NOTE

WARNING for violence and death.

93. The Ruin

We met Arthur and Neville on a storm-battered hill in Shetland. The only light in the darkness was provided by our wands, the most powerful lumos maxima only extending a metre or two through the snow.

But it was enough.

I watched as Arthur saw George standing with us. His face went completely still, then broke open into a look of such joy it might have been years ago, a completely normal day, with no danger or darkness to be spoken of.

Dropping his wand to his side, my adoptive father ran forward and pulled George into his arms, the two embracing tightly. "You did it, then!" he shouted to us, over George's shoulder.

"Should we ask the questions?" Neville called, seeming uncertain.

"Damn the questions! This is my son."

They led us to their protected camp, one canvas tent pitched in a small wood. The trees were not very large nor close together and did little to shield the tent from the snow and salt wind. But the moment we stepped through the flap the chaos of the storm was lessened by the magical canvas; the sound of the wind muted to a quiet whisper, sometimes a whistle, outside.

Within there was a little fire, and enough space for many people to sleep. A table and stools, equipment for cooking including a kettle, floorboards under our feet and makeshift beds. A man was sitting up at the table and when he turned I saw that it was Gabriel. He looked even more drained now than he had in France.

Harry Potter was fast asleep, his glasses and wand on the floor beside his pillow, his face a mask of exhaustion in the shadows.

We were quiet as we entered, voices dropping to whispers, footfalls kept soft. The incredible burden Harry had once carried had now distributed itself equally among us, and the quiet we held was not out of respect for the boy who lived, but for a fellow human being in desperate need of deep, warm sleep.

"This is the extent of our hospitality," Gabriel said, pouring us tea. It was weak, but its purpose was warmth, not taste.

"Bill, Ginny, Ron and Hermione are out together now," Arthur murmured. "We start our shift in the morning. Everyone should sleep, but before we do… give us the news."

Minerva took charge of explaining how the creatures and the stone had been destroyed, her soft Scottish syllables carrying just far enough to be heard around the table. When Gabriel realised that George had been asleep because of the creatures, and was now awake, he nearly dropped his mug to the floor. His voice remained quiet but its intensity bordered on anger, his accent thickening. "Why did you not say more quickly!"

He left us and went to the far corner of the tent, packing his few belongings into a small bag. "I must go to be with Andi," he told us. Then he left the tent, and a few seconds later we heard the quiet pop of disapparation through the sound of the storm.

Gabriel and Andromeda had only known each other for a couple of months before she was attacked, and yet the silent fierceness in his face had proved he still loved her. From deep inside myself, beneath the layers of isolation and survival instinct, I hoped their reunion would be everything they both deserved.

Arthur brought out a map, showing the places where Dolohov had been sighted, the places that had been searched, and how many times. "We are certain he isn't back on the mainland, or in Norway. If not here, he may have moved up to the Faroe islands…"

I studied the map, the trail of little dots leading from Skye through the Hebrides, along the upper coast, through the Orkneys and finally to Shetland. The journey had been long and I was well aware I was joining it in the final hour. But I did sense that this would not be another week-long search, as it had been for Baddock. My magic was on edge. The eerie calm before the storm.

"He hasn't been blatantly attacking people. But he was still one of the most violent and dangerous of Voldemort's followers. He won't hesitate to use the killing curse," Arthur warned.

Once it would have been unfathomable to me that such dark individuals existed. Now it was simply a fact of life. There wasn't even space in my heart to be disturbed by my own numbness to it.

We would take over the search in the morning. For now, sleep was sorely needed.

Severus looked at me, and I gave him a quiet nod. We took a small mattress on the floor to ourselves. We hadn't slept together since he'd held me through the miscarriage. His knee pressed into the back of my calf and I let my leg shift between his, his arm pulling me against his chest, his steady rising, falling breath. I felt his lips against my temple, incredibly soft. He ran his fingers through my hair as though it were illicit. Still, my body could barely relax.

I wished for peace, and guilt coiled in my throat. This moment should have been enough.

Arthur and George stayed awake, whispering together at the table as my eyelids grew heavy.

I had grey dreams. Shapes, but no words. And nothing certain about them.

The following day was miserable and cold. The snow ended but a heavy fog remained, and the wind was extreme.

We sat for a small meal of porridge and apples with the others who had returned from the night search, skin pale and eyes ringed with grey. Ginny, Bill and Ron all embraced George, and Ginny also caught me in a long, fierce hug. Harry gave her a gentle kiss, whispering in her ear before she took his place in the small pile of blankets, promptly falling asleep.

To me, the silence between Severus and Harry was deafening. No hostility pricked the air, but our situation was grave and I sensed Severus's need to protect Harry rising in his soul; the permanent tether to the promise and the sacrifice he had made tugging him back in time.

The northern island of Yell was mostly barren of trees. The little copse of woods where the tent was pitched was an exception to the landscape, and as we walked we were exposed to the sky and elements. Invisibility charms had been thought prudent, and as we spread out in groups of three over the wide brown heath we knew each other only by the infrequent flashes of lumos that we used to signal our progress.

I stayed close to Severus and Arthur, close enough that I could track their footsteps forming in the mud.

My burned hand alternated between numbness and tingling, but as the wind continued to blow against it the pins and needles became painful. I used the pain as a way to distract myself from the anxiety in my chest, keeping my head empty of thoughts. But midway through the day it became too much. I fell behind, holding my wrist and staring at the red skin as my fingers trembled.

Severus's footsteps stopped, and though I couldn't see his face I could imagine it as he turned in my direction. "Is it your hand?"

"Yes."

"I was waiting for you to tell me."

As easily as removing a travelling cloak, he expanded the invisibility charm to include us both, his body appearing to me out of thin air. His hand slipped into his pocket and he withdrew the small tin of salve he'd summoned last night. I hadn't realised he'd brought it with him.

He took my hand and held it while he applied more of the salve, the cooling, soothing feeling seeping into my skin. He screwed the lid on again and handed the tin to me to hold onto. "What is it exactly?" I asked.

"It helped me, with the mark."

I looked down, still studying my hand. So it was cursed. I wondered how long it would stay this way; if the tingling would ever fade permanently.

"It will," Severus murmured, knowing my thoughts without seeing my mind.

He touched my face, his thumb caressing my cheek, and I stood still and steady, returning his dark gaze as his equal.

"Everything alright?" Arthur asked, his voice struggling against the wind.

"Yes," I called.

Then Severus's touch slipped away, and he changed the charm again. The only sign of him was his footsteps walking away, even and deep in the mud.

We searched hills, valleys, cliffs and beaches, to no avail. At the end of the day we looked across the gap of sea to the next island, shrouded in the darkness of another night.

In the morning the clouds scattered and opened the sky to a beautiful sunrise. Streaks of cloud, as thin as fog, full of colour, pink and gold.

Too beautiful.

Watching it from the opening of the tent, the dark black stream flowing between the naked trees, I felt my foreboding rise from where it had hidden like an underground river since leaving Hogwarts.

But I didn't voice it. Surely I was not alone in my worries.

We apparated to the northmost island, to the parts the others had not reached. Crossed strips of sandy beach, bridging the gaps between hills that sloped down to the water.

The whole land was empty and cold. Lovely with nothingness.

At noon we sat for a few minutes of rest. Minerva multiplied the bread we had so there was enough, and we ate and drank the hot weak tea looking out at the wide Norwegian Sea. Once I'd had my fill I wandered out onto the rocks where the water was lapping and spraying from the wind.

The rocks were covered in dead-looking barnacles, as white as chalk, and I treaded lightly over them on my way out, looking down at the tiny shells in the deep, narrow tide pools between the rocks. When I could go no further I stopped and stood there, just short of the cusp, looking out towards the place where the heaven and sea blended together, unable to tell quite where the line was. The wind sharpened my nose and burned my eyelids. Relieving me of a layer of myself. Leaving me cold, and somehow peaceful.

I heard a splash behind me and turned to see George, his foot stuck in one of the tidal pools. He tried to step out but the rocks had caught his boot and his foot came up wearing only its sock. He had to balance as he pulled the boot free and put it on again. As I watched him I realised I had a smile on my face. Or the closest thing to a smile my face had worn in some time.

Recovered, he came closer and stood there next to me, looking out.

We stood in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," I said eventually. "About the attack. I was too hasty."

"I was the one who wanted to go."

The events of the past two weeks poured back into my mind. Even in that space George had missed so much. I couldn't imagine how Andromeda must be feeling.

"The car's still running, you know. Wandering around the forest. Complete wild animal."

He nodded.

I paused, repressing a shudder. "Malfoy's dead."

George tensed. "How?"

I saw no image in my mind. But I could remember the smell of his blood, the aching in my bones as I sat on the floor.

"He was… mauled. We just… let him go."

"Good riddance."

There was a long gap of silence, and I felt it in the air when a thought landed in his mind. "I'm going to be twenty-two years old."

I looked at him, his expression uncomprehending as he stared at the water. "Strange. I didn't think you'd aged a day since you were twelve."

We both knew it was in jest. We had admitted our oldness to each other before our ill-fated journey into the forest. But it didn't matter. His mouth curled in a brief half-smile, and that was enough for me.

"What will you do about Lupin?" he asked, out of the blue.

For a second I couldn't quite see anything, my mind going numb enough to answer. "He's my friend."

"Bollocks," George said gently.

We both stared out at the greyness a little longer.

"This is probably gorgeous in summer," he said. "Do you think we'll ever come back?"

I thought of all the places I'd visited since lightning had struck Azkaban. The safe house in Belgium, the Cairngorms, the coast of France, and now here. None of them had been ugly places. Far from it. But they were too steeped in stress and conflict for me to consider them desirable places to return. Not even for the sake of closure.

"I don't see why we would."

"Mum would say it's a nice place for a picnic."

I shrugged.

Then Arthur was waving at us and it was time to go.

The ruin stood dark against the pale sky, and above it rippled the slightest undulations of light; evidence of a smoke concealment charm.

So he was there, and he had lit a fire.

Fool of a man. Perhaps he had grown tired.

It seemed deceptive, this flag of magic in the air, giving away his presence.

We retreated to just below the rise of the hill, out of sight of the ruin–and Dolohov's eyes, if he was watching. Arthur sent his patronus to the camp and the others came, apparating in silence, bodies half asleep but eyes alert with adrenalin.

"Only one should go, at first," Bill said. "Or two. Keep their invisibility charms up, approach unnoticed and stun him."

"I'll go," Harry said.

"No young people will be going," Arthur insisted. "I will go."

"Dad–" Ron protested.

Arthur turned his gaze on Minerva, but Severus interrupted. "I will join you."

My heart dropped, the terrible apprehension beating louder through my blood. I reached out on instinct and held his arm, almost clinging. My voice was a low whisper. "Sev. No."

He looked down at me, and coldness filled me as I realised he was wearing that guarded mask again. "I will be fine," he said, not even acknowledging the risk.

I tightened my grip but he was ignoring me. My eyesight grew weak as Arthur spoke again. All I could do was stare down at my hand around Severus's black-sleeved arm. "This should be simple, but you all will surround the ruin in case something fails. A reminder that we are only aiming to capture, not to harm or kill. If something goes terribly wrong, reveal yourselves so we don't injure each other. Right. Invisibility charms on, everyone."

My eyes were not quick enough, and just as they flickered up to seek out Severus's black ones, he disappeared. All that convinced me I was not staring into empty air was the feeling of my hand around his arm. I cast my own invisibility charm, refusing to let go.

Then his hand touched my hand, his fingers pressing mine. I trembled, afraid that he would pry himself free of my grip and escape. Instead, he lifted my hand.

The softness of his lips graced my knuckles.

Then he let go.

My arm swept through the air in search of him, but he had gone.

In silence we climbed over the rise again, and approached the ruin. Grasses rustled in the wind as I took up position, standing a fair distance from the old stone walls. I waited, unable to know how quickly Severus and Arthur were walking, how close they were. An awful, gnarled feeling twisted in my gut. The wind was the only sound, a high whistle as the smoke concealment charm continued to wave through the air above the ruin.

A flash of magic ripped through the quiet.

Then another.

My eye darted to a flicker of black movement in the window.

The concealment spell was dropped and the black smoke rising into the air was like a signal of death going up from a burning ship in the middle of a vast ocean.

But the curses did not stop. My heart raced in my ears as Arthur suddenly appeared, and Severus after him, Arthur maintaining a shield charm as Severus returned the onslaught of curses and spells hitting the weakening Protego.

I started running before I could think. My invisibility charm fell away in my terror, and one by one the others became visible too, all of us rushing forward to their aid.

A deafening blast of magic boomed through the air, and a rain of stones pounded down upon the earth. I covered my head on instinct, and in the next moment a firm arm wrapped around my waist, knocking the wind out of me as I was pulled down in a dive to the ground.

I swallowed freezing air and blinked to see Severus, half on top of me, unharmed. Rendered speechless by mingled terror and relief, I gripped his body as he shifted off of me and kept me close. We were crouched in a precarious hiding place, behind a little broken wall of stones.

I looked up over the top to see the ruin crumbling further, leaving only a few walls and piles of rubble for Dolohov to hide among. I recognised the magic in the sky as someone cast wards to prevent disapparation.

The chaos of the explosion subsided as the last stone rolled to stillness.

"SURRENDER, DOLOHOV!" Arthur shouted, his single voice overpowering the wind for a moment before it was swallowed again.

A pause followed, the opposite of silence. My heart pounding. The wind scraping inside my ears.

Then it started.

Curses and hexes shot from behind the barricades of stone, mostly aimed towards Harry. Half of our side moved to keep him shielded while the other half fought back with defensive spells. Magic filled the air with palpable danger, colours flashing and sizzling, and adrenalin rushed through my veins, more than I'd felt since the final battle.

"Keep your head down," Severus commanded. I gave a formless cry as he darted out from behind the wall into the open.

My body was preparing to disobey and follow when shock stopped me short. Ginny had moved to block Harry from one of Dolohov's spells, and as it struck her in the chest her skin turned grey. Her hair froze in the wind and her perfect smooth skin became perfect smooth grey stone.

Harry stared at her, his mouth making silent movements of horror.

In a surge of red hair and lanky limbs, Bill, Ron and George moved forward, sending a wave of darker curses at Dolohov, the power of fury behind each one. A flash of unmistakable green light cut through the air like the trial of a comet. It had come from George's wand, and I stared with my body full of the raging fires of shock as it split apart a stone, behind which Dolohov's head had disappeared just in time.

I could barely fathom what I was seeing as Severus cast a protective bubble around himself, the statue and Harry, and reversed the curse. Life bloomed across the grey stone as it became skin again, red hair fell over heaving shoulders and Ginny leaned forward into Harry's arms, sobbing as she regained control of her muscles. Arthur raced to them.

The world became real again, my senses flooding back to me as I drew in a breath. There were so many spells in the air, it was impossible to know what was coming from which direction. I stood up from behind my wall, sending a sharp blue stupefy at Dolohov in the fleeting seconds he was exposed. He dodged every spell, ducking and flinging his cruel magic with a thin, crooked arm.

My brothers moved forward, still ignorant of the fact that Ginny had been freed from her prison of stone, their wands slicing through the air in endless patterns of vengeance and fury.

And finally a curse found its target.

Dolohov went down, and did not come up again. I stared at the empty space, the empty clouds of the sky, in the place where he had briefly appeared.

Then something rolled out from behind the pile of stone.

It was his head.

Matted black hair falling over the pale scabbed face.

Something went wobbly in my peripheral vision. I tore my eyes away from the sight of Dolohov's severed head, and my gaze fell on the three brothers. George stood there for a moment, very still. Then his body swayed and he fell to the ground, slumping to the grass as though all the bones had been removed from his body.

Bill and Ron looked down at him, Bill getting to his knees and shaking George's shoulders. Ron just stood there staring.

I ran, stumbling over the grass, a high thin sound in my ears.

He had fallen in a broken position, shaking violently, screaming silently. There was no bleeding. No visible damage. But Dolohov's black magic seemed to be tearing him to shreds inside.

Arthur ran forward, and Ginny, Ron kneeling beside Bill, four heads of red hair bent over the young man on the ground. Severus came through, making room for himself. Angelina just stood back.

I didn't know how I made it to the ground, but then I was there too, crouching in the close huddle of Weasleys. Arthur held one of George's hands, and Bill the other. George's eyes were wide open as his body shook. I looked from his ghost-white face to Severus's, and knew from his eyes and his tense, dark expression that whatever he was attempting to do with his healing magic was not working.

My own magic tried to rally strength in my blood, but my wand was numb with shock. Tears flooded my eyes and fell on George, but they were clear, not blue. Of no use. I remembered what Severus had said about the miraculous tear that had saved Remus. Only for one person.

George's lips came together in an attempt at speech. A shaky hum followed by a groan of pain. "Mm… Muh…"

We all understood.

Arthur's blue weasel uncurled in the air over his son's body, and lingered there. It was a linking patronus, and he spoke to it as it glowed brighter. "Molly…"

"Darling?"

The silence spoke volumes.

The patronus lost some of its light, kept alive only by the strong, old bond of love between the two people on either end. Molly's voice trembled when she spoke next, dropping an octave, hollow. "Who is it."

"George," Arthur said, his voice as drained as his face.

There was a frozen pause. Then Molly's voice emerged, much softer than before. "I'm here, love. George. I'm here."

It seemed George's body was trying to escape the agony inside by shaking. The shuddering became more violent, and his eyes widened as he gasped, the sound strangely elated. His words were clear this time, though hoarse.

"I see Fred!"

Watching his face, I remembered seeing Fred in the forbidden forest, by the gnarled trees and little white flowers. His smile of peace as I had let go of the Resurrection Stone, allowing him to fade away into the land of shades. I remembered my sense of certainty that there was an afterlife.

It had waned since then. But now it returned.

The certainty.

I looked down at George, his body continuing to shiver, but more softly now. "Fred," he whispered again, the name barely a breath.

We were all in tears.

His eyelids drooped, and the trembling slowed down. On his pale lips, the slightest smile rose.

Then the shivering stopped. And the life left his eyes.

The wind tore through, ignorant of our grief.

The patronus bathed the dead in its weak light, and Molly's voice came again. Steady, and absolutely devoid of joy. "Bring him home, Arthur."

Then the blue light faded completely, the weasel nothing but a pale grey outline before it blew away like dust on the wind.

I stared at George's face, his eyes not quite closed.

Sobs broke out of Ginny's chest, and I looked up to see Harry holding her shoulders.

Arthur released a cry unlike anything I had ever heard.

"No," Bill said, cupping George's cheek. "No…"

My own grief tore through me with silent thunder, leaving me empty and heavy, with pain in my chest.

I was standing, the wind threatening to push me over. Then my feet were moving, faltering down the shallow slope of the hill, away from the ruin and the death.

"Do you think we'll ever come back?"

"I don't see why we would."

Severus was following me, but I couldn't turn around. I just walked towards the horizon.

There was no way to mend the gaping wound in my heart. No way to fill it. No way to escape it.

He took my elbow gently and wrapped his arms around me, warm and silent.

But I couldn't stay there.

I pushed him away and kept walking.

He let me go.

I walked all the way to the sea and looked out at the water again. Enough grey clouds had returned to make the line clearer now, where the sea ended and the sky began. I stared until I couldn't bear it anymore. And then I disapparated.

I had no destination. The one need in my whole being was to bring this conflict to its final end. To end the strife and pain. For myself. For everyone.

My body plummeted through space for many seconds, bones lengthening, the space inside me squeezed so tight as to render breathing impossible.

Just let me end it…

I landed hard on my back, my head full of tiny prickling stars.

Two male voices sounded, outside the bubble of shock that stopped up my ears.

I didn't know the voices. But there was something in them that was recognisable. In common with evil voices I had known.

My eyes were wide open but my vision was blurred. I saw the tall spindly fingers of trees reaching towards a dark white sky.

The grimy edge of a face loomed near, making my eye flinch.

"Lost, sweetheart?"

Rancid breath filled my gaping mouth. But any spark of fighting instinct that remained was drowned by the seven oceans of grief inside my body.

Unable to tell if it was premonition or reality, I felt my body being dragged over sticks and cold ground.

My lungs collapsed with a delayed wheeze of pain. Then something hard hit the side of my skull, and darkness bled through my brain.

NOTE

Please read the content warning.