Hello everyone! How are you doing? 😍 I hope you're doing great, I'm so sorry for the delay! 😭 These last weeks of the year have been hard for me, I've had a lot of work in the real world ha ha ha 😅 I hope I'll have more free time with the arrival of the new year...

For now, here I come with a new chapter, a long one! Do you remember where we left off? Finally, Draco is a traitor! 😂 *drumrolls and trumpets sound* Although it didn't last long ha ha ha because he's decided to go back to the Death Eaters to protect his family. And to find Nott. Just for that... He's even told Hermione about Nurmengard! 😱

They're both betraying their sides to protect each other. Exchanging information much more directly... And Hermione has had to erase his memory so he can safely return to Voldy's ranks 😭 Do you think she'll manage to meet him again and undo the spell? 😟 And what will happen in the attack on the schools? Do you want to find out? 😉

I hope you like the new chapter very much. As always, thank you very, very much to all of you for your support 😍

Enjoy the holidays and have a great start to the new year! 😘

Now, let's read! Enjoy it! 😊

CHAPTER 50

Battle of the Schools

Part Two

"The spells on the south side are in place, Mad-Eye," Lupin reported, approaching the ex-Auror's position, ascending a set of delicate white stairs in the centre of the Palace of Beauxbatons large entrance hall. Moody, standing at a window, did not move. But his bright blue eye did turn in its socket to focus on his comrade.

"Good," he grunted, simply, without showing much spirit. His real eye was fixed on the distant mountains of the French Pyrenees. Snow could be seen on the peaks, even at this time of year.

"The outer walls should be secured in a few minutes," Lupin added, now standing beside him. "All the Intruder Charms are in place."

"And the towers? How's that going?"

"We're still getting details on the structure of the castle. With so little time we've barely been able to devise an intelligent strategy..."

"And here are the latest plans," said George Weasley, approaching them, a bundle of parchment in his hands, which he dropped with a theatrical wave into Lupin's hands. "The ones for the upper towers. Shield Charms are already in place. Should be enough for an aerial entry, either on a broom or a winged creature."

"The fireplaces are disconnected," muttered Mad-Eye, between his teeth. Glancing sideways at the plans Lupin was hastily poring over.

"Well, it doesn't look like there's anything that's going to give us a surprise," Remus muttered, rolling up the plans again.

"Dormitories secured," Ron's voice said then, panting, coming down a set of side stairs and arriving at their side. "We've done everything we could think of. Fred's protecting them, just in case. And the rest of our squad is at the west entrance, the one with the double arches."

"Good work, Ronnie," George congratulated him, in a fluttering voice, ruffling his red hair. Lupin's face broke into a small smile at the sight of it. Fred and George had the ability to handle pressure very well. To humorously relax their companions in the moments leading up to any battle. Even if it was by annoying them. Distracting them.

"Any news of Harry?" Ron asked, slapping his brother's hand to stop him from touching his hair. "How's the front door going?"

"Harry has secured the front door," said a resigned voice at the foot of the stairs. Harry himself, climbing up the stairs, smiling at his friend. Sympathetic and exhausted. The light from the silver chandeliers created soft ripples on his round glasses. "Only the Caterwauling Charm is missing. Mundungus is downstairs, talking to the professors. The rest of my men are in position."

"All hands to their posts, then," said Mad-Eye, impatiently. His short, gnarled wand waved in his hand, and, in the blink of an eye, Lupin was gone from his side. Victim of a Disillusionment Charm. "Hide each other. Do not reveal your position until it is essential." As he spoke, he became camouflaged by the texture of his surroundings, until he disappeared altogether. And everyone guessed that Lupin had Disillusioned him as well. But his voice continued to echo, "Watch for signs of help from your comrades. Nobody try to be a hero. Communications will be open in the Dining Chamber to alert the next detachments if needed. Ronald will be there. Stay alert and don't be fooled. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Harry couldn't help but startle when he heard Alastor hit the white tiled floor with his walking stick. He was used to his shouts of warning, but not without seeing him.

He bit his lips inwardly and nodded, indicating that he had understood. Ron waved a hand as well, with the same purpose. The two friends made their way down the stairs, but not before grudgingly reciprocating George's exaggerated bow by way of farewell.

"The Dining Chamber is a minute from the grounds. If you need any help, let me know, will you?" Ron offered, as they both descended the shiny steps. Even at night, by the light of the delicate chandeliers, all of Beauxbatons glowed silver and blue. Like an ivory palace.

"Sure, you too," Harry corroborated, punching him languidly on the shoulder. Ron smiled forcedly, then looked wistful.

"What a day, huh?" he muttered. Hesitantly. "It's non-stop. There's no respite."

"You're telling me," Harry snorted. Tightening the hair tie that held his jet-black hair at the nape of his neck. He hadn't even had time to shower that day.

"Hermione's at two hundred per cent, isn't she?" Ron mumbled then. More hastily. "She found out about Godric's Hollow. And about the attack on the schools, too. I mean, she deduced it, and then we confirmed it. But, actually, it was all down to her..."

"She's always been humiliatingly clever," Harry muttered, almost dreamily. But he sensed that his friend's tone wasn't exactly one of admiration.

"How does she know all that? What's she up to?" he muttered, indeed. They both reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry stopped and looked at Ron. He was looking uneasy. "I'd like to clear it up when this is all over. I'm afraid she's... spying on the enemy ranks on her own, or something like that. That she might be in danger."

Harry blinked slowly. Assessing the possibility. Carefully scrutinising the genuine concern in his friend's blue eyes.

"I don't know what she's up to either," he confessed, quietly. "But I don't think it's anything to worry about. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. She's not impulsive. And she's a wonderful witch. I'm sure she's fine. In fact, she's just being incredibly helpful to the cause. You know she's always been determined to do things not just great, but the next thing. But... we'll keep an eye on her," he put a hand on his shoulder, and Ron agreed to look at him. "And, at the slightest hint of danger, we'll talk to her."

Ginny was cut off mid-sentence when she heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs leading to the underground kitchen at Grimmauld Place. She glanced at Hermione, disturbed, assuming they were hearing the same thing. And then they both looked towards the door. And Hermione's heart synchronised with the person's footsteps, knowing who that person was, what was going on, and what they were going to say.

Molly Weasley entered the kitchen, her red hair tousled from running. She was pale, and her brown eyes were wide open. Her wand was in her hand. She stopped, staggering, and, barely focusing on the two girls, shouted, "He's gone! The boy! He's gone, he's escaped!"

"What?" Ginny gasped, jumping to her feet at her mother's flustered state. But she didn't understand her alarm. Hermione stood up as well. "What boy? Mum, what are you — ?"

"The prisoner! The Black Sergeant! The... the Malfoy boy...!"

"What do you mean he's not here? How can he not be here?" Ginny mumbled now. Raising both hands in her mother's direction, index fingers raised. Completely in disbelief. "That's impossible — h-he was injured — and Elphias —"

"Ginny, I was just there. His room is empty. Elphias was on the floor, Stunned, and the bed —" Molly tried to explain in a hurry, stumbling, with no time to waste. She looked at Hermione too. Trying to share her despair. Hermione just stared at her with her mouth half open. Pretending to be alarmed.

"Are the protective enchantments on the front door intact?" Hermione questioned, speaking for the first time. Steady in her question. It cost her dearly, but she forced herself to hold the woman's frantic gaze.

"They are, I just checked," Molly looked around the kitchen as she spoke. As if she thought the boy would hide there, between the legs of the table. "I cast them myself as soon as Tonks left for Durmstrang, her battalion was the last one called up..."

"He was injured, he can't — we need to search the house," Ginny decided, now advancing towards her mother with wide strides. Pulling her wand from her thigh holster, she said, "He can't be gone. Who else is still here?"

"Terry, in the drawing room," Molly said, turning and heading upstairs, preceding her daughter. Hermione followed, taking out her wand as well. "The Healers in the hospital ward, and the patients. And Elphias. I've awoken him, he's fine. And he's already searching the upper floors... He's blocked the entrance to the hospital ward so no one can get in. The first thing I did was make sure the fireplaces were disconnected..."

"Then he's got to be here. He can't have Disapparated," protested Ginny, running after her mother.

"If Elphias has been Stunned, he must have retrieved his wand. He might have," Hermione objected cautiously. Ascending after her friend. Eyes fixed on her striking red mane of hair.

"But he couldn't have used magic!" Ginny stormed. Worked up. "He can't use his wand hand! He can't move it!"

And Hermione's chest cracked. Leaving her, momentarily, breathless. Her foot tried to reach for the next step, stumbling as she failed. What...?

"Homenum revelio," Molly said as soon as they reached the entrance hall, though both girls suspected she had done so before. She pointed her wand at the floor above, and several clouds of light flickered high in the ceiling. Surely those corresponding to Terry, Elphias, and everyone in the hospital. "It could be anyone, I'm going to check the top floors..." the woman murmured, indeed, ascending the stairs to the first floor without hesitation. But Hermione, without a moment's hesitation, grabbed Ginny's arm. Keeping her in the hall, and forcing her to turn towards her.

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked. And she barely heard her own voice. A suspicious echo in her ears. "What's wrong with his hand?"

Ginny pursed her lips in impatience. Looking back, watching her mother walk away. In a hurry to follow her. But she hastily agreed to answer.

"I shouldn't tell, medical records are supposed to be confidential. Fleur's very strict about it... But I suppose it doesn't matter under the circumstances..." She snorted rebelliously. "His hand is paralysed. He was attacked with the Blood Curse. You know how it works. It affects the blood, poisoning it. Tissue, without blood, dies, slowly rots away. Lucky for Malfoy, it's one of my specialities. I invented the defensive spell, and you know I was working on the counter-spell. It's still in the experimental stage, but I applied it to him. There was nothing to lose... I managed to reverse the curse without it reaching the rest of the arm and I recovered the muscular blood vessels. Those are intact. But it affected the vasa nervorum..."

"The what?" Hermione heard herself ask. Again through an annoying echo.

"To the blood vessels that keep the nerves alive. In short, the curse is gone, and his muscles are working, but the nerves aren't. So he has no feeling in that hand, nor can he move it at all," she finished, now angry. As if what was happening didn't make any sense. "Malfoy was right-handed, I remember perfectly well... So he can't use magic."

And Hermione felt unable to say half a word. But Ginny's alert eyes on her urged her to do so. To fight the frenzy that was shaking her bones.

"I understand," she managed to articulate. Trying as hard as possible to make her voice audible. "Then, no — he can't have left..." she said, automatically. Finding no logic in her own words. Repeating what Ginny had said.

"Exactly," her friend corroborated. Satisfied that she understood. She glanced at the front door behind her, then at Hermione again. "Stay here. Watch the door. Don't let anyone out. I'm going upstairs to check with Mum. If he's here, we'll get him..."

Hermione didn't manage to speak again. She just raised her wand a little higher, pretending to be ready, and nodded. Firmly enough. Ginny gave her a look of composure and ran up the stairs.

And Hermione was left alone, standing in the middle of the cold, dark hall. Feeling almost like a ghost.

Draco's hand...

She took two hesitant steps forward until she managed to grab hold of the handrail of the stairs. Grateful that something external was holding her. Holding on to it, she spun around and dropped into a sitting position on one of the lowest steps. Feeling dizzy. Finding no relief in sitting down. She couldn't close her mouth. She couldn't breathe.

Draco wasn't at Grimmauld Place. He had gone with Kreacher, she was sure of it. The plan had worked. Apart from...

Draco's right hand was paralysed. He couldn't use his wand. She didn't know. He hadn't told her. That bastard had deliberately kept it from her. He had lied to her. And she'd sent him back to a side that wanted him dead. Defenceless. Unable to fight for his life if necessary. It took a considerable amount of practice for a wand to work properly in the non-dominant hand. She couldn't believe it. Lying arsehole...

An uncontrolled, desperate sob escaped her open mouth. She covered it with her hand, choking back the ones that fought to follow. So that no one on the upper floors would hear her. She closed her eyes, and hot tears wet the back of her hand.

"You stupid, stupid, stupid... How could you do this to me?"

"MY LORD!"

The upset shout from the doorway visibly startled Wormtail, Rowle, and Rookwood, but not Lord Voldemort. He simply turned his head slowly in the direction of the sound.

Bellatrix stormed into the War Room of Malfoy Manor, her face contorted. She was dragging a boy dressed in street clothes with her, struggling with his weight. Tugging at his hair and clothes without any consideration. Making him stagger and almost kick, trying to straighten up and walk with dignity.

"He just Apparated here, my Lord! I found him in the entrance!" shrieked the woman, throwing her prisoner to the ground at her master's feet.

"Draco!" Narcissa screamed in a panic-stricken shriek, struggling to rise from the armchair in which she sat. She was ghastly pale. Her complexion was dull. And her blonde hair, straighter than usual and more carelessly combed. "Merlin, Draco...! Son...!"

"Look who's back from the dead," Voldemort remarked calmly, staring down at the panting boy at his feet. Rowle and Rookwood also rose from their respective chairs. Gawking. Wormtail stood beside his master, his tiny eyes wide open.

Draco, still groaning in pain from his aunt's mistreatment, looked up from the floor and into Voldemort's cold, cunning red eyes.

"My Lord —" he mumbled. Or at least he tried to. For his aunt threw herself at him again and held him firmly by the throat, wrapping a hand around it from behind. Sticking her long, sharp wand into his pale cheek as well. Turning his voice into a mere strangled gasp.

"Don't you try anything strange, you walking disaster..." she whispered in his ear, trembling with rage.

"Bella, let him go at once!" Narcissa shouted, shaking, not bothering to keep her voice down. Advancing towards them. "It's Draco!"

"Don't come any closer, Cissy. One of our people alerted the Order in Godric's Hollow. They showed up early. And as far as I'm concerned, I have in my hands a Black Sergeant who didn't return from Godric's Hollow, and who we presumed dead," Bellatrix hissed, jabbing her wand harder into her nephew's cheek. "And now he shows up here as if nothing had happened. He can have a good explanation now, or I'll Cruciatus the truth out of him..."

"Don't you dare threaten my son!" Narcissa shouted again, seemingly too outraged to remember that Lord Voldemort himself was standing beside her. She drew her slender wand from the pocket of her robes and raised it in her sister's direction.

"Cissy, back away or I'll —" Bellatrix threatened, staring at her with wide eyes. Defiant.

"Unhand me now..." hissed Draco as well. He glared sideways at his aunt in open anger. And his cold, angry voice came through clearly in the midst of the tense situation.

"Enough," Voldemort uttered. Undeterred in the slightest by the women's frenzy. He continued to stare at the boy, barely bothering to blink. "Silence, Narcissa. Let him go, Bellatrix. And let him explain."

Bellatrix's hand, did, indeed, loosen, releasing the boy's neck. Draco inhaled urgently and coughed hoarsely. Catching his breath. He sat up in a more dignified manner, remaining kneeling, one knee on the ground. He looked back up at his master. Looking more self-possessed. His eyes showed the lethal gleam that had decorated him with the rank of Black Sergeant.

"The Order captured me, my Lord. I was injured, and they took advantage of my weakness," he managed to explain, his voice clear. "But I was able to escape..."

"Escape? From the Order? How?" Wormtail snapped, in an outburst. But then he remembered that the Dark Lord was at his side and he shrank back slightly. Embarrassed and worried that he would be punished for his impertinence.

"A house-elf helped me, my Lord," Draco replied, still glaring at his leader. As if he had asked the question. "Unfortunately, I do not know his name. He claimed to have served the Black family and was loyal to me on this occasion. But he also owes allegiance to the Order."

"Where did you say you were kept prisoner?" Voldemort asked then, in a low voice. Draco shook his head.

"I don't know either, my Lord. I didn't get a chance to see the place."

"I don't believe that," Bellatrix mumbled, opening and closing her hands. As if she wanted to grab her nephew by the throat again. Narcissa stood very still. Watching her son from a few feet away. Possibly paying no attention to what he was saying. Just scrutinising that he was safe and sound, with anxious, frantic eyes.

"My Lord, all this can wait," Draco replied then, his voice firmer. "I have information. Important information —"

"Don't you dare!" Bellatrix roared, throwing herself at him again and catching his hair in her fingers once more. She pulled him back, forcing him to stare at the ceiling and Voldemort, who remained impassive. "Don't get smart with us! Tell us immediately where you've been and what — !"

"Bella!" Narcissa shouted again, indignant. She took another couple of steps forward.

"What information do you have?" Voldemort interrupted in a low voice, however, silencing their protests all at once.

Draco, panting slightly from the awkward position, ran his tongue across his lips angrily and managed to utter, "The Order knows that we are going to attack the schools tonight. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They're going to try to stop us. They'll be waiting for us there."

Silence fell over the room. Bellatrix was, for the first time, speechless. With her mouth comically open, she raised her black eyes to look at her master. Wormtail was dumbfounded. Narcissa did not take her light eyes off her son. Nor did Lord Voldemort. But, for the first time, an emotion akin to annoyance crossed his features.

"How do you know that?" Rookwood interjected, speaking for the first time, visibly suspicious. He looked a little offended. "We've just finalised the arrangements. The Dark Lord has just told us his full plan for the schools... Those yokels in the Order can't know —"

"Selwyn knew about the schools, didn't he?" Draco interrupted, looking at his master. "They got him. He, and Yaxley. Selwyn has confessed to it. And the Order questioned me about the attack on the schools... But I wasn't aware of it."

"Unbelievable... Bloody Selwyn..." Rookwood spluttered, spinning around. Looking frustrated. Rowle was staring at Draco. With no intention of speaking. He and Draco made eye contact, and the man looked away quickly.

"Let him go, Bellatrix," Voldemort said then, his voice low. "And don't make me tell you again." The woman released her nephew instantly, and the Dark Lord took a couple of steps towards him. "Are you sure of what you say, Sergeant?"

"Absolutely, my Lord. They plan to ambush you."

"Should I trust you?" he asked then, in a much softer voice. And terrifying. "What happened with Fenrir Greyback in Godric's Hollow, Sergeant Malfoy?"

And it took Draco a couple of seconds to understand the change of subject. An uncomfortable shiver ran through his being. He blinked, hesitant. But, of course, there was no point in pretending he didn't know what he was talking about.

"I attacked him, my Lord," he confessed, accurately. Without a hint of shame in his voice.

"Did you attack someone on your own side?" Voldemort wanted to make sure, still in that falsely calm voice of his, almost mocking. Cunning. "A subordinate, from your own squadron?"

"He disobeyed my direct order, my Lord," the young man enunciated clearly. And his voice sounded firm in the silence. "I told him not to infect anyone, and he did."

"What was the reason for such an order on your part?"

Draco licked his parched lips.

"That he would waste time unnecessarily. The orders were to tear everything apart and kill them all in as little time as possible. Not to waste time infecting people. Transformed, he has the ability to kill faster than that."

Rowle's eyes caught Draco's again. This time, the man didn't look away. Nor did he say anything.

"Was that all?" Voldemort insisted. And Draco knew what he wanted from him.

"No, sir. He also attacked another subordinate. A friend of mine, actually. Theodore Nott. Nott confronted him for disobeying my orders, and Greyback attacked him. Attacking him was emotional on my part. I have no excuse. It won't happen again," he assured him, his voice clear and harsh. Tempered and efficient. Like a machine.

He looked his master in the eye. Without fear. And his pupils turned into two shafts that abducted him through a dark tunnel...

The Apparition, with the help of that helpful elf, in Holywell. A random place, far from any location belonging to Lord Voldemort's side. A place from which he could safely Apparate to Malfoy Manor...

The long interrogations by the Order, how they questioned him about the schools. How he stood his ground and gave no information of any kind...

How masked members kept watch over him in his gloomy room...

He saw himself duelling alongside Crabbe and Goyle, inside the church, against members of the Order, until a collapse caused the ceiling to fall on them...

He saw himself chasing Greyback to save Nott...

He saw himself attacking people in the square in Godric's Hollow...

"My Lord," Draco heard Rowle's voice interrupting. Listening to it on the other side of the long tunnel.

And the succession of flashbacks ended abruptly. Leaving Draco gasping, forcing his shoulders to drop. And with a considerable headache. Voldemort had only delved into the last forty-eight hours, and his brain felt as if he'd put it into a liquidiser...

"My Lord," Rowle repeated. And Draco heard him clearly that time. His voice sounded breathy, but firm in his tone. "I apologise, but time is running out. Our men are already preparing the troops. If Sergeant Malfoy is right about the schools, we need to move now. Put them on notice as soon as possible."

The silence that followed those words was almost absolute. Wormtail looked at Rowle with wide eyes. As if surprised that he had just voluntarily condemned himself to death by openly criticising his master.

And Draco, amidst the dullness in his brain, thought he understood why Rowle had intervened. That family murdered in their own kitchen. The child under the table. Draco's refusal to murder him... Rowle hadn't told the Dark Lord any of that. For reasons known only to himself. He had told him nothing of Draco's questionable behaviour. And now he was scared to death that his master would see it in his mind and it would become clear that he had withheld information from their leader...

Voldemort breathed in slowly and deeply through the two slits in his nose. And everyone, including Rowle, braced themselves for the worst.

"Give me your wand, Sergeant."

It took Draco a few seconds to realise that he was being spoken to again. Still dizzy, he reached his left hand into his back trouser pocket and pulled out his slender hawthorn wand. He was aware of everyone present shifting their eyes from his left hand, to his right, to his left again. All realising then that he had kept his right hand still and languid, hanging at the side of his body, throughout the conversation.

He set the wand down, at his master's feet. Voldemort picked it up with a lazy spell and examined it between his fingers, amidst a tense silence. Then he passed his own wand over it as if it were a scanner, and Draco understood...

"He wants to make sure I haven't betrayed them, that it wasn't me who tipped the Order off in Godric's Hollow..."

He could be, for the first time in the conversation, calm. Of course he hadn't. Warn the Order of the Phoenix? Sure, and what else? What a waste of time... He'd had to put up with enough of those bastards during his kidnapping...

After quietly twirling the wand, and, apparently, finding nothing, Voldemort reluctantly dropped it at his feet. It landed in front of the boy, with a muffled clatter on the carpet.

"If Sergeant Malfoy is correct, he will be rewarded with glory," said the Dark Lord to all present. "If he is not... he will regret escaping the clutches of the Order of the Phoenix."

Samantha couldn't see anything. But she knew her eyes were open. And yet, there was only dense darkness around her. Nor did she notice any piece of cloth over her eyelids. That could only mean that she had been enchanted with an Obscuro.

She was trembling with terror. Because she had no idea where they were taking her.

She had been taken from Malfoy Manor, that much was almost certain. Though they had taken away her ability to see before she had even left the place. She had been walking for a long time now. Someone had her by the elbow and was pulling her along. Guiding her. The air around her had been cold and damp for quite some time. There were stones under her feet that made her stumble. Loose soil. She had already fallen twice. She heard footsteps. Quite a lot of footsteps around her. Or maybe it was the echo of the place, which confused her, and there weren't that many. She also heard some voices. Speaking very softly. In short, tense sentences.

"It's here, bring her in," she heard someone say, a little further on. A man's voice.

And Samantha's eyes saw again. And a sharp panic shot through her. She had almost become accustomed to the darkness of the previous few minutes. But regaining her vision meant something was going to happen. Something unpredictable.

She had to blink frantically to try to get used to the new but dim lighting. She was given no respite as she was tugged again, harder, to move faster. She discovered rocky walls all around her. On both sides. It was a tunnel. A tunnel dug into a grotto? A cave underground? Everything seemed untouched, barely touched by the hand of man, or so the girl interpreted it for the brief seconds in which she could take a hasty glance around. For then she was led to one of the rocky walls. And Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting there, no mask covering her face, contorted into a wicked grin. There were several Death Eaters around her. Samantha counted six. Plus the one holding her. And she heard footsteps further back that indicated there were more.

And Samantha tried to stop walking out of pure instinct, but the masked Death Eater holding her elbow pulled harder.

"Very good, young lady," Bellatrix greeted as the Death Eater brought the girl to a halt in front of her. She pointed to the rocky wall with a flourish. "Open the door. We're in a hurry."

Samantha blinked. She could barely breathe. Her whole body felt stiff and cramped with dread.

"What...?" she managed to articulate. And her voice sounded as frightened as she felt. Bellatrix's smile widened with false sweetness.

"The entrance that is hidden here, mon chéri, you will open it for us," she specified, with a strange assurance, as well as unnatural gentleness.

Samantha looked around again. In front of her was just a wall like any other. Dimly lit by the Death Eaters' Wand-Lighting Charms. Brown rock. Dusty and earthy. Firm. And the girl couldn't have been more confused or scared.

"I've never been here before," she managed to stammer. "I don't know where I am. I don't know what entrance you're talking about. It must be a mistake..."

Bellatrix grimaced, with a deep sigh. Laden with dangerous impatience. And Samantha felt like crying.

"Of course you haven't been here, you stupid girl. This is a secondary entrance to your fancy school. You couldn't have known about it. Your dear headmistress finally revealed its location to us. Well, we got it out of her..." She let out a high-pitched, mischievous giggle. Samantha's eyes went wide.

"Madame Maxime?" she mumbled, anxiously. Had her headmistress been caught, too? She felt a rush of reckless courage come over her. She clenched her fists on either side of her hips. "What have you done to her, misérables?" she spat then, louder. Accuser.

Bellatrix's smile did not falter. On the contrary. An amused glint lit up her dark eyes. There were chuckles among the Death Eaters. Samantha felt the heat rush to her face, flushing it.

"Careful, Frenchy," Bellatrix hissed. Softly. "I don't think you're aware of your situation. You're going to open this door. Only someone belonging to this school can open it. And you're lucky that I'm giving you the chance to do it of your own free will. Another word in that tone and I'll rip your tongue out," she stepped towards her, and Samantha wanted to back away. But the Death Eater next to her held her back. "Do you need me to remind you that we have your parents in our possession, ready for us to play with them...?"

Tears welled up in the girl's eyes. Her chin trembled, and her chest convulsed in restrained sobs.

"What — what do I have to do?" she stammered, after swallowing. Bellatrix sighed dramatically. As if she had asked the most inconvenient question.

"No idea. That stupid half-human refused to give us any more information," the woman said, looking down at her long, sharp fingernail. "She took her own life, that coward..." she laughed through her nose, almost in a dreamy way. Samantha let out a mortified groan, covering her face with her hands. Madame Maxime was — ?

"S'il vous plaît, I-I don't know what to do," she managed to sob, sincerely. With despair. "Moi — I don't know where to start... P-please, I can't help you..."

Bellatrix's smile turned into a grimace. Her dark eyes scanned her, and the corners of her mouth twitched. She took a step closer to her. Samantha held her breath. Sobbing harder.

"It is useless, Mrs Lestrange," another of the Death Eaters mumbled, standing by one of the walls. "This idiot is of no use to us. We'd better go back and tell the Dark Lord that —"

The rest of the sentence became an unpleasant gurgle. Bellatrix, her face impassive, had made a quick flick of her wand, and the Death Eater's skull mask snapped cleanly in half. There was a crack, and a splash. With desperate gasps, the man collapsed to the floor, jerking in sudden convulsions. Samantha screamed and put both hands to her mouth, trying to pull away from the dying man. The Death Eater beside her stopped her, and turned her back to face Bellatrix. The latter was smiling lazily again.

"If your parents knew you were refusing to help us to save their lives... What a bad, bad daughter..." the woman whispered, venomously. As if there had been no interruption. Starting to walk around her. "Let's see... if your parents are little incentive... Do you know who came back to us tonight?" she said then, in a quieter voice. Almost a playful whisper. And she added, without giving her a chance to guess, "My dear little nephew..."

"Draco...," came instantly to Samantha's mind. Tearing out an uncontrollable gasp. An icy dread swept down her spine. Draco had disappeared in Godric's Hollow, the night before. That had been the last dreadful news she'd had of him. And now, apparently, thank heavens, he had reappeared. But why was Bellatrix telling her?

"Exactly," the woman whispered, not missing her gasp. She stopped in front of her and grasped the girl's cheeks with one hand, digging her fingers in tightly. Smiling more eagerly. "Do you really think, stupid girl, that you haven't been watched every minute of the day? We know perfectly well that you two are friends... Well, or whatever you are... And I also know that you're crazy about my nephew, you silly girl," she spat more angrily, squeezing harder with her fingers. Drawing a moan of pain from the girl. "So open the bloody door or I'm afraid Draco will, unfortunately, disappear again," she hissed. Without a care in the world. Almost like a sweet promise.

Samantha couldn't even breathe. Much less speak. Much less defend herself. She was shaking from head to toe. Feeling so stupid she could barely stand up. For a thousand reasons. For having believed that she had a modicum of freedom in that place. That she could have friends in that place. That they were keeping their friendship a secret. They had been fooled. They had allowed them to continue to believe it. While forming a new weak point for her to use against her. Draco...

He was alive. He was alive. And his aunt was ready to murder him if Samantha didn't cooperate. She could see in her black eyes that she would do it. She would kill her own family for her master.

Bellatrix let go of her cheek with a jolt and gently patted her face. Drawing a surprised start from her.

"Open the door, mademoiselle," she demanded, as if it was the first time she had ever asked so.

Samantha didn't move at first, but when Bellatrix stepped aside, she realised she had to do something. Anything. Try. She approached the sober wall with shaky steps to begin with. Illuminated by the wands. Looking around frantically. A secret entrance to Beauxbatons? On a mountain? Then they had to be somewhere in the Pyrenees...

As she had said, she had no idea where to start.

"I don't have a wand," the young woman muttered. She knew she wouldn't get one. But she needed to make it clear that if she failed, it wasn't her fault.

"We're not even going to give you one," the Death Eater who had been holding her snarled, indeed. The girl blinked in frustration — how could she open a magic door without magic?

"Think fast, mon chéri," Bellatrix's voice whispered behind her back as the girl stood still and silent for what seemed like a full minute. Samantha swallowed. Kicking the wall would look, and be, absurd, wouldn't it? Well, it was the only idea she had.

'Only someone belonging to this school can open it.'

The girl blinked. What did she have, as a Beauxbatons student, that would make her able to open the door? Nothing. Nothing at all. She couldn't think of anything. She assessed that information with panic buzzing on her skin, frantically. Maybe... it was just that. But it was nonsense. Or maybe because of the absurdity of it, it would work? Or was it that she was already desperate?

She moved closer to the wall. Until she had it within arm's reach. Until she rested her palm on the stone. She felt the dust of the soil. The cold of the rocks on her skin.

"Je suis de Académie de Magie Beuxbâtons…"

And then there was a crunching sound. It seemed to her that the ground shook beneath her feet. Or was she about to faint? She felt a hand pull at her elbow again. Pulling her back roughly. She saw a new light shining before her. Growing bigger and bigger. Blinding her. A magical light.

'I belong to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic...'

At another time when his life and the lives of his friends were not at stake, Harry might have stopped to take in the beauty of Beauxbatons, with its marble walls, its crystal decorations, and its air of a fairy-tale castle so different from Hogwarts. But he had not slept for more than twenty-four hours, and all he wanted was for them all to survive the night.

He and Mundungus stood in the dark, vast grounds, the grass green and neatly trimmed. The mountains surrounding the school shone in the light of a huge, slightly crescent moon, the only illumination of the place. There were several marble fountains all around, and small natural ponds all over the esplanade. It was truly an idyllic landscape.

They had moved all over the place without lighting a single wand. It was night, and they must give the impression that the whole castle was asleep. Both of them were now standing still in the middle of the grounds, casting the Disillusionment Charm on each other. Camouflaging themselves with their surroundings.

On the other side of the green esplanade, a high wall of smooth, pearl-grey stone surrounded the castle grounds. Harry knew that Jacob, a member of his squadron, would be standing watch nearby. He had been in charge of placing the Caterwauling Charm, which would warn them if anyone tried to Apparate in the vicinity.

The rest of his men were also scattered around the grounds. Hidden even from his eyes. In complete silence.

Once the Disillusionment Charm had worked, Mundungus disappeared from his sight. Harry looked down at his own hands but saw only the grass swaying at his feet. He would never get used to the feeling of not seeing his own body.

Mundungus then stretched out sonorously beside him. And so he was able to sense his position.

"Waitin' is the worst," Mundungus remarked in a mushy voice. And Harry heard his footsteps, pacing the grass absently. "The waitin' before the battle. An' the battle is even worse," he added. And an intermittent noise indicated that he was scratching his dirty red hair. "So this night is goin' to be a total shitshow."

Harry smiled without saying anything. He knew him, and he knew the man was scared to death. Mundungus wasn't brave, even if he tried to be. And that was a very dangerous factor in a straight battle like this. He was much better at being in the shadows. To be cunning. To cheat. To go unnoticed. Ingratiating himself with a thousand and one crooks to get information.

But the Order had dealt with the aftermath of two attacks in forty-eight hours. Most of its members had been unable to sleep. And while they had minimised the number of members who were now in Godric's Hollow, or in Azkaban, the number of people available to defend the schools was less than they needed.

So Harry couldn't be more grateful that people like Mundungus had agreed to go there. Even though it wasn't his main job. But, that night, the ambush was going to be set by them. And that gave them the advantage.

As Mundungus plodded along, humming something with his mouth closed, Harry slowly approached one of the garden ponds to entertain himself. The silence was overwhelming. Theoretically, though they had to be alert at all times, the Caterwauling Charm would be the one to give them warning if anyone tried to penetrate the walls.

The grounds had to be beautiful in the daytime, with the sun beating full on the waters, glinting off the stones that, he guessed, covered the bottom. At that moment, at night, the garden ponds were nothing but black cloaks, completely smooth and shiny. Not even the wind was blowing.

Harry frowned without realising it. He felt a strange tingle down his back as he stared at the water in the pond nearest him. Not seeing the reflection of his face was chilling. He couldn't see the bottom, and that also gave him a strange feeling, as if there was something on the other side watching him. He looked up and searched futilely for Mundungus. But of course, he couldn't see him, and he could no longer hear him humming. He must have wandered away. To suddenly feel so alone in such a huge place was slightly unsettling. And he had spent half his childhood alone. But in a tiny cupboard, he joked to himself. Not in a dark and gloomy garden that would soon be filled with Death Eaters. Besides, it had been many years since he'd felt lonely...

Harry, with a sigh, returned his gaze to the still pond. Not a breeze, not a breath of air to disturb the waters... The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt stupid and uncomfortable. He twisted his neck a little to get rid of the sensation. He bent down sharply and picked up a pebble from the shore. He looked over his shoulder, feeling rather foolish. But then he remembered that no one was watching him. At best, they would see a pebble rising into the air.

Then he bent down until, under normal conditions, he would be reflected in the water and dropped the pebble where his face would have been. Oddly enough, he felt better as the ripples appeared in the still water. He looked around again. Scanning the sky. He knew there were people in the towers watching for any arrivals by air. And the other side of the walls seemed to remain peaceful.

Harry looked at the water again. The ripples had disappeared.

And a face without glasses was staring back at him.

His heart gave such a flutter that he thought it was getting stuck in his windpipe. But he didn't even have time for that. The gazing face, corpse-white, lifeless eyes and half-open mouth, leapt out of the water, flinging itself at him, splashing all around. Harry recoiled with a scream of terror that pierced the night, falling backwards and missing by inches a putrid hand clutching his clothes. The person under the water fell waist-deep on the shore, unable to catch him, their right arm outstretched, all skin and bones. All bones, in fact, because Harry could see the ulna and radius bones of the forearm through putrid sections of whitish flesh.

The face he had seen underwater, now staring back at him from the shore, also showed the skull beneath the flesh. They had barely a few strands of long hair. They showed no specific expression. Their jaw hung limply, holding open their mouth of rotting teeth.

They were dead, but they were undeniably moving. And they were coming for him. The Disillusionment Charm did not work on beings that did not use their eyes to see. Whose eyes were dead.

The question was, how and when had they entered?

"INFERI!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs. Alerting the rest of his comrades. He crawled backwards, dragging himself along on his hands, still lying on the ground. "MUNDUNGUS!"

And suddenly everything broke loose.

In front of him, more dead bodies emerged from the pond. Their clothes, soaked to shreds; their flesh and skin, decomposing. Their faces, impassive, and their eyes, emotionless.

He heard another scream. He guessed it was Mundungus, who would also be facing more Inferi coming out of other ponds. But he couldn't see him. Harry raised his wand, standing up at the same time. It was an army.

"INCENDIO!" he shouted, pointing at the fleshless chest of an Inferi whose body was already mostly out of the water. Bright flames erupted from his wand and reached them, setting their flesh ablaze. The being opened its mouth wider in a muffled scream, falling backwards so that it could extinguish itself underwater.

Harry took the opportunity to look around, retreating several paces. He still couldn't see Mundungus, but he supposed he was still fighting on his own, not using the spell to produce fire; and any other spells had no effect on these creatures. They had no nervous system to paralyse, no heart to stop, no flesh to wound.

And then he began to see the light of the spells. He looked around again. He was by no means alone in that place anymore. Dozens, no, hundreds of hooded men were scattered around him. And his squadron was defending against their spells tooth and nail. He could see his squadron now. He looked at his own hands. Their Disillusionment Charm had disappeared.

Harry didn't have time to think, but he could barely conceive of what had happened. Dozens of theories flashed through his mind like lightning.

What about the Caterwauling Charm? How had it failed to detect the Death Eaters' presence? Why hadn't it warned them? From where had they entered?

But then he was plunged into battle. The fire used to slay the Inferi was raging out of control around the place. Spells were flying everywhere.

A new sound pierced the gardens. A violent shockwave threw Harry to the ground again. He saw, despite his squinting eyes, stones from the wall bordering the grounds flying through the air. A tremendous explosion had opened a gaping hole. Then there was the muffled sound of the Caterwauling Charm.

"EXPLODING FLUID!" someone shouted amidst the chaos. One of his men, he suspected. "AN ERUMPTEN CHARGE! THE WALL HAS BEEN BLOWN UP!"

A spell whizzed past Harry, barely missing him. He rolled over and leapt to his feet. Facing a Death Eater barely two metres away from him. He waved his wand, advancing sideways, casting two quick spells that his foe was able to repel. Somewhat ungainly. Hasty. And a little voice in his head told Harry that it wasn't a regular occurrence. But he didn't have time to stop and analyse anything, too busy surviving. He waved his wand again, and, a bright flash later, the Death Eater fell to the ground. Harry, alert to face his next enemy, heard part of the school wall behind him being blown up. He saw several of his own people fly through the air. Now that he had turned sideways to the school, he could see the lights flickering in the windows. They were also inside the castle.

The fire spread across the grounds. And deep inside the young Potter as well. The Death Eaters had them surrounded. They had not been taken by surprise. On the contrary. They were going to take over the castle. It couldn't be happening...

Another Death Eater turned, ready to face him. And Harry scrambled into an attack position. And then he realised that his enemy's reflexes were not the best. He was used to wand duels that were urgent, brutal, and fast. But this Death Eater took several seconds to wave the wand. He waved his own to defend himself. From a simple Stunning Spell. Though then a stray spell made the fountain behind Harry explode. Startling him. Making him move, by inertia, faster. Deciding to attack his opponent at full speed, hastily. Assuming that they would take advantage of his daze to attack him treacherously.

But they didn't. And Harry's curse hit his enemy full on, without any hindrance in between, knocking them to the ground. Leaving them motionless. And that's when the young Potter lowered his wand. Stopping, even though he knew he was putting his life on the line. Staring at the body of his enemy, lying on the ground.

Something was not right. Something was definitely not right.

It was a lump — wasn't it a very small lump?

What kind of Death Eater would attack using a Stunning Spell?

Harry advanced towards his enemy and dropped to the ground beside them. His heart in his throat. He felt some spells hit the grass, not too far away from him. But he ignored them. He reached out an unsteady hand and pulled the skull mask off their face. Revealing a sand-coloured fringe. Closed eyes with equally light lashes. He still had no hair on his face. To the naked eye, he couldn't have been more than fifteen. Fifteen years old. He was just a kid... What was a kid doing fighting for Lord Voldemort?

Harry wasn't breathing. He tugged at the black robes around his chest. Ripping the front with his wand hastily when he couldn't manage it with his hands. A white shirt. A black tie. Black robes underneath the Death Eaters' robes. An embroidered crest on his chest. The Hogwarts crest.

And Harry had to drop into a sitting position on his right hip. Needing to support his body weight more steadily. Because he felt like he was getting dizzy. And he knew it was the worst time for it. But he couldn't catch his breath.

"They're... students," he uttered, quietly. Eyes fixed on the young boy. As if anyone could remotely hear him over the din. "They're Hogwarts students. They're — don't attack," he said then, barely raising his voice. Looking up. Watching the battle around him, not seeing it. "Don't attack them. They're —" he gasped, pulling himself together. Needing to pull himself together. He had to act. He had to prevent a massacre. "DON'T ATTACK!" he screamed then with all his might. "THEY ARE HOGWARTS STUDENTS! DO NOT KILL THEM!"

He stood up. His blood buzzing. Barely aware that he still had his wand in his hand. He didn't know if he had been heard. Chaos reigned in the grounds. He had to send Patronuses to everyone, including Durmstrang...

Suddenly, a shadow obscured the moonlight in the grounds. Harry, unable to comprehend what else could happen, looked up at the sky. So did many others.

A huge moving shadow was silhouetted against the sky. Big, heavy, and winged. Like a great bat.

A dragon.

It flapped its huge wings, soaring into the night until it reached the tallest towers of the castle. Bringing one of them down, perching on the rubble. Roaring then into the night deafeningly.

And Harry, seeing it in the white moonlight, knew that he knew that dragon...

The creature then hurled itself towards them. Its gigantic body knocked down two more towers, like mountains of books, and the debris slid across the rooftops and over the walls into the grounds. The animal flew over the gardens with its gigantic wings. The wind lifted by them overpowering the noise of the spells. The fire from its maw was reaching every corner.

And Harry realised that they had lost.

Voldemort had found Wyvern of Wye.

He had won.

"Well?" questioned a pale Miriam Strout from the top of the stairs leading down to the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. Terry Boot, sitting on the bottom steps, spun round so that he could look over his shoulder at her. His wand was in one hand, and he had been rubbing his tired eyes with the other.

"Nothing. We've searched everything. Malfoy's not in the house," he murmured, very quietly but audibly. "His wand is gone, he must have gone to the office to get it..."

"He's been searching the house, then," Strout muttered, folding her arms in concern. She was wearing the grey robes of the Order's Healers. "Nothing else is missing?"

"Not from the office, at least," Ginny assured her, stopping the impatient pacing she was doing in the dark hall. "There was no information with names on it, only codes. And there were protective enchantments on the most compromising documents. Nothing is missing."

"Not from the hospital ward, either. I've checked everything myself," the Healer assured them, her tone firm. "And none of my patients claim to have seen him hanging around... Molly's not back yet?"

"She's still at Muriel's," Hermione replied quietly, standing in front of the door that led to the underground kitchen. "But she has sent a message. Yaxley and Selwyn are still in the other shelters. They haven't escaped."

"It looks like it was just Malfoy," Ginny corroborated. Both Hermione and she were also holding their wands in their hands, as was Terry. Strout nodded hesitantly.

"All right. Let me know, please, if this place needs to be evacuated," the Healer requested, seriously. Albeit with a hint of pleading. "It's going to take a while to move some of the patients... And we already had everything prepared for the possible wounded coming from the schools..."

"We've doubled the protective enchantments," said Ginny, her voice firm. "And so far there's no sign of anyone unwelcome trying to get in," she pointed to the front door that the three of them were guarding. A circle of golden smoke glowed in front of the surface, turning slowly, peacefully. "Elphias is downstairs on the radio. We haven't been able to contact the schools yet to find out if the Fidelius Charm is still in place. Mad-Eye is the Secret Keeper; if he's all right, the spell will remain in place. We've warned them by radio, but we don't want to connect the fireplaces to the Floo Network just yet, just in case..."

"You can rest easy upstairs," added Hermione, softly. "We'll let you know if there's any news."

Strout nodded again, and after a moment's hesitation, not knowing what else to say, she went back up to the upper floors. Ginny, Terry and Hermione were alone again. In silence. Ginny resumed her walk down the hall.

"How did he manage to escape?" Terry Boot questioned in a whisper. Again. Just to break the silence of the place. "Without help... It seems almost impossible to me."

"He couldn't have had any help," muttered Ginny, sharply. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled in the gloom. "It's impossible... I don't know how the hell he did it, but I wouldn't suspect any of you. I can't believe any of our friends would let him get away, none of us would have any reason to betray the Order..."

Hermione's heart was heavy in her chest. She felt dizzy, as if she had just fainted and her body was still trying to regain its stability. She wanted everything to stop. She felt like all her worries were swirling around her...

She had betrayed her friends. Her side. She'd set Draco free. She had sent him into the jaws of Lord Voldemort, unable to use his wand. With information valuable to the enemy. And they still had no news from the schools...

"So you're saying Malfoy's a Black," Terry commented again, almost to himself, looking at the floor. "Would he have recognised this place? Would he have been here before? Do you think he'd know how to get back?"

"Malfoy is a Black on his mother's side. His face is on the tapestry in the drawing room. So, yes, he may have recognised the house when he fled, and he may be able to return to it. We can't rule anything out," Ginny corroborated, turning to check that the front door was still locked. And that the circle still looked golden. "And if he's bringing someone with him, we'll make sure that it's the last thing he does..."

"If Remus was here, he'd tell us to leave the headquarters immediately and go to the other safe havens," Hermione commented, her voice calm, staring at the floor.

"And Mad-Eye would tell us to defend it with our lives," Ginny protested, turning back to her. "Constant vigilance. And that's what I'm going to do. There's a lot of information about the Order in here that would take days to move. I'm not going to hand it over to the Death Eaters without a fight. And the hospital ward is full; there aren't enough of us to move them somewhere safe..."

"We made a mistake bringing him to this house... But it looks like the escape was his initiative," Terry continued, fiddling with his wand in his fingers. "Not a You-Know-Who thing. He would have released the other two prisoners as well, not just Malfoy."

Ginny let out a grunt of agreement.

"Mum has placed more protective enchantments on the other shelters. To make sure the other two don't escape. Andromeda says the Death Eater in her care hasn't tried anything... Let's see what Aunt Muriel says..."

Footsteps were then heard coming up the kitchen stairs. Elphias appeared on the doorstep, his face serious.

"Any news?" Hermione asked, instantly. Breathlessly. Though she suspected not. The radio on the kitchen counter hadn't made any sound. She would hear it from there.

Indeed, the man shook his head.

"Jordan tells me that communications with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are failing," he muttered. Breathing with some difficulty. "That — no one's been answering for a while now. They're trying to find out why. Something must have gone wrong."

And the silence that followed those words was so thick that Hermione was afraid to even move. But she had to take an urgent breath. She dropped her head. Staring blankly at the strips on the floor. Watching her own chest rise and fall rapidly. What right did she have to breathe...?

"Something, like what?" Terry muttered. Questioning aloud what the girls were also wondering. Elphias pursed his lips fleetingly.

"I don't know. But it's not a good sign when they don't respond to communications. They did it at the beginning of the night. It worries me..." the man finished in a low voice.

"I'm sure they're fine," Ginny mumbled. Blunt. Hermione looked at her. Her face was deadly serious. And she knew her friend was thinking about her father. Her brothers. Ron, Fred, George, and Bill. Harry. "Maybe they're just busy... They must be in the middle of the battle. If they can't handle it, they'll let us know. We're the second detachment."

"There always has to be someone on radio communications," Elphias objected. But he seemed to realise that there was no point in undermining the young woman's hopes, because he added, "But let's not be too hasty. There could be dozens of causes. And you're right, they haven't called for help yet. Can you keep an eye on the radio? I'm going to check the fireplaces..."

After getting a quick nod from Terry, the man went upstairs. Leaving another thick silence behind him.

And Hermione felt the fear she'd been pushing deep in her gut forcefully rise to the surface. Suddenly. Like a geyser. She felt reality hitting her like a sledgehammer. Reality spitting at her that she had been deluding herself with puerile justifications. Not allowing herself to see reality in its entirety.

She had betrayed them. And it didn't matter why. It didn't matter if it had been out of love. That wouldn't save her friends.

She had justified her own betrayal in the belief that it wouldn't make much difference to the outcome of the mission. That, despite alerting the Death Eaters, they could win. They could defend the schools, even if they didn't have the element of surprise. But it didn't have to be that way.

It could all go wrong. They could die. They could all die, caught in their own trap. And she would be to blame. Her, and only her. If the Order perished, if it all ended... Hermione would be responsible. She would have handed the wizarding world over to Lord Voldemort.

And that possibility suddenly choked her. Leaving her breathless. Blurring her vision. How had she been able to...?

Trembling, her back pressed against the doorframe, she let herself slip to the floor. Sitting on the cold, black strips. The ringing in her ears was making her brain go blank. She was feeling the room spinning around her. Seeing it darker than it had been moments before. A bright red lump approached her. Kneeling in front of her. A freckled face.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Ginny whispered, holding her arms. "You're as white as a ghost. Listen to me, it's going to be all right. I'm sure they're fine..."

But Hermione shook her head. Because she couldn't catch her breath. And she would never be able to catch her breath again if she really had been the one to blame for the death of her friends.

She noticed another lump approaching. Terry also crouched down beside her. And she couldn't look at either of them.

Harry and Ron, dead... Harry and Ron...

The loud sound of a siren boomed above their heads, startling them. And it completely cancelled the situation out. They did not hesitate. They didn't even speak.

Ginny and Terry leapt to their feet, wands raised in attack position. Hermione took only a moment longer to follow them from her inconvenient position on the floor. Her face, serious and focused, tears forgotten on her cheeks. But she didn't have time for that anymore.

The golden circle had turned red. Someone was trying to enter.

Three instantaneous Shield Charms gleamed in the hall. One after the other in an ordered manner. Three barriers that anyone who wanted to enter would have to overcome. They were not going to make it easy.

Then there was the sound of knocking at the door. Precipitated and impatient. They even heard the sparkle of spells against the surface.

"What's going on in there?" cried a desperate voice from outside, muffled. "Hey, who's in there?"

"It's Dedalus," said Terry, quietly. Ginny lowered her wand slightly, but she didn't make her shield disappear. Neither did Hermione. The young redhead moved a little closer to the door, as close as their own shields would allow.

"Password!" Ginny shouted. There was silence outside. Then there were murmurs again. Some were nervous. Others were impatient. As if those outside were informing newcomers that something was wrong.

"Lightning has struck," said a different voice, deeper and more impetuous. Hermione took a deep breath.

"It's Aberforth..." she identified, lowering her wand. And hearing another familiar voice was reassuring. They weren't all dead...

What he had said seemed like a meaningless sentence, but it was precisely what Terry, Ginny and Hermione had expected. Because, in fact, it was the emergency password that the Order had made known to everyone, to be used only in cases of extreme necessity.

The three Shield Charms vanished. Hermione waved her wand, causing the protective enchantments locking the door to vanish as well. The red circle disappeared. Then the door swung open quickly, and Dedalus Diggle strode nervously through. He was followed by two other members they couldn't identify, but who ran up the stairs at full speed, saying nothing to them.

"What happened here? What was that for? Are you all right?" Dedalus asked in his excited voice, looking around urgently, still pointing his wand everywhere. As if looking inside for the enemy.

"I'm sorry, we weren't sure if it was you," Ginny confessed, following the other two with her eyes. "It was a precaution..."

"Precaution for what...?" Dedalus spluttered impatiently. And then Hermione could hear the radio beeping from the kitchen. Terry heard it too, and was the first to head downstairs to answer it. Meanwhile, more people were coming through the door. Hermione looked up in time to see Aberforth enter. He was limping slightly, but his blue eyes were shining.

"Has someone attacked this place?" was the first thing he asked, in a powerful voice. He waved his wand with such impetus that Mrs Black's curtain, about to be pulled aside and she began to scream as she had done in the past, was yanked shut, silencing her instantly. "What's happened? Explain, now!"

"No one has come," Ginny said, trying to reassure him. "But maybe they will. Something's happened... Didn't you get the radio communications? We've been trying to reach you all for hours —" But then she looked over the old man's shoulder and let out a groan. "Oh, Dad...!"

"What communications are you talking about, girl?" Aberforth spat, looking as if he was not prepared to tolerate any bad news. But the young woman had thrown herself into her father's arms, ignoring him. Arthur stroked her hair with only his right hand. The left sleeve of his robes was soaked in blood. And his glasses were dirty and crooked on his nose.

"I'm fine, darling," Arthur murmured against his daughter's hair. "We're all right. Your brothers are fine... Fred and George have gone with Remus to your aunt's..."

"Mum's there," Ginny replied in return, against his chest. Her father caught her words and broke away from her instantly.

"Your mother? Why?" he asked hastily, alarmed. He looked over his daughter's shoulder at Hermione. Looking for an answer. And the girl summoned all her composure to be able to answer as she was expected to.

"Draco Malfoy has escaped," Hermione revealed, her voice low but controlled. "The prisoner. The Black Sergeant."

"That's impossible," Aberforth snarled instantly from under his bushy beard.

"He retrieved his wand, Stunned Elphias, and escaped. We've searched the place. He's gone... That's what we were telling you in the communications."

But more people were coming through the door, attracting everyone's attention. The sturdy Mad-Eye then walked across the doorway, leaning heavily on his walking stick with each step. He looked furious, but alive. In fact, he looked unharmed, though dirty and dusty. His patched coat seemed to have one or two new holes in it. And his presence seemed to light up the place.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL STANDING HERE FOR?" was the first thing he shouted, with his usual energy. "There's no time for nonsense! We must gather them all together! Tally up immediately! Dedalus, I see you in one piece, gather your battalion and divide up by the shelters! I want to know who's back from the schools and who's to be found! I'm going to get all my men back, even if I have to go and pull them out of the hands of that fogey Dark Lord!"

"Mad-Eye, wait," said Aberforth, raising a hand in his direction. Dedalus obeyed and went back out the door. "This is important. Have you received radio communications at Beauxbatons? The girls say the Black Sergeant has escaped..."

The ex-Auror halted his limping gait with difficulty. And he fixed his unequal eyes on the girls. The real one on Ginny, and the magical one on Hermione.

"What are you saying? What do you mean, he's escaped...?" he hissed, with his crooked mouth. A couple more people came through the door. They carried two stretchers, which were magically levitated between them. Hermione didn't recognise their occupants.

"We contacted you to make sure that the Fidelius Charm hiding Grimmauld Place was still in place," Ginny corroborated, pulling slightly away from her father to make way for the two wizards. "We were afraid that he'd identified the place and could bring the enemy here..."

"We weren't fit enough to receive communications at Beauxbatons..." muttered Mad-Eye, and limped off to the kitchen without missing a beat. "But yes, the Fidelius Charm is still working, of course it is. I'm not going to the other side before I take down the Death Eater leaders who have organised such a dastardly battle..."

"What happened at the schools?" Hermione then questioned in a stifled whisper, following him.

"SCOUNDRELS!" shouted Alastor into the air, as he limped down the stairs. "Despicable Flobberworms! They have no honour! They don't know how to fight like soldiers! Never, in all my years as an Auror, have I ever seen such a cowardly act...!"

"Dad, go up to the hospital ward..." Hermione heard Ginny say to her father, gravely, behind her.

"It's just a curse, sweetheart. It's your speciality. I don't want to take up a hospital bed," he protested quietly, walking down the stairs with his daughter's help, following Hermione and Mad-Eye. "They're bringing in a lot of people and they're going to bring in more. Fleur's done all she can on the battlefield at Durmstrang, but it hasn't been enough..."

"Give me that," Moody spat, as soon as he reached the kitchen counter where Terry was answering the radio. He took the receiver from him and listened to what the boy was hearing. After three seconds, he interrupted the speaker to demand, "River, open up communications with the marked shelters for the return of the Continent Mission soldiers. And activate shelters fourteen and fifteen as temporary hospitals now... We'll see where we can find mediwizards..." he mumbled, almost to himself.

"Mr Weasley, what's happened?" Hermione tried again, turning to look at Arthur. Desperate for more specific information. "The schools...? Is everyone all right?"

By the light of the kitchen lamps, Hermione was clear on the answer to her last question. Arthur wore his sparse red hair tousled around his ears, the skin of his head sweaty. Fresh blood on the side of his face. Covered in dirt. The bracer on his left arm was shredded. And his eyes were two open wounds. Hermione had never seen such grief on his face. The Weasley patriarch was usually known for his patience. His normally cheerful and kind character. But now he looked defeated. And it was a grim sight.

"No, Hermione, we're not all right," Arthur admitted quietly. Sitting down at the table with Ginny's help. "It's been a massacre... The mission has been a failure. For dozens of reasons..." He sighed, taking off his glasses. One of the side pieces was crooked. "They didn't walk into the ambush. They planned everything perfectly. They came in through places we didn't know about and surprised us there..."

"Why didn't you ask us for help?" Ginny protested. Finishing tearing off the arm protection from her father's arm, to get it off more quickly, she began to run her wand over the wound, making a diagnosis. Mad-Eye had sat heavily on one of the chairs in order to remove his prosthetic leg. Wanting, it seemed, to make some adjustments.

"We didn't even have time," Alastor grunted grumpily, though the question was directed at Arthur. "The place we were sending communications from went down in the first place, and —"

"Excuse me, but we'll have time to talk about what happened in the schools," old Aberforth mumbled then, still standing, wand in hand. Not settling down, though he was leaving a trail of blood, sliding down from his calf, on the stone floor. "What about that boy, the Black Sergeant? How could he escape from the Order of the Phoenix's main headquarters, with all the protective enchantments in place? Without a trace? What kind of wizard could do such a thing?" He looked at everyone in the kitchen one by one. His blue eyes glittered like a stormy ocean.

"I don't know," Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes. "But right now, a single prisoner who we might not even be able to get information out of seems to me to be the least of it. The important thing is the schools... We need to talk to all the shelters, treat all the wounded, and see how we deal with the situation we've got..."

"Excuse me, but it is clear that we have lost the European schools. There's nothing to be done about it right now," Aberforth insisted, raising his hoarse voice. He looked at Mad-Eye, who looked at him in turn, with both eyes, magical and normal. Immobile, with his wooden leg still in his hand. "And I don't think you realise the gravity of this. That the boy has circumvented our security seems to me to be extremely serious. If we don't find out how he did it, I don't think we're safe in here. Moreover, he may have gone back to his people to inform them that we were planning to attack the schools..."

Silence fell in the kitchen. Everyone pondered the frightening hypothesis. Hermione could feel her body temperature rising. Turning her face incandescent. But she tried to appear as normal as possible. Praying that no one would notice.

They had lost the schools, it was a fact... The mission had failed.

"He couldn't possibly have known about the mission," Arthur mumbled, after a moment's consideration. Ginny looked up intermittently, not missing a word, but not neglecting her father's wound. The light from the spells she was casting drew everyone's gaze.

"Could he have heard someone talking about it? A slip-up in the interrogation?" Aberforth insisted, still staring at Mad-Eye, who looked like he was about to explode. His magical eye was now spinning frantically.

"Of course not, Ab, damn it..." he snarled, in ill-contained fury. But hastily bolting his wooden leg back into place. To feel ready again.

More footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs then, and then into the kitchen. And Hermione had never made such a sound before. She had to lean against the table for a moment, feeling her legs wobble hopelessly.

It was Harry and Ron. Gasping and frantic. Alive.

There. That was it. That was all she needed to know. They were alive.

"My God..." she stammered, rushing to meet them. She wrapped her arms around both boys at once and pressed herself against their shoulders. "My God... Are you — are you all right?"

"We're here," Harry murmured, his voice trailing off. And Hermione felt each of their hands on her back. Harry's firm grip. Ron's awkward pats. And she let her full weight fall on them. Sobbing against them. Never wanting to let go of them, ever again. If she'd lost them...

"Boys, if you need medical attention, go up to the hospital," Arthur said from the table. Ginny seemed to be in strong conflict with herself now, torn between the need to finish casting the spell her father needed, and the need to run and hug her older brother. And Harry.

"How many of us are back from Beauxbatons?" Harry asked then, urgently, ignoring Arthur. "I've evacuated the grounds, there was no one left..."

"I'm making contact with the other shelters, we'll know soon enough," growled Mad-Eye, getting back to his feet. Removing his thick coat in the process. Ready to get to work.

"We must regroup immediately. Get more people. We have to get back... We have to — they can't do this —" Harry was mumbling. He was paler than Hermione had ever seen him. Paler than when he'd come back from the Little Hangleton graveyard with Cedric Diggory's body in his arms. Paler than when he'd faced a hundred Dementors by himself. More than the night the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts.

Ginny then put the wand aside. Apparently, unable to contain herself any longer. She advanced first towards Ron, who had come over to the table after letting go of Hermione, wanting to check his father's injuries. Ginny buried herself into her brother's chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He returned her embrace, still looking over her shoulder at his father. Arthur reassured him with a gesture.

"Have you gone mad, boy?" Alastor mumbled, looking at a frantic Harry. Lowering his voice for the first time. "That's absurd. We've barely made it out of there alive. Our troops can't —"

"We cannot give up!" Harry shouted in return. "They can't take over the schools. They can't have any more students to —"

But at that moment Ginny came up to him. Leaving him speechless. Wrapping her arms around his neck, after standing on her tiptoes to reach him a little more easily. Pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder. Saying nothing. And Harry could do nothing but hold her close. Visibly, running out of strength. Slumping his shoulders and wrapping his arms around her back. Sighing against her clothes. Magically forgetting to fight any more.

Hermione stepped to the side, leaving them alone. She approached the table again, intending to lean on the surface. But she was close enough to Ron, and what her body asked her to do was to hug him again. Leaning against his chest. She felt her tall friend's arm around her shoulders. Pulling her tight against him. Very tightly.

"Stop it, please. Potter, that's not helping," Aberforth protested. His trained eyes hadn't stopped looking around. Immune to any sentimental situation around him. "Another hasty battle is foolish. One problem at a time. First, and most urgently, the Malfoy boy..."

"What is it about Malfoy?" Ron questioned instantly. Alarmed. Harry raised his face, too, alertly, pulling it away from Ginny's shoulder.

"He's escaped..." Hermione confessed, in barely a whisper. And she herself didn't know if she was voiceless from the emotions of having her friends back, or from talking about Draco again.

"Escaped? What do you mean, escaped?" Harry sputtered. Now pulling away from Ginny completely. "That's impossible. When did he — ?"

"Soon after you left," Ginny articulated. Eyes fixed on his body. "Harry, your shoulder, let me see it..." she ordered then, in a quieter voice. Indeed, the young man's robes were torn in the back area. The edges were burnt and blackened.

"It doesn't make any sense," Harry repeated, instinctively. Without even thinking. Allowing, without resistance, Ginny to seat him at the table next to Arthur. "How is Malfoy going to escape from here? He was being watched! Who was — ?"

"Elphias was with him," Terry interjected from his corner, leaning on the kitchen counter next to the radio. "But he Stunned him and escaped. We still don't know how, or where. The protective enchantments of the front door were not damaged."

"I watched him in the afternoon," Hermione confessed, as calmly as she could muster. It would be suspicious of her not to mention it. Harry and Ron instantly turned to her, their faces identical in disbelief, but she didn't look at them. "He didn't try anything. He didn't make me suspect anything."

Hermione kept her arms crossed over her chest. Her companions' eyes on her as she spoke, and then turned away again when she finished. No hint of accusation. No one doubted her. No one looked at her reproachfully. Though she stubbornly refused to look back at Harry and Ron. Because she knew they were looking at her disapprovingly for her act of watching Malfoy. And she didn't need to see it.

Out of the corner of her eye, it seemed to her that Ginny was looking at her even more intently, but when she locked her eyes on hers, she wasn't. She was running her wand over Harry's skin, which had turned black. As if weeds had taken over the surface. Some curse. Possibly the Necrosis Curse. It must have been hurting like hell.

"Bloody scoundrel," Ron muttered, between his teeth. Starting to come to grips with reality. "He's gone back to his sewer... Do you think maybe he's identified this place, then? Is he going to tell his people? Is he — ? Wait, did he give us away? Would he know about the mission of the schools?" he then questioned, with the sudden idea opening his light eyes wide.

"That's what we were discussing, but I repeat that I think it's impossible," Arthur said heavily. "He couldn't have known about it. Nor could he have had time to warn them. What happened tonight was meticulously planned..."

"Whether he warned of our ambush or not is the least of it," Mad-Eye then stated, tapping his walking stick on the floor. "If the Death Eaters were aware of our presence, it was not decisive to their victory. But other things about this worry me more... Boot, radio Johnson. Tell her to declare a state of alarm in the Order. There is a traitor in our midst."

"Don't talk nonsense, Mad-Eye," said Ginny, leaving Harry's wound for a moment to stare at him with narrowed eyes.

"Is it nonsense to think that there's a traitor anywhere in the middle of a war? Please, Ginevra, wake up," the man spat, sternly. As Terry leaned, effectively, towards the radio, and began to turn some wheels. "I'm going to personally question everyone who was here when the boy left. Who found out?"

"Mum," Ginny replied again. Almost defensively. "She was providing support in the hospital ward. And she found Elphias unconscious in Malfoy's room."

"It wasn't Molly, Mad-Eye," Arthur hastened to say, with an unexpected coldness in his normally gentle tone of voice. Alastor fixed his round magical eye on him.

"I'm suspicious of everyone at the moment, Arthur. Even myself," he hissed. "Who else was in the house?"

"Hermione, Terry, and me," Ginny listed distractedly. Again, she was busy healing Harry's shoulder wound. "I was looking out for the radio, Hermione was waiting for further instructions to come with her squad to help you, and Terry was doing potions... There was also Strout, and the patients in the hospital ward. I don't think anyone else."

"I'll talk to you all later," said Mad-Eye, drumming his fingers on the table. And Hermione's heart began to pump blood straight to her face and ears. Oh, my God...

"Ginny and Hermione were downstairs in the kitchen together," Terry admitted, shrugging. "They have an alibi, you might say. I was alone upstairs..."

"Terry, go upstairs, please, and bring me the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You'd prepared more, hadn't you?" Ginny asked worriedly, interrupting him. The black threads were slowly disappearing, though some were already creeping up the side of Harry's neck.

"Yes, I've left some macerating, wait..." corroborated the boy, also looking at Harry's wound with concern.

"No, lad, you go upstairs and watch the front door and stay there," growled Mad-Eye, pointing a gnarled finger at him. Terry hesitated for a moment, but obeyed, leaving the room. "We're not safe yet. Send that irritating elf for the potion, let him do something useful..." he said reluctantly, waving his hand. Still with his brain buzzing with problems.

"Wait a — Kreacher," Harry blurted out then, straightening up in his chair. Ginny put a hand on his healthy shoulder to stop him from getting up, and he scowled at her. "Why isn't he here? Why hasn't he come sniffing around? You haven't — he was supposed to be in the house when Malfoy disappeared as well..."

Ginny looked at him in shock. Mouth hanging open. Not being able to say anything at first.

"It's not possible... I haven't even thought about him," she admitted, puzzled. She looked at Hermione. Who struggled to look equally shocked. "I don't remember — I haven't seen him all this time. Nowhere in the house I've searched."

"Me neither," Hermione whispered. "He didn't come through the hall when I was watching..."

"Wait a minute... Kreacher was the Black family house-elf," Ron blurted out then, leaning on the table with both hands. "You heard him, he's always muttering about the lack of purity of blood in this place... I'll bet my Cleansweep that if he found out Malfoy was here, he was the one who set him free!"

"The elf?" Mad-Eye hissed between his teeth. "That — that bloody elf? Where is he...?"

"Kreacher!" Harry shouted. Jumping to his feet.

With a loud crack, the old elf materialised in front of his master. His appearance had changed slightly, and everyone noticed. He looked less hunched over. His eyelids were not so droopy. Even his face looked less sullen.

"Master was calling for me?" He bowed to the floor. And then, unsurprisingly, he began to mumble, "You odious child. Shame on Kreacher for having to address him like that. He has nothing in common with him... The purity of my true masters, of the Black family, is present in the younger members... My Mistress would be so pleased..."

"Oh, merciful Merlin..." mumbled Arthur, scratching his incipient bald spot.

"You..." stammered Harry, approaching the creature. In a trembling voice. "Did you do it...?"

"Harry..." Hermione warned, coming closer as well.

"Do you know Draco Malfoy?" he asked bluntly, two paces away from the elf. Hermione stood in front of her friend, resting a hand on his chest, but Harry didn't even look at her. Kreacher blinked in indolence, not backing away. "Do you know who he is?"

"Draco Malfoy is the son of Narcissa Black, niece of my Mistress Walburga Black..." Kreacher recited monotonously. And with a cheerful lilt that did not go unnoticed by anyone.

"Did you know he was in this house? Did you get him out? Did you get Draco Malfoy out of here?!" Harry shouted, making to move forward. Hermione's body wouldn't let him.

"Harry!" the girl repeated. But she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Harry after the elf's next words.

"Yes, sir, I got him out of here," he revealed cheerfully. Hermione held her breath. Harry looked ready for a heart attack.

"Why — how dare you do such a thing!" the young man shouted, his eyes wide. Kreacher grinned. His mouth was half-toothless from old age.

"He is my master. Kreacher serves the Black family. And the Black family needed help," he smiled even more eagerly. "It was Kreacher's idea. It was all Kreacher's idea. Master Malfoy was very pleased..."

"I'm gonna —" Ron mumbled, slamming both hands on the table and advancing towards him.

"YOU FILTHY LITTLE MAGGOT!" Harry roared, pulling out his wand. Pushing Hermione away.

"HARRY!" shouted the girl in return. Still holding him by the chest, more tightly now. But she held her arm out towards Ron so he wouldn't do anything either. "RON!"

"THIS BASTARD HAS PUT US ALL AT RISK...!" Ron shouted, pointing his outstretched arm at him.

"GET THAT ELF OUT OF THIS PLACE!" shouted Mad-Eye then, banging his walking stick on the floor and then pointing it at him. "I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM LURKING AROUND HERE AGAIN!"

"And where do you expect him to go?" Arthur exclaimed, incredulously. "Calm down, all of you, Merlin's beard. The sensible thing to do is to keep him under guard here. Harry, order him not to move from the house..."

"GET UP TO YOUR BLOODY CUPBOARD AND DON'T SET FOOT OUT OF THERE!" roared the boy. And Kreacher suddenly managed to dodge Harry, leap up onto the counter and grab one of the pans. And, with another crack, he disappeared.

A cold silence fell over the room. Only Harry and Alastor could be heard breathing. They were competing to be the first to have a heart attack. Ron sat in a chair. His ears were red.

Hermione blinked, taking it all in. Her undeserved luck. Kreacher had confessed, with great pleasure. The Order already had a culprit. And it wasn't her. Everything was going according to plan...

"What does he — want the frying pan for?" Ginny questioned in a confused whisper. Afraid to break the silence.

"He'll probably beat himself up with it for angering his master. Harry," Ron specified heavily. "It's his duty..."

"This is unbelievable," whispered Mad-Eye, running a haggard hand through his long hair.

At that moment, the radio began to beep. Aberforth, who was closest, pulled out his wand in a hurry and tapped two of the little wheels. An excited voice, which they identified as Angelina Johnson's, spoke to everyone.

"This is WWN headquarters, we have contacted the shelters, and we are proceeding to send out the casualty report... New update at zero, four, zero, zero..."

Indeed, a piece of paper was appearing through one of the radio slots, intermittently, as if it were a fax. Mad-Eye limped over to it and plucked it out of the machine, to have a look at it.

"Mundungus," Harry whispered. Hermione, still clinging to her friend's chest, her strength gone, raised her head.

"Mundungus?" she repeated, voicelessly.

"Inferi," Harry managed to articulate. His eyes were lost in the depths of the room. "They... they took him away... He's one of the casualties."

"Kingsley, too," Arthur reported, barely. His voice cracking almost instantly. He set his broken glasses aside and hid his face behind his palms. His forearm was still bleeding, but the curse seemed to have been removed. Ginny rushed to sit beside him, hugging his healthy arm tightly.

They heard the tinkling of glass. Aberforth was in the cupboard. Pulling a dusty bottle of Firewhisky from one of the shelves. With a wave of his wand, a dozen crystal glasses materialised on the table.

"Now we can only watch this place to make sure Draco Malfoy doesn't return with his cronies," the old man said gravely, pouring the drink with ease. "And in the meantime, take care of our troops. Our wounded. We need to reorganise the Healers..."

"Tell us more about the attack on the schools, please," Ginny asked, softly. Accepting one of the glasses and holding another out to her father. "What happened? If you're saying that the possibility of Malfoy ratting us out wasn't relevant, how could they defeat us like that? We were prepared... And they'd been involved in three attacks in one day, they couldn't have been in a position to —"

"They weren't Death Eaters," Harry whispered. Ginny didn't understand at first. She watched the boy pick up one of the glasses and drain it in one gulp. In an almost desperate way.

"W-what?" she mumbled, as Harry slammed the glass down on the table. His lips pursed, and, surely, his throat on fire.

"They were students. From Hogwarts. They used the students," were Harry's bloodcurdling words, amid the silence. "They knew we wouldn't attack them. That we wouldn't hurt them when we found out. That we would be defenceless against them."

"They did attack us," Arthur continued. "Some of them were clearly trained in the dark arts. The Hogwarts education of the last two years has produced results. They can fight. Others looked more inexperienced. I came across a couple of them who seemed loyal to You-Know-Who. The vast majority were terrified. But they had to obey. Attack us."

"Imperius Curse?" Hermione asked in a whisper. Mr Weasley shook his head.

"Fear is more effective than the most complicated of curses... They were fighting out of fear."

"At last he has shown the full extent of what he intended by taking over Hogwarts," said Aberforth. Refilling the glasses. "And the result is an army we cannot defeat."

"I never thought him such a coward," growled Mad-Eye, stirring the whisky in his glass, swirling it in his hand. "The Dark Lord. Attacking us with children... I always believed that the training he put them through at Hogwarts was a long-term plan. That it would turn them into warriors. So that, when they were adults, they would be raised, indoctrinated, in his beliefs. Loyal to him."

"We all thought so," Arthur corroborated, scratching his eyebrows. "No one expected this..."

"That's why he was able to afford such a large number of troops in his other attacks," Hermione reflected. Almost to herself. Remembering that even Draco had expressed surprise at that. "Because he wasn't going to use Death Eaters to take over schools, he was going to use students. He was going to test them. It's... chilling."

"When I got Harry's Patronus I could hardly believe it," Ron muttered in return. Sitting at the table. "I should have radioed for help right away. I should have alerted the second squadron. But I couldn't defend the communications post..."

"We all withdrew as soon as we could," Arthur assured him, staring at his son. "You did what you could, Ron. Warning another squadron would only have resulted in more casualties. Our defeat has not been due to troop numbers..."

"That bloody dragon," Mad-Eye then said, taking a quick sip from his glass before continuing to speak, "Are we really going to ignore that fact? We've all seen it. And we have to accept it."

"Dragon?" Ginny repeated in a whisper. Shocked. "What... what dragon?"

"He brought it to Durmstrang, too," Aberforth corroborated, answering Mad-Eye. But then he looked at Ginny as he clarified, "They have a dragon in their ranks. And I can hardly stomach to be saying this... Dragons are not soldiers. They don't fight wars. But this dragon... It obeys him. I'm sure it does. How it behaved is not how a dragon behaves..."

"I know that dragon," Harry whispered then. His eyes were fixed on the streaks on the table. Ron's gasp made their gazes meet. The red-head shook his head without breaking eye contact, wanting him to dismiss it. But Harry remained impassive, telling him the truth with his eyes.

"Do you... know it?" Aberforth repeated. Astonished for the first time in the whole conversation.

"He was at Hogwarts. Hidden in the catacombs. His name is Wyvern of Wye. Ron and I... freed him. So Voldemort wouldn't get hold of him. The dragon asked us to do it."

"The dragon asked you to do it?" Arthur repeated. Confused.

"He was communicating with me, using the Parseltongue," Harry corroborated, in a low voice. Mad-Eye let out an annoyed snort.

"You released a dragon while you were at school?" repeated the ex-Auror, leaning slightly across the table towards him. "A dragon the Dark Lord wanted to find? Are you taking the piss, boy? Why didn't you ever tell us?"

"I thought he'd run away!" Harry justified himself in frustration. "That he was safe now! I had totally erased him from my worries!"

"No, he didn't run away. And now He has him in his possession," muttered Mad-Eye, grumpily. Almost sounding accusatory.

"And you blame me for that?" Harry spat, looking angry again.

"Do you know how to defeat it?" Arthur questioned in return, desperate hope in his voice. Harry hesitated for a moment, calming himself, but then slowly shook his head from left to right.

' Because they couldn't kill me. No one can kill me. No wizard can. No wizard is powerful enough .'

"We'll write to Charlie and ask him to tell us what to do," Ginny proposed. Trying to sound confident. Though she had gone pale. "Maybe he knows how to defeat it. Or at least give us some information. What kind of dragon it is... Whatever."

She looked at Harry, seeking his support. He lowered his head. Biting his tongue to keep from telling her that he suspected there was no other dragon like it in the world. But he ended up nodding. Approving of her plan.

Aberforth reached across the table and poured himself a glass. Draining it in one quick gulp.

"I don't know how we're going to fight from now on," he mused, after swallowing the burning liquid. Looking at no one in particular. "Two other schools belong to him now. He's taking over Europe. Thousands more students to indoctrinate and train to fight for him. Thousands of children to blackmail thousands of families with... And a dragon, who can wipe out an entire army, at his command."

There was a terrible silence that pressed on their eardrums. A silence impossible to break.

Arthur covered his face with his healthy hand, sighing, exhausted. A shadow of despair crossed Moody's haggard face, and he moved to rub his jaw with a wrinkled hand. Pondering almost frantically. More footsteps were heard upstairs. People were still arriving. With more news, with more deaths...

Hermione felt like everything was spinning around her. She felt almost like she was in a dream. She had been preparing for this for hours... and now it wasn't sinking in. Mundungus, Kingsley... dead. The schools, lost. The Order, without members who could fight. And she didn't know what Draco's fate had been, if everything they'd done had been worth it...

She felt her strength leave her, and her body bent over of its own accord. She had to brace herself with her hands on the surface of the table to keep from collapsing to the floor. Then she felt her lips open and make sounds for the rest of those present without her consent, "There is still something we can do."

No one said anything. But she felt Harry's gaze, next to her. Hermione raised her own and locked it on her best friend's eyes. He was looking at her with exhaustion; encouraging her to speak, kindly, but knowing that nothing she could say would change anything.

"I know where Professor Dumbledore is."

And after those words, all eyes were on her.