Darkness and Light 03: If We Survive

Chapter Five: Harms and Fears

There was a moment of dreadful silence as every spectator in the stadium stared, appalled, at the gloating spectre of Voldemort. Then a murmur rippled through the crowd, breaking into babbled fragments of denial and despair:

"It can't be -- not Dumbledore--"

"Oh, great Merlin -- what are we going to do?"

"Mummy? It isn't true, is it? Mummy?"

Somewhere behind them a woman began to sob, a high-pitched, hysterical sound. Maud raised her omnioculars and looked up the stands, to see the little witch who had swapped tickets with Imogen -- and in the row behind, Annie and Muriel. Annie was white, and her hands gripped the arms of her seat; but Muriel sat forward eagerly, her face flushed with exultation.

She's been waiting for this, thought Maud, sickened. She's loving every minute...

"He's lying," said George furiously. Imogen put a restraining hand on his shoulder; he wrenched away from her and screamed at Voldemort, "You're lying!"

"No," Maud said. The churning feeling of apprehension in her stomach had taken on the still, cold weight of certainty. "He's not."

"Are you mad?" George rounded on her, his face a ghastly grey-white beneath his blazing shock of hair. "You really think he just waltzed up to the gates of Hogwarts and killed Dumbledore, easy as that? Even if Dumbledore wasn't strong enough to beat You-Know-Who by himself, what about the other teachers? The students? They wouldn't stand by and let something like that happen, unless--" He choked suddenly, unable to finish the sentence, but Maud knew what he was thinking: Unless they're all dead too.

"You're right," said Imogen, looking grim. "It doesn't make sense, on the surface. But if the Enemy had taken Hogwarts, either by force or by treachery, he'd have said so. The only thing I can think is that he must have called Dumbledore out, somehow -- told him he was willing to make a deal, and then double-crossed him --"

George shook his head fiercely. "Dumbledore's a genius. No way he'd fall for a trick like that."

But he knew, George, Maud wanted to say. He knew this would happen. He knew it had to happen. And Severus knew it, too... Still, there was no way to explain that conviction, much less prove it. So she simply reached out to grasp George's hand in sympathy as Voldemort's mocking voice reverberated around the stands once more:

"By all means, deny it, if you cannot bear to face the truth. Cling to your last shreds and tatters of hope as long as you can. It will not change the fact that at this very moment, the body of Albus Dumbledore lies in ashes at my feet --"

George closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

"-- and before this day is out, the whole wizarding world will know it. So, old man --" the red eyes glowed with malice -- "do you still feel ready to fight me now?"

There was a significant pause. Maud snatched up her omnioculars again and scanned the crowd until she found the elderly wizard, standing stiff and a little hunched in the middle of Green Section, with empty seats all around him. He had taken off his pointed hat and was holding it over his heart -- in deference to Dumbledore, Maud guessed. For a moment his mouth trembled, and his eyes were clouded and downcast; but then all at once his chin came up and he looked the shadow of Voldemort straight in the eye.

"Yes, I am," he said. "I'd rather die fighting than bend the knee to the likes of you. So do your worst -- I'm ready."

"My worst?" Voldemort gave a cold laugh. "You are not worthy of such a privilege. But rest assured, you will have your wish."

He had barely finished speaking when a Dementor detached itself smoothly from the ranks of Voldemort's followers and glided up the aisle. George swore under his breath and started forward, but at the same moment the old wizard raised his wand in a swift, almost elegant gesture, and his voice rang out shrill and clear: "Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery form that leaped from the tip of his wand made even Imogen's jaw drop. It was a phoenix, vast and luminescent, wings outspread and long tail trailing like a banner, beak open in a soundless cry of furious pride. The Dementor fell back, hissing, and for a moment the old man's face shone with triumph; then two more black-robed figures seized him from behind, and his look changed to one of terror as they wrenched the wand from his hand.

"Somebody levitate me," said Imogen fiercely. "If I can get down there --"

But it was too far, and already it was too late. The Dementors had closed in, their hooded heads bent hungrily toward their prey --

"Immolate!" the old wizard shouted, and a gout of blue-white flame went up from the place where he had been standing. The Dementors' hands closed on emptiness, and Maud turned her face away.

"He did that wandless," whispered Imogen, sounding thunderstruck. "Who was he?"

"Well, it hardly matters now," said George bitterly.

If Voldemort was taken aback by the old man's spectacular end, he gave no sign of it. "You see what happens to those who oppose me," he said smoothly. "So I say again, for the last time: submit to me. Join me. For those wise enough to know their true master, it will not be difficult. You may even find your loyalty rewarded. But for the rest... a taste of what is to come..."

His voice faded. The mists swirled, broke apart, and he was gone.

In that moment, pandemonium erupted. People began to howl and shriek and moan, clutching their heads in their hands; some staggered blindly about; others simply sat motionless, staring at nothing. Even halfway up the stands, Maud could hear the hungry sucking sounds of the Dementors as they devoured the last scraps of positive emotion from the spectators at ground level, then glided swiftly up to the next section, leaving a crumpled trail of unconscious and weeping witches and wizards in their wake. It was freezing in the stadium now.

The Death Eaters, meanwhile, had fanned out and were throwing curses and hexes into the crowd at random. Nothing fatal, it seemed -- after all, they couldn't yet know who would join Voldemort and who would oppose him -- but the frantic cries of the spectators below proved that whatever they were doing, it was more than enough.

"We've got to do something," said George desperately. "We can't just stand here."

"There's no way you can get a clear shot in this crowd," said Imogen. "Try to hex those Death Eaters from here, and you'll just end up doing their job for them." She shook her head. "No, the best we can do is keep the Dementors away from this section -- but even at that, we're blocked in. We --"

"Look out!" shrieked Angelina's voice from below, a second too late: there was a sudden blaze of light and something smashed into Maud with the force of a lumbering troll, knocking her down. She felt her head strike the edge of the wooden seat, pain arced between her temples --

-- and the world went completely black.

* * *

"...her?"

"...coming around... look..."

A roaring rush of sound filled Maud's ears, then ebbed away like the tide. She tried to raise her head, only to find it too heavy to lift; she opened her eyes a crack, but the light stabbed at them unbearably, and she had to close them again.

"George?" she mumbled.

From somewhere in the darkness came a short, malicious laugh. "Not Severus? My, how fickle. But at least your taste is improving, Moody."

Maud's dry lips worked. "Where am I?"

"Nowhere that concerns you. You won't be here long, anyway." Slow, measured footsteps as Muriel walked around her: Click. Click. Click. "Just long enough to die."

Maud let her breath out silently, and said nothing.

"No questions? I'm disappointed."

"Look, Muriel," came a deep, unfamiliar voice, "I can't hang about all day --"

"I know, I know. Just a minute." Muriel bent and thumbed Maud's eyelids up, smiling as her captive winced. "Yes, that's right. Look at me. Ooh, you did give your head a crack, didn't you? Worked even better than my friend's Stunning Spell."

It was a little easier to see now, and Maud could just make out a large, dark-cloaked shape behind Muriel's shoulder. One of the Death Eaters... no, there was another shape standing further back, in the shadows. Two Death Eaters?

And then, with a sudden hideous realisation, she knew.

Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, because Muriel laughed. "That's right. Did you wonder why I waited so long? Snape got a Slasher, but that wasn't nearly good enough for you. I had to find just the right opportunity... I wanted this to be special. And maybe, just before the end, you can answer a question for me. Does a Dementor kiss as well as Snape... or better?"

Unobtrusively Maud flexed her right hand, feeling for her wand, and found her sleeve empty. Of course, Muriel had taken it. But Muriel didn't know Maud had been trained by the Department of Secrets...

"No reaction? My, how surprising. Don't you even want to know how I knew?"

"You don't," said Maud flatly. "You don't know anything -- you just can't stand to admit that you might have been wrong."

It was a shot in the dark, but it struck home; for a moment Muriel's face darkened, and her mouth went tight with displeasure. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Maud was exhausted, and her grief for Dumbledore, her fear for Severus, lay like a leaden weight on her heart. She didn't care about anything else any more. "You know what? You're right after all. There was something going on between me and Snape. But not... not what you thought."

"Oh, really?" Muriel sounded startled, then pleased. "Do tell."

Little by little, the pain in Maud's head was receding, her vision adjusting to the light. In fact there was very little light to adjust to: they were in some shadowy place with a roof that sloped steeply to the floor on one side. Muffled sounds -- shouts, bangs, footsteps -- came from above.

Of course, thought Maud. Muriel and her Death Eater friend couldn't take her far, not with the Anti-Disapparation Jinx still on the stadium; so they'd simply whisked her into some disused storage room beneath the stands. Which meant that if she could only keep Muriel talking a few more minutes, George and Imogen might yet find her; that Stunning Spell could not have delayed them long. She took a deep breath and forged ahead:

"Snape and I were working together after classes, to make a potion that would restore my sight. At first, that was all we did. He wanted more, but I..." She bit her lip. "Then he made... love potion... and I couldn't stop him..."

Technically, every word Maud had just said was true; but the pauses told a different story, and as usual, Muriel drew her own conclusions. "You mean you were his slave?" She threw back her head and laughed in open delight. "Oh, that's brilliant -- no wonder he didn't want anyone to know!" She leaned closer, her malicious smile glittering in the semi-darkness. "But of course... it all makes sense now. Proud Maud Moody, thinks she's so fine, slumming about with that greasy, horrible man? I was sure something was going on between you, but I couldn't figure out why..."

"Well, there's nothing going on now. I haven't seen him in months." There was no need to feign the bitterness in her voice: in this, if nothing else, it would have been a pleasure to have to lie. "I'm staying as far away from him as I can."

"I hope you don't expect me to feel sorry for you," said Muriel, sitting back on her heels and tapping her wand -- no, Maud's -- against her palm. "If you ask me, you got what you deserved. But I do feel a little sorry that I sent Snape a Slasher -- I ought to have sent him a present instead. Perhaps I will, after all this is over. A lock of your hair, perhaps, for old times' sake."

"Muriel," said the Death Eater, sounding exasperated. "Belt up and get on with it. They're going to break through soon --"

"Go on and leave, if you have to," said Muriel. "I can handle this."

"Not a Dementor, you can't. Do you want this one Kissed or don't you?"

"Oh, very well." Muriel stepped back, pouting a little. "Go on, then."

The Death Eater made a beckoning gesture, and the Dementor glided forward. Its hands were outstretched greedily, and from beneath the shadows of the black hood there came a rattling hiss. As it stooped toward her, its cold breath chilling her skin, Maud's hand closed convulsively on her last chance of survival; she closed her eyes, marshalling her strength, focusing with all her might...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" she shouted, kicking away from the Dementor as a blaze of dazzling silver light burst from the spare wand she'd been hiding in her left sleeve. The Dementor staggered back, flinging up its bony arms in a futile effort to shield itself from the brilliance; then it whirled and fled into the shadows, Maud's Patronus striding purposefully in its wake. Muriel stared open-mouthed, and then --

"Reducto!" shouted two voices in unison, and the door blasted off its hinges, knocking the startled Death Eater down. Imogen and George stood framed against the light.

Muriel let out a screech and swung up her wand to strike: but Imogen snapped out "Expelliarmus!" and Muriel was knocked off her feet. Two wands went flying through the air: George caught them both, flipped Maud's back to her, and stuck Muriel's in the pocket of his robes. Then he strode over to Muriel, reached down and grabbed her by the wrists. She struggled fiercely a moment, then crumpled, weeping in impotent fury.

Maud's spell had done its work, and the Dementor was nowhere to be seen. Her Patronus returned to her in glowing, magnificent silence, and laid an insubstantial hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly, looked up into its shining face -- and then it was gone.

"Wow," said George in flat disbelief. "Maud, has anybody told you how weird that is?"

The metal door, twisted and buckled with the force of Imogen and George's combined spells, clanged loudly against the floor as the Death Eater pushed it off, struggling to rise. "I wouldn't, if I were you," warned Imogen in a soft, dangerous voice, her wand steady on him. "By the authority of the Ministry, you are now in custody for conspiracy to commit murder -- and that's just to start with."

George's breath hissed out of him. "Look!"

Maud's head was still pounding, and her vision kept swimming in and out of focus, but she could see well enough to know what he was pointing at. In his struggles, the Death Eater's robes had twisted to one side, and the black-and-white of the Montrose Magpies shirt beneath was clearly visible.

"Of course," breathed Imogen. "That's how they got into the stadium undetected -- they had someone on the inside --"

"And then he flew off when the panic started, changed into his Death Eater disguise and came back to join the fun." George sounded disgusted. "I'll never cheer for the Magpies again."

There was a resounding thump from outside, and the walls shook. "That's the Ministry team," said Imogen. "They're in. All right, then, Mr Death Beater --"

George winced.

"-- you lead the way."

There was a sudden, white gleam in the shadows beneath the hood, and Maud opened her mouth to cry the alarm -- too late. The Death Eater Disapparated with a pop, and Imogen groaned. "I knew I should have done a Restraining Charm. George--"

"It's all right, I've got this one." He straightened up, still holding Muriel by the arms. She made no effort to resist, only stood there with her head bowed and her long dark hair hiding her face, defeated.

Imogen crossed to Maud, took her face between her hands and looked at her long and hard. "Are you all right?" she said.

"A bit of a concussion, I think. A few bruises. That's all."

Imogen lowered her voice. "Phemie will want a debriefing. Can you manage it?"

Maud nodded.

"Good girl. And by the way, have I mentioned -- you have nice taste in friends, but I don't think much of your enemies at all."

"Isn't that the way it should be?" said Maud with a wan half-smile, and followed her out into the light.

* * *

The next hour went by in a blur. The Ministry forces -- of which there were a surprising number; they seemed to have called in everyone they could get their hands on -- spread out across the stadium and began administering healing spells, restorative potions, and brick-sized chunks of chocolate.

Quite a few Aurors had arrived with the team, but as it turned out there was little left for them to do except take Muriel into custody. The Death Eaters had all Disapparated as soon as the web of spells they'd woven around the stadium was breached, and the Dementors had vanished silently into the fog-bound waste of Dartmoor.

As the chaos subsided, Fred and Angelina managed to push their way through the dazed, milling crowd, and joined up with Imogen, George, Maud and a very subdued Annie at the top of the stands. They all sat down just long enough to catch their breath, compare notes, and eat a few bites of chocolate together. No one spoke of Dumbledore: that wound was too raw, and Maud suspected some of them still clung to the hope that Voldemort had been lying.

When it came time to part ways, getting rid of George proved nearly impossible, and in the end Imogen had to take him aside and speak to him. At last, grudgingly, he took his leave and went with Fred and Angelina; but when Maud asked Imogen what she had said to convince him, the other witch only shook her head.

And now, one Apparation, two cups of concussion-healing tea and half a box of Honeydukes chocolates later, Maud and Imogen sat at the conference table in Euphemia Glossop's tiny office, finishing up their debriefing. In accordance with Department procedure, they had first given a bare-bones version of the day's events from the time they arrived at the stadium to the time they left it; then Glossop had gone back over the story with them, asking questions and drawing out the most relevant details. The final topic of conversation was Muriel.

"It wouldn't have been hard for her to find out that George and I were friends," said Maud, squinting a little at Glossop, who sat tall and erect in her high-backed chair, fingers lightly tapping the table as she listened. "Once I'd graduated from Hogwarts, we didn't really make an effort to avoid being seen together any more -- in fact we've been meeting quite often. So when Muriel learned from her cousin, the Montrose Beater, that the Death Eaters and Dementors were planning to put in an appearance at the semi-final, she wheedled four tickets out of him and sent them to the Weasley twins anonymously by owl-post, anticipating that Fred would take his girlfriend Angelina and that George would, most likely, ask me."

"Of course, Muriel didn't know anything about me," put in Imogen, who was sitting to Glossop's right with her feet up on the table, deftly assembling a long glittering chain of Flourish and Blotts' Firm-Grip, Self-Expanding Paperclips. "And she didn't give George quite enough credit, either. After her cousin lobbed that Stunning Spell at the three of us, I was the first one to wake up and realise that Maud was gone. It didn't take George and me very long to figure out what must have happened, and then he had the bright idea of shoving our way up the stands and talking to Annie." She paused thoughtfully, regarding the chain. "I don't think Muriel anticipated that Annie would have enough wits left at that point to even notice what was going on, let alone tell us -- but after a bit of pressure and our solemn promise to protect her from Muriel's wrath if she ever found out, she pointed us in the right direction." She shrugged. "The rest you already know."

Glossop gave Imogen a severe look. "You came dangerously close to betraying yourself this afternoon with your involvement in this matter, Miss Crump. In fact, you may indeed have done so, when you attempted to apprehend that Death Eater in the name of the Ministry. I do not reproach you for coming to Miss Moody's aid in a crisis, but next time, I suggest you make more of an effort to be circumspect. Casting a formidable Patronus in the midst of a large crowd, for instance --"

"I had to," protested Imogen. "George wasn't fast enough, and Maud -- well, I didn't quite know why Maud didn't do it at the time, but I understand now. If Muriel had been watching when it happened --"

"Ah." Glossop's mouth curled. "Yes. That could, indeed, have been inconvenient. Are you sure she did not see your Patronus clearly when you were forced to cast it at that Dementor, Miss Moody?"

Maud shook her head. "Not absolutely sure, no. It all happened so quickly. George saw it, though: I know that much."

The first time Maud had successfully cast the Patronus Charm in her sixth year at Durmstrang, she had nearly fainted with surprise. Her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher did not recognise the terrible, angelic figure his pupil had just conjured, and only commented that it was unusual to see a human Patronus. Maud had not fully recognised it either; it had been a long time since she had seen that face, after all. But George had noticed the likeness -- rejuvenated and glorified as it was -- at once, and very likely Muriel would have, too.

Maud shivered. It was a good thing Muriel was in Department custody at the moment, and that she was not likely to be released before standing trial for attempted murder and conspiring with a Death Eater. She might even end up in Azkaban, where after the latest disastrous break-out a team of Aurors and a menagerie of fearsome magical beasts had taken up a twenty-four-hour guard...

"Yes, and speaking of which," said Imogen, taking her feet off the table and sitting up, "he was right. Your Patronus is weird. If I hadn't already known about you and Snape, I would probably have had an apoplectic fit on the spot."

Maud gave a thin smile. "It's not quite as bizarre as you might think. Severus saved my life when I was just a child; and his face was the last thing I saw with my own eyes for fourteen years. I suppose that somewhere in the back of my mind, he became the personification of deliverance for me."

"Trust me," said Imogen, "it's still weird."

And that was all the light conversation Maud could take. She put both hands flat on the table and looked up at Glossop, no longer troubling to hide her weariness -- or her fear. "Please," she said. "I need to know. Has there been any word about -- Hogwarts?"

Glossop's fingers closed slowly into a fist. "Some word, yes," she said. "Though not nearly as much as I would like. Our contacts in Hogsmeade report that the Enemy's forces arrived in the area early this afternoon, and that there were some... pyrotechnics... shortly afterward. No one could get close enough to see precisely what was happening at the time, but about an hour ago, we received confirmation from an eyewitness that Albus Dumbledore is, indeed, dead."

Imogen sucked in her breath and dropped her head into her hands. "I didn't want to believe it," she said in a thick voice.

Maud sat very still. Glossop's eyes met hers, and her mouth curled a little, sadly, as she went on: "As far as we know, no one else was harmed. Hogwarts itself still stands, and the Enemy has withdrawn. But as for the details--" she spread her square-boned hands. "We will simply have to wait."

"Thank you," said Maud quietly. She knew what she must do, now. Indeed, she had known it for hours; all she had been waiting for was the assurance that what she planned to do was still possible -- and necessary. "May we go now?" she asked Glossop. "Please. It's... been a long day." And was about to get considerably longer...

"You may go," said the older witch. "Miss Crump, however, will remain. We have matters to discuss."

Imogen, who had half-risen from her seat, looked chagrined and sat back down. Maud, feeling all the more grateful for her reprieve, smiled faintly at them both, lifted a hand in farewell, and Disapparated.

* * *

Maud's first stop was her flat, to wash her face, change her clothing, and make another cup of restorative tea. Her next was the lab at St. Mungo's. And the third, with some trepidation, was her uncle's house.

"I knew you wouldn't approve," she said quietly. "And if you truly don't feel you can help me, I won't blame you. But I couldn't think of a better plan."

"I can," growled Alastor Moody. "Don't go."

She lifted her head and looked at him. "That isn't an option."

He grimaced. "No, I didn't think it would be. But Maudie -- are you sure this isn't going to do more harm than good?"

"I'm sure of only one thing," she said. "He needs someone right now. And with Dumbledore dead, there's no one left but me."

Moody sighed, and scratched at his grizzled head. "Yeah, well, I suppose it could be a worse plan. Keep your hood up and your head down, and with your light feet you could probably walk right through Voldemort's army without being noticed -- so long as you didn't run into any Dementors. It's a sight better than what I thought you were going to ask me, in any case."

She frowned. "What did you think?"

He gestured to the two flasks of potion she wore tied to the belt at her waist. "I thought that might be Polyjuice you were carrying."

"Poly--" She was speechless. "Uncle, I would never ask that of you. Not after -- what Crouch did. And besides, from everything I've heard, cross-gender Polyjuicing isn't just uncomfortable, it's dangerous."

"Ah. You knew about that, did you? Good." He heaved himself out of the chair, stumping across the room to his familiar Auror trunk with its seven locks. "But that wouldn't even be half your problem, if you tried to impersonate me. Even Crouch wobbled about on my wooden leg before he got the hang of it, and the mad-eye was no picnic either. Speaking of which --" and with a muttered curse he popped his artificial eye out and polished it furiously on his robe before shoving it back in again.

"Not to mention," said Maud, determined not to let her nausea show, "that taking them both would leave you at a serious disadvantage, just when a Death Eater raid looks more likely than ever. No, absolutely not." She took a deep breath. "Your spare invisibility cloak will be just fine."

Two keys and two locks later, the trunk yielded a spill of silvery fabric, gleaming elusively in the dim light. Moody picked it up and held it out to her. "Take care of it, Maudie," he said gruffly. "It's not my spare, now: it's the only one I've got."

"I'll guard it with my life."

He gave a grunt of reproof. "Don't be a fool, girl. Guard your life with it, instead; that's what it's for."

"I know," said Maud, with a shaky laugh. "Constant vigilance." She moved into his embrace, held him tightly a moment, then stepped back with the cloak in her hands. "Thank you, Uncle."

He scarcely seemed to hear her: his arms hung loose at his sides and his eyes -- ordinary and magical both -- were turned toward the floor. "Dumbledore," said Moody, in a voice rough with emotion. "Never thought I'd outlive him. Nor Prospero Peachtree, either."

"Peachtree? Was that the wizard who --"

"Went out with a bang, from what I hear. Yes. Didn't know the man had that much guts in him, but I suppose where Dumbledore was concerned..." His mouth twitched. "Prospero owed Albus his life, in pretty much every sense you can think of."

"He wasn't the only one," said Maud softly. "I miss him too, Uncle. I can't believe he's gone."

Moody gave a loud sniff and blinked twice. Then he set his jaw and said with deliberate briskness, "Well, he is. And the rest of us have to get on with living, so... you'd best go before it gets any later."

Maud drew the invisibility cloak around her shoulders, clasped it at her throat. It was amazingly light, and she felt no different wearing it; but when she looked down at herself, she could see nothing but the faded carpet. For the first time in hours she felt a surge of hope: This could work.

"And make sure you keep that hood up," said her uncle, matching the action to the words. "Nothing worse than looking at a disembodied head -- not to mention it makes a very tempting target. Voldemort might have pulled his forces back from Hogwarts, but there's nothing to say he didn't leave a few soldiers behind. So watch your step, Maudie."

"I will," she said. Stepping carefully toward the door -- it was easier if she didn't try to look down at herself -- she opened it and walked out to the gate, just past the Anti-Apparation barrier.

"Maudie."

His voice was barely audible. She turned and looked back, to see him standing in the doorway, his big, twisted frame silhouetted against the light. He hesitated, then clumped down the path after her, as though he were merely going to check that the gate was locked before turning in for the evening.

"You never know what might happen," he continued, fumbling with the latch. His face was averted, and there was an edge of desperation in his voice. "So what I mean is, I thought I'd better --"

Maud reached out and put her hand on his very gently. "I love you too, Uncle Alastor."

"Yes. Well, then. God speed you, lass." Looking relieved, he turned away.

Silently, her eyes still fixed on her uncle's retreating back, Maud straightened up and drew a deep breath. Hogwarts, she thought. Severus --

-- and Disapparated.