SEPTEMBER 12th, 1997
Ginny paced in her room, her stomach in knots, trying to control her racing thoughts. Her palms were sweaty; she wiped them on her robes, making herself take a deep breath, but it did nothing to settle her stomach.
She had not dreamed of Tom Riddle last night— the first break in many, many days.
She told herself it didn't mean anything, and maybe it didn't. But she couldn't stop the paranoia from overtaking her.
If he suspected she knew anything, anything at all, about his most closely guarded secret, Ginny felt sure that he wouldn't be able to leave it alone— he would interrogate her, or torture her for more information, or maybe just punish her outright. But everything had stayed exactly the same. Food arrived when she expected it, the room continued to respond to her whims… the door was gone, but that was hardly unusual, and the windows were still here. From all outward appearances, it was an ordinary day.
But it had not been an ordinary night. She sighed before coming to a stop, resting her hand over her beating heart. She had not dreamed of Tom or Alys last night— it had been simple, restful sleep. Truly a mark of how unusual her life had become that an uneventful night's rest was cause for such alarm.
She looked around the room, blinking as she took in the newly-layered world around her. She still wasn't used to the second sight. If she focused, she could kind of turn it on and off, giving her eyes a much-needed break, but if she let her mind drift too much, it was suddenly like she was in the middle of a heat wave. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly— more just jarring, unexpected from how she had always seen the world.
What did the layers mean? The world had looked like that too when she had drank the syrupy potion and seen the sprites. The sprites had been in the throne room, only she hadn't been able to see them until she had drank the potion— like she had been looking at the wrong layer, missing what was going on underneath.
Well, if that was the case, there was nothing interesting going on in this room. No sprites, no otherworldly beings, no portals… Probably a good thing, overall. She needed to keep a low profile for now, and drawing Voldemort's attention any closer to the supernatural powers she had been given would have the opposite effect.
She sat down in the window seat, dejected. How were they possibly going to make this work? She felt confident she would be able to confirm her and Draco's theory of objects housing soul fragments once she saw Nagini again, but after that… what the hell were they supposed to do? She couldn't possibly kill Nagini, and neither could Draco— if that would even destroy the soul fragment; she didn't know how it all worked, and she couldn't very well Floo call Dumbledore in the afterlife and ask him. And then there were the other things… the cup, the locket, the diadem… and some fifth thing that Voldemort didn't want to show her for whatever reason. Perhaps that one was the most precious of all— something he didn't trust her to see, even now.
There was something odd about that, though. He had said his collection was incomplete, until her… implying that the collection hadbeen complete in their second visit to the vault, once she was holding the six items. But there was still something missing. Why would he treat that thing as something so inherently separate, when he had already acted like revealing any of the items was a risk?
She didn't know, and Draco wouldn't know either, and they didn't have anyone else to ask. She groaned in frustration and leaned her head back against the windowsill.
"This is impossible," she murmured. Why was everything so bloody hard? They had had to fight and scrape and beg for any scrap of information, over and over again, and when they had finallydone the impossible for Alys, it still wasn't enough. What kind of cosmic joke was it to give her all this supposed power and then make it practically useless to her anyway?
She was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being afraid, tired of trying to say just the right thing to Tom Riddle to let him think he was manipulating her while not actually getting lost in his clutches, the whole time never knowing if what she was saying was working or not. It was constantly dangerous; she never got to take a real, full breath.
Hey.
Draco's voice.
Hey, she responded, trying not to sound glum. Are you at work?
Yes, but not in court, thank Merlin. Pamphlet duty.
Sounds boring. But better boring than the alternative, I suppose.
What about you? Are you doing alright?
What do you mean? Ginny said, suddenly defensive. Of course I'm alright.
You seem stressed.
I can't imagine what I have to be stressed about.
He laughed, which made her feel slightly better. Yes, I can't imagine. Are you busy?
Busy staring at the wall,Ginny said drily.
Good. Come to the bridge.
Why? Is something wrong?
Just come over.
But—
Damn it, Weasley, stop arguing and just meet me by the water.
She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, but, after glancing around the room one more time to reassure herself that everything seemed perfectly normal, she laid back on the cushions in the window seat and let her gaze soften, looking at the opposite edge of the nook where her feet rested, and willed herself through the cherrywood door.
She gasped as she walked through onto the bridge, still not used to the vibrancy of this place. The midday sun beamed down on her, so bright she almost had to squint, reflecting off the cerulean water down below her. Gulls cried overhead, their calls echoing in her ears as she looked around for Draco.
"Down here!" he called, and when she looked over the edge, she saw him down on the beach, waving at her from a little distance away. He didn't look like he was in crisis— that was good, at least. But if that was the case what had he called her over here for?
She walked down the stairs, her shoes scraping a little against the sand deposited on the wooden steps, and closed the distance between them, savoring the smell of the water as she got closer.
"Hi," Draco said.
"Hi. What's wrong?"
"Does something have to be wrong for me to want to see you?"
She frowned. "Well, no, but…"
Draco laughed before sitting down in the sand, beckoning her to follow suit. "What's on your mind?"
She plopped down next to him, heaving a defeated sigh. "I didn't dream last night. And I'm worried about what it means. What if he suspects something, or I misinterpreted things, or he's just messing with me somehow—"
"Take a deep breath."
"What?"
"Take a deep breath— just trust me. Smell the sea and take a deep breath."
Irritated, she did. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and the musky saltiness of the ocean filled her nose, and as she savored the scent of it, her breathing slowed.
"Better?"
"Yes," she said quietly, embarrassed. "Thanks."
"I get like that all the time," he said, looking out over the water. "So lost in my own head that I can't see which way is up and which way is down. It can be really paralyzing. But the sea always calms me. Listen to its rhythm— almost like a heartbeat. Forward, and back, forward, and back. It's an effortless constant, right there ready for me to reach for it should I ever need it. Every time I feel like I'm about to spiral out of control, I reach for the sea, and it always calms me, because even when the sea itself is totally out of control, it always returns to normal. It always comes back to the beat of its own heart."
She looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were so light here, in a way they rarely were out in the physical world. "That's really beautiful, Draco."
"It is, isn't it?" He turned to smile at her. "I think the other beautiful thing about it is that it can't be controlled— not really. Humans try, wizards and Muggles both, but they're temporary measures at best. Our best course of action is just to go with the flow of the water."
That felt like it had a double meaning.
"So what does that mean for us?"
"It means that I want to take you on a date."
Ginny blinked. "What?"
"I want to take you on a date. Is that okay?"
Ginny blinked again, unsure of how to make sense of what he was saying. "But we can't actually see each other, and we have to find these soul fragments, and there's a waron—"
"All the more reason we should go on a date."
"I don't understand."
He sighed before looking out at the water again. "We have all this pressure on us all the time, right? Suffocatingly so. All these things we have to accomplish or else the whole world is going to be destroyed, and not enough time or information or resources to do any of what's being asked of us. We can't ignore those things, obviously— people are counting on us— but we've also been acting like we can't live our lives until after Voldemort is dead and the war is over. And I'm not sure that that's true."
"How is it not true?" Ginny whispered.
"We're doing the best we can with what we have at the moment, yeah? We just gained a bunch of information a couple of days ago, along with this whole second sight thing, and you've thrown down the gauntlet for Voldemort— the Quaffle's in his court now. What will come, will come, and we'll meet it when it does, but you can't beat yourself up over information you don't even have. We don't know where to look for these other things, and you're doing your best to get that information. Once we have that, we can decide what to do next, but that doesn't mean we should spend every second between now and then in the throes of existential anxiety."
"But what if he suspects something?" Ginny insisted. "What then?"
"You play it off as best you can, and if the worst comes to pass… we get through it. There's only so much we can do— we're still just a couple of bloody teenagers. But we have each other, and we have this connection, and we have the second sight. And I suppose we also have Potter, wherever in the world he is. You think it's likely he knows about this stuff, you said?"
"Yeah. It would make sense— why he kept it so secret from everyone else, just him and Dumbledore. Maybe he broke into the Ministry because he was following some kind of lead, looking for one of the items."
"No way Voldemort would hide a piece of his soul at the Ministry," Draco said, wrinkling his nose. "But I suppose Potter was never the brightest one…"
"I'm sure they're doing their best!" Ginny said, old wounds between them rising to the surface.
"I'm sure they are," Draco agreed, not responding to her momentary anger. "I just hope their best doesn't get them killed."
Ginny sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Me too."
"So about that date."
"How are you going to take me on a date under these circumstances?"
"If I remember right, you asked me to take you to the beach. For a picnic."
Ginny turned to look at him, something like hope bubbling up in her chest. "I did say that," she said softly.
"Well, I've got the beach part down. And…" He closed his eyes, and a picnic basket appeared. "I don't think we can actually eat anything here, but hopefully close enough?"
Ginny threw her arms around him, making him laugh.
"This is perfect," she whispered, her chest warm and tight and tingly all at once. "So incredibly sweet."
"Well, if I'm known for anything, it's being sweet."
That made them both laugh, and when she pulled away, she felt a little lighter. The world was impossibly heavy… but maybe it didn't have to follow them here, at least not every second.
"We should probably change into beach attire though," Draco said, and, after he closed his eyes once again, his robes transformed into pale blue swimming trunks. The pale white of his scars gleamed in the sunlight, but when he opened his eyes, he didn't look self conscious at all.
"I don't know about you, but I'm going for a swim before I pretend-eat anything," he continued, rising to his feet. "The benefit of this place not being in England— the water's warm. I checked before you arrived."
And then, before she could say anything else, he took off at a full run, jumping into the ocean like he didn't have a care in the world. The water splashed up around him, and he started laughing as he moved deeper into the water.
Ginny watched him go, doubt still wriggling in her stomach, but maybe he was right. She had done all she could do for now. And if she had fucked it all up… well, then she had fucked it all up, despite her best efforts to the contrary. She might have the power of a god inside her, but she was not, in fact, a god. She was a girl— a teenager. A teenager who desperately, desperately needed a vacation.
Or a date.
She closed her eyes, imagining her own swimsuit, and smiled as she felt her robes shift. They changed shape into the same bathing suit she had back home— a very pale lilac with little stars on it. She stood up, rolled her neck, and then went running straight into the water.
She braced herself as she approached, prepared for it to shock her, but it was deliciously, deliciously warm— like maybe they had somehow traveled to the Caribbean. The current was manageable but insistent as it pulled her further out, drawing her deeper into the sea. She smiled as she felt the sunlight hit her bare shoulders.
This was freedom.
She got deep enough to where she needed to swim rather than wade, but Draco, being nearly a foot taller than her, was still able to stand. He smiled at her.
"Fancy seeing you here," he said.
"This place is magical. I love it."
"Wait till you see underneath." He took a deep breath before dropping below the water's surface and, after a moment of hesitation, Ginny followed.
They were certainly not in England anymore. Brilliantly colored coral filled her vision as she looked out toward the deeper water, with dozens of tropical fish flitting in and out of it. The water was so clear it seemed to sparkle where the light hit it, and the beams reflected beautifully off of Draco's hair as he swam further out.
He was in his element here. He belonged in the sea, or perhaps the sea belonged in him. She followed him out, marveling at the vibrant colors and unfamiliar shapes as they explored.
Soon though, they had to come up for air. They broke the surface at the same time, gasping as they treaded water, facing each other.
"You see?" he said, still smiling. "Magical."
"This place is incredible."
"This place is us— you know that, right? You and me, mixed together. The magic made the space, but the details are all us."
Ginny smiled. "I couldn't imagine anything better."
"Neither could I," he said softly. "And we won't ever have to— because nothing can take this away from us. It's you and me till the end, yeah? No matter what happens, no matter how things play out… we'll always have this place. You'll always have me."
"And you'll always have me," she whispered back before closing the space between them and kissing him.
She made sure to feel everything— the current of the water as she treaded to stay afloat, the little droplets dripping from her hair onto her shoulders, the softness of Draco's lips under hers…
This belonged to them, and it always would. Come what may, this place existed because of the two of them, and the bond they shared, and nothing could ever rip it apart.
SEPTEMBER 13th, 1997
"Dad, can we talk for a minute?"
Dad looked up from his breakfast, toast in hand, and smiled softly at her. "Sure. Have a seat."
Kathleen shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyeing Andromeda and Ted Tonks. "In private."
"Oh. Uh, sure." He took one final bite of toast before rising to his feet and following Kathleen out of the kitchen. She walked toward the stairs, her stomach tight with tension, but there was a level of certainty under it too, a level of certainty that she was making the right decision.
The Tonks family was nice. Very nice. Andromeda Tonks had come from a family much like Mum's, had grown up an outsider just like Mum, had left her family behind just like Mum. Kathleen knew that when Andromeda would try to talk to her, she was trying to be empathetic, trying to relate to Kathleen's experience.
But Andromeda Tonks had never left the wizarding world behind. She had married a wizard— a Muggle-born wizard, it was true, but he was still a wizard. Her life wasn't thatsimilar to Cordelia Barrows; she had never been driven to quite the same level of desperation. It made Kathleen's stomach hurt to talk about it.
No, she couldn't stay here in this house and wait for something— or nothing— to happen. Mum had been kidnapped. Ginny had been kidnapped. And the Order, which Lupin was partially in charge of apparently, was hiding in the shadows, smuggling people out of the way of the regime.
Shouldn't they be doing more than that? Kathleen knew the odds were stacked against them, knew that trying to fight against the might of the Ministry, particularly when those wielding it had no moral reasons to hold back, was incredibly dangerous if not suicidal. But smuggling people out and doing nothing else felt like giving in to the inevitable… that Voldemort would take over everything in time, and it was just a matter of getting the most vulnerable people out of the way.
She couldn't believe that. She couldn't allow that to be her reality, not after everything. She needed to dosomething.
She arrived at the room she had shared with Hermione Granger for the last few days. Hermione was sitting on her bed, reading an old fairytale book that she seemed particularly fascinated by as Kathleen had seen her reading it many times before now. She had her beaded bag next to her, a bag that Kathleen now knew had been magically expanded to hold a truly inordinate amount of items. Kathleen grimaced as she looked at it— they were leaving today. Tonks and Lupin had managed to convince them to stay a couple of extra days beyond their original plan, but they were insistent on leaving today.
Kathleen couldn't let them leave without her.
"Hey Hermione," she said, making Hermione jump slightly as she put her book down. "Would you mind giving me and my dad a moment in here? Sorry to interrupt."
"Oh it's no problem," Hermione said, jumping to her feet. She grabbed her book and her bag and moved toward the door. "Take all the time you need."
"Thanks."
Hermione left, and Kathleen and her dad walked further into the room, and Kathleen shut the door behind them.
"Everything alright, Kath?" Dad asked cautiously.
Kathleen sighed as she walked to the window. Dad had always been the more emotionally available of her parents— and, knowing what she knew now, it was no wonder. He had always been easier to talk to, always been the one Kathleen went to when she wasn't feeling sure of herself or was feeling vulnerable. He was level-headed, reasonable— stable.
She could only hope he would continue to be after this conversation.
"Yes and no," she said, looking down on the Muggle street below them. "I want to talk to you about something, but I'm afraid it's going to make you really upset with me."
"Whatever it is, we can figure it out together— even if I'm upset."
Something he had told her since childhood— to not try to solve problems on her own, to get help if she needed it. Had he learned that from watching Mum isolate herself so much, or had he always believed that?
She turned to look at him. "Why did you fall in love with Mum?"
He blinked. She could tell that this was not what he had been expecting her to say. "Well," he said, running a hand through his hair. "A lot of reasons."
"Like what?"
He sat down on the bed and blew out a breath. "Delia has this… intensity to her. Everything she does, everything she says, everything she believes… she does it with her whole self, her whole heart. I know that might sound strange to you, given how much she kept from you, but she believed that that was the best way to protect you in the long-term—"
"And she threw herself into it with her whole heart."
Dad nodded. "From the very first time I met her, she had this… pull, this draw, that I couldn't look away from. I remember asking myself, what the hell am I doing, as I was letting her into my flat that first night… but maybe my heart knew the truth too. Knew she needed someone, and knew that I could be that someone."
"And once you got to know her?"
Dad smiled. "Once I got to know her, I realized she was the bravest, most passionate, most determined person I had ever met. She had been through more than I could conceive of— and to this day, I still don't think she's told me everything she experienced as a child— and yet she threw herself into this world that she knew nothing about, determined to survive, determined to believe that there could still be goodness out there even if she had rarely known it. That's why I fell in love with her."
"She took a leap of faith."
"Yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Even though it was dangerous, even though she didn't know what she was doing… she did it anyway, and got support along the way. Because she believed it was the right thing to do."
"Yes," Dad said, more cautious now. "Kath, where is this coming from?"
"Dad, I think I have to take a leap of faith," she said, her lower lip quivering despite her best effort.
"What do you mean?"
She took a deep breath. "When Harry and the others leave here today… I'm going with them."
"What?" He rose to his feet.
"Please just listen," Kathleen pleaded. "Just like you always have, since I was a little girl— no matter what it was about. Please just listen."
Dad looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he sighed deeply and sat down again, slapping his hands on his legs. "Okay. Go on."
"I know how hard you and Mum have worked to protect me," she said, taking another deep breath, "and how much you've had to sacrifice to even get us to this point. How much Mum may still be sacrificing." Her lip quivered, but she forced the tears back. "But unless we do something to stop You-Know-Who, it's a race against the inevitable— there won't be anywhere safe to hide. The whole country will be overrun, and that's if he stops at the border, which he very well may not. You've heard Lupin and Tonks talking— what they're doing is reactive at best. The only one tryingto stop You-Know-Who is Harry."
"And that's all well and good for him, but—"
"Please,Dad. Please just listen."
"Sorry. Go on."
She took yet another deep breath, ignoring the tightness in her chest. "Even if we hide somewhere, we're clearly on You-Know-Who's radar— because of my friendship with Ginny if nothing else. We won't be able to just slip away. Mum hid when that was the best option, and prepared, but part of that preparation was making sure she knew how to fight. And when trouble came knocking at our door, what did she do? She didn't run and hide. She fought back.I'm sure she's still fighting back, wherever she is. And trouble may not be literally knocking at our door right this second, but it's all around us, and getting closer all the time— we can't avoid it by hiding our heads in the sand. I'm the same age now as Mum was when she ran away from Hogwarts and found you. She fought for her own safety, for her eventual family's safety. I have to do the same thing. I can't sit on the sidelines, not when I could stand to do some good for the world."
Dad was looking down at his lap, opening and closing his hands. He sighed again.
"What am I supposed to tell Delia if she comes back and finds you gone?" he asked quietly.
"You tell her that I'm my mother's daughter, and I'm going to help save the world," Kathleen said in a fierce tone.
Dad looked up then, and though he was teary-eyed, he smiled at her.
"You're right," he said. "You are her daughter, and you're mine too. C'mere kiddo."
She walked closer to him, and he stood up to embrace her. Kathleen inhaled his familiar scent, savoring the warmth of his arms wrapped around her. He was safe. He was home.
And she would have to leave him.
"I can't say I'm happy about it," he said, holding onto her tightly, "but you and your mother are just the same when you make your mind up about something— it's impossible to dissuade you. I'll stay here, and help out however I can, and wait for your mum. And if you change your mind, I'll be here waiting for you. Go with my blessing, as reluctant as I am to give it."
Kathleen did let the tears fall then. "Thank you Daddy. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Come back safe to me, and kick some Death Eater arse when you get the chance."
She laughed, and soon he laughed too, and though she knew he was afraid, knew he didn't want her to go, her heart swelled with love for him and the fact that he was able to trust her anyway.
SEPTEMBER 13th, 1997
Harry gasped as the four of them landed in an open field, stumbling a little as Kathleen tightened her grip on his arm. He wasn't entirely used to being the one conducting the Sidealong Apparition yet— he, Ron, and Hermione had Apparated together before, but it had always been a joint effort. Kathleen, who knew nothing about Apparition, was unable to assist him, meaning Harry had to pull both of them along.
Hermione sniffed as she landed, still put out that she had lost the whispered, rushed argument about bringing Kathleen along. "I'll set up the enchantments if you all will get started on the tent."
"Right," Harry said as she thrust the bag into his hands. "Sounds good."
He knew it was hypocritical to bring along Kathleen and not Lupin— had seen the hurt in Lupin's eyes when he had realized what was going on. But Lupin needed to run the Order, and he needed to take care of Tonks, and his unborn child. Kathleen arguably needed to take care of Mr. Barrows, but seeing as Mr. Barrows was safe at the Tonks residence, Harry wasn't sure what more protection Kathleen could add.
It had been a moment of weakness, really, to agree to her coming along— but he also couldn't say he was entirely unhappy about her presence as she helped him and Ron assemble the tent. Maybe she would be able to be helpful, even if they couldn't tell her about the Horcruxes.
How she could be helpful, Harry wasn't exactly sure. But it had reminded him entirely too much of his past conversations with Ginny when he had thought about turning her down, thought about telling her to stay behind where it was safe. He shouldn't repeat the same mistakes, right?
They soon had the tent assembled, and Hermione surreptitiously passed the locket to Ron, and her mood seemed to immediately lighten. She thanked Kathleen for her help and hurried into the tent's kitchen to make tea.
"And I thought Mum was prepared," Kathleen said, taking in the interior of the tent with wide eyes.
"Well, she was certainly more prepared than we were with food," Hermione said in a casual voice, though Harry knew she was secretly beaming at the compliment. "Although of course it would have helped if we hadn't had to leave Grimmauld Place in such a hurry. I learned my lesson though— always keep everythingpacked."
She levitated over four steaming cups of tea to the kitchen table and they sat around it, taking a moment to breathe.
"Well," Ron said after a long moment of quiet. "I suppose we should have the same conversation we always do— where to next?"
"I still think the orphanage in London is a good idea," Hermione said. "I know we got found there very quickly last time, but we know why now— no reason someone would suspect us poking around an old Muggle building."
Kathleen carefully kept her gaze on her cup, aware that she was not universally welcome in this conversation.
Harry shook his head. "I really don't think so. I know it's connected to the history, but that's not his style. Everything about that place is connected to his insignificance,or at least perceived insignificance. It's the opposite of what he did with the… what he usually does."
"I can step outside if you need me to," Kathleen said.
"No, I suppose we'll have to tell you some details," Hermione said. "Since you'll be along for the ride anyway. We're looking for some specific objects that are important to You-Know-Who, connected to his history. They'll play a part in defeating him permanently, according to Dumbledore. We know what some but not all of them are, but we don't know where they are. So that's been our eternal debate— where to look, and in what order. So, I think the orphanage. It's where his mother died—"
"All the more reason he wouldn't put one there," Ron said. "Bloody depressing."
"Oh, and like a cave where he tortured Muggle children isn't depressing?" Hermione snapped.
"Not to him it isn't," Ron replied. "He got to feel real important and powerful doing that, even before he knew he was a wizard. Depressing for the other orphan kids, not for him."
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.
"Ron's right," Harry said. "They're about places of power, in one way or another. Which is why I think Hogwarts—"
"Harry we can't go to Hogwarts," Hermione hissed. "In case you've forgotten, it's run by the Death Eaters now, and is probably warded to high heaven against intruders at this point. It'd be like walking right into You-Know-Who's hands to go there now."
"The Ministry is also run by the Death Eaters, and you were on board with that plan," Harry said, crossing his own arms over his chest.
"Yes, because we knew one would be there!"
"We didn't know for sure," Ron said.
"But we knew the person who hadthe Hor— the item, would be there. It wasn't just some random gut feeling."
"Sometimes those gut feelings pay off," Harry said coolly.
"And sometimes they don't," Hermione responded, holding his gaze.
Harry's stomach tightened as he thought of Sirius.
"That's a low blow."
"I don't mean it to be. Sometimes they do pay off. But the stakes are so impossibly high now. We have to have reasons for doing things, real reasons— otherwise we could make the wrong decision and get ourselves all killed."
"What about Malfoy Manor?" Ron said, not waiting for Harry to respond.
Harry sighed. This was how these conversations usually went.
"Ginny isn't at Malfoy Manor, Ron."
"I know, but Lucius Malfoy had the diary. What if he has another one?"
"I doubt he would hide two of them in the same place—"
"How do we know Ginny isn't at Malfoy Manor?" Kathleen interrupted.
Harry and Ron shared a look. "Well, don't freak out, but I get… visions, sometimes, of You-Know-Who. What he's doing, who he's around. Ginny is for sure at his headquarters, at least last that we've seen— and his headquarters isn't Malfoy Manor, which we saw in Goyle's memory. They're definitely different buildings."
Kathleen, to her credit, kept her face as neutral as she could. "Is she still around Malfoy?"
"Well… yes."
"So maybe Malfoy Manor could still be worth our time."
"How so?"
"We could stake out the place, and if we see him… maybe we could capture him."
Hermione choked on her tea. "What?"
"You said you're good at Memory Charms, right?" Kathleen said, turning to look at her. "And that Goyle gave you that memory of Ginny, but that you couldhave taken it by force, if you had to? Imagine what kind of information Malfoy could give us— about Ginny, or about You-Know-Who's headquarters, or about You-Know-Who himself."
The other three looked at each other, momentarily stunned.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Kathleen, I know you're angry with Malfoy—"
"It's not about me being angry with him," Kathleen interrupted. "You said you don't have enough information about whatever these things are, or where they might be. A Death Eater might— and you need a Death Eater you can overpower. That we can overpower. If we don't learn anything useful, just wipe his memory, but I'm sure he knows somethingwe can use."
"You-Know-Who wouldn't trust his Death Eaters with this information," Harry said hesitantly.
"I thought Ron just said Lucius Malfoy had one? The same diary that Ginny had, I'm guessing?"
"He did, but he didn't know what it really was. What it was for."
"But he knew it was powerful, and important to You-Know-Who."
"… yes."
"So isn't it possible that Draco Malfoy has heard about some powerful magical item that's important to You-Know-Who, even if he doesn't know what exactly it does?"
The trio looked at each other again before Ron said, "I like her."
"Ron, trying to kidnap Draco Malfoy is just as impulsive as going to Hogwarts with no plan!" Hermione cried. "Are you joking? One press of his Dark Mark and he'd summon You-Know-Who right to us—"
"You think everythingis impulsive," Ron snapped. "If you didn't want to take any risks, maybe you should have just stayed home."
"Stayed home?" Hermione repeated, outraged. "If I had stayed home,you and Harry would have left with absolutely no supplies, no shelter, no nothing!"
"Stop," Harry said loudly, cutting across their bickering. "Stop. We shouldn't be fighting. We need Hermione's logic and planning, and we also need to take a risk every once in a while, alright? There's never going to be a perfect plan— we planned for a whole month to break into the Ministry, and it still all fell apart once we got in there. We doneed a plan, but we need to accept that it won't be a perfect plan, and that we'll have to adapt on the fly anyway."
No one said anything for a long moment, and Harry sighed.
"What if we plan to go to Malfoy Manor, but just to spy for now?" Harry said. "Between Lucius, Draco, and Bellatrix, that's three big players in You-Know-Who's inner circle, and Draco is directly connected to Ginny too. No kidnapping, no revealing ourselves to anyone… just getting some information. We'll stay out of sight— no breaking and entering, just observing from a bit of a distance at first. Maybe we learn something, maybe we don't, but we've been having the same conversation for weeks at this point. We have to try something."
Ron nodded fervently, and Hermione bit her lip.
"Oh, alright, fine," she said. "But let me do my research first. I want to know what, exactly, we might be walking into, and how to prepare for it."
"You have a book on the Malfoys?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"I have a book on the Sacred 28," Hermione said, pulling her bag open, "and part of the families' records includes descriptions of their estates and surrounding lands. Moody said he wouldn't take on breaking into Malfoy Manor without the Ministry's backing— I want to know what kind of protective enchantments they might have, exactly."
"Even if we're not planning on breaking in?" Ron asked.
"Especially if we're not planning on breaking in. You never know when things could go sideways."
"How far is it from here, anyway?" Harry asked.
"Not actually that far— we're a little north of Swindon, and I know that Malfoy Manor is in Wiltshire…" She trailed off, digging in her bag for the book.
"Well, Kathleen, I think you're a positive influence on us already," Ron said. "At least we're heading in a direction again."
Kathleen smiled. "I hope so."
SEPTEMBER 13th, 1997
Severus sat at his desk, wondering if he could find some Death Eater-approved reason to remove the Carrows' ability to use the Cruciatus Curse as a punishment, when a voice began shouting for him.
"Headmaster, I've found them! I know where they are."
He looked over his shoulder to see Phineas Nigellus Black panting in his portrait, as though he had just run a great distance. Severus rose to his feet, his heart in his throat.
"Oh? Where are they?"
"North of Swindon— likely away from Muggles, as they've been camping, hiding out. They're going to move soon though— talking about spying on Malfoy Manor, the fools."
"Spying on Malfoy Manor?" Severus repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Looking for the Weasley girl?"
"I didn't hear that part, I only caught the bit I heard because the Mudblood—"
"Do notuse that word."
Black rolled his eyes. "Because the Granger girlopened her bag to look for a book. They keep me hidden in there, lest I spill their secrets to the Death Eater who runs this castle."
Severus sucked in a breath. Finally— finally, something he could use.
"Good. Very good!" cried the portrait of Dumbledore behind the headmaster's chair, sensing the same thing he did. "But we must act quickly, particularly before they put themselves in more danger. Now, Severus, the sword! Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valor— and he must not know that you give it! If Voldemort should read Harry's mind and see you acting for him—"
"I know," said Snape curtly. He approached the portrait of Dumbledore and pulled at its side. It swung forward, revealing a hidden cavity behind it from which he took the sword of Gryffindor. The blade gleamed in the light of his office, and he marveled at the goblin-wrought steel, at the deadly basilisk venom it had imbibed so many years ago. Perhaps, in a tangential way, Ginny Weasley would be the Dark Lord's downfall after all.
He had to get to Potter before he went to Malfoy Manor. The land surrounding the place was massive, and filled with enchantments— Severus would not be able to protect him there, nor give him the sword. But perhaps if Potter got the sword first… he would think better about making such a dangerous decision.
"I will be quick," he said, and Disapparated.
Under cover of Disillusionment, he searched for them far and wide through the countryside, looking for any signs of magical disturbance. Hermione Granger was good— talented far beyond her age— but even protective enchantments left traces if one knew what to look for, and Severus had the benefit of having taught Hermione Granger in Defense Against the Dark Arts all last year. He knew her signatures— Potter's and Weasley's too, though if he had to bet on it, Granger would be the one casting the spells. Still though, he scanned the air, muttered incantations to detect the passing of a witch or wizard, and searched. He flew, both for speed and to avoid discovery, and his stomach twinged with a strange mix of pride, gratitude, and regret that the Dark Lord had chosen him above all others to learn this skill.
That was how it always was— regret for the role he had to play, and pride and gratitude that he had been able to play it so well. He had not been able to save Ginny Weasley, it was true, but Hogwarts at least had not been completely destroyed thanks to his efforts to preserve order. He had also been able to save Cordelia Barrows' life, something no other Death Eater would have had the patience for. Assuming the Dark Lord did not change his mind, she would likely be released in a couple of days. Was it worth trying to give her some kind of coded message? She was no Order of the Phoenix member, but surely at this point she understood the stakes…
Now wasn't the time to think about that though. Night fell, and finally, finally, he found what he was looking for— a disturbance in the air, a sign that magic had been performed nearby. He couldn't be certain it was Potter, but the enchantments had Granger's textbook signature all over them— she never added her own flair to her spells, always performed them exactly rote. She was the perfect model student, if you wanted a carbon copy response every time.
He shook his head. He was getting distracted. He gripped the Sword of Gryffindor in his left hand, palming its weight, debating on what to do. It needed to be claimed under conditions of need and valor… and Potter mustn't detect Severus's presence, nor should any of his friends. The river wasn't terribly far from here…
Severus pursed his lips and began to make a plan.
SEPTEMBER 13th, 1997
Harry gasped for air, panting alongside the riverbank, Ron doing the same thing beside him. His chest still burned from where the locket had adhered itself to his skin, pulling him under the water and making it impossible for him to reemerge with the sword.
"Do you think… the locket… made the ice?" Harry asked, still panting.
"I dunno," Ron said, eyeing it warily. It laid on the ground in between them, inert for now, but it had certainly sprung to life a few moments ago. "The diary could do all sorts of things, couldn't it? Maybe the locket can too, and we just haven't seen it until now."
Harry frowned; it didn't seem right, somehow. But it had all happened so fast…
"How did you know to Apparate over here? I must have ran for over a mile, chasing…"
A doe Patronus. Chasing a doe Patronus.
Ron removed the Deluminator from his soggy shirt pocket. "This. Kathleen and Hermione were already asleep, but I couldn't yet; I was just fiddling with it, and then all of a sudden I could hear your voice, yelling wait, stop. And then I clicked it, and it took me here, but you were already in the water…"
Harry had yelled "wait, stop," after the doe as he chased it, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
"A doe Patronus led me out here," he told Ron, looking across the river to where it had disappeared.
"A Patronus? Like… like when you saved Sirius—"
"No, that was a stag. And it was me casting it from the future. I guess it's possible future-me sent it, but it wasn't a stag. It was a doe."
Ron frowned, looking pensive. "Could it be Lupin, maybe?"
"I don't see how, or why. He's with the Tonks'. And he doesn't know anything about the Horcruxes. He knew Dumbledore left me the sword, but I doubt he knew where to look for it. And even if he did, why not just give it to me? Why toss it in the bottom of a river?"
Ron's frown deepened, before an idea struck him. "Hey! I don't know who could have put it here but… Harry, you killed the basilisk with this sword."
"Uh huh…" Harry said, not sure where he was going with this.
"Basilisk venom destroys Horcruxes."
Harry blinked. "So… so you think maybe the sword…"
"It's worth a try, isn't it? Maybe that'swhy Dumbledore left it to you— to destroy the Horcruxes. Worst case is it does nothing, like everything else we've tried."
It was, indeed, worth a try. He looked at the locket again, remembered its hissing under the water as it tried to drown him.
"I think you should be the one to do it."
Ron gaped at him. "What? But Dumbledore left it to you—"
"The locket's always affected you the worst out of any of us. And without you, I couldn't have pulled the sword out. I'll help you, but you should be the one to do it."
Ron gulped and nodded as Harry stood up and passed him the sword.
"On three. One. Two. Three."
And then Harry spoke in Parseltongue.
Open.
SEPTEMBER 14th, 1997
Cordelia stirred, scrunching her eyes closed against the early morning sunlight. Her legs were tangled in the thin, cotton sheets, but she didn't dare move too much in case she wasn't alone.
She had been inside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's headquarters for a week.
And what a strange week it had been. He had healed her, saved her from a gruesome death while an awestruck Ginny Weasley looked on, and then turned her over to Severus Snape to finish the job.
Being in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's presence had been terrifying. Cordelia hadn't even been able to open her eyes half the time, sure that at any moment, death would claim her. But it hadn't.
He hadn't spoken to her at all while he worked; he barely acknowledged her existence, his focus entirely on her wound. She was, like her father had always told her, not important enough to be noticed by the Dark Lord, and that was a very good thing. Important enough to heal, but not important enough to speak to, to interact with. It allowed her to just lie there like a statue as he worked, which was honestly a relief, as the pain had still been quite intense those first couple of days. Tracking time was hard to do, but she made an effort to pay attention to the window across from the bed, to notice the shifting of the light and keep track of how long she had been here.
Ginny Weasley hadn't stayed long. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had sent her away, "back to her room." She hadn't wanted to leave Cordelia's side, Cordelia could tell, but she obeyed anyway, and she hadn't seen her since. Cordelia had wanted to call after her, though she didn't quite know what to say— maybe just that she was sorry, sorry that the both of them were trapped in this wretched place, and maybe to ask some very important questions, had they not been under the Dark Lord's watchful gaze.
Then perhaps you should start, seeing as you've just been saved by the mercy of a saint.
Ginny Weasley was the reason she was alive. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named called her little saint.What did it mean? Why would he be doing her any favors, any kindnesses? Her father had bragged in her childhood about being rewarded by the Dark Lord for loyal service, but she had never gotten the impression that he was particularly generous… Could Ginny Weasley have switched sides? She replayed the events of her arrival in her mind.
"Forgive me for not acknowledging your filthy Muggle copulation," the Dark Lord said with a sneer, making Cordelia shudder. "Avery will be very disappointed when he realizes I'm not keeping you here. We'll have to see what the future holds, though— who knows what will happen in a year or two?"
"You promised—" Ginny started.
"Do not interrupt me," the Dark Lord snapped, and Ginny fell silent. "I indulge you. Over and over, I indulge you, but do not test my patience, little saint, or you will end the day very unhappy."
"Yes, my lord."
She didn't know what to make of it. Even if Ginny Weasley hadswitched sides… what difference did that make, really? She was a little girl. The daughter of Order members, it was true, but Order members ended up dead or tortured in a place like this. They weren't freely roaming the house, being granted favors. No, she was definitely missing something, something important. But she couldn't very well ask the Dark Lord about it. She had been sure that she had been about to die, but once she had felt the densest bit of rot leave her body, Cordelia had clung to life with everything she had. She had to make it out. It couldn't end like this, with Kathleen and John running through the woods, away from safety. She had to get back to them, to protect them.
So she didn't protest when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named turned her care over to Snape, who sneered at her just like he had in school but otherwise ignored her. She had thought he might taunt her about Kathleen, or else about marrying John, but he too was quiet as he worked, focused on the task at hand.
She was unimportant, even to him. That was good.
Eamon and her father had visited on her fourth day here, and Avery on her fifth. Those encounters had been harder to stomach, but she had the benefit of being able to feign pain or fatigue, and eventually they would leave. They all clearly thought the Dark Lord was going to turn her over to them once she was well enough to walk— a horrid possibility, but neither he nor Severus had said anything to that effect. In fact, he had said he would let her go… but there was no way that could happen, right?
"You can stop pretending to be asleep." Snape's voice. "This should be your last bandage change."
Cordelia opened her eyes. "How could you tell I wasn't asleep?"
"Your breathing is different when you sleep."
"Creepy, Snape."
Snape rolled his eyes. "As your caretaker, it's my responsibility to be monitoring you."
"What joy that must bring you."
"Clearly."
He walked closer to her and pulled back the sheet. Cordelia grimaced as he beheld her bare torso, but his gaze was perfunctory. Clinical. Detached.
A good thing overall.
He removed the bandage, and Cordelia winced as the tape pulled against her sensitive new skin. The wound was closed over now, though it had left a nasty scar behind. Her skin was sticky with some kind of ointment.
"You're in luck. One more application, and then you should be ready to walk."
Cordelia's legs shook at the very thought; she had not been able to support her own weight in almost two weeks.
"I will help you," he said when she remained quiet.
"I don't want your help."
"And yet, clearly my help is needed."
He pulled out the now-familiar jar of ointment and began to apply it. It tingled against her skin, making her squirm, but he paid her no mind. Once he was done, he conjured clean bandages and applied them, taping them gently but firmly to her side.
"We'll give it about twenty minutes— long enough for it start to take effect— and then it's time to get up."
Twenty minutes? He expected her to walk in twenty minutes?
"Snape, I don't think—"
"Be quiet."
Cordelia huffed, but Snape wasn't interested in hearing her complaints. He sat down in a chair near the edge of the bed, pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophetand disappeared behind it.
Twenty minutes. She was going to have to try to walk in twenty minutes. Her muscles felt like they would turn to jelly if she tried to stand up now.
"It's in your head," Snape said from behind the paper. "The magic has done its work. You're just afraid because you've tried to walk before, and fallen."
"How do you know that?" Cordelia asked sharply, turning her head to look toward him.
"The Dark Lord isn't the only Legilimens in this house," he said, still hidden behind the paper.
Memories of Kathleen and John attempting to help her walk, of the agony she had masked so as not to alarm them, the stumble she had taken on the stairs leading up to the cabin… Her lip curled in disgust at the thought of Snape watching it, intruding on her private, vulnerable moments with her family.
"I hate you," she said. "I've always hated you."
"I'm well aware."
She stared at him, debating about ripping the paper out of his hands, anything to make him feel a fraction of the anger she did, when a familiar name caught her eye.
Theodore "Ted" Tonks
She knew that name. But where did she know it from? She frowned, skimming the rest of the front page.
MUGGLE-BORNS WANTED FOR QUESTIONINGread the title of the article. The list, she realized, was a list of Muggle-borns who had not reported to the Ministry for registration as the new laws had demanded. It listed their names, their pictures, and even their addresses for some reason.
Theodore "Ted" Tonks
65 West Street
WEST LONDON
Ted Tonks. Where did she know that name from? She closed her eyes, willing herself to remember if she had gone to school with anyone named Tonks.
Her old housemate Regulus Black's casually handsome face filled her mind, and her eyes widened in realization. She hadn't gone to school with anyone named Tonks, but she had heard everyone talking about him because Andromeda Black, Regulus's cousin, had run away from her family in order to marry a Muggle-born. She had been disowned, and the source of an incredible amount of gossip. Regulus had been angry and embarrassed about it in school, and had scolded anyone for even mentioning the names Andromeda or Tonks.
She and Andromeda Black— Andromeda Tonks, she supposed— weren't so radically different. Cordelia had been a bit younger when she had run, and she hadn't been running toanyone in particular, but they had both grown up in blood supremacist families and become disillusioned with the order of things. They had both found love in men their families would kill before they would accept.
The Dark Lord had asked her, the first day she was here, if she prayed. She didn't, but she closed her eyes and momentarily wished for Ted Tonks's safety, wherever he might be.
Soon enough, Snape closed the newspaper and Vanished it.
"Alright, your time is up. Sit up."
She groaned as she tried to push herself into a seated position. "I can't."
"Yes you can. Try."
"I am trying!"
He leaned over her, suddenly angry. "No you aren't. You're lying here feeling sorry for yourself. Tell me, is that what you did when you were at home, terrified of Daddy's shadow? Lie there and feel sorry for yourself?"
"Fuck you," she snarled. "You have no idea what my life was like."
His lip curled in disdain. "I don't need to. I'm watching the consequences of it right here in front of me. Are you too scared now to fight, Delia?"
Cordelia sat up so quickly she almost knocked heads with him. She winced, her muscles tight and fatigued, but she was able to sit up. Snape had the audacity to smile at her.
"Or maybe you still have a little fight left in you. Now— swing your legs over the side."
She looked down at the tangled sheet, and with a muttered, "Evanesco," he Vanished it. Her jeans were ripped and bloody, but thankfully still intact. Her shoes had been removed at one point— where they were, she didn't know.
Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hands down into the mattress and swung first one leg, then the other, over the side of the bed. She took several deep breaths. He was right. It was unfamiliar, aching, shaky… but not painful. Not the agony she had experienced the last time she had sat upright.
He extended his arms toward her, and she recoiled.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said with another roll of his eyes. "You don't want to fall, do you?"
"No," she said with a grimace.
"Then brace your weight against my arms when you stand up. I won't drop you."
She looked up at him, into his dark eyes, and found no malice there. Irritation, yes. Impatience, yes. But not malice. She knew what malice looked like, and it was absent in Severus Snape, at least for the moment.
She gripped his forearms, fighting off embarrassment, and, after taking a deep breath, forced herself forward, forced herself to stand. She wobbled, but Snape held her firm, not letting her fall.
This was much, much harder than sitting up.
"I don't think I can do this," she said in a shaky voice.
"Pretend it's your daughter on the other side of this room, and you have to walk to her. No matter your pain, no matter your fear, no matter your weakness— you have to walk to her."
Kathleen. She had to walk to Kathleen. She pictured her laughing, smiling face, and she gripped Snape's arms tighter. Kathleen needed her. Kathleen was waiting for her.
"Okay," she said through gritted teeth.
Snape took a step backward, and Delia took a step forward, shaky as it was, and they paused, to let her get her bearings.
They did that many, many times over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so. Snape never dropped her, never begrudged her a moment of fear or weakness; he was as solid as the floor beneath her, making sure she didn't fall. As she walked, she got stronger, and the fear faded away. She wouldn't be running any time soon, but she could walk.
"Are you ready to let go?" Snape asked, and Delia nodded. Slowly, so slowly, she let go of his arms, her hands shaking from the intensity of her grip, and Snape took a step to the side, making room for her to walk forward. She extended her hands out slightly, just in case she fell, but she took a step, and then another, and then another. She could walk.
She couldn't help it— she started laughing. "I've spent the last two weeks absolutely sure that I was on Death's door. And now I'm walking."
"Very impressive," Snape said drily, though there wasn't any real bite in it. "As I told you— the magic has done its work. You should leave that bandage on for a few hours, probably until sundown, but after that, you shouldn't need to treat it with anything else. You'll have a nasty scar to remember your dear father by, but otherwise you should be just as you were before, once you build up your strength again."
Cordelia held her breath. "You say that like you won't be removing the bandage in a few hours."
"I won't be. I will be back at Hogwarts, attending to my duties there."
"So… who will be taking care of me?"
"You can walk. What more do you want? Surely you can figure out how to take off a bandage by yourself— even the Muggle world uses bandages, and, contrary to your brother's fears, you haven't lost your mind. Take care of it yourself."
Her throat was dry. "Does that mean—"
"The Dark Lord confirmed it this morning. Once I got you walking, you were free to go."
Free to go. Free to go find Kathleen and John. Free from her father's reach.
"You're lying."
"Certainly not. Your shoes—" He waved his wand and her shoes came flying out from under the bed. "— are here, and I have your wand. I will Apparate with you wherever it is you'd like to go, give you your wand, and then we'll go our separate ways."
"You aren't going to… wipe my memory or…"
"What would I need to wipe your memory for?"
"… this is the Dark Lord's headquarters."
"And what have you learned about it, in your stay here?"
She grimaced. Not much. It was on a hill, near a village, had a ballroom, had two stories… Almost nothing.
"I thought as much. Besides, you're no Order hero— you're going to run right back to your family and hide away like rats, hoping the Dark Lord forgets about your existence. What risk are you, really?"
"None," she breathed, hardly daring to hope, hardly daring to believe it. This would be such a cruel trick if he was misleading her, and it would be just like Eamon to put him up to this—
"Eamon and I are not as close as we once were. I'm telling you the truth."
"Stay out of my head."
He smirked at her, but said nothing further.
Hesitantly, she sat down on the edge of the bed and began putting her shoes on. She wouldn't trust it, not really, not until she was well away from this place and well away from Snape.
"Does my father know that I'm leaving?" she asked, afraid of the answer. "Or Eamon."
"I am unaware. I haven't been advised to keep it a secret, but they haven't asked, and I haven't volunteered the information."
If they didn't know… well, the cabin would no longer be safe, now that Eamon knew where it was, but maybe they could find somewhere else to hide.
"How did they find me?"
"I am unaware."
"You're unaware of a lot of things, apparently," she said before she could think better of it.
"A good Death Eater knows to mind their own business. And my business here is nearly concluded— hurry up."
She finished putting on her shoes, mind racing as she tried to think of places to take John and Kathleen once she found them, and stood again on wobbly legs. Snape was no longer interested in helping her walk; he immediately went to the door and stepped out into the hall.
She followed after him, sure that at any moment her hope of escape would be ripped away from her. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, with a series of closed doors on either side, but she and Snape were its only occupants at the moment.
He walked down the hall, toward the edge of a stairway, and Cordelia followed, biting her lip. If she didn't know how Eamon found her, it would be very hard to plan a safe place to hide. He had threatened to find Kathleen if she didn't behave… how had he said it?
Don't speak until you're spoken to, if you value your life, or Kathleen's. She's not a target, but I could find her the same way I found you— we're related by blood, after all.
Related by blood… Cordelia didn't know anything about blood magic, but that seemed like an impossible thing to guard against. She couldn't just change her blood, though she had wished to, many times. How could she hide away from something like that?
They descended the stairs, which took Cordelia much more time than it would have before the attack, but Snape seemed patient enough as she took the steps one at a time, holding onto the railing for dear life. Once they descended to the first floor, he turned to face her.
"Where will I be taking you?"
"You don't have to go with me. Just give me my wand and I'll walk out the door."
His lip curled. "My orders are to go with you to your destination. If you won't give me one, then I suppose you'd rather just stay here."
"Take me back where you found me," she said quickly, afraid of losing her chance. "Back where Eamon found me."
She felt his presence in her mind as he pulled up her memories of the cabin, her memories of John describing the forest he had grown up camping in with his family.
"Fine. Here." He held out a black strip of cloth.
"What's that?"
"A blindfold."
"I'm not wearing that."
"Then you're not leaving."
"I thought you said I didn't know enough for my memory to be worth wiping."
"You don't, and the blindfold makes sure of it. Believe me, this is much less invasive than a Memory Charm, which is your other option. Put it on."
Cordelia grimaced but took it from him. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't like she was ever coming back to this wretched place, and she didn't know anything about the Order of the Phoenix. She wasn't exactly an informant.
She tied the strip of cloth over her eyes, and took a sharp intake of breath at how thoroughly it obscured her vision. She couldn't see at all. Was it magical? It didn't look like it should be able to cover this much—
Snape gently but firmly grabbed her upper arm. "Follow me."
She did, sensing rather than seeing that they were headed for the front door. In a matter of a few steps, she felt sunlight on her face— they had made it outside.
"Grab onto my arm and think of our destination."
The cabin. She was going to the cabin, to look for John and Kathleen, and then… well, she didn't know where she was going then, but Snape didn't need to know that.
She grabbed onto his arm, focusing her intention, and let him pull her along for Sidealong Apparition. Her scar pinched as she felt herself be compressed through space, but it was mild— barely a tickle compared to what it had been before. Just when she thought she wouldn't be able to hold her breath any longer, they landed. Their sudden appearance startled some birds, who she heard squawk and take flight from a nearby tree.
"You built this place yourself?"
"Yes. With my husband."
"Very impressive." For once, he didn't sound mocking. She felt his hand on the back of her head as he undid the blindfold, and then the world came swimming into view.
The cabin was here, though it wasn't under any protective enchantments, and she saw no immediate signs of life inside. Was it possible that John and Kathleen had not returned?
She had to look for them. Immediately.
"Give me my wand, Snape."
"Certainly." He extended it to her, and she grabbed it, but before he let go, he said, "This forest is incredibly isolated— it was a miracle that Eamon found you at all, however he did it. Very dangerous for you out here. Rats sometimes hide best in plain sight, don't you think?"
Before Cordelia could open her mouth to ask what he meant, he let go of her wand and immediately Disapparated.
Cordelia huffed, shaking her head, and resolved to put Snape out of her mind as she hurried toward the cabin. She couldn't worry about him now. She had to look for Kathleen and John.
The more she walked, the more confident her legs grew. Snape had been right— the magic had done its work. She just needed to trust it.
She bounded up the stairs, pushing away her memory of falling, and threw the cabin door open, wand gripped tightly in her hand.
As she suspected, the cabin was empty. Oddly, though, it almost looked like it had been raided— a significant amount of their food stores were gone, way more than Kathleen and John could have gone through in a week. Could the Death Eaters have taken food before they left? Maybe as payment, if they thought Eamon wouldn't give them the gold he promised them?
That would be a big problem. How on earth were they going to get more food? And really… if John and Kathleen hadn't come back here, they were probably lost in the forest… Kathleen couldn't Apparate, and they were far far away from the Muggle roads…
She bit her lip, worry gnawing at her stomach, and moved to sit down on the sofa. What was she going to do? Where was she going to go? How could she find her family if they were lost in the middle of a forest?
She would have to look for clues. The missing food stores meant something, though she wasn't sure what. Maybe there were other signs too.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up again and started to look around. Soon enough, the notepad that she had enchanted as a Portkey to this place caught her eye.
The notepad had Kathleen's handwriting on it! Cordelia rushed over and seized the notepad, skimming the words.
We were two ships passing in the night, 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.
Cordelia frowned. Kathleen had left her some kind of riddle. Maybe a coded message? She read it over again, mouthing the words, running her fingers over where her daughter's had been.
Two ships passing in the night. That was how she had described meeting Remus, so long ago. Could Kathleen have gone to Remus for help somehow? She couldn't see how that would have been possible… But the fact that this note was here at all meant that Kathleen had come back to the cabin after the Death Eaters had left. Maybe she had been able to send a message somehow? Cordelia didn't see how, but maybe she would have to trust in Kathleen's words even if she didn't have all the information.
But how was she going to find Remus? She had no idea where he lived. Frowning, she read the note once more.
"In order to find my missed opportunity, I had to look one galaxy over," she murmured, running her fingers over the words once again. "One galaxy over… that's the Andromeda galaxy… Andromeda! Andromeda Tonks!"
What were the odds? Remus was two years older than her… he might have been in school at the same time Andromeda was. She didn't know if Andromeda was a member of the Order, but she certainly had to be sympathetic to the cause if she had married a Muggle-born and disowned her Sacred 28 family.
How lucky that Snape had chosen to read the Daily Prophetin the room with her this morning. Her eyes narrowed. Could this be an elaborate trap somehow? But why? She had already been at the Dark Lord's mercy… Healing her, setting her free, and then capturing her all over again seemed like a massive waste of time and resources. Could it really just be coincidence?
She took a deep breath. She had to find her family. What she was going to do afterward, she didn't know, but she was apparently missing some information. Perhaps it would be best to Apparate to the Tonks' home and just see what the situation looked like. At the first sign of trouble, she would Disapparate— no dueling in her future, that was for sure. She had had enough of dueling for the time being, unless she absolutely had to.
She closed her eyes, visualizing the Daily Prophetand Ted Tonks' West London address before spinning on her heel and Disapparating.
It hurt less when she did it by herself, for whatever reason— maybe because she was controlling the pacing. She landed across the street from an unassuming suburban house, panting. She held her wand tightly, looking around for any signs of trouble. The street was quiet— no one outside. Things seemed, from all outward appearances, perfectly normal.
"Okay, just leave at the first sign of trouble," she whispered to herself, fighting her fear, Snape's cruel words echoing in her mind. She would show him. She wasn't a scared little girl any longer.
Wand in hand, she quickly crossed the street and walked up to the house's front door. She felt the waver of magic in the air as she stepped across the porch threshold, though nothing happened. She paused, waiting for something, and when things still remained neutral, she knocked on the door.
A woman with very dark hair answered the door.
"Hello. My name is Cordelia Barrows—"
"Delia!"
Her words were cut off as John pushed past the unknown woman and crushed Cordelia in one of the tightest hugs she had ever received. She gasped in equal parts shock and delight as she took in John's familiar scent, felt his warmth envelope her as he held her tightly, and she threw her arms around him.
"We're so glad you found us," the woman said. "Come inside now, quickly."
John let go of her and she followed him inside, her mind reeling. She couldn't stop smiling. John was here, he was safe, she had found him…
"Where's Kathleen?" she asked, turning to John.
John put a hand behind his head. "Well, she was here until a couple of days ago. It's a long story, which I can tell you in a minute, but the short answer is… she's with Harry Potter."
"What?"
"She said to tell you that she's her mother's daughter, and that she's going to fight back to save the world."
"Her… her mother's daughter…"
"She said you took a leap of faith when you were her age, because you knew it was the right thing to do, and even though you were scared and didn't know what you were doing, you did it anyway. And that she had to do the same thing."
John smiled at her, a sad and soft smile that he had often worn in the early days of their relationship.
"She's going to be in so much danger…" Cordelia whispered.
"I know. But she's just like you, Delia— once she gets her mind set on something…"
Cordelia took a deep breath. "Alright. Alright. Apparently we're joining the Order of the Phoenix. And I was just in You-Know-Who's headquarters for a week. Who can I give my information to?"
Remus Lupin peeked his head around the corner at that point, his eyes wide. "Hello Delia."
"Remus!"
Cordelia ran to him, embracing her oldest friend, and, overwhelmed, started crying.