Fury

Fury

Chapter Twenty-Six

Another Kind of Dance

Cate woke slowly, groaning. She was warm, and there were still flares of pain, but it was less, somehow. She could hear voices, low murmurs.

"...haven't been able to find him. I don't know where in Merlin's name he got off to this time, but he should be here!" That was Ron, if she wasn't mistaken; his voice got higher, like George's, when he was mad.

"There's got to be something else going on, Ron. Why would she call the Auror's Office, then collapse and refuse care? And now, George is missing? There's more to this."

Cate screamed as the spider ripped again. The spell that had kept her silent before was absent this time. Harry and Ron rushed into the room, followed by a slender woman with a pinched face and nervous eyes.

"George..." she whispered, gagging on the blood and bile rising in the back of her throat. "George..." They didn't appear to hear her.

Lights flared in behind Cate's eyes, and she clawed her way back into oblivion, begging, silently, for the pain to stop.

~*~

There was no pain, this time. She woke slowly again, and was suddenly tired of passing out, of being Stunned, of any unnatural means of falling asleep. Couldn't she wake up once after a full night's rest, refreshed, with George beside her and no problems?

The sun filtered gently through the curtains, but the last thing she remembered, it had been gray and cloudy. Her tongue felt huge, and fuzzy, and there was a hint of blood in the back of her throat. Her fingers tingled.

"Are you feeling any better, dear?"

Cate jerked her head to the side, where Molly Weasley sat in a rocking chair, knitting what appeared to be a deep blue scarf. Cate nodded. "What..."

Molly held up a hand as her wand continued the knitting. "You've had a little problem, but you're getting better now. We've been worried."

Cate struggled to sit up. "What time is it?" Her head felt oddly fuzzy.

"Nearly ten in the morning. Don't worry; we've plenty of time."

Cate frowned at the older woman. "For what?" Her voice was low, rough, and even to her sounded awful.

Molly smiled beatifically, but it was a small smile. "To get you ready for the funeral, dear."

Cate frowned again. "Who's funeral?"

Molly tilted her head, and the scarf continued to grow, though now some of the threads were red. "Why, George's, dear."

~*~

Cate woke with a scream, hands clutching the blankets piled around her chest. She felt strong hands push her down, but she thrust them away, using her nails when possible. She heard cursing and shouts, and she was pushed back against the bed. Sudden pain ripped at her abdomen, but she ignored it.

George was dead. Oh, Merlin, George was dead.

She heard a voice shouting her name, and tried to focus on it, but the pain of George not being there was too much.

"Cate! For Merlin's sake, snap out of it!"

She fought until she couldn't anymore, and her body was racked with sobs. They successfully pushed her back, and she was held there as they poured potions down her throat. She choked a little, but they went down her throat. The pain didn't lessen, but she felt sleep tugging gently at her, and gave in.

She was tired, and George was gone...

~*~

She snapped upright, startling her assailant. The sun was streaming through the windows, and her mind was no longer fuzzy. The pain was gone.

"Cate?" The voice was soft, though masculine, and sounded tired.

She spun, causing the room to spin with her. "What?"

Harry's face came into focus, his eyes tired and his face scratched. "Are you there this time?"

She frowned. "Of course. Where's George?"

Harry sagged slightly. "We were hoping you could tell us. You haven't seen him?"

The silver spider poked her warningly, and she winced. "What time is it?"

Harry glanced at the clock. "It's ten in the morning." He sighed, glancing at a sheet of paper. "Your grandmother's funeral is at one."

Cate struggled to get out from under the covers. "I have to get ready. You can go now."

Harry stood up and helped her get to her feet. "What happened to you?"

Cate brushed him off. "Nothing I can't handle. Part of... I need to get ready. My family is expecting me."

Harry backed up a pace. "Your cousins are waiting for you in the living room. I think they're here to help."

Cate stared at the closed door, and took a deep breath. "Let them in. I...just, I need to get ready."

Harry watched her pace nervously, watched her stumble, and nodded. "Fine. But we'll talk after the funeral."

Cate blinked. "Of course. You're going to be there, aren't you." It wasn't really a question.

Harry nodded. "I liked your grandmother. She was a great supporter of my department."

Cate didn't respond, and he left. As he opened the door, all of her female cousins tumbled in, bearing several different robes in several shades of black. Harry watched for a moment, and she saw him watching, but she ignored him, and one of the girls shut the door.

It took her several moments to recognize her cousins, and she felt a flush of shame. Had it been so long?

Demeter was there, with her twin, Persephone. Persie sported a small diamond on her left hand, and a matching band; so she had married, then, while Cate had been gone. Demi didn't have a diamond, but she wore a ruby nearly twice the size of her sister's diamond. When Cate asked, she spouted something in Russian and beamed. Persie snorted and explained that while yes, Demi was engaged to a Russian named Yuri, they weren't going to be married for three years, while he finished some project for the Russian Magical Authority. And she was Persie White, now, thank you very much; her husband was the long suffering Ed, who'd put up with her since they'd both been in Third Year. They'd been married for a little under a year.

Their little sister, who'd been thirteen when Cate left, was now nearly a woman grown, Rhea pronounced proudly, and a little shyly. She was going to be stunning, Cate thought with detachment. She pulled at Cate's hair and tutted over it before drawing her wand and performing several complicated beauty spells; since no one else seemed to care, Cate said nothing.

Twins Vicki and Ellie were going through the pile of black robes, trying to find one that would fit. Ellie interrupted her twin often, and also the other girls, voicing her own opinion in a brash and carrying voice. She wasn't the cousin Cate remembered. And her sister and the other girls seemed to think that this was normal, that Ellie be rude and bossy. Vicki flicked things at her sister behind her back, but that was nothing new. She'd grown taller, if that was possible.

Her cousin Cornelia was going through her small shoe rack, throwing them into a haphazard pile, before pulling out a small bag and pulling out several pairs of black shoes from her own closet. She, too, sported a diamond, though it was nearly invisible; her fiancé was a Muggle, she proudly proclaimed, while whipping out her wand and resizing several shoes so that they'd fit Cate.

And there was one addition. Apparently, her cousin Benjamin had married Reagan, that sweet, quiet girl, who sat in the corner, hands folded neatly, wearing black dress robes and trying not to get hit by any flying shoes.

Cate let them fuss over her; better that then thinking right now. In a couple of hours, she would kill Harry, to save George.

In less time than she would have guessed, she was wearing a pair of low heels, dress robes that fell to her knees in panels and looked elegant rather than dowdy, and her coarse black hair was pulled back neatly away from her face. She even had makeup, though she didn't remember which cousin put it on.

When she entered the main room, Harry was waiting for her, with Ron, both dressed in black, and a couple other men that she didn't recognize. She was introduced, by rapturous cousins, to Ed White, whom she vaguely remembered, Yuri Olsanko, whom she hadn't met before, and who had a nose to rival hers, and then she was hugged by her cousin Benjamin, who looked completely different than she remembered. They all wore black, even the Aurors, and suddenly, the reality hit her. Her grandmother was dead. She was going to kill Harry. And then she would die.

All to save George. Well, her grandmother would have died anyway, and what a callous thought that was.

They filed through the doorway, and Harry held out a long metal wand, something he called a "tire iron". They all touched it, and the Portkey activated, pulling behind her navel. Apparently, the silver spider didn't like that; it shifted uncomfortably, and she nearly let go of the iron wand. But they landed safely in the Atrium of the New Ministry, and the spider settled down.

Ron led the way, and she lagged behind her cousins, who were chatting somberly now that they'd arrived. Harry hung in the back, next to her, and looked concerned. He pulled on her sleeve and led her into a little alcove, one that had a full view of the Atrium and was apparently used by security guards.

"Are you alright?"

Cate shrugged. "As alright as I can be."

Harry frowned. "You seem..."

Cate sneered slightly. "Different? Can't imagine why."

Harry shook his head. "Do you know where George is?"

Cate straightened, put on a haughty face, and attempted to look down on him. "Is this an interrogation, Auror Potter?"

Harry's spine stiffened in response. "Of course not, Cate."

She glanced at the retreating backs of her cousins. "Then I'd like to get to the funeral, if you don't mind." She made sure that the tone her mother often used with her was present in the words.

Harry grunted, as if struck. "After you. I insist."

~*~

The room where her grandmother's funeral was held was long and narrow, with a high ceiling. It was done in pearly gray marble, like smoke caught in stone, and had two straight rows of circular columns in matching marble. Her grandmother's coffin, and she nearly stumbled over the thought, lay at the far end, where her father and his siblings had already formed a line, all looking solemn in black dress robes. Her cousins sat grouped in the chairs near the front, and there was a small crowd already gathered, of family and friends, near the entrance.

Cate pushed through them, with Harry close at her heels. She wanted desperately, suddenly, to lose him in the crowd, but it wasn't big enough for that, and anyway, she was nearly the tallest of the girl cousins; she tended to stand out. George would have said that was a good thing. The silver spider twisted in her stomach, and the dull ache of its presence spread slightly.

She found a seat behind her sister, who was looking perfect, as always, with her husband beside her with his arm over her shoulder. She could almost hear Isabelle asking where George was, and hoped no one would ask.

Harry sat in the chair next to her, and Ron, who'd been behind a column near her cousins, moved to sit a few rows behind them. She felt flanked.

She turned to him, careful to keep her voice low. "Is there a reason you're following me?"

Harry looked hurt, suddenly. "I thought we were family now, Cate. Ron's saving a couple of seats for the rest of the family. We had to find someone to watch the kids. A couple of someones, actually."

Cate took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit...stressed. The moon, you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's fine. I understand."

Over the next hour, nearly a hundred people trickled into the room, greeting her parents, aunts, and uncles, and offering condolences. She was suddenly glad that she hadn't gone up there, yet; she didn't deserve the sympathy. Harry kept at her side, but the rest of the Weasleys- Molly and Arthur, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Percy and Audrey- were now behind them. She'd heard Molly ask after George, but kept her face steadfastly forward. She didn't hear what Ron responded, and was glad that she hadn't. Thinking about him hurt, both literally and figuratively.

Every time she thought about George, the spider took a tiny bite, and the pinches were getting progressively worse, as was the numbness. It was spreading. She wondered what it would be like to die from silver poisoning. She hoped it would be quick.

And then it was one o'clock. The line disappeared, and suddenly the chairs were full, and there was a hush over the crowd. Her father, with shaking hands, cast a spell over himself, and his voice filled the room.

"My name is Hierophant Moon. My mother..." He cleared his throat, looking down. "My mother wrote this before she...before she died. She told me to read it here, before you. She didn't want someone else to get the details wrong, she said." He looked at the sheet of parchment clutched in his white fingers. "We are here to mourn the passing of Andromache Elspeth Moon, though she always hated her first name. She preferred to be called Elspeth, with was, to her, a much prettier name, and much easier to say. She had always been fascinated by names. Just ask her children." There was a small chuckle, and her father took strength from it.

"Elspeth was born to Clarion and Electra Watson, and aren't those two names proof of how interesting names can be? She was the sister of Ophelia Watson, who died too young. Her parents both lived to be nearly one hundred and twenty, and retired in Scotland, where she had been born and spent much of her youth. She was born on February 21, in the year 1911, though she often said it was much sooner than that. She attended Hogwarts, and was a member of the Ravenclaw House, where she met her husband, Tarot Moon. They began dating late in their fifth year, after a particularly rousing Divination class. They married shortly after graduation, and began to travel the world. She claims that they'd have gotten farther if the War hadn't broken out not long after, and so they returned to England only a couple of years after they left and helped the war effort. And when the war was over, and Grindelwald defeated, they decided to start a family. A rather large family, it can be said." Here, Cate's father began to sob in earnest, and his sister, Cate's aunt Temperance, stood and took over the parchment.

Temperance's voice was calmer, though still rough with unshed tears. "My mother had seven children, and, because her husband's name was 'Tarot', she decided to amuse herself and name her children after the cards that had predicted that the two would marry. My eldest brother, Hierophant, was born first, obviously, followed by my twin brothers, Strength and Chariot, and then Justice, and then me, Temperance, and then the two youngest, Tower and Judgment. They lived a happy, peaceful life, until the First War with Voldemort."

There were a few shivers in the crowd, as well there might be. It had been years, now since the Dark Lord's defeat, but his name still brought fear to those who had survived his terror.

"In that first war, my mother lost her husband, the love of her life, as well as her twin sons, to the evil. But the years went on, and she gained grandchildren. And if they didn't quite make up for her losses, they were still her pride and joy. And then came the second war."

Cate shuddered. Merlin, no wonder her father hadn't been able to speak.

"In this war to end wars, Elspeth lost two of her grandsons, who were standing up for what they believed in, and died defending that belief. And though it was hard, she pulled her family together after that heartbreaking war, and they continued to grow, with the addition of new husbands and wives for her grandchildren.

"In the end, it was illness, not heartache, that took my mother from us. She wanted to stay, she said, but she just...couldn't. And so, she is now with her beloved husband, sons, and grandsons, and she is at peace."

Cate sat there, stunned into silence. There was nothing said about her grandmother's strength, her humor, her talent for wards and cursebreaking. There were just bare facts. And suddenly, Cate knew that her grandmother had written the words. Everyone who knew her knew what she had been like; there was no need to detail her many accomplishments, because she had been most proud of her family.

The people stood, and raised their wands. Cate joined them, her hand shaking, and Harry stood next to her, his eyes fierce. There was a low glow, and then nothing.

It felt anticlimactic.

Harry pulled her along as the line formed again, to say one last goodbye. And then, there was a voice in her ear, telling her that now was the time. As soon as they were in front of her family, in front of everyone, she would take the knife, and kill Harry.

There was a tingling in her fingers, and the knife appeared. She hid it quickly up her sleeve, grateful that no one could truly see in the crowd. Harry hadn't let go of her arm, and pulled her with him. Space opened in front of him, the Hero of the Second War, and she was dragged behind him. They soon lost Ron and the other Weasleys in the crush.

They were in front of her uncle, Judgement, and her Aunt Helena, and then her Uncle Tower and Aunt Sofia. She didn't know what she said, and knew it didn't matter; they wouldn't remember it anyway. Her Aunt Temperance stood shakily between her two daughters, who both had tears running down their cheeks. For the first time, she realized how alone her aunt must feel; the only sibling whose spouse had died. Uncle Justice was sagging, and Aunt Veronica was having trouble holding him upright.

And then they were in front of her parents. Her mother's face had two perfect trails of tears that made her seem even lovelier; her father looked haggard, and was sobbing heartily. Harry was offering his condolences. The knife was cool in her hands.

And they were in front of her grandmother's coffin, closed now, and Harry was holding her arm in a death grip. Ironic, she thought.

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him nearer, motioning for him to get close so she could say something. The crowd was loud, after all; it wasn't suspicious at all.

Harry was crying, too, she saw with surprise. She paused for a second, and the silver spider bit deeply. Wincing, she leaned over, mumbling.

He frowned. "What?" He leaned closer, his side brushing hers.

She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Tell Ron to make sure George is alright."

And she lunged, stabbing him deeply in the chest. He stared at her in shock before collapsing to his knees. There was screaming, she realized, and there was blood on her hands.

Harry reached out for her, and Ron was trying to push through the crowd of screaming bystanders. No one stopped him, but they weren't moving, either.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, and she sagged backwards, hitting her grandmother's coffin. At least George would be safe.