White Bird on a Silver Thread

This one is for everyone who is going to review. If you review, please please please tell me what you want to see in future chapters. I *will* take your advice. Or as much of it as possible.

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Chapter Four: Swaying Branch, Part One

Why do the birds go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don't they know it's the end of the world?

"Hogsmeade trip today at eleven," read Ron aloud from the announcement pinned on the walls. Being half a foot taller than everybody, he peered easily over the heads of the other people. Harry, straining to see on his tiptoe, fell back on his heel.

"Do you want to go?" he asked his friend.

Ron shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Heard that Zonko's got a new shipment of stuff. Let's go tell Hermione."

He pelted back up to the Gryffindor tower, Harry at his heels, moving at a slower pace. Hermione was, as usual, bent over a tall pile of books. It was only the day after Christmas, but she had already gone back to researching Gwendolyn again. Ginny and Jennie were playing chess by the fire with Harry's old set, the one he had gotten during Christmas in his first year. Ginny, who had learned to play from Ron, was winning spectacularly.

"Hullo, Hermione," said Ron, waving to Jennie and his sister as he passed them. A black knight met a very violent end as Ginny, who played white, watched in satisfaction.

"Oh, hey Ron," said Hermione, looking up briefly. When she saw Harry, she bent forward again, her long loose locks falling like a curtain to veil her face very effectively.

"Dropped by to tell you there's a Hogsmeade trip today at eleven. Wanna come?"

"Oh, yes, thanks for telling me, Ron," she said, her face still hidden. "I need to pick up some new books."

"In an hour then. You two coming, Gin?"

Ginny looked up. "Yeah. I want to go visit the orphanage again, and Jennie has never seen Hogsmeade before."

"Let's have a picnic," proposed Harry.

Ginny looked dubious. "It's rather cold and snowy, if you haven't noticed."

Harry shrugged. "Come on, don't be a spoilsport, Gin. We could use the floating carpet you guys got me for Christmas. It's huge, and floats to up to five feet. It'll be fun."

"Ooooh, that sounds fun," said Ron, his mouth quivering a little. "Let's go filch some food from the kitchens, Harry."

The two boys turned and walked toward the portrait hole. "Bye, you guys, see you in an hour," called Ron without looking back, as he climbed out. Harry didn't say anything, but he turned and gave Hermione a last parting glance, which, as she was still bent over her books, she didn't see.

* * * * *

The thirty Hogwarts carriages rolled onto Hogsmeade's main street. The students disembarked in front of the Three Broomsticks, and one by one, the carriages clattered back to Hogwarts. Harry jumped out of the last one, followed by Ron, and they helped the three girls down. Hermione pointedly refused Harry's hand, choosing instead to lean on Ron, and Harry, his eyes darkening, put his arm around Ginny's waist and swung her down.

"The old stile, two o'clock," said Ron, waving cheerily to the others. "Harry and I'll be in either Zonko's or Honeydukes if any of you need us."

Ginny, looking very fetching in her new white coat and hat, pulled on a pair of pearly gloves. "Ok. I'll show Jennie around a bit before we go to the orphanage. Hermione?"

"Mmm? Oh. Yeah, I'll be at the Stone Quill."

"So at two, ok?" said Ron. The others nodded. "All right, Harry, let's go."

The two boys set off in the direction of Honeydukes. Soon, whatever room had been left in Harry's knapsack (he had packed the floating carpet and their lunch in it) was filled up with candy. Munching contentedly on nice, safe, peanut butter cups (they didn't want to risk Every Flavor Beans), they strolled down the street to Zonko's.

The new shipment was indeed extraordinary. There was soap that made your skin purple for three days, quills that turned into big hairy spiders, clocks that always made you think you're late, and mirrors that you could actually enter. At the front of the store, there was a man demonstrating the virtues of a new invention called 'Hole-in-the-wall.'

"All you need to do," the man was saying, "is stretch it to the size you want, and then stick it on any surface. It immediately becomes a hole. It's reusable, and it works on doors, walls, and windows!"

He was waving a bit of round, shiny black material in the air. Stretching it to the size of a door, he stuck it to a bookshelf, walked through it to the other side, walked back out, and took it down again. The bookshelf looked perfectly normal.

"Wow," said Ron. "Want to get one?"

"Sure," said Harry. They bought one apiece, sticking it into their pockets since Harry's knapsack was full.

"Where to next?" asked Ron.

Harry checked his watch. It was 1:30. He shrugged. "Let's just start walking over," he said. "There's really nothing else to do, and it would take us about fifteen minutes to get there."

"Sounds good to me. We can set up the carpet, too. C'mon then, let's go."

* * * * *

"Why, Ginny, how good to see you!" The orphanage matron, coming into sitting room with a baby on her hip, bustled forward and gave Ginny a hug. "My, how nice you look," she said, gazing with admiration at the white coat with its fur collar and the absurd little pillbox hat perched atop her fiery curls.

"Thank you," said Ginny warmly, kissing the woman's cheek Continental style. "Mrs. Thane, this is my friend Jennie Milbank. Jennie, this is Mrs. Thane, the matron here at the orphanage. As I told you, I volunteered here all last summer."

The two shook hands, and Mrs. Thane led them into the kitchen. "The children have missed you so these past few months," she said, as she set the baby down on a wooden high chair. There was a round red braided run on the floor, and in front of the open stone hearth a mass of hydrangeas were set in a huge earthenware pot. The mats on the long oak table were crocheted, and they, too, were red.

"I've missed them too. But it's so hard to get away these days, you know," sighed Ginny.

"Yes. You're a sixth year now, aren't you? You must have loads of work. Let me get you something to eat, my dears," said Mrs. Thane, as she hustled about.

"Thank you, we'll be eating lunch with our friends later," Ginny hastened to interrupt.

"Then let me get you some chocolate."

"That sounds wonderful," said Jennie, as Ginny sat down at the table. "Hello, Robbie," she said to the baby, holding out a finger, and the child, laughing, reached eagerly for it. Ginny felt an almost overwhelming piercing sense of joy at the feel of the small fingers closing over hers.

It must be the little things, she thought dreamily, drinking her chocolate. Small things, good things, like the way the baby crumbled a roll of bread, his mouth full, his eyes intent. It was the hydrangeas, too deep a blue to be real, and the way sky was as white as diamonds, though it was a clear day, and the way Mrs. Thane walked through the doorway, carrying a laden tray to the children in the next room. It was the way her apron looked so crisp and starch and white over her red checkered dress.

It was the comfort of these little things that made her forget. It made her forget everything except the taste of the hot, sweet chocolate and the murmur of the baby as he talked to himself. It made her forget how she had lain awake the whole night before, unable to sleep, her mouth remembering the feel of Draco, her mouth different because he had touched it.

She would not let herself love him, she had vowed. She would not love a man who loved indiscriminately and who hated so powerfully. She would be a coward and remember what happened because she hadn't the strength to deny herself a memory. She would indulge herself that much. She wouldn't see Draco, and nor would she allow herself hear the sound of his voice, but how, oh how could she leave him without a backward glance?

Suddenly, unreasonably, absurdly, she heard the melody of a song she had once heard played on her father's Muggle radio inside her head.

Why does my heart go on beating?

Why do these eyes of mine cry?

Don't they know it's the end of the world?

It ended when you said goodbye -

Love, she thought wryly. It wasn't so simple after all.

She looked at Jennie, sitting opposite her, holding out her hands to a little girl that had run into the room. "You are very pretty," the child said, solemnly. "You are just as pretty as Ginny, and Ginny is the prettiest person in the world." Jennie laughed, and gathered the child to her heart.

"May I hold Robbie?" asked Ginny suddenly, obeying an indefinable impulse. She lifted him out of the high chair even before the matron had a chance to answer her. His head was heavy against her shoulder; the nape of his neck was white and soft and he smelled of soap and milk and powder. She held him against her, thinking: This is the way it feels. How can something so small fill your arms? And she wondered why she had wanted to hold him and why she felt like this with his cheek brushing hers, complete and satisfied.

* * * * *

Hermione was sitting on a comfortable chair inside the Stone Quill. The atmosphere was soothing, peaceful, quiet; books lined the walls from the carpeted floor to vaulted ceilings. An enormous volume lay open on her lap, and she flipped thoughtfully through it. It was entitled The Twenty Greatest Element Wizards of All Time, and there was a lengthy section on Lady Gwendolyn. She had been the founder of the Sisterhood of Nyma, otherwise known as the Order of the Green Serpent. Serpent, thought Hermione, picking up a small dictionary of symbols and looking is up.

The situation of the symbolic Entanglement is the snake curled around a tree (or round the staff of Aesculapius) points to the close relationship between life and the corruption as the source of all evil.

Hermione sat upright. There was something furtive about this passage, something hidden between the words. Hidden, she thought. Where was the Heaven Sword hidden?

Nyma, she thought again. The Sisterhood of Nyma. Again she returned to the book on Gwendolyn, and searched half frantically. At last she found what she was looking for.

The Sisterhood, a company of nine mages and maguses, is housed in the Hall of Nyma, and guarded by the Knights of the Island.

So that was it, thought Hermione, her brow furrowing. Nyma was an island. She would never have guessed. In itself, Nyma was an ancient word for north.

And then it hit her. Mountain. Island. Serpent. North. The book fell to the ground as she stood up suddenly, knowing, at last, what it all meant, knowing what she must do, no matter what it cost her, knowing that this - this was the beginning of the end.

* * * * *

Abbas' Photography and Portraits, read the sign above the store. The glass doors magically opened, and Draco, his grandfather's scroll under his arm, strolled inside. A short, fat, balding little Arabian wizard hopped off the high stool he was perched atop and scuttled forward to greet him.

"Ah - Mr. Malfoy, is it?" asked the old man, peering up at him over the rims of his glasses.

"Yes," said Draco.

"Are you here for a portrait, my boy?"

"No. I need something framed."

"Why, certainly, Mr. Malfoy. Come, come, follow me this way."

The little wizard led him out of the main studio and into a small, windowless antechamber illuminated by yellow artificial lights. Frames of every size, color, material, and design imaginable were crammed into what seemed like an unbelievably tiny closet. There was a small table, and Draco set his painting down, unrolling it so that Mr. Abba could measure it. The little man, who wore bright purple robes and a black turban, bounced about distractedly, an orange measuring tape in hand.

"Let me see," he murmured, "One by two feet. A good size. Any preferences, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Nothing garish. Plain mahogany would work well," said Draco.

"How does this one look?"

Draco nodded, tracing his fingers along the smooth wood.

"It will be done - "

Before the Arab could finish, the sound of an explosion filled the air. The windows in the room outside shattered, and the two stared at each other before Mr. Abba ran out of the room to see what had happened. Draco, instinctively knowing that something was horribly, horribly wrong, grabbed his painting before he left, rolling it back up and stuffing it into his pocket as he raced outside.

* * * * *

Harry and Ron were sitting on the floating carpet, which they had parked three feet above the ground on the crest of a little snowy hill overlooking Hogsmeade village. It was an enormous carpet, being twelve feet long and ten feet wide when spread out, and they were carefully arranging the food the Hogwarts kitchen elves had provided them.

"Ron?" asked Harry suddenly, looking up and behind his friend's shoulder. And then, more urgently, "Ron? Look - do you see what I see?"

Ron turned around and looked in the direction Harry was pointing. Over Hogsmeade, an enormous storm cloud was rising, and distantly, they could see tiny, dark little figures flying with the clouds. They looked like birds from this distance, and the two boys watched, transfixed. "Wonder what's the matter?" said Ron, squinting. "Why are all the crows coming?"

"Dunno," said Harry, looking just as bewildered. They sat for a minute longer before they decided that they were too hungry to wait any longer, and they each reached for a chicken leg. As they sat munching contentedly, Harry again glanced toward the village again. What he saw made him choke on his chicken.

"You ok?" asked Ron worriedly, thumping his friend on the back. Harry spluttered and pointed.

The cloud was still fast approaching, but it was the birds that caught Ron's attention. Because they weren't birds at all. They were black-cloaked figures on broomsticks.

Death Eaters. As they watched in fascinated horror, a shop in the village exploded into flames. And over the main square rose the shape of a glittering green skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

* * * * *

In the beat of stillness that followed that first explosion, there came a sound no one had ever heard before.

A sound like nothing anyone had ever imagined, not even in the blackest depths of their most fevered nightmares. A wild beast's roar. A sound to end all other sounds on earth, to swallow them up, to drown them out, to crush them and destroy them.

* * * * *

In the studio, every pane of glass broke into a hundred pieces that dropped and shattered again on the stone floor. Mr. Abba was beside himself with terror and began to blubber in Arabic. Draco leapt outside one of the broken windows, and saw that the sky was quickly darkening. The glass in every single building on the street had shattered, and people were running and screaming. Draco reached out with his mind, and what he saw nearly frightened him sick.

A red fire flickered in the black screen of his mind. When it was gone, the darkness afterward was a vision of a night with stars in the sky and a black silhouette of a great mountain. There was a gray plume of smoke, lighter than the surrounding blackness. The plume of smoke lightened, and the stars faded. Without warning, the top of the mountain exploded, and the fire returned, flashing on the undersides of a cloud of ash and smoke wider than the mountain. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, but they were shut already, and the vision remained as clear. He watched as boiling rock swept down the remains of the mountain, filling the valleys with smoking ruin. He saw houses and stores exploding one after another, and the people running, a woman with a little child suddenly engulfed in flame. The ground shuddered under his feet. The red, heaving wall of melted rock bore down on him.

It isn't real, thought Draco, desperately. He pried his eyes open. It wasn't real.

All over the place, people were running, but they had no place to run to. He turned his gaze down High Street, and what he saw made his heart skid to a stop.

A swarm of black-cloaked figures on brooms, flying with the thunder cloud. And over Hogsmeade's main square, the enormous, smoky green Dark Mark.

Without stopping to think, Draco began to run. There was another explosion somewhere; debris filled the air and something hit his cheek; the sting on his flesh told him that whatever it was had left its mark, but he didn't care. He ran in the direction that the Death Eaters were heading, falling to his knees as yet another store to his right blew up.

Books filled the air, hitting him from all sides. He guessed that he was crouched outside what had once been the Stone Quill, and he winced as an armchair landed on his shoulder. Someone - a girl - screamed. Draco chanced a look around, received a book square in the forehead, and saw the limp form of Hermione Granger on the ground. She was crushed under a bookcase.

Draco, cursing violently, got to his knees and pushed the heavy shelf aside.

"I think I've broken my leg," gasped Hermione, tears of pain rolling down her cheek. Draco, his mouth set into a tight line, took out his wand and said, "Leuis." Picking her up as though she weighed less than a leaf - which she did, considering that Draco had just Charmed her - he started off at a run again.

"Harry," said Hermione pleadingly, her face half hidden against his shirt. "We have to find him."

"I'll be damned if I do."

"Then where are we going?"

"Ginny," he said briefly. "She's at the orphanage?"

"Yes, yes," said Hermione. She checked her watch. It was 1:55. Oh God, she thought, praying desperately that Harry had reached the stile early. The orphanage was at the outskirts of the village - right by their rendezvous place. Oh please, dear God, she prayed, frantically, the tears falling in spite of herself. Let Harry be there.

* * * * *

"Ginny," said Ron, leaping off of the carpet and nearly breaking his neck as he tripped on a root. "And Hermione, and Jennie. We have to go get them."

He got clumsily to his feet and began to stumble blindly down the hill. Harry followed him, and they ran as they had never run before, ignoring the sharp branches that dug into their skin and the half-hidden holes that ensnared their feet. In four minutes flat they had reached the edge of the village. They were a scant few feet from the orphanage when it suddenly burst into flames, and the impact caused Ron and Harry to soar through the air. They landed, of course, on the highest boughs of the clump of nearby fir trees, nearly thirty feet from the ground. Both were knocked out, and they were stuck there for the next two hours.

* * * * *

Ginny heard it first, a great roar filling the day, making any other sound impossible. As the children began to scream, she gazed with numb horror over Robbie's head and into Jennie's eyes.

And then the fire was upon her.

Ginny screamed as she felt herself being lifted up, up, up, slammed brutally against the ceiling of the orphanage, then, with a force hard enough to break bone, crashed right back down again. Ginny never knew what had hit her. She only knew that she was burning in hell. There was fire, so much fire, and she screamed and screamed and screamed.

Crying out in fear and pain, she held Robbie close to her. Her ears were filled with an assault of sound. Robbie's wailing, the sound of glass breaking, of children screaming, of beams falling, of the world exploding.

Ginny could feel herself being hurtled once again, straight up, flying through the air, as the roof of the orphanage split open like a ripe summer melon. For one incredible moment, she seemed to hang above the earth, clutching Robbie in her arms, suspended in time and space. Then, with a speed so brutal it stole her breath, she began to plummet downward.

She felt a sudden, piercing cold, a shooting pain, as she fell into a bank of snow that was blessedly, blessedly soft, Robbie still clutched to her. With a sob, she lifted her head.

Jennie was lying some ten feet away from her, looking dazed but otherwise unhurt. They had been thrown about a hundred and fifty feet from the orphanage, which had burst into flames.

Staring at her best friend, she could only think illogically, ridiculously, of that song she had heard on her father's Muggle radio.

Why does the sun go on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don't they know it's the end of the world?

* * * * *

The Death Eaters were striking out randomly. People crumbled to the earth as they flew overhead like great black birds of doom, but still Draco ran. Every now and then, as the curses fell from overhead, he threw himself to the ground, shielding Hermione with his own body. Shops were bursting into flames at every moment. Children wandered the street, crying and forlorn. Screams filled the air. And still Draco ran.

* * * * *

"Are you all right?" asked Jennie in a shaky voice as she crawled slowly towards Ginny on her hands and knees. Ginny nodded, her eyes wide with horror.

"And Robbie?"

Ginny pulled the child away from her. His eyes were open, his fist closed tightly over a lock of her hair. Gently, Ginny pried open his fingers. He was not breathing.

"He's dead," whispered Ginny, her voice hoarse and barely audible. She closed his eyes gently with her fingers. "He's dead," she repeated, her voice rising to a shriek. "He was only a child!" she cried, cradling the warm, still body.

"Hush, you mustn't do this to yourself," whispered Jennie, shaking her. But Ginny could only whisper over and over in a dazed, empty voice: but he was only a child! He was only a child!

It seemed a long time later when Ginny's sobs subsided at last. "What happened?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Jennie shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "But the Dark Mark is hanging over Hogsmeade Square. We can't go back that way, we have to try to get out of here."

They struggled slowly to their feet. Ginny lay Robbie's tiny body on the ground, and covered it gently with snow.

"Let's find a way out of here," she said, turning away, each word falling like drops of ice in water. The two girls clasped hands and headed past the stile, up the hill.

* * * * *

"Oh, my God," said Draco, his voice full of horror. Hermione lifted her head, feeling the rush of cold air against her cheek where it had lain warm against Draco's chest.

The orphanage was in flames.

Or rather, what was left of the orphanage was in flames. Bodies strewed the ground, lying amidst the broken glass and wood. Hermione said weakly, "I'm think I'm going to be sick."

Draco placed her on the ground and turned his head discreetly while she retched into the undergrowth. Then she cleaned herself up with her wand, also patching up her broken leg while she was at it.

It was Draco who saw him coming first. "Hermione," he said, his voice rising, as the Death Eater flew toward them. "Hermione," he said again. She looked up, and her wide eyes reflected her terror. "Get up, Hermione, and run like hell," he said, drawing out his wand.

Hermione stood up, but she did not run. She drew out her wand as well, and walked slowly forward to join him.

The Death Eater laughed mockingly and raised his own wand.

"Interwundius," he hissed, pointing at Draco. A purple light shot forth from his wand, but before Draco could shout "Expelliarmus," Hermione had leapt forward and taken the brunt of the curse. She cried out, blood spewing from her lips, and would have fallen to the earth if Draco had not caught her. Raising her wand, she gasped out, her voice weak and wavering, "Donum dona . . . veram - veram lucem . . ." Her voice trailed away. She had fainted.

The Death Eater advanced on them. Balancing Hermione on one arm, Draco held out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

The Death Eater's wand flew out of his hand, but others were coming towards them. They didn't stand a chance. Draco broke out into a run, expecting the curses to rain down on them at any moment. When none did, he chanced a look back.

Augusta Ashley stood in the shadows of the flaming orphanage, her wand outstretched. Her lips moved, and Draco caught the faintest whisper of her words. They were the same ones that Hermione had spoken. "Donum dona, veram lucem, vera lux. Murum verae lucis dona, petrae nux . . ."

Nothing happened. Or rather, nothing seemed to happen. As the Death Eaters pulled out their wands, preparing to finish him off, he rolled to the ground, careful to shield but not crush Hermione. But when nothing hit him, he looked up again, and saw the spells bouncing off an invisible wall, and hitting the Death Eaters themselves. Many fell to their own curses. He turned back toward where Professor Ashley had been standing, but she was gone. Not trusting the wall to hold for long, he broke out into a run, and did not stop for a long time.

***