Dark Daughter

Chapter 17: Rising From the Fall

Mike hefted Amy into his arms. She was very light, surprisingly so. Harry was extremely unsteady on his feet and needed Cho's assistance. Neither felt any discomfort as he leaned heavily on her shoulder. They were just friends now, but close ones at that.

"It should be easier to get to the cave now," panted Mike. "Now that we know where we're going."

"Getting down the mountain isn't going to be so simple," said Harry as they reached the edge of the platform on the mountain peak.

Cho placed a hand on his chest to prevent him from cascading down the mountainside headfirst.

"Thanks," he muttered and she told him that it was no problem.

As the group made slow procession down the mountain, the moon's light, though only from a crescent, gave them hope. The wondrous light was lighting every corner of the forest with faith that all would be okay. There was no conversation. What could they talk about? No words could explain what they'd just seen. No actions could equal those of Amy Evans' sacrifice. No one would ever be able to understand how any of them felt, except for those within the small company.

After many hours of feverish work, they reached the base of the mountain. Laying Amy on the ground, her back leaning against a boulder, Mike wiped his forehead. Harry and Cho sat down on the ground. None of them made any sound except for their breath, which rose in a mist before them. It was still cold, though this cold was natural, unlike that of the dementors. Once they'd caught their breath, the four prepared to move on (or at least, the three that were conscious).

Harry got shakily to his feet. His head was still swimming and aching. He stumbled in his effort to stay upright.

"Here," said Cho, catching him. "Let me help."

Harry didn't object, but merely nodded in thanks. His legs grew sturdier as the night dragged onward, as did they. Amy's breathing became steadily more labored.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked concernedly.

"I don't know," replied Mike and Cho in unison.

"I think we're almost there," said Mike, not stopping, but going faster than before.

* * *

"You think they'll be back soon?" asked Sirius, pacing up and down the cave.

"Voldemort's lair is supposedly pretty far away," said Snape from the floor, unable to raise himself because every time he tried, McGonagall would shove him back down again.

Fred and George watched Sirius pace. He was walking so quickly that their heads swung in one direction and then to another without cease. McGonagall looked at the sky, which was looking dark again, but not quite so sinister. It looked normal. Who would suspect that so much anguish had been felt beneath the blanket of stars, out in this quiet forest?

"Can you hear something?" Fred asked suddenly.

Sirius stopped. The cavern was silent. In the distance, they could hear footsteps. Perhaps two--maybe three pairs of feet were approaching. Two were uneven and sounded as though they were carrying something and the other, like it may be wounded.

"Sounds like three," hissed Fred. He lifted himself from the floor and peered out of the opening in the cave.

Three people were silhouetted against the darkness. One appeared to carrying another, because legs hung from his or her arms, which were enfolded around what was supposedly the person he or she was holding in their arms.

"That's them!" cried George behind them. They flew from the safety of the cavern.

Sirius leapt from the cave, hurtling himself after the boys. McGonagall asked Snape if he would be all right alone for a while. He said he would. She followed, feeling that it couldn't possibly be the Heirs. But she proved wrong. They were indeed the Heirs of Hogwarts.

Harry collapsed into his godfather's arms, hugging him so tightly that Sirius could barely breathe, but he returned the motion. Cho embraced her Transfiguration professor fixedly. The old woman held her almost as securely as Harry did his godfather. She was so relieved to find that her students were alive and Cho had tears in her eyes by the time they broke apart.

Fred and George helped Mike.

"Amy?" whispered Fred, putting his hand lightly on her shoulder and shaking it slightly.

"She won't wake," breathed Mike. "We've already tried dozens of times."

Fred carried Amy inside while George helped Mike. All of the Heir's strength seemed to be spent and they let their exhaustion engulf them like water over a rock. It was almost pleasant to be tired without feeling that they had more to do and a world to save. They sat down in the cave, and explained what had happened.

Snape, without McGonagall or anyone to stop him, sat up. His head swam, but he stayed upright and managed to crawl over to where Amy lay motionless with everyone floating around her.

"Is she suffering the same thing that you did, Snape?" asked Sirius. "Is it worse for her because she's a child?"

"No," breathed the Potions professor.

"It's because she wasn't supposed to kill her father, isn't it?" said Harry softly. "She said that an ancient magic keeps children from murdering their fathers, and if they do, awful things can happen. Their spirits are forever damaged."

"That's part of it," said Snape. "Her spirit isn't damaged, however. Another thing is--she's connected to Voldemort, meaning that the two are part of each other. If he dies, part of her dies as well. I don't understand what saved her. What did you say happened, Potter?"

Harry was surprised that Snape had no anger or suspicion in his voice, but mere worry. He really did love Amy, probably like she was daughter.

"It was Dumbledore," he told them. "Dumbledore saved her."

"Potter," said McGonagall sympathetically. "Dumbledore is . . . he's dead. You saw him when he was killed."

"I know that," said Harry. "But we saw him. Didn't we?" He turned to his comrades.

"We did, Professor," said Cho. "We saw his face in that dark light that came out of Amy's chest. We think that Voldemort's soul was pulling her away, but Dumbledore just pushed her spirit right back into her heart. We saw his face and his eyes. They were blue and glowing like stars."

"It's true Minerva," said Snape. It occurred to Harry that he'd never heard Snape call his colleague by her first name before. But it was apparent that he did it often. "That is the only way she could have been saved. Only a truly pure spirit could push hers away from darkness that Voldemort was pulling her towards."

"She saved us," commented Mike, but no one heard him. He liked Amy very much and knew that he would stay her friend for a very long time, if she lasted long enough. . . .

"Should we go back to Hogwarts?" wondered George. "Or should we wait for her to wake up? Amy looks like she needs a Healer or something."

"She--might not wake," said Snape with difficulty. "We can wait only an hour or so, and then we must get to the castle."

"All right," said Harry.

They tended to the bleeding Dark Mark on Amy's arm and to the hand in which her wand had exploded. She didn't even twitch once and they were almost certain that the girl would die within the next few hours. They wrapped her in their cloaks and made what they could of a fire, though this had been attempted many times by the others.

Sirius bandaged Harry's bleeding scar with a shred of his cloak and then they made all of the Heirs sleep, which came easily, though not without a nightmare or two. Sirius came over to McGonagall.

"I just don't know," she said, answering his question. "Her breathing is getting worse. I don't know how much longer she'll last."

"There may be some kind of magic that can save her," said Sirius. "I could take h--"

"No, Black," said Minerva sharply. "We work together on this. A few more hours . . . until dawn."

Sirius looked around the cavern. All of the students were sleeping. Harry and Mike were leaning against one another's back while Cho snoozed on Michael's chest. Fred and George were curled together. Snape was propped up against the wall, closing his eyes, but Sirius now knew better than to think that he was actually sleeping.

"You're right," he whispered. "We need to stay."

* * *

Amy's body was in pain. Every inch of her skeleton burned with aches unlike any the Cruciatus Curse had left before. Was this death? Was death only agony and blackness? Or perhaps Voldemort had dragged her strait down to hell, were eternal flames would engulf her forever? But strangely, she was cold instead of hot. Where was she then?

She was extremely cold--colder than anything she could ever imagine. Amy began to shiver. Something in the back of her mind told her that if she were dead, she wouldn't have been able to do so. She tried to lift her heavy eyelids, but was unsuccessful.

Voices were speaking above her now. She couldn't understand what they were saying, instead, the sound echoed in her numb, sluggish brain. But what she did know was that it made her head throb. Not more pain! She want to tell them to stop, but didn't have the strength to give voice. Amy tried to say something, but came out in a mere whimper. It felt so wonderful to let this out that she did it again. Though the pain was no less, she could at least make noise to inform others that she wanted comfort.

A voice above her began to repeat the same sound over and over again. The voice was familiar, like an old friend. Amy listened to the voice as though it was a lullaby, and began to slip away again. But then, memory began to seep like molasses back into her brain. Voldemort. Her friends. The Heirs. The missions. Her sister.

Something grasped her hand. Amy squeezed feebly it as the agony came in a sharp blast. She tried again to heave her weighted eyelids. This time, she nearly succeeded. The pain didn't leave or lighten. She moaned again, wanting comfort of any kind. The echoing sounds resumed a familiar pattern.

Soon she recognized them as her own name, "Amy! Amy . . . please . . . up!" they kept repeating, though is sounded like a dying radio.

Amy listened as they cried her name over and over again, and then, mustering up what strength she could, she opened her eyes a fraction of an inch. Everything was in murky darkness.

"Evans!" sobbed Professor McGonagall above her. "Oh, Evans, you're awake!"

"Mmmph," was the response. Amy didn't understand how she could have survived, even if the procedure had gone wrong.

"Amy," said Sirius, an expression of deepest concern playing across what Amy could see of his features. "You there?"

"Mmhmph."

"Evans," said a soft and weak voice. A hook nosed man with greasy black hair and a filthy face loomed in the mist above her.

Amy let the corners of her mouth twitch slightly. McGonagall seemed to gain control of herself. I'm not supposed to be alive. What happened? Amy wanted to ask, but the pain and fatigue in her body stopped her. She closed her eyes again.

"Sis . . . er . . . ?" was all that she could manage, but what she had wanted to know was clear.

"She's fine," said Sirius, but Amy was sure that he probably didn't know.

"Harry . . . ?" her words were becoming easier to get out now.

"He's sleeping over there," said Sirius. He must have pointed. "And Cho and Mike are just fine too."

Amy endeavored to sit upright, but she failed miserably and painfully. McGonagall put a gentle arm around her and sat her up tenderly. Amy noticed that she had a thick cloak draped around her shivering shoulders. The blanket did nothing to lessen her chill or pain. Sirius eased her glasses onto her nose, which had a crack in the left eye and a scratch on the other.

The cave that she'd stayed in before came into sharper focus, but everything was still very blurry. She whimpered as the pain increased slightly.

"How are you feeling?" asked Snape. "Anything wrong?'

"Hurts," breathed Amy. "Everything . . . really--hurts."

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about that," said Snape. "Nothing feels different from what it did before?"

"I'm . . . cold" breathed Amy. "So cold!" McGonagall held her closer, rubbing her shoulders, as though she thought this would help. Amy was no warmer, but at least she had someone to comfort her.

"Hopefully that will wear off," said Snape, he seemed to think that the truth was right way to go about it and Amy agreed.

"Nothing else?"

What was he expecting?

"No," said Amy with difficulty. "Except . . . my chest--hurts the--most. It feels like my . . . heart is going . . . to explode."

"That's understandable," said Snape, speaking more to the others than to Amy.

"Why?" she whispered desperately. "Why is . . . it understandable?"

The adults began to explain what had happened after she and the other Heirs performed the spell.

"So it was . . . Dumbledore," said Amy.

Well, that explained why she had seen a smoky old man's face with blue eyes cradling her and forcing her back into something at the same time. That something must have been her body, she later thought, but, for now, her mind was still working slowly. It was a miracle that she was sitting up already, as were many other things.

"Amy!" cried Cho suddenly. The others around her woke with a start and then shouted her name again in unison.

Amy smiled slightly. "Hi."

"We thought you were going to die!" exclaimed George.

"Still here," said Amy as loudly as she possibly could, which turned out to be little more than her usual whisper.

Harry clasped her hand first and held it tightly in his own. "Oh, Amy," he whispered, his voice almost as soft as hers. "I'm so--so happy you're awake."

"Me too," said Amy. "I'm glad that you're all okay."

She was finally strong enough to speak in full sentences. Amy was taken by surprise to see how weak having part of you die left your body. Everyone fussed over Amy, but she would have none of it.

"We've got to help," she insisted. "This isn't over yet."

"Evans," said Snape, frustrated at Amy, but she was too ill for him to yell at, "you need rest!"

Amy looked imploringly into his dark eyes. He knew that he'd never win. This stupid girl wouldn't relax until she'd helped out. In fact, he doubted whether she would ever calm down unless someone gave her a sleeping potion. He knew that a few more years of being a spy for Dumbledore probably would have killed her, but just one year had killed enough.

He spoke briefly with McGonagall and, finally, she understood that they had to get Amy out of here anyway. She still needed to be propped up against someone's arm. At the moment, it was Harry's. He seemed genuinely concerned, fussing over her more than all of them put together, while Amy went on about how his scar was in worse shape than she was. She just won't stop apologizing for not seeing that it might reopen.

"It's all right Amy," he said for about the hundredth time. "Now, please--Go. To. Sleep. You need it!"

"I can't," she said frantically.

Suddenly, Severus understood why not. She was afraid of nightmares, which she would undoubtedly meet in her dreams. They would be terrible; he knew that, everyone's would, but nothing like hers. Voldemort would haunt her forever. McGonagall held the girl close to her chest. Amy was still trembling uncontrollably.

As light crept into the sky, the companions decided it was time to leave. Amy was leaning against Minerva's arm, closing her eyes. It occurred to Sirius that she might have actually fallen asleep. But she opened her eyes in a flash when "leaving" was said aloud. Sirius knelt down next to her.

"Do you think you can stand?" he knew that she couldn't, that she knew this as well, but he also knew that she had to try before she gave up.

"I'll try," she said. "I just want to try."

He pulled Amy to her feet. Removing his hands from her shoulders, Sirius stood back. The girl sank to her knees before anyone could move. She defiantly wasn't as strong as she'd seemed from the beginning. When Snape came over to his young friend, he found that she was in pain and shivering worse than ever.

"We need to get you to a doctor," Sirius told her.

Hefting the girl into his arms, Sirius headed out of the cave. The others were much slower, as the other Heirs were still quite weak and exhausted and Snape was ill because of his Dark Mark's "explosion." Sirius needed to move as quickly as he could. He could feel Amy growing feebler by the second.

"How you doing Amy?" he asked.

No response.

"Amy?"

Nothing.

Something was seriously wrong with her now. Perhaps she was too cold. Sirius wanted to stop and check for vital signs, but he knew that he had to keep going. It was his turn to save Amy's life now. He knew, of course, that she was alive, he could feel and hear her breathing, but her condition appeared to have worsened.

It took numerous hours for them to get to the castle, which seemed deserted. Amy was whimpering in pain into his chest by now. She must be really sick, he kept thinking, knowing that Amy would normally have been walking on her own, even if it killed her. Finally, when he was out on the grounds, he saw the others trailing behind him.

Sirius paused for a mere moment, thinking of all of the pain everyone had endured in the forest and what it meant to walk out of the shadowy depths. Someone came to meet him at the stairs. It was Remus, Diggory and Hermione.

The young girl ran to meet them, but flew right past Sirius and Amy (saying hello, of course, but not noticing Amy) and embraced Harry. Remus and Diggory approached Sirius. Sirius would have done anything in the world necessary to make sure that Diggory didn't see Amy like this, but he couldn't.

"Sirius," whispered Remus hoarsely. "I'm so glad--what happened to her?"

He'd spotted Amy, lying limp and motionless in his arms. Diggory caught up them and Sirius could almost hear the internal groan coming from Remus, which was issued through the eyes.

"Little brat got what she deserved," said Diggory smugly, "for what she and her father did to my Ced--"

"Amos," Sirius growled. "She nearly died so that Cedric's fate would be no one else's! How can you assume so much? I suppose you were one of those who decided to put me in Azkaban due to your assumptions!"

Diggory shrank under the furious glare from Sirius. Remus stared between them.

"Diggory," he said in a voice of unnatural calm. "I've had enough of you for tonight. Go get Filius and whoever else. You got that?"

"Right," said Diggory and he headed up to the castle.

"So, what happened?" Remus persisted.

As they hurried up to the castle, Sirius explained what had happened, how the Heirs had succeeded, but returned with Amy half dead in their arms. He told him about the connection between Amy and Voldemort, and how it had nearly led to Amy's death, had it not been for Dumbledore. Remus' mouth hung open by the time they reached the hospital wing.

The place looked like it had been magically repaired again, but the rest of the castle was in tatters. Sirius came to the third bed and laid Amy on it. About ten other students lay on the beds surrounding her. Two were sitting upright and playing a game of ordinary muggle cards. The ward looked calm and peaceful, very different from the battlefield that lay outside.

The nurse came swiftly from behind a curtain, her face tight with worry as she gazed upon Amy.

"What happened to this one?" she asked, hurrying over.

Yet again, Sirius, with the help of Remus this time, explained about the connection between Amy and Voldemort, her sacrifice and her state before she lost consciousness.

"'M still awake," breathed Amy.

Sirius felt a rush of frustration that she hadn't made this clear before, but then, maybe she hadn't the strength. The nurse performed a quick, body cleaning charm and a switching spell on Amy's clothing. She now wore hospital wing pajamas, her old, green and bedraggled robes lying in a heap on the floor. Madam Pomfrey was about to reduce them to cinders when Remus stopped her and explained that they may need them for evidence.

"Now," said Pomfrey, turning to Amy. "What's hurting you?"

"'M not a baby," muttered Amy, sounding agitated.

"What is paining you beyond belief?" asked the nurse, a slight smile coming across her features as though she dealt with this kind of thing all of the time.

"Everything."

"Come now," Pomfrey said incredulously.

"It is," whimpered Amy. "It's like aches after the Cruciatus Curse, only a million times worse, almost as bad as the curse itself!"

"I see," said the nurse. She didn't seem disbelieving at all now, but merely considering what to do. "You say that you are cold too?"

"Yes," whispered Amy, giving an involuntary shudder. "Feels like the dementor's cold or like ice is all over my body."

"Don't you worry," said Pomfrey softly. "I'll find a way to cure it. Just make yourself as comfortable as you can and I'll do what I can. Do you understand?"

Amy nodded. Pomfrey led the two men away.

"Will she be all right?" hissed Remus.

"I can't be sure," said Madam Pomfrey anxiously. "She's in a great deal of pain, I can see that, and she's colder than I've felt a human body before. We may need some of the Healers from St. Mungo's for this." She bit her lip. "I'll do what I can, but I know that it would be unwise to give her anything to soothe her pain."

"I could bring Harry here," suggested Sirius. "He's her cousin and two have grown extremely close."

"Yes," said Pomfrey thoughtfully. "But only Potter. She needs relaxation and I don't want too many students inside with her. Bring them all up, however; I want a look."

"Is this all there is of injured students?" asked Sirius, looking around.

"Heavens, no!" cried the nurse exasperatedly. "The Aurors that arrived here a few hours ago are fetching them. I only hope the ones doing those missions with you lot are found."

"Me too," said Sirius honestly.

* * *

"Amy?" said Harry as he came around the curtain. "Amy, how're you feeling?"

"Felt better," whispered Amy as she shivered convulsively.
"Oh, Amy," said Harry, grasping her bandaged, left hand, knowing that the other still had numerous splinters embedded into it. "I'm so sorry."

"This isn't your fault," said Amy, wincing as a fresh wave of cold and pain overcame her for a moment. "Doing this to myself was my choice alone."

"You've changed so much," said Harry, sitting on the bed next to his cousin, his green eyes alive with worry.

"So've you," she whispered. "Remember when we first met? Who would ever imagine what the two of us would accomplish?"

Harry grinned. "Dumbledore surely did."

Amy nodded. "He saved me from Hell knows what." She grinned, but it was more like a grimace. "Is everyone all right? Are you?"

"Yep," said Harry. "And I'm fine."

"Has Jason or anyone from our group been found?"

"No," said Harry, thinking of someone who had been found, but not alive. He couldn't tell her that. "You hear what Fudge did?"

"No," said Amy, interested.

"He resigned as Minister!"

"He what?"

"He did," said Harry. "Only a few minutes ago. He just couldn't take it. Kind of cowardly of him if you ask me."

"Yeah. Strange. I always thought that he loved the power. He wasn't brave enough to admit it though," said Amy thoughtfully. "But, you know, not everyone is a s brave as the Heirs of Hogwarts are."

The two beamed at one another and Amy's pain lessened a bit.

* * *

The nurse came back to Amy a few hours later and healed her right hand (which had had a wand explode on it). It hurt a great deal, and the nurse re-bandaged the hand again when she was finished (the shredded skin wasn't a pleasant sight). Amy fell into dreamless sleep.

When she woke, fuzzy outlines of people were drifting around her. Someone had removed her glasses.

"She's awake," said a man's reedy voice. "Should we give her another dose?"

"No," said the voice of Madam Pomfrey. "There's no reason for that!"

Amy couldn't understand. She was woozy and--she was warm! As the sleepiness wore away, she suddenly had a mad urge to know why she was suddenly painless and who else was helping Madam Pomfrey.

"Glasses . . . " she said weakly. "Where are my glasses?"

"I don't think--" began the male's voice, but the nurse overrode him.

"Here you are dear," she said kindly, slipping the lenses onto Amy's face.

Amy was pleased to find that they were clean and repaired. "What . . . what's going on? What did he mean, 'another dose?'"

"This is Healer Sere, Amy," said Pomfrey. "He came to take a look at you. We gave you a dose of anesthetic potion, you seemed in so much pain."

"What?" Amy was confused. "I just went to sleep."

"We gave it to you while you slept," explained Sere. "Poppy here ran to get me after you arrived. I'm chief Healer at St. Mungo's, by the way."

"How are feeling?" asked Pomfrey.

"Better," said Amy, moving her joints. "Nothing hurts and I'm not so cold anymore. Just have the chills."

"Do you feel weak at all?" asked Sere.

"A little," said Amy. "But it's nothing compared to before."

"I see," said the Healer. "Well, Amy, you're going to be quite ill, weak and cold for awhile."

Amy nodded. She'd expected that the recovery wouldn't be quick. Sere left without even glancing at the other students.

"Did Voldemort attack the entire world?" Amy asked, sitting up as the nurse came around the curtain again.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and said, "Yes. Yes, he did." She paused, walked over to Amy's side, made her lay back and then sat down on her bedside. "Many muggles and witches and wizards were killed. Luckily, he didn't have the hold over the world that he did over Hogwarts and Britain. Dr. Sere had to leave so quickly because he is swamped. I will experience the same very soon. Once they've found the students."

"Can I help in any way?" Amy suggested. "I could sleep somewhere else. I'm not that bad, I don't need to be here."

"Oh, yes you do!" snapped Pomfrey. "You're going to stay under my eye until I'm satisfied!"

Amy folded her arms. She was about to object when Professor Flitwick entered.

"Filius," said Madam Pomfrey. "Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to see Amy," said Flitwick. "Are you all right, dear? I've been hearing so many rumors, I thought . . . "

"I'm feeling much better Professor," Amy informed him, pleased to know that more people cared for her than they had at the last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Filius," said Pomfrey. "I must ask you to leave. Amy needs rest."

"Ah, yes," said Flitwick, glancing at Amy's pale face. "You don't give her any trouble, now," he instructed his pupil. "You need some color back in those cheeks."

Amy grinned and leaned back into her pillow. Exhaustion overtook her again. She closed her eyes and fell into a long-awaited, natural sleep.

* * *

Two days later, Jason, Ron and Draco were found sitting on a couch in a cottage in Hogsmeade, discussing their adventure and the mysteries that they had yet to solve.

"So it really was the whole world," said Jason lightly,

"Yeah," said Draco. "You knew all along."

"Why can't we go up to the castle?" asked Ron sulkily. "I want to see if Harry is there!"

"They want us here to help," said Draco. "I'm sure Potter's fine."

Jason turned to his friend. "Us?" he asked. "Why the hell would they want us?"

"We did help save the students of Hogwarts and many other people," said Ron.

"They're actually considering us professionals," said Draco importantly, holding his head high and his chest swelling mockingly.

The companions were seized by a fit of laughter. As they struggled to control themselves, a Ministry official entered the room. He was wearing dark robes, which seemed to have been repaired of what ever damage that had been inflicted upon them very quickly. His even darker brown hair was unkempt and falling over his face.

"Are you the boys who saved the students?" he asked without preamble.

"We helped," said Ron, straightening up. "Can we help you?"

"Yes," said the Ministry member. "I'm Kevin Croaker, from the Ministry and I'm an Unspeakable."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Croaker," said Draco, holding out a hand. "I'm Draco."

The Ministry official took it and considered him for a moment.

"You're the Malfoy son!" cried Croaker, releasing Draco's hand and pulling his away.

"I made a different decision than them, though," he muttered sullenly.

There was a long pause.

"I see," said Croaker slowly. "Well, they sent me to tell you that the Head of the Department of Mysteries wants to speak with you, he'll be with you shortly."

"We don't have to look all that great, do we?" asked Ron. "Because our robes are kind of in tatters."

"No," said Croaker, smiling down at him. "His vary little. And you'll be author Weasley's son, will you?"

"One of them, yes," said Ron, grinning from ear to ear. "And he, my mother and older brothers helped save many students too."

"I see," said Croaker again. "Well, be sure to tell Mr. Rigor about that, will you? We could use someone like Arthur Weasley in the higher divisions of the Ministry! We've got one lad; I think his name is Weasley. He and his brother have been helping us. The brother's a curse breaker or something."

He left and the three looked at one another. They decided to discuss how best to tell the story. They decided on telling him about the groups that were sent out to help with the war, but when the question came up as to how Voldemort was killed, they would simply say that they didn't know. Finally, the Ministry Member arrived.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Mr. Rigor, Head of the Department of Mysteries. I'm here to ask you about what happened in the Dark Forest these past nights. Would you give me your names, please?"

"I'm Ronald Weasley," said Ron, standing up. The others followed his lead, not having a father or family member in the Ministry.

"I'm Jason Black."

"Sirius Black's nephew?" asked Rigor.

"Yes," said Jason, bracing himself. "But--"

"We've got an interview with him very soon," said Mr. Rigor. "Apparently, he hadn't killed all of those muggles and Pettigrew, as we believed, but rather, Pettigrew killed them, restored Voldemort to power and faked his death!"

"It's true," they all said at once.

"He was one of those who helped kill Voldemort," Ron explained. "I've known of his innocence for two years now."

"Will the two of you attend the interrogation, then?" he asked. "I fear that they might have given him a bit too much, so he won't be in good shape. I must say the evidence that his story is true is just astounding! They've even found Pettigrew, who confessed."

"They did!" cried Ron.

"Yes," said Rigor, apparently awed. He sounded a bit like an excited child. "Of, course, it isn't my department, but all the same . . . "

They found themselves explaining away a few minutes later. They explained each group that had set out, and its job. They told about the three other people who had accompanied them on their mission and why they were no longer with them.

"Abbott?" asked Rigor. "Derek Abbott?"

"Yes," they coursed.

"I'm sorry tell you this boys," he said, he truly sounded so, "but Derek Abbott's body was found at one of the prisons. He's dead, kids."

* * *

Amy strode down the hospital wing, which was swamped, as Madam Pomfrey had said would happen. Everywhere people needed potions and there were still more pouring in through the door. Once she had recovered enough to walk and go about as normally as possible, Amy insisted upon leaving her bed and helping the nurse. The idea of help was far too temping for Pomfrey, so, in the end, she agreed.

The critically wounded and cursed were all sleeping in the ward, while others slept in the Great Hall with the healthy (or close enough to healthy). Two camps had been found, which meant that they had one more to go. Amy still hadn't seen anyone from the original groups (other than Remus Lupin's). She wanted so badly to see her friends again, just to be sure that they were all right.

A list of those killed in Britain was on the wall of the Center, as it was being called. The Center was were all of the people who were helping the students be found talked and planned. Amy was always invited to give advice. She checked the list daily as more names were added and every time, tears welled in her eyes at the idea that she hadn't saved them in time.

She finally found the second year boy named Stewart Ackerley, who had rang his bell in need of something. He lay sprawled on his small bed, a large bandage wrapped around his head like a turban.

"Can I help you?" Amy asked.

"Y-yes," he said. "I n-need some water."

"All right," she said sweetly. "I'll be right back."

When Amy came back with the water jug in her hand, he was asleep again. She sighed and refilled his tiny cup anyway. She went about filling everyone's cups and holding their hands, asking how they were doing and if they needed anything else. Finally, Pomfrey told her to go down to the Center and help a man named Rigor. Amy did as she was told. The corridors were deserted, and she had no trouble getting to the chamber off of the Great Hall.

* * *

As the next hours dragged by, Amy explained to the Ministry Members how the Heirs of Hogwarts had planned to kill Voldemort and how they had succeeded. The Ministry Members accepted her story willingly, as there was much evidence to support it. Two hours later, she was able to go. She took refuge in the hospital wing, where she had work to occupy her.

"You're an excellent helper!" said Pomfrey. "Would you mind helping until we can send them home?"

"No," said Amy. "I'll help in any way I can."

Aiding the matron proved no easy task, especially on the third group of prisoners had been found. Apparently, Jason had explained that they'd left in order to reach the castle, only to find Ministry officials barring their entrance. Leaving the third camp hadn't been a very wise decision, but when Mad-Eye Moody's group had arrived, they decided that they could no longer stay.

The injured students flooded in and Amy found no way to stem it. Mrs. Weasley arrived and helped Amy establish new hospital room, which had once been the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Fred, George and Mike showed up, asking what they could do. There had not been this many injured students in all of the time after the battle.

"Get beds and mattresses, blankets and pillows from wherever you can!" Amy shouted. "Go to the common rooms!"

As patients began to beg for help from far off and their cries almost drowned her voice. They bolted in different directions. No one had approached any of the common rooms since the attack, but now they needed to. The places that had been the students homes were almost completely ruined. Fred managed to levitate as many mattresses as possible from the dormitories. Others showed up, ready to do the same.

When they returned, the Dark Arts classroom was repaired and fixed up as well as it could be and Mrs. Weasley and Amy began to position beds as tightly together as gravity and space would allow. The patients began to pour in. Neither Mrs. Weasley, nor Amy, nor any other people who came into help had been trained in the healing arts, so there was little more they could do except hand out potions and hold hands, assuring the patients that it would be all right.

"I want my mum!" sobbed Denis Creevey.

"You'll be all right soon, Denis," cooed Amy. "Just relax. It'll be all right."

Finally, Madam Pomfrey hurried in, commanded Amy to go to the hospital wing and care for the students and then went to work. George followed Amy out of the room.

"Are you all right?" he asked as she took long strides toward the ward.

"Yes, I'm fine," Amy snapped, her voice sharp. "I just need to get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey trusts me as her assistant now."

"I heard from Harry that you nearly died," he said. "That Voldemort almost dragged you down to hell!"

"It's true," said Amy. "I remember. I don't want to talk about it right now."

"I understand," said George kindly.

Amy stopped short and looked at him, her eyes blazing with an unknown emotion. "No," she said tersely. "You don't!"

She began to walk swiftly again, knowing that no one could ever understand what she'd gone through and the extent of her sacrifice--the pain. And as she tended to the wounded, her mind was elsewhere.

* * *

Blackness. Pain. Darkness. Agony. Confusion. Fear. Pain.

"Amy . . . Amy . . . "

She knew that voice. The face of the old man loomed above her.

"You must stay here, Amy," he whispered.

"Hurts," whispered Amy's soul. "Everything will hurt."

"I will be with you," said the man. Suddenly, the pain in Amy's body and spirit lessoned slightly, as though he had caused this. "You have more of life to live. You must care for your sister and friends. The world will need your wisdom in the future."

Amy unconsciously made the decision to stay alive, not to let go. The man caressed her face gently, said goodbye and was gone.

* * *

"You all right?"

"Hey, nurse, you okay?"

"Hellooo? Anyone there?"

"H-huh?" Amy came back to the present with a bump. "I-I'm sorry, did you need something?"

"You've been filling my water jug for a whole minute," said a girl. "We thought you'd lost it."

Amy smiled a bit. These students were the ones that were well enough to speak and sit up, but not to leave Madam Pomfrey's eye.

"Sorry."

Amy took many deep, soothing breaths. She had to relax and not think about the tortures she'd endured. Calming herself significantly, she dried up the mess she'd made with her new wand (someone in the Ministry had gotten a replacement for her so that she would be safe) and began to hand out potions and ask her nightly questions.

A few hours later, Amy, Cho and Hermione were asked to find beds for all of the students who were not injured. It appeared that none of them had rested yet because they had been taken in for questioning as a group. All of the students were in a bad state. A second year girl with curly hair the same color as Joanne's (reddish-brown) entered. She was shivering and her clothing was drenched. Had they not cared for these kids? Amy stepped in to aid her.

"I-I'm c-cold," she said, her teeth chattering.

Amy performed a complicated drying spell and pulled off the cloak around her shoulders (it had once belonged to Snape), wrapping it securely around the girl.

"What's your name?"

"Jenny," said the girl.

Amy led Jenny to a blanket laid on the floor with a pillow on top of it. But before she could reach it, three people walked in, all hanging their heads. She immediately recognized them as Jason Black, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy. They were led to the chamber off the hall. Amy stared, her hands still on Jenny's shoulders.

"Erm . . . excuse me . . . " Jenny patted her arm. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Amy snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing. She led the girl to the bed and darted for the chamber off the hall as someone gestured for her to come in.

She left obediently, though Amy didn't want to see the Death List again. Holding her left arm unconsciously to her chest, she made her way down stairs. The Dark Mark on Amy's arm was still stinging convulsively, though Snape had assured her that it would stop once the wound had healed. Amy entered the chamber off the Hall, otherwise known as the Center.

A fire blazed before her, and in one corner glowed the luminous Death List. She barely glanced at it and instead turned to the people in front of the hearth. It was Ron, Draco and Jason!

"Jason!" cried Amy as flung herself upon him. "Oh, Jase . . ."

"Amy . . . " whispered Jason. "I heard so many rumors. They said that you'd died. They said that you were--when you tried to kill Voldemort."

"I'm alive," Amy assured him. "And--"

"But not well," finished Jason. "You're sick Amy, I can feel it. You're thinner and paler."

"Thanks Doctor Black," muttered Amy.

"What happed?"

Amy explained how Dumbledore had saved her.

"Blimey," he said softly. "Dumbledore really was great . . . "

"He still is," Amy breathed. Jason gazed at her, his eyes slightly misted. "Because even in death," she continued, her voice still no more than a whisper. "He was able to save so many people, even me."

They embraced again for a long time. When they broke apart, Jason looked very solemn indeed, though he gave pleasant news.

"Uncle Sirius is free, Ammster," he said. "He's recuperating from the Veritaserum right now. I think they gave him to much."

"That's wonderful, Jase," said Amy. "What's the matter?"

Jason didn't answer, but merely bowed his head, as they all did, and pointed towards the Death List. Amy began to tremble. She walked unsteadily and alone to the giant piece of parchment.

Three new names stood out on bold and black the list: Adrian Pucey, Brandon Bole and--and . . . Derek Abbott! Tears immediately began to blossom over Amy's face. They seeped uncontrollably over her cheeks. Derek was dead! One of her best friends was gone! The one who had always been honest--and not afraid to be at that! The one who always found a way to solve a problem . . . was dead.

Amy sank to her knees, sobbing. Jason came to her side, tears in his eyes too. He put his arms around her but she could not feel them. Amy knew in her heart, the battle had not been won for many people.

* * *

Sirius opened his eyes blearily. He found Harry and Remus staring at him. Their faces showed obvious concern. He was aware that he was lying on a cot with a cloak pulled over his shoulders. Feeling dizzy, weak and shivery, Sirius sat up, but Remus pushed him back. There was a medi-witch behind them.

"Relax, Sirius," Remus said calmly. "They gave you way too much."

"What happened?" asked Sirius, remembering why he'd been given such a large quantity of Veritaserum that he'd passed out right after their questioning was finished. "I'm--I'm not going back to Azkaban, am I?"

Remus and Harry smirked at each other.

"You're free, " said Remus.

Harry laughed at the expression on Sirius' face.

"I--really?" Sirius couldn't believe it. He tried to sit up again.

"Oh, no you don't!" cried the medi-witch. "You should be in the hospital right now!"

"You were out for about a day, Sirius," said Remus. "They were seriously considering hospitalizing you!"

"And still are!" said the medi-witch irritably. "Now, Mr. Black, hold still, I need to take you temperature."

"Why?" he asked in protest. "What does temp--Mmmph!"

He was silenced by the medi-witch sticking a magical thermometer into his mouth. Remus smirked, knowing that Sirius hated being the patient, though it seemed to happen to him a lot.

"The moment your temperature goes back to normal, I'll let you go," she told him. "Veritaserum lowers one's temperature considerably. Yours became dangerously low."

"Mm," said Sirius. She pulled the instrument out of his mouth and pursed her lips. "Another hour or so, Mr. Black. Do you feel cold at all?"
"A bit," Sirius lied. He was quite cold, but he wanted to ask Harry something--something very important. "Harry," he said to the boy. "I--you remember my offer--erm--after we got out of the Shrieking Shack two years ago?" Harry's face fell and he nodded. Oh no! Did he not want to live with Sirius? "Er--you d-don't want to--Er--I mean--do want to live me?"

Harry's face split into a wide grin, as though what he'd feared was the opposite of what Sirius had said.

"Yes," he said. His voice made it seem like he was holding back a yell of excitement.

Sirius smiled too.

* * *

The next few weeks went by fairly quickly. The castle was cleaned up a great deal, and the repair of the common rooms had already begun. Amy remained in the hospital wing, helping as best she could. One by one, the parents of the patients came to collect their children, fussing over them worse than Amy had.

Amy's grief was weighing upon her worse than ever as the parents left with their children. But then the thing she'd been waiting for about three weeks happened. A girl with glossy red hair and a muggle sweater entered the hospital wing, guided by a girl with reddish-brown hair and boy with light brown. Amy couldn't see very well, because she was standing at the end of the ward, handing out potions, but she thought that she saw a bandage around his head. He was speaking with the matron, who pointed down the ward right at Amy, who quickly busied herself with handing out the rest of her potions.

She could hear running footfalls and the next thing she knew, Amy had someone clutching her waist. She looked down and found Aria clinging to her.

"Aria!" she cried. "Oh, God! Aria!"

She bent down and hugged her so fiercely that she might have suffocated her only sister.

"Amy!" Aria sobbed. "Everyone said that you died! I thought--I thought--"

"Shhh," whispered Amy, creasing her sister's hair back and holding her head tightly so that she looked directly into Amy's eyes. "I'm here. Merlin knows--I thought I'd never see you again!"

Aria buried herself into Amy's arms. Amy hoisted her up and went to hug the boy and the girl, who turned out to be Joanne and David.

"Thank you," Amy breathed. "Thank you so much! Are you all right?"

She eyed the bandage around David's head.

"Yeah," said David and Joanne together. The sounded very gloomy.

"You--you've heard, haven't you?" Amy choked, the agony and horror of loosing Derek resurfacing.

They nodded. "He--he d-died doing what he w-wanted to--to do," Joanne said quietly, tears streaming down her face.

Amy released Aria and put her arms around Joanne.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes growing wet.

"It's--not--your--fault!" said Joanne. Amy knew that she was holding back a tremendous wail of misery.

"Jason's downstairs," Amy told David softly, her arm still around Joanne and taking Aria's hand.

"I just spoke with him," said David quietly.

"Ah."

"It's good to see you," he told her. "We thought we'd lost two friends."

"You almost did," Amy responded softly. "But not quite."

* * *

Joanne's brother, Rodger, was the first to come for any of the four (once five) friends. He was very pale, but when he saw his little sister, his face lit up.

"JOANNE!" he'd yelled as she ran to throw his arms around her.

Joanne's parents couldn't come to retrieve her, do to their jobs. They were still having trouble getting the Muggles to forget the war. He held her tightly, his face buried into her neck. Rodger led Joanne away immediately, but she just had time to wave goodbye to her remaining friends.

Derek's parents came later that day. Hannah was stricken. Coming home without her brother seemed to bring a fresh wave of grief upon her. Amy and the rest would never understand how she felt. Derek had been their best friend, not their younger brother. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, who were Muggles, but were not going to forget about any of the war. They spoke briefly with the friends and then left, taking a sobbing Hannah with them.

David's parents came about two days later. They snatched him into their arms. His mother fussed over his head, which was still very sore and he had a scar on his temple. David just kept closing his eyes and sinking into his parent's embrace, a faint smile on his face. Both Jason and Amy knew that he was never going to take that hug for granted again.

McGonagall called Amy to her office a few days later, instructing her to bring Aria. Amy came obediently, dragging Aria with her, who wanted to stay behind because she was frightened of McGonagall.

"Evans," McGonagall said as they entered, "I'm sure you know Arabella Figg?"

Amy nodded. She'd been in the Order with her. Amy introduced her to Aria.

"The Ministry has considered the issue of your needs for a guardian and has chosen Mrs. Figg. You are required to live with her until your seventeenth birthday. When that time comes, you are welcome to leave the moment you choose."

Amy wondered vaguely why no one had consulted her about this. However, any home was a good home, so she decided not to complain. "All right," she said. "We'd be happy to live with you, Mrs. Figg."

"You may call me Arabella," said Figg warmly. Amy nodded.

"Also," McGonagall continued. There was more? "The Ministry has positioned Obliviators in every city. Any witch or wizard who hears of Muggles talking about the Magical War is to contact the Obliviators. Mrs. Figg is one of them."

Amy nodded. Concealing the fact that there had been a Magical War had been the most difficult task for the Ministries of Magic throughout the world in history. Of course, for about a week, the Muggle world had been in a daze (a symptom of having one's memory modified) and nothing terrible happened. No deaths, no robberies. It was as close to peace as it would ever be. But now, with the Muggle world repaired, they had to turn to their own world, which was in far worse shape. Diagon Alley was in ruins, Hogsmeade in tatters. It would take a long time.

"Okay." Amy didn't have much of a reaction to this.

It was agreed. Amy collected what was left of her things from the cot that she had been sleeping on for the past few weeks. As she stuffed her pajamas into the bag, a woman with sandy hair and concern on her face hurried into the almost empty hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had long been able to care for it herself, leaving Amy time to deal with the Ministry's questions. The woman was clutching a ten-year-old boy's hand.

"Amy?" said the boy. Amy realized who they were.

"Mrs. Black? Jevan?"

It was indeed them. Jason's mother and his little brother, Jevan Black. Jevan, having met Amy before ran to embrace her. He was already almost as tall as Amy. But that wasn't saying much because she hadn't grown all year long. Once tall for a thirteen-year-old, she was not short for a fourteen-year-old. Mrs. Black stared at her.

"Amy, dear," she said. "I heard that you were dead!"

"No," said Amy. "I'm alive. And Jason is over--"

"MUM!"

Jason flew to his family and embraced them tightly. He'd been waiting a long time to see them and he and Amy had worried that his family may be dead.

"Jevan!" he cried, nearly suffocating the boy. Jevan was almost as tall as Jason too. "Merlin . . . I missed you both so much . . . "

Amy smiled faintly. And then Mrs. Black embraced her too.

"Amy, dear," she wailed. "I was worried about you too! I heard about your home! I'm so sorry! You're welcome to stay with us if you--"

"I've got a new home with Arabella Figg," Amy told her. "Aria and I."

"Aria?" whispered Mrs. Black. "I thought he killed her t--"

"He tried use her to convince me to join him," said Amy heavily. "She was alive all this time and we didn't know. Don't worry," she added at the look on Mrs. Black's face. "I'm sure Jase'll explain it to you."

"Yes," said Mrs. Black. "I'm sure he will."

She caressed his hair lovingly and, for the first time in his life, Jason didn't protest. He was so happy to see his mother and brother again. Through all of his time in the forest, he'd thought so much about them. He'd been sure that they were gone forever. But it was over. That hell was all over now. He knew that he'd never be the same again.

Amy looked away. Something strange was bouncing around her stomach. As she watched the Black family, she realized that she would soon have a family like that. Mrs. Figg would be serving as her mother.

She began to back again, waving goodbye to her best friend, remembering that he would have died to help her. One of her friends had died to help her. She held the robes that she'd just refolded to her heart and knew that he would always be there. She remembered Dumbledore. He'd saved all of their lives. It wasn't the Heirs of Hogwarts--it was Dumbledore.

But then, she thought, no one human could have saved us. It was love. We would have been wiped out in seconds if it weren't for love. Love and friendship and trust. We're alive because we loved one another.

Amy smiled to herself.

"It's finished," she said to her trunk. "Let the world rejoice and let us never forget the true force that saved us all!"