Penumbra I: Falls the Shadow

by Skaldic Oresteia

Post-HBP. As Harry disappears on the Horcrux hunt, Ginny is left behind to find her own path in the war against Voldemort. On separate paths, Harry finds an unexpected ally, while Ginny faces repercussions for helping him leave. Meanwhile, the Wizarding World faces an increasingly bleak future as Voldemort unleashes a darker and deadlier power than anyone could have ever imagined.

13. 11: Whatever is Done From Love

A/N:
Because it is referenced quite a bit in this chapter, I thought I'd add a note about the religion of my goblin characters, explaining their pantheon and some of their subsequent language. The predominant religion of Tylwthteg is called Laelitianism, which has its origins as a form of polytheistic, shamanistic nature worship, with a similar pattern of shamanism to Shinto, and a similar pattern of deity to Norse religion and Hinduism: demons, nature spirits, and a pantheon of major gods. The gods in the pantheon were:

Gairath:
The sun god, and also the creator god, also called the All-Father by goblins.

Gaelacha:
The moon goddess. Also called the All-Mother by goblins, Gairath's consort and mother to all things under the sun.

Laelit:
Goddss of the earth, birth, and growth, and mother of the goblin race. Main object of direct worship in Laelitianism. Laelit provides ethical codes of kindness, honesty, charity and altruisim.

Oreanchar:
God of rain and of the sea; bringer of justice and retribution, and considered to be Laelit's husband; father of the goblin race. Oreanchar provides ethical codes of honour, valour, and justice.

Bramtheas:
Oreanchar's brother; likely a form of Prometheus adopted into the pantheon; Bramtheas is the creator of the human race.

Gaelith:
Bramtheas's wife, and mother of the human race.

Taernach:
God of storms, war, and chaos; associated with fate. A darker figure, though not evil; he is both feared and revered.

Traekhtha:
Taernach's twin sister; goddess of time and of death; she is also associated with prophecy.

Gasheargh:
Laelit's brother; God of fire, the hammer, and industry. The goblins believe he tutored their race in metallurgy and other such crafts.

Morach:
A dark and malevolent god, the only god considered evil. He is in constant conflict with the other Laelitian gods and acts as a Satan-like figure in the religion. Morach is frequently invoked in curses, the most common of which is "Morach take you." This has a similar meaning to "damn you to hell", but it is much stronger. When goblins say it, they mean it.

---

Chapter Eleven
Whatever Is Done From Love

"To be deeply loved by someone gives you strength, but to love someone deeply gives you courage."
—Esther Huertas

---

Harry's scar was prickling again.

He could not determine what had set it off this time, however, only that it didn't seem to anger or excite Voldemort as acutely as whatever had provoked his rage last time. Still, Harry had endured an itching, irritated sensation on his forehead all morning, sometimes making him grimace or rub at his scar when he thought no one was looking, but even so, he noticed Hermione giving him a concerned look, perhaps having noticed him wince or give a sharp intake of breath. Harry said nothing to her, however, not wanting to worry her or to discuss his scar any more than they already had.

Fortunately, at this moment his arms were full of damp wood, impeding Harry from rubbing or scratching at his forehead and thereby confirming Hermione's suspicions. On the other hand, he was also starting to feel mildly dizzy, perhaps from all the walking he'd been doing for the past couple of hours, but he said nothing of this either. Cecilia and Feidlenid would insist on him returning to the Grimrooks' house if they realised his scar was bothering him or that his head was starting to spin, and he didn't want to just yet. The damp, earthy smell of moss and the feeling of being outside the confines of the Grimrooks' property for the first time since Godric's Hollow brought some relief to his discomfort as well as the growing feeling of unease, even if it could only be for a short while.

Earlier that morning, Feidlenid had informed them at breakfast that she was ready to begin preparations for the funeral ceremony, which, if they finished today, could be conducted that evening. At Cecilia's suggestion, she had found a remote forest clearing where they could avoid drawing unwanted attention. While this had not been a pleasant conversation for Harry, they all knew it had to be done, and the lure of the outdoors beyond the walled garden made him far more equal to the task. Besides, it didn't feel right for Feidlenid to do all the work. Cecilia had been reluctant to allow Harry, Ron, and Hermione to help, understandably apprehensive about them leaving the warded boundaries of the property for any reason, but even she admitted that the manual labour required could help strengthen Harry, as long as he didn't push himself too far. As a precaution Harry and Ron had come under the Invisibility Cloak, and Hermione had used a Disillusionment spell on herself and Cecilia, keeping themselves concealed while Feidlenid led them to the clearing. The two goblinesses had then erected a ward there to conceal all activity within thirty yards of the clearing. They'd been gathering and chopping wood within that radius ever since.

Trying to ignore his scar and his dizzy spell, Harry crouched down and reached for another small branch, avoiding looking at Hermione, who was likewise gathering wood, but also watching him suspiciously. The muffled sound of a footstep on damp earth made them both look up, however, as Feidlenid appeared down their path, a small pile of sticks and kindling gathered in her muddy apron. Holding up his branches a bit higher, Harry asked, "Are these any good? They're still wet."

The priestess nodded unconcernedly. "I will ensure they are dry when it's time." She then looked at him closely. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he said automatically.

"That answer's not allowed," Hermione said sharply. "Remember?"

Harry growled in frustration. "All right, fine. I'm a bit tired, and I might be getting a little lightheaded, but"—

Hermione, who still had a free hand, drew her wand and pointed it at the wood in his arms. "You sit down for a few minutes," she ordered. "I'll take those over."

Harry knew better than to argue with her. He set down the branches and watched as she murmured an incantation to make the wood levitate, then began magicking it back up the path towards the clearing. Harry wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and then lowered himself onto a fallen log, bending over with his head almost reaching his knees.

A moment later, Feidlenid sat next to him, her own gathering of sticks lying across her lap. "You need not trouble yourself so much," she said quietly. "The wood gathering is good, but I don't want you to do more than your heart can."

"I know," Harry answered. "But they're my parents."

In a gentle voice, she assured him, "You need not do everything. I am a priestess. Tending the dead is in my duty."

Harry couldn't think of a response to this. Sensing an end to the discussion, Feidlenid got back to her feet and continued gathering kindling. Harry raised his head and watched her for a few minutes, considering with some curiosity how seriously she took her religious duties. This was as foreign to him, in many ways, as the magical world itself had been when he first learned of it. Religion had never really been part of his life; to his knowledge, the Dursleys hadn't set foot in a church since Dudley's christening. Harry also knew little about religion in the magical world. He had no idea if he had ever been christened himself, or if there had been some magical equivalent his parents had ensured, nor if his parents had in any way been religious themselves. Without that connection or any kind of personal religious conviction, he'd assured a concerned Feidlenid that it made no difference to him if she performed a traditional Laelitian rite as was her training, or if they simply lit the pyre without any kind of rite or ceremony. All that mattered to him was that they get it done, and in a respectful manner.

His scar twinged again, and Harry barely managed to stop himself from gasping out loud. His light-headedness began to subside, however, and mostly from a need to move, to do something, he stood informing Feidlenid that he was feeling better, and made his way up the path until he arrived at the clearing they'd selected, where he found Hermione laying the newly gathered wood by the half-finished pyre. Ron stood by a tree stump nearby where he'd grudgingly been chopping wood by hand, and just above them, Harry could see Cecilia in a tree, making adjustments to one of her clockwork instruments and glancing across the forest canopy with some alertness.

Hermione glanced up at her as well, and called, "How's it going up there, Cecilia?"

"Array seems to be working," the gobliness called back. "Hopefully it will alert us if someone crosses or approaches the boundary."

There was a grunt and the hollow thud of an axe hitting wood. Ron tossed aside the freshly-cut wooden pieces, and wrenched the axe from the stump, wiping sweat from his face. "Tell me why I'm doing this by hand again?" he said grumpily.

"Hevnen lahmai sei'ar nain," a voice answered behind them, "laich dariath alch merrei'in."

Feidlenid had returned to the clearing.

"Huh?" Ron said blankly.

"She said 'when hands are able, let magic not be used,'" came Cecilia's voice from the treetops. Looking down at them, she added, "It's an old proverb. The gods gave you two hands. Do not waste your magical energies where you can use those hands. Instead, use magic only when it is needed."

Ron scowled. "Utter rubbish. I looked forward to coming of age for years so I could use magic to do the dishes."

"Right," snorted Cecilia. "The complacency and impatience typical of humans, arguably your biggest weakness. You could at least be good enough to show Harry solidarity. He'll be doing tasks like this to strengthen his heart for some weeks yet." She retreated back into the branches and a moment later Harry heard the sound of something winding. He couldn't see exactly what Cecilia was doing, but he'd been in the goblins' company long enough to know that even if he asked, he probably wouldn't understand when she explained.

The winding sound stopped, and then Cecilia climbed down and joined them at the pyre. Feidlenid, seemingly satisfied with the amount of wood Harry and Hermione had brought and Ron had cut, began directing the four of them to place the wood and kindling on the growing pyramid-shaped pile. Harry found that he could work without exhausting himself too much if he only picked up one or two wood pieces at a time, but his slow progress continued to frustrate him. He didn't want to complain about it, however, having vocally cursed his weak condition all too often in recent weeks and always drawing either pity or annoyance from his companions.

A few minutes passed in silence except for Feidlenid's instructions. Harry's scar flared in pain again, and this time he couldn't stop himself from flinching, but either the others didn't notice, or they thought it was due to his overall condition. At the same time, however, he suddenly heard a mechanical whirring from somewhere nearby, followed by a rapid clicking sound. Cecilia sharply looked at the tree she'd just climbed down from, and Harry looked up to see her brass instrument tied to a branch, its gears working rapidly.

"You three," Cecilia hissed to him, Ron, and Hermione, "quickly, hide!"

Harry immediately pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and covered himself, drawing his wand as he did. Ron and Hermione too had their wands out, the former dashing to hide in a thicket nearby, while the latter quickly Disillusioned herself and quietly drew herself into the trees and out of sight. The clicking increased in volume, and Harry crouched down, listening and waiting, while the two goblinesses looked ahead warily. Then the bushes ahead moved, and Benedict Grobschmied came into the clearing. Cecilia and Feidlenid relaxed, and Harry, relieved, pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. His relief faltered, however, when he saw Grobschmied's expression. He didn't look surprised at the sight of them, but his tense expression immediately caught everyone's attention.

"Uncle, what's wrong?" asked Cecilia anxiously. "I'm sorry if we worried you. I left a note."

"It's not that," Grobschmied said shakily, as Ron and Hermione returned to the clearing. He held out a silver fob watch, which, Harry knew by now, doubled as a device the Gringotts employees used to signal each other. Grobschmied clicked open the watch, and Harry saw an insignia on the underside of the lid, which was glowing a piercing red. "Something's happening at the bank," he told them. "They don't send out alerts like this unless it's serious enough to seal the entrances. The Floo connection is severed too."

Cecilia stiffened. "A Death Eater attack? Or just a routine breakin?"

Her uncle closed the watch and pocketed it. "I don't know for sure, but it's not just Gringotts that's sealed off. When I tried to go to Diagon Alley to try to find out more, I found that the Aurors have closed off the whole area: Apparation, Portkeys, everything. Nothing gets in. They don't do that for a simple Gringotts breakin, so yes, my guess is Death Eaters."

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. Then he gasped. "Bloody hell! Fred and George!"

His wand hand twitched, and Harry could tell that he was of half a mind to draw his wand and immediately head to Diagon Alley himself. He didn't blame him. He himself desperately wanted to at least ensure that the twins and Ginny were all right, but he knew full well that even if he could get past the barriers sealing off the place, he was not ready for the physical and magical exertion fighting Death Eaters required. Still, like Ron he thought of the twins' shop, where Ginny surely was working as well as Fred and George, and his heart filled with dread.

Hermione gave Ron a very stern look, and hissed, "You can't. You heard him, they've got the whole place sealed off. Even if they didn't, we can't be seen there."

"So I'm just to sit here and wait to find out what's happened?" Ron bit back, but his wand hand relaxed, and his shoulders slumped.

"This is the price of being underground," Grobschmied quietly answered. "You must have faith that your family and the Order will be able to take care of themselves. Hopefully it will not be long before Rok comes by with more news."

Ron growled and kicked a piece of wood across the clearing in his frustration, but said nothing. No one spoke, and after a tense minute, Feidlenid finally suggested that they return to the house and wait there, insisting that she could complete the pyre without help, and that she doubted they would have long to wait. The others therefore grudgingly turned back to the Grimrooks' house. Familiar as Harry was with the frustration of waiting for news, however, the priestess turned out to be quite right. After the nearly half-hour walk back through the woods (made even slower by Harry's growing weariness and the fact that they had to move quietly), they had only had to wait in the Grimrooks' sitting room for about ten minutes before news arrived. Just as they had settled at the kitchen table, and Cecilia had started serving some tea, the door opened and Grimrook walked in, accompanied by another goblin carrying a small briefcase. Harry didn't recognise him, but judging from his youth and his fine attire, he guessed him to be Cerdik Gadlak's son.

Grobschmied stood abruptly upon their entry. "I got the alert," he said quickly. "What's happened?"

Grimrook took a seat at the table next to Ron. "It was not as bad as it might have looked," he assured his uncle. "They were unable to breach the building, though there was considerable damage to the exterior structure."

"They've just finished evacuating the bank," the other goblin added. "But from what we can tell, the attack has petered out. At least it seemed fairly quiet a minute ago." As he spoke, he looked at Harry, and added, with his hand outstretched, "Menger Gadlak, by the way."

Harry hesitantly shook his hand, but was too bemused to say anything.

"Shouldn't you still be at Gringotts?" asked Grobschmied, frowning. "The Auror office and the High Council will want you to testify about the attack."

"My father's giving us enough time to at least keep you informed before we have to go to the Ministry," Menger said collectedly, as he also took a seat beside Grimrook.

"Do you know why they attacked the bank?" asked Cecilia.

"Probably on impulse," her brother answered. "Gringotts wasn't the focus of the attack. Most of the fighting took place further down Diagon Alley."

He looked at Ron uneasily as he spoke. Harry swallowed, and saw that Ron looked rather pale. Grimrook's expression was a confirmation that the Death Eaters had, indeed, attacked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Do you know what happened to my brothers and my sister?" Ron finally asked fearfully.

"We didn't go out into the Alley, so I can't tell you about your brothers," Menger said, "but your sister's fine. She was at Gringotts when the attack started, and so was inside when we sealed the entrances. No one in the bank was hurt. I escorted her to the Floo Network myself."

Ron and Hermione looked slightly relieved, and Harry felt his heart lift a little; but then Ron looked at Grobschmied with a frown, and said, "I thought you said the Floo Network was sealed off."

"For the most part, it is," Menger said, shrugging. "I believe they kept the Floo Network one-way for the first few minutes so people could get out of Diagon Alley, before they closed it off entirely to prevent the Death Eaters from escaping. At any rate, Gringotts is technically Tylwthteg jurisdiction, and so the only people with the actual authority to seal it off are Danduaith, my father, or myself. We likewise have made it sure it can only be used to leave the bank, but the end result is the same. Miss Weasley was safely evacuated from Diagon Alley."

Harry swallowed and nodded, relieved that at least Ginny had escaped the attack unscathed, but this reassurance was dampened by the lack of news concerning Fred and George.

Seeing Ron's similarly anxious expression, Grimrook reassured them, "I'm sure your brothers are fine. I know from your brother Bill, and from some well-placed financial records, that they have placed heavy protections on the shop and installed escape routes." He then grinned and added, "We may or may not have added a couple of protections ourselves after their closing hour the other day, which, considering the nature of goblin magic, would have given the Death Eaters something to think about."

"You did?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Yes. Hopefully it will have given Messrs. Weasley time to escape."

Harry stared between Grimrook and Menger Gadlak, but then he saw Grimrook give him a subtle wink, and he smiled. "Thank you for protecting her," he said sincerely.

"We know it means a lot to you," Grimrook said softly. "But I hope you realise that we can't protect them all or even most of the time."

Harry nodded in understanding.

Menger checked his fob watch. "Well, now that you know most of what's going on, that leaves one other thing." He looked at Harry. "I understand you're looking for someone, a suspected Death Eater, who went under the initials R.A.B.?"

Harry glanced at Grobschmied and Grimrook sharply, but seeing their reassuring expressions, he relaxed a little, and nodded. "Do you know something?" he asked.

"Not yet," Menger said. "But it's the other reason I'm here today. Rok tells me that this R.A.B. character left a note. May I see it?"

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Do you remember our discussion the other day, when you first told us about this?" asked Grimrook. "I believe I told you we might be able to narrow down R.A.B.'s identity if we can calculate when he wrote it."

Remembering this, Harry nodded.

"We're operating on the assumption that R.A.B. did not live long after he stole the locket, as he anticipated," Grimrook explained. "If we can find out roughly when this happened, we might have a better idea where to look, particularly among strange or suspicious deaths or disappearances within that time frame."

"Makes sense," Harry said. "Didn't you say there was equipment at Gringotts you could use for that?"

"I did," Grimrook said, pleased. "There's an instrument in the records office which we normally use to help determine if artifacts and documents are authentic or not. It uses a magical process similar to carbon dating in the Muggle world, that ought to tell us roughly when the paper was manufactured, and also when the ink dried, which I think will be more telling."

"Can you bring this instrument here?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Unfortunately, no," Menger said. "It's not exactly something you can fit into your pocket. Besides, it's magically bolted down. We'd have to take the note to Gringotts and test it there."

Harry's enthusiasm vanished almost instantly. He knew that they had little else to go on, but the idea of entrusting R.A.B.'s note to anyone's possession but his own made him uneasy.

Seemingly thinking along the same lines, Hermione said in some disbelief, "You want us to just… hand it over? A note that addresses Voldemort directly, and makes explicit mention of the Horcruxes?"

"I understand your caution,"Menger said. "I am aware that the note contains highly compromising information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Dangerous?" Harry scoffed. "If you lose it, or it gets stolen, it could jeopardise everything! If Voldemort finds out what I know, what I'm doing"-

"He'll relocate the remaining Horcruxes and perhaps attempt to replace the ones you've already destroyed," Menger said quietly. "I'm aware of this risk. But that note is our only lead. I can't see any better way forward."

"And you're forgetting, Gringotts is in the business of security and discretion," Grimrook added. "It's not like we're going to just waltz into a public place with the note insecurely stowed in a coat pocket."

Harry frowned, but gave no answer. He looked at Grobschmied, who was watching him closely. After a moment, the elderly goblin gave him a slow, reassuring nod, and Harry inhaled deeply. He had already chosen to trust Grobschmied, who in turn trusted the Gadlaks, and he supposed he therefore had to trust them as well. After a moment's hesitation, Harry drew his wand, and quietly said, "Accio locket."

A moment later, the fake locket whizzed through the open kitchen door. Ron caught it and handed it to Harry, who opened it and carefully withdrew and unfolded the note. His eyes were drawn to such words as "Dark Lord", "Horcrux" and "mortal once more". Seeing the note in Harry's hand, Menger set his briefcase on the kitchen table and opened it, revealing only a small metal box, which he slowly ran a finger across, causing it to magically spring open. He then held his hand out expectantly. Harry fidgeted, his discomfort returning, but without saying a word, he slowly put the note into Menger Gadlak's palm. The goblin quickly placed it in his lockbox, and closed it. Harry saw its edges glow momentarily as it magically sealed.

"I will run that test as soon as I find an opportunity," Menger assured him. "When that will be is another matter entirely. I anticipate things will be rather chaotic at Gringotts, and I would rather do this when there is no one else around. In the meantime, it should be safe enough in this lockbox." He closed his briefcase. "I alone can open it."

Harry nodded, reassured that Menger would keep the note safe while it was in his possession, but even so, he'd feel much better when it was secure in his own magically-protected lockbox once again.

"Well, I ought to get going, now that we've settled that," Menger said cheerfully. He rose from his seat, holding the briefcase protectively under his arm. "There should be enough time for me to get this in the safe in my office before I'm summoned to the Ministry."

"You can still get it to Gringotts, with everything sealed off?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"There are other, more secure ways into Gringotts besides the Floo Network and Portkeys," Menger said unconcernedly. He started for the door, but then paused, and turned around again, looking between Harry and Grobschmied. "By the way, Father's probably going to pay a visit here, tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how soon he can get away from the Council after today."

Grobschmied raised his eyebrows. "He hasn't come by before. Why now?"

"Not sure," Menger said. "But it sounded important, so whatever it is, you will now be prepared. Good day."

With that, he stepped through the open kitchen door, and a moment later they heard the front door open and close with a muffled snap.

---

"Do you think Dad will be able to salvage anything?"

"Dunno. He and Mum brought most of what mattered when they relocated here, so it might not matter so much. In the long run."

"I suppose we shouldn't be so shocked. I'm actually amazed they didn't go after us before now."

"Doesn't stop it from feeling unreal, though."

As she came to, Ginny couldn't quite make sense of the voices that permeated her consciousness. She also became aware that she was lying on something soft, and as the seconds passed, she also noticed a dull ache, first in her back and shoulders, and then throughout her body. A low groan escaped her lips, and the voices stopped as her eyes slowly opened.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" George suddenly said. "Up at the crack of dusk! Rise and shine, Ginny-kins!"

Ginny blinked, confused. She knew the second she saw the Gryffindor-red wallpaper that she was in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. The reddish light filtering through her window told her that it was sunset. She also felt as sore as she might after a particularly strenuous Quidditch training. As she sat up, ignoring her aching muscles, she saw that Fred and George were both in chairs at her bedside, both beaming.

"What happened?" she asked. She had no recollection of going to bed, nor, she realised, of even arriving at Grimmauld Place.

"You passed out," Fred explained. "Halfway through the Floo Network. Too much pain and smoke inhalation, apparently."

"Everyone's amazed you even came out the right fireplace," added George.

Ginny frowned, thinking back. She remembered barely escaping the Longbottoms' house, and as she concentrated, she also had a vague recollection of lying on the floor of the sitting room downstairs, first Luna tending to her, then McGonagall, and finally Madam Pomfrey. She also remembered being in intense pain, particularly her head, and Madam Pomfrey tipping something down her throat, but little else. Remembering what had caused the pain, however, Ginny reached up and felt her scalp. To her consternation, she could feel an enormous patch of bare skin, completely devoid of hair, but at least there wasn't any pain, and the skin felt in tact.

"Pomfrey brought you up here once she was done with you, and ordered us to let you rest," Fred told her. "I suppose she thought the Order coming in and out all day was too noisy. I guess she also was too concerned with other things to grow your hair back, baldy, but no worries"—he added, seeing his sister's expression—"we've got some Wonder Witch products that'll probably take care of that, if she forgets. Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Sore," Ginny said, "but nothing else hurts."

"Yeah, they said you'd be sore for a couple of days, after being flung around unconscious through the Floo Network," George said. "You were pretty banged up when you came out. You had a huge second-degree burn on your head, you were covered with scrapes and bruises, and your arm and ankle were broken. But none of that is anything Pomfrey can't fix up in a second."

"Nope, you have nothing to show for your heroism except a massive bald spot," added Fred.

"Shove off," Ginny muttered, feeling her scalp again. Then, in a more serious voice, she asked, "How are Neville and his gran?"

Her heart sank when she saw the twins' smiles vanish.

"Not sure," Fred admitted. "McGonagall told us that Pomfrey thinks Neville will be all right, but we haven't heard much about his gran, only that it sounded bad. We got both of them to St Mungo's, although Mrs Longbottom would probably have a better chance if she'd got to the hospital sooner—not your fault!" he added hastily, seeing Ginny's horrified expression. "You couldn't have acted more quickly. Unfortunately, St Mungo's sealed itself off from Apparation, the Floo Network and from Portkeys until about half an hour after Luna got the Longbottoms here."

"They what?" Ginny said, appalled.

"They were probably scared that the Death Eaters would come for them too," George speculated. "Dad told us that they repeatedly threatened to attack the hospital during the first war."

Ginny ground her teeth but said nothing. She understood the Healers' fears, but at the same time, she couldn't believe they'd make their services unavailable right as the Death Eaters were running rampant in one of magical Britain's most public centres. Once she calmed herself a bit, she looked at the twins and asked, "So what happened to you two? It looked like most of the fighting was around your end of Diagon Alley."

"Well, they did attack the shop first," George acknowledged. "It started with these two ugly, shifty-looking blokes we didn't recognise who came into the shop."

"Second they did, though, the Sneakoscopes started going wild," added Fred. "We sealed off the entrances straight away, and just barely in time too, because there were more outside, about to come in too. The two who made it in drew their wands, so did we, and three hexes and a Decoy Detonator later, they were down."

Ginny snorted. "Bet it wasn't as easy as you're making it sound."

Fred ignored her. "The Death Eaters outside, when they realised we'd warded off the shop, began a full attack. The customers—luckily there weren't too many—flew into a panic, George yelled for quiet, and as soon as we got them to calm down a bit, we were able to get them to the emergency fireplace."

"And the Death Eaters weren't able to get in?" asked Ginny.

"Nope," George said. "The wards held, better than we expected, as a matter of fact. Plus, the Aurors patrolling the street weren't about to ignore what was happening. Pretty soon there was a full battle going on right outside our shop. We also had set up the wards so that if they were ever disturbed, Kingsley would be alerted, so it wasn't long before the Order started showing up too."

"Anyway, once the customers were gone, we then set out to the roof, where we had a pretty good vantage point," Fred told Ginny. "Tonks met up with us there, and she and George grabbed a couple of broomsticks and headed for Gringotts to try to find you, and then Remus arrived too and he and I spent the rest of the time trying to curse the Death Eaters from the roof until we heard from George that you were safe."

"So when did you receive my Patronus?" Ginny asked.

"Only a minute later," George told her. "Tonks and I had just got to Gringotts, but of course the place was completely sealed off. But then we got your Patronus, and were about to head back and tell Fred, but some Death Eaters had also made it there, so soon we had our hands pretty full ourselves."

"So how'd you get away?" asked Ginny, staring at them. Neither of them looked hurt.

"Well, that's when things got interesting—and brutal," George said seriously. "The shoppers in Diagon Alley, of course, all ran for it, or took cover in the shops or alleyways, and once the street was pretty clear of bystanders, the Aurors released a couple of combat trolls on the Death Eaters. The noise was unbelievable. I don't think the trolls would have been much good against the Death Eaters on their own, but, you know, element of surprise. Anyway, I guess they got the Death Eaters to break ranks, which was what the Aurors wanted. The trolls also killed at least one Death Eater, know that for sure." He grimaced, looking a little sick, and Ginny had a nasty feeling that George had had a full view of it.

"Still, once the Aurors had the advantage, the Death Eaters got out of there almost immediately," Fred finished the story. "No idea how—the Aurors sealed off Diagon Alley the second the attack started, so the Death Eaters shouldn't have been able to get out. Probably means weeks of inquiries in the Auror office now. Still, we had to linger a bit, give statements to Gawain Robards, and we also helped clean up a bit until we were allowed to leave." He gave Ginny a sidelong glance. "Wasn't expecting to come back here and find you barely conscious 'cause you went off to rescue Neville and his gran. So how did that come about?"

Ginny told them what had occurred after she left Gringotts.

"Blimey," George breathed. "It's lucky for Neville you weren't still stuck in Gringotts, or he probably wouldn't have made it out of there. Soon as we heard about the Longbottoms, Kingsley sent a couple of people to check their house, see if the Death Eaters were still there, and found a bunch of Muggle police and firemen. Of course, it took magic to put out that fire, but it was a bad one. After Neville's recovered, they're going to take him there to see if they can salvage anything."

"That'll be cheery," Fred muttered. "Like I'm sure picking through ruined homes and finding what little's left always is."

This caused Ginny to frown. She knew full well that Fred and George generally kept a light-hearted, optimistic view of life, but she hadn't missed the dark, angry edge in Fred's voice, nor his sudden sarcasm, and she suddenly had a horrible feeling that he was no longer talking about the Longbottoms.

Ginny looked between the twins intently, and then asked, "Are you going to tell me what else has happened?"

The twins were silent for a moment. Both had very dark expressions. Then George finally said, "They attacked the Burrow too. It's gone. They completely razed it to the ground."

Ginny stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Must have been right after they left Diagon Alley," George added quietly. "They were definitely coming after us. 'Course, none of us were there, but after things calmed down in Diagon Alley, Bill thought, since they seemed to be coming after the shop, he'd go and check. Place was just a smouldering wreck when he and Charlie got there."

Her home. Gone. So great was the shock of this that it took a minute for Ginny to even wrap her head around the idea. Oddly enough, the first thing that came to mind was her mother's kitchen, built, like the rest of the house, onto what originally had been a pigsty—so great had been her father's poverty—but which, by the previous year, had become a rustic yet comfortable home. Her mother had taken particular care to make the kitchen clean and functional, yet it also had her mother's personality written all over it. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was a testament to her parents' determination to adapt to their poverty and make the most of their situation, to make life as happy and nurturing for their children as they possibly could. She thought of the garden, which probably had been overrun with weeds by now, and they'd given the chickens away when they relocated, but she also thought of the gnomes, likely dead or scattered now. She then thought of her own bedroom, and Ron's: they hadn't really bothered taking his Chudley Cannon posters off his walls when they left, which meant that those posters were now gone. Ron's room, which he and Harry had always shared when the latter came over. Harry had loved the Burrow, she remembered. He had never cared about its rustic, almost ramshackle look, or that it was crudely built on and around a pigsty, because to him, the personality and presence of a warm, loving home was far better than the spotless, sterile and poisonous environment he'd grown up in, however well-off the Dursleys had been. Now he would never see the Burrow again, and nor would she. The room she had spent her whole life in, making her own, was gone. The shed she used to break into to nick her brother's broomsticks, often in the dead of night, was gone. The sitting room where they'd had Christmas in her childhood and where she'd spent many hours playing Exploding Snap with Ron or the twins, the winding stairs, where she'd always had to jump, cat-like, over the creaky steps any time she wandered out of bed, the back room, where she'd accidentally turned Fred and George a dark green colour in a fit of rage when she was eight… it was all gone.

It was just a house, she told herself. Most of their most treasured possessions, most of their possessions as a whole, had come to Grimmauld Place with them, so she doubted if they would even bother trying to salvage anything, but still… the locations and the memories of her childhood meant as much to her as her broomstick or her books or any of her material possessions, perhaps more. Losing the Burrow was almost like losing a piece of herself. One day, perhaps, they would build a new home, perhaps even a more comfortable one—assuming they survived this bloody war—but even if that ever happened, it would not, could not, be the same.

Ginny sat in silence with her brothers, nobody knowing what to say, if they even wanted to say anything. She didn't know how long they were like that, each lost in their memories and their grief, but they did not remain like that for long before Dobby came in and hesitantly told them dinner was ready. She didn't really feel like eating, not just yet, anyway, but Fred and George insisted that she come down and get some food in her stomach anyway, given that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Ginny didn't see much point in declining, especially when Fred drew his wand and threatened to give her another hex mark for Madam Pomfrey to fix if she didn't; besides, she knew that even if he didn't mean it, her mother almost certainly would drag her down as soon as she heard she was awake. She therefore followed the twins downstairs, tying a green bandanna on her head to hide the bald patch.

Given the events of the day, Ginny wasn't very surprised to find that several other Order members had joined them for dinner, including Minerva McGonagall, Hestia Jones, and Andromeda Tonks. Luna was there too, her huge eyes fixed on the light fixtures, looking completely uninjured. Her father and Percy weren't there, but Ginny supposed that they would probably be kept at the Ministry quite late tonight, or perhaps had gone to the wreckage of the Burrow themselves. Bill and Charlie and Fleur were absent too. Her mother was quietly ladling soup to everyone present, her eyes rather bloodshot, but to Ginny's mild surprise and consternation, the second Molly saw her enter the room, her expression turned rather cold, and she gestured for Ginny to sit without a word.

The room was silent for a few minutes, while the Weasleys sat in shared anger and sorrow at the loss of their house. Then McGonagall finally asked about the events in Diagon Alley, and seemingly relieved at the distraction, Fred and George, the only people present to actually have been in Diagon Alley at the time of the attack, lost no time recounting their version of events. The account they gave was nearly identical to the one they'd shared with Ginny earlier, except that this time she learned that at least five or six people had been killed in the attack, including a couple of Aurors, and the death toll undoubtedly would increase over the next couple of days.

"There wasn't exactly a whole lot of room between our shop and the apothecary's across the street," Fred told McGonagall and Hestia. "The Aurors and Death Eaters were fighting in a fairly cramped part of the street and from what I could see from the roof, it looked really bad. Most of the people out shopping took cover in nearby shops, but I could see a couple of people who weren't able to find shelter before the shopkeepers all started warding their places off." He shook his head. "At least one bystander was caught up in the fighting and killed, least from what I saw."

"And where was your brother?" asked McGonagall.

"He and Tonks headed for Gringotts to try to find Ginny," Fred explained. "She'd gone there earlier to deposit a paycheck."

"But we didn't get far before she sent us a Patronus," George said, "telling us that she was safe."

The others looked at Ginny as he spoke, and she explained, "The goblins evacuated the bank immediately. I guess they were friendly enough towards Bill that I was one of the first they showed to their fireplaces. At least, they told me to give him their regards."

She saw her mother's eyes narrow, and she frowned, feeling rather confused.

"That's strange," Andromeda remarked. "Goblins aren't normally that accommodating unless they owe you a favour."

Ginny shrugged. "The point is, I got to Grimmauld Place easily enough."

"And yet," Molly interjected angrily, "you still ran headlong into danger as soon as you could."

There was an awkward silence as the reason for her mother's anger suddenly became clear. Ginny inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself enough to make a reasonable response. Before she could say anything, however, Luna calmly said, "Of course we saved Neville and Mrs Longbottom. He's a friend."

She said this so innocently, and in such a rational, matter-of-fact voice, that Molly looked rather stumped.

"So how didthe Longbottoms get mixed up in all this?" asked Hestia hesitantly, looking at Molly warily.

"The Death Eaters attacked them too. Neville sent a message asking for help, and Luna and I were the only ones around, so we went."

"Then Professor McGonagall helped take care of them until Madam Pomfrey and Fred and George could get them to St Mungo's," Luna added.

There was silence. Ginny noticed everyone in the room staring at her, and defensively said, "What?"

"You just popped in and out of a Death Eater attack, saved the Longbottoms, completely unscathed, and home in time for tea?" Hestia asked sceptically.

"Not exactly unscathed," Ginny muttered, feeling the bald spot under her bandanna.

"Ginny was hurt but Madam Pomfrey patched her up once she got back," Luna said.

"Still, you're making it sound so simple," said Elphias Doge.

"It wasn't," Luna said. "Ginny threw a firework at the Death Eaters. It distracted them just long enough for us to get the Longbottoms out, but we almost didn't make it."

Having not heard this part of the story yet, Fred and George both raised their eyebrows. Then George's face lit up as he suddenly remembered. "You mean the Catherine Wheel I gave you this morning?" he asked.

In spite of herself, Ginny smiled.

"Excellent," Fred exclaimed. "Please tell me they tried to Vanish it."

"Yes, if that's what caused it to start replicating itself."

"And did any of them catch fire?"

Ginny nodded.

"Good," Fred said, sounding rather vindictive. "Since they're so fond of burning people's houses down, if any of them burned up because of one of our fireworks, so much the better. Poetic justice."

The room was silent. Before anyone could say anything, however, either in condolence for the loss of the Burrow or in solidarity, they heard the front door slam, and a minute later Remus and Tonks walked into the room. Hestia and McGonagall both stood.

"Remus!" Hestia said, relieved. "Do you have any more news about"—

"Nineteen people are dead," Tonks interrupted her quietly. "Two Death Eaters (no one particularly important, unfortunately), three Aurors, and six Hitwizards were killed. The rest were just people out shopping, who couldn't get away in time. On the bright side," she added, "none of the Order died."

The others nodded, relieved.

"Any idea how they mobilised in Diagon Alley so quickly?" asked McGonagall. "Or how they got out?"

Tonks shook her head. "It has been sealed off from incoming Apparation for months, and the Floo Network was under constant surveillance. We certainly don't know how they got out after the Aurors sealed all the exits today. It was a very near thing. No one was expecting so many Death Eaters so soon after the last wave of attacks. If Fred and George's alarm system hadn't tipped off the rest of us, there might not have been enough fighters to stop the attack." Suddenly angry, Tonks said emphatically, "We have gotto get Scrimgeour to stop looking for Harry. We simply don't have enough Aurors on hand without Dawlish and his division."

"Well, hopefully he can be made to see that after this," Remus said. "Anyway, we also have news of the Longbottoms. We ran into Poppy just before coming here."

"How are they?" Ginny asked quickly.

"Neville's lost a lot of blood, and took a few other curses besides, but they said he'll make a full recovery in a few days." Remus sighed. "But Augusta…"

He fell silent. Tonks took over. "She's sustained irreversible spell damage to her lungs and spinal cord. They said that if she was younger, she'd have a fighting chance, but at her age… well, there's just too much damage. She cannot recover."

A wave of cold swept over Ginny. The others in the room looked stricken. In a calm voice, McGonagall asked, "How long does she have?"

"Hard to say," Tonks said sadly. "Could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, but they are all quite certain. It's a question of when, not if."

Ginny placed her head in her hands. Seeing this, Remus approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, you did all you could," he assured her.

Ginny swallowed and said nothing, but after a minute, she nodded and looked up. Her mother looked at her, and Ginny saw her jaw tighten. Molly then turned and retreated into the kitchen.

"What's with her?" asked Tonks, bewildered.

Nobody answered. Before long, Ginny heard the others begin speculating on ways the Death Eaters might have mobilised the attack, and how they had escaped regardless of the Aurors' barriers, but she didn't take part. In spite of Remus's assurances, she couldn't help but wonder if there was anything she could have done differently. She didn't know Augusta Longbottom very well, but she knew that Neville would be devastated. First Luna's father, alive but a long-term resident in St Mungo's, unlikely to recover; and then Neville's grandmother, confirmed never to recover. Then, of course, there were the others: Harry had lost all his protectors, his parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore; and Hermione's parents had been sent into exile. More and more of Ginny's friends were losing the protection and security that innocence and parental figures had given them. She herself had not lost a family member so far, but the home she had known most of her life was gone, so in a way, her own childhood had just gone up in smoke, and both losses left her not only to wonder how many more families would be ripped apart, and how much longer before she and her brothers had to go through the same thing, before death claimed one or more of her own family. At that thought, a burning hatred for the Death Eaters filled her heart, a greater intensity than she'd ever felt before. It is unforgivable, she thought savagely. What they have already done is unforgivable, and if that happens, I swear they'll pay…

While Ginny was in the midst of these dark thoughts, the front door suddenly slammed yet again. A moment later, Ginny looked up, and the room fell silent, as the newcomers entered the room. It was Kingsley and her father, both of whom looked very grave.

Standing abruptly, McGonagall said to Kingsley, "You got off work early."

"I had Proudfoot take over for an hour or so," Kingsley replied. "The Prime Minister can do without me for that long." He then looked towards Ginny for a moment, before he glanced back at McGonagall, Hestia, and Andromeda, and added, "Robards has arranged for Savage to look after the Prime Minister tomorrow evening. That gives us an opening to have a meeting at seven o' clock." Looking at them sternly, he emphasised, "Everyone in the Order. Everyone. Spread the word."

McGonagall and Hestia nodded resolutely, and Elphias bowed his head in acknowledgement. Kingsley then looked back at Ginny.

"I want you there too, Ginny," he informed her. "We need you to detail what happened at the Longbottoms' house, and we're also going to explain and vote on Nymphadora's recruitment plan."

At this, Ginny glanced at her father nervously. He looked both curious and wary, but said nothing. At the same time, she was keenly aware of the eyes of everyone else in the room fixed on her. Kingsley, ignoring this, looked toward the kitchen. "I assume Molly's in there?"

The Weasleys all nodded. Ginny noted, with some nervousness, that even calm, collected Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to be steeling himself.

"Well, then," Kingsley said after a minute, "I'd like all of you to stay here while I discuss this with Molly and Arthur. Ginny, you ought to come too."

"Is this really a good time?" Tonks suddenly interrupted. "Given everything that's happened… she's already upset about the Burrow, and about Ginny putting herself in danger today."

"Perhaps not," Kingsley conceded, "but unfortunately I don't think this can wait any longer."

Tonks sighed but said nothing. As Ginny stood, she saw both Fred and George shoot her a "better-you-than-me" look, and she grimaced as she followed Kingsley out of the sitting room and into the kitchen.

The moment the kitchen door shut, those left in the room glanced at each other curiously, but nobody spoke for a moment. Then Fred and George joined Remus and Tonks, and the latter twin said quietly, "This is going to send Mum over the edge, given that she's already lost her house today. Is it wrong that I'm relieved it's going to be Ginny in there and not us?"

"Not at all," Fred answered. "Ginny's just about the only person here who doesn't get cowed by Mum's temper."

"That's because she's got a deadly temper herself."

"Yeah. Dunno how Harry never seemed intimidated by Ginny whenever she got upset. She's always intimidated the rest of us."

"Genetics," Remus answered in a mild voice. "None of you ever saw Lily Evans in a temper, nor James somehow remaining completely unfazed by it, even egging her on sometimes. He thought it was sexy. So if Harry's anything like his father…"

Fred and George both look disbelieving, and even a little horrified. "Oh God," George finally said. "That was way more than I wanted to know."

---

"You can't be serious!" Molly shrieked.

"If you think you have a better idea, I'm open to hearing it," Kingsley said reasonably. "As it is, it's the only workable plan we've got."

Molly rounded on her husband. "Arthur, back me up! Surely you don't agree with this?"

Arthur looked rather uncomfortable, but he said in a placating voice, "Molly, it's just a recruiting plan. It's not like Kingsley's going to be sending Ginny on big, dangerous missions." Looking at Kingsley sternly, he added, "Are you?"

"Not until she's of age," Kingsley assured him. "The Order needs to recruit more efficiently, and quickly, or we'll soon be vastly outnumbered. We nearly lost the last war because of that. It can't happen this time."

"But why can't someone else take charge of this?" Molly demanded. "Why does it have to be Ginny?"

"We told you, it's a matter of both loyalty and connections," Kingsley explained. "At present our best bet is the D.A., but the original D.A.'s affiliation, their loyalty, as it were, was primarily with Harry. Ideally we'd ask him to head this, or Ron or Hermione, but they're not here to lead them. Courtesy of Rita Skeeter, not only are the former D.A. members fully aware of that, but they've been told he's abandoned them."

"So you're saying that this is most likely to work if it is led by someone who was in the D.A. themselves, who was close to Harry, and who can convince them that he's fighting just like we are?" Arthur asked.

"Exactly. And after Ron and Hermione, that's Ginny. You have to admit, Molly, that if she's the one taking charge, we can probably convince them."

Unimpressed, Molly snapped, "You mean lead them to believe that she's working for Harry. So now you're lying to your own recruits?"

"It's not really lying," Ginny interjected, before her mother made her feel too guilty. "Hermione did leave me the D.A.'s contact coins, and instructions on how to use them, and I don't know what else I was supposed to conclude from that. As far as I'm concerned, I amworking for him!"

She thought she saw her father crack a smile for a split second.

"Molly, we're running out of ideas," Kingsley said coolly. "We can't recruit in the same way that we used to. Few are going to risk joining the Order when they see very little success against the Death Eaters."

"And the Order has so little success," Ginny added, "because the Death Eaters know full well who they are."

"We need new blood," Kingsley explained. "We need to recruit from those we know are willing and ready, even if they're still relatively young. We're at a point where we have to make hard decisions, Molly. Things are getting desperate now."

"Obviously!"

Ginny felt her face turning red. Furious, she shouted at her mother, "Now look here! You can rant all you like about me being underage, but I'd appreciate you at least acknowledging that I'm capable!"

"She didn't mean it like that, Ginny," Arthur said quickly, before Molly could retort.

"I really don't understand why you're so resistant to this," Kingsley told Molly. "I've just said we won't be putting Ginny up to anything unreasonably dangerous. She already knows much, much more than she ought, considering that she's not in the Order; and besides, we both know that she'll join up as soon as she turns seventeen anyway."

"That's beside the point!" Molly yelled. "Ginny's too young! Since when did the Order enlist teenagers?"

"Fred and George are still technically teenagers," Ginny snapped back. "Besides, it's pretty clear there's no 'too young' where Voldemort's concerned."

"Don't say the name!" Molly hissed.

"Oh, for God's sake! You might as well get used to hearing it! Half the Order says the name! Dumbledore did, Harry did, Hermione did! It won't do you any good if just his namesends you into hysterics!"

Molly's face was now turning maroon, but in her anger words seemed to have temporarily failed her. In her momentary silence, Ginny, attempting to sound reasonable, began, "I know you just want me safe, but you have to face it, Mum. You can'tkeep me safe."

"You'd be a lot safer if you'd just stay out of this!"

"Mum, I'm already involved in this! I have been for years!"

"You could be killed!" Molly shrieked, completely losing control. "For that matter, you could have been killed today! You deliberately ran headlong into a Death Eater attack, not knowing how many there were, or what they were doing, without calling for aid, and what was worse, you dragged your friend with you! And you think you're ready for this fight?!"

"Molly," Arthur began, but Ginny cut him off.

"Aid?" she repeated incredulously. "From who? The Order and the Aurors were all in Diagon Alley fighting Death Eaters! They never would have got to the Longbottoms' in time! And for the record, Luna was ready to go there before I even suggested it!"

Molly faltered a little at this, but quickly recovered some of her determination. "Be that as it may, young lady"—

"DON'T 'YOUNG LADY' ME!" Ginny shouted. "Don't act like I don't know what's at risk! I'm a part of this whether you like it or not! I was there at the Department of Mysteries! I was there when the Death Eaters got into Hogwarts!"

Molly tried to interrupt, but Ginny cut across her.

"I was possessed by Voldemort when I was only bloody eleven! For God's sake, I dated Harry Potter, and both he and you are completely deluded if you think Voldemort's ever going to ignore that! Any of it! What the hell makes you think I'm not a part of this? And while we're on this subject, where were youthroughout all that?"

Molly reeled back, looking as though her daughter had slapped her.

"That's enough!" Arthur finally yelled, causing them to both jump and stare at him in astonishment. It was rare for him to shout. Then, turning to his wife, he said softly, "I'd like a private word, Molly."

Molly, shaken, only nodded weakly. Arthur looked at Ginny and Kingsley sternly, and nodded to the door. Both understood him at once, and quietly stood and left the kitchen. Kingsley closed the door behind him.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said, embarrassed. "That wasn't very productive."

Kingsley said nothing, perhaps not knowing what to say. She didn't require a response, however. Wanting to find her brothers, Ginny allowed Kingsley to steer her back into the sitting room, where she knew they would be waiting. When they entered, however, the tension in the room was palpable, and Ginny realised, with some mortification, that they had all heard the yelling in the kitchen.

Looking around, Kingsley said firmly, "It's all in hand. Carry on."

He then went to join McGonagall and Hestia in conversation. Fred and George gestured for Ginny to join them, giving her supporting smiles.

"Come on," George said. "We want to discuss how to move forward. The Aurors shut down Diagon Alley for now, but we can still work through Owl Order. We can also Floo to the shop, just not anywhere else in Diagon Alley."

"Still, you'll be working from here or from our flat in Muggle London for a while," Fred added. "That ought to make Mum at least a little happier about all this. At least you're less exposed."

This reminder of her mother brought Ginny a fresh wave of shame, and she said quietly, "I shouldn't have said that to her."

George merely shook his head. "Mum needed to hear some cold, hard truths," he said firmly. "It's not that she doesn't understand, it's that she's deliberately notunderstanding, because the truth's too hard to swallow. You've shaken her. Let Dad do the rest."

#

"Molly," Arthur said gently, "must we really have this conversation every time Ginny does something besides chores?"

"Don't exaggerate," Molly protested weakly. "I let her work at the shop."

"Yes, after the twins spent five minutes persuading you to."

"This is different, Arthur!" Molly cried. "Working at the shop is risky enough… today proved that! But rushing off into a Death Eater attack…!"

"She wasn't badly hurt."

"She could have been! It's bad enough that my sons were attacked today, and that my home was destroyed!" Molly stifled a sob. "But I almost lost my daughter too! If she'd died, I don't think I could've borne it!"

"She saved Neville's life. You can't fault her for that."

Molly faltered again. "I know, and I'm proud of her for that." Seeing her husband's expression, she added, "I really am! But it's not just about today! Lately, the way she's being going…! I knew that she's been spending her evenings practicing curses, and that she's not just working at the shop to earn money. I knew that she has private conversations with Luna, the twins, and even Tonks all the time. I thought she might be planning something. But to find out that she's been actively working to join the Order behind my back, in spite of the age restrictions"—

"Molly, you know perfectly well that she'll join the Order when she's of age anyway," Arthur said in a conciliatory voice. "For that matter, I wouldn't put it past her to put the D.A. together regardless of what the Order ultimately decides. If Kingsley allows her to join the Order now, at least she won't be running blind like Harry was."

"So you agree with this?" Molly asked, disappointed. "Ginny's only sixteen! Girls her age should be worrying about dating and clothes and education, not training themselves for war!"

"We're atwar, for Merlin's sake!" Arthur reminded her, exasperated. "Things cannot be the same when there's a war on!"

Molly looked away, and they were silent for a moment.

"I don't like the idea of my daughter fighting in a war any more than you do," Arthur admitted. "but I've accepted that it's inevitable at this point. Instead of restricting her, we should be preparing her." He tilted his head, watching his wife closely. "But this isn't entirely about the war, is it? Not really."

Molly looked startled, and Arthur knew he'd pinned her accurately.

"I… I…" Molly stammered, and tears now openly started streaming down her cheeks. "Arthur, sometimes I feel as though I don't really know Ginny anymore. She's such a strong, outgoing girl, but she can be so secretive. She didn't used to be that way."

"Yes, there it is," Arthur sighed. "Do you really not comprehend why she's so secretive? It's very simple. It's because you won't lether show you who she truly is." Molly tried to protest, but Arthur held up a hand, stopping her. "Listen to me closely, Molly. You can't carry on pretending that Ginny's the sweet little girl you sent to Hogwarts five years ago. She's not. You-Know-Who made sure of that. It's high time you let go of the pre-Chamber Ginny you remember, and accept Ginny for who she is now."

"Arthur, I had…" Molly hiccupped. "I'd hoped that Ginny would move past it by now."

"She's not completely past it, and you know it," Arthur told her sternly. "I don't know exactly what happened in the Chamber of Secrets—just what Harry told us—but whatever that bastard did, I don't think Ginny will ever fully recover from it. She lost her innocence that day, Molly, and innocence is not something you can ever take back once it is lost. She is not that eleven-year-old girl from five years ago, and never will be again. She is ready to fight, more ready than many in the Order, and if you try to hold her back, if you don't acknowledge what happened to make her this way, ultimately you'll do her more harm than good."

"So you'll just stand aside and let her rush off to fight Death Eaters whenever she fancies it?" Molly cried desperately.

"I don't think that's fair. She has better judgment than you're giving her credit for."

Molly swallowed. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so scared."

This was very plain for him to see. Arthur pulled his wife into a comforting hug. "I am too, Molly," he said gently. "Before You-Know-Who returned, I might have felt the same way. But back then, Ginny hadn't had to fight against a corrupt Ministry lackey who made life hell for her and her friends at Hogwarts. She hadn't had a brother who betrayed her. She hadn't fought Death Eaters in battle." He pulled away from Molly, looking out the kitchen window at the darkening sky, considering all he'd recently learned about his daughter. Then he finally said, "Back then, she wasn't in love with Harry Potter."

Molly inhaled sharply, staring at her husband.

"I've already had this conversation with Ginny," Arthur told her. "She confided a lot to me. It's not a mere crush anymore. Her feelings run far deeper than that. She loves him. She'd do anything for him. And I'm positive that Harry returns those feelings."

"Do you think so?" Molly asked. "Harry's even more secretive than she is."

Arthur smiled sadly. "I know it, because Harry trusted Ginny to let him go."

He then gave Molly a final, gentle smile, before leaving the kitchen, and his wife to her thoughts. It was then that she realised that he was right, that she didn't know Ginny as well as she ought, and it was because she had refused to see what her daughter had grown into. She'd been pleased that Ginny could stand up for herself, and was also rather pleased when she and Harry had started going out, but she hadn't realised how serious the relationship was turning. The fact that Ginny was mature enough to fall in love, trulyfall in love, hadn't quite occurred to Molly, and her failure to realise that left her rather mortified. But it also left her incredibly happy, frightened, and terribly sad on her daughter's behalf, as well as Harry's.

Five minutes later, Molly looked into the sitting room to see Ginny in a corner with the twins, heads together, talking in an undertone. But Molly didn't find out exactly what they were discussing, because the twins abruptly fell silent the second she stepped into the room. Ginny looked up and stilled when she saw her mother.

"Ginny, could you come out here, please?" Molly asked softly.

Ginny glanced at the twins, looking a little nervous, but she nodded and stood.

"Well, anyway, it's worth some thought," George said. "We'll continue this later, Gin."

Ginny nodded and stepped out into the hall, watching her mother warily as she shut the door. She probably expected a continuation of the argument in the dining room, but instead, Molly suddenly pulled her startled daughter into a tight hug. Ginny remained frozen for a moment, taken aback, but then she relaxed and accepted the unexpected but not unwelcome embrace.

---

It was totally dark, but for the goblins' lanterns and Hermione's lit wand, and completely silent save for the rustling sound of a light breeze passing through the leaves. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in the middle of the clearing with Grobschmied and both Grimrook siblings, where they could just barely see Feidlenid slowly circumambulating the finished pyre, methodically pouring oil on the wood. Harry shivered as he watched her, uncertain if it was merely the night air that chilled him. When she finished, she then looked at the others meaningfully, signalling that the pyre was ready. Earlier that evening Cecilia had given Harry a strengthening draught so he wouldn't collapse or fall ill while out in the woods, but she had also made him promise to allow the others to place his parents' bodies onto the pyre, rather than risk weakening himself further by doing it himself. He therefore hung back and watched stoically as together Ron and Grimrook hauled a stretcher bearing a body wrapped in linen to the pyre.

It was a very strange feeling, knowing what he was about to do, that he was giving his parents a funeral, though they had been dead for sixteen years. A wave of terrible sadness rushed by him as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to appreciate a cold moist breeze moving past him in an unknown and unpredictable path. How very like the wind his life had become.

He remained in his morose thoughts for quite some time, until he heard Feidlenid softly announce, "It is time." He opened his eyes, and looked at the pyre again, and saw that Ron and Grimrook had hauled the other body onto the pyre. Feidlenid stood nearby, watching Harry, and then beckoned for him to come forward. Once he stood before her, the priestess held up an unlit torch. As soon as Harry took it, Feidlenid muttered an incantation in the goblin tongue, and the torch burst into flames. She then took a step back and waited. Harry tried to keep his hand steady as he stepped forward, feeling the heat from the torch, and slowly touched it to the oil-drenched wood.

The pyre immediately burst into flame, lighting the clearing, the shock of its heat almost blasting him back, contrasting with the cold night air. Harry stepped back without a word, uncertain he could speak even if he wanted to, in part because of the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. For a moment he stood still a couple of paces away from the flames, before he tossed the torch onto the pyre with a kind of finality. Turning back, he saw in the light of the flames that Hermione was softly crying and Ron had wrapped his arm around her shoulders; Grimrook and Grobschmied had both bowed their heads in a respectful gesture.

Harry looked back at the pyre, his eyes fixed on the supine forms in the centre of the burning wood. He didn't know how long he stayed there, allowing himself to feel both the heat of the pyre and the cold of the forest air, but then he became conscious of footsteps coming towards him, and then Ron's voice said, "I hate to be the one to say this, but we should go back soon."

"I know," Harry said softly.

Ron stood beside him, also looking at the pyre. The bodies of Lily and James Potter were now almost completely obscured by the flames. After a minute, Ron said, "I'm sorry you have to go through this all over again."

Harry looked at him. "I never went through it before. Never properly mourned them." He shook his head sadly. "I was never given the chance."

He thought he heard Ron mutter under his breath, "Bloody Dursleys."

He heard more footsteps approaching, and then Hermione stood at his other side. The three of them were illuminated by the bright orange light in an almost surreal manner. Then Harry looked at her, then at Ron, and then he said, "I don't know when I'll get my full strength back, but I think I'm ready to move on. At least we need to find a new place to work from. And learning Occlumency."

"It's your call, Harry," Ron said.

Harry looked at him. "Are you sure? The last time I made a resolute decision, we walked straight into a trap that nearly got us all killed."

"I think we likely will encounter traps again, no matter how thoroughly we think through our actions," Hermione said quietly. "We can't know the outcome of every decision. If we did, there wouldn't be much point in anyone doing anything, would there?"

Harry and Ron both nodded slowly. The former then looked toward Feidlenid, who still stood nearby, ready to tend to the pyre and keep it burning. As he met her eyes, she said, "If you wish to return, I can finish here."

Harry looked at the roaring flames again. "Doesn't it need to be tended to?"

Feidlenid shook her head. "The flames and oil are magic. Do not worry about keeping it lit. I will see to this."

"I thought you avoided using magic unless it was really needed," Harry said. "Where hands are able…?"

He couldn't remember the rest of the proverb, but Feidlenid nodded in understanding. "Yes. But without magic we should need a few days and always tending. I would be away from my temple duties too long and often. Someone would come looking. I must use magic so it will be done fast."

Harry managed a small smile. "I see. Thanks."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. Then, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned to leave the clearing, Feidlenid stepped forward and, looking at Harry earnestly, she whispered, "Ga Gairath te laid'in dal Gaelacha te meivr'in dal taigh'in. All-Father and All-Mother guide you."

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. Beside him, he heard Hermione say, "Thank you, Feidlenid. For everything."

Feidlenid bowed her head again, and then turned to tend to the pyre. Harry looked back toward its centre for a final time, and then the three of them moved back towards the Grimrooks and Grobschmied. Seeing that the brief funeral was over, the goblins too turned and began heading back towards the Grimrooks' house. As soon as they were out of the clearing, the glow from the flames seemed to vanish, but Harry knew that this was only an illusion from the concealment wards the goblins had installed earlier that day.

It was freezing on the way back, but Harry took little notice. He felt odd, as though a weight had been lifted, but this wasn't really a happy or peaceful feeling. It was more the numbness of having overcome an unpleasant hurdle. Somehow, the act of disposing of his parents' bodies had left him even more confused and uncertain than ever before. Nobody spoke, except for the goblins walking ahead of him, who seemed to be whispering to each other in their strange language. He wished somebody would make conversation, distract him from his darkening thoughts, but no one did, perhaps unable to think of anything appropriate to say, given the circumstances. It made the walk back seem longer, and in addition to his gloom, he was beginning to again feel some of the awful exhaustion and light-headedness that had been plaguing him since Godric's Hollow. The strengthening draught was wearing off. It was therefore with some relief that he presently caught sight of the Grimrooks' house, and he became impatient to get there, intent on going straight to bed as soon as he crossed their threshold.

However, it seemed that his rest would have to be delayed, for when the small party stepped through the back door and entered the kitchen, they found somebody already waiting there. Harry froze, startled at the sight of a goblin he didn't recognise seated at the kitchen table, his fingers laced together as he looked up, clearly awaiting their return. The goblin quickly stood up to greet him. There wasn't much remarkable about his physical appearance, being average in height and build, with grey hair and small wrinkles forming about his eyes. He was dressed in an olive-green frock coat and matching waist coat of very fine quality, adorned with golden buttons and cufflinks, the chain of a silver fob watch dangling from his pocket and a gold signet ring on his finger. Moreover, he also had an air about him of sophistication and power, as well as of wealth, communicating that he was not to be trifled with. Normally Harry would have been alarmed at the appearance of a stranger in his only sanctuary, but he did not need an introduction to know who this goblin was.

The other goblins too had fallen silent, looking slightly taken aback, but Grobschmied, recovering first, raised his eyebrows and calmly greeted, "Cerdik."

He gave Grobschmied a slight nod. "I considered coming to the funeral." He then looked at Harry, and addressing him directly, he added, "But I wasn't sure it would be appropriate, given that I had yet to meet you in person."

Harry looked at him curiously. "You're Cerdik Gadlak?"

"And you're Harry Potter," Gadlak replied with an air of impatience. "We need no introduction. Our names are both widely known, for good or ill, throughout the magical world. And at this point, it's high time that we met, don't you think?"

Harry, unsure of what to say, made no reply. He quickly glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were staring at Gadlak nervously, the former in particular, which did nothing to put him at ease.

"How was the High Council?" Grobschmied then asked, sparing Harry the obligation to respond.

"They aim to pressure the Ministry of Magic to compensate for the damages done to Gringotts. Tomorrow I am to meet with the Minister to discuss it." He smiled coolly. "The damage is easily taken care of. It would barely make a dent in the budget. When I meet with Scrimgeour tomorrow, I shall therefore offer to waive my claim to compensation, in exchange for Scrimgeour restoring the Auror and MLE forces to full strength—in other words, returning them, in their entirety, to solely focusing on the Death Eaters and their associates." Looking at Harry, he added. "That, of course, means Scrimgeour would have to end his search for you. By now he will already be under pressure to do so, so I do not think it will be difficult to ensure that he does."

Harry blinked in surprise. He had heard enough from Ron and from the Grimrooks to know that Gadlak was powerful and influential, but even so, he was already amazed at the goblin mogul's ability to play this game. Cerdik Gadlak was in a position of unique power, and both he and Scrimgeour knew it.

"I take it, then, that the attack today was more disastrous than was apparent from the bank," Grimrook said.

Gadlak slowly nodded. Then, after a moment's silence, Grobschmied said, "Menger said you would visit soon. May I ask why?"

Gadlak didn't answer immediately. He looked at Harry almost appraisingly, and then at Grobschmied. "I'm afraid neither of you are going to like what I am about to tell you, but I hope it will bring me at least some information about what happened in Godric's Hollow, a place to start from, at any rate."

"What do you mean?" asked Grobschmied sharply.

Gadlak pursed his lips, and looked at Harry. "I don't know how much you've been told about what's been going on at Gringotts—before the attack today, I mean. Yesterday Scrimgeour came by with a Wizengamot warrant to view your financial records. When he discovered that you had already moved your wealth beyond Ministry scrutiny, he didn't take it well."

Grimrook scowled. "That's a bit of an understatement." Harry was surprised to hear the normally poised stockbroker sound rather offended.

Gadlak, however, looked mildly amused. "Yes, it was rather dramatic, and caused quite a stir at Gringotts. I did everything I could to keep the staff quiet, but evidently word still spread beyond Gringotts, because yesterday evening I received an unexpected visitor." He levelled a significant look at the other goblins. "It seems that Dagnar Trawlak has been keeping a close eye on me and my activities and my associates for quite some time."

The name, though it sounded slightly familiar, meant nothing to Harry. However, he could see from the other goblins' stunned expressions, and Ron and Hermione's wide eyes, that this was not an unimportant one. Gadlak, seeing Harry's confusion, said, "Trawlak is the Lord Chairman of the Tylwthteg High Council. Effectively, he's the goblin equivalent of the Minister of Magic."

Harry went still. Gadlak's description, of course, conjured up in his imagination an image of a shorter, stouter version of Rufus Scrimgeour with pointed ears and long fingers. It would have been an amusing image under any other circumstances. Now, however, only days after taking some extraordinary measures to avoid Scrimgeour tailing him, the last thing Harry wanted was for yet another self-interested statesman to pick up his trail, either making his life miserable or trying to extort some favour from him. With some hesitation, he asked, "How much has he found out?"

Gadlak met his eyes. "Enough to work out that I'm peripherally involved with your 'disappearance'."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "He… he doesn't know I'm here, does he?"

"I didn't tell him that," Gadlak said calmly. "But he did not need me to. He worked that out for himself." Looking at Grobschmied and the Grimrooks, he added, "Which means that he likely has kept tabs on all of you, as well." Turning back to Harry, he continued, "He claims to have little actual interest in your whereabouts, but he regards this information as potentially useful nonetheless."

"Can he be trusted?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Ron emphatically shook his head, causing Cecilia to shoot him a sharp, almost indignant look. Gadlak, ignoring this, watched Hermione with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to be considering her question carefully.

"Like me," he finally said, "Trawlak has a great deal to lose from the Dark Lord taking over the Ministry. Unlike many of the uppity imbeciles in the Council, he understands full well that the fall of wizardry at the Death Eaters' hands will likely mean the eventual fall of Tylwthteg as well. He is, however, tied up in other affairs that have made him reluctant to involve himself too deeply at present." Gadlak was quiet for a moment, then, addressing Harry, he said, "When he heard about Scrimgeour's visit, I suppose that was the final piece of the puzzle for him, and he confronted me about helping you evade the Ministry of Magic, effectively making it nearly impossible for the Aurors to trace you financially. He wanted an explanation."

"So what did you tell him?" asked Harry tensely.

"I did not tell him about Voldemort's Horcruxes," Gadlak said quietly. "You can rest easy there. But there was little point in hiding much else from him. He already knew quite enough."

"So what does he intend to do?" asked Grobschmied.

"He is willing to look the other way for the most part," Gadlak answered, "but for now he does not want either himself or the Council implicated in anything we do. He has made this extremely clear. That being said, he was very concerned about what occurred at Godric's Hollow."

"Anyone with sense would be," said Grimrook.

"Yes, but not just anyone is the Tylwthteg head of state," Gadlak countered. "It seems that the attack in Godric's Hollow was not the first such incident in this past year, and almost certainly won't be the last. The Ministry of Magic, in fact, has been actively covering up these attacks for months, undoubtedly in hopes of getting to the bottom of it and stopping it completely before it spins out of control, or before word reaches the public and we start facing widespread panic."

"But Trawlak knew?" asked Hermione, sounding stunned.

"Of course he did," Gadlak said impatiently. "All governments have secrets and their own sources. Trawlak is quite sensible of the danger, and undoubtedly he himself has plans to try to investigate and perhaps even address it himself. As Lord Chairman, Trawlak also has access to sources of information that are inaccessible to most. He has already told me that he will look the other way about our doings, at least for now, but I asked him if he'd be willing to pass on some of that information to us"—

"You what?" Grobschmied interrupted, sounding horrified.

—"and believe it or not, he did not outright refuse, which means that he actually is considering doing so."

There was a stunned silence, as everyone gaped at him.

"Of course," Gadlak continued, "he likely will request something in return, should he choose to tell us what he knows." Seeing Harry's dismayed look, he smiled grimly. "Nothing is for free, Mr Potter. Especially in goblin society. But Trawlak is a reasonable man. There's no reason to believe he'll demand anything that comes at your personal cost."

Harry didn't feel reassured in the slightest, and judging from Ron and Hermione's faces, neither did they. However, Grobschmied and both Grimrooks looked perfectly accepting of this, and Harry made a mental note to ask them about it later. Gadlak looked at each of them in turn, and then, after a few long minutes in which nobody spoke, he stood, and donned his hat. Looking at Harry carefully, he said, "I came here to make you all aware of the situation. Trawlak has promised to give me his answer in the next couple of days. As soon as I do have useful information for you, I will return."

Harry said nothing, unsure of what to say or if he even approved of this. But Gadlak, needing no response, simply gave Harry a nod and then bid the others good night. Harry, not looking at Gadlak as he left, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. A moment later, they heard the crack of Disapparation outside.

"Are you all right?" he heard Grimrook tentatively ask him.

Harry didn't answer. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

"I'm sorry Trawlak found out that way," Grobschmied said after a moment. "But there are worse people who could have discovered this."

Hermione shot him a sharp look. "Dagnar Trawlak's essentially the Tylwthteg head of state," she said in an almost angry voice. "And we haven't had dealings with many in that kind of position who proved trustworthy."

Harry looked up at her. She had put into words what he, in his shock, hadn't been able to give expression to.

"Trawlak is no Cornelius Fudge," Grobschmied said in a reassuring voice. "For that matter, he's no Rufus Scrimgeour. But like all persons in such a position, he is constantly walking a political tight rope. Unlike Fudge or Scrimgeour, however, Trawlak has always been very good at walking that tight rope." Seeing their expressions, he added, "The difference, however, is that you'll find that Trawlak has always made a concerted effort at remaining as principled as his position allows."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry snapped. "Two weeks ago, I thought Ron, Hermione, and I were acting in complete secrecy, without anyone knowing what we were up to or how to find us. Then I find out not only that you three"—he shot him and the Grimrooks an angry look—"had guessed what I was planning and managed to follow us, but that the most powerful goblin in Britain also has learned my location. How many other surprises can I expect? How long is it before my actual intentions meet the wrong ears?"

And without another word, Harry turned and quitted the room, ignoring his pounding heart and his growing light-headedness.

---

It was still dark. As Harry stirred, the first thing he became aware of was the soft pitter-patter of rain, and the cool, damp air coming in through the window. He grimaced in annoyance. It was the third time he'd woken up, in spite of his exhaustion from the late incursion into the woods earlier. He knew it wasn't the cold air or the humidity keeping him awake, as he'd easily slept in worse conditions before. Rather, it was an anxious fluttering in his stomach, as every bad scenario he could envisage ran through his mind in the aftermath of Gadlak's information. He adjusted his pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but he found it difficult to even keep his eyes shut. Then, with a sigh of frustration, Harry slid out of bed, rubbing his aching sternum slightly as he did, and wandered out of his room, unsure of where he was going or what he intended. Before he really knew it, however, he was seated in an armchair in the sitting room, staring at the embers in the Grimrook's fireplace, which left the room dimly lit with an eerie orange glow.

He went over the evening's conversation again and again, but nothing anyone had said, nothing he'd considered since, put his mind at ease. He had already decided to accept Grobschmied and Grimrook's help, and had even accepted the Gadlaks' role in all of this; however, he could not be comfortable with this Dagnar Trawlak being even slightly involved, or even having small knowledge of his doings. Now that he'd been warned of this, however, he wasn't sure what could be done about it. On the one hand, he couldn't see how he could afford to reject the goblins' help, given what Grobschmied might know about Voldemort's past, nor could he ignore that he and the Grimrooks would go after the Horcruxes themselves anyway, regardless of what Harry decided. But on the other hand, he was worried about the involvement of these prominent, well-connected goblins, nor could he trust that someone like Trawlak would be willing to look the other way without any strings attached.

Harry was so embroiled in these thoughts, and the rain outside was making enough noise, that he hadn't noticed the footsteps behind him until he heard Grobschmied ask quietly, "Trouble sleeping?"

Harry started, and looked up at him. Grobschmied, leaning on the doorframe, was watching him carefully, but it was too dark to make out his expression.

"There's no way I can sleep right now. Not after everything that happened today," Harry admitted.

"Perfectly natural, all things considered."

Harry frowned at the goblin. "I thought you'd already gone home."

"No, although I probably will soon." Grobschmied then slowly stepped into the room, and lowered himself in the chair opposite Harry's. After a moment taking in Harry's weary demeanour, he said, "You really ought to at least try to get some rest, you know. I can see you're doing much better than you were two weeks ago, but you're most certainly not recovered yet."

Harry growled in frustration, but his chest, almost in confirmation, gave a painful throb, prompting him to rub his sternum again.

"Does that hurt?" Grobschmied asked in concern, watching him.

"It's just a bit sore," Harry said dismissively.

After that, they were silent. Harry continued to stare at the embers. There wasn't a sound apart from the rain's relentless drumbeat on the windows and roof. Grobschmied stood and took a brass poker and prodded the embers around a bit, causing them hiss and pop sinisterly, then the fire began to burn more brightly and warmly. Finally, he looked at Harry and said, "I don't think Trawlak will betray you, or interfere in any way, even if he won't directly help."

"Yeah, well, I thought the same of Fudge, until he chose to ignore Voldemort's return," Harry said bitterly.

"Fair enough," Grobschmied sighed, leaning one arm on the mantelpiece. "If nothing else will set your mind at ease, however, I hope this will at least give you something to think about. From what I understand from Cerdik, Trawlak, unlike Fudge or Scrimgeour, has no reason to cause you trouble, hinder you, or betray you."

"Why not?"

"He'd have nothing to gain from it. He is too clever to delude himself that Voldemort can be trusted in any kind of bargain for Tylwthteg's autonomy or protection, so he has no reason to betray you to him, and every reason not to. He has enough supporters and accumulated wealth that he has no need for you to give him any kind of political, social, or financial support, and besides, you know nothing of the problems of Tylwthteg, nor have you any kind of investment in goblin affairs. Your involvement would also be most unwelcome to most goblins, who would view it as high-handed and interfering. It would serve no purpose and likely would be counterproductive for Trawlak. For the same reason, he also won't try to cause you trouble, as Fudge and Scrimgeour have done. He has no reason to make an ally or an enemy of you, as none of Trawlak's political enemies, at least within Tylwthteg, are going to seek your support, for all the same reasons that Trawlak won't. To make life difficult for you would be a waste of time, resources, and energy, and he'd gain nothing from it.

"Your experience comes from Fudge and Scrimgeour, and when taking that into consideration, I don't blame you for being upset." Grobschmied frowned at Harry. "But what you must understand is that politicians are often trapped by the very infrastructure they gain authority over."

"Yes, I do understand that," Harry retorted. "So what makes Trawlak different? Why wouldn't he tell Scrimgeour, for instance? Wouldn't he gain from the Ministry's favour?"

Grobschmied thought for a minute, then said slowly, "No, he won't. Trawlak is an extremely experienced statesman, far more than any previous Chairman—or Minister of Magic, for that matter—in over fifty years. If he's privy to the same kind of information as Cerdik—and he undoubtedly is—then Trawlak will know that he cannot rely on the Ministry to protect Tylwthteg, to treat it fairly, or even to put an end to the Death Eater crisis, not only because some in the Ministry have been bribed, blackmailed, or even converted to the Death Eater cause, but also because the Ministry has been run so wastefully in the past few decades that they have become weak and ineffectual. Their funds are allocated to too many departments and administrators. Many of those administrative positions were given to friends and relatives of wealthy, influential people, instead of to more qualified applicants, in exchange for donations. Some of these positions are, in fact, useless positions created for the sole purpose of employing these well-connected people. Between the favouritism and the sheer number of employees, the Ministry's resources are spread thin even at the best of times. The longer this goes on, the more the Ministry will be too stuck in its own quagmire to put up an effective resistance. Trawlak is too good at the political game to be blind to that. In other words, he has more to gain from supporting us, even if only by looking the other way while we do what we have to, than he does from giving information about us to Scrimgeour."

The rain seemed to pound harder outside. Grobschmied, looking rather tired, returned to his chair. He allowed Harry a few minutes to consider all this, but Harry found it was so well reasoned, and made so much sense, that it was difficult to argue with the goblin further on the matter. This didn't fully assuage his misgivings, but it certainly eased a great deal of the anxiety that had kept him awake all night. He could only hope that this assessment of Trawlak was accurate.

Seeing Harry slowly relax, Grobschmied leaned back in his chair and quietly told him, "I once was a lot like you."

Surprised at this change of subject, Harry looked at him.

"Cerdik and I have seen a lot of intrigue and betrayal over the years," Grobschmied explained. "We've seen the best and worst of both humans and goblins. I think I've clearly demonstrated that I've thought this over very carefully. If you can't trust Dagnar Trawlak, will you at least trust me?"

Harry stared at him, and then he swallowed and said, "I've already decided to trust you. I'm not comfortable with this, but since you all seem to have put faith in me, I suppose I have to do the same for you."

"I appreciate that," Grobschmied said with a relieved smile. Then he looked back at the fire, now reduced to embers again, and then he said sadly, "This crisis is only going to get worse, you know."

"I realise that," Harry said, frowning.

Grobschmied slowly shook his head. "I'm not sure you really do. I can tell you that at one time I couldn't imagine worse. But I warn you, the few skirmishes you've been involved in so far, the intrigues you've been dragged into, they may have seemed like the worst you could experience, even what happened in Godric's Hollow. But they're not. You've had it rougher than most human wizards, especially those living in a place as relatively peaceful as Britain. I can only hope and pray that things don't go nearly as badly as I fear."

Harry could only stare. He found it difficult to imagine worse than Godric's Hollow.

"Most older goblins remember the war with Grindelwald," Grobschmied said contemplatively. "With any luck, that memory has driven away any thought of cooperating with the Death Eaters. The populations of Koboldrang and Dagadalf were nearly exterminated during Grindelwald's regime, though many were able to hide disguised as humans. Those communities were crippled, barely a quarter of their former populations left alive, but they have painstakingly begun to rebuild their nations. There were plenty of humans, wizard and Muggle, whose lives were also destroyed in that regime. You can't possibly imagine how bad it was, unless you were there. I only personally experienced the very end of it, and I tell you, it was a hell that ought not to exist, even in your worst nightmares."

"And you think the Death Eaters will create a similar hell?" asked Harry worriedly.

"If you had asked me two months ago, I'd say it seems likely, if they get enough followers. The Death Eaters' ideology is so similar to the Triskelions', that I think there certainly is very good reason to fear such an assault, both upon goblins and upon humans." Grobschmied paused to gather his thoughts, then in a dark tone of voice, he continued, "Sixty years ago, Grindelwald had the whole of Central and Eastern Europe at his mercy. It didn't matter what sort of society you originated from, you answered to the Triskelions, or their Muggle counterparts. The alternative was death. If you were marked as an undesirable for any reason, even for reasons you could not help, then too bad for you—and they almost always located dissidents and rebels. They controlled and watched everything, even as they methodically stripped their subjects of all their rights and all their dignity. Resistance was nearly impossible for the average person, wizard or Muggle, and so many people had been brainwashed or otherwise indoctrinated that most had no desire to resist regardless.

"However," he went on quietly, "I think this war is going to be different. The Death Eaters are not yet in a position to inflict terror and destruction on the same scale as Grindelwald, but even so, in the last few weeks we've already seen Dark magic the likes of which I don't think even he ever attempted. I fear that if Voldemort succeeds in his goals, then we face a far more nightmarish world than the totalitarian one Grindelwald built."

Harry swallowed, remembering the unnatural yet absolute terror that had gripped him in Godric's Hollow, the impossible and malevolent magic that had been displayed there, and then began to picture it on as large a scale as Grobschmied was implying. Then he asked desperately, "Do you think we can stop him before it goes that far?"

Outside, there was a distant rumble of thunder. Grobschmied met Harry's eyes, then looked downward. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just don't know. But I don't think it's just your parents we mourned today."

---

A/N: A quick warning about the next chapter: Chapter 12 will contain some rather intense violence and frightening or disturbing content. It is the reason I have rated this story with an R rating, along with Chapter 6.