Chaos. For several never ending minutes, everything was complete chaos.
The screaming near the cliffs had belonged to Harry, which Fleur and others realized as soon as they'd rushed down to him. They'd found him with a goblin who was holding a sword—Griphook, she quickly realized, recognizing him from her time at Gringotts—as well as the house elf, Dobby, from before.
Both had been injured—the little elf fatally. There was a knife sticking out of his chest; blood was pooling around his body. He was still and lifeless by the time Fleur saw him. His large, orb-like eyes were empty and without movement.
She already knew it was too late to try and save him. He was gone.
Harry was bent over the small body, repeatedly saying, "Dobby…" over and over again in a pleading manner, attempting to bargain with the universe for a different outcome.
She was instantly triggered and transported to a memory, one she hated revisiting more than anything. Harry was also bent over a body on the grass, upset and desperate sounding. She, herself, was standing only yards away, the slow realization of what she was looking at becoming clearer and clearer, though she refused to believe her eyes. A horrified feeling like she'd never experienced washed over her; she'd started repeating, "Non, non, non…." and pleading with the universe herself, all while Madame Maxine embraced her and kept trying to turn her away from the sight of Cedric's body.
It was the most powerless, empty feeling in the world.
From close by, she heard Luna quietly whisper, "Poor Dobby." She was hugging herself; Dean and Bill were standing there silently. It was impossible to know what to say in a moment like this.
Harry must have sensed them because he suddenly looked up from the little elf's body. He, like the others when they'd arrived, looked terrible—as if they'd been through hell and back. Dirty, worn-down, exhausted. He looked so much older than he had at the wedding; ages older than he did when she'd first met him years ago at Hogwarts. Back then, he'd been a boy—young enough that people easily questioned how it was possible that he could take on Voldemort and live to tell the tale. Easily young enough that it was easy to doubt his stories as truth.
But there was nothing about the way he looked now that would have people doubt him. There was nothing particularly youthful in those hard, tortured eyes. He now looked grown; like someone who had seen and experienced things no one ever should. Like someone you would hope to volunteer to go and face Voldemort.
Not that he had the choice to volunteer…
"Hermione?" Harry suddenly asked, speaking for the first time and cutting the silence. "Where is she?"
Fleur turned to the house, as if she could somehow see Hermione and Ron inside. It was Bill who let Harry know she was safe and that she would be alright.
Seemingly content with that answer, Harry was already back to tending to the elf. He immediately pulled the dagger from his chest and removed his jacket to wrap it around the small body.
Fleur looked away, feeling as if this was a private moment she shouldn't be watching so openly. Bill must have felt similarly because he suddenly said, "Griphook," reminding her that the goblin was present.
Griphook, who was rubbing his legs with one hand and holding a sword with the other, turned his icy stare onto Bill. He nodded and managed a pained, weak sounding, "Weasley. We meet again."
Bill nodded once before looking at Fleur. She wondered if he was thinking the same as she was? Griphook wasn't a particularly welcomed sight. He had always been horribly difficult to get on with. Most goblins didn't like wizards on principle, but some were far more vocal about it than others. Griphook had been one of them.
To say he was rude was putting it kindly. At Gringotts, the goblins had authority in many ways—ways they didn't have in society—and Griphook had been one to use that to his full advantage. He wasn't a higher-ranking goblin, but he'd always acted as if he was. With Bill, he'd always been tremendously condescending. With her, he'd been full on demanding and ordered her around like a servant. She could only hope he wasn't planning on taking up old habits.
"Seems we do," Bill said, and Fleur could immediately sense he was not particularly excited by the goblin's presence either. "Are you hurt?"
The goblin nodded, seeming dazed. "I hit my head. My legs are damaged. You can mend them, can't you? You have the required potions?"
"We don't need potions," said Bill. "If they're broken, there is a spell—"
"You will use potions," he said rather brusquely. "No wand magic. Potions."
Bill caught Fleur's eye again, his expression silently asking if they even had the required potions on hand.
"We have Skele-gro," she offered.
"Right," Bill said, turning back to Griphook. "Well, we can you get healed up once we get you in the house. Can you move at all?"
"No," he grunted. "You must carry me."
Bill stared at him for a long moment before letting a very forced sounding, "Must I?" escape him. It was clear to Fleur that years and years of pent up frustration was already seeping out of him. The demands and condescension was already beginning.
She pulled out her wand and turned to Bill, trying to move this along. "I will levitate him—"
"No, girl!" Griphook snapped, showing the most energy he'd exhibited yet. "You will not turn your wand on me. Not to fix my legs; not to move me! I would be a fool to allow a wizard to use their wand on me!"
Fleur let her eyes narrow. "Girl?"
"Griphook," Bill said, stepping forward. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt since you're hurt. But in case you were unaware, this is my home." He gestured to Fleur. "And my wife's home. This isn't Gringotts. We don't work for you here."
Griphook stared at him.
"You either allow us to help or you don't," Bill said, his gaze briefly traveling back to Harry before back again. "That's your choice, but you won't be barking orders or disrespecting me or my wife in our own home."
Griphook laughed humorlessly. "I am supposed to blindly trust wizards? I had my life turned upside down by wizards. Held captive by wizards. Nearly killed by wizards—"
"And saved by wizards," Fleur interjected, gesturing to Harry, who was still doting over Dobby's body. "And soon to be cared for by wizards, if you would let yourself be helped."
He sneered and looked away, absently rubbing his broken legs again. "I will never allow a wizard to turn their wand on me. To ask me that shows you do not understand the harm your kind has done to mine."
"I do understand," Bill said. "And I sympathize. I won't use wand magic on you as you request. You'll find we're very open to reasonable requests. What I'm not open to are commands. I don't take orders from anyone in my own home." He gestured to Fleur. "Unless it's her."
She cracked a small smile, which she saw Bill lazily returning. Griphook, however, looked as if he was barely paying attention to what was being said. He seemed to have a permanent looking scowl etched on his features.
"I wish to be taken inside now," he finally muttered. "My legs are not getting any better on their own. And I will need to be carried."
Bill and Fleur shared a tired expression, with Bill especially now looking as if he didn't want to bend to the will of the overbearing goblin. It would set a precedent. But what choice did they have? They couldn't use a wand on him.
"I'll carry him," Dean offered, perhaps sensing the tenseness. "I'll make it easier on everyone and I'll just…I'll do it."
Neither Bill nor Fleur objected, even if they already knew Griphook saw that as a win. He was clearly pleased that he'd managed to make a wizard do what he'd commanded, but at the same time, it truly was easier to get him inside to be helped. Fleur was already attempting to do the maths in her head as to how many hours it would take for the bones to mend themselves after administering the Skele-gro.
"You go ahead and check on everyone," Bill said to her once she turned to follow Dean and Griphook back toward the house. "I'm going to…"
He gestured to Harry, as if to say he would stay behind with him. She nodded, noticing Luna remained as well, silently standing back and observing.
Fleur rushed to get ahead of Dean, instructing him to take Griphook up to the bedroom at the top of the stairs. It was the same room she'd put Mr. Ollivander in earlier when she'd levitated him to a more comfortable spot.
Dean had nodded, ready to oblige when Griphook called out from his arms, "Be sure to be quick! My legs are in great pain."
She stopped in her tracks at that, glaring at the back of Dean as he ascended the stairs. Of course Bill's words had no effect on the goblin, why would they? As far as she was concerned, Griphook's legs were currently the least of the great pains in this house…
She turned her attention to the sitting room then, where she found Ron had set Hermione up on the sofa that Ollivander had been sitting on earlier. She was wrapped in a blanket, a pillow behind her head, a glass of water beside her, and a first-aid basket that Fleur kept in the kitchen was sitting open beside her on the floor.
Ron had apparently been busy searching through it, seeing as most of the contents were spread around the floor next to his feet. He was sitting directly beside Hermione, reading labels on bottles to her.
"That's for upset stomachs," he muttered as he tossed it to the floor, missing the basket entirely. "That won't do. There's got to be something for headaches…"
Hermione said nothing, though she seemed slightly more alert than she'd been earlier. There was a terrible weakness about her, but she hopefully only needed rest. There didn't appear to be any lasting damage that Fleur could see.
"Oh, here we go," Ron said, grinning back at Hermione as he found the correct vial. "This is what you'll want."
Ron proceeded to remove the stopper and portion Hermione out the recommended amount. Beside him, Hermione was laying her head on her pillow, lazily watching him make sure everything was in order. She seemed tired and relieved that she didn't have to think about it. She clearly trusted him to take care of things.
Fleur waited for Hermione to drink down the potion for her head—following it with a large gulp of water and Ron's encouraging insistence that she take it easy—before she cleared her throat and moved into the room to get their attention. They both glanced over at her.
"How are you feeling, Hermione?"
She offered a weak smile.
"Bad headache and some aches," Ron added, reaching over to give her an affectionate rub on her leg. "But she's fought off the worst of it, we think. She's really strong."
Fleur smiled. "I am happy to hear that. If you need anything, please let me know." She nodded to Ron. "Though, I am sure you are in good hands with Ron. He knows his way around here well enough."
They both offered small smiles, with Hermione eventually shutting her eyes and letting her head sink into her pillow. Ron had started tending to all the other first aid supplies that he'd left on the floor, picking them up as he asked, "Where's everyone else? I saw Dean carrying Griphook upstairs, but that's it. Where's Harry?"
"He did make it back, didn't he?" Hermione suddenly asked weakly, her eyes fluttering open and her gaze shooting straight to Fleur. "Ron said he was right behind us."
"He was," Ron said, having stood up, the first aid basket dangling from his hand. "I saw him back by the cliffs after we arrived." He paused. "I mean, I assumed it was him because I never got a full look—he was a ways away—but who else would it be?"
"You said you saw Harry," said Hermione.
"I saw the distant silhouette of someone who looked just like Harry and was traveling with a goblin and a house elf," Ron said. "There's only so many people that could be." He then gestured to Fleur. "And I think she and the rest of them would be a bit more worked up right now if it wasn't Harry, so we'd know—"
"It was Harry," Fleur interrupted. "He safely arrived."
"See?" Ron said, smirking at Hermione before turning that grin around on Fleur. "What's he up to out there? Having a moonlight stroll along the beach?"
Fleur stared back at him, her expression stony. She wasn't entirely sure she should be the bearer of the obvious bad news that had fallen upon them. It felt like someone else's news to tell—not hers; not someone who didn't know Dobby. However, given the way Ron and Hermione were looking at her, she knew she had to say something.
She sighed. "He is—"
At that moment, Luna had entered through the front door looking distraught with shiny eyes. Given her expression and body language, it was now abundantly clear that something had happened.
"Luna, what's the matter?" Ron asked.
Fleur looked back at Ron and Hermione, speaking before Luna could. "Harry arrived safely, but his house elf companion did not."
Both Ron and Hermione's expressions turned equally as confused; it was Ron who asked, "What do you mean? What's happened to Dobby? Is he…alright?"
Fleur looked to Luna, who said in a surprisingly calm tone, "No. Dobby…a dagger struck him. He passed away. It was a very bad looking wound and he lost much blood. There was no way to save him."
Hermione slowly inhaled, wincing as she did so. Ron seemed shocked; his blood seemed to be slowly draining out of his face and he looked confused. After a moment, he started shaking his head.
"But, he was just…I just saw him. You must be mistaken."
Luna was shaking her head as Fleur said, "She is not. I saw him as well. It was a fatal wound. Nothing could have been done."
Ron blinked, still looking as if he was waiting for someone to jump out and say they were taking the piss. "So you're saying, Dobby's…dead?"
Fleur nodded.
"But, Dobby can't…"
He looked immediately at Hermione, almost as if expecting her to offer something to explain how this couldn't have happened, but she had nothing to say. She sat there silently, looking despondent. If Fleur had to guess, her expression drove the point home to Ron more than anything she or Luna were saying. When he turned back to them, his eyes were glassy.
"He can't die."
"We can all die, Ron," Luna said quietly.
That somehow managed to suck what little air was left in the room right out of it, the room falling into a silence that was only broken by the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs. Dean had returned. He seemed to realize that he'd walked into something and did nothing more than look around at all of them.
"What's Harry…?" Ron began to ask, walking straight toward the wide open front door. He was immediately intercepted by Bill, who'd come straight through and grabbed his younger brother into a hug, clearly appreciative that he was still here in front of him.
"You alright?" Bill asked him, looking him up and down before letting his gaze go to the sitting room. "Hermione?"
Ron nodded absently, looking over Bill's shoulder. "We'll be fine. Don't worry about us. What's Harry doing?"
Bill took a deep breath, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Your house elf friend, Dobby, was terribly wounded. I'm so sorry, but he didn't make it." He grew quiet as he looked behind him and out into the garden. "Harry wanted to properly bury him, so I found him a spot and got him a spade. He's digging the grave as we speak."
"Digging the grave?" Fleur asked, wanting to make sure she understood him correctly.
"Digging," Bill reiterated. "Without magic. He insisted it be done that way."
A quick silence, almost a surprised shock, fell over them. Digging the grave would be intense work and strenuous manual labor. That was not an easy task. That—
"That will take hours," said Dean.
"I think that's the point," Bill said, glancing over at Ron. "He seemed to want the distraction and the time to himself."
He then turned to address the room in general. "I need you all to listen. Now that Ron's been fully exposed as traveling with Harry, it's time we all go into hiding." He focused on Fleur. "Proper hiding. I finally cast the Fidelius Charm while I was outside." He then looked back at the others. "I'm the Secret Keeper."
At that, he told them all the location of Shell Cottage, allowing them in on the secret. He'd apparently even told Harry, though he couldn't be sure he'd properly heard him. As Bill put it, he understandably seemed to be in his own head at the moment. He would try again later if he needed to.
"What about mum and dad?" Ron asked, rounding back on Bill. "Fred and George? Ginny? Are they alright? If me being exposed puts everyone at risk, are they—?"
"I sent them all a Patronus earlier to tell them to get out of the Burrow," Bill told him, walking over to grab his traveling cloak. "We had a plan in place. I also sent a Patronus to the whole Order to let them know we're on high alert since Harry's been spotted, but that he's safe. I haven't heard back yet from anyone, but that's hopefully because they were getting to safety. I'll go check on mum and dad now and make sure they got out."
"Got out?" Ron asked, looking confused. "Got out and gone where? Why are they leaving the Burrow?"
"For their own safety," he said. "Fleur and I just left there earlier tonight and dad hadn't put the charm up yet. It takes time to go into effect, so you don't want to sit around waiting for the Death Eaters to come knocking before it does. It was easier for them to escape to a safer location."
He gave Ron another pat on the shoulder. "We can talk more about it later. Let me find out what happened before we get too far into it."
He then moved across the room toward Fleur; he went in for a goodbye kiss. "I won't be long, but I need to be sure my family is alright."
She nodded, standing up straight to kiss him again since him leaving her sight now had a different sort of fear attached to it. A real, far more dangerous fear than ever before.
Ron suddenly muttered rather vacantly, "I should go and help Harry if he's digging."
"Not straight away," said Luna, "Bill's right. He needs some time to himself for a bit. You can see it in his eyes he'd like the privacy to grieve without people being around. Let him have that first."
Ron didn't argue with her; he even slowly nodded as if to agree before he went and slumped down into a nearby chair, clearly lost to his thoughts. Dean followed his lead and also went to take a chair. Fleur couldn't help but think that this was likely the first time in months that they were able to 'turn off' for a moment.
She looked around the room at all of them—tired, confused, dirty, worn down. For the first time in ages, they weren't being exposed to the elements, they weren't actively running and hiding, and they weren't in some sort of horrible situation. They were as safe as they could get right now, and it was evident that they actually needed a proper moment to adjust to this.
Bill seemed to sense it too, walking over to Ron and giving his hair a gentle tousle. Ron didn't even react—whatever adrenaline that had been surging through him apparently gone now—and it caused Bill to turn to Fleur as if unsure what to make of it all. They had their work cut out for them in helping mend and fix all these broken—whether physically or mentally—people.
"I will look after everyone," she told him. "Go check on your family."
"I can help you look after everyone, if you'd like," Luna offered, looking at her with those big eyes of hers. "I'm aware that Mr. Griphook still needs potions for his legs. It's likely why he's so ornery."
"No, he's always like that," Bill mumbled more to himself than anyone in particular.
"Mr. Ollivander could certainly use something to help him rest," Luna continued. "I'd be happy to give him what you can spare."
Fleur offered her a polite smile, happy for the company—specifically when dealing with Griphook. "I would appreciate that."
She looked back at Bill before he departed, not entirely sure what the plan was from here on out, but understanding that things around the cottage were going to be very different for the time being.
She offered him a quick, rather reassuring smile—even if she wasn't completely sure herself. Either way, she let her smile silently speak the words they both needed to know: "We'll figure it out."
Bill popped up just outside of a quiet, posh-looking street that was lined with townhomes, though immediately sensed that he'd come to the wrong place. The street was familiar, he'd definitely been here before, but if that were true, then when was…?
He stopped and looked around, knowing that his aunt's townhome should have been here, but also second guessing himself. Many of these streets did look the same; perhaps he'd selected the wrong one? Had he over shot his Apparation?
But…no. That couldn't be. There was a townhouse across the street with a bright red door and an impressive floral arrangement that was overflowing from a window box. He knew that house. The floral arrangement was so vibrant and colorful, it always caught his attention when he came here, so his aunt's house should be…
He turned back to the row of houses before him and saw nothing he recognized.
What the hell…?
He grew nervous suddenly and gripped his wand tighter. Something was off. He'd come here to find his family and time was of the essence. Where were they? Why was nothing making sense? Where was his aunt's house?
He glanced up and down the street, more confused by the second as to what was happening. Was he being Confunded? Was someone messing with him? He suddenly thought of those mystery letters—how that person knew things most people wouldn't. If that person knew so much about them, who's to say others didn't as well? What if those people were the ones behind—
Movement in his peripherals startled him and he swung around on what turned out to be his father approaching. He wasn't entirely sure where he'd appeared from—he hadn't heard any Apparation noises—but there he was, standing in someone's garden.
"Bill," he said, calling out to him as he glanced up and down the street. "You alright?"
"Yes," he said, feeling relieved as he moved to open the gate that was standing between them. "Are you? Is everyone else?"
"We're fine," he said. "All of us. We'd been taking turns keeping watch out the window in the hopes you'd turned up sooner rather than later. I won't pretend I wasn't worried."
He then suddenly leaned closely into Bill and whispered Muriel's address into his ear, barely above a whisper. As soon as he had, over the span of a single blink, the familiar sight of Muriel's townhouse had appeared exactly where Bill had expected it earlier. He found himself wondering how the hell he missed it, though with his brain fog slowly clearing, the pieces began to come together.
The Fidelius Charm really was quite the mind fuck.
"I put it up the moment we arrived," his father explained, still checking the street as they walked back to Muriel's front door. "Just as we planned. And I put it up at the Burrow before we left, but since it takes a bit to happen, I have no idea whether it took before anyone came to call."
"Came to call," Bill muttered as they walked up the small front steps and knocked on the front door. "More like came to capture."
"What's happened?" his father asked as the door flew open to reveal George standing there, wand in hand, though not pointing it at anyone. As Bill was ushered into the foyer, he saw that Fred, Ginny, and his mother were all close by in the sitting room, joined by Muriel in her dressing gown and a house elf who was pouring tea. Everyone other than the elf was staring at him urgently; silently begging for him to fill them in on what was happening.
"Bill, what's…?" his mother said, her face pale as she stood from the sofa. "What did you hear?"
"I didn't hear anything," he began as a second house elf approached him to take his cloak, which he politely declined. "No thanks. I'll keep it. I won't be staying long."
He turned back to his father. "I've had visitors this evening."
"Who?" his mother asked as Ginny, who'd been beside her, also stood with a similarly fearful expression.
He cleared his throat. "Ron, Harry, Hermione—"
With each passing name, everyone's expressions grew more and more aghast.
"Are they alright?" his mother asked, looking as if she'd never been more desperate for a question to be answered in her life.
"A bit banged up, but they'll be fine. They were with others, too." He gestured to Ginny. "Your friend, Luna…"
"She's alive!" Ginny said, looking as if she was exhaling a breath she probably didn't know she was holding. "She's been missing for so long, I didn't know if…"
"A bloke called Dean," he continued, glancing from Ginny to Fred to George. "He's friends and roommates at school with Ron. You know him, I assume?"
They all nodded; Ginny very quickly.
He turned to his father. "They also brought along a house elf called Dobby who didn't survive the trip, a goblin I know from the bank called Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander—"
Even Muriel made a noise of shock at that name. It was her who said, "He's alive!?"
"He is, but he's very weak and in an awful state," Bill said, then going into an explanation of what exactly he knew. All he could tell them was how they'd all been picked up by Death Eaters and Snatchers at various times; how they'd all been held captive at the Malfoys' house, which was apparently where Voldemort and the Death Eaters were holding court.
The noise his father made at how little that shocked him was surprisingly loud.
"I've put the Fidelius Charm up at the cottage," Bill further explained, allowing them all in on the secret, just as his father had done with Muriel's townhome. "So they'll be safe. I'm glad you all heeded the warning I sent."
His father nodded, crossing his arm over his chest. "As soon as we got your Patronus, we got our bags and went just as we'd always talked about. The Burrow could be burned to the ground as far as I know, but we've got everything important put away in Gringotts over the last year." He nodded to Bill. "As you're well aware."
He was well aware, seeing as he'd been the one to transport much of the more important documents and heirlooms to their family vault himself. "Rubbish" as the goblins called it, but there was peace of mind in knowing their most treasured valuables and mementos were now being protected.
"I, too, have been putting my valuables into my vault at Gringotts," Muriel said suddenly. "Though I've noticed one important piece is missing from my collection."
She looked rather pointedly at Bill then, almost as if she was insinuating something specific. He didn't know what that was supposed to mean, though before she could continue, Fred—as if purposely changing the subject—added, "We'd only been home about ten minutes after you sent that message. Only just made it."
"That would have been a nasty surprise to turn up to a Burrow full of Death Eaters," George muttered.
"Let's just be thankful we had luck on our side," their mother said, wrapping her arm around Ginny and mumbling something about how fortunate it was the twins arrived when they had; that Ron and his friends had the foresight to retreat to the safety of Bill's cottage; that Ginny was home and not at Hogwarts.
That last part made Bill realize how bad things would have been had Ginny still been at school. She likely would have met a similar fate to Luna.
He glanced back at the front door before rounding back on his family. "I'm glad you're all safe, but I need to be getting back to help Fleur and the others. I told her I wouldn't be gone long."
"What's your plan now?" his father asked, trailing after him to the door, both of the twins in tow.
Bill shrugged. "Well, I won't be going to work anymore. That's for sure."
His father nodded as if that was obvious and he could say the same, though the twins were looking at each other rather cryptically, as if having a silent conversation. George muttered to Fred, "I suppose it's time to go full in on the post option."
Fred nodded.
"I have no idea what Harry or Ron's plan is," Bill said, "but I will say they all look like shit and hopefully can afford a few days' rest and some food before they need to get back to doing whatever it is they're up to. Kitchen's well stocked thanks to Fleur, and we can always duplicate more food. We'll let everyone stay as long as they need to until we can figure something out."
"William, the cottage isn't large enough for all the people you've mentioned," Muriel said, having risen at this point, sipping her tea carefully and coming to join them in the foyer. "You have three bedrooms—one bathroom! For how many people?"
"Nine, if I counted correctly," Bill said, offering up a lazy smile. "Gee, nine people under one roof with one bathroom. Can't imagine what that's like."
His family all mustered various grins at that, with Fred cheekily adding, "You've been training your whole life for this moment."
Muriel, however, did not seem amused. "We're well aware that the Burrow has many faults—"
Arthur rolled his eyes and—in a rare sign of defiance—so did Molly. Bill wasn't sure he'd ever seen her disagree so openly with her aunt, but given the stress of times, who could bother with fake politeness anymore?
"—but it is certainly larger than the cottage! You have no room for all of those people. You should send some this way."
"I will," Bill said, walking over to lay a hand on the doorknob. "Once they've had time to rest up and I know they can be safely moved, I'll be sure to do that."
He looked back at his parents. "We'll talk soon. Stay hidden as best you can, because we know you two are now in immense danger. We all are, but…" He trailed off. "Please stay safe."
His father nodded, saying, "You too," while his mother added, "Please hug Ron, Harry, and Hermione for me. I'm so happy they're safe."
"Yeah, tell everyone we said hello," Ginny said. "That I've been thinking about all of them."
"Some more than others," George said plainly, earning him a casual swat from Ginny that immediately prompted him to add, "What? It's true."
Bill told them he would, glancing out the front window to check if the coast was clear, before saying his goodbyes and stepping outside to the front step. From there, he Apparated away, appearing directly back in front of Shell Cottage.
He turned in the direction he'd last left Harry closer to the cliffs, seeing that a small pile of dirt had started to accumulate from his digging, though he still had much left to do. He glanced back at the house, noticing that it was quiet and otherwise still. It didn't seem as if anyone had tracked—or attempted to track—them down yet. This was a good sign seeing as the Fidelius Charm would have certainly taken effect by now.
He walked back into the house, finding Ron, Dean, and Hermione all in the sitting room where he'd left them. Ron had moved back over to the sofa where Hermione looked to be dozing with a blanket pulled over her. Her pillow had found its way to Ron's lap, which was where her head was currently resting atop both. Ron was stroking her hair in an absent way.
Bill smirked for a moment at the sight. Ron certainly had come a long way.
Sensing his presence, Ron looked over and stopped playing with her hair. Given the look on his face, the action evidently had little to do with Bill and everything to do with Ron's desire to hear the news Bill had to bear.
"They're fine," Bill said to him, his voice reassuring. "Mum, Dad, the twins, and Ginny. They got out of the Burrow and they're at Muriel's now."
Ron pulled a face. "Muriel's? Why?"
He shrugged. "It's less of a target than the Burrow. Plus, you know how big her place is."
"I know how big her mouth is," he muttered, and at the same time Hermione stirred and picked up her head.
She groggily looked over at Bill. "Is your family alright?"
He nodded, hearing noises up the stairs that caused him to see Fleur coming down them, Luna trailing behind her at a much slower pace. She'd put on her white apron that she usually used when preparing meals and her hair was pulled back. There was a visible bottle of Skele-gro sticking out of the front pocket.
Her expression was vexed.
"You alright?" he asked her.
She threw him a look, but said nothing. He took that to mean Griphook had likely been making trouble. She breezed right past him to go and check on Hermione, though did ask as she passed, "Your family?"
"Muriel's. They made it. They send their hellos to everyone." He glanced at Luna, who'd taken the seat beside Ron on the sofa. "Ginny's happy to hear you're alive and well."
"I'm happy she's alive too," she said plainly. "You never know these days."
"Yes. Right," Bill said, glancing back at Fleur. "Muriel says she's happy to take in people since she knows we don't have much room."
She stepped back from Hermione, apparently unconcerned by anything she saw. She then struggled to hide her sarcasm when she muttered, "'Ow soon can we make arrangements?"
Bill mouthed, "Griphook's that bad?" while pointing up the stairs, but she did nothing more than brush stray pieces of hair out of her face and take a deep breath.
"I won't stay long," Dean suddenly said, looking from Fleur to Bill. "I feel bad already for crashing in on you."
"Please don't…" Bill began to say, while Fleur was already waving him off.
"You are welcome to stay as long as you need. It iz not safe out zere for any of you at ze moment."
"It really isn't," Bill said, moving across the room to take the last vacant chair by the window. He looked directly from Dean, to Luna, to his brother, ready to finally get to the bottom of this.
"Who can tell me what happened tonight?"
