The Lion and the Unicorn

Dread spirits all of black water, Clan Owen's wild banshee

-Castle Dromore, Traditional

Chapter Five: Castle of Dromore

"What do we do now?" Sirius' voice was laced with bitterness, hopelessness, and weariness. It was not a particularly heartening combination by any means. He let go of Leon's hands and instead picked him up and set him on his knee.

"If we can't use magic against Drifters, we shall have to use something else," Remus stated reasonably. "The fact of the matter is that Voldemort was not beaten because of any great skill with magic- think of it, a mere child caused his downfall. He was beaten because, for the sake of the world, he had to be beaten."

"Agreed, but no Muggle could have defeated the Dark Lord," Anya pointed out, doing her best not to let on that she had known the no-magic rule. Besides, she consoled herself, she had thought it pure myth.

"Yes, but this is the opposite case," Remus argued. "The file doesn't state that Drifters are immortal, does it? And Bill just sent one to meet its maker, by his account, anyway. So if we can't kill them the wizard way, we shall just have to find some other means."

"Goody," Bill grumbled. "Why do I have the feeling this could get messy?"

Everyone ignored him. Apparently, moody Weasleys didn't have priority. "What would you suggest?" Charlie asked. The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Anya asked, brow creasing. "No magic. That leaves Muggle weaponry. And yes, Mr. Weasley, it will get messy, but that's a given. I don't advise complaining now, as it's war we're at here. It certainly isn't going to get better soon."

The Great Hall was perfectly silent, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. What had been evident for a month had been stated in no uncertain terms for the first time, and it was no longer a question of what, but rather who and how.

"It seems we've got an agreement, then," Sirius said finally. "Which leaves the all-important question of who is going to Sicily."

None of the others seemed to make the logical connection. "Why?"

"Mafia corruption," Anya answered automatically. "Play our cards right and we have a perfect and practically endless supply of weaponry. Handguns, machine guns, knives, whatever. And you can't possibly be serious. Have you any idea what those people are like? They'd just as soon kill you as sell you anything, and they'd end up with all of your money anyway."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it either, but do you have a better idea?"

Anya fumed in silence. Better that no one go and live than send someone to get themselves killed. The truth of the matter was, though, that she didn't have a better idea.

The room remained soundless. Even Leon seemed to sense the tension in the room and refrained from uttering his happy nonsense syllables.

"Damn," Sirius spat, rubbing his temples. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Moony, it looks like you and I are going to Italy."

That was certainly unexpected. "Why the two of you? Wouldn't it be better if someone went who could actually walk about freely?"

"My dear Anya, you have forgotten about Padfoot, and I'm sure that he can only be an asset to the journey. As for Remus here, well, as far as I know, he's the only one of us who is fluent in Italian. Kind of ironic, huh?"

"Enough, Sirius," Dumbledore said, putting up a hand to stop his acidic tirade. "You and Remus will go to Sicily for a few days, make the necessary connections, and return here as soon as possible. Mundungus, Arabella, if they're not back in four days, you are to follow them. Under no circumstances, Misters Weasley and Miss Dickinson, are you to interfere. Is that understood?"

There were three reluctant verses of, "Yes, Professor."

And Anya almost smiled to herself, because even though they were grown and had graduated, she still felt like a naughty schoolchild when the headmaster scolded her, and his scoldings were every bit as effective as they had always been. This time, however, the band of delinquents was much less likely to call him nutters behind his back.

*

"I can't believe he's letting them do this," Anya exclaimed, packing up her copy of the Drifter information with a dark scowl on her face. Dumbledore had left the room, presumably to owl the rest of Bill's cell that he would be out of commission for a few days until his magic returned at full strength. "It's suicide, that's what it is. It's not like we can't find enough Muggle weaponry in London- oh, no, we've got to import it from Sicily-"

"Anya." Charlie laid a hand on her shoulder and she felt the tension drain away.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder for a minute. "I've just had a total lifestyle change in a very short period of time. I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown any second. Being a single mother has put me a bit on-edge, but that's no excuse." Oh, I've had this conversation before. Maybe that's a sign that I should let it go…Honestly, could I be more pathetic? "Forgive me?"

"Anya, you're my only friend in the entire country. What would I do without you?" Charlie grinned cheekily at her. "Besides, I'm used to your mood-swings by now. It's our associate Mr. Black I think you've offended."

Indeed, Sirius was muttering to Remus with a darker-than-usual look on his face. He was probably mad because of her 'unhand my nephew, vile fiend' look and subsequent demand (granted, those weren't her exact words). Remus, too, appeared to be in bad humor, and Anya thought it likely that he was angry with Sirius for his advertisement of Remus' Italian. The former pointedly sent a short but particularly nasty glare her way, which she caught immediately. Instead of returning it, however, she pasted a huge fake grin on her face and waved insolently.

Still glowering, only this time with the telltale glint of laughter in his eyes once more, Sirius resumed his conversation.

"He'll get over it," Anya said, picking Leon up off of the floor and handing him to Charlie to put in the carrier again.

"Most likely," Charlie agreed, setting about the delicate business of making sure Leon got secured properly. "You know, it's a lot easier to get the kid out of this thing than it is to put him in it-" There was the sound of a baby shoe sliding on the fabric. "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem- anytime."

Anya watched his retreating back for a few seconds. Finally, her vocal cords would obey her commands. "How does he do that?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that. It's very disturbing."

He shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you it comes with the territory?"

"Probably. It will come in useful in Sicily, at the very least." Anya scowled again, then decided to drop the subject entirely. "So, want to tour the house this afternoon? I still have some serious redecorating to do- Johanna, bless her, had awful taste- and you really aren't following, are you?" she finished, noting the confused look on his face.

"I thought the house burned down?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, but they reconstructed it- they didn't plan on releasing some sort of explanation to the Muggle public, and as there was only one witness I guess they thought it'd be easier just to rebuild it. Convenient for me, anyway, if a little painful."

Charlie smiled. "Don't worry, we'll help you fill it with happier memories. Won't we, Leon?"

Leon buried his face somewhat shyly in Anya's hair.

Charlie's face fell a bit. "He still doesn't like me. I don't get it."

"You probably remind him of Fred," Anya said, chuckling.

"He met Fred?"

Anya grinned. "Yes, and I'd tell you the story over lunch, if you'd give me an answer to my invitation."

"Oh, of course I'm coming. Don't be daft. I expect the complete tour, mind you…"

*

"The best part is, because of the hedge, I can Apparate in and out without Muggles getting suspicious. Or at least, I could, if there were any other houses around that had Muggles living in them to get suspicious. The only other house on the street is the Johnsons', and they're a wizarding family." Anya undid the ward on the inner gate and let Charlie through. "Welcome to the Dromore House."

Charlie looked up- up- up- and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. While it was certainly not the castle of Dromore, a beautiful palace in Kerry, it was both extraordinarily large and somewhat ornate. It had two full floors, with three-story turrets at either end. "Wow," he managed. "A little much for a few people, don't you think? I suppose your brother was planning on having a large family."

Anya shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, but continued walking up the path. "It was our father's, passed down through the family. James' mother inherited it when he died, and when she died, James took over." She sighed. "That was before he was married. He was barely out of school at the time."

"So you had just got the job in Romania?"

"Right. And the Shee, being clannish and inclined to stick to the same spot, didn't like that one bit, so Mum left the house and the rest to James." Anya unlocked the front door and let Charlie in. "Watch your step."

Walking around the luggage that was still stacked haphazardly in the front hall, Charlie took another good look around. "You're right," he said finally. "A little redecorating does seem to be in order."

Anya elbowed him in the stomach. "Next time, just believe me when I tell you-"

There was the sound of shrieking from the open window. Anya and Charlie exchanged glances. "Well, now I know how Leon met Fred." Anya smiled as Charlie stuck his head out the window and yelled, "Oi! Fred! Angelina! Keep it down, will you?"

The shrieking stopped, and after a moment two faces appeared in the window. "Hey, Anya, who's your friend? Why does he sound like my brother? And how's he know my-" Fred stopped. "Hello, Charlie."

"Hi, Fred. Hello, Angelina."

"Hi."

"Care to join us for lunch?" Anya asked, finally managing to sling the baby carrier off of her shoulders without assistance.

"Oh, no thank you," answered Fred. "We'll leave you to enjoy your, um, lunch, did you call it? Alone."

"Fred!" Angelina laughed, smacking him playfully. "You're awful, honestly."

"Yes, I know. Well, goodbye, Charlie, Anya, Leon. We've got our own lunch to enjoy, if you'll excuse us-"

Charlie laughed and shut the window. "Lady and gentleman, my brother, Fred Weasley."

"Are all you Weasleys that bad?" Anya asked him, making her way to the somewhat messy kitchen.

"No," Charlie answered dolefully, as if it were the bane of his existence. "Percy has never broken a single rule in his life and probably wouldn't even have understood what Fred was trying to insinuate. Ron is just as bad as Fred and George, and Ginny's too young yet to tell. I have high hopes, though."

"Sometimes I think you're as crazy as I am," Anya said, shaking her head. "Here, hold Leon for a minute, will you?" She took her wand out from her sleeve and muttered a quick clean-up spell. "So what am I making for lunch?"

*

"What does the page you're looking at say?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Anya replied, shifting the almost-asleep Leon to her other arm. "Drifters bad, killing hard, like to wander, blah blah blah." She flipped forward a few pages. "And the don't-return-to-the-scene-of-the-crime rule, restated fifty thousand times. Want to work on something else?"

"Have you thought of using Dromore House as a base of operations?" Charlie asked.

Anya looked up. "That's a good idea. At the very least it'll make the place feel more lived-in." And we'll be safe for a year, at least from the Drifters. "Do you want to owl Dumbledore or shall I?"

Charlie checked his watch. "Actually, I have to be going. I promised Ginny I'd be home to talk to her." He smiled apologetically as he shuffled the papers together and leaned over to give Anya a peck on the cheek. "Tell you what, though- lunch was at your place; how about dinner chez Weasley?"

She laughed. "Are you ever going to get your own place?"

He shrugged. "Not much point, seeing as I'm going to be living at Hogwarts for ten months of the year. I might see about getting a flat in Hogsmeade, though, for school vacations and such."

"Slacker."

"Yes, I know. You do realize, though, that you haven't given me an answer yet?"

"Sorry," Anya smiled, shifting Leon once again and grimacing as he whined. "I don't want to impose on your mother, though- I'm sure she's very busy."

Charlie snorted. "Are you kidding? She'd go crazy if she didn't have so much to do. We'd end up with an extra member in our cell. Besides, it's a great chance to show off Leon… I can guarantee that Mum loves him already."

"Oh, all right," Anya conceded. "But only because I'm too tired to argue."

"Are not."

"Am too."

"See?"

"I meant to do that."

*

When the three of them appeared in the fireplace at The Burrow, there was something of a commotion. It first appeared in the form of a slight, redheaded rocket that plowed into Charlie at roughly the speed of light.

"Charlie! You're home already. Mum! Charlie's here! And you brought a friend. Hi, I'm Ginny. You must be Anya. I know because Charlie doesn't have any other girl friends. Isn't that pathetic? Tell him he needs to get a life." She said this all very fast.

"Hello," Anya said, stepping out of the fireplace behind Charlie with a slight smile on her lips. "Yes, I'm Anya, and yes, Charlie is pathetic, but don't tell your mum I said that." She removed the Floo-safe baby blanket from around Leon's face. "This is Leon, by the way. He'd say hello, but I'm afraid he's a bit shy."

"Oh!" Ginny squealed. "He's so cute. Can I hold him?"

Anya laid him in her arms. The minute she was relieved of her burden, she was swept up into a bone-crushing hug. Recognizing streaks of gray in the long, dark red hair, Anya assumed that her assailant was Charlie's mother. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she managed to gasp out.

"Anya, dear, you really must call me Molly," Mrs. Weasley said. "I haven't seen you for ages! You look well." She chanced a glance at Ginny and Charlie, who seemed quite involved with Leon. "And is that-"

Anya nodded. "That's him."

Molly softened a bit. "Well, come in for dinner. We've made Charlie's favorite, and there's plenty to go around-"

I don't doubt it. And even though it was kind of ironic, she had to smile when she heard Ginny's whispered question and Charlie's somewhat startled reaction.

"Is he yours?"