SEPTEMBER 10th, 1997
A breeze hit Ginny's face, fresh and crisp, and she took a deep breath, savoring the mountain pine air. Like Draco—
But she knew she wasn't with Draco.
She opened her eyes, already anticipating the sight of the Albanian lake. This had become the most common setting for these dreams— if Voldemort had nothing specific to show her, he took her here.
Maybe that would be a good thing— no agenda of his that she would have to subvert. She just had to keep things natural.
Her stomach tightened as she looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, aware of where she likely needed to start the conversation. Keeping things natural while talking about the diary would be difficult in the extreme, but she felt certain that was her window. She had already faced holding it again— surely just talking about it would be manageable?
Tom wasn't next to her though— a bit unusual. She looked around, anxiety wriggling in her stomach, and saw him some distance away, skipping stones on the water.
Also unusual. Ginny bit her lip— any bit of change to their pattern was potentially worrisome when she didn't know what was driving the change. Should she stay here and wait, or…?
Her mind flashed on their walk in the gardens, on her dancing with the Flutterbies. He would never admit it, but he had liked that she had changed things up, that she hadn't just been a passive observer of the dream world he had created. Ignoring the tightness in her stomach, Ginny closed the sketchbook, laid it in the roots of the tree she was sitting under, and stood up, intent on skipping stones.
She walked down the small hill toward the water's edge, lifting the edge of her light blue robes as she went. The breeze whipped around her, pulling the fabric tight against her legs as she shifted her weight against the slope of the hill.
Tom ignored her entirely as she approached. Again, unusual. She bit back a frown as she approached, opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and picked up a stone.
He glanced at her before skipping the rock, sending it careening over the lake's surface. Ginny followed suit, fighting back memories of skipping rocks with Harry over the Black Lake, debating on when the giant squid would make an appearance.
This went on for a few minutes, and finally Ginny could take the silence no longer.
"Is Cordelia okay?"
Calling her Mrs. Barrows seemed like an unnecessary aggravation of the situation.
"She'll live," he replied as he skipped another rock. "Severus is with her now."
"I'm glad," Ginny said, letting out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "Her wound was… horrific."
"Yes, Everard has always been talented with curse creation," he said as he skipped another stone. "He and I were in school together, you know. Classmates."
Back when he was called Tom Riddle.
"And he's followed you all this time?" Ginny said after a careful moment of consideration. She skipped a stone, working to keep her breathing even.
"I won his respect early on. He's a good inventor, but I'm better." A harder skip this time— the stone slapped loudly against the water as it soared away.
Ginny grimaced, imagining what "better" meant in this scenario, and he laughed.
"Don't be upset, little saint. Curses aren't the only thing worth experimenting with."
"Like the diary," Ginny said, seizing her chance as she skipped a stone. "That wasn't a curse— at least not one like I've ever seen before."
Tom grew pensive; he palmed the stone in his hand but did not throw it. "You could call it a cursed object, I suppose."
"But not like any regular curse," Ginny insisted, squatting down to look for another stone. "Regular cursed items have a singular effect, just like a spell does. Lumos creates light, Alohomora opens locks… Magic has specific uses. Maybe the witch or wizard wielding the spell can use it creatively, but the magic itself is the same— doubly so in an item. But the diary… it was different."
"What's got you thinking about this?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he finally skipped the stone.
Ginny kept her eyes on the far side of the lake as she stood up again and sent her stone flying. "I've been thinking more about the diary lately. Especially after… after the dream about the Chamber."
Not a lie. She would never forget that dream as long as she lived, and the diary was irrevocably linked to it, even though it hadn't made a specific appearance that night.
"Not something I ever thought you would willingly go back to." He too turned his gaze toward the distant shore, though he did not pick up another stone.
"Neither did I."
"Why did you?"
"I wanted to go to Hogwarts."
Not a lie.
"Very badly, apparently."
Dangerous— dangerous to let him get too close to the truth there.
"Yes."
"Things will be better soon."
She had already been preparing to justify her desire to return to Hogwarts— that wasn't what she had been expecting him to say.
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, daring to glance at him.
"The war will be over soon. Then it will be safer for you to visit Hogwarts if you want. We could both go then."
He skipped one final stone across the lake, and then the scene wavered around her.
"I tire of this place tonight," he said in a weary voice before the Albanian wilderness disappeared from view, leaving them in darkness.
Ginny's stomach writhed in discomfort, but she made herself take a deep breath before asking, "How do you know the war will be over soon?"
"There's not much left to be done. Potter is the last real obstacle."
Her chest grew tight, tight to match her stomach.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No, but I don't need to. It's not in his nature to stay hiding from me like a mouse. He'll make his last stand, little lion, just like you've always dreamed, and you'll be there to watch him die by my hand."
He sat down in the blackness of the vault, cross-legged on the invisible floor, making him look even younger than his teenage appearance.
"You used to always tell me about that, remember?" he asked, his dark eyes locked on her face, and she knew he could sense her pounding heart. "How no one knew how he had done it, but the great, good, noble Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort in Godric's Hollow when he was only a baby, and while you weren't sure if You-Know-Who was gone for good, you trusted in precious Harry to save the day if he should ever return." He laughed, high and cold. "Sorry to disappoint your childhood self, but Harry Potter doesn't stand a chance against the Master of Death."
Ginny grimaced, fighting to keep her breathing even. She had to stay focused on the diary, but even imagining Harry fighting against the Elder Wand made her blood run cold.
"I'll make it quick, don't worry," he continued. "Merlin knows, it's already dragged out long enough— over sixteen years. And then... then we can allow the future to unfold."
The blackness of the vault wavered around her, taking shape into the gardens they had walked through before, where he had showed her the tiger-striped flower. It was nighttime here, just like last time— stars twinkled in the distant sky as he laid down in the grass, beckoning her to sit next to him.
"I don't want to sit next to you when you threaten someone I care about," Ginny said coldly, momentarily forgetting about the diary. His arrogance, his self-assuredness, his absolute disregard for human life made it impossible for her to—
The tattoo flashed, and seared down her arm with pain. She cried out and grabbed her arm, gritting her teeth as the intensity increased.
"Obey, little saint," he whispered. "You don't have to be in pain. Just come sit down."
It hurt too much, and she needed him to be in a good mood if she stood any chance of getting him to answer her questions. She huffed and stormed over to sit down next to him, and the pain subsided.
"I wonder how long it will take you to get over that," he said, his eyes on the stars above them. He crossed his arms under his head.
"To get over what?"
"Me killing Harry Potter."
"I'll never get over that."
"You told Draco Malfoy you would never stop fighting back against his advances," he said, unconcerned. "And yet it took him barely more than a week to wear you down, and now look at you— constantly pining for something that isn't even real."
"What do you mean?"
"He belongs to me, little saint. He always will. It's his birthright, the consequence of his nature. Have no illusions about what a Malfoy values— Lucius told you that silly little phrase of theirs, didn't he? Malfoys first." He barked a laugh. "Lucius knows what that means. He obeys, and his family is safe— rewarded, even. He fails me, and suffers the consequences. They will always put themselves first, Draco Malfoy included. He might act like he truly cares for you, and maybe he does, but if I told him to walk away from you tomorrow and never speak to you again, he would obey."
That wasn't true. It wasn't. But still, her mind flashed on Goyle's torture, on Draco obeying even though it had cost him so, so much, and her heart ached. It wasn't true— there was additional context, reasons for why—
"We've been comparing him to a dragon, but do you know what dragons are?" He turned his head to look at her. "Beasts. Not beings. They do not think as we do, reason as we do. Dragons are wild, fierce creatures, but they can be tamed... Gringotts has one down in the bowels of their vaults, did you know? Chained up down in the dark, afraid of its masters, ready to use its fearsome breath on any would-be thieves or brigands who somehow make it down that far. But I don't need to physically chain up Draco Malfoy— he knows who his master is."
"Was it Lucius Malfoy's loyalty that made you pick him to hold the diary for you?" Ginny asked flatly, forcing herself not to defend what she knew was true, not allowing any room for doubt to wriggle through the cracks of her armor.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "This again. Why?"
"Lucius Malfoy was following his Malfoys first rule by giving me the diary," she explained. "At least according to Dumbledore, even though he didn't phrase it that way exactly. If things had worked out the way Lucius planned, he would have gotten to sabotage my father's Muggle Protection Act and get rid of a dangerous Dark object that would have gotten him in trouble with the Ministry— a win-win for him. Except I don't think he really knew what it did, only that it was dangerous. So maybe the Malfoys are loyal, but not entirely trustworthy."
He stared at her, his face cold. "Be careful, Ginny— prying into things you don't understand."
"I'm not trying to pry," she said, tucking her knees into her chest, hoping to appear non-threatening. "I guess... I guess I'm trying to obey you too, in my own way."
He raised his eyebrows again, the coldness in his face giving way to surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You told me that I should understand you, and I know you're pleased when you catch me thinking about the diary. Our fated connection, right? I remember bits and pieces of what happened to me, but I don't truly understand it. But I think maybe you want me to, deep down— why else would you show it to me here, or give me the sketchbook out in the physical world? If you wanted me to ignore it, you would never bring it up, or maybe even make me forget it altogether. But you want me to always remember it."
He sat up quickly, and Ginny flinched, sure that she had gone too far, but he merely reached forward and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.
"You should always remember it," he said quietly, his dark eyes fixed on her face. "You belong to me— the diary marked our connection, though neither of us knew it at the time."
"One of your precious things," she whispered, heart pounding, aware that she could not exit this dream if it took an unexpected turn.
"That's right. One of my precious things."
"How many are there, altogether? The six you've shown me, and then the Hallows?"
He paused. "What an impertinent question."
"I'm sorry," Ginny said quickly. "I'm just trying to understand—"
"Consider that perhaps you haven't earned that information yet."
"Yes, my lord," she said, bowing her head, and he seemed mollified as he laid back down again.
"I'll tell you about the diary though— that, at least, is an open secret between us."
Ginny held her breath, afraid to ruin the moment, and on instinct, she laid down in the grass next to him, looking up at the stars.
"It was the first thing anyone ever bought for me that wasn't second-hand or someone else's hand-me-down," he said. "It had my name engraved into the back cover. My name. It was mine— as so few things were, back then."
Ginny ignored the twinge in her heart as she recalled her own struggles with second-hand things— Tom was good at manipulating her. She had to remember that, and listen for the truth underneath.
"Who bought it for you?" she asked. "You were still in school, and I assume you didn't have…"
"Didn't have any money?" he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "No, I didn't. Professor Slughorn bought it for me, believe it or not. A congratulations gift for making prefect."
Her mind flashed on Slughorn's beaming face, on his jovial parties… including the extravagant Christmas affair, where she and Draco had interacted for real for the very first time.
"It's hard to imagine you speaking with him as you are now."
He laughed. "He's done a very good job of hiding away from me, and then Dumbledore ensured he made it to Hogwarts. He's embarrassed, I think, that he was so fond of me once upon a time. Afraid all of his illustrious connections wouldn't understand his sympathy for poor, brilliant little orphan Tom Riddle. He's the one in the wrong, though— all of his stupid little politics pales in the face of what I am. In the face of what I'll become."
His voice had grown sharp and cold, and Ginny made herself take a deep breath.
"I'm sure he'll come to regret those choices in time," she said carefully, and he grew still.
"Yes, perhaps he will. And it's not like he doesn't have a knack for spotting greatness— he invited you to his silly little club too, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"What did he see in you?"
"Umm. I hexed another student on the Hogwarts Express, and he saw me do it. Said it was a great bit of magic and invited me to lunch."
He barked a laugh. "You see? I told you that you have a talent for cursework. Not everyone does. You have to be a little bit vindictive, I think, to really inflict baleful magic on someone, even if it's a tiny little jinx. You can be vindictive, can't you, little saint?"
She thought of Rookwood, and of Alys destroying Nicholas Malfoy.
"Sometimes," she breathed.
"That's good," he said smoothly, shifting a little in the grass. "I'll be able to teach you so much, in time."
"What if I don't want to learn?" she whispered. "What if I don't want to hurt anyone?"
"Nonsense. That's not true and you know it."
"Wishing ill upon someone is very different from actually hurting them."
"Mm. In time I don't think you'll see much of a difference."
Ginny took a deep breath. "So the diary was special— precious— because it showed that you mattered, that who you were mattered. You weren't having to fit in to someone else's things— it was just for you."
He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "Yes."
Taking a gamble, Ginny said, "The ring was special because it connected to your mother's family— same with the locket, which traced all the way back to Slytherin. The cup and the diadem go together because they're connected to Hogwarts founders too. And Nagini…"
"Has been a loyal and faithful servant to me," he finished. "And perhaps embodies the image of Slytherin more strongly than anything else."
"And then the Hallows make you Master of Death," she whispered, willing it to somehow not be true.
"That's right. And what about you?"
"I'm one of the Hallows now, right?"
"Yes, but specifically, what do you give me?"
"I… I don't know."
He sighed. "The ability to transcend into godhood. That's what you give me. The magic I will be able to acquire, through you, is beyond this world's wildest imaginings— I know you felt what that land was like, through the portal. Its very essence practically sings with magic. With that… well, things are going to change."
She gulped, trying to think of a way to turn this conversation back around the way she needed it to go.
"I know you're afraid," he said quietly. "I've given you plenty of reason to be. But you have to understand that these are temporary measures. Once I have accomplished all that I need to, there won't be anything for you to be afraid of anymore."
"How do you figure that?"
"Remember what I've shown you."
"The entire world, destroyed."
"Not the entire world. And it will be rebuilt, in time. Should I show you again?"
Ginny's breathing grew shallow. "Not… not tonight."
"Mm. Perhaps tomorrow." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I think I envy you."
"Why is that?" Ginny said warily.
"You've had power thrust upon you, and you didn't even need to do anything for it— not really, anyway. Just said please." He laughed, though it was cold. "Whereas I have worked for years— decades— to secure my place in this world, and I'm not through yet. I'm working very hard, even still, while you rest in your lovely little cage and paint pretty pictures, whiling away the time… no responsibilities at all. You must obey me, it's true, but I ask very little of you. You've had it easy as of late."
Ginny fought down the anger rising in her chest, pushing it away, not wanting him to see. He thought her life was easy? He dared to complain about his own circumstances, when he was the one responsible for so many people's suffering, including her own?
"Your suffering is over now. I think I've made that clear enough."
"Yes, it's just my family who will suffer if I step out of line, not me," she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone.
"Don't step out of line, and it won't be a problem. Not so difficult at the moment, considering, again, that I ask very little of you."
"What would you ask of me that you haven't already demanded?" she snapped.
He laughed. "I don't think you actually want to know the answer to that."
A chill ran down Ginny's spine, and he sighed.
"Nothing to worry about, little lion. One thing at a time."
One thing at a time was right.
"You said I haven't earned the information about your other precious things," she said. "How can I earn it?"
"Why do you want to know so badly?"
"That first dream… the one in the vault. It… made an impact on me," she said, turning her head to look at him. Not a lie. "I couldn't get it out of my head. I feel… connected to those things, somehow. You said the same thing, didn't you? That your collection was incomplete, until me? I want to understand what, exactly, I'm a part of— what makes these other things so special. How I'm connected to them."
He turned his head to look at her, and she made herself hold eye contact with him. His eyes were so dark that she could see the stars above reflected in their depths.
"It made an impact on me too," he said quietly, making Ginny's heart skip a beat. "It changed everything, really. I didn't truly understand what you were— what you meant— until I saw you covered in my—"
He cut himself off, and Ginny bit her tongue to stop herself from interrupting, sure that he had been about to reveal something incredibly important.
"What risk is there, really?" he said quietly, talking to himself rather than her. "You've seen them already, and you're completely under my control…"
He trailed off, and Ginny again forced herself to stay quiet, afraid of ruining the moment.
"If you really want to know about them, little saint, you'll have to agree to my terms."
A bargain. She could work with a bargain. They had been making bargains all along the way.
"What terms are those?"
"Unfortunately for you, that your cage will grow smaller."
Ginny gulped. "Literally, or…?"
"Don't be stupid. It's about mitigating risk, not punishing you."
"I don't understand."
"No one alive knows anything about these things— that they're mine, or what they mean to me. If I am to tell you anything about them other than just showing you their form, I have to be able to trust that their secret will remain safe."
"You can trust me," she breathed, and he laughed.
"Your word is not enough— what a noble, Gryffindor idea. No, you get to decide: if I give you any information about the items I showed you in the vault, that means I will send Draco back to his manor for good. No more time together, where you might either accidentally or purposely let something slip. And if you leave your room, you will do so in my presence, and you will not be allowed to be away from me— no little field trips like I allowed a couple of days ago. You are alone, locked away from the world, or you are with me, where I can keep a direct eye on you. That should keep things safe enough, but just in case, let me promise you that the torture you underwent for those three weeks would pale in comparison to what would happen to your precious family if you defied me on this— and I would make you watch, to understand the consequences of your actions. If that cost is too high, then so be it, but if so, then you must stop asking about these things. It's one or the other. My secrets, or your darling lover."
Ginny's heart squeezed tightly at the thought of no longer seeing Draco face to face, of being trapped in her room, alone, but her mind flashed on him sitting on the beach, the wind tousling his hair as he smiled at her, and she took a deep breath. Nothing could tear them apart, not even this.
"Alright," she said. "I accept your terms."
His face broke out into a smile, a genuine one. "After all this time, you still manage to surprise me. Perhaps you're not so far from yielding to me, after all."
She sucked in a breath, and made herself say, "Perhaps not."
He reached out and cupped her face, running his thumb along her jaw. "Good night, little saint. Time to rest now. Soon I'll show you something I've never shown anyone else."
"Good night," she whispered, and the dream faded from view.
Ginny woke up with a gasp, sitting upright in bed, her heart pounding. Today had been exhausting— so many things learned. And now she wouldn't see Draco in person again, at least not alone… not until everything was over. He would understand, and they had the bridge to keep them together. She could only hope that her gamble would be worth it.
SEPTEMBER 11th, 1997
Harry stood on the porch of the Barrows' safe house, watching the sun rise, a cup of weak tea in his hand. Today was the day— Hermione had insisted. Once everyone was up and packed, they would be leaving this place behind for good.
It was a marvel, really, that Kathleen's parents had had the foresight to build something like this even though they weren't Order members. Had other wizarding families done the same? Were there groups of people in hiding, even now, in remote places throughout the countryside, waiting out the war and hoping for an Order victory?
He hoped so. Seeing those Muggle-borns being rounded up at the Ministry had haunted him— he had dreamed of their terrified, worn faces looking at him in awe as he guided them through the Atrium and out through the Floo Network to safety. Had they managed to evade capture? He hadn't had time to tell them where to go… not that he really knew what to tell them, anyway. Nowhere felt completely safe.
Hopefully they had gone straight home, and then left the country, like he had told them. Easier said than done, but wizarding Britain was no longer safe for them. Would France take them in, as refugees maybe? Or the US? His grip tightened on his cup as he hoped and wished and prayed that they had made it to safety. If any of them died, he couldn't live with himself—
"Hey."
He turned around and saw Kathleen standing in the doorway, her own steaming cup of tea in her hands. She was wearing pajamas; the worn flannel looked impossibly soft and cozy, and made Harry long for lazy weekend days spent in bed without a care in the world.
"Hey."
"Today's the day, then?"
"Yep. Today's the day." He looked back out at the sunrise, and Kathleen moved to stand next to him.
"We could stay longer," she said, not looking at him. "If you want to."
Harry knew what she was really saying— she didn't want to leave yet. Cordelia Barrows had not yet come back… if she was coming back at all.
"I wish we could," he said softly, "but Hermione's right. We have to stay focused on our mission. It's time to move on."
Kathleen sighed. "I know. I just…"
"What is it?"
"I just never thought this would be my life, you know?" She leaned against one of the support poles on the porch, resting her head against it. "No offense, of course, but you've had what, over six years now to get used to the idea that you'd be involved in incredible things, in one way or another? Hell, I don't think you've had a single peaceful year of school. My life wasn't like that. Or at least, I didn't think it was. I didn't know my mum's story until it was too late—"
Her voice cut off abruptly, and Harry turned to face her.
"It's not too late," he said. "Don't think like that. You heard Eamon say it himself— she's on You-Know-Who's no-kill order. And there's no way they went through all that trouble to capture her just to kill her. It would be a waste for them."
"But she was so sick—"
"And the Death Eaters run St. Mungo's now," Harry interrupted. "We don't know what's happening to her, Kathleen, but try not to immediately assume the worst. If you do that… you lose hope, and you might end up making a decision you'll regret."
His heart twinged as he thought of Sirius, of his own moment of lost hope as he raced toward the Department of Mysteries on a fool's errand, one that would set this whole chain of events into motion.
"Have you made decisions you regret?" she asked quietly, and Harry sucked in a breath.
"Yes. Many."
"Like what?"
He sighed. "Not listening to Ginny when I had the chance, for one."
Her lip quivered. "I regret not trying harder to tell you—"
"Hey, it's not your fault," he said, reaching for her as she started crying. "I promise you it's not. You couldn't have done anything different."
Kathleen hadn't cried at all since her breakdown upon discovering her mother missing— not when she and Harry had talked about the Mulcibers, or Ginny, or Draco Malfoy. But today, in the soft light of the dawn… something was different.
She buried her face in his chest, gripping his T-shirt in her fists, and he fought down his own momentary startle as he awkwardly patted her on the back.
"It feels like I could have done something different," she whispered. "Like I should have been able to prevent it, somehow."
"You couldn't have," he said, running his hand over her back. "It's Malfoy's fault. Not yours."
Her fists tightened around his shirt. "I don't care if he's somehow helping Ginny now, or whatever is going on. I still hate him."
"Perfectly understandable. I've spent years hating him for much less— I can't imagine how I would feel if I was in your shoes."
"Umm. Good morning."
Harry and Kathleen quickly broke apart to find Ron standing in the doorway, a piece of toast in hand, staring at them.
"Hi," Harry said, trying not to look like he had been caught in something and knowing he was failing miserably at it.
"I'm going to go make sure my things are packed," Kathleen said with a sniffle and hurried inside, brushing past Ron, who raised an eyebrow at Harry once Kathleen had disappeared.
"It was nothing," Harry said. "She doesn't want to leave yet, that's all."
"You know she's Ginny's best friend, right?"
Harry's brow furrowed. "I know. So what?"
"So even if you're not planning to get back together with Ginny, it's pretty shitty to be flirting with her best friend, especially while she's You-Know-Who's prisoner."
"I wasn't flirting," Harry hissed. "We were talking about Ginny, as a matter of fact. That's why she started crying."
"Uh huh."
"What do you mean, uh huh?"
"Nothing, nothing," Ron said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Are you packed?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah. Are you?"
"Yeah. We'll be ready to head to the Tonks's soon."
"Do you still think that's the best call?"
"What do you mean?" Ron said, furrowing his brow.
"I don't know." He looked back out at the horizon, at the early morning sunlight gleaming on the leaves of the nearby trees. "It was just such a coincidence, running into them like that. Maybe they could help us…"
"More than they already have, you mean? They already gave us a bunch of food and let us stay here. Plus Kathleen's told us everything she knows."
"Yeah. I guess so."
"Morning!" Hermione said, coming up next to Ron, looking unusually chipper. "Are you both packed? Ready to go?"
"Yep," they said as one, though Harry ignored a wriggling sense of doubt in his stomach. What if they left this place, and Mrs. Barrows arrived after they left? She would have no idea where they had gone…
"Wait," he said before pushing past Ron and Hermione. "I forgot something."
Mr. Barrows was busily stuffing a duffel bag chock full of apparently everything he could think of— it looked near to bursting at the seams, and Harry briefly wondered whether Hermione would cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on it before remembering that he shouldn't need to be carrying the bag for long; it would be a brief Apparition trip to the Tonks's.
Kathleen was sitting on the bed, where he knew Mrs. Barrows had lain; she was rubbing her hand against the quilt, eyes downcast, and Harry's heart twisted. This, in some ways, was her own version of Godric's Hollow.
"I had an idea," he said breathlessly, coming to stand in front of her. "About your mum."
"Oh?" She looked up from the blanket.
"Let's leave a note for her, so she knows where you've gone. In case she comes back and she's missed us— that way she can still find you."
"Won't it be unsafe though? In case the Death Eaters come back?"
Harry frowned. "What if we code the message somehow? Something only your mum would understand."
Kathleen frowned before her eyes lit up. She jumped to her feet. "Let me grab a notepad." She hurried away, over to one of the kitchen drawers, but came back almost immediately, a notepad and quill in hand.
"What's that for, Kath?" Mr. Barrows asked, looking up from his duffel bag.
"Leaving a coded note for Mum, so she knows where to look for us." She started scribbling, and before Hermione could say anything to object, Kathleen handed her the parchment. "Tell me if that makes any sense to you."
"We were two ships passing in the night," Hermione read, brow furrowed, "guided only by the light of the moon. We passed each other by, and years later, in order to find my missed opportunity, I had to look one galaxy over." Hermione looked up at her. "What does this mean?"
"My mum met Lupin by accident a long time ago, out in the Muggle world," Kathleen explained. "And said they were like two ships passing in the night. I figured use the moon to tie in to him being a werewolf, and then Andromeda Tonks—"
"—is the next galaxy over," Ron finished. "That's brilliant, Kathleen. Nobody would know what that means."
"Except for Mum, hopefully," Kathleen said, taking a deep breath. "She doesn't know who Tonks is, but she went to school with the Blacks. And this notepad was the Portkey we used to get here— if she comes back, she'll see it and know we mean for her to travel somewhere. Hopefully that's enough."
"It's better than leaving with nothing, that's for sure," Harry said fervently, already feeling much better about leaving. "Is that it, then? Are we ready?"
Mr. Barrows walked over, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and gun in hand. "We're all packed."
Kathleen took a deep breath before setting the notepad on the bedside table, note scrawled across the top of it. "Yes. I'm ready."
The five of them looked at each other, looked around the small cabin, and then looked at each other again.
"Alright," Hermione said. "We're going to Apparate around the corner from there, alright? We need to scope out the place and see if Death Eaters are watching it. Then, as long as it's safe, we'll approach, and explain the situation."
Everyone nodded.
"Okay," Hermione said. "Ron, I think you've mostly recovered from your Splinching by now, but let's not take any chances. Mr. Barrows, you can travel with me, and Kathleen, you go with Harry. Have you experienced Sidealong Apparition before, Mr. Barrows?"
"A handful of times, yes," he said, making Kathleen's eyebrows shoot up. He laughed. "What? I told you Mum and I practiced things. She didn't want me to vomit the first time we had to make a quick escape."
Kathleen shook her head. "I'm never going to get used to this."
"Alright," Hermione said again, nodding to herself in apparent reassurance. "Let's be off, then."
Kathleen reached out and grabbed Harry's arm, her grip warm and sure, and, his heart in his stomach, he turned on his heel and Apparated away, his mind on the alley around the corner from the Tonks's residence.
Kathleen gasped when they landed, and on instinct, Harry pulled her further back into the alleyway in which they had landed. Ron appeared a few feet away from them, and then Hermione and Mr. Barrows. They all took a deep breath as they looked around— the street seemed quiet. Nothing unusual, and, most importantly, no Death Eaters stationed nearby like there had been outside of Grimmauld Place.
"They could be using Disillusionment Charms," Hermione whispered. "Remember what Lupin said about being too trusting. One of us should go on ahead and knock on the door, and ask him a coded question, like he did to us."
"I'll go," Kathleen said immediately. "Less dangerous for me to be spotted than any of you, and Lupin knows me."
"Absolutely not—" Mr. Barrows started.
"She's right," Harry interrupted. "We'll be right here if something happens, but she's definitely the least well-known out of the four of us, and someone Lupin will recognize."
"I could go—" Mr. Barrows insisted.
"But Lupin doesn't know you," Ron said. "He'd assume you were a Death Eater, probably. Or at the very least being controlled by one."
"Dad." Kathleen put her hand on his arm. "It's okay. I promise. I can do this."
Mr. Barrows took a deep breath and then sighed deeply. "Okay."
They moved toward the end of the alleyway, looking toward the house, which seemed perfectly lovely and ordinary, if a bit plain. Kathleen took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched out into the street. Harry held his breath as he watched her go, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. He had had a momentary impulse to make her use the Invisibility Cloak, but she would end up revealing herself to Lupin on the stoop anyway, and if there were Death Eaters around, Harry wanted to know about it.
"Ugh, this makes me nauseous," Hermione whispered, and Ron put a reassuring hand on her back, rubbing small circles over her shoulders.
Kathleen knocked on the door, standing straight and tall on the front steps, and after a long moment, Andromeda Tonks opened the door, wand drawn. Even though Harry knew to expect it, her uncanny resemblance to Bellatrix took his breath away. Luckily, he didn't think Kathleen had ever seen Bellatrix Lestrange before.
The two women spoke for a moment, and Kathleen seemed to grow insistent— Harry could tell by the way she was holding her arms that she was making her case, arguing that she wasn't just a random person showing up on the Tonks's door. After a moment, Lupin appeared, eyes wide as he took in the sight of Kathleen standing before him. They spoke quickly, and then Kathleen looked over her shoulder, waving the others over to her.
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak over himself before hurrying over, the others grouped up around him. Shame wriggled in his stomach as he took in Lupin's tired face, remembering the last time they had spoken, but he needn't have worried. As soon as they were all inside, Lupin embraced him warmly, as though they had never quarreled at all.
"I'm glad you're here," Harry said. "I wasn't sure, not really—"
"I am too," he said. "You were right— my place is here."
Tonks about knocked him over when she hugged him next, embracing him so tightly that he coughed, making her laugh. Her pregnancy wasn't visible yet, but her hair had returned to its former pink vibrancy— a clear sign that her mood had improved.
Andromeda ushered them into the house's small kitchen, and they took seats around the shabby dining table, Hermione and Ron squeezing in on the bench on one side.
"Well, I can't say I'm not surprised to see you all," Lupin said. "I take it you're in some kind of trouble?"
"Well… it's a long story."
And so they explained— about the Ministry break-in (though not their reasons for being there), losing access to Grimmauld Place, camping in the woods, and then running into Kathleen and her father apparently by accident. They explained too about Cordelia fighting off Death Eaters in her home, only to be gravely injured, and then kidnapped from her safe house. Kathleen told Lupin the riddle she had left behind for Cordelia to solve, which brought tears to his eyes.
"I wish she had joined the Order," he said in a heavy voice, Tonks's hand on his shoulder. "I tried to talk her into it, all those years ago— we both knew You-Know-Who wasn't really finished. But she wasn't interested. She was always fiercely independent— didn't trust others easily. I think she felt like trusting the Order was putting too much faith in Dumbledore."
"It's in the past now," Mr. Barrows said, polite but firm. "We're obviously hoping that Cordelia will return, see the note, and come looking for us here. But if not…"
"Do you know anything about the Mulcibers?" Kathleen asked desperately. "Like where they live, or… or anything."
Lupin blew out a breath. "Honestly, no… I don't. But I have to say, trying to break into a Death Eater's house, when we don't even know if Cordelia is there, is folly of the highest order. We've managed to keep a low profile here— keeping Ted hidden from Snatchers— and we've been able to help some other Muggle-borns make it to France, but that's all underground work. What's this you said about a no-kill order?"
"I don't know what it means," Kathleen said. "Other than the obvious. It seems like it came from Ginny."
Lupin's brows shot up. "Ginny Weasley?"
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, then back at Lupin. Telling Lupin that he was seeing into Voldemort's mind still, when that had had such disastrous consequences for Sirius, felt like the wrong move, but they couldn't very well show up here and not give any information at all.
"Remember how I told you about Goyle's memory, about Ginny? You-Know-Who is using her for something— I don't think we know what, exactly, but he needs her."
"And you think that… what, that You-Know-Who offered to spare Kathleen's family to win favor with Ginny?" Lupin said, skepticism laced through his tone.
"It's the best explanation we've got at the moment," Hermione said. "We can't think of any other reason they would specifically be excluded, and Eamon Mulciber did make mention of…"
"A saint," Ron finished. "We heard Goyle call her that too."
Ron was leaving out that they had heard that term under very different circumstances, but Lupin didn't need to know that.
"A saint?" Tonks asked. "Like a religious figure?"
The trio shrugged, and Tonks and Lupin looked at each other. Some unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them, for Lupin took a deep breath and turned to face them.
"Well, I don't know what that's about, but you're all welcome to stay here as long as you need. We'll increase the protective enchantments around the building, and help you however we can. Have you possibly reconsidered my earlier offer? I can't go with you, but if you tell me what's going on, I can help—"
Harry shook his head vigorously. "We appreciate it, but no. This is something Ron, Hermione, and I have to do alone."
Lupin sighed. "I figured you would say that. Well, at least you know where to find us, in case of an emergency."
"It's truly alright for us to stay here?" Mr. Barrows said. "I don't want to impose—"
"Nonsense. I was a friend to Delia, years ago, though not as good of one as I should have been. It's the least I can do to help her family now."
Mr. Barrows nodded and, after an awkward moment, shook Lupin's hand.
"I'll scrounge us up something to eat, but Dora, can you show them up to the guest rooms?" Andromeda asked. "They'll have to share, but we'll make room."
Tonks jumped to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair, before showing them toward the stairs. "We only have the two extra rooms, but maybe the girls can share, and then the boys—"
"I'm happy to sleep on the sofa," Mr. Barrows said. "Please don't put yourself out on my account."
"It's no trouble—"
"It won't matter long term anyway," Harry said quickly. "Ron, Hermione, and I aren't staying, remember? We'll stay the night, and then head out in the morning."
Once they had figured out where to go. In the chaos of running into Kathleen, they hadn't come up with any clear plans on what their next move should be, at least none they could all agree on.
Tonks showed them to their rooms, which were perfectly lovely if a bit bare. It looked like he and Ron would be sharing a bed for the night, which made him both chuckle and grimace. He knew from firsthand experience that Ron tossed and turned in his sleep.
"Do you think it's safe enough to take a shower?" Hermione asked, popping her head into the boys' room. "The one in the tent works fine enough, but having real indoor plumbing—"
"We're as safe as we're going to get," Harry said. "Go for it."
Hermione smiled and then disappeared down the hall.
"So what now?" Ron asked, plopping down on the bed. "We rest up for the night, and then what?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair, the locket Horcrux pulsing against his chest. "I don't know. Decide on a place to check for more of them, I guess. The cup, or something of Ravenclaw's. We don't know how to destroy them, but we can at least try to gather them up. Prevent You-Know-Who from moving them."
"I hate to see what it will be like carrying multiple of these damn things around," Ron muttered. "One is bad enough."
Yes, one was certainly bad enough. Harry bit his tongue, his earlier irritation at Ron's apparently sensitive constitution rearing its ugly head, but he made himself take a deep breath, and the urge to yell subsided.
"I'll be right back," he said before stepping out into the hall. The sound of the shower running hummed pleasantly, and he took another deep breath, reminding himself to be grateful for this place. Wearing the Horcrux made it so easy to lose sight of everything that was good.
Speaking of good things.
Harry knocked on the ajar door to the girls' room before peeking his head around it. Kathleen stood by the window, leaning against the wall and looking down on the street below. She hadn't unpacked any of her things.
"Hey," Harry said.
"Hey."
"I'm guessing it was a little weird to see Lupin again, after everything," he said, taking a step further into the room.
"A bit."
She didn't look up at him.
"What's on your mind?" he asked softly.
"I don't want to stay here."
"Why not?"
"I want to fight."
Harry sighed. "Kathleen—"
"I know I don't know that much. And that my dad would be upset. But I can't just sit here. Even if I don't look for my mum right away… how many other people are in danger out there, just like we were, only they don't have a safe house prepared out in the middle of the woods stocked with years' worth of supplies? I want to do my part to end things." She looked up to him, and her eyes were blazing— not unlike Ginny's often did when she was serious about something. "I want to go with you. You don't have to tell me any details about your mission, but I want to help. And when it comes to rescuing Ginny… I want to help with that too. You heard them down there— even still, they act like it's a lost cause, my mum and Ginny both. Like there's nothing we can do now that they've been captured. But I'm not willing to give up on them. I want to fight."
Harry held eye contact with her, green eyes locked on blue, and he thought of Ginny— of how she had pleaded, time and time again, for him to let her into his world, to trust her with important things, and he had told her no, she should wait on the sidelines to stay safe.
"Hermione is absolutely going to kill me," he said, "but okay. You can come with us."
Kathleen beamed. "Thank you, Harry."