A Long Way from Home

Chapter VII

December 19th, 2003

The last Friday before Christmas was a busy day in Diagon Alley. Many of the stores stayed open longer and the Hogwarts students were back from school for a well-deserved Christmas holiday. Diagon Alley was renowned for its Christmas decorations and street vendors moved through the crowds of shoppers, peddling strange wares and unusual holiday food specialties.

A small magical art store existed at the corner of Diagon Alley and the entertainment district. Colin Creevy worked out of the store, selling his photographs side by side with art supplies and odds and ends of collected artwork. On this particular day, he was working to fill the final orders of family Christmas photos. The developing was always tricky for the photos that included younger children; they tended to leave the frame or make funny faces right as the potion finished working its magic.

Close to dinner time, a wizard in a dark cloak with his hood up entered the cheerfully decorated shop.

“Evening, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”

The stranger cocked his hooded head and in a flash, the entire building exploded in a flash of purple flames and black smoke.

Harry, Hermione and Carole Granger were ten feet from the door of Colin’s shop when the magical shockwaves hit them. Harry recovered in time to see a cloaked figure rushing down Diagon Alley, heading for the Leaky Cauldron. Instinct kicked is as he gripped his wand, sending hexes after the figure. As he chased the cloaked figure, he heard another large blast and noticed several others in identical clothing scattering in different directions. He looked back and saw that the bookshop had caught on fire as well, but with green flames instead of purple. He located Hermione and saw her huddled over her mother, whom had been hit hardest by the shockwaves. Several other people were still scrambling madly to get to the injured and to put out the flames roaring from Colin’s shop and Flourish and Blott’s.

His main target was still sprinting ahead of him and Harry swore loudly as a miscalculated spell hit a cart of roasted chestnuts, sending the treats scattering across the cobblestones. The man slid comically for a few moments before regaining his balance and continuing the race to the Leaky Cauldron.

The wards around Diagon Alley had been triggered by the explosion and swarms of Aurors were entering the street from the surrounding stores. There were spells being fired from both sides and Harry sighed with relief as they began to overtake the criminals. He was focusing his attentions on the tall man ahead of him, who seemed to be some sort of leader and had been the person to come running out of the burning building. He was obviously the most powerful person in the group; the spells from the Aurors just bounced off. Harry watched carefully as yet another spell was rebounded and quickly transformed his own wand into a sword. He darted forward, slamming the hilt of the sword down onto the back of the man, the steel cutting right through the magical ward. The man collapsed and his shields fell, allowing Harry to bind him and remove his hood. He looked down into the face of one of the many Malfoy cousins and felt dread build further in his chest.

In his distraction, a slicing spell hit his arm and he gritted his teeth as pain rushed through him. He pressed his palm to his arm to staunch the bleeding, murmuring a healing spell. Looking to his left, where the spell had come from, he saw more cloaked-figures running in the same direction as the first. There seemed to be some sort of meeting spot that they were heading towards. Harry growled and launched a spell at the closest figure. It hit square in the chest and the body fell. He pushed forward, watching his opposite side as other figures darted around, additional spells flying. The gang of hooded figures had split once again, this time casting spells at standers by rather than the Aurors. Several people fell, screaming and crying out at the vicious hexes.

There were more screams all around as he caught up to a second cloaked wizard. Foregoing use of his wand, Harry tackled his target, knocking him to the ground. He quickly cast standard binding and anti-apparition spells before beginning pursuit of the additional attackers.

As it turned out, there was only one left, the others were wounded or had apparated away. Harry closed in on the feminine-looking figure and quickly cast a disarming spell. Two or three additional spells had her bound and secured with the others that had been captured. He back tracked to Colin’s shop, wand out and looking furtively from side to side. Hermione seemed to have taken control of the situation there and was ordering various people to several tasks. Even the Aurors seemed to be minding her as they collected the bound prisoners into a large group. Healers had finally arrived on the scene and were attending to those injured by the explosion. Additional mediwizards were arriving to deal with the people that had been hurt by spells.

Hermione saw him return and she bustled over, eyeing him for injuries. Wordlessly, she went to work on the cut on his arm, waving her wand in swirling patterns over the wound. When the cut had healed, she nodded at him briefly, her eyes betraying the panic and fear she was feeling. He touched her cheek briefly and gave her a small, worried smile before moving away towards a group of Aurors.

Arthur Weasley caught up to him, having been alerted by the old wards the Order had set up around Diagon Alley in the last war. There had been a period of time when the magical government had practically shut down and the Order had secretly set up the wards, monitoring for any Dark activity. Remus Lupin and Tonks were following him, occasionally stopping to talk to some wizard or another.

“Did you see what happened?” Arthur asked.

Harry nodded grimly. “We caught the man that triggered the explosion at Colin’s. He’s a Malfoy. What about the bookstore?”

Remus shook his head. “Not sure who set it off yet. When that second one hit, several people streamed out of all different places. We’re still trying to sort it out.”

Arthur frowned. “What about Hermione? Is she alright?”

Harry motioned to her. “I’d say so. She seems to be handling that area pretty well.”

“I’ll help her out,” Tonks said, cutting into their conversation. “The three of you need to go talk to Shacklebot, over there.” She gestured to the familiar wizard. “I arrived with the Aurors,” she added, unnecessarily.

Harry walked with Arthur and Remus to talk to Kingsley. He updated him on what had happened prior to the explosions and answered the rapid-fire questions with precision. No, he hadn’t seen any suspicious activity. No, he hadn’t sensed any Dark magic in the area. After Shacklebot had finished interrogating him, Harry pulled Arthur and Remus aside.

“We need to push up the meeting. Everyone needs to be ready with their portkeys at midnight.”

No reply was required for this directive. Harry went to get Hermione, convincing her that the Aurors were perfectly capable of handling the situation and that they needed to get to the hospital for her mother. He was actually a little scared by her complete tranquility. He grasped her hand in his and Apparated them both to a safe point near St. Mungo’s. They entered through Purge and Dowse Ltd. into the reception area of the hospital, where they were immediately accosted by a medical team.

“We’re fine!” Harry eventually had to shout over their questions. “Who do we see about a Muggle that was injured in the explosion?” he asked of one of the intern Healers.

“Over there,” the intern gestured to another room on the right before going to the next explosion victim.

They found themselves in the Muggle intake waiting room. During the last war, hundreds of Muggles had fallen victim to magical spells and injuries and the Muggle government had demanded that the wizarding hospital treat the victims. Harry had not been to this place since Hermione’s father had been killed-

“Sir?” Hermione’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I need to see my mother, Carole Granger.”

A young nurse was lounging at the reception desk, but he was fully alert to Hermione’s presence. Harry knew the ward had been used very infrequently in the last five years and this young man seemed almost excited by all the activity.

“Oh, yes! She was brought in just a bit ago. Room 413.” He directed her to the fireplace behind the desk and they entered the Apparition portal silently. Carole Granger’s room was on the ground level of the new hospital wing (the additional wing, located in some other part of London, was added during the war,) that could only be accessed via this special transport. They approached the doorway cautiously and Harry was surprised to see a sole Healer in the room, bent over the bed and checking various Muggle instruments surrounding the bed.

Carole was sitting in the bed, looking perky and wide-eyed. She smiled as they entered and nodded to the Healer.

“Healer Marsh has been just lovely. Hermione, she treats both Muggles and wizards.”

Hermione smiled at her mother and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright; I’m a little bruised, but nothing too serious. What’s happening in Diagon Alley?” she asked, as the Healer began testing her blood pressure.

“Initial reports are pretty unclear at this point,” Harry answered. “We’ll know more specifics tomorrow.” He settled in a chair next to the bed as Hermione sat next to her mum. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Carole nodded and looked at the Healer, as if expecting her to answer any further questions on that topic.

“Dr. Granger suffered a few bruises from the impact of those shockwaves and her lower leg is fractured. We’ve put a cast on her and she’ll need to be on crutches for about eight weeks.”

“You’ll come stay with us,” Hermione stated. Harry nodded his support.

“Nonsense. I’ll be able to get around home just fine.”

“Don’t be silly, Mum. London is so dreary this time of year anyway. Stay with us, you’ll have plenty of company and you can enjoy Hogsmeade.”

“Ms. Granger, I’m not sure –“ the Healer began, looking worried over their plans.

“My mother has been privy to the goings-on of the wizarding world for over ten years. She has clearance from the Ministry to access all magical dwellings and places.” Hermione’s tone was firm, but Harry saw fire in her eyes. This Healer was quickly getting on her bad side.

“Of course, ma’am. I apologize.” She left after administering an injection of light pain medicine and warning Hermione that her mother would need to stay over night to make sure that there wasn’t any magical residue from the explosion. Hermione talked some more with her mother until visiting hours ended. Her expression had remained calm throughout the entire meeting and she had even talked cheerfully about the upcoming holidays. Harry found himself fidgeting constantly and occasionally checking in at the nurse’s station to see if any owls had been left for him. Finally, Hermione stood up to leave and kissed her mother goodbye. Harry also kissed her cheek and they walked out of St. Mungo’s silently. There were still people rushing in and out of the doors and Harry began to seriously worry about Muggles noticing all the fuss. He saw several Order members and even more Aurors about and a part of him wished that he could stay to help out. The claw-like grip Hermione had on his hand made him realize that it was definitely not a good idea to stay behind.

They Apparated from an alley to the Leaky Cauldron and from there, they flooed home. As soon as she stepped foot over the threshold of their home, Hermione’s calm and collected demeanor collapsed. He saw her face collapse and heard a sharp intake of breath as he gathered her to him, pressing urgent kisses against her lips. She responded in kind and he was pained to feel her hot tears against his face. He pulled back from her and panicked slightly at the look in her eyes.

He quickly began running his hands over her arms and face, checking for damage.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?”

A loud sob escaped her throat as she threw her arms around him again. “I’m – I’m fine. I can’t- she could have died Harry! What would I have done?”

He kissed her again, still feeling strangely panicky. He loved Carole Granger, but his Hermione had been so close to the explosion. She melted against him, pressing her own lips furtively to his. He wrapped his arms around her, thankful that she was whole.

“She’s going to be fine, she’s in good hands now and she’ll be here in the morning. You can fuss over her the whole time she’s here.”

Her expression was tender and she nodded, reaching a hand up to caress his face gently. It had been a rough week for them, between Andie’s poisoning and now this. They hadn’t spent much time together as Harry had begun working with Ron to find out who had poisoned his best friend’s wife and Hermione had been staying with Andie all day and most nights. They hadn’t talked about the kiss that had been interrupted by Ron’s news, but had done quite the spectacular job of dancing around it. It had been awkward and awfully tense around their house ever since. Tonight, somehow, none of that mattered. They had escaped unscathed once more and Harry felt an overwhelming need to possess her, to reaffirm life. She shuddered slightly against him, fresh tears welling in her eyes. For several long moments, they watched each other carefully, much remaining unspoken in their gazes. He was holding his breath, waiting for what would happen next.

“We need to go back to London,” she said finally, pulling out of his arms. In a matter of seconds, she was all business. “There’s a witness report to file at the Ministry and our Portkey is at Grimmauld Place. Is Ron-?”

Harry nodded, letting his own mask of calm detachment fall into place. “As far as I know, everyone will be there; they were all going to attend the original meeting, but I think Molly is going to stay with Andie.”

Hermione’s eyebrows knit together with concern. The poison that Andie had ingested still caused her a bit of trouble. She had been in near constant pain, suffered from lethargy and hadn’t yet regained full use of her magic. Ron and Harry had arranged for someone to be with her round the clock.

Harry checked the Muggle clock over the fireplace. It was just after 10pm. They would travel by Floo to the Ministry and eventually, Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Hermione tossed the powder into the flames and shouted out “Ministry of Magic!” before stepping into the hearth. Harry went in with her, his hand linked with hers.

As expected, the Ministry was a madhouse. The lobby was crammed with reporters and Aurors and Ministry officials were darting all over the place. They went to the wand checkpoint and from there, took the lift to Level Two. Auror Headquarters was actually fairly quiet. Limited staff was on duty, as most everyone else was needed in Diagon Alley. A receptionist greeted them and seemed to know why they were there. She smiled sympathetically as she handed over the parchments with the witness questionnaire. Both Harry and Hermione had been through this ordeal multiple times and quickly settled at a long table to begin filling out the form.

Hermione, of course, was far better at writing the statement and Harry just did his best to remember everything. These questionnaires were just a formality – they would also have to deposit memories of what had happened into a Greater Pensieve. She finished her writing before he did and watched patiently as he added a few details about the criminals he had chased down.

“All set then?” the receptionist asked as she led them into a darkened room. She motioned for Hermione to sit in an easy chair and handed her a small vial of sky blue potion, which would help the Ministry witch to remove an accurate memory. Hermione knocked the potion back quickly and grimaced at the foul taste. Harry watched as her eyes closed and the receptionist touched a wand to Hermione’s temple. A thin, silver thread clung to the tip and was placed quickly into the Pensieve. After a moment, Hermione’s eyes fluttered and she stood to allow Harry to go through the same motions.

“Right then, it looks as if Auror Wenlock will be handling your statements. I have all your information and he’ll owl if he has any additional questions.”

Harry nodded and thanked her before ushering Hermione back to the lift. They went to the Atrium and from there, flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. Tom had closed the floo in his pub for all but emergency travel, but they had been given clearance by the barkeep many years ago. Harry looked at his watch and noted that Ron ought to be waiting for them in the main bar. It was standard practice that they all attend the Order meetings together.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice called to them from across the noisy pub. Reporters clamored about and there were Ministry personnel going back and forth between Diagon Alley and Muggle London.

Clutching Hermione’s hand, he wordlessly made his way over. Ron just nodded in greeting and stood to lead the small group to the private back room used for Apparition. No consensus was needed on their projected point.

Grimmauld Place reeked of disuse, as no one had regularly inhabited the building in five years. The screaming portrait of Mrs. Black had been removed long ago, in a venting-session by the Trio after a particularly frustrating false lead on their horcrux hunt. Most of the other traces of filth and dark magic were also long gone. They had lived in Grimmauld Place on and off for nearly a year and had spent considerable time cleaning the place up.

After Dumbledore’s death a piece of property had been transferred into Harry’s name. Legally, the property did not exist; Harry merely became the owner through a series of complicated heirship spells. As far as they could tell, it was Unplottable and Unknowable by all but those deemed safe by the owner of the place. The headquarters of the Order had been relocated to the old castle that was situated on the emerald green and golden pastures of Dumbledore’s ancestral home.

The Trio arrived in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and looked at each other solemnly.

“Is everyone ready?” Harry asked evenly.

Hermione nodded and Ron just stared ahead blankly. Harry checked his watch and, satisfied with his timing, began waving his wand in a complicated pattern over the center of the long kitchen table. There was a gentle flick and a pair of spectacles appeared in mid-air, hovering six or seven inches over the surface of the table. Harry nodded at Ron and Hermione and they all touched their fingers to the glasses. Harry closed his eyes as the familiar hook behind his naval tugged at him.

They landed softly on a stretch of lawn leading up to a large, looming castle. The night was clear and icy cold and they moved quickly towards the warm sanctuary.

Several other Order members were making the familiar trek up the grassy expanse, where they would wait for Harry to open the doors to Idyllwild Castle. During the last War, they had meetings here weekly, if not more frequently. After the war Harry, as the leader of the group, had dictated that meetings were to continue on a yearly basis and that a rotating group of members would attend. Harry had never once attended a yearly meeting, working instead through Remus. Strangely, no one had objected to this, or to the fact that Hermione and Ron also did not attend. Instead, they were all protected by the Order and given room to live their lives peacefully for awhile.

That time for peace had now officially ended. Harry had called for the meeting as he had promised Ron. The entire membership was to be present. There were dozens of people waiting on the stone steps leading up to the huge wooden entrance. Harry shouldered through them and once again, drew his wand. Concentrating, he cast the spell to undo the enchantments on the locks and a large clunking noise told him that he had succeeded. With a feeling of dread, he pushed the heavy doors open.

Rather than the musty scent of Grimmauld Place, they were greeted by the sweet smell of sun-drenched wood and wildflowers. The inside of the place had been enchanted to smell opposite of the season outside, with the windows magicked to display the same. Harry had always been secretly thrilled when the whole castle smelled like Christmas in July and a blizzard raged in the windows. Tonight, however, it was just a clear, summer sky. He barely noticed as the group shuffled its way to the large meeting room. Various people scattered to begin putting things in order. There was coffee to be made and food to set out. Chairs and tables had to be situated and the final agenda had to be approved by the senior members. Harry hated this time most, as it felt like a huge waste, but it had been his decision to have all members arrive at the same time. He felt safer if they traveled in numbers and it made it far easier to coordinate the wards for the castle. It was, of course, Unplottable, and he had limited transportation to specially made Portkeys that all members had.

Hermione was following him closely as he led her, Ron, Professor McGonagall, Remus, Tonks and Arthur Weasley into a small office off of the large meeting room. It had been Dumbledore’s study in the years before he became Headmaster at Hogwarts. He faced the group grimly.

“Do we need to discuss the full agenda for the night or should we assume that this meeting will be only about the attack?”

“I propose we have a full meeting, Harry. There are several topics that need discussed and we need to have a plan of action for multiple situations,” Remus stated.

“I second that,” said Professor McGonagall, her voice hollow.

“Alright then, what are the topics?” Harry asked.

“Well, obviously, the Attack. And Oistin Beryan,” Hermione listed, ticking off her fingers.

“And Andie’s poisoning,” Ron added. Harry looked at his friend carefully and felt a lump rise in his throat as he saw the pain in his eyes. Harry nodded once in agreement.

“We need to discuss plans for handling further attacks,” Arthur said quickly.

“And we need to get in touch with international affiliates, to see if there’s any other activity,” Hermione added.

“We’ll need a task force looking into Beryan and his groupies,” Tonks said, frowning. “I’ll confer with Shacklebot after the meeting about Ministry cooperation.”

“Anything else?” Harry said, looking at each member of the assembled group.

They all shook their heads and Harry muttered a spell over a piece of parchment on the desk. He knew that on each chair in the outer chamber, there would be an identical parchment outlining the agenda for the meeting. Their processes for meetings had become much more formalized after Dumbledore’s death, largely due to Hermione’s influence. Their ranks had grown considerably in the last months of the war and more organization had become necessary.

As they all filed out of the office, Harry was pleased to note that everyone else was waiting. This meeting had the potential to go on for several hours and all the members seemed ready to go.

He took a seat at the head table, feeling relief wash over him at simply being able to sit down. He felt exhaustion creep through him slowly, but he staved it off and took a deep breath before beginning the meeting in a fairly informal manner.

“Evening everyone, thanks for being here,” he said, his voice amplified magically. “I realize that this has all happened on pretty short notice, but recent events have made this a necessary meeting. Before we begin moving through the official agenda, are there any questions regarding issues not listed on your sheets?”

A small witch named Fae stood up. “Harry, what’s going on? There are specific topics on the agenda, but when did it suddenly get so bad?”

Harry sighed. “That’s a question I believe we have yet to answer. This meeting is basically to discuss that very thing. Are there any other questions?” Harry waited several moments to see if anyone else spoke up before he pressed on. He looked out over the fifty or so Order members, a much higher number than during Dumbledore’s leadership. He saw Ginny at a table closest to the front, her expression dark and sad. He nodded once at her and she stood to address the group.

“Our first order of business this evening is the poisoning of Andromeda Dickens Weasley. Hermione and I have consulted and researched this situation since its occurrence. We have found substantial proof that the poison used was the fairly common herb used by witches for health reasons, dong quai.”

At this point, Hermione intervened. “Using Dong quai during pregnancy can cause a miscarriage. A strong enough dose – it’s an herbal alternative to abortion. We believe that the house elves at Hogwarts were bewitched to make the tea. A charm was then used to make it smell, look and taste like pumpkin juice.”

“The poison used has led us to conclude that it was not the intention that Andie die, but that she would indeed miscarry,” Ginny said quietly, averting her eyes from her brother’s gaze. At this, the strong murmur that had been building in the room erupted to full out chatter. Harry ignored it for a moment, taking the time to look carefully at his best friend. Ron was staring straight ahead, his face still and pained. His blues eyes were clear and dark and Harry felt a tremendous wave of guilt wash over him; Ron’s pain was too public here.

Harry whistled loudly and everyone quickly quieted down. He waved off the questions and moved right into the discussion of Beryan. He shared the information he had given to Ron, Hermione and Arthur. From that point, the meeting progressed naturally through the attack on Diagon Alley and what would be done for further attacks.

Frequently, several Order members stepped from the room to answer owls. There was still work being done by the Ministry and several employees had to beg off to attend the Order’s meeting. It was quite unusual, however, when a large, gray owl swooped right to Harry. It looked pointedly at him as it held its leg out. Harry took the thin roll of parchment and the owl took to air immediately. The entire group seemed nervous over the message and watched silently as Harry read the note.

The Order is powerless against us. Your work has been too dedicated to sullying the blood that keeps us so strong. The efforts of your members have destroyed our world and all will be made known.

Harry’s face paled and Hermione was soon at his side, reading the note. She made a strangled noise and handed the note off to Remus, who paused to look it over before reading it aloud to the group.

There was another breakout of chatter, punctuated occasionally by an individual voice breaking through. It was McGonagall, much to Harry’s surprise, who finally took control of the room.

“Silence!” she shouted, reminding him instantly of Dumbledore. “This is nothing but an empty threat and your arguing will do nothing to help. We must come up with a plan to buy more time, to find out whatever information we can.”

“We need to scale back our work, Minerva,” a witch named Eloise called out, her thin voice sounding pinched and agitated.

There were murmurs of agreement as Harry addressed Eloise, “How do you mean?”

Eloise shifted uncomfortably, but kept her head high and held Harry’s gaze. “We’ve spent a lot of energy and resources on the education plans. We need to scale back and move our resources to defense.”

It was immediately obvious that several other members agreed. Hermione shifted next to him, obviously agitated about what was being said. Harry turned to look at Ron, who typically handled strategy with Remus and Arthur. Ron was just staring down at the surface of the table, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“I’m not so sure I agree,” Harry finally said. “We’ve worked very hard, both at Hogwarts and in more grassroots-type campaigns, to increase Muggle awareness. One of our own members has made significant advancement in the science of magic and others have worked tirelessly to promote better cooperation with Muggle governments. We are entering a period of unprecedented growth and acceptance-”

“To stop now would be disastrous,” Hermione finally said, seemingly not caring that she had interrupted him. “The magical community needs help to get through this, to make sure that the fear of change doesn’t spread too far. One wrong move and it’ll be 1998 all over again.”

The only reply from the assembled group was silence. They seemed divided on a response and Harry felt his patience stretch even thinner. He ground his teeth and looked at several of his old classmates scattered throughout the room. They had been the heart of the last War. Voldemort’s war hadn’t been with their parents, but with his peers. Too many friends, too many students had been killed in the last battles for this matter to be taken lightly. They had seen first hand what prejudice would breed.

The older members of the Order seemed far more hesitant to embrace such open-mindedness when it came to the Muggle world. It was increasingly common for young witches and wizards to use computers, but Molly Weasley, and many like her, still used candles to light her home. Harry fumed at the hand wringing and the indecision. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping satisfyingly against the floor.

“Frankly, it’s even ridiculous that we’re having this debate,” he started, his voice deep and commanding.

“Now, Harry-“ came the arbitrating voice of Arthur Weasley.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to say this. This group has remained cohesive during the last several years because we agreed it was important to work for change. We were too complacent between the last two wars. We had a government that was unwilling to acknowledge any problems until it was too late and we had too many families identifying with the propaganda being spewed by the Death Eaters.

“Nothing has changed since then, not really, if we’re even considering pulling back and hedging our bets. We’re too comfortable and too afraid to make waves. This current group of Dark Wizards is nowhere near the level of organization required to be the same threat as Voldemort was. This attack on Diagon Alley is so miniscule compared to what he pulled at his most powerful. We need to take the offense, stop them in their tracks. If you think we can’t handle it…” he trailed off, the anger still evident on his face.

He saw several ashamed faces watching him and he was urged forward, feeling a surge of hope that his message hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. “We need to work closely with the Ministry and get in touch with our international contacts. I want to know what’s going on in America and on the continent. We need to better understand the cohesion in this new group. So, I’ll leave it up to you. Shall we sit here in the dark, holding our breath for them to strike first, or are we going to step up?”

Heated debate rippled through the room and Harry began to panic that he had overestimated them. Finally, after what felt like hours, Eloise stood once more. “I’d like to raise a motion.”

“Alright,” Harry replied wearily.

“I’d like to move that we set aside resources to be dedicated to information gathering. I myself would like to know who’s responsible for blowing up that darling little shop and who poisoned Ron’s lovely wife.”

Harry felt a surge of relief as others agreed and Charlie Weasley seconded the motion. It was simple and a large understatement of the current situation, but it was a prime example of the simple good-heartedness that had guided Dumbledore’s Order from Day One. This was the pure essence of it. He nodded his approval and began to draw the meeting to a close, noting by his watch that dawn wasn’t far off. His closing remarks were interrupted by Tonks.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” “The Daily Prophet’s in,” Tonks said loudly, waving the paper in the air. She passed it over to Harry and returned to her seat.

Harry unfolded the paper and looked carefully at the front page. “The Prophet is saying fourteen killed by the explosion at Colin Creevy’s shop and nine killed by the explosion at Flourish & Blott’s. Several others were injured. Creevy is being reported as dead, as is Melinda Heathcoat, an assistant at the bookstore. Numbers are confirmed by the Ministry.”

***

Christmas Eve day dawned bright and incredibly cold. Hermione bustled through the ground floor of her home, lighting fires and placing anti-draft charms on all the windows. She lit all the fairy lights on the tree and turned the wizarding wireless to Christmas carols once again. Her mother was settled comfortably in the downstairs guest bedroom and she checked in to offer tea.

When she finally made it to the kitchen, Harry was already standing at the stove watching the tea kettle begin to steam. She avoided his gaze as she set about getting heavy, ceramic mugs from the cabinet.

“Hermione…” he trailed off, his expression pained.

She turned to him and sighed. “I know, I know. We need to talk.”

Harry looked at her pointedly.

“I just – I can’t yet, Harry. There’s too much else going on and I feel so – so selfish to even be thinking about… you know.” Her stomach was fluttering wildly as she talked, her nervousness evident in her overzealous hand gestures. She had been putting off this huge monster of a conversation for nearly two weeks and he hadn’t been making it any easier on her. She was rescued from further confrontation by the charm ringing from the fireplace.

She rushed over as the flames turned green and Andie stepped from the hearth, her face looking slightly brighter than it had been only the day before.

“Hi,” Hermione said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Andie shrugged. “A bit better, not so achy today,” she replied. Hermione knew she was avoiding the real question but didn’t press any further.

“I’m about to take some tea into Mum, would you like a cup?”

“I’ll take it in to her, if you like. I swear, Hermione, your mum is about the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hermione smiled. “That’s fine. Is Ron coming by?”

“Eventually. I was up earlier than he was.” Hermione looked at Andie carefully again and was struck once more by how ghostly her eyes were.

She handed over the mug of tea and gestured Andie down the back hall. She watched as the tall figure retreated, her shoulders hunched and her long, chestnut hair hanging loose and lifeless over her back.

Harry and Hermione worked their way through a pot of tea and a hearty breakfast and Andie still had not reappeared in the kitchen. Harry made his excuses before heading out to the Ministry. Hermione knew there was a stake-out in progress on a suspected hideout of one of Beryan’s cronies and that Harry was anxious for any news. She kissed his cheek and waved goodbye and he stepped through the Floo.

She picked up three fresh mugs of tea and floated them behind her towards the guest room. The door was slightly ajar and she heard hushed voices spilling out. It became quickly apparent that someone was crying.

“I should have known, there had to be something off. How could I be so stupid and careless?” Hermione winced as she heard Andie’s strangled voice.

There were hushing noises before Hermione finally heard her own mother’s soothing voice. “No one can prepare you for what it’s like to be a mother. Even before your baby is born, you are responsible for its health and well-being. It’s easy to get caught up in it, to imagine your family and to picture those sweet little feet, with ten toes, covered in little blue socks, but it’s so, so fragile. It’s the simple feeling of loss, isn’t it? No one else seems to understand.”

Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat at her mother’s words and felt tears slip down her cheeks as her mother continued, “I lost my husband to all this darkness in your world, but before that I lost a baby. Before Hermione was born, I miscarried a little boy. We’d decided to call him James, but he died when I was five months pregnant. The doctors weren’t sure that he was actually gone, but I knew. They gave me some medical justification for it, but I don’t even remember –“ Hermione imagined that her mother had placed her thin, elegant hand against her breast. “It doesn’t really matter what caused it, does it? It’s not your fault though; you must know that. It doesn’t feel that way now, but it’s still the truth.”

Andie’s sobs grew louder at this and Hermione made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen, feeling as if she’d been witness to a conversation in which she had no part. She had never known there had been another baby and her heart was broken, thinking of her mother’s hidden pain. She took a seat at the large, round kitchen table and buried her head in her arms, her shoulders shaking with grief.

It was Harry that found her this way and he was hauling her up from the chair to gather her into his arms. She leaned against him, her tears quiet and controlled. He felt warm and was shaking slightly. She finally pulled back and took in his face, which was marked with fear and worry.

“What’s wrong?”

He seemed torn between answering and asking her the same question, but she waved his concern away. Finally, he took a deep breath. “The stake-out became a raid. It was exactly as we thought. They’re a bastardized version of the Death Eaters; they even wear the same masks. We captured several, but Cho Chang killed one of the dark wizards.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “Who died?”

“Beryan.”

She gasped. “You’re joking! And you were right, the other night, weren’t you? You said they weren’t organized and look what happened.”

“She used AK, Hermione.”

This was stunning. Even uses of the Unforgivables during a state of duress were forbidden; the caster always ended up in Azkaban.

“Why would she-“

“We can only guess. There’s a report going around that her nephew was killed in Diagon Alley.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the stakeout was based on some information we actually received from Malfoy. About thirty minutes into it, it turned into a hostage situation. They had Narcissa Malfoy and when Beryan slit her throat, Cho took him out.”

Hermione cringed. “Do we know where Malfoy is?”

Harry shook his head. “No clue. He’s gone completely silent.”

Hermione sighed, feeling anguish slowly building in the pit of her stomach.

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Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.