Chapter 31: A Funeral and an Army
The morning of Bill's funeral shone bright and clear, though the suns rays did little to warm the crisp chill to the air. Mr. Weasley and Charlie had been let out from the hospital a few days prior, and were standing to one side somewhat weakly with a distraught Molly. Fred and Angelina Johnson, stood to their right, along with George and Alicia Spinnet, Ginny, Ron and Lavender, and Percy, who had shown for the proceedings but had so far spoken very little. Members of the Order and close friends of the family stood toward the left.
Harry stood amongst them all holding tight to Hermione's hand as the priest conducting the proceedings in the field some ways behind the Burrow where Bill, Charlie, and Arthur had been found. The group surrounded a simple oak hewn casket in a tight circle.
The dark dress the crowd of wizards and witches wore as they listened to the priest give his eulogy proved sharp contrast to the snow lathering most of the ground. Patches of green peeked through the white, confirming spring had begun her thaw. Trees bowed and gleamed under melting blankets of frost and dripping curtains of icicles. Brilliant sunlight illuminated the ground making it sparkle as with a web of diamonds, but seemed to hold little shame over allowing its cheerful beams to spread inappropriately over the casket as well. It all seemed somehow unfit; as if even the weather should honour this day of mourning and come across properly black and dreary; perhaps with a drizzling freeze.
As Harry squinted his eyes at the gleaming casket and listened to the pastor sum up his speech, it occurred to him that it was possible for nature to be cruelly beautiful.
"…was a brave, responsible wizard, yet free in mind and soul. He was a member of an organisation whose sole purpose has been the defence of our world against all manner of evil, old and new. Before, having worked as a curse breaker for Gringotts bank in Egypt, he'd even devoted himself to sending his family a portion of his salary every month to help support them.
However, Bill's life cannot be summed by simple acknowledgements. Above all, he was the firstborn son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, the eldest sibling in a group of six brothers and one sister, and a beloved friend and colleague to many who stand here. In the end, Bill took upon himself a killing curse that in all likelihood may have been intended for his father, and selflessly gave his life for him. His sacrifice is as deeply etched into our hearts as it is now carved into his tombstone, and I believe this, above all, will tell the tale of Bill Weasley's life and character far longer than we who stand here today will ever live to speak of it."
The casket was lowered into the ground, and the tombstone set into place over the still open grave.
WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY
1972-1997
Beloved son, brother, and friend.
Killed in the line of duty defending his family.
He died as he lived: with honour.
Ginny held to Ron's arm, with Lavender holding the other. Fred and George stood near Charlie studying the ground with hands deep in their pockets, though Angelina and Alicia held to them for support. George draped an arm round Charlie's shoulder, and the others head drooped. He'd been closer to Bill than any of his brothers and sisters, since he had been closest in age.
Percy, managing to seem grieved and distant at the same time, stood to one side and slightly away from his family as if to reinforce his alienation from them. Arthur held Molly as she cried, but no one was fooled by his staunchness. Inside, he was dying as slow a death as she, and it would be a long time before he quit blaming himself for what he considered weakness in the face of danger.
Harry watched them all with an almost deadened expression. He had done his sorrow and almost memorised his self-blame so much so that now the odd feeling of it not being necessary anymore had grabbed hold of him, as if necessity ever brought grief on in the first place. It was as if the purpose of expressing it was to remind oneself of it, and he certainly had no need of that. His whole being was carved with it.
However, as Hermione wrapped her arms round his chest and glanced up at his stony face she knew better than to think Harry felt nothing. The truth was exactly opposite, in fact. Something else had begun to take hold in the couple of weeks before Bill's funeral… A something that had begun to make him rise mornings and take runs round the lake; to fight the sword with his father until his arms and legs felt like rubber and his shirt was soaked with sweat; to stay up until late hours of the night practising difficult pairspells with Hermione, and at least once a week, to stalk to the room of requirement where an assortment of weights and punching bags awaited his assault. That something was a boiling, rapidly compounding fury.
Voldemort's letters were being sent merely to taunt him, to keep him anxiously awaiting the next murder until he was utterly frantic and worn. After hours of lying awake at night cradling Hermione in his arms and pretending sleep, Harry had come to the conclusion Voldemort wanted him completely undone. So much the better for taking on one's enemy, to have him desperate; to have him broken before you.
Hermione wasn't sure when exactly he had come to his conclusions, but she was acutely aware of the change in him. He seemed almost dark with determination to be stronger, more powerful; to show Voldemort when time finally came that he had sorely underestimated him, and serious regret was at hand.
In a way it frightened her. For Harry to turn from being lost in sorrow, only to be lost in revenge was not her wish. However, she had always been aware the anger was there, just simmering below the surface. All she could do was be there to constantly remind him there was not just the fight, but what the fight was for, and to show him that living for the latter was endlessly better.
She gave him a quick squeeze and Harry's expression immediately softened. He wrapped his arms about her and planted a kiss on the top of her hair as the priest finished with tears in his eyes, but a warm smile on his face.
"Bill was a wizard full of life and laughter. He brought a joy to all those round him, and as he looks down on us today, I can only imagine he wants us thinking on him as having lived life happily and to the fullest, the way he ultimately did, and not filled with sadness."
The priest put one arm round Molly, and the other round Arthur. "He'll always be with you. He'll always be watching over you… know that."
Molly and Arthur nodded through their tears and thanked him.
After all was done the group moved back to the Burrow. Percy said a few sympathetic words to his family and briefly expressed his own grief before apparating back to the Ministry. Since becoming senior under-secretary to Minister Fudge, with Dolores Umbridge now taking the title of Deputy Prime Minister (much to the horror of many Ministry employees), it was as close and warm nowadays as he ever seemed to get. However, Charlie whispered to Fred and George that despite the fact Percy had not chosen to stay a bit after and visit, for their Mum and Dad's sakes he was at least glad he had shown for the funeral. It was more than they had expected.
Well-meaning friends and neighbours had given so much food that that afternoon, even the twins, Charlie, Ron and Harry couldn't make a sizeable dent in it, though they heartily tried. It was more for Molly's benefit than the fact they were hungry as keeping busy seemed to make her feel better, especially when she felt she was feeding the masses.
The day passed by with friends and close living relatives coming and going, and with an almost endless procession of post owls delivering cards and letters. By the time evening approached, Errol was so done in that he was seen lying on his side panting over his water dish while Ginny stroked his feathers.
Towards evening, when all visitors save Harry, Hermione, Angelina, Alicia, and Lavender had left, Fred and George gathered everyone round Arthur and Molly and were doing their best to lighten spirits by telling stories of life working Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It did Harry's heart good to see Arthur and Molly smile, and to hear the Burrow echo once again with a bit of laughter. Though when the twins began to get so excited they were hauling out trunks of new inventions much to Alicia and Angelina's exasperation, Molly quickly put a stop to it lest they let off some horrifying new firework or eat some sickness inducing candy.
However later, when Harry and Hermione finally made to leave by Portkey, Fred slipped Harry a handful of Snotflow Sours and whispered with a wink he had added enough dehydrated acridsap to turn any wizard's nose into a weeping faucet. For proof he pointed out Ron, who was currently shoving tissues up each nostril and shooting George murderous glances while Lavender soothed him and Ginny chuckled silently.
Hermione smiled at the twins antics, thinking to herself Fred and George were perhaps the best medicine for the Weasleys.
As for Harry, he had his first laugh of the day.
**************************************************************
Lucius Malfoy, apparated into the dark heart of the forest of Kavan with a loud *crack*, and took a moment to allow his vision to adjust to his now darker surroundings.
Massive dead trees bent and twisted their ways claw-like towards the grey-clouded moonlit sky. Snow still covered the ground in patches, but in places where the new green growth of an approaching spring might have peeked through, there was none; only the decaying of long dead vegetation.
Lucius observed it detachedly. Voldemort's presence always did seem to stunt new growth or life...
Here and there the melancholy whistling of cold wind lifted dampened leaves into an eerie circling dance, and made long dead branches creak and groan above him. The area was only partly illuminated, but with such a dim glow that it almost felt as if the moon itself was dispirited by what it beheld.
For anyone else the darkness, peculiar sounds, and obvious lack of life might have lent the place a frightful, ghostly feel, but Lucius welcomed it with a smile. These things meant Voldemort was near, and where the dark lord was power followed, however dark.
He pulled his black hooded cloak tighter about his frame as his eyes swept round him. Behind him and some ways off in the distance, he finally spotted what he had been looking for in the dull square orange-yellow lights from Voldemort's cabin windows, and the brightly flickering fires of camp.
Knowing the fondness the two giants who stood guard had for killing first and asking questions later, he reached for his wand as he made his approach. He quickly realised upon reaching the cleared wide-open maw of camp, he had made the right decision.
Upon hearing the crunch of leaves under Lucius' boots, and in the dark catching sight of his shadow, one giant around twenty feet tall, dressed in a huge filthy brown tunic, with a huge bulbous nose and long dark dirty hair that covered most of his face, made a sudden loud roar and swiped a massive hand downward.
Wind whipped just past his body indicating to Lucius how close the great hand had come to hitting its mark. He quickly aimed his wand.
"Acrimordeo!"
The giant let out a ferocious howl as he grabbed his leg and began hopping up and down, the sound and earthquake-like vibrations of which suddenly woke the camp into a flurry of commotion. Men jumped up from their seats around fires and hundreds of tents and quickly constructed living quarters opened with their occupants stumbling forth, wands aimed outward. Centaurs with bows taut with drawn arrows, leapt from the surrounding foliage and galloped forward. Goblins jumped to their feet with various weapons in hand. Dementors glided forth from nowhere, rattling and sucking on the damp night air, their blackened faces searching for victims. (Lucius was eternally glad for the 'Reprimo Effectus' charm Voldemort had cast round the camp, otherwise the dementors presence would have turned the night cold, unlit and empty). Trolls, a bit shorter than giants, shook their massive heads dumbly and emerged from the trees like large green lumps with fists raised.
Lucius stormed into the middle of the camp and shoved one Death Eater out of his way, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud and pointed his wand at the others.
"Is this the way you serve our lord!? Leaving one giant to keep watch!? Allowing one armed man in the dead of night to sneak you up!?"
One Death Eater named Jugson made his way boldly forward amidst the crowd of sheepish looking humans, creatures and vacuous Dementors and bowed. "Forgive me Commander Malfoy, but no one save those loyal to Voldemort much dare to even enter Kavan. And there are two giants, one toward the front entrance and one for the back."
"Neither of which kept me from infiltrating the camp," snarled Malfoy, but he clipped his words short as he felt the tip of a wand press into the back of his neck.
"But one of which alerted us to the fact we had an intruder," sounded the sneering Bulgarian voice of none other than Igor Karkaroff. "One wizard against hundreds... you'd not have got much further."
Lucius turned round with an expression of steel and hooked a golden finger round Karkaroff's wand, yanking it down. He eyed the tall thin man and the white curled goatee covering his weak chin with something akin to disgust. "You are second in command to me, Karkaroff, but do not think for one moment I wouldn't kill you if given half a reason."
"My, we are uptight this evening," said Karkaroff in an unctuous tone as he smiled. "Perhaps a visit with our master will uplift your spirits. He should be joining us momentarily."
"Which is why I'm here, idiot," said Malfoy with a harsh sarcasm as he watched the other hundred or so followers of Voldemort gather near the door to his cabin. He turned once again to Karkaroff. "Make no mistake though, Igor. Our lord may have decided to put his trust in you once more, but I am not so inclined to forgive. Once a coward, always a coward."
Karkaroff narrowed his eyes hatefully. "I've never run from the dark lord's service."
"Of course not," sneered Malfoy. "I suppose the small delay you took three years ago in returning to duty for our lord was merely a vacation… Pity you 'forgot' to inform him you would not be returning straight away."
Karkaroff glared back at Malfoy. "I had no choice. Dumbledore watched me carefully while I was at Hogwarts, and an Auror caught me. I had to be extremely careful after, in case you forgot; to bide my time until I could return."
"Since it was you who sold some in the dark lord's service out to keep your own arse from Azkaban, they might be the ones unable to forget I think," said Malfoy glibly as he made to move, as second in command, to the head of the group. "And even after so many of our lord's followers were sent off, leaving him in dire need of those who were left, it still took you almost two years to return…"
Karkaroff opened and closed his mouth for a moment, unable to come up with a suitable excuse. The fact was, he had been afraid. The Potter boy had been illegally thrown into the Tri-Wizard competition back in his fourth year as Igor had been instructed, and thus portkeyed to Voldemort to be dealt with, but the boy had escaped before he could be killed. Igor had been afraid to return to his master after, afraid Voldemort's wrath would be taken out on him. Nevertheless, fact was he had returned, with a bit of help from one of Voldemort's faithful, and had sworn his undying allegiance from then on.
"Curious," said Malfoy with a subtle raise of one eyebrow. He then turned his back with distinct superiority and marched away toward the crowd.
Karkaroff was left to seethe over what Lucius had meant as he watched Voldemort's followers make a wide path for him to trek through toward the front. Sodding Salazar how he hated Lucius Malfoy... the bastarding prick.
A few moments later the door to the cabin opened and Voldemort, tall and much stronger it seemed, with his unmistakable ghostly pale skeletal face and glowing red eyes, stepped out to a long cheer from his army. He let it go on as was his due, and finally shushed the crowd of humans and creatures with a lordly sweep of his hand. He obviously had spent time amongst his troops, sizing them up and overseeing their progress in training and recruiting, as none of the humans or creatures seemed overly-awed by his presence, but merely grew quiet as he had ordered.
Voldemort first acknowledged his second in command with a nod of his head, and all eyes turned toward Malfoy. "Lucius…I gather the recruitment on your end has been successful?"
Lucius bowed deeply. "Yes my lord. I've managed to gather a few more Ministry officials to our cause. They should be getting their affairs in order and arriving within the next few days."
"Excellent," said Voldemort. "And your son... has he sent information regarding Potter?"
Lucius grimaced. "Only that the boy is quite... disheartened by the recent deaths my lord, nothing more. Draco's letters indicate his relationship with the Weasley witch is not going according to plan, despite all of his efforts. Thus, he says, information has been hard to obtain."
Voldemort studied Lucius for a moment, making the latter feel uneasy, until he spoke in a dangerously quiet undertone. "And do you believe him?"
Lucius tilted his chin and lowered his eyes for a moment. Truth was, he wasn't sure whether or not to believe his son. Draco's attitude as of late would certainly lead him to believe he was not choosing to follow the same path, and he was easily devious enough to lie about his leanings.
"I can't be certain my lord. It would seem with your distinguished powers that you, far more than I, are adept at judging the conscience."
The dark lord studied Lucius as if reading his soul for a moment more, and then favoured him with a cold sneer. "Then perhaps it is time for me to focus on the boy and determine his intent."
Lucius bowed. "Yes master."
Voldemort scrutinised him for a moment more. "Make no mistake Lucius. If I sense the boy has turned against us, as soon as opportunity arises he will be executed. Traitors merit no mercy."
"Yes my lord, of course," said Lucius without hesitation, still averting his eyes.
Satisfied for now (much to Malfoy's relief), the dark lord switched his glowing, unnerving gaze to a stubby old goblin with a large quantity of white hair growing from his ears standing near the front, and his interpreter, a Death Eater named Mulciber who was fluent in Gobbledegook.
"Ragnok, have you approached your colleagues…"
Mulciber related the question to the goblin, who began speaking in a high-pitched, gravely voice, leaving periodic pauses for the Death Eater to translate.
"I spoke again with the goblins who as yet have not chosen sides. Most were unwilling to leave Gringotts and wanted to stay neutral, but when I reminded them of the Tri-Wizard tournament and Ludo Bagman's betrayal and theft of their gold, I believe it reminded some of them the Ministry and those affiliated with it are not to be trusted. They've expressed to me their desire for promises of equal rights and riches should you take control. I informed them I had already discussed the matter with your lordship, and as such, I generously conceded."
"Good," said Voldemort with a casual smirk. With the mixed group (including Ragnok and his fellows, trolls, centaurs and giants) round him, he wouldn't openly express what he felt with Ragnok's words, though his thoughts remained the same. Promise them whatever you wish... in the end you will all join the rest of the inferior.
Voldemort again switched his focus.
"Bane… report."
The wild-looking centaur, with black hair and the black body of a horse pawed at the ground for a moment before he spoke in a barely restrained voice.
"As you are aware, we centaurs are loathe to join in any war, especially one involving a species who frequently value themselves as superior to all others… However, I have spoken to my brothers and consulted the stars. As per your assurance that the forest will be ours after to exclusively rule, I and some of my tribe have agreed for a time to join you. Our ancestors would be pleased at the return and open recognition of the land they once owned. Still, we want it expressly known we fight for land that is rightfully ours, and not to resolve any petty power dispute."
Voldemort angrily narrowed his eyes at Bane's impudence, but held himself in check. Centaurs were all alike, the foul half-breeds. They were only interested in themselves and what they considered theirs, and oblivious to the fact that whether or not they chose to recognise it, they were and would be ruled.
However he would, if only for a time, yield a bit of his supreme command if it meant deceiving more to join his side. The more forces he had to fight Dumbledore, Potter and those loyal to them, the better.
Voldemort nodded his head, but fixed Bane with an expression of stone. "I concede our battle is not your own, and my pledge to your kind stays founded. However in joining my forces, you will follow my command. An army is victorious only as its company observe rank and order."
Bane held his head proudly, but gave a slight nod.
"Excellent," replied the dark lord smoothly as he now loudly addressed the whole assembly. "The last tribe of remaining giants have travelled from England and Scotland to the mountainous south end of France, as Dolohov has informed me. Trolls sightings are rare as well, it seems. Because of this, these are of no importance to us. They will serve neither our army nor those opposed to us. Our forces, it seems, are established… That is all. Dismissed."
A rumbling of dialects and strange languages sounded throughout the crowd of humans and creatures as it dispersed, with most, as was natural for them, joining their own to one side of the camp. However, as usual, the closest to Voldemort, his Death Eaters, remained behind for another meeting… the real one.
Voldemort's mouth curved downward into a cold, disgusted sneer as he observed one fourth of his army move away. Filthy, bastarding mongrels… worse than mudbloods…even the common Muggle. Unfit to breathe the same air. The first thing after the war he would attend to would be their disposal. After would be the Muggles; country by country, continent by continent; as long as it took… recruiting and purging. Then finally one day, the world would be as it was meant to be… clean.
The dark lord's abrupt, irate change of mood did not come as a surprise to the group of about eighty wizards standing round him. Using the group of non-wizards for his own purposes and then eliminating them after made him feel neither guilty nor innocent. After all, they were non-entities as far as he was concerned…mudbloods and sub-wizards; of no consequence.
Each time Voldemort felt it necessary to check the progress of the non-human sect of his army, he came away feeling slightly dirty and in need of a good wash.
The Death Eaters were not immune to the effects themselves.
Voldemort growled at the group, stabbing them with a glare and made to move back inside his cabin.
"With me."
The large procession followed their master dutifully, knowing the true debriefing was indeed about to begin.
*********************************************************
Harry held to Hermione's hand as they made their ways down the torchlit, shadowy halls of Hogwarts and back to their rooms. They had portkeyed to Dumbledore's office from the Burrow, and had spoken to the Headmaster only briefly before asking to be dismissed for the night. Ron and Ginny were to be back at school next day, and both found those two were the only ones at the moment they could bear seeing, so they hurried fast as they could past students and teachers, taking little time to stop and speak.
As they walked the corridors they passed more students heading outside for early evening Quidditch in the pre-spring night air, or moving in the direction of the library, or simply hanging about here and there, destinations unknown. Seamus and Dean who were playing Exploding Snap with several others tried to make them join saying bets were up to two galleons a winner, but all Harry and Hermione could manage was a brief smile and a few words before hurrying even faster down the hallways. Both had the same desperate feeling running almost frantically through their veins… escape. From all well-wishers, friends, teachers, studies, even the dank halls that surrounded them; all they wanted was to shut themselves away from everything, make it to their couch, lie down close together, and hold on hard.
Colin Creevey with his head hung downward as usual, skulked along towards Gryffindor tower from wherever he'd been. He stopped the two briefly to offer quiet condolences for Bill.
"Would've done for Ron and Ginny but I haven't seen them in a while…"
Harry nodded. "They've mostly been at St. Mungo's with their father and brother, but they're a bit better now. The funeral was today. They'll be back round tomorrow morning for school, I expect. You can pass it along to them then, I'm sure they'd appreciate it."
Colin bit at his lips, obviously torn about something, and then nodded and began to make his way back down the corridor.
Hermione squeezed Harry's arm and told him she'd be back in a moment before jogging down the corridor to stop Colin.
"Colin, wait…"
She could see Colin's thin shoulders shrug stiffly up against his neck as he stopped and slowly turned round, and Hermione took his response as his tendency to desire, since his brother's disappearance, being left alone.
Hermione, panting slightly, reached out to touch his arm, but Colin recoiled a bit.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, drawing back. "Ron, Ginny Harry and I…we've been so caught up in Ron's brother's death among…other things… we've been a bit blind to everyone else. We haven't meant to be."
Colin averted his eyes and shrugged, his hands jammed into the pockets of his robes. "I..it's all right Hermione… I've rather..felt like being alone you know…"
"I know you have," said Hermione gently. "But it's not healthy Colin. Harry can certainly relate to you, he's lost quite a few people himself you know…he's often said he wanted to talk to you about it. And as I'm always reminding him, you've got friends here Colin; students and teachers who care about you. Don't push them away. You can't deal with all of this on your own. You need them."
Colin raised his eyes to Hermione's and nodded, swallowing. "Well... er.. thanks Hermione. I'll remember that. I've got to be getting on now…"
He turned to leave, but Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder once again. "Wait, please."
He stopped in his tracks before he turned once again, his eyes closing briefly with a bit of impatience. Why couldn't everyone just leave him be? Especially Hermione and Harry. He almost couldn't bear their compassion…
"I'm sorry, I'll let you alone. Just one thing more," said Hermione gently. Her eyes filled a bit with tears, and Colin quickly turned from her gaze to study the wall. "All this…hiding out and separating yourself from everyone; do you think your brother would want that for you? He'd want you to be happy; to go on living."
As if he'd been stung Colin, with a strangely pale expression, suddenly swung his gaze back to Hermione.
"I'm not hiding!"
Hermione blinked at him with a bit of confusion. "No…n.. of course not… I just meant… hiding yourself away from everyone. Keeping your feelings all trapped inside. It won't bring Dennis back, Colin."
Colin suddenly looked desperate and grabbed hard onto Hermione's shoulders, peering intently at her. Hermione tensed, her eyes widening a bit. From down the hallway, Harry had seen the motion. He frowned and began moving swiftly toward them.
"What if…what if something could, Hermione…"
Hermione pulled against his grasp for a moment, but he just gripped tighter. He wasn't really hurting her, but the odd emotions flitting across his face were a bit frightening.
"What'd you mean?"
Colin gazed hard at her. "What if you'd lost someone, someone close... if you found you might bring them back somehow, would you do it? Would you do anything for it?"
Hermione's mouth fell open as she gazed at him. She didn't think Colin had gone round the twist, but something in the stressed, almost maniacal way he was gripping her shoulders made her feel uneasy.
He shook her desperately. "Would you?"
"I... I don't... " began Hermione shakily.
"Hi Colin," said Harry's deeper voice from behind him. With his hands shoved casually in his pockets, he moved very near Colin's side and towered above him. A crackling of intense sapphire energy surrounded his body as he glanced at the grip Creevey had on Hermione, and with a violent flash of warning in his green eyes, he pierced him with a threatening glare.
"You can let go of her now."
Colin dropped his hands from Hermione's arms as if they'd just suddenly received a shock. "I'm…sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"It was only a mistake, I'm sure." Harry said in a dangerously calm voice, glaring hard at him.
"Harry…" said Hermione quietly.
"Honestly, I didn't mean to hurt...," said Colin abashed, backing away a bit. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
Harry continued to watch him.
"Not at all. I'm fine," said Hermione sympathetically, eyeing him. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," said Colin backing up to walk back down the corridor. The blue energy had winked out, but he eyed Harry nervously. "I'm fine. I'm sorry Harry, really I was just…would never... I didn't mean to… I've got to go. I'm sorry, really."
Harry placed his hands almost possessively on Hermione's shoulders as they watched Colin move hastily down the hall and disappear round a corner. As soon as he had gone from sight, Harry turned Hermione round to him and looked searchingly down into her face, stroking her upper arms with his thumbs.
"Did he hurt you?"
Hermione sighed. "No, of course not. He wouldn't Harry… But something is quite... strange with him."
"Something's been quite strange with him," said Harry without grudge. "But I suppose after what's happened to him and his family he's entitled to it. He's never before had anything quite like this to deal with."
Hermione sighed and peered back toward the corner Colin had disappeared round as if to glean information from it. "I dunno... it was something else, something he said."
Harry hesitated for a moment and then gave in to his worn impulses. He pulled her to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head before resting his forehead there.
"Can we forget about it for a while?" He sighed into her hair, and his words came out slightly muffled. "I just want to hold you for a bit."
Hermione smiled up at him, and then placed her head under his chin to bury her face in the top of his chest. "Me too... I need it."
Harry nodded against her hair and took her hand, leading her back down the corridor toward their rooms.
*************************************
Voldemort allowed the Death Eaters to conjure chairs for themselves and be seated before he addressed them. The cabin was almost as empty and common as it had been last year. With the amount of servants the dark lord had now, the fact his temporary 'home' lacked the lordly qualities he could have demanded for himself was surprising, indeed. However, when one's mind is completely full of, and bent with nothing but revenge, little room is left for thoughts of imperialism. The Death Eaters provided him with food; a small thing other than unicorn blood, he had not needed when still devoid of his body, and provided him with whatever creature comforts his whim desired. But they were few. His appetites usually focussed on one thing only. To have his army more powerful than any one Dumbledore could conjure. Kingly amenities would come after.
Lucius bowed his head low. "We are ready my lord."
Voldemort nodded and turned to regard the magically enlarged room full of his old, and newly chosen Death Eaters. Some puffed up ridiculously with importance as his glowing eyes fell critically on them. He smiled shrewdly. From the crowd, he could even now easily pick out the ones he would allow to live after the war was won. For now, he would keep that bit of information to himself.
"Failed recruitment of more giants notwithstanding," said Voldemort by way of a beginning, "our army is established. Though it would have been helpful to have more of the stupid bastarding animals on our side as their tough hides make it impossible to take them down with one simple spell. Ah well, as with all who refuse me, they have met their fates."
Bellatrix Lestrange lifted her sneering hollowed pale face in surprise from the middle of the group and waited until Voldemort nodded to her before she spoke.
"Met their fates, my lord? Forgive your servant… my ears deceived me into thinking you told the creatures they had fled from here."
Voldemort regarded her as if she were a simpleton. "You were not deceived Bellatrix. Yet had I not falsified what really happened, our large army might have greatly diminished." He shifted his red gaze to another. "Dolohov, I will allow you to explain… Proceed."
To assure his lord would not think he was attempting to appear important, Dolohov kept his head bowed as he recited.
"With our master's instruction, I, along with ten others among us, found the remaining giant's encampment in the northern mountainous region surrounding the Forbidden Forest..."
"So close?" Spoke a newly recruited Death Eater.
The room became stock still, and Voldemort turned his burning gaze on the young man, surveying him silently for a moment.
"Godolphin... you are new?"
The young Death Eater nervously eyed the crowd round him, who did not return his gaze and kept their heads lowered. He began to stutter.
"Yes m..my lord. If I've spoken out of t..turn I apologi…"
" Never speak unless called upon…" he snarled. "Yet you are new, so I will spare your life."
The Death Eater shuddered out a sigh of relief. "Thank you for your mercy, master…"
"However," said Voldemort conversationally, tapping his wand on his chin. "As is normal for the flawed, lessons tend to be forgotten…mistakes repeated; and that would be unfortunate."
He paced for a moment, a small smile quirking his thin white lips as the young man began to sweat, his eyes passing from one fellow to the other, only to meet bowed heads and averted eyes.
"How to ensure this does not happen again… ah, I have it."
The dark lord whirled and aimed his wand. The Death Eater stiffened, wide-eyed.
"Crucio!"
With a high-pitched, wailing scream, the young man fell from his chair and began to thrash about; his limbs seizing and twitching. The others sitting round him winced.
Voldemort gave another careless wave of his wand, and suddenly all was quiet, although the young man continued in his torture, flailing about with mouth stretched wide; floorboards sounding as his heels cracked them, knees and elbows hammering the wood, silent screams continuing.
For a moment, the dark lord watched with mild curiosity as the young man continued in his agony. Such subtle differences in the way each victim reacts... quite interesting.
"Better. Now, he shall never worry on losing his life with the same mistake. I should think after, he will wish to thank me."
He lifted the spell with a flick of his bone-like wrist and the young man fell limp on the floor, panting. He paid him no further attention.
"Dolohov… continue," he ordered.
A sheen of sweat covering his face, Dolohov continued reciting as well, hoping fervently he himself could keep from doing anything this night to further provoke his master's ill-humour.
"We... found where the giants were camped... The rest must have either retreated or killed one another, more like; the great brutes don't get on in large numbers. I approached the Gurg and offered him gifts with the promise of more, along with the assurance should the victory fall to our side, they would be allowed the entire northern mountainous region to rule. He refused. We had ten Death Eaters to their number of fifteen, but being much quicker and stealthier, we eventually did them all in. The Gurg himself took on five killing spells before he fell."
Voldemort, now peering at the unearthly red fire blazing in his hearth, raised his hand and Dolohov immediately silenced.
"Enough... we have a visitor."
***************************************************
Like a comfortable, secure quilt, the darkness and silence of Harry's room provided for the two young people cuddled together on the bed, a sort of hideaway from the outside world.
Harry's heart was full to bursting. Hermione snuggled so tightly with him that every part of his body was comforted and yet restless with burning need. At the moment, it seemed, these were the only emotions he wanted to know. More often than not, he sought nowadays to feel almost nothing.
Hermione sighed into his mouth as he moved his lips over hers; her hands sliding down his back to come back up with the hem of his shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to let her drag it over his head and pluck the glasses from his face. He made to move back over her but she put her hands on his bare chest and held him there, her eyes roaming him languidly.
Harry rested his head on his elbow and gazed down at her.
"What're you thinking?"
"Just how much you sometimes still remind me of the little boy I met on the train seven years ago," she smiled. "Same lovely glass-green eyes, same messy hair..."
Harry poked her ribs until she began squirming and slapping at his chest. He laughed aloud.
"Same cheeky grin," she giggled, panting.
He grabbed her and rolled her beneath him until she was completely trapped, his smile fading to an intense gaze, and all teasing instantly fell away. The hard planes of his body pressed into hers, causing her own to shiver with a seductive downward-crawling heat. In her abdomen, small pinpricks of desire began to excite her breathing, and she was helpless to stop her mind from imagining how losing control with him would be... how his touch would burn, his hands explore, his movements unravel her...
His heated gaze was so passionate, his fingers searing trails down the soft curves and dips of her body. It felt so deliciously right, and not for the first time Hermione felt herself responding in ways she had never known she could before him… before this.
"I hope I've changed in all the ways that count," Harry whispered in a low voice, his lips distracting against the soft shell of her ear.
Hermione didn't answer straight away, she was too busy tangling slim fingers into his hair, fingernails running along his scalp the way she knew he liked.
"Oh, I think so."
Her hands roamed down the carved plains of his back, to sweep over his tight bum, ...Thank Merlin for Quidditch clenched brooms... back around a tapered waist to slide down the hard ridges of his abdomen and around slim hips... He trembled at her touch; hot breath against her neck, and she smiled at the hard bulge pressed against her inner thigh. At least she effected him just as strongly. Small, soft hands smoothed upward, over light olive skin, over well-muscled chest and arms, back over strong shoulders to the face now centimetres from hers... Absurdly long lashes over eyes greener than the sea, straight nose, full lips, wicked smile, sexier than hell messy black hair... Hermione had never before considered the term 'beautiful' befitting for a man, but to her Harry embodied it whole.
Harry had been studying her just as actively, letting his hands wander her body until every allowed area was well mapped and memorised. Although she was more than a head shorter than him, her limbs were long and lean, with lightly tanned, soft skin... the kind he swore gleamed like moonlight. Long corkscrew curls fell like waves about her face, a delicate oval one, with soft full lips, a slightly upturned feminine nose and large doe eyes framed with thick long fans of lashes... bloody perfect. He kissed each area as he examined it, making sure his lips and tongue mapped the skin just as thoroughly as his fingers had... branding it with his mouth, making her his own. Great Merlin but he wanted more...he wanted ALL of her...
Need took over, and control began to slip. She was panting beneath him, his mouth came down hungrily on hers and she grabbed him to her, fitting her body so tightly with his that bolts of desire zinged straight down his own. They rolled, Harry's hands travelling under her nightshirt to caress the smooth skin on her back, his fingers moving to brush the soft side-swells of her breasts as they pressed against him. She moaned and pressed against him even harder, the sensation causing a jerk of his hips he hadn't expected. Sweet Merlin...
He groaned into her mouth and rolled her hard beneath him, his hips now grinding intimately against hers, his hands and mouth touching and sweeping and rubbing and teasing and moving and feeling... just feeling...
"Oh god, Harry..."
Her voice was higher-pitched than usual, pleasure tightening her throat, tightening her abdomen, tightening everything...
"We have to st...OH M..Merlin..." she gasped, her body arching beneath him. "Have to stop..."
"I know..." he rasped in a deep voice. "I know."
Ignoring the uncomfortable throbbing of his body he settled himself a few inches away from her on the bed, panting as much as she was, and just as wholly frustrated. Bloody Godric… A few moments more, and Harry felt he mightn't have noticed an earthquake hit. The desperate look in Hermione's gaze told him she felt the same.
When they felt they could lay closely together and not get into further trouble, Hermione eased back over to him and lay with one leg and arm draped over him, and her head on his shoulder. He pulled her nearer him and wrapped his arms about her, resting his cheek on her hair and breathing in her scent.
"I love you," said Harry quietly.
"I love you too," Hermione raised her head briefly and smiled at him.
After a bit her breathing slowed, and Harry could tell she had fallen asleep. He smoothed a few errant curls from her face and with one arm, attempted to pull a bit of his rumpled bed coverings over them. He gave up after a few half-hearted tries rather than wake her.
"Soon," he sighed, and then gave himself up to the night.
************************************************
The flames in the hearth turned a neon shade of green. A quickly revolving head soon slowed itself enough to peer quite frightfully at the dark lord, and the owner of the eyes instantly averted them. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a cruel smile as he studied the face.
"Ah, the turncoat."
Colin blinked heavily. "To my shame."
"To your benefit," said the dark lord with narrowed eyes. "Or have you forgotten our agreement? It would well suit you to remember."
Had he not been facing Voldemort through the floo, Creevey would not be so bold as to show his disgust, but as fortune had it, he was.
"I haven't forgotten," he rasped angrily. He hated his own actions… hated Voldemort and everything he stood for, and more than everything else combined… completely loathed himself.
Voldemort favoured him with a nod. "Have you done as I instructed you?"
"I cast the subausculto spell on the knight in Harry's portrait; he acts the same...doesn't even know he's been tampered with. He's been listening to their conversations though he hasn't really overheard much of worth."
Voldemort sneered and glided closer to the hearth. "I will judge what information is or is not valuable, you insignificant bit of filth. If you wish to see your brother again, you'll tell me what you've learned."
Colin felt his chest constrict with fear but checked himself before he let it show. From his very short time being in contact with Voldemort, he'd discerned one trait of his that so far had proved valuable knowledge. The dark lord abhorred any sign of weakness. He had no doubt should anything he did or said aggravate the dark lord enough, he would have no qualms at killing Dennis simply for the pleasure of it… information be damned.
Voldemort raised an impatient eyebrow at the boy obviously trying to control his emotions. He was sure Potter's greatest admirer would never help him if he knew his brother had been killed long ago, though that bit of information would stay secret only for as long as the little bastard was needed. After, he would let it be known, and sit back comfortably to watch the show.
"Potter's training harder than ever... Running in the mornings, fighting the sword with his father, he's astounding with wandless magic. And Dumbledore's getting an army of his own," said Colin steadily. "He's begun recruiting and training as many as will fight with them somewhere here in Scotland. Cadogen didn't catch where."
"Hardly surprising," snarled Voldemort thoughtfully, his eyes surveying the Death Eaters still bowed before him. "Have you learned any locations he's sent his own team?"
"He doesn't tell Harry," said Colin. "Only tells him they're guarding different areas in our world as well as with the Muggles. He's got them in Diagon Alley and all over Hogsmeade."
"And the Black traitor?" said Voldemort. "I know he keeps in contact with him. His death would be invaluable."
Colin's heart leapt painfully in his chest. Harry had lost enough of those close to him. Thankfully, Colin himself had heard little on Sirius to try lying to Voldemort about it, though that point was a moot one. There was no lying to the dark lord, anyway.
"Harry's never mentioned aloud where he stays, though wherever it is, apparently his cousin and aunt are there as well and not at all happy with it."
Voldemort seemed to be storing the new information meticulously away in his brain. It wasn't much, but it was more than he would have known.
He turned abruptly back to face his informant. "What else?"
"Th..that's all I have," stuttered Colin. "They really don't openly discuss much. I only got that bit from the portrait. They don't even whisper on it much over meals, and that's really the only time I have much excuse to sit nearer them without looking suspicious."
"And yet," said Voldemort with distinct threat in his voice, "If you want your family whole again you'll continue to try, won't you?"
Colin grimaced, his mouth as dry as if it was stuffed with cotton. "Please... please could I just... see him a moment? Just to see he's alright..."
Voldemort scrutinised the young man with such cold intimidation in his glowing eyes that he could practically feel the squirming from the other side of the floo connect.
"Your reward comes when your task is complete, and not before."
Colin gritted his teeth desperately and blurted. "How do I know he's still alive then? It's not as if I can trust you, can I?"
"You seem to have forgotten you have no choice," Voldemort raised his voice angrily. "Need I remind you?"
"No!" shouted Colin wildly. "No I don't... I'm clear on it. I'm sorry."
Voldemort waved a hand dismissively at him. "Leave me. I expect your report next week, and with something considerably more substantial, am I clear?"
"Y..yes," stammered Colin, and he disappeared from the flames, their colour changing from green back to ruby glowing red once more.
When he had turned his gaze back to his Death Eaters, he saw one glance at him from beneath the hood of his robe; the signal he wished to speak.
"Crabbe…" said Voldemort impassively.
"My lord," the fat Death Eater shifted nervously in his seat. "I wonder wh..why we do not send for Potter… It would seem he is already desperate for the killing to stop. Would he not now hand himself over in exchange for the sparing of others?"
"I underestimated him once, I won't do it again," said Voldemort, his new muscles now tensed and his bone-white jaw clenched. "I want him desperate and broken, completely rash and unthinking. His greatest power lies in the..relationships..he's forged at that bloody school. I want him sure he's going to lose them all, his friends, his girlfriend, his godfather... his father. Before I'm through with Potter, he'll be reckless enough to rush headlong into the fight, help or none. I'll crush his body... and his spirit."
Lucius raised his head and favoured his master with a triumphant smile. "I'm sure you will, my lord."
Voldemort observed him briefly as if he were little more than an insect and ignored the comment. He dismissed the large group with admonitions that they were to continue assigned tasks and report periodically, and that reckoning was soon at hand.
As he watched the group file out, a cruel smile twisted the already horrific features of the dark lord's face. Life really was like a cracking game of chess, he thought in retrospect. Pawns to their places; knights, rooks and castles prepared to fight for the king… and in the end, the most cunning finished the victor.
**********************************************
A late night rapping on their portrait along with the sudden mad ravings of Sir Cadogen made Harry suddenly bolt upright in bed, his hand instinctively still clutching for his wand. Hermione sat up too, her eyes widened and as alert as one could be round four in the morning.
"Harry..."
"I'll go."
"I'll come too..." she said grabbing up her wand.
Harry grimaced and turned to her. "Hermione, I don't..."
"Don't bother arguing, it could be one of the Weasleys. I'm coming."
He shook his head, pulled on a pair of jeans, shoved his glasses onto his face and moved suspiciously toward the door, holding Hermione's hand and forcing her behind him. Surprise lit his face as his eyes met only a large, familiar abdomen.
"Hagrid?"
Hermione's eyes met Harry's with surprise. Knowing the half-giant was too large to fit through the portrait hole, both stepped out into dank torchlit halls, squinting against the assault of light against their eyes.
"I'm so s..sorry ta bother you 'Arry, 'Ermione... but you was close to 'im too, after all... knew him 'bout as long as I did..."
Hagrid's voice was hoarse with grief, large tears trickling into his beard and splashing onto the floor in front of them. Harry squinted up at him in confusion and Hermione moved to his side quickly, taking his large hand with her much smaller one.
"Hagrid, what is it, what's happened!?" asked Hermione fearfully as she peered up at his face. She had never seen him quite as upset as he was now, and as she had always held a soft spot for him, his grief pained her.
"Who were we close to?" asked Harry gently.
"It's Grawpie," sobbed Hagrid, balling his free hand into a ham sized fist. "E's dead. 'Im an' his whole tribe."