Harry Potter and the Aevum of Eternity

by Thundercracker-TC

The survivors of the second wizarding war suffer the scars of Voldemort's reign as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. Harry is spread thin across multiple responsibilities as he and Ron join the Aurors, where new challenges and mysteries await. Not all is as it seems though, and powerful forces lurk in the darkness, biding their time... Cover art by a.heesher

35. Chapter 35

Harry Potter is owned by JKR

Trigger Warnings at End of Chapter

Chapter 35

Harry dipped his quill, rested his hand on the parchment, and willed it to start writing, but nothing happened.

"Come on Harry, you need to do this now because you have Azkaban tomorrow, and you're definitely not going to be able to write it afterwards, and then it will be three days overdue instead of one," he thought.

Every muscle in his body ached, even though he hadn't done anything particularly strenuous in the past few days. Whether it was due to the repeated trips through Azkaban or a general lack of quality sleep, the weight of all his responsibilities and tasks had seemingly caught up with him. Harry placed his quill down on the desk and stared off into space; he couldn't even summon up the willpower to open the magical journal and write to Ginny.

"Maybe I could just… fly somewhere and sleep for a week," he thought.

He knew he had to pick up his quill. He knew he had to finish writing his incident report, but still nothing happened. Harry sat there for the better part of an hour as the DMLE buzzed around him, tracers walking by, Aurors discussing something he couldn't bother to pay attention to. He intermittently attempted to get started, but invariably gave up after a few seconds. Eventually, he settled for staring at the wall of his cube while loosely holding his quill. A flurry of activity near the entrance of the DMLE piqued his attention enough for him to half-stand from his chair and peer over the top of the cube wall. A team of Aurors jogged towards the DMLE floo, wands in hands.

"An emergency call?" Harry thought.

Lieutenant Robinson turned the corner from where Dawlish's office lay, and turned towards him. Harry sat and dipped his quill again and wrote his name at the top of the report to appear to at least look busy. Robinson knocked on the side of his cube.

"Potter, get your team together," he said, "wands up in five."

Harry, still unreasonably tired, tried to shake off his malaise.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Attack on Wigtown," Robinson said, "looks like a hit and apparate but we're performing a sweep anyway."

Harry nodded and stood to see Ron already standing up in his cube. They nodded to each other and split up to gather the rest of the team. Five minutes later, Harry emerged from the Ministry floo exit under an overcast sky, to a scene of destruction. Small fires guttered in the debris littered street, part of the detritus blasted up from the road itself. Green floo flames reflected off the shops and stones as Ron, then Matt, Tammy, and Liz exited behind him. Matt let off a low whistle.

"What a mess," he said.

Wigtown hosted a small wizarding market, nothing compared to Diagon Alley in London, but several small shops and businesses that catered exclusively to wizarding customers called it home.

Even as Matt spoke, a golden dust sprayed out from one of the Aurors already sweeping the area, revealing the footsteps of everyone who had recently walked through. Harry quickly picked out the moment the attack happened, when the footsteps all stuttered, then started running. He walked over to the other team and spotted Jenkins, the young, dark-haired lieutenant, as he surveyed the scene while the other Aurors cast various detection spells and started to interview witnesses.

"Afternoon Potter," Jenkins said without taking his eyes off the street.

"Afternoon Jenkins," Harry said, then remembered a quick salute, not that Jenkins seemed to care, "any leads?"

"Near as we can tell, it was a quick attack by three wizards, some minor injuries, mostly damage to a few shops and the street," Jenkins replied, "they left after just a few spells."

"Do you think it could be a distraction?" Harry asked.

"Maybe, but we could be back at the Ministry in a flash if we had to, so, not sure how it would work as a distraction," Jenkins replied.

The younger lieutenant sighed as he surveyed the damage.

"Right, why don't you and your team take that side, we'll focus over here," Jenkins said, "shout if you find anything interesting."

Harry nodded and relayed the instructions to the rest of the team, and they started their sweep. A pair of white-clad healers flooed in from St. Mungo's and patched up the wounded while Harry and Ron walked from shop to shop to search for any Death Eaters or Snatchers who might have stayed behind. It took the rest of the afternoon, then it was back to the Ministry to write more reports.

"Merlin, I hate these," Harry thought as he nibbled on the end of his quill, "I'd almost give anything to be back at Hogwarts writing sixteen inches on goblin rebellions again."

He flexed his hand where faint white lines, 'I must not tell lies', had faded nearly to illegibility. The thought of Umbridge rotting in Azkaban somehow made him feel better, and he managed to finish the incident report from the market attack before calling it a night. The following day passed in a blur of utter boredom mixed with dementor induced gloom, and then he was dragging himself out of bed again, still facing down the task of completing his original incident report. He walked past Ron's empty cube to his own, only to find an envelope sitting in the centre of his desk. He tore off the end and a parchment slid out.

'Report for Briefing at 930am sharp, Room 1.'

"Shit," Harry muttered. The clock in the Atrium had read 9:28.

"Not even time for a coffee," Harry thought as he turned around and trotted towards the briefing.

He slipped into Room 1, where Dawlish already stood in front of a large screen on a stand. On second glance, Harry thought it looked like an exceptionally large piece of parchment. Three full Auror teams were present: his own, Jenkins', and Robards was apparently leading the third. The overweight captain glared at Harry as he slipped into a seat in the rear, between Ron and Brandon Clark.

"Any idea what this is about?" Ron whispered, and Harry shook his head.

"Right, now that we're all here, some of you may be aware that the reason we haven't been able to find the remnants of Voldemort's inner circle is because they have been hiding in the muggle world," Dawlish said.

Several murmurs and quiet exclamations of disbelief filled the room, but Dawlish continued speaking.

"For the past several weeks, we have had a muggle casino under covert surveillance," Dawlish said, "thanks to Auror Potter's team, we discovered the Death Eaters have been using a compulsion charm ward or ritual to encourage muggles to gamble more money away, and have then been exchanging the muggle cash for gold, the purpose of which is yet unknown."

"Avoiding Gringotts," Clark said quietly enough that only Harry could hear, "how the fuck did they even come up with that?"

"We were content to observe, but in order to pre-empt another possible attack like Wigtown, we're moving in today," Dawlish said.

Almost as one, the Aurors in the room sat up and leaned forward. This was what they had been anticipating for over a year; a solid lead on a Death Eater hideout and an operation to capture and interrogate them. Dawlish waved his wand and lines appeared on the large parchment screen, not unlike the Marauders' Map, and took the form of a schematic of the casino, including the basement.

"On Tuesdays, Polonius Mulciber visits his office here," Dawlish said, "our objective is to capture him alive in the hopes he can lead us to the rest of the Death Eaters. Be aware that Mulciber is an unregistered animagus who takes the form of a small bird, possibly a sparrow."

Harry nodded. Part of their training had covered the discipori charm, the same one Sirius and Remus had used to force Wormtail out of his rat form. He'd never actually used it in practice though. He glanced over at Tammy Miller and caught her eye. As the best transfiguration Auror on the team, she would be his first choice to keep Mulciber on the ground. She nodded slightly and turned back to Dawlish.

"We'll be using a twenty-eight stone anti-apparition, anti-portkey ward around the entire casino. Exits are here, here, and here," Dawlish said as the parchment rotated and turned to display what he described, "entrances to the basement complex are here, here, and here. Robards, your team will infiltrate the basement and apprehend the target at his office. Potter and his team will secure the ground level and act as a second line of defence, and Jenkins' team will place the stones and secure the perimeter. Command and reinforcements will be at the muggle hotel, here. Obliviators are on standby, but if we do it right, we'll be in and out with the muggles none the wiser. Any questions?"

Several hands went up.

"Why only three teams, sir?" Clark asked, "standard procedure for a building this size is five full teams, minimum, and two of ours are less than full strength."

"This is all we could safely gather on short notice," Dawlish replied.

Harry knew the truth though. Dawlish's sweep hadn't yet caught the mole, and the Aurors in this room represented the ones that had been cleared. Harry refocused his attention as Dawlish went over rules of engagement.

"Casualties and property damage to the muggles should be minimised if possible, but the priority is to capture the Death Eater and any Snatchers who might be present," he said.

After the briefing ended, Harry and his team gathered by the DMLE floos. By textbook Auror procedures, he should have broken the team into three pairs, but they were still only five, so Tammy paired with Matt while Liz joined him and Ron.

"Right, Ron, Liz, and I will take the east and north exits, the ones closer to each other," Harry said, "Matt and Tammy take south. Hopefully Robards and his team will capture them quietly and we won't have to engage at all, but be ready just in case."

Even though Harry said the words, and everyone nodded, in his heart, he wanted to be the one to take down Mulciber. The Death Eater had nearly killed Hermione on New Year's Eve, his fiendfyre had killed a dozen muggles, plus it was their lead and their investigation that had confirmed the casino was being used by Death Eaters. Still, they were part of the operation, which after weeks of waiting, was finally happening. Harry's heart started thumping as they queued up, and floo powder stuck to his sweaty palm as he burst through in a gout of green flame. The rest of the team followed and they all disillusioned themselves for the final approach to the casino. A quick confundus jinx on the security at the gate and they stepped past the entrance, into the casino proper. The constant ringing of slot machines and other games drowned out what little sound they made as they moved through the air-conditioned floor.

"Good luck," Harry whispered, and was met with a murmured 'you too' From Matt and Tammy as they invisibly parted to cover the south entrance.

Harry, Ron, and Liz huddled near the end of a bank of slot machines as the minutes ticked by. Excitement turned to wariness, and then apprehension.

"Robards should be in position by now," Harry thought. He got the sinking feeling something had gone wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard a low thump. He glanced to Ron, but of course could not see him through the disillusion. A louder thump vibrated up through the floor, followed by a low rumble and the lights flickered, then a blue-white patronus messenger shot up through the ceiling.

"Shit, something's gone wrong," Harry thought as he stood up, wand in hand. He cast his gaze about, looking for anything out of the ordinary, when he spotted an entire card table section of the casino sagging down, slowly dropping out of view. Confused muggles glanced around and some started to move away from the area, when a massive concussive blast made Harry's ears pop. An explosion blew up from underground and rocked the entire centre of the casino floor. Concrete debris, chips, tables, and muggles flew through the air as a ten-metre section of the casino crumbled and collapsed into the basement.

"Arresto momentum!" Liz shouted from next to him as her disillusion sprayed off, her wand extended to catch a trio of muggles who would have slammed into a support pillar or landed painfully on slot machines.

"Shit," Harry muttered as obvious spellfire sprayed out of the hole in the ground and screaming muggles fled for the exits.

Incredibly, some of them dropped to their hands and knees and started gathering the scattered gambling chips. A trio of duelling wizards, Harry assumed they were Snatchers by their dark robes, backed up out of the hole in the ground as they flung spells down into it.

"Stupefy!" Ron shouted, and his disillusion fizzled off next as his red stunning beam took one of the Snatchers in the back, even at their long range. Harry was about to take aim at the second when both of them turned and ran, followed closely by a burning, flaming grizzly bear.

"Bloody fiendfyre again!" Harry thought.

The bear roared and turned as spells hit it from behind; it was already the size of a horse, and growing larger as flames spread supernaturally fast across the carpeted casino floor. One of its legs hit the ground dangerously close to the fallen Snatcher.

"Liz, get that one!" Harry shouted as he took aim at the other two as they fled towards him.

"Wait, what if Mulciber cast fiendfyre as a distraction, like New Years?" Harry thought.

"Ron, take these two!" Harry shouted and Ron engaged the two Snatchers and immediately stunned one of them with a well-placed stupefy. The other turned to duck between slot machines and Ron pinned him down with a barrage of stunners and disarming spells, while Liz levitated hers away from the flaming bear.

Harry put them out of mind for a second and focused on ceiling of the casino as smoke quickly curled up and obscured it from view.

"Discipori! Discipori!"

"Stupefy! Impedimenta!"

Harry turned towards the sound of the anti-animagus spell being cast to see Tammy and Matt running towards him. Tammy repeatedly pointed her wand towards the ceiling, while Matt alternatively tried to slow the animagus down or throw objects in his way. Harry squinted and spotted Mulciber's small sparrow form as it twisted and dodged through the casino, and then turned away from Tammy and Matt, towards him.

"Look at the bright side, at least you know the incantation," Harry thought.

"Discipori!" he said, but nothing happened, no jet of distorted space, nothing except his disillusion charm fizzling off.

"Discipori!" Harry shouted, still nothing. Then he spotted Mulciber's goal, a smashed glass door leading out of the casino. He concentrated and led the sparrow with his wand.

"Tacet indago!" Harry shouted, but didn't get a good look at whether the tracking spell landed or not.

The sound of spellfire mixed with the roars of fiendfyre as reinforcements arrived and Aurors fought to contain the giant bear, but Harry ran by the banks of slot machines to search for Ron. He spotted him just as ducked behind one of the rows of slots, but a spell from the Snatcher on the other side shattered the cover. Chunks of metal blew away and struck Ron on his wand arm and laced into his flesh. Harry reflexively threw up a protego shield to deflect the flying metal as Ron cried out in pain and fell forward, towards him.

"Ron!" Harry shouted as he ran to his friend to shield him from further attacks. Ron tried to pick up his wand but his fingers apparently weren't working correctly, and blood quickly started soaking his robe. Harry slid to his side and knelt next to him.

"Stay down," Harry said. He spun around out of the corner and deflected another blasting curse, this one back behind him where it blew apart a section of the wall to reveal street facing windows beyond. He spotted his opponent, a young man in his mid-twenties, between two rows of slots and a quick wordless expelliarmus disarmed him as he brought his wand forward again.

"Fulgari," Harry thought, and glowing manacles appeared on the Snatcher's hands to bind them together, "stupefy."

The snatcher fell to the ground, unconscious, and Harry turned back to Ron. Liz knelt next to him and had already stopped his bleeding, mostly.

"You need to get to St. Mungo's," she said, "I've done the best I can, but half your knee is gone."

"Bloody hell," Ron said as he sat up and tried to flex his fingers, with little effect.

Tammy and Matt approached slowly, with Tammy leading Matt by the hand.

"Conjunctivitis curse," Tammy said.

Liz moved to help the big man, and Harry grabbed Ron's good hand to help haul him to his feet, where he wobbled unsteadily on one leg. Harry looked to the centre of the casino where the flaming bear was surrounded by a half-dozen Aurors, including Robards and Jenkins, and slowly shrinking in size. Tammy levitated the two bound Snatchers and dumped them closer to the exit, out in the open where they could be picked up by others.

"Did you get him?" Ron asked.

"Maybe," Harry said, "sequitur navis."

His wand levitated up and turned to point roughly southwest.

"Fuck yeah," Ron said, but Harry shook his head. With Ron's leg and wand hand injured as they were, there was no way he could come with, assuming Harry could even find Mulciber. He glanced back at the fiendfyre again, nearly contained.

"They have it under control, and it's only a matter of time before Mulciber realises there's a tracking charm on him and removes it," Harry thought.

"We have to get past the wards anyway," Harry said, "come on."

Matt helped support Ron, and the five of them disillusioned themselves again and hustled out of the casino, where a dozen muggles milled around outside the burning building.

"There, that alley," Harry said, and he ran to it, "this should be far enough."

He let his disillusionment drop in a dark spray. Liz and Tammy were next, followed a moment later by Ron and Matt and the two unconscious Snatchers.

"I'll side-along with Ron to St. Mungo's, then drop these two off at the Ministry," Matt said, "neither of us are going to be any good in a fight right now anyway."

Ron looked like he wanted to protest, but then he relented.

"Be careful," he said as he looked at Harry.

Harry nodded, and Ron spared a glance over his shoulder as the two injured Aurors and their prisoners vanished with a loud crack.

"Sequitur navis," Harry said. His wand levitated up and spun again, and the wand turned south-southeast.

"He moved," Harry said, "maybe London. I'm going to try and narrow down a location."

He paused. He couldn't apparate while disillusioned, and if Mulciber was hiding out in muggle London, well, suddenly appearing in random places around Britain was definitely against regulation.

"Sod it," Harry thought. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the invisibility cloak.

"Whoa," Tammy said as Harry vanished from view, while Liz just raised an eyebrow.

"Keep it to yourselves," Harry said, then turned on the spot and apparated to Diagon Alley

He walked a few feet to the front of O'Malley's, pulled his cloak back to reveal his wand, and muttered the tracking spell again. It levitated up and pointed northwest. He ran down the street, a good hundred yards, and tracked again, and the wand pointed in the same direction.

"Not anywhere near Diagon, where in the…" he thought as he struggled to recall what a map of Britain looked like, "Did he move again? What's in that direction… Manchester? No, Barnton."

Barnton, where they'd found Amycus Carrow. He turned on the spot and apparated back to Edinburgh. Police and fire trucks had arrived with sirens blaring and flashing lights were everywhere, while black smoke continued to pour out of the roof of the casino. Under the invisibility cloak, Harry had no trouble slipping past the muggles and back to the alley.

"Psst," he said.

"We're here," Liz whispered, "I tried to gather a few more, but with the muggles around I can't find anyone. Tammy picked up a few ward stones though."

"Good thinking," Harry said, "he's in Barnton, I'm pretty sure. We'll side-along and then triangulate."

He held out an arm from the cloak and the two ladies grabbed hold, and Harry apparated to the small town where the Sevens had given him the location of Amycus Carrow's corpse. Harry welcomed the clean air after the smoke of the fiendfyre, and breathed deep while the girls recovered from side-along.

"Sequitur navis," Harry said. His wand pointed towards a row of detached homes about two hundred meters away, in the opposite direction from the house where Carrow was.

"Is their base somewhere around here?" Harry thought as he led the way, "are we walking into a trap?"

He quickly discarded the idea. Whether they caught Mulciber or not, they'd already disrupted a major Death Eater operation and captured several Snatchers.

"No, they weren't expecting us," he thought.

With the tracking spell, it did not take Harry long to close in on which house Mulciber fled to: a white and grey single-family home with a small yard… It looked no different than any other house on the narrow country road.

"Expecto patronum," Harry said, summoning his blue-white stag, "Tell Dawlish we've tracked Mulciber to Barnton, seven thirty-one smuggler's drive, send backup."

The stag shrank into a point of light and shot off into the sky.

"How many stones do you have?" Harry asked quietly.

"Four," Tammy replied.

"Right, we set them up first, keep him from moving, and hopefully those reinforcements get here sooner rather than later," Harry said.

They divided up the stones and set them several metres back from each of the four corners of the house, then, still disillusioned, regrouped near the front. With a loud bang, the front door slammed open, and Harry heard footsteps.

"Revelio!" he shouted from beneath the cloak.

Disillusion sprayed off a dark-robed middle-aged man with greasy black hair and a scar across his cheek, someone Harry recognized from the battle at the Ministry of Magic in fifth year: Polonius Mulciber. He waved his wand in their general direction and a yellow blasting curse detonated against the road. Burning asphalt blew in all directions; Harry had to shield to keep from being pulverized. The Death Eater started to transform, slower than a normal animagus transfiguration…

"Tammy's charm is still partially working," Harry thought.

"Discipori," Tammy shouted and her disillusionment fizzled off. A jet of distorted air hit the dark wizard and snapped him back to his human form. He didn't miss a beat as he sneered and wordlessly fired a pair of spells at Tammy, one purple, and the other mixed blue and black, while dodging and deflecting a pair of stunners from Harry and Liz. Tammy ducked the first, but the blue and black curse struck her in the shoulder and burned through her robes like they weren't even there. She screamed in pain and dropped her wand as she scrabbled at her shoulder. Harry wavered for a second between Tammy and Mulciber, who had turned to race back into the house, no doubt to try and get away from the wards on the other side.

"GO!" Liz yelled as she knelt over Tammy, as the blonde writhed on the ground and red mist sprayed from her shoulder.

Harry charged around the side of the house to keep pace with Mulciber.

"Shit shit shit," Harry thought as he sprinted across the grass. The rear door blew outwards, and Harry wordlessly threw up a protego shield across the threshold. Mulciber ploughed headlong into it, nearly lost his balance, but kept moving.

"Fumos," the Death Eater shouted, and thick grey smoke billowed across the entire rear yard.

"Incarcerous, impedimenta," Harry thought as he waved and jabbed his wand in a desperate attempt to keep the Death Eater from vanishing into the haze. Mulciber dodged most of the strands except around one ankle, and batted the other jinx away. Harry saw his eyes tracking him as he ran through the smoke, and Mulciber raised his wand.

"Oh fuck," Harry thought as he realised, too late, even invisible, his passage through the smoke gave away his position.

"Avada Kedavra!" Mulciber shouted, and time seemed to slow down as the familiar bright green flash burst from the Death Eater's wand. Tammy's screams of agony were overtaken by a loud whooshing sound, and Harry tried to dodge, to twist, anything, but he was mid-stride. He watched the bolt of emerald death strike him in the stomach… and pass straight through to blast a hole in the neighbouring house. Harry fell to the grass, stunned for a second, and Mulciber also paused as the cloak's hood fell away.

"Potter!" Mulciber spat.

Training took over.

"Stupefy!" Harry thought as he lay on the lawn. Mulciber, just as quick, deflected the spell and countered with the same blue-black curse he'd used on Tammy as he backpedalled towards the edge of the ward.

"Protego!" Harry said as he focused every ounce of magic and training he had into the tip of his wand, and angled it purely on instinct.

*Pang*

Harry's arm snapped back and went numb from the force of the counter, but it deflected straight back at Mulciber, whose eyes widened just a split second before his own curse slammed into his face. He screamed, a high-pitched desperate squeal, and scrabbled at his eyes as flesh bubbled and flayed away, and then dropped to the ground as blood started boiling away from the wounds.

"No! We need to capture him!" Harry thought.

"Liz! St. Mungo's!" Harry shouted. He took two steps, scooped Mulciber's wand off the lawn, then wordlessly feather weighted the convulsing Death Eater to drag him beyond the ward, and apparated directly to the wizarding hospital. Liz and Tammy appeared next to him with a loud crack. Tammy grit her teeth as she and Liz both pointed their wands at her shoulder. The flesh there bubbled and flayed away, but Tammy transfigured it back just as fast as it tore itself apart. Startled noises arose from the civilian witches and wizards waiting in the reception area.

"Harry, hurry!" Liz said as she focused her wand on Tammy's wound.

Harry tore off his cloak and sprinted down the hall.

"Help! Emergency! Aurors!" he shouted. From behind, he heard Tammy start wailing again as healers rushed to the injured, and Harry watched helplessly as they loaded her on a gurney and pushed past him while a trio of healers chattered about her condition. Mulciber's body lay very still in the reception area, and Harry spotted another healer drawing a sheet over his head while various witches and wizards stood by and gawked.

"Dead already?" Harry thought, but then he refocused on Tammy. Droplets of crimson already spattered the white sheets of the wheeled bed as he trotted next to her; the peeling skin had already spread halfway to her elbow. Sweat beaded her forehead and her breaths came in short, pained gasps.

"You're going to be okay, hang on," Harry said as he gripped Tammy's other hand, while she gritted her teeth and nodded.

"It's some combination of a flaying and blood boiling curse, cast silently, but the wand movement was a double wave z-form," Liz said. The healer, Harry recognized her as the dark-haired green-spectacled one who treated Seamus, nodded and tapped the side of her spectacles, no doubt enchanted with some kind of diagnostic charm, she waved her wand repeatedly over Tammy. The gurney passed through a set of double doors beyond which non-hospital personnel were not allowed, and Harry stopped and watched helplessly as the staff wheeled Tammy into one of the emergency rooms.

"They're the best in the world," Liz said, "they have plenty of blood replenishing potions to buy them time to figure out a counter-curse. She'll be fine."

Harry nodded, but the tremor in Liz's voice gave away her true feelings. The muggleborn Auror wasn't a full healer herself, but she knew more about the healing discipline than anyone else on the team. Harry stepped away from the double doors, realised he was pacing, and forced himself to sit in one of the many chairs outside the emergency rooms, forced his hands and legs to stop shaking. He resisted the urge to leap up and start pacing again, and settled for bouncing a leg up and down and folding his cloak to give his hands something to do. He stopped and let some of the silky fabric drip between his fingers.

"Hide from Death," he thought as he recalled the killing curse that had passed right through him. It seemed the Invisibility Cloak possessed another secret. He set his discovery aside for the time being and stuffed the cloak back into his pouch, then stood up to look through the window on the door leading to the emergency rooms again.

"Auror Potter?"

Harry turned around to see a dark-haired middle-aged wizard wearing white St. Mungo's healer robes, and nodded.

"What should we do with the body in reception?" the healer asked.

"Right, um… can you deliver it to the Tracers at the DMLE?" Harry asked.

"Certainly," the healer replied, "we'll box it up and send it over."

He looked like he was going to say something else, but apparently decided against it and turned away, and Harry returned to peer down the hallway beyond the door again.

"I'll um… I'll see if I can find Matt and Ron," Liz said.

"Right, good idea," Harry said. She hesitantly patted him on the shoulder, and walked towards a nearby stairwell. A few minutes passed by and he moved back to the chair, and the sequence of events leading up to the duel with Mulciber started playing through his mind.

"What happened, how did the operation go so wrong?" he thought.

The double doors abruptly opened to reveal healer Yarr; blood spattered the lower half of her white robe, and Harry leapt to his feet. One look at her sombre expression though, and Harry's heart dropped nearly to his stomach. She shook her head, and Harry pushed past her into the emergency ward.

"You can't-" Yarr started to say, but Harry barely registered her words. He sprinted to the room where they'd brought Tammy and slammed the door open only to see two healers covering her body with a white sheet…what remained of her body. Heat pressed against his skin and the coppery scent of blood flooded his nostrils. A thin red film of it coated the walls of the emergency room and dripped to pool on the floor in places, next to discarded empty potion bottles. Beneath the sheet, Harry could see Tammy's body was not fully intact; the curse had spread and flayed her until the lumps beneath were barely recognisable as a human shape. He felt bile rise up in his throat and forced it back down.

"It's my fault," he thought.

Harry heard a gasp next to him and glanced over to see Liz holding her chest, mouth open.

"Oh Merlin," she said as she stared at the blood-soaked bed.

"You can't be here," one of the healers said.

The nerve.

"The fuck I can't," Harry said.

"You're going to contaminate the entire ward," the healer said.

Harry ignored him.

"What the hell happened?" he shouted, "The curse was contained!"

"I understand you're upset," the healer started, sounding extremely calm and practised. Harry felt himself about to explode in rage and grief but Liz tugged on his elbow.

"Harry," she said.

He glanced over into her wide blue eyes and saw his own grief-stricken blame reflected there.

"She thinks it's her fault too," Harry thought, "but it's not, it's mine."

She tugged on his elbow again and he let her lead him away from the room, back into the waiting area. As Harry emerged through the double doors, he caught sight of healer Yarr speaking with an older couple.

"Oh no," Harry thought as he took in the features of the woman, slightly heavier, slightly greyer, but unmistakably Tammy Miller's mother. She spotted him and stared with red rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face, then stalked over. Harry seemed frozen to the spot, mouth slightly agape, and he didn't move even as she raised a hand to strike him. Then she let it fall to her side in defeat.

"I believed in you," she whispered, then walked back to her husband and sobbed in his arms.

Harry couldn't even muster up an apology. No words were going to help them, besides, if he hadn't gone charging after Mulciber, if he hadn't left Ron to duel two Snatchers which led to him being injured, Tammy might still be alive. Dawlish's words about his recklessness leading to good people dying echoed in his mind.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry said.

Liz ushered him into an empty room, and just as they entered, Harry spotted Matt and Ron running down the hall towards them.

"Merlin, how am I going to explain it to them?" Harry thought. He sat down next to a cot and leaned forward to rest his elbows on it, head in hands.

Liz intercepted Matt and Ron at the door and spoke to them in hushed tones.

"No," Ron said.

Harry couldn't bring himself to look up, not until Ron pushed past Liz. Harry stood up and barely spotted Ron's fist flying at him before he saw stars and stumbled against the bed.

"He just hit me!" Harry thought in disbelief, "hard!"

"I told you to be careful!" Ron shouted.

Harry held his jaw and leaned against the bed as his knees went weak.

"We captured five Snatchers, we would have got him!" Ron said, "what the fuck Harry…"

Ron cocked his arm back again and Harry looked up into his tear-streaked face, red with rage and raw pain.

"Go on, hit me again," Harry thought. Perhaps the pain would make him feel slightly better.

But Ron let his fist drop to the side and all but fled from the room. Harry worked his jaw soundlessly as he stood up straight again.

"It wasn't your fault, it was my fault," Liz said, "if I'd tried to deflect the curse instead of attacking… or apparated to St. Mungo's straight away… but I didn't… I couldn't…"

"She didn't want to leave me to face Mulciber alone," Harry thought.

"It's Mulciber's fault," Matt said quietly, "and Voldemort. We all know the risks, but I never thought…"

"Everyone feels like shit. What would Tammy want us to do?" Harry thought.

He stood up straight even though the only thing he wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide away somewhere.

"I think maybe we should all take some time," Harry said, "do what… we need to do, I guess."

Liz lifted her wand and wordlessly healed the bruise forming on his face; the warm, soothing, healing magic made him feel better than he should. Harry half considered asking her to put it back.

"Thanks," he said instead.

She nodded, and Harry looked her in the eye as she stared at him, as if she were trying to tell him something with her expression alone. Then he spotted the silhouette in the doorway.

"Sir," Harry said to Head Auror Dawlish.

"Potter," Dawlish said, then he glanced at Matt and Liz, "You're all on standard mandatory paid administrative leave. You two, debrief with Jenkins and then go home, get some rest."

"Yes sir," they mumbled, and Liz spared Harry a parting glance as she stepped past the threshold. Dawlish entered the room and Harry spotted streaks of ash on his uniform.

"Feel up to a debrief?" Dawlish asked.

Harry took a deep breath. Despite not having received a scratch during the entire operation, he felt about ready to collapse, but he nodded anyway.

"Good," Dawlish said, "Captain Robards will be by."

"Fuck," Harry thought, "and I can't exactly say I'm not feeling up to a debrief now."

He grumbled internally at how Dawlish had manipulated him.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, then clapped his mouth shut a split-second too late.

Dawlish pinned Harry with his gaze, and Harry tried to look contrite.

"Sir," Harry added.

"I need to take care of something," Dawlish replied, then he paused.

"I need to meet with the parents," he added.

Harry blanched at the thought of shouldering that responsibility, then immediately admonished himself.

"You're a bloody coward, Harry," he thought, "Tammy's dead, and if you'd done things just a little bit differently, she'd still be alive, and you..."

His train of thought petered out and he thought he might cry. He sniffed and realised Dawlish had continued speaking, and refocused on the conversation.

"-also on paid administrative leave," Dawlish continued, "Finish your debrief and then head straight home."

Dawlish didn't need to tell Harry it was an order; Harry nodded and saluted, and the Head Auror left the room. The slightly overweight figure of Lester Robards entered less than a minute later and closed the door behind him. Suddenly, Harry was glad they were not going to review his memories in the Pensieve, as surely the sight of a killing curse passing right through him would raise questions. Blood and burn marks marred Robards' robes in several places, and he, too, was streaked in soot. He looked at Harry and pulled a face as if he'd smelled something foul, then gestured for Harry to sit down on one of the chairs next to the bed. As Harry sat, Robards remained standing and pulled out a quick-quotes quill and a sheaf of parchment from a pouch.

"This was a right shit show," Robards said, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

The quill started automatically writing as Harry spoke in monotone to try and get through the debrief as quickly as possible.

"Everything was going according to plan…" Harry said. He went through the sequence of events and tried to make sense of them as he replayed them in his head, how Ron and Matt were injured during the initial skirmishes, how he managed to hit Mulciber with a tracking charm, how they called for reinforcements but Mulciber had likely discovered the tracker and was about to escape, how Tammy recast her anti-animagus charm to keep him from flying away and taken a curse in retaliation, and finally how Harry 'dodged' a killing curse and reflected Mulciber's own spell back at him.

"Liz and I both thought…" Harry said, but the lump in his throat choked off his words.

"Thought what, everything would just work out fine?" Robards asked, "this isn't playtime, Potter."

"Don't you think I know that?" Harry asked, his voice rising, "it was supposed to be a quiet operation, what the fuck happened?"

Robards' expression hardened.

"Who's running this debrief, you or me?" Robards asked. He stared down at Harry, who burned his grief away with anger to force his tears away, and stared right back.

"My friend is dead because half a bloody casino burned down and we couldn't get reinforcements because muggle police were everywhere," Harry said, "you were in the basement, what happened?"

For a split second, Robards looked like he was about to tell Harry off, then his face returned to its usual scowl.

"Someone tipped them off," Robards said, "in the middle of the operation, they came out blasting and Mulciber summoned fiendfyre."

He looked Harry dead in the eyes, and Harry sensed just the lightest brush of legilimency at the front of his thoughts. He compartmentalised as best he could given the turmoil currently twisting his chest.

"Don't let him know about the killing curse!" Harry thought.

"Stay out of my head," he growled as he stood up.

Robards' wand appeared in his hand.

"One good turn deserves another," the Auror captain replied, "what are you hiding, Potter?"

Harry drew his own wand and faced down his superior officer over the hospital bed.

"You fancy a rematch? Go ahead, see how it works out for you when I'm not half-dead from running sprints," Harry said.

Robards' eye twitched.

"Go on, do it," Harry thought, "I'm all out of fucks right now and I'll kick your arse."

"Lower your wand, Potter," Robards said.

"You lower yours," Harry replied.

"You're bloody emotionally compromised, boy. Lower your wand, now. That's an order," Robards said.

"He goads," a cold whisper cut through the grief fed fury in his brain, "He could have attacked you when you drew your wand, but he did not, because he wants you to attack him."

Harry paused and looked up at the taller Robards, really looked at him aside from the furious expression smeared on his face. Poised to counter anything Harry threw at him, the tip of his wand held perfectly still, perfectly in control. Harry blinked, shoved his wand back into its holster, and sat down again. Robards held his wand for a few more seconds, then stowed his as well.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Harry asked.

"No, Potter," Robards replied, "go home, and try not to leave a trail of bodies on the way this time."

"Fuck off," Harry said as he brushed past the Auror captain, but Robards let it slide.

Harry took three steps out the door before the first photographer flash hit him, and he groaned.

"Bloody hell," Harry thought.

Reporters jammed the reception area and shouted questions at him as he approached.

"Mr. Potter, were you involved in a botched raid on a Death Eater hideout?"

"Can you comment on a reported Statute breach in Scotland?"

"How does it feel to have lost a member of your team?"

That one hurt, and Harry winced in response.

"No comment," he said, the words automatic by now when dealing with the press, "no comment!"

He pushed through the crowd of cameras and quills and, not trusting apparition in his current state, made for the public floo.

"12 Grimmauld Place," he said, and left the cacophony of the rabid press behind in a flash of green. Silence hit him like a wall, and he sat down on the living room couch. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, sort of numb, until he forced himself to think about what had happened.

"Tammy's dead," he thought.

Hot tears welled up and now, in the privacy of his own home, he let them drip down his face as he stared into the distance. A soft pop heralded the arrival of Kreacher, and the elf set a tray with a steaming hot towel rolled up next to a cup of tea.

"Master Harry has returned," Kreacher said.

"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said. He sighed heavily. The house elf's loyalty, built into its very being and reinforced by Harry's kindness, was absolute.

"I think I just need to be alone for a little while," he said.

Kreacher bowed and vanished with a pop. Harry's mind wandered from Tammy, to the other people close to him.

"It could have been me, or Ron, what if that metal went through his head instead of his knee?" Harry thought.

Ron.

"We've had rows before, he'll come around," Harry thought as he rubbed his jaw, "eventually."

Harry stewed in his thoughts for at least an hour or two. He realised Ginny would surely hear about the raid. He pulled the journal out and searched around for a quill, and eventually had to trek to his room to find one.

"I'm safe, so is Ron," Harry wrote, "tell Hermione and whoever else."

The words sank into the page and vanished a bit slower than they used to; the journals wouldn't last forever.

"Wonder if that's a limitation of the magic, or just a good business plan?" Harry thought.

He waited a few minutes for a response but nothing came. The mood ring on his finger showed a deep purple with faint orange streaks: annoyed.

"Probably studying for NEWTs," Harry thought.

He thought about Ginny some more, and the pain of losing Tammy receded a bit.

"It could have been any of us," Harry thought.

He fished around in his pouch and withdrew the engagement ring he'd chosen, and opened the small velvet lined box. The magical lights near the ceiling refracted and reflected and cast bright spots all about the walls of the room.

"What are you waiting for? What are you afraid of?" Harry thought. He set the ring on his desk and stripped down to shower. Harry tried to wash away his guilt with scalding hot water, as if pain were some kind of penance, and truth be told, he did feel a bit more like himself afterwards. Exhaustion caught up with him as he lay down in bed, but his mind conjured the stuff of nightmares, blood-steam and emerald death and flaying curses, and Harry snapped awake with cold sweat dripping into his sheets.

He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly to try and calm his racing heart. It felt like only five minutes had passed but the dark windows told him otherwise.

"Harry, are you there?" he heard a hushed voice from downstairs.

"The floo, someone's calling," Harry thought.

"Coming!" he yelled.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and descended to the glow of an active floo call. Harry knelt down near the fireplace, where Dawlish's face poked through, and tapped his wand twice on the stone.

"There you are," Dawlish said as the wards allowed him to see into the room, "first of all, how are you holding up?"

"I've been better," Harry replied.

"Right, I'll make this quick. I received your debrief from Captain Robards. In your estimation, did Mulciber receive advanced training like Avery?" Dawlish asked.

Harry thought about it for a second and shook his head.

"No way," Harry said, "Mulciber was good, but Avery was on another level. I've never duelled anyone like that, except Voldemort."

"And maybe Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry added.

Dawlish nodded.

"Interesting. Did you enter the house where you tracked him?" Dawlish asked.

"No," Harry replied, "he came out, but we were disillusioned, and when he ran through to the rear, I ran around the side to intercept him. Why?"

"It was a safe house," Dawlish replied, "we found it during the clean-up. It's stocked with food and books, anything someone would need to lay low for months, but we also found evidence from the Winthrop murder there: a photo of the house, notes on the wards, a schedule of when the victim came and went, and a calendar circled with the date of the murder."

Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Hang on," Harry thought.

"That… seems awfully convenient," Harry said, "why would he keep all that stuff?"

"Some criminals like keepsakes from their crimes, though I tend to agree with you, it does seem convenient. Be that as it may, pending Tracer analysis, it seems at this point, Polonius Mulciber orchestrated the murder of Abel Winthrop," Dawlish said.

Somehow, Harry thought he would feel more of a sense of accomplishment at 'solving' the murder.

"Miller's funeral is in two days, I'll have Katherine owl the details," Dawlish said, "other than that, and Wendel's funeral, you're not to return to duty until the review of the op is complete, likely in a week's time. It should go without saying, but do not speak to the press, at all."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Harry mumbled. Then his mind caught up with his ears and he realised Wendel, another Auror he didn't know very well, had also died in the operation. He was about to ask Dawlish about it, but the Head Auror had already ended the floo call.

"Bugger," Harry muttered. He glanced at the clock on the wall, two o'clock.

Harry trudged back upstairs and fell into bed, but his mind whirred with the events of the previous day until the sun started to rise around four-thirty. With Kreacher no doubt still asleep, he shuffled to the kitchen to make himself some coffee to try and alleviate the headache that had set in overnight. A loud thump echoed from the front foyer, and Harry stirred in sugar as he picked up the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet.

Major Auror Operation in Edinburgh – Death Eater Killed

A moving photo of the burning casino filled half the front page. Harry skimmed the article, which hailed the operation as a messy success, with a Death Eater killed and numerous Snatchers captured.

"Harry Potter once again proved his mettle by duelling and defeating Polonius Mulciber, one of the Dark Lord's inner circle, who had been in charge of a financing operation at the muggle casino."

Harry sipped his coffee and shook his head.

"Bloody idiots," Harry thought. There was no mention of the fallen Aurors by name until page six. Harry glanced to the other side of the newspaper.

Werewolves Driving Unemployment – Kingsley Under Fire

Harry leaned over and began to read.

"Unemployment reached the highest levels in the past five years as an influx of werewolves, lured by recently enacted legislation in Britain, arrived in droves from Europe and farther abroad. Willing to accept lower wages than our native wizards and witches, these immigrants are doing more than filling gaps, they are taking over entire companies."

"A bit alarmist, isn't it?" Harry thought, then he saw the inset photo, dozens of unemployed protestors marching in the Ministry Atrium.

At the bottom of the page, he noticed a larger still photo of a wizard he hadn't seen before.

Armand DeSoto

"The Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Armand DeSoto-"

Percy had mentioned something, months ago… but Harry couldn't remember. He looked back to the photo of the middle-aged wizard with dark hair. Harry thought he looked vaguely Spanish or French; he couldn't really tell. His eyes drifted back to the article.

"Armand DeSoto, had harsh words for the British Ministry of Magic, after reports of a massive Statute of Secrecy breach reached Europe overnight. 'While I appreciate the difficulties faced over the past year and half, these continued Statute breaches cannot be tolerated. If the British authorities are not capable of maintaining the Statute on their own, the ICW will be forced to act. I urge the British government to accept ICW inspectors to ensure best practises are adhered to, so it does not end in disaster for us all.' There was no comment from MACUSA on the Supreme Mugwump's comments."

"Bloody hell," Harry thought as he put the paper down. As if he didn't have enough to worry about. Harry finished his coffee and sat at the table for a few minutes as he stared off into space. He'd wanted rest for weeks, but not like this; now all he wanted to do was get back out there. He glanced down at the back of the paper and spotted a photo of Tammy in her Auror robes, just beneath the double sevens lightning bolt symbol.

"The 7's urge everyone to offer their sympathy to Harry Potter, who continues to fight evil on behalf of us all, on the loss of his friend and teammate, Auror Miller."

"The Sevens are still out there too," Harry thought, "what the hell are they up to?"

Once he realised the answer was not etched into the dining room table, Harry showered and puttered about the house as sympathy cards flowed through the mail slot. He didn't feel up to speaking with any of the members of the Wizengamot, and he wasn't exactly sure if the entire Ministry was off limits to him, or just the DMLE, but he didn't particularly fancy running into anyone anyway. Sleep eluded him; every time he tried to close his eyes it was someone else he knew getting blown up or bleeding to death in St. Mungo's. He checked the journal to see Ginny had written back.

"Thanks. Studying for NEWTs. I'll be home on Sunday, see you then, love you."

She'd drawn a little heart. Harry smiled, and hoped Mr. Weasley would be at Sunday dinner. Asking Ginny to marry him took on extra urgency after once again being confronted with how often the path he walked lead him so close to death. A large thump echoed from the front foyer, and Harry recognized a package with the Ministry seal on it. He tore the thick paper to find a stack of blank incident reports, along with a note from Dawlish's secretary with the time and address of Tammy's funeral the following day.

"Wonderful," Harry thought as he weighed the stack in one hand, "might as well get these done today."

Harry spent the afternoon in the study writing and recalling as much as he could, and finally managed to get some rest. The following morning, sunlight had just started peeking in through the windows when he heard a rustle from the ashes of the fireplace. He looked up to see Liz's head poking through the embers.

"Harry, are you there?" she asked.

"Yeh," Harry replied as he stood up to come within view in front of the floo and tapped his wand twice on the mantle.

"Hi," she said, "I just wanted to check you're okay, you know, before the funeral."

"I'm okay, just… gutted, you know?" Harry replied.

Liz nodded.

"Do you mind if I come through?" she asked.

"You can't, actually, I'd have to add you to the wards first," Harry replied, but he figured she had something she wanted to talk about, "Err, did you want me to floo over to your place?"

"If it's not too much of a bother," Liz replied.

"Not at all," Harry said, and he pulled on a pair of trainers.

"27 Crestview Lane," she said.

A few seconds later, Harry emerged into a brightly lit room. Large windows dominated one side of the house, and the rear looked into a lawn with what appeared to be a well-tended garden and wire fence. Somewhere in the house he could hear a television commercial blaring. Light cream coloured carpeting covered the floor, and stairs ahead of him led up to a second story, and down to ground level. Liz herself wore muggle clothing, jeans and a black fitted t-shirt with the logo of a giant red mouth and tongue printed on the front.

"This is your house?" Harry asked.

"My parents'," Liz replied, "they're at work today. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Harry shook his head, and Liz gestured to the couch.

"I haven't heard from Ron at all, have you?" she asked.

Harry shook his head again.

"I haven't," he replied, "why, is something wrong?"

"More wrong than the obvious you mean?" Liz replied, "no it's just…"

She looked at him carefully and Harry waited patiently for her to find the words, or find the resolve to speak them.

"Not sure if you knew, but they were dating, Tammy and Ron," Liz said, "they had to keep it secret so…"

Harry wanted to deny it at first, but then pieces started slipping into place, how Ron was never available in the evenings anymore, how he and Tammy were perpetually late to meetings, how Ron had nearly shit himself when Harry had summoned him to Dawlish's office.

"Damn," Harry said. How many times had they broken rules together in the past?

"You're team leader now though, maybe he was trying to avoid putting you in a position where you had to cover for him," Harry thought. Either way though, it still stung that Ron hadn't told him.

"Yeah," Liz said, "anyway, I just wanted to make sure he's okay."

"I dunno, I should probably check on him," Harry said.

They sat in silence for a moment as Harry re-evaluated everything that Ron must be going through in the wake of Tammy's death.

"Shit, he probably bloody hates me right now," Harry thought. This might be completely different from the rows they'd had in the past, in fact.

"It happens quite a lot, apparently," Liz said, oblivious to Harry's internal conversation, "nobody really understands what we see day in and day out, and getting close to someone who might have a short life-span…"

She stopped speaking and her wide-blue eyes met his for a good five seconds, and Harry thought for a split-second that she might have begun to lean towards him, when she abruptly stood up.

"Bugger, I still need to shower and change," she said as she retreated up the steps, "you'll check on Ron, right? I'll see you there Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Does Liz have a thing for me?" he thought, "it doesn't matter. I have Ginny, and we need to keep it professional."

He stood up.

"Right, I'll let you know," Harry said. He drew his wand and apparated directly to the Burrow. He stepped up past a few gnome statues and knocked on the door. Mrs. Weasley answered with a broad smile.

"Harry dear, what a pleasant surprise," she said, "are you alright? I read about what happened in the Prophet."

"I'm… doing my best," Harry replied, "is Ron here?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"No, he was only back briefly to pick up some clothes," she replied, "said he needed some time to sort things out, and took off. You don't know where he is?"

Harry shook his head and Mrs. Weasley glanced over her shoulder, to the magical clock, Harry realised. She turned back to him.

"I'm sure I'll see him later today though," Harry said, "if he comes back, let him know I was looking for him?"

"Of course, dear," Molly replied.

Harry smiled, took a step back, and apparated back home to summon his patronus.

"Find Ron, tell him I just found out, and I'm so sorry, and will he please talk to me?" Harry said.

The stag shot up through the ceiling, and Harry waited for a response, waited for an hour, but nothing came.

---

"And so we commit this body to the ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Several wands lowered the casket into the hole and started filling it with dirt, a few small clumps levitated by each black-clad individual. In contrast to the sombre mood, the late spring sun shone down brightly on the green grass of the cemetery, and its heat warmed Harry's shoulders, though it did nothing to make him feel any better.

Tammy, whose real name was Tabitha, Harry found out during the service, had been awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class, posthumously, and her father had accepted the medal on her behalf. The whole ceremony had been mostly a blur to Harry, and he couldn't even recall the eulogies from her mother, wracked with grief as she was, or the words from Mackenzie, their trainer. Most of the Aurors were in attendance, though Harry didn't speak to anyone, and only offered nods and one-word answers to anyone who tried to speak with him. Throughout, he'd tried intermittently to get Ron's attention, but his best friend ignored him completely.

"It can't last forever. Maybe after the funeral," Harry thought. He started walking towards Ron.

"Potter!"

Harry turned to see a figure walking up the slope towards them. He squinted and recognized Shawn Davis. He wore black for the funeral, and carried a bottle in one hand.

"Uh oh," Harry thought.

"I told you," Shawn said loudly as he swerved dangerously and caught his balance on a grey tombstone, "I told you to call me. Why the fuck didn't you call me?"

"Davis, this isn't the time or place," Mackenzie, their old trainer, said.

"Shut the fuck up Mackenzie, you weren't there either," Davis said, "no one told me, what's your excuse?"

That cowed Mackenzie, and Davis turned back to Harry.

"Shawn, you're drunk," Harry said.

"You think? And why's that? Because Tammy's dead," Shawn said as he gestured wildly with the bottle, "and if you called me like I asked you to, she'd still be alive, instead of in a fucking hole in the ground, and you know it."

He cast his gaze around and landed on Dawlish and pointed a finger.

"Your stupid policies got her killed too," he said, "I spent three bloody years and you wouldn't hire me even though there are dozens of open spots. And now my friends are dying. Fuck you, fuck the Ministry, and fuck the whole-"

A red stunbolt hit Davis in the side. He toppled to the ground, and the bottle of Ogden's finest spilled out into the grass. Harry looked over to see Ron glaring at him, his expression filled with accusation again.

"Ron, listen," Harry said, but Ron ignored him, hit Davis' prone form with a featherlight charm, picked him up, and apparated away. Harry took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. The gathered crowd, previously stunned into silence by the outburst, started murmuring. Liz patted Harry on the shoulder and moved to speak to Tammy's parents, while Brandon Clark walked up to him.

"Hey, don't listen to him. You did the right thing Potter, going after Mulciber and taking him down," he said quietly, "bad luck about Miller, but it had to be done. It's not like the Death Eaters are going to stop, not until they're all dead or in Azkaban. Just thought you should know, most of us are on your side, so don't worry about anything."

Harry grimaced and nodded, then patted Clark on the shoulder and stepped past him. He definitely did not agree with the muggleborn Auror's assessment of the situation.

"If I'd focused on protecting Tammy instead of trying to stun Mulciber straight away, maybe…" Harry thought. But he didn't, and she died.

---

Harry ignored the weird sensation of his head and feet being in two different places, while his body felt simultaneously stretched and squashed at the same time.

"I don't understand, Magical Games and Sports has always had plenty of muggleborns, they shouldn't care at all about whether they receive a quota reduction," Harry said.

"That doesn't matter, this is politics," Winthrop replied, "they have the power to stop it, so they're going to try and see what they can get out of us. That's the way this works all over the world."

"Ugh, can't they just do what's obviously best for everyone? That's what they're supposed to do," Harry asked, "if we give them an exception, then everyone else who doesn't have one is just going to be even more demanding."

"Have faith, we will get there eventually," Winthrop said, "how about you, Mr. Potter, how are you keeping? I have been following your exploits in the Prophet. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I've been better, obviously," Harry replied, "I'm cleared to return though, so it's back to work tomorrow."

Winthrop nodded.

"I also saw your fan club has been active of late," Winthrop said.

"The Sevens?" Harry asked, "I have no idea who they are or what they want with me."

Winthrop paused for a second.

"I believe you, Mr. Potter," Winthrop said, "though it would make sense if it were someone, or a group, who either admires you or whose goals align with yours."

"I suppose. They seem to hate the Death Eaters, so… as long as they aren't hurting innocent people, they can do whatever they want," Harry said, "Keep working over the borderline members, I'll stop by your office at the Ministry on Saturday or Sunday, and we can re-evaluate how many more votes we need."

"I look forward to it, Mr. Potter," Winthrop said.

Harry withdrew from the floo call and shook his head to clear the ash from his hair, then pounded his fist on the armrest of the sofa.

"Everyone with their bloody hand out," he thought. It really pissed him off, that there were problems the Wizengamot could fix, or at least take steps to fix, and instead they dithered about, without even the slightest sense of urgency, while people grew more and more desperate.

"Find and finish off the rest of the Death Eaters first," Harry thought.

He hadn't seen Ron at all, but Jenkins had told him that he was staying in a flat of his own, and that he was also cleared to return. With an early start the following morning, Harry washed up and went to bed early; he knew that within a week, he would be kicking himself if he didn't get as much rest as possible when he could.

The following morning, Harry entered the Atrium forty minutes early, eschewed his usual coffee as he didn't need it yet, and stopped by his desk to start sorting the pile of papers that had accumulated over the previous week.

"Intelligence from Captured Snatchers," Harry thought, "Rookwood was furious about the New Years attack? That doesn't make any sense. Maybe because they botched it? No. It says here I'm supposed to be off limits?"

Harry put the parchment down.

"Why would he make me off limits?" Harry asked.

"Because you defeated You-Know-Who. They know if they take a shot at you, they're going to lose," a voice said. Harry stood up to see Robert Parkin approaching his cube.

"I wish that were true," Harry said.

"Welcome back, Potter," Parkin said as he shook Harry's hand, "think about it from their point of view; been true so far."

Harry grimaced as he shook the Tracer's hand.

"Did you have a chance to read through the Snatcher reports?" Parkin asked.

Harry shook his head.

"I was just getting to them now when you arrived," Harry said.

"We didn't get Scabior, unfortunately, but Captain Robards seems confident that… uhh, how did he put it… 'the slimy weasel will turn up somewhere', so we don't know where the gold was going," Parkin said, "but some of the others, the ones we did round up, seemed to think Mulciber, or rather, the Death Eaters in general, are working with vampires somehow."

"Vampires…" Harry repeated. Something swam around the edge of his memory, and suddenly, another piece snapped into place.

"Amycus Carrow's body was found with a dozen empty blood replenishing potion bottles scattered around… you don't think…" Harry said.

"They killed him and fed him to the vampires?" Parkin said, "Robards came up with the same theory. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and… well if you need anything, let me know."

Harry nodded appreciatively at the young Tracer. From what he'd seen so far, Parkin was on the level, and he'd been one of the few to seem to somewhat understand what he was going through.

"Thank you, maybe a drink after work one of these days," Harry said.

"Sure thing," Parkin replied, "Right, back to the grind."

As if on cue, a paper aeroplane rounded the corner and landed on Harry's desk.

"Briefing at 0900, room 3"

It was signed by Captain Robards.

Harry sighed, gathered parchment and ink, and trudged to the meeting. He entered and shared a brief hug with Liz, who looked like she had lost weight, and sombrely clapped shoulders with Matt as they took their seats. Ron followed Robards in so Harry didn't have a chance to speak with him, but he did notice how he pointedly ignored Harry's glance and put Matt and Liz between them when he sat.

"Right," Robards said, "interrogation of the captured Snatchers indicates they're working with vampires, so you lot are going to find some and have a few chats, see if you can turn anything up."

"Head to the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Being division should have records of last known havens for vampires," Robards said, "it's not likely any of the ones on record would be working with the Death Eaters but it's a good place to start, and we're not in the business of leaving stones unturned. Any questions? Good, dismissed."

Harry stood up to speak to Ron, but Robards interrupted him.

"Potter, Head Auror wants to see you, double time," the Auror Captain said.

Harry stared at Ron's back as he left the room and turned the opposite direction from Dawlish's office.

"Yes sir," Harry said.

As he approached the Head Auror's office though, he spotted a line that started at Katherine's desk and stretched to the adjoining hallway. Harry frowned and considered heading to his desk to finish reading through his mail.

"Robards said it was urgent," he thought, and he waved to Dawlish's personal assistant to let her know he was here to see the Head Auror. Katherine motioned for him to sit around the corner.

"I'll call you in when he's ready to see you," the secretary said.

Harry passed by a few Aurors whose names he didn't know and took the first seat in the row of chairs set up in the hallway.

"I wonder what's going on," Harry thought.

Harry went over the briefing again in his head. The rest of the team would no doubt be going through the records until he joined them. They'd have to wait until sundown to start looking for vampires to interview anyway, and then he'd have a chance to speak with Ron in private. Harry heard some movement from around the corner.

"Any idea what this is about?" a male voice asked quietly.

"Haven't the foggiest," a second voice, higher pitched and younger sounding, replied.

"It better be him telling us they've hired a dozen recruits, I've had about enough of overtime and bloody Azkaban patrols every week," the first voice said.

Harry held his breath as he eavesdropped on his colleagues' conversation and tried to discern who they were by the sound of their voices.

"Too right mate," the second voice said, "every time I get out of there I'm about two seconds away from putting in my notice. And did you hear those speeches at the funerals last week? Maybe some of the other blokes are willing to go down for the cause, but not me."

Harry heard one of the Aurors snort.

"It ain't healthy, going in there all the time," the first voice said, "I don't know why Kingsley's being such a bloody mule about the soul suckers. Sure, get them away from most of the prisoners, grand idea. Of course, we're the ones who pay the price, you never see him drag his high and mighty arse up those steps."

"Haven't you figured it out yet mate? We're always the ones who pay the price," the second voice said, "it's bloody bullshite."

Harry heard Katherine's voice.

"Right, that's us," the first voice said, "this had better be good."

Harry leaned around the corner to see two Aurors he didn't recognize, both in their late 20's and with dark hair, entering the Head Auror's office. He'd known people were put off by the general short staffedness of the DMLE, and with the Azkaban patrols, but if that conversation was any indication, the entire department might be close to the breaking point. They had a hard enough time filling open positions as it was; if Aurors started resigning en masse, the pressure would only pile up on everyone else, and more people would quit. Then they'd have a real crisis on their hands. Harry moved around the corner and considered the implications for a few more minutes until the two Aurors exited the office, both looking nonplussed. Their faces did lighten up as they caught sight of him though, and Harry nodded to them as they walked by. Katherine motioned for Harry to enter next. He smiled at her as he passed, then closed the door behind him. Dawlish sat behind his usual desk of organised chaos, half empty pot of coffee in its usual spot.

"Welcome back Potter, have a seat," he said without looking up.

He shuffled a few more papers, signed one, slipped it into a folder, then looked at Harry and folded his hands on the desk.

"How are you coping?" Dawlish asked.

"Alright, I suppose," Harry replied, "it's difficult. I keep questioning what I could have done differently."

"That's normal," Dawlish said, "it's never easy to experience the loss of a squadmate. I wish I could offer some comforting words, but I'm afraid the best I have is that you'll never be the same, though it will get easier to deal with eventually."

Harry nodded. It was like so much else he'd lost in the past two years.

"My advice is to learn from your mistakes, and do better next time," Dawlish said.

The Head Auror paused and the room fell silent as Harry lost himself in memory.

"Right, that's not why I called you in this morning," Dawlish said, "with Wendel killed during the raid, there's a Lieutenant opening. I'm putting your name up for consideration."

Harry blinked and his lips formed a small 'o' in confusion. He must not have heard correctly.

"But…" Harry said.

"I got Tammy killed," Harry thought.

Dawlish ploughed on.

"It was your investigation that turned up Mulciber's operation, and if you hadn't tipped me off about informants in the DMLE, they probably would have been able to slip away completely. Plus, for some reason, it seems you're the only one who is capable of actually flushing Death Eaters out," Dawlish said, "Maybe you really are the Chosen One, maybe you're just lucky, but I've been around long enough to know to ride a wave when one finds me. I need to know you're up to it though."

Harry thought about it for a moment. With a promotion would come increased pay, and paperwork, but also additional privileges, like a seat at the Lieutenant staff meetings, and limited access to Veritaserum. With the additional clout, maybe he could help fix things in the department.

"Also, knowing what I know now, I would rather it be me deciding whether to proceed with an operation or not," Harry thought, "I will always put Auror lives first."

He recalled Tammy's face, her love of quidditch, and her shattered family.

"I'll do it," Harry said.

"Excellent," Dawlish said, and for the first time, Harry noticed the Head Auror was not fully able to contain his satisfaction, "there are a few formalities to go through but they shouldn't be a problem."

"What about Davis, sir?" Harry asked.

Dawlish shook his head.

"We're still bound by the WEA quotas," he replied, "I have exceptions waiting for approval but until then…"

Harry's lips formed a thin line and he nodded.

"I understand," he said.

Dawlish stood up and extended a hand for Harry to shake.

"Good man, back to work," Dawlish said, "I'll let you know if anything changes."

Harry saluted and left the office to find the others. He found them in the archives.

"So?" Matt asked.

"Nothing really," Harry said. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Any luck over here?" Harry asked.

"We're just about done," Liz said, "about half of them are in London, but about a third of them are scattered around other cities. The ones that we have records of, anyway."

"Okay. Liz, Matt, you take the non-London vampires, Ron and I will handle London," Harry said, "we can meet back here before sunset. Better take the rest of the day and get some rest, it's going to be a long night."

Ron started walking towards the exit.

"Ron, wait," Harry said.

"I have some things I need to take care of," Ron said without turning around, "I'll be back by sundown."

Harry stopped and watched his friend go. Apparently, things were worse than he thought. Harry collected the London addresses and gathered them into a folder while he thought about how he was going to try and talk to Ron later that evening. He made it to the lift and stopped, then took the next one to the Wizengamot offices. He knocked on Winthrop's door, but of course he was not there; it was a weekday and Hogwarts classes were in session. He turned around and started walking back towards the lifts, but his steps slowed.

"Why not try my luck?" he thought. He'd avoided trying to use his relationship with Kingsley before as he wanted to do things by the book, but now? Now he wanted to use every tool at his disposal to push things to change as quickly as possible. Plus, if he could help his boss out, that would be a good thing, right?

The same severe looking grey-haired receptionist looked up and her expression flickered with recognition, but she quickly schooled her features.

"I need to speak with the Minister," Harry said.

"Let me see if he's available," she said as she stood up.

She walked to the large door behind her, peeked in, and spoke in hushed tones.

"You're in luck," she said, "the Minister will see you now."

"Great, thank you," Harry said. He pushed through the heavy oak door and entered the plush office of the Minister of Magic. Kingsley, dressed in his usual royal blue, sat behind a majestic darkly stained wood desk with the seal of the Ministry of Magic engraved on the wall behind him.

"Mr. Potter," Kingsley said as he gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk, "I only have a few minutes, I hope this is urgent."

"Right," Harry said, and took a deep breath, "I didn't want to come to you at first, but given… everything that's happened, I need your help, or… advice, maybe, on pushing a few things through."

Kingsley folded his hands on the desk in front of him and waited for Harry to continue.

"We need the WEA amendments approved, or barring that, the exceptions to the WEA approved so we can hire more Aurors," Harry said.

"Harry, I understand this is important to you," Kingsley said.

"People are dying, Kingsley," Harry said.

Kingsley continued speaking as if Harry hadn't just interrupted him.

"We cannot make exceptions or the entire law will fall apart," Kingsley said.

"People are going to continue to die," Harry continued, "good people. Shawn Davis would make an excellent Auror, if we brought him on it would mean capturing Death Eaters faster and maybe we could save-"

"I told you, we can't," Kingsley said.

Something tweaked inside of Harry.

"You're the bloody Minister of Magic, don't tell me there's nothing you can do. If you can't do it, then who?" he shouted, "If not Shawn, then someone else, there's got to be a decent half-blood or muggleborn somewhere we can use."

"Auror Potter," Kingsley said as his brows furrowed, and Harry realised in that instant, he'd never seen Kingsley truly angry before, "do not assume for a moment I'm not doing everything I can, but there are things at play that you are completely ignorant of. The world is not as black and white as you would believe."

With great difficulty, Harry forced himself to calm down somewhat.

"You're an Auror, speaking to the Minister of Magic," Harry thought.

"More Aurors can't be a bad thing," Harry said.

"Everyone needs to be properly vetted and trained; it's a three-year program for a reason," Kingsley said, subtly reminding Harry that he'd skipped most of that time, "on top of that, some muggleborns have shown an unsettling tendency to use their newfound authority to settle scores. Then there are budget constraints to consider. After the most recent raid, Obliviators had dozens of muggles to investigate and obliviate, and muggle news needed to be influenced as well. All of that requires overtime pay, which makes matters even worse. There are many open positions, Potter, and not enough skilled wizards to fill them. Not everyone graduated from Hogwarts."

Something he'd discussed with Macnair swam to the front of his thoughts.

"I have an idea for the budget, too," Harry said, "the goblins have plenty of gold. What if we allowed them to purchase property from muggles, and in exchange, they would have to hire wizard contractors to construct dwellings for both wizards and goblins."

"That… sounds like it might have merit," Kingsley said, "but it would require Wizengamot approval."

Kingsley stared at Harry for a moment.

"I'm… working on it," Harry said. Kingsley stood up, and Harry knew his time had run out.

"Potter, you're doing a fine job tracking down the last of Voldemort's followers," Kingsley said as he walked around the desk towards Harry, "I ask that you keep doing it, and let me handle the political side for the time being."

Harry refused to stand up.

"We have to do better, sir," Harry said.

"And we will, one thing at a time," Kingsley said.

Harry felt like he'd failed.

"I should have asked when you first entered, how are you?" Kingsley asked quietly, and Harry suddenly felt like he was now speaking not as Minister of Magic, but as a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, not quite a friend, but a close acquaintance, someone who had fought for him and protected him until Voldemort was defeated.

"I might have saved her if I'd just…" Harry said, then trailed off.

"Remember," Kingsley said as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "remember, so next time it doesn't happen that way."

Harry felt something click inside of him. Kingsley had lost friends in the fight against Voldemort. Lots of them. But they didn't stop fighting, they steeled themselves and kept going. He did his best to push his grief aside and look ahead to the job that still needed to be done, and stood up.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"Anytime, Potter," Kingsley said. They shook hands and Harry left the office to return home and get some rest.

That evening, he arrived back at the Ministry and met Ron in the Atrium. He spotted his ginger friend from across the wide room, leaning against the edge of the reflecting pool, and turned his steps towards him.

"Ron, hi," Harry said as he approached.

Ron spotted him and pushed off the fountain.

"Let's go," he said.

"Hang on, I wanted to talk first," Harry said.

"There's nothing to talk about," Ron said, "let's just get this assignment done."

He started walking towards the floo, and Harry was forced to jog to catch up to him. It was like that for the entire night as they sought out and interviewed vampires, the few that would speak to them. Ron refused to talk about or engage on anything except the next item on their list. Unsurprisingly, they didn't turn anything up, but at least they could eliminate the known vampires as a source of information. When they crossed the last one off the list, just as the eastern sky was starting to lighten.

"We're supposed to be a team, Harry," Ron said suddenly, "and you went charging in…"

"I know, I'm-" Harry said.

"You can't just say sorry!" Ron said loudly, and Harry closed his mouth at the look of utter defeat and betrayal on Ron's face. He didn't know what else to say aside from 'sorry."

Ron looked at the ground.

"Right, see you tomorrow," he said, and apparated away with a loud pop.

"Right," Harry said quietly.

He returned to the Ministry to drop the files off, and ran into Matt and Liz at records.

"Anything?" Harry asked.

Liz shook her head while Matt grimaced.

"Nobody wants to talk to Aurors, I mean we knew that already but…" he said.

"Right, us either," Harry said. He had to set aside how Ron felt about him at the moment and do what needed to be done for Matt and Liz.

"I know you're knackered, but let's go for a drink. You know, we haven't had one since um…" Harry said.

"Since Tammy died," Liz said.

Harry nodded.

"Ron wouldn't want to come?" Matt asked.

"Not just yet," Harry replied.

They used the floo, then walked the near deserted Diagon Alley to O'Malley's, and each ordered a pint. They left a pair of empty seats.

"To Tammy," Harry said, and Liz and Matt echoed him.

"You know, I used to hear stories about people who died during the first war," Matt said as he stared into his glass, "everyone lost someone, it seemed. Now it's just our turn, I guess."

"Me too," Harry said, "the Order used to talk about this person, or that person. Now I kind of get it."

"They were making sure they're not forgotten, right?" Liz said.

"Right, and that's why, I'll be here every year, as long as I'm still around," Harry said.

Matt raised his glass at that, and they all clinked and took another swig.

"Also, I just wanted to say, I know you're both blaming yourselves, and so am I," Harry said, "but we've got to keep going, and work harder, and try to do better next time, so this doesn't happen again."

"For Tammy," Harry added.

Liz and Matt nodded.

"For Tammy," they said.

---

Harry knocked on the door and Mrs. Weasley opened it with a broad smile.

"Harry, so good to see you," she said, "come inside, Ginny is in her room. Actually, could you fetch Arthur from his shed first? He's been out there all day."

"Sure," Harry said.

"So far so good," he thought. He closed the door and took a deep breath, then started the walk to the small wooden structure. Each step seemed to take longer than the last and his heart thumped. He knocked on the thin wooden door.

"Yes?" Mr. Weasley said.

"Hi Mr. Weasley," Harry said, his voice coming out far too high. He cleared his throat.

"It's Harry," he added.

"Ah, just a minute!" Mr. Weasley said. Harry heard some bustling from inside, tools clattered, and the door was thrown open.

"Yes? Dinnertime?" he asked.

"Err, actually I was wondering if I could come inside for a moment," Harry said.

"Ahh," Mr. Weasley said as he looked over his shoulder, "certainly."

He stepped back to open the door wide, and Harry crossed the threshold. Tools and random muggle knickknacks lay scattered across the worktable, but Harry didn't have any attention to spare to look at them. He focused only on what he was going to say next, that each word that followed the preceding was the correct one, and he didn't skip a few in his haste.

"I um, I've been thinking a lot, lately," Harry said, "reflecting, as it were, after… recent events."

Mr. Weasley's smile faded and he gave Harry his full attention.

"And I know what I want, what I intend," Harry said, the words tumbling out of his mouth now, "I love Ginny, and I plan to propose… after graduation of course. But I wanted to… umm… ask for your permission first."

He felt the urge to continue talking, but forced his mouth to close and look up at Mr. Weasley, whose expression had sort of frozen.

"I suppose this is where I'm expected to give you a hard time," Mr. Weasley said, "but truth be told, I don't think I could. Molly and I already consider you a son, and we see how Ginny is with you. Nothing would make us happier than to officially welcome you to the family, Harry."

A gigantic weight lifted from Harry's chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ron will be thrilled," Mr. Weasley said.

"Shit… well, he'll get over it," Harry thought, "he'll have to."

"Ah, well, he doesn't know yet, no one does," Harry said.

"Right, of course, I'll only tell Molly, can't have word getting out, right?" Mr. Weasley said with a wink, then clapped Harry on the shoulder. Then he offered a hand to shake, which Harry accepted.

"Can't wait to hear the good news," Mr. Weasley said, "when do you think?"

"Err, after graduation for sure, sometime," Harry replied.

Desperate to change the subject, Harry looked around the shed. His eyes landed on a large white bedsheet in the rear.

"What's that you're working on?" Harry asked.

"Ah that? Nothing special, just some junk," Arthur replied, "come, Molly will be wondering what's taking so long."

Mr. Weasley ushered Harry out the door and back towards the Burrow.

"Did Ron say he would be having dinner with us today?" Harry asked.

"He begged off, busy setting up his new flat, I believe," Mr. Weasley replied.

Harry was both relieved and disappointed. He had half-hoped Ron would come for Sunday dinner, that perhaps he would open up a little bit around his family, but another part of Harry was glad his best friend would be absent if he was anything near as standoffish as he had been the past week.

"If he needs more time, then he needs more time," Harry thought.

"Ginny! Harry's here!" Mrs. Weasley called as they entered.

"Tell him to come up!" Ginny's voice filtered down from above.

"Dinner's almost ready!" Mrs. Weasley said as Harry climbed the steps to find Ginny's door already ajar. Harry stepped in to find his girlfriend wearing a light blue dress that fell to her knees. She leaned over slightly as she watered a few small plants on her windowsill.

"Hey, close the door," Ginny said, and Harry quietly shut it behind him.

She placed the small watering can on a table near the sill, then turned around and kissed him deeply as she held his face. The sight of her, and the feel of her, was all Harry wanted, despite her parents waiting just a flight of steps away.

"Merlin, I missed you," she whispered as she kissed him again, "How are you, are you okay?"

"I'm alright, let's talk after dinner," Harry replied. Ginny nodded and started kissing him again, but then she abruptly pulled back.

"Wait, before I forget, there's something I have to tell you," Ginny said, then paused for dramatic effect, "Hermione is dating Julia White."

"Dating?" Harry thought. He recalled the spring dance, when he spotted the two of them together.

"What, like… dating, dating?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded.

"Full on," she said.

"Humh," Harry said as he tried to picture it, "and Hermione seems happy?"

"So happy," Ginny replied with a smile of her own, "I don't think I've ever seen her smile so much. They fell asleep on each other in the common room last week."

Harry chuckled and felt a swell of happiness fill his own chest.

"Good for her," Harry thought, "poor Ron though."

"Does Ron know?" Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head. Harry nodded, and then decided he hadn't had nearly enough of kissing Ginny as he pulled her close again.

"Ginny, Harry, dinner!" Mr. Weasley called.

"Just a minute!" Harry replied, and he realised his voice sounded strained in just the same fashion as Mr. Weasley's had from the shed.

"We'd better go," Ginny said, and she led the way downstairs.

The scent of corned beef and mashed potatoes hit Harry's nose before he rounded the corner. The four of them, plus George, ate together, talked about how busy things were getting at the shop, chatted about upcoming NEWTs. Everyone avoided the topic of the recent raid, and Harry's name in the newspapers. It was almost like the outside world didn't exist, and horrible things weren't happening, and Harry suspected that was part of the point. George ate quickly and guzzled down his drink.

"Right, I've got to get back, good seeing everyone, Harry," George said.

"Oh wait, I almost forgot," Ginny said, "need to pass you something."

She bounded up the steps.

"Up here George," Ginny said.

George sighed heavily, something Harry picked up on as slightly overdramatic; it was clear to Harry that Ginny wanted to pass George something without their parents seeing what it was, and George knew it too. He ascended after her and Harry heard a few hushed whispers, then a small pop as George apparated away.

"What was all that about?" Molly asked.

"Nothing, just something for the shop," Ginny replied, "may I be excused?"

"Of course," Mr. Weasley said, and Mrs. Weasley glared at him, but he just smiled back.

"Thanks, see you later," Ginny said as she all but dragged Harry upstairs.

"Thank you for dinner Mrs. Weasley, it was delicious," Harry said.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked as they retreated back to Ginny's room.

"I forgot to tell you, the Marauder's Map sort of twacked itself a little," Ginny said, "I've been meaning to ask George to take a look at it but I kept forgetting. He says he might be able to fix it, and it probably has something to do with the way the castle's wards were repaired."

"Oh," Harry said. The map was one of the few things he had from Sirius, that and the broken mirror.

"I hope he can fix it," Harry thought.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked.

"Of course, I'm fine," Harry replied, almost on autopilot, then he caught sight of her worried expression in the fading sunlight from the window.

"I'm not great really," Harry said. Ginny sat down on her bed and patted the spot next to her.

"You know what happened with the raid, right?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded.

"I wondered why you hadn't said anything about it," Ginny said, "Ron's been quiet too."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, then Ginny laced her fingers through his.

"I don't know how much you know, but one of the Aurors on my team," Harry said.

"Say her name," he thought.

"Tammy. Tammy Miller," Harry said, "Mulciber hit her with a curse, and I thought Liz, you know Liz…"

Ginny nodded.

"I thought Liz had it under control, and we got her to St. Mungo's, and… she didn't make it," Harry said, "and it was bad, there was blood everywhere."

He sighed, a deep shuddering sound, and Ginny just put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him as he leaned into her. He let his guard down and just let himself feel as he listened to her heart beat while she rubbed his shoulder and back. There were no more tears, just an aching, empty feeling.

"It was supposed to be better now, but it doesn't seem to be getting better," Harry said, "people are still dying"

Ginny held him closer at that.

"The worst part is," he continued, "is she and Ron were dating."

Ginny's hand stopped moving.

"It's not allowed, so he can't act like his girlfriend just died. He can't tell anyone, he hasn't even told me," Harry said.

"How did you find out then?" Ginny asked.

"Liz knew, somehow, and she told me," Harry said, "I just hope he's okay."

"Me too," Ginny said, "so that's why you've been so depressed lately. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

The mood rings. Ginny had known exactly how he felt all this time, and been worried.

"I mean, I didn't want to bother you, with NEWTs and all," Harry said, even though it sounded like a lame excuse as he said it out loud, "plus, it's partially my fault she was killed, so, maybe I felt like I deserved some punishment, you know?"

"Harry James Potter," Ginny said as she sat up to look Harry in the eye, "sometimes you can be so stupid. I'll always be here for you."

Harry's heart lifted. He knew he was making the right decision in marrying Ginny, and this conversation only further affirmed it. She kissed him gently on the lips, then tipped her head forward slightly so their foreheads touched.

"Always," she whispered.

"I love you," Harry said quietly. They kissed and held each other for the better part of an hour, with Harry taking solace in the girl, in the woman, he loved with all his heart. When she sat up, the loss of contact left him adrift and he had to restrain himself from dragging her back down when she stood.

"I have to go, curfew's a bitch," she said.

Harry nodded.

"Graduation is soon though, then we can be together as much as we want," she said, "at least until training camp starts."

"Would you think I'm weird if I told you I'm counting the days?" Harry asked.

"Would you think I'm weird if I told you I'm counting the nights spent alone?" Ginny replied.

"Yes, very weird," Harry said as he leaned in to kiss her, "if weird means sexy, I suppose."

"Oh, well in that case you're very weird, Harry Potter," Ginny said as she hugged him tightly while they continued to press their lips together. Harry felt something vibrate against his leg.

"Mff, have to go," Ginny said. She gave him one last kiss and a lick on his lower lip, the promise of more to come, and threw her school robe over her dress. They descended the dark steps, and kissed one last time in front of the floo.

"Love you," Ginny said.

"Love you too," Harry replied, then she was gone in a flash of green fire, and Harry let himself out of the Burrow.

---

Trigger Warning: Character Death