Chapter One
After a long absence, here is Chapter One of Charge of the Light Brigade!
Enjoy!!! Let me know what you think and Merry Christmas
Chapter One: There is Evil in this
Who found no substitute for sense,
To seize and clutch and penetrate;
Expert beyond experience.
T.S Eliot, From ‘Whispers of Immortality’
“Azkaban.”
“What?” Harry demanded, staring at Hermione. “No way. We can’t just barge into Azkaban and demand to talk to Mundungus Fletcher.”
“Well he’s our only link to that locket. We both know he stole it from your house, and he probably didn’t have time to deal with it when he was arrested.” Hermione paced around in front of Harry on the small floor space in Ron’s room in the Burrow, her pale purple dress robes swirling in circles around her ankles, and her curly hair falling out of the knot at the back of her head.
“How do you suppose you’re going to go about getting in?” Harry asked.
“Ooh, I know you’re not going to like this,” Hermione groaned, sitting down next to him on the bed and wringing her hands. “You’re going to have to ask Rufus Scrimgeour.”
“What!” Harry exclaimed, jumping off the bed. “There’s no way, Hermione.”
“It’s the only thing I can think of. Just tell him Mundungus took something from your house and sold it, a book that your father gave Sirius, and that you have to send me and Ron to ask him where it is. You might not have to do anything for him. Besides, the journey will take us a few days, and while we’re gone you can go to Godric’s Hollow alone.” Hermione paused and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him back down next to her. “I know that’s what you want, even if Ron doesn’t notice. We can meet you there and figure things out.”
Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “Fine.”
***
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Hermione asked, collapsing on top of a thick sack of flour. They were sitting in the pantry, waiting patiently for the senior members of the Order to arrive.
“I’d like to live until tomorrow,” Ron replied, his face a little paler than usual. “I’d at least like my mum to know where I’ve been before she kills me.”
“Ron…”
“Oh shut it. I know what’s important.” Harry noted the steely, pale expression on his friend’s face and fell silent. They heard a murmured conversation in the opposite room, and he felt his heart skip a beat. For some reason, he was more nervous delivering the news of the Horcruxes to those he trusted than taking them away from those he didn’t.
“What are we going to tell them?” Hermione asked, gingerly fiddling with the wrapped brooch in her hand.
Harry paused for a moment. He considered telling them everything: start to finish. The legacy that Dumbledore had entrusted him with, the journey he had tried to take on alone, the stubborn friends who refused to let him do it. All but two Horcruxes had been destroyed, and one more would be eradicated from the earth that night. The Weasleys, the Order, Lupin…everyone deserved to hear the truth. Ron and Hermione deserved credit for what they had accomplished. He figured that’s what Dumbledore would have wanted.
“Everything.” Harry replied simply. “We can trust them. They deserve to know what we’re up against.”
“Are you sure?” Ron asked, furrowing his brow and slumping against the door. “What about Dumbledore?”
“Keeping quiet is no longer advantageous to our position,” Hermione said, fidgeting on the bag of flour and causing white clouds of smoke to fly around her. “As long as it stays within the Order,” she added, trying to wipe the white dust off her jeans.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley’s high pitched yell echoed throughout the house. “Charlie!” she screeched, and they heard a few shouts and trampling feet. It sounded as if the entire Weasley family were inside the house. Moments later the door to the kitchen burst open, and they pressed their eyes up against the crack in the pantry door.
Charlie was sitting at the table, and Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen, conjuring up a teapot and a plate of sandwiches in front of her second eldest son. “Anyone word from him yet?” Charlie asked her, and she shook her head. Harry felt guilt spread throughout his body and glanced at his friend. Ron looked stoic, though a bit comical as both of his eyes were still black.
Twenty minutes later the kitchen door opened again. “They’re here,” Harry observed, watching as Lupin, Hagrid, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Bill, Mad-Eye, and Professor McGonagall streamed into the kitchen, most of them casting a curious eye at the two Weasleys sitting at the table.
“What are we doing here?” Professor McGonagall asked Lupin, who looked just as confused as everyone else.
“You’re about to find out,” Tonks replied and turned to face the trio, all standing nervous and cramped within the confines of the pantry. “Oi, you can come out now!” she called. Harry nodded at his friends, and they pushed the door open.
Sharp intakes of breath littered the air around them as they slowly stepped out of the pantry and stood in front of the Order of the Phoenix in a defiantly straight line. Harry heard something knock against the kitchen door, and a small smile spread across his face when he saw the edge of an extendable ear peeking through the gap between the door and the floor. His smile was quickly crushed when his eyes met those of Mrs. Weasley, fear and shock flashing across her face. He gazed at the floor and couldn’t help but glance up again moments later only to see a tiny tear trickle down her cheek. Shaking her head, she gaped at them, reaching a hand out towards the group even though they were on the other side of the room. “It can’t be…” she whispered. She stared at Harry first, then Hermione, and finally Ron. “NOT EVEN A LETTER!” She’d jumped up, anger flaring in her cheeks, the sadness in her eyes replaced by anger.
“Mum,” Charlie interrupted, standing up and trying to pull her back into her seat. Harry glanced at Ron, whose face was completely impassive. Things had changed more in these past six months, more than Harry could have imagined. “Let them speak,” Charlie said, wrapping a comforting arm around his mother while shooting the three a curious look. Bill appeared at his mother’s other side, and the two brothers managed to sit the pale, shaking woman down. Harry had rarely felt more terrible than he did now.
“I’m sorry,” Ron said simply, for the first time looking minutely guilty. Mrs. Weasley huffed aloud and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Tearing his glance away from his surrogate mother, Harry hazarded glances at the other members, most looking confused or angry. Picking a spot on the wall above everyone, he figured that he’d better start talking.
“The night that Hogwarts was attacked, Dumbledore and I left the school,” he began, keeping his voice strong and steady. “After he was killed, I was left to complete the mission that Dumbledore began. I know that I can trust everyone in this room with this secret which Dumbledore entrusted to me, Ron, and Hermione.”
“Why would Dumbledore send you on a mission?” Bill interrupted, looking more curious than anything else. “Why not send an older, more capable wizard? No offence,” he added, an intense expression on his face.
“We don’t know,” Hermione interrupted. “But we figure it had something to do with most of you being tracked. The most important thing about this task was keeping it a secret. Death Eaters would expect Harry to go missing for a few months, for safety, while if any prominent Order members went missing more than one eyebrow would be raised.” Bill nodded, looking satisfied with her answer. Tonks nodded in agreement, seemingly the only adult in the room on their side. Harry realized that he and his friend were young, but they were obviously capable. At this point Tonks and Dumbledore were the only adults who’d ever recognized this fact.
“Dumbledore would never risk your lives,” Kinglsey interrupted, sitting up in his seat and casting a hard look at Harry.
“He did, and we were successful. Now you can question us when this is over, but I would prefer to get on with it,” Harry retorted, casting an equally strong expression back.
Kingsley nodded and sat back in his chair, seemingly satisfied and curious at the same time.
“The night that Dumbledore was killed, he and I left the castle to find and destroy a fragment of Voldemort’s soul,” Harry said, controlling his temper with every ounce of patience that he possessed. They needed to be taken seriously.
“When Voldemort first came in to power, he found a way to separate his soul into pieces, containing them in objects, creating Horcruxes.”
“Dark magic,” Moody grunted but remained intent on listening.
“He put these pieces into six objects and hid them, surrounded by protection. Last summer, Dumbledore found and destroyed one of them. That’s how he hurt his hand. The night he died, Dumbledore was weakened by a potion he was forced to drink in order to obtain the second Horcrux. That’s why Snape was able to kill him so easily,” Harry spat bitterly, the images of that night still engrained in his mind.
“That’s where we’ve been,” Ron added, speaking with strength for the first time that evening, the confidence in his voice reflecting the change that only Harry and Hermione had witnessed the past six months that they’d been away. “We’ve been hunting and destroying every fragment of Voldemort’s soul that exists. The only bits left are in that brooch,” he said, pointing at the pin in Hermione’s hand, “and the bit still left in his body.”
The room was silent, every single member of the Order staring at the wrapped bundle in Hermione’s hand.
“How is it that you are alive?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked after a moment in his deep baritone, regarding the three teenagers with a sceptical eye.
“We shouldn’t be,” Hermione admitted with a shrug of the shoulder. “We ran into a bit of help along the way; we’re all still a little beaten up,” she said, gesturing to Ron, who still had two black eyes.
“May I see that?” Mad-Eye asked Hermione, holding out his gnarled hand. Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded, and handed over the pin. Moody carefully pulled the cloth away from the brooch with two rough fingernails and stared at it, his eye fixated on the jewels for a moment, as if mesmerized.
“There is evil in this,” he said and placed it back down on the table, looking disturbed. “They’re telling the truth.”
***
Hours later, Harry trudged up the stairs of Number 12 Grimmauld place, every bone in his body aching. The meeting had lasted for a long while, everyone arguing over the next move to take. The Order seemed gaunt and tired, unable to think of any solutions. They’d dispersed half an hour ago, planning a meeting for the day after Christmas.
Apparently the Order had grown when Remus took over, and it seemed like every member was worn down. Mrs. Weasley had taken the trio into her arms when they’d adjourned; tearfully enveloping them in her motherly embrace, whispering words of forgiveness. He’d slipped away while Ron spoke to Bill and Charlie, Hermione doing the same but turning down an opposite corridor, following an Extendable Ear.
He’d fought himself for a moment before heading up the stairs. When he reached the room that he and Ron always shared, he wrenched open a floorboard that he had loosened months ago, after the trip to Godric’s Hollow, and carefully pulled out a small brown box and a miniature Pensieve.
He’d found the Pensieve by accident, hidden near the tombstone that his parents shared in a field on the outskirts of town. His parents hadn’t just left him exemplary amounts of silver and gold. They’d left him something far more valuable. The brown box seemed to spring open on its own, and he picked up the first vial, labelled Lily’s Kidnapping on it in loopy handwriting. Taking a deep breath, he uncapped the vial and dumped its contents into the Pensieve.
Harry closed his eyes as he fell into the memory, and when he opened them he was in Dumbledore’s office, his mother sitting in an overlarge arm chair across from the young, healthy headmaster. She was wearing a grimy nightgown, her face covered in dirt, a deep cut running across her cheek. Her hair was flyaway and knotted at the nape of her neck, and she seemed unable to keep her eyes open. James sat slightly behind her in a wooden chair, looking at her like she was a porcelain doll about to fall off a shelf. They were all watching a ghostly memory play itself out, floating above the swirling depths of the Pensieve, something Harry had done before.
“Why don’t you scream, Mudblood?” a hooded figure sneered, reaching down and trailing a long fingernail across her cheek, an evil smile playing on his lips. “Scream for help. We’ll see who hears you.”
Lily kept her eyes on the wall in front of her, the grey bricks flecked with mildew and dust. The third to the left was mossy; the light green speckles were almost the same shade as her eyes.
“Crucio,”he sneered, once again, and she doubled over, feeling nothing but pain. Pain is an illusion, she whispered to herself as hot knives stabbed her over and over again. She felt as if bubbling acid had been poured all over her, and her skin was fighting itself away from her body “SCREAM!” he ordered, the curse becoming more and more intense. She bit her tongue down, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth as she willed herself not to make a sound. She would never give him the satisfaction.
Suddenly, she was released, lying in a puddle on the floor, tasting the mossy stones as sweat poured from her body, soaking through her nightgown.
“He used to the Cruciatus Curse on you, and you didn’t make a sound?” Albus Dumbledore asked her. She shook her head, slouching down in the seat across from the headmaster and placing her hand against her forehead, massaging her temples. She seemed vaguely aware of another presence in the room and chose to ignore it. Harry remembered feeling just like this- the only thing she could want was a bath and a warm bed.
“That’s unheard of,” James added.
“Not completely,” Dumbledore countered, staring at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. He placed his wand against her temple and removed another memory, letting it fall into the Pensieve and swirling the basin until a similar scene rose from its depths.
The hooded figure lowered an arm and cupped her roughly under the chin, swiftly tugging her face up to meet his. She still refused to meet his eyes. “You might not scream now, Mudblood,” he hissed, thrusting her face back down hard, her jaw cracking when it hit the floor, “but you will.” As soon as the door of the cell slammed shut, she pushed herself up off the ground, ignoring her shaking legs, and surveyed the area around her. She didn’t know how she’d come to be in this place. The last thing she could remember was a body binding spell being cast over her as she lay in her dormitory at Hogwarts.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself and surveyed her surroundings. The cell was old and decrepit, the ceiling barely high enough to allow any standing room. A thick wooden door with a barred window stood across from her, adorned with rusty iron slabs and hinges. Inspiration striking her, she felt through her thick red hair, praying for a stupid bobby pin to exist somewhere in the rat’s nest knotted limply at the nape of her neck. Her heart leapt as her fingers clasped the small metal hair pin. Quickly disentangling it from her hair, she thrust her hand through the bars, separated the pin between her fingers, and began to wiggle it around in the lock. She vaguely heard the crack of someone Apparating in the distance and frantically shoved the pin deeper into the lock, panic grasping her moments before the door opened with a click.
“Ingenious,” Dumbledore whispered, staring at the young redhead crumpled in the comfortable chair in front of him. “The Death Eaters, without fail, underestimate the competence of Muggles. While you might feel now like it’s a curse, the Muggle inside you saved your life tonight.” Lily could only nod, exhaustion overpowering her, bringing tears to her eyes. She needed to sleep.
“Please, Headmaster, couldn’t I just take her to the Hospital Wing?” James asked.
“Soon enough,” Dumbledore said. “I know that a lot has been demanded of you tonight, Ms. Evans, but I need you to give me that last bit of strength that I know is left inside you and show me the rest of your story.”
She nodded, and Dumbledore placed his wand on her temple and extracted another fragment of memory.
As soon as the door flew open, she ran, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. She was in a dark passageway lit by torches that were charmed to float in the air above her. More cracks sliced through the air, and she turned left, barrelling around the corner, hoping that her momentum could help her should the hooded figure return. She found her pace and pushed through a swinging door and pounded up a winding staircase. Someone shouted at her retreating back, and she instinctively ducked, a red bolt of light flying over her head and slicing pieces of rock from the wall next to her. She felt something skim across her cheek but tucked her head and continued up the winding stair case.
When she reached the top, the door was opening, and without pausing she barrelled through and hit something soft. Moments later she was flying through the air, landing on a very panicked looking James Potter. “Come on,” she hissed, ignoring her surprise, and grabbed his hand, rocks and dirt clinging to the droplets of sweat that coated her body. She hauled him upwards, and they both started to run full tilt away from the building and towards a thick forest.
She slowed to a jog as they plunged into the trees, her sweaty, dirt- covered hand still holding his. Her momentum began to die down, and exhaustion threatened to overtake her. Panting, she allowed James to take the lead, pulling her through the thick trees until he seemed to find what he was looking for: a large log. Gesturing for her to sit down, he rummaged around in the bushes until he found a silvery looking cloak and sat down next to her, pulling the cloak over top of the them..
“What are you doing here ,James?” she asked, leaning back against the rock and taking deep breaths in through her nose, attempting to relax herself.
“Well, Dorcas raised the alarm when she heard a scuffle, and it turns out that there were hooded blokes all over the castle. You were the only one they actually managed to take…”
“Only because they attacked me when I was sleeping,” she interrupted angrily, shooting him a glance, daring him to suggest otherwise.
“I thought you might fancy a rescue.”
“After over an hour of torture, you managed to break out of your cell and run away. Remarkable.” Dumbledore stated, shaking his head. “You are clearly an extraordinary young woman, Ms. Evans. I’d like to speak to you again after you have rested. Mr. Potter, if you would please take Ms. Evans to the Hospital Wing and return here as soon as you can.”
Lily stood up quickly and wavered on her feet, taking a few tentative steps forward and pausing. “Here,” James said, and he placed an arm around her shoulder.
“This doesn’t mean I’m going to go out with you,” Lily muttered, as they descended the winding staircase and exited into the hallway. She visibly relaxed against James, leaning into his arm and wrapping her arm around his waist, taking small steps.
“I didn’t see the Giant Squid coming to your rescue,” he protested, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. Harry stifled a laugh, remembering Snape’s old memory of his parents as he followed them down the hallway.
“He was with me in spirit,” Lily replied, pausing for a moment, her free hand flying to her head. “I had everything in control.”
“You didn’t have your wand,” James pointed out and, in one swift movement, swept her legs out from under her and cradled her in his arms. “This’ll make things go a bit faster.”
“Potter,” Lily grumbled, her head falling against his chest. “If I could walk right now…”
“I know,” he interrupted with a soft chuckle. “Thank you for keeping my secret.”
“It’s not everyday your arch nemesis turns into a horse and forces you to ride him out of a forest,” Lily replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re not my arch nemesis,” he said staring down at her, disappointed. “And it was a stag, not a horse.”
“You’re going to have to put me down, Potter,” Lily said, and he lowered her to her feet and turned to leave. Reaching out, she turned him back around and placed a hand on his cheek. Kissing it quickly, she pushed him away, and he stumbled down the hallway. “Oh, and James,” she called. “I’ll see you on Friday,”
“What’s on Friday?” he asked, a look of hopeful confusion on his blushing face.
“The Squid’s busy,” she replied and limped into the Hospital Wing, her lips set in a self satisfied smirk.
Harry realized that he must be in his father’s memory as he followed James back down the hallway, watching as the man punched the air in delight. The smile on his face wasn’t even hampered as he walked up the winding staircase to Dumbledore’s office.
“That was a foolish decision, James,” Dumbledore said complacently, looking the younger boy squarely in the eye.
“We’re all fools when it comes to the girls we fancy,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. Dumbledore smiled slowly, his eyes sparkling.
“How right you are, how right you are,” Dumbledore replied. “While that was a foolish decision you made, it was a brave one. The attack tonight was not as successful as the Death Eaters- yes, that’s what they call themselves-might have hoped. They attempted to remove fifteen Muggleborn students from the castle, probably to be tortured and eventually murdered. Thanks to you, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and many others, they only succeeded in abducting Ms. Evans, who, by the sounds of it, gave them a run for their money.”
Dumbledore stood up from his desk and began to pace around the study, fierce anger and sadness evident in the way that he moved. “When you graduate next month, you have a job lined up at the Ministry, I expect?” James nodded. “I’m forming a coalition of wizards against those who believe in the use of Dark Magic. Will you join the fight?”
“There is nothing I would rather do,” James replied, his smile wavering. Harry could tell that his father was angered by the events of the evening. His heart felt like it might burst, watching the demonstrations of bravery that his parents were exhibiting.
For the first time he truly understood the meaning behind his name.
Mist swirled around him, and he was yanked from the memory. Blinking, he sat up from the bowl, a distinct smile on his face.
As he placed the Pensieve under the floorboard in his room, his thoughts wandered towards Ginny. She’d been listening in on the meeting. Was she impressed? Upset? Angry? Understanding? At the wedding they’d managed to act like friends, to be friends, to be around one another without letting anything else get in the way. Yet lately, he couldn’t keep her from invading his thoughts. He was about to embark upon the most dangerous few months of his life, did he really want to do it alone?
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, catching his reflection in the mirror as he pulled his shirt off. “Don’t be selfish, more like it, prat.”
“Who’re you talking too?” a female voice interrupted. He jumped and turned around. It was only Hermione. He sighed, relief cascading over him.
“No one,” he replied and pulled back the covers.
“I’m going to go see my parents tomorrow,” she said, anxiety mixed with tiredness latent in her voice. “Can I borrow your cloak?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he muttered, gesturing towards his old school trunk, where a few of his clothes were piled, the invisibility cloak among them. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“In a few days,” she replied and closed the door behind her.
Special thanks to my beta, Falling Damps for her encouragement and patience. Also thanks to all my friends who never cease with the kind words, and to everyone who takes the time to read and review. Happy Holidays.
Enjoy!!! Let me know what you think and Merry Christmas
Chapter One: There is Evil in this
Who found no substitute for sense,
To seize and clutch and penetrate;
Expert beyond experience.
T.S Eliot, From ‘Whispers of Immortality’
“Azkaban.”
“What?” Harry demanded, staring at Hermione. “No way. We can’t just barge into Azkaban and demand to talk to Mundungus Fletcher.”
“Well he’s our only link to that locket. We both know he stole it from your house, and he probably didn’t have time to deal with it when he was arrested.” Hermione paced around in front of Harry on the small floor space in Ron’s room in the Burrow, her pale purple dress robes swirling in circles around her ankles, and her curly hair falling out of the knot at the back of her head.
“How do you suppose you’re going to go about getting in?” Harry asked.
“Ooh, I know you’re not going to like this,” Hermione groaned, sitting down next to him on the bed and wringing her hands. “You’re going to have to ask Rufus Scrimgeour.”
“What!” Harry exclaimed, jumping off the bed. “There’s no way, Hermione.”
“It’s the only thing I can think of. Just tell him Mundungus took something from your house and sold it, a book that your father gave Sirius, and that you have to send me and Ron to ask him where it is. You might not have to do anything for him. Besides, the journey will take us a few days, and while we’re gone you can go to Godric’s Hollow alone.” Hermione paused and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him back down next to her. “I know that’s what you want, even if Ron doesn’t notice. We can meet you there and figure things out.”
Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “Fine.”
***
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Hermione asked, collapsing on top of a thick sack of flour. They were sitting in the pantry, waiting patiently for the senior members of the Order to arrive.
“I’d like to live until tomorrow,” Ron replied, his face a little paler than usual. “I’d at least like my mum to know where I’ve been before she kills me.”
“Ron…”
“Oh shut it. I know what’s important.” Harry noted the steely, pale expression on his friend’s face and fell silent. They heard a murmured conversation in the opposite room, and he felt his heart skip a beat. For some reason, he was more nervous delivering the news of the Horcruxes to those he trusted than taking them away from those he didn’t.
“What are we going to tell them?” Hermione asked, gingerly fiddling with the wrapped brooch in her hand.
Harry paused for a moment. He considered telling them everything: start to finish. The legacy that Dumbledore had entrusted him with, the journey he had tried to take on alone, the stubborn friends who refused to let him do it. All but two Horcruxes had been destroyed, and one more would be eradicated from the earth that night. The Weasleys, the Order, Lupin…everyone deserved to hear the truth. Ron and Hermione deserved credit for what they had accomplished. He figured that’s what Dumbledore would have wanted.
“Everything.” Harry replied simply. “We can trust them. They deserve to know what we’re up against.”
“Are you sure?” Ron asked, furrowing his brow and slumping against the door. “What about Dumbledore?”
“Keeping quiet is no longer advantageous to our position,” Hermione said, fidgeting on the bag of flour and causing white clouds of smoke to fly around her. “As long as it stays within the Order,” she added, trying to wipe the white dust off her jeans.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley’s high pitched yell echoed throughout the house. “Charlie!” she screeched, and they heard a few shouts and trampling feet. It sounded as if the entire Weasley family were inside the house. Moments later the door to the kitchen burst open, and they pressed their eyes up against the crack in the pantry door.
Charlie was sitting at the table, and Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen, conjuring up a teapot and a plate of sandwiches in front of her second eldest son. “Anyone word from him yet?” Charlie asked her, and she shook her head. Harry felt guilt spread throughout his body and glanced at his friend. Ron looked stoic, though a bit comical as both of his eyes were still black.
Twenty minutes later the kitchen door opened again. “They’re here,” Harry observed, watching as Lupin, Hagrid, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Bill, Mad-Eye, and Professor McGonagall streamed into the kitchen, most of them casting a curious eye at the two Weasleys sitting at the table.
“What are we doing here?” Professor McGonagall asked Lupin, who looked just as confused as everyone else.
“You’re about to find out,” Tonks replied and turned to face the trio, all standing nervous and cramped within the confines of the pantry. “Oi, you can come out now!” she called. Harry nodded at his friends, and they pushed the door open.
Sharp intakes of breath littered the air around them as they slowly stepped out of the pantry and stood in front of the Order of the Phoenix in a defiantly straight line. Harry heard something knock against the kitchen door, and a small smile spread across his face when he saw the edge of an extendable ear peeking through the gap between the door and the floor. His smile was quickly crushed when his eyes met those of Mrs. Weasley, fear and shock flashing across her face. He gazed at the floor and couldn’t help but glance up again moments later only to see a tiny tear trickle down her cheek. Shaking her head, she gaped at them, reaching a hand out towards the group even though they were on the other side of the room. “It can’t be…” she whispered. She stared at Harry first, then Hermione, and finally Ron. “NOT EVEN A LETTER!” She’d jumped up, anger flaring in her cheeks, the sadness in her eyes replaced by anger.
“Mum,” Charlie interrupted, standing up and trying to pull her back into her seat. Harry glanced at Ron, whose face was completely impassive. Things had changed more in these past six months, more than Harry could have imagined. “Let them speak,” Charlie said, wrapping a comforting arm around his mother while shooting the three a curious look. Bill appeared at his mother’s other side, and the two brothers managed to sit the pale, shaking woman down. Harry had rarely felt more terrible than he did now.
“I’m sorry,” Ron said simply, for the first time looking minutely guilty. Mrs. Weasley huffed aloud and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Tearing his glance away from his surrogate mother, Harry hazarded glances at the other members, most looking confused or angry. Picking a spot on the wall above everyone, he figured that he’d better start talking.
“The night that Hogwarts was attacked, Dumbledore and I left the school,” he began, keeping his voice strong and steady. “After he was killed, I was left to complete the mission that Dumbledore began. I know that I can trust everyone in this room with this secret which Dumbledore entrusted to me, Ron, and Hermione.”
“Why would Dumbledore send you on a mission?” Bill interrupted, looking more curious than anything else. “Why not send an older, more capable wizard? No offence,” he added, an intense expression on his face.
“We don’t know,” Hermione interrupted. “But we figure it had something to do with most of you being tracked. The most important thing about this task was keeping it a secret. Death Eaters would expect Harry to go missing for a few months, for safety, while if any prominent Order members went missing more than one eyebrow would be raised.” Bill nodded, looking satisfied with her answer. Tonks nodded in agreement, seemingly the only adult in the room on their side. Harry realized that he and his friend were young, but they were obviously capable. At this point Tonks and Dumbledore were the only adults who’d ever recognized this fact.
“Dumbledore would never risk your lives,” Kinglsey interrupted, sitting up in his seat and casting a hard look at Harry.
“He did, and we were successful. Now you can question us when this is over, but I would prefer to get on with it,” Harry retorted, casting an equally strong expression back.
Kingsley nodded and sat back in his chair, seemingly satisfied and curious at the same time.
“The night that Dumbledore was killed, he and I left the castle to find and destroy a fragment of Voldemort’s soul,” Harry said, controlling his temper with every ounce of patience that he possessed. They needed to be taken seriously.
“When Voldemort first came in to power, he found a way to separate his soul into pieces, containing them in objects, creating Horcruxes.”
“Dark magic,” Moody grunted but remained intent on listening.
“He put these pieces into six objects and hid them, surrounded by protection. Last summer, Dumbledore found and destroyed one of them. That’s how he hurt his hand. The night he died, Dumbledore was weakened by a potion he was forced to drink in order to obtain the second Horcrux. That’s why Snape was able to kill him so easily,” Harry spat bitterly, the images of that night still engrained in his mind.
“That’s where we’ve been,” Ron added, speaking with strength for the first time that evening, the confidence in his voice reflecting the change that only Harry and Hermione had witnessed the past six months that they’d been away. “We’ve been hunting and destroying every fragment of Voldemort’s soul that exists. The only bits left are in that brooch,” he said, pointing at the pin in Hermione’s hand, “and the bit still left in his body.”
The room was silent, every single member of the Order staring at the wrapped bundle in Hermione’s hand.
“How is it that you are alive?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked after a moment in his deep baritone, regarding the three teenagers with a sceptical eye.
“We shouldn’t be,” Hermione admitted with a shrug of the shoulder. “We ran into a bit of help along the way; we’re all still a little beaten up,” she said, gesturing to Ron, who still had two black eyes.
“May I see that?” Mad-Eye asked Hermione, holding out his gnarled hand. Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded, and handed over the pin. Moody carefully pulled the cloth away from the brooch with two rough fingernails and stared at it, his eye fixated on the jewels for a moment, as if mesmerized.
“There is evil in this,” he said and placed it back down on the table, looking disturbed. “They’re telling the truth.”
***
Hours later, Harry trudged up the stairs of Number 12 Grimmauld place, every bone in his body aching. The meeting had lasted for a long while, everyone arguing over the next move to take. The Order seemed gaunt and tired, unable to think of any solutions. They’d dispersed half an hour ago, planning a meeting for the day after Christmas.
Apparently the Order had grown when Remus took over, and it seemed like every member was worn down. Mrs. Weasley had taken the trio into her arms when they’d adjourned; tearfully enveloping them in her motherly embrace, whispering words of forgiveness. He’d slipped away while Ron spoke to Bill and Charlie, Hermione doing the same but turning down an opposite corridor, following an Extendable Ear.
He’d fought himself for a moment before heading up the stairs. When he reached the room that he and Ron always shared, he wrenched open a floorboard that he had loosened months ago, after the trip to Godric’s Hollow, and carefully pulled out a small brown box and a miniature Pensieve.
He’d found the Pensieve by accident, hidden near the tombstone that his parents shared in a field on the outskirts of town. His parents hadn’t just left him exemplary amounts of silver and gold. They’d left him something far more valuable. The brown box seemed to spring open on its own, and he picked up the first vial, labelled Lily’s Kidnapping on it in loopy handwriting. Taking a deep breath, he uncapped the vial and dumped its contents into the Pensieve.
Harry closed his eyes as he fell into the memory, and when he opened them he was in Dumbledore’s office, his mother sitting in an overlarge arm chair across from the young, healthy headmaster. She was wearing a grimy nightgown, her face covered in dirt, a deep cut running across her cheek. Her hair was flyaway and knotted at the nape of her neck, and she seemed unable to keep her eyes open. James sat slightly behind her in a wooden chair, looking at her like she was a porcelain doll about to fall off a shelf. They were all watching a ghostly memory play itself out, floating above the swirling depths of the Pensieve, something Harry had done before.
“Why don’t you scream, Mudblood?” a hooded figure sneered, reaching down and trailing a long fingernail across her cheek, an evil smile playing on his lips. “Scream for help. We’ll see who hears you.”
Lily kept her eyes on the wall in front of her, the grey bricks flecked with mildew and dust. The third to the left was mossy; the light green speckles were almost the same shade as her eyes.
“Crucio,”he sneered, once again, and she doubled over, feeling nothing but pain. Pain is an illusion, she whispered to herself as hot knives stabbed her over and over again. She felt as if bubbling acid had been poured all over her, and her skin was fighting itself away from her body “SCREAM!” he ordered, the curse becoming more and more intense. She bit her tongue down, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth as she willed herself not to make a sound. She would never give him the satisfaction.
Suddenly, she was released, lying in a puddle on the floor, tasting the mossy stones as sweat poured from her body, soaking through her nightgown.
“He used to the Cruciatus Curse on you, and you didn’t make a sound?” Albus Dumbledore asked her. She shook her head, slouching down in the seat across from the headmaster and placing her hand against her forehead, massaging her temples. She seemed vaguely aware of another presence in the room and chose to ignore it. Harry remembered feeling just like this- the only thing she could want was a bath and a warm bed.
“That’s unheard of,” James added.
“Not completely,” Dumbledore countered, staring at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. He placed his wand against her temple and removed another memory, letting it fall into the Pensieve and swirling the basin until a similar scene rose from its depths.
The hooded figure lowered an arm and cupped her roughly under the chin, swiftly tugging her face up to meet his. She still refused to meet his eyes. “You might not scream now, Mudblood,” he hissed, thrusting her face back down hard, her jaw cracking when it hit the floor, “but you will.” As soon as the door of the cell slammed shut, she pushed herself up off the ground, ignoring her shaking legs, and surveyed the area around her. She didn’t know how she’d come to be in this place. The last thing she could remember was a body binding spell being cast over her as she lay in her dormitory at Hogwarts.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself and surveyed her surroundings. The cell was old and decrepit, the ceiling barely high enough to allow any standing room. A thick wooden door with a barred window stood across from her, adorned with rusty iron slabs and hinges. Inspiration striking her, she felt through her thick red hair, praying for a stupid bobby pin to exist somewhere in the rat’s nest knotted limply at the nape of her neck. Her heart leapt as her fingers clasped the small metal hair pin. Quickly disentangling it from her hair, she thrust her hand through the bars, separated the pin between her fingers, and began to wiggle it around in the lock. She vaguely heard the crack of someone Apparating in the distance and frantically shoved the pin deeper into the lock, panic grasping her moments before the door opened with a click.
“Ingenious,” Dumbledore whispered, staring at the young redhead crumpled in the comfortable chair in front of him. “The Death Eaters, without fail, underestimate the competence of Muggles. While you might feel now like it’s a curse, the Muggle inside you saved your life tonight.” Lily could only nod, exhaustion overpowering her, bringing tears to her eyes. She needed to sleep.
“Please, Headmaster, couldn’t I just take her to the Hospital Wing?” James asked.
“Soon enough,” Dumbledore said. “I know that a lot has been demanded of you tonight, Ms. Evans, but I need you to give me that last bit of strength that I know is left inside you and show me the rest of your story.”
She nodded, and Dumbledore placed his wand on her temple and extracted another fragment of memory.
As soon as the door flew open, she ran, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. She was in a dark passageway lit by torches that were charmed to float in the air above her. More cracks sliced through the air, and she turned left, barrelling around the corner, hoping that her momentum could help her should the hooded figure return. She found her pace and pushed through a swinging door and pounded up a winding staircase. Someone shouted at her retreating back, and she instinctively ducked, a red bolt of light flying over her head and slicing pieces of rock from the wall next to her. She felt something skim across her cheek but tucked her head and continued up the winding stair case.
When she reached the top, the door was opening, and without pausing she barrelled through and hit something soft. Moments later she was flying through the air, landing on a very panicked looking James Potter. “Come on,” she hissed, ignoring her surprise, and grabbed his hand, rocks and dirt clinging to the droplets of sweat that coated her body. She hauled him upwards, and they both started to run full tilt away from the building and towards a thick forest.
She slowed to a jog as they plunged into the trees, her sweaty, dirt- covered hand still holding his. Her momentum began to die down, and exhaustion threatened to overtake her. Panting, she allowed James to take the lead, pulling her through the thick trees until he seemed to find what he was looking for: a large log. Gesturing for her to sit down, he rummaged around in the bushes until he found a silvery looking cloak and sat down next to her, pulling the cloak over top of the them..
“What are you doing here ,James?” she asked, leaning back against the rock and taking deep breaths in through her nose, attempting to relax herself.
“Well, Dorcas raised the alarm when she heard a scuffle, and it turns out that there were hooded blokes all over the castle. You were the only one they actually managed to take…”
“Only because they attacked me when I was sleeping,” she interrupted angrily, shooting him a glance, daring him to suggest otherwise.
“I thought you might fancy a rescue.”
“After over an hour of torture, you managed to break out of your cell and run away. Remarkable.” Dumbledore stated, shaking his head. “You are clearly an extraordinary young woman, Ms. Evans. I’d like to speak to you again after you have rested. Mr. Potter, if you would please take Ms. Evans to the Hospital Wing and return here as soon as you can.”
Lily stood up quickly and wavered on her feet, taking a few tentative steps forward and pausing. “Here,” James said, and he placed an arm around her shoulder.
“This doesn’t mean I’m going to go out with you,” Lily muttered, as they descended the winding staircase and exited into the hallway. She visibly relaxed against James, leaning into his arm and wrapping her arm around his waist, taking small steps.
“I didn’t see the Giant Squid coming to your rescue,” he protested, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. Harry stifled a laugh, remembering Snape’s old memory of his parents as he followed them down the hallway.
“He was with me in spirit,” Lily replied, pausing for a moment, her free hand flying to her head. “I had everything in control.”
“You didn’t have your wand,” James pointed out and, in one swift movement, swept her legs out from under her and cradled her in his arms. “This’ll make things go a bit faster.”
“Potter,” Lily grumbled, her head falling against his chest. “If I could walk right now…”
“I know,” he interrupted with a soft chuckle. “Thank you for keeping my secret.”
“It’s not everyday your arch nemesis turns into a horse and forces you to ride him out of a forest,” Lily replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re not my arch nemesis,” he said staring down at her, disappointed. “And it was a stag, not a horse.”
“You’re going to have to put me down, Potter,” Lily said, and he lowered her to her feet and turned to leave. Reaching out, she turned him back around and placed a hand on his cheek. Kissing it quickly, she pushed him away, and he stumbled down the hallway. “Oh, and James,” she called. “I’ll see you on Friday,”
“What’s on Friday?” he asked, a look of hopeful confusion on his blushing face.
“The Squid’s busy,” she replied and limped into the Hospital Wing, her lips set in a self satisfied smirk.
Harry realized that he must be in his father’s memory as he followed James back down the hallway, watching as the man punched the air in delight. The smile on his face wasn’t even hampered as he walked up the winding staircase to Dumbledore’s office.
“That was a foolish decision, James,” Dumbledore said complacently, looking the younger boy squarely in the eye.
“We’re all fools when it comes to the girls we fancy,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. Dumbledore smiled slowly, his eyes sparkling.
“How right you are, how right you are,” Dumbledore replied. “While that was a foolish decision you made, it was a brave one. The attack tonight was not as successful as the Death Eaters- yes, that’s what they call themselves-might have hoped. They attempted to remove fifteen Muggleborn students from the castle, probably to be tortured and eventually murdered. Thanks to you, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and many others, they only succeeded in abducting Ms. Evans, who, by the sounds of it, gave them a run for their money.”
Dumbledore stood up from his desk and began to pace around the study, fierce anger and sadness evident in the way that he moved. “When you graduate next month, you have a job lined up at the Ministry, I expect?” James nodded. “I’m forming a coalition of wizards against those who believe in the use of Dark Magic. Will you join the fight?”
“There is nothing I would rather do,” James replied, his smile wavering. Harry could tell that his father was angered by the events of the evening. His heart felt like it might burst, watching the demonstrations of bravery that his parents were exhibiting.
For the first time he truly understood the meaning behind his name.
Mist swirled around him, and he was yanked from the memory. Blinking, he sat up from the bowl, a distinct smile on his face.
As he placed the Pensieve under the floorboard in his room, his thoughts wandered towards Ginny. She’d been listening in on the meeting. Was she impressed? Upset? Angry? Understanding? At the wedding they’d managed to act like friends, to be friends, to be around one another without letting anything else get in the way. Yet lately, he couldn’t keep her from invading his thoughts. He was about to embark upon the most dangerous few months of his life, did he really want to do it alone?
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, catching his reflection in the mirror as he pulled his shirt off. “Don’t be selfish, more like it, prat.”
“Who’re you talking too?” a female voice interrupted. He jumped and turned around. It was only Hermione. He sighed, relief cascading over him.
“No one,” he replied and pulled back the covers.
“I’m going to go see my parents tomorrow,” she said, anxiety mixed with tiredness latent in her voice. “Can I borrow your cloak?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he muttered, gesturing towards his old school trunk, where a few of his clothes were piled, the invisibility cloak among them. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“In a few days,” she replied and closed the door behind her.
Special thanks to my beta, Falling Damps for her encouragement and patience. Also thanks to all my friends who never cease with the kind words, and to everyone who takes the time to read and review. Happy Holidays.