The Vanishing Effect

Chapter 2

Where had it gone? How had it disappeared? And more importantly, why was it no longer there? These thoughts rolled through Harry's mind as his hands continued to grasp his head in panic. This was not like misplacing your glasses! A part of him was MISSING! His eyes turned once again to his best friends searching for an answer, but found none. They were just as stymied as he was. Strangely, Harry felt upset at the fact that it had vanished. His head was already pounding painfully from the events of the night, and these new thoughts swimming around made it threaten to explode. Harry pressed his hands to his temples and groaned.

Ever since Harry had entered the wizarding world seven years ago, he had always hated it when people's eyes would rake upwards when they met and inspect the scar on his forehead. He had constantly wished that it would just disappear. And now it had! So why wasn't he happy? Why was he so annoyed? Harry shook his head not wanting to think anymore. As his head gave another excruciating thud, he closed his eyes.

The rain started to come down in sheets. Harry felt a hand under his arm urging him to his feet. He felt a hand pull at his arm, urging him to his feet. Opening his eyes, he saw Ron, moving to help him up.

"Thanks mate," Harry mumbled to Ron as he finally achieved a standing position.

"Everyone," said a very soft and kind voice from behind them, "I think its best we get out from under the rain" Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned towards the source of the voice, and saw Dumbledore approaching slowly. He gestured at a very large mausoleum sitting on the edge of the grounds.

"I think this will do nicely for the time being," Dumbledore said. He appeared to be walking slower, and more methodical than usual. Harry wondered if the Professor might be injured from the battle. In the final moments of the fight, Harry had almost completely forgotten that the wise old man was even there.

As Harry started to follow the others in a ragged line, he could not help but glance at the fallen body of Lord Voldemort. He couldn't help himself, he still felt scared! He knew the feeling was irrational, and had no basis in fact, but he had spent too many years of his life in fear of this man, and now that he was dead, Harry couldn't shake this ominous feeling he had. Part of him was afraid that the Dark Lord really wasn't dead, and that this was some great wretched bad dream. It was a something he was sure would fade with time, but for now everything was still too fresh.

Slowly, everyone began the slippery trek toward the mausoleum in order to seek shelter from the downpour. Dumbledore as well as most all members of the Order were here this night. Everyone Harry knew and loved had shown up, and fought valiantly. Briefly wondering where they all were, he gazed around him to see only half the total amount of the Order making their way resolutely up the hill. His head jerked suddenly and he felt his heart drop.

What had happened to Hagrid? Lupin? What about the Weasleys? He couldn't see through the thick sheets of rain to notice if they were there. All he knew was there were several mud splattered, water logged bodies moving in the same direction as he, and he hoped that those he loved were among them.

Halfway to their destination, they passed the fallen remains of the Death Eaters. Harry repressed a shudder. Not a mark disfigured the dead bodies, and yet they all seemed to be staring right through him as he passed; their eyes permanently open forever frozen with varied expressions of horror and shock. Harry averted his eyes as best he could, but they were weaving their way in and out of the fallen corpses, and sometimes looking at them was unavoidable.

It seemed to take an hour before Harry and the rest of the exhausted, mud covered, wet members of the group finally arrived at the building, when in reality merely ten minutes had passed. They stepped inside and shut the massive, creaking wood doors. Light from the silvery half moon shone through high arched windows near the ceiling, illuminating everything with an eerie sort of glow. Everyone seemed to collapse where they stood from extreme fatigue. Harry found a marble bench over in the corner of the large stone room and slumped wearily onto it. Hermione sat on the floor in front of him, and Ron next to him on the bench. Harry watched almost from outside himself as his friends tried as best they could to get dry. Ron ran a hand through his saturated hair, and shook the water from his ears, and then wiped away the stray drops that clung stubbornly to his eyelashes. Hermione drew out her wand and muttered something under her breath that Harry couldn't make out. Immediat! ely, steam started issuing from the tip of her wand. She directed it at the soggy parts of her robes, and quickly dried herself out. Harry was too tired, and to emotionally spent, to care how wet or dry he was. He began inspecting the cavernous room he was sitting in through half mast eyes. The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch would fit comfortably in here, he thought to himself. The high vaulted ceiling was easily a good one hundred feet above their heads, and the walls were gray marble. He looked down to the ground and saw a flagstone floor underneath his saturated sneakers. Mixed in and among the tombs were several benches and low seats placed strategically around the room; as if put there for the very purpose of holding a large number of people. Harry's eyes wandered from the architecture of the building, to the people occupying it.

He surveyed the Headmaster, who was now standing against the wall opposite Harry's bench talking softly to Professor McGonagall. He seemed to be leaning slightly to the left, as though favoring his right leg. McGonagall looked frazzled, and not at all like the stern, transfiguration teacher he had known so well. Pieces of her hair were starting to come loose from her bun, and her glasses sat askew on her weary face.

Lupin and Moody were standing a short distance away, huddled together conversing in quiet subdued tones. Professor Moody appeared to be scanning the room with his magical eye. It was spinning so fast in its socket that it made Harry almost queasy to watch him. Instead, he focused his attention on Lupin, who appeared to be inspecting the lower portion of his left leg. There was a great gash along the calf muscle and it looked bad to Harry. Professor Lupin was apparently cleaning it out with some sort of incantation with his wand, because Harry watched the cut heal itself. Lupin, being done with his leg, plopped himself down on one of the stone benches, rested his head against the wall behind him, and with a great sigh he closed his eyes.

Harry averted his gaze from the two men, and continued scanning the room. Mr. Weasley was holding Mrs. Weasley and apparently speaking comfortingly to her. As Harry observed from afar, Arthur stroked her hair with his hand and wrapped her in a tight embrace. At that point, Harry stopped watching; not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a very private moment.

He shifted his gaze from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to the opposite wall. Hagrid was slumped there, sitting on the floor with his great bushy head in his hands. He looked utterly and completely woebegone, and seemed to take up even more space than usual. He was drenched like the others, but unlike the others, didn't seem to be putting much effort into drying himself out.

The Weasley twins were slouched back to back on the floor in the middle of the room. Ginny was standing above them, her eyes out of focus and staring at the wall. Both twins looked exhausted, yet somehow managed to regain their playful aura about them as they sat picking up pebbles on the stone floor and dropping them into little piles at their feet. They, too, were talking to each other in soft voices. Harry wouldn't be surprised if any second now either of them pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards and started a game. A half grin came to Harry's face as he wondered how they kept their lighthearted natures about them in such desperate times. However they did it, Harry was glad for the one constant in his life; no matter the circumstances, he knew Fred and George would always be around to make him smile. As Harry watched, Ginny came wandering over from where she had been standing, and plunked herself down at Ron's feet, causing Hermione to turn and smile at the younge! r girl. Ginny amazingly enough, didn't look too bad. She was sodden and worn out just like the rest of them, but didn't appear any worse for the wear. Harry was jerked out of his reverie when he saw Professor Dumbledore approaching him.

"How are you doing Harry?" Dumbledore asked him in a quiet concerned voice. Harry had never seen the Headmaster's face as lined and worried as it was at this moment.

"I'm alright Professor," Harry replied calmly, shaking himself out of his stupor. He sat up a little straighter on his bench and asked the question that had been swimming in his head ever since the graveyard.

"Sir, where is everyone else?" he inquired, almost afraid of the answer. Dumbledore did not seem surprised in the least at this question; in fact, he looked as though he had expected it from the young boy. The Headmaster gave a great sigh, and then said, "We do not know where several of our number are. Most of them were last seen as they left to retrieve the last of the fleeing dark wizards. They have not returned as of yet. We do know that Professor Snape is safe, and that he is doing exactly what was requested of him." He paused to gather breath, and quite possibly strength, for the next sentence. "Mundungs Fletcher appears to be missing, as does Nymphordia Tonks." The wizened old man closed his eyes briefly before very quietly continuing, his voice barely audible. "I regret to say, however, that Percy Weasley is dead."

Chapter 3

Harry felt the shockwave reverberate through the room as Dumbledore's words penetrated everyone's worn out brains. Everything was silent for a few seconds after the Headmaster's statement, and then there was a great intake of breath as everyone seemed to grasp the implication. Percy was dead?

Harry let the news sink into his head for a moment before directing a sympathetic look at Ron. He was pale as a sheet and visibly shaking. Hermione reached from her perch on the floor and placed a comforting hand on his arm, but Ron didn't appear to notice. He focused his gaze on Dumbledore with a glassy look to his eyes.

Ginny was clearly upset at hearing her brother's fate and her hand shot to cover her mouth as a small whimper escaped. At Dumbledore's quiet announcement, the twins looked so shaken that they turned to each other open mouthed, disbelief and shock etched identically into their features.

Everyone seemed to have gathered in closer to Harry and the Headmaster as they were speaking. Moody had stumped over to lend support as Dumbledore gave out the distressing news. The twins had moved from their spot on the floor, and were now standing a few paces to the left of Dumbledore. Mrs. Weasley had come to stand near her sons, and had a hand on each of their shoulders. Mr. Weasley abandoned his former position to wrap his arms around Mrs. Weasleys' shoulders, pulling her away from the dumbstruck twins. She looked dejected, and completely miserable, almost ready to break into heart wrenching wails, but she resisted, biting her lip in an effort to keep her grief quiet. As she laid her head on her husband's shoulder however, she abandoned all pretense and started sobbing quietly into the folds of his robes.

"He was dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange and made the mistake of turning his back on her. He was hit with the Avada Kedavra curse. He didn't see it coming and had no time to get out of the way," Dumbledore continued in a somber, hushed voice. No one moved or said anything, too stunned to form words and force them out.

Ron suddenly shot to his feet, his fists clenched in fury and shouted, "It's not true!" Everyone, including Harry, jumped and then looked at Ron as though he had been possessed by Lord Voldemort himself.

Dumbledore stepped closer and laid a hand on Ron's shoulder in a fatherly fashion as he said "I assure you, Ron, your brother has been killed by Bellatrix. I am deeply sorry."

Ron gave a moan of frustration and despair; hearing it made it sink in a little further. Harry tugged on his arm, urging him back down onto the bench. Ron looked at Harry blankly, and sank wearily back down beside his best friend. Burying his has face in his hands he shook his head dispiritedly, still in a state of shock over the whole mess. He seemed completely shaken, and didn't speak again.

Ron's outburst seemed to break the spell around the others, and everyone started asking questions at once. "What happened to Bellatrix?" the twins shouted; "Where is Percy?" Ginny questioned shakily from the floor; "What about all the other Death Eaters? Did they get away?" Hermione asked; "Is Voldemort really dead?" Harry requested, almost shouting to be heard over the uproar of other voices. He doubted any but the Headmaster heard his question through all the shouting.

Dumbledore held up a wrinkled hand to stem the flow of questions directed at him. He had to be worn out like the rest of them, but Harry was amazed at how he always seemed to have the answers to everything. He turned to the twins and answered their shouts first.

"That question, Harry, I am afraid will have to be answered later." Dumbledore answered, as he leaned towards Harry. Then he straightened up and said, "Bellatrix LeStrange has yet to be caught; she fled immediately after killing Percy. Tonks volunteered to go after her, and we have yet to hear back from her. We fear she might have met the same fate as Percy," Dumbledore explained to the twins. Mrs. Weasley broke out in fresh sobs as the Headmaster finished speaking.

"Percy's body is currently being brought to headquarters where we will see that he is taken care of to the best of our abilities," he continued, now directing his answer to Ginny who just nodded mutely.

Suddenly the doors of the mausoleum burst open and everyone turned to look at the source of the disturbance. Professor Snape stood silhouetted in the doorframe, the wind tossing his black hair to and fro, and he was clearly soaked from the pouring rain outside. He quickly shut the substantial wooden doors and strode over to Dumbledore as Hagrid, Lupin, and McGonagall joined them.

"Headmaster, we've located the last of them," Snape said quietly. He looked very tired, and did not exude any of his characteristic maliciousness towards the occupants of the room; on the contrary, he appeared almost relieved to be in the presence of so many members of the Order. At Snape's hushed statement, Moody looked surprised, and then pleased before he started making his way towards the door. When he got there he stopped, as if waiting for Snape to finish speaking and join him.

"Very well, Severus, if you would accompany Moody and the rest back to Headquarters forthwith, I will be along shortly," Dumbledore told Snape. Snape nodded, gathered his billowy cloak around his person, and followed Moody out of the door into the dark rainy night.

Everyone turned curiously towards Dumbledore, silently demanding an explanation. All they received from the aged Headmaster, though, was a sigh. He turned back to the assembled crowd and addressed them as a group.

"Let us not have any more questions right now," he told them. "Let us instead leave this dismal place, and back where we can obtain some much needed rest, and we'll attend to the rest of your concerns in the morning." Reluctantly, everyone made preparations to leave, gathering miscellaneous items and arranging to depart.

Ginny was the first to address a concern that the others had yet to voice. "Professor, how are we all getting back? I'm too young to Apparate, and there's not a fire to go by Floo Powder," she said tremulously. Dumbledore studied Ginny through his half moon spectacles, just as he would have done back at Hogwarts, and said to her; "Very good Ms. Weasley. We are going to be taking a portkey."

Everyone looked surprised at this information. How were they going to arrange a portkey in here? But it seemed that Dumbledore, as always, had the situation well at hand. He extracted from somewhere deep within his robes, a very old looking pocket watch. He directed his wand at it and muttered "Portus" under his breath. The watch glowed blue vibrating tremendously, and then lay innocently in his hand.

"Gather round everyone, we're going home," Dumbledore whispered. The adults seemed to be holding back, seeing as they could apparate. The rest, who had not yet taken their Apparation tests, aside from the twins, were required to travel with the headmaster.

Harry rose despairingly from his bench and stood next to Dumbledore. He could have sworn he got the tiniest of winks and the faintest hint of a smile from him. He was amazed anew at how Dumbledore could keep a sense of humor when circumstances seemed so grim.

Ron pulled himself wearily from the bench and stood next to Harry, with Ginny on the other side of Ron. Hermione got off the floor and gathered in as well. It was a very tight fit indeed, what with having to crowd around such a tiny portkey.

Dumbledore looked over their heads to the adults on the outside of the circle. He waved one hand as if in farewell, and then he turned his attention back to the occupants of the circle.

"All right everyone, you know how this works," he whispered. Everyone placed a single finger on the watch, and they instantly were jerked forward, heading back to the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.