Facing Danger
Chapter 23: A Guess and A Gateway (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Whoops and cheers rang out through Dumbledore’s office as Fawkes reappeared, gold shining in his beak. Ginny held up her hands joyously. "Here, Fawkes!" she called out. "Right here!"
Fawkes dropped Ginny’s pendants into her hands, circled the office once, and landed on his perch, where he began to preen a wing smugly. Ginny looped the pendants’ chain around her neck and slid them under her robes, a silent sigh of relief escaping her.
Ron frowned, looking up at Fawkes. "Why didn’t he just bring Harry back with him?" he asked. "If he can travel through fire instantly and all?"
Mrs. Danger, on the other side of the room, paled slightly.
"Fawkes did not offer," Dumbledore said gravely, tapping the magical quill with his wand to start it seeking Harry’s talisman. "For good reason. The place through which phoenixes travel instantaneously is... unfriendly to the human mind. I can handle it, since Fawkes allows me a close connection with his mind as a shield, but Harry could not."
"Understood," said Mr. Padfoot. "But it still leaves out what I’ve been wondering." He turned to look at Mrs. Danger. "Why haven’t you done something? Gone off in a dream and made a deal?"
"I asked," Mrs. Danger said, so quietly that Ginny could barely hear her. "I could have done it. But we would have paid a price. Too high a price."
"Too high a price? What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I wasn’t willing to trade one life for another!" Mrs. Danger shouted. "That I couldn’t save Harry and let Arthur die!"
Ginny’s pendants flared hot for half an instant with Ron’s astonished fear. She was sure her own shock had set off everyone else’s. Dad? He would have died?
"He might still die if we don’t get there soon, I don’t know, but that was the price I was told for saving Harry. At least, saving him this way. There were others... other prices, other deaths..." Mrs. Danger shook her head, clasping Mr. Moony’s hand tightly. "I did what I thought was right."
"Then you did the only thing you could have done," said Dumbledore. "And we have our answer." He held out the scroll on which the quill had written to Mrs. Letha, who snatched it quickly and read it.
"The Department of Mysteries," she said. "He is at the Ministry, and so is Crouch, which means Voldemort—we have to get to him—"
"I will rouse the Order and follow you," Dumbledore said as the four Pack-adults hurried to the door, Professor McGonagall behind them. "After attending to one other piece of business. Do try to leave a bit of the fight for me..."
The Pride buried snickers in their sleeves or other people’s shoulders.
Dumbledore closed the door of his office and turned to face them. "I must ask you now the hardest thing any teacher can ask of his students," he said. "Or any commander of his soldiers. Obedience, for a little while, without question or protest."
As if by magic, the Pride drew back, leaving Ginny at the fore. Her stomach quailed, but she forced herself to stand straight, feeling Ron at one shoulder and Hermione at the other. "Yes, sir," she said simply.
"The command is this. Stay here, and do not attempt to become involved in this battle in any way. Even to the point of sending Harry strength, as you did last year."
Ginny almost opened her mouth to shout indignantly, but she had given her word and the Pride’s, and her lips closed over the words unspoken.
"May we ask why, sir?" Hermione said beside her. "Or is there no time?"
"There is time enough for this." Dumbledore looked weary, weary and old, but his words were firm. "I believe that Harry will face Lord Voldemort directly tonight, and he must know that he can do so on his own and survive. You will be with him as you always are, through your passive connection—I am no such fool as to try to deny you that—but you must not be active within his mind, or you may undermine his confidence and betray yourselves to Voldemort."
"V-Voldemort knows about me," Ron said, getting the name out with only a slight tremor. "He knows I was with Harry last time. I don’t think he knows about anyone else. I was trying to block him."
"He may think that it was a freak accident, caused by the stress of the moment, then, not something you can invoke at will." Dumbledore smiled, and his eyes showed a faint flicker of their usual twinkle. "I would prefer to keep you as a secret weapon until you are truly needed, you understand. And tonight I do not think you will be needed. But in times to come, you will be, more than you can imagine."
"I don’t know," Draco murmured. "I can imagine a lot."
The Headmaster’s eyes twinkled brighter. "To your haven, then," he said, waving a hand towards the fireplace. "Harry will join you there as soon as he may. And I believe I can say with some certainty that this is the last time you will be left behind."
Indrawn breaths behind Ginny echoed her own mingled joy and fear. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress who faints if a spell comes at her—but I don’t know if I’m ready to fight yet, either...
But that’s why I don’t have to fight tonight. I’ll fight when it’s time. And then I will be ready.
"Go," Dumbledore urged, holding up his arm. "The sooner you are safe, the sooner I can take word to Harry that it is the case."
Ginny flapped a hand behind her, but she knew it wasn’t needed. Neville was already opening the panel, and she could hear the Pride lining up, getting ready to slide down into the Den. She just had one more question.
"Professor?"
"Yes?" Dumbledore looked away from Fawkes, who had alighted gently on a blue-clad wrist, to meet Ginny’s eyes.
"Can we tell the rest of the... some people we know about this?" Ginny forced her flush down and prayed Dumbledore wouldn’t notice her lapse. Of course, he would, but she could hope he wouldn’t say anything, at least not out loud...
"Rumors will already have spread," Dumbledore mused, to himself more than to Ginny. "Yes, Miss Weasley, tell them what you know. Bear in mind, though, that if they have accepted your command, they have also accepted mine. And my orders stand. No student leaves this castle tonight."
"Yes, sir." Ginny gave a quick nod of her head, then spun and headed for the Den entrance, her mind buzzing. Harry had the Galleon that was the key for the DA’s Protean-Charmed talismans, but Hermione had set that charm in the first place, and Ginny had watched her do it. It wouldn’t be hard for either of them to substitute another of the Galleons for the original key.
Not hard at all.
And if this is our last night on noncombatant status... we should spend it planning.
By the time her head broke the surface of the water in the Den’s bathtub, Ginny was already planning some of what she would say to the DA when they arrived in the Room of Requirement.
Especially if Dumbledore meant what I think he did when he said what Harry’s going to have to do tonight...
xXxXx
Harry found a dark spot in the corner of a room full of planets to get his back to the wall and think. Crouch obviously isn’t on our side anymore—maybe he never was. He said Voldemort and the Death Eaters were on their way here. That fits with what I saw in that vision. But there was a second vision that went with the first one, a vision about looking for something, something Voldemort wants...
He drew his wand, pushed himself away from the wall, and drifted across to the door. The apparent lack of gravity in here had startled him at first, as well as unsettling his stomach, but it was no worse than being in a steep dive on a broom. Besides, if anyone came in here after him, he’d know about it.
Probably from the sound of them losing their lunch.
Harry stepped through the door and staggered a bit as his weight fell on him again, but he recovered quickly and closed the door behind him. Then he looked around.
This is getting scary.
The room around him was the exact twin of the one in the vision he’d shared with Voldemort. Twelve knobless doors, one of which he’d just entered by, lined the round black walls; branches of black candles burning with a blue flame stuck out between each door. The floor was black marble, polished to such a sheen that Harry could see his own reflection, as though he stood on top of a vast black lake stretching eternally below him.
In the dream, I just opened a door, and it was the right one...
He lifted a foot to step forward, then stopped, a voice from a story rising to the surface of his mind. "Aren’t we going to mark this pool?"
Thank you, C.S. Lewis...
Harry pointed a finger at the door he’d come in through and drew an X in the air. A fiery mark appeared on the door in response, its orange light rippling strangely in the blue of the room. "That should do it," he said aloud. "Now to try the others..."
He strode across the room, intending to try the door directly across from him, but got only a few steps before a rumbling noise made him stop.
The wall was spinning.
Harry dropped his gaze immediately to his feet, half-closing his eyes. If he watched the flames go by, they’d burn into his vision and he’d be blind for precious moments he couldn’t afford. Not if there were Death Eaters coming after him, to secure whatever it was Voldemort wanted from this place.
The wall grated to a stop, and Harry looked up. His cross still burned on the door he’d entered the room by, but now it was to his right rather than behind him. He reoriented himself, hurried across to the door he’d meant to try, put his left hand on the place where a knob would have been, and pushed. The door swung open easily, and he brought his wand to bear—
Against an empty room. There was nothing here, Harry saw as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light within, but clocks and cabinets. Ticking clocks, cabinets filled with shining objects—
Wait—I think this is it!
He was inside the room and three paces back before he caught himself with a mental hand on the scruff of his neck. Steady on, Harry. Should you really be trying to get whatever this is that Voldemort wants so badly? You know he wants you—why give him extra incentive?
His Wolf-side bared teeth in a grin. Because if I get there first, he doesn’t get it. Or rather, he only gets it over my dead body.
Which is also something he wants...
Harry shrugged and kept moving. I know he can’t get into my mind now that I have my own pendants again. And I haven’t seen or smelled anyone else around here yet. If I get to this thing fast enough, as long as I don’t make a mess getting it, they’ll have no way of knowing I took it and it isn’t just out for cleaning or some such.
A cabinet filled with hourglasses, a bell jar with a sparkling wind inside—he paused to watch the hummingbird within the jar hatch at the bottom, rise to the top on the current of the wind, then sink on the other side as the shell closed around it again—and he was through the second door, into a room once more dark. He shut his eyes, counted a slow ten, and opened them.
It’s huge.
The thought came unbidden to Harry’s mind as he stared around at the vast, shelf-filled stone room. He had never felt so small or so insignificant, and wished with all his heart that he weren’t alone.
In one way, at least, I’m not. His hand went to the pendants, and they seemed to grow a bit hotter as he touched them, a subtle reassurance that his Pride was thinking of him.
Or I’m imagining things. Whichever.
Harry brought his wand to half-ready, sharpened his eyes and ears and nose, and stepped out into the aisle between the sets of shelves, glancing around to get his bearings.
If this is number fifty-three, I need to go up to get to ninety-seven. And up is to the right. Off we go...
xXxXx
Maybe we should have gone straight from Dumbledore’s office, Danger said as she spun through the Floo connection. He’s hooked up to the Floo, isn’t he?
Yes—but it’s being monitored, remember? The only way we could be sure we’d get out of the school without being seen was to go through Umbridge’s office. Be fair, love, it didn’t add more than two minutes to our travel time. Not even with the side trip to tell Alice what’s going on.
Danger sighed. You’re right. As usual. I just wish...
Wish what?
I wish I knew what we were going to find.
As for that...
Remus broke off, and a moment later Danger felt her own spinning begin to abate. She lunged forward with one foot, threw out her hands to either side, and skidded out of a fireplace into the Ministry Atrium, looking for all the world like a soot-covered statue.
"Hachooo!"
"Bless you," said Sirius, making a slightly more graceful exit from the fireplace opposite hers, then turning quickly to the one beside him to catch Aletha.
"Thanks." Danger pulled out a handkerchief, wiped her face with one side, then blew her nose on the other. "What were you saying, love?" she asked Remus, who had arrived a second or two before she had.
"That I think I know what we’ll find here." Remus set off towards the guard’s desk, deserted now after working hours.
"Do tell," said Aletha, shaking soot out of her hair as she followed.
"In order of probability, least to greatest: Death Eaters, Ministry officials, and Harry. On his way out." Remus hit the button to summon the lift.
"Why’re Death Eaters at the bottom of the list?" asked Sirius.
"Wishful thinking."
Sirius brushed a streak of ash off his robes. "I had to ask."
xXxXx
Ninety-six, ninety-seven. Here we are.
Harry turned down the aisle and walked slowly along, peering at the orbs that lined the shelves. Some of them glowed from within while others were dull, reflecting the blue light of the candles all around. All had yellowed labels underneath them, with names or initials and dates written on them.
There’s a pattern. The date is first, then a name or initials, then "to", then another name or initials. And under that... it’s not constant, but it’s usually a name or a couple of names. Sometimes it’s a place, or another date, and sometimes just a question mark...
A tiny sound from behind him froze him in place. A brushing, whisking sound, like the hem of a robe sliding past a wooden door...
There isn’t supposed to be anyone else here...
Harry continued walking. His eyes were still tracing absently along the labels, but all his attention was on what his nose and ears could tell him. Human scents, human movements, in the room with him, and getting closer...
Suddenly he stopped and backed up two paces.
What did that label just say?
He hadn’t been making it up. It was his own name, inscribed dully on a slip of parchment stuck to the edge of a shelf. The date at the top of the label was that of the year before he’d been born, and the writing underneath corresponded to the form he’d already seen:
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
Dark Lord
and (?) Harry Potter
Harry stretched out his hand and laid it gently on the orb above the label. It glowed as brightly, and felt as warm, as if he had filled it with fire, but the light inside was distinctly silver.
Silver like a Patronus. Or a memory.
Something to do with Voldemort and me, the year before I was born. Only they weren’t sure it was me. And it came from someone whose last name starts with T, and went to someone with three middle names...
His mind, clearer than usual thanks to the healing tears with which Fawkes had banished Umbridge’s spell, slid the pieces together for him, and Harry knew what he had in his hand.
I can’t leave it here. Voldemort obviously knows where it is. If he gets hold of it...
Fast as thought, the orb was down from its shelf and tucked inside his robes, dust and all. Harry pinched his nose against the urge to sneeze and listened with all his might. As long as the Death Eaters didn’t yet have him boxed in, he could sneak out of here, get back to the Ministry proper, and from there into Muggle London—they wouldn’t have a prayer of finding him there, especially not if he hid as Wolf, and he could get to Diagon Alley, or even to Grimmauld Place...
Yes. Perfect. The slow and shuffling footsteps, which would have been inaudible to anyone without Harry’s advantage, were coming only from one side of him as yet. There were a few trying to work their way around to the other side, but if he moved fast—
Action suited to thought, and Harry darted lightfoot out one end of the aisle. Past two rows of shelves, three, four, five, and duck back in—
Don’t think they saw me... wish I had the Cloak, but speed and black robes will have to do for now... wish I could blacken my face, they’re most likely to see that...
A whimsical thought struck him, and he reached inside his robes and scraped some of the dust off the orb. Holding the pile of gray in the palm of his left hand, he pointed his wand at it.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Turn into ashes, I say you must!"
The pile of dust turned black.
Huh. I didn’t actually think that would work...
Not arguing with good luck. Harry put his wand between his teeth and hastily smeared the ashes on his face. It probably looked horrific, but it would keep his skin from showing up quite so clearly in the strange blue light of the Department of Mysteries.
And then, from five rows away, voices began to speak.
"I don’t understand. Where is he?"
"The Dark Lord said he would be here."
"The Dark Lord is never wrong."
"The Dark Lord said he might be here," a voice corrected. "If the boy could somehow escape his captivity."
Harry bit his tongue. He knew that voice, though he’d only heard it a few times and it now held a permanent hoarse rasp to it. Glad Draco isn’t here... we’d have to hold him back, and the noise would have blown our position...
Loud footsteps slapped the ground, and Harry froze in place. The man running past the end of the aisle never glanced his way at all. "Yes," a second familiar voice panted out. "Escaped—yes..."
"You don’t look quite yourself, Bartemius," said a woman’s rough voice mockingly. "I didn’t realize a soft life as a spy was so harrowing..."
"Shut up, Bellatrix," snapped Crouch. "Potter has escaped, he stopped me killing Arthur Weasley. I’ve been trying to find him, but this place is a labyrinth, there’s no telling where he is—"
"Is there not?" said Lucius Malfoy. "Look at the shelf, Bartemius."
Harry took a deep breath, held it, and began to move towards the aisle, allowing fifteen seconds for each step.
"It’s gone!" Crouch gasped.
"Which means Potter must have been here. Only he or the Dark Lord himself could have taken the prophecy from the shelf. And he is not long gone. In fact..." Malfoy paused. "I believe he is still here. In this room."
"Using your newfound skills, Lucius?" sneered one of the other men. "Your little gift from Potter’s foster father?"
"Hold your tongue, Rabastan, if you wish to keep it," Malfoy shot back. "And let me know when you have abilities the Dark Lord finds as useful as he obviously finds mine. Spread out and search the room. Potter is here, and he has the prophecy."
Harry bit back a truly vicious curse, instead using the moment to crouch down. Stealth isn’t going to do it anymore—have to be fast—
He shifted, and in the instant he felt the final hair drop into place, leapt forward.
"There he goes!"
"Get him!"
"Wait, that’s not Potter—"
"It’s an animal—"
"That is Potter!" Malfoy’s voice rose above the clamor. "He is an Animagus! Stun him, trip him, do what you must, but retrieve that prophecy unbroken!"
Wolf dodged two spells, flung himself at the door, and tumbled through it ahead of three more. His paws found purchase on the opposite wall, and he bounded back towards the door, using his weight to slam it shut in the face of three more spells—a breath and he was Harry again, his wand leaping into his hand—
"Colloportus!"
The door squelched shut, but Harry knew it wouldn’t hold long. I have to get out of here, slow them down somehow so I can get away—
Then he looked at the contents of the room around him.
Hourglasses. Clocks. Time magic. What if—
xXxXx
The first Death Eater through the door stepped on a tiny hourglass and smashed it to pieces. He barely even noticed, bellowing in triumph at the sight of Harry, halfway down the room and apparently caught unawares. His wand began to come down, his mouth opened for a spell—
Then he backed up, his mouth closing, his wand lifting, his foot coming off the hourglass, which reconstituted itself, every piece coming together perfectly—
Just in time for the Death Eater to smash it again as he lunged forward and yelled gleefully, his wand coming down to aim at Harry—
Perfect.
Harry hurled another hourglass, this one on a chain, over the head of the time-trapped Death Eater, aiming for the man behind him, who was pointing his wand around his repeating friend. The chain wrapped around the man’s hand and wand—the hourglass flipped over once—
And the Death Eater was gone.
"Find another exit!" Malfoy shouted from within the prophecy room. "Get to the entrance hall, the circular room, do not let Potter escape!"
Good luck. I’m closer than you are. Harry took off running, wishing he dared carry more of the little hourglasses with him—but what if he dropped one, and trapped himself in a repeating loop of time? The Death Eaters could walk up to him and wait for it to wear off, and he would be completely helpless to protect himself, because he’d be living the same moment over and over, never realizing that they were there...
Use what you find. Weapons of opportunity. It had been part of the Pride’s war games, part of Combat Club, and he had included it in the DA’s lessons as well. Throw things at them, distract them, hide from them, do whatever you have to. Get away. Get your friends away. Get your objective away. That’s all that matters.
And speaking of an objective...
Harry burst into the circular room, marked the door behind him, and dashed to the center of the room. The spinning started, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy pulling the orb from his pocket to look at it.
The date fits, the initials fit, they said it was a prophecy... this has to be the one Professor Trelawney made to Professor Dumbledore, the one that could have meant either Neville or me, the one that’s the reason Voldemort came after me in the first place. And he only knows the first part of it, and he wants to know the rest, so he’s trying to get this.
But I already know the prophecy. And he doesn’t know that, because my blood-bond with Moony seals off my mind. If I’d known when we were sharing that vision that it was the prophecy he was after, I might not have been able to stop myself thinking of it...
But I didn’t. So he still doesn’t know that I know it.
Harry grinned a Wolf-like grin as the doors slowed to a stop, two of them marked with fiery Xs.
I think it’s time for a little Marauding.
xXxXx
Sirius was the first one out of the lift at the Department of Mysteries, Remus and Danger a step behind him. "Go back up to the Atrium, Letha," he said over his shoulder. "The others will need someone to tell them where to go when they get here."
"Good try, Sirius, but no." Aletha’s wand shook back and forth in time with her head. "They know where we are already. And if Harry’s been taken by Death Eaters, it’ll take all four of us to get him free."
"All three," Danger corrected. "I have something else I have to do."
"Something else like what?" asked Remus.
"Something personal." Danger looked ahead into the darkness. "I learned about it when I went to ask if I could bring Harry home safely. It’s important."
Remus sighed. "Remind me," he said to Sirius. "The next time I get married, I need to pick a girl without any otherworldly powers."
"You had your chance to get rid of them," Aletha pointed out.
"I did my best to get rid of them. How was I supposed to know they’d give the whole lot back to her?" Remus shook his head. "Enough, now. Let’s move."
The Pack-adults gathered behind the door at the end of the hall. Four wands were aimed. Sirius pushed the door open—
"It’s Potter!"
"Get him!"
"Stupefy!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Danger closed her eyes and clasped Remus’ free hand, opening her magic to him, and a Shield Charm sprang up around the four and held, spells bouncing off it every which way. Sirius and Aletha fired rapidly, Sirius without saying a word, Aletha in furious mutters, and the eight or nine Death Eaters in the room yelled in dismay and dived through various doors, all except the two who lay on the floor unconscious.
"Good enough for starters," Sirius said, shooting different-colored balls of ink from his wand at the doors the Death Eaters had left through. "And I see Harry’s been through here already..."
Aletha chuckled, following her husband inside. "Not many people around who’d automatically use fire to mark things."
"We shouldn’t split up too far," said Remus, peering around the room at the twelve doors. "Danger, do you have to be alone for whatever you’re doing?"
"It would be best if you weren’t there."
Aletha looked sharply at her friend, but said nothing.
"I’ll go by myself, then," Remus said, starting for a yellow-marked door. "I have a slight sensory advantage—hel-lo." The room had just begun to spin. "That’s right, I remember now..."
"Remember?" Aletha asked.
"He wanted to be an Unspeakable," Sirius said. "Back in school. He read everything he could get his hands on about the Department of Mysteries."
"This is a security measure," said Remus distractedly, watching the wall slow its spin. "To stop us from knowing which door we came in by, or which one we need. Unspeakables are under a certain spell that lets them tell the doors apart."
"Why not just mark them like we did?" Danger asked as the room stopped turning.
"Ordinary markings don’t last past the departure of the person who made them." Remus crossed to the yellow-blotched door and tapped a finger against the ink. "Once we’re gone, this will fade."
"Harry’s fire didn’t," Aletha pointed out. "Why don’t you two use some of yours to make it permanent?"
"You read my mind, sister dear," Remus said with a smile. Yellow fire blossomed in his palm, and he smeared it across the door as he might a handful of mud before turning to the red-stained door on his left to do the same. Danger dealt with the blue and the green, then transformed into her wolf form and sniffed.
"What’re you looking for?" Sirius asked.
Danger retransformed. "A familiar smell," she said shortly. "And I found it. Stay here. Don’t leave this room until I call and tell you to."
"What?" Remus started forward. "Danger, wait—"
Danger slipped through the door, closed it behind herself, and with a mental flick erased the green fire that had been highlighting this door as something special. A moment later, her husband’s voice was lost in the rumble of the room spinning up again.
Unless one of them thought to count doors, they won’t find me in time.
Perfect.
She changed back to wolf and sniffed. Once was all she needed.
I would know my children’s scents out of all the world.
And in a very twisted, wrong, unclean way, that man is my child.
Despite the fact that he is my sister’s father.
And so, I suppose, my father as well, except that we share absolutely no blood...
A slim, brown-furred head shook violently. Enough of this. Corner prey first. Think later.
She loped forward, taking care to make no sound on the tiled floor below her paws.
xXxXx
Lucius Malfoy grinned at Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew the expression looked wolfish, but he had learned, in the month or so he had been free, that he need not care. His greatest fear—that his Lord would disregard him when he learned what Lucius had become—had been unfounded. Indeed, as contradictory as it seemed, his Master looked with favor on the change, or at least on portions of it.
He does not let me touch him, but he allows that to almost no one in any case. And the precautions around the full moon are stringent—so should they be, to keep me from harming anyone, myself included. I doubt any werewolf in these Isles is better cared for than I. Even Fenrir Greyback.
The thought of the half-feral pack leader sent a strange thrill through him. Perhaps, one day, he would defeat Greyback, defeat him and take the other’s position, for was not Greyback superfluous now that he, Lucius Malfoy, had arrived? The Dark Lord required his services as a lieutenant, true enough, but why could he not combine that with leading the werewolves his Master would certainly want under his command?
And, of course, with my personal revenge. My Lord does not mind that I have my own special enemies among those who oppose him. I am sure he will delight, in fact, when I succeed in my little quests, for they will bring him his favorite type of entertainment.
It was a shame, really, that they couldn’t afford to wait for the Dark Lord’s arrival before they killed Arthur Weasley. But the Order of the Phoenix had already arrived. The blood-traitor must die now, before the Order could find them and stop them. Bella’s wand was already aimed at the unconscious Muggle-lover’s chest, her lips were opening to speak the words—
"Stop," said a woman’s quiet voice.
Lucius froze where he was. Some deep part of his unconscious mind demanded that he submit, lie down and show his throat—
No! I will not be commanded by brute instinct!
Wrestling free of his compulsion, he leapt across the room and pinioned the woman, and only as she fell without resistance under his hands did he recognize her—
"You," he hissed into her face. "I know you. I know what you did to me. I had plenty of time to recall. It was not the male, not the werewolf, which attacked me. It was the true wolf, the female. The Animagus. You."
"I don’t deny it." Brown eyes met his without a trace of mockery. "We gave the story the other way to keep me from becoming a medical curiosity. If I’d known I would infect you, though, I never would have bitten you."
"Wouldn’t you?" Lucius snorted. "I doubt that."
"So this is Lupin’s woman, then?" Bellatrix asked, coming up behind them. "I’d wondered what kind of fool would sleep with a werewolf. But of course I knew. A Muggle fool." She laughed aloud, and Lucius spared a smile.
"And you’re Sirius’ cousin," Granger-Lupin said. "We have a great deal in common, you know."
"A great deal in common? You and I?" Bella drew back her foot and kicked Granger-Lupin in the side. The woman gasped.
"Easy, Bella," Lucius cautioned. "If we have her alive, we have Lupin. And possibly your cousin and his Muggle as well. More important, though, we have Potter."
"Yes, of course..." Bella’s smile widened. "Our little Potter-baby will come out right away when he sees his dear mummy in trouble..."
"Oh, I doubt that," Granger-Lupin whispered, her face still twisted in pain. "You see, I’ve come here to stop you..."
An explosion at his chest, and Lucius felt himself soaring backwards until he hit the wall on the other side of the room. Half-stunned, he slid down to lie crumpled on the floor. His muscles would not respond to him, but he could still see and hear as Granger-Lupin rose to her feet, fire wreathing her figure. Bellatrix was backing away warily, her wand wavering from one side of the woman to the other.
"As you and I are both warrior women, I charge you, Bellatrix Black Lestrange," Granger-Lupin intoned, then turned to look at Lucius. "And as you and I both bear the sign of the wolf, I charge you, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy..."
Lucius wanted to grind his teeth—the use of his full name made whatever she was doing here magically binding on him, as was obviously her intent...
"And as all those here bear the mark of the serpent as do you both, I charge them through you..." Granger-Lupin lifted her hands. "...that you shall not kill nor permanently harm any here who fight or who have fought for us, whether they are part of the Order of the Phoenix or no. Though you mean to speak death, your spell shall not deliver it; though you mean to strike deep, your weapon shall glance off. So I speak, so I intend, and so..." A deep breath. "...so let it be done!"
The fire covering her body exploded outward, and Lucius knew no more.
xXxXx
Sirius knew the exact moment when Danger spoke in Remus’ mind. That frozen pose, the half-listening cock of the head, all were signs he’d learned over their years together. "Can we go?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes. Go." Remus was already running to a door, unmarked, but Danger must have told him which one. "She’s made it so they can’t kill," he called back, "but be careful anyway..."
"They can’t kill?" Aletha repeated. "I like that. Bringing everyone home from a battle. I wonder if she can do it again next time?"
"Probably not." Sirius peered around at the doors. "Pick one, let’s go. I’m not a crazy werewolf, so I want my backup right here beside me."
"Don’t call your brother names when he’s not here to listen. It’s a waste of effort."
Sirius snorted and shoved open the door marked with red fire.
The chamber beyond was vast and cavernous, shaped like a natural amphitheater. Rough-hewn stone benches led down to a dais in the center. There, like the only piece of scenery for some strange and tragic play, stood a crumbling stone arch with a sheer black veil hanging within, as though to block the view of the area beyond. Its appearance seemed somehow familiar, as though he’d heard of it somewhere a long time ago.
"No cover I can see," Aletha murmured at his back. "I don’t think they’re in here."
"We’d better check behind that thing just in case." Sirius stepped down carefully along the benches, staring at the archway as he went. The veil was fluttering—had someone just passed through the arch, to hide on its other side? And if they had, was it a Death Eater, or was it Sirius’ godson?
"Sirius, let’s go," Aletha said more loudly. "There’s no one here."
"I just want to have a look." Sirius leapt off the last bench and approached the arch slowly, wand at the ready. There was a strange, dull scent in here, it was masking any other odors that he might have caught, but he had a feeling that someone was lurking just behind this arch—
He stopped, listening. Were there voices back there, whispering together? Might it be two people hiding? There didn’t seem to be enough cover for two, but perhaps if they were very good friends... and he thought he’d just seen a flutter of black cloth behind the arch, as though a piece of the veil had drifted out and around...
"Gaahh!" He jumped a foot as a hand touched his elbow.
"What is wrong with you?" Aletha demanded. "There is no one here. What are you doing?"
"Listening." Sirius pointed at the arch. "Can’t you hear the voices?"
Aletha turned, and her face went dreamy. "Yes," she said quietly. "I just...wasn’t listening properly, before..." She began to walk towards the archway, one slow step at a time.
"Wait." Sirius caught at her arm this time, drawing her back. "Something’s not right here. I don’t think we should stay."
Aletha shook her head and blinked a few times. "I agree. Check behind there, make sure there’s no one, and we’ll move on."
"Yes, ma’am." Sirius let go of her arm, watched to see her clear of the dais, then started walking back towards the archway—
"Impello!"
There was no time to dodge, but Sirius tried anyway. The spell, obviously intended for the middle of his back, hit him on the left shoulder blade and spun him completely around. He was falling backward—
Straight into the archway.
He grabbed hold of both sides of it and clung, off-balance and held up only by the grip of his hands, trying desperately not to think of how ridiculous he looked.
"Don’t try anything, Freeman-Black," shouted the voice which had cast the spell, the voice of Bartemius Crouch. "One word from me and he’s through that veil. Gone forever. He should have been dead already, but you must have some protection I don’t know about..."
"You murdering bastard," Aletha hissed. "I trusted you."
"Yes, I know." Crouch sauntered down the benches with an ease that put the lie to his age. "That’s the job of a spy. To make people trust him. And thanks to this little toy of Dumbledore’s..." He tapped the pin in his lapel. "I can find others like it. Which is how I know exactly where Potter is, and the prophecy with him. When I deliver that to the Dark Lord, what do you think my reward will be?"
"You’re mad," Sirius gasped out, trying to keep his hold. The stones were old and slick, and his fingers were sweating. One slip, and not even Danger’s wild magic could keep him safe. Sheer panic had jogged his memory—he had heard of this thing, but only in the stories of Beedle the Bard, as another mythical object like the Sword of Decision or the Deathly Hallows.
It was called the Gateway to Hades.
"Mad I may be, but dead I do not intend to be. Unlike you." Crouch stepped onto the dais and smirked. "Say goodnight, Sirius Black."
Aletha’s wand snapped into line with Crouch’s back just as Crouch’s found its bead on Sirius’ chest. Together, they shouted the same words.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"NO!" screamed a third voice.
Everything went green, and Sirius felt himself fall—
And then there was nothing.
Author Notes:
This is me running away from my nice fans who really don't want to hurt me, because I can't write if I'm hurt...