Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Fifteen: Strategies and Sacrifices

As fate would have it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the first to find trouble.

The second term had hardly begun, and the trio had started it quietly. Part of that came from the school wide grief over the loss of Oliver Wood (whom everyone, excepting the Slytherins, had liked very much), and still more came from having seen the world outside. It was easy to become isolated at Hogwarts, and many students had managed to forget how bad things really were. This realization, in addition to Oliver's death, hit hard. The Gryffindors, especially, were quiet, and the Misfits were no different from their classmates. Although two days had passed, no pranks had been played.

The one they had started to plan had been killed by that morning's headline: BILL WEASLEY CAPTURED BY DEATH EATERS: ANOTHER AUROR FALLS TO AZKABAN.

That took the heart out of the Misfits. In some ways, though, it pulled Gryffindors of all years together in support of their friends. Yet all the support could be suffocating, too, and when Ron simply needed to get away, Harry and Hermione went with him. Together, they walked the grounds on that chilly Wednesday evening, not speaking, but simply depending on one another's presence for comfort. There were times you needed friends, Harry reflected silently, kicking a stray stick out of his path as they walked. It was an unusually warm night for late January, with a minimum of snow on the ground. This winter was promising to be shorter and warmer than the year before--irrelevantly, he wondered if there was any significance in that. But probably not.

Harry stole a glance at Ron. The red haired boy scuffled along slowly, with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his robes and his head down with eyes staring unseeingly at the still-frozen ground. His friend had been very quiet since that morning, when Professor Fletcher had pulled all four Weasleys aside on their way into the Great Hall for breakfast. Moments later, when Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet arrived, Harry had understood why. He had been there for his friend the entire time, had ridden the storm of Ron's uncharacteristic outburst about how unfair it was, had waited with Hermione when Ron had wanted to be alone, and had dragged him to class afterwards, knowing that isolation wouldn't help him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had visited that morning, Harry knew, but they couldn't stay forever. So, while Lee and the other Gryffindor third years struggled to cheer Fred and George up (and the fifth years tried to do the same for Percy), Harry and Hermione stuck by Ron's side. It was the least they could do. He was their friend.

And that friendship brought the trio to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, walking in companionable silence. Once, Harry had asked his father to explain the relationship he and his fellow Marauders shared. James Potter had replied that he couldn't, that their friendship was beyond definition. Now, Harry understood.

There was a sharp crack, like a twig snapping, yet louder and somehow larger. The trio stopped.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

A cold chill ran down Harry's spine. "I don't know..."

Then, a gust of wind blew, carrying with it a whispering that sounded much like voices. Something was wrong. He knew it. Ron's head came up. "There's something really weird here, guys..." He shivered. "I can feel it."

"So can I," Harry agreed. The wind kept howling, and with a little imagination, he could hear grunts and laughter.

"It's just the wind," Hermione said. But she didn't sound like she believed herself, either. "Isn't it?"

The voices grew louder, almost understandable now. Ron's eyes grew wide. "That's no wind."

There was a crash. And then another. Suddenly, a loud creak made them all jump, and in the distance, they heard a tree fall to the forest floor. Harry had to shout to be heard over the rising wind.

"What is it, then?"

"I don't know!" Ron shouted back.

There was another crash, and then a second tree fell. This one was close enough that the trio could see the forest shake.

"Something's coming!" Hermione cried.

"But what?" Ron demanded.

Harry's heart started pounding in his ears as the crashes increased in frequency. Trees were falling every few seconds, now, and the wind was blowing madly, making their robes whip around their bodies. A sudden gust caused Harry's scarf to take flight, and only a quick grab kept him from losing it. Likewise, Hermione was having terrible problems with her hair, which was trying to flee like a wild animal. Still, she pulled one hand away from the desperate battle to point into the forest.

"Look!" she shouted. "There!"

Dark shapes were moving through the Forbidden Forest. Giant shapes, lumbering forward with long strides that ate up the ground with no effort at all. As the three Gryffindors watched, the figures began moving faster. Moving towards them.

"Oh, no..." Ron whispered, even as the same fear entered Harry's mind. A quick glance told him that Ron was thinking the same thing he was; his friend was pale.

"What is it?" Hermione demanded, but for a moment, all Harry and Ron could do was stare. This can't be happening, Harry's rational mind objected. Not at Hogwarts!

"Giants," Harry finally managed to say through the lump in his throat. "They're giants!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and Harry knew what she was going to say. She was going to say exactly what he was thinking--Not at Hogwarts. It's impossible. But impossibility was staring them in the face. The giants were coming closer, and they stood frozen.

"Come on!" Harry forced himself to move and grab his friends. "We have to warn them!"

Together, they raced towards the castle, praying that they wouldn't be too late. It was hard not to look back as their feet pounded over the frozen ground, but Harry tried not to. There were several reasons for that. First of all, he was sure that looking back would only slow them down. More importantly, though, he was afraid of what they would see.

Suddenly, there was a shadow in front of them, and Harry barely had time to hear Hermione scream before the ground shook and chaos erupted. Instinct drove him, and he dove to the left, testing his Quidditch-honed reflexes to the limit. Distantly, Harry sensed that Ron had done the same, but he heard Hermione scream again, and knew the worst had happened. Still rolling, Harry threw out his left arm to stop himself, grabbing his wand in the other hand at the same time. Then, trying to ignore the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, he looked up to see Hermione held in a giant's huge hand.

Perhaps the giant had grabbed Hermione because she was a girl, and therefore seemed weaker than the other two. Perhaps her reflexes were slower, and she hadn't been able to move in time, so the giant had decided that she was an easier target. Or maybe it simply that Hermione had been the closest, and therefore the easiest to reach. But whatever the reason, the giant had picked the wrong kid. Hermione might have been slower on her feet than the boys, but she was far from stupid.

Once she'd stopped screaming, Harry's friend very calmly stuck her wand right between the giant's eyes and cried "Stupefy!"

Unfortunately, giants are rather large creatures. He staggered, but did not fall. Blinking, the giant glared at Hermione and struggled to shake off the spell--but by then Ron and Harry had raised their wands, and cast the spell together while the giant's attention was still on Hermione--who yelped as he tightened his grip--and the giant staggered again, almost falling this time. But after three stunning spells, the monster was still on his feet.

Harry narrowed his focus and tried again--if they waited much longer, Hermione would be crushed into goo! "Stupefy!"

Again, the giant did not fall, although he looked rather woozy. Suddenly, Ron was at his side, angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

"Damn you!" the other boy cried. "Stupefy! Stupefy--" The giant shuddered, and Harry joined in.

"STUPEFY!"

Finally, the giant crumbled to the ground with an earth-shattering thud. Hermione bounced free, rolling away. Harry and Ron rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. Harry looked at her with concern. "Are you all right?"

Hermione grinned. "Thanks, you two."

"Here." Ron held out her wand, and she took it with a smile.

"Thanks--oh, no!"

"What?" Ron asked, just as Harry demanded:

"Don't tell me that stupid thing is awake already--"

But Harry's mouth shut with a snap as he and Ron turned to face the forest once more, and he felt his eyes grow large. Dark shapes were streaming out of the forest--in the light of the setting sun, Harry could count eight--no, nine--ten, at least. More giants were heading towards them. Towards Hogwarts.

This time, Hermione reacted the fastest. "Let's go!"

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The first teacher they ran into had to be Professor Snape. The day had already been going terribly; it only figured that things would become even worse. After all, Snape hated Gryffindors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had rushed through the castle's doors and nearly bowled over the deputy headmaster. Even as Snape bit off a startled curse, jumping out of their way and struggling to keep his balance, he turned his angry black eyes on them and Harry had to struggle not to flinch under that hate-filled gaze. But it was less of an effort than usual; he knew they had little time to waste. Harry and his friends had run for all they were worth, but there were only moments to spare before the giants were upon the castle. He opened his mouth to speak, but Snape cut him off.

"What in the world do you three think you are doing?" the Potions master demanded. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for reckless behavior! Each!"

Harry stared. Here they were, trying to save Hogwarts, and Snape was subtracting points?

"But Professor, there are giants outside--" Hermione tried.

"There are no giants near Hogwarts, you silly girl," Snape snapped. "Go to your common rooms before I take more points--"

Thud.

Snape's face changed from disbelieving to coolly focused in the space of a second. "Get behind me!"

There was no time for more. The great wooden doors flew wide, and a giant was silhouetted in their opening. Behind him, the sun was setting rapidly, and light was fading from the sky. Harry watched with misguided fascination as his least favorite professor stepped forward, placing himself between the trio and the giant. Snape's right hand moved inside his robes with surprising speed and emerged with his wand as his black eyes narrowed. For a moment, Harry feared that the greasy professor might try to talk with the giant, but he realized very quickly that those worries were unfounded.

"Everbero!" Snape thundered, and a giant hand seemed to lift the giant up and throw him backwards. Distantly, Harry heard a howl of anger.

But Snape was moving. A flick of his wand slammed the doors shut, and without pause, the deputy headmaster set a sealing spell upon them. Then, he spoke a word which Harry had never heard before, but knew instinctively to be a word of power--the lights in the castle flickered once, then twice, and after a third time, became steady once more. Somehow, Harry knew that Hogwarts' wards had just been locked into place. For a long moment, he stared at Snape, whom all his instincts told him not to trust, and realized that they would have to. Running footsteps were headed their way, and closing fast.

Remus Lupin skidded around a corner, his gray robes flying wildly behind him. His blue eyes were alert, yet somehow were very cold in a way that Harry had only seen them once before. Remus' gaze was on Snape.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Giants," the other replied shortly, sliding his wand into his robes once more. "I presume more than one."

Hermione picked up where he left off without prompting. "At least eleven," she said quickly. "Harry and Ron stunned one when we were on our way back, but they were coming out of the Forbidden Forest. We didn't stop to see if there were any more."

"Well done," the headmaster said quietly to the boys, and to Harry's surprise, Snape jerked his head in agreement. But Remus continued: "It is very hard to stun a giant. I'm surprised you managed it; not many spells work on them."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, we found that out the hard way."

Snape and Lupin exchanged a significant look, but the deputy headmaster only shrugged. Suddenly, Remus wondered, "Where's Dung?"

"Here," the head of Gryffindor emerged from the same corridor that the headmaster had come from, accompanied by several other staff members.

"Quirrell?" Remus asked next, leaving Harry to wonder what his dad's old friend would want with the inept Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Quirrell would probably faint at the mere sight of a giant! But the answer wasn't long in coming.

"Rii--iight hee--rree, Head-master," the turban-wearing professor stuttered.

"Take all the students to the Great Hall. Keep them there until told otherwise by Severus or myself." The headmaster waited for an understanding nod, and then continued. "Go with him, Sprout. Keep them safe."

"Right," the dumpy head of Hufflepuff nodded and quickly turned to the trio, and waved an impatient hand in their direction. "You heard the headmaster! Come along!"

Although he knew it was hopeless, Harry couldn't help sending a pleading glance in Remus' direction. He was sick of being protected. Hadn't he, Ron, and Hermione defeated a giant all by themselves? Yet they were going to be shut up in the Great Hall while the fate of Hogwarts hung in the balance. Even though Harry knew--when he was being honest with himself, which he didn't particularly feel like being a the moment--that luck had played a critical part in the trio's defeat of that giant, he couldn't help but feel slighted. Why did adults always underestimate them? This was just like the situation with Snape and Quirrell back in November. They were 'too young' to be trusted. Harry resisted the urge to groan. He was sure that the grown-ups wouldn't understand that.

And of course, Remus shook his head, and Harry had no choice but to join his friends in following Quirrell and Sprout to the Great Hall. It figured. One moment they were saving Hogwarts from giants, and the next they were being babysat.

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Hours later, Remus fell more than sat in the chair by the fire. He ached. The pain wasn't as bad as his transformations, but he was more exhausted, which he had not thought possible. Remus had spent years living with monthly pain and exhaustion, though, and knew very well how to push through both. Functionality, he knew, had little to do with personal comfort.

"That," Mundungus Fletcher breathed, "was messy."

"You have a certain aptitude for understatement," Severus responded dryly.

"And you one for sarcasm," Dung retorted.

"Really?" the Potions master arched one black eyebrow. "I'm shocked that you even noticed."

Dung snorted with laughter, and Remus found himself chuckling despite his fatigue. Dung and Severus had extremely contrasting personalities; there were times that how they managed to remain friends mystified the headmaster. However, there were some things that could overcome even such diverse characters and bind them together. Remus smiled grimly. Today had been one of those days.

He cleared his throat before Snape and Fletcher could launch into another playful argument. "Forgive me for interrupting," Remus said quietly, "but I'd like to get this done before daybreak, personally."

His companions nodded in agreement. "No kidding," Dung breathed.

"Quite," Severus grunted.

"Well, let's start by saying what we could not earlier, then," Remus continued.

It was late, and they had already held an after action review with Hogwarts' entire staff, going over what had happened during the giants' attack. Unfortunately, Remus, Severus, and Dung had borne the brunt of the battle, but they were the only ones trained for such things. The other professors simply hadn't ever encountered that kind of fight, and when he'd formed his battle plan (which had been a seat-of-the-pants affair if there ever had been one), Remus had improvised accordingly. He'd had no doubts about his, Dung's or Severus' ability to kill, so they had provided the offense, leaving defensive spells to their less-practiced colleagues.

In the end, their exhaustion stemmed from their success. The plan had worked, but it had cost the three professors heavily. Four hours after the first giant sighting, all of their opponents were dead. Remus did not take pleasure in killing, but he had no pity for those who would hurt his children. After a moment, he continued.

"First of all," Remus said, "do we have any question about who was behind this?"

He had asked the same question earlier, and the general consensus had been to lay the blame at Voldemort's feet. However, Snape had merely sat silently with a scowl on his face at the time, so both Remus and Dung knew that there might be more. Besides, for wizards as practiced in dealing with the Dark Lord as they, they were well aware that all the pieces didn't quite fit. Something odd was going on.

Severus was silent for a long moment. "Yes and no," he finally replied. "Yes, I am sure that it was the Dark Lord. No, I do not understand why. It's his intent that bothers me."

"And I," Dung agreed. "He could not have thought he would succeed. A dozen giants? You'd need ten times that many to take Hogwarts, and Voldemort knows that. So why attack if he knew it would fail?"

"Fear," Remus replied quietly, watching the others' heads swiveled in his direction. "Hogwarts has not been attacked directly since 1984. Dumbledore beat Voldemort back that time, although both of them were seriously injured in the process, and Hogwarts suffered heavily--but the defenses were never breached. He's out to prove that they can be."

"Because you're not Dumbledore," Severus agreed, shooting Remus an apologetic look. "No offense intended."

"I know what you mean." Remus gave him a half-hearted smile.

But Dung was less enthusiastic. "So has he succeeded?" the former Auror wondered. "He has plainly tested you, Remus. But what has he learned? And what was the point?"

"He's learned that Remus won't roll over and die easily," Severus answered for him. "You're right, Dung, in that Voldemort is testing the headmaster. Remus has always been of great interest to him because he's an unknown quality. Now he has learned that he's not as passive as reputation claims."

"And the point was to fail, yet at the same time prove that Hogwarts can be attacked," Remus finished.

"But why waste the resources in an attack you know is going to fail?" Dung replied. "Voldemort is anything but stupid. There has to be something more here."

Severus shrugged. "There is and there isn't. Sometimes you forget, Dung, that Voldemort does not place the same value on life that we do. Others--especially giants, who are beneath his notice because they are non-wizards and non-human--are only tools. They are resources to be expended, not protected. He doesn't care, Dung. Not at all."

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Molly almost dreaded opening the door, but in the end, she did it anyway.

Arthur was at work. Ginny was downstairs, reading a book--although Molly suspected that her youngest was paying as much attention to that story as she had been to her own knitting project a few minutes earlier. The Burrow was, oddly enough, quiet. It was almost peaceful, could have been--if not for that dreadful emptiness residing in her soul. Three words began and ended her sorrow: Bill was gone. She had lost another one.

Slowly, she looked inside the room. Bill's room. Once, it had been his and Charlie's, but after Charlie died... They had kept the room for him at the Burrow, even though he had his own flat. In troubled times like this, one always needed a place to come home to, and Arthur and Molly Weasley had promised all of their children that the Burrow would always be that place. No matter what, they would always be family. Family... Oh, Bill... Tears threatened to spring to her eyes, and Molly shook her head angrily. She had promised herself that she wouldn't grieve until she knew he was dead. Not yet. Not yet.

The yellow walls were still the same shade--why he insisted on keeping that ugly color, she would never know--and the bedspread was askew, just like Bill always left it. Both pillows, though, were laid neatly on the bed, which was made with Bill's usual precision. Always the same. Every time. So predictable, her Bill--was that how the Death Eaters caught him? Molly shook her head again. She wouldn't think of that. Not of her first child, her baby boy, whom she would always remember pulling her hair and then saying his first word--"Muum." It wasn't quite perfect, but it was close enough. He was her little boy.

On the wall there was the dragon poster that he and Charlie had both loved so much. While Charlie had been the one with the dragon fascination, Bill had always loved the creatures, too. Before he'd joined the Aurors, Bill had taken to wearing that infernal dragon's tooth earring...and she'd chided him for it. Molly winced. She would never know the real reason why he'd stopped wearing it--Bill claimed that it was because the Aurors frowned upon such things, but his mother had never been sure. She could only hope, now that he'd told the truth. Sighing, she entered the room for the first time since she'd learned of her son's capture. It didn't get any easier with time.

There was a book on the nightstand, left facedown and open. Sites of Historical Sorcery, she noticed with a bittersweet smile. Some things never changed. Even though he'd become an Auror, driven to do so out of a desire to make a difference, Bill would never stop loving historical mysteries. But that thought brought less happy ones along with it.

Molly had lost two sons to the Aurors, now. First Charlie, dead for what reasons no one knew, and now Bill, in Azkaban--would it ever end? They deserved so much better... Again, she had to force back tears. No tears, she reminded herself. I will not cry until he's dead. Until then, there is still hope. Molly tried to smile, but she felt her lower lip tremble. Yes, she would hope, even though common sense told her not to. She'd hope, even when there was no reason left to do so, because Bill had been her little boy, and she wasn't about to lose him too. Not now.

But she'd be damned if she'd let another one of her children become an Auror. The Weasleys had given enough.