Ok here we go... Thanks as usual to Lady Starlight for her work on this chapter.
Chapter 39: Playing Politics...
************************Ministry of Magic****************************
January 30, 1998
10:00 am
"Here, here, this session of the Ancient and Most Noble Wizengamot of Magical Beings of the United Kingdom is now in order." A magenta robed wizard banged the hilt of a silver-chased staff on the ancient flagstone floor. Around the room, the upper reaches of the coliseum style seating were filled with wizards and witches, most of them in at least their fifties, as they looked around at a tall wizard wearing the golden emblem of the Wizengamot.
The Chief Warlock, pro-tem at least, since no one had ever found the proper regalia for the office after Dumbledore died, waved and stood, "I hereby call this session to order. We are here in order to elect the Minister of Magic for the United Kingdom. As per a thousand-year-old tradition, only the families of record or their proxies may vote. The two candidates are Anton Wolfe, and Arthur Weasley." Both candidates nodded as he announced their names and gestured towards them. He gestured towards the empty center of the room, where on most days a chained chair sat waiting for those who were to be judged. The tip of his wand traced a rune in the air, the torches lighting the room dimmed and a rumbling filled the room. Slowly, a pair of huge hourglasses rose from the floor and stopped. Both great glasses seemed identical to the ones at Hogwarts, appropriate, as Helga Hufflepuff had created both sets.
In the back of the room, Tonks leaned over worriedly and whispered in Remus and Kingsley's ears, "This could be bad, you know who Wolfe was best friends with in school," they both nodded, both remembering Wolfe who had been a year behind Remus and who had hung out with those such as the elder Zabinis and Goyle. And beyond that, both Kingsley and Lupin knew, having been there last time, that the man had been one of the ones who had never, officially, been suspected as being in league with the Dark. He did not have a Mark, both of the candidates had been, in a controversial meeting, checked, but still it was questionable. Her eyes flicked around the room, pausing for only an instant on Sergio Zabini, Blaise's father, and someone that she knew was a Death Eater, but whom the Aurors had been told to leave alone as there was no evidence.
"Yes, it could," Kingsley agreed, "but without the ability to officially assign agents, I couldn't get any evidence on him." His hushed, deep voice was bitter as the Chief Warlock looked around the room before looking down at a set of papers. "This election is for all the gobstones, at the very least Wolfe will probably take us back to the days of Fudge. He's already come out and said publicly that Albus 'did more harm than good' and that Potter was a 'glory hound'."
"I seem to remember you, yourself, saying the latter a time or two," Remus quipped quietly.
"Yes, well, I was wrong, and I intend to apologize to Harry the next time I see him," Kingsley returned and shrugged, "But even if Arthur wins, he's a compromise candidate. Half of those, who will vote for him, will only do because they think that they can control him." He became silent as the Warlock gestured for silence.
He pointed his wand to the center, and the top of each hourglass filled with fist-sized jewels, rubies in the right one for Arthur and, in a bit of sympathetic magic, emeralds in the left one for Wolfe. He pointed to the hourglasses, "Please indicate your pleasure, by casting your charms now, ladies and gentlemen."
A flurry of lights shot across the room, striking one and the other hourglasses, and one by one, jewels fell to the bottom, one for Arthur, then two for Wolfe. Another two for Arthur, then another for Wolfe...Wizards and witches started murmuring urgently to each other, particularly those younger families that could not vote in this election. Tonks grimaced as she watched the elder Zabini smirk and cast his charm towards the hourglass on the left.
After another few minutes, in which both Arthur and Wolfe paced quickly around, trying to gain last minute votes, the spells stopped. Flaming numbers appeared above the hourglasses, and Tonks and Molly, who was far below, holding onto Arthur's arm, groaned as one. The numbers told the tale; Wolfe had gained one hundred and three, with Arthur only controlling ninety nine. Shouts of joy from Zabini, Wolfe and several others rent the air as moans of horror answered the results as the Warlock stood and motioned for silence.
"My Lords and Ladies, you have spoken and your pleasure is as thus..."
"WAIT," A strong baritone thundered across the room, as a door boomed open at the top of the gallery. A wave of cloaked figures strode in, and fanned out along the tier. "Not all of the available families have voted."
"You are too late, Potter," a hated, high voice squeaked from behind Warlock Edwards. Umbridge smiled as her eyes cut for a millisecond to Wolfe and Zabini who were standing together, already celebrating. "I will soon be back at Hogwarts..."
"Point of Order," A tall, dark Wizard with a gleaming bald plate, and a bright orange goatee stood from his seat on the rail to Harry's right. Sampson Attikus smiled slightly, "There was not a motion to close voting, so since they have arrived before such a motion..."
Edwards sighed, and Umbridge, Zabini, Wolfe and several others looked furious, but did not speak. Around the top of the room, the DA members that had arrived with Harry, that were not the senior members of their families, or their families could not vote at all due to the status in the familial hierarchies, held hands on pocketed or sheathed wands and waited. "Very well, which families have arrived to vote, Potter..."
"Ahem," a loud cough came from Attikus, and the older warrior's eyes hardened.
"Lord Potter," Edwards grated, and Harry gave him a small nod. He looked over to a small woman standing slightly up and behind him and Hermione, who had her hand on her wand, and her eyes constantly sweeping the area. Behind them, Tonks and Lupin had slowly came to their feet and were moving back to better positions, in case this vote became something a touch more...difficult.
"The Bones Family votes for Arthur Weasley," Susan said firmly, and a ruby fell with a soft clank.
Behind them, at the door, an old woman dressed in deep green robes and carrying a huge red handbag, entered with her arm held protectively by a strong, tall young man, with light brown hair and a still slightly round face. "The Longbottom Family votes for Arthur Weasley," Augusta Longbottom said in a strong voice as both Lavender and Parvati followed her in, both teens looking as if they were handmaidens to some ancient queen. She smiled up at Neville as he eased her down into a seat that had been helpfully vacated by a young wizard. Another ruby fell in Arthur's hourglass and every eye turned to Harry.
Harry smiled, thinly, "The Potter and Black families vote for Arthur Weasley." The only sound in the huge room was the sound of two rubies falling on the pile, making the count one hundred three to one hundred and three.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Edwards said in a loud, firm voice, "the count is one hundred and three to one hundred and three, we shall have a-"
"Not all the votes have been cast," Harry interrupted calmly. A sense of unease filled the room. "The House of Gryffindor votes for Arthur Weasley." A tremendous tumult answered his words, as Harry claimed familial status with one of the founders.
"YOU ARE LYING," Umbridge's shout cut across the others.
"HE IS NOT," Hermione snapped, moving to stand next to Harry at the rail.
"BE SILENT, YOU LITTLE MUD..."
Delores Umbridge flew backwards to stick to the back wall like a fly in amber, her mouth open and flapping as she attempted to struggle, but no sound came out. "SILENCE, TOAD," Harry growled, "I claim the right by this..." The sound of steel on leather cut across the room, as Harry slowly descended the stairs to the central area below. The Sword of Gryffindor came into his hand, and with a sudden rush of magic, he drove it into the stone floor. The inset rubies under the wrapping of the hilt glowed softly as he looked up at the temporary Chief Warlock. "Lord Gryffindor casts his vote for Arthur Weasley." A final ruby fell into Arthur's pile making the count one hundred and four to one hundred and three.
Edwards looked around, at the students and not a few Aurors who were not bothering to hide the fact that they were holding onto their wands, and then down at Harry, before he looked over to the candidates. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I call for a motion to close voting, can I hear a second?"
"SECOND," at least fifty throats roared, as Zabini broke off from Wolfe and slipped out a small, side door, unnoticed.
"Very well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, your new Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley." The Weasleys poured down to hug Arthur, those that were here, as Molly sobbed softly and hugged her husband. Arthur caught Harry's eye as he pulled the sword from the floor, leaving behind a perfect slot in the stone, exactly the width of the blade, and resheathed it under his robes. He nodded to Arthur and climbed back up the stairs, took Hermione's hand and left without a word, leading the majority of the DA that had come with him, just in case, out the doors.
*****************************Little Hangleton*****************************
January 31, 1998
10:00 am
"You disappoint me, Sergio," Voldemort murmured softly as he looked down on the prostrated minion. One skeletal hand cradled his chin, while the long, bone-white index finger of his other ran slowly down the length of his wand set on the broad arm of his twisted, black throne. "You had told me that you would be able to assure that Wolfe took control, after we removed Scrimgeour." He sneered, "He may not have been one of mine, but his appetites, would have allowed me to control him." Voldemort stood, rising slowly to his full height, "Now, I find that Potter has thwarted you once more..."
"Sire, I...how could I have known that Potter...that half-blood, could possibly claim lineage to Gryffindor, he..." Zabini whispered from his spot on the floor. Around the room, the gathered Death Eaters, Lucius, Bellatrix, McNair, Wormtail and others, almost twenty snickered lowly at his predicament.
"Silence, fool...CRUCIO," a heated beam of yellow snapped down, enveloping Zabini. He screamed, convulsing and shivering on the floor as the pain of a thousand, red-hot knives tore into his flesh. Voldemort looked around the room, seemingly not playing attention to Zabini's screams as he motioned Lucius forward. "Lucius," the Death Eater strode forward and kneeled, "I wish for you to find someone that Potter holds dear...and take them away." Lucius opened his mouth to say a name, but Voldemort shook his head slowly, "Not the Mudblood, not yet, not after her impudence, she must die in front of him, perhaps after she amuses me for a bit." Voldemort looked across the room as Zabini finally passed out from the curse and fell silent. "Bella, you would like that, wouldn't you?" She nodded eagerly, and cackled, quietly.
Lucius looked up with a thoughtful expression. He flashed back through his memories, the letters that Draco had sent over the years, "I have the perfect candidate, M' Lord."
"See that you do, Lucius," Voldemort replied as he moved to the door, Bellatrix and Wormtail falling in at his feet automatically. Behind him, Zabini remained unconscious on the floor as the rest filed out.
***************************Hogwarts*********************************
February 5, 1998.
11: 14 am
Ron Weasley, the sidekick, the comic relief, the lackluster student, was currently nose first in a book, looking through it to find some clue to the mystery that could kill them all. For once, it was him that had drawn the never-ending duty of digging through dusty old volumes and stained and torn journals looking for information on spells and Horcruxes. Right before she had gone to Runes, and had sent a haggard-looking Harry off to sleep or fly or something, as both Potters had been awake with nightmares all night, Hermione had set him the task of looking through Helga, a True Friend. She had hoped that the book on the Hufflepuff founder might reveal some other still existing artifact that they might use to trace the Cup. He frowned as he looked towards his Transfiguration text, reminded that he still had three hours of the class this afternoon, before he returned to the text that Hermione had found somewhere in this warren of books that rearranged themselves, and tomes that would as soon spit on you as let them read them.
He stood to stretch, ducking out of the way of a flying stack with the skills of someone who had spent seven years here, against his will usually, and looked out the window that was set in one wall of Hermione's private nook. He watched as his best friend slowly idled by on his broom at a measly sixty or so kilometers an hour and only a couple of hundred feet off the ground. Harry looked pensive as he floated by, his thoughts clearly not on his flying, an act that would have probably killed anyone but him.
Ron stopped and watched, even as some distant part of his mind that reminded him that Luna or Hermione would be on him for not using the Library time for work, as Harry started to do a series of slow barrel rolls, weaving in and out of the towers and flying bridges of the castle. Ron shook his head, knowing fully well that whatever it was bothering Harry, he was not the one who would get it out of him and trundled back to Hermione's table.
Ron glanced up as he felt a presence as familiar as his own sliding through the stacks. An automatic smile slid onto his face as Luna more or less danced into the open. Her eyes were upward, focused on something she saw, or thought she saw, or maybe saw sometime, up there. It was confusing, even to him. He shook his head laughingly as he noticed that she had worn one baby carrot and one radish as earrings today. She waved at something up above before dropping her gaze to his smiling, her silvery grey eyes sparkling.
Luna finished crossing the space, spun around an out of control library cart that was passing by flinging books back onto the shelf, and dropped into his lap, kissing him deeply and with an utter lack of concern towards the reactions of Madame Pince if she were to catch them. She turned on his lap, straddling him, and laid her head on his shoulder. Ron smiled down at her, as he swept another of Dumbledore's journals out of the way, a rather exciting one, telling about his infiltration of some castle in Germany in the forties, to place his hands on her hips, steadying her. Luna kissed him again, moving just enough on his lap to get him to let out a frustrated groan, "Bloody hell, Loony...it's the middle of the day..."
Luna shrugged, licking her lips slightly, which caused Ron to groan again, before answering, "So, did you find anything? Maybe it doesn't exist any more. Fudge always had a few tame Heliopaths running around the country, maybe they ate it?"
"Doubt it," Ron replied seriously, knowing that Luna might somewhere have a point in there. He looked out the window, past Luna head as she rested her chin on his shoulder, "I wish I had though, luv, it's driving them mad..." Ron didn't need mention who was being driven mad, she knew quite well. "I wish I could save them for once, but-"
"Daddy has an archive of old Prophets," Luna mentioned, thoughtfully, "even the ones that the Prophet doesn't want to admit that they ever wrote, maybe they have something in them?"
"We could look, I guess, next chance we get to sneak away to Diagon Alley," Ron agreed. "I should probably finish trying to look through that book," Ron waved in the general direction of Helga, a True Friend, "would you like to help? Luna grinned at him, like a small child on Christmas morning, and Ron tried not to laugh, he had a sneaking suspicion that his fiancée was a bibliophile as well. Luna stood from his lap, turned and around and sat back down, and leaned back against him, tucking her head under his. Despite Ron's earlier voiced concerns, Pince rarely came this far back in the stacks during the day, so they were not in much true jeopardy of being caught.
Luna flicked her wand at the book, causing it to skitter across the tabletop to her hand before she slid her wand up a sleeve and began to read. She read in silence for several minutes, content to let Ron amuse himself by reading over her shoulder before she sighed deeply and looked up and back at him. "This is interesting," she mentioned, "according to this, Helga made the Cup herself, it is supposed to fill automatically with whatever beverage the drinker..." Luna trailed off as she heard a low rumbling from close behind her; she looked up, rolling her eyes.
She smiled languidly, and conjured a sandwich. "I love you," Ron whispered feelingly, as she handed him the sandwich without breaking stride. She picked up the book again, and returned to reading, her lips moving silently as she ran a finger with a bright blue painted nail down the text.
"I know," Luna replied, reaching down and squeezing his hand, with her free one. Luna stopped reading, as her eyes paused to look out the window, to see Harry gliding by again. She reached up to rub her eyes, and yawned. "We should schedule when we make love better, Ronnie," Luna announced in a normal voice, with the exact same tone one would normally use to discuss the latest Quidditch scores, or the weather in London, "I'm bloody well tired." She turned on his lap, and cocked her head slightly as she watched his ears redden, "Really, according to the latest studies, the best hours are between four and eight in the afternoon. Lessens the chance of Bezalwart infections."
Ron just nodded.
Luna smiled brightly; her point made and went on, "Ronnie, when did you want to get married, really?" Her face fell slightly, "I mean..." her voice became small, "what are we going to do next year? You'll be out with the Cannons and I'll be here..."
Ron sighed, as he reached up to sweep a long, errant lock of hair out of her eyes and behind her right ear, "Luna, sweetheart, that's a long way off, even if I make it onto the team...but even so, it doesn't matter. We'll find a way to deal with it, if nothing else, we can go elope," he shrugged.
"Your mum, said that we...couldn't, until I was out of school," Luna muttered with a slight bitterness that was almost uncharacteristic of her.
"I love my mother, Luna," Ron said quietly, as he ran the fingers of his hand that wasn't supporting her on his lap slowly up and down her spine, "but you are of age at the end of the month. We'll see what happens this summer, we wanted to wait at least that long?" Ron muttered and Luna nodded, leaning into his chest, and burrowing her head into his robes. "If Mum makes me choose between her and you, she's already lost...just like she made me choose before."
************************Great Hall, Hogwarts***************************
February 10, 1998.
7:15 am
"Did you ever find out where Hagrid was yesterday? Not that I mind getting to go back to sleep, but..." Ron asked quietly, looking around for eavesdroppers as he slid into a seat across from Hermione, but as the nearest students within earshot were DA members so he was safe. She shrugged, and yawned slightly, having not recovered from the night before. She looked over at Harry, sitting slightly slumped against her shoulder lightly and slowly sipping from a steaming mug of coffee.
Bags were under Harry's eyes, as well as under his wife's. As she reached up and ran her fingers through the small hairs on the back of his neck, Harry gave her a small, tired smile before slowly forking a bit of eggs into his mouth. She dropped her head to his shoulder as she thought back to the night before. Hermione had told her parents at Christmas, that Voldemort did not usually risk trying to trespass in Harry's thoughts, that he did not want to risk the combined gestalt that would oppose the attempt, but even so, the pain that had ripped through their combined minds at the utter joy that Riddle had felt over something had kept them awake. But even more than that, was the deep, instinctive guilt that Harry had felt nearly overwhelm him at the thought that the Dark Lord had just succeeded at something.
"No, Ron," Hermione answered softly, her attention still mostly, as always, on Harry, "I haven't. " She paused as Luna joined them, kissed Ron lightly and started to fill her plate from the serving trays in front of her. Hermione grinned to herself as she carefully didn't roll her eyes at Ron and Luna; it was a not very well kept secret that the blonde Ravenclaw spent as many nights hidden behind the hangings of Ron's bed in Gryffindor tower as in her own bed. "I do have a meeting with McGonagall this afternoon about some of my Head Girl duties, I'll ask her then."
Harry glanced around the area, "I'd expect that he was...called away."
"Maxime's gone as well," Luna put in absently, as she thumbed through this month's Quibbler. The cover article showed a picture of a broken-down telephone booth, sitting in a deserted, trash strewn alley, with the title, "Ministry of Magic, Government Entity or Headquarters of the Upcoming Hippogriff Revolution." Luna cocked her head as she looked at a picture of a majestic black Hippogriff standing with one foot on a tall pile of scrolls, "Perhaps they just went somewhere for a proper shag..." she turned her head to look up at Ron adoringly, "three, four days seems about right, really."
Hermione rolled her tongue around in her cheek for an instant, trying not to laugh. She shook her head, and decided, Sod it. She dropped her hand from Harry's neck and lightly stroked his thigh under the cover of the table. Harry turned slightly and kissed the top of her head as she looked back to Luna, "Three days is about right...pretty much want to take a shower after that." Harry barked a laugh, and Luna giggled. Ron snorted with his mouth full of eggs, sputtering them over the table in front of him. Hermione reached forward and carefully swept the remains off her Charms text with a napkin, glaring at him unrelenting asperity. "Ronald..." she whispered, flatly, lethally. He swallowed slightly, not having Harry's advantage of feeling her hidden amusement and gulped down his food...
Just as Ron was about to apologize, a flutter of wings interrupted his words. A large owl swirled down, skidding to a halt in front of him and deposited a large package emblazoned with the three intertwined, W's of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ron ducked as Hedwig settled next to Hermione, cooing slightly as Hermione reached out and petted her, while Harry removed a letter from the Owl's leg.
Hedwig gratefully took a bacon rind from Hermione and watched, slightly disdainfully, as the rest of the assorted Owls, Eagles, and a single large bat that flew to a rather pale Slytherin; delivered their parcels and missives. After a minute, all the assorted avians left, except Hedwig who thought it perfectly acceptable that she remain with her master and mistress. She took another bacon rind from Hermione, and seemed to pout as Hermione told her that was it, "She would get sick."
Harry looked up suddenly, Hermione and Hedwig both following his gaze as a large, black shadow passed over the table, blocking the light from the sun shining in the hall from the high windows. A cold shudder slipped though his bones as a huge, coal black raven the size of a condor landed in front of Harry, knocking askew a platter of eggs with a large box it held in it talons. It stared at Harry for a moment, with sullen red eyes, before it took flight once more, leaving the package behind.
Harry and Hermione were on their feet before the raven was a meter away, wands in hand and pointing at the package. Peripherally, they knew McGonagall, Flitwick and Remus were coming to their feet at the Head Table, craning their necks to look down at the group of Gryffindor seventh and sixth years, plus Luna, who all seemed to be standing looking agitatedly at the box. Hermione flicked her wand over it, muttering long strings of Latin and Celtic as faint glows of gold and blue and green danced out from her wand to float down over the package. She pointed her wand at the air, and watched as small, fiery letters appeared in the air. She gazed at the words. I don't know, Harry.
Harry nodded as he pointed his wand at the box. With a slight shudder, a lid decorated with only his last name floated up and set itself down on the table next to the box. Slowly, carefully, Harry tipped the box towards him, Hermione crowded his shoulder...
A loud, strangled gasp slipped out from Hermione as Harry's fists clenched tightly on the edges of the box. She grabbed his arm, painfully, as the two of them took in a small, glowing blue ball that spun around, as if looking for someone, before coming to a rest focusing on them. Next to the loose, magical eye, the broken halves of a bludger-bat sized wand sat, dead.
Harry was already moving towards the head table, as Ron looked in the box, Harry's outline slightly blurring as Hermione followed at his heels. Behind them, Ron let out a loud curse as Harry stopped, looking up at McGonagall with flares of Magic already dancing at the corners of his eyes. "Where did they go?"
"Who?" McGonagall asked, slightly befuddled, as she had not seen the contents of the box. Her ignorance was quickly rectified as Ron ran up behind them, still holding the box in his hands. Minerva moaned softly as she leaned over the table and looked into it. "Hagrid and Olympe left Sunday night to go investigate a report of Giant movements in the Southern Highlands...They didn't report back yesterday, so Alastor went to look in on them."
"Where?" Hermione demanded, her voice frozen.
"About twenty miles west of Hawick..."
Harry didn't stop to hear the rest as he spun on his heel, and headed back towards the Gryffindor table with Hermione and Ron immediately behind him. Their robes fluttered behind them like the wings of a great raptor as they moved rapidly to where they had previously been seated. Without a word from Harry, the DA gathered like a hunting pride, muttering to each other and moaning, gasping or letting loose quick bitten-off sobs as the word spread. Harry looked around them, "Seventh years only," he said softly. He and Hermione left the hall without another word, their brisk pace carrying them from the room in mere seconds.
Behind them, at the Slytherin Table, Blaise Zabini smirked and saluted the door with a goblet of Pumpkin Juice. At the Head Table, McGonagall spun to Remus and leaned in, "Find Nymphadora, go with them, your classes will be canceled for today." Lupin nodded as he quickly moved to a hidden door at the back of the hall and slipped through it.
*************************Lower Scottish Highlands**************************
A thick, cloying fog hung over the ground that the winter sun seemed powerless to destroy. Trees devoid of leaves stood, guarding a small clearing set amidst the rolling hills, like the fence of some prison. A wolf howled in the morning, slinking away as several tall, dark-cloaked presences slipped away, vanishing into the mist.
A fall of color and a rush of wind displaced the fog, revealing, as it broke, eleven black-clad figures. Harry looked to each side as he spun to a stop, took a single step forward to cancel the momentum of the Portkey Transfer, and took a quick, steadying breath. He waved to the right and left, and watched as Seamus, Dean and Padma peeled off to the left as Neville, Parvati and Lavender slipped to the right behind their wands.
Hermione, Harry whispered, as his eyes lit and a pulse of magic snapped outward, pushing aside the remainder of the fog. He paused, feeling for any other presences, magical or mundane, within sight. Harry caught Hermione's eye, her small headshake, and the dark, terrified look in her eye. He glanced at Lupin, the lycan's nostrils flared, and he too gave a shake of negation.
Harry slipped forward, moving carefully, probing for traps or something and not, truthfully, wanting to find what he already knew he would, in the darkest recesses of his thoughts. Harry spun, his wand tracking as a startled deer jumped from a patch of underbrush in his path. He stepped around a tree, and froze...
Oh...God...Hermione wailed silently, her hand shaking on the grip of her wand for a heartbeat before she started forward. She stopped as Harry reached out and grabbed her wrist, shaking his head slightly. She could see tears threatening to break free from the corners of Harry's eyes, and could feel them burning in hers. Her lip trembled slightly as Harry waved Ron, Remus and Tonks out to the sides before he let Hermione's wrist fall free and the two of them crept forward.
"Anything?" Harry whispered in a broken voice. Receiving no answer, he moved forward and crouched next to a huge, broken mound of a corpse. Slowly, Harry reached up and gingerly touched the side of his first friend's throat. He felt for a pulse, already knowing it was too late. Hagrid's body was battered and broken; both legs were bent at an unnatural angle from joints that did not exist. Blood soaked Hagrid's torn and rent robes from wounds too numerous to count. Harry looked up from the gaping wound in Hagrid's neck and closed his unseeing eyes with trembling, blood-covered fingers.
Harry stood slowly like a very, very old man, not the powerful wizard of seventeen he was in truth. He turned and caught Hermione as she flung herself at him and buried her head in his shoulder. Tears dampened his shirt and the top of her head, as he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder. After a moment, Hermione pulled away from him, wiping her eyes and giving him a small, tight nod.
They moved together, with terribly acquired professionalism, even as their hearts lay shattered on the dead grass of the glade, to the immense body laying partially across Hagrid's legs as if Olympe had fallen trying to protect her fiancé. Harry didn't bother to check her; he knew she was dead at a glance. They moved on, sheathing their wands as they went and stopped at Lupin and Tonks' side.
The DADA instructor and Auror-on-loan were looking down on the old, broken body of Alastor Moody. His wooden leg was laying several feet away on a log, snapped in half. The grass was darkened with his blood, as were the front of his robes. Harry knelt, drew his wand again and ran it over Moody's body, Revelo Priori Incantium.
A soft yellow glow rose from Moody's body and floated towards a small, clear faceted crystal that Hermione held up. The light slipped inside, lighting the stone with a soft glow. "There's your evidence, Tonks," Hermione said in a lifeless voice.
"It was Malfoy, wasn't it, Hermione?" Harry muttered quietly. She nodded, kneeling down and running one hand through her hair. She conjured white shrouds over each of them with a violent wave of her hand, before her tears started to flow once more. Harry fell to his knees next to her, and pulled her into his side.
"How do you know, Harry?" Tonks asked, her eyes fixed sightlessly on the shrouded form of her mentor...and friend. "I still need to take this signature back to the Ministry, to compare it to the files."
Harry shrugged, not looking up, "It's the same as Draco's...just a bit different...I've seen enough of his curses over the years." Hermione just nodded, continuing to look off into the woods absently.
Behind them, the rest of the DA members that had joined them on this grim errand stopped, looking on as Lupin flicked his wand, and three shrouded forms rose from the grass to hover at waist height. "Let's take them home, Harry," Lupin said, almost silently, as flashbacks of other white shrouds, too many, stomped through his thoughts with hob-nailed boots.
Harry pulled himself to his feet, pulling Hermione with him, "Portkey, Ron," Harry ordered. Ron nodded as he conjured several lengths of rope and tied them to bodies. He flicked his wand over them; they trembled and flashed blue, before becoming still. At a somber gesture, the DA closed in, touched the ropes, and vanished in a fall of color and a rush of wind.
*****************************Hogwarts**********************************
February 11, 1998.
10:00 pm.
Harry and Hermione slipped out onto the windswept roof of the Astronomy tower. Or at least it should have been so, but as they exited the thick, oak door that guarded the exit onto the battlements, they immediately felt the wards fighting their passage, and the strong, warming charms cast in a dome over the top of the tower. They shared a tired, worn look as they moved around the center tower.
Ron looked up, and saluted them with the fifth of Firewhisky he held in his tightly clenched fist. He took a sip as they slid to the stone floor opposite him, "How did you find me?" he asked after a moment.
"Luna sent us, mate," Harry replied, reaching forward and taking the bottle from his friend. He took a small sip, before handing the bottle to Hermione. She looked at it disdainfully for a long moment, before she took a swallow.
Ron shook his head, "Aw yes...she didn't throw her ring at you and tell you to make me eat it, did she?" he asked with utterly fake lightness.
"You know better than that, Ron," Hermione replied, reaching out and patting his knee lightly, "she was concerned about you."
"I didn't mean to yell," Ron muttered, taking the bottle from Hermione and taking another drink. Beyond the confines of the spell enclosing the roof of the Astronomy Tower, a light snow began to fall, the flakes adhering to the spell like a large, material dome. "I just, I dunno..."
"She's about as likely to not follow you into battle as Hermione is to me, Ron," Harry said with a slight rueful shake of his head. Hermione just nodded, this fight had long since been dropped with them, the feelings might remain, but they both knew the outcome. She looked over at Harry, content to let him talk to Ron, Harry grunted and gestured for the bottle, "She loves you, Ron, she'd do anything for you, but don't ask her that..."
"But how do you deal with it, Harry, the thought that Hermione could get hurt or killed, or?" Ron sighed; his words dangling as he carefully didn't say the fate that had been known to befall certain people when they were captured by the forces of darkness.
Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, as he looked down at the bottle in his hands. "Very, very poorly, mate," Harry replied in a slightly tortured whisper after a moment, "very poorly. Of course it doesn't help that I carry around a guilt complex a league wide," he shrugged, "but I deal." He turned his head and gave Hermione a small, wan smile, "Or rather she makes me." Hermione smiled at him, brightly for an instant, before the look faded away. Smiles seemed harder to hold than frowns these days.
"I don't quite have that luxury, Harry," Ron retorted with a snort, he waved away Harry and Hermione's sudden concerned looks, "I'm not jealous, reall... alright, I am jealous a touch that you two get a private suite here," Ron admitted, wryly.
"Oh, bullocks, Ronald Weasley," Hermione replied in an utterly convincing imitation of Molly's dulcet tones, "We know bloody well that that girl spends more time in Gryffindor Tower than her own bed."
"That's just not fair," Ron whined slightly, "every woman in my life does the 'Molly' voice...does she give lessons?" he asked rhetorically and Harry shrugged. "She has to sneak in, though."
"She's of age at the end of the month," Hermione supplied, and Ron nodded, "you could? McGonagall would give you one of the married quarters, there are like twenty or thirty free in the tower, no one's used them in fifty years."
Ron took a deep breath, rolling the drink between the palms of his hands as he watched the light from an ever-lasting candle he had conjured earlier dancing in its depths. "We've talked about it, sis," Ron said softly to the only woman he was right now granting that title, she reached over and took the drink from him, took a small sip herself and set it down next to her. "Mum told me that we have to wait until we were both out of school, 'it wasn't proper'," he muttered in a perfect imitation of the Weasley matriarch, better in fact than Hermione's from a moment before. "Guess it's good that you haven't let them in on it, she'd be awfully disappointed."
"Maybe I'll go tell her then," Hermione replied flatly, "I'm already a scarlet woman anyway." Harry gave her a concerned look; he thought Molly had stopped with the aspirations on Hermione's character since Ginny had returned, partially anyway, to the fold. "She hasn't, Harry, not in so many words, since we brought Ginny back, but it's still there. I can at least have a more or less civil conversation with Ginny, and we were at wand tips only a few months ago."
Ron laughed at the sudden image of Hermione standing up to Molly, which was always entertaining to the bystanders anyway, before he took a deep breath and stood, leaning his elbows on the parapet. He pushed aside a brass telescope and looked down towards the dark, cold cabin where Hagrid had once lived. "What are they doing with Fang?" Ron asked suddenly, "And Buckbeak?"
"Bill and Fleur are taking Fang, she evidently fell in love with the mutt," Harry replied as he stood up and leaned against the low wall at Ron's right as Hermione came up and did the same on his left. "I don't know what anyone has decided about Buckbeak." He glanced back towards the castle, "McGonagall hasn't decided what to do about Creatures, there may not be a class for the remainder of the year. Grubbly-Plank has refused to return here and her next most favorite candidate..." Harry shook his head, not mentioning in words that McGonagall had wanted Charlie Weasley to fill that post when Hagrid finally retired in several years.
"I always thought that Hagrid and Mad-Eye were indestructible," Ron mentioned in a tight voice. "Sure, I've seen them hurt, Merlin knows that Mad-Eye carried around the scars...but I never thought..." he reached up and ran his hands through shaggy red hair. "I always thought, somewhere in the back of my mind...every time that I came back to Hogwarts, that he'd be here."
A/N: Yes...that was rough for me, too. Next chapter...a touch of tit for tat...