FIC: The Finest Hour
Title: The Finest Hour
Author: bitternarration
Prompt: seeds of revolution
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, some violence.
Genre: General/Action
Word Count: 3,910
Summary: Instead of rolling over and dying, Justin Finch-Fletchley finds himself leading a revolution.
Author’s Notes: I don’t know if this truly fits with ‘seeds of revolution’ it’s probably more ‘seeds of war’ but I see it as the former so that’s what I’m labeling it. I’d absolutely love feedback because I’m new to this and want honest feedback. Lastly, if anyone is looking to beta read, I’d really love a beta reader. Enjoy.
We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on
the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the
streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.
-- Sir Winston Churchill, June 1940
-The Finest Hour-
The light coat did little to protect the young man wearing it from the biting cold of night as he stood, pressed against an old oak tree as though he may meld with the gnarled trunk any second. There was a gentry feel to him although both he and his clothes were worn and dirtied, and despite the dark bags under his eyes and split lip he remained delicately handsome. Exhaustion racked his body and it took every ounce of his strength to not let the quiet darkness lull him to sleep. There will be time for sleep later, he promised his body as he closed his eyes and steeled his nerves, holding his wand firmly to his chest. Any mistake, any hesitation on his part could result in the loss of a life. He had to focus. He had to be strong. Justin Finch-Fletchley was a soldier now.
The young wizard’s pale eyes sprang open and searched the darkness at the sound of a twig snapping a few yards to his left. He could just make out the shape of one of is fellow exiles crouching in the shadows of another tree. She was waiting for him, they all were. Closing his eyes again and pressing the back of head against the tree trunk, Justin’s mind ran over the plan, his plan, searching for any flaw he had missed. There was nothing more he could do. They had gone over the plan time and time again. They had carried out similar attacks before. They trusted him and he trusted them.
Had someone told him a year prior that he would be leading a revolution against a corrupt régime, Justin would have insisted they had the wrong person and offered to point them in the right direction. Gryffindors did things like that, not Hufflepuffs. His father was the brave, honorable soldier. Justin was the kid who was scared of walking the halls of Hogwarts alone in the dark and flinched every time he saw a snake. How could he ever be expect to do something like nurture a revolution. Yet here he was, leading nearly nightly attacks against the Snatchers and helping other muggle-borns to safety.
Pursing his lips together Justin let out a string of whistles, watching out of the corner of his eye as the dark figure to his left shot forward. Justin listened to the steady beat as the woman dashed out into the clearing behind Justin’s tree, waiting.
“VOLDEMORT!” The name rang out through the quiet night and Justin could feel his entire body tense up as he listened for the distinct ‘pops’ of displaced air. They would be here, any second now the enemy would be here to find the woman who had just called out their master’s name.
“Britons never will be slaves,” Justin whispered to himself as the clearing behind him was suddenly filled with the enemy apparating in. He spun around the side of the old oak, hair flapping around his face as his wand targeted the nearest Snatcher.
“STUPEFY!”
* * *
When Britain first, at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
“Justin, dear, the Bransons are throwing another one of their horrible garden parties next Sunday and I was hoping… dear, is everything quite alright?” Lady Finch-Fletchley asked, concern replacing the mild-annoyance in her voice as she entered the sitting room and finding her son cradling his head in his hands. Justin seemed to not have noticed his mother’s entrance and was focused on the letter lying on the table in front of him.
“I’m sorry mum,” Justin muttered, not moving his eyes from the lime-green ink sprawled across the parchment.
“Sorry? What ever for dear? The owls don’t frighten me nearly as much as they did,” The woman insisted, rubbing her son’s back with a perfectly manicured hand. It was evident that the woman and boy were closely related, he had her pale eyes and lean frame but she had a striking beauty about her that her son could never match.
“Mum, I’m in trouble,” He said, finally turning to look at his mother with fearful eyes before handing the letter to her. Seeing a flash of anger cross her eyes, Justin averted his gaze back to the now empty table, mind racing as his stomach tied its self in knots.
“What kind of nonsense is this Justin? What grounds do they have for this…Muggle-born Registration Commission?”
“I think it’s happening, the war. Everyone was talking about it last year; Susan’s aunt, Hannah’s mum, then Dumbledore. What if-”
“Nonsense. They have no right and we’ll take care of this. We will hire a barrister, the best, and by the end of the hearing the whole Ministry will be apologizing to you.” Helena had stopped pacing the room and stood by the window, hands behind her back with the letter clenched in one. The early morning sunlight was shining through the window making the woman seem as though she were glowing.
“No mum, that’s not how wizard courts work. They don’t have trials and barristers like muggles, Susan and Ernie always said there was just the Wizengamot and the letter says I have to report to the Registration Commission. If this is the war the, mum these are bad people. They kill and-”
“I will not let them have you!” Justin feared for a moment that his mother’s rage had shook the entire house before realizing that it was only him that was shaking. He was as scared as she was, not about himself but about her. There had always been stories at Hogwarts about what Voldemort and his followers had done in the last year and after Cedric, Ms. Bones, Mrs. Abbott and Dumbledore, Justin was determined to protect his mother. She had already lost so much; he didn’t want her to be harmed.
“Mum-”
“No Justin! We will leave. I have a cousin in Paris, you can attend that French school you were talking about. Or we can go to America. The bleedin’ Yanks must have a school for you and if they don’t, well, then I’ll hire you private tutors-”
“Mum-”
“-The best tutors. All these garden parties have grown rather stale and I was looking for a holiday anyway. I’ve heard some right splendid things about Connecticut. Or Tokyo. There are billions of people in Asia, they must have a school. Or what about-”
“Mum!” Justin yelled, leaping to his feat, hands on his mother’s shoulders, forcing her to stop and look him in the face. “Mum, I can’t do that. It puts you in danger. I will not make you live on the run. I am going to register, clear everything up and be on the train back to Hogwarts the first of September.”
“Justin, darling,” There was fear in her pale eyes and the letter had been forgotten so that she could hold his face between her shaking hands. Justin knew how much it pained her to let him go, after his father died he was all she had left of him. Helena would sacrifice everything for him, Justin knew that, which was why he chose to sacrifice everything first, to protect her.
“I love you mum.” Justin had left the room with the letter in hand before Lady Finch-Fletchley summoned the strength to move. Her strong façade fell in silent tears when the thud of the front door echoed through the empty rooms of Abbey House.
* * *
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
Justin had only been to the Ministry of Magic twice before, but never before had he stood outside the visitors entrance for fifteen minutes trying to gain the confidence to step inside the phone booth. This wasn’t a friendly visit on a tour of the Wizarding England nor was it a simple trip to get his apperation license; he may not be able to leave this time.
The Atrium was cold and darker than Justin remembered it being and he felt as though he were fighting through a full body-bind curse as he walked down the long hall. Witches and wizards swarmed around the young wizard when he stopped in front of the massive ‘Magic Is Might’ statue. An urge to pull out his wand and blast the smug face off the wizard came over Justin before he forced himself to walk away. The realization that he probably would not be leaving crept back to the forefront of Justin’s mind.
By the time he stepped out of the lift on level 9, Justin was ready to climb back onto the lift and get out of the Ministry as fast as possible. He was pretty sure no one had seen him and there hadn’t been any security at the Atrium, he could do it. He could turn around and run away, but Justin’s feet kept taking him further, down to the tenth level.
A scream suddenly pierced the silence of the hall and Justin could hear the sound of feet being dragged across the floor as more feet jumped up and started running.
“No, you can’t take her. Please, she’s just a child.” The shrill female voice cut through the scream and Justin froze in his steps. The screams and the voice were coming closer and closer to Justin, as was an unnaturally depressing chill. The realization of what was causing the gloom came to Justin seconds before a pair of towering Dementors slid around the corner, caring a screaming girl between them. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve years old and the more Justin looked at her face, the more certain he became that she was a second year Ravenclaw.
“Please, she’s just a child,” plead the female again as she came around the corner behind the Dementors, reaching out to pull on their fluttering black robes. The Dementor spun around on the woman the moment she came into contact with the soul-sucking fiend. Justin moved without thinking, pulling out his wand and shouting out the appropriate spell as the Dementor began draining life from the woman. A ghostly silver bulldog sprang from Justin’s wand, forcing the two Dementors away long enough for the young wizard to scoop up the girl and lead the woman into an open lift.
“What happened back there?” Justin asked, looking down at the woman as the lift rose. His heart was still pounding in his chest and his mind was trying to figure out why there were Dementors in the Ministry. The girl and woman didn’t look to be suffering from anything that a little time and some chocolate couldn’t fix, but then again Justin wasn’t trained to analyze the targets of Dementor attacks.
“They were going to take her away, to Azkaban,” The woman explained, holding the girl to her chest and rubbing her back as Justin’s mother had done to him only hours prior.
“But why? She can’t have done something that horrible could she?”
“It’s because she is muggle-born. They’ve gone mad, all of them, they’re locking muggle-borns up.” Justin felt a very familiar chill run down his spine. If muggle-borns were being sent to Azkaban then the war had started and had taken a turn for the worst. Which also meant that he had just attacked Ministry personnel and bought himself a definite ticket to Azkaban.
“You can’t be her mother, muggles can’t see Dementors, but you did,” Justin continued, turning his eyes to the girl long enough to give her a supportive smile that he hoped she believed.
“No, I’m muggle-born as well, Morgan Braxton. They wouldn’t let her parents wait with her and I happened to be coming in at the same time. I promised her parents that I would take care of her.” The woman, who Justin was placing in her early thirties, was fighting back tears as her eyes continued to glance at the floor display. They would be stopping at the Atrium very soon.
“Right, well I’m Justin. There wasn’t any security when I came in, so if we move fast and remain calm I believe we can get out of here.” Seconds later the embodied voice announced the lift had arrived at the atrium before the doors slid open. Justin, Morgan and the second-year Ravenclaw left the lift, silent and composed. None of the wizards swarming around the long hall noticed the three as they climbed into a fireplace and disappeared from the Ministry of Magic.
* * *
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
“Justin?” Helena asked as her son raced past her, flicking his wand and calling out words that she didn’t understand. It was extremely rare when Justin performed magic in front of her. He had been of age all summer and the most she had ever seen him do was repair a torn hem on her dress before a party. Lady Finch-Fletchley knew he avoided magic around her because it made her uneasy, and she had always felt guilty about him doing so, but there was no doubt that she should be worried now.
Moments prior, Justin had simply appeared out on lawn as though he were a daisy. At first, Helena had thought everything had gone better than expected at the Ministry until Justin began running around the house’s immediate perimeter, waving his wand. She was about to go outside and question her son when he rushed inside and began repeating the same frantic actions inside the house.
“Justin, what is going on?” She pressed, following Justin up the main stairway, trying to match his speed in her heels.
“Cave Inimicum… mum, we’re leaving, now,” Justin ordered, casting his last spell but not slowing his pace.
“What? Justin, what happened?”
“It’s lost. We have to get you out of here now. They’ll be coming for me soon enough. Accio luggage. Is there anything you must have?” Several large luggage bags came shooting into Helena’s bedroom where the two had stopped, Justin moved his wand to the closet before flicking his wand again, causing clothes to begin flying out of the closet and into the suitcases.
“Justin, you’re scaring me. What happened at the hearing?” Helena pleaded as she rushed about the room grabbing family photos and other irreplaceable items.
“I didn’t make it all the way to the hearing. There was a girl, a young girl, and they were going to lock her up at Azkaban. It all happened so fast and the next thing I knew we were running. They got away, they’re going to be safe, but we have to be fast.” Justin waved his wand again and cast the levitation charm on the luggage before leading his mother back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry mum. They’ll come here looking for me and I won’t leave you here to pay for my mistakes.”
“Oh baby, I’m just glad to see you alright. We can leave tonight, catch a flight from Heathrow and leave this whole mess behind.”
“No, mom. I’m not going with. I’m going to stay, there are people who need help and the Ministry can’t get away with this,” Justin stated, not pausing until he was in his own room, packing his book bag with the essentials. There wasn’t a lot of room and he didn’t have the time to figure out something more practical but Justin knew he needed something. “There were people, back during the first war, who fought You-Know-Who, I’ll find them, join them. Harry’s out there somewhere. I know he’s innocent and he’s going to be fighting, I know it. I have to do this mum, please.”
Helena was gone when Justin turned to leave, his book bag filled with some clothing and a few spell books that he hadn’t fully memorized. Grabbing his bag, Justin hurried from the room after his mother, her luggage still following after him.
“Mum! Mum!” Justin called out, wand out and at the ready. It was just him and his mother home at the moment, Mrs. Forner, the maid, was on holiday for the week, but the large house was too quite for Justin’s liking. He would know if someone had entered the Finch-Fletchley estate, the charms he had cast insured that, but where had his mother gone then?
“Mum, where are you? We need to leave.”
“Study, Justin.” Helena’s voice echoed through the halls and Justin made his way down to his father’s study where he found his mother. A calm had come over Lady Finch-Fletchley, although tears were gathering in her eyes as she approached her son.
“Are you ready? We should leave soon.”
“I am so very proud of you Justin, and so would your father,” she said, placing a cool metal tag in Justin’s empty hand before pulling the curly haired wizard into a hug. He could feel her tears falling onto his neck but the only thing he was truly paying attention to was the round tag his thumb was passing over. It was his father’s, Lord-Lieutenant Philip Finch-Fletchley, military tag from when he served in the Royal Air Force. His mother had received them after his death and Justin had always assumed his father had been buried with them, but apparently she had kept the tag to pass down to Justin.
“Mum-”
“We should go.”
“Right, you should go and stay with Uncle Edward for a few days and then go see that cousin in Paris. We can meet for Christmas, Trafalgar Square, by the fourth plinth. If the war is over I can tell you and by then it should be safe for you to return here to Abbey House no matter what. I’m going to take my broom and head north, Yorkshire I think.” Justin had no actual intention of going to Yorkshire but he wanted to give his mother something incase she was caught.
“Justin-”
“I’m sorry mum, I really am. I wish I could go with you and protect you but I have to stay and fight-”
“Justin-”
“If anyone comes for you, anyone makes you uncomfortable at all, run. You’ve seen wizards, they don’t blend in with muggles very well so trust your instinct. Stay away from the wizarding world, travel abroad if you can-”
“Justin, dear, stop. You are so much like your father, I love you so much.” They had reached the garage and Justin had packed all of his mother’s luggage into the trunk of her Rolls-Royce, Helena was standing watching as her son became the man she had always known he would be. He may lack his father’s physical characteristics, but Justin possessed his father’s very best qualities.
“I love you too mum. Please be safe.” The two embraced in another hug before Helena got into the car and pulled down the driveway. Justin waited until he saw the black car leave the Finch-Fletchley estate before he grabbed his broom and disapparated with a spin.
* * *
When Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
Arose, arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:
“Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never,* never shall be slaves!
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never,* never shall be slaves!”
* * *
“STUPEFY!”
A red beam shot forth from the tip of Justin’s wand, hitting the targeted Snatcher square in his back and sending him flying forward. Half-a-dozen other spells erupted from the trees bordering the clearing before the Snatchers could even react to Justin’s original charm. The curly wizard watched two more Snatchers fall to the ground and another started screaming and waving his hands around at things that were not really there.
“Protego Horribilis!” Justin cried as a purple ray shot toward him only to be blocked by his shield charm. The Snatchers had been surprised, as usual, by the waiting ambush and were falling fast. They had no structure to their attack; they were used to sneaking up and overpowering their victims. Justin and his men were used to this and were able to keep calm heads when their enemies panicked.
“Expulso!”
“Avis! There was suddenly a cloud of feathers where Justin’s summoned birds had been when the Snatcher’s curse collided with them. War had turned the boy who had once struggled to pass his O.W.L.s into an accomplished duelist. He ducked behind a tree as another curse just nearly missed his head before popping back out and sending a stunning spell at his attacker. The man fell and Justin moved out into the open just as one of the Snatchers cried out the Dark Lord’s name.
Justin cried out a warning and a half-dozen more Snatchers appeared in the clearing. The exiled muggle-borns took the split second it took for the Snatchers adjust to attack. Three fell before the Snatchers had managed to unleashed a single spell and Justin took the opportunity to try and return to the tree line.
A solid force smashed against his back, sending the young wizard to the ground. Justin’s body was lean and tired but he managed to summon enough strength to fight off his attack and roll onto his back. The Snatcher was persistent and quickly returned to on top of the younger wizard. Justin recognized the man’s face as that of a seventh year Gryffindor back when he had been a first year. He lacked the blank stare of an Imperiused so Justin wrestled his wand hand free and unleash a jet of steam at the man’s face.
The man screamed and jumped away from Justin as the hot air burnt his face, allowing the young wizard to stun him. Looking around, Justin found the battle to be over. Snatchers lay sprawled out across the clearing and Justin’s fellow muggle-borns had emerged from their cover to disarm and bind the defeated enemy.
“Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’” Justin recited to himself, rubbing his father’s military tag that hung from his neck and looking up at the moon, praying that his mother was well.
-end-
Author: bitternarration
Prompt: seeds of revolution
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, some violence.
Genre: General/Action
Word Count: 3,910
Summary: Instead of rolling over and dying, Justin Finch-Fletchley finds himself leading a revolution.
Author’s Notes: I don’t know if this truly fits with ‘seeds of revolution’ it’s probably more ‘seeds of war’ but I see it as the former so that’s what I’m labeling it. I’d absolutely love feedback because I’m new to this and want honest feedback. Lastly, if anyone is looking to beta read, I’d really love a beta reader. Enjoy.
We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on
the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the
streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.
-- Sir Winston Churchill, June 1940
-The Finest Hour-
The light coat did little to protect the young man wearing it from the biting cold of night as he stood, pressed against an old oak tree as though he may meld with the gnarled trunk any second. There was a gentry feel to him although both he and his clothes were worn and dirtied, and despite the dark bags under his eyes and split lip he remained delicately handsome. Exhaustion racked his body and it took every ounce of his strength to not let the quiet darkness lull him to sleep. There will be time for sleep later, he promised his body as he closed his eyes and steeled his nerves, holding his wand firmly to his chest. Any mistake, any hesitation on his part could result in the loss of a life. He had to focus. He had to be strong. Justin Finch-Fletchley was a soldier now.
The young wizard’s pale eyes sprang open and searched the darkness at the sound of a twig snapping a few yards to his left. He could just make out the shape of one of is fellow exiles crouching in the shadows of another tree. She was waiting for him, they all were. Closing his eyes again and pressing the back of head against the tree trunk, Justin’s mind ran over the plan, his plan, searching for any flaw he had missed. There was nothing more he could do. They had gone over the plan time and time again. They had carried out similar attacks before. They trusted him and he trusted them.
Had someone told him a year prior that he would be leading a revolution against a corrupt régime, Justin would have insisted they had the wrong person and offered to point them in the right direction. Gryffindors did things like that, not Hufflepuffs. His father was the brave, honorable soldier. Justin was the kid who was scared of walking the halls of Hogwarts alone in the dark and flinched every time he saw a snake. How could he ever be expect to do something like nurture a revolution. Yet here he was, leading nearly nightly attacks against the Snatchers and helping other muggle-borns to safety.
Pursing his lips together Justin let out a string of whistles, watching out of the corner of his eye as the dark figure to his left shot forward. Justin listened to the steady beat as the woman dashed out into the clearing behind Justin’s tree, waiting.
“VOLDEMORT!” The name rang out through the quiet night and Justin could feel his entire body tense up as he listened for the distinct ‘pops’ of displaced air. They would be here, any second now the enemy would be here to find the woman who had just called out their master’s name.
“Britons never will be slaves,” Justin whispered to himself as the clearing behind him was suddenly filled with the enemy apparating in. He spun around the side of the old oak, hair flapping around his face as his wand targeted the nearest Snatcher.
“STUPEFY!”
* * *
When Britain first, at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
“Justin, dear, the Bransons are throwing another one of their horrible garden parties next Sunday and I was hoping… dear, is everything quite alright?” Lady Finch-Fletchley asked, concern replacing the mild-annoyance in her voice as she entered the sitting room and finding her son cradling his head in his hands. Justin seemed to not have noticed his mother’s entrance and was focused on the letter lying on the table in front of him.
“I’m sorry mum,” Justin muttered, not moving his eyes from the lime-green ink sprawled across the parchment.
“Sorry? What ever for dear? The owls don’t frighten me nearly as much as they did,” The woman insisted, rubbing her son’s back with a perfectly manicured hand. It was evident that the woman and boy were closely related, he had her pale eyes and lean frame but she had a striking beauty about her that her son could never match.
“Mum, I’m in trouble,” He said, finally turning to look at his mother with fearful eyes before handing the letter to her. Seeing a flash of anger cross her eyes, Justin averted his gaze back to the now empty table, mind racing as his stomach tied its self in knots.
“What kind of nonsense is this Justin? What grounds do they have for this…Muggle-born Registration Commission?”
“I think it’s happening, the war. Everyone was talking about it last year; Susan’s aunt, Hannah’s mum, then Dumbledore. What if-”
“Nonsense. They have no right and we’ll take care of this. We will hire a barrister, the best, and by the end of the hearing the whole Ministry will be apologizing to you.” Helena had stopped pacing the room and stood by the window, hands behind her back with the letter clenched in one. The early morning sunlight was shining through the window making the woman seem as though she were glowing.
“No mum, that’s not how wizard courts work. They don’t have trials and barristers like muggles, Susan and Ernie always said there was just the Wizengamot and the letter says I have to report to the Registration Commission. If this is the war the, mum these are bad people. They kill and-”
“I will not let them have you!” Justin feared for a moment that his mother’s rage had shook the entire house before realizing that it was only him that was shaking. He was as scared as she was, not about himself but about her. There had always been stories at Hogwarts about what Voldemort and his followers had done in the last year and after Cedric, Ms. Bones, Mrs. Abbott and Dumbledore, Justin was determined to protect his mother. She had already lost so much; he didn’t want her to be harmed.
“Mum-”
“No Justin! We will leave. I have a cousin in Paris, you can attend that French school you were talking about. Or we can go to America. The bleedin’ Yanks must have a school for you and if they don’t, well, then I’ll hire you private tutors-”
“Mum-”
“-The best tutors. All these garden parties have grown rather stale and I was looking for a holiday anyway. I’ve heard some right splendid things about Connecticut. Or Tokyo. There are billions of people in Asia, they must have a school. Or what about-”
“Mum!” Justin yelled, leaping to his feat, hands on his mother’s shoulders, forcing her to stop and look him in the face. “Mum, I can’t do that. It puts you in danger. I will not make you live on the run. I am going to register, clear everything up and be on the train back to Hogwarts the first of September.”
“Justin, darling,” There was fear in her pale eyes and the letter had been forgotten so that she could hold his face between her shaking hands. Justin knew how much it pained her to let him go, after his father died he was all she had left of him. Helena would sacrifice everything for him, Justin knew that, which was why he chose to sacrifice everything first, to protect her.
“I love you mum.” Justin had left the room with the letter in hand before Lady Finch-Fletchley summoned the strength to move. Her strong façade fell in silent tears when the thud of the front door echoed through the empty rooms of Abbey House.
* * *
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
Justin had only been to the Ministry of Magic twice before, but never before had he stood outside the visitors entrance for fifteen minutes trying to gain the confidence to step inside the phone booth. This wasn’t a friendly visit on a tour of the Wizarding England nor was it a simple trip to get his apperation license; he may not be able to leave this time.
The Atrium was cold and darker than Justin remembered it being and he felt as though he were fighting through a full body-bind curse as he walked down the long hall. Witches and wizards swarmed around the young wizard when he stopped in front of the massive ‘Magic Is Might’ statue. An urge to pull out his wand and blast the smug face off the wizard came over Justin before he forced himself to walk away. The realization that he probably would not be leaving crept back to the forefront of Justin’s mind.
By the time he stepped out of the lift on level 9, Justin was ready to climb back onto the lift and get out of the Ministry as fast as possible. He was pretty sure no one had seen him and there hadn’t been any security at the Atrium, he could do it. He could turn around and run away, but Justin’s feet kept taking him further, down to the tenth level.
A scream suddenly pierced the silence of the hall and Justin could hear the sound of feet being dragged across the floor as more feet jumped up and started running.
“No, you can’t take her. Please, she’s just a child.” The shrill female voice cut through the scream and Justin froze in his steps. The screams and the voice were coming closer and closer to Justin, as was an unnaturally depressing chill. The realization of what was causing the gloom came to Justin seconds before a pair of towering Dementors slid around the corner, caring a screaming girl between them. The girl couldn’t be more than twelve years old and the more Justin looked at her face, the more certain he became that she was a second year Ravenclaw.
“Please, she’s just a child,” plead the female again as she came around the corner behind the Dementors, reaching out to pull on their fluttering black robes. The Dementor spun around on the woman the moment she came into contact with the soul-sucking fiend. Justin moved without thinking, pulling out his wand and shouting out the appropriate spell as the Dementor began draining life from the woman. A ghostly silver bulldog sprang from Justin’s wand, forcing the two Dementors away long enough for the young wizard to scoop up the girl and lead the woman into an open lift.
“What happened back there?” Justin asked, looking down at the woman as the lift rose. His heart was still pounding in his chest and his mind was trying to figure out why there were Dementors in the Ministry. The girl and woman didn’t look to be suffering from anything that a little time and some chocolate couldn’t fix, but then again Justin wasn’t trained to analyze the targets of Dementor attacks.
“They were going to take her away, to Azkaban,” The woman explained, holding the girl to her chest and rubbing her back as Justin’s mother had done to him only hours prior.
“But why? She can’t have done something that horrible could she?”
“It’s because she is muggle-born. They’ve gone mad, all of them, they’re locking muggle-borns up.” Justin felt a very familiar chill run down his spine. If muggle-borns were being sent to Azkaban then the war had started and had taken a turn for the worst. Which also meant that he had just attacked Ministry personnel and bought himself a definite ticket to Azkaban.
“You can’t be her mother, muggles can’t see Dementors, but you did,” Justin continued, turning his eyes to the girl long enough to give her a supportive smile that he hoped she believed.
“No, I’m muggle-born as well, Morgan Braxton. They wouldn’t let her parents wait with her and I happened to be coming in at the same time. I promised her parents that I would take care of her.” The woman, who Justin was placing in her early thirties, was fighting back tears as her eyes continued to glance at the floor display. They would be stopping at the Atrium very soon.
“Right, well I’m Justin. There wasn’t any security when I came in, so if we move fast and remain calm I believe we can get out of here.” Seconds later the embodied voice announced the lift had arrived at the atrium before the doors slid open. Justin, Morgan and the second-year Ravenclaw left the lift, silent and composed. None of the wizards swarming around the long hall noticed the three as they climbed into a fireplace and disappeared from the Ministry of Magic.
* * *
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."
* * *
“Justin?” Helena asked as her son raced past her, flicking his wand and calling out words that she didn’t understand. It was extremely rare when Justin performed magic in front of her. He had been of age all summer and the most she had ever seen him do was repair a torn hem on her dress before a party. Lady Finch-Fletchley knew he avoided magic around her because it made her uneasy, and she had always felt guilty about him doing so, but there was no doubt that she should be worried now.
Moments prior, Justin had simply appeared out on lawn as though he were a daisy. At first, Helena had thought everything had gone better than expected at the Ministry until Justin began running around the house’s immediate perimeter, waving his wand. She was about to go outside and question her son when he rushed inside and began repeating the same frantic actions inside the house.
“Justin, what is going on?” She pressed, following Justin up the main stairway, trying to match his speed in her heels.
“Cave Inimicum… mum, we’re leaving, now,” Justin ordered, casting his last spell but not slowing his pace.
“What? Justin, what happened?”
“It’s lost. We have to get you out of here now. They’ll be coming for me soon enough. Accio luggage. Is there anything you must have?” Several large luggage bags came shooting into Helena’s bedroom where the two had stopped, Justin moved his wand to the closet before flicking his wand again, causing clothes to begin flying out of the closet and into the suitcases.
“Justin, you’re scaring me. What happened at the hearing?” Helena pleaded as she rushed about the room grabbing family photos and other irreplaceable items.
“I didn’t make it all the way to the hearing. There was a girl, a young girl, and they were going to lock her up at Azkaban. It all happened so fast and the next thing I knew we were running. They got away, they’re going to be safe, but we have to be fast.” Justin waved his wand again and cast the levitation charm on the luggage before leading his mother back out into the hallway. “I’m sorry mum. They’ll come here looking for me and I won’t leave you here to pay for my mistakes.”
“Oh baby, I’m just glad to see you alright. We can leave tonight, catch a flight from Heathrow and leave this whole mess behind.”
“No, mom. I’m not going with. I’m going to stay, there are people who need help and the Ministry can’t get away with this,” Justin stated, not pausing until he was in his own room, packing his book bag with the essentials. There wasn’t a lot of room and he didn’t have the time to figure out something more practical but Justin knew he needed something. “There were people, back during the first war, who fought You-Know-Who, I’ll find them, join them. Harry’s out there somewhere. I know he’s innocent and he’s going to be fighting, I know it. I have to do this mum, please.”
Helena was gone when Justin turned to leave, his book bag filled with some clothing and a few spell books that he hadn’t fully memorized. Grabbing his bag, Justin hurried from the room after his mother, her luggage still following after him.
“Mum! Mum!” Justin called out, wand out and at the ready. It was just him and his mother home at the moment, Mrs. Forner, the maid, was on holiday for the week, but the large house was too quite for Justin’s liking. He would know if someone had entered the Finch-Fletchley estate, the charms he had cast insured that, but where had his mother gone then?
“Mum, where are you? We need to leave.”
“Study, Justin.” Helena’s voice echoed through the halls and Justin made his way down to his father’s study where he found his mother. A calm had come over Lady Finch-Fletchley, although tears were gathering in her eyes as she approached her son.
“Are you ready? We should leave soon.”
“I am so very proud of you Justin, and so would your father,” she said, placing a cool metal tag in Justin’s empty hand before pulling the curly haired wizard into a hug. He could feel her tears falling onto his neck but the only thing he was truly paying attention to was the round tag his thumb was passing over. It was his father’s, Lord-Lieutenant Philip Finch-Fletchley, military tag from when he served in the Royal Air Force. His mother had received them after his death and Justin had always assumed his father had been buried with them, but apparently she had kept the tag to pass down to Justin.
“Mum-”
“We should go.”
“Right, you should go and stay with Uncle Edward for a few days and then go see that cousin in Paris. We can meet for Christmas, Trafalgar Square, by the fourth plinth. If the war is over I can tell you and by then it should be safe for you to return here to Abbey House no matter what. I’m going to take my broom and head north, Yorkshire I think.” Justin had no actual intention of going to Yorkshire but he wanted to give his mother something incase she was caught.
“Justin-”
“I’m sorry mum, I really am. I wish I could go with you and protect you but I have to stay and fight-”
“Justin-”
“If anyone comes for you, anyone makes you uncomfortable at all, run. You’ve seen wizards, they don’t blend in with muggles very well so trust your instinct. Stay away from the wizarding world, travel abroad if you can-”
“Justin, dear, stop. You are so much like your father, I love you so much.” They had reached the garage and Justin had packed all of his mother’s luggage into the trunk of her Rolls-Royce, Helena was standing watching as her son became the man she had always known he would be. He may lack his father’s physical characteristics, but Justin possessed his father’s very best qualities.
“I love you too mum. Please be safe.” The two embraced in another hug before Helena got into the car and pulled down the driveway. Justin waited until he saw the black car leave the Finch-Fletchley estate before he grabbed his broom and disapparated with a spin.
* * *
When Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
Arose, arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:
“Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never,* never shall be slaves!
Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never,* never shall be slaves!”
* * *
“STUPEFY!”
A red beam shot forth from the tip of Justin’s wand, hitting the targeted Snatcher square in his back and sending him flying forward. Half-a-dozen other spells erupted from the trees bordering the clearing before the Snatchers could even react to Justin’s original charm. The curly wizard watched two more Snatchers fall to the ground and another started screaming and waving his hands around at things that were not really there.
“Protego Horribilis!” Justin cried as a purple ray shot toward him only to be blocked by his shield charm. The Snatchers had been surprised, as usual, by the waiting ambush and were falling fast. They had no structure to their attack; they were used to sneaking up and overpowering their victims. Justin and his men were used to this and were able to keep calm heads when their enemies panicked.
“Expulso!”
“Avis! There was suddenly a cloud of feathers where Justin’s summoned birds had been when the Snatcher’s curse collided with them. War had turned the boy who had once struggled to pass his O.W.L.s into an accomplished duelist. He ducked behind a tree as another curse just nearly missed his head before popping back out and sending a stunning spell at his attacker. The man fell and Justin moved out into the open just as one of the Snatchers cried out the Dark Lord’s name.
Justin cried out a warning and a half-dozen more Snatchers appeared in the clearing. The exiled muggle-borns took the split second it took for the Snatchers adjust to attack. Three fell before the Snatchers had managed to unleashed a single spell and Justin took the opportunity to try and return to the tree line.
A solid force smashed against his back, sending the young wizard to the ground. Justin’s body was lean and tired but he managed to summon enough strength to fight off his attack and roll onto his back. The Snatcher was persistent and quickly returned to on top of the younger wizard. Justin recognized the man’s face as that of a seventh year Gryffindor back when he had been a first year. He lacked the blank stare of an Imperiused so Justin wrestled his wand hand free and unleash a jet of steam at the man’s face.
The man screamed and jumped away from Justin as the hot air burnt his face, allowing the young wizard to stun him. Looking around, Justin found the battle to be over. Snatchers lay sprawled out across the clearing and Justin’s fellow muggle-borns had emerged from their cover to disarm and bind the defeated enemy.
“Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’” Justin recited to himself, rubbing his father’s military tag that hung from his neck and looking up at the moon, praying that his mother was well.
-end-