to still have Ron around. He'd kept up his role as her best friend all year.
She needed to focus. She'd always been the weakest at thinking straight in these sorts of situations. Hermione could vividly recall their first adventure through the Third Floor Corridor. When she'd forgotten she was a witch in a moment of fear.
She couldn't afford to do so now.
So lost in thoughts of Ron, Harry, Ginny, and everything in between, she didn't notice her stand had practically emptied out. She was roused from her thoughts by a forceful pat on the shoulder. Hermione whirled around; wand drawn.
It was Daphne Greengrass. The girl Ron had quite literally fallen over for at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Where's Weasley?" Daphne asked, a crazed worried expression lining her perfect features. Honestly, the only way Hermione knew she wasn't a veela was due to the lack of any glowing or fawning.
"What?" Hermione replied dumbly, her mind was so far ahead from this conversation that stopping her train of thought in its tracks was quite the endeavour.
"Weasley! Weasley Six! Ronald. RON!" the words tumbled out of Daphne's mouth hurriedly. She seemed frantic. "Have you seen him? He was standing next to you!"
The first thought that came to mind was how on Earth did Daphne Greengrass know exactly where Ron was, but Hermione brushed that aside. She'd found someone just as keen on finding him as she was. "I don't know!" Hermione cried. "He was right here and then-"
She was interrupted by the sound of someone running up the wooden steps. She turned, wand raised, and found Professor Lupin.
"Professor!" Hermione cried, flustered. She replaced her wand in her robes but Lupin shook his head.
"Keep your wands out. We don't know what's happened. Miss Greengrass, if you could follow me as well? We need to get back to the castle," he said it all in a rush and didn't wait for a reply, choosing instead to lead them away and through the stands. Hermione could hear Daphne clattering down behind her. Their robes slid behind them step after step.
They exited around the red carpet where the Champions had come in from. Lupin turned and led them through the Champion's tent, and up the sloping grounds of Hogwarts.
They pushed through the crowds. Lupin occasionally turned to make sure the students were following.
Despite what Sirius had told them, most of the spectators had left Hogwarts entirely. Opting to make a break for the gates and hope for the best.
"Professor!" Hermione cried at one point. "Have you seen Ron?"
Lupin stilled and turned. "No… I'm sure he's already safe in the castle." he didn't seem reassured by his own words, but he threw a brief smile and continued to lead them towards the Great Hall.
"Ridiculous," Daphne muttered under her breath. "You would have noticed if he'd just left he was standing right there,"
"How did you know we were standing together?" Hermione asked absently, weaving around a crying child.
Daphne's left eye twitched. "I'm observant." was the answer she gave.
Sprout and Sinistra were using sonorous charms to let everyone know that the Great Hall was for students and staff alone. The rest of the school was open to spread out and hide. Professor Vector was motioning towards the stairs that led down to the dungeons.
It reminded Hermione of the bomb practices her parents had undergone as school children.
The professors standing guard admitted Lupin, Hermione, and Daphne to the Hall. Hermione quickly scanned the four House tables. It was overcrowded by the other schools as it had been all year. Every shot of red hair caught her attention, but none of them were Ron.
"He's not here," Daphne said, voicing Hermione's thoughts loud enough for Lupin to hear. Though, even if she'd whispered it, Lupin would have heard due to his senses.
Hermione nervously tapped her upper thigh with her palm and spun on the spot. The doors opened once again, evidently by force, as Mr. Weasley came rushing through along with Dumbledore, Bill, Fleur, Scamander, and the woman with long brown hair and the squealing infant.
"Mr. Weasley!" Hermione waved Ron's father over. His eyes were a frantic mess as he whirled around to find Hermione's voice. He, along with Bill, came towards the unlikely trio.
"What is it, Hermione?" Bill asked quickly. Fleur was left to awkwardly fall into a bench at the Ravenclaw table. Scamander slowly sat next to her, but the brown-haired mother kept her distance from the part veela.
"Ron. We can't find Ron," Hermione explained worriedly. "He was next to me the whole time but then Sirius's message came through and- and-" she could hear Sirius's voice now, coming from somewhere beyond the Great Hall, informing the locked-down occupants of the castle that a perimeter had been set, and anyone who crossed it would alert the alarm.
"Ron's missing too?" Mr. Weasley cried desperately. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and drew in a shuddering breath. "Are you quite certain? How did this even happen?"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth multiple times. The stress over everything formed tears in her eyes. "I, I don't know he was next to me and then the crowds started running and… I sort of fell and was pushed around… I don't know!"
Mr. Weasley clasped his hands to stop them from shaking. "He's likely still on Hogwarts grounds… I- we'll get a search going,"
No search began, however, for, at that moment, the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open, slamming against the walls and causing dust to cascade down the entrance. There were bodies laying in the Entrance Hall. Hundreds of fallen witches and wizards. Hermione could not tell if they were dead or alive. Stunned or petrified.
A man stood in the doorway. Professors Sprout and Sinistra were suspended in the air behind him like puppets stretched by their strings.
"So Hogwarts defends itself," the man said to the silent hall. Mr. Weasley and Professor Lupin turned to face the intruder, including Bill in the physical protection they provided to the group.
No matter how old his children became, Arthur Weasley would always protect them.
Bill hadn't much respect for the idea, however, for he pushed his way in between the two men to face the intruder head-on. Dumbledore stood beyond the trio, wand held aloft.
Hermione and Daphne both stood on tip-toe to see above the shoulders of the three wizards shielding them. Hermione's eyes grew wide as she recognized the man in the doorway.
It was Barty Crouch. The Ministry employee who had organized the entire Tournament.
"I must say, Dumbledore, you've grown complacent," Crouch continued.
Dumbledore shifted his weight. The white glove he'd taken to wearing on his right hand rode up slightly, and Hermione caught a glimpse of a decayed, blackened hand.
Dumbledore was hiding something.
"Bartemius," Dumbledore began slowly.
He was cut off by Crouch. "Oh, Dumbledore, you fool," he jeered. "For those of you who are unaware," Crouch turned his attention to the Hall. "What you see before you is known as the imperius curse. It lets you control the victim down to the very thoughts that travel through their minds. I am many miles away, using my father here," he gestured to himself, "as a sort of puppet,"
Hermione saw a flicker of something behind Crouch, and it wasn't the suspended bodies of Sprout and Sinistra. A whirl of robes. Then, the flicker came into view. It was Sirius, who was slowly ebbing his way forward towards Crouch.
"Your father?" the question came from Remus, "Identify yourself,"
Crouch spun on the spot, twirling his wand and grinning mischievously. "We share the same name, yes, but our… manner of thinking… ideology, perhaps, is quite different indeed."
"Bartemius Crouch Junior, I suppose?" intoned Dumbledore.
Crouch nodded absently. "I come to grant you all closure," he explained, his eyes darting to Mr. Weasley's. "To tell you what truly happened to little Ginny Weasley and her knight in shining armour,"
Hermione swallowed, hearing the scraping of benches as Fred and George got to their feet. She turned to Daphne who was watching the entire situation with an indifferent expression. It reminded her of Ginny, a bit. Over the summer, Hermione had spent an inordinate amount of time at The Burrow with the youngest Weasley.
She'd come to know that Ginny was a fantastic liar.
"You see, Ginny Weasley isn't dead…" Mr. Weasley shifted on his feet. "She'll be in a situation far, far worse by the time we're done with her,"
"Who are you working for?" Dumbledore asked menacingly.
Crouch ignored him and looked around the Hall. "Why, Severus seems to have run off," he noted absently. "Your daughter will grow to despise you, Arthur… she'll come for you with vengeful hate. It is easy to manipulate little girls. You'll come to understand."
"The world is being remade today," Crouch announced to the Hall. "The Dark Lord will come for you. Harry Potter's body will rot deep below ground, and Ginny Weasley will rise to destroy everything you hold dear!"
Sirius shot a spell now that he was in a range where it would be near impossible to miss. A shield erupted between the spell and Crouch, however.
"Ah, yes, Black, you were always terrible when it came to stealth." Crouch turned on the spot to face Sirius, who was now locked in a body bind. Hermione hadn't noticed Crouch's wand movements, but it was in his hand.
"As for the youngest of the blood-traitor brood that infects these halls," he said, turning his attention away from Sirius and back to Mr. Weasley and Bill. "Come to the Ministry of Magic to see the first victim of our crusade."
Then, quite suddenly, the bodies of professors Sprout and Sinistra fell to the ground, and Sirius's body bind canceled out.
Barty Crouch Senior began to tremble and foam at the mouth. His quivering body collapsed before he grew still. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.
Mr. Weasley wasted no time in turning to Bill. "Come to the Ministry with me." was all he said before pushing passed Dumbledore and Lupin.
"Arthur we must think on this!" Dumbledore warned.
"The last time we took the time to think about the life of one of my sons he ended up DEAD!" Mr. Weasley roared. "I will not lose another I hold dear."
Mr. Weasley exited the Hall in a rush followed closely by Bill.
Hermione turned to Daphne who had somehow grown paler still.
She could do nothing but wait.
Bill had to run to catch up with his father. Though Arthur Weasley was not old, he wasn't quite the energetic man of his youth. Yet here he was, running to the gates of Hogwarts.
"What's the plan exactly?" Bill asked.
Arthur shook his head. "Contact Percy. We'll need him."
Percy Weasley was in unfamiliar territory. Heathrow Airport was packed with muggles, of course. He'd been to King's Cross countless times before, but he'd never cared to listen to what his father had been prattling on about when he discussed the muggles and their ways.
He'd already sat through a long and detailed explanation of everything by a very helpful, yet most certainly annoyed baggage woman. Granted, Percy didn't have much luggage. He'd packed it all into an undetectable extension charm placed on a small bag. Something a mere muggle metal detector couldn't pick up on. They'd need a secrecy sensor for that.
He was in line for security, tapping his thigh repeatedly in impatient frustration. Tonight had been the night of the Third Task. He knew his mother was listening over the wireless. Despite Harry's generous donation of the Malfoy fortune, Percy's mother said she preferred listening to the events rather than watching them.
She was doing better since Charlie, but not well enough to travel the quick and affordable distance away to Hogwarts to watch her only daughter compete, it would seem.
If Molly was doing poorly, it was nothing compared to how Percy felt. The constant sinking sensation seemed to never fade. As though he was falling through the impenetrable abyss of the sea. A never-ending spiraling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was horrible, and that was only the physical aspects.
His mind was like that of a dementor. Cold and unfeeling. There was no light to be found.
For he was the reason Charlie had died. On top of everything, it was him. The man who had fired the spell was not always responsible for the fate of another, it would seem.
Greyback had killed Charlie, yes, but Percy had doomed him.
It was Percy who sought out Charlie to find Bill. Yes, it wouldn't have been possible to locate him otherwise, but Bill would have eventually sent the train tickets either way. With or without Charlie, Percy would have found Bill. Then, once they'd received the train tickets, Percy had brought Charlie along. Away from his pregnant wife.
Sure, they had a mental connection, so they weren't truly apart, but it was still unbelievably selfish and stupid to bring along a soon-to-be father on a rescue mission in a foreign nation.
Then, there was that night.
The night everything had fallen apart.
Lightning spread like capillaries through the sky. Alyssa had gone into labour, and what did Percy do? He told Charlie to leave his position. To fall into Alyssa's mind so he could be there.
So he could be there.
Percy had promised to keep him safe. Had promised to make sure he'd make it out of that dreaded storm.
Why had Greyback had the stroke of luck to find Charlie's body floating in his conjured storm? Why had he felt the need to torture Percy like this?
So, Percy was leaving. He'd disgraced his family. He'd disgraced himself. He was leaving the muggle way, so no one at the aurors could find him. They rarely bothered to look into the muggle side of things.
A woman with mousy brown hair and her daughter rushed into line behind Percy. She seemed unbelievably frightened. Her eyes darted around, inspecting every entrance.
She seemed vaguely familiar to Percy, though he couldn't decern why.
The attendant called him forward. They didn't make him go through any metal detectors. Security was rather relaxed, in fact. Perhaps they hadn't had the same terrorist attacks wizards had had with portkeys during the Continental War to merit any security measures.
The woman and her daughter followed in after him. He took his small rucksack and made his way to one of the many rows of uncomfortable chairs that lined his gate.
The woman was bouncing her knee, which carried her daughter, up and down repeatedly. Though she seemed far too young to need this form of comfort, it seemed the mother was the one in need this time.
She sat exactly one chair apart from Percy, nervously glancing about. Absently, Percy wondered where the father was.
Again, that strange sense of déjà vu hit him, distracting him from his own morbid, depressing thoughts. She was uncannily familiar. She was much too young to have a daughter, though perhaps that was rather poorly informed. His own mother had had Bill at seventeen or eighteen.
But the little girl in her lap was already four or five. Perhaps this was her older sister?
The woman seemed to notice his attention finally, and she visibly recoiled.
"Percy?" she asked dazedly.
Percy opened and closed his mouth multiple times over. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are," he said apologetically.
The woman smiled briefly, though it never met her eyes. "That's understandable, honestly. I haven't been around in a long time."
Then it clicked. "Audrey Williams!" he cried in understanding. Gracing his first true smile in what felt like decades. "We were potions partners! You were in Ravenclaw, right?"
Audrey's smile showed properly now and nodded. "Yes. You were particularly terrible at that subject."
Percy nodded turning in his seat slightly to face her. School was such a comfortable topic. "I was, yes, but you sort of saved me in that regard. I got an 'O' in potions the following year because of your help."
Audrey laughed lightly, though that worried expression in her eyes never left. "That's rather good to hear,"
An awkward silence extended between the two of them. "So, did you transfer to Beauxbatons or something? I remember you were there before the holidays in fourth year, then gone when we returned."
Audrey swallowed and bobbed her head from side to side. "I erm… I never got to finish my education actually," she flashed a rueful grin and turned to her sleeping daughter. Audrey had calmed her bouncing leg. "I had this little one… obviously I couldn't return to Hogwarts, so I had to come home,"
Percy's mouth fell into an 'o' of understanding. "Couldn't you have continued your studies away from school once things had settled down with the baby? I know of many programs like that."
Audrey grimaced. "Do you know any that are fair on the galleons?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't have much to spare. Only what my parents left me. I had to do… very difficult things to survive. Education was the lowest on my list of priorities…" her eyes gained a haunted look about them and Percy dared not prod any further to know what she'd had to do to pay for herself and her daughter.
"I hope things are better now… and I'm sorry for overstepping my bounds," Percy offered apologetically.
Audrey waved him off. "It's fine. I should be the one apologizing to you. Unloading my trauma on random strangers," she laughed awkwardly. "I've been told I overshare,"
Percy shook his head. "No, no it's quite alright," he smiled hesitantly. "Besides, we aren't exactly strangers anymore, are we?"
Audrey smiled. "I suppose not."
The pause that drew out was not quite so uncomfortable. Then, she turned to him with a stunned look. "What are you doing here?" she asked.
Percy frowned, turning his head to the side. He couldn't understand Audrey's reaction. "I'm… leaving," he answered, lamely.
"But what about your sister!" she cried, her eyes wide.
All self-pitying thoughts left his mind in an instant as worry grew in the recesses of his mind. "What?"
"Oh my god you don't know!" she shrieked, clapping a hand to her mouth. Her daughter stirred in her lap and she threw her an apologetic look. "Ginny didn't return from the Third Task. She and Harry were kidnapped. I thought you knew… I'm so sorry-"
Of all the ways Percy could have learned this information, Audrey Williams, the missing member of the class of 1994 was not the first on his list. He jumped to his feet and began to pace frantically. Should he go? Should he return home and support his family? Or would they do nothing but blame him further for his role in Charlie's death and now Ginny and Harry's as well? He'd help organize the event, after all.
A sudden thought occurred to him, then. Audrey's eyes had a frantic gleam about them when she'd arrived behind him in security. Perhaps he knew more than she let on. "Why are you here?" he asked right back.
Audrey's jaw went slack. "I know more…" she said. Percy could hear the pumping of his heart. Audrey rose to her feet, picking up her daughter in the process. She was still fast asleep.
"We need to go. I need you to take me to your family," she announced.
Percy drew his wand and leveled in on her. "Tell me first, then you can come to our home."
Audrey let out a half sob half breath. "I'm sorry I'm not making much sense. My brain is moving faster than I can talk,"
"Try. Try to make sense," Percy growled.
"I saw… a man… a man I haven't seen for…" she blinked rapidly. "The father of my child."
Percy narrowed his eyes. Piecing together a possible backstory in his mind. Judging by her tales of struggle and poverty, he highly doubted the father was in any way present in Audrey's daughter's life.
"He… he cast a spell on his father, then he moved to your brother."
Percy needed no further details, he grabbed hold of Audrey's wrist and pulled her back through security, ignoring the attendant's shouts informing them that they couldn't go that way.
"Is she safe to apparate?" Percy asked, indicating the still sleeping little girl in Audrey's arms.
Audrey seemed taken aback at the question but nodded. "Yes, she's quite good at it actually. Never throws up," she said it in a worried tone, but it still held the tell-tale signs of a proud mother. Percy let out a dry chuckle and strengthened his grip on Audrey's arm, before turning on the spot and disapparating to The Burrow.
The stars and their constellations were as clear as the sky above the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts. Percy never let go of Audrey's wrist. Pulling her towards the front door. He pulled it open and led her through.
He was not entirely surprised to see Sirius, his father, and Bill with their sobbing mother. They all wore emotionless hardened masks.
In an instant, every wand was raised against each other. His mother seemed determined to reach her third son, but Bill held her back.
"What was the last thing Charlie said to the both of us that night?" Bill asked menacingly to Percy.
Percy glared at his brother. "Do not make me relive that. Do not make me repeat that horrible night,"
"Prove that you are Percy Weasley." Bill ground out. "Tell me what he said."
Percy swallowed past the lump in his throat. "He told me… he said he was going to be a father," he said in a hoarse whisper.
Bill lowered his wand as his mother let out a sob.
"Who's this?" Bill asked.
"Ron's been taken as well," Percy informed them, ignoring Bill's question. "I don't know who's taken him,"
"Barty Crouch Junior," Bill, his father, and Audrey said at the same time.
Percy's eyes went wide and whirled around to face Audrey. "The father of your child is a dead man?" he asked.
Audrey nodded. "Supposedly dead, anyhow… as I understand it, his father broke him out of prison as a final gift to his wife…" she clenched her jaw. "At least, that was what he told me before he cast the imperius curse…"
Percy brought his hands to his face and sighed. "Where is he?"
"The Ministry," said Bill quietly. "We were going to find you, actually, when you arrived…" he paused and cocked his head to the side. "Where have you been, Perce?"
Percy opened his mouth but Audrey interrupted him. "It doesn't matter where he was," she said quietly. "What matters is that you get your brother, and Ginny back."
"Do you know Ginny?" Percy's mother asked shakily.
Audrey shrugged. "I've spoken with her a few times… and I suppose I would have been the last person to speak with her before she entered the maze."
"What?" it came from Bill, who was staring appraisingly at Audrey.
"She was scared of something. She and Potter both knew something was up, I could tell," she shrugged again. "I comforted her a bit, I hope."
There was a long silence before Percy's father cleared his throat. "Percy, will you come to the Ministry with Bill, Sirius, and I?"
Percy didn't hesitate in nodding. "Of course I will."
"Brilliant," Sirius clapped his hands. No smile graced his grim expression. "Let's go then,"
Audrey shifted from foot to foot and swallowed. "I suppose… I'll just go then," she said awkwardly, her daughter squirmed in her arms again and Audrey let out an exasperated huff. She was getting a touch heavy for this sort of thing, it would seem.
"No, dear," said Percy's mother with a watery smile. "You can stay… I'm sure you don't want to be out there on your own with that man on the loose."
Audrey seemed so unbelievably relieved, that Percy couldn't help but throw a smile at his mother. She must have been running from Crouch Jr. That was why she'd gone to board a plane. Percy would have to compensate for her ticket. He'd led her astray from her previous plans, after all.
Without further concern, the three Weasleys and Sirius Black charged off into the night, leaving The Burrow's grounds and apparating to London.
Sirius groaned as the uncomfortable sense of apparition left his body. They were standing in front of the guest entrance. A small, heavily graffitied telephone box. With magic, however, they all fit in without much trouble.
Mr. Weasley entered the passcode and with a shutter and a groan, the telephone box sank into the underworld of London.
Light shone through as they finally arrived at the Ministry's Atrium. The sight that met their eyes was one of horror.
The beautiful ceiling once graced with flowing star charts and quotes of magical significance was on fire. A fire that didn't seem to spread. It merely consumed. The hardwood floors and the marble walls were either cracked or aflame. Rubble lay on the floors. Some of it had originated from the ceiling in places of collapse, but a vast majority of the scattered stone was from the many pillars.
The statue of magical brethren had been knocked aside. There was a boy suspended above where it had once stood. His hair matched the fire of the ceiling. His arms outstretched in a 'T'.
"Ron!" Arthur cried, pushing open the telephone box's door and running out into the wreckage. There were small fires spread about the floor.
"Arthur no!" Sirius shouted. His voice echoed through the eerily silent atrium. Nothing but the crackling flames and cool whistling air could be heard.
Arthur didn't seem to care about Sirius's concerns, however. He ran, leaping over various pieces of rubble as he did so. Ron was suspended thirty feet in front of him when Arthur collided with an invisible barrier. He fell and landed on his outstretched palms. Sirius winced and ran after him with the others.
It was nearly midnight, yes, but that didn't explain why there was absolutely no one in the Ministry. It seemed completely and totally deserted. Barty Crouch Jr. stepped out from behind one of the many destroyed glass offices that lined the walls around the destroyed fountain.
"My intention was to have your son be the first victim of our conquest, but unfortunately, there were the guards, Amelia Bones, and Minister Fudge to deal with first," Crouch announced to the four wizards. He lifted his hand up to his face and inspected his fingernails. "Killing is a strange thing, you see. The killing curse is nigh impossible to perform. Only wizards and witches as powerful as the Dark Lord himself can cast such a thing…" he ambled around the fountain, looking up at Ron's suspended body. With a start, Sirius realized that Ron was awake and conscious. His eyes darting back and forth.
"But one doesn't need the simplicity of instantaneous action. No. Killing is so very simple. A cutting curse to the throat. Some of Severus's more… potent inventions. Even the basic forms of transfiguration taught to fourth years are capable of murder." he explained all of this like a professor in front of a body of students. Pacing back and forth, speaking with his hands.
"The most intriguing part about killing, however, is how easy it becomes time after time." he gave a sly grin. "The more you do it, and the more… connected you are with the target, the more you begin to enjoy it," Sirius felt bile rise in his throat. He wondered if this was how his brother used to think. If this was what Regulus had become.
"The phenomenon is… quite alluring in women. See, they aren't supposed to be cruel, or evil. They are supposed to be nurturing, caring, loving, compassionate… they are supposed to be mothering. So when you have an anomaly," his grin broadened, "for example, your daughter," Arthur stiffened. "You have something worth quite a pretty knut on your hands."
Crouch clapped his palms and rubbed them together. "You think this is something we will teach her? No. No, you'd be quite incorrect. She already thirsts for it. She has since she was eleven. A girl corrupted by a Horcrux, defiled by the Dark Lord, would not wish to join your petty escapades. No, she'd much rather give in to what she used to do day after day… inside her head," he tapped the side of his temple. "She used to love it, you know. Fantasize it. Just like me,"
Sirius had never been so disgusted by the words leaving a man's mouth in his life. Yes, he knew what Crouch said was certainly a fallacy, but it was still horrible. He could practically feel the anger roiling off the three Weasley men beside him. That was when he noticed something. Ron was being lowered to the ground. Whether Crouch knew this or not remained to be seen, but Sirius made sure to act as though he had not noticed. He prayed that Arthur and the others would do the same.
"Apparently, she once told the Dark Lord that killing was quite overrated. That it was too easy to do. That a simple stomp on the neck or throat was enough for most people… she said she'd rather weaken them first…" Sirius heard Arthur's fist clench in his leather glove. "She'd rather hear them scream. She told him…" Crouch grinned, and Sirius realized that Ron was gone. He fought down the panic that had jumped into his throat and made an attempt not to look around.
"She told him she found it arousing," Crouch sneered.
Wham!
Crouch fell forward into his invisible barrier, shattering it in the process. Sirius heard the crack of his nose as his body fell forward onto the floor. Ron stood behind him wringing out his right hand with a grimace on his face.
He'd decked Crouch from behind.
Crouch whirled around so he lay on his back staring up at Ron and Bill, who had taken a step forward. "What was it you said?" Bill asked through gritted teeth. "What was that lie you told about what my sister said to a little black book?"
Crouch had lost his smirk, choosing instead to glare back at Bill. Sirius watched as his hand slowly ebbed its way down to his fallen wand, and Sirius took a step forward and rammed his heel as hard as he possibly could on Crouch's hand, shattering his knuckles in the process. Crouch exhaled harshly through his nose, ramming his eyes shut to stop himself from screaming out in pain.
"You say killing someone is as easy as stomping on their throat. I'm sure someone like you has tested your little theory multiple times before. So I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to see if your research was well compiled." Bill continued, raising his knee before Percy stepped in.
"Wait!" he cried. "Where is she?"
Crouch turned his head to stare up at him. "You really think I'm going to tell you that?"
"Tell us, or Bill drops that leg of his," Percy countered. Bill rested his leg on Crouch's chest for the time being.
"It is under the fidelius. So, no, I cannot tell you where she is, unfortunately," he gave a mock pitying expression followed by manic laughter.
Ron grunted and kicked Crouch hard between the legs. "Is she with Harry?" he asked angrily.
Crouch continued to laugh. The pain of it all didn't seem to bother him. Sirius realized grimly that there was a good chance Crouch was sadistic enough to enjoy the torture.
"Of course, she's with Potter," Crouch spat. "When the Dark Lord finally breaks her, poor pathetic Potter will be her first victim. Of course, that is after she's used him," he laughed again and Sirius wanted nothing more than to inflict more pain, he twisted his foot to dig in further to Crouch's mushed right hand.
"Once Bella is out of her cage, I'm sure the two of them will get along quite nicely!" he continued to laugh, throwing his head back to the floor and rolling it from side to side.
It seemed this was what Arthur had been waiting for, because before the thought had even struck Sirius, Ron's, Bill's, or Percy's minds, he raised his leg and threw his foot down on Crouch's neck as hard as he could.
With an ear-splitting crack, and a retching sound from Crouch, his neck snapped, flattened by Arthur's heel. He blinked repeatedly, his pupils dilating.
"I'll see to it personally that my daughter never hears Bellatrix's voice. I'll make sure every single one of you is dead until my family is safe." Arthur ground out, leaning over Crouch's head.
Other than the odd guttural sound, Crouch did not, and could not respond. He simply stared up at the ruined Atrium's ceiling. Arthur removed his boot and clenched his jaw.
"I don't give a damn what we label it, we're at war," he said to his sons and Sirius. He turned to the latter and nodded. "Get everyone you can think of together at Potter Manor. I think Albus has some explaining to do," and with that, Arthur turned and swept towards one of the Atrium's intact fireplaces. He grabbed a pinch of floo powder and muttered. "The Burrow," before disappearing in a swirl of emerald flames.
Albus Dumbledore paced in his office. It was clear to all with two brain cells rubbing together that Voldemort had returned. He needn't Severus's warning. Nor Karkaroff's mutterings. He knew. He'd known from the moment Harry and Ginny's names had left the Goblet of Fire that the Tournament was rigged by Voldemort and his followers. It was clear that it was not Severus, nor Remus who had done so. And perhaps it was not a mystery at all. Perhaps it was simply a matter of an imperiused Crouch Sr.
How the names entered the cup was of no importance now, however. Dumbledore had done the best he could to insure his students were as protected as possible during the Third Task.
It seemed a simple anti-portkey ward would be his undoing.
Harry Potter, the one who would one day defeat Voldemort, was missing. As was Ginny Weasley. He knew her to be of importance at some point, but no matter how many planned tea sessions with Trelawney he hosted, she'd yet to reveal any more prophecies pertaining to anything of import.
Supposedly, Gellert had given a prophecy in Nurmengard prior to his escape. Something young Bill had said was the reason for his sudden change of sides. That perhaps Gellert had intended on staying locked up but had seen the future and had once again been tempted by power.
Unfortunately, Bill had yet to share the prophecy with anyone and had been rather recluse in his duties. Going so far as to refuse to rewrite Narcissa's magic until he was ready.
There was no time to wait for a young man drowning in sorrow, however. Bill would have to step up now or there would be nothing left to save.
Dumbledore needed that prophecy. If it was enough to ensure Grindelwald's escape, it was substantial enough to drive a war.
The flames swirled green and the man he'd been waiting for stepped forward. Severus Snape wore a scowl on his face and limped forward.
"Where have you been?" Dumbledore asked slowly.
"Oh, you know," Snape remarked idly, collapsing into an armchair. "Out and about,"
"Severus," Dumbledore warned.
Severus turned his head to the side so he faced his mentor. "I went to warn Narcissa, and I've just gone to-" he hesitated and scowled. "Well, it's under fidelius but I've met with the Dark Lord. He was not… pleased," Severus sighed and rubbed at his left forearm. "Potter and Weasley are being kept in the cellar together. Weasley has her wand. The Dark Lord believes it will convince her of his trust. I do not know if he knows of Potter's condition, but if he does, he's being quite lax about protection. A werewolf will be able to break through those restraints without much trouble. It all depends on whether or not Potter is fed and watered. If he has his strength, he may be able to break free in his human form. On top of that, Weasley is a formidable opponent, especially for their guard,"
"Who's their guard?" Dumbledore inquired.
Severus smirked. "Pettigrew. Though he'll throw a fit if you call him that. He prefers his little nickname. Wormtail,"
Dumbledore nodded and sat in the chair opposite. "I suppose-"
"I won't, actually," said Snape with a cock of his head.
Dumbledore closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his horribly crooked nose. "I need you, Severus. I need you to fulfill your duties. As you did last time,"
Snape watched the man he'd come to respect beyond anyone else. The man who had saved him, who had made him see reason so long ago.
Did his thoughts on the matter truly hold any semblance of value? Could anything he said be taken in any way seriously?
"And what if I don't want to?" Snape voiced aloud. Dumbledore's head shot up. "What of my opinion? What of my choice?"
Dumbledore stared at him long and hard, his eyes held that piercing gaze once again, but Snape felt nothing attempt to penetrate his mind. Perhaps it was simply his expression.
"Severus… you and I both know that I have less than a year to live. Come November, I will be nothing but a memory," he spoke slow and soft, pleading for Snape to understand. "Harry must be protected, and I cannot in good faith protect him without the information I would receive from a spy!"
"Why me, Dumbledore?" Snape asked blankly. "In case you haven't noticed, Potter isn't safe, he never will be!" he rose from the armchair and stood in front of the fire, his back turned to Dumbledore. "He is no longer missing for I have found him. That was my last act as your pawn,"
Dumbledore sighed. "You are not my pawn, Severus. You are a friend. I would hope that you'd come to understand that."
"It seems I haven't," Snape replied dryly. "I have spied for you, I have lied for you, I have risked my life for you, but those days ended when you allowed this," he gestured to the window and the Quidditch pitch with its abandoned bleachers and red carpet. The glorious even turned nightmare. "To take precedence over your own students."
Dumbledore sighed. "My focus was always on Harry and Ginny. To keep them safe and shielded from whatever Voldemort was scheming. I never once let this ridiculous Tournament cloud my judgment-"
"Then why did you allow it?" Snape countered, turning to face Dumbledore.
"Because we will need allies. Do you think I have not known of this coming war? Grindelwald has left Nurmengard. Greyback is moving westward, and the only people besides myself and the dead that have dealt a blow to Voldemort in the past were targeted all year. Do you think that what I said in April was a fallacy? Do you think I spoke in riddles to confuse and disorient so that you all thought I was taking this seriously when in reality I was merely meddling to allow Voldemort's rise to power?" Dumbledore said in shocked disbelief.
"Only a fool would believe you have fallen to the dark side, Dumbledore," Severus snapped bitterly. "And I am no fool. What I am insinuating is that perhaps you have lost your way in the fantasy that Potter and Miss Weasley can remain naïve and innocent all their lives. They are children of prophecy; in case you were not made well aware. Black knows it, I know it, and you sure as Merlin's wand know it."
Dumbledore frowned. "How is Ginny a child of prophecy?"
"Is it not obvious?" Snape asked. "One does not have to be a seer to see when some things align,"
Dumbledore threw his head back and sighed. "Say no more, Severus," he said feebly. "Sirius called earlier to inform me of a meeting at Potter Manor. I expect you there,"
Snape turned to him. "This will be my last meeting with the Order of the Phoenix. I respect you, and I care deeply for you, Professor," he stepped toward the fireplace. "But I have my own ventures to follow,"
Before Snape could floo to Potter Manor, Dumbledore asked his final private question. "Then tell me, Severus. Will you continue to fight? For whom? For Voldemort? Has my kinship been of such little value?"
Snape grabbed a pinch of floo powder and took a step into the dancing green flames. "I will continue to fight for what I have always fought for. Myself, and a desire to be better. Or is that not what you told me so many years ago on that hilltop in Dover?"
"Not for Lily?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
Snape's eyes gave off a rueful expression as they darted to a random spot over Dumbledore's left shoulder. "As she quite aptly pointed out, I was not fighting for her, or the selfish desires that fueled such interactions. I was fighting for my own guilt. A vain attempt to make myself feel like less of a failure. I was always fighting for myself, Dumbledore."
The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Dumbledore gave a wan smile. "It is times like these that I realize the greatest of men are the ones who have made the gravest mistakes…" Snape quirked an eyebrow, and Dumbledore elaborated. "They are the ones that grow. The ones that change."
Snape grew contemplative and turned away from the headmaster. He threw the floo powder into the flames and spoke clearly. "Potter Manor!"
Remus tapped his finger repeatedly on the counter he rested against in the kitchen of Potter Manor. Tonks leaned into him, granting him support.
The kitchen was packed. Moody, Newt, and Tina were in a corner whispering to each other. The Weasley boys, with the obvious exception of Charlie, were huddled around their mother and father. Hermione was present as well, awkwardly standing to the side with Ron, who wore a hardened expression. His eyes analyzing every motion in the room.
Narcissa was sitting at the table next to a woman with mousy brown hair Remus did not recognize whose eyes were focused on Alyssa Scamander in the corner, entertaining a young girl of around four, and clutching her sleeping infant daughter to her chest. Quickly, and judging by his wolfish senses, he could tell that the toddler was related to the woman he didn't know. Percy's attention was also being drawn to her.
Fleur Delacour, despite Bill's strange protectiveness, was here also. Her silvery hair sent a shiver up Remus's spine, but he ignored his instincts to flee and remained where he was, drawing comfort from Tonks beside him.
They hadn't had much time together, seeing as she was a false celebrity and by her claims over the wireless, people would know Remus was a werewolf. It didn't matter, exactly. Especially after Sirius's werewolf legislation was passed in late April, but Remus had gotten so used to hiding it that he didn't exactly want to out himself yet. Tonks understood this and didn't pressure him, but he wanted to register by the end of the summer. The first legal teacher with lycanthropy. It was his goal.
Many others were here. Some from the last Order of the Phoenix, some new, like Tonks. The only ones missing were Amelia Bones, Dumbledore, and of course, Snape.
The latter two entered not a second after Remus had thought about them. Snape with his billowing black robes, though he carried a limp about him, and Dumbledore with his ornate purple ones.
"We are missing one member?" Dumbledore asked the room at large.
Bill spoke up. "Amelia Bones is dead. So is the Minister. Crouch killed them." he threw an apologetic look down at the woman Remus didn't recognize.
"Don't look at me like that," she waved him off. "I'm glad he's dead."
"Sorry, you're going to have to bring us up to speed here lass," said Moody as he took a step forward.
Arthur cleared his throat. "I killed him," he spoke calmly but there was a waver in his voice. "Crouch Jr. is dead."
"Not necessarily."
Everyone turned to the speaker. It was Ron. His arms folded across his chest. "We didn't stick around to see if he died," he elaborated.
"Yes, but no one can survive something like…" Percy threw a quick glance up to his father. "Like that,"
Ron shrugged. "I'm just saying we shouldn't be sure. Harry survived the killing curse. That's supposed to be impossible as well,"
"Yes well the intricacies of how Potter survived the killing curse are beyond your understanding so let's just get to the matter at hand," Snape interrupted them all. "I've been to where the Dark Lord is hiding. I cannot divulge its location, it is well protected. Potter and Weasley are being kept in the cellar. They are together, and Weasley has her wand. As I have told the headmaster, I do not know if the Dark Lord is aware of Potter's condition. If he is well catered to, he should be able to break free with his enhanced form."
Everyone nodded absently, some were a touch confused, but Remus was sure someone would fill them in on Harry's lycanthropy.
"Now," Snape continued. "Narcissa and I are in need of a curse breaker," he stared hard at Bill who stared right back.
"Why?" the question came from Sirius, who was watching Snape shrewdly.
"He needn't explain his reasoning, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. Sirius frowned but nodded. Flicking his wand to the turntable and letting it quietly play the record that still sat on its top.
"What's wrong with your hand, Dumbledore," said Narcissa, pointing to Dumbledore's blackened, decaying right hand.
Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "The very thing that kept Voldemort alive is what cursed me so," he explained. "It is contained, for now… but it will spread. It began in November, and I had a year left to live. Come November this year, I'll be gone."
Nearly everyone's mouths dropped open. Snape closed his eyes, his face set in a deep frown.
Dumbledore was an immovable object. A constant. Yes, he was old, but what did it matter? Dumbledore brought security. He was the only man Voldemort ever feared. Without Dumbledore. They were finished.
Dumbledore let the silence, broken only by the slow music, stretch on for a moment. "Bill I need you to tell me what Gellert said that night in the tower." he requested calmly. "You need to tell me the prophecy. We are fighting multiple fronts, and we cannot be distracted by the arrival of another. Grindelwald is still out there, and we must be prepared."
Bill swallowed and nodded, but it was Percy who came forward with the information. "The Chosen One, newly tainted, rises only to fall. For without the key, he is nothing. Without the key, all shall fall. Without the key, we are nothing. Without the key, the Chosen One shall fall. Remember… the Dark Lord knows all."
Silence met Percy's sudden entry into the conversation.
"And you are quite sure that is the exact wording?" Dumbledore asked, his blackened hand resting on his chin.
Percy nodded. "It's haunted my nightmares for two months, sir. I think I'd remember it pretty well,"
Molly shuddered and Tina Scamander rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Hang on…" Ron mumbled. Everyone turned to him and his cheeks flushed. "There's… a prophecy that sort of… fits with that."
"What?" Hermione said slowly. "From Trelawney? Or a true Prophecy?"
"Sybil is a true seer, Miss Granger," Snape remarked idly. "She hides her competence rather well, in fact," he smirked and Remus felt the urge to smile as well.
"It isn't one of hers," Ron said, shaking his head. "It's from this bloke… Tyco Dodonus? Wrote some book a while back,"
"Prophecy Forty?" Dumbledore inquired. "The final prophecy left to be completed of the original fifty Prophecies?"
Ron nodded and recited the Prophecy from memory. "First in Seven, First of seven. She rises as the sword falls. Born to those lesser with the power to conquer them all, she is the key, the key to it all. First in seven. First of seven."
The music seemed deafening after Ron finished speaking.
"Ginny," Molly mumbled. "The prophecies are about Ginny."
"How can you be sure?" Tonks asked.
Molly shrugged. "I just know."
"You just… know." Snape quirked an eyebrow. "There is more at play here than we know. Grindelwald escaped for seemingly unknown reasons-"
"He left for Ginny," Percy interrupted the potion's master. "He said he'd pay a visit to the Chamber girl. To conclude Prophecy Forty."
Snape nodded and stepped back into shadow.
"So we are at war with two forces, both cannot be defeated by anyone save Dumbledore, who is already standing in his grave," Narcissa summarized for them all. Sirius scowled and Remus sighed. "Oh, and the Minister is dead. Can't get much worse than that, can it?"
"We are at war with potentially three, if you count Greyback's army of werewolves who seem loyal to no one unless they get something out of it," Remus noted. "So actually, it does get worse,"
"Right ray of sunshine you are," Sirius mumbled, glaring at Remus, who shrugged.
"There are many far weaker than I who can defeat them. It is just a matter of who will take these battles into their own hands." Dumbledore proclaimed calmly. "I trust that everyone in this room will remain strong against the opposition. Recruit where you can… oh, and Sirius?" Dumbledore turned to the man in question. "Your ancestral home, do you think it is ready to host?"
Sirius bobbed his head from side to side. "Depends on if Kreacher's still alive, really. Haven't been there since I was sixteen. What would we be hosting,"
Dumbledore smiled briefly. "The Order, of course. I highly doubt Mr. Potter would want his home to become a target for his enemies,"
Sirius nodded and swallowed. Harry and Ginny were missing. There was no light shining through the tunnel. There was nothing to dissuade Sirius's depressing thoughts. The kitchen's occupants were once again silent, listening to the rain as it prattled against the glass, complementing the turntable's haunting tune.
"Look real closely at the soldier, Coming at you through the haze, He may be the younger brother who ran away…
And before you kill another, listen to what I say,
Oh, there won't be many coming home
Oh, there won't be many coming home
Oh, there won't be many, there may not be any, but there won't be many coming home.
If they all came back but one, he was still some mother's son…
And there won't be many coming home."
The raven in the window watched and listened as it always did. It flapped its wings and soared out into the night sky.
There was a storm brewing on the horizon. Not one of rain and wind, but of fire and death.
The second war had begun.
A/N: So, so, so sorry for taking so long to update. I've been working on my rewritten chapters, which aren't up yet by the way, and sort of resented writing because of it. That's fixed now though, sort of.
Those passages from Rob Orbison's 'There Won't Be Many Coming Home' is hilariously accurate to the next little bit of story content in the fic.
Hope you are all at the very least intrigued by where this story is going. Please Review! Thanks!