Full Circle: A Second Turn

All right, the sequel is officially here…

Disclaimer: Characters are JK, plot is all me. Why do we have to write disclaimers?

Full Circle: A Second Turn

Chapter I: Life Goes On

A month had passed since Harry nearly killed himself again. He and Hermione had entered their interrupted relationship again, and currently, they could be found happily dating. Harry was still not entirely accustomed to living again. Periodically, he experienced the desire to see his parents again, and in such times Hermione would step in to reassure him that he had made the right choice in deciding to stay behind. With each passing day, Harry became more confident in his judgment, and life was slowly seeping back into him. He began to laugh more, and enjoy his time with his friends, the Weasley family, and especially Hermione.

That is why one warm summer evening, Harry and Hermione were sitting down at a table with Ron and Luna, and conversing lively about everything from the weather to Quidditch. Even Hermione pretended to be interested in the sport for a while. James and Madelyn were sitting in chairs of their own, following the interactions of the adults around the table with keen interest.

Inevitably, the conversation turned to Harry's post-mortem experience. He still felt slightly sensitive about the ordeal, but found himself capable of talking easily about it whenever it surfaced in conversation. That however, was largely when he spoke to Hermione. In company, he was still uneasy.

“So, Harry, what was it like, you know…being up there?” Ron asked hesitantly.

Harry looked sideways at Hermione. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he decided to tell Ron and Luna about his adventure in more detail.

“Were your parents nice?” Luna said vaguely.

“Yeah, I spent quite a bit of time with them,” Harry said. “Seventeen years of catching up was interesting to say the least. I told them about everyone, especially you, Ron and Hermione. They seemed happy about it.”

“What did they say about You-Know-Who?” Ron inquired further.

“They told me they were proud of me, and had watched over me every day of my life. The world is a better place without Voldemort, and they agreed,” Harry answered, but his expression was distant as he relived the memories.

“Sirius Black was there too, I expect,” Luna put in when Harry had finished talking. “He was a good man, and he was wrongly imprisoned.”

“That we established, yes,” Hermione said. “Too bad the stupid Ministry didn't recognize it,” she added bitterly.

“Well, he was there too,” Harry said. “I talked to him too, and he was happy to see me, as much as I was excited to see him. He's content that he's rejoined with my parents. They were good friends back when they were alive, and are, even now.”

“And Dumbledore? What did he say?”

“He is as fascinating as ever. He knew I would succeed in the end, but how, he didn't tell me. I wish he did, it would make it much easier to understand him. But he's happy too. Said I carried out what he started brilliantly, despite that it cost me my life,” Harry explained.

“Wow,” Ron said. It was the only word he found himself capable of uttering.

“What did it feel like coming back?” Luna asked casually.

Harry hesitated. He had already explained it once, but again? Sighing, he decided to tell her.

“It was painful. I don't think I've ever experienced anything like it. Literally, the feeling was as if you were being ripped out of your skin, forcibly. Then you fly down, agonizingly fast, and your insides churn. Just as quickly, it ended, and I was slammed against something. By the time I was able to take my bearings, I discovered I was in my coffin. My body was nothing but bone and slimy ligaments holding me together. But I immediately felt it start regenerating, and that was still very painful…” Harry visibly shuddered. “And now, here I am,” he concluded.

A silence fell over the table, as Harry's story started to sink in, and realization set in about what had really cost him to arrive back in earth to be with the people who loved him, and whom he, hopefully, loved back.

Since his return, Hermione had benefited most. She had transformed from the gloomy person she was for the past two years, into the cheerful young woman she ought to be. Harry's cooperation and care for her only added to her contentment and desire to be with the man she so loved, and could never let go of, again.

“More salad, anyone?” came Ron's voice loudly, startling Hermione from her pleasant reverie.

“Oh…oh, yes, please,” she said, blushing slightly, as she took the plate from Ron.

Small talk was exchanged as the evening wore on, and the atmosphere became more and more relaxed. There was the occasional exclamation of amazement, because of Harry's ordeal, but the reason may have been the fact that the wine bottle had started full, but was now severely depleted of its contents. Laughter and jokes continued for a while longer, until a small voice interrupted the proceedings.

“Mommy?” Madelyn said.

“Yes, dear?” Luna turned to her daughter, and bent her head towards her to be able to hear clearer.

“When will the stork bring a baby to Harry and Hermione?” she said in a small voice.

Awkward silence was what followed.

“Well…this one's yours, mate,” Ron grinned, as he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

Our hero was at a loss for words. Beside him, Hermione was looking very flustered. Luna looked expectantly at them, and Ron was chortling quietly.

“Hmm, good question,” Harry replied, “but…”

“We haven't really talked about it yet,” Hermione said in a rush. “Maybe later on, maybe not, but we don't know you see, with everything going on, and Harry has just returned, and…” she rambled on, but caught herself, and blushed in embarrassment.

It's surprising how forward, honest and insightful a small child could be.

“That will be resolved later on,” said Ron with a smile. “In the meanwhile, cheers!”

Four wine-filled glasses rang clearly as they collided with each other, and the night resumed in its easy-going manner of laughter, jokes, and the occasional toast.

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Hm, this and the next chapter will be rather mild and slow moving…by Chapter 4, the action will pick up considerably…that's a promise, but till then, please bear with me…

Disclaimer: Characters, JK, plot - me.

Chapter Two

The sun shone through the window, its rays settling on the sleeping couple; they were squished together by the physical impracticability of the bed they lay on.

Harry slowly awoke to a blinding headache. Initially, he had not an explanation, but suddenly it came back to him - the previous night he and Hermione had been having dinner with Ron and Luna. Of course, the wine; too much, and a hangover could be expected the following morning. If only he could remember what that spell was…

Valiantly trying to keep the room in focus, Harry shuffled in the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

The click of the lock on the door startled the other occupant of the bed awake. Hermione stirred, and then yawned and stretched, much resembling her quarry, Crookshanks. Incidentally, the kneazle in question slipped through the door, and with a well-timed jump, landed beside Hermione on the bed.

“Hey there, Crookshanks,” she spoke softly to her pet.

Harry exited the bathroom at precisely that moment, and looked at Hermione, playing with Crookshanks. He smiled at the sight, and she caught him looking, before returning his grin with a brilliant one of her own. Yes, his future certainly included Hermione, Harry thought.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Actually, yes. I don't even have a headache,” she answered him. “Quite wondrous too, considering the amount of wine we consumed last night.”

“Lucky you,” Harry grumbled. “By the way, d'you remember that hangover spell you told me about one time?”

“Of course,” Hermione said confidently, and performed the said charm on Harry, mastering the complicated wand movement quite nicely.

**

Shortly after, the two lovers sat at the kitchen table, sipping their obligatory morning cup of coffee, and going through the day's copy of the Daily Prophet.

“So, what are we up to today?” Harry said conversationally, while flipping a page of the paper.

“We have to go to the Burrow, I believe. The others will be worried about you,” Hermione answered.

“Not to mention Ginny,” Harry said. “She brought me back, but I have no interest in her. Do I thank her, or scold her…”

“I don't know, Harry. We'll have to see when we visit after breakfast today.”

As it was said, so it happened. Apparating to the front gates of the Weasley home was not a complicated affair, but the following interactions were bound to be rather difficult.

“Just relax, Harry,” Hermione spoke in his ear, as Mrs. Weasley came out of the house, waving them to come in.

They walked the short distance to the front door, and entered the Burrow, Molly fussing behind them about how they could catch a cold because of the chilly morning.

“Come on now, in you go,” she was saying.

The entirety of the Order, which, needless to say, included the Weasleys, was assembled in the enlarged kitchen, waiting to see whether the rumors were true that Harry was back.

Harry noticed Ginny looked particularly radiant. Not surprisingly, the chest monster did not make its presence known, despite Ginny's efforts to make sure she appeared exceptionally beautiful.

Remus stepped forward, a sullen, but resolute expression etched in his features.

“Harry,” he looked hard at him. “The Order and I have come to a consensus. If you think that you must rejoin James and Lily, then we cannot stop you, even if we will miss you greatly.”

“Remus…”

His father's best friend continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry.

“However, if you decide to stay, we will openly welcome you back, Harry. The choice is entirely yours.”

“I've decided to stay, and I have Ginny to thank for that,” Harry said, selecting his words carefully. “Without her dedication, I would have never realized that life is worth living for.”

Ginny beamed at him.

“So does that mean, you know…me and you…” she looked at him hopefully.

“I'm sorry, Gin. My heart belongs to Hermione. Always has and always will. I hope you understand. I don't want to upset you. There is someone special out there for you too,” Harry said, and ended on what he hoped was a right note.

Ginny looked sad, but seemed to finally begin to come to terms that she could never have Harry, in spite of her idyllic dreams.

“Can we at least be friends?” she asked.

“Certainly, we can,” Harry answered with a smile, and the two of them hugged.

It felt good to be on good terms with Ginny again. The awkwardness between them was not gone entirely, but Harry could at least talk to her more normally again.

A collective sigh of relief issued from the members of the Order. Visibly relaxed, they began to converse among themselves about this latest positive turn of events, and Remus Lupin looked happier than he had in a long time, according to Mrs. Weasley.

It was true. A grin had broken out on the werewolf's face, and he seemed unable to remove it.

A cork bottle popped from somewhere within the crowd, and an angry retort issued from someone who had been hit with it.

“Butterbeer all around!” a voice shouted, and was answered by numerous cheers. Harry joined in, feeling genuinely happy.

The rest of the day continued in very high spirits, and merged seamlessly into the night. Barely sober, the Order began to utter their goodbyes around midnight, and most made their way out into the night, apparating from the yard towards their destinations.

At around one o'clock in the morning, the Burrow was quiet again.

Harry and Hermione also wished their parting greetings, and walked out in the cool night air.

“Have a good time, Harry?”

“I can't believe it, Hermione. My life, you, and our future together…it couldn't be better.”

“Believe it, Harry. Because it's real,” Hermione answered, as a lingering kiss was exchanged between them.

Two loud cracks announced the departure of our favourite couple, as a pair of eyes looked on from the Burrow.

“Yes,” Remus said quietly to himself, “they will be happy together.”

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Chapter III

Things are gonna start picking up soon, I promise…

A Walk to Remember

Harry was full of life again. He had regained his old joyfulness completely, and without a murderous Dark Lord after him, the outlook was certainly brighter.

The weather took a turn towards infinite sunshine and the days became longer as well.

In the cool late afternoon of one such day, Harry and Hermione could be found somewhere that held many memories - ones that were dear, and others that were not.

Hogwarts.

Actually, they were currently walking aimlessly around the lake at the school, which had been the setting for long-winded discussions, the adventurous endeavors of the Triwizard tournament, and the place, where Harry and Hermione had become more than friends nearly three years previously.

Currently, they were walking leisurely, hand in hand, around the perimeter of the lake. Memories of years gone by were being discussed. Harry was reminiscing particularly about the tournament, and how excited he had felt back then. Hermione replied with a distant smile about how worried she was for him, while Viktor Krum had valiantly been trying to attract her attention.

Fourth year had really been very exciting. It was ironical how Rita Skeeter's fraudulent article about Harry and Hermione had turned out to be eventually true. They were laughing about it now, and often joked that they ought to thank the flamboyant reporter someday.

The good memories carried them well into the evening. The sunset was beautiful over the Forbidden Forest, and the sunrays reflected in the calm lake surface. A break in the water revealed the giant squid was alive and well, before it dived back in the murky depths of the lake.

Harry and Hermione directed their steps towards the front doors of the castle. Taking the beaten path, they soon found themselves inside the Entrance Hall. There, they ran into Professor McGonagall, who was on her way to the Great Hall.

“Good evening, professor,” Hermione greeted politely.

“Evening, Miss Granger,” replied McGonagall with the barest hint of a smile. “Enjoying your visit back?”

“Certainly,” Harry put in jovially. “I missed this place to be honest,” he added.

“We were just heading for a bite to eat,” Hermione explained when Harry had finished.

“Ah, as am I,” said McGonagall, and the three of them departed towards the Great Hall.

Dinner was an interesting affair. The meals stayed true to their tradition of being mouth-watering, in both look and taste. Because of the summer months, the school was practically empty, save for some of the teachers who remained to ensure everything ran smoothly and that Hogwarts was ready for the following school year.

Conversation was a tad awkward, because Harry was forced to recount his tale of resurrection, and most of the teachers had not heard of the spell he was describing, and when he divulged the feeling of coming back, most visibly shuttered.

Eventually the diner came to an end, and the two visitors bid their parting greetings, before preparing to go back to London.

“Hermione?” Harry said in the silence, as they walked along the corridor to the front doors

“Hmm?”

“Can we just stay for a while longer?”

“Why?” Hermione asked in puzzlement.

“I wanted to go to the Astronomy tower. It's the one place we didn't visit today.”

Hermione was taken by surprise. She had deliberately avoided the Astronomy Tower today. It brought a memory back that was too painful to remember once Harry had died, and she thought her future had lain in ruins.

She sighed inwardly

“Sure, Harry. We can go up there,” she said with false cheeriness, and didn't meet his eyes as she spoke.

Tthey made their way up the stairs, and past the portrait of the Fat Lady. The pink-clad woman in the portrait squealed excitedly, and dropped the glass of wine she was holding when she saw Harry pass by. Soon she was gone to tell the other portraits.

The stars were already brightly shining in the contrast of the dark sky by the time Harry and Hermione reached the top of the tower. The night was a cool one, and a draft was blowing through the battlements, making Hermione shiver as it swept over her.

“Why did you want to come here, Harry?” she asked cautiously.

“It's just that I've always enjoyed coming here. Aren't the stars beautiful, Hermione?” he replied

“Yes. Yes they are.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Harry placed his arm around Hermione to stop her from shivering. She gave him a grateful smile.

“Do you remember, Harry?” she asked suddenly in a quiet voice.

“How could I not, Hermione?” he answered nervously.

“You asked me to marry you here once long ago,” her tone was distant with the pleasant reminiscence.

“I did, Hermione. And I'm sorry I died, but now I'm alive again.”

“What are you saying, Harry?” Hermione looked at him quizzically.

“Give me a second chance, Hermione. Let me show how much I love you,” he breathed in her ear, and this time the shiver that washed over had nothing to do with the chilly night.

Harry raised himself up on one knee, and with a practiced wave of his hand, he produced a small black box.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. She hadn't expected this, not tonight at least…

He opened the box, to reveal a most beautiful silver ring, embedded with a ruby, with her name etched with fine craftsmanship on the inside circumference of the ring.

“Marry me, Hermione,” Harry said huskily.

Her voice wouldn't obey her desire to scream out her agreement. Instead, she launched herself at Harry, knocking him over on his back in the process. His face was soon covered with kisses from her.

“I suppose that's a yes,” Harry said when she calmed down a bit and let him breathe.

Hermione had turn a brilliant shade of magenta and a wide smile was shining on her face.

“It is, Harry, trust me, it is,” she said very fast.

“That's a relief,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Come on, let's go home.”

Hermione's smile did not leave her face, as they made their way down the stairs, across the corridor, and out the front doors of the school.

Along the way, they were talking about the details of the wedding, and when they should do it. In essence, the conversation was largely one-sided; as Hermione was the one asking and answering her own questions, while Harry was generally listening to her bemused.

They apparated away and materialized near Grimmauld Place.

Ron and Luna were standing at the front door, fruitlessly knocking for someone to open the door.

“Ron!” Harry called behind him as he and Hermione walked up the path to the front door.

“Oi!” Ron jumped and turned around. “There you are. We've been trying to get a hold of you all day. Where were you?”

“At Hogwarts. What's wrong?”

“The Order. They've found some new information that merits our attention. It seems You-Know-Who's legacy isn't as gone as we hoped,” said Ron apprehensively.

“We have to look into that,” Harry answered. “As soon as we can.”

“So what were you doing at Hogwarts?” Luna asked serenely.

“Me and Hermione are getting married,” Harry answered, and Hermione nodded excitedly in confirmation.

“That's bloody awesome, mate!” Ron punched Harry in the shoulder. “Wait till I tell everyone. When's it going to happen?”

“We don't know yet. Maybe next month,” Hermione answered.

“Well, whenever it is, don't forget to tell me.”

Before either Harry or Hermione could give their assent, Ron and Luna disappeared with a loud crack, no doubt to tell everyone they knew that Harry Potter was finally tying the knot and starting a family of his own.

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Finally! Done with the boring part. Dark and evil is back, and with that, the action in this story!

Chapter 4: Worries and Plans

It was an unusually quiet night. Clouds hung overhead, and the darkness was complete. A bone-chilling wind permeated the warm air, as a flock of Dementors hovered in circles above an eerie sight.

Putrid green-yellowish fumes issued from the cauldron, as two wizards, huddled around it, muttered indistinguishable spells. A human body was position in the fetal position; face down, inside the cauldron. The figure's dark hair was the only part visible.

The grisly ceremony was one, described in an ancient text, stolen from the Department of Mysteries nearly five years ago. It was a sole record of the magic described by the words written on its frail parchment. A magic, outlawed hundreds of years ago, more dangerous and daring that Voldemort's most ambitious attempts. It was a secret, buried long ago, but most unfortunately, now unearthed.

The recipe for a potion, allowing the duplication of a soul; not a separation, a full duplication, without the compromise of a division of the strength of the caster's soul.

Bellatrix Lestrange had been crushed by her Master's defeat, and she was determined to emulate Tom Riddle, and be greater than he ever was. She pursued immortality, and the potion she was currently submerged in would be key to achieving that goal.

Soon, success would be hers.

**

An owl hooted loudly, startling Harry awake. He had been having a strange dream, but remembrance escaped him, as he tried in vain to recall the details. Beside him, Hermione rolled over on her other side, and in her sleep, she draped a hand over Harry's chest.

Amazingly, the effect was immediate. Her touch seemed to calm him. Inexplicably, Harry felt himself grow drowsy again. Within minutes, his head hit the pillow, as he fell back in a peaceful slumber.

**

The following morning, Hermione was sitting in the kitchen, intently reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. The article in question was describing a most gruesome attack.

As this reporter writes, shocked to the core, at least fifty Muggles are dead and dying on a major London intersection near Big Ben. The origins of the attack remain unclear, as both Muggle and Magical authorities are cooperating in administering help to the wounded. This attack is highly reminiscent of the days when You-Know-Who had Britain in a grip of terror. The Minister of Magic, Fern Frivoldo, has urged the people to not panic, “This is an isolated accident,” he told the Daily Prophet, “the Ministry is working to ensure it does not happen again.”

The minister declined comment on the progress that has been made in capturing You-Know-Who's former inner circle of Death Eaters, which include Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov.

Hermione looked shrewdly at the article. She could tell this attack was part of something bigger, but she could not figure out what it was. Could it be another deranged pureblood, perhaps? She doubted whoever was behind the attack would reveal themselves yet, as an element of surprise was essential in causing chaos and disarray.

She heard Harry come down the stairs, and momentarily, disheveled and sleepy in appearance, he walked in the kitchen.

He grabbed a cup of coffee, and walking behind Hermione, he kissed her neck.

“Wondered where you were,” he said.

“I'm right here, Harry,” she replied impatiently. “You better sit down and read this.”

Confused, Harry took the paper from Hermione. Reading the article, his expression quickly lost its sleepy quality, and a look of anger replaced it.

“How could he be so blind!” he steamed. “There's obviously someone behind this. Wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry's already been infiltrated by a mole.”

Hermione looked at her fiancé with concern. She knew Harry was considering making a career as an Auror, and this kind of work would be what he would have to put up with on a daily basis.

“Harry, what about the wedding? Let's talk about that,” Hermione offered, before Harry became too upset at the Ministry's trademark idiocy.

“What about it?” he said.

“What do you mean what about it? We have a lot to plan, Harry,” said Hermione passionately. “I expect you to be involved.”

“Alright then. What did you have in mind?”

“ I wanted to plan it as a small wedding. Just you, me, and some close friends. We could probably do it somewhere romantic - maybe the Mediterranean,” she revealed excitedly.

Hermione had certainly given the matter extensive thought, Harry observed; completely in contrast to himself, of course. He had not dedicated a shred of thought about where or how he married, as long as it was Hermione by his side. He loved her, and to him, that was all which mattered.

“Sounds good, Hermione,” Harry replied. “What about a band?”

“Maybe we can find one. I don't know whether it should be a Muggle or Wizarding band, though,” she bit her lip apprehensively.

“Then we can decide that later,” said Harry.

His mind was still on the attack, as he struggled to think of someone who hated Muggles enough to cause a resurgence of such scale. Voldemort's Death Eaters were most likely dead in the final battle; the Order should have eliminated them.

Hermione had continued talking, but she noticed he was not listening to her.

“Harry?”

“Hm…yeah?”

“You weren't listening to me. What were you thinking about?”

“I can't get the attack out of my mind, Hermione. Innocent people died today for some lunatic's cause. They're targeting Muggles, and I'm not sure if this will be the only attack. The news that I'm alive again seems to have spread too somehow, and by know they know that you and I are together.”

“I think you're too worried, Harry. I don't believe that it will be anything as monumental as Voldemort out there threatening us,” she said, hoping to lift Harry's spirits.

“Not yet, Hermione, but it could be. I'm worried about you. The fact is, whoever is behind all this could be coming after me, since unfortunately I'm a really high-profile person. Just because of that, they could mean you harm.”

Hermione was touched by Harry's concern for her.

“We'll be fine, Harry. We survived Voldemort, so what could be worse?”

“I don't know, Hermione, I don't know,” Harry sighed.

“Come on, snap out of the despair. We have a wedding to plan for, and we could certainly use more happiness,” said Hermione encouragingly.

“Alright,” Harry smiled weakly. “Could you perhaps recount what you were saying earlier?” he asked.

Hermione groaned inwardly, because she had not remembered even half of the details of her narrative.

“ I was saying, maybe we could hold the wedding somewhere more exotic than the Mediterranean - it just seems too idealistic if we do it there. It's a popular destination for engaged couples, and I want to do something different,” Hermione told Harry seriously.

“I promise I'll give this matter some thought. In fact, I do already have an idea,” he said with a wink, but refused to give anything else away.

Hermione's curiosity was peaked.

“Really? I don't believe you.”

“Well, you better, because you might like it. I will have to send an owl later today to make it happen, but rest assured, you will not be disappointed,” he told her evenly.

“What will make you spill the beans?” she asked

“That I cannot say, Hermione,” he returned, “but have patience.”

**

Harry walked out of the post office in Diagon Alley, happily thinking that his plan would leave Hermione speechless when the moment came.

As he walked down the alley, he did not notice the air around him slowly become colder. It was odd for a summer day, and a sudden chilly blast startled Harry out of his thoughts, and made him alert to his new situation.

Looking up, Harry could still see the sun shining, but none of its warmth reached him. A mist had started to snake silently on the ground, and the air became colder still. Vague black shapes could be seen drifting in the distance. They seemed to be coming closer.

Harry felt feelings despair and loneliness take hold of him. They were becoming stronger, gripping at him tighter and tighter. Only then did he realize - Dementors. They seemed many and more powerful than he could remember.

He remembered the Patronus charm, and tried to perform it, but no words came out. Harry felt his consciousness ebbing away, as the wand slipped from his hand, and he began falling, falling…

Was it death claiming him again?

A/N Oh noes…what happens next? Stay tuned to find out….in the meanwhile, leave a review

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Chapter V

Disclaimer: JK owns the characters, and the plot is mine

The bright light hurt his eyes, as he slowly opened them. A blur that vaguely defined the shape of a face swam above him.

“He's awoken,” said a voice Harry didn't recognize.

Someone placed the glasses on his face, and the world came in focus.

Tonks was standing over him, an expression of wonderment on her face. Harry didn't know why sudden silence overtook the room.

“Unbelievable,” whispered another voice from the corner near the door.

“How is this possible?” Professor McGonagall said, astonished.

Harry was confused and was beginning to feel that he was missing out on something.

He was about to ask what it was, but a quiet sobbing he instantly recognized as Hermione's, stopped the words coming out of his mouth.

“Is…is he going to be alright?” she asked weakly.

“I believe so, Ms. Granger,” announced Madam Pomfrey. “His vital signs are satisfactory, yet I cannot explain why that is..”

“Will someone please tell me what's going on?” Harry said in frustration. “What's the matter with everyone!”

“It's not them, mate. It's you,” Ron told him.

“What about me?”

“The Dementor attack, Harry. It's a wonder that you're even alive,” said Remus solemnly.

“The Dementor attack?”

“Yes,” Remus said again.

“I fainted, I remember that,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “Didn't they leave after?”

“Oh, no,” said Remus quietly. “That's when the worst of it happened.”

Chills ran through Harry. Was he really as well as he felt he was?

“Harry, you remember when I told you that you have a past, darker than that of most people,” Remus went on. Harry nodded affirmatively. “Well, this flock of Dementors descended upon you when you collapsed. They feed on suffering, Harry, and given your history, we thought for certain you were going to die. Arthur and I, we arrived late, and managed to drive them out, but by then we feared the worst. We commonly agreed that it's a miracle that you are alive, Harry, but how that is, remains a mystery to be solved.”

Harry listened intently to Remus, and found himself unable to articulate a response.

Once again, he was lucky to be alive, but why? What power kept him from the clutches of death?

The answer to that question lay hidden in a mysterious place, of whose existence a select few were aware. It was a room in the Ministry of Magic, deep within the Department of Mysteries, and confining a force, mysterious and powerful, which learned wizards of the day still found trouble in comprehending.

Yet, Harry knew of the room, but it never crossed his mind to investigate it, and it would not, for a while to come. Hermione was the meaning of his life, and her constant worry over him contributed to his daily growing respect of her and the need to value his own life more. He might have received a second chance, but just as quickly, it could be taken away.

His thoughts abruptly halted, as a sudden tiredness overtook him. Consciousness was quickly extinguished, as he was dragged back in the abyss that was sleep.

**

A thunderclap broke the silence and drone of the rain, as it beat the roof. Rain had been falling all night, and the break of day announced the its continued assault on Grimmauld Place. Harry turned over, startled awake by the sound, and beside him, Hermione lay with her eyes open, staring entranced at the enchanted ceiling. This morning, it was as gloomy as the weather outside.

“Couldn't sleep?” Hermione asked, without looking at him.

“No,” Harry mumbled tiredly. “Bloody thunder's too loud.”

Hermione sighed heavily, and continued to stare at the ceiling listlessly.

“Anything wrong, love?” Harry asked softly, trying to guess at the source of Hermione's discomfort.

“No, Harry, nothing at all…” she answered distantly, but Harry was not easily fooled.

“I know you well, Hermione. Please, tell me.”

She could not deny his sincere request.

“It's you, Harry. It's always you,” she said with slightly more energy. “You barely escape with you life, and losing you again is unthinkable for me.”

Harry was about to form a response, but his attention was diverted by a distraction in the form of a dusty-coloured barn owl, hovering outside the rain-lashed window and tapping impatiently at it with its beak. There was a drenched letter in its talons.

Harry leapt out of the bed, and threw the window open. He was promptly deluged in water, both from the rain and the owl's beating wings as it swept inside.

Hermione got up from the bed as well, and walked over to pick up the soggy letter, which was now resting with the wet owl on top of Harry's trunk.

“Harry, it is from the Ministry,” she said simply.

Once he had fastened the window tightly, Harry walked over to Hermione.

“Open it,” he said.

She performed his instruction, and read the contents of the letter silently for a few minutes.

“So?” Harry prompted, once she had looked up, with surprise and slight indignation apparent on her features.

“They're offering to train us as Aurors, Harry,” her tone was hesitant.

“Is that so?”

“So it seems,” she confirmed with another glance at the parchment.

“What do you think?” Harry asked.

“I'm not sure, Harry, but if you ask me, it is a good idea,” Hermione said reasonably.

“Well, alright, but is there a catch?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Not from what I gather. Obviously we'll be working for the Ministry, but it is a good job,” Hermione said.

“I don't know, Hermione. I'm still wary of them and their offers.”

“It could be fear, Harry,” Hermione said with satisfaction. “You came back, and they don't know how. Seems the Ministry fears you will turn in the next Dark Lord.”

“That's ridiculous!” Harry exclaimed.

“My thought exactly,” she answered.

“Then we'll join them,” said Harry resolutely. “I don't like it much, but since I'm here, I might as well do something with myself,” he added. “And besides, with you alongside me, it'll be much more bearable.”

As the reader may have already guessed, Hermione was delighted by his nearly prompt acceptance of the Ministry's proposal.

The sound of someone knocking on the front door attracted Harry's attention.

“I'll be right back,” Harry said in passing, as he walked in the entrée.

The vivid red hair visible in the window betrayed Ron's presence outside. Smiling, Harry opened the door. Seeing his best friend greatly improved his spirits.

“Come on in,” Harry said pleasantly as he ushered his guests inside.

“Hullo, Harry,” said Luna serenely. “Your ceiling looks really gloomy today,” she observed randomly, directing her gaze upwards.

“Err…right,” Harry replied slightly awkwardly. “Well, let's go to the kitchen. Hermione's in there, and she is impatient to see you.”

They walked in the said room of the house, and pleasantries were promptly exchanged. Luna and Hermione quickly delved in a lively conversation that concerned the wedding of the main couple in our story, and the two best friends looked on, slightly amused.

“Luna, I must show you my ideas for the dress. I assure you, it is positively gorgeous,” Hermione was saying, as Luna listened intently, and the former led the latter by the hand to the bedroom upstairs.

Harry and Ron were left to their own devices once the ladies had departed.

“I have to say, mate, you're one lucky man,” Ron said.

“She's amazing, Ron,” Harry answered absent-mindedly, “can't imagine life without, Hermione.”

“So when will the wedding be,” Ron asked, grinning.

“Not sure, Ron. I think I will leave Hermione to think of the date. I'm more concerned with the aspect of safety. That attack in London was not without motive,” Harry answered shrewdly.

The jovial atmosphere of the initial meeting was replaced by one of suspicion and impatience.

“I can't make head nor tail of it,” replied Ron thoughtfully. “Who could be behind it?”

“I don't know,” Harry said gravely. “But it frustrates me, because the wedding could be a target. I'm not much of an incognito figure as it is…”

“That isn't all, Harry.”

“Really?”

“Well, I work at the Ministry, and I hear the occasional word,” said Ron mysteriously. “There's been another murder.”

“At the ministry?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

“Yes. One of the minister's aides.”

“What d'you suppose was the meaning of it?”

Harry was unnerved by this new development. The two events had to be connected. A plummeting feeling in his stomach told him that a plot existed, much more sinister than he originally thought.

“Had to be a warning of some sort,” Ron said confidently. “It's a sound strategic move. Killing someone so close to the minister means that the perpetrator will encounter nearly no trouble killing the big man.”

“I'm enrolling to be an Auror, Ron,” Harry put in unexpectedly. “I could not guarantee Hermione's safety, but at least the courses will help me in trying to find who this new vigilante is…”

“I hope you know what you're doing, Harry. There's no need to panic as of yet, but I suggest that we be on our guard more often,” Ron said. “There is no assurance about where the next strike could be.”

Harry sighed, and was about to communicate a response back to Ron, but Hermione and Luna, who walked, all aflutter and excited, back in the kitchen, interrupted him.

“Alright, Hermione, I'll let you know as soon as I can, but I have to go to Diagon Alley first,” Luna was saying. “Come on, Ronald, we have to be going.”

She dragged Ron towards the entrance hall, and the latter threw a glance at Harry.

“Well then, see you soon, I trust,” said Harry.

“We will visit you soon, yes,” said Luna. “Unless you two would rather visit us first.”

“Definitely,” said Hermione with a smile.

“All right, then,” said Ron. “Later, mate. See you, Hermione.”

“Bye, Ron.”

“See you Ron. And keep your family safe,” Harry told him in parting.

“Yeah, you too,” Ron said, giving him a pointed look, which Hermione returned with interest.

With that, Harry closed the door heavily, and another sigh escaped him. His fiancé looked curiously at him.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“No, Hermione, not particularly,” said Harry distractedly.

He walked back to the kitchen, and sat down on one of the chairs. His head was bent low in thought, as worries and plans chased each other around in his mind.

An enigmatic, purposeful mastermind orchestrated those attacks. Only, they were becoming more daring, and what would that mean?

A warning, most certainly, Harry thought, a warning of something worse to come…

The rain had started again outside, but this time, with more ferocity than before. Thunder echoed in the distance. A lightning bolt illuminated the dark sky.

The feeling in Harry's stomach only became heavier with dread.

A/N There it is…chapter five. If you liked it, or not, please leave a review never-the-less

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Wow…two jobs, my grandpa's unexpected passing, and parting with the girl I liked leaves little time for writing…never the less, I've done my best with this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it…the next one will be up as soon as possible.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the “formidable” JK, but the plot is entirely mine, and yours to enjoy.

Chapter VI

The Secrets of Godric's Hollow

“We'll be late,” Hermione started impatiently. “You have been in that bathroom for the last twenty minutes,” she went on, rapping impatiently on the door to the bathroom.

“I will be ready, Hermione,” Harry attempted to reason with her fruitlessly. “Only a few more minutes.”

The love of his love growled in frustration, and departed down the stairs to wait in the entrée. She walked back and forth, checking her watch every few seconds. Ron and Luna were supposed to have arrived fifteen minutes previously.

Hermione jumped in surprise, as simultaneously, the blare of a car horn sounded, and Harry apparated right behind her, adding to her shock.

“Well, come on then,” he said, and practically pushed her out of the front door. She did not even receive a chance to protest on his unceremonious attitude.

Painted black, with its engine rumbling loudly, a large, somber car waited in front of them. Luna was visible behind the steering wheel, and Ron was in the seat next to her. His back was turned, as he was explaining, or even possibly, scolding his children, who were sitting in the back. Luna, however, nudged him as Harry and Hermione approached.

“Harry! Hermione! How are you,” greeted his best friend warmly.

“We're fine, Ron,” said Hermione slightly huffily. “And we would be better, if my slowpoke of a fiancé here was only a little faster getting ready,” she threw a haughty glance in Harry's direction.

“Thank you, love,” Harry replied. “I will try to be better organized from now on.”

Hermione's expression became a bit more approving, but she did not answer. Nor did she notice the silent snicker Harry and Ron shared.

The car began to move. Slowly, it gathered velocity. Soon, it was racing down the street. At once, Ron pushed a button on the dashboard that immediately rendered the car completely invisible. Four pairs of eyeballs were inconspicuously hovering in the air.

Just as unexpectedly, the car shot straight up in the air. Hermione gave a shriek of surprise; she despised flying.

“Godric's Hollow is an hour away,” Ron informed the car's occupants at general.

James and Madelyn eventually quieted down as the exhilaration of the sharp takeoff wore down, and sleep began to claim their senses; Madelyn's head dropped first on the seat behind her. Hermione was clutching Harry's hand tightly, breathing quickly, and evidently on edge - she liked prolonged flights even less. His attempts to make her relax were failing miserably. Ron, in the meanwhile, was looking out the window in interest, murmuring “amazing!” under his breath occasionally. Luna twiddled the steering wheel from time to time, and her detached expression was focused on the front windshield.

As the end of the rather silent flight approached, the car made a descent towards the ground. A small village was visible, its stark white houses contrasting against the greenery of the surrounding fields and woods.

The heavy car landed with a bump and a squeal of the tires on the main street. They needn't have worried of being seen or heard, because there was not a soul in sight. Ron pressed the button on the panel again, and they were visible again.

Driving through the village was not a pleasant affair. Many of the houses were abandoned, windows were broken, and some doors were open, as the houses had been evidently burglarized. The atmosphere was one of uneasiness and anticipation, as if the abandoned houses held a secret that could be revealed any moment.

“Where is the house located?” asked Luna.

“Turn left here,” Ron said quietly.

Luna described a circle with the steering wheel and the car turned. A few more minutes passed in tense expectation as they drove on.

Suddenly, a shriek sounded behind them, and Hermione was badly startled. In the rearview mirror, Harry saw the flash of a curse he had last encountered in the final battle - Avada Kedavra. Immediately, two brooms jumped from behind a corner, and the hooded riders flew low, quickly closing the gap between themselves and the car. They must have heard the engine.

“Step on it!” Harry shouted.

Luna retained her cool head, and depressed the accelerator pedal as far as it would go. The engine revved, and the car's speed picked up. Ron jammed the button to make the car fly.

Nothing happened. Their pursuers had put on a burst of speed and were now closer than before.

“Why are they behind us?” Hermione asked in alarm.

“Who cares?” Ron shouted her down. “Go!”

He slammed the button on the dashboard again. The car flickered and then disappeared from view. Shooting up unexpectedly, it narrowly missed an ancient tree, brushing the top branches as it flew overhead.

The cloaked pursuers angled their brooms upward. Again, Luna jammed the accelerator to the floor, and the car shot forward, at last managing to speed far ahead of the brooms, rendering them incapable of nearing again.

“Phew,” said Ron. “That was a close call.”

“What did they want?” was the first question out of Hermione's mouth.

“Me,” Harry replied bitterly. “Isn't it obvious? Somehow there was a leak that I'm alive and kicking; and our vigilante has cronies tailing us whenever a chance to do so comes along.”

His words were met with silence. Hermione gave him a fearful look, while Ron was deep in thought. Luna's expression had become slightly clouded over, but maintained its general vacancy. The children were quietly sobbing, as the last event was too much to take in for their young minds.

The car described a circle in the air, and still invisible, it began a journey back towards Godric's Hollow. Wary of attack from any side, Luna killed the engine when the village came into sight once again. However, this time around, there was not the slightest hint of a disturbance. The eerie quiet only intensified the sinister atmosphere that was hanging over the village.

Luna applied the brakes; the car landed with a small bump and came to a halt shortly thereafter. Harry and Ron told the rest to stay inside, and quietly exited the vehicle. Casting Disillusionment charms over themselves, they approached the corner from which the cloaked figures had burst out earlier. There was no trace of them now.

Wands drawn out, Harry and Ron stopped, leaning against the wall of the house, and silently agreeing, they were to jump, and stun anything that moved.

“One - two - three!” Harry whispered, and with a shout to take the expected opponents by surprise, they took the plunge forward.

“They're gone,” Ron said bitterly, and spat on the ground.

Indeed, there was nobody in the alley. The only evidence of a struggle was the body of an aged man, lying face down on the asphalt.

Dropping all pretenses, Harry rushed forward, Ron following closely on his heels. The former collapsed on his knees, and turned the man's body on its back. A gasp of horror issued from him.

It was Olliviander, the wand maker. His face was expressionless, bruised and beaten. Two glassy, unseeing eyes, were staring towards the heavens. He had evidently been tortured, possibly struck unprepared and by surprise. The coat he had been wearing was thrown a little aside, its pockets turned inside out. The attackers had been searching for something, but must have been interrupted, just when Harry and company had arrived earlier, and the chase ensued. Then they had fled the scene.

“They could be returning,” Harry said. “Come on, help me move the body away from here…”

With joint effort, Harry and Ron moved the wand maker's body towards the graveyard that was visible just beyond the end of the alleyway. As they walked along, however, Harry noticed a piece of paper falling out from the Olliviander's pants' pocket.

“Ron, wait!”

Carefully, they put him down. Harry picked up the scrunched piece of parchment, and glanced down to read it.

Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir

He instantly recognized the spell. The blood drained from his face, and with effort, he grabbed Olliviander's hands.

“Let's go,” he said in a wooden voice.

Quicker than they thought they could do it, Harry and Ron managed to provide a grave for Olliviander, and left in unmarked, in case the hooded individuals returned.

Ron questioned him on the way back to the car, but Harry remained speechless. They reached it in a few minutes, and climbed inside.

“Luna,” Harry said, cutting across Hermione who had started to speak. “Do you know the way to Godric's Hollow?”

“I do, yes,” she replied serenely. “Why?”

“We need to go there right now. I have a hunch,” Harry said cryptically.

“Harry, what is going on?” Hermione said in distress, casting worried looks at her soon to be betrothed.

In response, Harry took the parchment out of his pocket, and handed it to her. Within seconds, Hermione's expression was as pale as his, and etched in simultaneous anger and fear.

“Who would…” she began to say, but her voice broke.

“Voldemort,” Harry said in a whisper. “Someone of his circle is behind all this. Those were possibly Death Eaters. Who else would be looking for a resurrection spell?”

Hermione did not reply right away, but instead, she sank in thought.

A short time later, Luna stopped in front of a dismal building. It had once between been a pearly white, but the event it played host to nearly twenty years ago, and the time that had passed since then, had taken their toll.

The roof was sagged, mould could be seen near the foundation and plants were crawling around the walls. The windows were matted with dirt and grime, and one window frame was devoid of glass - it might have been blasted by a stray curse.

Opening the rusted gate, whose hinges squeaked loudly, Harry walked in the overgrown yard, closely followed by Hermione, Luna and Ron, and their children. They stopped, taking in the scene of disrepair and destruction before them.

Snapping out of the reverie, Harry walked around the back. He saw the ancient oak tree, and the two graves beneath it, just as he had last seen it shortly before the final battle, two years previously. He walked over to the bleached tombstones and stood in silence for several minutes. Hermione watched him from afar, as he eventually turned away, and directed his steps towards rear entrance of the house. She hastened to follow, but kept her distance

A brilliant light enveloped the interior of the house. Creaking, snapping and clouds of dust hovered over the roof. Attracted by the spectacle, the rest of the party watched in confusion, and then in delight, as they heard Harry shout “Reparo!” repeatedly.

At last, he walked out of the front door, and with a final wave of his wand, the yard instantaneously transformed; gone were the tall reeds and yellow grass, the fence shone with a new coat of paint, and the gate opened and closed quite smoothly.

“Shall we go in?” Harry offered.

Immediate sounds of the idea's approval came from Ron, Luna and Hermione, and they followed Harry inside.

The interior was very cozy. Returned to its original state, untouched since James and Lily's passing, the comfortable, yet modest lifestyle of Harry's parents showed. Pictures of Harry as a baby, Lily holding him, and James by her side, adorned the walls. His parents waved and smiled from their photographs; Lily was particularly affectionate to her son, constantly looking down at him. The real Harry felt a twinge in his heart.

Furnished with a couch, a coffee table and a few chairs, the living room was simple, but sufficient. The rest of the house was arranged in a similar matter - perfectly suitable for a family of three.

“Alright then,” Harry said distantly. “One reason we came here for is because of a book that I remember Professor Dumbledore mentioned in his memories. He gave it to my mother, when she graduated from Hogwarts.”

“What was the book about?” Luna asked, rather pointedly for a change.

“Dark Magic. Curses,” Harry explained. “I don't remember the title, but I know it's pale yellow in colour. My mother kept it here, and after her death, there was no trace of the book - that makes me think she hid it well, and we have to look for it.”

“But why? What's so special about the bloody book?” Ron asked, slightly irritated at Harry sudden lack of sense in his desire to locate the mysterious tome.

“It's simple,” his best friend argued. “The book explains the resurrection spell.”

“Well then,” Hermione interrupted enthusiastically. “Let's look!”

And with that, she dashed off in search of the library. Luna, in the meanwhile, remained to entertain James and Madelyn, who followed the exchange of the adults with interest. Without further discussion, Harry and Ron split up to help Hermione locate the mysterious book.

**

Hours later, after many anti-cloaking, revealing and summoning spells, some of which only Hermione knew of, the book was at last uncovered from the depths of the basement. It was embedded snugly beneath the stone floor, and restraining charms had been placed on it, including one that threw a person back if they ventured too close. However, the combined effort of the trio (much reliant on Hermione's knowledge, of course), succeeded in finally yielding the book from the stone's grasp.

Covered in dust, but otherwise untouched, the tome lay inconspicuously on the coffee table. There was no title emblazoned on the front, nor an author's name. Gingerly, Hermione placed the book in her lap, and opened it slowly. Harry, Ron and Luna leaned closer in anticipation. There was an inscription on the front cover.

Ms. Evans,

My years are growing heavy. Tom Riddle is gaining strength, and I feel I may soon be rendered more powerless than before to fight him. As a result, I will pass my most valuable knowledge to a few select and trusted individuals. You are one of them.

A powerful, dark secret resides wit in these pages, and they are the sole recording of it. To protect this sensitive knowledge from falling into the wrong hands, its security is entrusted to you, Lily Evans. Keep it safe.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore

9.IX.1979

Hermione felt a shudder run through her. With a shaking hand, she opened the next page, and began reading, as three other pairs of eyes around her scanned the words as well.

Night was falling outside, and dark clouds began rolling in. Just as the fireplace roared into life, a thunder sounded in the distance, and rapid, large drops of rain began to assault the windows.

A/N There it is…I hope you enjoyed it, and a review is always welcome. :)

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Disclaimer: Characters - JK, plot - me

This chapter…an overdue explanation, and evil grows stronger as our heroes lay huddled up in Godric's Hollow…

Chapter VII: Close Calls

Hermione turned a few pages forward. She scanned the contents of the first installment of the book, and began to read in a shaky voice:

Chapter One: Soul Replication and More

Wizards share a common enmity between themselves and Muggles. Purges, cleansings and war marked many a conflict between the races, until the wizards at last managed to create a completely isolated society, entirely concealed from the prying eyes of Muggles.

Yet, records of those turbulent times remain, as it was the age of Merlin, Arthur, and other notable wizards. Magic was utilized for the purpose of inflicting damage and ensuring survival.

Of the most horrible of spells ever devised by wizard-kind, none is more terrifying than

Enimfo luost sirfeht morfesir. Rumored to be the work of Merlin himself, the spell ensures seven replications of one's soul. The copies of the soul do not dilute its strength, nor do they increase it. The result is an identical soul - in size and in strength.

Commonly used to make Horcruxes, the spell was at last outlawed in 1453, and has since been largely erased from records in an effort to guarantee the political stability of wizarding society.

She stopped for breath. The astonished faces of her companions betrayed fear and horror. James and Madelyn did not comprehend the facts of the situation, but they seemed to realize its seriousness.

“Read on,” Luna said quietly.

Hermione's eyes fell back on the page:

Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir - the brother of the soul replication spell. Dark magic, employed for raising the dead. Originally created by Merlin's lifelong nemesis, Isowen, it has the ability to recall any soul to its previous vessel on earth, as well as repair a destroyed, or a damaged Horcrux. It cannot, however, be used to split or duplicate a soul. As well, the spell has been declared illegal since 1453, and largely erased from records too.

Only one remedy exists for the Dark Magic described above - Avada Kedavra. It is the last spell, invented by Merlin before his mysterious disappearance. Its utilization is to purely separate a soul from its vessel, and render the latter incapable of carrying a soul again. However, the last of its intended purposes is not useful, as the resurrection spell is capable of repairing the vessel…

It was too much to bear. Hermione closed the book with a snap, startling her audience. Tears were shining in her eyes.

“Is this what they are after?” she asked in a broken voice.

“Seems so,” Harry replied heavily.

A loud rumbling accompanied by a bright flash of lightning made them jump. The storm was becoming fiercer.

“Then that means, we have to keep this book away from them,” Ron stated resolutely. “At all cost.”

Luna had embraced her children. “At all cost,” she echoed her husband. “Otherwise, unspeakable chaos could ensue.”

“Are we going to be okay?” Madelyn asked the room at large, her eyes wide with fear.

“Yes, honey, we are,” Luna whispered and kissed her on the crown of her head.

Ron stoked the fire and added another log to it.

“Anyone want hot chocolate?” he asked, attempting to lift the gloomy atmosphere a little.

A round of approval greeted his words, and with a flick of his wand, a platter with a steaming pot and several mugs was present on the coffee table.

“I find hot chocolate always cheers me up,” Harry said with a small smile.

An old headmaster had spoken those same words long ago - again, he had been right.

The conversation flowed in the direction of finding another secure hiding place for the book. A good quantity of ridiculous ideas had already been rejected.

“Grimmauld Place,” Hermione offered. “The Fidelius charm is still active.”

“Or Hogwarts,” Ron answered.

“Hmm, maybe,” Hermione pondered the idea.

“I'll agree with Ron on this,” Harry said. “I think Hogwarts is a sound choice.”

“When should we do it?” Luna asked. “It must be soon, because those Death Eaters will return.”

Deciding to accept the last idea as well, Hermione proposed the book be moved as soon as possible. At present, by common consensus, it was to be kept at the Burrow.

Ron and Luna took the task upon themselves. With all possible haste, they left the house, and departed towards the Weasley home.

In the meanwhile, Harry and Hermione decided to enjoy the simple comforts of the repaired Potter household for another few moments.

Unfortunately, It was a decision that they were wrong to make.

“How are we going to return to London?” Hermione inquired.

“We can apparate,” Harry replied calmly.

The words were barely out of his mouth, when a loud rumble and the sound of breaking glass sounded very close by. It was not a stray bolt of lightning.

Illuminated by the lightning itself, and presenting an ominous sight in the battering rain, hooded shapes slunk forward towards the house. Darkness was falling.

“Shit!” Harry spat out. “Come on!”

He grabbed Hermione by her upper arm and dragged her to the ground next to him. She made to tell him something.

“Quiet!” he hissed.

A shadow fell on the doorway, quickly followed by the thud of heavy boots on the wooden floor. Thinking that pain might be inescapable if he kicked the intruder, Harry decided on surprising the unwelcome guest with a stunning curse. Motioning to Hermione to stay down, he acted at once.

Quietly standing up, he fired off the curse deftly and silently, even before the Death Eater could comprehend that there was someone behind him. He cushioned the fall so that the other visitors, who were currently scouring the yard, would not become aware of Harry and Hermione's presence.

“What do we do with him?” Hermione whispered.

“I don't know, you figure it out; I'm going to take care of the others,” he replied.

Ducking under the windows, Harry peeked occasionally, and saw the other three figures assembled in a circle, quietly talking to one another.

He was preparing to fire a volley of spells in an effort to take full advantage of the surprise he would no doubt impose on them. Sneaking quietly from the side door, he crouched in the undergrowth of the grove of trees growing near the house.

Crawling on all fours, wary to not even snap a twig, Harry managed to arrive mere feet from his quarry.

“Think, you dolt!” one was saying. “Potter is back, because of that spell. He knows about it.”

“Then where do we find him?” replied the second in frustration. “We've combed the entire house and there's no trace.”

“We don't have time right now,” came the gruff voice of the third Death Eater. “Mistress Bella wishes us back soon, and we must go. Set fire to the damn house and be done with it!”

Immediately, three wands were pointed to the quaint home, and mutters of `Incendio' followed. Three brilliant orange streaks impacted the house seconds later, and the three visitors departed with loud cracks.

Hermione, Harry's mind screamed; white faced, and clutching his wand tightly, he ran towards the house as fast as his legs would carry him. He had run out of the ivy bushes the instant the Death Eaters were apparating away.

At last, Harry slammed through the side door. Thinking of Aguamenti, a powerful, constant, stream of water shot from the end of his wand. Rushing forward, he charged into the living room, where he last left Hermione with the unconscious intruder.

She was lying on the ground, evidently knocked out, and there was no trace of the captured Death Eater. Harry drenched the furniture, extinguishing the fire in the process, and he skidded on his knees next to his beloved.

“Hermione, wake up,” he shook her shoulder gently.

Her head lolled from side to side helplessly. What had that bastard caused her!

“Ennerviate!” Harry tried, pointing his wand at Hermione, and hoping against hope she was not dead…

She stirred, and slowly opened her eyes. A rather violent cough escaped her as she drew breath.

“Hermione! Are you alright?” Harry was on the verge of panicking.

“He…he escaped…” Hermione choked out. “Stunned me,” she drew a deep breath, “and escaped…then there was fire…”

She collapsed in Harry's arms, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. He embraced her tightly in return.

The smell of the charred floorboards was soon overpowering, and the couple was forced to vacate the premises. Smoke inhalation had rendered Hermione somewhat disoriented, and Harry assisted her in their way out onto the street.

Sighing heavily, casting a repairing charm on the house, Harry watched as all trace of the fire disappeared. He turned to the semi-conscious Hermione, and putting his arm around her waist, apparated silently with her to their home at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

**

The following morning was not an enjoyable one. Harry opened his eyes, feeling exhausted, and the customary cup of coffee did not succeed in making him as alert as he ought to be. Added worry over his fiancé did result in him being particularly snappish. He looked in her room every few minutes, but Hermione had not awoken quite yet.

The sound of tapping on the kitchen window distracted him momentarily from his worries. A tawny owl was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in its talons, and was impatiently hitting the glass pane.

Non-pulsed, Harry opened the window, and the owl shot inside. It landed on the table and held out its pouch for the knut Harry owed. He threw the coin inside and picked up the newspaper indifferently.

Staring at the headlines, Harry did not make the remotest sense out of them. His mind was constantly occupied by the previous day's events. Ron and Luna had left mere minutes before Godric's Hollow was attacked. He did not dare think what would happen if the invaluable yellow book fell in “Bella's” hands.

Yet, he knew that name; in fact, he knew it really well. If he assumed the words of those Death Eaters to be true, then the horrible Bellatrix Lestrange was quite possibly the conductor, the puppet master, Harry thought viciously, behind the series of attacks on innocent Muggles and wizards, and lately, on him too.

Most of all, Hermione - he was worthless without her in his life. If she left the world prematurely, then his life would conclude as well…no, he had to protect her, at all cost.

The stairs creaked under someone's slow descent. Hermione was awake, and Harry at last saw her gingerly stepping down. The robe Hermione wore, was trailing behind her, and her hair, disheveled, only contributed to her tired appearance. The brown eyes, usually alive and shining, were sullen and seemed to have lost their warmth.

He made his way forward, taking her in his arms just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you alright?” he asked her softly.

“I am,” Hermione croaked feebly. “Or I will be, at least,” she cracked a small smile.

“Good to hear,” Harry replied enthusiastically, as he helped her sit in a chair.

Being the helpful person that he was, Harry prepared a sizeable breakfast for Hermione. She, in the meanwhile, perused indifferently through the Prophet, finally flicking it aside and looking up at Harry.

“When are we going to enroll for Auror training?” she asked him quietly.

“I've been thinking about it for a while,” he answered. “Today, I'm going, but you aren't for at least a while longer.”

“Why? I am strong, you know,” she replied with a slight edge to her voice.

“I have no doubt, Hermione, but at present, you are not well. It would be wise if you don't exert yourself excessively for now.”

“But…” she started.

“No,” Harry said sternly. “Listen to me, Hermione, you need your rest. I'll be gone for a couple of hours, and you should be safe here.”

“Alright then,” she said calmly. “I'll see you when I see you.”

“Goodbye, love,” he replied, slightly rushed, and kissed her soundly. “If I don't hurry, I will be late.”

Harry nearly ran out onto the street, and with one smooth motion, he disappeared in thin air.

Appearing nearly instantaneously beside an old, red phone booth, Harry looked around to ensure no stray Muggles were paying attention to him. Squeezing inside the cabin, the cool voice of a female operator greeted him in exactly the same fashion as the last time he was here.

“Who are you, visitor?” the voice sounded, rather ethereally.

“Harry Potter,” replied the visitor in question.

“Your purpose, Harry Potter?” this time, the sound very nearly resembled Luna's voice.

“Auror Training.”

The badge clattered in the coin shoot, and Harry picked it up, as the cabin started to descend downward with quite a bit of creaking.

Several minutes later, Harry came out of the cabin, and onto the atrium of the Ministry. He remembered a battle with Voldemort here once upon a time.

Walking up to a clerk, he presented his wand and the newly acquired badge. The pudgy man behind the desk directed him to the second floor.

Harry thanked the man and ascended the flights of stairs leading to the second floor. Opening yet another creaky door, he made his way down the corridor to the end office.

“Come on in,” came a pleasant voice.

Harry walked inside. A rather pretty, red-haired woman was sitting behind a desk. “How can I help you today?”

“I'm here to sign up for Auror training,” Harry said.

“Oh, good,” said the woman jovially. “My name is Darcy, by the way. And you are?”

“Harry Potter,” the future student replied. It felt nice, knowing he was not known everywhere, Harry reflected in his mind.

“Harry Potter…” said Darcy under her breath, as she scribbled his name down on a piece of parchment. “And do you fulfill the requirements to be admitted?”

“Certainly,” he replied. “Finished Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort.”

She winced slightly at the sound of the still widely feared name.

“Ah, that Harry Potter,” she said, smiling. “Well then. I will have to offer my congratulations then, Mr. Potter. You have just been accepted in the Auror training program.”

Slightly put off that his popularity, rather than his skill, was the criteria upon which the acceptance decision was made, Harry still returned the smile, and thanked Darcy.

“When will classes begin?” he asked, just as he was turning away to leave.

“They begin precisely on the fifth of November. Be sure to bring your wand for identification and registration,” replied the secretary behind the desk.

“Ah, right. Well, see you later then,” Harry said, and left the office.

Heading back out towards the atrium, he pondered the decision he had made a few seconds previously. Aurors were respected wizards - on one hand, he would be remembered as more than a name, associated with the darkest wizard of all time, and on the other, keeping Hermione safe was his other, more important, objective.

His life was certainly heating up again; so was the excitement and danger surrounding it - soon, he would be in the thick of the action yet again.

Walking out onto the deserted street, Harry stopped and smiled slightly, before disappearing with a crack that startling a small pigeon that immediately flew away.

A/N This is chapter seven…and the last update before September…I'll be working on A Strike Upon the Hour over next week, and then I'm gone to California for the rest of August…I shall be back, however, and chapter 8 will be posted within the first week of September…

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A special thanks to all the reviewers who contributed their thoughts to the story…it's very much appreciated.

This is where the NC-17 rating kicks in…a fair warning, this chapter will get really graphic in the beginning, and not in a good way…seriously, NOT for anyone with a queasy stomach…anyways, here we go…

Chapter VIII: A Tortured Soul

His bloodshot eyes looked up defiantly in Bellatrix's cold, empty and determined black coals. The wire was cutting in his wrists and he could feel the blood dripping down in his palms.

“Crucio!”

The indescribable pain hit him for the thousandth time; white-hot knives were tearing at his insides, making him scream and writhe in agony.

“Tell me!” screamed Lestrange, entranced in her twisted pleasure of administering torture, combined with her quest to find the sensitive piece of information.

“Sectumsempra!”

A precise, deep incision opened against the man's stomach. Horror-struck, he looked down, as blood spilt freely.

“Twisted bitch,” the suffering man rasped out; his voice was a whisper - a cold, hateful, heartless whisper, wrung from the darkest recesses of his dying soul.

Another powerful curse struck the man across the face - his head snapped to the side, as his cheek was cut open, and an ominous crack issued from his neck

An unexpected chill swept over the small clearing, taking that whisper with it. Twitching, as the last glimmers of life disappeared, the heavy figure fell face down against the dirt, in its own pool of red blood.

As determined as she was, Bellatrix Lestrange was still human - she felt the man's dying words, chilling her to the bone. Yet, no remorse arose within her darkened being; petty feelings as those were foreign, needless - for the weak, as Vodlemort had once said. She needed to be strong.

Bella replaced her wand in its holster. It must have been a signal; nearly instantaneously, twenty other wands were unsheathed, and directed at the body. The brief light of spell fire illuminated the grisly sight of charred pile of bones and blood that was left behind.

“A message to the Ministry,” said Bellatrix icily. “We do not offer mercy.”

Twenty-one silent disapprations returned the field to its near original undisturbed state- with the exception of the brutally murdered man, whose remains lay amidst the grass.

Two unseeing sockets stared towards the dark trees, outlined by the full moon; a wolf howled echoed in the distance. Voldemort's legacy, ever so slowly, was returning.

**

“Oh, my!” Ginny exclaimed loudly, gripping the pages of the Prophet tightly.

“What?” Draco Malfoy inquired in slight alarm.

“Vasilii Gregorovitch - killed!” she said in a high-pitched voice.

“Who is he?” Draco asked.

“He is a renowned wand maker. Viktor Krum told me about him.”

“Well, it is unfortunate,” he replied. “Is it clear who perpetrated the murder?”

“Not from this article,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “But it says he was tortured heavily,” she shuddered at the words.

“It isn't an isolated incident,” said Malfoy forcefully. “There is something more sinister in the works. It may be connected with Olliviander's murder a few days ago.”

“The same people could have done it,” Ginny offered.

“I'll try to find out,” Draco said. “I'll return in a few hours, and in the meanwhile, do not leave the manor. You brought Potter back, and they might come looking.”

Ginny assented to stay until Malfoy returned. She was quite aware of the risk her actions had produced, and keeping low in the grass was currently a primary concern of hers. She watched her recent companion walking out in the morning sun.

Shortly after the events of that faithful night, Ginny had spent time in the Burrow, until a few weeks ago, when Draco Malfoy paid her a discreet visit. He told her of the rumors that Harry was alive, and that she had had a hand into it - the separation between her and Harry had been a widely publicized affair previously.

Unwilling, Ginny had admitted to her direct involvement, and for the purpose of protection, Draco Malfoy had taken her to his family's ancestral home.

Voicing her concerns that the mysterious attackers may seek her at the Malfoy manor, Draco had replied that both his parents were killed in the Final Battle - the family's involvement had ended with their deaths.

Currently, Ginny sat, deep in thought, on the comfortable sofa in the lavishly decorated living room. The newspaper was still clutched in her hand; yet, it offered no more answers to the numerous questions swimming in her head.

She needed to talk with Harry. Soon.

But breaking her promise could mean the compromise of her life, so she decided it would be wiser to remain hidden for now. If she received a chance to cross paths with Harry Potter, then she would seize it.

**

Frustrated, Ron looked over the angry tirade that was the letter from the Minister of Magic. The remains of Vasilii Gregorovitch were recovered, and were currently pending closer investigation for the exact means of death.

The reason behind the Minister's anger was the wand maker's secret visit to Britain - Ministry wand craftsmen were chartered with the responsibility of collaborating with Gregorovitch in an exchange of knowledge and skill; the Auror department had been charged with the man's security.

Yet, he had disappeared a fortnight ago, without a trace, and from the conflicting witness reports, he had been kidnapped.

Surrounded by idiots and incompetence…Ron read on, his blood boiling with each word. Perhaps, he was at fault - assigning a team that consisted of a few experienced and rather more newly minted Aurors to guard Gregorovitch may not have been the wisest choice.

Yet, he could do nothing more, except launch the investigation and capture the elusive murderer. He decided to lead it himself, to avoid all possibilities of failure. The more he thought, Ron was increasingly inclined to enlist Harry and Hermione's support in the hunt for the murderer - their respective experience and knowledge would render them indispensable to the effort.

Ron spent the rest of the day perusing different methods of organizing his resources, and when the clock on the wall opposite struck five o'clock, he collected his belongings, and walked out of the office.

**

Luna was quite preoccupied that evening. James was crying, because Madelyn had broken his favourite toy broomstick, a model of a Firebolt Serie A that was going to be unveiled in its full size soon, and Madelyn was busy making excuses and arguing with her mother. Incidentally, Luna also needed to supervise the knives chopping up a salad in the kitchen.

No one heard Ron walk in, as he was curious what the whole commotion was about.

“Hello?” he called over the ruckus.

The noise quickly died down, as three pairs of eyes were directed at the newly arrived redhead.

“Welcome home, dear,” Luna said sweetly and made to lay a kiss upon her husband. “How was work?

“Ah, terrible,” said Ron. “I have something to tell you later,” he added quietly.

“Alright then,” replied Luna serenely. “First dinner, then we tuck the kids in bed, and after that we talk.”

“Agreed.”

Ron proceeded to embrace his children and enquire about their activities of the day. James piped up immediately.

“Maddie broke my broom!”

“Really now?” Ron asked, directing his eyes to his daughter.

“It was an accident,” she said in a small voice.

“I believe you,” her father said consolingly. Madelyn returned a smile. “Now, James, give me the broken toy.”

James handed it to him.

“Reparo!” and the broom's pieces sprang back together - the toy was as good as new.

“Thanks, daddy!” said James jovially, and ran to his room, closely followed by his sister.

“Dinnertime!” Luna bellowed over the noise to let her family know it was time to sit around the table.

After a hearty meal, accompanied by Ron and Luna's very creative efforts to pursue their children to finish their vegetables, they at last managed to tuck their children to sleep.

Walking back in the kitchen, Ron sat down heavily on a chair, and Luna took the chair beside his.

“Is everything alright, honey?” she asked in concern.

“Of course not,” came the rather snappish reply. “There is something really terrible happening.”

Luna was aghast. “What?” she asked quietly.

“D'you remember Olliviander's death?”

“Yes…you told me about it,” said Luna cautiously.

“Well…another respected wand maker is gone. Murdered, and by the signs, brutally,” said Ron bitterly.

“Who is it?” Luna's fearful voice came.

“Vasiliy Gregorovitch - he was a Bulgarian maker. A secret visit, he was kidnapped and killed; and it's my fault, because I shouldn't have sent rookies to protect him…”

“It was planned, most likely,” Luna offered. “Even with experienced Aurors, the kidnappers would have succeeded.”

“I want to think that too,” Ron said in defeat. “But I won't rest until the murderer is brought to justice…I cannot imagine who would commit such a crime…”

“We ought to tell Harry,” Luna said urgently. “I have the feeling that he may be involved in the entire matter.”

“Harry?” Ron said. “No way, he would never kill Gregorovitch. Why would you even say that?”

“No,” Luna answered. “I meant that Harry might be the reason he was killed - something he knew.”

“That's it then, isn't it,” Ron said gravely, his expression becoming gloomier. “I think it may be possible. This and Olliviander's murder have to be connected, because it was not a random act, of which I am sure.”

“Talk to Harry tomorrow, then,” Luna advised him. “And I'll be off to bed…I am really tired for some unknown reason…”

Ron kissed his wife, wished her a good night, and informed her that he would retire for the night a bit later. Luna agreed, and departed in the direction of their bedroom.

He was still feeling very restless. The entire concept disturbed him greatly; the killers were quite possibly demented and dangerous, judging by the remains he saw earlier today. Stretching out onto the sofa, Ron

**

Harry woke up the following morning, feeling much more refreshed than usual. He had spent a sizable amount of time the previous day studying charms and curses, in an effort for the Auror training he would be starting soon.

Today, however, he had been planning on visiting the Ministry to enquire on some matters around the Auror program that he wanted to be more informed about.

Only, those plans would never be realized, as the sudden appearance of an owl outside the window startled him. Harry opened the pane, and the owl shot in, circled around the room, and dropped a letter before flying out in the morning sky again.

Harry picked up the letter from the ground and closed the window. The sudden commotion had caused Hermione to stir, and ever so slowly, she opened her eyes as well.

“Harry?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Morning, love,” Harry replied absently, as his eyes scanned Ron's untidy scrawl.

Hermione finally managed to become fully conscious.

“Who wrote to you?” she asked curiously.

“Ron,” Harry answered. “He wants to see us urgently…'

“Why? Is anything the matter?”

“Apparently, there is, but he writes that he'll tell us when we see him privately.”

“Must be serious,” Hermione replied quietly.

Anxious, Harry and Hermione quickly dressed, and after drinking a hasty cup of coffee, they departed to see Ron.

The journey was a tense one. Ever vigilant for suspicious behaviour around them, Harry and Hermione walked rather fast, until they arrived safely at the atrium of the Ministry.

The couple managed to find Ron's office eventually, and knocking to ask permission to enter, they were at once granted one.

“Harry, Hermione,” said Ron immediately when he saw them. “Glad you could make it on such short notice.”

“No problem, mate,” Harry smiled.

“Did you read the Daily Prophet yesterday?” Ron asked, quite seriously.

”No, we did not,” replied Hermione. “We were too preoccupied yesterday. I am finally feeling better.”

“Good to hear, Hermione,” Ron said. “And you, Harry?”

“Me? I was busy practicing spells nearly the entire day.”

“Hmm, I see,” Ron continued thoughtfully. “Well, then there is some rather unnerving news I have to tell you about.”

Harry and Hermione remained quiet in expectation. Ron sighed deeply, before continuing. He did not appreciate telling the story again.

“There was a very violent murder the other night. The wand maker, Gregorovitch, was killed.”

“Isn't he the one, who made Krum's wand?” Harry asked curiously.

“The same one,” Ron affirmed.

“How did he die?” Hermione asked in a slightly quavering voice.

“Kidnapped. Then he was tortured, injured on purpose. From what the enquiry on the remains has revealed, he received a fatal injury in the region of the abdomen, and after he died, there was further damage administered on the body, which must have reduced it to the condition we found it in.”

“And how did you find it?” Hermione ventured further, her ashen face betraying the disgust she felt from hearing the description. Harry, on the other hand, had lost his ability to speak, and was shocked by Ron's chilling account of the event.

“Nothing more than a pile of burnt flesh and charred bones. And blood, everywhere,” Ron shuddered.

The silence that followed his statement was deafening.

“Who would commit such a crime?” Harry whispered.

“It is what I want to know,” Ron answered darkly. “And is why I called you two in. Your support, Harry, and Hermione, will be invaluable.”

“What is it you want us to do?” Harry asked.

“So you will agree to join the investigation?”

“Well, of course,” Harry said loudly. “Hermione?”

“Was there ever any doubt?” she said.

“Count us in,” Harry said.

“Excellent. There is no time to waste, however. I want you to begin trying to uncover any relevance between all the attacks that have happened so far; including the Muggle one some time ago, Olliviander's murder, the attack on Hermione, and now this latest one,” Ron instructed.

“Will do, Ron,” replied Harry heavily. “And you, keep safe in the meanwhile.”

“I have to…can't bear the thought of anything happening to my family.”

“Come bunk with us at Grimmauld for some time. There is a still active Fidelius Charm,” Hermione proffered an offer to her best friend.

“Maybe,” Ron said. “I think we are safe now, but there may come a time when I might take you up on that offer.”

“Our door is always open,” Harry told him. “See you later, Ron, and keep us current on the investigation.”

“Don't worry, I will. Goodbye for now.”

Parting ways, Harry and Hermione left Ron to ponder the situation behind his desk, and they made their way back to Grimmauld Place.

One sinister circle of criminals was becoming apparent. Harry held no doubt that the attacks were related. Bellatrix Lestrange was his prime suspect. The murders had closely resembled Voldemort's style, but without a proof, his suspicions remained only that - suspicions.

**

Ginny walked around restlessly in the Malfoy Manor. Draco had been gone for quite a few hours, and she was beginning to worry. Had he been captured; or even worse, killed? Her incessant thoughts of the subject caused her to become increasingly alarmed, to the point where she was considering conducting a search for him.

Suddenly the front door opened. Startled, Ginny pressed herself tightly against the wall, and peeked around the edge of the wall. There, in the front entrance, was standing Draco Malfoy. He was taking off his jacket, when unexpectedly, Ginny flung herself in his arms.

“What the - “ he started, confused.

“Oh, I'm so glad you're back. Where have you been?” Ginny spoke out rashly.

Draco gently disengaged himself from the fiery redheaded girl.

“If I told you, you would not believe me,” he said solemnly.

“Of course I would,” Ginny protested soundly.

“Well then…I know who is behind the attacks.”

“How?! Who is it?” Ginny asked, perplexed.

“Lestrange. She and her cronies,” he replied angrily. “I don't know what they want, but I managed to see her today in Knockturn Alley. So I followed her, and overheard her talking about killing Grigorovitch. I escaped before she knew I was following her.”

Ginny was speechless.

“What does that mean, then?” was all she could say.

“It means that we are in a hell of a lot of trouble. We have to be careful, who we see, what we say, because I wouldn't be surprised if she has agents and spies roaming around for you - somehow she knows you brought Potter back.”

Ginny swallowed, and her fearful eyes met Draco's hard and determined ones. Unable to stand any longer, she closed the distance between them, and collapsed in his arms, sobbing.

At a loss of words to console her, the young Malfoy held her tightly, wondering what tomorrow may bring. He knew Lestrange was gaining power and a more sizable following - question was, would they be able to survive it?

A/N There is chapter eight…a murder, and yet more intrigue to be solved…hope you liked it, and a review, good or bad, is always welcome

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A/N: This is one of the most challenging chapters of this story I've written yet…hope you enjoy it…and I ask you to please tell me what you think.

Chapter IX: Wedding Plans

A momentous occasion was being planned for in the Burrow, which was the source of the ruckus and anxiety that had overwhelmed the household today.

In an emotional display of bravery and devotion, Harry had dropped on one knee the previous night, and proposed to Hermione a union between her and him in marriage. The glistening ring that adored her fourth finger after her barely audible muttered consent, was the signal Mrs. Weasley had been itching to see - the following morning, she had risen everyone much earlier than normal to prepare the wedding.

The reason for the hastiness was exactly what Harry had talked to Molly about after dinner, and she had agreed to not mention a shred of their conversation, in order to retain the festive atmosphere of the setting - the only detail allowed was that the wedding was not going to be terribly prolonged or elaborate.

For the risk of attack was great, despite the steps taken to ensure the security of the affair. The Prophet had been reporting increased sightings of individuals in black robes, greatly reminiscent of Voldemort's Death Eaters - which, in fact, they were, but now under a different master.

The wedding preparations themselves were progressing nicely. Under the Weasley matriarch's command, chairs were laid out in the neatly trimmed backyard, though there weren't as many as had been during Bill and Fleur's wedding - this time around, less people would be present. Further, greeting banners had been hung all around on the fence, and a small stage for the minister and the groom and the bride was placed in front of the aisle formed by the two blocks of chairs. Off to one side, a tent was put up, under which tables and chairs were placed for the guests after the ceremony.

Inside the house, Mrs. Weasley was busily darting between the kitchen, the living room and the staircase that led to the above floor, simultaneously keeping an eye on the simmering food, directing an annoyed Ginny in putting up decorations, and repeatedly prompting Ron and his brothers to start on cleaning up their rooms.

The atmosphere continued to be one of organized chaos. Bill and Fleur had been charged with arranging invitations, flowers, and assisting Mrs. Weasley with the cooking of the massive feast that needed to be prepared. Harry had dropped by and offered on multiple occasions his assistance with the preparations for the wedding, but Mrs. Weasley had outright refused his request to help - much to Ron's dismay. Hermione, on the other hand, had departed for the purpose of breaking the news to her parents, and convince them into coming to her wedding.

**

Two days were left until the serene culmination of the stressful efforts that were being put towards a peacefully proceeding wedding. That morning, Ron came in the kitchen, carrying a stack of invitations in his hands.

“Morning, Harry,” he greeted his bleary-eyed best friend. “I've a bunch of invitations here - look to make sure they're alright, won't you? I'll be back in an hour; have to pick up Luna and the kids from London.”

Harry barely managed to mutter a goodbye, before Ron shot out the door in a hurry; he seemed to be running late, judging by the great haste, with which he ran out of the yard and disapparated into nothingness.

Harry took another sip of the coffee in front of him, and picked up the invitations in question. He had had absolutely no say in who was going to be invited, and who was not going to be, as that responsibility had been left to Hermione, and she insisted on creating a list of her own. She took a surprisingly short time to accomplish her allotted task, and Ron had been sent to create the invitations. Looking through them, Harry did not find anything to object about, and could not find a reason to complain about the list either. He knew more people could be invited, but for the purpose of security, he understood why fewer guests would be present.

The Burrow was strangely silent this morning. Finding it a bit unsettling, Harry could not become used to the lack of atmosphere of warmth and chaos that usually accompanied his stays here. He, of course, also knew that the brunt of the work around the planning of the wedding had been accomplished in the previous days, and now the minor details were those that needed to be sorted. Deciding to dress himself, and enjoy the remainder of his bachelorhood, Harry headed upstairs. By the sounds issuing from the other rooms, he induced people were finally stirring. Looking down at his watch, he saw the hands showing nine o'clock.

Just as he was opening the door to the room he and Ron shared, Hermione came out from the adjacent room.

“Morning, love,” she told Harry sleepily once she realized he was there.

“Good morning,” he replied, and embraced her tightly, all the while planting a kiss on her crown.

“Why are you up so early?” she asked, puzzled, once they had parted.

“Shouldn't I be?” Harry countered with a slight smile.

“Well…you usually don't wake up for another hour,” Hermione observed with a small smile of her own.

“I have two days of being single and free, Hermione,” Harry said, surprisingly serious. “I plan to make the most of it!”

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and completely disengaged herself from Harry.

“You'll be mine soon enough, Harry,” she told him coyly.

“And don't you doubt it,” he called after her, as she walked in the bathroom.

In truth, Harry had to admit to himself, marriage was something he had been looking for, ever since Hermione and him had rekindled their relationship. It had become stronger than before, more involved, personal and passionate. As with any other couple that shared love, in its truest, essential and purest form, Harry and Hermione would enter in a union, which would only serve the purpose of solidifying and strengthening their relationship - fate had chosen and bonded them for life, and death, a long time ago.

Putting on a pair of faded jeans and a shirt that he had received for one Christmas several years ago, Harry made his way downstairs once again, only to find that this time, Mrs. Weasley was dominating the setting, preparing a breakfast for the multitude of people that would soon arrive from upstairs, as well as Ron's family, which was due to show up soon.

“Harry, be a dear, and hand me that frying pan, will you?” she asked of Harry, while passing him in the direction of the buffet on the other side of the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replied and easily took the pan in question off from the overhanging hooks.

Mrs. Weasley thanked him, and went on to break the consecutive batch of eggs into the pan, once she placed it on top of the burning stove.

The hustle and bustle of Mrs. Weasley, flying knives and food, charmed to stir itself, continued on. Harry hung about, rather awkwardly, waiting on for some instruction from Mrs. Weasley. At last, her gaze suddenly snapped up, as if she was seeing Harry clearly for the first time.

“Harry, could you go in the living room, and tell me when Ron and Luna arrive?” she requested in a hurry.

“Sure, Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry automatically, and wandered off into the room in question.

He barely sat down on the couch, and was about to drift off into thoughts of his own about married life, the attacks, the victims and their mysterious killers, when an unexpected bang startled him, and his head shot up in the direction of the fireplace.

Ron came hurtling out, head first, and landed on his back on the carpeted floor. His entrance stirred up a cloud of dust and charcoal, and soot covered his head. Harry's redheaded friend sat up disheveled, coughing, and wiping his eyes.

“I hate Floo,” he muttered to the air, but he focused on the fireplace immediately after, putting himself in a pose to catch anyone coming in as surprisingly as he had.

Harry's hopes for another spectacular entrance were dampened, however, when instead of coming in forcefully, Luna appeared with the grace of a gazelle from the fireplace, carrying James and holding Madelyn by the arm. What was even more interesting, not a speck of dust adorned their clothes.

Grumbling under his breath, Ron rose to his feet. “Why can't I ever do that,” he murmured to Harry in passing.

After confirming that Luna and the kids hadn't suffered from the journey across the Floo Network, Ron sat down beside Harry.

“Mate,” he finally said, “you have today and tomorrow, before your woman imprisons you for the rest of your days.”

“Ronald, I heard that!” came Luna's disembodied, and slightly higher pitched voice from the kitchen.

“Only joking, love,” Ron called back quickly. “Anyways,” he continued, this time in a lower tone, “tonight, you, me and my brothers - we have to go celebrate your final days as a bachelor. I'm thinking The Three Broomsticks, six o'clock?”

“No objections from me, mate,” replied Harry with a grin. “Let's do it.”

“Excellent,” Ron said in an undertone. “I'll go boot the other gits out of bed, and then we'll go drinking tonight!”

With those words, Ron jumped from the couch, and bolted in the direction of the stairs to carry out his plan of telling his brothers of the night's plans.

Hermione was coming down the moment Ron shot past her, and she turned to look questioningly at his rapidly retreating back.

“What is wrong with him?” she queried of Harry when she came to stand next to him.

“I'm really not sure,” Harry replied with a knowing smile, “but he did seem excited about something when he came back.”

“I see,” Hermione said slowly, observing Harry with a scrutinizing gaze. “What aren't you telling me, Harry?”

“Absolutely nothing, Hermione,” Harry answered with the same easiness as before - he was determined to not permit Hermione know of where he and Ron were headed, at least, not until the very last moment when the company would leave.

“Are you sure you don't need any help, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry suddenly rose, and leaving Hermione behind on purpose, he made his way to the kitchen - simply because he knew he would not be able to retain his easy air of deception in front of his beloved for much longer.

“As a matter of fact, Harry,” Molly replied rather thoughtfully, “there is something you could do for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Feed the chickens outside in the pen, please,” she instructed him. “The grain is in a bucket next to the coop.”

Harry assented, and departed out the front door to perform the assigned task. In the meanwhile, Ron bounded down the stairs, looking somewhat smug and expecting.

“And why are you so happy?” Luna asked him slowly, while James and Madelyn chewed on cookies Mrs. Weasley had given them.

“No reason…no reason at all,” Ron answered flippantly, before turning his attention elsewhere. “Mum! Anything you want me to do?”

“Yes, Ron, there is, actually,” she answered, slightly suspiciously. “I want you to find and bring Ginny and Draco for the wedding. You and Harry can do that, once he is finished with the chickens.”

Ron's smirk practically fell off his face, and he groaned. “Won't they receive invitations?”

“They will receive invitations, yes, but you and Harry are to ensure they arrive here safely,” his mother said forcefully, looking pointedly at him.

“I…I think we can do that,” Ron agreed quickly, and without looking at anyone else in the room, stepped outside and departed towards the chicken coop.

He didn't think his mother would ever know that Ginny was responsible for Harry's presence with them. Nobody had told her, nor hinted at it - he was at a loss to explain how she knew - unless, Ginny had admitted to doing it, or perhaps been forced to admit it, by their mother.

Thoughts of that very worrying nature plagued Ron's mind in the minute that it took him to arrive next at the coop, where Harry was just throwing the last batch of grain to the hens.

“Ron, you alright?” Harry asked him questioningly when he saw his best friend, acting jittery and nervous.

“Harry, we're not fine, at all,” Ron said in distress. “Mum knows…she knows, about Ginny.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Harry tried to instill some sense into the exchange.

“That she brought you back, you git! Try and keep up,” Ron snapped back. “Now it's even worse! What if those Death Eaters come after her? It's only so long we can keep this from them! One war was enough, Harry, I don't want to fight another!”

“Keep your voice down,” Harry tried to hush him. “They're dangerous, yes, but they don't know Mrs. Weasley is aware of how I returned - as long as the book is safe with you and Luna, everything should be fine,” he attempted to reason.

“Yes, yes…you're right,” Ron replied, now calmer, “but that doesn't mean you and I are off the hook. We have to bring Ginny and that git, Malfoy, to the wedding.”

“Fine,” Harry replied readily. “What are we waiting for?”

With those words, he started walking towards the front gate, not bothering to check if Ron was coming. The latter, after a moment's hesitation, ran forward, and caught up to Harry.

“Just one question, Harry,” Ron said, as they walked out of the gate. “Can we make it back before six?”

**

Harry and Ron had finally made it to the fringes of the estate they knew had once belonged to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Long ago, the grass had been neatly trimmed, but now, it was overgrown with reeds and undergrowth. Trees had started springing up between the long blades of grass. Not a single gust of wind meant that the surroundings were as still as if Death herself had passed here. There was a chill in the air that made Harry and Ron shiver, despite the shining sun and the flawless blue sky. The dark trees surrounding the manor and the estate seemed to be beckoning them, inviting them to the mystery and horrors of the Forbidden Forest…

Doing their best to dispel the ominous feeling that had taken hold of him, Harry jumped over the rickety wooden fence, dark and rotten with age, and Ron followed after him. The grass swished against their legs as they walked through it with ever increasing caution.

“D'you think they're waiting in ambush?” Harry asked quietly.

“Maybe. Stay close and keep your wand at the ready,” Ron answered even quieter.

Yet, despite their cautions and worry, the surroundings were as dead as they looked. No Death Eaters jumped out at them, not the slightest noise was made. The unnatural quiet still did not lessen the ominous and heavy feeling, but at least assuring that no immediate danger was present, eased Harry and Ron's concerns a little.

Still not letting their guard completely fall, they moved until the Malfoy Manor came in complete view. Though still in good condition, neglect had still made its mark on the dwelling - the whitewashed walls were blackened, and a thin layer of grime covered the windows. The path leading to the front door was overgrown with grass and covered in the previous autumn's leaves, mixed in with a dried layer of earth.

The only oddity in this otherwise dead setting was the dim light that was shivering through one of the windows that was blocked by two heavy curtains.

“You think they're inside?” Ron said, very quietly.

“Ginny and Draco, probably, I don't see where else they would go,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Let's go take a look.”

Kneeling, and quietly crawling across the remainder of the distance towards the window, Harry and Ron slowly raised themselves, in the process casting Disillusionment charms over themselves, and peered through the crack in the curtains.

Inside the lavishly decorated sitting room, the two people they were after were indeed present. Draco was sitting in one of the chairs, hunched forward with his head in his hands, looking down at the floor and deep in thought. Ginny was lying on the couch next to the chair, staring up at the ceiling, and quite possibly lost in thoughts of her own.

“Come on,” Harry told Ron, after they had observed them for several minutes. “Let's take them out of this dump and to the Burrow.”

“Yeah, this place gives me the willies,” Ron replied, on edge, looking out towards the forest.

Harry didn't reply, and instead, walked quickly to the front door, closely shadowed by Ron. Gathering his remaining courage,, he knocked cautiously on the door, hoping Draco or Ginny wouldn't curse him and Ron to pieces.

At first, there was no response. Shortly after, however, they heard slow and deliberate footsteps on the other side of the door.

“Who's there!” called Draco's voice, sharply and loudly.

“It's us, Harry and Ron,” Harry shouted back. “Can we come inside?”

“How do I know you aren't disguised Death Eaters?” the same sharp tone echoed.

“In third year Hermione punched you in the face,” Harry said loudly to prove his identity, and silently, he beckoned Ron.

“And I vomited slugs in second year,” his companion replied loudly too, but more reluctantly.

“Alright!” Draco shouted once again. “I believe you.”

In the next few seconds, they heard a series of lock click, and the front door was opened.

“Come on in,” their host said, evidently more relaxed than a minute ago - yet, a muscle was still working in his jaw.

“Alright, Malfoy?” Ron asked with concern.

“Been better, to be honest,” Draco replied. “I was doing some research a few days ago - tried to find out what was so important about Ginny that those Death Eaters want her so bad.”

“And?” Ron prompted him.

“I have rare volumes on the Dark Arts, left to me by my father - they're safe in my Gringotts vault - but I spent a good afternoon reading them over, since I had head something about resurrection.”

“What did you find?” Harry asked anxiously.

“That spell Ginny used - it was in one of my father's books, and explained quite in detail how it worked, but more importantly, how to modify the Killing curse to be more effective against the soul duplication spell,” Draco finished quietly, a glint of hope in his eyes.

So?” Ron said again.

“Think about it Weasley,” Draco replied hurriedly, “My copy of it is the only one in existence, that tells us this information. We have an advantage we can exploit, as long as the Death Eater scum doesn't manage to grab a hold of it.”

At that moment, Ginny walked in, looking sullen, but relieved to have the company of the two visitors.

“What are you talking about?” she asked solemnly.

“I'm just telling these two what I found with my research,” Draco explained quickly, before turning back to Harry and Ron. “And why are you two all the way here? How did you know where to find us?”

“A lucky guess, let's call it,” Harry said forcefully. “Now we have to go to the Burrow, as soon as possible.”

“What's the rush? I think we're safe, right where we are right now,” Draco objected coolly.

“It's my wedding, you dolt,” Harry said exasperatedly. “You and Ginny have to be there, and in one piece too.”

“Well then, let's go,” Ginny simply stated in the awkward silence that followed, and stepped towards the door. “Well, are you coming, or not?” she prompted the other three once she opened the door.

Silently, they made their way to what used to be a sweeping lawn in front of the house, and apparated away with the slightest of pops.

That exchange had been kept short and choppy on purpose - by mutual agreement, the characters involved had talked little, revealed only what was important, and rushed to make a safe haven.

Mere seconds after their departure, an unwelcome presence manifested itself in front of the manor. He was rather tall, slightly hunched, dressed in a black cloak, and had a white washed mask covering his face. Twigs snapped under his heavy boots, as he took a few steps forward, looking around slowly.

“Hmm, they've been here,” the figure's deep voice muttered quietly into the stillness, after performing an intricate movement with his wand.

Taking a few more minutes to just stand and observe, in case someone returned, the man eventually seemed to convince himself that nobody was going to come back soon, and he too disappeared in thin air - only leaving the unnatural silence to take hold upon the surroundings again.

A/N This is by far the longest installment of this story…I know, it's been long since, I updated, but I still hope you liked it, and I'll be immensely delighted, if you would leave a review on your way out. :D Next chapter is coming up soon, I think…

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A/N Enough death and destruction for a while…this chapter, we are gonna have a bit of fun in the spirit of 2008…Happy New Year, and please enjoy!

Chapter X: `Til Death Do Us Part

The night was reaching its climax, slowly, but surely. Harry and Ron had already consumed generous amounts of firewhiskey. Ron's propensity to drink without restraint was showing itself time and again, as drink after drink disappeared down his throat. Draco had joined the company, but he was showing more restraint, exercising his trademark Slytherin tightness of character, and looking on with a slight expression of disdain. Fred and George had were also quite intoxicated, trying to flirt with two other girls that were sitting close by - unfortunately, the latter were very unimpressed by the humorous twin duo.

Bill and Charlie, however, were of another caliber; they were proficient in consuming large amounts of alcohol, and still retaining their cool air. As a result, a large company had gathered around them - Bill was telling tales of spectacular curses he had seen in his career, and Charlie was animatedly involved in regaling spectacular moments of his life as a dragon tamer - the burns on his arm merely impressed the ladies around him even more.

Percy, as awkward as usual, was sitting in the periphery of the bar, sipping a drink uneasily, and doing his best to impress a very attractive woman sitting beside him - sweating, fidgeting, waving his arms wildly, and words shooting rapidly out of his mouth, he was only succeeding in causing his companion to become immensely bored by the proceedings.

Music, both of a Muggle and Magical variety, provided entertainment and an atmosphere of excitement for the visitors tonight. Guests that were more humbled by the influence of firewhiskey, found the task of dancing quite challenging, as keeping one's balance and trying to follow the pace of the music was not an easy combination to accomplish. Caught up in the moment, Ron shakily rose to his feet, and deciding to try his luck with the ladies, asked one attractive member of the opposite gender to the dance floor.

The blue-eyed blonde beauty that was the subject of his attention sized up the redhead from head to foot, turned around to her group of friends, and exchanged a few whispered words with them. Then, a second-long hesitation, she smiled broadly, and dragged Harry's drunken best friend off towards the dance floor. In around a minute, they were lost from view within the swelling mass of people crowding the center of Madam Rosmerta's bar.

Walking along rather pompously and energetically, Percy was leading the mysterious woman he had been so vainly trying to impress earlier, and had seemingly decided to try another way - his own dancing skills. Nonplussed, he initially tried to force his way among the many bodies that were crowding the floor, but eventually gave up, and started moving his body to the rhythm, with his date participating rather half-heartedly.

Unknown to Percy, however, Harry was following his actions, and heartily laughing at the older Weasley's ridiculous moves - frankly, the brunette beside him had changed her demeanor from boredom, to one of outright embarrassment.

“Percy!” Harry heard her shout rather loudly to capture the latter's attention. “Percy!”

He, however, was too absorbed in the music to hear her. Sighing, and rolling her eyes with impatience, his date said something about going to the bathrooms, and stalked off in the direction of the bar.

Suddenly noticing that he was dancing quite alone, Percy stood, uncomprehending, for a few seconds, before realization dawned on his features, quickly to be replaced by a look of immense fury. Still rather awkward, and looking to the floor in silent anger, he walked off stiffly to join Fred and George, who were sitting next to Harry.

“I don't understand it!” Percy blew up, once he sat heavily beside his brothers.

“What don't you understand, Perce?” Fred asked with a grin. “Considering you're a walking and talking book.”

George guffawed and nearly spilt his butterbeer down his front when he heard Fred. “Yeah, Percy,” he added, “That's news.”

“Women!” the object of their jabs said in exasperation. “No matter what I do, they are always bored of me. What should I do?”

Harry thought that, for the first time in his life, he saw a side to Percy that was not pompous, arrogant, and self-interested. Oddly, he seemed to have feelings too…

“Oh, Percy, why didn't you say so!” Fred boomed, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “George - let's show this chap how to deal with the ladies!”

Staggering to their feet, and slightly unsteady, the twins took their brother by the arms and dragged him off in the direction of the same brunette that had left him earlier. Harry, deciding to tag along after them, stood up, dazed, and trying to keep his balance, followed the redheaded trio.

“Hello!” he heard Fred shout when they reached the bar, where the woman in question was sitting. She was slightly startled by his voice, but turning around she took in whom her visitors were.

“Yes?” she raised an eyebrow questioningly, a note of annoyance in her voice.

Still grinning broadly, Fred continued, slurring his words a bit. “Our friend here - Perce, we think he's called - has been talking about you all night to us.”

“I'm sorry, but I already wasted enough time with this stool tonight,” she replied defensively, waving dismissively at Percy, who had turned a deep shade of red.

“This was not a good idea, definitely not,” Percy was muttering angrily at George, but the latter was too interested in the exchange to hear a word his brother was saying.

“You think he's a stool?” Fred echoed, before laughing heartily. “Did you hear that Perce,” he turned to his extremely embarrassed brother. “She thinks you're a stool. Aren't you going to prove her wrong?”

The brunette's chocolate eyes settled on Percy expectantly. Feeling the pressure, Percy silently cursed his brothers, and right there and then, he wished the Earth could swallow him whole and save him from the scrutiny he was being subjected to.

Instead, he was taken aback by surprise momentarily, when a voice he didn't think could belong to him, escaped from his lips, “Yes…yes, I think I will.”

He disengaged himself from his brothers' grips, and took a brave step forward. “Last time around…I was dense enough not to ask your name…would you forgive that blunder of mine, and let me know your name?”

The sudden transformation in his character surprised the mysterious brunette as much as it did Percy. He was typically eloquent in speech, but the results of the added confidence had surpassed even his own expectations…

“Certainly,” a smile graced the woman's features, and she absorbed herself in his company, exchanging pleasant conversation with someone for the first time that night.

“Well, brother, our job here is done,” declared Fred theatrically. “Another drink to celebrate the occasion?”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” George replied with equal vigor. “Madam Rosmerta!” they shouted together.

“Put me down for a firewhiskey too,” Harry told Madam Rosmerta, who was just happening to pass by as the twins were shouting.

“Will do,” she chirped, moving on hurriedly towards the bar.

The music continued to play endlessly; it created a good mood, helped by the flowing drinks, and making people enjoy themselves more and more. All sense of time had disappeared, and instead, it was a perpetual mix of happiness and forgetfulness.

**

The following morning dawned, bright and early. Sunshine rays entered through the window, illuminating the specks of dust that flew in the air. A lingering smell of firewhiskey, and the rhythmic breathing of the two individuals that occupied the room was the only noise in the otherwise quiet room.

Harry was the first one to stir, as his eyes were in the direct path of the sunlight, and he could not stand it much longer. Cracking one eye open did not make him feel better - his head felt heavy and muddled, as if his brain was being pounded against the inside of his skull; the thudding pain made him feel nauseous and dizzy.

Ron, on the other hand, was still fast asleep. Unfortunately, he would have to rise early too, as the wedding was to commence that very same afternoon. The thought simultaneously excited and scared Harry - he had mere hours to assemble himself together for the event and hope it proceeded without problems. Yet, it wouldn't be so, if the best man were still slumbering peacefully.

“Ron!” Harry prodded him in the side. “Wake up!”

Ron simply mumbled something incoherent under his breath, turned towards the wall, and continued to snore.

“Mobilicorpus,” Harry muttered under his breath, as he raised his hand towards Ron's sleeping form.

Just as it had happened all those years ago, now Ron hung upside down in the air, suspended from his ankle by an invisible force.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” he shouted disdainfully once his senses caught up with his body's position. “Put me down!”

Smiling ironically, Harry thought of the counter-curse, and watched Ron tumble to the ground in a heap.

“You could've waked me up normally,” Ron told Harry in annoyance, as he stood up. “Why did you have to use that curse again?”

“Because waking you up by any other means is a fool's errand,” Harry explained calmly. “Now, the wedding is in a few hours, so go clean yourself up.”

Mumbling darkly under his breath, Ron headed towards the bathroom. “Watch your back, mate!” he shouted at Harry, seconds before he shut the door.

Harry had reason to take heed of Ron's threat, but currently, he was not overly worried.

He sat down on the bed to wait until the bathroom was freed - in such a large house with so many people present - a single sanctity of personal hygiene was an object of fierce competition.

Harry rushed to be the next one to go about his business after Ron, but alas, that was not meant to be. Hermione had succeeded in arriving before him.

“I'll only be a few minutes,” she said hurriedly in Harry's outraged face.

The scenario repeated itself several more times, and the atmosphere did not becomes less chaotic and frustrating as the day progressed. People were hurrying to dress appropriately, perform last-minute adjustments to elaborate hair arrangements and fix minor details on finely decorated dress robes. Outside in the backyard, Harry and the male portion of the Weasley were busily arranging chairs and tables, setting the minister's podium firmly on the ground and laying out the carpet that the newlyweds would walk on in a matter of hours.

They finished quicker than expected, and Harry quickly departed to put himself in the right attire for the occasion. On the way, he met Hermione and Ginny, who had been charged with the responsibility of putting final touches on the wedding decorations.

Around the same time, the first guests had begun to arrive. The invitees included dignitaries from the Ministry, including the unannounced presence of the Minister of Magic, several prominent Aurors, among which the name of Kingsley Shackebolt was present, and acquaintances of Mr. Weasley's from the department he was still heading quite successfully. For the purposes of wizarding relations, the Muggle Prime Minister had also been cordially forwarded an invitation, but it was not clear whether he would show.

On a more personal level, friends of the family formed the majority of invited guests. The company of Remus and Tonks was welcome one once they arrived, bringing Teddy with them. Draco Malfoy was in a more awkward position, as the reservations and dislike oriented towards his family in the time of his parents, and since, had lessened with time, but still remained. The Delacours had arrived rather formally, dressed exquisitely in a typical French fashion, and Fleur had also come with them. Last, but not least, Hermione's parents arrived with a lot of noise and soot from the fireplace in the sitting room, tumbling forward from the fireplace and landing rather awkwardly on the floor.

They, however, had been hurriedly cleaned up by Mrs. Weasley, and joined the festivities and conversation in the yard, mingling surprisingly well with both the formal and more personal acquaintances of the Weasley family.

Ron, looking quite handsome in his dress robes, walked out into the congregation, his hand laced through Luna's. Not a hint of his irritated air earlier today remained, and he was smiling quite broadly, as he led his wife and kids towards Lupin and Tonks - to catch up in their lives, and also introduce the children to one another.

In one corner of the backyard, both Prime Ministers were engaged in deep conversation. The Muggle equivalent of the wizarding world's foremost office holder had found it respectable to show, and had indeed done so. Without a doubt, they were discussing matters quite akin to mutual relations and possible treaties…

Harry, who looked very presentable, considering the short amount of time he had to prepare, also entered the party, together with Hermione. His eyes swept the scene, before settling on Hermoine's parents - a small smile lit his face when he saw Mr. Granger telling something animatedly to the twins, and waving his arms all over, which caused them to laugh with gusto. Mrs. Granger, on the other hand, was absorbed in conversation with Mrs. Weasley - Harry was prepared to say that they were talking about embarrassing stories from their children's childhoods.

“Hermione, you didn't tell me your parents were so suave,” he turned to Hermione with another smile.

“To tell you the truth, Harry, I'm more surprised than you are,” Hermione answered wonderingly. “I thought they would just embarrass me completely.”

“There's time for that too,” Harry said with a hint of bravado, a devilish glint playing in his eyes. “In the meanwhile, let's find something to drink.”

“Fine,” said Hermione, and she followed Harry to where Remus and Tonks were standing, still talking to Ron and Luna.

Music had also started playing in the background, with the onset of the evening. Bright stars adorned the sky as the sun slowly sunk on the horizon, and torches, strategically placed around the backyard, burst to life, providing warmth and light for the guests.

Tonight's affair was shaping to be a pleasant one. Gone were the impatience and frustrations that accompanied the preparations. Instead, a sense of calamity, serenity, love and understanding had taken over - the feeling that nothing could ruin the special occasion was present in every single guest.

The evening wore on, amidst pleasant conversation, jokes, toasts and laughter, but eventually the time for the culmination of the wedding came.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Mr. Weasley's magnified voice carried over the crowd. “May I ask your attention?”

Questioning glances turned towards the Weasley patriarch, and the sound of talking voices subsided gradually, as people paid more attention to what Mr. Weasley had to say.

“It is time,” he began impressively, “or nearly so, for our two guests of honour tonight - Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, to enter into an union that will bond them for life!”

Cheering erupted, and wolf-whistles shrilled from someone - possibly a Weasley. The noise eventually died down enough for Mr. Weasley to proceed, since he had tried to recapture their attention. Once he succeeded, he continued speaking.

“So, I ask you, to please sit down on either side of the aisle, and be ready to offer your respect to our happy couple.”

With those words, Mr. Weasley stepped down, and the crowd engaged itself into the task of filling their allotted seats. About twenty minutes later, full of negotiations about who was to sit where, and the confusion that ensued from those deliberations, everyone had been finally seated and waiting in anticipation.

Up on the podium, under the soft glow of the multi-coloured lights, Harry stood, waiting, with Ron beside him. Luna was next to Ron, unable to contain the large smile that had broken across her face. James and Madelyn were mesmerized by the proceedings, standing in front of their mother, and watching the setting with undisguised wonder.

The minister himself had taken his post behind the altar. Flowing red robes, embroidered with a gold thread, and a shapeless hat, made in the same manner, formed his attire. He waited patiently, and was perhaps even a little bored, having performed many such services over the years. On the other hand, it was not commonplace to be the one performing the ritual at Harry Potter's wedding.

At last, a very strange, yet pleasing to the ear music, issued from an unknown source somewhere above their heads. The questioning looks, however, lasted mere moments, and quickly turned into ones of surprised delight and exclamation, as a fireball erupted in the darkness, turning the night into a day for the briefest of moments - it was a Phoenix' Lament, and the fireball, which had trained all attention onto itself, rapidly adopted the shape of the magnificent fiery bird.

The trail of golden sparks showered the congregation below, as the phoenix circled above, still piping its ethereal tune. Then, out of thin air, two people appeared - by apparition, or portkey, it was not clear, but it was Hermione and her father. The latter looked happy, but still surprised and impressed by the wizard norm of conducting weddings. Regardless, he took Hermione by the arm, and led her down the red carpeted aisle, towards the podium, where Harry, smiling, stood waiting…

Hermione's mother was standing opposite Harry, with tears glistening in her eyes. Through the crowd, whisperings of awe at Hermione's beauty, magnified by the splendid white dress she wore, accompanied her all the way down the aisle. The female portion of the audience seemed to be sobbing freely, and even some of the members of the opposite gender seemed to be trying to hide watery eyes…

Finally, Hermione reached the podium, ascending it to stand on par with Harry. Anticipation built, as the atmosphere became more tangible, and emotions more intense…

“We are gathered here today,” the minister began speaking shakily, “to honour two souls, decided to merge into one for the rest of their days; to honour the sanctity of family and virtue, as the steadfast building block of our society, and a shelter for our children.”

The eloquent speech continued for about another minute; the audience's attention was raptly focused on the minister's every word, and the occasional subdued sob still escaped the crowd.

“Harry James Potter,” the minister pronounced his name loudly and clearly, “do you take this woman, Hermione Jane Granger, to be your lawfully wedded wife - to protect her, cherish her, and love her until death do you part?”

“I do,” his voice was raspy, quivering with emotion.

“And do you, Hermione Jane Granger, take Harry James Potter, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to protect, cherish and love him until death do you part?”

“Yes, yes I do!” Hermione exclaimed, nervous and shaking.

“Then, I pronounce you man and wife,” the minister finished graciously. “You may kiss the bride.”

Magic pulsated through them, as their lips met in an electric kiss. Both Harry and Hermione had closed their eyes, absorbed in each other's presence. The crowd watching from the chairs was in awe at the sight, as a trail of golden sparks from the circling phoenix showered the still embracing couple…

**

The wedding had been a success. After the ceremony, the guests enjoyed a sumptuous dinner, prepared by Mrs. Weasley mainly, and coupled with a healthy helping of firewhiskey. Much later, after yet more toasts, the large cake had been hauled out, and once everyone had received a piece, Ron sneakily charmed Harry's piece to fly up, and smash against his face. Taken widely with humour, Hermione easily repaired the damage, and summoned another piece. Her parents, standing true to the belief that their purpose was to embarrass their daughter, regaled Harry with stories of Hermione's childhood, much to his amusement and Hermione's frustration. sAt the end of the night, once the wedding celebration had been declared over, and everyone thanked the hosts time and again for the wonderful occasion, and congratulated Harry over and over, they at last began to apparate away or exit via the fireplace in the Weasley house, and some other guests chose to sleep the night at the Weasley's.

As for Harry and Hermione, they had started upon another journey in their lives - one that would surely bring them joy, happiness, sorrow and pain, but it was also a journey they would always be together on.

A/N There's chapter 10…next one is coming up after I chart it, and in the meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this one, and reviews are more than welcome…:D

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A/N: Here's the next chapter....thanks to all who reviewed previously, and so...enjoy. :)

Chapter XI: Desperation

The wedding had passed well, in Harry's opinion. Right before opening the Daily Prophet this morning, he thought he could expect that this would be one of the few unmarred memories of his life.

That, however, was not meant to be, because another murder had been perpetrated during the wedding two days previously, and the Daily Prophet had provided a detailed account of the unfortunate circumstances.

Just as Harry and Hermione were saying their vows of eternal love and devotion, it was a strange coincidence that someone had murdered a neighbour of the Weasley family, who lived only several houses up the street. The news arrived rather quickly the next day, and from the joy of the wedding, the entire village had been thrust into a somber, fearful mood. The Prophet proceeded to make mention of the murders that has already taken place this year, and the article even wondered whether there was a connection amongst all of them.

For the murdered man was a respected resident of the village; he was the one who mended wands and made them nearly as good as new. In the wake of the news of his death, Harry had instructed Hermione to remain in Grimmauld, despite her protest, and immediately had departed for the Burrow.

He arrived in haste, muttering a quick `hello' as he walked in, only to find a very distraught Mrs. Weasley, sobbing, while Mr. Weasley was trying, very ineffectively, to calm her down. She was speaking indistinctly through her tears, and no sense of her words could be made. What struck Harry, however, was how old and vulnerable Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked to him.

He met Mr. Weasley's eyes. There were indecision and bewilderment in them; a silent question, asking why? Then each looked away. Right at that moment, Ron appeared into the kitchen, looking quite distressed too.

“D'you realize how close that was?” he said to Harry by way of a greeting. “We could've been killed and not known it!” he continued, pacing around in agitation.

“I know, Ron,” Harry answered just as tersely. “What could we do though?”

“I'll tell you what,” said Ron; there was an expression of appalled determination in his voice. “We find those bastards, whatever it takes.”

“And…how exactly do you propose we do that?” Harry questioned him further, completely at sea about how they were going to carry out this objective, even if he wanted to do it as much as Ron did.

“I have an idea. Wait here, while I go grab Malfoy, and then we can go on to the Ministry,” Ron responded a bit more calmly.

He left for the upstairs rooms to find the silver-haired quarry.

Left alone with Ron's parents once more, Harry strangely found the task of making conversation incredibly awkward. A part of him felt as if he was intruding on something private - and truth be told, he was.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said at length. “While Ron, Malfoy and I are gone…lock up everywhere, won't you?”

“We will, Harry, yes, we will,” Mr. Weasley affirmed quietly, his attention still focused on his wife.

Two pairs of legs thudded down the stairs, and shortly, the other two characters appeared.

“Mum, Dad,” Ron turned to his parents, “don't let anyone in, not until we return. Ginny, Luna and the kids are upstairs, and they should be safe there. I'll see you later,” he added a bit less forcefully.

“Ron,” Mrs. Weasley whispered, as se turned to her second youngest, “Harry, Draco…please, be careful.”

“We will, Mum,” replied Ron earnestly. “We'll be back by dinner, I promise. Come on now!”

The elder Weasleys watched as the door closed behind the three of them. Uttering a heavy sigh, Molly disengaged herself from her husband and without a word, proceeded towards the second floor, in order to find some solitary solace.

**

The trio of Harry, Ron and Draco had arrived at the headquarters of the Auror department. On the way, Ron and Draco started quarreling over the latter's treatment of Ginny once again, and Harry was forced to step in, just to maintain peace. Ironically, he thought, the role of a middleman fit him quite well…

Ron was rummaging for something behind his desk, while Harry and Draco watched him expectantly, without saying anything. The mood was rather tense, Harry observed inwardly.

At last, Ron straightened up, holding a piece of parchment in his hand. He looked somewhat puzzled, scrutinizing something on the parchment.

“The way I see it,” he raised his head after another minute's pondering, “there is a connection in the whole affair.”

“What do you make of it?” Draco asked him, a little stiffly.

“Everyone that has been killed…Olliviander, Gregorovitch, Mr. Beedle, our neighbour…they all had in common the trade of either making, or repairing wands.”

“Right,” Harry said thoughtfully. “But that doesn't explain why they were killed.”

“I'm wondering where the Muggle killing factors in,” Ron continued, still glancing at the parchment. “I'm fairly certain it was perpetrated by the same murderers.”

“It was for show, more than anything else,” Draco put in. “They're saying they've established themselves, is all.”

“Mind effect,” Ron explained. “It's meant to create an element of fear, just as You-Know-Who did once.”

“Precisely,” Draco affirmed dismissively. “Whoever it is, they are dangerous.”

“So how do we go about finding them?” Harry asked at large. “Ron, you mentioned having an idea about it all…”

“I did, yes,” the redhead answered hurriedly, cutting across Harry. “We have to make a list of all the wand makers in England, and give them protection. I'll give the task to my department as the first order of business tomorrow morning, and make it a priority.”

It was evident that none were fooled about the seriousness of the repeated murders and the near-complete lack of evidence at the murder scenes, aside from the traces of immense torture the victims had been subjected to before their deaths.

“So, you are certain that there are no other clues we can work from?” Draco asked, wanting to confirm the question with Ron.

“Well, except the spell we found with Olliviander a while back, and that book Luna and I are keeping now, and other than that, there is nothing,” Ron said matter-of-fact.

A dead end, that's where they were starting. The undercurrent of Ron's earlier desire to compile a list of the wand makers in England was that there weren't too many of them. Olliviander and Gregorovitch wands were the standard across Western and Eastern Europe accordingly. Each was famed as a master of the craft, and while there were others, none could even begin to compare. Wand making required a gift that few could lay claim to having; it was a sense of being able to detect one's internal magic and the means to bring it to its full potential - something, which Oliviander had told Harry many years ago…

Ron had proceeded to produce a note of his order for the subordinates in the department, and made copies of it. Then, with a flick of his wand, the parchments folded themselves into airplanes, and flew off to their recipients' offices.

“That's all we can do now,” Ron declared with finality. “Except, you two, you will be starting directly with the department, along with Hermione and Ginny. Tomorrow is the first day, and it is important that you make it in by eight o'clock, sharp.”

“What of the training?” Harry was confused.

“I didn't even apply for training,” Draco chimed in.

“There is,” Ron answered with a small pause, “a clause that isn't very spread out…if you were directly involved in the fight against You-Know-Who…the Minister made a small exception for me a while back…”

Harry smirked when his best friend faltered and became quiet.

“Well then…we'll accept the assignment,” he said loudly. “A free job! What could be better?”

“I can think of something,” Ron quipped and Draco smirked in his turn. “You know, brown eyes - “

“Shut it, mate,” Harry tried to be admonishing, but failed. “I don't need to know what you do privately…”

Ron punched him in the arm on his way out. “Come on,” he said. “My private life is much better than you two buggers', so don't be smart with me, Potter.”

“Why are you dragging me into this, Weasley,” Draco was appalled.

“Malfoy, it's your fault I couldn't sleep well last night…try an be more quiet tonight, at least…” Ron answered with humor, but there was also a tone of seriousness in his voice.

Draco's pale face flushed with anger. “It's not my fault you disappoint, Weasley,” he bit back with spite.

Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the peace between the other two, and eventually, reaching a maximum point of frustration gave up all effort altogether.

Yet, the consecutive scrap between Ron and Draco showed that there was still a sense of normalcy, even with the ominous threat hanging above their heads. With the thought of Hermione in his head, together with another thought of being able to start a family, Harry felt that his life would turn out well in the long term.

That was the hope anyways. There was no possible way to know how grave and dangerous the future could be.

**

The three of them arrived at the Burrow just in time for supper. The day had passed surprisingly quickly in the deliberations that followed in Ron's office, and the subsequent tour of Diagon Alley, where they were absorbed in discussing possible venues with the whole mystery, and where the murderers could strike next. Harry voiced his opinion that it was Bellatrix Lestrange behind it all, but the other two were cautious and uncertain about it, saying that Harry's opinion was only an assumption without proof; he found that he had to agree.

**

She paced around hastily, with evident irritation etched on her wasted features. Some hours before, Bellatrix had sent two of her Death Eaters to check on the status of the next target on her list - Mortimer Evans. There was rumour that he had entered into hiding since Olliviander's death was spread around, and even that knowledge only added to her frustrations. At least the idiots she called servants, managed to bring the soul duplication spell from Olliviander to her.

An insistent knock on the doors of her chamber startled her from her preoccupying thoughts.

“Enter!” she called in an authoritative tone.

The lock clicked, and the doors swung open noisily on rusting hinges. Two hooded servants walked in, bowing their heads dutifully.

“Speak, what news?” Bella inquired impatiently.

“Mistress,” the shorter one of the two began, almost at a whisper, “the rumors are true - Evans has gone.”

Bella was severely disappointed at the circumstances; it seemed that one had caught on what was happening to the others…

“However,” interjected the other Death Eater, “we did manage to establish a direction of where he was going by following his magical signature; he had tried to conceal it, but we did manage to uncover it.”

“Well?” Bellatrix's attention was raptly focused on the second servant.

“He is going to Manchester, and we expect him to be there by tomorrow morning.”

A chilling smile broke over Bella's face. “Excellent work. I am satisfied. You can leave now.”

The two informants visibly relaxed, and turned to leave. Maintaining their quiet statures, they respectfully bowed out of the vast chamber, and the doors closed after them with a click that reverberated throughout the room.

**

The aforementioned Mortimer Evans was feeling very unsettled and nervous. As Gregorovitch's student once upon a time, he had a good knowledge of creating wands, and he had been reading about the murder of his colleagues by trade with increasing uneasiness over the last few weeks. He had hoped their deaths were isolated incidents, but with time, he became increasingly convinced that they were intentionally targeted, which could only lead him to one conclusion: his turn was coming, sooner or later.

The train rattled on, and from the window, he saw the smokestacks of the factories in Manchester's industrial district. Something told him he didn't have a lot of time left.

Taking out a piece of yellowed parchment from the inner pocket of his jacket, he placed it on the small table near the window, and summoned a quill from his other pocket. Then he proceeded to hastily scribble the following letter:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Everything depends on you now. Please, do not permit them to take hold of it.

Your devoted servant,

M.E.

The owl in the cage next to him hooted rather nervously, as if sensing the heavy feeling that had settled in Mortimer's chest. He looked down at the snow-white bird, and unhooked the latch.

“Hedwig,” he said in a quavering voice, “take this to Harry Potter, but do not come back to find me. It's time you returned to him.” Mortimer rolled up the parchment, and sealed it with his wand, before fastening it to Hedwig's leg; the bird stood patiently, observing her current master with keen eyes.

He stood on his feet, and slid the window open. The air rushed inside the compartment, almost pushing him off balance. Hedwig, on cue, opened her great wings, and with a single flap, jumped up out onto the windowsill and flew up into the early morning sky.

“Good luck, Harry,” Mortimer murmured, as he watched the owl become a speck in the sky, as the train rushed further towards Manchester.

Fastening the window closed, he sat back down, to try and contemplate his own escape.

That, however, was not to happen. From the corner of his eye, he caught two black silhouettes outside the compartment. A second later, the door was thrown open, and they walked in, wands raised in his direction.

“Hello, Evans,” one said coldly and maliciously.

“Leave me alone,” Mortimer replied, calmly, and gazing into the eye slits of their masks.

He did not even flinch, as two green beams of light shot at him; a moment later, his body lay motionless in its seat.

The two figures disappeared with slgiht cracks into thin air, as the train began to slow down and finally enter Manchester.

A/N There's chapter 11...things will be kind of busy, but i'll be working on chapter 12 in the next couple of weeks...pelase read & review.

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A/N: So…here we are at the next stage of the story…all I can say is, enjoy.

Chapter XII: Grave Assumptions

After dinner the previous evening, Harry had hastily returned to the Black ancestral home to take Hermione with him, and they spent the night at the Burrow. More protective wards had been put up before everyone retired to bed, as the proximity of the murder that had happened on the wedding night, still carried an undercurrent of worry in the otherwise amicable evening.

It was the following morning, perhaps around eight o’clock, when Harry was just about to leave with Ron and Draco for the Ministry, that something caught his eye at the kitchen window.

“Hang on,” he said, releasing the doorknob, and stepping towards the glass pane.

What he saw almost made him swallow his tongue in surprise. “H-Hedwig?” he whispered, in a detached, wondrous tone.

Ron, his curiosity excited, joined Harry by the window. “I’ll be damned,” he uttered quietly, observing the owl, which was by now beginning to show signs of irritation.

At that precise moment, Hermione came down the stairs, and because they faced the window, she gave a sudden shriek of surprise.

“Harry!” she exclaimed. “What are you standing around for? Open the window!”

The green-eyed man in question regained his senses, and stepped forward to open the latch. Hermione, however, had been quicker, and sparing him a glance of disdain, she let the own in.

“There’s a letter,” she observed. “See what it says, Harry.”

But he was too preoccupied with paying attention to Hedwig. She nibbled his ear affectionately after settling on his shoulder, just as she had done back in their school days…

“Where have you been, Hedwig,” Harry spoke to her, seemingly expecting an answer in return; instead, Hedwig watched him imploringly with intelligent eyes, and held up one leg; it was then that Harry became aware of the letter.

Setting the owl on one of the chairs, he unfastened the letter from the leg, and proceeded to open it. The parchment immediately straightened out when he broke the seal with his wand.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Everything depends on you now. Please, do not permit them to take hold of it.

Your devoted servant,

M.E.

“M.E.” repeated Ron, after Harry had finished reading the letter aloud. “Who is this M.E.?”

“No idea,” said Harry thoughtfully, evidently recounting people he knew in his head, looking for those initials. “Hermione?” he asked, after his unsuccessful attempt.

To his surprise, she looked equally confused. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name either,” she replied slowly.

“Mate, we don’t have time to ponder that now. Come on, or we’ll be late,” Ron animated the lull in the conversation. “Malfoy’s already outside.”

“Right,” Harry answered. “Goodbye, love,” he kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek, and ran after Ron. The door slammed behind him rather hard.

Luna had come down by now, and from somewhere, had produced owl treats that Hedwig was busy breaking apart with her beak. She looked inquiringly at Hermione and greeted her for good morning.

“What are you up to, Hermione?” she asked absently, stroking the snowy owl’s feathers with one hand.

“Reading this letter,” Hermione replied, before handing Harry’s recent mysterious message to the blonde. She, in her turn, scanned it carefully.

“It is strange,” Luna observed, “that there is no indication of what it is about. What is it supposed to be?”

“Search me,” Hermione said dismissively. “Could be anything.”

Upstairs, the sound of walking feet became ever more prominent, as Ginny and the Weasley parents stirred awake. The sound of small, running feet also sounded, as James and Madelyn ran around Fred and George’s room.

“It might be a secret,” Luna ventured s guess. “It could be a secret.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t help us one bit,” Hermione countered matter-of-factly. “Let’s drop the subject for now…I think we can return to it later on…”

“Alright,” Luna agreed, at a loss for explaining Hermione’s sudden withdrawal from the topic.

The respectable form of Mrs. Weasley appeared in the kitchen a minute later, and she directed herself straight to the stove.

“Good morning, my dears,” she said with a smile, already breaking eggs in a simmering pan over the stovetop.

“Morning, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione and Luna said in near unison. That was before Mr. Weasley appeared, carrying James in one arm, and holding Madelyn’s hand in the other. Behind him, Ginny was trying to smother her laughter, mouthing “Grandpa!” at Hermione and Luna.

“Ganpa!” James said shrilly, issuing another involuntary laugh from Ginny. Mr. Weasley only smiled.

“Morning, dear,” he greeted, pecking Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Fried eggs with bacon,” she replied, turning to him. “Be careful the children don’t burn themselves.”

Swiftly, Mr. Weasley backed away from the stove, and gave the children to Luna. Then he sat down on a chair, and muttered to himself, “I’m too old for this.”

Breakfast passed over with Hermione telling the rest about Harry’s letter, but the mysterious initials M.E. did not eject recognition from anyone’s memory; though imaginative and wild ideas about what the it mentioned by the letter, were not lacking.

**

In the meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Draco were anxiously debating among themselves the possibility of uncovering all the wand makers in England. Ron’s idea had been enthusiastically accepted, but carrying it out in the flesh was an entirely different affair.

“What do the registers say, Ron?” Harry asked him in frustration. “There have to be registers somewhere.”

“Oh yeah,” Ron answered with an equally frustrated manner. “Just a small glitch – they’re a hundred years out of date!”

“What do you mean? They’re supposed to be revised annually,” Draco observed with annoyance.

“See for yourself,” Ron snapped, and threw forward a rather ancient folder, yellowed by age and quite crumpled up around the corners.

“Who is supposed to be doing the revisions?” Harry demanded.

“The bloody idiots from the Magical Law Enforcement Deaprtment, not the Aurors!” Ron explained haughtily. “And I already spoke twice to them about it.”

“And?” Draco prompted him.

“And what? Nothing!” Ron snapped again, throwing furious glances at the other two. “Which leaves us right back where we started.”

Harry sighed, and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes with frustration.

“Alright,” he eventually said. “That means we can’t rely on the Ministry records, and it’s also the most crucial part of the whole plan…d’you two know any wand makers, besides Olliviander?”

“Nope,” Ron said, and Draco nodded his agreement.

“Fine,” Harry responded forcefully. “Then we do more research. There must be an article or a book somewhere with more recent information…”

Muttering under his breath, Harry ran his hand through his hair and sat back down on one of the chairs, deep in thought. Draco turned towards the roaring fireplace, and also seemed to become absorbed in his mind. Ron continued sitting behind the desk, staring with hard irresolution at the opposite wall.

“You know,” Draco ventured eventually, “maybe we can ask around…look for witnesses.”

“That would be tough to do,” Harry observed, “considering that each murder was done quietly and in remote circumstances.”

“That Muggle attack early on, however,” said Ron suddenly. “It was public, and many people saw it, including wizards, I’m sure...I’ll ask those daft idiots from the Enforcement if they left anyone with their memory intact from the event…”

“Let’s hope so,” Draco muttered quietly. “Though the odds are against us.”

That issued a slight chuckle from Harry and Ron. “Definitely, first task of tomorrow’s day…we have to make haste, if we are to find answers,” Ron added.

With that concluded their second consecutive meeting about the proper coarse of action to take. Each of them thought grimly about the multitude of questions piling up, and without one clue for an answer.

Why had Olliviander and Gregorovitch been killed? And the Muggle attack? Why were they targeted too, first Harry, and then Hermione? And even, the murder of that innocent man, not even three houses from the Weasleys; finally, the cryptic message, with no obvious sender, saying literally nothing about something...

Was it a warning? Who were the culprits after, or perhaps, after what? They were obviously determined, but that by it was very inconclusive.

Sometime in the early afternoon, the three of them returned to the Burrow, glummer than before. The house itself was rather quiet, with the only sound being the sporadic laughter of James and Madelyn, as Luna entertained them in the living room. Mrs. Weasley informed them that Mr. Weasley was taking a much-needed nap upstairs, and she and Hermione were discussing something over a cup of coffee.

“Love,” Ginny, who had joined them shortly after their return, turned to Draco. “There’s been another death.”

“Another one!” Harry exclaimed before Draco could reply. “When?”

“This morning,” Ginny replied in hushed tones. “Very sinister though.”

“How did you find out?” Ron put in uneasily.

“The Prophet,” Hermione supplemented, “but it’s not front page news.”

“What happened to the victim?” Draco asked apprehensively.

“Died on the train,” Hermione answered, perplexed. “They found him spread out onto the seat. No signs of a struggle, so he possibly died a natural death; apparently, he was quite old too.”

“What train was it?” Harry inquired a minute after Hermione had finished speaking.

“From Bolton to Michigan,” she returned, after perusing quickly through the article once again.

“Probably an odd case,” Draco replied dismissively. “I doubt he was killed.”

A murmur of general consensus spread among the rest at his words. Still, there was something curious about it all…people did not just die in trains. Or perhaps, they did…that man seemed to be very old after all.

“Have they any knowledge about the victim’s identity?” Harry asked Hermione rather directly.

“Actually, none,” she replied. “He seemed to fall back on his wand, and it snapped in half, according to the article; and we very well know that completely severed wands are impossible to repaired.”

“Could they trace the origin of the wand?” Luna put in hopefully.

“Impossible, when it’s broken,” Hermione stated matter-of-fact.

“Accidental death, I’m sure,” Ron affirmed Draco’s earlier sentiment. “Man was probably standing up, and suffered a heart attack, perhaps”

“Probably,” Harry agreed.

At that, the subject was dropped.

**

The very next day, Harry and Ron departed early again for the Ministry, in order to place their request on the Magical Law Enforcement Department. They arrived relatively quickly, and headed straight for the headquarters of the aforementioned department.

Ron knocked insistently on the door. Quite evidently, he was anxious. The door opened after several minutes, and a rather attractive woman stood in front of them, looking somewhat annoyed.

“Can I help you?” she asked haughtily.

“Yeah, I’m the head of the Auror department,” Ron said authoritatively, and the transformation was instantaneous; the woman completely changed her demeanor and smiled brightly.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said sweetly, “excuse me. Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can,” said Ron hurriedly, and the secretary smiled even wider. “Find Twist for me, will you?”

“Certainly,” she said, and literally ran back into the depths of the department, leaving Harry and Ron to come in after her.

“Vivacious girl,” Harry observed teasingly. “She has it in for you, mate.”

“Believe me, she isn’t the only one,” Ron answered with annoyance. “Doesn’t the ring on my hand send a clear message?”

“Guess not,” Harry told him pointedly.

They couldn’t argue about it further, because a short, plump man appeared in the foyer, carrying a stack of folders under his hand. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and the thick spectacles magnified his eyes to an unusually large size.

“Weasley,” he greeted gruffly, “what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

The tone, with which he said it, clearly indicated that he didn’t want to spend much time discussing with Harry and Ron.

“Muggle attack that happened a while ago,” Ron replied curtly. “Do you have any witnesses on it?”

“Why?” Twist narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Olliviander and Gregorovitch murders,” Ron told him. “My department has the case.”

“Them two?” the other was incredulous. “The minister assigned it to me, personally.”

“As head of the Auror Department, I have the authority to launch an independent investigation,” Ron observed rather coolly. “I’ll ask you one more time, Twist; do you have any witnesses from the attack?”

Knowing he was not in a position to argue with someone, who headed a department, superior to his, Twist clenched his jaw, and fixed a furious look at Ron.

“Yes,” he confirmed quietly. “Two of them. The others, I had their memories wiped. And you’re damn lucky, ‘cause I was ‘bout to do the same to the last two.”

“Where are they?” Harry interjected. “It’s important.”

“Now, that – “ the plump man answered, trying to reach a bargaining position, but Ron cut across him.

“Twist, if you don’t want to find yourself on the street in the next five minutes, you will cooperate with us,” he threatened icily.

The man’s jaw worked furiously, but he contained his anger. “In custody,” he answered quietly. “Downstairs, cell five.”

“Have a nice day, Twist,” Ron voiced his curt parting greeting, and he and Ron swept from the office.

“Why were you so angry with him?” Harry inquired, as they made their way towards the elevators.

“Why?” Ron echoed. “Because he is a scumbag, that’s what he is…”

“Can you elaborate?” Harry’s interest was peaked.

“Sure,” Ron said offhand. “He had the Minister in a compromising situation. Back in the days of the Second War, the minister was dealing with You-Know-Who, trying to negotiate some kind of settlement with him. In those times, he was a senior member in the Auror department, and tasked with a secret mission to rescue some rookies You-Know-Who had captured some months before.”

“How do you know this?” Harry asked in amazement.

“Being head Auror has its perks,” Ron answered smugly. “Anyways, what happened was that he eventually succeeded; a trade was made for several captured Death Eaters back then. Of course, everything was done in secret, because you can imagine how it would look, if wind of this happened to circulate among the public.”

“Did Twist find out by accident?”

“Yes,” Ron went on with his story. “By a moment of inattention, he was chosen to be the one to escort the captured Death Eaters to the site of the trade, along with the Minister himself. Later on he threatened to disclose the details and discredit the current government severely, if he was not chosen to head the department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

By now, the elevator had arrived, and the doors creaked open.

“Dirty bastard…why don’t they sack him on the pretense of not doing his job appropriately? You do have the wand maker records to prove it,” Harry offered, as the stepped in the cabin of the elevator.

“Simply because he has the proof to do much greater damage,” Ron said grimly. “But that doesn’t concern us for now, as long as he keeps quiet. Now we have witnesses to question.”

Ron pressed the button for the dungeons, and with a screeching noise, the elevator began to move slowly downward.

A/N: What will the witnesses reveal? Stay tuned to find out…in the meanwhile, reviews are more than welcome. :D Next chapter going up within the week, hopefully…

A/N: Next chapter is officially here…enjoy!

Chapter XIII: The Stories of a Hostage

The elevator came to a halt at the bottom of the shaft with a slight thud. A second later, the doors slid open noiselessly, and Harry and Ron stepped in the corridor. The air was rather cold and stale, and torches were lit along the walls.

“Horrible place, I tell you,” Ron said into the silence. “Anyone rarely ever comes down here.”

“Figures,” Harry muttered, casting his eyes around him. To his right, another corridor led somewhere within the depths of the floor, but their direction was to be straight ahead.

“All right, come on,” Ron told Harry, and shivering slightly, marched forward with wide steps. Harry followed him quickly.

“Where is cell five?” he asked after several minutes of walking through the chilly corridor.

“It's another ten minutes more or so, before we arrive there,” Ron answered, looking straight ahead, with his hands tucked deep in his pockets. “Bloody cold down here,” he added under his breath.

“And you keep witnesses here?” Harry asked wonderingly once again.

“Yeah, but the cells are heated when they're occupied, and they are regularly supplied. The Ministry only uses these dungeons rarely though, and it's meant to cut down the cost of keeping them.”

“Good then,” Harry responded, “I thought perhaps our quarry might have frozen to death…”

“Let's hope not,” Ron answered without humor. “If those bastards are as good at this as they are at keeping records, then I'm really worried.”

Shortly thereafter, the two made it to the fated dungeon. A heavy oak door, reinforced with metal, and looking quite imposing and impenetrable, barred the entrance. There was a small, square, metal plate in place of a window, and that must have been the means by which communication with the prisoners was conducted.

That assumption proved correct, as Ron tapped the plate with his wand, and it sprang open on a pair of hinges. Inside the dungeon itself, it was mostly dark, with merely a small stream of light entering from a charmed window high above.

“D'you always keep them in the dark?” Harry asked quietly, trying not to attract the attention of the witnesses.

“I don't know why he detained the witnesses here,” Ron whispered furiously. “This prison is for the heavy crime subjects, not witnesses…I suppose he must've considered them suspects at the time.”

“Come on, let's take them out of here,” Harry said hurriedly. “Maybe we can clear them after.”

“Not a bad idea,” Ron affirmed, “but first, let's question them.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the interior of the dungeon.

“Who's there?” called a quiet, disembodied voice.

Instead of responding, Ron opened the door, and walked inside. Behind him, Harry raised his own wand, and muttering a spell underneath his breath, unleashed a ball of light that completely illuminated the chamber.

On two miserable cots, one at each end of the room, were two women. They were startled by the sudden intrusion, and looked on at the newcomers with undisguised fear. They were dressed in ragged clothes, a trace of the lengthy period of time they had been held for.

“What will you do to us?” one managed to breath out quickly, still quite apprehensive. She had a dirty blond hair, somewhat matted, and strikingly penetrating blue eyes; her set jaw showed she was fearful, yet determined.

“Nothing, don't worry, you are safe with us,” Harry was quick to reassure them. “Why are they do edgy?” he asked Ron in an undertone.

“You're coming out of here,” Ron addressed the captives in his turn. “Twist,” he whispered mutinously back at Harry.

The women, however, remained huddled on their respective cots, still fixing Harry and Ron with distrustful gazes.

“Are you sure we're safe?” the brunette in the other corner asked quietly. Her warmer brown eyes somehow seemed to show more faith in the two supposed saviors.

“Quite positive,” Harry assured them. “My friend here is head of the Auror department.”

“What department?” the blonde enquired in confusion.

“Auror department,” Harry repeated. “Ministry of Magic.”

“Ministry of Magic?” they both said in unison. “What kind of a cruel joke is this?” some vigor had returned to the brunette's voice.

“Joke?” Ron was confused in his turn. “There is no joke…”

“Magic doesn't exist,” the blonde declared boldly. “You're mad!”

Harry was beginning to become slightly exasparated, and he could feel Ron's patience begin to dry too. He was anxious to question them.

“We're not mad,” Ron said, trying to keep calm. “See?” he raised his wand, and levitated the cot with a Levicorpus spell.

“Muggles,” he mouthed to Harry. “Must protect them later.” Of course, he meant modifying their memories, and releasing them back to lead normal lives back into the Muggle world.

“What are your names,” Harry tried, attempting to make the air of conversation less tense.

“What does that matter?” the brunette snapped at him. “If you're going to…going to…” she couldn't continue, and buried her face in her hands.

“Twist,” Ron muttered darkly again; it was slowly becoming apparent that bad tidings would come Twist's way later on…

“We will do nothing of the sort,” Harry coaxed them. “We are here to help you.”

Harry and Ron were subjected to several minutes of silent, intense scrutiny; as if they were being evaluated of their worth to be trusted.

“My name is Emily,” the blonde said softly, and she glanced anxiously at her companion.

“Jane,” the other complied, even more quietly, looking down at the floor.

“I'm Harry Potter,” the raven-haired one introduced himself.

“Ron Weasley,” Ron also professed forward his name. “At your service,” and he followed up with a purposefully comic bow that elicited small smiles from the two women.

“Good then,” Harry took the word again. “Now that we're acquainted, it's time to leave this place.”

Ron conjured fresh clothes and footwear from thin air, leaving his audience agape. “Just routine magic,” he said, reddening slightly. They turned back into the corridor, while their charges were changing into the new clothes.

The quartet managed to eventually make its way back to Ron's office. Some persuasion and reassurance was required, but in the end, Ron took the lead on the journey back, followed by Jane and Emily, and Harry brought up the rear.

“Please, sit down,” Ron invited his guests to the chairs around the desk, as he shut the door behind him.

Still rather timid, Jane and Emily accepted the offer and sat beside one another. Harry remained standing further back, waiting for Ron to initiate the interrogation.

“Why did you bring us up here?” Jane asked suspiciously.

“We only have a few questions,” Ron reassured her. “Then we will release you.”

Both women remained silent, and Ron cleared his throat to ease the awkward moment that fell over them.

“I want you to tell me,” he began, “about a certain attack that happened a while back. You must remember it…London Bridge?”

The mention certainly stirred unpleasant memories. Both Jane and Emily looked down, their eyes glistening in the low light from the fire.

“I remember,” Emily whispered. “But why do you want to know?”

“Because,” Harry replied from the shadows in a hard voice, “we want to catch those who did it, and bring them to justice. It's unforgivable, what they committed.”

“So you aren't suspecting us?” Jane was somewhat incredulous. “That's not what the other man told us…”

“He was wrong,” Ron interjected quickly. “Right now, it is us that matter, not him. I believe in your innocence, and I am willing to uphold it. All I want you to tell me is what you recall of the attack.”

Ron's face was determined, almost unsettling with the intensity, with which he looked on at the subjects of the interrogation.

“It's alright,” Harry put in, trying to allay further apprehension on part of Jane and Emily. “Anything you say, will be kept completely in confidence, and you will be safe.”

“Do you promise,” Jane asked hopefully.

“On my life,” Harry returned, looking at her and then sharing a meaningful glance with Ron.

“He really means that,” Ron affirmed. “You can count on Harry.”

At last, they relaxed enough to be able to relate their stories more confidently and easily.

“It was horrible,” Emily began her account. “And very sudden. The bridge, it blew up very unexpectedly. Jane and I had crossed it, literally a minute before, and we were some distance away, but the sight, it was…” she faltered, and her voice died.

“Grisly,” Jane continued on hurriedly. “There were cars in the water, and bodies…blood…and fire, lots of fire…some were burned alive…”

She visibly shuddered.

Ron had become very ashen faced by the close of the short narrative.

“What of the attackers?” he inquired resolutely.

“Ron, maybe we should give them some time,” Harry offered quietly. “Let them compose themselves.”

“No,” Ron objected. “We need information, Harry.”

“The attackers,” Emily took up the word, once she had recovered her speaking ability, “they swarmed everywhere. I don't know what they did, but it was a green light that killed people…they had these sticks…ruthlessly pointing them and sending these bright green beams at people. And their masks, they were horrible, pale white, intimidating…and they were dressed in sweeping, black robes…it was an ugly sight…”

“We hid behind a corner of the nearby building, and watched it all unfold there…the police arrived, but they seemed powerless…dropped dead, just as did the other people.”

“Even,” Jane started again, “the cackling; it was a very cold laugh. Everything seemed to settle a bit eventually, and among the bodies, they just stood, and started laughing…it was so horrifying…and then, several minutes later, other people seemed to appear from thin air, and they fought, really intensely. I had never seen so much destructive…magic…in my life. We were scared beyond belief…and then it began to rain, hard. The water ran red with the blood…”

“How were you found later?” Harry asked a minute later into the ensuing silence that followed Jane's speech.

“It was very quick,” Emily said. “We didn't even have time to run. They caught us easily, brought as here, and put us in that prison.” She averted her eyes as she spoke those last words.

“I think this is all we need to know,” Harry said hurriedly. “And I think it's time we uphold our part of the deal.”

“Right,” Ron continued, after a pointed look from Ron. “You are free to go.”

“I wish we did not have to remember this,” Emily spoke to Jane quietly.

“Neither do I,” she replied.

Harry and Ron shared a look, and they immediately reached consent; memory charms would be applied immediately after they arrived back in Muggle London, to protect themselves, and the women…

“Come on now,” said Harry, leading the way back outside in the corridor. “Time to take you back.”

For the first time, they looked a bit apprehensive. “Back in London?” Emily was somewhat frightened. “What if they come back?”

“I cannot guarantee that they won't,” Harry admitted, “but I can arrange for your safety…”

“I only have one more request,” Emily spoke softly, at the same time cutting across Harry.

“Yes?” he inquired.

“Don't make me forget this,” she almost pleaded. “What I said just now…I didn't mean it. This is too life-altering to just forget and go back.”

“I agree,” Harry reasoned, “but I have seen horrors that were much greater than what you witnessed. Perhaps it would be best if you moved on with life, and did not dwell on this.”

“No,” Emily stood her position. “Don't do it.”

“Remember that you will be in much graver danger in this position,” Ron warned seriously.

“I'm prepared to take that risk,” Emily responded with conviction. “And besides, you said you would protect us.”

“True, we did, but there are no guarantees,” Harry was beginning to profess his mild frustration.

“We trust you,” Jane declared in the brief pause that followed.

That simple sentence produced a profound effect on the two men.

“Right then,” Harry answered in a completely different tone, after a minute's contemplation. “If you're prepared to take the risk, then I think we can respect your decision.”

“Good,” Jane replied, smiling slightly.

“Let's not waste anymore time then,” Ron was rather insistent, and took the lead towards the elevators. “I will assign able Aurors to look after your safety.”

They arrived in the main atrium of the Ministry after a short journey.

“Thank you for everything,” Jane kept repeating, “really, for everything.”

“You helped us more than we helped you,” Harry was saying, trying to shrug off the praise and not attract unneeded attention from the other occupants of the atrium.

“Nonsense,” Emily said, “after that prison, I am really happy that we're going back, in spite of the danger.” There was indeed a barely distinguishable positive note in her tone.

They were escorted back to the street; via the rather cramped telephone cabin that Harry remembered using for the first of time in his fifth year.

“Expect the Aurors as soon as possible,” Ron instructed as they parted. “In the meanwhile, do not venture outside too much, and for now, do not leave your homes. I will compel the Aurors to introduce themselves to you and follow you around discretely.”

“Again, thank you,” Jane expressed her sentiment warmly.

“No problem,” Ron said. “We'll see you later.”

“Goodbye,” both women called, and they departed down the street, walking hastily and turning back around on occasion. Harry and Ron observed them until they disappeared from sight.

“Chances are, we won't see them again,” Harry said.

“Hopefully not,” Ron agreed. “Else we become even more liable than we are now. Not to mention Luna and Hermione.”

The ominous memory of their encounter with the saboteurs from Godric's Hollow some time ago, resurfaced again. The shapeless enemy they were facing was certainly bold - and what was the assurance that the two witnesses they interviewed literally moments ago would survive to live another day?

“Come on, let's go deal with that prick, Twist,” Ron said grimly, putting the other matter aside for the present.

“Or you. I have no authority over him,” Harry pointed out.

“You'll be in the role of my faithful henchman,” Ron rejoined with a trace of humor. “It's about time I dispatched him,” he added seriously.

They turned back into the red telephone cabin, and descended into the depths of the Ministry once again. Once they landed in the Atrium, Ron led the way quickly forward.

The subject of their fury was spotted precisely at the moment, during which he was preparing to enter his office.

“Twist,” Ron called out, ”stay a minute.”

The other paused, looking at them suspiciously. “What?” he spat.

Ron approached quickly, furiously grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall forcefully.

“Don't provoke me, Twist,” Ron spat through clenched teeth. “What did you do to those two women?”

Harry stood in the background, ready to back Ron if the need arose.

“Doesn't matter, Weasley,” the other responded. “Think of what I could do.” There was an ugly leer on his face, challenging Ron, despite the compromising position he was in.

“Abuse of any form, Twist,” Ron told him in a deadly whisper, “is not tolerated. I will persecute you for that.”

“Do it, and the Ministry collapses,” he responded threateningly.

“I expect your resignation on my desk Monday morning,” Ron answered with matched venom in his voice. “You're hereby under an order of arrest.”

As if they were invisible, two Aurors appeared from thin air immediately after Ron pronounced those words.

“Take him down to cell five,” he instructed them, and Twist was promptly bounded and dragged away.

“You've not seen the last of me, Weasley,” the captive called in desperation as he was led away. “This is not over!”

“Tell that to the dungeon wall!” Ron shouted back.

“He might escape,” Harry observed into the silence, once the escorts muffled the struggling man.

“No, he won't,” replied Ron. “And in the meanwhile, you are the new head of the department.”

Harry was unexpectedly taken by surprise. “Say what?”

“You're the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Did you not understand me?” Ron repeated his words.

“No, no, I did,” Harry was quick to reply, “but why me?”

“I need someone qualified and trustworthy on such an important post, and you're that person, mate,” he explained simply.

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” Harry said, still disbelievingly. “Thanks, mate. It means very much to me that you're trusting me with this.”

“Don't mention it,” Ron answered.

“And as for the Minister,” Harry went on, “he is bound to be sacked; I say we nominate Hermione in his place.”

“Hermione?” Ron echoed thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” Harry explained. “She would not be half bad for the position.”

“Actually,” the redhead said, “she is perfect for it. We'll wait until the dust settles, and then we'll garner support to appoint her. I'm fairly sure the Wizengamot has to support the appointment for it to be valid, but you'll have to ask Hermione about it…”

“Definitely,” Harry affirmed. “Is there anything else we need to arrange?”

“Not for the immediate future. Right now, you and I need to focus on the investigation before all else.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said.

With that, both of them departed back towards the Burrow, contemplating the day's events, among which were Jane and Emily's accounts, as well as Twist's sacking. Harry's new appointment would occupy him more completely, he reflected, but it also provided him a stable position, from which to lead the case with Ron; for assuring their own safety, that of their families and people, wizard and non-magical, was of paramount importance…

A/N: OK, chapter 13 is complete, and the next one will include the involvement of other HP characters, as well as more development on Bella's own situation…in the meanwhile, your opinion, in the form of a review, is highly valued…one thing I need to know, is if you find it a bit rushed…:D

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• A/N A thank you to those who reviewed last chapter…and a fair warning goes out that this chapter is quite intense and in parts, may be too much to handle…ala Stephen King, only better…enjoy!

• Chapter XIV: Avenged

Confusion in the Ministry!

Monday, May 13.

Early reports are conflicting, but by all means, there is a tendency of a growing conflagration, set to erupt within the ministry within the next few days. As details come to light, this Prophet reporter has managed to uncover reports of an escaped prisoner, with valuable information pertaining to our very own Minister of Magic.

Ministry sources have urged that the leak is a mere groundless rumor, but they do not approve, nor deny its validity. The unexpected appointment of Harry Potter as head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department has surprised many, who have demanded explanation from one Mr. Ronald Weasley, head of the Auror Department and direct supervisor of aforementioned new appointee. Mr. Weasley has denied explanation for his decision; only revealing the change was imminent and necessary.

Asked if the accounts of the escaped prisoner are true, Mr. Weasley did not answer directly, saying he needed to confirm the case, before making a statement. In the meanwhile, the Ministry situation seems to remain in confusion and indecision, and the coverage of the event will be ongoing.

Harry perused the front page with diminishing interest. He knew the Prophet often searched for shock value, and many of the facts in the story were very possibly false, with the exception of his appointment; that part was true.

He put it down and sipped his coffee once more thoughtfully. The account of Twist escaping intrigued him, and a vague ill feeling arose within him as he considered the madman's last words as he was dragged off towards the dungeons. He thought he would have to ask Ron about it later.

That, however, proved to be an immediate, rather than a later resolution. Harry nearly upset his mug as he jumped, startled, as the front door crashed open, nearly flying off its hinges. Ron rushed in panting for breath, his eyes wide and worry contorting his features; it was quite an unsettling sight, as Harry whirled around to meet him.

“Harry!” he gasped. “Twist! He's gone!”

“W-what?” Harry's mind hurried to address what exactly Ron was talking about.

“The Prophet somehow found out about it,” the redhead rejoined in one breath, “it's true; he's disappeared in thin air.”

Harry couldn't think of how to respond. “How do you know?” he at last managed.

“I checked with all the guards,” Ron answered in calmer tones. “They haven't seen him, and don't recall him being brought in either. There's no trace of the two I sent to escort him either.”

“This is bad,” Harry observed tensely. “Really bad.”

“No doubt,” Ron echoed him, looking down hard at the floorboards, as if they were guilty about the whole affair.

The commotion of Ron's entrance must have not proceeded unnoticed by the still sleeping occupants of the Burrow. Within minutes, Mrs. Weasley had rushed down, closely tailed by Ginny, and after her, Draco thundered down the stairs, in turn followed by Hermione.

“What happened!” Mrs. Weasley inquired loudly, looking around anxiously for the source of the noise.

“Just me, mum,” Ron said quickly, attempting to calm her down.

“What happened?” Mrs. Weasley asked again anxiously, focusing intently on her son.

“Nothing to worry about,” Harry put in quickly. “Just a small inconvenience.”

“How small?” the Weasley matriarch had turned suspicious to the hasty answers.

“Read the front page of the Prophet,” Ron directed her resignedly. “For once, it has its facts straight.”

Draco, Ginny and Hermione observed the exchange with apprehension and interest, as Mrs. Weasley's eyes traveled over the paper, which was now in her hands. Finally, she looked up, and her face spelt the anger about to be unleashed on the two unsuspecting best friends.

“So, what you mean to tell me,” She enunciated slowly, “is that this prisoner has the power to bring down the Ministry, and it is a small inconvenience.”

Mr. Weasley was about to erupt, if not for Harry, who managed to interpose and check her response.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he rebutted her forcefully, “Ron and I have a plan in case that happens. The next Minister is right in this room.”

“What?” the three silent parties in the kitchen exclaimed in unison.

By now, Mr. Weasley had wondered down into the kitchen, looking in to see what the proceedings were about.

“Hermione,” Harry said simply. “She'll take over the Minister's job.”

Yet, the subject of his attention was aghast at the news. “Harry, are you sure all your wits are about?” Hermione asked him in wonderment, staring at her significant other with undisguised astonishment.

“Completely, Hermione,” Harry said coolly. “I mean every word I say.”

“But…but how!” she sputtered, as an array of confusing thoughts entered her head, searching for the purpose of the motivation on Harry's part.

“Here's how we figure it,” Ron intervened, “Harry and I hold the two most important security offices - I'm head Auror, and he's the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department - “

“Since when?” Draco asked loudly, cutting across Ron.

“Since I appointed him a few days ago,” the latter replied forcefully, before he continued. “I have that power. Anyway, when the news spreads and the Minister falls, we'll nominate Hermione to the Wizengamot, and seek their approval.”

“Approval?” Hermione was livid. “What on this earth possibly makes you think my passage is guaranteed?”

“The fact that the stability of the Ministry depends on the quick choice of a competent nominee,” Ron answered. “And you're that person, Hermione.”

“Why me?” she was still skeptical, looking at Harry and Ron with contempt for having arranged this without her knowledge.

“It makes sense,” Ginny put in, and all heads turned in her direction. “Hermione, you're smart and capable. It was you that organized out DADA group back in my fourth year, and that went over pretty smoothly. I don't see why you can't be Minister of Magic.”

“Ginny, there is a difference between organizing a secret society, and running an entire bloody country!” Hermione's tone was pitched with exasperation.

“Granger,” Draco chimed in smugly, “look at it this way. Out of all of us, you have the most knowledge and brains. Among all the useless information between your ears, I'm sure you've read how the Wizarding government works…besides, you have those two goons supporting you, no?” he motioned a hand at Harry and Ron, and they both in turn glared at him.

Hermione noted he still addressed her by her maiden name, but she chose to dismiss it for now.

“You have a point,” she replied quietly, and Draco's smirk only grew wider.

“So, what do you say?” Harry asked her, almost jovially.

“I'll think about it,” was Hermione's neutral response, and without another word, she turned, departing back up the stairs towards her bedroom. In the meanwhile, Harry and Ron exchanged an uneasy glance, and prepared to depart for another workday at the Ministry.

“What can we arrange for Malfoy?” Harry asked him, once they were out of the house.

“An advisor to Hermione,” Ron rejoined readily. “It is a cushy job.”

“Hmm,” Harry said slowly. “Maybe. By the way, I've had this other thought in my head for a while.”

“About what?” Ron inquired.

“The Order of the Phoenix - that we reconvene it, because I have a feeling we may have a need of it yet in the near future…”

“The Order of the Phoenix?” Ron repeated wonderingly.

“Yes.”

**

They moved stealthily along, casting around to assure unfriendly eyes did not see them. Twist was particularly bitter that evening, as his dismissal from the Ministry was a setback for his mistress; without an inconspicuous spy, their efforts would be made more difficult. And what's more, passed through his anguished mind, was what if those two Mudbloods had blabbed to that Weasley bugger?

He had detained them on purpose, to intimidate them into silence. If he weren't holding an official position in the Ministry at the time, he would have killed the wretched Mudbloods without hesitation.

Dolohov slunk in front of him as noiselessly as a shadow. Twist kept up close behind him, keeping a watch that they remained unnoticed.

“How much further?” he asked Antonin raggedly.

“Not far,” came the silent reply.

Indeed, they had come under the lighted window of the apartment, where their targets had huddled together.

“What time do we have allotted?” Dolohov snapped in return.

“Fifteen minutes until the next Auror arrives,” Twist said, checking his watch in the cloud of light that surrounded the window above them.

“No time to lose,” Dolohov rejoined forcefully. “Come on!”

Only the cold stars of the night would bear witness to what would unfold. The business of murder, its implications, ruthlessness and efficiency, could make one shiver with fear and turn the mind into an incoherent, swirling sum of frightening thoughts.

The aforesaid conspirators moved swiftly about their horrid task. They broke into the main hallway of the building noiselessly, as magic afforded them such methods. Somewhere in the dark, dripping water broke the silence; its eerie echo sounded off the walls, adding to the intensity of the already palpable atmosphere.

Slowly, but surely, Twist and Dolohov mounted the stairs. By the moonlight streaming through a high window on the wall, midnight glinted on Twist's wristwatch. At length, careful not to arouse awareness of their presence, the two murderers stopped in front of the apartment's entrance.

“Alohomora,” Dolohov whispered, and the lock clicked open. “How much time?” he asked Twist, before opening the door.

“Ten minutes,” the latter answered, looking around for signs of anyone stirring in their domain.

The door creaked open on rusted hinges.

“Keep quiet, damn it,” Twist sneered under his breath, as he followed Dolohov into the dwelling.

It was ominously quiet once they had entered. The front hallway was dark and somber, but at the end of it, light filled the room it opened up into.

Dolohov motioned to Twist to be quiet. With cat's feet, they proceeded towards the light. Strangely, its occupants produced no noise, if there were any, but upon closer investigation, they heard the rhythmic deep breaths of their sleeping victims.

They walked in the room, intending to finish their allotted task quickly and inconspicuously. Unfortunately, however, their intent was to be soured; as if alerted by an ethereal power, Emily's eyes shot open, and she bolted awake. Her gaze traveled wildly about the room, before finally settling on the intruders.

“Who are you!” she asked loudly and fearfully, instinctively drawing the covers closer to her. “Jane, wake up!”

The latter, sleeping curled up on another chair, blearily opened her eyes. “Wuzzgoinon?” she asked drowsily, but once her own gaze met the intruders, all signs of tiredness vanished from her countenance.

“What's going on?” she stared wide-eyed at Dolohov and Twist, fear quickly taking over her senses.

“Death is at the door,” Dolohov sneered quietly, a maniacal leer on his face that distorted his features.

“We can do it the easy way, or the hard way,” Twist added with an ugly smile of his own; despite his height never reaching above Dolohov's shoulder, he still presented a formidable challenge.

“Why are you here?” Emily inquired hurriedly, her mind a constant flurry of schemes to escape, each more wild and feeble than the last.

It is that desperation, which a victim feels, when he or she knows the end is near; when the desire and will to live are so strong, yet one can do nothing about it, but anguish in their final moments upon the earth. The breath grows shallow, and the heart quickens; perspiration forms on the forehead, and the victim gazes rapturously at her assailant, the senses sharpened, and the feeling of life more vivid in her veins than any other time, but becoming more resigned and desperate as time moves on…

“To kill you, why else,” Twist smiled grotesquely. “Your purpose is here.”

“Don't speak to me about purpose!” Emily shouted, and she leaped off the bed, rushing at the intruders.

Dolohov's cold laugh echoed around the room, as he flicked his wand, and Emily was sent flying into the opposite wall. She impacted hard, and fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing quietly, as the unendurable pain ripped through her body.

“You're not worthy, Mudblood,” Dolohov sneered with disgust, before raising his wand again. “Crucio!”

Jane openly cried, shivering uncontrollably at the overpowering sight; inhuman screams issued from Emily, as she writhed, engulfed in the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse, applied repeatedly by Dolohov, whose countenance had become twisted, frightening…his eyes glinted with darkness from the torturous pleasure the proceedings were eliciting from him…

“LET ME DIE! LET ME DIE!” Emily shouted at the top of her lungs, weak, exhausted from the pain, as the last shreds of strength were drawn from her frail figure.

“Twist?” Dolohov turned to him.

The second of the Death Eaters grinned maniacally in his own way, and raised his wand to administer the deadly unforgivable curse.

“Avada Kedavra,” he said clearly, and the green light shot with blinding speed at Emily, who watched it approach with a detached gaze.

She could not feel anything anymore. She was above pain and suffering; death would be a welcome respite. Only mere moments remained…

The curse sailed over her head, and impacted the wall behind her, producing a resounding crash that temporarily startled her overwrought mind back into action.

“You imbecile,” she heard Dolohov admonish Twist. “You missed!”

“Please, spare us,” Jane pleaded from the opposite corner, where she had huddled, incapable of bearing to watch the exchange.

“That won't happen,” Dolohov said sternly. “You must die,” and he raised his wand to administer the killing curse; the bright green light glinted at the end of his wand.

“Put it down,” came a quiet, stern voice from the shadows in the hallway, yet it was still loud enough to be heard.

“Shut up, you shite,” Dolohov muttered to Twist.

“I didn't say anything,” the latter replied.

Harry Potter appeared in the light, his eyes looking on murderously at Dolohov and Twist. The knuckles on his right hand had turned white from gripping his own wand.

“I said, put it down,” he commanded once again in a low voice.

Antonin only nodded, but that was not an expression of his consent. Immediately, Twist pointed his wand at Harry and the words Avada Kedavra started to form on his lips, but unfortunately for him, the newcomer was faster.

“Reducto!” Harry muttered under his breath, and a powerful white beam thundered through the air, hitting Twist directly in the chest; yet, he did not fly back. A hideous wound was opened where the curse had struck, and torrents of blood gushed freely from it. Burned skin and flesh were evident around the rim of the wound…

Twist looked on wonderingly, inexplicably confused. He collapsed on his knees, and swayed for a few seconds; a look of acceptance came into his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, seemed almost peaceful; then, as Death finally captured his soul, his figure keeled over and fell, face down, with a thud on the wooden floor. Jane screamed, wringing her hands, and shivering convulsively. Emily had fainted, and thankfully, did not bear witness to the grisly demise of Twist.

“Potter,” Dolohov said dismissively, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“Cut the shite, Antonin,” Harry replied fiercely. “You're next.”

“Am I?” Dolohov still kept his dismissive air. “Potter, you are no match for me. Have you not realized this yet?”

“Shall we find out whether that claim is true?” Harry challenged him, staring in Dolohov's eyes with unbridled malice.

“If you'd want me to kill you again,” the latter answered with an ugly leer, “let's.”

“Kill me again?” Harry asked, in spite of himself. “You're more twisted than I thought.”

“Yes, Potter. The first time you died…I had that honour,” Dolohov admitted quietly, whispering his words in a chilling tone. “And after I'm through with you, I'll dispose of these two Mudbloods here,” he added mockingly.

“You'll dispose of no one,” Harry rejoined forcefully. “You're nothing but the refuse, the scum of society…the lowest dregs of the worst.”

“Fine words, Potter,” Dolohov said hatefully. “Let them be your last!”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry opened the duel, sending his trademark combat spell at his opponent; Dolohov easily placed a shield, deflecting the spell towards the ceiling.

“I did not expect better,” Dolohov taunted him. “Crucio!”

The curse aimed straight at Harry, but it presented no difficulty for him. He produced his own shield, absorbing the curse with ease.

“Neither did I,” he countered. “You'll leave them alone. Aegis Ludi!”

A beam of orange light issued from Harry's wand. It sped towards Dolohov, who managed, just in time, to place a shield in front of him. A loud bang echoed, as the two spells collided, and the shield disappeared with the dissipation of Harry's spell. For the first time, the barest hint of fear flitted in Dolohov's eyes…

“Do you still want to tango?” Harry asked him in a deadly whisper.

Antonin's jaw hardened, but he was no fool. With the dexterity of a seasoned fighter, he shot a Killing Curse at Emily's sprawled figure, while simultaneously apparating away to avoid being hit by Harry.

“Go to Hell, Potter,” he echoed, as he at last disappeared with a crack.

Harry had no time to heed Dolohov's condemnation. Acting on impulse, he levitated a chair from the wreckage the room had turned into, and moved it to meet the oncoming curse; in the resulting clash, the chair turned to splinters, showering Harry, Jane and Emily. He shielded the room from the wood bits, but it was infinitely better than meeting Avada Kedavra close up and personal.

With a sigh, Harry sat down on the battered sofa, as the stuffing floated about him. He thought for a few minutes, holding his head in his hands. From the corner of the room, Jane's sobs suddenly brought him back to reality. Standing up quickly, he rushed forward to attend to the shaken woman.

“Come on,” he encouraged her quietly. “It's safe now. You're safe.”

“Emily, Emily,” Jane muttered over and over, casting a frenzied gaze at her friend.

“She'll be all right, don't worry,” Harry embraced her, continuing to stream forth comforting words.

Eventually, Jane calmed down enough, and her exhaustion finally manifested itself. She looked at Harry, about to say something, but then her eyes dropped, and slumber overtook her. Harry, being as considerate as he always was, laid her down on the couch, and turned to the more injured of the two.

Kicking Twist's body aside, he kneeled next to Emily. She was in a rather bad state. When Dolohov threw her against the wall, which Harry assumed, seeing the traces of blood against the wall, and the bloody wound in the back of her head, the impact had also been cause for several broken ribs.

Harry was afraid of moving her, for fear of making her condition worse. He needed to assess the damage done to her further, before taking any steps. He noted the bruises on her legs from the fall, and thought that perhaps her ankle might have been twisted as she landed. What shocked him most, however, was the misshapen injury at her side. With a wave of his wand, he vanished the shirt from her upper body, and saw, aghast, the extent of the injury; on the right side, right up to her breast, a neat line, indicating where the ribs were broken; thankfully, the skin had not been punctured, but the lungs were another matter… Dolohov's curse was meant to kill, and it was a whole wonder she had survived, as indicated by her shallow breathing.

At that instance, the Auror, discharged specifically for protection, showed up at the door. He took in the sight, Twist's mangled body lying at his feet, Jane sleeping on the couch, and Harry, kneeling over the half-naked form of Emily.

“What happened here?” his voice was hollow, as he railed from the shocking scene.

Harry whirled around, a look of simultaneous relief and anger on his face.

“Where were you?” he thundered. “These two were almost killed, right under your nose!”

“I was with Mr. Ron Weasley; he called me for a spying mission tonight, and he was really insistent about it. He said someone else had already been dispatched.”

“Polyjuice,” Harry muttered under his breath, before turning back to the young Auror. “Do as I say. Go to Ottery St. Catchpole, and find Draco Malfoy; tell him to find Madam Pomfrey, and bring her to this flat as soon as possible. Be as expedient as possible. It's a matter of life and death!”

Impressed by the gravity of the situation, the young Auror rashly assented his duty to perform what was assigned to him, and doubling back out of the apartment, Harry saw him run past the window outside, and apparate to his destination.

What could he do? Another war seemed imminent…watching uneasily, as Emily's chest rose and fell shallowly, he prayed help would arrive soon, because he could not bear another innocent death at the hands of evil…

A/N Right, so this is chapter 14 done…reviews are welcome, and in the meanwhile, we'll see whether she lives or dies, as the Order of the Phoenix re-convenes and another conflict is waged…buckle in for the long haul, because this story is just getting started…

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A/N: So here we are at chapter 15…Hermione might get the top job, and the Order of the Phoenix gets re-established…enjoy!

Chapter XV: The Order of the Phoenix

Emily and Jane were committed to the full care of the facilities at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Maladies. The intensity of the ordeal they had experienced rendered them still fearful and suspicious of their surroundings; in a Magical medical care facility nonetheless, the environment was completely alien and new to them. In the end, a decision was reached, that once they were confirmed to be in a strong enough condition, Jane and Emily were to be transferred, along with their families, to Australia.

In the meanwhile, the crisis at the Ministry had reached monolith proportions. Corroboration of the accounts the Prophet had given had surfaced, and the Minister had even admitted of negotiating with Death Eaters in a stage of his career.

The uproar of rage that greeted the news effectively deposed the Minister, as well as several of his allied politicians, who were heads of various influential departments. Thankfully, Ron's position had been overlooked, and he retained his post, despite the numerous threats, which menacingly foretold of his parting with it.

“Mate,” he was saying to Harry immediately after the day of the Minister's sacking, “we need to act, fast. Talk to Hermione today, and convince her completely, because we have to nominate her to the Wizengamot tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Harry asked. “Why not the day after? You know how Hermione is…”

“Harry, each day that goes by leaves us to slip into anarchy more easily. We need to stem the unrest and institute order as soon as possible. Dare I say it, everything's riding on you.”

“So it is,” Harry answered with a knowing smile. “Cheers.”

The clink of glass sounded, and trying to not waste any more time than was needed to discuss a course of action, Harry downed his firewhiskey in one gulp.

“I'll see you later, mate,” Harry said, wobbling slightly as he stood on his feet. “I have the world to save again…”

“Careful with apparating,” Ron called after him. “Firewhiskey never - “

Too late - Harry had already disappeared with a loud snap after him. “Hope he makes it,” Ron muttered under his breath, and also rose to leave.

**

“Hermione, take a seat,” Harry spoke softly to his wife. “We need to talk.”

Casting an uneasy glance in his direction, Hermione had wandered why Harry had been alternatively agitated and brooding since he had returned. Perhaps now, he would let up on what was worrying him. So, obliging his request, Hermione left the book she was reading on the kitchen table, and made her way over to the couch, where Harry was sitting down. She took up the space beside him, and looked into his eyes apprehensively. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering,” he began quietly, “whether you had thought about the Minister's position recently.”

Her gaze immediately hardened. “You still realize that I haven't forgiven you for dragging me into this.”

“Of course, love,” Harry rejoined quickly. “All I was asking is, if you had given the matter thought.”

Hermione cast her eyes to the ground, and remained quiet for a minute, engaged in thoughts of her own.

“I have,” she replied eventually. “But I still don't know if I want to do it.”

“You would make one hell of a Minister,” Harry complimented her, hoping to sway her opinion. “I don't know anyone else, who would be more perfect for the job.”

“Harry, you flatter me,” Hermione told him with a brief smile, before returning to her thoughtful mood. “It's still a huge responsibility, though. What guarantee is there I won't fail?”

This time, Harry took a few moments to ponder a proper response.

“Admittedly, none,” he said at length. “But for now, stability in government is important, if we are to eventually unravel this mystery. You are integral, Hermione, because without you, I fear to think what would happen…we are up against something really cunning and dangerous.”

“Still, my responsibilities as a Minister would definitely detract me from our ultimate objective,” Hermione argued, in her own hope of convincing Harry against her appointment.

“You'd have a deputy and a circle of able advisors,” he countered. “What would prevent you from appointing the deputy as an acting Minister, and you only oversee him sparsely, just enough to keep him in check.”

“Hmm, let's see,” Hermione responded ironically, “the fact that if I don't make an appearance often, will sway people's opinion towards me as an irresponsible Minister. And then, I'll be out of office faster than you can cover a Quidditch field on a Firebolt.”

“Hermione,” Harry's frustration was beginning to hint, “Why are you trying to come up with every excuse to refuse the job?”

She looked at him in surprise, taken aback by the directness of the question.

“Harry,” she rejoined quietly after several moments of silent reflection, “what happened to Jane and Emily, it really scared me. They can barely speak of it, and it's evident they want to forget it. Just consider - “

“No, no, Hermione,” Harry started, but her bright gaze caused his next words to die on his lips.

“Just consider, Harry,” she went on, “what if they attacked me? You remember what happened in Godric's Hollow, don't you? And even then, I was much less conspicuous than I would be now.”

The emotion in her eyes told that she was not lying, or making up the consecutive ruse; she simply feared for her life. Harry mentally reprimanded himself for not foreseeing this worry of hers earlier, but still hastened to reassure her; he embraced her lovingly, determined to restore her confidence.

“'Mione,” Harry whispered in her ear, “whatever happens, I promise you, harm will not come to you. They will have to kill me first, before even beginning to think about you.”

“Can you really make that promise, Harry?” she asked him quietly. Harry remained thoughtful for about a minute, turning the question over in his mind, while still holding Hermione. “Yes, I think I can,” he affirmed at length.

They remained so, embraced, detached from the surroundings, in their own world…it had been a long time since they had had a moment to themselves, Harry mused at one point in his mind. This peace was what he wanted, badly; but with a threat looming over their heads once again, he knew that simple happiness, such as this, would be scarce.

“Harry?” Hermione murmured into his ear after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I'll do it,” she said resolutely, disengaging herself from him; her eyes were ablaze with the determination Harry had so often admired her for.

“You will?” he asked to confirm her agreement.

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” Harry smiled. “If you are sure about this.”

“I am now, Harry,” Hermione persuaded him on her turn. “You know I'm scared, but I'm prepared to take it on. Besides, I know there's no reason to worry with you by my side.”

She kissed him, as if to signify the meaning of her words. Harry, becoming involved in the passionate exchange, responded even more strongly, until a purposeful clearing of someone's throat immediately cooled the couple's desires. Harry looked up, and saw Ron, who looked quite stern and preoccupied.

“Hiya, mate,” he greeted with a tired smile. “Did you bring Hermione `round?” he asked, glancing towards his other best friend.

“He did, yes,” Hermione blurted out before Harry could utter one word. “When am I appearing before the Wizengamot?”

“Actually,” Ron answered delightedly, “we could do that today.”

“Certainly,” Harry put in. “Come on, then.”

The journey to the Ministry was one with mixed feelings. Hermione could not quite determine what exactly she was feeling. On the one hand, she was bestowed with an amazing honour and opportunity to make a difference, to be influential, and put her full potential and intelligence to greater use. On the other, her life would be in perilous danger; the perpetrators of the attacks did not rest, and would use every chance to bring her down, torture and kill her. Harry and Ron's own influential positions put them in the highlight of public life, and they were as good as sitting ducks, if they were not careful.

Hermione was so absorbed in her thoughts, that she did not notice when they had reached the atrium of the Ministry.

“Miss? Miss?” she heard the official at the scales calling. Her head snapped up, as she was recalled back to her surroundings.

“Oh? Yes?”

“Your wand, please,” the official said coldly.

Hermione hurriedly handed it to the official, who weighed it, wrote down something on the parchment in front of him, muttered something indistinct under his breath, and handed Hermione her wand back.

“Right,” he said, “you can proceed. Next!”

The trio moved down the corridor, towards the offices of the Wizengamot. Fortunately, there was no need to ride the rickety elevator, as their destination was in the very corridor.

The door was emblazoned with golden letters to tell passersby of the prestige of the aforementioned institution. Hermione suddenly felt rather humbled at having to impress all the wizards who would judge her to become Minister.

On their own accord, the doors swung open effortlessly, and with a dull thud, came to rest. Harry and Ron walked confidently in, taking the bit more reluctant Hermione with them.

“It will be alright,” Harry whispered in he rear, as they came in front of a desk, behind which a rather stern, middle-aged woman was sitting.

“Can I help you?” she asked haughtily; even figures of the rank of Harry and Ron seemed to do nothing to intimidate her.

“Yes, actually,” Ron said pleasantly, “we're here to nominate a new Minister.”

“A new Minister?” the woman echoed incredulously. “You cannot just walk in here - “

“Ma'am,” Harry cut across her seriously. “This is very urgent.”

She still eyed them suspiciously. “One moment.”

Disappearing through the door behind her, the woman left the trio to hang about, waiting in anticipation. A few minutes turned into a half hour, which progressed to an hour, at the end of which the secretary came back.

“You may go in,” she informed them shortly. “You will have thirty minutes to present your nomination, and not a second more.”

“Thank you,” Ron said, and passed through the door held by the secretary, followed by Harry and Hermione.

Once inside, the trio was escorted to a designated area, where they took down their seats behind a desk, seemingly designed for the purpose of nominating a Minister. Hermione sat in the middle, flanked on each side by Harry and Ron.

“Miss Granger, I presume,” an elderly warlock said slowly in his deep voice, peering at Hermione from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles.

His appearance vaguely reminded Hermione of the trio's late headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He seemed knowledgeable, but the most striking resemblance between them was the warlock's penetrating gaze; she felt as if he was seeing right through her.

“Actually,” she stammered, “I'm Hermione Potter now.”

“Ah, Mrs. Potter,” the warlock repeated faintly. “Forgive my blunder,” he smiled warmly.

“Certainly,” Hermione returned the jest.

“Now,” the warlock continued, peering down at the parchment he was holding. “I understand that you, Mrs. Potter, wish to place your candidacy for the post of Minister of Magic?”

“I - I do,” Hermione replied nervously. The anxiousness was evident in her tone, and under the desk, she had taken hold of Harry's hand for confidence.

“And these two gentlemen are here to support your nomination. Is that correct? “ The ancient wizard continued, looking inquisitively at Hermione, as his gaze bounced from Harry to Ron.

“That's correct,” Hermione affirmed in a stronger voice.

“Excellent, then,” came the response. “Gentlemen, would you please state your full names and posts within the Ministry?” He turned to Harry expectantly.

“Harry James Potter,” Harry declared as formally as he could. “I am the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department.”

“Mhhm,” murmured the warlock, scribbling Harry's answer on the parchment in front of him. “And you, sir,” he raised his gaze to Ron.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” the redhead promptly replied. “Head of the Auror Department.”

“I see,” the interrogator said, as he wrote down Ron's name and position as well. “And Mr. Weasley, what makes you believe Mrs. Potter here would be a capable Minister?”

Ron was unprepared for the directness with which the question was delivered, and he reeled to come up with a favourable response.

“Well,” he stalled for time, “I think Hermione is qualified enough for the post of Minister, because she is knowledgeable about the way it works.”

Ron realized what he had said, and quickly checked himself. “I mean, she understands how our society works, and she is sensitive about progress and change, and, “ he emphasized his last words, “she is very smart and responsible.”

Hermione could not help but smile slightly at Ron's appraisal of her qualities.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” the old warlock said kindly, and then turned to Harry. “What do you have to tell us, Mr. Potter?”

While Ron had stumbled his way through a makeshift compliment, Harry had taken the time to prepare himself.

“TO begin with,” he started, “Hermione is my wife, and the love of my life. She has supported me ever since we first became friends, then through romance, and now marriage. I know she will show the same devotion to the Minister's job. As Ron said, she is very responsible, and she's also honest, trustworthy and careful. Honestly, I really wouldn't know anyone better than her to be considered.”

“Very well, Mr. Potter,” the warlock said after Harry had finished. “Mrs. Potter, would you have any comments to support or refute the accounts presented by Mssrs. Potter and Weasley?”

Hermione looked down, thinking for a minute.

“They speak the truth,” she responded at length. “I think I have the qualifications, if not the experience, to take on the Minister's post.”

“I heed your sentiment, Mrs. Potter,” the kindly wizard answered slowly. “For now, your nomination will be considered, and decided upon in contrast to the other candidates. The Wizengamot will announce its decision to you in due course.”

“How will I be notified?” Hermione asked anxiously. “And how long will it take?”

“A day at most, since you were the last to be nominated,” the warlock said solemnly. “Any more questions?”

“No, none,” Hermione said quickly. “See you later.”

“Goodbye for now,” the ancient wizard nodded graciously, and showed them the way out.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked out, and the last of the three was still nervous and irritable.

“What if I aren't chosen?” she asked Harry and Ron repeatedly, as the secretary to the Wizengamot slammed the door pretentiously behind them.

“I think you will be, Hermione,” Harry was trying to be convincing. “If those old farts are in their right minds, you should receive the job.”

“I'm with Harry,” Ron said enthusiastically. “There's no way they'll turn you down.”

**

When the trio had at last arrived back at the Burrow, they were surprised to find it a hive of activity. People were moving in and out, and among them, there were many familiar faces. Harry associated them with the now defunct Order of the Phoenix, but something told him the former members had gathered to resurrect the Order…

“Mate,” he turned to Ron, “did you talk to your dad about this?”

“Ah,” Ron smiled. “You know me too well, Harry. But yes, they're here to establish the Order of the Phoenix one more time. By the way, I'll be back,” and with those words, Ron left Harry's side in search of Luna.

Hermione's face had brightened considerably at the sight of so many old friends. Conspicuous in the crowd were Remus and Tonks, quite visible by the latter's brightly coloured hair. Today, it was a bright lilac shade.

“Remus! Remus!” Harry called out to him, waving his hand to gain the werewolf's attention.

Lupin turned to see who was calling him, and smiled widely when he saw his best friend's son.

“Harry!” he yelled back, and dragging Tonks behind him, came briskly Harry's way.

“How are you?” the black-haired wizard asked when Remus had approached. “Haven't seen you since the wedding.”

“We are very well,” the werewolf replied happily, glancing towards Tonks. “I can't remember a better life than I'm having right now. What about you, Harry? Are you enjoying marriage?”

“You could say that,” Harry said, “but I haven't had much time recently to really enjoy it…”

“Mm, yes, Mr. Bigshot,” Tonks put in slyly, “Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department…they do not give you a break.”

“No, no they don't,” Harry echoed her and laughed. “And Hermione here won't have a whole lot of time either pretty soon.”

“Why is that?” Remus' interest was awakened.

“Because,” Ron interposed himself in the conversation, just as he had returned with a magnificent beauty in tow, “you're looking at the brand new Minister of Magic.”

Remus did a double take, and first a look of puzzlement came on his face, to be replaced by one of sheer delight as he caught on to Ron's words.

“Really now,” he was saying. “Well, congratulations, Hermione. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.”

Word spread quickly through the throng of people, and Hermione was accosted by a number of well-wishers. Judging by the embarrassment on her face, it was clear she was enjoying the attention.

Draco and Ginny had wandered over by Harry, and they joined in the small talk, watching Hermione handle the unexpected attention with good humor.

“So, Harry,” Ginny spoke up, “what is the order doing this time?”

The question quickly brought Harry back to the gravity of the situation, for which this gathering had been called forth to confront.

“Ginny,” he answered slowly, “all these attacks that are going on, and we don't know who's behind them…it's something really dark and powerful, and it will be the Order's job to find out what it is…just as we resisted Voldemort once, it'll be our task to oppose this new evil.”

“And now,” Arthur Weasley's voice suddenly echoed over the gathering. “Harry Potter!”

Harry scrambled to catch up to what was happening around him, and he could feel himself being ushered forward by people, right until he made his way to the podium.

“Potter for leader!” someone shouted, and soon the chant was taken up by the rest; confused and flustered by the overwhelming attention, Harry could not think of what to say to placate his audience.

Eventually, the noise did die down, and attention was focused on him sufficiently, so he could make himself heard. He looked around, grinning at all the excited expressions, eagerly awaiting his words.

“Well, believe me,” he began, “I'm just as surprised as you are by this. Ron Weasley and I had planned to re-establish the order, but not this quickly. Either way, now that it's here, there's no going back…the Order of the Phoenix is hereby officially active, and I will accept to be your leader.”

Coming up with his speech word for word, Harry entered into a kind of daze, not quite confident what he was entangling himself into. The re-establishment of the Order brought along its own set of uncertainties, questions and dangers.

Protecting the people he loved would be foremost; their mere allegiance made them targets to the murderers, whoever they were, and now the stakes would be considerably heightened. Looking out to Ron and Hermione, he inwardly sighed…their fight had started…

A/N OK, this is chapter fifteen…and come on people, type out a simple review…it's good for both you and me. :D The next chapter will be coming up as soon as possible…

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A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter…this one will see Hermione become the new Minister, an attack on the Weasley home, and a hint to finding out who Mortimer Evans is, the character, which was introduced way back in chapter 11…

Chapter XVI: On Silent Wings

Hermione waited with bated breath, anxious for the owl post to arrive. Harry was flipping through the day's edition of the Prophet, following Hermione with his eyes, as he read. He still felt anxious about his better half, but appeared decidedly more confident and calm than Hermione.

“Where's the bloody owl?” Hermione kept muttering under her breath; she didn't swear often, and Harry was mildly impressed by her for using `bloody' more than once.

“Relax, love,” he said, turning another page. “It'll be here soon.”

Hermione only glanced at him, and concentrated on the sky once again. Her patience was fortunately rewarded, as she saw a speck in the distance, and audibly held her breath.

“See, I told you,” Harry spoke in the silence, before rising himself to join her by the window.

Indeed, the speck eventually grew bigger into a familiar, snowy white owl. Hermione gasped, opened the window, which creaked on its hinges, and the bird swooped in, circling around the kitchen, before finally settling onto the backrest of one of the chairs.

“Hey, girl,” Harry walked over to his owl, and stroked her along the back. “Long flight?”

Hedwig gave a quiet hoot, of annoyance, or because of Harry's touch, he couldn't tell. Holding out her leg, Hedwig revealed the envelope she was carrying, which bore the Ministry's emblem and insignia. Hermione approached, and with trembling hands, disengaged the envelope.

She looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Should I open it?”

“Hm,” Harry replied ever slightly sarcastically. “What do you think?”

“I don't know!” Hermione let her frustration show, but then she caught on to Harry's sarcasm. “You're hilarious, you know that?” she stated snappishly.

“Thank you, love,” Harry's lightheartedness reasserted itself. “Now, do you plan on framing that envelope?”

Unable to stand his taunting any longer, Hermione ripped the seal, and dived her hand for the contents. A second later, out flew a parchment, clutched tightly between her fingers. But right then, her resolution seemed to break again.

“Harry, can you read it for me?” she asked him quietly. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Alright,” he agreed, and added reassuringly, “there's nothing to be worried about, Hermione.”

Without a word, she handed him the parchment, expecting her beloved to carry out his assigned task. Harry took it over, and perused the words, without the slightest change of expression.

“Dear Mrs. Potter,” he began to read slowly.

“Go faster!” Hermione urged him to hasten. “I can't stand it.” Harry looked oddly at her, and hurried to oblige her request.

“It is the Wizengamot's immense pleasure to announce that your nomination has been approved, and you have been assigned the position of Minister of Magic. Needless to mention, you post places important duties and responsibilities upon your shoulders, and you will be required to attend to them in an adequate manner. You are also aware of the publicity, associated with being the Minister of Magic, and the consequent need to be as confident as possible, when you face the people whom you represent. Your inauguration, as Minister of Magic, will take place today, at precisely twelve noon.

Yours truly,

Aberforth Dumbledore

Harry finished reading, and looked up to see Hermione's shining face.

“Oh my, oh my!” she exclaimed jubilantly. “Harry!”

Hermione ran at her significant other, and flung herself on his neck, kissing him soundly. “Harry!” she cried again, but he was still reeling from the kiss, to pay attention to her second exclamation. Still, he found the sense to spin her around happily, feeling just as elated as she was.

“Congratulations, Hermione,” he told her, once she was safely back on her feet. “I am very proud of you.”

She grinned at him widely. “You're sweet, Harry.”

“I know, love,” came his smug reply.

“What's all this ruckus about?” came a sleepy voice from the stairs.

There stood Ron, clad in his pajamas, gazing blearily at the exalted couple. Hanging on to the parapet, he did seem more than a little disgruntled, because of his interrupted slumber.

“It's Hermione,” Harry explained quickly. “She's the new Minister of Magic.”

“Wait, come again?” Ron asked unbelievingly, the sleep rapidly disappearing from his expression.

“Ron, I'm the Minister of Magic!” Hermione exclaimed, still at high excitement for her appointment.

“Hermione,” a wide smile cracked across Ron's face, “I do believe congratulations are in order.”

Laughing, Hermione hugged her best friend, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Ron.”

“You're welcome,” the redhead said happily. “You and Harry make your private plans to celebrate later, and I'm going to go tell the others.”

“Bugger off, mate,” Harry scolded Ron lightheartedly. “I know you and Luna will be going wild tonight.”

“It's all right to be jealous, Harry,” Ron answered him. “Some of us can only celebrate, but others just do it better.”

He dashed off back up the stairs, before Harry could counter with an insult of his own.

Within minutes, the kitchen was teeming with people, congratulating Hermione one over the other. Fred and George, who had remained behind from the previous day's Order meeting, also expressed their praise to Hermione in their own unique way.

“You know, Mione,” Fred was saying, “now that you're Minister, I think we can interest you in several very good products we've developed recently…”

“…such as,” George continued the thought with ease, “the Boil Blaster, good for disabling enemies in combat very effectively, and then there's the Tickle Me Aide Supervisor…”

“…which,” Fred took the word once again, “tickles your assistants to hysterics, if they're not doing what they're supposed to. Ask them what is so funny, and watch them try to tell you.”

“Would you care to see a demonstration?” George offered, and without waiting for affirmation from Hermione, said, “Our ickle Ronniekins will be happy to assist us.”

The twins shared their trademark scheming grin, and spotted Ron near the sink, being intimate with Luna, when he had been assigned the task of preparing the frosting for the cake Mrs. Weasley was currently baking.

“You only have to pop open the little box, just so,” Fred explained in an undertone to Hermione, who couldn't help but be intrigued, even if she disapproved somewhat of the twins' line of work. “And then you release it.”

Hermone watched a pair of legs sprout from the box, and it scrambled to where Ron was standing. Once it reached his feet, it exploded noisily, and showered its objective in a fine blue powder.

Shocked, Luna jumped back, and attention suddenly turned to Harry's best friend. For a second a pregnant silence enveloped the kitchen, as conversations ceased and eyes turned to Ron. He swayed on his spot for a second, and then a smile lit his face; a moment later, he was laughing uproariously for no apparent reason.

“What's wrong with him?” a murmur went through the occupants of the kitchen; Mr. Weasley scratched his head thoughtfully, Mrs. Weasley inquired around her if anyone knew what was so humorous, but James and Madelyn followed their father's example, and joined in the laughter.

“Have they all gone insane?” Draco asked no-one in particular. “A family of nutters, they are,” he muttered to himself.

“Watch you tongue about my family,” Ginny admonished him, but she was just as confused as he was.

By now, Ron was really red in the face, and still laughing as hard as he could, hanging onto the sink for support.

“Is it safe?” Hermione inquired to the twins.

“Oh yeah,” George replied confidently, “A simple Finite ends it.”

“Then do it!” Hermione urged. “Can't you see he can't breathe?”

George raised his wand, and murmured the spell under his breath. The effect was immediate - Ron stopped laughing as suddenly as he had started.

“And that,” Fred turned to address his parents and the rest of the occupants, “is our latest product!”

Agape, and still regaining his breath, Ron looked murderously at Fred and George. “I swear,” he wheezed, “I will murder you both.”

“Ah, strong words, Ronniekins,” Fred teased him, “wouldn't you rather be happy?” He took another box from his pocket, and mimicked opening it.

“No, don't, don't you dare,” Ron said quickly, stepping back.

“But where's - “

George couldn't finish his words, as by some invisible force, both Fred and George were hanging by their heels upside down in mid-air.

“Alright,” Harry said, “that's enough now.”

“Harry, put us down, damn it!”

“Will you leave Ron alone?” Harry continued to quiz them for a promise, eliciting sniggers from the others in the kitchen.

“Yes, yes! Just let us down,” Fred said hurriedly.

Harry flicked his wrist to perform the counter curse, and the twins tumbled to the ground, looking embarrassed and annoyed at having been outwitted.

“We'll revenge you, Harry,” George winked at him, as the twins filed out in the direction of the upper floor.

“Looking forward to it!” Harry called out after them, before turning to Ron. “You alright, mate?”

“Now I am,” the redhead grumbled. “Those idiots.”

“Well, admittedly, it was kind of funny,” Hermione put in almost cheerily.

“We don't have time to lose now,” Ron said, ignoring Hermione. “Ginny, can you look after the icing?” he turned to his sister.

“Why me?” Ginny complained loudly. “Why can't you do it?”

Ron grasped the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and sighed. “Malfoy needs to come with us,” he explained, “because we need a witness for Hermione's inauguration in an hour. And we really can't afford to lose face in front of the Wziengamot.”

“Wait,” Draco intervened, “when was I dragged into this?”

“It doesn't matter,” Harry told him pointedly. “You're coming.”

“What's in it for me?” Malfoy challenged him obtusely, smirking all the while to see just how far he could push Ron.

“Malfoy!” the redhead exploded. “This isn't a game! Find it in your pea-sized brain to realize that! People are dying, and we're trying to figure out who's doing it! If you don't want to be here, you can leave right now!”

Breathing as if he was a wild rhinoceros, Ron stared daggers at his platinum blond adversary, waiting for his reaction. His transformation from being rather placid this morning, to one of rage and anger, took many aback.

“Weasley, can't you take a joke,” Draco rebutted him in a careless tone. “Come on now,” and he pushed past the still angry Ron on his way outside.

“I swear, one of these days I will kill the bastard,” Ron seethed in an undertone to Harry, as they followed Malfoy out in the yard. “As if I already don't have enough to deal with.”

“Relax, will you,” Harry replied quietly. “We're all under immense stress here. He might be just trying to lighten up the mood a little.”

“Well, he's not doing a very good job of it,” Ron retained his spiteful tone.

Harry ignored him. “Hermione, you coming?” he turned to his wife.

“Yes, yes, one minute,” she replied.

He saw her exchange a few more words with Remus and Tonks, before parting from them to join the leaving party.

“We have an hour left,” Ron called from outside. “Harry, Hermione!”

Without waiting to see what effects aggravating their mutual best friend further would produce, the latter two hastened to join him and Draco.

“Finally,” the redhead muttered under his breath, and with a crack, disapparated towards the Ministry. The others followed suit, and ended up in front of the well-known red telephone cabin.

The journey to the Wizengamot offices proved uneventful, and the quartet was left waiting their turn in the same office Harry, Ron and Hermione had been earlier.

“Hermione,” Harry asked after a few minutes of silence, “what did you talk to Remus and Tonks about?”

“Oh, that,” Hermione answered with a jolt. “Yes, they were telling me about something they had uncovered - a plot to attack the Burrow. So we agreed that they would evacuate everyone to Grimmauld Place, and then one or two of us can keep vigil to see if the Burrow will indeed be attacked.”

“Really?” Ron interjected. “How did they find out?”

“They didn't say exactly,” Hermione answered thoughtfully. “I would think a spy mission, or an informant that told them.”

“But you're sure about what they said?” Ron asked urgently again.

“Yes, I am,” she affirmed. “I wish it was otherwise, Ron. I don't want to see the Burrow attacked anymore than you do.”

“On the bright side, they won't be able to find us at Black's old place,” Draco put in conversationally.

“That's true,” Harry argued. “In the end, life is more important than anything else.”

At precisely that moment, the door opened, and the same haughty secretary, who we saw introduced in the last chapter, beckoned our four visitors inside the department.

“You will be attended to shortly,” she declared curtly, and left them sitting squashed together on a rather small bench.

Just as promised, a minutes later, the old warlock who had talked to Harry, Ron and Hermione earlier, walked in.

“Ah, Mrs. Potter,” he extended his hand, “pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Hermione said, shaking the proffered hand.

“I believe I failed to introduce myself last time we met,” said the ancient wizard. “Aberforth Dumbledore, at your service.”

“Oh,” Hermione's mouth had opened in amazement, and she still had not released his hand. “You're Dumbledore's…brother?”

“Your late headmaster,” Aberforth replied easily. “Yes, I am his brother.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you,” Hermione stammered, still reeling from the initial surprise. Beside her, the three men were equally shocked.

“Well then, let's attend to the business at hand,” Dumbledore went on in the same friendly voice. “Congratulations on your appointment, Mrs. Potter.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Now, my brother spoke very highly of you to me when he was alive some years before, and foretold that you may have ambitions for the Ministerial post.”

“Did he?” Hermione was taken aback.

“Oh yes, indeed. And he also arranged that I take his place in the Wizengamot, following his death. As a result, I feel that it is only prudent to forgo the formalities of inaugurating you as Minister of Magic, for if I am not mistakenly informed, there is a greater threat that looms above us.”

“What do you know about the attacks?” Harry interrupted suddenly.

“Honeslty, about as much as you do,” Aberforth turned to him, smiling; he reminded Harry strongly of his deceased mentor. “But what my primary concern is, is establishing the Order of the Phoenix once again to fight this new menace.”

“Dumbledore never mentioned anything about you being in the Order,” Ron observed suspiciously.

Aberforth's countenance did not change, but only seemed to become more delighted. “Evidently, my brother did not divulge anything before it was meant to be said. As it happens, I have been in the Order of the Phoenix ever since the first war with Voldemort. I agree that my involvement has been much more clandestine, but my effort is extremely valuable as well.”

“Tell you what,” Harry offered. “We don't have too much time right now, but come to the next Order meeting at Grimmauld Place. We'll send you a notice for the time.”

“Ah yes, old Grimmauld,” Aberforth said reminiscently, “I remember the house.”

“Good,” Harry replied.

“And Mrs. Potter,” Aberforth continued, turning to Hermione. “Could you only sign a few papers here, to make your position official?”

Hermione placed her signature on the specified papers, and Aberforth thanked her.

“I do not have much time left for talk either,” he addressed all four of them, folding the papers carefully in the meanwhile, “but I hope to receive your communication soon.” He looked pointedly at Harry.

“Definitely,” the object of his scrutiny ascertained. “As soon as possible.”

“Excellent, then,” Aberforth bowed courteously, “Until we meet again.”

They wished their goodbyes, and watched him retreat into a rear chamber through an elaborate door on the back wall.

“Well, Minister,” Harry quipped, “welcome to your new job.”

Hermione only smiled, but Harry did notice a different concern playing in her eyes.

“Mate,” Ron voiced it first, “are you out of your ever-loving mind?”

“Why, what's the matter?” Harry was still at sea.

“Think about it,” Ron went on forcefully, “why did you tell him about the Order? What if he was an impostor?”

“Ron, relax,” Harry told him for the second time that day. “The Wizangamot is not easily permeable. You know I trusted Dumbledore when he was around, and I do so, even now.”

The finality with which Harry said those words produced the desired effect, and Ron did not argue further.

“So do we head back to the Burrow now?” he changed the subject effectively.

“No,” Harry answered. “Weren't we supposed to head to Grimmauld?” he looked at Hermione.

“Yes,” she affirmed. “Tell you what, you and Ron drop by the Burrow quickly, just to make sure everything is in order and nothing is forgotten, and I'll go to Grimmauld Place to see how the move is going.”

“Sounds good, and we can take Malfoy with us,” Ron agreed. “We'll see you tonight then?”

“Definitely,” Hermione said. “Bye for now.”

“Come on, you git,” Ron growled at Malfoy, when Hermione had disappeared to her destination.

“Go to hell, Weasley,” Draco replied in kind. “Let's hope those Death Eaters do their job tonight with you.”

Ron's overstressed mind was already preparing itself for another row with Malfoy, but Harry intervened.

“Shut it, you two,” he warned, “or I'll do it for you.”

Neither Ron, nor Malfoy, wished to be on the business end of Harry's wand, so they quickly put a conclusion to their spite.

**

They apparated near the Burrow silently, and quickly Disillusioned themselves to prevent being noticed by hostile eyes.

“Careful now,” Ron said quietly, kneeling low and creeping towards the front yard, closely shadowed by the other two.

It seemed they were already too late to make just a quick sweep. All there of them could hear voices issuing from the kitchen on the first floor, and someone cackled voraciously.

“Give it `ere, Nott,” the same voice proclaimed loudly.

What were they doing, Harry wondered to himself.

Ron directed them to spread out and form an ambush when the unknown visitors came through the front door.

The air was palpable with the tension. Even though the moon was shining in the dark sky, and the night was warm, the silence remained oppressive. Slowly progressing forward, Harry, Ron and Draco closed the ring on the invaders of the Weasley home, prepared, at a moment's notice, to unleash a fury of spells, should someone come out…

“Hoffman, gimme the damn book,” a second voice commanded impatiently. “You'll lose it, and the mistress wants it whole.”

“Put a sock in it, you dolt,” the third Death Eater spat in Irish accent. “Outta all o' us, yer the most retarded.”

The first one chuckled appreciatively. “He has a point, Nott. You can't even break through a door on your own. And what happened the other day - you set your pants on fire.”

“If you're talking about competence, don't make me start on how far you and that word don't go together,” Nott replied darkly, but the other two only roared with laughter.

Outside, Ron removed the disillusionment charm from himself, and Harry and Draco followed suit a second later.

Harry motioned to the other two to fall behind and follow his lead. He sneaked up to the side of the door; Ron and Draco crouched down beside him, right below the window.

“On the count of three,” Harry whispered, “Distract them, and immediately shield yourselves. One, two…three!” he shouted the last word, and fired a stupefying charm into the darkness. Ron and Draco's curses also sailed in random directions, and then all three of them covered themselves with protective charms.

“Oi!” a voice from the inside came, “we have company!”

Harry heard the Death Eaters' feet thunder around the kitchen, as they rose to intercept the uninvited guests, but he and the other two were already on their feet, and poised to strike the oncoming threat.

“Steady,” Ron called out, as the three Death approached closer. “Fire!” he roared.

Three different spells issued from our heroes' wands, and each struck its target precisely. Just as the black-clad figures were preparing to engage, they fell forward, hit the ground forcefully, and when they came to rest, remained unconscious. From the hands of the leading Death Eater, an old, heavy book flew, and fell a little ways from them, at Ron's feet.

“All right?” Ron asked around, looking at Harry and Draco; they were non-pulsed.

“Definitely, Weasley,” Draco replied. “The bastards stood no chance against us. Let's take them in.”

The others moved forward to act before the captives regained their senses, but Harry noticed the book at his best friend's feet.

“Ron, hang on a second. What's that?” he asked, pointing downward.

Ron paused, and looked down. “It's a book,” he said, and bent down to pick it up.

He observed it for about a minute, turning it over in his hands, and shuffling through the pages. The book seemed to draw him somehow, even if he couldn't see any of the words of pictures in the dark.

“Come on, let's tie up those goons,” Harry called over to Draco, and they set about to doing the task; Ron in the meanwhile, was still strangely interested in the book…

“Weasley, you alright?” Draco asked Ron loudly, as he tightened up the conjured rope around one of the Death Eaters' hands.

The redhead's attention snapped back to the reality of the situation, and he seemed startled. “Yeah…” he replied distantly. “I'm fine…let's finish this off…”

“Malfoy, stand guard while Ron and I look over the house, will you?” Harry asked him after eyeing Ron oddly.

“Sure,” Draco answered. “Just hurry up.”

Ron refused to release the book, and took it with him, when he and Harry entered the Burrow. They did not take long to finish the sweep of the house, as it was devoid of life, and everything of value, both monetary and sentimental, had been taken.

“At least they made it out safe,” Harry pointed out, as they walked back out into the yard.

“Yeah, that's good,” Ron replied, still distantly, and if it was possible, not quite very focused either.

“Are you sure you're feeling well?” Harry's concern surfaced again.

“For sure,” the latter answered in the same tones.

Harry dismissed it for now, but in a ray of moonlight, he managed to glance, completely by accident, at the title of the book: The Wandmaker

A chill stole through Harry for a reason he could not quite place. Something about the book many him uneasy, and Ron's tight grip on it only increased his discomfort. He tried to dissuade the feeling, but without success.

Without much hassle, the captives were restrained by various spells, and the three of them disapparated to the Ministry to be handled.

Above, the moon continued to shine brightly, and clouds partially obscured the stars. In the dead stillness of the night, the silhouette of the Burrow stood, ominous and quiet, strangely unsettling with its eerie presence. A sudden, unnatural cold wind disturbed the silence, rustling the leaves and causing the shutters on the windows of the house batter against the walls as it blew; it was, as if, foretelling of the dark times ahead, warning that evil was returning, stronger than ever before…

A/N: Chapter 16, done and done. Reviews appreciated, as always, and the next installment is due in the soonest possible time frame…:D

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A/N: Alright, here we are at the next chapter…in this one, we see some literary discussions, and finally the reason, the real meaning of the whole mystery this story has so far been…

Chapter XVII: The Order of Merlin

“Ron,” Harry said the following morning, as he dodged boxes of belongings in Grimmauld's kitchen, “do you remember that book we found at Godric's Hollow way back when?”

“Yeah, I do,” Ron answered after a minute's contemplation. “It's still hidden in my flat. Why?”

“Because I think we ought to bring it here, just in case. There's no telling what will happen if those Death Eaters lay their hands on it.”

“Oi, you're right, Harry! I had completely forgotten about it!” Ron hit himself on the forehead. “Tell you what - I'll go for it today even, right after I'm done drinking this coffee…”

“Ron, you don't have to - “Harry tried to reason with him.

Two audible gulps later, and the redhead's eyes were shining from the invigoration coffee brought on an early morning. “I'll return in an hour,” he told Harry quickly. “If anyone asks, I've gone on private business in the Ministry for our investigation. Luna would have a fit if she finds out where I'm going, so stick to the story!”

“What story, Ronald?” Luna airy voice suddenly interrupted the proceedings between the two best friends.

“Oh, love, you're awake,” Ron smiled, and hurried over to his wife, “Good morning,” he kissed her on the lips.

She returned his gesture in kind, but her mind was evidently set on something else. “And where are you off to so early?”

“Ministry,” Ron's mind immediately reverted to the fabricated story. “I want to investigate what we know closer and on my own…I just need to concentrate.”

“Oh, alright,” Luna said, “and when will you be back?”

“An hour, at most,” her husband replied easily. “I'll return before you know it.”

With that, Ron disengaged himself from Luna, and turned to the door, looking at Harry pointedly, and nodding at him for the upkeep of their arrangement; and Harry confirmed it with a clandestine nod of his own.

Ron managed to apparate noiselessly in the flat he shared with Luna. Over the weeks they had spent at the Burrow, for safety, neglect had reigned in their own humble abode. A thick layer of dust covered the tables, couches and other furniture. The air was stale with disuse, and there was also a detectible smell of rotten food. Evidently, nobody had entered the flat, ever since Ron and Luna had left it unoccupied.

Cringing his nose, Ron tried to remember where he had hidden the book that was entrusted to him so long ago. In the meanwhile, the thought of opening a window crossed his mind, but he decided against it; remaining hidden was a better policy, despite the barely bearable stink…

Was it beneath the couch, charmed into the floor? Ron checked, but without avail - the book wasn't there. Perhaps he had hidden it in one of the bedrooms. Careful not to agitate the dust around him excessively, Ron directed his steps to the back of the flat, where the bedrooms were located. Once he arrived there, the sight was not terribly different: a layer of dust covered the beds and furniture, and the heavy curtains that covered the windows were also swimming in dust.

“Blimey, I can't imagine the cleanup,” Ron muttered to himself, as he covered his mouth and coughed loudly immediately after.

Kneeling down, Ron looked under the bed, and performed a charm to reveal if the book was there. The cloud he kicked up while changing his position overwhelmed him entirely, and deciding he had had enough, engaged a Bubblehead charm for his own convenience.

Now breathing easy, and seeing better too for a change, he roved around his and Luna's bedroom, growing increasingly frustrated with each passing second. Half an hour had already elapsed in the fruitless search.

“Ronald!” a clear voice rang out suddenly, and startled our unfortunate searcher badly; Ron was looking under the kitchen sink, and rising up, he impacted the ledge of the counter above painfully.

His head ringing, he stood shakily on his feet, as the world spun around him.

“Who's there?” he called out, pointing his wand towards the entrance hallway and cringing from the pain.

“It's me, Ron,” Luna's figure appeared in the dining room, and she seemed really peeved - a far cry from her typical serene appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Ron scrambled to think of a legitimate reason, “Better question - why are you here?”

“Because of you,” Luna said without hesitation. “I've been worried out of my mind!”

“I told you where I was going, didn't I?” Ron interjected.

“No, Ron, you lied to me!” Luna snapped. “And it's that which I least appreciate. Not to mention you're putting yourself in danger!”

The redhead had already understood his covert operation had been compromised. Why hadn't Harry restrained Luna, he thought angrily, after all, he was risking his neck for the greater good.

“Love, look,” he tried to be complacent, “you don't have anything to worry about…I'm the Head Auror, and there's a reason for that.”

“Ron, I won't care if you were the Minister of Magic, but what matters to me is that you tell me the truth and that you're safe,” Luna told him in fiery tones.

“Luna, you have enough on your plate, without worrying about me,” Ron reasoned with her grimly, “you have our children to raise, because I'm away from them so often, participate in the Order, and now keep Grimmauld Place in order. I just didn't have the will to add myself to your worries.”

Apparently, honestly was the best policy - Luna's expression softened, and Ron sighed audibly in relief.

“Ron, don't you know that my life would be pointless without you in it?” Luna asked him simply.

Her question made Ron stop wracking his head for an excuse, and he decided to be frank with his wife.

“Luna, I'm sorry,” he apologized, at last taking the first step in the right direction. “I was…” his words died on his lips.

“Apology accepted,” Luna replied with a small smile, “now, what were you doing here?”

“Looking for that book Harry gave us to keep…the one Dumbledore gave Lily all those years ago.”

“And you couldn't find it?” she inquired.

“No,” Ron sighed. “I looked everywhere.”

“Including the top of the cupboard in our bedroom?” Luna quizzed him further.

“Where?”

“The top of the cupboards. That's where you put it,” she explained.

“Really?” Ron was still clueless. “I'll be right back.”

He retreated quickly back into the bedroom he had all, but turned upside down. And surely, when he performed the revealing charms on top of the cupboard, the prized book was sitting there, invisible and unharmed. Ron summoned it, and returned with it under his arm to the entrance hall.

“How did you remember it was there?” he asked Luna incredulously. “I looked everywhere, but there.”

“Love, you have the worst memory of anyone I know,” Luna said, kissing him on the cheek. “Come on, now, you need to take a shower to rid all this grime from you…”

Fortuna was on the side of Ron and Luna, as they apparated away. In the instant of time before the world dissolving into nothingness, Ron caught a glimpse of black-hooded figures invade the apartment, but only a second later did he realize what had happened.

A second was entirely necessary for them to arrive back in Grimmauld Place. Ron was still clutching the book in his arm, and a disbelieving expression was etched on his face.

“Hey, Harry,” he approached his best friend, and grabbed him on the shoulder. “Now, let me ask you something.”

“Ah…yes?” Harry inquired; putting down the handkerchief he had been drying his hands with.

“What do you think the chances are, that, by complete coincidence, Death Eaters come in the instant that you leave?” Ron articulated slowly.

“Rather slim, if I have to say so,” Harry answered. “You would usually have to fight your way out.”

“That's true, Harry,” Ron answered, “but it's purely damn luck we weren't injured, let alone killed. Three Death Eaters really came in, just as Luna and I were apparating away.”

“You must be joking!” a voice exclaimed from the doorway - Mrs. Weasley had walked in.

“Such as this,” Ron said in an undertone to Harry, before turning to his mother. “Don't worry, Mum, it's all a part of an Auror's job.”

“Ron, dear, I worry about you,” Mrs. Weasley replied. “No matter if you're Head Auror, you are still my son.”

“I know that, Mum,” Ron attempted to reason with her, “but right now, none of us is safe. Death and harm are constant companions for now.”

Mrs. Weasley only looked apprehensively at her son, and departed, muttering under her breath, towards the living room.

“I don't think your mum is taking this war too well,” Harry observed mournfully after she had departed.

“Mate, I know, and I don't want to be fighting this anymore than you or her does,” the redhead replied impatiently. “But the circumstances force us to, and now we have to proceed, if you don't mind.”

Even as Ron tried to hide it, the immense pressure he was under to solve the case and apprehend the perpetrators behind the numerous murders that had already happened, was already causing him to burst unpredictably on occasion.

“Ron, calm down, please,” Luna came to his side. “Anger does not solve anything.”

He closed his eyes for several seconds, and breathed deeply. “You're right, love. Can you please call my sister, Draco and Hermione to join us here?”

“Yes, certainly,” she said, and hurried off to gather the specified people.

The familiar air of tension was beginning to assert itself once again, when matters came to discussing developments and progress around their fight. Harry and Ron waited in silence, sharing the occasional uneasy glance; after a few minutes, Luna came back with the other three in tow.

“What's going on, Weasley,” Draco spoke up at once, “that you needed you needed your wife to drag me away from - “

“Shush, will you,” Ginny admonished him severely, flushing brilliantly and glaring at her loved one.

“Oh, don't tell me,” Ron began in annoyance, but checked himself, and cleared his throat before he continued. “We need relative privacy, and I think this is one of the better times it can be afforded.”

“Alright, so what do you have to tell us?” Ginny asked her brother.

“A connection between the murders, that comes from the book we uncovered from Godric's Hollow a long time ago, and another one we found quite by accident only last night,” Ron explained mysteriously. In any case, attention was peaked, and his eyes wandered over each focused expression.

“What kind of connection?” Luna offered in the conspicuous silence.

“I think Hermione can explain it better than I can,” Ron admitted, gesturing towards the brunette to take the word.

“Well,” Hermione began, acknowledging Ron and standing up. “Last night, Ron came to me with an idea, and I spent the better part of the night working on it,” she said, “and uncovered something very interesting.”

Harry was looking from one to the other, lost and excited at the same time.

“In short,” Hermione explained, “The Order of Merlin.”

“What does the award have to do with anything we are working on?” Draco asked loudly.

“No, listen to me,” Hermione hushed him, “the Order of Merlin isn't only an award…it is a millennia-old organization.”

“I had never heard of it until last night,” Ron admitted. “And neither had Hermione,” he added with a small, knowing smile.

“It's true,” she conceded the point, “but what we found was more important. The Order of Merlin is responsible for protecting the traditions associated with wand making, and the power required for it that resides within the Department of Mysteries.”

“What is that power?” Luna asked, perplexed. Harry only sat, quiet, and listening raptly to Hermione's findings.

“Love, believe it or not,” Hermione said softly, “The power, which is powerful, mysterious, and can never be understood in simple terms. I believe it's that power, which our opponents seek to acquire and control.”

“Yes, but how are the murders associated?” Harry asked her impatiently.

“Simply by the fact that Olliviander, Gregorovitch and the Weasleys' neignbour were all members,” Hermione answered.

“Members of this order?” Harry exclaimed. “Why didn't they say anything?”

Hermione looked at him with a slight annoyance. “Use your head, Harry. Its purpose is to be secret - why would they reveal themselves.”

“Because whoever killed them knew they were members,” Harry told her. “Does it not strike you as obvious?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, “but the only problem is that it's only a theory we have to work from, and absolutely no evidence.”

“Then what do you think about the attacks on Muggles, and those on us?” Ron challenged her.

“Somehow, they know what we're doing and tail our every move,” Hermione replied quietly. “That would explain the attack on me at Godric's Hollow, Harry's duel with Dolohov, those Death Eaters at the Burrow Ron told me of last night, and now, the close brush Ron and Luna had in their flat.”

“Those are strong words, Hermione,” Harry observed calmly. “Do you suspect anyone?”

“We can talk about that later,” Hermione put an end to that discussion forcefully, looking meaningfully around the table.

“If you say so,” Draco said once more, “what about Merlin's Order? Can you tell us more about it?”

“Oh yes,” came Hermione's response. “There was a whole chapter I found on it.”

“An entire chapter?” Ron sounded amazed. “I thought there might just be a quick mention about it.”

“Well, not really,” Hermione delved in her research, “the book Dumbledore gave Lily made a reference to The Wandmaker, which is the very book Ron brought to me.”

“Care to enlighten us?” Luna proffered her question forth.

“Certainly,” Hermione was enthused. “Accio The Wandmaker!”

The flurry of pages being blown around somewhere on the upper floor resulted in the desired tome flying in Hermione's hand several seconds later.

“Alright,” she said, and yawned, “Let's…let's begin, shall we?”

And opening to the correct page, she started reading:

“Its existence has been kept secret for a very long time, and it is imperative that it continues to be so; the Order of Merlin, cleverly concealed as a legend and a mere trophy in contemporary times, is very much quite operational still. Among its prominent members today are Monseurs Olliviander, Gregorovitch and Dumbledore. Until recently, important work by Tom Riddle, Gellert Grindewald and Pharsias Snape, has also resulted in their induction to the Order.”

“Snape and Voldemort were in it too!” Harry was shocked to hear. Hermione looked at him, and then directed her gaze downward again.

“The Order of Merlin has existed for a millennia, ever since the witch hunts of the ninth century ended, and wizardkind was able to establish its clandestine and secure existence, away from Muggle eyes. Merlin himself, on the eve of the tenth century, established the Order, inducting the important wandmakers of the day, so as to assure the preservation and propagation of our knowledge to future generations.”

Hermione took a deep breath, and she seemed a little pale, but regardless, continued reciting the narrative.

“In the years following, the Order of Merlin accepted especially talented members of the magical community, and educated them secretly of the ways and means of the wand craft. The power to make such knowledge and practice possible is quite simply, love. The reader may look on that claim skeptically, but it is in fact, true. Free of malice and ill intent, love provides a feasible conduct for magical energy and will. The dilemma rests in with the fact that, if utilized to its fullest extent, love is a force, which can be used on both sides of the specter - good and evil. Dark wizards, however, have a much smaller capacity to understand love, as goodwill is essential in understanding the real potential of that power. In theory, if a Dark wizard shows real affinity and affection towards another, unaffected by evil, the application of love for murderous, dangerous and destructive engagements is quite possible. Even so, a confrontation between two sides, fuelled by the same force, will ultimately determine a winner in the manner, which pertains to the party with a stronger sense of love.”

Hermione's voice had grown fainter as she read, and a dreamy expression has overtaken her countenance; she swayed on her chair, and shaking her head, as if to clear it, squinted to focus better on the content in front of her.

“Love, are you feeling alright?” Harry asked in concern; he had walked around the table and behind her chair, to support her should the need arise.

“Yes, yes,” she whispered, “let me read…”

And so she continued, with more effort than before:

“There are, however, threats to those who seek to use love as a channel. Members of the Order are forewarned of the dangers that arise from the application of love in their trade. In a confrontation, such as when they are attempting to attest the capabilities of a newly produced wand, exhaustion of one's magic reserves is possible, and thus must be approached carefully, as the trials require much time and effort on the wandmaker's part. This is one of the main reasons, for which only exceptionally powerful individuals are selected to engage in the trade. The other reason lies in the inherent willpower, which one must have when he is strong. It is imperative that…that…”

Hermione suddenly stopped, made to raise her head, and collapsed, unconscious. Harry only managed to catch her, before she hit the table. Her lapse caused a commotion, as people jumped off their chairs and crowded themselves around her. Harry placed the book on the table and raised Hermione in his hands right after.

“Quick, take her to her bed, she needs rest,” Ginny urged Harry.

“Someone call Madam Pomfrey,” Luna voiced her concern too. “She needs to be checked!”

“I'll do it!” Ron offered, but he had not made a step forward, when just as suddenly, he also fell unconscious with a crash on the floor.

The commotion rose in pitch, as calls were made to attend to the fallen. Not loosing his composure, Harry carried Hermione and levitated Ron to the upper floor bedrooms. Below, someone had already sent for Madam Pomfrey, in the hope she arrived quickly enough…

A/N: Chapter 17 is done…reviews appreciated as always, and the next one will see what's wrong with our heroes…

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FS18

A/N: Sorry for the prolonged update…unfortunately real life got in the way, and I had to postpone this update…but without further ado, here it is…enjoy!

Chapter XVIII:

He knew it, he knew it very well. The damn book was cursed. Cursed! How had he not foreseen it, and let the two closest people to him become affected! Harry paced back and forth around the living room in high agitation, internally berating himself about his stupidity. They could die, and it'll be my fault! How bloody stupid could I be! Those thoughts raced through his mind, and any attempt on part of the others to reason with him was fruitless; as was typical for an angry Harry, he had closed himself off to the world.

Madam Pomfrey had no arrived in no less excitement. Without greeting the company, she asked to be taken to the ailing patients, and dashed off at once after Remus. Since then, two pregnant hours had passed, with no word from above - the Healer had explicitly forbidden to be disturbed while she worked, and only Mrs. Weasley had been permitted to assist her.

“What is happening up there?” Harry kept muttering to himself as he paced, looking with concentration at the floor.

“Harry, sit down,” Remus told him, ashen faced, “You're not the only one who's nervous here.”

The black-haired wizard only glared indignantly at Remus, and then looked away just as quickly. “I'll do as I please, Remus,” he offered curtly.

Gazing sadly at his dead friend's godson, the werewolf sighed deeply, and resigned himself to morbid silence. Outside, the clouds had grown darker, and a distant rumble of thunder sounded. Raindrops started to fall, hard and fast, against the windows. Soon, the wind began to gather intensity, and a few fallen leaves were suddenly carried in the air. By all accounts, a storm was brewing, but it only succeeded in dampening the spirits inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, even more…

Suddenly, the floor above creaked, as the immediately recognizable quick steps of Madam Pomfrey sounded. Eyes looked up at the ancient ceiling, following the sound, and Harry was the first to dash to the bottom of the staircase, in the instance when the medical witch was already coming down.

He stared up at her expectantly, impatience written on his face. “Well?”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey rejoined in her dignified tones. “They will live.”

“What's wrong with them?” Harry's alarm had not subsided, and coming up behind him, Remus put a hand on his shoulder.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath, and looked down at the floor, trying to gather her thoughts. Her aged face creased as she concentrated.

“Harry, see,” her voice softened, but she didn't pull her eyes up, “you don't realize how close to dying Ron and Hermione were.”

“I know it was the damned book - “Harry spoke rashly, but Madam Pomfrey raised a hand stop him.

She studied him intently for several long seconds. “What do you know about the book?” she asked him quietly.

“It's cursed, that's what,” Harry seethed. “This Order of Merlin business…”

“Mr. Potter,” Poppy reverted to her stern tone, “the curse placed on that book is incredibly rare, and more powerful than the Cruciatus curse in its ability to impose suffering.”

“What?” Harry was flabbergasted by the explanation; he had not seen Hermione and Ron visibly subjected to pain.

“Exhaustion,” Madam Pomfrey went on, as if it was supposed to be obvious. “Reading that book drains the reader of their life and magical abilities, and it is charmed to be a captivating read, which merely translates into certain death.”

“Then how- “ the latter attempted to argue, without fruition.

“I have a hypothesis for that, but nothing more,” Madam Pomfrey replied.

“You don't know what I was going to ask,” Harry told her pointedly.

“Mr. Potter, you will eventually learn that experience is the best teacher,” the mediwitch chastised him. “Now, the reason I believe neither one was killed, is because Mr. Weasley must have been too distant to focus sufficiently on the book, and as for Hermione, she somehow fainted, which allowed her to retain enough of a life force within her to be saved.”

Regardless of her stern air, Harry could see that Madam Pomfrey was as relieved as he was for the fortunate turn of events.

“Thank you,” he declared, elated, and without a second thought, embraced Madam Pomfrey tightly.

“Oh!” she was startled by his action, but quickly regained her composure. “Anything for you, Harry,” she whispered so only he could hear.

Voldemort's vanquisher released her, and the smile did not fall from his face.

“Now,” she instructed, glancing at Harry and addressing the room in general. “Hermione and Ron need plenty of rest, because they have been largely sapped of their strength. Warm meals, close supervision, and should any problems arise, contact me immediately.”

“Will do,” Remus ascertained quickly. “Thank you again, Poppy.”

“It was my duty, Remus,” she answered him solemnly, as he escorted her to the front door.

“Well, yes,” the latter replied in an undertone, and then he purposefully looked around to assure privacy, once they reached the front door. “Are there any news from Hogwarts, Poppy?” he asked insistently.

Madam Pomfrey bit her lip and looked up at Remus with frustration. “You know how it is, Remus. Hogwarts is very sensitive to what is happening around it, and these attacks have not escaped unnoticed. There's certainly more caution, and the Hogesmeade visits were reduced from three, to just one this year.”

“That's definitely not good,” Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, Poppy, take care and we'll see you later. Be safe.”

“Certainly,” the latter gave him a pointed look, and stepped out in the now gentle rain. “Goodbye for now.”

Remus closed the door after her with a click, and sighed deeply. If not for Madam Pomfrey's timely intervention, two of the most important members of the Order could have died. Death was a constant companion, and this was another reminder about how dangerous the task they had set for themselves was.

And further, the resurrection spell that their evil opponent was after was in itself not ideal, for applying it repeatedly also carried dangerous implications, which were unpredictable in the case of Harry, Hermione and Ron; they were the three most important people that needed to be protected from dying prematurely.

**

The recovery of the patients took several days, and even then, it was not easy. Hermione was the more severely afflicted of the two, and her progress towards better health was slower. For two days, she did not wake up, and Madam Pomfrey visited her during the nights to ensure she was recuperating properly. Ron, on the other hand, had awoken by the second day, and despite being slightly disoriented and confused, was otherwise stable and conscious.

Finally, by the third day, the redhead was up and around, rapidly regaining his strength. Hermione had raised herself from the depths of sleep for an hour or so, and had quickly returned to her slumber. Madam Pomfrey had ensured Harry she would recover in time, but that lessened his worries little, and was quite anxious to see her well soon.

“Mate, you seem to have not slept in days,” Ron said that morning, observing Harry keenly. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” Harry snapped dismissively, waving a hand irritatingly. “Leave me be, will you?”

His best friend quirked an eyebrow, “Sorry, Harry, I won't leave you be until you tell me what's wrong with you.”

Harry snapped a fierce gaze in Ron's direction, and sighed, before letting his eyes fall. “It's Hermione,” he replied quietly. “She's been out cold for too long now.”

“You heard Madam Pomfrey,” Ron attempted to reason with him. “She said Hermione would improve, and I'm sure of it. She even woke up today.”

“I know, I know,” Harry rejoined impatiently, “but that doesn't stop me from worrying.”

Ron understood what Harry had meant as an undercurrent. “Look, Harry,” he said tensely. “There is no guarantee one, some, or even all of us won't perish by the end of this, but it would help to be a little optimistic.”

“Ron, listen to yourself,” Harry laughed coldly, “what part of this seems optimistic to you?”

“I'm up, am I not?” he answered, “I thought you would be happy,” he added ironically.

“Believe me, I am,” Harry smiled, genuinely this time, “but I'm just too worried…this was too close a call for comfort, and I just don't know when another misfortune befalls us, that it won't be fatal.”

“You worry too much, mate,” Ron observed. “Have a cup of tea…it'll calm your nerves.”

Ron waved his wand and a porcelain mug shot from the cupboard, flew to the kettle, and within a few seconds, it was sitting, full of the warm tea, in front of Harry.

“Thanks,” the latter muttered appreciatively, and glancing quickly at Ron, took a sip. Indeed, the warmth of the tea did producing a calming effect…

“She'll be fine, Harry,” Ron said for the umpteenth time. “It's taking a little while, is all, and I have no doubt we'll finish this whole affair in one piece.”

Harry only grunted an indistinguishable response, and focused his eyes on the table, burying himself in deep thought.

**

“You fools!” Bellatrix raged on, as two masked Death Eaters cowered at her feet. “You were supposed to recover the book, not let it be taken away from you so easily! Insufferable idiots, that's all you are!”

“Mistress - “ one tried to reason by defending himself, but his attempt was futile, as a second later, he lay dead on the floor.

“You only speak when I request you to,” Bella cold, quiet voice came through clenched teeth. “Is that clear?”

“Certainly, most definitely,” the remaining Death Eater stuttered his assent quickly, not even daring to raise his head.

“Good,” she replied, slightly more easily, and went on, conversationally even. “Yet, I cannot seem to rid myself of the incompetence that surrounds me. Every assignment I hand out, it turns out botched, by idiots such as yourself. I pray, what would be the cost of having Death Eaters who can actually perform one task completely, without failing!”

The pitch in her voice had risen again, and her eyes glinted with unbridled maliciousness. “You realize,” she rejoined after a minute's thought, “that I already have an idea of how to excite better results. Would you support my idea?”

“Yes, Mistress,” the Death Eater whispered, his tone quavering and raspy.

“Excellent then,” Bella smiled sadistically, and raising her wand, she pointed it at the misfortunate Death Eater. “Avada Kedavra!”

Immediately, he keeled over on his back, and the mask fell away from his face. Two empty brown eyes stared up at the ceiling, while Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal grin only widened.

Slowly, she made her way to the doors of her vast chamber, and opened them. The hinges cried painfully, but she did not seem to mind.

“Avery, Nott,” she directed the two Death Eaters that were standing there, awaiting orders. “Take these bodies, and fasten them to the wall of the meeting room. From now on, failure is punishable by death.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Avery agreed right away, and set on to the assigned task, with Nott following closely behind him.

They dragged the bodies behind them, and once they were out of earshot, looked at one another with incredulity.

“She's mad, I tell you,” Avery whispered passionately. “Voldemort, at least, he was more sensible when it came to punishment.”

“Yes,” Nott agreed. “If you remember, he did not kill for failure. Makes you think we have a scatter-brained leader…she might be losing her marbles, no?”

“I don't want to imagine,” Avery answered, shivering visibly. “She is a monster, Nott, I tell you.”

“Come on now, and Voldemort was not?” Nott countered him. “The mistress is bent on ridding the world of Mudbloods, and you know that. Only, she is supposed to have something Voldemort didn't, which will ensure her immortality…”

“Is why I'm worried,” Avery replied quietly. “We've been involved a long time, but we could be dead tomorrow for all we know…you know, join the buggers we're dragging right now…”

The two of them reached the meeting room, and stepped inside. Dark and devoid of life, it was a welcome respite from the tension they had been subjected during the day, simply for the reason that it was empty, and Bellatrix was not close around. So, they set about their grim and disturbing task without a word.

Avery placed preservation charms on the carcasses, and charmed two hammers and a box of nails from thin air. “This is so wrong,” he muttered, as he surveyed where on the wall they should fulfill Bella's wishes.

“How about we forget about this, and make a break for it,” Nott asked apprehensively and quietly, “I was willing to work under Voldemort, but she's damn right out of her mind…maybe we could escape to the continent?”

“Mate, you're out of your mind,” Avery chastised him, as he placed a permanent sticking charm on his assigned body, and placed it spear-eagled against the wall. “You know very well that we'll be dead even before we reach the Channel.”

“Then what is there to do?” Nott asked him, as he imitated Avery's treatment with his corpse.

“Absolutely nothing,” came the resigned reply, as the angry sounds of the hammer driving a nail carried a moment later.

Without saying a word, Nott joined in the grisly activity they were currently engaged in, and hurried to finish quickly.

“What are yer idiots doing in the dark?” a gruff voice suddenly asked from the hallway; it was one of the well-known greasy lieutenants of Bella's, responsible for overseeing the intelligence missions, and reportedly being involved with her on a more than professional basis…

“That's none of your business, Rockwood,” Nott snapped, without turning around. “Why don't you go - “

Avery had kicked him in the shins. “Don't push it,” he warned in an undertone.

“Go and do what?” Rockwood mocked him cruelly, “You'll watch your tongue, or you'll join those bastards on the wall. I trust you don't want that, eh, Nott?”

“No, sir,” the object of the lieutenant's ire spat the last word through clenched teeth. “Certainly not”

“Good then,” Rockwood replied, and stood there, intimidating, for a few awkward seconds, before shuffling out of sight.

“Bastard,” Nott muttered under his breath.

“Keep your hat on,” Avery tried to placate him, “that he is a rat, there's no doubt, but there is no need to provoke him.”

“Speak for yourself,” the latter snapped once again. “I want the seniority we had under Voldemort.”

“Hey, times have changed, and there is no returning to the old days,” Avery rejoined, “Though I would be happy to see them again. Now, if we are smart and careful, we can turn this in our favour.”

“What are you on about?” Nott inquired skeptically.

“Will you bloody listen?” Avery was on tenterhooks himself. “Don't interrupt me.”

“Fine,” the other answered quickly. “Make haste, won't you?”

“Yes, yes,” Avery said, looking behind his back. “We'll do just as Severus Snape did once. You remember him, don't you?”

“Of course…strange chap, he was…” Nott muttered reminiscently.

“Well, that's our ticket to freedom.” Avery continued convincingly. “We play the double agent game, but ultimately for the purpose of defeating Lestrange.”

“Are you mad!” Nott was incredulous. “That is the equivalent of a death sentence.”

“Keep calm, damn it,” the former whispered urgently, “it is, if we are uncovered, but if we succeed, we can claim working against her, and that way avoid persecution. Think about it, which way is better, do you think?”

Nott was about to say something, but thought better of it, and closed his mouth. “You are right,” he conceded, after another minute's pondering. “I, too, have no desire to die, serving the interests of a madwoman.”

“It's settled then,” Avery finalized the mission. “We keep up and appearances, and join the side of the Light.”

“I don't believe we are doing this,” Nott shook his head, “but I am willing. Here's to a pact of complete secrecy.”

“Complete secrecy,” Avery echoed him, nodding, “and we start as soon as possible. Tonight, with the surveillance mission we are supposed to be on.”

“Alright,” Nott agreed, “what have you planned.”

“That we tell Harry Potter it is Bellatrix Lestrange who is trying to kill him. We are supposed to watch east London tonight, and if we see him, we have to let him know, discreetly.”

“Directly, you mean?”

“No, no,” Avery said quickly, “any direct contact will cost us our lives. We do that indirectly.”

“A relative, perhaps…”

“Quiet,” Avery hushed him quickly, and straightened up. “Someone's coming.”

They recognized the anxious walk of Bellatrix out in the hallway, and she was quite possibly coming forth to check on the request she had placed on her two Death Eaters.

“Mistress!” Avery declared, sinking to his knees when she appeared in the doorway, and the chamber was flooded in light. “Your wishes have been carried out!”

Nott had also kneeled, and looked down towards the floor with burning eyes. “All carried out, Mistress,” he repeated faintly.

“Excellent, excellent,” Bella said grandiosely, her eyes glinting at the unsettling sight of the two lifeless, limp bodies, nailed against the wall.

She seemed lost in a trance for a full minute, staring straight ahead, fulfilling her hunger for death. “Now,” she turned back to her kneeling servants surprisingly, “you two have an important mission tonight.”

“Yes, mistress,” Avery assured her, nodding vigorously.

“You are to seek out any sign of Harry Potter, or anyone he may be associating with, understood?” she went on passionately.

“Yes, yes, definitely,” Nott was quick to respond this time.

“Off you go, and do not return without a good result,” Bella instructed them shortly, and without a further glance at them, swept down the hall hurriedly.

“Come on,” Nott motioned to Avery, as they rose to their feet, and prepared to apparate.

It was a cool night and rather calm too. Not a lot of activity was going on, as it was a late hour already, and the two spies, anxious about their recent conversion, feverishly thought about a way to reach Harry. Aside from that, it was highly doubtful they would find any trace of the Order of the Phoenix tonight…

“What of that werewolf,” Nott observed in the silence, “you remember him?”

“Oi, yeah,” Avery replied wonderingly, “Lupin, I think he was called…”

“Wasn't he in our year at Hogwarts?” Nott asked with more conviction, as long-forgotten memories re-surfaced.

“I - I think so,” Avery rejoined convincingly, “You know -“

Nott, however, was already ahead of him. “Send him an anonymous letter, to tell him,” he said, “He is close to Potter, so he's bound to tell him.”

“Aye, good, my thought exactly,” Avery affirmed feverishly. “We write a letter to Remus Lupin.”

A/N: Will they be caught? Yes, no, maybe? Stick around to find out…I'll try to make the updates more regular from now on…

-->

A/N: Remember the dude we met some chapters ago, that sent Harry the note, initialed M.E.? Well, here we learn his story…

Chapter XIX: Mortimer Evans

The owl swooped in the window, and circling around the room, dropped a letter in Remus' lap, before flying out again in haste. The werewolf, startled by the unexpected entrance, jumped slightly, but did not awake Tonks, who was leaned against his shoulder, sleeping soundly. Aiming to disturb his better half's slumber as little as possible, he slid the envelope open, and rustled the parchment open; he bent his eyes down, and began to read.

Remus Lupin,

You will not appreciate the identity of this letter's authors, and therefore, they shall be forced to remain anonymous for the present. The matter of which we want to speak to you, however, deals directly with the battle against the organization, responsible for the publicized deaths of Muggles and wandmakers…

We must tell you that our involvement stems purely from self-interest for the defeat of the aforesaid organization, and does not extend to a greater cause. Thus, we are not judging, but merely choosing the more profitable side.

Our incentive for working with you is your contact with one Harry Potter, as well as the invaluable information we can provide in regards to the organization. We believe that we have different interests, but a common purpose, towards which we can work together.

Communication by owl is too risky a venture to continue. Should you choose to respond, a meeting between us can be arranged in two days time, at midnight precisely; whereabouts is the front entrance to the tower of Big Ben. Keep in mind, Mr. Lupin, we will keep our word and be present, but the only person, to whom we will divulge anything, is you.

It was a most unusual letter. Unsigned, unverified, and too direct for comfort, it seemed to present a surprising ally in their campaign. Remus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Currently, they were faced with many more questions than answers, and the book that was supposed to be the solution, could not be handled without dire consequences. Harry, Ron and Hermione had become important figures within the Ministry, and within the Order, and already, their brushes with death had been terrifyingly close. Herminoe was recovering from the latest bout as he was thinking…

Perhaps this endeavor was worth the risk of the meeting? Everyone in the Order had passed through many a danger, but the yielded results were few and unsatisfactory. So far, they had been attacked, injured, cursed and forced to hide. A number of unsolved murders of wandmakers, an encounter with Antonin Dolohov that almost resulted in another double fatality, and not even the slightest idea who was the mastermind behind it all. Heading the key governmental posts was only an added burden to the principal actors of the story…

Absorbed in the evaluation of the matter, Remus did not notice Harry enter the gloomy room. The letter was still clutched in his hand, and he was looking at it, but did not see the words.

“Remus?” Harry queried quietly, hoping to attract the werewolf's attention, but with no avail. “Remus!” he tried a little louder, and this time, the desired effect was produced.

“Harry,” Remus exclaimed, and twisted around to face his nephew. Tonks mumbled incoherently in her sleep, and adjusted herself on her live pillow before drifting off again. “Come around, will you?”

Harry stepped forward gingerly, also trying not to awaken Tonks. “How are you, Remus?” he whispered, sitting down on the other couch.

“Just thinking, Harry,” the other replied, “take a look at this letter,” he said, and handed Harry the yellow parchment.

Curious, Harry read over the contents patiently, and turned it over in his mind for a few minutes. “What do you make of it?” he asked, looking fixedly at his godfather.

“I think it may be the opportunity for a break in this whole business,” Remus answered cautiously. “After all the turmoil we have faced, this might be a good idea…”

“What if it's a trap?” Harry countered him energetically, “you know better than to trust anonymous sources.”

“Nothing ever occurs the same way twice, Harry,” Lupin rejoined philosophically. “What would you do in my position? We have hit dead ends everywhere, and we can't read hat blasted book without risking someone dying…”

“There must be something we can do,” Harry grappled for an excuse, “after Hermione improves, I'm sure we can figure something out.”

“There's no denying that Hermione is a remarkable witch, Harry,” Remus reasoned with him, “but the hard truth is that we have nothing to go on and we have been reduced to retreat into hiding. We really have no choice here, but to seize this chance, be it true or false.”

Harry knew that arguing against that logic would be a fruitless enterprise. He sighed, and conceded the point. “As you say, Remus, but if you are going to confront these people, we need to have support and a quick way to escape back here, if the need arises…”

A small smile broke across Lupin's face. “That sounds good, Harry. I'll definitely accept support.”

“It's settled then,” the other affirmed. “I think I'll go make myself a cup of coffee,” and with that, Harry left Remus and Tonks in peace.

As he was sitting down, immersed in his now regular habit of thinking, Ginny wandered in the room, anxiety written all over her face.

“Ginny,” Harry looked up, studying her anxiously on his own behalf, “everything alright?”

“Harry, glad I found you,” she replied in one breath, “it's Hermione -“

“What's happened to her?” Harry cut across her in alarm.

“Nothing, nothing,” Ginny hurried to calm him, “she's awoken!”

The news completely dazed Harry, and he did not even notice upsetting his coffee cup, as he jumped off the chair to follow Ginny upstairs.

“And you're certain of this?” he breathed, as they ran into the entrance hall.

“Trust me, Harry,” came the short response, and she proceeded towards the staircase, closely tailed by Harry.

He must have been one of the last to receive wind of Hermione's awakening, because her room was bustling with the current inhabitants of Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley had taken a prominent role, actively examining Hermione to see whether she had suffered lasting damage. Behind her, Ginny had just rejoined Draco, and immediately launched into a quieted discussion with him, while Ron and Luna were trying to peer past Mrs. Weasley to glimpse Hermione's condition. Remus seemed to have entered the room slightly before Harry, as he was looking around, and beside him, Tonks was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Harry fought his way to the front and forced himself beside Mrs. Weasley.

“Dear, step back, will you?” she admonished him. “Can't you see she's only come around?”

“I know, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry answered her distantly, but did not move - his entire attention was entirely focused on the patient at hand…

“Hmm?” Hermione's cloudy gaze drifted lazily around her surroundings, before her eyes settled on the man standing anxiously over her. “Harry?” she murmured, and a small smile graced her lips.

“God, Hermione,” Harry whispered, unable to speak properly; he only clutched her hand, trying to convince himself that she was really going to be well; aside from that, a thought, inspired by Ron and Luna, had circulated in his head for a while, but he had not quite found the courage to voice it, and it was intended solely for Hermione's ears.

“Harry?” Hermione said, with a little more strength. “What happened?”

“Hush, Hermione,” Harry was hasty to stop her inquiries, “there will be time to talk later. Right now, you need your rest.”

“But -“ she tried to object, but without effect, as sleep seized her in its depths once again, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

“Sleep well, Hermione,” Harry whispered, and bending forward, kissed her on the forehead.

“I'll call Madam Pomfrey to drop by again,” Mrs. Weasley suddenly piped up, and shuffled out of the room, appearing somewhat flustered by the proceedings.

“Good idea,” Tonks issued from the back of the room.

Unnoticed by anyone, Draco had left the bedroom at one point, and had only returned, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, and staring down, appalled, at the front page.

“You would think,” he voiced himself loudly over the crowd, in order to turn the attention onto himself, “that the Prophet has turned into nothing more than a gossip column!”

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” Ron questioned him suspiciously.

“See for yourself, Weasley,” the former snapped, and thrust the paper at Ron, who took it with disdain.

Emblazoned on the front page stood a remarkable headline: Minister Granger Missing!

The persistent assertions by the Minister's Office that the Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, is unavailable to the public for the time being, due to alleged unavoidable professional leave, are downright false. This reporter has uncovered evidence from a reliable source that our Minister is currently severely incapacitated, and on the brink of death. This bold claim is, again, backed up by a reliable source, which did not wish to reveal further details. However, the main issue of effective governance is raised, and the ability of our government to work in the interest of the people who have placed it in power, is currently severely diminished and limited. In addition to the absence of the Minister, complete disarray rules in the Auror and Magical Law Enforcement Departments, as the Heads have not been seen in considerable time as well -

“Who wrote this nonsense?” Ron erupted furiously, and threw the paper on the floor, before stomping on it with venom.

“Three guesses,” Draco offered grimly, “Rita Skeeter.”

“That fleabag,” the redhead muttered angrily. “Malfoy, come with me, Harry, you too. Ginny, Luna, you as well - we need to sort this out.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked him calmly, as they made their way out of Hermione's room.

“I don't mean to inflate my ego, but we are responsible for both government, as well as running the Order. I think it's too much for a single person to handle both jobs, so what we're going to do, is divide up the tasks,” Ron answered.

“Weasley, these might be the only words out of you I've heard that make sense,” Draco observed ironically.

“Shove it, Malfoy,” Ron dismissed him, and went on, “now, among us, we will establish deputies for each post - Head of the Auror Department, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, and Minister of Magic.”

“Don't you already have deputies?” Ginny asked him shockingly.

Ron seemed a bit uneasy. “Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “the truth is, we do, but right now, the circumstances demand that we have someone not only able, but also trustworthy, to take over the main duties of the job.”

“What's wrong with the current deputies?” his sister quizzed him further.

“Ginny, in the Ministry of Magic, deputies have their own political ambitions, and they will take every chance they can to stab their seniors in the back, and make it appear it was not their doing. In fact, I doubt Rtia Skeeter did not go to them for this so-called reliable source.”

“Fine then,” Harry interjected, “how do you plan to assign duties?”

“Well, it's among these three here,” Ron said, “Luna, Ginny and that scumbag, Malfoy.”

“I am still here, you know,” Draco observed dryly.

“Alright,” Harry continued, “I think Luna should substitute Hermione for the time being, Draco can be my deputy, and Ginny here, can take over for Ron.”

A murmur went among them, as each considered his, or her, new assignment.

“One question,” Draco said smoothly, “or actually, I have a new proposition.”

“And what might that be?” Ron challenged him.

“That Ginny and I switch roles,” Draco explained, “I become deputy of the Auror Department, and she take on Harry's duties.”

Harry looked at Ron, considering the idea, and he seemed to approve of it, “Sounds alright to me.”

His best friend had no objections either, “All we need now, is Hermione's signature to approve the changes, and the current deputies will be reassigned.”

“Excellent, then,” Ginny smiled. “And what about you, lot?”

“Us?”

“Yes; you, Harry and Hermione.”

“Oh, well,” Ron rejoined loudly, “we will be involved mainly with the Order. You know, trying to track down whoever is responsible for the murders, and bring them to justice. That, and protect you lot from more attacks.”

“Wouldn't that double what we would be doing?” Ginny objected further.

“You have to realize,” Harry interjected, “that the work is far more expansive that what just the Order is doing, and we need help in managing everything. Unfortunately, Ron, Hermione and I have to focus all our energies in catching Lestrange.”

“Lestrange?” Ron echoed him. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Oh, right,” Harry smacked his forehead, “I didn't show you. She's the one responsible for orchestrating everything. Take a look at this letter, Remus received it earlier today,” he explained, and taking the parchment from his pocket, handed it to Ron.

The redhead's eyes scanned over the contents quickly. “And how could you forget to tell me about this, Harry?” he asked, quietly.

“Over the hysteria about Hermione,” the other answered calmly. “Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“How can you trust an anonymous letter, though?” Ron was still skeptical. “It could all be a trap, for all you know.”

“I'm willing to take that risk - otherwise, I think our informants may have wanted to keep their leader's name a secret, wouldn't you think?”

“Scarhead has a point,” Draco entered into the exchange, after he had perused the letter once he had grabbed it from Ron, “I agree that we should show up to the meeting with backup, and see what this is about.”

“Besides, Remus already gave his consent, and we can always use Malfoy to scare off any intruders…” Harry rejoined.

“Don't talk that way about Draco,” Ginny admonished Harry, “But yes, shadowing the meeting is definitely a good idea.”

After general acceptance to meet Avery and Nott had been reached, the meeting was adjourned. Draco, Ginny and Luna were to take on their ministerial appointments the very next day, and see to that questions and curiosity as to the whereabouts of Harry, Ron and Hermione was kept at bay. The latter three, of course, would make regular appearances to ensure the public confidence and support, but would otherwise remain secretive of the case, undertaken by the Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror departments. In fact, later on that night, Ron persuaded Luna to issue an order to make the details of the case around Bellatrix Lestrange sealed off, to prevent interference and questions; she agreed almost immediately.

**

The awaited date arrived, and for the two days prior to it, Hermione's condition had considerably improved, but her recovery was still not complete. She was able to walk around on her own, and attend to different tasks by herself, but her strength was still not sufficient for her to take on the duties that she was under pressure to take on once more.

“You need rest, Hermione, there will be plenty of opportunity for you to involve yourself in the affairs of the Order later on,” Mrs. Weasley kept telling Hermione, due to the latter's insistent affirmations that she was quite well and able to hold her own.

The day of the meeting had been occupied with preliminary visits to Big Ben, to ensure the best places, in which a covert cover could be established, as well as find a good spot to be able to attack, should the need arise. At last, around ten o'clock in the evening, Lupin's escort had been named, and around twenty Order members would accompany him, among which were the five eldest Weasley sons, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Draco - Luna was to stay back, and help Mrs. Weasley look after Hermione, who was keen in repeatedly expressing her displeasure at not being allowed to be a part of the escort.

“I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, there's no need to keep me back,” she was saying, “look, I know this is going to sound ludicrous, but I'm able to hold a wand and duel, and what of Harry! I don't want him going out all alone!” That, and similar excuses did she employ to sway her matron's opinion, but without consequence. Mrs. Weasley was unshakably firm on keeping Hermione back.

It was a cloudless night, and most people had retired to their homes. Up above, the stars shone bleakly, weak and cold, as if reflecting the hopeless fight the Order was embroiled in…

Silence ruled over the tense surroundings, in the trepid anticipation that the mysterious initiators of this meeting would hold their word. The hands of the watch were already nearly atop one another at the indicated hour, but still, the night remained devoid of life, save for the nervous hidden souls, waiting on tenterhooks of some development to relieve them…

Finally, under the street lights, two cloaked figures approached slowly, evidently anxious themselves, as they stuck close to one another, and glanced around them repeatedly. Their faces were also obscured by hoods, to prevent unfriendly eyes from identifying who they really were. Concealed behind a wall nearby, Harry saw Lupin surreptitiously tighten the grip on his wand. At last, when the newcomers seemed to think they were not being threatened, the meeting between them and Harry's godfather commenced.

“Remus Lupin,” the one the Lupin's right croaked, “we meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Remus asked sharply.

“That does not matter right now,” the second one answered, “what is important, is the information we have for you tonight, as indicated in our letter to you.”

“Do you work for Lestrange?” Lupin retained his guard and caution with these strange individuals.

“As of recently, we no longer do, though we would prefer to maintain the illusion that we do,” the former replied deeply.

“And why should I trust you?” Remus continued being skeptic.

“Have you really a choice, Remus Lupin?” the shorter of the two asked rhetorically. “If you did, you would not have come here tonight.”

Lupin was forced to concede the point, and nearby, Harry was growing increasingly uneasy.

“We do not have much time,” the taller, apparently former, Death Eater took the word once more, “so we must be expedient.”

“Wait a moment,” Remus cut across him, “what guarantee is there that what you are telling me, is true and valid?”

“As we mentioned in the letter, Mr. Lupin,” his host replied with slight annoyance, “we have different interests, but they both go through the same road, by defeating Bellatrix Lestrange. It would be compelling, therefore, to cooperate with one another, wouldn't you agree?”

“And what is your interest, exactly?” Remus challenged him further.

“That is none of your concern,” the Death Eater snapped. “We only want to help you, while maintaining the impression that our loyalties have not deviated, when they indeed have. Now, our time grows short, so we must hurry!”

“Fine then,” Remus rejoined snappishly. “What is it that you have to tell me?”

“M.E.,” the mysterious contact said clearly, “Mortimer Evans, in other words. Master of the Order of Merlin, but killed prematurely on a train to London. Gregorovitch, Olliviander, and the other wandmakers that have met their demise, they were part of that order too - as far as we are informed, the leadership of the Order has passed through to Harry Potter, and he is currently the sole remaining member of it.”

“M.E.?” Remus repeated wonderingly. “Bloody hell - that note,” he muttered to himself, so as to not be heard by the two strangers. “What is the purpose of the Order?” he asked, deciding to test the trustworthiness of the informants.

“To protect a series of deadly spells, devised by the legendary wizard himself…and what Bellatrix Lestrange is after; this would render her unstoppable. This is the mission that you must undertake, to stop her from acquiring that magic, because the consequences are unimaginable…”

The response was strikingly accurate, as Remus reflected with surprise, but it shed even more light on the nature of their fight.

“Alas, we must go,” the shorter Death Eater said suddenly, “hopefully our paths cross again, Remus Lupin.”

Without waiting for an answer from the werewolf, the two cloaked figures disapparated without a sound, leaving a stunned Remus in their wake.

Aside from the added confusion, it seemed the mission had grown much more dangerous…

A/N: Chapter 19 is done, and 20 is on the way…I can finally see how this story might end. :D In the meanwhile, reviews are more than welcome!

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A/N: At last, things narrow down considerably, and we see the rather public replacement of Ginny, Luna and Draco to the positions they ought to hold…

Chapter XX: Treason!

Arranging Luna, Ginny and Draco into their respective positions at the Ministry was not a pleasant affair. The absence of Harry, Ron and Hermione had forced the levers of power in the hands of their current deputies, and on their own turn, they were assuming strong control over the policies and people in each department. Hermione was rapidly regaining her strength, and grudgingly, Madam Pomfrey had agreed that she accompany Harry and Ron, along with the other three, to the Ministry.

The fact that reporters from the Daily Prophet had appeared to cover the event, quickly disillusioned any hopes of a quiet replacement. Harry suspected with a strong rise of annoyance, that someone had surreptitiously passed on information regarding the change, to the three deputies. Once quiet and withdrawn, biding their time carefully, they had eventually agreed to form an alliance at the top of the Ministry, declare Harry, Ron and Hermione illegitimate, and wield their own influence over the lower echelons of Britain's Magical authority. That plan did not become apparent to the newcomers until the duel that followed later, and the deputies were promptly dispatched, along with their supporters.

The reception of the Golden Trio was a rather cool one, when they had only come in. Ordered to surrender their wands, they refused, and on their own turn demanded that the posts be returned to their rightful holders. Expectedly, that demand was met with resistance, and a verbal clash ensued, which threatened to involve wands sooner or later. Seemingly forgotten in the fray, and inconsiderate of their own safety, the Daily Prophet reporters were still madly scribbling when one of the followers of the ramshackle deputy triumvirate could no longer hold his patience, and fired a hex that sailed over the heads of Harry, Ron and Hermione, and nearly missed Luna , Draco and Ginny.

That was taken as the signal for unrestricted combat, and after a few seconds of awkward calamity, spells, curses and charms began to fly in every imaginable direction. Caught by surprise, and in the middle of the whole confrontation, some of the Prophet reporters dived for cover, while others with more grit threw down their parchments and quills, and entered the battle themselves.

Eventually, experience and class did say their word. Six fighters from the Voldemort campaigns proved too big a task to be handled by the three deputies and their crudely assembled following. Not fifteen minutes had passed, when most of the Aurors were unconscious on the ground, with their hapless leaders bound, and on their knees, with fury, shame and disbelief burning in their eyes. Harry, taking down his shield, but not lowering his wand, cautiously approached them. Those who were still in a shape to stand up and watch observed the proceedings in pregnant anticipation.

“What was the point of this?” Harry lowered his voice, asking his own deputy with malice.

The object of his hatred did not flinch in the slightest. “To show you and your goons the door,” he responded with equal venom.

Harry did not entangle himself further. “The only doors you will see are those of Azkaban, and yes, they are wide open - for you, and your friends here.”

“You are a headstrong one, Potter,” the now former deputy of the Auror Department leered, “Only a matter of time, before Lestrange has her way with you.”

“What do you know of Lestrange?” Ron shot up suddenly, bringing his wand to the unfortunate man's throat.

The mocking air of superiority on his face did not disappear, even at the prospect of being cursed, or worse, killed. “That's none of your business, fool.”

“Crucio,” Ron did not hesitate to mutter, and the excruciatingly painful spell shot from the tip of his wand. The deputy's face contorted with the pain, he clenched his teeth, but refused to utter a single sound. Once the curse ended, he continued to stare down Ron defiantly.

“Still won't speak, will you?” the redhead inquired rhetorically with anger. “Harry, arrange that these three cretins are taken to Azkaban as soon as possible.”

“Certainly,” Harry came up beside Ron, and looked down at the three of them with a mocking smile of his own. “The Dementors ought to do a better job of loosening their lips, wouldn't you say?”

“My thought exactly,” Ron replied after a moment's silence.

“Come on, then,” Harry waved his wand, and the aforementioned cretins were bound tighter and gagged, for their detention, until a trial with the charges could take place.

Hermione now stepped forward, observing the cowed multitude of Aurors that had chosen the side of the deputies, and they were responsible for assaulting the acting heads of the most important positions within the Ministry.

“What will you do with them, Hermione?” Ron asked in an undertone, as she observed the guilty with an icy glare.

“Just watch,” she muttered back, and turned her attention to the Aurors. “I will offer you amnesty for participating in an act of treason, with the only condition that those who wish to remain bind themselves magically to be loyal to the Ministry, and those that choose not to reassert their dedication to what is right and just, must face the penalties associated with committing treason.”

The only response to her words was a general murmur of assent, and the vigorous nods of the majority that they indeed accepted the peace terms.

“Those who desire to redeem themselves throw down your wands,” Hermione ordered clearly, the hardness in her gaze not lessening as she said those words.

A great clatter sounded, as many wands did indeed hit the wooden floor. Ron was quick to summon them, and they formed a neat pile at his feet.

“The binding oaths will be conducted by Ron Weasley as soon as possible, at a day and time, specified by him,” Hermione continued her speech. “As you very well know, the consequence of betraying this oath is immediate death, not by anyone's hand, but courtesy of the very nature of the magic involved. So, the choice remains entirely yours.”

An uneasy quiet followed her dire warning, interrupted only by the flash of the occasional camera, and the scratching of quills against parchment, as the Daily Prophet reporters were excited and fervent about recording the entire exchange as closely as possible - in a way, Draco was right that the Prophet was turning into a gossip column.

**

A few days of trepid anticipation passed, as Ron, Luna and Draco took on the jobs vacated by the treasonous deputies. They were to overlook affairs in the Ministry, as specifically mandated by Harry, Ron and Hermione, while the last three engaged themselves fully in the campaign against Bellatrix Lestrange. The overshadowing matter at hand, however, was the upcoming trials of the deputies, which had quickly become the dominant news, and people paid little attention to anything else.

The core trio was expected to participate, and on the arranged date, the Wizengamot had convened, in what was certainly destined to be one of the landmark cases in the judicial experience of the Ministry.

“This won't be over soon, will it?” Ron asked, fixing his tie, as the elevator creaked its way down in the basement of the Ministry.

“No, mate, I doubt it,” Harry answered grimly. “This whole affair will set us back considerably.”

“Believe me, I don't want to be here anymore than you do…if that's the type of pricks I'll be dealing with…” Draco put in with a tired tone.

“Be quiet, you,” Ginny told him. “This is our responsibility now.”

“Besides,” Luna said in the silence that followed Ginny's words. “Harry, Hermione and my love will be back soon.”

Draco sniggered. “Oh, yes, Ronnie, you'll be back, most certainly,” he mocked the redhead.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ron answered darkly, “Before I have to shut your trap for you.”

“Calm down, all of you,” Hermione declared in exasperation. “I know this is unpleasant, but we have to do it…”

Right at that point, the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open noisily.

“Alright, be quiet, and let's go,” Harry instructed the rest. “Make this as painless as possible.”

The party of six proceeded to the entrance of the largest courtroom the Wizangamot presided in. The heavy oak doors opened of their own accord, and as Harry walked in first, the eyes of the many present turned to observe the newcomers.

Confidently walking down the central aisle, Harry made his way over to the desk of the head of the Wizangamot, behind which an aged wizard sat.

“Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Weasley, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley,” he murmured, trailing his finger down a long list of names, and looking up after each one to ascertain who the six in front of him were, “If you'll be as nice as to join the others in the witness bench, please.”

Nodding their agreement, they filed into the nearby bench, and sat down expectantly.

“Today's trial,” another old wizard began in a wheezy voice, as the crowd quieted down and turned its attention onto the speaker, “is to prosecute Humphrey Boggart, former deputy to the Minister of Magic, Seamus Cardigan, former deputy of the Head of the Auror Department, and Argus Fletcher, former deputy to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. The charges filed against them - conspiracy and treason, which, if proven, threaten a life sentence in Azkaban.”

The accused were bound in the traditional chains on the podium of the cavernous chamber. Two of them were looking down, obviously resigned and withdrawn, but the third one, who sat between the other two, gazed on furiously, his eyes flicking between the Wizengamot officials, Harry, and the general audience of the proceedings.

“When is this clown going to realize he doesn't stand a chance?” Harry muttered to Ron, eyeing the defiant deputy with disdain.

“Hour, at most,” his best friend replied.

“Silence!” the judge echoed once more, and immediately, a deadly quiet took over the room.

Once the shock passed, a rather thinly built man, bespectacled with glasses that made his eyes appear unnaturally large, and with a quill hanging behind one ear, stood up, and faced the first accused, in the centre of the podium.

“Humphrey Boggart,” he began, “you bear the heaviest charge, being the one allegedly responsible for centrally planning and organizing your failed attempt in attempting to seize power by force. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Boggart remained as adamant as ever in defending his position.

“The proof against you, Mr. Boggart, is undeniable,” the bespectacled wizard rejoined with an air of confidence, “repeated tests on your wand revealed multiple uses of all three unforgivable curses. I take it you also have a satisfactory explanation to disprove those results?”

“Yes, I do,” the accused replied strongly. “By the very nature of my job, I am forced to be prepared for anything at all times. Most of all when these two idiots on either side of me dragged me into their scheme - the only way to stop them, was to join them, and see them bested by the real people in charge of the Ministry.”

Cardigan and Fletcher immediately snapped up, amazement written over their expressions.

“Now wait one bloody second - “ Cardigan began angrily, but his tirade was cut short by the slamming of the judge's hammer.

“You will not speak out of turn, sir,” the judge himself warned him icily.

“What is your evidence to support your statement, Mr. Boggart,” the prosecutor asked once peace had been restored.

“My wizard's oath,” the former smiled smugly. “Had I been treasonous, I would be lying dead on the floor.”

“I object,” this time Fletcher spoke up with equal vigor.

“Sir - “ the judge started, but this time he was cut short. “Shove it, you!” Fletcher snapped at him; the affronted judge was too morally offended to even oppose the man.

“Fine then, speak,” the prosecutor turned to him. “What do you have to say that is of such importance?”

“I'll be quick then,” Fletcher responded. “Every deputy to the Minister of Magic, the head Auror and the head of the Magical Law Enforcement, has to take a wizard's oath. It's binding, until the deputy's tenure in office ends. If Boggart's here oath was genuine, he would indeed be dead, but he is not. That can only point to the fact that it was forged!”

For the first time, beads of sweat seemed to break out on Humphrey Boggart's forehead. “Lies, damn lies,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You make a bold claim,” the prosecutor acknowledged slowly. “Have you a document to prove it?”

“The defence does, sir!” a young woman from the table, adjoined to the prosecutor's, spoke up suddenly. She arose, and walked to the front of the podium.

“Pray, tell,” the judge prompted her.

“I hold in my hand a parchment with Mr. Boggart's supposed wizard's oath. It was repeatedly checked for the magic and charms, necessary to produce such an oath, and we can all admit to the fact that the magic involved is immensely elaborate. Now, my revelation here is that there is not a trace of the slightest magic on this piece of parchment, deposited in safe-keeping with the oath of every other deputy in the Ministry!”

“What does that entail then?” the prosecutor's interest was peaked.

“Copied, duplicated, or created by entirely Muggle means, without the aide of magic,” the young woman declared fervently, “Which confirms my client's claim, and displays the wickedness of Mr. Boggart here even more starkly!”

“Do you concur to the aforementioned evidence, Mr. Boggart?” the prosecutor prompted the main involved party.

“I refuse to answer,” Humphrey looked on darkly, the expression on his face murderous.

“Mr. Cardigan, have you anything to add to the findings?” the judge turned to the third man placed on trial.

“Yes,” came the clear reply.

“Well, then, you have our attention,” the judge said again.

“Boggart did indeed forge his oath, as did I and Fletcher,” Cardigan began heavily, “and we did it very simply, by indeed creating the oaths through Muggle means. It was all on Boggart's initiative, of course.”

“What exactly are you saying against him?” the prosecutor asked suspiciously.

“Blackmail, that's what I am saying,” Cardigan responded spitefully. “Threatened to kill my family, if I did not join him…if you were faced with such a choice, sir, what would you do?”

“I would do what is right,” the prosecutor growled his answer, but did not elaborate. “You all became deputies following the assignment of Ron Weasley as Head Auror, Hermione Potter as Minister of Magic, and Harry Potter as the Magical Law Enforcement Head. Mr. Boggart, you were assigned the vice-head for the Auror Department on the recommendation of the previous Minister, not too long before he was replaced by Hermione Potter.”

“Your point, sir?” the judge pressed the prosecutor irritably.

“My point, your honour, is that I am under the suspicion that this man here, Humphrey Boggart, is linked to dangerous, underground political entities, together with the former Minister, in order to be able to secure such an important post for himself!”

“How do you support this accusation?”

“On the grounds that shortly before these three were detained, Mr. Boggart declared to Mr. Potter that, and I quote, `Lestrange will have her way with you', as found in the next day's edition of the Daily Prophet - I need not add this hideous event was covered directly and completely by numerous Prophet reporters, and they all affirm their consent to this particular detail of the whole matter!” the prosecutor declared loudly, and to his satisfaction, a murmur of dissent and amazement travelled through the crowd at the revelation.

“Order, please, order!” the judge managed to restore peace and quiet with a few forced bangs of his trusty hammer.

“Do you, Mr. Boggart, mean to say that you have links to Bellatrix Lestrange, considered to be still at large and dangerous, and currently wanted in exchange for a handsome reward?”

“I refuse to answer that question,” Boggart muttered quietly, continuing to stare down the prosecutor with unbridled hate written on his face. “I'd die before I tell you anything else.”

“Would you two care to supplement Mr. Boggart's answer?” the inquisitor turned to the other two detainees.

“I know nothing of it,” Cardigan said quickly. “You don't mean a new Dark Lord, do you?” he asked, wondering, despite his rather uncomfortable situation. Behind the podium, the audience shifted in their seats, growing rather nervous at the question.

“No evidence of such an individual right now,” the prosecutor answered curtly. “Mr. Fletcher, can you furnish us with a response to my earlier question?”

“No, I cannot,” he replied, “but based on my short tenure as a deputy of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, I can tell you that there are moles in the Ministry, though I do not know where, or who they are.”

“Mr. Fletcher, are you claiming that you too were blackmailed by Mr. Boggart here?” the prosecutor questioned him further.

“What does that have to do with Lestrange?” Fletcher inquired on his own turn.

“You, sir, are on the stand to answer my questions!” the prosecutor exploded. “Not to make inquiries of your own! It is your arse on the line for twenty years in Azkaban, so think carefully what you say!”

Fletcher jumped at the sudden outburst, but quickly regained his composure.

“Now, let's try this again,” the prosecutor began in a calmer tone. “Were you blackmailed?”

“Yes, yes I was,” the latter rejoined with resignation in his tone. “My wife paid the price for it.”

“Was she killed?” the prosecutor asked, his voice as indifferent as before.

“By Boggart himself,” Fletcher cast a dark glance at his fellow conspirator. “Not even two weeks ago.”

“Do check if his wife is indeed dead,” the prosecutor turned quietly to the assistant sitting next to his chair at the desk.

“Aye, what he says is true,” the clerk affirmed even more quietly. “He's not lying. She was found dead by an Auror team in the area, exactly twelve days ago.”

“Mr. Boggart, it seems you are the main one responsible for orchestrating this whole affair,” the prosecutor went on smoothly, but much more firmly than before. “Have your defence to say anything in your protection?”

The answer to that question was negative - the two witches, assigned to the protection of Boggart stood amazed and speechless at the findings, looking quite unable to even form coherent order of their own thoughts.

“Do tell, Mr. Boggart,” the prosecutor asked further, “how did you manage to gather such a following, as to force the three most important people at the Ministry fight for their lives?”

“I refuse to answer your question,” came the deadpan, obstinate reply.

“I'll tell you,” Cardigan replied gravely, and all eyes turned on him, “The Imperius curse…didn't you mention finding a trace of all the unforgivable curses being used on his wand?”

“I thought I issued a warning before,” the prosecutor answered icily, “you are not here to ask questions. You are here to face the consequences of your actions!” he finished furiously.

Being absent from the Ministry for a longer term than usual, Harry, Ron and Hermione could only watch in amazement, as the details slowly came into focus as to what had transpired when they had not been present to keep such initiatives at bay.

“The Imperius curse, then,” the prosecutor returned to his calmer tone, “indeed, Mr. Boggart, traces of numerous uses of the said Unforgivable were found on your wand. Including, the subversion of the two standing by your sides under the spell, in addition to the blackmail that can be added to your collection of charges!”

“I am innocent,” Boggart growled. “You have no proof against me.”

“When the facts speak, Mr. Boggart, even the Gods listen,” the prosecutor told him quietly. “You should do well to remember that.”

“Shove your damn facts,” the accused bit back with spite. “Lies, it's all damn lies.”

“The charge of treason already weighs down heavily on you, Mr. Boggart,” the prosecutor rejoined without humor. “The investigation against you for your alleged links to Bellatrix Lestrange are only about to begin. I do think any hope of freedom for you is an illusion at this point.”

“You know nothing,” Boggart leered at the prosecutor, “and you can prove nothing.”

“Your honour,” the prosecutor turned to the judge, “over the past several days, we have gathered and assembled evidence presented to you and the jury in its most complete and true form. For Humphrey Boggart, I would recommend a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, on charges of treason and links to Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most sought after former Death Eaters. The evidence in front of you is incontrovertible. As for Seamus Cardigan and Argus Fletcher, I recommend five years in Azkaban for each, and re-introduction into the employ of the Ministry, limited to non-consequential positions, with a full oath to accompany their re-assignment.”

While the prosecutor made his argument, the jury and the judge had not remained idle. Unanimously, the verdict for Boggart was that he was charged guilty, and the judge confirmed his sentence.

“As to Cardigan and Fletcher,” the judge reasoned, “I agree with your recommendation for their re-assignment, but I must disprove of the length of their jail sentence, and thus, I will shorten it to six months, on the charge of concealing information and failing to consult the right authority to dispel the matter before it grew to such alarming proportions.”

The jury quickly assented, and the verdict was dealt. Despite looking very grim and defeated, a bit of hope seemed to have entered Cardigan and Fletcher's eyes…as for Boggart, he retained his murderous expression, silently challenging anyone to oppose him, but to no avail - he was guilty, and without question.

Soon, the prisoners were led away by a burly team of Aurors, and those who came to see the trial started to rise up, murmur amongst themselves, and dissipate from the chamber in groups of two and three.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Ron observed, as he walked out of the court room, trailed by the other five.

“You three, you are going to have quite a job around here,” Harry turned to Draco, Luna and Ginny.

Face still disbelieving at what had happened on the trial, Draco only nodded silently. After all, what was the guarantee they wouldn't be faced with such a dangerous ordeal again, he thought distressfully to himself…

A/N: Note for chapter 21: Enimfo luost sirfeht Morfesir, Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir, Avada Kedavra. In the meanwhile, sit tight and please review! :D

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A/N: Enimfo luost sirfeht Morfesir, Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir, Avada Kedavra…either this or next chapter, and this one will include a pleasant turn of events…

Chapter XXI: The Meaning of Life

With help, mainly from Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Draco took the posts, vacated by the deputies. Opposition against the alleged monopoly of power was vocal from some ranks within the Ministry, and a few notable protests were called, but being the brilliant diplomat and orator that Hermione was, she handled the pressure with dignity and finesse.

“What would you say to the accusations that you are choosing your own personal friends to occupy the peaks of the Ministry?” was one question, asked repeatedly by the reporters at the conference Hermione was forced to call, in order to alleviate the public and ministerial apprehensions.

Harry sat next to her, but his role was purely ceremonial. All eyes were trained on his wife, and Ron was absent, as he was currently quite preoccupied with presenting the new recruits their duties and responsibilities.

“You ask a fair question,” Hermione answered slowly, “and I have an answer that I hope you will find suitable. See, this most recent occurrence of treason, that almost seemed to succeed, is one aspect that worries me immensely. The fact that Mr. Humphrey Boggart coerced and charmed many others into doing his bidding, leads me to think that there is a lack of accountability and transparency in this government. As a Minister of Magic, one of my duties is to see that all Magical people can view their government's work and demand change when something does not function correctly. As the last trial demonstrated, there was a lack of transparency, accountability and correct function within the Ministry of Magic, if men, such as Mr. Boggart, are left in peace to hatch plans that could result in chaos. My choice of appointing Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, is that there needs to be not only quality, but also trust, in order for a government to function.”

“About your choice of deputies for the three most important posts in the Ministry,” came another question, “why have you placed complete political novices in such responsible and demanding positions?”

“I must disagree with you,” Hermione replied, a bit affronted. “These three were directly involved in the last war against Voldemort, and they have more experience than many of the people who work in the Ministry. The reality of those years taught us much valuable experience and knowledge, and each of my appointees bears more experience, wisdom and knowledge than their years may show.”

“What makes you think that the war with You-Know-Who prepared them for such jobs?” another bold reporter asked, unashamed.

Hermione looked down for a second, before answering, “I don't expect you to understand, sir, but that war cost many their lives, their families and for some, their sanity. Those strong enough to fight and survive learned lessons that nobody should have to experience - about loss, cruelty, unfairness, death…the point here is that the people I am appointing are not concerned about their own well-being while they are in power. They are genuinely concerned about the welfare of society as a whole, and they would be willing to give their lives, when it comes to fighting for what is right and just.”

“And yourself, Minister Potter,” the same reporter inquired after, but much more politely. “There are rumours that you will not be directly engaged in the management of Ministry affairs, and hand that responsibility to your deputies. Is this true?”

Incidentally, Hermione knew her involvement within the Order of the Phoenix was to remain as secret as possible, so she chose a slightly different response. “The current case the Auror Department is working on, that is the murders of Olliviander and Gregorovitch, which were coveted wandmakers, require the immediate involvement of me and my husband, Harry Potter, to help solve it as soon as possible.”

“In that case,” yet another reporter, bearing a jacket with the insignia of the Quibbler, asked, “what would the roles of the new deputies be?”

“Until further notice, they are to take on most of the day-to-day and policy responsibilities in the government. Unfortunately, the case is particularly involved and dangerous, and I have been forced by the circumstances to choose a suitable substitute for the present.”

“Are you saying you are literally handing power over to someone else, while you remain no more than a figurehead, and that person yields the strength of making decisions you ought to be present for?”

“Certainly not,” Hermione rejoined easily, “my appointee is someone I can trust, and more importantly, someone who will be able to take on the duties of a Minister of Magic.”

“Once again, what would be the guarantee that no more revolts and conspiracies to seize power, will take place?” a reporter, who had spoken earlier, inquired urgently. At this point, the sound of scratching quills suddenly died, and all eyes turned attentively to Hermione.

She took a deep breath. “In conjunction with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, I have arranged for regular reports to be submitted to us on problems and progress within the Ministry, and we will act in a supervisory role, coming to assist in any issues that cannot be otherwise successfully resolved.”

“Will you inform the public on a regular basis about the nature of your work on the murder case?”

“My work there involves information and actions that must remain secret. At the end of it, however, we do plan on releasing a report for public viewing on the nature and resolution of the case. As well, the trials, when the time comes to persecute the criminals, will not be made public. Only the results will be acknowledged to all.”

Hermione made a subtle sign to the Aurors, standing at the corners of the table that the conference had ended. Despite the uproar of questions that followed, Hermione stood up, unfazed, and parted with the crowd of reporters, before walking out with Harry at her side.

“Interesting interview,” Harry observed, as they made their way towards the elevators. “Do you think Luna'll be able to handle your job?”

“Oh yes,” Hermione answered quickly. “I have faith in her. The more important aspect of the whole affair is that it's someone we can trust…Harry, you know it won't be possible to tackle Lestrange without resources from the Ministry.”

“I realize that,” he looked down, “and I still think that we must take care of it sooner than later.”

“Well, with the magic she has at her disposal, and the two spells we have to keep away from her…hopefully they are the only record of that type of magic.”

“It's that very purpose the Order of Merlin was created for. I think we need to find out more about this Mortimer Evans fellow, before we proceed any further.”

“Agreed,” Hermione said. “Do you remember which of the two books it was in? The one we found at Godric's Hollow, or that horrible one that kept me out of order for a while?”

“I think both of them have the information we're looking for,” Harry answered thoughtfully. “We can check tonight.”

“Remind me later, will you?” Hermione asked of him. “Right now we have to go help Ron teach the others about putting down armed revolts at the Ministry…”

“Yeah, yeah, good idea,” Harry rejoined, “not sure if he can handle everything on his own…”

With that, Harry and Hermione hurried to Ron's office in the Auror department where he was indeed spending time taking Draco, Luna and Ginny through the finer points of being a government figurehead.

“Heya, mate,” Harry greeted loudly, as he and Hermione stepped through the threshold of the Head Auror's office.

“Harry, Hermione,” Ron turned to them, “How are you?”

“Just finished with the conference,” Harry said. “How goes the coaching down here?”

“Alright,” Ron affirmed, “but there is only so much I can do. You'll need to give each of your new recruits a personal tour,” he glanced at Draco, Luna and Ginny.

“Well, Ginny, you're with me,” Harry told the fiery redhead, “and since women call the shots everywhere, Luna is with Hermione…”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked Harry, affronted.

“Love, do I ever make a decision without you?” Harry returned innocently. “You know I never would.”

That response seemed to satisfy Hermione, and she motioned to Luna to follow her. Ron's significant other nodded at the others, and drifted off after Hermione on her way to the Minister's offices.

“Come on, you git,” Ron snapped at Draco. “I haven't all day to waste on you…”

“Don't tie your knickers in a twist, Weasley,” the other smirked. “I know I'll end up teaching you how to do the job properly…”

“Muffliato,” Ron muttered, pointing his wand surreptitiously at Draco. The latter, caught by surprise, did not notice the invisible stream of magic strike him, and a full minute passed before he realized that the smug grin on Ron's face meant that he had effectively shut him up…

“Much better,” Ron went on, the grin on his face only becoming smugger by the second. “Now I can finally talk without the smartarse comebacks from you…”

Draco only scowled furiously, because he knew the counter-charm needed to be spoken in order to lift the spell, and thus, he was powerless to do anything.

Fortunately for him, Harry was the one who sighed deeply at Ron's immature reaction, and raised his wand to free up the suffering captive.

“Ron,” he said, “I know you and Malfoy will never truly respect one another, but at least, try to be civil…”

“With this bird-brain for a partner?” Draco drawled, “I highly doubt it.”

“This bird-brain happens to be my best friend,” Harry snapped. “Malfoy, your head is so far up your arse, you don't see much else than your ego, do you?”

“Draco,” Ginny told him darkly. “Behave, or I will have to discipline you about respect later on.”

Something in Ginny's fierce gaze finally had the desired effect on Draco, and his smug expression evaporated at once. “Alright, I'm sorry,” he mumbled, humbled by his rather forceful girlfriend.

“Now come on, you bloody git,” Ron muttered, and without waiting, departed from the office. Malfoy, uncertain for a second, glanced at Ginny, then at Harry, and ran out after his quarry.

By now, Harry and Ginny remained alone. “Do you think those two will ever learn?” he asked her.

“Don't count on it,” Ginny returned, exasperated. “Now, if I am to replace you, what is it I'm doing exactly?”

“Alright, follow me,” Harry answered, and finally, he and Ginny left the gloomy office.

“Is Hermione feeling better now?” Ginny inquired.

“Much, yes,” Harry replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, so soon after her recovery she had to confront that rogue deputy…Boggart, I think his name was…and now the power switch…could be taking a toll on her, wouldn't you think?”

“I know, Ginny, I know,” Harry answered. “I have thought about it, but my major concern is that she doesn't go near that book again.”

“Then how are we supposed to read it?” she asked, uncomprehending. “The next person that puts their eyes to it could very well die.”

“I do have an idea that might work, and save the Order from unnecessary casualties,” Harry explained after a minute's thought, more to himself than his companion “It will be dangerous, but it might prove that we have unexpected allies in this whole investigation…”

“What are you on about?” Ginny pressed him, growing more frustrated.

“You remember the Death Eaters that met with Remus some night ago, right?” Harry asked her.

“Yes.”

“Well,” he continued, “if we can secure their presence in a safe place, we may be able to administer the book as a test of their loyalty…of course, we will nurse them back to health, but simultaneously, we're going to learn more about Mortimer Evans, and who he is exactly.”

“You mean the fellow that sent you that note?” she was intrigued. “M.E.?”

“That's him,” Harry nodded, “the Death Eaters did mention him briefly, but we have to learn more about him in general, so that's just one way to do it without exposing ourselves to the risk of doing so.”

Ginny smiled at him. “I think that's a brilliant idea.”

Her approve concluded the formulation of this freshly hatched until a further time, as for now, Harry was charged with the responsibility of taking Ginny through the intricacies of the being the head of the Magical Law Enforcement department.

“Now,” he was saying, as they exited his office, midway through the tour, “down this corridor are the offices of all the wizards who head the various subcommittees of the department, from potion mismanagement, to theft investigations, ranging from petty to daring, and then the evidence committee, which collects clues from a crime scene. It would take too long to cover them all, but it's best learned with experience, you see.”

“And I have to control all these committees, if there are so many of them?” Ginny asked faintly.

“No worries about that, Gin,” Harry reassured her, “They are mostly self-sufficient. Your job deals mostly with the reports they submit to you once a week, and you have to sign off on it, just to ensure everything is in order. If there are any problems out of their hands, and you can't tackle it on your own, Draco'll help you out. My department always works with the Auror Department, and the partnership is very productive…”

“And what about Lestrange?” she inquired further. “Am I working on that case too?”

“Yes, you are,” Harry affirmed. “There is a subcommittee on them too, and they are under your supervision. But that's only one of the many cases you'll have to review. However, the Bellatrix case does bear particular importance, because of the danger it poses…you and Draco will coordinate both departments in the investigation, while Luna will make the official decisions on matters that are pivotal to the whole affair…”

“Such as?” Ginny asked him.

“Well, for example,” Harry paused, considering his words, “it will be her role to ask you two what is going on, not just for the case, but also everything else, and keep track of progress. If she has any ideas, it's your job to put them into effect, and she will be the one watching that that's followed.”

“Oh, I see,” Ginny smiled, “so, all in all, no pressure.”

“None at all,” Harry smirked on his own turn, “we all support each other in this.”

“True that,” Ginny said, “anymore stops on this tour?”

Harry looked up at the ceiling, running through a list in his mind. “No,” he replied after a minute. “That should cover it.”

“Good then,” Ginny rejoined. “Let's go and wait for the others in Ron's office.”

**

The rest of the troupe had returned soon after, and almost immediately following their arrival, everyone came back safely to Grimmauld Place.

“So, where do we go from here?” Ginny asked the room at large, taking off her coat and placing in on its hook.

“Asking Remus to contact those two Death Eaters again,” Harry answered promptly, giving her a meaningful glance; a look of realization overcame Ginny's expression, and she remembered their earlier conversation.

“You heard `em mate,” Ron pointed out, “if the need arises, they'll call us, not we them.”

“They said nothing of the sort, Ron,” Harry objected. “They just left without telling us what we need to do to reach them.”

“That's not true - “Ron countered him, but he was cut short by Remus, who walked in at that precise moment.

“Boys,” the werewolf interrupted conveniently, “I've received another letter from our mysterious assailants. They want another meeting.”

“Say what?” Harry asked urgently, “Let me see!” And he grabbed the letter from Remus' hands.

“What does it say?” Hermione asked quietly from behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Tower Bridge, midnight, tomorrow,” the bespectacled wizard replied urgently, “and they don't say why they want us to be there.” He looked questioningly at Remus.

“I know as much as you do, Harry,” Lupin shrugged, “Could be anything, if you ask me.”

Sighing in frustration, Harry handed the letter off the Ron, who had been gesturing to read it, and sat down heavily on the couch. “Why does this have to be so damn hard?” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes. His remark went unnoticed by all, except Hermione.

“What's wrong, Harry?” she asked him gently, sitting down beside him, and taking his hand in hers.

“Everything, Hermione,” he told her snappishly, “I know I have to deal with all of this, but my patience is starting to wear thin…”

“You do remember that patience is a virtue, Harry,” Hermione reminded him softly. “Rushing could be deadly, you know. We're already in incredible danger, and I don't think making rash decisions can be our best policy right now…”

“I know, Hermione, I know,” he answered, more calmly, still looking at his feet. The muffled voices of the others flew from the kitchen, as they talked of something amongst themselves, but Harry paid no heed to their words.

“You look tired, Harry,” she observed in the silence that had settled over them.

“Hermione, I've…I've had something on my mind for a while now,” Harry began, suddenly growing visibly nervous.

“What?” Hermione gazed up at him.

Harry was glad for the privacy that the surroundings afforded. “Well…” the words died on his lips.

“You can tell me, Harry,” Hermione urged him on softly.

The image of James and Madelyn arose in Harry's mind's eye, as the question he had been meaning to voice, became clearer than ever before in that very instant. “I wanted to ask you, because you'll be the main reason, should this happen…”

“Harry,” Hermione was perplexed, “what are you talking about?”

“How would you feel if we started a family?” It came out far easier than he expected.

Hermione's mouth formed a silent “oh”, as she comprehended Harry's question.

“Look, I'm sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I knew this was a bad time - “

“Shush,” she placed a finger over his lips, then leaned up, and kissed him, before parting again. Harry couldn't manage to utter a single word, as he watched the firelight dance across her face. “I would love to,” she simply said.

A/N: And there you have it, chapter 21…what might happen next is anyone's guess, but ch.22 is also in the works…in the meanwhile, review and enjoy!

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A/N: So, here we are at chapter 22…Harry and Hermione are planning a family, and in the meanwhile, the investigations of our heroes continue…

Chapter XXII: Dangerous Threads

Harry nervously paced around the living room, glancing every few seconds at the clock on the opposite wall. On the couch behind him, Ron sat, his eyes following Harry as the latter moved back and forth.

“Will you quit it, Harry?” the redhead said tensely, “You're not the only one anxious here.”

“I agree,” Remus backed up the request, “There is still time, Harry.”

“Fifteen minutes to midnight,” the object of their ire snapped back, “and we're not even ready. Where are Hermione, Luna, and everyone else?”

“This time it won't be as big,” Ron put in patiently, “it will be just you, me, Remus and Malfoy going.”

“When did you decide that?” Harry was appalled; his nerves were already showing more prominently.

“You were there, mate,” his best friend replied with an impatient sigh, “This morning, to jog your memory.”

Harry was about to say something else, but stopped mid-word. “Right,” he mumbled, and turning around, finally sat himself in the comfortable chair opposite.

“What's irking Scarhead?” Draco came in with his usual arrogant air. “Not nervous, is he? It's just two harmless Death Eaters…”

Harry only glared daggers at his one-time adversary, and chose not to reply. Incidentally, the others also ignored Draco's jab. “So much for lightening the mood,” Malfoy muttered under his breath, right before Remus took the word.

“It's time,” the werewolf declared. “Now do as we talked. I meet with them, you Disillusion yourselves just as we did last time, and be poised to strike. Ron, Harry, you'll watch the Death Eaters, if they make any attempt to harm me. I have the book, and Draco, you are going to be looking out for the surroundings, to make sure we have no unwanted company. Is everything clear?”

Three near-simultaneous affirmations came his way, and the party left without much further deliberation towards their final destination of the Tower Bridge.

Mere seconds later, four slight pops in the quiet night signaled their arrival. Remus nodded, and they stealthily split up to attend to their assigned duties, while the Marauder remained on the street, watching apprehensively for any indication of movement opposite him.

As the letter had promised, the same two mysterious figures, clad in their black robes, swam out from the dark. Slowly, they approached Lupin and stopped in front of him.

“You have honoured our request a second time, Remus Lupin,” the shorter one greeted quietly. “We're indeed pleased.”

“What do you want this time?” Remus was calm, but quite firm.

“Last time we met, our time was cut short by circumstances, and now we do not have much time at our disposal either,” the taller of the two rejoined.

“Alright,” Lupin agreed, “what did you want to tell me?”

“Two pieces of information - one, who we are, and two, more about Mortimer Evans.”

“I see,” he answered, “which is a perfect chance for me to be certain of your loyalty to the Order.”

If it were possible, Remus thought he saw both men in front of him become a touch more apprehensive.

“What did you have in mind?” the taller one asked cautiously.

Slowly, Remus took out the deadly book of the Order of Merlin from beneath his robes. He held it in both hands, showing the cover to the two men in front of him.

“This is it,” the shorter one breathed excitedly. “The book we were sent to recover!”

“Shut it, you dolt,” the other snapped quietly, but not enough to evade Lupin's attention.

“What is he talking about?” he asked edgily, pulling the book closer to himself.

The taller Death Eater slumped ever so slightly, and an audible sigh escaped from him. “That night,” he explained, “when you ran across three of our…acquaintances by trade in the Weasley home, and which you took hostage, they were supposed to find the book and leave as quick as they can. I and this idiot here were assigned to watch the perimeter, and that's why Potter and his cronies couldn't catch us.”

“Then why did you not attack?” Lupin was still wary and suspicious.

“Put yourself in our position for a minute,” the Death Eater's patience was beginning to wear, “three experienced fighters were taken down in a matter of minutes, against the same number of opponents. Us two - first, we did not have the numerical advantage, and then, the place was crawling with Aurors very soon after. It'd have made more sense to withdraw quietly than fight a pointless battle.”

Lupin was forced to concede the point. “Fine then, let's move on. You said you would tell me who you are.”

“And we will hold that promise, but first signal your troupe in the shadows not to assault us.”

“I am here quite alone,” Remus replied tensely.

“Right, and I'm You-Know-Who himself,” the same Death Eater snapped. “Signal them, or bring them down here!”

Lupin was keenly aware of the compromise he would have to make - security for information. “Alright then!” So, he looked in Harry's direction, and waved at him to come. The dark prevented him from seeing Harry in the flesh, but the latter could make out Lupin's jest very well.

On his turn, Harry understood Remus' ploy; he would call him, but not reveal the other two, who remained hidden. Looking around carefully to ensure he was quite alone, Harry took the short distance to the deck of the bridge at a run. He arrived next to Remus, breathing deeply, and bent down to regain his composure, before looking up again after several seconds.

“Harry Potter, I see,” the shorter Auror drawled, “quite the escort you have, Remus.”

Harry remained unaffected by the ever so slightly mocking air of the Death Eater. He had clutched his wand tightly, ready to use it at a moment's notice.

“Well, you have your request fulfilled,” Remus went on, “now for your end of the bargain.”

“Good,” the taller Death Eater replied quietly, and raised his hands to his mask. First he snapped his hood back, and gingerly unclasped the mask from the back of his head. “Whatever you do, don't kill us,” he warned seriously, still holding his face obscured behind the pallid demeanor of the mask.

“A promise is a promise,” Lupin agreed, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to restrain him.

In one quick motion, the mask came down, and clattered to the asphalt, echoing eerily through the night air. “Avery!” Remus exclaimed, his words failing him, “You!”

The object of his surprise was not intimidated by the least. “Surprise,” his forced smile could not have been more condescending.

Beside him, the smaller Death Eater was repeating his friend's actions. His mask also came to the ground with the same haunting hit, and Remus' eyes immediately snapped over to him.

“Nott!” he put head in his hands, and nodded disbelievingly. “This is not happening…”

Harry was no less surprised by the revelation. “You know I could arrest you right now, and receive a handsome reward for turning you two bastards in…”

“Well, yes, you could do that,” Avery told him smoothly, “but it would serve neither yours, nor our interests.”

Of course, Harry knew he was right. As detestable as the two men in front of him were, they were the only available link spying on Bellatrix Lestrange, and in return, he figured they wanted forgiveness, or probably freedom, but one aspect was painfully clear - without them, the investigation would grind to a standstill, regardless of the fact that several departments and the best Aurors were on the case. He would indeed receive the galleons for arresting the two, but that would do nothing to help him in the grander cause.

“I know,” Harry replied curtly.

By now, Remus had regained his self-control and reason. “You are among the most wanted Death Eaters, and the rewards on your heads are immense.”

“So I've read,” Nott replied easily.

Needless to say, the reality of talking calmly, face to face, with two of the most sought after fugitives, gave Harry, who was the one with the authority to bring them in, a very odd and surreal feeling.

“Why are you deserting Lestrange?” he asked in frustration. “I thought you were all for the destruction of everything that's good and decent…”

“Turns out, we have a conscience too,” Avery answered him. “But let's be direct here, Potter. Lestrange has already killed some of her best lieutenants in the field. She's gone senile, crazy and overwrought with confusion. Her mind is a mess, she has no logical sense of direction or purpose…her desires are becoming odd and disturbing…and it's only a matter of time before she kills us too.”

“What would you care about that? Voldemort was the ultimate in insanity and killing sprees,” Harry snapped.

“Emotion clouds your judgment quickly, Harry Potter,” Avery observed coolly. “Do think, however - without us, you can only watch helplessly as more people are killed. For them, I have no care, but you do, and I will say it again: to achieve our ends requires us to work with one another, regardless of past, ah…history.”

All could Harry do was glare at the hateful Death Eater. “Fine,” he uttered through clenched teeth.

“Now, what about that book?” Nott took the word immediately following Harry's quiet response.

“I have a feeling that whatever it is you know in the way of Mortimer Evans can be found inside said book,” Remus explained, “and as a test for your loyalty, you're both going to read from it in turn until you lose consciousness.”

The tables had conveniently turned - now, Avery and Nott were forced to compromise their safety in order to prove their worth.

“Fair enough,” Avery assented in the same cool tone. “I'll have the first turn.”

Without a word, Remus quickly consulted the table of contents, and flipped to the page where the desired information could be found, before handing Avery the precious tome. He swayed slightly on his feet, as the dangerous influence of the Order's protective magic began to overwhelm him.

“Read,” Remus commanded, as he regained his senses.

Avery inhaled deeply, and lowered his eyes to the page.

“Mortimer Evans - last master of the Order of Merlin, before one Harry Potter was designated as the new Master.”

Unable to hold his curiosity, Avery looked up at Harry. “You?” he mouthed disbelievingly.

“Apparently,” Harry answered shortly. “Now, read!”

Avery bent his head down once more, and proceeded with his assigned task.

“Mortimer Evans is among the most remarkable heads of the Order in its history. Capable of many unique abilities in his active life, among which were parsel-tongue and the skill to acquire any Animagus form at will. His mind-reading and blocking skills were impressive, arguably giving him the opportunity to anticipate the future to a limited degree. He rose to leadership in the Order by his excellent initiative and success in being able to find and disable attempts to access the dangerous secret that the Order of Merlin has as its destiny to protect.”

He took another deep breath, and shook his head to clear it.

“The involvement of Mortimer Evans with the Order began shortly after his graduation from Hogwarts in 1924. During his education, he was clandestinely observed by contemporary senior Order members, and as the years passed, the decision to attract him to the ranks of the organization solidified into certainty. It was - it…was…”

Avery swayed dangerously, and his eyes suddenly became glazed and unfocused. He closed them, tried to rub his face clumsily, but did not succeed. Keeling over forward, he began to fall, but anticipating what would happen, Remus rushed forward, and caught him in time. Then, he laid him down gingerly on the pavement, and turned to Nott.

“Your turn,” came the icy request.

Visibly unnerved, the remaining Death Eater took the book from Lupin's hands, and gulping audibly, he cast his gaze down too.

“It was his responsibility to be a master of the Order of Merlin for the next near eight decades. Dark wizards, from the ranks of Grindewald and Voldemort, knew of the existence of such advanced magic, but neither was ever able to understand, nor find it. The efforts of one Bellatrix Lestrange, the closest aide to Voldemort, to take hold of the spells the Order is protecting, very nearly succeeded. By unknown means, she was able to find and produce a list of the surviving members of the Order. Those who belong to it, are sworn to secrecy to death and beyond. Regardless, Bellatrix Lestrange found herself capable of securing the support of Voldemort's backing, and without voicing her purpose, systematically killed off Order members one by one. As it is known, a wizard's abilities diminish with age, and by this time, Mortimer Evans was not the formidable wizard he once was. During a train ride in the direction of Manchester, he was assaulted and killed by two of Bellatrix Lestrange's Death Eaters - “

At this point, Nott suddenly stopped, as if suddenly seized by a mysterious force. The book dropped from his hands, and fell to the ground in a heap. The unfortunate Death Eater opened his eyes wide, staring wildly around him, flailing his hands helplessly, but unable to utter a sound. His face began to turn blue, and the blood rushed to his eyes. He looked crazed, desperate, and it was then that Harry took it upon himself to try and save the struggling man…

“Finite Incatatem,” he said loudly, pointing his wand at Nott. The bright light impacted his trashing body, and it seemed to have a partial effect.

“Stupefy!” Remus shouted on his own turn, and once the red beam hit Nott, he fell, unconscious, next to Avery. With a small jolt of relief, Harry noticed his chest was rising and falling again.

“What happened to him?” Lupin asked as he bent down to recover the fallen book.

“I don't know,” Harry muttered, mulling over Nott's near demise in his mind. “Check if it says anything in the book about it.”

Remus has already glanced down without thought. “The murderers will have the misfortune,” he read aloud, “to be killed by the curse upon these pages, once they lay eyes on them…” Remus snapped the book shut, to prevent any more harm from the risks that the exposure to the tome created...

“My goodness,” Harry uttered quietly, “they really have thought of everything, and now I'm somehow supposed to continue the tradition of this Order…”

“You've already continued it already,” Lupin replied quietly after a minute's pondering, “The Order of the Phoenix, Harry, is the fight for the Light. We are doing all we can to stop Bellatrix, and that includes preventing her from acquiring those spells.”

“You're right,” Harry was distant for a moment, but quickly regained his alertness. “Now, what about these two? Somehow we have to bring them back, and convince Lestrange that nothing is out of the ordinary…”

“Memory charms, Harry,” Lupin said reasonably. “We'll substitute their memories, and when the time comes, restore these real ones.”

“Is Lestrange a capable Legilimens?” Harry inquired curiously.

“Among the best,” Remus nodded sadly, “I experienced it first hand some years ago. However, Legilimens can be fooled when memories are removed, and fictional ones that seem real, are entered in their place.”

“So you're suggesting we implant false memories?” Harry wanted to be certain.

“In essence, yes,” Remus assured him, “and we have to do it soon.”

“How much time do you reckon we have?”

“Hour at most,” the other replied apprehensively. “Summon the others down here, because you know it requires several wizards to produce a believable invented memory…”

Without hesitating, Harry pointed his wand in the air, and fired off the signal that had been agreed to in the preliminary preparations before tonight's affair. Nearly immediately, two identical flashes flared up from the dark abyss of the night, and it wasn't long, before running footsteps could be heard.

“What's going on?” came Ron's hurried question, as he came to a halt, panting for breath. Draco was right behind him, and he also joined the party shortly.

“Did I miss anything?” he queried just as quickly.

“Well, yes,” Harry answered quietly, “but we can talk about that later. Right now, we need to modify the memories of these two, for their own safety, and make them wake up as soon as possible.”

“Why is the short one blue in the face?” Ron asked with a hint of disgust in his voice. “You didn't strangle him, did you?”

“No, no, of course not,” his best friend rejoined uneasily. “Book had a curse on it…it kills the murderers of the master of the Order of Merlin?”

“What?” Draco echoed the question that had formed on Ron's lips.

“Well…long story short, these two are the ones who killed Mortimer Evans,” Harry explained, “and we had to stun him to stop the curse.”

“So that's what almost killed him?” Ron was still skeptical.

“Better believe it,” Harry told him, “but right now, it's the memories we need to worry about!”

“Fine,” Draco snapped - he was on edge for a mysterious reason. “Just make it quick. I have a bad feeling about this…”

Disregarding the last comment, Harry launched straight into the cover-up story he had planned in the span of the previous five minutes.

“Alright,” he said, “I think we should tell them that they were assaulted by attackers, who knocked them out in Knockturn Alley, where they were, because of a lead regarding our plans.”

“Not a bad idea,” Remus approved, “but what do we specify the lead to be?”

“I know,” Draco put in irritably, “potion ingredients. Ground dragon scales. They are dangerous and rare, and available just about only at Knockturn Alley.”

“Good, let's hurry,” Ron urged the others, “I'm not feeling too good about this either…”

United by the cause, they formed a circle around the collapsed Death Eaters, four wands went up in the air together, and a simultaneous mutter of “Obliviate” started the plan. For a full two minutes, the four of them stood with their eyes closed, visualizing and creating accurate images of the false memories. Streaks of bright colour travelled along the brilliant white beams of the memory charm, and immersed themselves within the glowing sphere at the centre.

“Done!” Harry opened his eyes suddenly, precisely as the other three did so as well.

“Come on, a little bit more,” Remus muttered; sweat was already breaking on his face.

“Soon,” Ron replied curtly, his teeth clenched.

The result they were looking for did indeed occur shortly after. Two separate beams emanated from the sphere, awash in colours of all variety, and casting the performers of the spell in strange and beautiful hues. Each penetrated the head of a fallen Death Eater, and then intensified in colour.

“Hold on!” Lupin struggled to speak. “Almost there!”

The strain and exhaustion of the magical effort was beginning to show on everyone. Harry had closed his eyes again, willing himself not to collapse. Draco clenched his wand in both hands to prevent it from slipping out of his unsteady grasp. Ron bit down on his lip in concentration, quite possibly unaware that a small streak of blood had appeared, and Remus was trembling all over, as the intensity was too much for his years to bear…

As suddenly as it had started, the sphere disappeared with a loud bang, to be immediately followed by the former pressing silence. Tired, each wizard involved had collapsed on his knees, attempting to regain some semblance of a breath.

“Well, that was something,” Ron rasped out, starting to rise shakily.

“Tell me about it,” Draco used the fence of the bridge as a support to pull himself up.

Harry and Remus had managed to clamber to their own feet, but were still rather unsettled.

“Come on, let's bring these two back to Grimmauld,” Harry offered, and looking at Remus, he moved towards Nott.

“We'll take the uglier one,” Ron smiled slightly, and he and Draco hastened to attend to their quarry.

With the last semblance of strength, they managed to apparate back to the safety of Grimmauld Place.

Out of the shadows, another mysterious figure walked slowly in the dim light thrown by one of the street lights, and without the slightest motion or sound, it also apparated to its own unknown destination.

A/N: With the new job, writing is becoming a more tricky thing…hope you enjoyed this, and the next chapter is coming up…

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A/N: Apologies for the late update…challenges and life, among other things, got in the way…but this story is still alive, so let's proceed…

Chapter XXIII: A Tango With Death

Avery slowly opened his eyes, and cast around a bleary gaze. He felt the rough ground beneath him, and beside him, it was presumably Nott, still lying unconscious and awkward. His neck painfully turned, as his head looked towards the dim streak of light coming through the bars in the door.

Bars? Then he grasped the situation - they were in a prison cell. Suddenly becoming much more alert and aware, a frightful thought went through his mind: someone had seen him and Nott in Knockturn Alley. At least, that's what he could find himself remembering, going there with his companion to look for dragon scales for some potion that was being mixed…

A dull headache was beginning to form in the base of his skull. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his face with both hands. Another unpleasant thought crossed his mind, as he imagined Bellatrix's reaction, when she came around to see them. No doubt, she already knew, he smiled bitterly.

“Nott,” Avery whispered quietly, nudging the other man's body.

No response. “Nott!” he tried a little louder. This time, the person in question issued an indistinct grunt. “Wake up!”

Nott yawned widely. “Wuzzgoinon?” he inquired sleepily.

“We're trapped,” Avery whispered urgently. “Look at me, you idiot!”

His counterpart sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and focused in the dim light towards Avery. “What do you mean we're trapped?”

“Look around,” came the snappish reply.

That he did, and finally the comprehension dawned on his face. “How did we end up here?”

“Search me,” Avery rejoined.

Nott stood silent for a few moments. “What do you remember?” he asked.

Avery cast his eyes to the floor, attempting to recall his most recent memories. “Not very much,” he answered quietly, “Knockturn Alley comes to mind, along with some potion ingredient we were looking for…and then we were attacked by someone…”

“Is that all you have?” Nott pressed him. “Nothing else?”

“No,” Avery shook his head. “And you? Do you remember anything?”

“Strangely, the same as you - I can't think of anyone asking us to look for a potion ingredient in Knockturn Alley.”

“Then what were we doing there, trying to buy one. What for?” Avery's voice revealed the edgy feeling that had taken a hold of him.

“I don't know,” Nott snapped on his own turn, and glanced at the door. There was no guard on the outside, but still, the light came in from somewhere.

“Could it be the Ministry that caught us?” Avery ventured a guess.

Nott looked contemplative. “Possibly, but I think we would remember being brought here to begin with, and I have no such memories.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then someone captured us…could it be Harry Potter, or any of his cronies?”

Avery's eyes widened at the proposition. “Wait, we did have one meeting with his - ahh, the name escapes me - uncle, or father, I don't recall…maybe he lost trust in us.”

“We've barely made their acquaintance, so there isn't much of a trust on either side,” Nott pointed out.

“Do you think they wiped out our memories?” Avery's voice betrayed uncertainty.

“It's possible,” Nott was contemplative. “Although, I don't know what valuable information we could hold for them…”

“Think about it, you fool!” Avery snapped at him all of the sudden. “We know where Lestrange is!”

“We do, but what good is that if we're trapped here?” his companion replied indifferently. “In case you haven't noticed, this seems to be the place where we started.”

Avery opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it, and fell silent. Instead, he looked around at the dreary walls, and something seemed to jog his memory. “This is Bella's manor.”

“Well, now we're on the same page,” Nott answered him dryly.

“Shut it, will you?” Avery admonished him. “This isn't a time to be smart…”

“You would know,” Nott told him, “let's take it seriously and think of a way out of here…”

“Already ahead of you,” Avery rejoined quietly.

“What, you have it already figured?” Nott inquired disbelievingly.

“No, you fool,” the other snapped. “Quit being a git, and start thinking.”

However, their contemplative time was not meant to last long. A few minutes later, two shadows appeared in the corridor, accompanied by heavy footsteps and silent chatter.

“Those two are dead for sure,” one gruff voice was saying.

“Oi, I don' wanna be in their place,“ another very similar tone answered.

Avery's ears cropped up, as he heard the two guards approaching. “What do they mean, we're dead?” he mouthed at Nott.

Wide eyed, Nott could not respond. Fear had suddenly seeped into his countenance, and he looked around frantically, as if vainly seeking an escape. “Take a wild guess,” he barely managed, focusing back onto Avery.

The guards stopped at the door, and one of them inserted a heavy key in the lock. It turned noisily, and the oaken door swung creakily on it hinges.

“Oi, you two,” the bigger, rather trollish-looking guard called. “Yer s'posed to come wit' us!”

“There has to be a mistake!” Nott said loudly. “We're innocent.”

“No!” the second guard replied forcefully. “The Mistress specifically said you twos losers. Now come on!”

Shaking, Nott rose to his feet. Avery followed, visibly calm, but his insides were churning with worry…

“What does she want?” he asked the second guard, while following Nott through the entrance.

“Story is, yeh were seen with `Arry Potter the other night. I ain't know nothin about it,” the guard answered dimly.

“Harry Potter?” Avery was confused. “The other night?”

“'s what they say,” the guard shrugged.

Avery caught up to Nott. “They say we were with Harry Potter two night ago. Do you remember anything?”

“What?”

“I asked if you remembered anything about meeting Potter?”

“We've never even seen the kid,” Nott answered hurriedly. “Why?”

“That's why we're here,” Avery told him.

“What!”

“We're going to have to answer to Lestrange about something we did not do.”

“Shut it, up there,” the same gruff voice thundered a short distance behind them.

Nott closed his mouth, and gave Avery a meaningful look. The other only nodded in desperation, and cast his eyes to the ground.

**

The familiar tall wooden doors loomed in front of them. Cast in shadow from the curtain, drawn against the hallway window, they were ominous, foretelling of the painful end that awaited them, once the hinges creaked open…

No sooner had they approached the doors, and they did part of their own accord.

“Mistress,” the two guards called loudly, and bowed simultaneously. “The prisoners!”

Knowing their lives were practically over, Avery and Nott still tried to grapple in the effort to appease their ruler; so, they collapsed to their knees and bowed, as low as possible.

“Thank you,” Bella's tone was a chilling calm. “You may retreat.”

Not waiting to be invited twice, the guards rose to their feet, and hastily left, closing the doors behind them.

The two unfortunate souls were still sprawled on the ground, staring at the painstakingly shined floor. Both were on edge about what awaited them next…

“Rise,” she commanded them.

Nott glanced surreptitiously at Avery, and waited until he took the lead. That Avery did, standing up as slowly as he could.

From the corner of his eyes, Avery caught the light from the last rays of the sunset coming through the window. They landed on Bellatrix's pale face, making her seem even more deranged and crazy than usual…

Regardless of that observation, he knew the rule very well - so his eyes remained fixed on the ground until he was given permission to look up.

“Avery,” Bella began slowly, eyeing her objective with a cold stare; Avery only looked back calmly, feeling strangely unafraid of the horrendous woman standing in front of him.

“My mistress,” he acknowledged her.

“What shall I do with you?” Lestrange went on, asking rhetorically. “You have been a faithful servant of both myself and Voldemort.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he bowed once again humbly.

“Yet, I hear of you fraternizing with our common enemy, along with Nott,” she continued, slightly more sternly this time.

Wisely, Avery and Nott remained quiet.

“I will give you precisely five minutes to provide me with a legitimate reason as to why you were seen with Harry Potter and Remus Lupin two nights ago. If, at the end of those five minutes I am not convinced, you will pay with your lives. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Nott replied immediately, and Avery followed suit immediately after.

“Fine, then. Talk,” Lestrange commanded them with a wave of her hand.

Avery glanced sideways at Nott, and the latter returned the look with an uneasy one of his own.

He took a deep breath. “We were kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Bella repeated skeptically.

“Neither of us remembers the circumstances,” Nott piped up, and the cold, black eyes snapped in his direction.

Bellatrix focused on Nott more than was natural. Beside him, Avery knew precisely what she was doing - reading his mind to find out if he was lying.

The seconds stretched to eternity, as he raptly focused on the Mistress' focused features. Finally, after a full minute of trying to locate a confirmation of her suspicions, Bella tore her eyes away. Avery knew that he was next in line for the minute investigation that could end with his life…

“Are you certain,” Lestrange asked him quietly, “that you are not concealing any information from me?”

“P-positive,” Avery stumbled over his words unwillingly, and Nott vigorously shook his head in assent.

He was a capable Occlumens, and with considerable effort, could prevent Bellatrix from entering his thoughts, but at the present, he was not in a position to resist.

The invasion of his mind was sudden and painful. His face contorted, and he collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. With each passing second, the pain grew exponentially, threatening to make his head explode from the pressure that was building within…

Memories of days past, from the reign of Voldemort, and even before that, rolled in his mind's eye; he thought he had forgotten those moments in time long ago. Even, he was astonished at the detail, with which his service under Voldemort presented itself…trying to forget that episode of his life, as much as possible, has been a generally successful venture in recent years…

As unexpectedly as it had began, the intrusion ended. Lestrange withdrew from his mind, and he could sense the strong feeling of fury and disappointment that she left with.

At last, he managed to look up, and shakily rise to his feet. Beside him, Nott observed the exchange, visibly intimidated by Bella's presence.

The maniacal matriarch of the organization narrowed her eyes dangerously, while still observing them silently.

“I believe you are lying,” she said quietly.

Smartly, neither Avery, not Nott replied to her accusation.

“It was a meeting with that werewolf. You thought you could hide it from me?” That question was needless to say, rhetorical.

“Mistress - “Avery found the brave to start a new sentence, but that was all he could utter.

“Crucio!” Bella positively screeched, as she whipped her want at her unfortunate subordinate. “You dare counter me!”

Writhing in pain, Avery clenched his teeth, and tried to remain on his feet. However, he was quickly overwhelmed, and collapsed on the ground, crouched in the fetal position.

“As I was saying,” Bellatrix infallibly regained her former suspicious, cold and calm air, “you two met Remus Lupin on one occasion, some time ago. Why?”

Her eyes snapped at Nott, and the wand twitched in her fingers. The other Death Eater swallowed audibly, and took a deep breath, trying to stall for an extra second of thought that could save both their lives…

“A lead,” he stammered, “on the whereabouts of Harry Potter.”

“A lead?” Bella repeated slowly, not taking her eyes off him. “Do tell, what kind of lead?”

“One that Avery and I were investigating,” Nott replied quickly, attempting to the best of his ability to sound genuine, “that he was not abroad, and gathering a following, with which to overtake us.”

On the floor, Avery had stopped squirming, but he had not the strength to stand up quite yet - as a result, he remained collapsed, propped on his forearms and breathing laboriously.

“Should I believe that story?” Lestrange questioned Nott snappishly. “Are you prepared to put your life on the line that you're speaking the truth?”

Nott gulped visibly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

He could feel his allegiance change. Even if what he had just told Lestrange was a complete and utter lie, he made a choice, right there and then - if working for the Light, and refusing to stand for the values Bellatrix Lestrange represented, meant that he would die, then so be it.

Beside him, Avery finally struggled to his feet, using him as a support to finally regain his full stature.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Bella turned to him suddenly. “You do not disobey me.”

Avery knew she was completely right in making that statement, but what amazed him even more was that he and Nott had not been dispatched yet, very much similarly to other unfortunate souls before them…

For the consecutive time that day, Nott and Avery shared an uneasy glance, while Bellatrix was turned away from them, her head down in contemplation.

“You do realize,” she faced them once again, “that when you do develop a lead, or go off to investigate one, you are obligated to transfer the knowledge of your intents to me as soon as possible!”

Her tone had picked up once more. “One of my goals is to capture and kill Harry Potter for good, and for that I need the spells that the Order of Merlin protected for such a long time. Surrounded by incompetence, I have not been able to capture those spells, whatever designs I try!”

Avery and Nott, as obedient as they could be, still did not say a word.

“You two will be punished, most severely,” she seemed to speaking more to herself than the two other occupants of the room. “As for my ultimate goal, it may be time to adopt more aggressive means to take what I want.”

Standing rapt with attention, the unfortunate duo anticipated what punishment she had in store for them.

“You may go for now,” she told them dismissively. “I shall deal with you later on.”

The doors swung open as loudly as before, and Bellatrix turned her back towards them, walking deeper in her chamber, evidently occupying herself with another session of deep, maniacal thinking…

Avery and Nott did not wait to be asked twice to remove themselves from her realm. Hastening their leave, they nearly ran from the chamber, and did not speak a word to one another for another ten minutes of rapid walking in the opposite direction.

“What do you reckon?” Nott finally asked, when they had slowed down and calmed slightly.

“About what?” Avery inquired

“About her,” Nott nearly whispered, “what she will do to us, if she ever finds out we're in cahoots with the Order.”

“I don't think her reactions are completely rational,” Avery observed objectively. “It is as if she is becoming mad with the transfixion of what she is trying to achieve. I can see it - she will be more and more senile as time goes on.”

“To me, she seemed completely focused,” Nott was unconvinced. “She intruded both our minds, so she must know what she's searching for.”

“Evidently, something happened, that we were part of, but do not remember. We may have had false memories implanted in the place of our real ones, and it is common knowledge that for false memories to work, the real ones must be taken out.”

“So you think that is what happened?” Nott asked, surprised. “Could it be the reason we were in that dungeon for two days, apparently?”

“It might be,” Avery agreed. “I cannot be fully sure yet. What I do know we need to do, is contact Remus Lupin as soon as possible.”

“Who's this Remus Lupin?” a voice behind them called, startling them both.

“I'm sorry?” Avery said out of habit, and turned around. Standing there, was a meek colleague of theirs, with the expression of a sneak and spy written all over his face.

“Nobody, you need to be concerned about,” Nott told him easily, beating Avery to the point, “only a new recruit we're discussing.”

“Then why is it you need to contact him so urgently?” the pesky intruder inquired avidly.

“We think he would be a good match,” Nott said forcefully, hinting at every word that he required they be left alone.

“So - “ the newcomer made another attempt to ask a response, but Avery's patience had already expired.

“Perfectus Totalus,” he said quietly, and the meek Death Eater's body snapped tight and keeled over.

“Timely of you,” Nott complimented, as they went on their way without a look back.

“Right,” Avery dismissed him. “Now, how do we contact him without being detected?”

“She saw our first meeting with him. I am thinking we met a second time, and that may be the reason we have false memories in our minds.”

“We can always sort that part out later,” Avery was beginning to show his impatience. “Right now, we need to find a way to contact Potter.”

“Wait a minute,” Nott attempted to restrain him, “have you even thought about what you would say? I think we need to wait until he contacts us.”

“And how do you propose that will happen?” his comrade replied “You know how closely this place is watched. They check all incoming and outgoing communications.”

“Don't you know anything about concealment charms?” Nott chastised him. “If anything arrives for either of us, it will be altered in some way to avoid the contents of it being detected.”

Avery smiled bitterly. “And what exactly makes you so sure that that will be the scenario?”

“And what would you suggest?” Nott challenged him.

The taller Death Eater opened his mouth to make a comment, but nothing came out. He knew Nott was right - the only way to have clandestine communications, was to hide in plain sight.

“Fine, you made your point,” he conceded.

“We're agreed then.”

For now, there was nothing more they could do. Narrowly escaping with their skins, Nott and Avery knew any frivolities on their part could be very well paid with their lives. The best policy for the moment was to wait.

-->

A/N Again, I apologize for the prolonged update...this story deserves one, and the characters have been waiting quite impatiently to see what happens next...so too have the few remaining readers, so I'll move right along...

Chapter XXIV: A Man's Peace

Remus was worried. He didn't know if Nott and Avery were still alive. Their meeting had exposed all of them to an incredible risk - Lestrange could have easily arranged for a clandestine observer that remained unnoticed, even if the majority of the Order was on guard. He sat on the couch, tapping his foot impatiently, wondering and wondering...

Not noticing Harry walking in, Remus nearly jumped when he touched him on the shoulder. Shooting up from the couch, he turned around, grasping his wand tightly by instinct, but not withdrawing it.

“Harry!” he exclaimed, the alarm quickly turning to relief. “I didn't see you come in.”

Harry's heavy expression only became grimmer.”What's wrong, Remus?”

“Ah, nothing, Harry,” Lupin waved a hand dismissively. “Just the insecurities of an aging man...”

“Remus, whatever worries they are, should not be dismissed - you know how much danger we're in everyday,” Harry pointed out with a hint of urgency.

“That's just it, Harry,” Remus said quietly, “it's this sense of danger, which is beginning to become an unbearable weight on me. I don't think I can handle this much more.”

“Of course, you can,” Harry was quick to try to reassure him.

“One war was enough, Harry,” Remus told him, more quietly than before, “For many years, before you were born, and while you were growing up, I was continually engaged - the sacrifices I've made changed me fundamentally as a person over time...at one point, a man's psyche can only handle so much. You, more than anyone, can appreciate this.”

Harry completely understood Remus' position, but he also knew that any chance of peace of mind would not exist until the threat that Bellatrix Lestrange posed was vanquished. It was certainly a heavy ordeal.

“Remus, listen to me,” Harry tried a different approach. Remus looked up at him, and Harry was started by the emptiness and defeat in his eyes.

“What could you possibly say, Harry?”

The hollowness of his voice also unnerved him. “I don't know when this will end - if I were a prophet, I might be able to tell you, but I can't. What I do know, is that this war is taking a heavy toll on all of us. Agreeably, on you more than most - I think you need some time to relax, Remus. Don't do anything for a while.”

“That isn't possible, Harry,” Remus' voice suddenly arose, and his hand twitched around his wand. “And I don't think anything you say will convince me otherwise.”

Harry was growing increasingly concerned about his uncle. His own hand moved ever so slightly in readiness to disable Lupin, should the need arise.

“Remus, please,” Harry reasoned with him. “Sit down.”

Just as surprisingly, the fervour seemed to disappear from Lupin's face, and he collapsed back on the couch. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands. Harry moved cautiously, and himself took a seat beside Lupin.

“I think I'm at my wits' end, Harry,” the werewolf rasped, “something inside just will not let me go on.”

“What are you saying, Remus?” the alarm in Harry's voice was evident.

Lupin looked up, turned to Harry, and smiled distantly - his eyes were empty, save for a small light that Harry couldn't quite place...

“What I mean, Harry,” he replied quietly, “is that I do not have any strength left. My time is approaching its end...James, Lily, Sirius...I feel them calling me...”

“Remus, that's nonsense,” Harry said hurriedly, as he grasped Remus by both shoulders. “You just need a break!”

“No, Harry,” Remus only smiled at him once more, “when a man feels his time is near, there is nothing he can do about it.”

“What do you mean!” Harry shook him, on the verge of panicking.

The others must have heard Harry's exclamations, because now, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were standing at the doorway - hurried footsteps told that Draco and Luna were not far behind.

Ron was the first to rush in the living room, and at Harry's side. “What's happening?”

His best friend turned to him. “Fetch Madam Pomfrey. As soon as you can, and make haste!”

“There isn't need for that, Harry,” Remus told him quietly. “There is nothing to be done now.”

“Remus, you cannot be dying!” Harry said insistently. “How could you possibly know that?!”

“Calm down, Harry,” Lupin said. “Release me, and let me talk for a bit.”

Rendered speechless, the other occupants in the room had taken their seats around the table. Draco's smug expression was gone, only to be replaced by one of anguish, while Ginny's features were focused intently on Lupin. Luna had clasped her hands in her lap, and kept flicking her eyes towards the door, in the hope that Ron would return soon. Hermione had sat right next to Harry, and trained her eyes on Lupin over her significant other's shoulder.

Harry did as Remus instructed him, but the tension he was feeling did not disappear.

“I was thinking about Avery and Nott today,” Lupin began, “wondering if Bellatrix had killed them or not.”

“How could she?” Hermione piped up. “We were alone that night.”

“Oh, no, Hermione, we weren't,” Lupin rejoined. “I know Bella quite well - she was always suspicious and paranoid. I'm quite confident she had an informant concealed somewhere in the surroundings.”

“Are you sure?” she was wide-eyed.

“Quite so. As for Nott and Avery, they were our means to connect to Bellatrix and should they be dead, it would be a giant setback for the Order.”

Nobody in the room responded.

“However, as important as this may be, it is the fact I won't be around for much longer that worries me...”

Lupin closed his eyes, and took a deep breath - he was visibly starting to depart the world of the living.

“Remus, why do you keep saying that?” Harry asked him, his frustration showing. “There is no logical reason for you to die!”

“No, Harry, there isn't,” Remus told him, “but this is something I cannot control. Fate is above magic, as you might know. I have been thinking about this very much, Harry, and I can feel the time has come. How or why now, I cannot tell you, for I don't know myself. What I do know, however, is that I will not live to see the end of the day.”

“You're talking nonsense, Remus,” Harry repeated once more. “This is nonsense.”

Lupin remained quiet for several moments, contemplation written on his face. “Do you remember meeting your parents, Harry?”

Harry did not expect the question, but his face regained its composure after the surprise that had overcome it momentarily. “Yes, yes I do.”

“You were happy then, weren't you?” Remus continued.

A pang hit at Harry's heart, as the memories came back. “Yeah...I was.”

“Are you happy now, Harry?”

He thought about his friends, their unwavering care and support, and most importantly, about Hermione. “I think I am,” he answered quietly. It was as if the rest of the room did not exist, and its occupants, however meaningful, were mere shadows - ironical, considering the high esteem he held them all in.

“What did you feel when you were with your parents and Sirius, Harry?” Remus proceeded his questioning. Harry thought he was beginning to see where Lupin was headed with this interrogation.

“Complete and satisfied - that something, which had been taken away from me, was regained,” Harry explained slowly, his face distant with the memories. “I was at peace.”

“Do you see now, Harry?” the werewolf asked significantly. “James, Lily, and Sirius are the people, who defined my life. I have met and made many valuable friends over time, including the family I have come to be reattached with - namely, you. I regard you as my son in James' absence, Harry. The Weasleys - they are an integral part of my life, and I will continue to remember them, even after I pass.”

“So...you are looking to become whole again?” Harry said uncertainly, focusing on his uncle intently once again.

A small tear had appeared in Hermione's eye, and rolled down Hermione's cheek. “In a way, yes, Harry,” Remus answered him.

“Have they been calling you?” Hermione questioned him quietly.

“Yes, Hermione, they have,” Lupin turned his eyes to her. “I need to find my peace.”

“But why now?” Harry exclaimed again. “We're in the middle of a war here - what'll we do without you?”

“Harry, you needn't be worried about that,” Remus said. “You are the one, who defeated Voldemort, and the people around you were the ones, who helped you do it. They are the ones who will be at the base of your efforts to defeat Bellatrix as well.”

“Yes, but you're the one, who is closest to penetrating Lestrange's organization,” Harry tried to argue in vain.

Lupin only smiled. “There will be another.”

“Remus - “ Harry started on another response, but his voice suddenly died. He lowered his head, and blinked hard several times, as if suppressing a tear, before raising his eyes once more. “So there is nothing anyone can do then?”

“I am afraid not, Harry,” Lupin replied quietly; he was visibly growing more distant and unfocused. “It is hard to understand, I know.”

“Then does that mean you choose when you die?” Hermione intervened suddenly. The initial resoluteness in her voice quickly shook.

“No, not at all,” Lupin answered slowly, as he took more time contemplating an answer. “You slowly realize it, Hermione. It's when you find yourself physically and spiritually exhausted, at the point where you know no recovery is possible.”

“Can you explain that?” Hermione inquired again, much more confused than before...

“The more we learn, Hermione, the less we know,” Remus smiled. “What I can tell you is that when James and Lily died, a gaping hole opened in me that never completely closed. When Sirius was killed, the wound only became deeper.”

“Yes, but how does explain you dying?” she was becoming more and more flustered. “If we can find a way to reverse it...”

“Being involved with the Order gave me a source of strength, Hermione,” he said slowly, “but the consequences of the war against Voldemort were too much - I knew being involved in another conflict, the intensity of it, would kill me - and it has.”

“But how can you be sure of that?”

“I am,” Remus whispered. “I just am.”

Hermione looked on helplessly. She recalled reading a long time ago about wizards and witches knowing they were dying - it was a branch of magic that was not well explored, not understood; the summons from the dead, the irreversible exhaustion that squeezed the last drops of life gradually - was personal peace a magic on its own?

“Hermione, could you and the others leave me alone with Harry for a final minute?” Remus turned to her. His voice had turned very feeble.

“Yes, yes, for sure!” she was quick to reply, and standing up, she ensured the room was empty in mere seconds - with one last glance towards Harry, she closed the door behind her.

**

“Harry, I don't have long now,” Remus' tone was barely above a whisper. “Your parents, and Sirius, are calling me too strongly.”

“Go to them, Remus,” Harry's own voice sounded choked, as steady as he tried to maintain it.

“Take care of yourself, Harry,” his uncle continued, “Hermione - she is the single most important person in your life.”

“I know.”

“Your friends, Harry, they are the ones who will help you succeed in whatever you do. My tenure ends here - I have done all I can.”

“You've done more than you think, Remus,” Harry pointed out quietly. “Without you, there would be no Order.”

“Maybe that's a little overdone,” Lupin smiled thinly. “The Order was around before I joined it, and it will be here after I'm gone.”

Regardless of his anguish, Harry smiled too.

“Can I make one last request of you, Harry?” Lupin choked out.

“Yes, yes, of course!” the raven-haired wizard replied hastily.

“I know the thought has crossed your mind - but please, don't bring be back.”

Harry's eyes flicked to the door for a bare moment. “I promise.”

Remus raised a frail hand, and put it over Harry's heart. “I will be always here, Harry - no matter what happens.”

Harry placed his hand over the werewolf's. “I'll miss you, Remus.”

“So will I, Harry; but someday, I will see you again.”

“Go to them, Remus,” Harry tried hard to retain his composure, but failed. “Go to them,” he whispered.

The hand in his grip relaxed, but Harry didn't release it.

He knew Remus had finally found the peace he had sought for so long - with his father, mother, and Sirius. Now, it was up to him to lead and be strong, to do what those before him had done.

**

Through the intense sorrow building up inside him, another thought struck him, which caused his lips to curve in an unwilling smile - the Marauders were finally reunited.

Forever.

-->

A/N: Remus' death in the last chapter was unexpected...I will justify it in this, and subsequent chapters...the style of the story is one I'm trying to emulate, however poorly, from an author I highly respect for her ability...lorien829...

Chapter XXV: Denial

Ron had arrived with Madam Pomfrey in tow shortly after Remus had passed. She bustled past everyone in a hurry, and when she collapsed next to him to see what she could do to save him, it was already too late - the only grim task left to do was to confirm his death.

The news were just as shocking to the occupants of Grimmauld Place, as they were to the reader. The suddenness of what had happened meant nobody quite realized what Remus' passing meant. Tonks had come rushing at the news, disbelieving and pleading it was not true. Why had death claimed him so abruptly?

That question weighed heavily, and not just on her mind. Hermione seemingly wanted to say something, but the words became lost on the way to her mouth. Ron was staring disbelievingly at Remus' still body, trying to fathom the fact that their long-time ally and friend was no longer among them.

It was in the middle of a war as well - his demise would pose an incredible difficulty to penetrating Bellatrix Lestrange's circle; he had been the one closest to gaining a close ally within it. Without him, it was not certain whether Avery and Nott were dead or alive, and derived from that uncertainty, there was also a lack of a direction in which to focus their efforts.

The heaviest consequence of his death, however, was an expectant Tonks. Some months ago she had found out she was going to be a mother, and the news had made Remus smile genuinely for the first time in a long while. It sustained him throughout their campaign, but did not prevent him from retreating back into his melancholy state over the passage of that time. He grew more distant and irritable, more stressed and withdrawn, until he revealed, briefly, to Harry, what had been happening to him in the hours before his passing. Tonks had not been able to talk, or connect to him either - she knew he loved her deeply, but the mystery gnawing at him, and his refusal to find solace with her, hurt her very much; the final blow was his death, and judging from the grim look on her face, Hermione thought that considerations of suicide were not absent from her mind.

She stood up, and moved over to sit beside Tonks on the couch. Harry followed his wife with his eyes, but was aware that neither she, nor anyone else, could provide enough support or strength for Tonks. He placed his face in his hands and sighed deeply - through his fingers, he glimpsed Hermione cradling Tonks in an almost motherly embrace. What of her and him then, he wondered - starting a family with Hermione had long been a desire of his, but for the sake of them both, and their unborn child, he reserved that plan for safer times. He did not want his son, or daughter, to endure what Remus' child would face when it came into the world, along with his suffering mother.

Draco's expression for once was not smug or arrogant. Even if he checked his emotions most of the time, Remus' death still seemed to impact him thoroughly. Malfoy did not profess any outward affection towards the werewolf, but still respected him very much - his devotion, honesty and care in putting the interests of the people he loved ahead of his own. Ginny had grasped his hand tightly, and her eyes were closed, as tears rolled down her cheeks; Remus was especially close to the Weasley family, and she felt it quite deep.

Mrs. Weasley was in no better spirits when she rushed, whimpering and crying, in the living room. Arthur was on her heels - he was not dissolved in tears, but his jaw was set and his expression stony. Harry retreated to allow the Weasley couple to take his place and look at Remus for one last time...

Ron nudged Draco, who looked up questioningly, almost with insult, as if to say, `Leave me alone!', but still rose without a word, and the two of them made their way over to Harry.

“Mate,” Ron said quietly to attract his attention, and Harry turned to him. “A word?”

“Now?” Harry's tone was more defeated than Ron's.

“Now.” His best friend replied definitively. “There will be time to mourn later.”

Harry shook his head, and as if a sudden thought struck him, a grim and cold smile stretched his lips slightly. “I'm coming.”

So, the trio walked out the door, and nobody even took notice to see them do that. Once in the hallway, Ron faced the other two, and while his expression was one of sorrow, Harry could still see the determination burning in his eyes.

“Remus is gone,” he began. “We need to figure out what we're going to do from now on.”

“Well, for starters, let's give him a proper burial,” Draco rebutted him somewhat harshly.

“That goes without question, Malfoy,” Ron answered without looking at him. “It's afterward I'm concerned with. The Order might lose its motivation to fight, and we don't really have a direction of what to do or where to go.”

“Lupin was the only one close enough to those two goons my father was with,” Malfoy said regrettably. “I suppose I could try to infiltrate Lestrange's circle...become a Severus Snape in a way.”

“Lestrange would rip you to pieces, if she saw you, Malfoy,” Ron pointed out. “She's particularly hateful of the Malfoy clan, or whatever's left of it.”

“Weasley, you have a point,” Draco scratched his head. “But that should remain our foremost priority.”

“It is,” Harry interceded quietly, making the other two shiver with the coldness of his voice. “I'll tell you what we need to do.”

He paused for a second. “What, Harry?” Ron prompted him anxiously.

Harry looked strangely ominous in the fading daylight. “Kill me, and then bring both Remus and I back.”

Ron's eyes widened. “Are you crazy! None of us knows how to work the spell - and without you, we're as good as dead!”

“Not at all, my friend,” Harry returned in the same deadpan tone, but there seemed to be a light in his eyes now. “I know one reason that can convince Remus to come back.”

“Then, pray, enlighten us, Potter?” Draco challenged him.

Harry glanced at him indifferently, before looking straight ahead at the wall. “Tonks.”

“Tonks?” Draco repeated uncertainly.

“Didn't you see her?” Harry pressed him, his voice rising slightly. “She's expecting her first child, and I wouldn't rule out the possibility of her trying to kill herself to be with him - aside from the fact that their kid would be killed in the process.”

“How can you be sure she'd kill herself?” Ron asked him.

“I'm not,” Harry admitted, “but given the intensity with which she loved Remus, and still does, it's a very reasonable possibility she could harm herself.”

“That's understandable,” Malfoy nodded.

“Hmm,” Harry looked down, shaking his head.

“So,” Ron took up the word, “what you're proposing is to die, so you can go knock some sense into Remus on the other side, and then we're supposed to bring the two of you's back.”

“That about sums it up, yes,” Harry affirmed.

“And who do you propose will carry out the burden of resurrecting you?” Ron was still sceptical at the plan.

Harry looked stumped for a moment, but then he remembered. “Ginny.”

“Ginny? If this is dangerous, I don't want her risking her life,” Draco suddenly became defensive of his significant other.

“It's not life-threatening. The only aspect I'm worried about is that she might overexert herself,” Harry told him thoughtfully. “I think it's a good idea if she teaches you, Draco, and then both of you can focus your efforts on bringing me and Remus back.”

Malfoy blinked uncertainly, and fixed Harry with his grey eyes. “And if you fail?”

“Not an option, Draci,” Harry told him heavily. “I have to succeed. Remus is the type that will tend to his responsibilities, once he regains a clear head. Although, I don't know what it was that killed him.”

“Maybe Madam Pomfrey can find the cause?” Ron offered.

“I don't think it was anything physically wrong with him,” Harry hypothesized, “I have a suspicion it may have been a curse.”

“You can't curse anyone without a wand, and he hasn't been out since that night we met with Avery and Nott,” Draco traced the path of events. “Maybe it was something he touched?”

“In this house, hardly,” Harry shook his head. “Some years ago, we removed all trace of curses and spells from it, save for the Fidelius Charm. He might've come across it outside somewhere.”

“There are plenty of delayed curses,” Ron pointed out worryingly. “Some that can be fielded remotely. The cases I've seen in the Auror department are quite disturbing.”

“How does a remote curse penetrate the Fidelius charm?” Harry was puzzled.

“It can't,” Ron explained, “but ask Hermione anyway.”

“How was he behaving when you walked in?” Draco asked after a minute's silent contemplation.

“Strange,” Harry replied, as he recalled the morning's events. “He was really worried at first, and then he suddenly became quite calm, and started talking about accepting death - apparently Sirius and my parents were calling him to come to them.”

“And then he died?”

“He died,” Harry sighed, “and I still can't explain to myself why. It might have been some kind of mind-altering fatal curse...”

“Are there even such curses?” Ron asked him. “Not sure I've heard of such an animal.”

“Cruciatus Curse can be fatal to the mind, although not physically,” Harry told him, as the situation of Neville's parents appeared in his mind's eye.

“Perhaps there was a poison involved?” Draco offered. “One of our lot could be a traitor.”

Both Harry and Ron turned to him incredulously. “Not a chance,” they said in unison.

“Poison might have been involved, though,” Ron added immediately after. “A slow-acting one, possibly.”

“How on earth could Remus have been poisoned? That requires to physically ingest it, and I know for a fact that the food we have here is free of any kind of poison,” Harry admonished him.

“What about the Imperius Curse?” Draco offered another idea. “Not willingly, but one of us is controlled from a distance to sabotage Remus.”

“So what you're suggesting is that one of the Order poisoned Remus, another person was controlling him from the outside, and that's how he died?” Ron was incredulous.

“It's not entirely what I'm suggesting,” Malfoy explained himself, “All I'm saying is that there's a possibility of a traitor among us, or that person is controlled by an external influence. The Fidelius charm can stop most forms of magic from penetrating it, but the Imperius curse isn't one of them.”

Was it only needless paranoia that troubled them? Did they really need to be as suspicious as they were?

“Fine then, who do you think is a possible suspect?” Harry challenged him. He was still quite sceptical.

“Ginny,” Draco answered without hesitation. “Wasn't she possessed once while she was still at Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, but that was a one-time case,” Ron objected, “and she hasn't been possessed or controlled since then.”

“Look, if we stand here and speculate, we're just wasting time,” Harry's impatience finally surfaced. “We don't know anything, there is no evidence, and anything we come up with will be wrong. I say we just keep an eye out for erratic behaviour, and until then, focus on bringing Remus back.”

“There you are,” a voice suddenly came from behind Harry, and it made him jump slightly - it was Hermione.

“Hey,” he turned around, “what's going on?”

“I've got some news,” Hermione bit her lip, “and it's not good.”

“Did something happen?” Ron pressed her. “Is Luna hurt?” he became alarmed.

“No, no, she's fine,” Hermione waved a hand. “It's what Madam Pomfrey said after she looked over Remus.”

“And?” three voices said at once.

“The cause of death is not physical. There's nothing wrong with his body.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked.

“Positive,” Hermione shook her head in affirmation, “I heard it from her lips.”

“Did you ask her if it was a curse?” Harry tried another tack.

“I did, and she didn't completely rule it out, although there is no magical residue left over,” Hermione told him thoughtfully. “Or perhaps her detecting charm wasn't strong enough to find it.”

“You're thinking it might have been magic that killed him?” Hermione inquired, “Because I'm not sure Avada Kedavra can be dealt indirectly.”

“We were just discussing this,” Harry explained, “a remote curse as a possibility. Maybe someone imperiused Remus, or cursed another within the order to poison or curse him.”

“Can that be possible?” Hermione turned wide-eyed at the suggestion. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“No,” Malfoy interjected, a little forcefully. “Only speculation for now.”

“Malfoy, here, is the architect of the idea,” Harry whispered to her in an undertone.

She only nodded, and Harry knew she was already mulling this new opportunity of finding the cause of Remus' demise. However, he thought it much more urgent to go and convince him to return, and do that sooner than later.

“Mate,” Ron startled Harry out of his thoughts, “we have another issue to address.”

“What?”

“Who's going to run the government, if you're dead, and all of us are going to be supervising your return with Remus?”

Admittedly, the thought hadn't crossed Harry's mind. “Ron, we've been detached from government way too long. Hermione needs to reassert her position as Minister of Magic, because we don't know what's brewing underneath, and you and I both know we can't fight Lestrange without the resources the Ministry offers.”

“That's a good point - any important intelligence we gather will be through the Auror Department,” the redhead said slowly. “I should check up on affairs there.”

“Hang on a moment,” Harry rejoined. “If the Aurors are among our best resources, then why haven't we done something before to keep tabs on what's going on?”

“Life can be that way sometimes, Harry,” Ron answered, “and as you might know, it's us who have the closest access to Lestrange's circle.”

“Technically, we're still not in it,” Harry pointed out.

“Fine,” Ron conceded, “then we have the best chance of infiltrating it. I don't think any of my Aurors have the connections or skill to negotiate their way in without paying with their lives.”

“The only negotiation will be done by Remus,” Harry said, “even I could be killed if I tried, since I'm her biggest enemy, and she views you all as my minions.”

“Do you think Lestrange might bring Voldemort back, if she managed to find the spell?” Hermione asked from the shadows.

“I think it may be her ultimate goal,” Malfoy offered his viewpoint. “Bringing back Voldemort would easily unleash another devastating war.”

“Well, at least the spell is safe for now,” Harry reassured the group. “The immediate priority, methinks, is to arrange the deputies to take over for a while...some of us'll have to do double duty in that regard.”

“Let's figure this out tomorrow, then,” Ron interjected rashly, “and keep this intent private for now.”

The reason for his hastiness soon became clear - there was a general commotion in the next room.

“Fine then,” Harry agreed and Draco and Hermione nodded. “Tomorrow it is.”

With that, the negotiations came to a conclusion, and they walked back in the living room, hoping their designs would come through to fruition...

A/N Next chapter...we find out who gets to do what, and work to bring Remus back gets underway...

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A/N: As Harry85 pointed out, the last plot twist was ridiculous in its concept and implementation, and I had to agree... this chapter is an attempt to salvage the situation and get back on a more gradual course for the story's development...

Chapter XXVI: The Woes of a Deranged Mind

Affairs had become much more difficult for Bellatrix Lestrange. Among her followers, talk of her supposed insanity was circulating. Her more frequent violent outbursts, the accidental demise of a few unfortunate Death Eaters and her sustained efforts to isolate herself in her chambers were all causes of the murmurs going around. Avery and Nott were two of the keenest in following every development very closely. They were a few of the privileged to Bella's closer, if not inner circle, because of their previous allegiance and servitude to Voldemort.

Antonin Dolohov had been curiously missing, but he remained Lestrange's most trusted lieutenant. She wouldn't divulge any details of where he was going, or what he was doing, and another few unfortunate inquirers had met their end.

No hint had reached the Order's agents in Bella's circle that Remus had passed, or that the plans to restore him to the living were underway.

Avery was particularly nervous of what his leader's next actions might be - she knew him and Nott acted as a team, without significant support from other Death Eaters, and the missions they had undertaken in the past showed their effectiveness as a duo. This was the base of his worries, as Lestrange was quite possibly attracted to the idea of using them for missions aimed against the Order...

Those fears were well founded, as Bellatrix had indeed called them to a meeting and indicated her interest in engaging them precisely in that type of activity. She had scheduled a second one for both of them, giving the ultimatum of presence or death, should the instructions not be followed.

It was with genuine fear and the constant thought that Lestrange had completely lost her wits, with which Avery and Nott proceeded down the hall towards her chambers. A recent curiosity was the establishment of an armed Death Eater guard all along the length of the passageway, and it only succeeded in unnerving the two further.

After what seemed an eternity, they reached the massive doors, and they swung open of their own accord. Hoping they weren't walking in the dreaded room for the last time, Avery and Nott stepped through the threshold, and were quick to collapse on their knees and bow as close to the ground as possible. As part of the procedure, neither uttered a single word.

“You may rise,” Bella's voice called from somewhere in front of them.

They did as instructed. After regaining his foothold, Avery saw his mistress facing the window with her back to him. She seemed surprisingly calm, staring off into the sunset. However, he knew very well that the fury was brewing a mere inch beneath the outward facade of complacency.

“I have a request to make of you,” she continued in the same reserved tone.

In other words, thought Avery, do or die...he still did not speak.

“Are you willing to take it on, whatever it might be?” Lestrange asked of them.

In a single voice, both Avery and Nott emphasized their readiness. Not surprisingly, it disgusted them both to hear themselves utter the words...

“I have received intelligence of a secret plan that the Order of the Phoenix is concatenating, which may present us with a single, invaluable opportunity. Antonin here was decidedly helpful in coming across that knowledge,” she proceeded, still with her back to her two servants.

Almost immediately following her words, the Death Eater in question materialized out of thin air. With a smooth turn on the spot, he bowed low to the ground, murmuring `My mistress' in the process. This time, Bella troubled herself to face her devoted servant.

“Stand up, Antonin,” she directed him, and to Avery's very well concealed surprise, with a noticeable tenderness in her voice.

“Yes, mistress,” Dolohov responded promptly, and as he arose, his air reflected little of the obedience he demonstrated for Lestrange.

“Antonin, why don't you tell these two of the intelligence you and I managed to find?” she said coldly.

“With pleasure,” Dolohov stated, as a gruesome smirk curved his lips. “It was an old weakness that that Weasley girl has, but does not suspect.”

Both Avery and Nott suddenly became tense at the introduction. In days gone by they might have been thrilled at the news, but not now.

“Ginevra, I think her name was,” Dolohov continued. “One of the low-life purebloods. The Malfoy child is involved with her now, it seems. In any case, she was possessed by Voldemort in her first year, and she never managed to fully recover from the trauma that he inflicted on her mind. She wouldn't feel it consciously now, but it is there. So, under our Mistress' superior guidance, I infiltrated her mind, and found that the old werewolf, Remus Lupin, is dead.”

At those words, an ugly leer blossomed on Lestrange's features. Avery and Nott were shocked to hear the unexpected information, but forced a smile anyway.

“As it happens, they are also planning to bring him back,” Antonin went on, and a small glimmer of hope appeared in Avery, “which presents us with an unique opportunity.”

By now, Bellatrix had a mad glint in her eye, and the leer had only managed to grow in its twisted pleasure.

“They will need to use the spell that the Order of Merlin protected for so long. The Weasley girl will be the prime caster, as she has supposedly done it once before. It is possible to infiltrate her mind, and have the spell delivered to us without the slightest effort. That can, of course, be only accomplished with our Mistress' approval. Your job, considering the expendables cadres you are, is to prevent the werewolf from coming back along with Harry Potter, as he will sacrifice himself to initiate the process.”

Lestrange seemed to be internally overflowing with perverse happiness at the prospect. She flicked her gaze from Dolohov to Avery and Nott, then back again, before appearing to decide what she wanted to say.

“Dolohov is an example of the competence I expect from you, gits,” she said calmly, but the fire was still burning in her eyes. “Your assignment is clear. The only result I expect is success, as failure to deliver will cost you your worthless lives.”

“It isn't clear when their plan will be engaged, so I will monitor any new developments, Mistress,” Dolohov bowed respectfully.

“Antonin,” Bella turned to him, and he looked up. “Crucio!”

Dolohov `s body collapsed on the grounds in spasms of intense pain, as he screamed over and over when Lestrange applied the curse repeatedly. Ten full minutes passed, before she relieved her wand, and Antonin was able to quieten down, exhausted, and shakily stand up when the last pangs of pain had left him.

“You do not speak unless spoken to,” she turned to him, deadly quiet. “Understood?”

Dolohov merely nodded as vigorously as he could, and voiced his agreement.

“Your assignment is clear,” Lestrange told Avery and Nott. “I expect only success. You are relieved.”

The two of them did not say a word, but only bowed deeply again, and turned to leave. Once out in the hallway, the eeriness of the silent guard forced them to hasten their step.

Avery knew the only place, where privacy could potentially be gained was a grove of trees just outside the manor, where Death Eaters were allowed to go without fear of being overheard. However, with the distrust that existed between the Death Eaters themselves, even that place was not a guaranteed heaven for private exchange. Still, Avery and Nott did not have much of a choice, and directed their steps in that direction.

Just as they were nearing the grove, the same sneaky Death Eater crossed their path, the one whom they had seen in the aftermath of their meeting with Remus a while back. He stopped right in front of them, and they nearly ran him over.

“What do you want?” Nott snapped at him impatiently.

“I saw you with the werewolf that night,” the weasel snickered. “I know your memories were modified!”

“What are you talking about?” Avery asked him with even less patience.

“Bella knows, oh yes, she does,” he continued in a wheezy, sing-song voice. “And I knows what you're going to be doing too!”

Avery and Nott shared a quick, uneasy glance, and nodding in agreement, they seized their oddball colleague in trade, and dragged him towards the clearing. Nott was quick to charm their captive's shouts completely silent.

“Let me go, let me go!” the unfortunate Death Eater kept mouthing to no avail. At the sight of him being dragged, Avery took note that other Death Eaters in the vicinity smartly chose to retreat in the direction of the mansion.

At last they reached a clearing within the grove, and threw down the third Death Eater violently on the ground. He slid several feet backward and then came to rest.

Avery unceremoniously bent down and grabbed him by the collar, before pulling him back up. Nott covered him from behind with his wand drawn. Avery did the same, pointing his own wand at the traitor's throat.

“What are you talking about?” he growled, pressing the wand tip deeper in the neck.

“I know nothing,” the Death Eater squeaked for lack of air.

Avery was not having it, however. He held out the unfortunate man an arm's length out, and sheathing his wand in his sleeve quickly, threw a punch across his face. He whimpered, but Avery still kept a strong hold of his collar.

“Let me ask you again,” he said, deadly quiet, “what do you know?”

“And...and if I don-n-n't tell you?” the helpless captive somehow found the bravery to question him.

“We'll just say you disappeared quite accidentally - nobody gives a hell about you as it is, so the news won't be surprising. If you want to save your pathetic life, you will speak.”

“I was there!” the Death Eater whimpered, all fight leaving him suddenly. “I saw you!”

“What did you see!” Nott bellowed from the back. “Speak, or I'll kill you myself!”

Avery and Nott were both keenly aware of the necessity to silence him into keeping his knowledge to himself. The information he knew was enough to cost them their lives, should Lestrange ever find out...

“It - it was that night,” the captive began shakily; Avery did not relieve his hold. “You were at a bridge with the Order of Merlin - Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, and the Malfoy kid...if you'll let me breathe!”

Slowly, Avery released his collar a bit, but still maintained a firm grip.

“So you won't, then,” the spy pointed out dryly, but his captor wasn't having it.

“Speak!” he growled.

The meek Death Eater gulped audibly. “Well, the reason you don't know what I'm talking about is that your memories were modified to protect you.”

“Did we agree to that?” Nott questioned him from behind.

“You did, yes. The Order has the real memories in a pensieve back to wherever their headquarters are,” the spy answered him.

“How does Bellatrix know of this, then?” Avery remained edgy. “You told her, didn't you!”

The Death Eater smiled condescendingly. “Do you really think she can't distinguish between true and fabricated memories? After You-Know-Who, she was the best Legilimens, if unofficially better than the Dark Lord himself.”

“Answer my question: did you tell her?”

“No, I did not,” the spy snapped in return. “She saw it in your memories, idiots.”

Nott looked at Avery. “How could she, if the memories were removed?”

“You know,” the other said knowingly, “a memory can be removed, but not it's impression in the mind. The impression isn't vivid, but it's still sufficient to see what the memory was about.”

A look of fear passed across Nott's face. “Do you think - “

The Death Eater still in Avery's grip completed the sentence for him. “ - she suspects your change of loyalty? I would. Are you so foolish so as to consider that your current assignment is a mere coincidence?”

“What are you saying?” Avery questioned him suspiciously.

“Think about it, you dolt,” the spy told him. “She sent you to prevent the werewolf from coming back as a test of your loyalty. You fail, you die. Simple as that.”

“Why did he die in the first place?” Nott said from behind.

“Didn't I mention Lestrange was the best Legilimens?” he answered. “Will you at least let me stand up!”

Avery sighed, but finally released the Death Eater violently. He tumbled to the ground, and then stood up, coughing, and massaging his throat. “Brutes,” he murmured under his breath.

However, Avery must have heard him, for the flash of spell fire ignited at his feet. “What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” the spy waved a hand flamboyantly, “anyway, Lestrange infiltrated the werewolf's mind, and killed him from the inside, praying on his deepest desires. She ignored the fears. It is much easier to penetrate an exhausted mind, which can't muster the strength to defend itself; and the fact she was related to Sirius Black made the whole venture easier.”

“Here's the better question - how do you know all this? About his death, our mission, and everything else!” Avery couldn't conceal his frustration.

“Didn't you know?” the spy smiled his condescending smile again. “I used to be a professor of Occlumency at Hogwarts many, many years ago, and I was the best at it - still am, as a matter of fact. Lestrange has tried to infiltrate my mind many times, but she has always failed.”

“Then why are you a Death Eater?” Nott couldn't hide his amazement.

“That's an intriguing story, I promise you,” he waved a hand dismissively. “involves Dumbledore, but I was compromised...Voldemort found out, bound me to his service, and I passed on to Lestrange after he died...my allegiance hasn't changed, and I'm not here by choice.”

“What are you saying, then?” Avery kept his wand trained on him.

“I fight for the Light,” the spy said simply, looking down to the ground. “Else you'd be dead by now.”

His eccentricity frustrated Avery and Nott - here was an individual, who could have turned them in many times by now, and they were clueless. The bind they had worked themselves in was becoming clear. They had to delay the return of Remus Lupin and potentially, compromise their own lives to the cause.

“Would that mean that you're our ally, then?” Nott asked of the spy.

“ Well, yes,” he replied, as if speaking to a child. “And now that we're properly introduced, call me Longhorn. Not my real name, as it would be dangerous to divulge that...”

“Dangerous?”

“You would know all about it,” he told them meaningfully. “On that note, I need to return to the mansion. Enjoy yourselves, mates.”

With a wave of his hand, Longhorn departed, not even looking back toward Avery and Nott.

On their turn, they remained dismayed and confused. Avery turned over in his mind the lucky chance, on which they had relied upon the will of a single individual to maintain their secrecy. What intrigued him further was the fact that he mentioned he was a Hogwarts professor a long time ago. In his school days, he remembered Occlumency as a subject, but his professor was most certainly not this person...

Dumbledore had recruited him in the fight against Voldemort, so it was possible he was teaching at Hogwarts around the time Dumbledore had become a professor. The late headmaster had used the services of his staff in the campaign against the Dark Lord numerous times, and he wanted to find out how this one had been compromised.

Being bound to Voldemort meant that one was magically connected to the maniac, and any severance of the bond would be fatal to the servant. This Avery understood, when Longhorn mentioned he had been bonded to the Dark Lord, and thus, to his successor, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Both of them remained in the clearing, contemplating silently what they should do. Above them, clouds had gathered without their notice, and soon enough, heavy raindrops started hitting the dry ground. However, they were indifferent to that - the prospect of dying really caused a man to think about what his purpose in life was.

“Well, here's the way I see it,” Nott began, taking a few steps towards Avery; he was drenched in the now violent downpour.

“Do tell,” Avery responded, and almost casually, sat down on the muddy earth.

“Lestrange expects us to prevent the resurrection of Lupin, and along with that, she'll want us to tell her where the headquarters of the Order are - and we both know that'd be detrimental.”

“Unless we convince them to carry it out elsewhere,” Avery pointed out. “We have to play double agents here.”

“Do you know anything about the magic that brings the dead back to life?” Nott asked.

Avery pondered the question for a minute. “I know Avada Kedavra is one of a set of curses, but that's about it...oh! and that you need to kill someone to bring another person back.”

“Can't you bring both people back?”

“Sure,” the other told him, “but the one who is killed needs to be sufficiently powerful to make the full circle.”

As if an epiphany struck Nott, his eyes opened wide, and he nearly jumped.

“What's the matter?” Avery asked him.

“Potter - they might try to use him!”

“For what?”

“To kill him, then bring Lupin back, along with Potter,” Nott said. “He's already been through it once, and it'll be his second time.

“Does that make him stronger, though?” Avery was sceptical.

“Possibly,” Nott didn't know, “but what other option do you see?”

“His wife, or another member of the Order?” Avery tried.

“No, none of them are as powerful as he is - after all, he was the Chosen One, and you can't match that with skill alone.”

Avery knew he was right, but whether the Order would use Harry - they needed to find out, as soon as possible.

A/N As updates for this story are rather irregular, I may lose a thread of the plot from previous chapters...if such be the case, please let me know...

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A/N: After a ridiculously long break...

Chapter XXVII: Hope Is The Last to Die

Avery and Nott considered themselves fortunate that Lestrange had not placed someone to tail them. They were still angry and frustrated about the task they had to accomplish. Failure would be paid with their lives, and neither one of them was keen on that...

What they needed was a strategy to warn the Order of the plans being hatched under Bellatrix. Without Remus, it would be much more difficult to obtain access to one of the members, but they had to try. A foolish, but perhaps a plausible idea, was to hang around Grimmauld Place, until Potter, or Malfoy, or one of the others noticed them and had the sense to meet them.

If only Remus were still alive, Avery thought with contempt, or now he wouldn't have to risk his neck to think of ridiculously risky ideas of communicating with the order, and literally hanging on a chance that he wouldn't be martyred to the designs of a madwoman...

What's more, that Longhorn character, who had had the ability to destroy them all this time, and neither him, nor Nott ever knew; the fact Avery him even more.

Walking along the streets of London, they came to a consensus to try to attract the Order's attention under cover of a patrol path that they had persuaded another superior of theirs to assign to them, which passed by Grimmauld.

They were well blended with the London crowd, which meant any prying eyes would be hard-pressed to find them. It was with that knowledge that Avery and Nott feverishly walked towards Grimmauld Place.

**

Back at the house in question, Harry was sitting by himself in the kitchen, thinking over what he was about to do - kill himself, so he could bring Remus back to the living. Without him, the Order was quite vulnerable, and what worried him most was that the Fidelius Charm did not protect against attacks of the mind...

It was precisely what he feared had killed Remus - in his final hours, it was evident he was not in control of his faculties. It annoyed and angered him greatly how vulnerable the entire Order was to whim of her ability to influence minds. He had been a target more than once, but Lestrange knew of his power and that she was unable to overcome it.

Hermione walked in without him noticing. She walked up behind him, and embraced her hands around his neck.

“Harry?”

He turned his head towards her. “Mmm?”

“What are you thinking about?” she inquired quietly.

In an expression of frustration Harry slammed his fist on the wooden surface of the table, and stood up. Startled, Hermione retreated.

“I'm frustrated,” he growled, “The way they killed Remus - anyone in the Order can be made a target.”

“Few can project that kind of power,” Hermione observed, now recovered from her shock.

“I know, but it still doesn't specify who it was that killed him. Could have been Lestrange, Dolohov, or some other former lackey of Voldemort's we don't know about.”

“Do you think Avery or Nott would know better?” Hermione could not help but sound sceptical.

“Possible,” Harry replied after a few seconds of thought. “We should talk to them.”

“Good plan,” Hermione told him. “Only, it was Remus who was our contact with them. I don't think they'd trust anyone less than you.”

Harry knew she was ultimately right about that. The only way to seek the cooperation of the Death Eaters was to wait for them to try to initiate contact - something Harry was finding difficulty conceptualizing, because there was no direct way to go about it.

He sat back down. “And how do we ensure the security of the Order while I'm on the other side to retrieve Remus?”

“An emergency training session in Occlumency?” Hermione shrugged. “We are covered against physical attack, but not against a mental one.”

“That means I'll have to be as quick as possible,” Harry replied distantly, talking more to himself than Hermione. “I don't want to leave anything to chance.”

“We don't really have that option, now do we?” she asked him rhetorically.

He remained quiet and depressed. Regaining Remus' presence was invaluable, but what would be the cost?”

The silence was broken quite abruptly by Ron's voice. “Hey!”

Abandoning his seat along with his thoughts, Harry rushed in the direction of his best friend, closely tailed by Hermione. He was in the foyer, peering through the curtains of the window next to the front door. Draco was already behind him, and Luna and Ginny could be heard coming up behind.

“What's going on?” someone shouted.

“Look there,” Ron pointed out in front of the house, and the six pairs of eyes turned to look at the figures of Avery and Nott pacing around nervously on the street. The reason for their distress was a mystery, but if they were there to begin with, a meeting with the Order was imminent...

Without a word, Harry opened the door, and stepped out. Ron and Draco followed closely, while the last of them motioned to the others to stay behind. As it happened, the Weasley clan had moved up to investigate the commotion.

“Harry Potter,” Avery exclaimed when he saw the bespectacled wizard approaching. “Thank heavens!”

Beside him, Nott's expression only became more clouded. Despite the partial relief they expressed, however, Harry, nor the others, took down their wands.

“Avery,” Harry rejoined, “why are you here?”

“We have to talk, away from prying eyes,” the former said shakily. “And quickly!”

“What is this about?” Ron questioned him even louder, when Avery proceeded forward to shuffle Harry in the direction of the housing complex.

“Details when we're safe inside,” Nott said from behind. “Come on!”

Deciding to cooperate, Harry, Ron and Draco formed a ring around the two Death Eaters, and escorted then towards the Order's headquarters at number twelve.

The moment they stepped through the threshold, someone let out a loud squeal of surprise. Mrs. Weasley's eyes had widened, fury began to form on her features, and she reached for her wand with surprising speed...

“Mum!” Ron tried to cross her efforts. “Wait!”

She had her wand trained on Nott. “Step aside, Ron. They are dangerous. Prisoners must be dealt with!”

At that moment, Mr. Weasley stepped in front of her. “Molly, hang on,” he said calmly, “just listen for a bit.”

Jaw still stiff, eyes looking past Arthur towards the two perceived intruders, Molly Weasley slowly lowered her wand, but her face quite plainly said she did not trust the judgement of those around her.

“Come on, now,” Harry turned to Nott and Avery, pushing them in the direction of the living room. “The sooner we talk, the better.”

“Agreed,” Avery shot off right away. “It's about Lestrange.”

At last, the entire occupancy of 12 Grimmauld Place was assembled in the living room, with the exception of Tonks. She hadn't been seen all day, and according to Mrs. Weasley, she had locked herself up in her room, and was not receptive to anyone today...

“Fine then,” Draco prompted his father's former allies, “what have you found?”

Taking a deep breath, Avery revealed the gravity of the situation. “Lestrange knows of our meeting on the bridge and that you modified mine and Nott's memories. She also is informed of the ploy to bring Remus Lupin back from the dead. Along with that, she sent Nott and I to prevent that from happening. The reason we're still alive is that we're useful in terms of contact with the Order, and can bring back valuable information. Else we'd be dead by now.”

Shocked silence met those words. Everything they had done, aiming to be as clandestine as possible, had failed...Bellatrix was aware of just about their every move!

Harry, however, did foresee something which could be presently addressed. “As you two might already know, this is the house where the Order of the Phoenix is housed. With that, you become a liability to our security, simply because you can't defect entirely from Lestrange and have to keep going back and forth.”

Nott smiled ironically. “Severus Snape was better at the double-agent game, the old dog...”

Harry nodded. “That's why you need to make a pact with the Order, of a more serious nature....that if you divulge the address, by any means, your memory, as well as that of the person you told the information to, will be wiped clean...”

Avery and Nott looked at one another. By silent agreement, they knew much was at stake, and any chance of success rested on the Order's location remaining secret.

“We'll do it,” Nott said shakily. “After all, Death is a constant companion these days...”

A murmur of consent went through the room. Ironically, Death did not need a door to come.

“Ginny, you'll cast the spell,” Harry instructed her, “I have to seal the bond.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “Let's do it fast.”

“Nott, you'll be first.”

He nodded, and kneeled down on the floor. Ginny sat across, and Harry between them. Nott professed forward his right hand, Harry put his around Nott's wrist, and Ginny placed her hand atop both.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Nott's reply was trepid with breathlessness.

Ginny waved her wand and murmured several incomprehensible words under her breath. The room watched on, as a bluish light enveloped the interlocked hands, and remained there for several minutes. The party of three rose off the ground of its own accord, and under the influence of the spell, spun a full circle in the air, before being set down gently. Right after that, the blue light disappeared, and the charm ended.

Nott raised himself to his feet, and sat back on the couch. Without a word, Avery took his place, and the charm was repeated all over again.

Once the proceedings ended, the discussion started up again.

“So, this will work on anyone who tries to retrieve the location of the headquarters,” Nott tried to reaffirm the principle of the charm.

“On most people,” Hermione intervened. “If the recipient wizard or witch is powerful, they can overcome the charm.”

“That's a comforting thought,” Avery muttered.

“Now about Lestrange,” Ron pressed to the issue at hand. “Can you tell us in more detail what's going on?”

“Alright,” Avery began, “at the basis of the whole plan is Antonin Dolohov. We all know he is exceptionally good in many aspects of magic, especially penetrating minds undetected. He informed Lestrange of Ginny Weasley's susceptibility in being infiltrated by way of her mind, because of her experiences with You-Know-Who many years ago. That left a permanent weakness that can be exploited by those powerful and smart enough to do it.”

“And...what are the implications of that?” Harry asked, even though he could see where this was heading.

“Dolohov does the dirty work for Lestrange,” Nott commented. “It is her intent to kill young Miss Weasley while she's performing the ritual, much the same as she did with Remus Lupin. Our job is to delay the ritual for Lestrange to be able to kill Ginny.”

“And with you gone,” Avery added, “she'd be able to locate the Order, eliminate what's left of it and proceed to resurrect Voldemort.”

Silence prevailed once again. This was indeed an unpleasant situation. Maybe bringing Remus back later was an option, but that'd only delay the inevitable.

“Question now is, do we do your bidding, or Lestrange's?” Avery let the heavy question fall.

“Can we come up with an alternative plan to bring Harry and Remus back later on, if we do become compromised?” Ron asked the room at large.

“What about Ginny?” Draco voiced himself defensively. “The whole scheme rests on her shoulders.”

“Couldn't Hermione cast the spell?” another voice piped up.

Slowly, the whole room was overtaken by argument, as increasingly ridiculous ideas were shot down one after the other.

“Excuse me!” a very loud, unfamiliar voice suddenly startled the party into silence.

All gazes turned towards the direction of the disembodied voice, and every wand very soon became directed at it.

An invisibility cloak rippled in the air to reveal the frail figure of an old man, hawkish and sneaky by sight.

“Longhorn!” Avery breathed.

A/N: Let's go for the shocker...once again, apologies for the long update...

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A/N: On with the show...

Chapter XXVIII: Snape Rekindled

“Who are you!” Harry and Ron shouted simultaneously. At that moment, interested from the commotion going on, James and Madelyn wondered in the entrance to the living room, right behind the mysterious newcomer.

“NO!” Luna shrieked, and darted forward to protect her children. Ron visibly shuddered, and almost fired a spell at the old man, and would have, if Harry hadn't put a restraining arm on him...

“My name is Longhorn,” the old man smiled, seemingly untroubled by the decidedly unfavourable odds against him. “Harry Potter, I assume.”

The need for an introduction was redundant. “How did you get in here?”

Harry made it quite plain he had had enough tension for one day.

“I let myself in,” Longhorn replied, “being a part of the Order as I am.”

“Lies!” Avery suddenly shot up. “You are a Death Eater...that's all you've ever been. A useless sneak!”

“Calm yourself, Jonathan,” Longhorn spoke calmly, without malice. “Do you remember our little encounter in the woods?”

“You never said anything about the Order,” Avery sneered.

“Tie him up,” Ron called over to Fred and George, who up until then, had remained conspicuously silent.

Longhorn did not offer resistance. Soon enough he was on the couch, bound in ropes, only with the ability to speak open to him. He had a twin on either side.

“Working for Lestrange, are you?” Fred told him quietly. “We'll send what's left of you back.”

“That would be a mistake, my good sir,” the old man answered him without missing a beat.

“You work for the Dark Side,” George responded on the heels of that statement. “Enough reason to murder you on the spot.”

“It's more complicated - “Longhorn began, only to be interrupted.

“Enough!” Ron said loudly. “Watch him,” he instructed his brothers.

Luna had returned to a couch on the opposite side, a child on each side of her, and she watched the proceedings tensely.

“Who are you?” Ron asked directly, without pretense.

“As I said, Longhorn,” the old man replied with some annoyance.

“We'll see about that,” Ron muttered under his breath. “I'll believe anything you say only on the condition you are questioned under Veritaserum.”

For the first time, the newcomer looked a bit uneasy. “I have one condition as well.”

“Do you find yourself in a position to demand conditions?” Ron asked him mockingly.

“I'm the key to the success of your little scheme to bring Remus Lupin back,” Longhorn smiled confidently. “Kill me, and forsake the Order.”

One did not hear such bold claims from a captive...

Ron bit his lip, turned his eyes to the floor, exhaled noisily, and looked back up at Longhorn. “What is your condition, then?”

“Ask me questions only pertaining to Lestrange,” he requested. “Anything else you want to know, I will tell you afterward.”

Ron was silent for a moment. “Deal.”

Hermione took a vile from her pocket, tapped its glass surface with her wand to restore it to its original size, and handed it to Ron.

“Smart girl,” Longhorn observed with a kind smile.

To Harry, the man had an ever so slight resemblance to Albus Dumbledore...

Ron took the vile, Longhorn opened his mouth, and the silvery liquid disappeared down his throat shortly thereafter.

The characteristic effects of the potion started to take effect - the gaze became unfocused, the muscles relaxed.

Ron nodded to Harry, and they switched positions. Harry was to be the interrogator.

“What is your real name?” the raven-haired wizard began his one-sided interview.

“Demetris Snape,” came the dull reply.

A gasp of surprise travelled around the room.

“Do you know Severus Snape?”

“Great-uncle on his mother's side.”

“How did you come to serve Bellatrix Lestrange?” Harry upped the level of the questionnaire.

“Undercover mission for Armando Dippet, to be continued under Albus Dumbledore.”

“Mission for what?”

“Observe Tom Riddle, or as he became to be known, Voldemort.”

“Why become a Death Eater?”

“To save my family and keep Riddle's trust.”

“Where is your family?”

“Dead.”

Harry paused for a moment, and swallowed...here, he could identify with the old man.

“Why did you never withdraw from being a Death Eater? Fake your death, for example?”

“The Dark Lord knew all.”

“How did you know Albus Dumbledore?”

“Worked at Hogwarts with him.”

“What did you do?”

“I was an Occlumency Professor.”

Longhorn must have been a powerful wizard, because the potion began to rapidly wear off as he regained his senses and focus - otherwise, the interrogation would have lasted much longer.

Several wands refocused on him. “Well then,” the same non-threatening smile lit up his face. “Are you satisfied, Mr. Potter?”

The potion did not lie. “Yes, I am. However, we're far from done with you.”

“I expect nothing less,” the wizard nodded, “but time is scant.”

“There is enough time,” Harry told him forcefully, but then the sharpness in his voice died down. “How did you become a part of the Order?”

Demetris took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Even bound in ropes, he commanded respect. “The early days of Voldemort's rise, they were the most confusing. Nobody had a clue what he would come to do. Incredible talent, wasted on a worthless cause, which Bellatrix Lestrange is vainly trying to continue. The Order of the Phoenix was inaugurated by Albus Dumbledore at about the same time the Death Eaters started becoming an institution. Since I was extremely well trained in Occlumency, I became a chief operative in the spying ring set up against Voldemort. However, with time, I became increasingly involved, and while my loyalty never wavered, I was forced to join the Dark Side - much the same as my nephew did many years ago...I was doubted, persecuted, my family paid the ultimate price, but I stayed the course, because despite of the trials and difficulties, it was my only choice, if I was to contribute to bringing down this darkness.”

“And Occlumency...you say you were a professor at Hogwarts, but how did blocking out people help in any way?” Hermione asked on her own turn.

“Well, quite simple, Miss...”

“Mrs. Potter,” Hermione clarified.

“Well then, Mrs. Potter,” he flicked his gaze momentarily at Harry before focusing back on Hermione. “The difference is that I had the ability to resist Voldemort, Dolohov and Lestrange, as capable a Legilimens each of them was, or is. This meant I was to prove myself with my actions and anything that was tried on me in terms of mind control, failed. Thus, I am not the most adored of the Death Eater bunch, but I am respected. On a side note, if it was not for me, the two gits you see sitting there - Nott and Avery - would now be long dead.”

The two other Death Eaters in the room did not appreciate the qualification, but were forced to concede its correctness.

“I have paid a significant price for the cause of the Light,” Snape went on, “and I intend to see that my sacrifice has not been in vain.”

Another bout of silence fell over the crowd. This was completely unexpected, new, as if a godsend, if it was not a plot by Lestrange to find out the location of the Order's headquarters...

Harry broke the lull in the discussion. “You said you can help us bring Remus back. How would you do that?”

Demetris Snape only smiled once more. “I am an incredibly powerful Legilimens, Mr. Potter. While Dolohov or Lestrange may attempt to exploit the vulnerability in Miss Weasley, I have the ability to extend my power to protect her specifically.”

“That is remarkable,” Hermione breathed with fascination, “and incredibly rare too.”

Draco stepped forward. “I have a question for you.”

The old man looked at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“How can one kill a person from a distance, using the mind?” his voice was feverish. “If not Ginny, she could definitely target another member of the Order.”

Demetris closed his eyes for a moment. “It is complicated, I will admit. Only a few can do it, but I'm not one of those people. Unfortunately, Bellatrix Lestrange possesses the ability. How it works, theoretically, is that once such a person gains access into one's mind, he or she can use the mental leverage to stimulate or repress certain bodily functions that can be combined to lead to fatality. As some of you may know, a highly experienced and knowledgeable Legilimens can control not only a person's actions, but also their body. Common means of murdering people in such a way are cardiac arrest, physical trauma, and rarely, but not impossibly, a wandless Avada Kedavra, channelled through the mental connection.”

“But how is that even possible?” Draco was incredulous. An uneasy expectation had taken over the rest of the occupants. James and Madelyn, even if too young to grasp the importance of the situation, seemed to understand the negative gravity of what was being discussed.

“Nobody can ever know the bounds of magic, Master Malfoy,” Demetris nodded gravely.

Of course, he was right. Now, a decision needed to be made - could they release this Death Eater, and as he had not lied about being part of the Order, permit him to join meetings and missions? And as a bonus, hope that no other Death Eaters experienced a change in morality and defected to the Light.

Harry motioned to Ron and Draco, as well as each of their better halves, to step aside to discuss this.

“Alright, so what do you guys think about him?” Ginny was first to open to deliberations.

“I say, give him a chance,” Hermione proceeded to open the positive vote on her own turn.

“What if he turns to be a backstabber?” Draco voiced his concern. “I don't trust him.”

“Yeah, but he is a confirmed Order member, even if we did not know about him,” Ron put in.

“One of the founders,” Luna commented.

“Not quite,” Harry said, “but too close to make a difference on that count.”

“Let's do this then,” Luna suddenly took the word again. “We give him a chance to show his loyalties, and put a tail on him...the twins, for example.”

“Hang on one moment,” Hermione stopped them all. “I think Luna, Draco and Ginny should take over government for the time being, and use what we have found to engage in some public relations...give people some hope.”

“What should we do?” Draco questioned her motives exactly.

“Well, provide any details we have uncovered to the Aurors investigating the attacks, and ask them if they have anything else in return. Magical Law Enforcement should increase patrols, investigate transactions...we don't want any known or suspected Death Eaters moving about unchecked...and as for the Minister, she should oversee everything...be a symbol for stability. And, Luna, if you stick around there, James and Madelyn will be safe as well, at least for the time being, before the Order becomes too dangerously involved.”

Again, Hermione's brilliant thinking astounded the group. Positively, or negatively, they would individually judge, but one fact was undeniable - being caught up in the underground movement that was the Order meant not enough time was devoted to government, and the institutions were left to run themselves on previously provided instructions.

“Alright then,” Ron took the word, “you three devote yourself to your offices for the next little while, while we head up affairs with the Order and manage our new old recruit.”

“Any information we have to share has to happen in headquarters,” Harry pointed out. “We don't know where and how many spies Lestrange has. Keeping in mind what she knows, it will be difficult to communicate outside of Grimmauld.”

“But hang on one minute,” Luna whispered. “Demetris Snape...how do we determine what to and what not to tell him. If he is a Death Eater, that means we have to provide information and vice versa, in order to keep Lestrange placated.”

“Luna, leave that to us,” Ron interjected a bit forcefully. “For now, take care of the Minister's post, ensure you have Aurors to protect you, and please, look after the children...” he finished, his voice cracking ever so slightly noticeably near the end.

His wife nodded in agreement, and without another word, retreated back to the living room.

“Draco, Ginny, you also know what to do...one of you has the case, the other trails Death Eaters...understood?”

They each affirmed their duties, and also returned to the living room.

“And we agree that we release Longhorn from the ropes, and entrust our safety in him,” Ron continued reciting the results of their plans.

“We can release him,” Harry objected, “but I won't trust him yet...”

“He worked with Dumbledore for a long time, Harry,” Hermione observed. “That's enough reason right there.”

Despite his doubts, Harry's mind edged in favour of the new, mysterious participant in the Order. “Fine. I'll give him a chance.”

That was the only further approval needed, before the trio returned to the living room at last, and with one flick of his wand, Harry let the prisoner free.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Potter,” Snape smiled. There was a small hint of that famous leer that still haunted Harry's memories...

“Well then,” Harry replied, “you're again a part of the Order, Demetris...do not betray my trust, or anyone else's here.”

“No need to worry, my friend,” Longhorn bowed, “the moment I do that, I forsake my own existence along with everyone else's...tis not in my interest to do that.”

Everyone fell silent again. Ron ignited the fireplace, which erupted in golden flames, and the weighty matter of bringing Remus back, with the hint of hope that the new stranger offered, suddenly seemed more within reach...

A/N Two chapters in one day...please leave a review. ;)

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A/N: I don't recall ever writing about Harry's experiences in death firsthand...

Chapter XXIX: Patience

The next morning, Harry was again up and around before anyone else, or so he thought, before he wandered in the kitchen for the customary cup of coffee with which to open the day. Demetris Snape was sitting on one of the stools, propped on the table with his elbows, and his face in his hands...he was either very worried, or deep in thought.

“Longhorn,” Harry tried to attract his attention. “Are you alright?”

The former looked up at the young wizard, and smiled sadly. “Call me Demetris, Harry.”

Understanding the hint that he possibly wanted to talk about something, Harry charmed his mug full of the compulsory dark warm liquid, and sat across from Snape.

“What's on your mind?” he asked.

“Memories, Harry, memories,” the other sighed. “A long life means many memories, questions, and a far better understanding of what is good, bad, right and wrong.”

“Anything particular you're talking about?” Harry tried to probe deeper towards the issue.

“Do you remember your parents, Harry?” Snape returned the question with one of his own.

“Not personally,” he admitted, shaking his head, “but I have seen memories, met their friends...I have my dad's invisibility cloak.”

“Fine people, they were, let me tell you,” - a distant smile - “you have your mother's eyes.”

“So I've been told,” Harry nodded.

“I taught them both at Hogwarts...brilliant mind Lily had, very sharp girl,” he reminisced, “friendly with everyone, always willing to help...had a good heart! After she graduated, she joined the Order of the Phoenix, along with your father...soon enough, that Evans fellow came asking after them to join Merlin's order...”

He seemed to be talking to himself now. His eyes had definitely become more unfocused, as he dwelt deeper and deeper in the details of James and Lily's lives.

“And your father,” he looked up suddenly, “unruly troublemaker he was, very undisciplined, but also brilliant...he wasn't very concerned academically, even failed a few classes, but exceptionally capable at Occlumency...would have surpassed me with years of training, I am sure of it to this day. Spent years pining after Lily, and when they finally became a couple...”

Was it Harry's imagination, or did a tear glint in his eye?

“Demetris, I am definitely trying to live to the legacy of my parents,” he commented, and somewhat unwillingly, delved in his more personal memories. “I did meet them...”

“You did?” Snape asked incredulously.

“I was dead for a while, I'm sure you know...I spent two years with them,” he explained, a pang of remorse stabbing his stomach. “Ginny brought me back to this world.”

“Oh, well, then it's only worthwhile we bring them back too!” Demetris suddenly became excited. “They would be a definite asset to Merlin's Order, and - “

“No,” Harry cut him off curtly. “It was not their choice to return, and I will respect that. Even if we have the means to make it happen.”

Demetris paused for a moment, and then his expression softened. “I can understand that, Harry.”

Harry was about to respond, but at that moment, the two men were interrupted with the entry of Ron into the kitchen.

“Morning all,” he greeted the other two vigorously, which was atypical, considering he was not at all a morning person. “Time to retrieve our werewolf friend.”

“Sounds good,” Harry stood up. “The sooner we do it, the better.”

“Hold your horses one moment,” Demetris called behind them. “Give an old man a chance to say a word.”

Harry and Ron stopped and turned to him.

“Keep in mind, boys, I'm not as strong as I once was. I can extend the protection against Lestrange and Dolohov over young Ginny Weasley only for so long...”

“Which means we have to make quick work of convincing Remus to return,” Harry finished for him. “At the end of three hours, start the resurrection spell.”

“That'll be the plan. Let's go,” the gravity in Ron's voice betrayed his uneasiness, despite his earlier effort to play it off.

The backyard of the Black home was chosen as the setting for the ritual. The Fidelius charm was active over it as well, so privacy was secured. Ginny had taken up a central position, and was flanked by her family, with the exception of Draco, who stood on her immediate right. Luna was standing with the kids a little ways away, since she knew part of the process involved Harry taking the Killing Curse, and she had no intent to traumatize her children with the prospect of witnessing the spell.

Harry and Ron stepped out, followed by the old man, and proceeded towards Ginny.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Ginny asked him quietly.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” he replied, smiling slightly.

Ginny did not return his smile. “Draco, you'll administer Avada Kedavra,” she instructed, “but first, Demetris has to extend his protection.”

Without a word, Snape stepped forward, and closed his eyes. Muttering something under his breath, he seemed to fall in a state of trance. Eyes still closed, he sat down on the ground, and whispered, “Ready”.

“Ironically, Potter, I've always wanted to fire one of these at you,” Draco smirked the only way he could and twirled the wand between his fingers.

“Now's your chance, Malfoy,” Harry did not fall behind on the dark humour, “I'll make your life hell.”

“As you say,” Draco raised his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

The ease with which he cast the curse caused an audible gasp from the surrounding audience. They watched, horrified, as the sickly green light shot across and impacted Harry. Hermione's hands shot up to cover her mouth, and Luna had turned away, her hands covering James and Madelyn's eyes. Harry's expression was one of determination, and it did not change, as the curse hit him, and he fell back from the impact, landing sprawled on the ground.

As if the heavens were watching what was happening below, the already cloudy sky darkened further and heavy rain began to fall, with thunder echoing in the distance.

Hermione, even if she knew that Harry would eventually return, could not restrain herself, and collapsed beside his body in the mud, hugging him tightly to her chest, as the tears became indistinguishable from the raindrops...

“Hermione, come with me,” she heard Luna's voice behind her. “Come inside.”

She was unwilling to leave Harry. Luna did not pressure her, but soon enough, Ron came, and with his help, she managed to convince Hermione to return to the living room.

Once safely beside the fireplace, Ron left the two women to themselves with the kids, and returned outside to Ginny and Demetris. Fred and George had also remained - not many knew it, but aside from running a successful pyrotechnics business, they also had considerable knowledge in Occlumency, which meant they could assist Longhorn at any point, as he might request...

No magic was used to cover them against the rain, as it would interfere with the occlumency cover for Ginny. As a result, the Weasleys set up makeshift shelters around Ginny, Snape, and dragged Harry's body to rest next to Ginny. Draco proceeded to station himself next to Ginny, and sat down on the wet ground.

“It will be fine,” he said; Ginny sat down next to him, and he took her in his embrace.

**

Harry found himself in a familiar environment. Soon enough, the faces he knew and loved came into view. As last time, a higher power led him to where he wanted to go - he only drifted in that direction.

There were his parents - they were smiling at him. Sirius stood on his father's right side, and Remus, much younger and far more handsome than Harry remembered him, completed the Marauder trio.

“Harry!” Lily exclaimed, and dashed forward to meet her son. “Oh, Harry!”

“Mum,” Harry croaked, overcome with emotion. He certainly missed her.

“You'll suffocate him to death, Lily,” James called from further back and laughed heartily. “Let me see him.”

Lily squeezed Harry one last time and released him.

“Hey, son,” James stepped forward and extended a hand. Harry took it for a handshake, but a second later, James had dragged him into a fatherly hug. “Good to see you, Harry!”

“Hi, dad,” Harry said; the emotions within him prevented him from being more enthusiastic.

“Step aside, Potter, let me see my nephew!” another familiar voice declared, and Sirius shoved his way in to free Harry from James.

“Harry, m'boy!” he declared heartily with a wide smile. “Been wondering when you'd come for a visit again! Come here.” Yet another tight hug followed, and Harry returned it in full.

“Sirius, I've missed you,” Harry said honestly.

“I've missed you too, Harry, believe me,” the prison escapee rejoined emotionally. “Now go say hi to our little furry problem over there.”

Remus, characteristically the most patient of the Marauders, only smiled at the crack. “Up yours, Black.”

“Do me?” Sirius went on with the joke.

“Dream on, Sirius, dream on,” Lupin told him.

“Remus,” Harry said simply. “Hey.”

“How are you doing, Harry?” the werewolf asked him solemnly.

“Not good,” the raven-haired wizard shook his head. “I'm here to take you back.”

“Take me back?” Remus seemed confused for a moment. “Why?”

“We need you in the Order, Remus. We can't do it by ourselves,” Harry told him uneasily.

“I honestly would be hard pressed to go back, Harry,” Lupin explained. “Lestrange killed me the only way she knew how to do it covertly. There are no guarantees she won't do it again if she finds out I'm alive.”

“I know the risks are great,” Harry argued, “but you're a Marauder...when have you not faced danger?”

“I have never been this vulnerable, Harry,” Remus shook his head. “My occlumency and legilimancy abilities were never as strong as Bella's.”

“But we have a means to protect you!” Harry was growing increasingly frustrated, as time ticked by. “An old member of the Order - Demetris Snape, an old uncle of Snivellius.”

Harry had unwillingly called his old professor by the unfortunate nickname, but he did not care. Remus, however, cracked a smile.

“Old Demetris? I hope he's alright,” Lupin reminisced for a moment, “but he is old, Harry...I don't know how much he can protect me.”

James, Lily and Sirius listened to the exchange with interest.

“Listen, Harry,” Sirius put a hand around him, “if fuzzy buns here won't help you out, I will.”

“Who said I wouldn't help him!” Remus grew excited all of the sudden. “And who are you calling fuzzy buns, fleabrain?”

“Gentlemen, relax,” James intervened. “Now, Harry, what exactly do you need help with?”

He wondered where to begin...

“In essence,” Harry began, “Bellatrix Lestrange took over for Voldemort and does what he did, only with the intent to bring him back. For that she needs a set of spells that the Order of Merlin protects, and which I am heading right now, since the old leader was murdered a while back on a train...”

“I see,” James rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“And I need Remus back, because he was our link with a few Death Eaters who worked in our favour, and his experience in general is invaluable to the cause. More importantly, he's greatly missed, and not just by me.”

There was an odd expression on James' face, as he considered what Harry had said.

“Do you guys remember Bella?” he questioned the other three in the company.

“Oh, I do!” Lily said with disgust. “A vile person. She was in every one of my Potions classes with Slughorn. Incredibly smart overall, but also rude...he did not see eye to her, and she even tried to curse him several times.”

“And I pity you for that, Lily,” Sirius observed, this time without humour. “I know she and Regulus had a huge fight about something, I don't remember what, but according to her, he told her something horrible - I don't think she ever forgave him for that action of his and he never talked about it. Maybe why she ratted on him to Voldemort when he wanted to quit from being a Death Eater.”

Remus took longer to consider his answer to the question. “Heaven to Moody, heaven to Moody,” James called over humorously to him.

“I'm thinking,” Lupin told him, and added with a smile, “Something I can actually do in contrast to you two.”

“No rush, mate, we have all eternity,” Sirius commented.

“And I have two hours,” Harry pointed out.

“Two hours till what?” James asked him.

“Before I have to head back to the living world,” Harry explained. “I'm on a mission to bring Remus back, you see...”

Sirius and James exchanged a quick glance that Harry did not quite catch. Moody on the other hand, was still silent.

“Hm,” he said at last, “I know a lot about Bellatrix Lestrange, but aside from the fact that she was Sirius' cousin, most curiously it was her obsession with Voldemort in sixth and seventh year...when he was still a semblance of being human, and still possessed that handsomeness he was famous for at the time, along with the entirety of his evil doings. She was fixated on contacting him, reaching him, being as close as possible even. For those two years, the only topic she was predominantly concerned with was Voldemort, his ideas...she joined the Death Eaters as soon as she graduated from Hogwarts with us. And the rest is history. I still don't know what triggered that morbid fascination of hers.”

“I always said she was insane,” Lily shrugged. “Only now she's taken it to an extreme level.”

Inside, Harry agreed. There was always an insane glint in her eye when he saw her, and their double agent duo always confirmed it.

**

“Mistress, there is word that the ritual for bringing back Remus Lupin back to earth has started,” a nameless Death Eater in the grand organization that it was, reported to Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Did word arrive by Nott or Avery?” she inquired snappishly.

“Avery, Mistress,” the terrified servant replied.

“Excellent,” she said calmly. “You may go.”

Bowing once more, the Death Eater scurried from her chamber as quickly as he could.

“Antonin!”

As soon as she said those words, her second in command appeared from thin air. “Mistress,” he bowed respectfully.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Fully so,” Dolohov answered with a nod, still keeping his bow.

“I want Ginny Weasley dead within the next hour. You and I are the most capable Legilimens left ever since our Dark Lord passed. Fail me, and you will pay with your life.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

**

How do you think Harry is doing up there?” Luna asked Hermione, as they sat by the fire. Exhausted, James and Madelyn were sleeping on the opposite end of the couch.

“I hope he convinces Remus,” Hermione said quietly, staring into the flames. “Else we're done for.”

“Do you think we can wage the fight against Lestrange without Lupin?” Luna sounded more worried.

“We don't have enough resources, or manpower,” Hermione's logical side replied. “If we are to defeat her, we have to do it with the help of the ministry agencies, and that's where you, Draco and Ginny come in...but the ultimate job is to kill Bellatrix, and it is up to the Order to do that.”

“Maybe if Remus kills her, he will avenge Sirius Black,” Luna proposed.

“Hah, that would definitely be an incentive,” Hermione laughed mirthlessly.

In the foyer, Ron kept pacing around nervously, checking his watch every few minutes. The atmosphere was thick with nervousness and anticipation.

Hopefully Harry had not failed to convince their old friend...

A/N: Leave a review, and next chapter is coming up...

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A/N: Got a bit of a surprise for this chapter...

Chapter XXX: The Perpetuation of Evil

The clock was worrisomely approaching the three hour mark. No more than twenty minutes remained until Ginny was due to initiate the resurrection spell. Rod had gone back outdoors and kept a close eye on Demetris Snape. The old man was showing signs of exhaustion, as beads of perspiration had begun to form on his forehead, and his lower jaw had tightened considerably under the effort required to maintain the needed concentration.

Ten minutes. The tension was palpable. Ginny could not take it and tried to alleviate herself by walking around - Draco chose to remain under the tent.

“Ron,” she called over to him, and he looked up. “I'm going to bring Harry back!”

“But we have more time still,” he protested. “Give him a chance.”

At that moment, Longhorn's voice came over frailly. “I am slipping, Mr. Weasley. Now would be a good time.”

Torn, Ron looked at Ginny, glanced at the old man, and then turned back to his sister. “Fine. Do it!”

She ran back to the tent, while Ron took it upon himself to alert the others. In the space of two minutes, everybody was assembled in high anticipation around Ginny and Harry's body. Draco had retreated too, to give his significant other more room to work...

Silence. Ginny rolled up her sleeves, and took out her wand. She levitated Harry's body in front of her, and retrieved the ever-so important book that contained the spells. Flipping quickly to the right page, she lowered her eyes to scan the contents hastily.

Nodding to herself, she raised her head, closed her eyes, and described the complicated patterns with her wand in the air.

“Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir “

Just as the last time she performed the spell, the wind grew significantly more intense, and with the force it exerted, the tent was swept up and blown away. The drizzle became a downpour in the space of seconds, and lightning strikes lightened up the fierce sky. Ginny shouted the spell again and again over the howl of the storm, her wand now pointed at Harry.

The pure awesomeness of the sight made the audience immobile. Snape, despite being battered with wind and rain, maintained his meditative stance.

Ron took the lead in illuminating the tip of his wand, and soon enough, everyone present had done the same. A soft glow of pearly white created a sphere of warmth around Harry and Ginny.

Nobody was prepared for the moment when Harry opened his eyes wide and drew in a ragged breath, arching his back as he was there, lying on the muddy ground.

AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

An inhuman scream escaped from his mouth that frightened the entirety of the assembled Order. Left and right, people retreated, shocked, and it took several minutes for everyone to regain calm.

Harry remained unconscious, but breathing, on the ground. The rain quite suddenly resumed its drizzle, and the storm was gone as suddenly as it had arrived. However, the string of shocking events was not meant to quite end.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor leading to the door to the backyard drew the glances of the Order members, and with exclamations of surprise and relief, they saw Remus Lupin standing there, much younger than most had remembered him recently.

He looked confused and disoriented. Ron rushed forward to help him, but then something else caught the general attention.

Demetris was rising on his feet, his concentration broken now, but as he was standing up, a woman's scream penetrated the air, and with horror, all eyes turned to witness Ginny gripping her chest, her face screwed in pain, before she collapsed on the ground and did not move again.

“Ginny!” Draco shouted on his own turn, and dropping Demetris, he ran towards the youngest Weasley. Sliding on his knees next to her, he turned her over. “Ginny!” She did not respond when he tried to shake her.

“Damn it! Ginny!” he placed two fingers on her neck to check for a pulse, and did not find one.

All fight evaporated from him. He lowered his eyes, clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, and a tear fell down his cheek. After that, still very ashen-faced, he stood up, and rigidly walked towards the house. He stopped next to Ron, who was still supporting Remus next to the door. “I am going to kill both Lestrange and Dolohov. They did this to her.”

Ron could not quite say anything. His sister was gone....that tore too deep a wound in him to be able to think straight right now. He knew she could be brought back, but the knowledge did not lessen the pain. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had kneeled down by their daughter now, while the Twins' expressions were murderous. Hermione and Luna stood in disbelief, while the kids just watched on, uncomprehending. They were put through too many trials for their young minds to bear or understand...

Snape, while exhausted, also knew what had happened. Would he blame himself for it? He had reached the extent of his ability to protect Ginny, while she brought Harry and Lupin back. In the end, the pressing of two evil Legilimens on the other side ultimately overwhelmed him...

The girl could be retrieved. He was worried about Lestrange exploiting her ability further. She was after the resurrection spell, and he knew the only way to recover it was through the tome the Order protected...and to which he had access now.

Avery and Nott had been compelled to stay inside and alert when he arose. The intent had been simple enough, to prevent them from witnessing the crucial magic behind the process. Soon they were due to report to Lestrange what they had accomplished. Granted, it was not much, but it was important they lied...

Harry had quickly regained his senses. Recovery did not take as long if one had not been dead for an extensive period of time. Before the end of the day, he was up and around.

Now, however, came the difficult part of telling him what had happened. Ron and Hermione took him aside, recounting the details of the day and anticipating him to lash out in anger at some point. Their trepidations turned out correct, when they arrived at Ginny's death.

“She what!” he steamed. “Has that monster no decency! Why doesn't she target me, I'll rip her heart out, the bitch!”

“Harry, relax,” Ron tried to calm him. “I would do that tomorrow if I had the chance, but we need a plan first.”

“Don't tell me to calm down, Ron,” Harry snapped at him. “That was a hit below the belt. She isn't even human, for crying out loud!”

“Tell me something I don't know,” Ron rejoined equally snappishly. “Look, I want to avenge Ginny too! But we need time!”

Harry knew Ron was inevitably right. Right now, they could not do much, until someone had been trained in using the resurrection spell. Not only that, but it was also very draining from the magical aspect. A powerful wizard or witch was needed.

“Avery and Nott haven't seen the spell, have they?” Harry asked, indeed more calmly now.

“No,” this time it was Hermione who answered. “We made sure of that.”

Right then, Demetris interrupted the meeting. “You know, those two idiots will need memory charms.”

“What?” Harry was momentarily confused. “Why?”

“They ought to report back to Lestrange immediately after the ritual,” Longhorn explained impatiently. “She knows Ginny is dead, and as part of the story, you and Lupin never came back.”

“That's true, but she has the ability to look past modified memories,” Ron reminded him.

“Yes, if you go about it the ridiculous way you did the first time around,” Demetris told him.

“Are you suggesting you can do it better?” Ron challenged him.

“Infinitely,” Demetris said with confidence. “I might teach you afterward.”

“Then that'd be the first priority,” Harry interjected before Ron could snap back another emotional response.

“Well, you gained a cool head pretty quick,” Ron told him in an undertone, as they were moving back towards the living room.

“Trust me, I'm still steaming over what happened...just keep it down for now, ay?”

Remus was sitting with Hermione and Luna, while the two Death Eaters were by themselves, looking very thoughtful .There was no trace of Draco, or the Weasley parents.

“Jonathan, Terrance,” Demetris startled them out of their mental meanderings.

“Longhorn,” Avery acknowledged him. “What's going on?”

“There has been a change of plans,” the old man explained. “You two need to be on the outside for a while.”

“Why?” Nott asked him.

“You have to report to Lestrange, as you might know,” he went on, while mouthing `idiots' to the trio, “if she picks your brains, she is bound to find out you two failed the mission.”

Avery and Nott became even more ashen-faced than they already were.

“Look, I know,” Avery told him. “She found out about that earlier meeting too, so memory modification is out of the question. We're dead - it's only a matter of time.”

“No,” Demetris shook his head. “For a memory charm to work, you need to do it right, and that's why I am here. You will tell a fabricated story that you will believe, and should we all survive this whole ordeal - then you'll receive your original memories.”

“Does that mean our involvement with the Order ends here?” there was a sudden note of worry in Nott's voice.

“Of course, not,” Harry intervened. “You will be needed, but on a need-to-know basis. As well, you won't know I'm alive until Lestrange is dead and the Death Eaters are either in Hell or Azkaban.”

“Look at it this way,” Ron rejoined. “The whole security of our operation depends on you two.”

In all truth, Nott and Avery did not have an option in the matter either. They had to go back, else be viewed as traitors, and killed either way. A memory charm was their only chance of survival.

“Fine,” Avery agreed curtly.

“Terrance?” Longhoron turned to Nott.

“Agreed,” he replied with resignation.

Demetris proceeded to take out two glass viles from an inside pocket of his robes, and opened each one. “Your memories will be in here for safekeeping.”

Nods in return - it was time for the charm to be applied.

Demetris took out his wand, and described an extensive, difficult pattern in the air. He did not speak, which meant the spell was not meant to be audible. Hermione watched on with fascination...

Two streaks of brilliant white light escaped the tip of his wand, and enveloped the head of each Death Eater. The light intensified, Demetris concentrated further, started muttering something, and soon enough, a coloured stream of memories began to flow back across each white streak. Seemingly counting off seconds, the old wizard suddenly jerked the wand away, and each magical stream was aimed into a respective vile.

Avery and Nott sat there with blank stares, unresponsive and awaiting.

“Harry?” Demetris prompted him.

He stepped forward, hesitated for a moment, and began the false narrative.

“Ginny Weasley died before she managed to bring Harry Potter and Remus Lupin back. We managed to distract the Order long enough to allow for no significant protection to be extended over Weasley. We observed Harry Potter dying by Draco Malfoy's hand. Nobody in the Order is powerful enough to use any type of magic to revive neither Potter, Weasley or Lupin. We have succeeded in our mission.”

Harry nodded to Ron, who took his place in front of the Avery and Nott.

“When you leave here, you will not remember seeing Harry Potter, nor Remus Lupin alive. You will maintain they are dead. You witnessed Ginny Weasley dying. You will forget the location of the Headquarters of the Order of Merlin. Finally, you will not remember the resurrection ritual or its aftermath. Your first thought when you awake is to return to Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Ron stepped back. “Hurry now, lead them outside,” Longhorn instructed. “We have to hurry.”

The two best friends wasted no more time, and saw to it Avery and Nott were led to the end of the street. Demetris came along with them.

“Now what about you?” Harry turned to him. “What's your cover story?”

“Don't worry about me, Harry,” Demetris smiled. “I've done the double-agent business for many years, I know what to do.”

“How can we reach you if the need arises?” Ron asked him with a sense of urgency.

“For now,” Demetris told him patiently, “do not contact me. Meeting every other week is the best way to keep current in what's going on. Make it Wednesday, and we'll start in two weeks, so as to give enough time for any suspicions to die down.”

“That will do for now,” Harry nodded.

“Alright, you return to headquarters, I'll set these two awake, and we'll take matters from there,” Longhorn said.

“Sounds good,” Harry replied. “Good luck.”

“Yeah. Stay outta trouble,” Ron echoed him.

“God speed,” Demetris said, and with that, the three colleagues by fate separated.

**

“How are you feeling, Remus?” Hermione was asking the werewolf for the umpteenth time, just as Harry and Ron were coming back through the door.

“As if I was run over by a dragon,” Lupin said. “Didn't know coming back would be such an experience.”

“Well, now you know how I felt coming back,” Harry told him with a small smile.

Remus looked up. “Hey, Harry.”

The younger wizard put a hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you again. And for the record, you look a lot better too.”

“Give me a moment,” Remus replied, as if struck by a sudden thought. He stood up, and walked out in the foyer, where there was indeed a full length mirror.

He came back a minute later, his face alight with delight. “I am at least twenty-five years younger.”

Indeed, gone were the old, tired face and receding hair. Inexplicably, Remus was full of youth and life once again.

However, his expression very quickly turned serious when another thought surfaced in his mind.

“Harry, there is something else.”

“What?” Harry sensed the gravity in his voice.

“You know that we have to keep secret the fact that you, I, and eventually Ginny, are all alive, from Lestrange.”

“I do, yes.”

“And you remembered what your parents said, shortly before you and I were pulled back to Earth,” he went on.

“I don't remember,” Harry declared with some surprise, even though he was sure he knew what Remus was referring to.

“James, Lily, and Sirius want to come back too.”

A/N: Come on guys...say something, anything, about what you think...

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A/N: So after twenty-odd years, the Marauders are making a return...

Chapter XXXI: Ghosts

Harry was momentarily dumbstruck. “They what?”

“You heard me right,” Remus affirmed. “Your parents want to return to Earth.”

“Are you sure?” Harry was still grasping at the idea.

“Yes,” Lupin smiled.

Harry was still taken aback from surprise - he had never considered his parents and adopted uncle would agree to come back down to Earth.

However, something else much more important, and rather understated before, took precedence away from the potential resurrection of the Marauders. Hermione walked in, leading in Tonks by the hand. She was laughing and crying at the same time. Overwhelmed with happiness, she shrieked at the sight of Remus, and breaking away from Hermione, literally sprinted into his waiting arms.

Certainly, a life of war and conflict was bittersweet.

Unable to utter a word, Tonks only spoke unintelligibly, permitting her tears to communicate what she could not say with words.

Remus, on his own turn, collapsed in emotion, and his eyes also glistened in the firelight, as he pressed Tonks closer to him.

“I missed you,” she spoke softly in his ear, “very much.”

“You have no idea, Nymph,” his voice was just as, if not more shaky than hers.

Seemingly in a world where only the two of them existed, nobody dared disturb neither Remus nor Tonks - the sight of them embraced in the middle of the living room, bathed in the soft glow of the fire was mesmerizing.

The sudden silence Tonks' entrance had caused, and had successfully maintained, provided an opportunity for Harry to give the couple privacy from at least one set of eyes, and moved towards Hermione near the entrance.

When he reached her, he noted with a small smile that she was slightly teary-eyed as well.

“Hermione?” he whispered to catch her attention.

She sniffed, and turned to him, clutching a handkerchief she had conjured. “Yes, Harry?”

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. As heart-rending as the sight of love was, he was not going to cry.

“We need to talk,” he told her quietly to suppress the emotion in his voice. “It's about the resurrection spell.”

“Oh?” Hermione turned to her academic self quite suddenly.

“Come on, let's go to the backyard,” he took her by the hand.

Once outside, Hermione was quick to take the word. “We need another caster. Ginny was the only one powerful enough to do it.”

“That's the essence of it,” Harry agreed, “but another small technicality we overlooked is that the caster has to be a female.”

Hermione considered the matter for several seconds. “You want me to replace Ginny.”

“Yeah, I suppose that would sum it up nicely,” Harry rejoined, and then did not waste time in asking the obvious question. “So will you do it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Hermione inquired rhetorically.

On his own turn, Harry pondered the question. “Luna, Mrs. Weasley, Tonks....none are powerful enough to handle the spell without suffering severe exhaustion, and we have to use it repeatedly...I don't think so, Hermione.”

“I figured,” she answered. “I would do it without reservations. Just give me the book and a few hours, and I'll have it mastered soon enough.”

Even in times of great distress, Harry remained astounded by Hermione's presence of calm and reason.

“For sure,” he said, and then quite unexpectedly, proceeded to hug his better half and kiss her on the head. “You're the best, Hermione.”

She smiled lightly. “Thank you, Harry.”

With that, she turned around and headed for the staircase. Both of them knew time was of the essence, and emotion needed to be put aside for now - grief and joy could be expressed later.

Harry remained where he was standing, and another difficult thought clouded his mind. He was certain Ginny, his parents, and Sirius could be brought back, but that meant the Order was to become a movement of ghosts, as nobody had to know they were alive, save for themselves.

Maybe reinstate Dumbledore's order? Reincarnated, only not really - Harry smiled at the little noir joke. An even greater worry was presented at how to protect the members from the mind attacks of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov. Each was capable of killing anyone they desired and deemed a threat. The only reason he hadn't been targeted, was because Snape's Occlumency sessions all those years ago had been worthwhile after all...

One of the most effective means to go about it was to charge the old man with teaching Occlumency - that would certainly decrease the likelihood of death via distance. For all his years in magic, the concept still amazed him. Maybe a teacher was the only way out. It was pure luck Demetris had not fallen victim to a Killing Curse, and even greater fortune that he had revealed himself to the Order and proven his loyalty in a suicide mission.

The Order of the Phoenix. An order of ghosts. Maybe Dumbledore hadn't chosen the name only for his remarkable bird.

**

Avery and Nott had been summoned to Lestrange's chamber. Terrified as they were, their apprehension was only increased when Snape also entered shortly after them.

“You three,” she began without any hint of her usual grandiose introductions in the presence of an inferior, “explain yourselves.”

Demetris was the only one brave enough to respond. “Do clarify yourself, mistress.”

His longevity and experience with the Death Eaters warranted his boldness.

“You dare challenge me?” Lestrange puffed herself up as she tried to look fierce. “You, worthless scum?”

Snape wisely did not reply, but waited. He knew he had left Lestrange with no choice but to respond to his question.

“Your activities around the last mission,” she continued, as if a second earlier she had not been furious at all. “I wish to know what exactly you did.”

“We prevented the Order from fully carrying out the resurrection charm,” Avery said, as if from a memorization. “Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are dead. She did not manage to bring the werewolf back, and it was the Malfoy child that killed Potter.”

At that moment was using her own foolproof way of detecting lies by probing the mind of each of her servants, but could not seem to find any irregularity in the reports. When asked, Nott provided the same account.

As usual, she could not penetrate Demetris Snape's mental defences. The old wizard's expression of obedience did not change, but by blocking her out, he had declared his unwillingness to cooperate with Lestrange.

She also knew he was not as expendable as Avery and Nott. The intelligence he could provide mattered far more than anything the other two goons could ever accomplish. Yet, they were loyal, albeit easily manipulated - that was all which was required of them.

She turned to Snape. “What are the prospects of Draco joining our ranks?”

“Rather poor, my Mistress,” he replied evenly without looking up. “He is averted from the Death Eaters, as well as from the Order - I know not what he thinks.”

“Very well, then,” Bellatrix replied, too calmly to be natural, “he will join Potter. You two,” she glanced at Avery and Nott, “will carry out the task.”

“Yes, Mistress,” they affirmed in unison.

The same thought was going through both their minds - the Order was, for the most part, eradicated of its most capable members.

“Snape,” she told Demetris, “you are to watch over them. Should they fail - kill them.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Dismissed,” she waved them off. “Go!”

“Antonin,” she called her idle servant once the other three had left. “I also have a task for you.”

“Mistress?” he bowed.

“I do not trust Snape any longer,” she said.

“Perfectly understandable,” he agreed.

“I am suspicious he may be working with the Order, as the other two are drawn in it,” she spoke her thoughts loudly.

“Downright treachery,” Dolohov clenched his fist.

“Which means you will be responsible to track Snape, Nott and Avery without being seen. When the opportunity presents itself, kill all three.”

“Yes, Mistress.” There was something terribly unnerving about the grisly smile that stretched the man's lips…

“You may go,” Lestrange told him curtly, and taking this cue, Dolohov made his exit with a deep bow.

Aiming to escape prying eyes, Avery, Nott and Snape had gone to the same clearing where the latter two had almost beat the stuffing out of Demetris, and then found out he was the reason they were still alive.

“This isn't good,” the old wizard kept pacing around, muttering the same three words under his breath.

“She knows we're agents of the Order,” Avery snapped out of frustration. “How we succeeded last time, I don't know, but we should be bloody dead by now!”

“Relax yourself, will you?” Nott argued. “That we're in the Order, it's true, but she thinks we're on her side. Think about it. We can use this to our advantage.”

“How can you be sure what the woman thinks and doesn't think?” Avery argued right back. “She's bloody insane!”

“What - “

“Unless you have failed to notice,” Avery continued his rant, “all the missions we've done thus far, they are impossible! Do you think she can't figure out that we have to have cooperation from someone else to do them!”

“But she would have killed us by now if she suspected anything,” Nott told him. “If we're still alive, that means she trusts us.”

“You're an idiot!” Avery was almost shouting now and slapped Nott behind the neck. “She's waiting for the right moment to kill us. What need do we have for her after almost all of the Order is gone?”

“I was hoping a reward,” Nott said ironically, rubbing the place where Avery had struck him, “involving your death.”

At this, Avery suddenly stopped, and a look of annoyance passed over his face. “You're hilarious,” he said. “Don't pull the devil by the tail.”

“Stop arguing senselessly,” Demetris snapped on his own turn, startling the other two into silence.

“What's grating you?” Nott asked him, that hint of sarcasm still present in his voice.

“Why don't you guess?” Snape told him. “One chance, if you lose, I kill you.”

“What?”

“That's my job, innit?”

The tension between the three was palpable. It was amazing they had been able to escape Lestrange up until now, but the passageway of deceit was becoming much too narrow for comfort.

Demetris knew the odds were against him. Even if he was a valuable asset to Lestrange, he was not as secure as he earlier thought - the woman was willing to dispatch anyone along the road to her objective. Had she tasked another Death Eater to follow them?

“Listen,” the old man began again, “we need to calm down. There's no doubt we're in a bad fix, but there should be a way, but I need to go consult with the Order.”

“What do you mean, you?” Avery cut across him. “We're very well a part of what's going on too.”

“And I agree, you are,” Snape said hurriedly, “but you need to trust me on this. It's the only way.”

“Trust you?” Nott called out suspiciously.

“Would you prefer you were already dead?” Snape asked him coldly.

“No,” Nott rejoined, but did not avert his eyes. “I only want to make sure.”

“Wait a second,” Avery intervened. “When you accept a mission for Lestrange, you have to go immediately. That means you can't leave us behind, old man.”

“Oh, I'm aware,” Demetris nodded. “The sooner we go, the better the chances I can figure out a course of action.”

“And why can't Nott and I participate in the meeting? You know you need manpower.”

“There is some very sensitive information that needs to be protected,” Demetris said pointedly. “And that requires you two to remain in the dark for now.”

“You're making a mistake,” Avery said threateningly.

“Oh, believe me, I couldn't be more right,” Demetris' voice suddenly grew sharp. “And unless you cooperate, you'll jeopardize not only your own skins, but the entire Order as well.”

They both looked at him.

“Make your choice.”

Still furious, Avery grudgingly accepted. “Fine.”

Nott, also quite unhappy, concurred with the circumstances.

“Let's go, then,” Demetris told them. “And make haste. I have the feeling we're being followed.”

He had no idea how right he was. Antonin did keep a distant eye, but he was not yet noticed.

The three of them proceeded to apparate to London, and mere seconds later found themselves in the bustling city.

As close as they were to Grimmauld Place, Demetris led Avery and Nott inside the inconspicuous street, told them to keep vigil, and hurriedly made his way to number twelve.

Seeing his agitation, Harry let him in very quickly. From the door, Demetris started talking in a hurry. “Big problems -”

“Wait, hang on a minute,” Harry stopped him. “One detail at a time…”

“Call the rest down here first.” Demetris said.

“Oy, Ron!” Harry shouted so as to be heard. “Come down here and bring everyone else!”

The redhead showed from the top of the staircase “Thirty seconds!”

And as promised, the living remains of the Order were assembled in the living room, with Snape standing up to give the worrisome account.

“Alright now, what's wrong?” Harry prompted him.

“Meeting with Lestrange,” Demetris said bitterly. “New mission against the Order.”

“Oh, no!” Luna gasped.

“What does she want this time?” Ron asked darkly.

“Do you remember the story as we made it, that Draco killed Harry?”

“Yes.”

“Well, she pressed me to see to it that he joins the Death Eaters as soon as possible for doing her that favour,” Demetris explained.

“I'd never do that!” Draco exclaimed. “What did you say?”

“There's the issue,” the old man replied solemnly, “I said you aren't interested in the Death Eaters, but I couldn't reveal you were a part of the Order either - so I made you out as a freelancer.”

“And?” Draco pressed him further.

“She wants you dead.”

“What!!”

“Believe me, I was more shocked than you are,” Demetris tried to salvage the situation vainly.

“Who is supposed to kill me?” Draco's voice betrayed fear for the first time.

“Avery and Nott,” the old man sighed. “Lestrange seems to be suspecting them to be in cahoots with the Order. That's why she gives them these impossible assignments - waiting until they falter so she can justify killing them.”

“Why does she want to kill them?” Draco asked him, confused.

“She is becoming increasingly doubtful of their methods and loyalty - you know she requires total devotion on part of a Death Eater.”

“Knowing my father,” Draco stated with spite.

“Thus, I only see one possible way out of this,” Demetris' tone sounded heavier with every word.

“You don't mean…” Harry interrupted.

“Yes,” Demetris shook his head with regret. “However, it all depends on Hermione's ability now to resurrect a whole slew of the Order…if she cannot, for simply not being powerful enough - then we have to figure out something else.”

“Maybe engage Luna to also learn the spell,” Harry thought out loud. “That would provide Hermione with some assistance, and help split the burden.”

“Yeah, mate, who told you Luna wasn't powerful enough?” Ron asked Harry half-jokingly, despite the gravity of the conversation.

“It's not that, Ron,” Harry rejoined without the slightest trace of humour. “The issue is with James and Madelyn - what of them?”

“Ronald,” Mrs. Weasley's voice suddenly floated over the discussion. “Arthur and I can assume care for the kids, as long as needed.”

“But Mum,” Ron objected. “Luna and I can handle it!”

Molly only sighed, and smiled - she was becoming a very kind grandmother. “Order business consumes your time, dear, as well as Harry and Hermione's, and now, Luna's, even if her main focus remained with the children up until now - why else do you think Hermione isn't expecting right now?”

The last question made the aforementioned girl redden considerably, and Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Don't answer that, dear,” Mrs. Weasley only said kindly. “Only going for a bit of light in these dark times.”

“It's true, son,” Mr. Weasley was intent on providing his own view, “we're here to help however we can.”

“Thanks,” Ron did feel truly grateful for the presence of his parents right there and then. They had seen enough danger and excitement in the decades of fight against Voldemort - it was only just they were not as involved against Bellatrix; what's more, their age hardly permitted them to handle more pressure than was necessary.

“So,” Harry brought back the focus on the matter at hand, “the plan, as it stands now is to let Nott and Avery kill Draco here, train Luna in the methods of the resurrection spell so as to assist Hermione, and ultimately, bring everyone who is dead or killed, back among the living.”

The general consensus to that idea was remarkably quick. That is, everyone except Draco.

“But what if I don't want to die!” he protested loudly. “I don't want to die, you hear me!”

A pregnant silence followed his protest. Then, Hermione stood up, walked over, and hugged him tightly. For all his former aversion to non-magical folk, Malfoy embraced her tightly right back.

“You'll see Ginny again,” she told him silently in the ear. “I know she'll be excited to see you. And you two will be back before you know it. I promise.”

“That's it, exactly, Hermione,” he rejoined quietly. “There isn't much of order left - too many need to be brought back.”

“We'll persevere,” she reassured him. “I promise.”

“I know.”

They parted. Draco, his expression now unreadable, only nodded curtly. “Kill me.” He was still shaking.

“I'm sorry about this, mate,” Harry told him sadly. “There's no other way.”

Ron clapped him on the shoulder from the other side. “Take care of Ginny up there,” he tried to brighten the futility of the circumstances. “And I want you back soon.”

Malfoy only smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

Breaking away from them at the foyer, he turned around one last time, as Demetris led him through the door.

“She will die,” Ron said through gritted teeth, as Harry shut the door behind Malfoy rather harder than was necessary.

Outside, Avery and Nott were waiting, looking quite unwilling to do as they were tasked by their insane mistress.

“Are you ready, Draco?” Demetris asked him, his voice cracking.

The remaining Malfoy stood to his full sight, facing the two Death Eaters. “As ready as I'll ever be. Make it quick.”

Demetris nodded, and the horrible words broke the silence. “Avada Kedavra!”

Immediately two poisonous green streaks of light flew towards Draco. Just as both Killing curses impacted him, his darkening gaze registered a third spell being fired at him, but before he could do anything else, everything went black, and his lifeless body fell backwards on the asphalt...

A/N: Dolohov found them...

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A/N: Last chapter was one of the more difficult to write...let's see about this one...

Chapter XXXII: Give Me Death

The resounding crash of the unexpected spell startled Nott and Avery, and they whirled around, ready for combat, and the sight froze the blood in their veins.

It was Antonin Dolohov.

“Good day, gentlemen,” his twisted grimace greeted them.

Neither of his comrades in arms was pleased to see him. “What are you doing here, Dolohov?” Avery asked him coldly.

“The Mistress will be quite happy to hear about this,” his ugly smile widened.

“Still her lap dog, are you, Antonin,” Demetris came up beside Nott and Avery, smiling mockingly on hos own turn.

“Not at all,” the aforementioned lap dog replied, “I just know what is best for me.”

“Yes, you would,” the sarcasm did not disappear from Demetris' voice. “You are also a fool.”

“Am I?” Antonin leered. “You, old man, are still alive by chance...you have no idea how many times I have implored Bella to kill you. She has long suspected you, you know...only after You-Know-Who, our glorious leader, passed on, could she gain enough room to act.”

“Voldemort's better off dead,” Demetris told him forcefully. “Lestrange is nothing but a deluded nutcase. You are her bitch. And lastly, challenging me to a fight will end in your death.”

Dolohov did not seem phased in the least. “You're blabbering nonsense, old man. Many have fallen at my wand. You're only the consecutive unworthy Mudblood.”

Nor was the said old man threatened in the least. “Let's see the arguments your wand makes. Fight to the death. Here and now.”

Demetris had long been at the ready - mentally, he had alerted Nott and Avery at his flanks. For their inferiority in the organization, they did not make lesser fighters.

Being adept at silent spell-casting, Dolohov turned on his heel in Nott's direction, and slashed the air with his wand - a purple flash came from the tip of his wand and reached Nott before the latter could react. He swayed on the spot, lost consciousness ,and as he was falling back, Dolohov caught him with a Killing Curse - all too fast before the other two could react.

Avery, adrenaline pumping through his body, released a barrel of vicious curses at Dolohov - he barely managed to put up a shield against the attacker's vigour, but did not manage to escape without damage - one of Avery's Reductor curses shattered his left shoulder.

Demetris had not remained idle. “Expelliarmus!”

The red light headed right for Antonin, but he managed to dive out of the way and land on the broken shoulder.

Screaming in pain, he staggered to his feet, dripping blood from the gash, his face mad with fury, and his wand extended in his good arm.

“Crucio!”

Avery put up a shield against the painful curse, but it was too weak - the beam of energy broke right through and hit its mark - Avery screamed in pain, fell back, and writhed in pain on the ground.

Antonin was just preparing to deliver the fatal blow, as he did to Nott. “Consider yourself lucky, scum,” he said loudly with a ghastly smile.

Just as the words he loved were forming on his lips, Demetris swiped his own wand through the air, and a sickly green patronus came from his wand. It was a combination of two spells, and when the animal reached Dolohov, he was flung back through the air, and landed roughly on his back - the useless arm swung sickeningly at an odd angle and landed behind his head.

An inhuman scream escaped him, as pain ripped through his body and it screamed from the initial shock of the impact of the patronus. Avery, in the meanwhile, had gingerly managed to rise to his feet, and recovered his wand from the ground.

Dolohov was still writhing, but had lost much of his strength, as the blood left his battered body.

Avery looked up, and his eyes met Demetris'. “Finish him off,” the old man said quietly.

The younger wizard walked slowly over to where Dolohov was lying in a pool of his own blood. He kneeled down, and observed the evil face for a couple of moments. There seemed to be no remorse on it - just, if it was possible, satisfaction. Dolohov turned his face to him, and a weak, raspy voice escaped him.

“Traitor.” A sickening grimace accompanied that insult.

Avery stood up, and looked down on Dolohov. “Burn in hell,” he said spitefully. “Avada Kedavra!”

In the split second it took for the Killing curse to do its job, Antonin had managed to fire a shot from his wand at the unsuspecting Snape. The latter recognized it as the Sectumsempra spell, and described a motion to neutralize it, but too late - the curse penetrated the beginnings of the shield, and impacted him full on the chest.

Antonin's wand rolled from his left hand onto the asphalt, as the last breath left his body.

“Demetris!”

Avery ran over to Snape and slid on his knees next to the old man. “Speak to me!”

“Call the Order,” Demetris whispered, right before he fainted.

Seconds later, Ron came running from the house. “What happened!”

He saw the bodies on the street, and a chill ran over him, when he saw only Avery standing up. “What happened?”

The Death Eater sighed heavily. “Fight. Now don't just stand there, help me bring him inside - he needs help.”

“Right, of course,” Ron agreed, and whipping out his own wand, levitated the injured oldest member of the Order towards the entrance. “You come too.”

Harry, from the shadow of the doorway, targeted the unsuspecting Avery and fired a stunning spell at him. The red light hit him directly, and he keeled over on the ground.

“Bring him in,” Ron said. “Take care of Draco while you're at it.”

“Yeah,” Harry affirmed in passing.

While raising Draco's body and the unconscious Avery, Harry glanced at the two bodies lying on the end of the street. One he immediately recognized as Nott, but could not quite make out the other.

Once inside, he told Ron about it. “Let's go check it out,” Harry implored him. “The other one might be a Lestrange spy.”

The best friends returned outside, and wary for any sudden attack, Ron rushed towards Nott, while Harry made a beeline for the other assailant.

“Dolohov!” he shouted back to Ron. “It's Dolohov!”

The mutilated corpse still retained the ugly grimace on its face.

Ron had directed Nott's body to carry itself inside, and walked over to where Harry was standing over the body. He slapped his hand against his forehead in disbelief. “I'll be damned.”

“We've wanted this bastard for a long time,” Harry commented, still grasping the fact. “Now he's lying here, feet from headquarters.”

“Who killed him, you think?” Ron asked him, wide-eyed.

“How should I know?” Harry asked rhetorically. “I'm amazed we didn't even see the fight going on!”

“Yeah, how did we miss it?” Ron asked distractedly. “There was nobody downstairs...”

“And the Fidelius charm makes the house largely immune from external disturbance, including noises...” Harry pointed out thoughtfully. “We should have some kind of vigil for this!”

“Enough yammering,” Ron said forcefully. “Let's levitate this bastard inside too. You take him, I'll carry Nott.”

Harry nodded, and taking out his wand, raised the mutilated corpse off the asphalt. Leading it in front of him, he started walking back towards the house. From the corner of his eye, he noted Ron doing the same.

“Tell Luna to sweep the neighbourhood with a memory charm, just in case,” he reminded Ron once they were inside the entryway.

“The sooner the better,” Ron agreed. “Love!” he called out for Luna.

The list of characters to resurrect had become quite long, and Harry was starting to worry if it all could be done in time. Even if one of her best lieutenants now dead, Lestrange was still dangerous, and with Demetris indisposed for the present, the Order was still highly vulnerable.

He compiled a mental note of who remained - him, Ron, Hermione, Luna, the Weasley parents, Lupin and Tonks. And the two young charges in their protection. Hermione and Luna needed to bring back his parents, Sirius, Draco, Ginny and now Nott. Avery and Demetris remained agents to Lestrange as well, but explaining Dolohov's murder would certainly make the circumstances much more difficult to negotiate. Both could pay with their lives.

Hermione had made sure Avery was unconscious until further notice, and proceeded to meet Harry at the door. Upon seeing the bodies, her expression became a mixture of sympathy and disgust.

“What do we make of him?” she turned to her significant other, while gesturing at Dolohov.

“Well, two options,” Harry pondered. “We can either destroy the body, or send it back to Lestrange with our warmest regards.”

“If we destroy it, she may not believe he's dead, and Demetris can pay that price along with Avery,” Hermione reasoned. “And if we send it back, we'll send a clear message to her.”

“Demetris and Avery could still be killed in that case, however,” Harry pointed out. “Unless we convince Demetris to play around with Avery's memories once more.”

“No,” Harry objected. “No more interference with his mind. It may be good, if they take a chance - also might convince Lestrange she has competent Death Eaters. I mean, given the missions they have done so far, I think she would think twice about killing them.”

Hermione had not considered this angle. “It is a gamble, but possible to work in our favour.”

Luna reappeared at the doorway. “All done.”

“Excellent,” Harry turned to her. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” she smiled and drifted past him.

“So it's settled, then,” Hermione summed up the discussion. “We send Dolohov back with Avery and Demetris.”

“Yes, but first we have to resurrect Nott, to reduce the suspicions as much as possible.”

“Do you think that'll reduce it?” she wasn't confident. “I think it'll put all of them in peril.”

“How?” Harry did not see her logic.

“Think about it - the three of them show up alive and well, whereas only Dolohov is dead. Lestrange is bound to suspect something.”

Now he understood. “So you're suggesting we leave Nott out of it.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “Probably better for him too.”

“In any case, talk to Avery, since he and Nott have been friends a long time,” Harry advised her. “Tell him what we think, but do what he wants.”

“Might as well do it now. You take care of the bodies,” Hermione said.

“Will do.”

Hermione proceeded to the living room, now the unofficial meeting place for Order business, and assured any occupants that weren't supposed to be there were absent - namely Remus in this case. After he had gone, she proceeded to bring Avery back to consciousness.

“Ennerveate.” She pointed her wand at him.

His eyes shot wide open, and he sat up quickly. “What happened! Is he dead?”

“Avery,” Hermione placated him, “relax. Dolohov is dead.”

The Death Eater finally focused in on Hermione and his eyes swept the surroundings. “We're in the house.”

“Yes, we are,” she affirmed. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I think so,” he shook his head. “One hell of a fight though. Still a bit woozy.”

“Come on, sit on the couch,” Hermione said, and helped him rise unsteadily to his feet.

“Where is Nott?” Avery asked after settling down.

“He's dead,” Hermione told him grimly. “Antonin killed him.”

“I know,” he replied without emotion.

Hermione chose her next words carefully. “We have the option to bring him back.”

Avery's expression remained unreadable as he turned towards her. “No.”

“What?”

“I don't want you to bring him back,” Avery said.

“But why not?” she protested. “Would it not be worth your friendship?”

“Hermione, look,” Avery sighed. “Nott and I have been friends since Hogwarts. The way our lives turned out - we were dragged in Voldemort's movement, and lost the chance to escape. Ever since, then, a life of constant uncertainty, knowing you could be killed every day, is not worth living. Bringing Nott back would put him right back in that position. He's better off dead. If I don't live to see Lestrange die and the Death Eaters disbanded, that will be the better option for me as well.”

“But think of the Order,” Hermione tried to reason an already lost fight.

“Think of him,” Avery rejoined quietly, and that effectively ended Hermione's resistance.

She paused for a few moments, and took on another tack. “Well, now comes another more difficult question.”

“Yes?”

“How do we ensure you and Demetris aren't killed by Bellatrix?” Hermione asked him.

“It sounds as if we're going to have to take the chance,” Avery answered, echoing her earlier discussion with Harry.

“But how will it be convincing?”

“We had a fight with the Order - they killed Nott, Dolohov joined in, but you killed him,” he proposed. “By all accounts, we'll have to come up with a story, and Demetris will protect me against her intrusions of the mind. Without Dolohov, she is not as strong in that regard.”

Hermione silently agreed with him. This time around, a considerable reliance on fate was not avoidable.

“Fine then,” she said, “I'll take responsibility for Dolohov's death. That means I'll have to modify your wand.”

“Modify my wand?” there was a note of defensiveness in Avery's voice. “How?”

“I doubt you'll hesitate if Lestrange requests to inspect your wand,” Hermione told him confidently. “You know, she can check the last spell you performed, and that would be the Avada Kedavra you killed Dolohov with.”

A look of realization did dawn on Avery's face. “Good thinking. Do you know how to do it?”

“Of course I do,” Hermione said off-hand. “Is there anything I don't know?”

“Hardly,” Avery rejoined with a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, there you go,” she chastised him. “Now give me your wand.”

Avery did as he was requested, and watched in fascination, as Hermione muttered the words under her breath, and a flurry of colours came from the tips of both wands, exchanging and swirling in one beautiful display of brilliance.

“Llepstsaleth refsnartdna evomero” she repeated over and over, as the show of colours began to move increasingly faster and intensified in glow.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. Hermione opened her eyes, and turned to Avery.

“There it is,” she handed him his wand. “You should be safe.”

“Thank you,” Avery expressed his gratitude. “I am beginning to think luck is a major factor in how we dodge back and forth between the raindrops.”

“More or less,” Hermione agreed with a sad smile, “at a heavy price.”

He inwardly agreed. “I know.”

I'm going to go check on Demetris,” she said and then added pointedly, “You stay here and rest.”

“I barely have the strength to stand up. Where do you think I'm going to go?” Avery told her rhetorically.

Hermione acknowledged the fact, bid him a speedy recovery once more, and went on her way to the other patient from the disastrous duel.

Making her way upstairs, she entered one of the guest bedrooms of the Black home, where Demetris was recovering.

He was still unconscious, and the hastily summoned madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' capable mediwitch, was hovering by his side, monitoring his condition with different spells while simultaneously preparing a potion on the desk next to the bed.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione called to her rather loudly to capture the matron's attention.

She jumped and turned around. “Miss Granger! You gave me such a fright!”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione apologized. “How is he doing?”

“I am largely finished. He will recover, Miss Granger,” Pomfrey answered. “However, it will take another couple of days. Exhaustion, and the impact of several curses have taken quite a toll on him. At a hundred and twenty he should not be subjected to such pressures!”

“How much time exactly do we have?” Hermione asked her.

“In three days he should be as good as before,” Madam Pomfrey replied, much more calmly. “The potion I've made needs to be administered every three hours for full effect.”

“Understood,” Hermione affirmed. “Is there anything else we should know?”

Madam Pomfrey's demeanour softened when she asked her that question.

“Yes. Hermione - do be careful. Lestrange is dangerous.”

“Don't worry,” Hermione said, “Everyone will be safe.”

The mediwitch smiled, and a moment later, her professionalism resurfaced. “Call me in three days time. I want to ensure this patient has recovered alright.”

“Will do,” the younger witch replied. “Have a safe journey back, Madam Pomfrey.”

“Thank you, dear. I will see you later.”

With that, madam Pomfrety walked quickly from the room and down the stairs, muttering to herself something about potions and incapable students.

Hermione leaned on the door and observed the sleeping form of Demetris. He had subjected himself through much more that he should handle to preserve the secret of the Order and retain a semblance of Lestrange's trust. Not to mention keeping Avery and until recently, Nott, alive.

On a positive note, Dolohov was dead for good - that dealt a blow to Lestrange's ability to effectively mount an attack against the Order.

She still worried about the consequences of the next meeting between Sirius' insane cousin and their two remaining Dark agents. On top of that there was the matter of bringing back to life the departed Order members. She hoped Luna had mastered the spell already, and if not, soon enough...

“Hermione?”

Carried away in her thoughts, she jumped when she heard Luna's voice.

“Hey,” she turned around. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you coming.”

“Don't worry,” Luna smiled benignly. “You looked thoughtful.”

“Oh, I am,” Hermione rejoined, a bit more forcefully than she had intended.

“Can I help?” Luna asked her calmly.

“Yes,” Hermione checked her tone this time. “I need your help with the resurrections.”

“Soon enough, Hermione, soon enough,” Luna replied, smiling. “Have patience.”

With that, Ron's significant other proceeded to walk down the stairs, and leaving Hermione confused.

Sometimes she really did not understand that girl.

A/N: New spell to decipher - whoever gets it wins a virtual cookie. :D On another note, hopefully I'll get to said resurrections in the next chapter.

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A/N: High time to spell Lestrange's doom? I agree - let's bring out the Marauders.

Chapter XXXIII: Where Loyalties Rest

Demetris' health improved significantly with the regular application of the potion Madam Pomfrey had prepared and on the third day, the matron returned. By common consensus in the span of those three days, it was decided that the first priority was ensuring the survival of Avery and Demetris when they went back to Lestrange. For that they needed to go back together.

Avery was confined to the kitchen for now, and despite his frustrated reaction and lack of explanation for his restriction, he accepted it finally. The members of the Order that were supposedly dead, purposefully avoided the aforementioned room, and only when Avery was asleep, did they venture down for any needs. For additional precaution, Harry even took his invisibility cloak.

“You are in an excellent condition,” Madam Pomfrey declared to a glowing Demetris. “Full recovery.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, “much appreciated.”

“Now, stay out of any exertion that will tax you beyond what you can bear,” she instructed him in her typical professional tone. “Else you'll be back here with me by your side.”

“I wouldn't mind,” Demetris teased her, and Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened.

“The audacity!” she exclaimed. “Good day, Mr. Snape!”

With that she magically packed her supplies and left the room. At the bottom of the staircase, Harry intercepted her, and exchanged a few words before she finally departed.

Avery had been sedated for the time being, so as to fully assess Demetris' condition without potential interference from him. Harry and Ron went up to the guest bedroom to see for themselves the improved condition of the patient.

“Good day, gentlemen,” the old man was sitting on the bed, putting on a pair of socks over his wrinkled feet. “Good to see you.”

“Hey,” Ron beat Harry to it. “Amazing to see you in one piece too.”

Harry, however, while thankful for Demetris, wanted to bring forth the most pressing matter.

As if the old man read his mind, he put up a hand. “Later, Harry. There is no rush.”

So he did read his thoughts. Harry berated internally his Occlumency skills. “Welcome back, Demetris,” he smiled genuinely.

“I am starving,” the old wizard started a new tack in the conversation. “Let's go eat breakfast, and talk over everything that's on Harry's mind.” He looked pointedly at the temperamental bespectacled wizard.

“Good idea,” Harry agreed. There was a reason for Demetris suggesting it - a delicious smell was indeed wafting through the house, which could only mean Mrs. Weasley was in her element. Even something as simple as bacon and eggs could make one's mouth water when she made it...

Conspicuously, every living resident of the hidden headquarters was around the kitchen table remarkably quickly. Mrs. Weasley, back still turned to the stove, only smiled to herself knowingly.

“All done,” she called out.

Somebody's growling stomach asserted its impatience. Chances were it was Ron. Or the twins. It wasn't clear which one of them loved their mother's cooking the most.

“Do you think it's sort of parsimonious that Avery is going to be asleep through all of this?” Hermione asked Harry guiltily. “I mean, maybe we can give him his real memories back for the rest of the day.”

Harry didn't reply right away, which mean he was considering the idea, but also knew it went against his better judgement. “It is a necessary evil, Hermione. We just can't take the risk...who knows what Lestrange will do when she finds out her big plan failed.”

In all honesty, Hermione did think the situation was absurd, but there was no alternative. So, with pangs of guilt still stabbing at her, she dug voraciously into Mrs. Weasley's breakfast.

“What was the last time we did this?” Harry asked Hermione after the consecutive mouthful.

The chatter around them seemed to be focusing in on the same topic of conversation.

“I don't even know,” Hermione glanced at him, “it has been way too long.”

“That I can agree with it,” Harry nodded, scooping up another mouthful. “The sooner we kill Lestrange, the sooner we can enjoy this more!”

“Ditto.”

Was murder an appropriate table conversation? The characters decided to let the reader hold the final verdict.

Everyone lingered at the table rather longer than needed. Even if there was work to be done, nobody quite wanted to leave the pleasant atmosphere. Sporadic conversation still happened, and for the first time, not about something considering the Order, Lestrange or the constant risk of death. The Weasley grandparents each had a grandchild on their laps, and both James and Madelyn were smiling at something Mr. Weasley had said, while Ron was doing an impression of something...

Harry observed the activities with interest. He really wanted that scene with a family of his too...

If only.

He couldn't help but feel a tad emotional about such matters...the first war hardened him and this one threatened to leave him without emotions - how ironic would be that, he thought with a distant smile.

His hand snaked around Hermione's waist, and he pulled her towards him. She seemed to snap out of a reverie of her own, and turned to him.

“One day, I promise,” he whispered to her.

Ever so slightly, a red tinged her cheeks. “I know,” she told him.

Luna was discussing something with Mrs. Weasley while Remus and Tonks had taken part in the distraction of the two little ones. Indeed, it was a happy time.

Harry shifted his attention to Demetris, who was staring off into space, deep in contemplation.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked him, startling him back to reality.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” he said. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Harry told him. “What's on your mind?”

The old man sighed. “Trying to think how I'm going to save my skin against Lestrange. Avery too - I think she has it in for us.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry asked him, confused.

“I've probed her thoughts,” Demetris explained. “She is looking for any way to justify killing me and him, because we are uncomfortable in terms of her trust, but at the same time, we're valuable in what we do for her. She has nobody else who is this far inside the Order, or anyone who is smart enough to repeat it.”

“Well then,” Harry observed, “you may be a thorny issue, but she can't afford to kill you.”

“Not really,” he agreed. “But not so is Avery's case. To her, he is expendable. She has no idea what he knows.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “And what about Dolohov's replacement? Is there anyone to take his place?”

“That's not the issue,” Demetris said. “She can always find a loyal dog to fill the void. He wasn't anything special either, and we're full of incapable Occlumens...someone will make the cut.”

“You dismiss it too lightly,” Harry commented.

“Because I know Antonin has no worthy replacement. He was loyal, but also good. Nobody right now can match what he was.”

“But he's dead.”

Demetris smiled. “Yes, but you do know how long he has been around, no?”

Harry was forced to agree. “I do.”

“In essence, she's running out of capable people to do her bidding. What Avery has going for him is that he has come unscathed from missions that would otherwise be impossible.”

“Do you think that will protect him?”

The former professor looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not fully. I can extend protection over him, so Lestrange had no access to his thoughts and so pose a direct challenge to her. Maybe we'll say what has always been under the surface of our relationship.”

“She isn't very fond of you, is she?” Harry asked, even though he knew the question was largely rhetorical.

“That's true,” Demetris affirmed anyway.

“Well then, your only option is to pose the direct challenge to Lestrange. If she has any reason left, she will spare you.”

“If I was younger, I could match her in a fight, but at my age, that is impossible,” Demetris went on. “We need to rely largely on chance here.”

“I know, and I'm not comfortable with the thought either,” Harry rejoined. “When do you think you should go about the whole affair?”

“As soon as possible,” Demetris replied snappishly, “the purpose of the whole mission is to check our loyalties. She thinks Dolohov is still trailing us. The Order killing him and Nott would certainly provide a plausible story, and I'll make sure she accepts it, should we live beyond today.”

“Isn't it amazing how casual we are about this?” Harry smiled coldly.

“Oh, I know,” Demetris returned the gesture. “All a part of a Death Eater's life.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Also, do mention you killed Draco successfully. More precisely, Dolohov did, which should placate her, more or less.”

“You think so?”

“I can't guarantee it,” Harry reasoned. “But it's definitely a positive for you. In the meanwhile, we'll bring him back for good.”

“Alright,” Demetris declared with finality. “Clear out the kitchen. I'll awaken Avery, and we go take care of this today. If we live, you will know.”

“Good luck, my friend,” Harry told him neutrally.

With that, he returned to the kitchen and left Snape to consider the finer points of his approach to Bellatrix.

“Alright! Everyone needs to go!” he called over the crowd, and the chatter suddenly died.

“What's wrong, mate?” Ron asked him.

“Demetris wants to confront Lestrange as soon as possible,” he explained. “For that he needs to awaken Avery. And we know he must not see most of you here.”

“Already?” Ron was surprised. “I thought he might give it a few more days.”

“Guess not,” Harry rejoined quickly. “Now go. No time left to waste.”

**

“So what is this plan of yours?” Avery asked Demetris as they walked out of Grimmauld Place onto the busy street.

“In essence, a way to save our arses from Lestrange's killing curse.”

“Care to elaborate?” Avery was slightly annoyed. “Or do you plan on keeping me in the dark about it too.”

“Of course not,” Demetris told him patiently. “All I need you to do is cooperate, and I'll tell you everything that we're going to do.”

“Fine then,” Avery conceded. “You have my attention.”

“Alright,” Demetris said carefully. “You will be under my mental protection. Inevitably, Lestrange will attempt to read your mind. I'm going to stop her from doing it, since she isn't as strong without Dolohov to help her.”

“But won't she know about it?”

“Yes, of course she will,” Demetris went on impatiently. “The point is, we don't have too much time to operate. We'll tell her Malfoy is dead, but Dolohov and Nott were lost in a scrap with the Order.”

“That's it?” Avery asked, amazed.

“That's it.”

“You do realize that will be a direct challenge to her,” he said. “She does not take kindly to disobedience.”

“We're too valuable to be killed,” Demetris told him. “And I suspect, that will be our ticket out of the entire Death Eater organization.”

“How do you mean?” Avery found himself ignorant of his colleague's ways once more.

“We can only stretch her mistrust so much before she acts. The next chance we receive a mission that involves the Order, we cross over permanently.”

“That will mean certain death!” the other protested loudly. Several pedestrians turned around curiously.

“Keep it down, will you,” Demetris hissed. “I didn't say there was no risk involved.”

“Well, yes, but what do you propose we do! The Order is a shadow of its former self.”

“Don't worry about that,” the old man replied. “Look at it from another way.”

“What other way is there?”

“Are you honestly this dim,” Demetris said in exasperation. “Think about it.”

“Unfortunately, I can't see far past certain death,” Avery told him coldly.

“Fine, I'll say it. Without us, Lestrange loses access to the Order. In other words, grows weaker. The most capable Death Eaters on her side are gone. They were all from Voldemort's days.”

“Don't say his name,” Avery said nervously.

“Forget that,” Demetris went on almost feverishly. “There is a way to beat her for good. To bring the advantage on our side.”

“I see now,” Avery agreed. “The sooner we finish, the better. Let's go.”

The two men, generations apart, but minded towards the same cause, apparated away towards the Dark, for what was hopefully the last time they would do it willingly.

When they arrived at the Manor, both Demetris and Avery were surprised to note the increased activity. Death Eaters was streaming in and out of the house, talking together in small groups, and as they approached closer and closer, their colleagues by the trade of bringing death only looked them in various ways - from outright jealousy, to compassion and utter confusion.

“What's going on here?” Avery asked Demetris in an undertone.

“Damned if I know,” the other replied tensely. “I don't quite want to probe any minds right now - not until we see Lestrange.”

“I think this is about us,” Avery rejoined.

“Smart one, you are,” Demetris' uneasiness showed itself.

They caught talk of a mission, certain death, You-Know-Who and some other indistinct murmurs, and that was until a burly Death Eater suddenly came up in front of them and stopped them in their tracks.

“Jonathan Avery and Demetris Snape,” he called out loudly, consulting a parchment in his hand. “You are to report to Bellatrix Lestrange at once!”

“What does she want with us?” Demetrins inquired forcefully of the Death Eater - his rank was probably higher than that of the average hitman.

“Don't ask me,” he was curt with them. “Just go, or my head will roll.”

Demetris and Avery did not object, and moved on towards the front doors. The burly announced slipped into the crowd and did not bother them again.

“Must be bad,” Avery breathed.

“Focus on staying alive,” Demetris said as neutrally as he could. “It's a madwoman in there.”

They turned into the hallway that led into Lestrange's chamber. As always, it was lined on both sides with silent Death Eaters, ensuring her security.

“Fanatical bastards,” Demetris murmured under his breath, fixing each guardian with a cold stare. They did not respond in the slightest.

At last, they reached the doors. Avery raised his hand to knock, but he did not need to. They opened of their own accord.

“Enter,” the chilling voice came from within.

Her chamber seemed more dimly lit than usual. Typically, the curtains were pulled back on at least one of the windows, but on this occasion, only candles lit the surroundings.

“Welcome back, Demetris,” the deadly quiet voice said.

“Lestrange,” he acknowledged her no less coldly.

She emerged from the darkness in the back of the chamber to stand in the candlelight. “Do you remember, Demetris, how you arrived here?”

“I do,” he replied with conviction. “Do you?”

Avery thought his audacity with their Mistress was nothing less than suicidal.

“You have no right to disrespect me, Demetris,” her eyes flared, and she whipped out her wand. “Crucio!”

She did not count on her adversary's experience. He waved his hand, and a silver shield appeared in thin air that dispelled the painful cure into nothingness.

“Enough,” his voice boomed.

Lestrange seemed startled for a moment. “Now, put the wand down,” he told her. “And let us talk.”

She barely seemed to be able to hold control over herself. “How dare you give orders!”

“I don't preach orders, Lestrange,” the old man corrected her. “I speak of common sense.”

Surprisingly, and to Avery's utter amazement, she cooperated. “Talk, then.”

“I asked you a question,” Demetris said. “Answer me.”

She leered at him. “I have long suspected you of treachery, Snape. To Voldemort and to myself.”

“You have?” he repeated, his expression unreadable. Avery followed the discussion with intense interest.

“Neither he, nor me, have ever managed to read your mind,” she was frank. “And your history does not help your case.”

“I refuse to have my thoughts invaded when I can prevent it,” Demetris told her without the slightest trace of shame.

“Did your loyalty to that old fool Dumbledore ever disappear?” she questioned him slyly.

“Has your dislike for him abated over the years?” he countered her, without giving her a straight answer - his life depended on it.

“You haven't answered my question,” she raised her voice.

“I don't intend to,” he said. “Is my presence here not enough answer for you?”

Her jaw fixed, but she knew he was making a valid point.

“Is Malfoy dead?” she changed tack.

“He is,” Demetris confirmed neutrally. “Dead and gone.”

“Why is Antonin dead as well?” she asked, still looking at him furiously.

“Fight with the Order,” he told her without the slightest hint of remorse. “Nott and Dolohov were killed. Avery escaped just barely.”

She turned her eyes to her second servant, but her efforts to penetrate his memories were frustrated by Demetris.

“Why are you protecting him, Snape?” she snapped at him. “I should kill you right now.”

“You can't kill me, or Avery,” he objected her calmly.

Lestrange seemed royally angry now. “And why is that! Shall I have a demonstration?”

“Don't bother,” Demetris said, playing the trump card he had been holding this whole time. “We are too valuable to you. Who will infiltrate the Order when we're gone? You can't resurrect me, Dolohov or Avery. They have the spell you need.”

“Therein lies my next, and final task for you,” she leered at him, her ugly smile widening. “Bring me the spells. All of them. Again, you and Avery will cooperate on this task.”

He could not prevent a look of surprise momentarily passing over his expression.

“How do you mean?”

“Very simple, Snape,” she squarely looked at him. “This is your last chance to show me where your loyalties lie. You have access to those spells - bring then to me, and you and Avery live. Else, I will personally hunt you down and kill you. Do we have an understanding?”

Demetris had donned on that unreadable mask on his face again. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I think we do.”

“You are dismissed.”

Walking out from her chamber, Demetris knew of the choice he had to make - and assert his true self.

A/N: Yeah, I think the Marauders may be coming back later...

-->

A/N: The Marauders, you said? Will do.

Chapter XXXIV: Enter the Malfoys

Soon enough, events turned their focus back on the Order. Visibly worried, Demetris had made his way back to headquarters with Avery in tow, and demanded to speak to Harry immediately. Even the restrictions on Avery were lifted and his memories promptly returned, as Lestrange's ultimatum called for drastic actions to be taken.

“So, you see, I have no choice,” he said at the end of the short narrative, “I have to betray either you or Bellatrix. To be honest, it's not even a choice at this point.”

Harry's expression showed the tension he was feeling. “We have the spells, yes,” he affirmed, “and if you give them to Lestrange, our entire cause dies. I suppose the decision lies with you, not me.”

“Harry,” Demetris looked at him, a bit affronted. “I would never betray the Order.”

“I know,” the younger wizard nodded. “Then you only have one option.”

“I'll break with Lestrange tomorrow - she does need to know,” Demetris said with conviction. “I've been working against her for a long time. It's about time I made my lack of loyalty to her clear.”

Harry perceived the old man with admiration. Honour was a quality that had accompanied him all his life.

“What about you, Avery?” he turned to the second Death Eater.

“What about me?”

“What are you going to do?” Harry clarified for him forcefully.

He remained silent for a moment, and then looked up at the raven-haired wizard. “Join the Order of the Phoenix. I'm done with the Dark side.”

His voice almost shook.

“Good plan,” Harry complimented him. “I'll be right back.”

He rose and left the living room, only to return several minutes later with Ron in tow. The redhead was nodding appreciatively and positively beamed when his eyes turned to Avery.

“What you will need to do,” Harry explained, “is lay an oath that you will protect the secret of the Order, or the consequence is death.”

Demetris looked on to Avery. “I have already done that, and lived to be a hundred and twenty. Your turn, Jonathan.”

Avery's demeanour betrayed the nervousness he was feeling inside. This single act would cement his loyalty forever - to him, it was unbelievable, even shocking, that after so many years spent in the balance on the Dark Side, he would be fighting for the cause he had opposed his entire life.

“This is a form of the binding charm,” Ron explained to Avery. “I can do it much better than Harry, so I have been chosen as its caster.”

“Are you ready for this?” Harry asked him one more time, so as to kill any remaining doubts.

“I am,” Avery told him coolly. “If I betray you, you will know, and as far as we all know, I'm interested to come out of this alive.”

“Alright then,” Ron said. “Harry, you serve as the other party in the bond, and I'll be the bonder.”

Harry nodded, and stepping up to Ron, he kneeled on the carpet. Avery came and kneeled opposite him, while Ron stood between them. The two men clasped hands, and Ron placed his wand above the handshake.

“Repeat after me,” he instructed. “I solemnly swear - “

“I solemnly swear - “Avery echoed him.

“ - to uphold and protect the secret of life the Order of the Phoenix guards- “

“ - to uphold and protect the secret of life the Order of the Phoenix guards- “

“ - from detection and evil intent.”

“ - from detection and evil intent.”

“I promise - “

“I promise - “

“ - to guard this secret -“

“ - to guard this secret - “

“ - with my life.”

“ - with my life.”

The golden strings extended from Ron's wand and enclosed the clasped hands. They glowed brighter and brighter, assuring and solidifying the precious vow.

“Welcome to the Order,” Harry said when the light died down completely. “Now you're bound for life.”

Avery dispatched his hand from Harry's, and stood up. “I guess I am,” he replied, sounding as if trying to convince his own self of the fact first.

Right then, another thought struck the Order's newest member. “And what about Lestrange? What do we tell her?”

“We tell her nothing,” Demetris told him immediately. “For we're not going back.”

Avery seemed to realize that that's where their situation was headed. “She'll do everything she can to kill us.”

“I know,” the old man said. “Welcome to the Order.”

And quite the welcome it was - the uncertainty of death. Such a heart-warming thought.

On the bright side, Lestrange had lost three of her most valuable operatives for a significant setback, and while they did not know what else she had at her disposal, the thought still cheered Avery up a bit. Nott would have definitely approved.

“Right then, onto the next order of business,” Harry interrupted the lull in the conversation. “Start bringing back those we need.”

“Hermione and Luna have been ready for a while,” Ron noted.

“Let's proceed at one per day,” Harry said. “Just so we don't overwork them too much.”

“I am not worried about Hermione,” Ron told him, “it's Luna I'm not sure about. One resurrection could do her in for a few days.”

“Fine then,” his best friend took worry into account. “We'll let her perform the spell first. When we see how she reacts, then we decide when to bring the others back to life.”

“Sounds good,” Ron nodded. “Is Madam Pomfrey to arrive soon?”

The words were barely out of his mouth, when there was a knock on the door. “Good job, mate. Punctual as always.”

Harry went to admit the expected visitor, while Ron, followed by Avery, proceeded to see the two women central to the entire ritual.

The resurrections were to be held in the backyard, just as previously. Hermione and Luna sat together in expectation, while the Order was assembling around them. Harry came out last with Madam Pomfrey, who seemed more jittery and on edge than she usually was.

“I'm just saying, there is a good chance it can be fatal, given the amount of exertion required,” she was explaining to Harry in undertones. “I'm worried about Luna, especially. Hermione may be heavily taxed, but she will recover, I expect.”

“We have to take the risk, Poppy,” Harry said with a hint of impatience. “You'll be here to watch over them.”

“I know, I know,” her voice was still shaky. “I will.”

The atmosphere was palpable with the tension. It was agreed that Luna would be the first to perform the spell, followed immediately by Hermione. Harry was quite aware both could be incapacitated indefinitely, but time was of the essence.

Ron took the last few minutes before Luna performed the dangerous spell to give encouragement to his partner in life. “You'll do fine, honey. Just relax, don't panic, and if anything happens, we'll be right beside you.”

He whispered those and other words to her, until she stopped him. “I appreciate it, love. Now, please, let me do this.”

Ron nodded, and stepped aside to stand next to Harry. “Hope for the best, mate.”

“Will do,” said the other and focused in on Luna more intently.

Hermione also watched the younger witch with unhidden worry, as she closed her eyes, and began to describe the wand pattern in the air, while chanting the spell over and over again.

“Enoevarv odaedeht morfesir, Draco Malfoy” Luna's expression tensed with the weight of the spell, but she seemed to be holding up all right. Madam Pomfrey, sitting on the sidelines, appeared anything but comfortable with the proceedings.

The aforementioned wizard's body was sprawled, preserved magically, in front of Luna. She raised a hand, and placed it on the corpse's cold forehead, still chanting the incantation and Draco's name.

Soon enough, the results of her efforts began to be seen. An electrical storm suddenly covered the sky, the wind picked up once more and heavy drops began to fall on the ground. Unmoved, the Order stood in the worsening meteorological conditions and watched on impatiently. Luna was visibly straining under the effort required to keep the spell going, and Madam Pomfrey's uneasiness was growing in parallel.

“Almost there,” Harry kept repeating under his breath.

A lightning strike, strong enough to illuminate the entire surroundings hit the ground right next to the body of the fallen, and once it vanished a fraction of a second later, the anticipated result came to fruition. Draco opened his eyes and shot up from the ground. Inhaling deeply, he looked around wildly, uncoordinated and confused.

Remus and Tonks were designated to accommodate the new old members, and as such, they rushed forward to help Draco up and inside the house.

“Put him to sleep,” Harry reminded them when they passed him. Disoriented and seemingly fraught with exhaustion, Draco needed the offered support.

Luna only managed to turn around and see Draco being carried in, before she swayed on the spot, and collapsed on the ground herself. As if jumping off a spring, Ron shot towards her with Madam Pomfrey in tow, and skidded on his knees by her side.

“Luna!” he exclaimed, shaking her by the shoulder. “Talk to me!”

Madam Pomfrey also kneeled down opposite Ron, and immediately hovered her wand over Luna, investigating for possible injuries.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley,” she said after a few minutes to a very worried Ron. “She will be fine. Several days rest should set her straight.”

“Are you sure?” he asked feverishly.

“Yes. However, she should not attempt another resurrection for at least two weeks. And when she does, I need to be present, because I fear the same may happen.”

“Maybe it is better if she doesn't do them at all,” Ron was still excited.

“Ideally, I would rather not see her strain herself so much,” the mediwitch agreed. “But she is capable. Certainly a taxing effort for her, but she can survive it with the necessary assistance.”

Ron seemed to have made peace with the fact, even if he was not happy about it. “Fine then,” he said. “She will stay the course until we bring everyone back.”

“I'll take her inside,” Madam Pomfrey told him.

Harry came up to take the mediwitch's place next to Ron. “She'll be alright, mate. Trust me.”

“I don't know, Harry,” the redhead was still uncertain. “I mean, we still have Ginny, your parents and Sirius to bring back...we only have so much time, and Hermione could not possible handle everything.”

“What did Pomfrey say about Luna?” Harry asked him.

“Two weeks until she can do another resurrection. And then she'll be out again.”

“Well then, a month should be sufficient. I don't think Lestrange will make a major move for a while at least. Gives us time to recover and reorganize. With so many missions recently...”

“Ha, mate, you've barely gone out in the field,” Ron told him with a hint of irony.

“So says you,” his best friend countered. “Maintain secrecy, remember? And besides, most of the work has been done by our newly minted members...”

“That's true,” Ron agreed. “Not that we could do much else than bide our time.”

“Let's talk about this later, and go see that Hermione is alright when she's through with bringing Ginny back.”

Hermione's task was considered more dangerous than Luna's, simply for the fact that resurrecting another caster would invariably exert Hermione more than she had been by any form of magic up until then.

The two of them approached Hermione, who was visibly nervous, even more so than Luna.

“Harry!”

“Hey, you,” he kneeled down next to her. “How do you feel?”

“Not good,” she admitted. “I've memorized the entire spell, its history, the wandwork and incantations front to back and back to front, but I just don't know. I mean, there are so many aspects of it that could go wrong and end in disaster, and Ginny is depending on me, and not just Ginny, but the Order - “

Harry put a finger on her lips to end her rant. “I believe you will do just fine,” he told her with confidence that he could even admit to himself that he felt. “Don't worry. Everything will go right.”

Her eyes still betrayed uneasiness to Harry. In a final attempt to allay her fears, he put a hand on her chin, turned her head towards him, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “You'll be alright, Mione.”

That seemed to work - she smiled. “I think so.”

“Let's do it then,” Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Ginny will be here in no time.”

He stepped back, but then Ron took him aside. “Mate, I thought we were going to keep the resurrection to one at a time. We have to have at least one caster available.”

“No worries. That will be the case when Ginny comes back,” Harry explained. “We'll give her a few days, and by two weeks end, everyone will only have to perform only one resurrection.”

Ron considered the explanation for a moment. “Works for me.”

“Alright then.”

Ginny's body was also placed in front of Hermione, just as Draco's was before with Luna. She took one long look at her friend, and concentrated on the spell casting.

““Enoevarv odaedeht morfesir, Ginny Malfoy!” on her own turn, Hermione chanted the spell over and over, describing the intricate wand movements with precision. The tension that Luna was subjected to earlier was not present in Hermione. She seemed much more methodical and calm in her approach.

The same storm as before gathered, but was characterized by a much stronger rain and powerful lighting strikes.

Much in the same way, Ginny stood up quite suddenly, and this time, Ron and Madam Pomfrey were ready to take her into the house. Wet, confused, and uncertain, Ginny even started crying for some reason as she was being led inside.

Hermione, for her resistance to the effort demanded by the magic involved, looked exhausted. Harry approached her, embraced her, and helped her rise to her feet.

“You did well,” he told her. “Time to relax for a while.”

Hermione nodded. “I'm happy,” she said, he words somewhat blurred. “Just want to sleep now.”

“Definitely,” Harry replied promptly. “I'll help you to bed.”

The sky was beginning to clear, with the traces of the recent storm progressively disappearing. There was certainly hope - at last, the prospects for the Order were looking up with the return of their most valuable members.

A/N Marauders coming up next...

-->

A/N: Devoting a chapter to their return...

*Chapter XXXV*: I'll Be Back

Government in Chaos! Leadership missing, presumed dead!

The Daily Prophet has addressed the issue before, with the earlier editorials on the monopolization of power by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and the appointments of their deputies Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood. The latter three, according to reliable sources, are either in hiding or dead. The reasons - a desire for revenge against them that may or may not have been carried out...

With the traditional cup of coffee in hand and copy of the paper in the other, Remus was reading the daily issue with an ever so slight a hint of amusement. A second cup was waiting on the table for a certain someone -

“Prophet full of tripe again?” Tonks asked, as she walked in.

“You know it,” Remus looked up at her.

Tonks grabbed her cup and sliding behind him, she bent down and kissed his cheek. “Way not to say good morning, love.”

“Moi?” Remus replied with staged astonishment. “Never!”

His wife only smiled, and sat down on the chair next to him. “What does it say in there?” this time she was more serious.

“The Ministry is leaderless,” he informed her with gravity. “Draco, Ginny and Luna have to take over as soon as they can.”

“Is there evidence of a coup or anything of the sort?” Tonks asked with uncertainty.

“I wouldn't be surprised if there is something brewing,” Remus scratched his beard.

“Don't you think something would have happened by now?” she said. “It has been too long since any of them made an appearance. And those attacks had people scared, so someone is bound to take charge.”

“We will have to worry about that later,” first we ought to bring back...well, you know.”

Remus could not help, but be a little more emotional about this part.

Ginny and Luna had recovered nicely over the past week. The redhead quickly regained her personality, and became the vivacious person everyone knew and loved once more. For the most part, Luna slept on for hours, but eventually, she also recovered her strength.

Draco was the only one who took longer to recover fully. For about a week he mostly slept, was incoherent in communication, and ate little as well. Madam Pomfrey was compelled to spend more time with him than her other two patients. A few days ago, however, the last Malfoy rebounded significantly, and once he regained his condescending attitude, they knew he was going to be fine.

“I don't want to die ever again,” he was telling Ginny when she could at last be alone with him. “You met my father. I want to kill him myself, but there's only so much you can do when he's already dead!”

“Honey, we don't have to see him for at least another dozen decades,” she tried to placate him.

“Ginny, I am going to have to spend eternity knowing he is close by!” he protested. “Unless we keep bringing one another back so Death never claims us...and I remain here until the end of time.”

“Why can't you settle the differences with your father?” Ginny said with frustration. “The entire time we spent there, you just kept fighting and fighting.”

“You know he doesn't agree with my choice. That I should have stayed with the Dark side and be loyal to the cause.”

“Well, we saw how that turned out,” she rolled her eyes.

“That's what I've been trying to tell him! And my poor mother, she cannot stand him.”

“Well, what can we do about it!”

“Until we're dead, pretty much nothing,” he shrugged. “I suppose stick with the Order in Death...we have to find replacements sooner than later.”

“Enough of this dead talk,” Ginny admonished him. “They will be there when we go for a visit. Until then, we have to focus on our lives down here.”

“A visit entails killing ourselves, you know,” Draco said with an ironic smile.

“Don't be smart with me, Malfoy,” Ginny replied with a hint of force. “We have three more people to bring back.”

“Alright, alright, keep your knickers on,” he rejoined frustratingly, “Just don't fancy being dead when you consider the company, is all.”

“I know,” she agreed. “You go back to bed, and I'll go see how Hermione is doing.”

Hermione had passed the ordeal more lightly than the rest - it only took her three or four days to regain her energies, but inexplicably, she had been feeling more and more tired every day. Madam Pomfrey had been unable to find a cause, and while Hermione went about her usual daily business, she always took longer to finish it.

Ginny found her in the kitchen, sitting on a chair with a cup of coffee. It was early afternoon - Hermione did not usually drink coffee then.

“Hey, you,” she greeted her older friend. “How are you doing?”

“Hey, Ginny,” Hermione returned her greeting, “Not good.”

“What's wrong?” Ginny's concern only grew. “Do you want to go for a nap?”

“I don't know,” Hermione said, confused. “I am feeling generally weak. Ever since I brought Draco back.”

“Maybe that has something to do with him taking so long to recover,” Ginny reasoned. “Madam Pomfrey said nothing?”

“She thinks I'm healthy,” Hermione said. “Gave me a serum too, which has been helping somewhat, but not significantly.”

“Do you think you can handle another resurrection?” Ginny asked her.

“Hardly,” Hermioned nodded in refusal. “I can't devote the energy to it...might finish me for good.”

“Then don't worry about it,” Ginny reassured her. “I can take on two of them.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione objected. “I mean, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can find a cause and I'll be on my feet soon enough to help out.”

“Hermione, look,” Ginny reasoned with her. “This spell affects each caster differently. For me, it takes a shorter time to recover than you. Luna took the longest, because she isn't as strong as you or me in terms of the capacity to perform it. You were on your feet in two days, but the residual exhaustion caught up with you later. In other words, you need to spend more time recovering. No need to exert yourself needlessly.”

As much as she wanted to, Hermione could not argue with that logic. “You're right, Ginny,” she was resigned. “I better not risk it.”

“Go see Madam Pomfrey again,” the redhead advised. “We'll be fine.”

Hermione thanked her friend for the attention, finished her coffee, and shuffled out of the kitchen to find the mediwitch. She was clearly depressed about her condition.

Luna was feeling well enough to perform another resurrection, and Madam Pomfrey gave her approval. Ginny, fully recovered herself, explained to Harry that Hermione was not in a shape to resurrect anyone at the present, so she would volunteer to bring two back.

“But Ginny!” Harry protested. “The last time you were killed!”

“Not from the magic,” she objected. “Lestrange and Dolohov did it, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Harry said impatiently. “But I still think it's not a good idea.”

“I brought the great Harry Potter back,” Ginny told him with a smile. “Why not his parents?”

“Madam Pomfrey told me Luna came close,” he told her in an undertone. “Really close.”

“But I'm stronger than Luna,” Ginny said. “I can handle two resurrections. I could have last time too, if it wasn't for that convenient interruption.”

“I just don't want to lose you again, Ginny,” Harry replied. “We care about you, and Draco would be devastated as well, if the risk turns out too great to bear.”

“Harry, risk is what we do. More or less, we do rely on a bit of luck every now and then. This time, I don't think anything will go wrong.”

“Can't be sure,” Harry said more to himself than Ginny. “Fine! We'll go ahead with it. You'll do two resurrections, Luna one, Hermione will be resting, and hopefully by the end of today, everything will be completed.”

“That's the plan,” she nodded.

“Alright. We need to go to Godric's Hollow to stage the resurrections there. That's where my parents are buried...hopefully the setting will be enough to bring back Sirius too.”

The preparations to go off were surprisingly quick. Luna went out and returned with the black car they had used to the previous journey to Harry's first home. Draco retrieved several old brooms from the closet under the stairs, and thus transportation for the entire Order was assured.

“Girls and women in the car, men on the brooms,” Ron declared when everyone was assembled.

Harry had his Firebolt in hand, now older and slightly outdated, but still impressive.

“Who are you calling a girl,” Ginny objected when she appeared to the forefront with her own broom - a Cleansweep Eight.

Her brother only rolled his eyes. “Fine. Everyone who consider themselves unfit to ride a broom, go in the car.”

So in the end, Luna, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Pomfrey and Tonks, along with the James and Madelyn, took the car, while the rest agreed to fly around it in a protective circle.

Luna sat in the driver's seat, pressed a button twice consecutively on the dashboard, and the car rose off the ground, before it disappeared from view.

“Cast a Disillusionment Charm on yourselves!” Harry called to everyone else over the rumble of the engine.

Ready and set, the car took off, and the broom-riders followed suit.

**

“We're here!” several voices called out jovially as the quaint village came into view below.

Luna steered the car downwards and landed with a squeal of the tires in front of the Potter home. The rest landed in the front yard and dismounted.

All camouflage aside, the entirety of the Order, led by Harry, made their way to the backyard of the house, and in the direction of the olden oak tree, where James and Lily were buried.

It was a peaceful sight. The slow wind rustled the leaves above in the lazy late afternoon, and for the first time, Harry wondered whether it was right to disturb his parents. Not that he hadn't thought about it before, but ever since they expressed a strong desire to come back, the doubt resurfaced.

“Harry?” Hermione snapped him from his reverie. “It's time.”

He would do what they wanted - and that was to be among the living. It wasn't in his power to make decisions for his parents, even in death.

“Let's do it.”

Harry took out his wand, aimed it at the adjacent graves, and whispered a spell under his breath. The jet of white light caused the earth above the graves to rise, and two coffins hovered underneath. He flicked his wand, and both of them flew and slid to a halt in front of Ginny. Once the spell ended, the earth fell neatly back into the now empty graves.

“Are you ready?” he asked Ginny, walking over to her.

“Yes.” She nodded with conviction. She extended to open James' coffin, which was closer to her, but Harry stopped her.

“Don't.”

“But I need to for the spell to work.”

“Did you open my coffin?” he queried.

“I did,” she nodded. “Not a pleasant sight.”

“Turn away for a moment,” Harry advised her. “I'll do it.”

That was when Remus stepped forward. “Harry?”

The young wizard turned around. “Yeah?”

“You handle your mother. I'll do James.”

Harry took a second to think, but he understood where Remus was coming from, and he couldn't blame him. “Alright then,” he agreed. “On three.”

“One....two...”

“Three!”

The rusted hinges screamed in protest as sunlight entered the coffins for the first time in over twenty years. Harry and Remus had not turned away at all, but calmly stared down at the two bodies. No more than skeletons and dried tissue, their clothes also showed their age. James' costume was dusty and faded, and the sundress Lily was wearing had also turned a dismal grey from its original white.

Harry could not be disgusted at all. As shocking as it appeared, these were his parents - about to be brought back to life.

Ginny wasted no time in preparing herself. When the coffins were open, Harry instructed her to turn back, and when the sight met the eyes, she did not flinch in the slightest.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

A double resurrection still worried Harry. As powerful as Ginny was, her capacity was not infinite. However, she betrayed no sign of weakness.

“Enoevarb odaedeth morfesir James Potter Enoevarb odaedeth morfesir Lily Potter!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, exaggerating the necessary wandwork with more deliberate and bigger motions than the single resurrection version of the spell.

The repeated it again and again, her voice growing more hoarse with each time she did it. Her wand whipped through the air with expertise, and the storm that typically gathered when the ritual was performed, came faster and harder than anyone had seen before. Torrential rain and lightning, accompanied by thunder and an exceptionally strong wind, almost became a metaphor for Ginny's display of magical power and ability. Soaking wet, determined and still going, she did not let up on her efforts, continuing the barrage of words and wandwork to complete the task.

The rain lashed the yard with ferocity, and multiple lightning strikes hit the ground, kicking up dirt and sparks. Harry and the rest of the Order stood in silence, mindless of the storm, eyes focused on Ginny and the two coffins. Suddenly, two spheres of white light, descending too slowly to be lightning strikes, made their way down towards the two bodies. Harry interpreted these as the souls of James and Lily, and something told him he was right.

James' coffin was hit first by the ball of light, and disappeared within his remains. A few seconds later, the same happened with Lily's body. Sever tense moments later an inhuman scream pierced the wind, momentarily deafening the storm with its intensity.

James had returned.

His hand shot up through the air, decayed and broken, and before their very eyes, it began to....repair itself.

Flesh, veins and blood covered the bones; all of the grime and accumulation of time seemed to be falling away into nothingness. Skin started to appear and cover the entire hand, appearing as if it had never died.

Slowly, James rose up from the coffin. He remained sitting for a few moments, before he stood up and stepped over the edge of his last resting place. The rain lessened considerably, and the lightning also let up. Moments later, Lily rose from her own coffin, much in the same fashion.

James moved towards her and took her hand. Stunned, the Order watched on...Ginny herself had finished, and observed, shocked...

In an instant the storm disappeared and the earlier good weather returned, allowing the sun to shine properly on the resurrected forms of James and Lily Potter.

They were back.

A/N: Four down, one to go...sit tight, everyone's favourite character will be making a show next chapter.

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A/N: James or Sirius - who takes the trophy of coolness?

Chapter XXXVI: The Wandmakers' Secret

“Luna, you're up,” Harry told the blonde in question, “Now's the time to do it.”

She returned his instruction with a silent look of determination, and set about her task. The attention was hopelessly divided - excitement over the return of James and Lily and making sure Luna performed the spell without harmful consequences to her person.

Harry tasked Ron and Madam Pomfrey with the responsibility. He stood a bit further back, his eyes flicking between his parents and Luna, who was starting to carry out the spell.

“Enoevarb odaedeth morfesir, Sirius Black!”

Harry sincerely hoped this would be the last time he would have to witness this spell in action. It was too dangerous, too unpredictable for the caster, to be performed safely.

Curiously, there was no storm to conceal the sun and pour its fury out on the Order. Harry wondered internally why that was, but could not come up with a satisfactory explanation. Everything he had read about this spell included a storm...

Then he realized something. There was no body. When Sirius fell through the veil, he left no physical remnant behind. Nowhere had he read, or heard about the resurrection spell being used under these circumstances. He glanced towards Hermione, and judging from the awed expression on her face, she had not considered this either...

He watched on with fascination. Luna's effort looked much less strenuous compared to the last time she did it. The only natural sign that something was happening was a steady breeze, and that amazed Harry even more...

It was a ball of light that caught everyone's attention, hovering at the tip of Luna's wand. As Luna described the motions through the air, the ball of light followed the tip effortlessly. The only difference was that it grew more intense with each passing second.

Luna began to experience the increased effort involved with this new variation of the resurrection spell, and it showed on her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became quicker, and the words muttered under her lips came out more rapidly. The ball of light took on a blinding quality, until -

With a loud crack, it spread into a tear through thin air, and a dark silhouette flew out backwards with surprising speed. It landed roughly on its back, an audible grunt followed, and in the next moment, the blinding light disappeared, as if nothing had happened.

Anticipation gave away to shock and awe, as there laid Sirius, sprawled out, wand in hand, and dressed just as Harry had remembered moments before he fell back behind the veil. Only...

Only he was younger. Much younger.

“Where is she?” he jumped up immediately, and looked wildly around, spinning in all directions. “Where did she go!”

Then his eyes found on the bespectacled wizard. “Harry! Move!”

“Sirius!” Harry shouted out his name for the first time since...since he was fifteen years old nearly ten years ago.

For him, this was overbearing. His beloved uncle, and his parents, back to be with him for good...

Harry flung his arms around Sirius, disbelieving and relieved at the same time. “Welcome back,” he managed to choke out.

For a moment, Sirius remained disoriented, but soon enough, seemed to register where he was. It wasn't the Ministry battle with the Death Eaters...it was the backyard of the Potter home at Godric's Hollow...

Sirius embraced Harry in return. He did not understand, being here...was it heaven? He should be dead...

Squinting against the sunshine, he saw two figures approach, linked by the hands. With Harry still holding onto him for what seemed dear life, the shapes came closer. They looked so familiar...long lost memories kicked up in his mind, becoming as vivid as if they had happened yesterday...

He had to be dead. Else it was not possible...but the smell of the grass, the wind in his hair and holding Harry in his arms...his senses were playing tricks on him...

“Long time no see, mate,” James' voice drifted over.

Elation? Relief? Disbelief? Alive or dead?

Sirius could not decide from the confusion. There he was, looking down at him, James Potter - in flesh and blood.

“Sirius,” the angelic voice he remembered came to his ears next. Lily!

Harry released Sirius at last. He most definitely could not believe his eyes, nor find a place from happiness. He stood up, and helped his uncle to his feet.

Turning around, he came to see what he had longed for his entire life - his parents. James and Lily. Hearing so much about them, but never being able to meet them in life. Not caring for the old clothes they wore, Harry embraced them both. It would be indeed a while before he was able to speak again from the emotion he was feeling.

Still stunned, Sirius could not utter a word. For this reason it was Harry who reacted first to the appearance of his parents.

“Mom! Dad!”

For the first time in twenty-three years, Harry embraced his parents, and they returned his enthusiasm for the encounter.

“We missed you, Harry,” Lily whispered in his ear.

“Welcome back, son,” came James' words from the other side.

Harry finally found his voice. “I love you both.”

They stayed in that embrace - time had stopped still and everything but the present was irrelevant.

How much time passed, nobody could be certain, but those around them were just as captivated...

Finally, Harry's brain kicked into action. “Would you like to see Sirius?”

“Very much!” James declared enthusiastically. “Where's Snuffles?”

Harry stepped aside to allow for the reunion to take place. Sirius seemed to finally decide that this was not a dream, and as a result, a huge grin stretched his mouth from ear to ear. Observing him, Harry knew this was the Sirius of days long gone by - handsome, carefree and confident.

Remus left Tonks' side and proceeded to join the other two. He walked as if he was in a dream, his legs carrying him of their own accord towards James and Sirius.

“Good to see you, mate,” Sirius finally managed to say. Without another word, they embraced tightly.

It had been many years. The pain and the relief they felt to see one another again were unfortunately beyond this author's ability to describe.

Remus finally came up to them, and cleared his throat. The other two parted, turned around, and -

“Moony!!” both of them shouted, and enveloped the final member of the Marauders into the embrace.

“What was the last time I saw you two alive?” Remus asked after the emotions had subsided enough to let them being able to talk to one another.

“Not a clue, mate,” Sirius replied. “Over twenty years, I reckon. And I saw you just a few years ago, don't you remember!”

“Almost a decade, Sirius,” Remus told him.

“There he goes again, being serious,” James said with a smile.

That was his catchphrase to signify the werewolf's worrisome nature from their school days. Remus threatened to break down when he heard it...the last time was...he did not even remember.

“Shut it, Prongs,” he rejoined with no sign of being offended in the least.

“Now, let me see her,” Sirius said, glancing at Lily.

“Forgot about me, did you?” Lily told him jokingly. “Come here, Snuffles!”

“You know I love it, when you call me that,” he grinned.

“You seem to miss I already have a man in my life,” the smile did not disappear from her face as she held up her hand.

“Life? You just returned...”

“Oh, be quiet and give me a hug,” she told the black dog, and took him in her arms.

“Missed you, Lily. Seriously.” Sirius admitted. “I don't know how much time I spent telling Harry about you.”

He certainly had, and Harry was very appreciative of the fact, as he hung around, watching the closest people in his life reacquaint themselves with one another.

“Lily,” Remus interrupted. “Can I have her now, Snuffles?”

“Wait your turn, there, Moony,” Sirius told him. “One at a time.”

At that moment, James' voice made its presence known. “This is my wife you're talking about there, Sirius.”

“I know, mate, I know,” Sirius answered him with a devilish grin.

“Oh, sod off,” James said with a hint of annoyance, but the smile didn't leave his face.

“Let me see Moony, will you?” Lily requested of Sirius. “He's sitting there, deprived, all by himself.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius said with a grandiose display of loss. “If you must.”

Lily disengaged herself from her pretend admirer and moved towards Remus. The one aspect that really stunned her was his eyes. Even if he had lived on after her and James had died, and regained his youthful demeanour after what she thought must have been a resurrection of his own, the pain, wisdom and experience could not be erased from his gaze.

“Remus,” she only said before throwing her arms around him.

“Hey, Lily,” he greeted her on his own turn. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

“The same thought crossed my mind,” she smiled. “I'm glad I was wrong.”

“I think so too,” he rejoined. “Good to see you again after so many years.”

“You too,” she tightened her embrace.

A silence had always been comfortable between them. Even when Remus had lived with James and Lily in the year before they died, they had gone to every extent to accommodate him as part of their family. The werewolf curse on him prevented him from doing more with his life at that point, but in the end, it had turned out as both a blessing, necessity and a curse, all combined in the convoluted war against Voldemort...

“Hopefully you'll stay this time around, Lily.”

“I have no plans to leave,” she reassured him. “Finally live a normal life with my friends...and my son.” Her voice broke slightly on the last three words.

“I know,” Remus said. “You have no idea how happy I feel about it all.”

“Believe me, I do,” she countered him. “I really do.”

**

“We need to see the Mistress,” the two Death Eaters informed the burly guards standing in front of the massive doors to her chambers.

“About what?” one said gruffly, making all too clear his intent to pummel the two meek individuals in front of him to dust.

“The Order of the Phoenix,” one said quickly. “Bad tidings!”

“Hold on,” he said, and turning around, knocked heavily on the reinforced wood.

The doors flung open of their one accord. “Bring them in,” came the cold voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Standing aside to let the informers proceed, the guards also bowed in respect to their leader. The two Death Eaters walked in, each shaking from top to bottom.

The moment they were inside, the doors closed with a loud crash. One of them yelped involuntarily.

That was the last conscious act he would do. In a second, a green flash of light met with his chest, and he fell back without a sound.

“Now,” Lestrange walked forward to meet her remaining servant. “What news?”

Fearful, but resolute, the Death Eater brought forward his report. “The Order of the Phoenix,” he said shakily, “Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black...they are all...alive.”

A look of pure indignation passed over Lestrange's expression. The glint in her eyes was maniacal, and one could say, insane.

All her efforts had amounted to nothing.

Nothing.

In her rage, she flicked her wand towards the Death Eater, and a moment later, he met the same faith as his companion.

She had to win this war. No matter what.

A/N: Difficult chapter...emotional encounters are not my thing. Hope you like it, and please tell me what you think...:)

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A/N: Political intrigue anyone? At the very least, a long chapter at last.

Chapter XXXVII: Dirty Games

The initial euphoria over the return of the long-lost relatives and acquaintances died down as the daily business of survival took over in the Order once again.

Sirius caught up on the new reality relatively quickly, as the current situation did not differ very much from the last time he was fighting the Dark Side - a mad opponent bent on their destruction. James and Lily took longer to become accustomed to the rules and procedures of the new Order. Bringing them back to life triggered the loss of some of the information Harry might have told them while he was also dead, and Remus made it a meticulous job to inform them of nearly everything that had happened, more or less, in the last twenty years. Only then did Harry's parents begin to connect the details and recall odd pieces of what Harry had told them.

Ginny's double resurrection had sapped the energy out of her, and amid enjoying Draco's constant attention, which was starting to rival Mrs. Weasley's in scope, she was gradually recovering. Luna had fared better than the last time she performed a resurrection and was up and around within a day. Ron was very much relieved for the fact, and the grin didn't come off his face for two days from pride for his partner in life...

Harry also was at last introduced to the friendship between the Marauders and came to appreciate how strong their friendship was, even after so many years apart. Admittedly, he found it a bit odd his parents were close to his age, but then, what was not possible in the world of magic...

Hermione, unable to assist in bringing back Harry's parents, nor Sirius, spent time recovering longer than the rest. Her weakness progressively disappeared, and it took another few consultations with Madam Pomfrey to finally sort her out.

The looming conflict on the horizon that nobody was yet willing to acknowledge, was the power vacuum that had formed in the Ministry from the absence of Ginny, Draco and Luna from the forefront of magical politics. It was simply that the Order required the full attention of all its members nearly all the time...

The Prophet was coming out with one scathing story after another about the alleged whereabouts and activities of the aforementioned three, from dealing with the Dark Side to being a part of a secret society and using the Ministry for their own gain, while making a permanent exit, along with Harry Potter and a few other choice characters...

Harry had declared his annoyance at the articles, and took to burning each copy of the Prophet after he read it. However, he was still following what happened very closely, and it was one aspect in particular that worried him...

An alleged coup. Aside from the tripe the wizarding newspaper was running, one name in particular kept re-appearing - the forceful personality of one Gaius Black. He was an overnight success, a complete debutante on the political scene that nobody had really heard of before. His fiery rhetoric, however, was quickly winning him significant political and social support.

What was he promising? Harry reflected on that with a bit of contempt - “bring the current leadership to account for their absence in government, bring them to justice for their corrupt methods and publicize their activities!”

He honestly found these words to be a weak and pathetic way of swaying support away from them. What pressured Harry more was Lestrange's next move, but he could not leave Draco, Ginny and Luna to take the brunt of the blame that they would inevitably have to endure on return to the public eye.

This new upstart was highly irritating at best. What was needed was a way of asserting their legitimacy as the government, but the methods eluded him…

Maybe an external disturbance could provide a stage to delegitimize this mysterious nobody and restore them to power? They could stage something, but…

“No, Harry!” Hermione's voice startled him out of his thoughts, when she walked in the living room.

“What?” he was confused momentarily. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever it was you were thinking,” she told him, “I know that look on your face. So, no.”

Sometimes Harry was afraid how well she knew him. But he loved her all the same - she was his voice of reason in a world of madness.

“Can you call Luna, Ginny and Draco in here? And Ron, while you're at it,” he requested of Hermione. “Big problem we need to discuss.”

“What is it?” she asked him before she went off.

“Ministry,” he answered with one word. “Thought you knew.”

She could tell he was edgy about the whole affair. “Yeah, yeah…be right back.”

Minutes later, the six in question were fully assembled for the makeshift meeting.

Harry opened the discussion with the expected question. “What are we going to do?”

“Do?” Draco rebutted him almost immediately. “Isn't it all lost? That's all the Prophet is saying as it is.”

“We know people in there,” Harry said. “There are ways to retrieve the real story.”

“Oh yeah!” Ron smacked his forehead. “Old Kingsley. He's still in the department. After Voldemort died he chose a less involved role as my advisor…hasn't been too active on the political scene, so I could talk to him and ask what's going on.”

“Can you bring him here now?” Harry's impatience was beginning to show on Draco.

Ron was stumped for a moment, but quickly recovered. “I don't see why not.”

Without awaiting a response, he stood up, twirled on his heel, and was gone with a crack.

“What just happened?” Ginny broke the awkward silence that took over after Ron's departure.

“Ron's going to see to it that he brings Kingsley back so he can tell us what's going on with the Ministry,” Draco said matter of factly. “Apparently.”

“Well, while we wait,” Hermione tried to move the matter at hand along, “we can still try and figure out how to approach this whole mess.”

“Well,” Luna joined in, “as Minister of Magic, I think the appropriate course of action is to go in directly and confront whatever it is we need to confront.”

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Before you do or say anything else, just read this latest article from the prophet…it's about some bloke named Gaius Black. Apparently he's our biggest issue.”

The newspaper was duly passed around in the circle, and the expressions went from surprise, to condescendence, and finally, irresolution.

“If he has significant support, what can we do,” Ginny pondered out loud. “We may have to run for an election, and I think we can all agree our government track record hasn't been good, considering all the Order business.”

“The other option is we go in and forcefully take power - fire those who don't comply, replace them with favourites…” Draco casually offered. “Of course, there will be ramifications.”

“Yes, that's definitely a bad idea,” Luna slashed his proposition. “Even better, we might go public and expose what we're doing in the Order of the Phoenix…talk about the fight against Lestrange, but omit the bit about the spells we're protecting.”

“And what if then she goes public?” Hermione raised her voice unintentionally. “It could destabilize the entire system.”

“Well then, what are the available options?” Ginny could not suppress her frustration.

“I know,” Harry declared loudly enough to silence the others. “We need to regain control of our respective departments, and after that, use that support to secure the Ministerial post. Namely, you, Luna,” he pointed at her.

“We have no idea how loyal they are,” Draco objected to that idea. “It could take months to consolidate them, and Ginny and I have the most difficult jobs here. In the meanwhile, Lestrange could do anything!”

“Not anything,” Harry corrected him. “I think an appearance by me, Ron and Hermione might convince them to switch back to our side. After all, the case of Lestrange is still in progress, no?”

“It is, but communication with the Minsitry has been lacking,” Ginny said. “I'm supposed to be heading the department, and here I am doing resurrections! Who else is supposed to do my job?”

It was at that moment that Remus made an appearance at the door, with Tonks in tow. “Me.”

“What?”

“I've been keeping in contact with the Ministry, Ginny,” the werewolf walked in confidently. “And Tonks has been doing the same with the Magical Law Enforcement folks.”

“But you were dead for a while,” she objected. “How did you manage it?”

“”Simple,” Lupin smiled. “I have connections, Ginny. Wizards and witches I've known through the years.”

“Then why didn't you say anything!” She looked about ready to curse him.

“Not to interfere with what was going on in the meanwhile with our Death Eaters and the resurrections. But don't worry about it, those two departments are safe from penetration by that Black character. And once you have them, there is little any opposition can do.”

“You mean this meeting is pointless, then?” she still steamed at the werewolf.

“No, not entirely pointless,” Remus rejoined calmly. “You're still going to be subjected to a lot of backlash when you make a public appearance. Just explaining your absence will be a chore on its own.”

“Remus,” Harry intervened, “we're going to take the blow for Ginny, Luna and Draco. On paper, me, Ron and Hermione are still the leaders of the government, and those three are our deputies. It's only fair we take the brunt of it.”

“That's noble of you, Harry,” Lupin pointed out, “but it won't save your public support from taking a plunge.”

“Is that as important?” Harry asked him. “As long as we're in power and Lestrange is kept at bay.”

“I know, Harry, and as little threat as this Black personality may be, he is still a loose cannon. Who knows who he could ally himself with and set you back in one way or another.”

“Are you saying he might support Lestrange behind the scenes?” Draco asked before Harry could reply.

“It's a fair chance,” the werewolf nodded. “He is a radical by the looks of it - exactly the type that festers with Lestrange and company.”

“A radical,” Hermione echoed him with interest. “Can we use him to our advantage?”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Ginny could not help but be sceptical.

“Well, we could portray our view as far right, or far left, when it isn't, for the sole purpose of luring him away. Just keep him occupied, as if he was a child, until what we do is over, and then we just let him go.”

“I say - “

However, whatever Harry was going to say never materialized, since the sound of Ron coming back along with Kingsley Shacklebolt shook the atmosphere anew.

“I'm back,” the redhead declared his presence, “and brought Kingsley with me.”

“Hello, everyone,” Shacklebolt greeted his old and new comrades. “Pleasure to see you all again.”

His gaze lingered slightly longer on Draco Malfoy, examining the youngest member of the Dark family with curiosity. “Since when did you switch sides?”

The question was frank, and took Draco off-guard for a moment. “What do you mean?”

Kingsley took a few steps towards him. “You were being primed for a Death Eater last I heard of you before Voldemort was defeated.”

“That was a long time ago,” Draco answered forcefully. “I'm on the Light side now.”

“I see,” Kingsley remained ever so patient. “But why the switch?”

Everyone in the room knew the reasons for that were rather personal to Draco, and he did not discuss them openly. “My parents,” he said clearly, implying he wanted to bring the abrupt discussion to an end.

Kingsley seemed to take the hint. “Sufficient enough,” he nodded, and retreated back towards Ron.

“Now!” Ron's voice carried impatiently. “If you're done your interrogation, I wanted to ask you to present to everyone here what's going on with the Ministry. You'd know best, after all.”

“It's true,” Kingsley said slowly. “The Prophet has been printing bullocks as usual, so I wouldn't trust it.” And then he paused, seemingly in thought.

“Well then, what's the truth?” Hermione prodded him to continue.

“The paper is right about something,” the Auror went on. “This Gaius Black is indeed garnering a lot of support, but it is mostly from the civilian affairs sectors of the ministry that it's coming from, and not from the core institutions, such as the Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement. They're still loyal to you,” he gestured at the three deputies to the Golden Trio.

“What about Lestrange?” Ginny pressed the always-dominant subject. “What do you know about her?”

“Well,” Kingsley referred to his memory bank once again, “we have several spies in her organization, but none has managed to infiltrate at the deepest level where the decisions are being made. However, from the available intelligence, we can say with definition that she is planning something big. There are signs that it may be in one or two stages, but what the nature of this will be, remains a mystery.”

Harry and Ron shared a look at his words, and reached a consensus without words.

“Kingsley,” Harry said, “I think it would be a good idea if you met the two newest members of the Order.”

“You have more new members?” Shacklebolt was taken by a light surprise. “Besides the Malfoy boy?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “hold on one minute.”

Ron turned on his heel and went into the hall to retrieve Demetris and Avery. He returned promptly with the two of them behind him.

“Introducing Demetris Snape and Jonathan Avery,” Ron said out loud to Kingsley.

“You!” Avery suddenly recoiled at the sight of Kingsley and whipped out his wand.

As a vastly experienced Auror, Kingsley already had a shield up, and had managed to stun Avery before he could fire a single shot.

“Stop it!” Harry and Ron bellowed in a unified voice, while Draco grabbed Kingsley from behind to stop him from doing any more magic. Harry waved his own wand, and Kingsley's flew out of his hand, landing at Harry's feet.

“Sit down,” he commanded to Kingsley authoritatively.

This time considerably taken aback at being told off by someone decades younger than himself, the Auror nevertheless complied, and sat in one of the empty couch chairs.

“Ennerveate” Harry pointed his wand at the still figure of Avery, and in the next moment, the former Death Eater sprang up on his legs.

“Let me at him!” he sneered, but found himself magically restrained.

“Calm down,” Harry told him. “Nobody's going to hurt you.”

“This bastard almost killed me last time we met!” Avery objected loudly.

“Well, serves you for making the wrong choice and sizing up with a better wizard,” Ron jabbed him. “Now be a man and sit your arse down.”

Avery now seemed to realize there was no significant threat to his safety, and grudgingly obliged.

“Now, as I was saying,” Ron retook the word, “Kingsley, meet Demetris Snape, and your old friend Avery here…”

“I've heard of you, Demetris,” Shacklebolt focused in on the old man. “You were part of the original Order of the Phoenix, weren't you?”

Demetris smiled. “I was,” he confirmed mysteriously.

“What happened to you?”

“You know how you can't seem to breach Lestrange's inner circle?” the ancient wizard led in with a question.

“I assure you, it is frustrating,” Kinglsey nodded patiently.

“Well, I spend nearly twenty years in Voldemort's and then Lestrange's inner circle. I was a Death Eater in appearance, but not in spirit. I always remained true to the Light. It was only after so many years that I managed to connect with Harry Potter through two rather dimwitted Death Eaters who were dealing with him in secret.”

“Are you saying I'm stupid?” Avery piped up in protest.

“Be quiet, Jonathan,” Demetris told him indifferently. “In any case, they were smart enough to conceal their traces, but it was because of me they were still alive. You see, my talent lies in reading minds, so I knew everything they were doing, and had I not intervened, they would be dead, along with my chance to escape Lestrange's clutches for good - something an old man such as myself ought to deserve.”

“Couldn't agree more,” Kingsley echoed the sentiment, before turning to Avery. “And what of this one's sorry story?”

Avery took the opportunity to speak for himself. “First of all, my story is not sorry at all. I've lost my family, and more than one close friend through all of this mess. I don't need some senile old fool adding salt to the injuries.”

“Then, pray tell,” the visiting Auror said slowly.

“Fine, and then I'll kill you,” Avery's flair had still not disappeared. “It was me and Theodore Nott. We worked with the Order while completing assignments for Lestrange. That is, until Snape here began to work with us until the point where we could no longer sustain the practice of fooling her - eventually she would have found out, and we'd be dead meat. That's why we made the jump to the Light. Unfortunately, Nott was killed in the last encounter when we eliminated Antonin Dolohov…”

“Dolohov?” Shacklebolt's eyes widened. “You killed Anotnin Dolohov? We've been after that son of a bitch forever…”

“You didn't know he was dead?” Avery's amazement checked his anger for the former enemy.

“Now I do,” Kingsley shook his head. “I ought to keep up with you folks more often.”

“Well, that's my story,” Avery suddenly grew defensive once more. “What of it?”

“You have far more insight into Lestrange's operations that we could have ever hoped for in the department,” he explained.

“We had,” Demetris corrected him. “There is a bounty on our heads now. We're no longer a part of the Death Eaters.”

“Right, well,” Harry interrupted the veer from the original topic. “We still need to decide how we're going to reclaim the government.”

“Simple and easy,” Kingsley answered his question. “You six,” he carried his hand through the air, “will make an appearance on Monday morning, where the Auror and Magical Law Enforcement departments will publicly declare their loyalty to you all. From there, the Weasley girl, the Malfoy boy, and the pretty blonde there take over operations, with our support. It won't be a complete fix, but will put that loudmouth Black at bay.”

“But how can you guarantee that their loyalty will remain true?” Luna spoke for the first time in a while.

Shacklebolt smiled. “You know Lupin, an old friend of mine from school. He's been keeping in touch with me. We both know certain people in the system, whose names and positions carry a lot of weight…a question of an arrangement behind the scenes, nothing more. Pure politics, if you will.”

So Remus had been right earlier in his claim that their return would not be their downfall. Everything had been prepared. No other magical department carried enough force or weight as the combined alliance of the Aurors and Law Enforcers. Coupled with the strong presence the trio projected, they would certainly win the day against the new challenger…

A/N: Alright! Political showdown coming up next…don't you just love it? I promise, things will be blowing up again soon enough.

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A/N: Note to self: get better author's notes.

Chapter XXXVIII: Martial Law

Even from his teenage years, Harry knew the fickle nature of political dealings, and exactly how yesterday's allies could be tomorrow's enemies. Or, the occasional upstart nobody knew about, and who would go out with a bang as quickly as he had appeared. At least, that was the plan on paper. He wouldn't have the necessary coercive support without Harry and Ron's departments, but there was still the odd chance he could pull out a surprise nobody was prepared for...

Public outrage of the Ministry's indifference and lack of response to the people had increased to mass demonstrations in Diagon Alley and the Ministry's institutions there, including Gringotts Bank. Every type of slogan was being shouted, from outright revolution, to taking over the Muggles and one particularly interesting one, calling itself the Wizards' Anarchy Movement, appealing for members and support...

Peaceful protests were beginning to wane, as reports of riots were beginning to be brought in, and the Prophet did not help the situation with its bombastic coverage of the events, no less than glorifying whatever the cause of “these young, capable wizards, whose ideas will define tomorrow's future...”

Tomorrow's future? The paper was growing from bad to worse on a daily basis now, Harry reflected with a hint of amusement. Yet, the situation truly worried him.

He was the first one to rise on the promised Monday morning. Kingsley had gone back to the Ministry over the weekend, but before that had arranged them to meet him in the Minister's office at precisely six o'clock.

The hand on the clock moved - four thirty. Harry was still growing nervous. What could they say to placate the crowds? People were mad, and every government from every period in history knew that once popular support was lost, the ruling class always went under...

Hermione would have to salvage her cabinet from the jaws of the political predator himself - the people.

The sound of footsteps diverted his attention from the consecutive pointless article. Harry looked up, and saw the object of his recent thoughts walk into the kitchen.

“Couldn't sleep either?” he asked.

“Nope,” she nodded, rubbing her eyes to hide the tiredness on her face. “Too nervous. Might even pass without the coffee this morning.”

“No coffee? This is serious,” even at the dire prospects, Harry found a way to joke about it.

“Very funny,” Hermione quipped mirthlessly. “Just hope we aren't trampled to death today...”

“I'm sure it won't be that bad,” Harry consoled her. “There might be strong feelings, the occasional Avada Kedavra, but overall, we should be fine.”

“It's amazing how casual you are about this,” she pointed out neutrally.

Harry took a moment to reply, “If I was casual about it, I wouldn't be up at this hour.”

Hermione was about to snap something back, but managed to check herself. Everyone was on edge - there was no need to worsen the atmosphere, as it was already near the breaking point.

The two lapsed into a silence, which was only broken by the persistent ticking of the clock on the wall. The time neared five, when a third pair of feet made its presence known. Ron shuffled in, half asleep still. Inwardly, Hermione was still both amazed and frustrated by this ability of his to sleep through all kinds of cataclysms...

“Morning,” he offered a bleary greeting. “Where's the coffee, mate?”

“Morning,” Harry said. “Over in the pot. Help yourself.”

“Don't mind if I do.”

Just as Ron was done pouring his cup, a surprisingly chipper Ginny almost skipped in to join the others, followed by a rather awkward Draco. He seemed to have lost all of his cool...

“Well, at least one of us is awake,” Harry observed with a knowing smile. “Sleep well?”

“Well, good morning!” Ginny's excitement was really not proper for the circumstances, in Hermione's mind at least. “Last night was amazing!”

She put particular emphasis on the last word. “You couldn't have picked a better time,” Ron's comment was mix of both satirical and indifferent. “On the bright side, if you get killed today, you'll die happy!”

“Oh, lighten up!” a voice that was not Ginny's, objected. All five heads turned to see Luna standing at the door. “What if the kids heard you! Thank God they're still asleep!”

“Smooth, mate,” Harry told Ron in an undertone. “Real smooth.”

“How was I supposed to know she was there?” came Ron's response, right before he turned to his wife. “I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean it!” And with an excuse in the form of a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, he proceeded to make amends by offering it along with a one handed hug. “I love you.”

Luna took the coffee, and returned the embrace. “You're forgiven.”

The time was approaching five thirty by now. If they would be on time, now was the moment...

**

“Barely made it, I see,” Kingsley's stern voice, in place of his usual calm tone, welcomed them by way of a morning greeting. “Sit down.”

For their legendary status, the trio obediently took three of the prepared chairs across from Shacklebolt, and Luna, Draco and Ginny proceeded to occupy the remaining ones.

“What's going on?” Harry opened the discussion.

“Intelligence tells of an organized mass protest that will take place in front of the Ministry in the next hour. So, expect people to start gathering very soon. This will be your chance to show yourselves. Make peace with the people.”

“How bad could it be?” Ron asked the room at large.

“Trust me, it will not be roses at all,” the Auror reassured them. “Furthermore: the chance of you failing and the government collapsing is very high. From there, anything can happen. In such an event, the Aurors have prepared a safe passage for you all back to Grimmauld Place, as Apparition will not be possible from where you will be.”

“What should we say to them?” Hermione's voice betrayed her nervousness.

The Auror took a deep breath, and exhaled with resignation. “It is your government. I can't help you. For that, I will leave you to figure out what to do. What I do want you to know, however, is that you will have the necessary support for whatever it is you decide.”

With the meeting cut abruptly short, Kingsley wished them all good luck, turned around, and walked out the door on the other end of the office.

“Well, then,” Hermione threw up her hands. “What now?”

“We work this out,” Harry answered with conviction. “Any ideas?”

“Aren't there some sort of procedures for this?” Draco pitched in. “So we don't have to make it up as we go.”

“Revolutions don't follow procedures, Draco,” Hermione pointed out. “And we're on the verge of one here, unless we do something about it.”

“And what do you know about revolutions?” Draco challenged her.

“I know the Muggles have already gone through that stage of history. Not yet for wizard society.”

Her chilling remark shut him up immediately. “I see.”

“Alright books for brains, what did the Muggles do then?” Ginny tried to speed up the process of finding a resolution.

“Reinvented democracy,” Hermione told her, smiling slightly. “Assuming we're able to retain power, maybe some reform won't be completely out of the question.”

“Let's talk about this later,” Ron cut across Hermione's ambitious, by wizarding standards, plans. “We have an angry mob to confront, in case you hadn't noticed!” He nearly barked out the last three words.

Harry checked his watch. “Almost time for the protest to start.”

“As if it hasn't started already,” Luna finally spoke. “How are we going to do this for crying out loud!”

On this rare occasion, her demeanour was replaced from the one of perpetual coolness to outright worry.

The clock on the wall announced seven o'clock. Awfully early, but not when revolution was in the air...

Willingly, or unwillingly, the six of them rose from their seats.

“I don't insist on sitting behind closed doors. I'm going out there to meet them,” Harry said.

“Are you suicidal?” Ginny objected. “They'll rip you to shreds!”

“That can be dealt with,” Harry told her with a sour smile. “Let's go.”

As opposed as most of them were to the idea of meeting an angry mob directly, Harry's word weighed in its place, and it was not questioned. As such, the rest followed him out of the office and down the stairs.

With every step, the chanting and shouting grew stronger and stronger. Harry did not slow down, and instead maintained the same constant pace. The others behind him only grew more unsettled.

Within minutes, they reached the entrance hall, where on the other side of the heavy wooden doors, the stable torpor of the crowd's anger could be heard.

“Revolution! Revolution! Long live Black!”

Had he really won this much popular support? The hero of the masses. Hermione remembered how well that went for the Muggle analogues of the current situation…

“Down with Potter! Down with Weasley! Down with Potter! Down with Weasley!”

From near saints to the scum of society…people definitely were fickle.

“You make sure nobody can enter past the doors,” Harry instructed. “I'll make the introductions.”

Nodding, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Draco and Hermione formed a semi-circle around Harry to provide the best repulsive capacity.

“On three. One, two -“

With a swish of his wand, Harry made the massive doors creak open. Along with the blinding morning sunrise, came the vastly amplified protest. Without hesitating, Harry walked forward, while the rest cast the necessary spells to prevent a Bastille-style takeover.

“Down with Potter! Down with Potter!”

If it was possible, the din reached new heights, yet Harry did not flinch. Not to mention every single wizard and witch present was armed with a wand….and several spells did narrowly miss Harry. He was prepared, however, and no harm came his way.

The hope, in his mind, was that his presence there would eventually placate the people enough so he could make himself heard. They had every right to be mad, but he needed to assert who was in charge…

“Where are the rest of you, cowards! Traitors!” a magically amplified voice shot out at Harry, and the insult was immediately picked up by the crowd.

“Traitors! Traitors! Hang the traitors!”

To Harry's grim amusement, the citizen body finally keyed on the correct chorus of the aforementioned slogan.

He thought he could try to give it a shot. “Listen to me!”

Ponting the wand at his throat, murmuring the Sonorus spell, and coupled with the fact that he was a uniquely powerful wizard, had a tremendous effect, given how much louder, more furious and determined his words were.

The protesters were stilled into silence.

Except for a lone voice. “What could you possibly say, coward! You're a traitor!”

The murmur went through the sea of people, and tempers threatened to flare once more.

”I can tell you why there has been no effective government for a long time. I can tell you that that will be rectified. I will tell you the reason for the entire ordeal.”

He did not appreciate the fact he sounded almost as an idyllic poet, about to recite a passage about how just and correct his actions were in the face of a unified people, who basically spoke the truth about public matters…

“Go ahead,” the same voice prompted his sarcastically. “Explain yourself to these people!”

“Fine,” Harry said sternly. “One reason - Bellatrix Lestrange, and the focus of myself, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley to defeat and prevent her from raising herself or Voldemort once again!”

The name of the Dark Lord still seethed horror in the public memory, and Harry's usage of said name had a welcome effect on instilling additional silence…

“Are your words true, Mr. Potter?” the same voice said again. “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

This time, however, the owner of that voice had raised himself above the crowd. To his surprise, Harry recognized him immediately as Gaius Black.

“You!” he couldn't hide his astonishment.

“Me!” the pompous counterpart replied. “Your worst enemy, Mr. Potter!”

“What is it you want,” Harry was not in the least bit intimidated by this self-styled challenger…

“Justice for the people, Mr. Potter,” Black answered in what Harry assumed was a tone he had acquired in oratory training. “Accountability for your actions.”

“I am accountable, along with everyone involved in the legitimate government!” Harry protested on his own turn. “As you might know, my job requires a certain degree of secrecy, but the Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, she will provide account of all you need to know!”

“It's a simple question, Mr. Potter,” Black said, “it is a public secret that the six of you have concentrated the levers of power in a very dictatorial matter, left society to run itself, left public policy without direction and disappeared to sort out your own ends!”

“That's a heavy accusation,” Harry rebutted him. “What's your proof?”

”What else could your absence mean!” Black nearly shouted, attracting supporting echoes from the protesters.

“I have everyone you need to question here with me, Black,” Harry pointed out.

“The consecutive lie!” the populist leader declared to those around him. “Bring them out if you speak the truth!”

Harry took his words and motioned behind him. A second later, the other five indeed appear at his sides.

“What will you do, Black?” Harry challenged him on his own turn. “How will you face Lestrange? She will kill mercilessly until you're dead!”

“I'll fight her with every means I have at my disposal!” Black replied feverishly. “Honour and courage. Not sneaking away from responsibility.”

He had hit a nerve with Harry. “What do you know about nerve! Do you not realize Lestrange is the main threat to bringing down the Ministry and imposing a new regime? Do you know she is also insane? What her regime will be! You cannot even begin to imagine!”

Harry had finally managed to stun this loudmouth into incoherent confusion.

“You are right, Mr. Potter.”

The sly female voice came from behind him. It took Harry a second to realize whom this voice belonged to. Whirling around in horror, he came face to face with its owner…Bellatrix Lestrange herself.

“How did you - “

“Even the great can be surprised, Harrykins,” she cooed in that horrible voice. “Do enjoy the show, hmm?”

Overcome by the surprise, nobody could do anything to stop her. Out of thin air, Death Eaters, their faces obscured by the infamous masks, and mounted on brooms, zoomed over the crowd, and began firing random Killing Curses at the people.

Mass panic ensured, and some of the braver ones tried fighting back, but they were no match for the much better equipped Dark opponents.

Harry, his mind starting to work again, whipped out his wand, and Ron came up beside him, also ready to fight. Looking quickly around him, Harry noticed Lestrange was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

This was becoming far too personal - she would pay through the nose for this.

“Take them out!” he gave the order, and six spells shot out from the doorway, each trailing a Death Eater. From within the crowd, well timed offensive spells also took out several ill-intended flyers, and with a sudden feeling of thrill, Harry noticed his parents among those adept spell-casters.

Remus had done his job once again…without him, the Order would be much more isolated from the current events…

“Reducto!”

The gory curse caught a Death Eater, flying by with his aim on them. The curse impacted his shoulder directly, and it was merciless in severing the arm right off - blood spattered those below, and with a curdling scream, the Death Eater flew headlong into the wall of the building. The crowd retreated enough for him to finish a very rough landing onto the pavement, from which he did not rise again…

“Thorough job, mate,” Ron told Harry. “This way is better for him as it is…”

“Let's end this,” Harry turned his attention back to the remaining Death Eaters.

However, to his dismay, they all seemed to be in retreat, rising higher and higher from the protesters, who were still scared and disoriented, and assembling towards a single point in the sky.

“Do you really want that to happen again?” Lestrange's vastly amplified voice filled the air. “Harry Potter and his entourage is the enemy! Join the Death Eaters to finally bring peace and security!”

Harry could not believe his ears. In fact, he was sure his mouth had dropped open. All that he was sure was that his mind reeled at the words, unable to comprehend.

Did Lestrange just try and appeal for public support? Had she just shown up in the flesh and blood?

Before an answer could be formulated in his head about this, the witch he and the Order had been after this entire time, disappeared with a blinding flash, accompanied by a thunderous crack.

Hermione's Avada Kedavra streaked past the empty space, where Bellatrix and her Death Eaters had been hovering a moment ago.

“That bitch,” Hermione seethed. “I will kill her with my bare hands!”

“Calm down,” Harry turned around. “How could we not know about this? We should have seen something coming!”

“Well, we didn't!” Ron snapped. “No more spies in the Death Eaters, remember!”

“Forget that,” Harry snapped at him in return. “Innocent people were killed!”

“I can see that!” the redhead's temper flared up. “There is nothing we can do!”

“Yes, there is,” Harry restrained his tone. “We re-establish Luna, Draco and Ginny immediately.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked him determinedly.

“You three,” he turned to the deputies. “You are no longer part of the Order's active wing. From this moment, you assume government duties, until Lestrange is dead. We resign,” he pointed to himself, Ron and Hermione. “I will entrust you with making sure this government lives.”

“Does that mean we aren't going to be in touch?” Luna's worried voice surfaced once more. “We can't do anything without you.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Harry reassured her. “You will be informed of what's happening.”

Still disbelieving, still shocked at what had happened, the six of them made their way back into the building and towards the Apparition points for Grimmauld Place.

Lestrange had gone public with her intent to bring revolution…something told Harry that all of this would climax and end soon. Very soon.

A/N: Sneak attacks and mass protests…fallout comes next…I have the sneaking feeling this chapter spells failure. :/

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A/N: Moving right along...

Chapter XXXIX: The Limits of the Human Condition

Bellatrix Lestrange attacks demonstrators, Gaius Black among dead! Ministry in shambles, mass panic!

With no casualties to Prophet staff, our reporters covering the protest against our failing government yesterday morning, also witnessed and documented the surprising and vicious attack of Bellatrix Lestrange's Death Eaters. Disappearing as quickly as they had arrived, they left destruction and panic in their wake. As many as 112 wizards and witches are reported dead. In the background is the government's inability to guarantee the safety of its citizens, and that puts in direct question of legitimacy in Hermione Potter's ghostly cabinet to run public affairs.

For further details about the deadly attack, and an interview with our political correspondent, please see page two.

For once, Harry did not slam down the prophet in indignation. Its opposition to Hermione was clear, but it wasn't that which bothered him right now, as she was not Minister any more...

They had talked about this the previous night. Ron and Hermione had agreed to deposit their resignations the next day, and they were away doing just that at the moment. He flipped the page to read the aforementioned interview.

Mr. Pufflehuff, do you believe Black's death leaves no alternative to the Potter cabinet?

I don't think so. A popular leader can always be found. It is a matter of him being strong and knowledgeable enough to challenge and overturn the government.

Do you have any idea who may take Black's place?

No, sadly I do not. However, I am sure a probable candidate will emerge in time.

What of Bellatrix Lestrange's proposal of radical social change? She made a direct appeal with uncertain results, when people generally accepted that she was in hiding ever since You-Know-Who's death.

I don't think it will materialize. To me, it is an act of desperation. It is also a public secret that former Death Eaters are the prime threat to the stability of our institutions. If Potter's government has been seemingly idle, but no attempt at a takeover has been made, and they returned yesterday to meet the crowds, I can only draw one conclusion.

And what may that be?

They have deemed Bellatrix Lestrange as the most serious threat to stability and peace, and thus taken it directly upon themselves to combat her. You have to realize this oligarchic model of government is rarely working in the public interest, but this is one of the times when it does. Potter has allies in key departments behind the scenes to assure her stability, even as a Minister of Magic in leave. This is the reason Gaius Black could do little more than practice his fiery rhetoric. May he rest in peace, it was indeed sad he was killed.

Do you have any last words to add?

No, I don't think so. Except that my support lies with Potter. They defeated You-Know-Who. Lestrange will not pose even half the threat he did years ago.

Thank you for your time.

My pleasure.

Harry couldn't believe he had finished reading an entire article without being angered at the published words. He took another sip of his coffee and skimmed the interview again - finally someone with more than compressed air between the ears.

The biting commentary of the interviewer below the interview he skipped entirely, and with that, put down that copy of the Prophet. He hoped the announcement of the power change would be made the same day.

A clear plan in regards to Lestrange was beginning to form in his mind. She had lost her most trusted and capable servants. As a result, she reverted to the old tactics of mass intimidation and killing in her attempt to provoke nothing less than a rebellion and move to fill the power vacuum in the confusion that would ensue. From yesterday, he knew her losses were not light either. Of the three or four dozen Death Eaters that attacked, at least half were dead. The rest would be brought to justice in due time, he was sure of it.

He wondered if it would not be possible to incur another spy in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Just to have a small window into what direction the madwoman was taking in what were hopefully the last steps she would undertake in a final bid for victory.

No, that would be too complex and time consuming. Maybe she had set her plan in motion already, and this attack was part of a more elaborate scheme to infiltrate and steal the spells she needed to make her nearly invincible, back in Vodlemort's company.

For this reason, another idea occurred to him. What if the Order turned public?

The secrecy was necessary, and it has remained a secret society for a very long time. Its activities would still remain clandestine, but if the people knew about its existence and its cause, then it could also help Luna, Ginny and Draco in maintain control while showing a tougher resistance to Lestrange.

He would have to talk to Ron and Hermione about this when they returned, but for now, he thought he might tell James, Lily, and the rest of the Marauders about it. So, he put down the paper, drank the last of the coffee, and went on a search for them.

It did not take long. Sitting in the living room, James and Lily were talking among themselves, while Sirius slept on the other couch, and Remus sat in the comfortable armchair, staring lost in the flames. Tonks was nowhere to be seen - she was probably still sleeping.

“Mom? Dad?”

James and Lily looked up. “Harry,” James acknowledged him. “What's on your mind?”

“I have to talk to you about something,” he said.

Sirius had stirred from the sounds of Harry's footsteps. “Wuzzigionon?” At that, Remus also turned around in the armchair.

“Well, I think all of you can hear what I have to say,” Harry re-considered. “Come on over.”

He sat down on the free armchair between the two couches. “What is this about?” Sirius rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Remus joined his friend. “This about the Ministry?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “Rather, an idea.”

“Go on,” James prompted him.

“I want to make the Order's presence public. Just to give a challenge to Lestrange.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“No,” Harry said, smiling slightly. “What the consequences will be, I don't know, but I hope it will be enough to both assure stability, and let us focus more on defeating her for good.”

“Maybe, James considered the idea thoughtfully. “Where do you guys stand?”

“I say, go for it,” Sirius was unreserved. “The Order has always been secret, and we could always `disband' it when this is all over.” He was intending it would restore its secrecy, and keep its own vigil on the Dark side...

“I think we should reconsider,” said the ever cautious Remus. “The people might be opposed.”

“Who cares about the people?” Lily was strangely impatient with the whole affair. “The point here is to kill Lestrange. Worry about the people after.”

“She has a point,” James agreed, and then turned to Harry. “I think it's unanimous among us, son. The Order of the Phoenix becomes a public enterprise!”

“Great! Knowing you agree should convince Ron and Hermione easily.”

“Convince us about what?”

Ron's voice startled the assembled company, as the redhead entered the living room, tailed by Hermione.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry greeted him. “How'd the resignations go?”

“Oh, don't let me start!” Hermione burst out. “Most frustrating experience ever! They wouldn't accept them for at least an hour. We almost told them we belonged to a secret society that occupied most of our time!”

“Well,” Harry found this to be much easier than he expected. “That is what we're going to tell the Ministry. The Order is going public.”

“Say what?” Ron was dumbfounded for a second.

“The Marauders agree,” Harry motioned to his parents, Remus and Sirius. “Be good support for Luna, Ginny and Draco, while we take on Bella full time.”

Ron opened his mouth to object, but paused, and reconsidered. “This be a good idea.”

Hermione was surprised that for once Ron did not say the first words that came to his mind. “I agree with Ron, believe it or not.”

It was a sealed deal. As Minister, Luna would have to make the introduction and associate the Order's cause with the Ministry's efforts.

**

“Is she mad?” was the question circling among the uneasy Death Eaters.

In groups of twos and threes, the main topic of conversation was the most recent attack.

“Do you know how many were lost?”

“I heard Dahlgen was killed. Have you seen him? He was moving up quick.”

“I saw him,” another survivor commented. “Potter killed him. Blew his arm right off and he crashed in the side of the building. Dead on the spot.”

“What do you think she's going to do next?” a third joined the discussion.

“Do you think I'm a prophet? The word is, Antonin is dead and Snape bailed out.”

“Who else is there?”

“You and me? I don't know. It's not as if I'm told what goes on around here.”

“Yes, but you still didn't answer my question.”

“Look, I don't want an argument with you. I reckon we're going to have more suicide attacks on mass rallies. Apparently we have some recruits out of it at least.”

“Recruits? Who would join after this?”

“The Ministry is in shambles. Haven't you been reading the Prophet? Black was killed by his own supporters apparently, and there is no one to take his place right now. Potter's gone, so what's left?”

“Us?”

“Us?” the other asked him mockingly.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't you understand? These are the tactics of someone desperate. The Mistress is losing her mind.”

“She's losing her mind? How do you know?”

“Oh, right! You didn't hear her while we were still there.”

“What did she say?”

“Kind of pathetic, actually,” another Death Eater replied. “She's calling for peace and security. All we've ever known is conflict and insecurity.”

“Are you serious?”

“She's lost her best people. What do you expect her to do?”

“Surrender and die?”

“I wish,” the other shook his head. “You know we're as good as dead if we go against her.”

“Well, we can't run away. Thanks to these marks, we're in her service until she or we die.”

“So are you suggesting we screw up the missions?”

“Of course not! That road ends with death too. If we're lucky, we could be killed by some Auror.”

“You're hilarious,” the second one said mirthlessly. “We ought to tough it out until the end.”

“Yeah, whenever that end comes.”

**

She was angry - very angry. Pacing around in her chambers, Bella could not formulate what to do next. Without Snape, Antonin, even Nott and Avery, who had infiltrated the Order of the Phoenix, she was helpless. Her entire mission had been to obtain the spells the Order was guarding. Her mind control schemes had failed completely. They were all alive, which meant another caster among them had been found that was as, if not more powerfully than Ginny Weasley...or Malfoy? She could not be certain. The traitor's father had been a loyal and just man, but he was a bad egg. She would make him pay with his life for the betrayal to his father, Voldemort, and the Dark ideals themselves...

But no time to brood on that for now. She needed a way to infiltrate the Order once again, bring it down from the inside.

Her determination was fiery, but she was exhausted. Tired - and of what? The constant failures. Her ultimate goal was to bring Voldemort back and exact revenge on the Order of the Phoenix, and specifically Harry Potter and his friends, for the troubles and dangers she had been forced to endure.

People were easily swayed. If she could take advantage of the confusion in the Minstry, she would take over, and then the circumstances would be different. No more Mudbloods, no more toleration of the inferior pests. She could take down the Order with one final blow to the Ministry. March right in with her loyal followers, and kill everybody - erase the old regime.

She could revolutionize society - the very thought gave her zeal and renewed vigour. What did it matter if she had been betrayed. She was still alive and fighting.

For a while now, she could feel her mind slipping. Recently, she had begun to think about the decades she spent in Voldemort's service. Her youth - that time seemed a distant memory, as if it was the life of another person. What had happened? Labouring to an idea, a cause that always seemed beyond her, just out of reach. What had she accomplished in this life? Had it all been worth the sacrifice? What was she leading?

The question did not have a clear answer, but the thoughts themselves threatened to drive her off the edge. Her entire life she had been determined to remain strong. Was this madness in itself?

Was she the one going mad, instead of the world around her? Is that which had compelled Dolohov's murder and the flight of Demetris Snape?

What was Voldemort's cause? It was a society, free of inferior blood, but based in the proud pure-blooded tradition of wizard families. She had served that cause for over forty years. Death, destruction and it was still so close, yet so far.

It was her cause now. The only legitimate goal her mind recognized, and was willing to work towards. All her schemes so far had failed. This left out all, but one option - an assault on the Ministry. Only with taking power could she transform society in Voldemort's perfect vision. Something told her it was a possible venture that existed outside of fantasy, and she would prove it.

This had been the purpose of her life - carry out the ideal she had worked for during all these years. Failure, it was not a viable alternative. Success was her only option.

**

An urgent press conference had been arranged to address the matters of the power change. Somehow the news had leaked out that Harry, Ron and Hermione had quit their posts, and handed them over to their respective deputies, who now were the face of the Magical community's leadership.

Hermione had agreed to answer the questions, as she was the former Minister, and Harry and Ron very enthusiastically chose not to be confronted by the annoying reporters. Luna, Draco and Ginny, however, could not escape from being there.

The reporters had eagerly assembled in anticipation for the appearance of the disappointing leaders. As soon as Draco, Ginny and Luna walked on the podium to take their seats, Hermione followed, imagining the biting headlines tomorrow's issue would have of the event...

The chatter and shouting picked up with their presence. Once the reporters quietened down enough for the new trio to make itself heard, Ginny gave the word to one particularly insistent reporter.

“Is it true that you three are taking over the duties of the so-termed Golden Trio?”

“It is,” Ginny confirmed, and before the same reporter could blurt out another question, she pointed out a different one.

“This is a question for Hermione Potter,” he looked down on his pad of parchment. “Mrs. Potter, what motivated you to give up your duties as Minister of Magic to your deputy without apparent reason?”

Hermione spent a few seconds thinking of a response before she replied. “There is a reason, actually. It is the same reason, for which I did not do a good job as Minister of Magic to begin with. I feel Luna Lovegood will be able to devote her time and resources this post deserves, whereas I'm not able to do so.”

“You still did not specify what the reason was,” the reporter pointed out.

“You will receive you answer soon, enough,” Hermione told him. “Next question.”

“What changes do you plan to implement to prevent overthrow of your government? The public is still outraged at this neglect of government affairs, leaving society to run itself without guidance, and thus permitting yesterday's tragic events.”

She was looking squarely at Luna, who did not betray any sign of uneasiness at the intense stare of this reporter.

“The changes,” Ron's significant other began, “will range from improving communication between departments, regular reports and transparency in dealings, as well as increased emphasis on intelligence and catching Bellatrix Lestrange. All other civil services will continue to run as normal.”

“How will you regain the people's trust in this government?”

Luna was unperturbed. “Through showing them that our government is able to address the issues of the people and devote resources to the cause.”

“What about Lestrange?” yet another reporter asked, this time directing the question at Hermione.

“This will be our job,” Hermione explained, “that is, Harry, Ron and I. We will lead the concentrated effort to combat Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“What are you saying?” a voice asked.

Hermione knew this was the instance, where she had to explain about the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. “You see,” she said, “there is an organization to which Ron, Harry and I belong, which is devoted to the fight against the Dark forces. Namely against Lestrange.”

“Are you talking about a secret society?” the same reporter inquired deeper.

“In essence, yes,” Hermione conceded. “It goes by the name of the Order of the Phoenix. It was founded by Albus Dumbledore during the times of Voldemort's reign, and the founding members included James and Lily Potter. Harry Potter, their son, is the current leader of the organization.”

“Why has nobody told us about this before?” an outraged reporter asked out of the blue. “Have we not had a right to know about this!”

“There was a purpose to the secrecy,” Hermione explained. “It allows for actions to be taken without external interference or pressure. What you have to know, however, is that the Order always works with the Ministry on its projects. That was the case during Voldemort's time, and it is now. Certain people, primarily Aurors, are members as well, and they devote time to both the Order and their jobs, so as to be able to keep dangerous wizards at bay.”

“Will this Order of the Phoenix be incorporated within the Ministry?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “It is to be disbanded upon Bellatrix Lestrange's defeat.”

“Is it possible to know the names of other Order members?”

“I'm afraid not,” Hermione answered in the negative once again. “For their security, their identities will remain known only to those directly involved.”

“So, we are to take that aside from the Golden Trio, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix will remain a mystery to the general public.”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “Now, as we are running out of time, I think we can take only one final question.”

This time, an aged gentleman in the back row raised a frail hand. “Yes sir?”

The old man stood up slowly, cleared his throat, and looked up. “This is a question for all of you. Government changes aside, what do you hope to gain by revealing the existence of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Draco made a gesture at the other three that he wanted to handle the response.

“My dear man, the Order's sole purpose is to eliminate Bellatrix Lestrange. Since her bold attack and the many unfortunate casualties, among which was Gaius Black, we think it may be wise to integrate the Order closer into our efforts, as it would show Lestrange stiffer resistance and hopefully discourage her from taking additional innocent lives.”

“Well said,” Ginny complimented him in an undertone.

That was the extent to which Hermione was willing to allow public know about the Order and the work it did.

“And that would be all the time we have for today,” she called out, and the reaction was immediate. Voices picked up, shouting over one another various other questions, which were doubtlessly good, but pried too deep...

The four of them walked off the podium and into the back, where Harry and Ron had arrived to await the end of the press-conference.

“How did it go?” were Harry's first words.

“Decent enough,” Hermione answered. “We said what we meant to tell.”

“They know about us?” Ron asked.

“Yes,” Luna answered this time. “About us taking over, the slew of political changes we'll make, and introducing the Order.”

“So overall it went as planned,” Harry stated.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Hermione told him. “Meet our new cabinet, Harry.”

He smiled. “I'm sure you guys will do a fine job.”

“Right, and you three better catch Lestrange sooner than later,” Ginny said.

“We'll need to coordinate with the Aurors on their case into the attacks and murders from before,” Ron pointed out.

“That can be easily arranged,” Ginny assured him. “I'll make sure of it.”

“And the MLE,” Harry said, “you'll investigate any possible involvement of persons of interest. I did that on a few occasions, so keep in mind, Knockturn and Diagon alley...a lot can turn up there.”

“I'm not an amateur,” Draco objected. “I know all about this.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I'm only saying.”

They had taken on more responsibility, and the tension was already beginning to surface. More manpower was available for missions, but with the uncertainty around Lestrange's next move, worry about the stability of their government, and the possible disagreements within the Order, made the whole ordeal even more difficult than it already was.

Without another word, the six of them apparated back to Grimmauld Place. It had been a long day, and for a while at least, time was needed to think everything over and consider what to do next...

A/N: Talk about a long chapter...next few are planned out, and the story ends with them...

-->

A/N: Sweet nothings and harmless banter? Agreed, about time we stopped for a breath. With the exception of a very nice surprise...

Chapter XL: Loved, Lost and Gained

The next day found our heroes strangely unwilling to engage in the typically dangerous activities that occupied their lives, but instead, were interested in little more than sleep and breakfast. However, it was essential that the new ruling three, as the press had begun to call them as of today, to be present at the Ministry and set the affairs of government in Order.

On Harry's insistence to help out, they declined, and secretly Harry was happy to have the day to himself. For once, he could lounge around the house, along with Hermione, his parents and the rest of the fine company that made up the Order, and hopefully talk about something other than `official businesses'.

Of course, he would still keep a vigil on any moves Lestrange might make. Grimmauld Place was safe from detection, and thus harm, so as long as nobody ventured out, the risk was minimal. Yet, Harry was still not entirely at ease. The prospect of Luna, Draco and Ginny coming under harm was in itself very real...what then?

Hermione found Harry deep in thought, and thought she would cheer him up by doing something she had not done to him in a long time - an embrace from behind. He didn't notice her creep up, and jumped a little when he felt her hands, but then immediately relaxed.

“Hey, you,” he said, turning around to face her. For the first time in a while a smile lit up his face, and he lowered his head to kiss her. “How are you this morning?”

She smiled coyly on her own turn. “Well, very good, now that you mention it, Mr. Potter.”

“Good to know,” he rejoined. “I love you.”

Echoing the sentiment of many readers, Hermione could not remember the last time she heard this from Harry, and realized just how much she missed him saying it. “I love you too.”

He laid another kiss on her. “Speaking of last times, when did we just sit and not to anything related to death, destruction, and saving wizard-kind?”

“I don't know,” Hermione furrowed her brow, “but today seems a mighty nice day not to engage in that business.”

“I'm just worried about Ginny, Draco and Luna,” he betrayed his earlier apprehensions.

“They will be fine, Harry. They survived the final battle, have been with us through thick and thin, so they know how to take care of themselves and one another,” she allayed these apprehensions of his.

“I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe I should learn to trust them more.”

“That would be a good start,” Hermione nodded. “But today, it will be just you and me...no distractions in any way, shape or form.”

Did he hear something suggestive in her voice? If that was so, then it was also made him enthusiastic to take her up on the unspoken offer...

“Well then,” he conceded. “What do you want to do today?”

She took a moment to consider the options. “Have a sexual marathon with you?”

Her suggestion caught Harry off-guard. “Say what?”

That alone showed how much his mind had been preoccupied with Order business.

Hermione giggled. “Shocked?”

By now, he had managed to recover his coolness. “And aroused. Where and when?”

The smile on Hermione's face widened. “I'll tell you after.”

Only she could do this to him. Harry mentally cursed Hermione for being the woman he loved...

Maybe it was lucky foresight, but Harry did not have the time to consider that, as they were interrupted by Harry's parents, who came through the door, stumbling over one another...were they kissing? In front of him?

Harry found the image quite disconcerting, and was no less surprised at the feeling. “Mom! Dad!”

James and Lily came apart, and turned to face their son. “Oh, hey Harry,” James waved, somewhat awkwardly if that was even possible. “What's going on?”

“I could ask you the same,” his son replied.

“What, I can't kiss your mother?” James smiled. “No rules against it, last time I checked.”

“Love, we know your history with rules as it is,” Lily told him. “And not in front of Harry. You know, we still haven't talked to him properly since we arrived back!”

“What do you mean?” James objected. “We've had plenty of chances to talk!”

Lily looked at Harry in a way, which he could only interpret as her wanting his support. “I think Mom's right, Dad.” Lily gave him a dazzling smile as Harry said this. “We've yet to sit down and talk about something other than the Order.”

From the memories he had seen of his father, and even talking to him before Ginny brought him back for the first time, Harry knew that beneath James' outward cool and dismissive attitude lay a very determined persona - sometimes even more so than Lily.

“But there is a job to be done, son,” his father said. “Had I been given the chance, I would have taught you that first, but you seem to have learned it without me.”

“You have no idea, Dad,” Harry shook his head. “To be honest, I have had enough of jobs to do.”

“Don't say that, son,” James shook his head wisely, “the real jobs in your life are only beginning.”

For the exceptional experiences that had shaped Harry much more differently than his contemporaries, his father still thought the real trials were yet to come. He probably was referring to a life with Hermione, and truth be told, he viewed that as anything, but a chore...

“Well, then, let us talk,” Hermione broke the silence that followed. “About life. No Lestrange-related matters.”

Harry still found this rather odd. What would he say? Any tangible topics of conversation that did not relate to threatening his life, he could not fathom. Maybe Hermione would take his helplessness in consideration and lead the effort...

“About life?” Lily echoed Hermione. “I'd love to.”

Harry's nervousness only increased. “Tell me about your wedding,” his mother opened the conversation.

He realized with a shock of embarrassment that he had not even talked to his parents about this. Before he could utter a word, however, Hermione took charge.

“It was amazing,” she reminisced. “it was at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was a bit fanatical about the preparations, but however she did it, it was worth it. There were no unpleasant surprises even if the risk existed...it was perfect.”

“The decorations,” Harry chimed in, as he had recovered his confidence. “I helped with them, but Ginny was the mastermind. She was really good.”

“It was the Weasleys that also organized our wedding all those years ago, remember love?” Lily turned to James, as she looked on fondly at the couple in front of her.

“Of course I remember!” James exclaimed. “They had their wedding only a month before ours.”

“That was when you proposed,” Lily drifted further into her memories.

“I know,” he smiled, “best decision I ever made.”

“What about you?” James turned to Harry. “Where'd you pop the question?”

Harry had the sudden urge to draw himself up. “Hogwarts,” he said importantly.

“Well,” his father was not the least bit phased. “You couldn't be any less creative?”

Harry had never quite been very good with the comeback responses. “Actually, I could have. It was symbolic.”

“Way to be smooth, love,” Lily jabbed at her husband harmlessly. “Symbolic, just as it was for us.”

Out of the corner of his eye, James caught Remus moving through the house.

“Hey Moony!” he hailed him. “Come out here for a minute!”

Remus jumped slightly at the sudden shout, but turned, and made his way to James. “What's got your knickers in a twist this time?”

“Not, Lily, I promise,” James dismissed him, while the werewolf smiled knowingly. “I have a question for you.”

“And while you're here, why don't you sit down?” Lily chimed in.

“Alright, what's on your mind?” Remus took a seat next to Harry.

“Did you go to my son's wedding?”

Remus almost looked appalled. “What sort of question is this! Of course I was there!”

“Relax,” James said. “It was a rhetorical question. You just have a knack for answering them.”

“You think you're funny,” Remus smiled. “For your information, it was a brilliant wedding. The Burrow was where we did it. Molly was so restless the entire time.”

“So we've heard,” Lily said, and then she turned to Hermione. “Are you happy with Harry?”

For a moment, Hermione looked appalled at the mere suggestion that she was not happy. “Of course I am!”

“I'm sorry,” Lily seemed to have realized Hermione's shock, and backtracked. “I just have never talked to you for longer than ten minutes since James and I came back, and Harry told us so much about you...”

Hermione could not help, but be amazed at Lily's perception of others. “It's - it's fine. You don't have to worry about it.”

“See, love,” Harry placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders. “Even my parents love you, and that says something.”

“Indeed,” Hermone beamed.

Expectedly, James and Lily had no objections either. “Hey, mate,” James turned to Lupin to fill the void in the conversation, “can you drag Padfoot in here? I have a question for him too.”

Remus nodded, and turned around in his chair. “Oy, Sirius! Drag your tail over here!”

One choice colourful response from somewhere within the house was directed towards Remus, and moments later, Sirius emerged. “What?”

“Prongs here wants to talk to you about something,” Lupin said. “Something tell me you're in deep trouble.”

“Oh?” Sirius was a little taken aback. “Should I wait until he's though with you and all?”

“Excuse the butt of all our jokes today,” James intervened with a smile, winking at the annoyed Remus. “Wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what?” Srius prodded him. “I'm really not in trouble, am I?”

“That's debatable,” James told him, but the smile did not disappear. “Why were you not at Harry's wedding?”

“I was there in spirit,” Sirius caught on to where James was going with this.

“Being dead is no excuse, mate,” his friend said.

“You should talk,” Sirius pointed out. “You were dead too. Not to mention Lily, and she, of all people had to attend.”

“You're right,” James conceded the objection. “I should think more before I walk into my own traps. You're off the hook!”

“And what are you, the Weddings Law Enforcement?” Lupin chimed in.

The smile disappeared from James' face quite suddenly, and he looked pointedly at Remus. “You sure you want to see my badge?”

It only took a second for everyone to erupt in voracious laughter.

“This is what we were back in Hogwarts,” Sirius told Harry when he had managed to recover. “It was one ongoing joke, and some of the best times of my life.”

Harry was still chuckling. “I can see that. Did you ever fight?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes in the effort to remember. “Oy, Prongs, d'you remember if we ever fought at Hogwarts?”

James heard him, and considered the question. “Of course!”

“Yes, we did fight on occasion,” Remus confirmed. “Most of it was over what Wormtail did. Don't know why we stayed friends with that traitor.”

“Well, because he was a loner, and we were too noble to keep ourselves safe,” James explained matter-of-factly. “I thought you were the brains, Moody.”

“And still am,” Remus said. “Never would have received your Transfiguration Newt level without me, now would you?”

“What do you mean? That was Lily!”

“No, love, it was him,” Lily said with a smile of her own. “Right then I was more mad at you than I had ever been, right before I realized I was actually in love with you.”

James scrunched his nose. “What were you mad at me for?”

“You didn't show up for our date at the Three Broomsticks,” she recollected. “I had sworn to curse your cockiness right out of you.”

“Oh, right,” he smacked his forehead. “That was the day Remus had to attach me to a chair and study. I told him seeing you was far more important than some Newt exam...”

“Point proven,” Lupin looked pleased with himself.

“And there were all the times you stole my shepherd's pie,” Sirius recalled another fault of James'. “I know you think I didn't notice, but you were wrong, my friend. I loved them as much as you!”

“Oh,” James said. “But I thought we settled that. I owed you three hundred shepherd's pies, but then I was killed right before I managed to repay that debt.”

“Well, you have the rest of your days,” Sirius told him. “I expect it as soon as possible!”

“But on a second thought, you never said anything!”

Now, Sirius looked a little bit contrite. “Well, that's because I stole Wormtail's, and he really remained clueless about the whole scheme...”

“That would explain why I gained weight my last year,” Remus explained humorously. “Because of these two idiots, I had two pies all to myself every day.”

“Laugh all you want, Moody,” James said. “You put the idea in my head to begin with.”

“That's true,” Remus conceded. “No wonder I was the brains of the group.”

“That's true, you were,” Sirius agreed. “Then Lily took over.”

“Low blow there, mate,” Lupin told him. “Why don't you go scout out your territory or something.”

“Dogs over werewolves any day,” Sirius nodded. “You coming, or what?”

“That's wrong, Sirius,” Lupin nodded in dejection. “Just wrong.”

“One more word, and I'll be pronging you two in the backyard for good,” James said. “There you can work out who will be marking who's territory.”

Lily glanced at her husband. “I don't think he's kidding.”

Harry followed the exchange with interest. “How does it feel to be an Animagus?”

“Quite amazing, actually,” his father said. “At first it's a bit awkward and painful to transform, but soon enough it becomes a second nature.”

“That's fascinating,” Hermione's attention was captured, and Harry knew she would not let go until the mechanics of animal transformations were explained to her in the smallest detail. “Lily, what is your animagus form?”

Lily looked a bit uneasy at the question. “I tried to learn, but never quite finished my training. I was supposed to be a doe, but Voldemort killed me before I could manage a complete transformation. James was teaching me after I became pregnant with you, Harry, but it takes years to master it.”

“Harry, we never learned how to transform either,” Hermione said.

“Well, with everything we have to do,” he answered. “We never found the time.”

“That's true,” she agreed, and then the next logical idea struck her. “Will you teach us?” she looked at James.

“I could,” Prongs replied. “It will take a lot of time and commitment, however. The only reason it took us two years alone, was because we needed to do it in secret. Although, I suspect with you it will take a lot less time.”

“Do you really think so?” Hermione could not hide her excitement.

“Well, yes,” Prongs ascertained. “No need to do it in secret, and we'll have much more time at our disposal.”

Harry could almost picture Hermione squealing from delight to learn such magic, and part of him was glad she retained her dignity, even if by her expression she threatened to do it.

“Hey, Moody, I never asked you,” Sirius took another tack in the conversation, “what is the story with you and Tonks?”

“Nymph and I?” Remus evidently stalled for time. “What about us?”

“Well, you didn't become a couple for nothing,” Sirius cornered him. “Tell us about it.”

“Oh, well,” Lupin found he could not run away from the interrogation. “Right after you died, we gravitated together.”

“Really?” the expression on Sirius' face was unreadable. “What happened?”

“Well,” he said, “turns out, she loved me. How and why, I couldn't imagine. I led a marginal existence, I'm a dangerous werewolf without the Wolsbane potion, and overall offered very little security for her.”

“Smart girl, that one,” James quipped.

“She is, better believe it. Fought alongside all of us in the Order, and I respect her for everything she is.”

James quickly saw how much she meant to Remus. “There a chance we could meet her for more than the customary hello we've shared up to now?”

“I don't see why not,” Remus said. “Let me go find her.”

He quickly stood up and disappeared into the house to retrieve his beautiful significant other.

“Harry, I wanted to ask you,” Lily suddenly remembered, but paused right before uttering her next words.

“Yes?”

“Well, on second thought it would be a question for Hermione, even if you play a part,” she clarified herself.

He could still not see where the exchange was going.

“So you want to ask me the question,” Hermione stated. “What is it?”

Lily looked a tad nervous. “Are you going to have children any time soon?”

Harry involuntarily choked on his breath, while Hermione immediately turned a shade of brilliant magenta. “Say again?”

“Are you two going to make us a grandchild?” Lily's voice was much braver this time.

“Yes, before we reach the ripe old age of thirty,” James' forward sense of humour surfaced again.

“Our children will have grandparents who are the age of their parents,” Harry could not wrap his head around the concept.

“That's just too odd,” Hermione agreed.

“It's a side effect of resurrection magic,” Lily explained. “I've read all about it. If someone is brought back, they will enter their second life at the peak of vitality.”

“Well then,” Harry said. “I suppose we'll have to become used to the fact.”

“Still doesn't answer the question,” Lily returned to her original. “What are your plans about kids?”

“We don't know yet, with this whole Lestrange affair going on,” Hermione was quick to justify herself. “I mean, that, and coupled with the uncertainty we face in the Ministry, having children right now is taking a bit of unnecessary risk.”

“That's not true,” Lily said. “James and I had Harry when Voldemort was at the height of his power. That didn't stop us.”

“Be that as it may,” Harry told his mother, “but we're not you.”

“You still don't have an excuse, son,” Lily did not back down, and Harry inferred in his mind that her stubbornness was something she complimented even further under James' influence.

“Dad!”

“I'm sorry, Harry. Arguing with your mother is the equivalent of a suicide mission,” his father smiled.

“See? He knows,” the smug smile on Lily's face told Harry he was done for even before attempting a defence. At least Hermione went somewhere with her reasoning...

Before any further details could be discussed, Remus returned with Tonks in tow. He wore a sheepish grin that immediately caught the attention of the others.

“What took you so long, mate?” Sirius was the first to jibe. “We've already been through the future of Harry's children.”

Lupin was lost for words, but thankfully, Tonks was there to take over for him. “We connected between the sheets for a bit. Figured you wouldn't notice if we came back a little later.”

Being so direct with the people around her made Tonks a difficult target to embarrass - not so much Remus, however.

“Way to go, mate,” Sirius whispered purposefully. “A girl finally agreed to let you in!”

“Shut it you,” Remus whacked him in the back of the head. “Still further than you ever went.”

“What do you mean! I was a legend in Hogwarts!”

“Not one steady relationship on your record, mate,” Remus pointed out. “Just conveniently used by a lot of girls for your high esteem. I tell you, women are smarter than they look.”

“Are you saying I look stupid?” Tonks was suddenly affronted. “Explain yourself, or you'll be high and dry for the next month!”

“And that's why,” Sirius exclaimed, looking at Remus, to the general amusement.

“Not you, love, I'm just saying I've learned not to judge women.”

One trait of Lupin's that Harry admired was how good his honorary uncle was at thinking on his feet. This time it worked again- Tonks was appeased.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Remus rejoined.

“Either stop that, or get a room,” Sirius pretended to be disgusted by the exchange, but the smile betrayed his amusement at the situation.

Lupin looked at him, then at James. “Well then, a room it is!”

Sirius' mouth dropped in amazement. “I was only joking!”

“You're not the only one with skills, mate,” Lupin said as he arose. “I'll see you chaps later...a lot later.”

With that, he departed behind Tonks, whispering something in her ear, and it was that something which caused her to giggle loudly, much to Padfoot's annoyance. “Can you believe those two?”

“Isn't there a dead girlfriend you could bring back?” Harry tried a far-flung joke to match wits with the Marauders, but this time -

Sirius' expression turned to stone at Harry's attempt at humour. Unknowingly, he had struck a sensitive nerve with Sirius, and while he was willing to laugh about most aspects of life, this one had a seemingly tragic personal connection to him...

“I'm sorry,” he was quick to apologize, “I wasn't intending to - “

“It's alright, Harry,” Sirius cut across him. “I know. Only, there is a story behind that...James, maybe you should...”

He couldn't continue, and proceeded to divert his eyes towards the trees.

“Do you really think you should?” Lily asked James silently.

“Eventually, he will know,” James told her. “Now is a good a time as any, and I think it presents us with the opportunity to give Padfoot a nice surprise...”

“I don't know how he's going to feel about it,” Lily pointed out. “If we bring Andrea back...”

“I know him. First he'll be angry we took his feelings for granted, and then he'll realize we know him best and always look out for his happiness, and warm up to us again.”

All of this was exchanged between them in the quietest of undertones. Neither Sirius, nor Harry or Hermione heard what was being said between James and Lily.

“Dad, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to,” Harry tried to appease some of the emotional damage his flippant statement had caused. On the other side, it reminded him how much he still did not know about the lives of the people closest to him.

“No, Harry,” James opposed him. “I think you should hear this story. It is sad, it caused Sirius much pain, and still troubles him, but the point within it is that aside from the banter we go through, teasing Sirius about his ways in Hogwarts, he really did find love, and managed to keep it, until Bellatrix Lestrange killed the girl he loved...this was one reason why she enjoyed killing Sirius too almost ten years ago.”

Harry was dumbfounded - why had Sirius never mentioned her?

“Anyway, it started in our fifth year. At that time, I was in love with your mother more than ever, and she hated me with about the same intensity. More importantly, though, Sirius here comes to me in the evening one day, and declares to me in the most serious of tones that he had found the girl f his dreams.”

“Did you believe him?”

“At first, no. I knew he had a new girlfriend every week, but the way he said it did leave a lingering doubt in my mind. So I let it slide for a couple of days, and I watched him how he behaved...and it was this beautiful black haired girl, with green eyes and a milky face - Andrea Morrison. She was a bit different than the other girls too. Kept to herself, had a few close friends, and an army of guys who pined after her.”

“So how did she choose Sirius?” Hermione asked.

“Wait, I'm eventually going to tell you,” James stymied her eagerness to know. “So anyway, Sirius became almost obsessed with her. For about two months, he was withdrawn, and ironically, people started to notice when he wouldn't go after a new girl every other day.”

“How did she respond to him?”

“Well, I'm still not certain what she thought, because he could not gather up the courage to talk to her. I tried to convince him to ask her for a date, but he wouldn't budge. After he refused to talk to her, I knew she had impressed him deeper than anyone before. And the curious part was, none of us was really friends with this girl, so we didn't know her that well either, and he was against us making a move.”

“So two months down the road, he finally manages to ask her out in one of the Potions lessons. Great choice too - Slughorn have him a week's detention for flirting in class. That didn't matter though, because he was ecstatic she said yes. With that his depression spell ended, and they connected from the first - Moody and I went along with my invisibility cloak to see how it turned out for him...”

“Imagine my surprise, when I found out,” Sirius suddenly said sarcastically.

“Moving right along,” James ignored him, “they were together for the next six months, and I literally had to pry him off her if I wanted to talk to him about something. Not to mention me he was constantly teasing me about how much of a failure I was with trying to attract Lily.”

Sirius was lost in reminiscing. Judging by his expression, the good memories replayed over and over in his mind.

“So then, one day, and if I remember it was a Sunday,” James found it a bit difficult to recall the details, “Lily was to go with me to Hogesmeade for the day, since she lost a bet she foolishly entered into, and reluctantly agreed to a double date with Sirius and Andrea. I found it funny, she wasn't too enthusiastic and Sirius was content either way.”

“What happened then?”

“That was the day the village was attacked by the Death Eaters,” James said solemnly. “Nobody saw it coming. In the mayhem Lily and I managed to fend off some of them, but Sirius was caught up in a fight by the Three Broomsticks. We saw him, but couldn't reach him or Andrea without being killed. It was then that Andrea tried to reach us. I don't know what she thought, but she made a break for us, but immediately, two Avada Kedavra curses hit her. She had no chance.”

“I still cry sometimes when I think about it,” Lily admitted.

“Indeed sad,” James nodded, but when Harry looked him, his father shared a wink. He knew at once what that was intended to mean...

“I think I need some time to myself,” Sirius said and rose to his feet.

“Still a deep wound,” Lily said. “Just give him time.”

Sirius left without looking back.

**

Later that night, Harry and Hermione were finally alone in their bedroom. His parents had gone off to discuss something between them, and a different matter entirely was on Hermione's mind.

“Harry?”

“Mhm?” he showed he was listening without looking up from his book.

“What can we really do about kids? Do you think we can do it soon? Maybe now? You know we both want children!”

She said all this very fast, and it did cause Harry to look up with alarm.

“Now?”

“Well, why not!” There is nothing to lose, is there?” Hermione tried to convince him in her fervour.

“Yeah, but what about Lestrange? Everything else that needs to be done before we're even secure enough to start a family?”

Hermione would not have it. By some strange coincidence, her mind was set and her resolution unshakeable. She walked over to Harry, sat on his lap, facing him, and removed the book forcefully from his hands.

“Shut up and kiss me!”

A/N: This may be the longest chapter in the story. The full palette of emotions revealed, hopefully shows the characters aren't crime fighting robots. :D

-->

A/N: Good news! Yeah, read on...

Chapter XLI: Being Human

“Harry! Harry!”

He rolled over in bed, and opened his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Hermione?”

“Harry!!” she squealed even louder, before jumping onto the bed, right on top of him.

“Oof!” he took the brunt of the landing. “What's going on, for crying out loud!?”

Finally, to Hermione's satisfaction, he was fully awake. She sat up beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I'm pregnant!”

**

At first he was dumbfounded, and couldn't say a word. Then the realization started to grow on him, and he started to grasp what Hermione was saying. All in the meanwhile, a smile was growing on his lips as well. After a full minute of processing the fact that he was going to be a father, did Harry shout jovially out of nowhere, embraced Hermione very tightly, and ran out of the bedroom to announce the fact.

“I'm going to be a daddy!” he declared over and over again, going from room to room. “I am going to be a dad!”

Initially, the other occupants of Grimmauld were none too happy to be arisen at such a ghastly morning hour, with the exception of Luna, Ginny and Draco, who were already downstairs and nearly ready to take on the day's responsibilities in the Ministry.

“What do you mean she's pregnant?” Ron was the first to ask when Harry finally reached the kitchen. “And for Merlin's sake, tie that robe better around you...”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized rashly. “I'm going to be a father! She said only ten minutes ago!”

“Congratulations, mate,” Ron smiled. “About time.”

Even Draco's lips cracked into a genuine smile for what would perhaps be the only time for the next decade. “You deserve it, Potter. Good on you.”

“I'm so happy for you!” Ginny squealed, and literally jumping from her chair, ran to Harry, and hugged him tightly. “Call him little Harry!”

Remus and Tonks stumbled into the kitchen before Harry could express his gratitude to Ginny. “What is this talk of babies and pregnancy?” Remus rubbed his eyes. “The commotion...”

“Hermione is pregnant!” Ginny burst out with the news right before Harry was about to reveal the fact.

Remus' reaction was much akin to Harry's when he first found out. “What?”

Tonks had already caught on. “Aaaaaaahhhh!”

“I know!” Ginny squealed again. “Let's go see her!”

Within seconds the two women, turned excited girls, bolted from the bedroom in the direction of Harry and Hermione's bedroom. That left the male company in the kitchen alone.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Remus smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “It was definitely about time.”

The elder Weasleys were the next to come in. “Is it true?!” Molly's eyes were wide as she exclaimed by way of a greeting.

“It is,” Harry nodded. “Actually - “

“Oh, Harry!”

A moment later, Harry found himself enveloped by one of Mrs. Weasley's infamous hugs.

“I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks you, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry gasped his gratitude, and opening his eyes after the initial impact, he saw his parents grinning from the doorway.

“Oh, Harry!”

“Can I see my parents now?”

“Of course, of course!” Mrs. Weasley hastily withdrew, still smiling broadly. “Go!”

This was a moment Harry had dreamed about for a long time. “How does it sound to be grandparents?”

“Mighty fine, Harry,” James said, embracing Harry tightly. “Mighty fine.”

“Congratulations, Harry,” Lily whispered, as she joined in the family embrace. “Nobody deserves this more than you do.”

“Thank you, Mom and Dad.” Harry's voice cracked a bit. Maybe he had underestimated the emotional cost of telling his parents they were on the way to becoming grandparents...

They remained in that embrace for at least a few minutes. Luna walked in, but nobody but Ron noticed her enter. She immediately made for him, a smile shining on her face. In her wake, James and Madelyn followed.

Madelyn pulled on her mother's sleeve to gain her attention.

“What is it dear?”

The little girl looked at Luna with wide eyes. “Did the stork bring a baby to Harry and Hermione?”

Everybody present heard the question, and especially Harry, whose brain triggered a memory, as clear as mountain air, of the sane little girl asking a very similar question.

“When will the stork bring a baby to Harry and Hermione?”

It seemed almost a lifetime ago. They were having dinner at Ron's, and she had -

Harry separated himself from his parents, and turning around, kneeled down to look at Madelyn.

“He already has.”

A small `oh' formed on her lips when she heard this. “I have to tell Hermione!”

With that, the child ran out of the kitchen, and in the direction of the stairs.

“Imagine Hermione's surprise,” Ron grinned.

“Kids are amazing,” Lupin offered his comment. “Not sure, now that I'm younger and much more attractive, I may be able to sway Tonks in that direction...”

“This was the Remus I knew in Hogwarts,” James told Harry. “Always reserved, but confident to the bone when he set his mind on something.”

“So he'll be having little ones sooner than later?”

“You can count on it,” his father nodded.

The prospect of a family indeed turned Harry's spirits around. From making Lestrange his foremost priority, now it was how to raise a child and protect it and Hermione from harm. The maniacal woman seemed little more than a pushover in comparison...

Of course, he harboured no illusions about her ability to inflict damage of all kinds.

In nine months time, he would be a proud father. His mind still could not wrap itself around the fact...

Harry's expression changed immediately, and he looked at Ron very seriously.

“Mate, how do you find having kids?”

Ron, for a moment, seemed lost in those very memories. “Best feeling in the world. Soon you realize children are the meaning of your life. Anything you do is for them.”

“You haven't been spending too much time with them,” Harry observed.

“It kills me,” Ron looked down at the table. “I want to be a part of their lives. You know how it is with the Order - full time concentration.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Harry agreed. “Leaves little time for family.”

“Luna looked after them mainly, but now that she's involved with the Ministry, it's up to my parents,” he shook his head regrettably. “Nothing against having their grandma and grandpa take care of them, but what will they think of Luna and I down the road? Who knows how long this will take, or live to see it through.”

From the joyous mood Ron was experiencing minutes ago, he was now quite depressed.

“Cheer up, mate. I have no doubts we'll see this to the end. You saw Lestrange is growing more desperate. Her best men are either dead or defected. What could she possibly do?”

“I guess you're right. My kids won't forget me, and I'll live to see them grow up,” Ron cracked a smile, but still sounded disbelieving. “I'm just sick of it, Harry. I want all of this to end so I can live my life in peace at last. One war was enough...”

“Hey,” Harry grinned. “We've been marked to exist in screwed up times. Might as well make the best of it.”

“Well, now that you two are done the heart to heart talk,” Draco slipped in the conversation. “Can I introduce something of my own?”

The other two looked at each other, and then at him. “What'd you have in mind?” Harry asked.

“Weasley here might kill me for it, but I'm still going to say it,” Draco smirked towards Ron, before reaching in his pocket, and producing a small black box that suspiciously resembled a -

“Is that a ring?” Ron was incredulous.

“No, turnips,” Draco mocked him harmlessly. “Of course it's a ring. I think you can guess who'll be receiving it.”

“You're proposing to Ginny?” Harry stated the obvious question.

Draco's stern expression softened. “I've been thinking about it for a while.”

“Really?” Ron asked with a mixture of threat and admiration.

“Yeah,” Draco replied defensively. “I love her. You should know that by now.”

“I do, I do,” Ron was quick to reassure his former nemesis. “Just surprised, is all.”

“Well, you're the only family man of all of us here,” Malfoy told him. “Figured it was about time I acted.”

“When do you plan on proposing to her?” Harry steered the conversation in a safer direction.

“I want to do it soon. Today if I had to,” Draco was honest in his response. “I want her really bad.”

“This I can tell,” Harry smiled. “Best of luck with that endeavour.”

“What do you mean?”

Draco only manifested the amplified insecurities that came when one was in love.

“What if she says no?”

“Knowing her, it is a possibility,” Ron said in a completely serious tone.

“You two are hilarious,” Draco said without the slightest trace of humour.

“Who said we were joking?” Harry asked rhetorically.

During the entire exchange, James and Remus were listening with interest.

“You know,” James said, “your mother rejected me on many occasions before she finally agreed to marry me.”

“So if it hadn't been for your dad's persistence, you wouldn't be here, Harry,” Remus contemplated. “Can you imagine that?”

Knowing the Marauders, Harry knew they were not being serious about anything they said. Everything was based on the unspoken agreement to unnerve Draco about the seemingly insurmountable task that lay before him.

“You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” Malfoy asked snappishly. “Not that original, trust me.”

“Don't worry,” Harry placated him. “We're all very proud of you.”

He really spoke for everyone, and meant those last seven words.

That was the precise moment Sirius chose to stumble into the kitchen, sleep still clouding his expression, and attempt to reach Harry.

“Morning, all,” he stretched out. “Bloody women, won't let you sleep. All that shrieking and hollering...”

“Morning, Padfoot,” James said pointedly, “You didn't hear the news?”

“Well,” Sirius said contemplatively. “The girls couldn't give me a straight answer, so I figured I'd ask Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. So, Harry, are you having a kid or not?”

“I am,” Harry shook his head in confirmation. “Meet one half of the grandparents.”

“Nice to see you're an old fart at twenty-five,” Sirius cracked a joke at James, before turning to Harry, and enveloping him in a tight embrace of his own. “I'm proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, Sirius, I appreciate it,” Harry was just as genuine. Life could hardly be better than right now...

“We might have to use your doghouse for the crib, Padfoot,” James retaliated.

“Oh, shut it, gramps...” Sirius dismissed him, and then released Harry. “Good on you!”

“Thanks, mate,” his old friend. He wasn't entirely sure whether Sirius' words were meant at him or Harry, but either way...

“What do you want it to be, a boy or girl?” Sirius continued his questioning.

“I was hoping for two, actually,” Harry said. “One more after this one, if Hermione is willing...”

“Honestly, I think she'll jump at the idea,” Sirius reasoned. “After all, being married to the famous Harry Potter would drive a woman into a sexual frenzy.”

“Yes, thank you for the insightful comment, Padfoot,” James said. “Harry already knows that.”

“Anytime,” Sirius nodded with a smirk.

Harry was the one who was embarrassed by that exchange. After all, Sirius was right...

**

Hermione was swarmed by the rest of the females in Grimmauld Place, and amid the squeals of excitement that permeated every nook and cranny of the house, she found herself more excited than she had been ever before. She was going to be a mother! Harry loved her for it, and she loved him! Her thoughts made little sense, but what of it! She was happy!

And happiness was life's pursuit. It was all that mattered.

**

Throughout the day, however, Sirius had grown increasingly sad and withdrawn, even if the occasion created no conditions for that mood. Something was eating him inside, and while Harry noticed, he couldn't pursue him to talk about what was on his mind.

“Sirius?” he tried yet again.

“Yes?” the latter turned to him. “I told you, Harry, I'm happy for you. You don't have to doubt it.”

“That's not what I want to talk to you about, and you know it,” Harry objected. “There is something else.”

“What?”

“You tell me.”

“It's nothing,” Sirius shook his head. “Insignificant little matter that shouldn't spoil the celebrations.”

“Insignificant?” Harry cocked an eyebrow. “When is something not significant for you?”

“You don't know the half of it,” Sirius gave a hollow smile. “Trust me, it's nothing you should worry about.”

“Be that as it may be, but I can help.”

“You won't leave me alone until I tell you, are you?” Sirius asked rhetorically.

“You're a sharp one,” Harry smiled.

“Hilarious,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Alright.”

“So, what's wrong?”

“Do you remember the story James told you about Andrea?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Sirius continued. “He was right when he said I was in love with her, and being a cheery idiot about it before she died.”

“Do you still love her?”

“Of course,” Sirius lowered his eyes and shook his head. “You don't find such love more than once in your life. Why do you think I never went on a single date before Lestrange veiled the life out of me?”

“Maybe you had more luck up there?” Harry tried to lighten the mood slightly.

“None of that goes on there, Harry,” Sirius said. “They're right bigots about true love and everything. What I did do that made me happy, however...Andrea was there. I saw her. Only, for reasons I don't know, I couldn't touch her, talk to her, or be with her. It was as if I was watching her through a window, but she didn't see me.”

“What do you mean?” Harry was confused.

“I don't pretend to understand life, death and love fully, Harry,” Sirius told him. “In fact, the knowledge of what they mean is far above what I can comprehend. What I do know, however, is that I loved her in Hogwarts, and I love her now.”

“So you want her back,” Harry simply stated.

“You have no idea. Imagine how you would feel if you lost Hermione.”

Rethinking his experiences, Harry knew exactly what Sirius was talking about. Only, he experienced that feeling temporarily. Sirius had been putting up with it for years and never said anything...

“You know we can bring her back.”

“I do,” Sirius agreed, “but there are two issues. One, I have no idea whether she wants to come back, and two, the danger to any of the girls here doing the spell is too great. Who knows if Lestrange might have a whim to kill one of them again.”

“She can't do it alone,” Harry allayed his fears. “If she died at a time when she was madly in love with you too, chances are, she'll return your affection if we brought her back. And secondly, Lestrange needs a lot of help to perform a remote kill. Dolohov was one of those wizards, but he's out of the picture, she doesn't have the resurrection spell, and so, we're all safe.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Would I be saying it if I wasn't?”

“So it is possible to actually bring her back.” There was a tangible note of excitement in Sirius' voice. “I'd be pushing my luck, Harry, but would be possible to do it today?”

“No reason not to,” the other wizard admitted after a moment's contemplation. “I'll tell Ginny about it.”

A smile lit Sirius' face. “I'll owe you one, Harry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Harry dismissed his vow. “You've paid long enough for it.”

He arose, nodded at his dad's good friend, and left the room to find Ginny. She was nowhere on the first floor of the house, so he took the stairs to the second floor. From his and Hermione's bedroom he could hear the excited discussion surrounding the little bundle of joy due in nine months, and part of him really did not prefer breaking up the party...

He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” Hermione's voice came.

“Can I come in for a minute?” he asked through the door.

“Only for a minute!” Hermione was insistent. “Come in.”

He turned the knob, and poked his head through the door. “Ginny, can I see you for a moment?”

“Promise you won't take long?” she requested of him.

“I promise, but it's kind of important,” he said.

“More important than your child!” Ginny seemed unreasonably appalled.

“Of course not!” Harry backpedalled. “Almost as.”

“That's better,” Ginny smiled. “I'll be back, ladies.”

“Don't let him keep you,” Hermione said as she was leaving, while the others laughed.

“I won't!” Ginny rejoined as she closed the door behind her, and finally turned to Harry. “What's going on?”

“Sirius.”

“What about him?”

“His girlfriend. I'm wondering if you can perform a resurrection,” he explained the situation to her.

“She's dead?” Ginny's mouth dropped. “When did she pass away?”

“Years ago,” Harry told her regrettably. “He's been in pain about it ever since, so I thought it would be a good idea to...you know, make him happy once more.”

“I guess you will keep me for a while,” she smiled. “I don't see why we can't do it now.”

“Excellent!” Harry exclaimed.

**

At first, she appeared only as a ghost, a shadow at most. Sirius looked on tensely, as her outline grew more and more solid gradually. There was something peculiar about Ginny too - a certain glow about her, and she appeared to concentrate much more intently than any other resurrection she had carried out earlier.

Harry was just as uneasy, more concerned with Ginny's well-being in the moment. It was noble of her to undertake the job, but how would she fare afterward, he worried.

Andrea's form became much clearer. Flowing blond hair, fair skin, and as both observers noted, she was not clothed, revealing the attractive form she had...

“Not bad,” Harry commented to Sirius.

“I know,” the other nodded.

As with previous resurrections, this one was accompanied by the person being brought back inhaling violently to signify that life was given back to them. Andrea uttered a cry as she sat up, looking around wildly, shocked and disoriented.

“You're up,” Harry said. “I'll go take care of Ginny.”

Sirius did not need to be told twice. Brandishing his wand, he conjured an ensemble of clothes he hoped would fit her, and dashed on over to the love of his life. In the meanwhile, Ginny had opened her eyes, and seemed to be trying to steady herself. Within moments, Harry was by her side.

“Are you alright?”

She turned to him. “Fine. Just a massive headache and my head is spinning...”

“I'll help you back inside.”

“Thanks, Harry. Is that girl ok?”

“I think so. Sirius has her for now, and I'll check on her when you're all set.”

“Can't you at least introduce me?” Ginny half-smiled.

“Not before you have a lie down,” Harry was firm. “One of the couches...should help you recover for the celebrations!”

“There is no way I'm missing that,” Ginny declared in her own firm voice.

“Good.”

After the redhead was safely tucked away in the living room to regain her energies, Harry ventured back out to see Sirius.

Andrea had calmed, and disbelieving, stared at Sirius without saying anything. He waved a hand in front of her face to capture her attention.

“Andrea?”

“Sirius...” she breathed.

“Yes, it's me,” he smiled.

She flung herself onto him to ensure that he was real and not a mirage, courtesy of her imagination. “I've missed you.”

“You don't know the half of it,” he reassured her. “My love for you never went away.”

She pulled back, and landed her lips forcefully on his. He enthusiastically responded, and all through it, Harry felt very much out of place...

He coughed to indicate his presence, and that did the trick. They parted, and Sirius looked sideways.

“Hey, Harry,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “didn't see you there.”

“I can see that,” Harry smiled. “Was going to ask Andrea here if she was alright.”

“And who are you?” Andrea's first towards Harry were.

“Harry Potter,” he introduced himself. “One of my friends brought you back to life.”

“Really?” her eyes widened. “Tell her I'll be thankful to the grave!”

Harry couldn't help but smirk at the reference. “Don't worry, I will.”

Sirius temporarily disengaged himself from Andrea and in the next moment, embraced Harry tightly. “Thank you, Harry.”

“Don't mention it,” Harry hugged him back. “I'll leave you two to reacquaint, and be ready to introduce her at the party tonight.”

“Will do,” Sirius affirmed.

“Nice meeting you, Andrea,” Harry called out to her. “You'll meet Ginny later tonight, and before then, do consider putting some clothes on.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she gave him a radiant smile, before turning her attention back on Sirius. “I'll see you tonight!”

**

The aforementioned party centered around the theme of Harry and Hermione becoming parents was organized with surprising speed. With the heavy involvement of magical support, Molly had a feast ready in very little time, the entire Order was assembled in their very best to commemorate the occasion, Sirius had mysteriously disappeared and Harry declined all inquiries into the matter until further notice, and Ginny was beginning to stir at last.

Draco and Ron returned from their day at the Ministry, and as for the Minister herself, she had been excused due to unavoidable commitments for the day - namely, the fact that she was spending the entire day with Hermione.

“This will be great,” James was telling Remus. “A perfect excuse to drink myself into oblivion without Lily reprimanding me for it.”

“I'll join you,” Lupin confirmed his participation into the drinking endeavour. “Ever since you two came back, you've only grown more whipped, mate.”

“Look who's talking,” James said. “Tonks has you by the balls too, my friend.”

“Too true, too true,” Remus shook his head. “Where do you reckon Sirius is?”

“I don't know. Only I hope he makes it in time. Harry won't tell me anything.”

“Same, I asked him as well.”

“Well, we can either wait for the guest of honour, or start early,” James said jokingly.

“You will not be starting anything until your son and his wife arrive!” Lily indeed reprimanded James when she heard him say this.

“Yes, love,” he kissed her. Remus sniggered under his breath, but Tonks chose that convenient moment to appear.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing, dear,” Lupin was quick to smile. “Absolutely nothing.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “I'm onto you.”

“Yes, dear,” the grin did not disappear from Lupin's face.

Tonks only rolled her eyes in annoyance. “When's the happy couple supposed to be here?”

“Soon, I hope,” Lupin told her.

The words were barely out of his mouth when the doors opened, and in walked Harry and Hermione. She was glowing, and a huge smile had stretched on Harry's face.

“Cheers!” James was the first to pump his drink in the air. “Congratulations, Harry and Hermione!”

The consecutive barrage of well wishes surrounded both of them, toasts were raised, and the party immediately picked up. Only, Sirius was still conspicuously absent from the proceedings.

Within the hour, the present Marauders were nicely tipsy, the Weasley family was joined by Fred, George, Bill and Fleur, and even Percy, of whom nobody had heard anything for a long time, made an appearance. How he was informed about the occasion remained a mystery, and he was too drunk within the half hour of his arrival to string a coherent sentence.

Draco had agreed to enter a bit later, once he heard Ginny was sleeping on a couch in the living room. At last, they both came in, Ginny having recovered nicely, as was evident from her vivaciousness, and Draco was quite happy she was fine, when she had told him minutes before the reason for her disposition...

He also knew this night would be for one more occasion. He was going to propose to her tonight, but what she told him about this Andrea character delayed his plans just a bit...

What she and Sirius were doing, Harry did not want to know, but he was happy for the third Marauder. His only worry, and he was beginning to consider it seriously, was that they wouldn't show up.

However, he needn't have worried. Without expectation, the doors opened, and in walked the person in question, firmly grasping the hand of his chosen woman. One would have assumed the celebration for him with the radiant look on his face, and they would be right, except that three occasions would seemingly be noted...

Sirius made a beeline for his closest friends. James and Remus were talking with Harry, Ron and the twins, and did not notice the last of their troupe coming up behind them, and it took Sirius several taps on their shoulders to make them turn around.

And when they did, the smiles dropped immediately.

Remus blinked a few times to make sure it wasn't the firewhiskey influencing him stronger than he thought.

“Andrea! Is - is that you?”

She only smiled, which could only mean she was enjoying the werewolf's confusion. James was in no better shape.

“Mate,” he turned to Sirius, “I'll be damned, but this is Andrea.”

“Surprise!” she exclaimed.

“Padfoot, catch me,” James said, “I think I'm going to faint!”

“Ah, stop it, Prongs,” Sirius admonished him. “You know it's really her!”

“Really nice to see you again,” Remus held out his hand, and Andrea took it. He purposefully kept the handshake longer than it was natural, if only to reassure himself she wasn't a mirage. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “I'm really happy to be back, you know.”

“So this is why you wouldn't tell me,” James turned to Harry, and then went straight ahead to hug Andrea. “I've missed you too.”

Andrea returned his sentiment. They had become good friend over Sirius' burgeoning relationship with her at Hogwarts, and he was very upset at her death too when he looked back through his memories.

“I'm Ron!” Harry's best friend moved up front to introduce himself. He seemed very impressed with this girl...

“Nice to meet you, Ron,” Andrea smiled at him too. “Andrea.”

Inexplicably quickly, Luna ended up right next to Ron. Maybe she had apparated, he could not be sure, but what it did cause was to check himself immediately.

“And this is my life, Luna,” he spoke her name with fondness. “I'm sure you two will make great friends!”

“Hi,” Luna was charming with the new girl. “Very nice to meet you!”

“You too!”

“I think you should also meet Ginny,” Sirius said, and then turned to the guys in the group. “Be back, mates. Going to introduce her to the reason for my happiness.”

“You do that,” James said. “Then bring her back around, because she has the rest of the Order to acquaint herself with!”

Sirius and Andrea retreated, and he said something under his breath to her about James desiring her company a bit too much.

“Relax,” she said. “One, he's married, and two, you and I are going to be together forever!”

“Please, lay off the clichés,” he begged her. “I heard enough of them. Can't I just say I love you without the cheesy poem to go along with it?”

She pecked him on the cheek. “I'd prefer that, actually.”

“Excellent!”

Ginny was coming towards them with Draco in hand; in fact, she was almost dragging him in her earnest to reach Sirius. On a few comical occasions he almost went down, taking her with him.

“Sirius!”

“Hey, Ginny,” he greeted her. “All better?”

“You know it!” she spoke very quickly. “I wanted to see her!”

“Hello,” Andrea extended her hand for the consecutive time. “I'm Andrea.”

“Hey!” Ginny, enthusiastic as she was, went ahead and hugged the girl she had brought back. “I'm sorry I couldn't meet you earlier.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Andrea glanced over at Sirius with a sly smile. “It's perfectly fine.”

“So you're Sirius' long-lost girlfriend,” she calmed down a bit.

“That's me!” she nodded.

“What do you think now that you're back?”

“Well, definitely will have to become used to it again,” Andrea was frank. “But I have to admit, I'm reacquainting myself with life very quickly.”

“Good to hear,” Ginny echoed the sentiment.

“And, also, thank you for,” Andrea said what must have been on her mind for a while now. “Without you, I wouldn't ever have seen Sirius again, dead or alive.”

Ginny appreciated the fact that she had managed to affect two so deeply. “You're welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ginny,” Sirius expressed his gratitude for the umpteenth time. “In fact, I can't thank you enough as it is!”

She only smiled. “This is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.”

“Malfoy?” Andrea repeated his name curiously. “Rings a bell.”

“Trust me, I'm not my father. I detest him,” Draco said smoothly, before bowing and taking Andrea's hand and planting a kiss on it. “Please to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said, charmed. “You are a gentleman.”

“One of the reasons I'm taken for good,” he smirked.

Ginny was about to ask Andrea something else, and Draco took the opportunity to make eye contact with Sirius. “Nice,” he mouthed and gave him a thumb up. Sirius only winked and grinned...the whole exchange was lost on the two women...

“Well, I think I ought to introduce you to everyone else,” Sirius said after Ginny and Andrea had finished talking.

“Good idea,” Ginny agreed. “I'll see you around!”

With that, the new couple departed, and Draco saw a chance to do what he had been planning to do ever since he had met Ginny and made up his mind about her. He excused himself from her, saying he needed to talk to Harry about something in the Ministry. She insisted on coming with him, but he reassured her it would only be a quick minute before he returned...

Sneaking past the other members, he took out his wand, and charmed a small mound in front of the backyard doors so he could stand and be heard above the crowd.

He amplified his voice magically. “Can I have your attention, please?”

Everyone stopped talking at once, and turned to see him standing up there. “Thank you!”

Gone was the smooth personality that was a trademark of the Malfoy family. Now, his nervous side showed....

“Ginny Weasley,” he said clearly, but his voice still shook. “Will you marry me?” Holding out his arm, he opened his fist, and a black box with a beautiful diamond ring in it caused the crowd to gasp in amazement.

“YES!”

Smiling ear to ear, Ginny ran up to Draco, threw herself onto him, and almost knocked him over. She kissed him soundly, between repeating yes breathlessly. Around them, cheers, shouts, and congratulations were offered up from numerous voices...

The night was simply amazing. Sleep was forgotten, as large amounts of food, alcohol and humour were consumed amid the constant well wishes for those honoured by the circumstances. Even the author was there, and even if he thought Sirius was a lucky bastard, could not help but wish the happy couple all the best...

A/N: And this, for now, is the longest chapter in the story!

-->

A/N: And this is why I'm good...

Chapter XLII: Masters of Magic

Reality fell heavily back on the Golden Trio the following morning. As joyous as Harry was over the very positive recent developments, the business of putting an end to Lestrange came back to the forefront. As it was still early, about seven, he rolled over and tried to fall asleep for another hour, but without success. Glancing over at Hermione, he reached and placed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She certainly looked beautiful when she was sleeping...

However, he could either stare at his wife, or plan the day's events. As much as he wished to do the former of those, he charmed the intense headache rocking his temples from existence, and sat up on the bed.

Something told him he would really have to try to keep his mind in focus today - the party the previous night had been very, very wild...

So he tied his robe around his waist, and set off down the stairs and towards the kitchen, as was his customary routine on responsibility-filled mornings such as this one.

He opened the door while letting out a big yawn, and then noticed his best friend already sitting, still half-awake, staring dazed at his steaming cup of tea.

“Morning, mate,” Harry croaked. “Why, in hell, are you up so early?”

Ron cracked a tired smile. “I could ask you the same question. And please don't shout...my head is still ringing.”

Harry took out his wand and aimed the same charm at Ron that he performed on himself minutes earlier.

“Better?”

The redhead blinked a few times and shook his head. “Actually, yes!”

“Great. Now to make me a cup of coffee before I pass out on the floor.”

“You do that,” Ron took another sip of his tea.

“I have an idea,” Harry said once he sat down. “Today, we'll go to Knockturn and Diagon Alley. Just send some of the Order in the field to see what we can dig up.”

“Avery and Demetris have quite a few friends in those circles too,” Ron pointed out after yawning profusely.

“We'll take the lead from what they uncover. I think our Marauders can take on a part in the mission, no?”

“I'd encourage it,” Ron nodded. “They're definitely valuable to the Order, we know they're extremely capable...”

“Alright. In the meanwhile, Ministry is back in session, and I'll tell Draco to keep the MLE on alert as well.”

“What about the Aurors?”

“I don't think there's need to alert them yet,” Harry shook his head. “We're only going to gather intelligence.”

“That's true,” Ron agreed, “but some of the best agents are within my department. I think it's worthwhile to send a detachment undercover, but keep each group unknowing of the presence of the others...”

“Hey, it's Ginny's department now,” Harry reminded him. “And yes, that is a better idea for sure.”

“What about my department?” Ginny stumbled in, still groggy.

“Morning to you too,” Harry said. “We're just talking about today's assignments.”

“Oh?” Ginny's eyes widened. “Already?”

“Yes,” her brother affirmed. “And where you come in, is that you'll need to assemble a crack team of spies to work around Knockturn Alley over today and tomorrow to see what Lestrange may or may not be up to.”

“Done,” Ginny nodded. “I'll organize them the moment I make it to my office in two hours...or as soon as this headache stops.”

“Harry?”

“On it,” the black haired wizard nodded.

Within a moment, Ginny's hangover was gone.

Draco and Luna were the next to come in the kitchen. They also looked very unwilling to go to work this morning, but unfortunately, they had to attend to responsibility...

“Seems we aren't the only early risers today,” Draco commented. “Maybe partying so late wasn't the brightest idea when we have a world to save...”

“You make it sound as if Bellatrix is really the huge threat that she was actually before,” Luna told him.

“She's still dangerous,” Draco defended himself. “How should I know what she might or might not pull out?”

“You're right,” Luna ceded before the argument escalated further. “We should take her more seriously.”

“Enough,” Harry said. “The best we can do now is try to work out what's going on and stop any threats in their infancy.”

Coincidentally, the clock on the wall showed that it was already time to go.

“Everybody knows their assignments.”

With those words, the impromptu morning conference disbanded, and each Order member set about their tasks for the day.

**

“How is the recruitment progressing?” Bellatrix asked her newly appointed lieutenant in the matter of attracting new members.

“We have agents in every part of the Isles, Mistress,” he answered respectfully, bowing as he did so. “Recruitment is stable and growing.”

“What is it in numbers?”

“So far, five thousand and four hundred Death Eaters are either being informed or branded with the Dark Mark as we speak,” he recited.

“Excellent,” she leered. “The plan goes as scheduled, and we attack the Ministry tomorrow. Have regional groups set up to control any unrest when the Ministry falls.”

“I'm not sure -“

“Crucio!”

The unfortunate man was struck by the merciless curse and writhed painfully on the ground, while his screams of agony pierced the air. Lestrange did not flinch in the slightest.

“When I request something of you,” she said, very calmly, “I expect full obedience.”

She lifted the torturous spell. “Yes, Mistress. Forgive me,” the Death Eater paid his respects, and still fidgeting from the illusory pain, retreated towards the door.

“Have this job completed by tomorrow, or your head will pay the price for your incompetence,” she informed him. “You may go.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.”

Quite probably frightened beyond comprehension, the Death Eater stumbled through the doors, and almost ran the length of the ghastly hallway that led to Lestrange's chamber.

At the end of it, his associate was already waiting eagerly to hear of the proceedings.

“You're still alive,” he commented. “So far, so good.”

“One more day, at least,” the other said, “she is mad.”

“Tell me, what happened?”

“The witch Crucioed me,” he rejoined. “You'd think I would be used to that damn curse by now.”

“Are you nuts? Nobody can ever be immune to it. People have gone mad...remember the Longbottoms?”

“I do,” his companion reminisced for a moment. “They were good people.”

“Jack, look, we have to focus here. If we can organize all of this crap by tomorrow, maybe we can tip off the Order of the Phoenix somehow. You know, they're bound to have agents out and about snooping...”

“Keep it down, damn it,” Jack said. “We don't need everyone to know. The walls have ears here.”

“Whatever,” the other one replied impatiently. “We have to do what we have to do.”

“Doesn't matter, Paul. What, you expect Harry Potter to take a stroll in Knockturn on any day?” Jack asked him sarcastically.

“You don't read the paper, do you?” Paul objected with frustration. “Hermione Potter and Ron Weasley - they're two other public members. We don't know who the rest are, but it's possible to keep a look out for them.”

“Think about it, you idiot,” Jack almost smacked him in the back of the head. “Potter's at the core of that order. They will probably know we're Death Eaters. We'll be dead before we even touch him.”

Paul thought for a moment. “Have you heard anything about Snape or Avery?”

“The official story is they're dead,” Jack recalled. “But that's not what they say on the streets.”

“What, that they were killed along with Dolohov?”

“If you know Lestrange's story, why are you asking me?”

“No, you're not understanding me,” Paul said quickly. “What are they saying in the streets?”

“That they managed to defect to the Light without a scratch on them. Apparently fighting for the Order now. I know it's all rumour, but the wildest one is that Snape was actually loyal to Albus Dumbledore for all the years he stayed here...and that was before you, or me, in the early days of You-Know-Who...”

“Where did you hear all this?” Paul's mouth was slightly agape with amazement.

“Out and about,” Jack told him somewhat evasively. “Now, I have to spend the rest of the day in London looking for recruits, and I hope one of them agents bumps into me.”

“Alright, and what about me?” Paul said.

“You'll be my eyes and ears. Shadow me, let me know if anything of interest happens. We'll do what Lestrange wants, and also make sure you apparate back and forth between the main regions to ensure that those structures she wants are established.”

“Fine, I'll do that. I hope all they last for is a day.”

**

“What are you thinking, Harry?” Hermione came up behind him.

“Just a feeling,” Harry said. “That something bad is going to happen very soon.”

“Don't worry about it,” Hermione smiled, as she embraced him from behind. “You have a lot of reasons to be happy.”

“I know, I know,” he agreed with a hint of exasperation. “It's about Lestrange. Something doesn't feel right.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione queried curiously.

“I can't place it. Last time we met at that protest, she seemed ready to pull off something big. I don't know what it will be, but many people will die - of that I can be certain.”

“Death is her business, Harry,” Hermione rejoined solemnly. “We can't do anything to change her, but hopefully we can foil her plans.”

“I don't know how much we'll gather from the missions today,” he was not optimistic. “It's bound to be secretive, whatever it is she is planning.”

“Well then, when do we launch the Order's mission?” Hermione asked.

“In the next half hour,” Harry said. “And you're staying put.”

“What do you mean? I'm coming!” she protested.

“Hermione, it's too great of a risk. You're carrying our child. Until it's born, I don't want you taking any unnecessary strain upon yourself,” Harry explained his fears to her, the ever considerate person that he was.

“Harry, it hasn't been too long in the pregnancy. I can handle this,” she tried yet again to convince him otherwise, but inwardly knew the fight was already lost.

“Hermione, I can't stand it if anything happens to you, or our child. It would drive me insane. I'd even kill myself and not want to be brought back. I have enough of a worrisome mission today, and I want to at least know for certain that you will be safe.”

She conceded the point. “Fine, I'll stay, but that does not mean I'm happy about it.”

He smiled, and kissed her on the head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she hugged him. “Be safe.”

“You know I will.”

With that, Harry went off to find Ron, the Marauders and the Weasley twins. He didn't have to look far - all of them were already assembled as per an earlier request in the living room.

“Are you ready?”

A circle of positive affirmation was returned to Harry.

“Now, this mission,” he went on, “is dangerous and requires the utmost focus to maintain our secrecy and gather the intelligence we need.”

“Where are we going?” Fred was the first to interrupt Harry.

“London's criminal magical underground - Knockturn Alley and the surrounding areas,” he answered. “This is the main reason the mission is so dangerous. The Death Eaters will most certainly have operatives in the area, so whatever you do, trust nobody.”

“Next, we're looking to eavesdrop on any conversation that mentions or centers on any potential moves by Lestrange and her worthless goons. The general feeling is that it will be something big, but nobody is certain what it will be, or when it is going to occur. As a result, mind your communications, primarily listen, and don't become a prisoner.”

“Any questions?”

Remus looked around, and then spoke up. “The Aurors and MLE are mounting similar missions, right?”

“That's correct,” Harry nodded. “Today is crucial for the job, and we will compare findings at the end of the day.”

“Right then,” Ron stood up. “Avery, you and Demetris will take the lead in this mission.”

“Why us?” Avery was mildly surprised.

“Because we have the most experience and connections,” Demetris answered instead of Ron. “Think about it - we have allies among the Death Eaters right now.”

“What are you talking about?” Avery objected. “We barely escaped with our skins!”

“That's because the core around Lestrange is too powerful. Everyone else is expendable and interchangeable.”

Avery took a second before he answered. “We never made the core.”

“That's why we're interchangeable,” Demetris smiled.

“Fine then,” Harry summed up the discussion. “You know where to look. Everyone else, including Ron and I, will follow your lead.”

“Right then,” Demetris rose to his feet. “That would make me in charge of this mission simply for the fact I'm older than Avery and it's thanks to me that he's still alive.”

Avery scowled at him, but did not say anything. He knew the old man was right about that...

“Harry, you and Ron should go to Manchester,” Demetris instructed. “It will be a hotbed for recruitment, and many prominent Death Eaters in the organization did come from there. If Lestrange is planning anything significant, big or small, she will resort to Manchester.”

“How do you know?” Ron asked him sceptically. “London is by far a more significant city.”

“That may be, Ronald,” Demetris agreed principally. “But Lestrange is about operating in ways that aren't obvious. She's emulating Voldemort in that regard, and it is that which makes her so predictable.”

“Don't say the blasted name,” Ron muttered. “Fine, we'll take Manchester. Do you want regular reports, or just one big briefing tonight?”

“I'm hoping we can extend this particular mission over tomorrow as well,” the old wizard revealed the inner depths of his plan. “The Ministry departments are pressed for time and results, so they don't have the luxury of drawing their assignments out a bit more for additional intelligence. We, on the other hand, can do that.”

“Two days?” Harry echoed him. “What if she strikes before?”

“I doubt it,” Demetris shook his head. “I realize we are taking on a significant risk, but it's one we are going to have to accept. For the sake of knowing what's going on and where to strike her.”

Uneasy glances were shared around the room.

“What about us?” George inquired.

“Good, you reminded me,” Demetris said. “You two will be going to Belfast. It's not as intense in terms of Death Eater activity, but it's not isolated either. The most secretive of dealings take place there, simply because it's out of the way, it's low-key and allows for easier movement. Do you think you can handle it?”

Fred grinned. “Of course. And as an added bonus, it's an opportunity to test out some new spy products we have been developing...”

“Good thinking, Fred,” his brother smiled. “Read your mind on that one.”

“So that's all set,” Demetris affirmed. “James, you, Sirius and Remus will be going to Hogesmeade. The situation there is an amalgalm of Manchester and Belfast. Enough activity to keep you occupied and alert to bring back valuable information.”

“Our old haunt,” James smiled on his own turn. “Be nice to visit again, eh, Padfoot?”

“Of course,” Sirius exclaimed. “Can't wait!”

Remus only shared a glance with Lily and shook his head at his two best friends.

“Excellent. That leaves me, Avery and Lily. We're going to be venturing into London. Knockturn Alley will be only one of the stops along the way.”

“Why can't I go with James?” Lily rejoined.

“Because your charm will be invaluable to our end of the mission. Lily, you're smart and beautiful. The spells you know, cast under your presence will make an unwilling Death Eater sing.”

She didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. “Thank you,” she chose neutrality.

“Any last questions?” Demetris looked around, but nobody said a word. “Then let's go!”

As Harry walked out of the front door with Ron and disappeared into thin air almost immediately after, he hoped nobody would be compromised today in such a high stakes mission...

**

The Auror and MLE teams had been instructed to recognize Demetris Snape, and take their cue from him without direct contact. Avery and Lily were not to be touched under any circumstances, even if one could be prosecuted, while the other was legally still dead.

Without second thoughts, Demetris had delved right into Knockturn Alley to begin his investigations. Judging by his expression, Lily could tell he knew a considerable number of the regular shady visitors to the place.

It didn't take long for him to open his tab of communications. Fixing on one particular cloaked man outside what seemed to be an eerie recreation of a sidewalk cafe, he moved to sit beside him on the adjacent chair by the table. He discreetly motioned to Jonathan and Lily to conjure up their own means of sitting down and joining him.

“Good to see you, Butchard,” he greeted the cloaked gentleman. “How are you?”

The man didn't even bother to reveal his face, and his only sign of acknowledging Snape was turning his cloaked face ever so slightly towards him.

“Demetris. It has been a long time.”

“I know,” the old man agreed. “Tell me, are you still with Lestrange?”

“Do I have a choice?” Butchard said with a hint of irony. “After the success of that Merlin affair we undertook together, she made me a member of her inner circle. Why she left you out, I still don't know...”

“That'll be a story for another day, I assure you,” Demetris nodded patiently.

“How are you fairing after your cowardly betrayal of the Dark Side?” Butchard asked the question with surprising calmness.

“You know, Butchard, I was never a part of the Dark Side,” Demetris took it upon himself to clarify the matter. “And quite well, thanks.”

“The official story is that you're dead,” Butchard said. “Of course, those of us more enlightened than the rest know the truth...”

“Yet the supposed truth is fiction as well,” Snape echoed his thought. “Remember what I told you - keep an open mind. Don't let the ideals of the Dark cloud your judgement.”

“Ideals, ideals,” Butchard rejoined impatiently. “Let me remind you of what Voldemort said - there is only power. No good, nor evil.”

“What Voldemort said does not negate my advice, my old friend,” Demetris shook his head.

“This is irrelevant,” Butchard changed the course of the exchange. “I don't think you troubled yourself to come all the way here to find me, and only for the purpose of idle conversation.”

Demetris took a breath. “You're right. So much for the consideration for an old friend. I came to you with one specific question.”

“Well, go on,” Butchard prompted him when Demetris fell silent for a moment.

“What is Lestrange planning?”

The directness of the inquiry caused Butchard to inhale deeply - he did not expect such boldness on part of his former brother in trade...

“It is in my interest to remain silent,” he replied evenly. “Why would you want to know?”

“This information is not for my personal use,” Demetris affirmed the lack of personal ambition in his request. “It is for the sake of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“What is the Order going to do about this?”

“It is more widespread than you can conceive, Butchard,” the old man continued. “I'm sure you know - the current leadership of the Ministry is all a part of the Order. We call the shots, you see. Lestrange is not as strong as she used to be, and you know this. It is a question of time before she is brought down. The only intent is to do it with the least amount of casualties. Ideally, none.”

“And what do I care of the innocent people? They are only pawns in the grander scheme of our confrontation,” Butchard raised his head a little bit, but still did not reveal his face. Lily suspected quite strongly there was an ugly smirk on his lips this very moment...

“Innocent people will always die,” Demetris agreed heavily. “The better question - do you want to end your own life by staying on with a sinking ship? Or would you rather jump off, release a lost cause, in favour of a new, safer life. You also do know, Lestrange can expunge her inner circle without notice. Does that insecurity suit you?”

“I've lived with it for years. I'm used to it,” Butchard said. “And how can you support your claim of a sinking ship?”

He did not sound very certain any more, and even if he remained cool, Demetris knew he was slowly penetrating his old friend's defences...

“The walls have ears here, Butchard. The mere fact you're talking to me in the presence of another traitor and a resurrected Lily Potter is more than enough of a reason for Lestrange to have your head the moment this meeting is over.”

“You're a fickle one, Demetris,” Butchard returned. “But I'm more than certain of my safety.”

“Do what you will,” Demetris told him. “I am only here for the information I requested of you earlier.”

Evidently agitated, Butchard leaned forward. “There is only one way I can tell you. It will take no more than a minute, but what I request of you on my own turn, is that you will guarantee my freedom when Lestrange is dead and the Death Eaters no more.”

“You will be offered residence in exile and officially counted for dead. This will guarantee your anonymity. Prepare a new name, we will arrange for a new wand, and pick your destination. Far from Britain.”

“I will hold you up on that deal, Demetris. You and the entire Order,” Butchard said.

“I expect nothing less,” the old wizard nodded. “Now, hold up your end of the bargain before I do so with mine.”

“Fair enough,” Butchard agreed. “As you know, the suspicion and mistrust that exists within the structure of the Dark Side is a potent weapon, but is also its greatness weakness. To be more precise, even the inner circle is purposefully kept confused until the plan is underway and ultimately, complete. What I know is that there is one of two possible scenarios - a targeted assassination, or a massed assault. Each requires elaborate organization, and from where I'm situated, I can tell you nothing more.”

“What is your role in all of this?” Demetris asked.

“Sort out the most promising new recruits and channel them into the Manor for them to be trained and briefed on their part of whatever this assignment will be.”

“Are you doing any of the training?” Demetris went on with the interview.

“I may be, at a later stage. So far, I don't know what I will be doing.”

“And maybe just one more - “

“That's enough,” Butchard cut across Demetris. “It is dangerous enough that I'm meeting with wanted traitors in broad daylight. I'm afraid this is all I can tell you. I know it's not much to go on, but I hope it's a start. I can rest easy that you will carry through your promise of our arrangement, Demetris. I trust you.”

“Fair enough,” his counterpart said. “In the meanwhile, you stay alive.”

“Don't worry about me. Focus on Lestrange.”

Those words concluded the rather lengthy exchange and the trio rose to leave this mysterious individual alone.

“What did he basically say?”

Lily's curiosity could not be put to rest without a proper analysis.

“That's all he knows,” Demetris told her. “I was hoping for more from him.”

“What was that Merlin project he mentioned?” Avery also tried to find out more.

“Something I'm not proud of and I don't think I will ever reveal it to anyone. Don't ask him either, it's useless.”

The mystery around the persona of Demetris Snape had only deepened.

“Alright, so what do we have on Lestrange that's conclusive? Aside from the fact she's definitely planning something.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Demetris shook his head. “Anyone from the Order could be a target, and she knows a little bit more than the public.”

He was about to say something else, but the words stopped at the tip of his tongue, as something else caught his attention.

“Do you see those two over there? The short, stubby ones.”

He was pointing out two rather well rounded young wizards that looked very much out of place in Knockturn Alley.

“The easily expendable type,” Avery commented. “Those would be the first line in any attack they carry out.”

“Well, she's certainly active in the recruitment department,” Lily pointed out. “Why them, though? They wouldn't know much, would they?”

“No,” Demetris agreed, “but they will provide a more concrete insight into the aims of the mission. The way these are taught...they are told one objective before they go off on some suicide assignment. We find out who or what they're supposed to be after, we may form an idea of the location.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Through you, Lily. You'll play the part to seduce them to come to us...from there, Avery will launch the memory modification charms, and I will do the questioning. Simple as that.”

“Oh, how nice to be the tart,” Lily said dryly. “You know I have other talents.”

“I'm not denying it,” Demetris smiled.

However, they had assumed wrong that Lily would do little more than go over and bring the two targets back.

She took purposeful, quick steps to approach them.

“Hey!”

The two thugs turned. “Oy, John, lookie here!”

His friend leered. “Up for a little game, pumpkin?”

“I'll give you a game,” Lily's eyes flashed, and before either of her opponents realized what had happened, she immobilized them in their positions - from a distance, nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“I can't move,” one of them stated pointlessly, but those were the last conscious words he said before all four eyes glazed over into empty stares...

“Tell me now,” Lily began, “what are you here for?”

“Recruited by the Death Eaters,” came a bland reply. “Kill Harry Potter.”

“Who else besides Harry Potter?” Lily could not help but be even more stern when the life of her own son was concerned...

“Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.”

“How are you supposed to kill them?”

“Assassination at the Ministry.”

Lily breathed in from shock. “Assassination?”

“That's correct.”

“That's horrible!” she exclaimed.

“Death makes us happy.”

“Oh, I'm sure it will,” she seethed. “Who ordered this mission?”

“Inner circle.”

“Who exactly?”

“I don't know.”

That was the extent of what she could squeeze from these goons. An assassination mission into the Ministry to kill the trio.

Something did not fit in this scenario, and she was anxious to find why she felt that way. Releasing the confused aspiring Death Eaters, she made her way back to Demetris and Avery.

“What happened?” Avery was the first to express his alarm. “Why didn't you follow the plan?”

“Screw the plan,” Lily snapped. “I got the job done.”

“I knew you would,” Demetris remarked patiently. “What came of it?”

“All in all, they're planning an assassination attempt, but it doesn't feel right,” Lily explained.

“Why?”

“They said they were to kill Harry, Hermione and Ronald,” she said. “Only, Lestrange knows they're at the core of the Order, and any attempt by those goons to go in is a suicide mission. That means this is a cover. There must be something else going on.”

“How can you assume it's a cover?” Avery said. “Could be just one of many diversions. It's a practice of the Death Eaters to create diversionary attacks with an expendable outer layer of members.”

“My point still stands,” Lily replied impatiently. “What do we do then? How do we find what the real plan is?”

“We can only hope the Auror and MLE teams uncover more information. In the meanwhile, we can only continue our search and with luck, uncover what we're looking for.”

The three of them shared one last look and focused their energies on the possible tasks ahead - anything to find a stronger lead into the secret plan that was forming between Lestrange's ears...

**

Harry and Ron had established their operations in Manchester, and despite Demetris' assurances that it would be a fertile ground for intelligence, their efforts were surprisingly slow.

“He said some of their best recruits came from here,” Ron was growing gradually more impatient. “Why don't I see any Death Eaters?”

“Because their plan might involve being more secretive than you're willing to admit?” Harry tried. “Just be on the lookout. We don't see them, but that doesn't mean they aren't here.”

“Yeah, I suppose you're right,” Ron said.

“And besides, you're the head of the Aurors...this should be little better than a training run for you,” Harry jabbed at his best friend.

“I know how to handle this, Harry,” Ron was not impressed with the humour. Oddly, he seemed more on edge than usual...

“What's wrong, mate?”

Harry asking that question seemed to be the outlet Ron had been looking for to release his Death Eater related worries.

“I know they're planning something massive, Harry, I just know it!”

“Relax, will you? That's what we're here to find out.”

“No, you don't understand. When they attacked the rally, over a hundred were killed. Trust me, I know when this happens. It's a prelude to something much bigger.”

“You're too worked up about this,” Harry tried to allay him. “You know when we work together, nothing can stop us.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, mate,” Ron tried to sound convincing on his own turn. “Let's turn up as much as we can.

Both friends fell quiet as they walked down the street. The surroundings were strangely silent, save for a few souls wandering up and down the sidewalks.

“Where is everyone?” Harry asked rhetorically at one point. “Every other time I've been to Manchester, it's much more lively than this...”

“The Death Eater convention is in town,” Ron smiled darkly. “You kind of expect doom and gloom to be around.”

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “Of course.”

“Let's go grab a bite in here,” Ron pointed out a small eatery to the side. “I'm starved.”

The two of them entered the establishment, and went up to the counter to purchase the much needed nourishment.

The eatery itself was empty, save for another four customers, two of whom were huddled at a table and talking quietly.

Sharing a glance, Harry and Ron sat close by, not to cause any undue attention, but simply to manage to salvage their mission from failure. As adept as he was in wandless magic, Harry cast a clandestine spell to make the strangers' words more audible to them.

“Enjoy the soup, Ron,” Harry told him.

“I will,” the redhead nodded, giving his best friend a pointed look.

They focused on their meals while the two mysterious people beside them were seemingly involved in an interesting conversation...

“What of Nordstrom?”

“Nothing yet. Apparently the plans in London are going according to plan.”

“Is it true that vulture Snape is out and about there?”

“That's what they say. I don't know why he's out of hiding. Somebody is bound to kill him.”

“What if he has supporters?”

“If he did, they would be dead by now. You know there's no way to fool Lestrange.”

“Fine fine,” his companion was growing impatient. “How are the preparations going here?”

“Well, most of it happened while you were gone. We have two secret divisions to infiltrate the MLE and the Auror offices. Once we take them over, the rest will be easy.”

“How well prepared are they?”

“Best I've seen in a while. All the training has been rigorous and demanding. About half of the initial number didn't make the cut. Twenty men per division should be sufficient.”

“Isn't that too small? You know those departments are well guarded.”

“We'll just pull a Merlin on them,” one of them said with a trace of humour.

The other smiled. “That devil Snape. I have to admit, that was a mission for the textbooks.”

“They won't know what hit them. Wasn't Malfoy the head of the MLE?”

“He is, yes,” the second one affirmed. “He should die first, for his betrayal.”

“The Malfoys were weak. His father was a lying scumbag.”

“Well, he was pure-blooded. That was what kept him alive.”

“Enough reminiscing. When are the squads going to be completely ready?”

“Within the day. They are undergoing the last of their training as we speak.”

“This plan is foolproof. I can't wait to see those stooges of Potter's dead. Especially his wife. I am going to ravage her myself.”

Harry's fist curled of its own accord, but Ron was quick to notice his reaction and shoot him a warning glance. “Stay calm,” he mouthed.

The soup sat forgotten, while the two friends continued to listen intently...this was a complete stroke of luck! No wonder the place resembled a secret military base....it almost was.

“How exactly is the Merlin part of this operation going to work?”

“Well,” the other contemplated his answer. “it was too risky to send in an agent. We don't have time to make him trustworthy and ingrained with the system enough to help us when the time came. That's why we're resorting to the Imperius curse. Each squad has a specialized curse wizard, to implement and break the necessary magic...in this case, each will be busy picking out a vulnerable target to assist in the penetration of the departments...”

“Imperius curse? This is what you're going to rely on? It is possible to overthrow it, you know.”

“We have had a week to prepare. Thinking on your feet does not allow for long, elaborate plans,” his companion replied coldly.

“Fair enough,” the first one conceded. “Question is, what time is the strike supposed to begin?”

“I don't know that, yet.”

“When will you know?”

“Soon I hope. Whenever Lestrange gives us a signal.”

“And you're sure this will work. That nobody will notice. The Order could be out and about snooping for our plans.”

“Don't worry about it. They're way too small and the confusion is too great for them to handle. This is a country-wide operation.”

Ron's eyes widened. “Countrywide?” he whispered to Harry.

Harry clenched his jaw to indicate to him to stay quiet.

“How do you manage to do it country-wide?”

“Trust me, it's a headache,” the other one shook his head. “We're thinking the Order and the Ministry will be focused on London. Naturally - it's the biggest city, lots of activity is focused there...this will be our distraction. Diversionary attacks to occupy and confuse their defences. We use that as our cover to sneak in and take out the pillars. After that, Lestrange and the core come in from Hogesmeade. They take care of any Potters, Weasleys and the such...after that we proclaim a new order....that of the pure bloods.”

“That simple? You're letting quite a bit ride on chance.”

“You don't take a risk, you can't win.”

Ron was rhythmically eating his now cold soup, and not daring to look up. Harry was in equal disbelief. The fact that this confluence of coincidence allowed them an insight into the intentions of the Death Eaters, and Lestrange herself...

Was she going to kill them personally? Harry knew she might not match him in strength, but she certainly matched him in skill, and in some respects, was even better. He could be killed...and if she reached everyone else, the last hope of salvation would die with the Order...especially if she gained access to those dangerous spells...

“Let's go,” Harry whispered to Ron. “We've heard enough.”

“I think so, too,” Ron replied sternly. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we prevent this from happening.”

Rising casually from their seats, Harry and Ron, still keeping the hoods over their faces, walked out of the eatery. The two Death Eaters did not even bother to look in their direction.

**

Right before they had departed for Hogesmeade, Demetris had warned the Marauders that they would be entering the most dangerous portion of the Order's mission. He told them he strongly suspected Lestrange of being holed up in the charming village.

James, Sirius and Remus had found Hogesmeade to be as they remembered it - still magnificent, welcoming and the setting for many fond memories from their school days, and even afterward...

“So, what's the plan?” Sirius asked the other two. “Apparently we have to sniff out Lestrange before she sniffs us out.”

“We're at an advantage,” said Remus. “We have the dog.”

“And the werewolf,” James smiled.

“Hardy-har,” Remus rolled his eyes. “Time to be serious, mates.”

“Right,” James agreed, all traces of humour gone from his expression. “We can split up - that way we'll cover more ground, but one of us could be compromised. Her best fighters are here.”

“First we have to make sure she is here,” Sirius pointed out. “And the village isn't very big, so we should stay together. Better chance of survival if we come across Death Eaters...”

“Listen to Sirius,” James turned to Remus. “We stay together.”

“Well, now that it's established,” Sirius continued. “How are we going to ferret her out?”

“Any provocation could end with our demise,” Remus reasoned. “If she is indeed here, we're hopelessly outnumbered.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Do it as we always did - behind the scenes. Find out what we need to know,” Remus smiled.

“Three Broomsticks?” James asked the rhetorical question.

It was unanimous. Anyone who wanted to know anything went to that pub.

The place was packed as usual. Wizards of every walk of wizarding life were inside, drinking, talking and socializing. To someone without suspicions, it would be the typical idyllic atmosphere that perpetuated itself in Hogesmeade.

“One more round on me!” a voice shouted above the crowd, and that was the cue the Marauders needed to know they were in the right place.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Sirius said out loud, consecutively turning his eyes from James to Remus with a mischievous smile.

“I believe so,” James nodded. “Padfoot, you know how to work them better than I do. Remus - you know what to ask. I'll be the charm and good looks.”

“Don't flatter yourself, Prongs,” Remus said. “This is a team effort.”

“Of course,” James agreed, “but we need an introduction. Sirius is the master of the craft, and you know it. Random useless facts don't impress Death Eaters....”

“Fine, you've made your point,” Remus was beginning to grow impatient. “Let's go before we lose the focus.”

Sirius was quick to find his bearings on a dodgy group of wizards who sat around a table in a corner, and were conspicuously not taking part in the general joyous atmosphere. They tried to blend in with the surroundings, but failed to account for Sirius' sharp eye.

“You think?”

“I know.”

Confidently, the Marauders walked towards their selected party of Death Eaters, but still had to circumvent and navigate through the throng of wizards in various drunken stages...

“Gentlemen!” Sirius was the first to attract the attention of the three at the table.

One of them turned. “Can I help you?” he asked with outright annoyance.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Sirius smiled widely. “I wonder if the three of us can sit down with the three of you and just....talk.”

“You want to talk?” the Death Eater's tone did not become any less tolerable.

“Exactly, just talk.”

“Why don't you shove it where the sun don't shine and go bug someone else!”

Sirius demeanour changed in an instant. “Because you three are of particular interest to us.”

“Particular interest?” For the first time, the Death Eater betrayed signs of fear.

James wound up beside Sirius. “Yes, quite so. Unless you want to attract attention...you may want to cooperate.”

“And who the hell are you to threaten me?”

“You're more useful alive than dead. When we finish, this may be your last day.”

From fear, the Death Eater now looked uncertain and angry. “Have it your way!” he snapped.

Smiling widely once more, Sirius took out his wand and enlarged the table with one swing.

Grudgingly, the three Death Eaters congregated at one end of it, and the Marauders were able to sit down comfortably.

“Make this fast,” the same Death Eater growled in Sirius' direction.

“It's not over until you tell us everything we need to know,” James responded. “Starting with what you're doing in Hogesmeade.”

“You three expect to waltz in here, sit down, and for me to tell you what we're doing in this damned village.” He nearly laughed. “I don't think so.”

“That's not the response we were looking for,” James shook his head regretfully. Raising his wand, he performed a spell, aimed at isolating their table from the surrounding attention. “Don't make me do this the hard way.”

“What right do you have to extract information from us?” the same Death Eater replied evasively.

“The right to protect magical society from the types of you,” the Marauder told him venomously. “From self-righteous shit bags that kill for pleasure.”

Something twitched in the Death Eater's face. “Kill for pleasure? The aim is to transform society, you imbecile!”

“Yeah? And how are you going to do that?” James challenged him.

What struck him more still is that they were having conversation with the enemy! Threatening and insulting, yes, but still, it was conversation that did not involve fighting!

“That remains top secret,” the Death Eater shook his head. “Look, we know you're agents of the Order of the Phoenix. You have been brought back, James Potter, along with these two friends of yours...trust me, we at the inner circle know much more than we let on.”

“I don't care that you know,” James objected. “The question is why you're going to go through with this madness.”

“Our lives ride on the success of this so-called madness,” he replied almost angrily. “Do you not think we value our lives as well? Not only is it for greater power, but so we can live to see tomorrow.”

“Ah, so you do have a personal stake in this,” Remus finally intervened in the conversation. “Why did you become involved with the Death Eaters in the first place?”

“That's none of your business,” the Death Eater snapped back. “I also have a family to keep alive!”

If there was one unshakeable argument Remus could comprehend from the Death Eaters so far, it was that they were disillusioned in their leader and cause, as they were doubtful of their allegiance.

“What are you doing in Hogesmeade?” Sirius asked again, but this time his tone was transformed - from one of forcefulness to one of calm patience.

The expressions on their opponent's face changed very quickly. First, he was angry, then frustrated, determined, worried....until his jaw clenched, and he fixed Sirius with his gaze.

“The reason we're here is to oversee that Hogwarts does not become involved, and the second job has to do with coordinating the regional assignments. Everything comes and goes from here. The only person who isn't here is Lestrange. She's in Belfast.”

“Belfast?”

“You should know she's paranoid, even more so than Voldemort.”

The Marauders fell silent. They had stumbled on the command centre of a nation-wide operation. That involved establishing a new social order...overthrowing the government? Very likely, if nothing was done...

Even they had to admit it was a brilliant organization. Of course, it would also be up to them to stop it from unfolding.

Remus looked at the Death Eater one last time. “If you had the choice, would you have joined Voldemort?”

He stared back, his eyes unreadable. “I didn't have a choice.”

**

Fred and George had ended up in Belfast, and despite being initially very wary, absolutely nothing seemed out of place. People were out and about in the streets, chatter filled the air, and the atmosphere did not suggest the presence of Death Eaters in the slightest.

“What do you reckon's going on here?” Fred asked his brother. “Doesn't look like anyone of interest would be here.”

“You know looks are deceiving. There could be a cohort of her goons right under our noses...did you bring the Dark Detector?”

“You mean the one we're still developing? It could be dangerous among so many people,” Fred objected, but only half heartedly.

“That settles it,” George grinned. “Take it out.”

His brother reached into the sack that was swung over his shoulder, and procured the device in question. By its looks, it was nothing impressive. Half the size of a sneakoscope, but the two brothers had ensured it was much more impressive than its counterpart by trade.

“Flip it on,” George prompted him. “Let's see if it works with the latest changes.”

Fred did not wait to be asked twice. Tapping it with his wand, he caused its parts to whirr, emitting a soft vibration. “It's working.”

Walking down the sidewalk, George was on the lookout for their surroundings, while Fred kept a close eye on the device.

Minute after minute passed, but they were no less determined, and their patience seemed to be yielding result. Their contraption began beeping occasionally, flashing momentous images across a screen.

“Nothing yet?” George asked him tensely.

“No, quite the opposite,” Fred replied, still staring down at the screen.

He was about to continue, but suddenly, the detector emitted a deafening shriek and began to vibrate much more violently. Stumped, the twins stopped, and watched aghast, as a beam of light shot from the device into the air and a moment later, spread into a solid moving image of Bellatrix Lestrange, depicting her pointing and shouting at somebody...

That could only mean that she was here for certain, in Belfast. Horror struck, Fred haphazardly turned off the device, but the damage had been done. The public's attention had been stopped cold in its tracks, and the chatter had died. Unable to react beyond the shocking knowledge, Fred and George quickly turned on the spot and disappeared into thin air.

They reappeared in a back alley, still confused and out of breath.

“She's here?” Fred stated wide-eyed.

“I can't believe it,” George breathed. “We have to tell Harry as soon as possible.”

“No, wait,” Fred stopped him. “Let's see if we can find out where she is.”

“We already know that,” George told him impatiently. “The better question is to find out what she's saying.”

Fred did not look convinced in the slightest. “This could go very bad.”

“We've done worse,” his brother countered. “This is for the Order. Let's be serious this one time about it.”

“When are we not serious?” Fred still managed to crack a smile. “Let's go.”

Walking about, the twins followed the indications given off by the dark detector, which were in the form of increasingly intense vibrations. They had luckily come very close to where Lestrange was situated, and that explained the rather unexpected outburst with which they found out she was in Belfast.

“Look, there!”

“What?”

George dragged Fred quickly behind a nearby corner. “Death Eaters. She's in there.”

Fred looked carefully around the edge of the wall. “Damn. I see them.”

“Right. That's as far as we can go.”

“From here on in, the tubes take over...”

“...you read my mind.”

Fred reached into the bag again and produced the assortment of inconspicuous wiry grey tubes. They were an older invention of the brothers, enabling them to reach into areas they could not access to listen to what was happening. It had applications much greater than those necessary to a pair of pranksters...

Fred kneeled down and released them. As if they were snakes, the tubes slid noiselessly along the ground, merging with the surroundings colours and tones. The two Death Eaters at the door did not move.

Within minutes they had managed to retrieve intriguing information.

“Mistress, are you positive?”

“Positive,” they head Lestrange's voice. “The attack begins tomorrow.”

“As you say,” the subservient voice rejoined. “Your wishes shall be implemented.”

“You may go.”

There was a pregnant pause, as the sound of footsteps traversing a wooden, creaky floor filled the silence.

“Wait!”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Search the area. We have intruders.”

“As you wish,” the same voice asserted her request.

Fred looked at George. “Intruders?” he mouthed.

Then it dawned on him.

A streak of spell fire nicked the corner, behind which they were hiding, inches from Fred's head.

“Let's go!”

Abandoning their trusty implement, the twins hastily apparated out of sight, moments before a pair of Death Eaters hurtled around the corner.

This was definitely dangerous. Some sort of an attack was imminent. They had to tell the rest of the Order right away...

A/N: Now that was one hell of a chapter to write. Big fight coming up...:D

-->

A/N: The story's culmination has arrived...

Chapter XLIII: Full Circle: A Second Turn

The Order of the Phoenix had assembled for an emergency meeting, when the urgency of what was going on became clear once the members who had been sent into the field returned.

The hour was early too - the clock's hands did not point at six o'clock yet. That didn't matter, however, as adrenaline was running high with the anticipation of what this day would bring.

“So you did hear her right,” Remus turned to the twins for the consecutive time. “She's planning the attack for today.”

“Yes,” Fred and George replied in one voice. “That's all we heard. She sent two of her idiot goons after us.”

“You are sure you heard nothing else,” the werewolf continued the repetitive interrogation.

George was beginning to grow annoyed. “Yes!”

“Just to sum up,” Harry intervened, “Lestrange is planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic surreptitiously from the inside, then launch a nationwide campaign to cause confusion, death and destruction, while she surreptitiously goes in to consolidate her hold.”

“That does sum it up nicely,” Ron commented. “But we have no idea when she is going to do it.”

“Luna,” Harry turned to her, “go to the Ministry, make the necessary preparations to be ready to respond. “Ginny, you and Draco do what you need to maintain control of the most vital regions.”

“That would be London and Manchester,” Ginny referred back to her knowledge.

“What did the Auror mission find out?” Ron asked her.

“Nothing as useful as compared to what you did. All they came back with was that there was a massive attack planned, but none of the particulars you uncovered.”

“What about the MLE?”

Draco's expression turned even graver. “They were ambushed by a detachment of Death Eaters. The two that survived managed to apparate back, but had found out nothing. Based on that, I can tell something bad is going to happen.”

“Damn,” Harry swore. “Alright then. You three, go and make sure that we take as little damage as possible. Luna, consider making the information public...if she wants a revolution, we will give her one that will wipe her out of existence...”

Venom seeped from his last words.

“I'll secure the Ministry,” Luna said shakily into the silence that followed Harry's outburst. “Ensure that nobody can come in and out unchecked.”

“You do that,” Ron said instead of Harry, whose eyes were still fixed on the table's wooden surface. “We'll be in the Ministry too, not too long from now.”

“Ginny, Draco, come with me,” Luna requested of her two most trusted aides, and quietly, they joined her side. Within moments, all three were gone with a loud crack.

“Harry?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

“You alright?” Hermione asked him.

“No,” he snapped. “I want to kill Lestrange personally.”

There was another pregnant pause following his words.

“Demetris,” Ron turned to him to alleviate the sudden tension. “I wanted to ask you about something.”

“What?”

“When Harry and I went out yesterday, there was a mention of something called the Merlin business, and you were apparently involved...what is that about?”

Demetris expression darkened. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Avery looked at the old man. “Really sensitive about that,” he explained. “It wasn't good, at all.”

“You might as well tell them,” Demetris told him quietly. “I can't bear to face it again.”

Avery took a deep breath. “I won't, if you don't want to.”

“Tell them,” Demetris' repeated more forcefully. “There are no secrets in this organization.”

His comrade inhaled deeply once more, and lowered his eyes to recall the details of the story.

“Well, this wasn't too long ago,” he began. “The Merlin project was an initiative that started years ago. For the Death Eaters, it was ambitious: to eliminate the Order of Merlin. You know what I'm talking about - the wizards who protected the three spells we're currently doing our best to stop Lestrange from acquiring.”

“Project Merlin?” Harry repeated faintly. “I became a part of it.”

“Exactly. It was a secret association composed of all the wandmakers in Europe. And as you know, they aren't many. Britain had three, other countries one, some none - you see how scarce the talent for making wands is, the magic ability it requires, and the responsibility that comes along with knowing the craft. As such, these people protected the resurrection and soul spells, because in the wrong hands, they can be used to wreak havoc and destruction with unimaginable consequences.”

Everyone listened to the story very intently. Only Demetris had looked away and seemed disinterested.

“Anyway, a few years ago, Lestrange initiated this project. She explained it only to the wizards closest to her. At that time, Demetris wasn't in the Inner Circle, and she told him that if he carried this mission out successfully, he would be promoted. Naturally, he accepted, or the alternative was death, and he did not want to die.”

“Can you skip over the details?” the old wizard asked him impatiently.

“No,” Avery replied sternly. “Anyway, to the point, the mission was to seek out and destroy the Order so as to be able to gain access to the spells. She was going off information that Voldemort had uncovered much earlier, but kept to himself. Not even she knew until she found his personal files. With the details his research provided, it was easy to find out who was who and establish that it was a secret union between the wandmakers.”

“So, he began to slowly track them down and kill them. He told me how much it disgusted him, but to maintain Lestrange's loyalty, it was a task he had to carry out. That's how Gregorovitch was killed, and why Olliviander died. The reason the Ministry investigations found nothing was because it wasn't a random crime. It was orchestrated from the top echelon of the Death Eaters, specifically. When Mortimer Evans was killed - he was the last one. Only then, the information we were seeking passed to Harry.”

“How?”

This time, Demetris looked up. “I arranged it.”

This time even Avery gaped. “You arranged it?”

“Yes,” Demetris nodded. “Before I killed Olliviander, we had a long conversation. He knew I was deep in the Death Eaters and maintained that I had to stay alive if I was to escape at a favourable opportunity. He told me that meant keeping the Order of the Phoenix within sight, and consequently, you, Harry. That's why you found that piece of paper with one of the three spells written on it and that it was Godric's Hollow was no coincidence either. You were meant to find that book all along.”

“Throughout the entire time, Lestrange did not stop trying to look for ways to distract your attention and find ways to kill you. That would explain why Dolohov was sent out on numerous occasions to strike close to you. All these attacks...they were meant to occupy the Order until she found a way to destroy it, and nearly succeeded with the remote killings while you were doing the resurrections.”

Harry was aghast at this new information. Demetris had not only kept watch over Avery and Nott. He had also masterfully made sure that the Order of the Phoenix was always one step ahead of Lestrange and her supporters, while maintaining his cover with them...

“You're telling the truth,” was all he could manage.

“I wouldn't lie, Harry,” Demetris said firmly. “Else I wouldn't be here telling you all of this.”

“Don't worry, I believe you,” Harry dismissed his tension. “I'm just having a bit of a difficult time processing all of this.”

“Well, understandable,” the old man agreed. “This is why I detest the Merlin project. It was aimed to kill off the wandmakers, and it was a good opportunity to affirm my show of loyalty to the Dark Side, while clandestinely keeping the Order of the Phoenix ahead. What I regret most was that it was at the expense of the lives of good and innocent people.”

“The circumstances forced you to do what you did,” Harry tried to allay him. “It doesn't make you a lesser person in my eyes.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Demetris appreciated the sentiment. “But that won't change how I feel about it all.”

The raven-haired wizard understood completely.

“Well,” Ron said. “What is in the past cannot be undone. We can regret it, but it's just the way it is. A price was paid - it was unjust, but necessary.”

Demetris only nodded gravely.

“Now,” Avery made every attempt to move the discussion ahead. “What about the Ministry?”

“Is all of going a good idea?” Hermione asked.

“If Lestrange is going to strike at the Ministry, I want to do all I can to stop her,” Harry declared. “I don't want to lose any of you, so please, whatever happens, stay alive!”

“I'm going too, Harry,” Hermione stated.

He was slightly taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me, I'm going too,” she repeated.

“I don't think so,” he objected. “You'll stay here with the Arthur and Molly.”

Hermione snapped up from her chair. “You're not my superior, Harry!” Now she was mad. “I can choose what to do! The Order's cause matters to me as much as it does to you, if not more! I'm going to be a part of this and fight!”

Shocked by her outburst, Harry could do little more than nod.

“Hermione,” he finally found his tongue. “I care about you. I love you. I don't want you to risk your life and our future together. If someone is expendable, it's me, not you. Please, understand!”

“Harry, quit being a selfless prat,” she chastised him. “We are going to live a long life together, and enjoy it with all the people you see in this room.”

“I don't know what will happen, Hermione.”

“Neither do I,” she rejoined. They had slipped back into their own world again, but neither noticed as Hermione continued. “All I ask is that you believe in our success, Harry.”

He inhaled heavily. “I suppose you're right. I will believe.”

“Now that was just inspiring,” James commented after the several moments of silence that followed. “I think I'm going to let a tear fall!”

“Shut it, dad,” Harry shot him a look that was meant to be disdainful, but somehow did not hold the necessary malice.

“Alright!” Sirius stood up. “Who's up for kicking some Death Eater arse?”

“Marauder style?” Remus joined him.

“You read my mind,” Sirius smiled. “James?”

“You have to ask me?”

“Of course! I don't want your delicate little self to come in harm's way...”

“Go sniff a butt, Padfoot,” James retaliated jokingly.

“Enough nonsense,” Lily put a stop to the Marauders' antics - she still disapproved of their tendency to laugh off grave danger.

“Alright, let's go,” Ron said loudly. “Luna's office is our destination. We'll go from there!”

One by one, the Order members began to disappear to the assigned spot. Ron, in the meanwhile, went to his parents.

“Mum, Dad,” he said. “Will you look after the kids if anything happens to Luna or me today?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled sadly. “We survived the last war, Ron. We can survive this one just as well.”

“I hope so too, Mum, I'm just saying...”

“Son,” Arthur stood up. “I'm coming with.”

Ron was momentarily confused. “What do you mean?”

“I'm coming,” his father told him. “I've sat aside too long, Ron. It's not fair you have to fight Lestrange on your own.”

“Dad! No!” Ron protested vocally. “You have done your part, this is my job!”

Arthur smiled. “Are we going to just sit here, or go save the world again?”

“There is no arguing with you, is there?”

“No, son,” Arthur nodded. “Only your mother can influence me, but she's not objecting. Thus, I'm coming.”

Ron looked at his mother, but she did not react as he expected her to. “Come back alive,” was all she said.

Apparating away one after the other, Weasley father and son were the last to arrive in Luna's office.

“Mr. Weasley!” Harry was taken by surprise at the appearance of the patriarch of the family. “What are you doing here?”

“Going to fight alongside all of you,” he replied.

“Don't bother, Harry,” Ron cut across Harry, who was about to say something in protest. “He has already made up his mind.”

“So be it,” Harry resigned. “Now, there will be two groups of Death Eaters infiltrating the Ministry. Luna told me it was already too late to prevent them from coming in, which means we are going to have to meet them head on.”

“Given that,” Ron took the word, “they will be aiming to kill my sister, Luna and Draco. They don't know we're expecting them, which means that once they are inside, they will head for the MLE, Auror and the Minister's departments. Those are the areas where the confrontation will take place.”

“Does she want to take us out with one quick strike?” Remus asked. “Or maybe she has a second wave planned.”

“I don't know,” Harry admitted. “But what I do know is that we have to face anything that comes our way and prevail in one piece.”

“It's only best if we split up,” Hermione commented. “Some of us should go with each department.”

“Right,” Demetris entered the discussion. “We'll split up as we did in yesterday's mission. Only this time, the twins stay with the MLE.”

“We'll take the Aurors,” Harry said, pointing to himself and Ron.

“I'll stay with Hermione, Fred, George and Luna,” Mr. Weasley chipped in his thoughts.

“No, wait,” Demetris reconsidered. “The best option is to leave this office empty. Split ourselves between the Aurors and the MLE. That way each can take on a group of Death Eaters.”

“OK, new plan,” Harry took the word. “Ron, me, Demetris, Avery, Hermione, Fred and George, Luna and Mr. Weasley - with the Aurors. Everyone else, join the MLE. We'll give our visitors one hollow victory.”

It was settled, but for the sake of evening out the balance, the twins ended up going with the MLE squad.

As soon as they were in position, awaiting to confront the Death Eaters, two Aurors who had been sent to scout out the present situation returned out of breath.

“They're here! The main lobby is in chaos!”

“Go warn Draco Malfoy and tell him to head down to the lobby!” Ginny instructed him.

“You ready?” Ron turned to her.

“We'll live to see another day.”

“Let's move!” Ginny rose up, and with her, the rest of the Order and the present few dozen Aurors.

The elevators were too much of a strategic risk that could turn them all into sitting ducks, and that's why the stairs were chosen as the preferred option to reach the lobby.

“Be as quiet as possible,” Ginny passed on the message back. Several flights above her, she could hear the footsteps of the MLE detachment. Apparently she wasn't the only one with sensible thinking...

It took only a few minutes to reach the bottom and cautiously open the inconspicuous door that led into the lobby. Through the crack, Ginny could see the assembled Death Eaters in front of the fountain. There were two squads as their intelligence had revealed.

What surprised her was the presence of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was standing on top of the fountain's mantel, holding some kind of speech, but Ginny was too far away to make out what she was saying. Around the intruders lay the bodies of around twenty unfortunate souls who had been taken by surprise.

“So much for a lightning strike, Harry whispered beside her. “You don't hold speeches if you want to take over the Ministry as quickly as possible.”

Wasting no more time, both groups sneaked into the vast hall, but remained in the shadows.

“Quickly,” Harry found Draco. “Take the left flank. We'll take the right. You give the cue to attack.”

The youngest Malfoy nodded, and departed. Thankfully, most of the path to their destination was dark enough for them to not be noticed for quite a while, until -

“Aurors!”

Their secret was out.

“Engage them!” Draco shouted, and that served as the simultaneous command for the Aurors as well.

Multiple flashes of spellfire shot from two sides on the mass of Death Eaters, and even if a few fell, it became obvious from the start why they were the best - protective shields went up immediately, and they formed into their assigned units.

“Better trained than I expected,” Harry muttered to Ron. “Let's take them!”

“You attack, I'll cover you,” Ron answered.

Breaking from the formation, Ron put up the strongest shield he knew of, and from behind it, Harry released a barrage of offensive spells.

“Confringo!”

“Expelliarmus!”

“Expulso!”

It had the desired effect. Several of the shields covering their enemies dissolved, and two Death Eaters met particularly nasty ends - one burst in bright orange flames, while the other one was blown to bloody smithereens...

The rest were not phased in the least. They reformed the line quickly, and the shields were back up in moments. Three Reductor curses barely missed Ron and almost caused him to fall over.

“Close call, mate,” Harry said. “Let's do it back again, only we switch!”

“Hurry, my shield is cracking!”

“One moment!”

Expertly, Harry swished his wand, and a silvery shield, different than Ron's, replaced his the moment it broke.

A few wands were already rolling on the floor. “Round two!”

“Impedimenta!”

“Furnunculus!”

“Confundo!”

Ron fired off several shots of each spell in one constant stream, and succeeded in disrupting the Death Eater line even better than Harry.

“Good job, mate. Head back in formation.”

“Ditto.”

With that, the two best friends, this time both carrying protective shields, re-entered the ranks of the Aurors.

“Aim for Potter!” rang Lestrange's voice over the din of spell fire and confusion.

“Diffindo!”

To Harry's right, an unfortunate Auror was impacted by the yellowish-orange light in the stomach, and it was a gruesome sight when his innards spilled on the stone slabs, while he did not even have the chance to scream - instead he fell over and did not move.

“Cover the right flank,” Harry instructed Ron. “Seek out their best fighters and kill them off!”

“Ginny, come with me!”

His sister obeyed and went with him. In the meanwhile, Harry looked around wildly for Hermione, and saw her with Luna, doing much the same in terms of what he and Ron had worked together for earlier. Luna was looking after the shield, while Hermione used every spell she knew to penetrate the strong shields of the Death Eaters.

He ran and slid beside her. “Hermione!”

“Don't distract me, Harry,” she did not even turn to him. “What is it?”

“Try Impedimenta. Reductor Curse destroys the shields.”

It was at that moment that the fight took on another level.

“Avada Kedavra!” an eerily familiar female voice screeched through the cavernous lobby.

In horror, Harry watched as three killing curses headed right for him, Hermione and Luna.

“Dodge!” he bellowed, and grabbing Hermione around the waist, rolled to one side, while Luna dove to the opposite one in safety. The curses broke right through her shield and blasted the wall behind them.

“Are you hurt?” Harry checked Hermione up and down.

“No, I'm fine,” she said. “I'll go back to Luna!”

“Be careful!” Harry called after her, and using a spell that he had developed earlier on, traced Hermione's path to Luna with a shield, but he could only hold it for so long...

“Hurry!”

Hermione literally ran, and dove beside Luna's shield just in time. She gave a thumbs up to Harry. He nodded, and focused his attention back on the battle. The Death Eaters had sought it a good idea to advance on the Aurors.

“Restore the line!” Harry amplified his voice and shouted over everybody. “Restore the line! Defence behind, offence forward!”

With surprising speed, the Aurors were assembled to request. One continuous shield went up in front, and an Order member was found on either flank and in the center. Arthur had chosen the center for some reason...Harry was worried how well he would respond to the intensity of the fighting...

“Aim for the center!” Lestrange shrieked again.

Then it hit Harry. Mr. Weasley had taken a defensive position, and he was the weakest link in the whole chain...

“Hermione!”

She looked at him. “Cover Mr. Weasley! Go!”

Proving how far her pragmatism went, Hermione quickly apparated behind her assigned charge. “Mr. Weasley!”

“Hermione!” he breathed, startled. “What's wrong?”

“Apparate to Luna. You're under offence now,” she told him.

He was not about to argue. “Done.”

With that, Harry ensured as much as he could that his line would hold.

“Fire!”

The Death Eaters fired their own barrage of spells, which thankfully did not include Avada Kedavra, but to no effect - the silvery shield remained unscathed.

“Kill them!”

“Prepare to evade!”

Harry gave the command precisely when the Death Eaters did fire the deadly curse all at once. The Aurors dived in various directions, but a few were unlucky to be struck by the sickly green beam of light.

Yet, Harry took advantage of the break in the Death Eaters' shield line, which was necessary to cast a killing curse, to cripple the enemy.

“Everyone: Impedimenta!”

The Aurors had hastily regrouped, and on the request that everyone pick a target, the force of several dozen impact curses threw the entire Death Eater detachment back.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

“Incarcerous!”

For those able to throw off the body freezing curse, they were not prepared to be bound in ropes so suddenly.

One of Lestrange's groups was almost entirely immobilized.

“Fall back! Shields up!”

“Fiendfyrius!”

Harry hated using the spell, and he had had to do it once before, hoping to not resort to it again. The massive, fiery serpent shot out in a streak from the tip of his wand, lit up the entire chamber, and the Aurors watched in fascination, as Harry directed it towards their enemy.

Lowering its head, the serpent slithered, leaving hot traces behind, right at the helpless Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange watched with an unmasked expression of gruesome delight, as her followers were consumed and burned to a crisp by the beast, leaving only a pile of ashes...

Sensing he was losing control of the flame, Harry ended the spell. “Finite Incantatem!”

Only three of the Death Eaters remained unscathed. They were frozen in fear and shock. Lestrange had retreated to her other group before the snake had managed to reach her.

“Capture them!”

Ron and Ginny shot ahead, and working quickly, bound the incomprehensible captives in ropes and confiscated their wands. “You two!” Ron called out to a couple of nearby Aurors. Pull these back and make sure they don't try to escape.

Harry made his way to Ron and Ginny.

“I think - “

“LOOK OUT!”

Ron dove forward, and pushed Harry and Ginny down on the ground with him.

Harry saw Lestrange on top of the statue in the middle of the lobby, describing some complicated motion with her wand, and from the end of it, a continuous purple streak was being emitted towards the unsuspecting Aurors. Shaking Ron off, Harry saw almost twenty lying motionless on the floor.

He stood up, and took aim at the statue's base. “Reducto!”

Ron joined him, as did Ginny. The foundation was blown to bits, and the huge statue began to lean, disrupting the focus of Lestrange's spell.

“Watch out!!!” Harry magnified his voice, and as the statue fell, Bellatrix apparated back onto the floor.

“Harrykins!” she cooed, appearing very close to Harry. “Good one!”

Within a moment, she was gone again.

“Let's go help the others!” Ron said. “Harry and I will go ahead. You gather up the survivors.”

“Fine,” Ginny agreed. “Go!”

Looking back, Harry noted that the three Death Eaters they had captured were dead along with their guards...

“Ginny, help me,” Hermione called over her very close friend.

The redhead heard her, and rushed over immediately. “Are you alright?”

“I'm exhausted,” Hermione gasped. “I need a break.”

Ginny mentally cursed. This was definitely not good timing. “Fine. Demetris, Avery!”

The two former Death Eaters heard her, and doubled back. Demetris was surprisingly agile for his age.

“What's wrong?”

“I need you two to protect Hermione. She needs to rest, but there is no way. Put up a shield around her, and bring her over to the MLE formation. We are all going to join them.”

“No problem,” Avery ascertained. “Demetris, on three.”

Ginny left them to the task of assuring Hermione's safety, while she went about to collect the Aurors, who had already formed up in another line, and awaited instructions. Even Mr. Weasley seemed eager...there was a glint in his eye Ginny had not seen in a very long time.

“Move around to join in with the MLE detachment!” she shouted. “Hurry!”

Running around the perimeter of the lobby, the surviving Aurors managed to reach Draco's group. The tail end dragged a bit to allow Demetris and Avery cover while they were ferrying Hermione, and it was by pure coincidence they were not a target for some curse or jinx...

Harry and Ron were already heavily involved with the fire. Draco was a bit further back, picking out shields and bringing them down. Ginny fought her way between the ranks to reach him.

“Draco!”

He heard her, but did not turn his head. “What?”

“How are you doing?”

“Bloody bastards are good. So far we're holding them, but we can't penetrate them!”

“What are your losses?”

“So far thirteen. We've only killed four.”

The Marauders were on the right wing of the formation, and had established a system of their own, where Remus was covering James and Sirius, while they were firing spell after spell.

“Stupefy!”

“Langlock!”

“Incendio!”

“Reducto!”

James and Sirius were among the most prodigious. Their target was a pair of Death Eaters, much organized as they were, whose shield had fallen after the battery of curses from the two Marauders, and now found themselves unconscious or unable to speak.

“Burn them!” Sirius shouted out in the frenzy of the fighting

“Relashio!”

Two well placed charms caused two more Death Eaters to drop their wands and extinguish their shields as a result.

“Accio wands!” Harry was the first to summon the fallen wands. That rendered those two enemies useless, as long as they weren't capable of wandless magic.

“Sectumsempra!”

James dealt two rounds of the nasty curse, and each found its mark in the form of the neutralized Death Eaters.

On the opposite end, Lily and Tonks were subjected to heavy fire, and both had to resort to shield charms, but under the pressure, they seemed as if they would soon crumble under the pressure.

Draco took note of this, instructed Ginny to guide the movements of their now mixed forces, and went off to assist the two women in distress. “Come with me,” he dragged two MLE officers with him. “Do you see those three Death Eaters battering Lily and Tonks?”

“Yes,” the officer nodded.

“I'll engage them along with your colleague,” Draco said. “You take them towards the center to safety. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” came the reply.

“Take them!”

Neglecting to place a shield to protect themselves, the Death Eaters were easy pickings for Draco and the other MLE officer - that's how focused they were on destroying Lily and Tonks.

“Aim to injure them irreversibly!” Draco shouted over the din. “Niapin Laf!

The golden streak struck two of the enemies at once and they were pummelled at least twenty feet, hit the wall hard, and fell face down on the cold slabs - they did not move again. The third one was taken by surprise, turned to face the new threat, but it was too late, as the other MLE officer sealed his fate with another Sectumsempra...

“Morsmodre!”

Bellatrix Lestrange's voice rang through the Ministry's welcome hall once more. Her wand was high in the air, pointed straight up. Out of its tip, the ugly green stream materialized into the dreaded skull with a snake going through it.

“Long live Voldemort!”

The slogan sent chills through every single person present. Harry's blood boiled. “She'll die before she brings him back.”

“Ron!” Harry called over to his best friend. “Let's do that run one more time. You cover, I shoot, then we reverse.”

“I thought you'd never ask!”

Starting from the flank of their formation, they ran along the length of their own line, and Harry repeated the earlier barrage with a few differences to give his side an edge...

“Obscuro!”

“Impedimenta!”

“Reducto!”

This was all he managed to do in motion, but his effort paid off - more than ten Death Eaters went down. “Your turn, mate.”

“Before we begin,” Ron rejoined, while Harry set up the shield.

“Piertotum Locomotor!”

Ron pointed his wand at the statues of the fallen fountain. Harry had a sudden memory flash to his fifth year, when Dumbledore had resorted to the same means...

The wizard, the elf, the miniature giant and the centaur charged at the Death Eaters from the back, ensuing more panic and confusion. Behind them, however, Lestrange kept watch, and with a flick of her wand, all four figures were blown to bits, injuring her own as well as some Aurors that way...

“One more trip!” Ron said, “Let's go!”

It seemed, however, that this time would not be as easy. The maniac leader of the Dark Side had spotted them, and fired off a particularly powerful curse at them. It impacted Harry's shield, a loud clang was produced, but there was no damage to it.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said.

“She wants to take us on,” Harry replied. “When we come out of the end of the line, head for her. She dies today!”

His tone was particularly angry when he uttered that threat...

A few seconds and several deflected curses later, the two friends were standing face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Harrykins!” she smiled her twisted smile. “Do you want your friend to die first?” she asked him in sickly sweet tones.

“Harry!”

Startled, Harry turned. “Sirius! No!”

The last horrible memories of his encounter with Lestrange stirred Harry's mind.

“Protego!” he heard Ron say, and immediately snapped back to face his lesser nemesis.

“Aw, Hawykins, you need to pay attention!” Lestrange continued to coo him.

“You sicken me,” Harry told her loudly. “I will kill you, here, tonight!”

“Harry don't want to play nice, does he!” Lestrange rejoined sarcastically. “So be it! My dear cousin and your coward of a friend are next!”

“Don't try anything,” Harry turned to Ron and Sirius. “Her Inner Circle is here.”

Nodding ever so slightly to indicate they understood the implication, Ron and Sirius retreated. In the background, the battle was still raging, and they saw it fit to hope for the best that Harry won, while they assisted in bringing to a successful conclusion the other part of the campaign...

“You don't trust me, Harry,” Lestrange recaptured his attention. She was circling, and Harry followed her every move.

“Of course I don't!” he answered. “I have no reason to. You're a bigger load of dragon dung than Voldemort!”

“Harry, listen to yourself, I want to help you!”

He quickly grew tired of her pointless words. “You'll join that traitor and a coward, Riddle, in Hell soon enough!”

Harry knew his taunts were striking Lestrange right where she was the most sensitive and bound to lose control.

“Crucio!”

He sidestepped the curse easily. “Voldemort can do better from the grave!”

“Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!”

Several curses shot out in succession, and Harry had a bit more of a difficult time dodging them. He almost turned an ankle on the last one...

“I am going to make you dance, boy!” Bella cackled as she released more killing curses.

“Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!”

Harry was indeed dancing through the flashes of green light, dodging with inches to spare. He looked for any opportunity to strike back.

Her aim began to grow more and more chaotic. It was still generally in his direction, but she was either growing tired, or simply could not focus as well...she had lost her mind, after all, and that he was sure about...

Considering his options almost cost him his life...one stray curse nearly grazed his forearm.

“Damn it,” he swore. “Impedimenta!”

This had been the opening he was looking for. The yellow beam streaked towards Lestrange and hit her squarely on the chest. She flew back several feet and collapsed on her back.

“Accio wand!”

Her magical conduit flew from her hand, and right into Harry's.

He rushed forward to ensure she was unconscious, but she was not out yet...

“Reducto!” she screeched, and the harmful curse shot from her fingers, as she sat up and looked at Harry maniacally...

“Sectumsempra!” His quick reflexes saved him. His curse hit Lestrange's head on, and with the force of a moving freight train, pushed it right back to the source.

The effect was gory and curious at the same time. Having her own curse turned on her, Lestrange's arm gave a sickening twist, as it was dislocated from the elbow, and twisted painfully all the way around. The added curse from Harry's wand washed over her chest, and incised the trademark gashes that were the last injury any Death Eater received and never lived to tell the tale...

Harry recovered quickly, and ran up to Lestrange's side. A pool of blood was quickly forming under her body, but she was still faintly breathing. Her eyes were open, and she was still conscious.

“Harry...” she rasped, turning her neck towards him.

He looked at her with no trace of sympathy or compassion in his eyes. No words escaped his lips.

Bellatrix Lestrange still had her eyes fixed on Harry when she gave her last breath.

**

The combined forces of the MLE, the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix managed to break the back of the Death Eaters, and those that were not killed, were captured. Harry abandoned Lestrange's body, and went back into the battle to prevent any more casualties on his side.

It had cost them dearly as well. Overall, fifty Aurors and MLE officers had been killed in the conflagration. Mr. Weasley had suffered some injuries, but other than that, the Order was still in one piece.

The surviving Aurors had been assigned to guard the two dozen Death Eaters that were captured alive. In the meanwhile, Harry led Ron and Hermione to where Lestrange was lying, motionless and cold.

They stood silent over the corpse for a few minutes.

“So this is what we have been fighting for all this time,” Ron said. “To see her die.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It almost feels surreal.”

“It does,” Hermione agreed. “I can't believe we have a good life ahead of us now.”

“Free of Death Eaters, death and danger,” Ron added.

The Marauders, accompanied by Lily, came up behind them.

“Did we succeed?” came James' voice.

Harry turned. “Yeah, we did,” he simply said, and out of nowhere, embraced his father tightly.

James returned the hug. “I love you too, son.”

Lily had tears in her eyes. “I'm proud of you, Harry.”

Draco, Ginny, Tonks and Luna were the last to show up, after checking on the aftermath of the battle. Draco had landed a supporting shoulder to Mr. Weasley.

“We won!” the elder Weasley declared. “We won!”

“I know, Dad,” Ron smiled, “We did.”

The realization that this was all over still had to sink in. Thus most of the Order members were still speechless.

“Auror Weasley, what are we to do with the prisoners?” An Auror called over to Ginny, startling her from her reverie.

“Put them under permanent arrest in Azkaban!” she directed her employee. “Until the trials can be arranged.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“It's over,” Luna said lightly. “It's really over.”

Ron moved forward, embraced his wife, and kissed her passionately.

“Let's go home.”

A/N: This is the last chapter of the story...only the epilogue coming up. And come on, what do you guys think??!!

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A/N: The Full Circle series end here...

Chapter XLIV: Epilogue

Security and normalcy returned for the Order of the Phoenix with Lestrange's death. At an especially arranged public meeting, its dissolution was announced by Luna Lovegood. However, as it was intended to be a clandestine organization, it was never disbanded, but only made dormant.

Public funerals were held for the fallen Aurors, MLE Officers and Death Eaters alike. History was not an issue when Death treated everyone equally.

Demetris and Avery were granted full pardons and alleviated of any charges against them for their services in defeating Lestrange. All across the country, Auror detachments secured the peace and arrested any Death Eater elements, following their leader's demise at the hands of Harry.

The trials were a noisy public affair, where half of the captured were Lestrange's Inner Circle. Through various means, they divulged the details of her movement, and all were sentenced to life in Azkaban. Only one of the captured received a lesser sentence - twenty years.

Luna's tenure as Minister of Magic was secured, and by a referendum, she was voted to stay in power for another four years - for many, Lestrange's death marked a new beginning, no lesser than that of Voldemort's death...

Harry, Ron and Hermione returned to work in the Ministry, while the Marauders were enrolled in the intelligence unit of the Auror department...they were the active eyes and ears for the next time a maniac Dark wizard would need to be reigned in. The rest of the Order could have chosen to retire for the rest of their lives, but instead, they became involved with the Ministry as well - only Lily, Tonks and Andromeda chose an alternative route to pursue a career with Gringotts Bank.

First of the events that signified Harry and Hermione's new life was her giving birth to a boy and a girl. James insisted the boy be named after him, and Lily followed suit with the newborn girl. Harry and Hermione did not object in the slightest. Although, Harry did admit he was considering Sirius for a while, but in the end decided on James. It gave reason for James to laugh at Sirius, but the latter only dismissed him with a grin of his own.

Shortly after the birth of their children, Remus and Draco announced the same day for their weddings, respectively to Tonks and Ginny. Harry was a bit surprised about the unconventional arrangement, but welcomed it none the less.

Early that September, Hogwarts played out as the setting for the occasion. An aged Professor McGonagall broke down into tears when she saw her former students. They were equally moved - and as a result, she served as the minister for the ceremonies. The rest of the faculty attended, as did guests from the Ministry...but those were insignificant, compared to the presence of friends and family...it was a day nobody would ever forget.

That day Remus also announced he and Tonks were expecting their own child, and that bit of news lifted the already soaring spirits even higher. Three months later, in December, they had a daughter. In honour of Sirius, Remus named her Andromeda, and Tonks did not even object.

The last speculation lay on Sirius. After the matters around Lestrange ended, he spent a lot of time with Andromeda...'catching up' as he had put it. The others could only `guess' what he meant.

So, it was that Christmas which saw the last wedding in the Order take place. Along with the celebrations for the annual occurrence, countless toasts were made to the newly married couple, and the consequent wishes for a family rained down as well...

**

Nine months later, Sirius and Andromeda's offspring were fact. Arthur and Molly. Those were the names they had chosen. The elder Weasleys were only immensely delighted with that decision...

James and Madelyn, Ron and Luna's kids, had grown up a bit more, and took an active interest in the new arrivals. James had found out Harry's son carried the same name, and found the fact immeasurably cool.

Not threatened by deception and death, life could be finally experienced as it was meant to - in the pursuit of happiness.

Life and Love - the spells were safe, and even in Death, they would always be together.

**

Fin.

A/N: I feel accomplished - my first HP novel basically done. :D This is the conclusion of the Full Circle series...I hope you guys enjoyed it.

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