AN: Hey, Derisive here. I told you this one would pick up! So this chapter gets a little graphic. Major character death, some blood and gore. No active violence, but some accounts of it. Read with discretion. As always, reviews are gold 3

...

July 28, 1997

So far, Tom Riddle had been radio silent. There had been no Death Eater action aside from the usual killings since the death of Albus Dumbledore. That was the first red flag.

The second red flag was the fact that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had closed early the night before. Now Andrael had worked with the twins twice during her time in Hogwarts, which had been absolutely devious nights, resulting in epic conclusions. And she knew how they thought.

The Weasley twins would absolutely never close their shop without warning; they believed too much in the twin honours of pranking and economics. And so it was on that disgustingly hot morning that Andrael found herself paying a visit to the enormous store across the way.

She ducked in the red door, weaving through the people scattered around displays. Andrael loosely clutched an order form by her side, containing a few items that Mr. Ungaku wanted to experiment with. Of course she had added on a few other "necessities" that she wanted to have handy. A few galleons were tucked in her pocket to cover the difference.

Meandering through the chaotic aisles, she blended into the crowd, steering herself towards the back of the store. It was only when Andrael was near the weather products in the back of the store that she came to the conclusion that walking into the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes backroom unannounced was not her best idea. She flagged down a worker, and showed the girl her business order form. The worker smiled at her, and gestured to the locked door Andrael had been looking at.

"The twins are back here," the girl said brightly. "They can help you with bulk items. What's your employer's name and your business's address?" Andrael gave them to her. "Wonderful! Right this way."

A simple spell from the girl's wand (27 cm, Dragon Heartstring, Maplewood) unlocked and opened the door to the back room, where she could see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hunched over a workbench. They straightened up immediately, rolling up the blueprint they were working on.

"Alina, yes?" It was Lee who had spoken, his hand resting protectively on a pile of spreadsheets. Some things never changed.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I have someone here with a business order to be filled." The girl smiled again. She was way too positive a person for Andrael's liking.

"Right, thank you." It was one of the twins, Andrael would guess Fred, who straightened up a smile on his face. The girl closed the door, retreating back into the bustling shop. Andrael stepped out of the shadow cast by the door frame, a smirk on her face.

"Well hello, you lot. How's business?"

The reaction was immediate. Three polite smiles became genuine in the blink of an eye, as the executives of the business realised they were in for an interesting day. Andrael was tackled in an unexpected hug by the twins, causing the order form to flutter out of her hand.

"Oye, Cassowary!"

"Look who finally showed up!"

"How ya doing?"

Their good mood was infectious, and Andrael found herself able to banish the unease she had felt. She surveyed her surroundings; a high-ceilinged warehouse room was stacked with shelves and boxes as far as the eye could see. Blueprints and sketches were hung between the bright coloured posters that papered the walls in the immediate area. The boys had set up a few blackboards full of arithmancy equations to cordon off the immediate areas they were using a workshop.

The twins all but dragged Andrael into the only bit of empty space they had left, and sat her down in of the half dozen office chairs they had scattered around the workbench. A few spells later, and the area looked like a half-decent conference room.

"Now, what can we do for you ma'am?" Fred said with a mock bow.

"Because you look like you may be on another… 'mission.'" George raised an eyebrow at her pointedly.

"Now don't you three go knocking my 'missions.' I do believe you remember what happened last time we collaborated?" There was laughter from her companions. "I do seriously have an order to fill, but I was hoping to… chat a little."

Lee snatched her list from off the floor. "It does seem legit, but I'm not so sure what Akira Ungaku wants with a Portable Swamp. Or dungbombs for that matter. Or Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, or Weather in a Bottles, or extendable ears-"

"Actually he does need those ears. Some experiment on sound that he was hoping to try… I think Ungaku was secretly hoping for a joint-patent on something new…" She dismissed the concerns. "Is it a crime for me to want a little bit of insurance?"

"Of course not." Lee sighed. "What with the state of the castle… But then again, you were there. You know how it is. I forget that you're only Ron's age sometimes."

Andrael ignored Lee's comment about her age. "The serpents' nest is of course… hell right now. I suppose it's only a matter of time before I too am made an offer that I can't refuse. But enough about the sad bits. Your business looks to be doing amazing!"

In the background, various objects were zooming off shelves, diving into a box stamped with three Ws. Andrael could see dungbombs flitting around gracefully, a term she would never have associated with the product before that minute. Lee had set some enchantment to work to collect her order while they spoke.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is doing great. Over five hundred Hogwarts students served, and one fat pink toad out of our school."

"Intelligent staff, amazing products-"

"Great location, insane amounts of customers-"

"Couldn't ask for anything more, honestly. Allows us to focus on… other priorities."

"And would those other priorities happen to include… Order business?" That was the opening that she had been waiting for. Andrael scrutinised the twins, looking to pick up any stray bit of information.

The two of them glanced at each other, falling uncharacteristically silent. They appeared to be having a conversation in a single glance. Andrael had only seen their "twin-tuition" a few times before, and knew that it usually accompanied a big decision they needed to make. She felt her stomach clench as the worry returned in full form. Why hadn't the Dark Lord acted yet?

"And did it have anything to do with the store's closing last night?" Andrael added the final piece of information to complete the puzzle.

Lee turned away, perhaps used to the anomalies that were Fred and George, busying himself with the top spreadsheet on his stack. The twins turned back to her, having made a decision.

"Well Cassowary, you didn't hear it from us."

"Yep, absolutely nothing leaves this reasonably cluttered room."

Andrael nodded, making eye contact with the Weasleys.

"We are indeed anti-Death Munchers."

"Would do anything in our power to stop them."

"But, we are rather recognizable members of society. Everything we do must be undercover in the shadows."

"We've gotten good at covering our tracks. Leaving no trace, that sort of thing. So our contributions to organised resistance are rather limited."

"And last night?" Andrael prompted.

"Er, just moving a package."

"We were in disguise, of course."

"And did you encounter any Death Eater activity while you were 'moving this package' along?" Andrael whispered.

"A bit of a chase. But we all managed to escape alright."

"It was weird… almost like their hearts weren't in it…" Fred trailed off, looking at the concern in Andrael's face. She had surmised that the 'package' was Harry Potter. Her extensive sneaking about had paid off, as she knew that the boy was to turn seventeen in a few days. No doubt Dumbledore had blood wards that would protect him.

"If something seems too easy, it likely is." Andrael brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, thinking.

"There she goes again." Lee glanced at the other two, rolling his eyes. "Stupid Slytherin paranoia. Watch, now she'll start her scheming."

"If I remember correctly, it was my Slytherin scheming that saved us last time." She shot him a pointed glance, but her mind was preoccupied. "My paranoia was the only thing that kept the four of you out of detention for two months."

Fred scoffed. "Aw, give us some more credit! Vee would have thought of something in time…"

"Virginia!" George laughed, which set the other two off. "God, I wonder where she is… You know, Charlie said she left Romania. Something to do with the two of them busting a smuggler. He was kind of tight-lipped about the whole thing."

"She's not in Romania? But her dream! Virginia without dragons is like you three without this shop." Virginia, or Vee, had been the fourth member of the Weasley twins' gang. She had also had an instrumental part to play both times that Andrael had worked with them. The thing about Virginia was that she thought quickly on her feet; her interference had stopped many a Weasley scheme from going south. The fact that she had worn the blue tie of a Ravenclaw meant nothing to the twins, even using it to their advantage multiple times.

"Nah. Charlie said she's off in the Middle East. Reckons she's gone to work at the preserve in Baghdad. Someone with her knowledge could be an executive for one of the exhibits there."

Andrael imagined Virginia caring for a horde of dragons, flying through the night sky. She would be running that place within a year, her expertise and charm winning both humans and dragons to her side.

"But it's bloody dangerous out there. Nearly a death sentence for any worker who isn't paid off. The four governments that share the preserved land pay out thousands of galleons a year to replace smuggled and killed dragons while they and the workers look the other way."

"It's an entire black market out there. Dragon scales, blood, claws, hide. All of it fetches a pretty price in the right circles."

"And we all know Vee and her bloody morals would never accept money from some dealer."

Lee sighed, and they fell into reminiscing.

"You know, it was she who discovered how to get into the kitchens."

"How to trick the Bloody Baron…"

"That Langlock curse from Lupin."

"The secret to the passage with the columns on the sixth floor balcony!"

"The fact that old Sprout is afraid of snakes!"

"The loose floorboard in our own broomshed!"

"It's unfortunate that that particular secret fell into the hands of Ronniekins and his friends…"

"We haven't heard from her in months." Fred finally said sadly.

George nodded. "Absolutely nothing."

This was bothering them more than they were willing to admit. Andrael could see concern etched into their faces as they discussed the matter.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything further from her. A letter, a floo call, a telegram, whatever."

"What's a telegram?" George looked at her curiously.

Lee shook his head frantically, warning her not to engage. "Well…" She stretched the word, enjoying their reactions.

It was a few hours later when Andrael rose with a smile. The conversation had touched on everything from Hogwarts, to politics, to philosophy, and back again. To her delight, she had even been allowed to take a peek at some of their more recent designs for the shop.

Fred and George seemed to lock themselves in this backroom like mad scientists, inventing all sorts of crazy ideas. Lee had taken to economics like a fish to water, and marketed their creations profitably. They also had some sort of stock and funding agreement with the goblins that Andrael only partially understood, but she had seen enough spreadsheets to verify the intelligence of the decision.

The three pranksters stood as well. All of them towered over her small frame, and she found herself having to look up at them. "Thanks for seeing me. Best of luck in everything."

Lee passed her the now full box containing her order, and she handed him the coins to pay in return. He opened the door leading back into the store, holding it for her.

"Cassowary, you're right across the Alley. Don't be a stranger." Fred and George nodded, flashing a pair of huge grins in her direction.

She made a non-committal noise, and found herself back in the chaotic bustle of the main store. If anything, it had gotten more crowded as the day went on.

The words echoed in her mind.

"Don't be a stranger."

Andrael was not sure she would be able to live up to that.

What will they think once you take the mark? Are you really willing to lose all your friends to go kill mudbloods in the name of a terrorist? The moral part of Andrael's brain whispered again.

We need to do this, Rational stated. More people will die if we don't.

Besides, Slytherin hissed. We're intelligent enough to figure something out. Maybe we can find a way around all this 'killing mudbloods' bit.

Listen to yourselves! This is the worst idea we've ever had! Morality was desperately trying to get through to the other parts of Andrael's brain. We can't kill and torture people for the greater good! Who do we think we are, Grindelwald?

SHUT UP, MORALITY! Slytherin and Rational shouted.

Andrael could feel a headache coming on. She desperately wished for a sign, something to tell her what to do. All the back and forth, all the debating. It was making her exhausted. And still, the seed of worry that had only grown with Fred and George's account made her stomach churn.

Give me a sign.

Andrael closed her eyes, now standing on Ungaku's porch, the place that her feet had carried her to. She looked up, her face catching the rays of the noontime sun. The sky was a beautiful azure, an impossibly beautiful colour, a stark contrast to the usual dismal grey of London.

Give me a sign.

And then the Alley burst into colour and motion, as a thousand owls burst from the clouds, all of them with letters hastily tied to their talons. A rainbow of feathers blew everywhere in the wind, surrounding Andrael in a colourful swirl.

Give me a sign.

The patrons of the alley screamed as the owls surrounded them, each trying to find an owner. Andrael's feet once again had a mind of their own, and she walked onto the flagstones in the middle of the street. She was still looking up, and the sky seemed to have darkened by the incoming avian storm. Squinting up at the letters they were carrying, Andrael tried to make out what important missive they were bringing to the people on the street.

Give me a sign.

A short-eared owl spiralled down towards her, picking her out of the crowd. Perching on the porch railing in front of her, Andrael could tell the owl held copies of the Daily Prophet. But there had already been an edition the previous morning…

Give me a sign.

The papers were stamped with red ink, spelling out the words Free Special Edition. Andrael took two copies, one for her, and one for Ungaku. The owl soared off, undoubtedly looking for the paper's next recipient. Andrael smoothed the crease out of the paper and began to read.

Give me a sign.

...

Harry Potter - Dead?

By M. Carneirus

The Boy-Who Lived is indeed dead. He fell in the early hours of the morning while visiting the home of the Weasley family, more commonly known as the Burrow, at the hands of the Dark Lord Voldemort. This is a national tragedy that cannot be ignored.

Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt had been tasked with assisting the family in their protection of Harry Potter as part of the first in a series of Ministry-sanctioned protective measures, but when he got to the scene, the Burrow had already been reduced to embers.

"It was an absolutely disgusting sight," Shacklebolt whispers, eyes haunted. "I may be a trained auror, but never in my life have I wanted to be a pastry chef more. The things that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers did to them…" Auror Shacklebolt trails off.

After some prompting and a glass of water, he was able to tell us what he saw. A warning to more sensitive readers, this is not a pretty sight. "For starters, there had been fire everywhere. The first thing I saw from a distance, I was of course standing in the town of Ottery St Catchpole, was a huge, billowing cloud of smoke. It obscured the sky, and at first I didn't see the Dark Mark. I climbed the hill urgently, a terrible feeling in my gut. It wasn't long before I could smell the burning wood, like a twisted campfire. The house was reduced to embers, the cornfield bordering their property was torched beyond recognition. And the flames were still burning strong when I arrived. They reached a quarter-mile high.

"I immediately called for back-up using my patronus, and desperately tried to fight the blaze. My auror team and I finally managed to put out the fire after a long ten minutes. We combed the area for survivors, desperately trying to contact them by having our patronuses search for them. Eventually we realised there were none.

"Clambering over through the wreckage, we stumbled over the broken beams of the house. It wasn't long before we found the first victims. The bones of patriarch Arthur, his wife Molly, eldest son William, and fiancee Fleur Delacour, were found on the first floor near the door. The cause of death is incineration while trying to escape. There was no doubt that this was Fiendfyre that faded to normal flames when the Dark Lord left; it was too controlled and efficient.

"Ginevra Weasley was found crumpled in the broom shed, the victim of the Avada Kedavra. The shed was somehow spared from the fire, and an identification on this body was easier. Magical dating may confirm the theory that Miss Weasley was the first to die. She would have started her sixth year at Hogwarts this September.

"Ronald Weasley and their friend Hermione Granger were also killed with Avada Kedavra. Scorch and blast marks from a pair of spells indicate that they each may have had one chance to react before they were killed. Their bodies were surrounded with a wall of fire, which seems to be the origin of the terrible blaze.

"Harry Potter's body was found last, in a ditch next to the broomshed. His head, on the other hand, had been removed and jammed atop a stake in the ground. Slurs and other Death Eater Propaganda were scorched into the earth surrounding the pike. The Dark Mark floated above the entire scene."

Who will defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now that the Chosen One is dead? Is this country to suffer indefinitely at the hands of a power-hungry Dark Lord?

It was here that the normally stoic Auror Shacklebolt broke down into tears, and was taken to join the rest of his unit at Saint Mungos for trauma relief. But before he left, he uttered a few final words.

"People of Magical Britain, we must fight in every capacity that we can. It doesn't matter who you are, or what you can do. We cannot let this be the new reality of our world. We cannot let them win. For the Weasleys, for Miss Granger, for everyone the Dark Lord ever killed. Harry Potter must not have died in vain. We are the Chosen Ones. We must make the difference."

...

Andrael's hands were shaking; flipping the paper over, she could see there was no more to the article, there was still a Sudoku on the other side. Insensitive Prophet publishers.

Shrieks and sobs came from the people around her as they all realised what they had read. Andrael sprinted into Magical Music: Custom Instrument Repair and Creation.

The shop was still neat and orderly, unlike the world outside. Andrael found herself noticing the strangest things; the pattern of sunlight and shadow on the wooden floor, the grain of the wood on the counter, the way the bells on the door seemed to create a minor chord.

"Mr. Ungaku!" She burst into the back room, pale and shaking. He looked up at her, startled.

"Andry. What is all that noise out there?" By way of answering, she thrust the crumpled newspaper into his hands. She watched the man's face slowly fall as he read the words.

"Well." There was silence in the shop, the sadness of the people outside echoing through the streets. She predicted that in an hour, they would be deserted.

"Well." He said again. "I suppose I'll replace the glass in the windows with something more durably charmed. The display cases will need to be locked as well. And we'll need to ward the porch from those who wish us ill intent-"

"How can you sit there and rattle off a list of things to do at a time like this?" Andrael could not fathom the calmness of Akira Ungaku at this moment. Even though she had accused him of being too emotional often enough (his response was always "Andry, music is emotion!"), it was her now that was falling to pieces.

"Andry, Andry, Andry." He looked at her with a mixture of pride and sadness. "The world is never fair. There is nothing anyone can do to bring the Boy-Who-Lived back to life. You know this."

She was still for a moment, absorbing his words. But then the spell was broken, and she felt nothing but suffocating chaos.

"I- I need to go."

Andrael ran out of the shop, deaf to Mr. Ungaku urgently calling after her. She wove through the masses of people crowding the streets. Andrael had no idea where she was going, only that it was somewhere to get away from it all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred and George in the window of their shop standing with Lee Jordan. They were staring ashen-faced off into space, looking absolutely destroyed. This only made Andrael run faster, gasping for breath.

The crowds began to thin, and she slowed to a jog. After what felt like hours at this pace, but in reality was probably only twenty minutes, she saw the far end of the alley. Here the street branched off into Knockturn Alley, Horizant Alley, and Carkitt Market. Magical Music was, of course, located on the London-side of the greater promenade.

Get a grip, Slytherin whispered in her mind. You'd think no one had ever died before.

"But it's not fair..." Andrael whispered. "I saved his life the night Dumbledore died, he was supposed to live. He was supposed to do something about this mess."

But he was stupid. You said so yourself. Slytherin seemed honestly confused. Did you really think he would save the world?

It seems like you accepted what the populace said as your underlying belief, Rational whispered. Could that be true?

"I DON'T KNOW!" Her shout echoed off the already shuttered buildings around her. She petered to a stop, and then without warning, dropped to her knees, exhausted.

We need to do something. Rational's voice was gentle, but insistent. Sitting here on the flagstones of Diagon Alley isn't getting us anywhere. Let's make a new plan.

Sounds like a job for Speculative! Slytherin crowed. Whatchu got for us today?

Let's see…

Her hand slid into her pocket, tugging out the black journal that she had come to carry with her everywhere. She flipped through the pages until she got to the notes that she had written at the beginning of the summer.

Andrael closed her eyes, sorting through her thoughts and the words that she had written. When Dumbledore had died, a silver locket had fallen out of his pocket. That was the horcrux, and Harry Potter had possession of it last. But Harry was dead, and the horcrux had not been reported found.

Think, Andrael. Think. Rational whispered.

Yes, this was priority number one: keeping the cursed object safe. If the Dark Lord found it before Potter had been able to destroy it, the one advantage that Andrael had would evaporate.

So where could it be now? Had it melted in the fire? Stashed somewhere safe inside the Burrow, turned to liquid silver? No, a horcrux wasn't so easily destroyed. Andrael needed that locket, and she needed it fast. But where was it?

Unbidden, a few more words from her conversation with Lee, Fred and George drifted through her thoughts.

"The loose floorboard in our own broomshed!"

"It's unfortunate that that particular secret fell into the hands of Ronniekins and his friends…"

And then she remembered part of the article in the Prophet. Kingsley Shacklebolt's testimony was a secret gold mine of useful information.

"'Ginevra Weasley was found crumpled in the broom shed, the victim of the Avada Kedavra. The shed was somehow spared from the fire, and an identification on this body was easier.'"

Standing up with a start, she grabbed her journal, and apparated to the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. While Andrael's late birthday had prevented her from studying apparition with the rest of her class, she had taken the liberty of learning anyway. She was definitely determined and deliberate enough. And arriving precisely at her destination, she smiled nastily, despite the situation. Proving people wrong was always cause to celebrate.

She quickly took stock of her surroundings, gazing at the small buildings of the town with disdain. Black smoke still billowed from a hilltop, and Andrael set out towards it at a brisk pace. Her robes fluttered behind her limply, a combination of the summery heat and breeze.

As Andrael climbed the slope, she could feel the air growing thick with ash and dust. The bright green grass under her feet turned yellow, and then black, singed from the fire. She heard voices, and quickly cast a disillusionment charm as not to be seen. Her half-baked plan was already becoming complicated.

And then she had reached the top, and could see the ruins for herself. It was so much worse than Shacklebolt had reported. The ash and dust floated through the air like dandelion seeds.

Ministry employees were combing the ruins with various contraptions. Andrael could see the robes of the DMLE's Aurors and Department of Mysteries's Unspeakables. Creeping past them, she picked her way through the rubble and to the shed.

The house was in shambles, the cornfield was on fire. Andrael saw Potter's head mounted on its stake, and pointedly looked away. This of course caused her to look at the Fiendfyre that she knew circled Granger and Weasley's bodies. Serpents and dragons roared, never deviating from their circuit, the level of control impressive. The Dark Lord was extremely powerful; there was no doubting that.

She passed a burly Unspeakable in heavy robes and an obscuring mask on his face, who seemed to be taking part in a shouting match with a dark-haired female auror.

"I don't care what you think you've been told, Rookwood, we have jurisdiction here too!" She shouted at the Unspeakable angrily, hands on hips.

"But my team has priority! Your stupid crime-scene analysis pales in comparison to what we need to take into the DOM!" Rookwood said, angrily.

"Harry Potter is dead, and it's obvious to everyone here how he died. There is absolutely no research you need to conduct to tell you that! Stop telling us how to do our jobs!"

"Proudfoot, you annoying busybody, step aside from the rubble, our team needs the shed!"

"That's it, I'm calling a filibuster," Proudfoot shouted. "No one touches the shed until our department heads arrive."

Everyone in the vicinity froze. Rookwood was actively seething.

"I swear to Godric, Aster…" He ground his hands into fists, and turned away. The people slowly returned to motion, putting distance between the two ministry employees. The atmosphere became even more tense, if such a thing was possible.

But that was good news for Andrael, who took the opportunity to open the door, and close it behind her. The hinges were rusty, and a slight creak accompanied the movement. She paused, waiting to see if anyone had heard it. They hadn't. Proudfoot and Rookwood were at it again, and she could hear the echoes of their voices from inside the shed.

She surveyed her surroundings. It smelled like mildew. Cobwebs lined unstable wooden shelves, a variety of gardening tools hanging off of them. Andrael could see gears and cogs as well as bits of copper wiring overflowing from dozens of boxes, as well as the discarded bumper to a Ford Anglia. So this was where Mr. Weasley did his tinkering.

Andrael looked down, and Ginny's body was beneath her. She was turned on her side, lain on the ground, right where the Prophet had said it would be. So the idiots had reported something right. She swallowed. It was clearly the work of an Avada, as there were no other markings on the body. It was eerie. The girl looked as if she could be sleeping, hair the colour of fire cascading over her shoulders.

She nudged Ginny with her toe slightly. It was just her luck that the only available floor space was currently occupied. The girl's body barely moved. Throwing caution to the wind, Andrael bent down and grasped the girl's shoulders, hauling her unceremoniously to the side.

"Sorry, Ginny," She whispered quietly. "But I'd like to think that you would understand if you were still alive. Someone has to save this world."

She knelt on the dusty wooden planks, brushing aside the layer of soil that encrusted them. Andrael ran her hands across the uneven surface, gently pressing into the ground. She was looking for any oddity, any anomaly. More creaking accompanied this motion, and she hurried.

Andrael knew that her entire search was based on circumstantial evidence. She wasn't sure if she would even find anything under the shed, aside from perhaps a few abandoned dungbombs. And if she was caught at the crime scene, she would be detained and questioned at the very least. But she had to try to follow this lead, no matter how tenuous it seemed. The locket's safety, the horcrux's safety was paramount.

At first she searched the perimeter, avoiding the spot where Ginny had lay, but eventually it became obvious that the girl must have been covering the floorboard. Holding her breath, Andrael's hands quickly felt the planks where the body had been. One of them slid slightly to the left.

Capitalising on the movement, Andrael pried the loose plank from the floor. It wasn't extremely heavy, but the long, rectangular shape was cumbersome. She slid it behind herself as quietly as possible.

A shallow but dark hole was visible where the plank had been. Packed earth and cement foundation surrounded the opening. Peering into the depths yielded absolutely nothing. She could not chance lighting her wand within the dingy shed.

Andrael gingerly reached her hand into the depths. Her fingers brushed the sticky strands of more cobwebs, and she resisted the urge to yank her arm back out. She was elbow-deep into the hole when she felt the rough surface that made up the bottom.

She clutched at something silky, and closed her hand around a piece of cloth. Andrael lifted the folds of shimmering fabric out of the hole, feeling a heavy object previously folded within clatter to the bottom. An invisibility cloak. Still tucked inside its pocket was a familiar piece of parchment. The Marauder's Map. Diving back into the hole, she finally found what she was looking for: the horcrux.

After only a moment of hesitation, Andrael tucked all three objects inside her own robes. One final sweep of the space confirmed that nothing else was hidden under the shed. She quietly replaced the floorboard, and recast her disillusionment charm.

Lifting Ginny's body back to its original position, Andrael turned to leave. A second creak accompanied the opening of the door. Her heart was pounding so loudly, surely the entire hillside would find her! But no auror seemed to hear Andrael as she slipped out of the shed.

Rookwood and Proudfoot were still arguing, the fire was still burning. Her nose was immediately assaulted with charred wood once more. Avoiding the smoke, she carefully made her way down the hill. No one saw her; they were all still caught up in their own little world of horrors.

Arriving in the town of Ottery St Catchpole once more, she ducked behind one of the small shops. The streets were still empty. Apparating away with a loud crack, Andrael left the dismal town and the burning hill behind.

She was back in the Alley. The wind blew gently as she walked up the street to Magical Music, stepping onto the store porch. She opened the door, bells tinkling forlornly. Akira Ungaku looked up from the display case he was enchanting.

"Andry." The silence was deafening. "You are… back."

Andrael avoided his piercing gaze, the slightest bit of guilt rising in her chest. She knew that she should apologise to him for running off like she did, but the words were stuck in her throat.

"Mr. Ungaku, I-" She swallowed. "I'm-" She couldn't speak.

"I know," He said simply, understanding her meaning.

He paused, glancing back down at the locks at his fingertips.

"I worry when you do things like that."

Andrael nodded.

"Please do not do that again. Especially not with no warning."

She nodded again.

Mr. Ungaku crossed the room in seconds, and enveloped her in a massive bear hug. Andrael leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes. The weight of the locket was burning a hole in her pocket, but she ignored it. This was likely one of the last times that she would be able to be a child.

They broke apart, and locked eyes.

"Right. We still need to ward the porch and the windows." Ungaku said, returning to his usual self. He raised his wand, pointing at the upper pane of glass in the window nearest to him.

"I'll start on the porch right now," Andrael said quietly.