In Darkness Secrets Lie

Note: I've noted in the summary that this story is AU. Although this is set after book six and Sirius is dead, Dumbledore isn't, and that's all I've changed. I also upped the rating from teen, 15, or PG-13 to R, Mature, etc, for that f-bomb Ron dropped in the last chapter (he's sorry!), as well as for what may or may not occur in later chapters.

Chapter Two - Trust

Ginny's lip curled down into a petulant frown and she sniffed indignantly. "What's he doing here, mum?" she wondered out loud, gesturing out the window towards the approaching form of Gaston Gérard, who was coming up the path to the front door of the Burrow. He wore a long, elegant robe and he carried himself rather stiffly, keeping his back straight, his chest puffed out, and his shoulders square, as if he was marching in an army.

"He offered his services in security," Remus Lupin answered evenly, stepping over to Ginny so he could peer over her head to see Gérard. "He was rather upset with Alastor because of Harry's disappearance...."

"Moody didn't have anything to do with that!"

"We all know that. Monsieur Gérard still wanted to come."

"Remus is right," explained Mrs. Weasley. "The added protection he's bringing will be very welcome."

"But we already have protection," Ginny pointed out impatiently. "Moody, Remus, and Tonks are here. Aren't they enough?"

"He insisted on being included," chipped in Tonks, who had just joined them. "It wasn't my decision to bring him along. Besides, I won't be able to stay here all the time. I've got to work at the Ministry...."

"Stupid Frenchman," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"Ginny!" hissed Mrs. Weasley. The youngest Weasley merely rolled her eyes in response and stalked out of the foyer, hurrying up the steps so she wouldn't have to confront Gérard.

As soon as she was gone, there were three sharp knocks on the front door. Wearing a polite expression, Mrs. Weasley opened the door and welcomed Gérard into her home with a gracious handshake.

"Madame," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. He craned his neck around to have a better look at the house and he suddenly noticed Remus and Tonks standing besides Mrs. Weasley. Gérard quickly extended his hand to each of them. "Monsieur Lupin, Mademoiselle Tonks. How do you do?"

"We're quite well today, thank you," replied Remus in a pleasant voice. "It's an honor to work with you, Monsieur Gérard-"

"Please, let us dispense with ze formalities." A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "It is Gaston."

"Mon- er, Gaston, it is a pleasure to have you stay with us. I'll show you to your room," offered Mrs. Weasley.

"Zat would be most welcome." He made as if to follow her up the steps when he stopped and looked around at everyone once more. The smile on his face faded and his eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

"Excuse me?" piped up Remus.

"Mad-Eye," Gérard muttered. He stalked past the three and started poking his head into different rooms, making sure to open up closets and glance out windows along the way. "How long has he been out of sight?"

Tonks shared a knowing look with Remus, who shrugged and followed after Gérard. "I assure you, there's nothing to worry about."

The older man halted in his footsteps and fixed Remus with a stern stare. "Zer is everything to worry about," he responded in a harsh whisper.

He then continued on with his search, brushing by Tonks as she entered the room. She arched an eyebrow at Remus. "What did he say to you?"

He shook his head and turned his gaze away from her over to a wall where animated portraits of the Weasley children waved happily over at him. With a heavy sigh he said, "It's going to be an interesting experience working with two paranoid men instead of just one."

XXXXX

Hermione was sitting on her bed with a large textbook in her lap when Ginny came into the room and kicked the door shut, wearing a sullen expression. She casually glanced up at her friend. "You're sulking," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"And you're not?" Ginny retorted, exhaling loudly. She flopped down onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. "My brother and Harry have been missing for a week and now we have a stuffy old man living with us who thinks one of us is a Death Eater. Things suck around here."

"Why are you so upset about Gérard?" Hermione set her book aside and looked over at Ginny with interest. "He's here to help."

"He accused one of us of kidnapping Harry and Ron!" she shot back. "The man's here for blood... and I don't know, he just makes me uncomfortable."

"Really," muttered Hermione, more to herself than to Ginny.

"Yeah."

"Well, he won't be here forever."

"Oh?" Ginny scrunched her nose up. "I know.... You're right. Still, though...."

"Don't worry," Hermione said helpfully. "Harry's going to come back, I know it."

"And Ron?" Ginny snapped back.

"...He'll come back, too," she answered after a barely noticeable moment of hesitation.

"Right..." Ginny murmured, a small, worried frown appearing on her face. "Of course he will."

Hermione gave her a cheerful smile before disappearing behind her book again.

XXXXX

Ron was in a mutinous mood. At the moment, he felt like lashing out and hitting something - or rather, someone. He paced restlessly around his room and stopped in front of a towering portrait of a rather dodgy-looking wizard who scowled right back at him.

"What are you looking at?" he muttered, glaring at the portrait. "Why don't you go bother the hag in the painting next door?"

"An excellent idea," the wizard answered, grinning and showing his yellowed teeth.

As soon as he had left, Ron turned his attention to the only window in his room. On the night he'd arrived, it had been too dark to see out any of the windows in the fortress, yet in the days he'd since spent at World's End, he'd discovered that there was always a blanket of mist hovering outside, making it seem as if the fortress was sitting on a cloud. The lack of a view outside only made his loneliness worse for him, because after thoroughly exploring the castle during his stay, he had arrived at the disheartening conclusion that he was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

Curiously, Ron hadn't found any evidence that Death Eaters were or ever had been present in the castle in his searches. There weren't any cast aside Death Eater robes, masks, or banners with the Dark Mark hanging around anywhere, although he supposed that Voldemort probably wasn't a big fan of decorations like that. Even so, Ron found plenty of time each day to speculate on the fact and wonder: Was Voldemort really a part of this? Or had he been lied to? Perhaps the Speaker had merely been trying to manipulate him....

He wasn't going to find an answer anytime soon - not even the omnipotent Speaker was around anymore. The last time they'd spoken had been the night of Ron's capture. On that night, the Speaker had made a simple offer that Ron hadn't been able to refuse: If you cooperate, I will keep you alive. So far Ron hadn't been forced to cooperate at all with anyone - he'd simply been left alone, and that suited him fine.

He sighed and sat down on a blood red armchair, scratching his head thoughtfully. "What day is it? I feel like I've been here for almost a week now."

It was no use thinking about it - the question would surely drive him mad if he dwelt on it for much longer.

"Bah, it seems like everything's making me mad," he said out loud to no one. "Well, angry or crazy, and sometimes both...."

"You're talking to yourself," wheezed a dusty mirror in the corner. "I'd say you're crazy."

"Shut it, you," Ron responded, slouching back further into his chair.

"Now you're arguing with a mirror, boy," the piece of furniture quipped. He scowled at it and saw only his own reflection, though he could hear the self-satisfied smirk in its voice. Suddenly losing his cool, he leapt at the mirror and kicked it as hard as he could - he watched as his reflection cracked and then shattered a second later, showering the floor with sharp pieces of glass.

He quietly left the room, feeling better about himself already. He had wanted to hit something, anyway.

"God damn you, Harry," he spat out, clenching his fists. "Mental son of a bitch."

"I'd say that you've gone mental," observed a nearby portrait.

Ron raised a threatening finger at the cheeky picture. "Don't start with me. I'm not in the mood."

XXXXX

Albus could tell by the way Minerva was standing that she was uncomfortable. He pushed his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his crooked nose and watched as she anxiously tapped her foot against the floor.

"You don't want to be here."

She frowned and shook her head. "Is there nowhere else?"

"I'm afraid not, no," came the answer. "Kingsley's schedule is very tight and he would not have been able to make it all the way up to the castle in time." Then he added, "I trust Rosmerta."

Minerva sighed and turned her gaze out the window. "I see them now. Alastor's just met Kingsley and they're making their way over here."

"Excellent."

Just then, there was a light tapping on the door to the private room of the Hog's Head and Madam Rosmerta entered, levitating a tray with some drinks behind her. "Here's your gillywater, Minerva... and Albus, your tea...." She hovered by the doorway for an extra moment, looking expectantly at each of them.

"Thank you, Rosmerta," Dumbledore said warmly with a slight nod of his head. The tone of his voice made it clear he had nothing further to say. She left without another word.

"She wanted to know whatever it is that you're about to tell us," Minerva said in a dry voice. "I thought you said you trusted her?"

"I do, believe me, I do." He took a sip of his drink. "But this is something that I want to keep private for now."

At that moment, the door swung open yet again and Moody and Shacklebolt both stepped into the room. Mad-Eye gave a disapproving look at the drink sitting on the tray and helped himself to a generous swig from his hip flask.

"Please, be seated," Dumbledore stated, gesturing to the sofa and the arm chairs scattered about the room.

"Forgive me if I decline." Shacklebolt rolled his sleeve back and glanced at his watch. "Dolores is expecting me back at half past." He spoke the name with disdain apparent in his voice and the other witches and wizards nodded in understanding.

"Very well, then," the older wizard replied. "Let us begin with the facts. The whereabouts of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley are still unknown. I have not received any word on Death Eater movements in the past week - which I find to be quite disturbing, I must say. It doesn't seem as if Voldemort was involved in their disappearances at all."

Minerva made a concerned noise in the back of his throat and Moody grunted.

"While it may seem as if we do not have any leads, I have a theory that I wish to share with you. I believe that there is a spy at the Burrow. The identity of this agent may shock you, but I do not want you to show her any mercy if you are forced to deal with her."

"Her?" Shacklebolt inquired, his air of boredom instantly gone.

"Yes."

The three listened in stunned silence as Dumbledore explained his suspicions in greater detail, their expressions of incredulity turning to looks of quiet determination....

XXXXX

Dilys Derwent shifted in her frame and tried her best not to look bored. It wasn't an easy task, by any means. People expected model behavior from her around the clock. That meant no yawning, no singing songs, no telling jokes, and no making funny faces at the children.... After that one incident, the welcome witch had moved her from the main hall in the admitting area to just around the corner, where she had a perfect view of the entrance to the men's room.

Life was certainly different as a portrait. However, as different as it was from her past life, she still had her set of duties and obligations... and at the moment, the task she had been given was a very serious one.

She remembered the solemn look on Albus' face when he had given her the assignment. Although he had spoken to her politely, Dilys had been able to tell by his slight hesitation in forming words and his initial reluctance in speaking to her (he had come to her last, of all the portraits hanging in his office), that he didn't want to hear back from her. And he had good reason not to - her other portrait resided in the admitting area at St. Mungo's. It was rare that the news she brought back was ever really wanted, even if it had been asked for.

She stretched her arms out and peered over into the next frame, hoping she could go tell a joke to Dai Llewelyn, but all she could see was his familiar Quidditch pitch.

'Why doesn't anything interesting ever happen around here?' she thought to herself.

Suddenly like a gunshot, all the noise in the entire world simply stopped. She turned her head from side to side, searching for the distraction and there was a thundering pounding in her head; she realized it was the sound of her own heart beating. A delicious shiver trickled down her spine, sweat began to form on her palms.... And then the pristine silence was broken, a single shout shattering it as if it were nothing more than a fragile windowpane.

"Someone get a Healer, now!"

Over to the left of her frame, Dilys heard the call repeated. Although the sounds of racing footsteps and hushed whispers now reached her ears, she could not remember a time in her two hundred years of residency when the hospital had been this quiet before.

The footsteps drew nearer and she caught a glimpse of the brightly colored robe of a Healer go rushing past her portrait. Her curiosity piqued, she hastened to follow, not caring if she disturbed any of the other pictures along the way. As she came closer to the main entrance, she could see a cluster of witches and wizards all circled around something. The Healer shot sparks at the ceiling and the crowd dispersed to let her through.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dilys saw Dai Llewelyn approaching on his broom.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "I heard a shout and I rushed over here." Dilys rubbed her chin, observing the assembled witches and wizards with a slight frown. Why was everyone showing such an uncommon interest in this particular patient? Usually nobody except Healers paid any attention to emergency walk-ins. "Hey, you there," she called out, wishing she could grab the person's shoulder instead. "Hey!"

An old man with crows feet around his eyes turned around and shot her a derisive look. "Wot is it?"

"What's going on?" she hissed.

"Wot's going on, she asks!" The wizard rolled his eyes. "We're all scared out of our bloody minds, that's wot's going on!"

She exchanged a glance with Dai, who shrugged helplessly. "But what do you mean?"

He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to her. "I haven't seen him meself yet, but I've heard whispers sayin' that it's Harry Potter in there, all bloodied up and whatnot."

"Harry Potter?" she said to herself, feeling light in the head.

"Look!" Dai's voice cut through her thoughts and she focused on the scene before her. Slowly, the crowd fell back farther from the center and she could finally see what was going on.

With a determined look on her face, the Healer issued orders to three mediwizards Dilys hadn't noticed before, and she levitated a motionless body into the air.

"Blimey!" she heard the old man say. "They really were tellin' the truth!"

"Oh my god," Dai muttered. "It's him! The Potter boy!"

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "He's... he's...."

There was not a single word she could decide upon. Fragile, weak, thin... defeated. And there was blood, too - it was all over his face and his torn robes... what had happened to him to put him in such a state? As he hovered in the air beside the Healer, his arms fell from his sides and dangled from his body; his wand slipped from his fingers and started to roll away until a mediwizard reverently scooped it up and tucked it back inside his robes.

"Let's go!"

The entire entourage moved swiftly out of the main hall, body of the Boy-Who-Lived in tow.

"He's not dead." Dai looked her in the eye and neither of them added yet. "I'm going after him!"

Dilys felt the light breeze as he glided away on his broom. While the urge to follow Harry entered her mind as well, she knew she had a duty to carry out, and so she turned on her heel and began the long journey to her other portrait.