Sinne Fianna Fáil
Title: Sinne Fianna Fail
A/N: Here's the next segment. There's one more chapter and then an epilogue left in the story. Originally this was going to be the final chapter apart from the epilogue but it seemed to run away from me whilst I wrote it, so in the end the chapter hadn't reached where it needed to. But good news for you is that you get an extra chapter, half of which I have already written. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and enjoy.
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For the sake of the many...
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It’s been two years since I’ve heard from Harry. Two years since the article appeared in the Daily Prophet and destroyed everything I had been working towards. Two years in which he never responded to my letter or the following two letters I had sent in the first few months after the article, whether of his own volition or not I still do not want to know. From the little I’ve heard from my mother Harry still writes to her once a month, he never asks about me and they never talk of the war. It’s to be expected but still hurts like hell.
I think the biggest issue Harry had with the rebellion was that we benefited from Voldemort’s actions. As long as he caused disruption in Britain we had a greater chance of securing Irish independence but that meant that Harry would have to fight and suffer for longer. We knew we would never receive independence from either the British ministry or from Voldemort. Our only chance was to take it by force whilst they had their attention split. A lot of articles in the newspapers in Britain declared that we had sided with Voldemort or that Ireland was his stronghold. Allegation after allegation. Those that didn’t print such rubbish and supported our plight didn’t seem to understand why it had to be now. Why couldn’t we just wait until Britain sorted out its own problems and then take action?
Two years sleeping in fields and marshes as foreign Aurors held raids on Irish Wizarding houses. Where anyone found hiding or supporting rebels were captured and brought to new magical internment camps in Britain and other western Magical countries. We would have finished the war much quicker except half of our forces had to be used to protect the new government. I fought alongside Muggles, former Aurors, Healers, Druids, Former Unspeakables and other Ministry workers. People from every walk of life and economic status all brought together.
Two years to the day that I sent that last letter we received a request from the Order of the Phoenix for a meeting to discuss “our little dispute”. You could already tell that it would get off to a good start; they undermine our cause even as they attempt to ask for help. Well if they want help they can come to us.
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I don’t think any of us actually expected them to come yet here we are meeting in a group of isolated fields just south of Dublin. It’s a perfect meeting spot as we can see them coming from any angle and they’d have nowhere to hide should they bring more people than the stipulated seven. Of course it does help that we have Muggle marksmen who can hide further out and still be able to shoot them if they try something funny.
An hour after we arrived, the first pop of apparition sounded. The quietness of your arrival when you apparate is supposed to be a mark of how powerful you are. The quieter, the more dangerous. There was a certain randomness to the volume of those arriving that said it was done deliberately. They were trying to throw us off, confuse us as to the strength of the people present. Did they truly underestimate us to such an extent that they thought we would not see through such a blatant trick?
Harry arrives at the same time as Dumbledore. Dumbledore I only recognise from those few distant glances I had of him in the time I spent with Harry. However, I would recognise Harry anywhere, no matter how much time has passed. His hair is longer and speckled with premature greying. He holds himself differently, he’s more tense. New scars cover his face and what I can see of his arms. He doesn’t wear glasses anymore. But his eyes ... they show both the biggest changes and the least. They show wisdom that comes only through struggle and hardship yet they still contain that otherworldliness that captured me when I first saw him. I fell in love with those eyes, I’m still in love with those eyes.
We all move closer to the British wizards and witches. Closing in on them from all sides. I can see some of them shifting nervously. Others seem completely unfazed except for a tightening of the muscles in their shoulders. Those ones look ready to drop and roll at a moment’s notice. That means they are most likely Aurors or Unspeakables. I move myself until I’m as close to Harry as I can get. I don’t think any of those he’s with have recognised me, though from the smirks my boys are shooting me I can tell they know who he is.
Dumbledore starts to speak but I don’t really hear what he is saying. I don’t need to hear what he is saying. My job is simply to make sure those with him don’t try anything. And if I should devote extra attention to Harry, well he is the most powerful person present. I’m sure I’ll be forgiven for focusing on him.
I’m not sure how much time has passed with me staring at Harry and him avoiding my eyes. I’m only pulled back into reality when I feel one of the boys shift against my back. Flicking my eyes around I can see that everyone on my side has become tense ... well more tense. I focus on what Dumbledore is saying and hiss. The man is a fool. Yet still he continues to spout off about the greater good.
“We will accept nothing less than full capitulation by the British Ministry!” Finally Dumbledore is cut off. Our spokesperson has a lot of patience but even she cannot deal with him for long. She’s young, only a year or so older than me, but she’s smart, politically savvy. She’ll be the first official Irish Minister of Magic when the war is over. The only thing preventing her from being in charge of the provisional government at the moment is her belief that she has no right to govern people she has not fought for. So she’s spent the last year and a half out amongst the fighting.
“Now, my dear, surely you can see reason. Voldemort,” a shudder runs through most of the people he brought with him, “threatens the lives of innocent people. He’s thrown England into complete turmoil and destabilises society. Surely -”
“ - surely you realise, Dumbledore, that Voldemort has done nothing to us. He threatens the lives and stability of a society that oppresses us. We gain nothing from helping you fight off Voldemort, just as we will gain nothing if he wins. We would rather see Voldemort terrorising you for a hundred years than to...”
I stop paying attention to her words as I see one of the men Dumbledore brought with him reaching for his wand. I don’t think he realises I’ve seen him. Everyone else seems distracted, either by what is being said or by watching the opposition. I slowly move into a crouching position and shift my body closer to the man. Harry notices my movement and I can feel his eyes on me. I shift again and watch the man bring his wand up, lining it up with where she stands. I can tell Harry has seen him by the way he suddenly stills. I realise that this moment means a lot more than I thought. If Harry moves to the left I have a clear path to the man and I’m covered from attack. If he moves to the right the man and several others will see me but I won’t be able to see him.
I hold my breath. Time seems to slow down.
The man waits for a clear shot. Opens his mouth to begin his spell.
Harry moves to the left.
I pounce.
My body springs from its place crouched on the ground. Two, three bounds and I’m across the few meters between us and on top of the man. His wand goes flying as I push him into the ground. He dazed from my weight crashing into him and the crash to the ground.
I can feel it as everyone else takes action. The Minister-to-be will have been pushed to the back of the group, the boys and girls will have pulled their wands or guns on the Order members, the marksmen we have out in the fields will have taken aim and will have their fingers hovering over the trigger. What happens next depends entirely on the Order, they can either lower their wands or be prepared for a blood bath.
All of us are prepared to die for our cause. We may not want to but we are prepared to. Somehow I don’t think the Order members here are prepared to die for this particular cause. I’m sure they would be if it was Death Eaters standing across from them.
Everything is quiet. I feel movement coming up on my side from where Harry should be. I hold my breath from where I’m still perched on the man beneath me. My muscles flex with every struggle he makes. He won’t get free though. After all my years as a Beater and then the last two years in the wilderness, he has no chance of physically removing me against my will. The person stops at my shoulder.
It’s Harry at my side. I know that even before Dumbledore murmurs his name in warning. I can feel the heat of his body along my side. He still smells the same. Like a forest in the middle of winter or rain in the summer. He smells of nature, of mystery (if mystery had a smell), of trees who’ve seen the passing of ages and waves that have crashed upon countless shores. He smells of home, he always has.
He presses against my side for but a moment. But it feels the same as it had from the first time I touched him. Magic rushes across our skin, leaving behind a tingling feeling. And then we’re no longer touching.
“Dumbledore,” Harry’s voice has changed so much. It’s deeper, richer, and older, there’s a certain raspy quality to it that’s unnatural and I’m terrified of how it could have been caused. “If you can’t offer them what they want then you’re wasting all our time.”
“It’s not that simple Harry. There’s -”
“It is that simple,” Harry cuts him off and I’m impressed by the confidence in his voice. “I’ve been kept up to date about what’s happening. There’s only two British strongholds left and they’ll fall within the next two months. You’re delaying the inevitable and it’s better we concede and get their help than fight a losing battle and be left stranded.”
I can’t stop the smile that bursts across my face after he says that. I remember saying something similar to mam in a letter I sent her two weeks ago. About how the British would be fools not to negotiate now when they’re about to lose it all. Truly the only reason we are negotiating is because of the internment camps in Britain. The chances of us ever seeing those who have been taken is slim if we don’t get an agreement from the British.
I glance up to see Harry staring at Dumbledore with intense eyes. Directing my sight to Dumbledore I see him frowning and clearly thinking over what has been said. It says something for Harry’s power and influence if he could get even Dumbledore to see reason, or at least contemplate it. Dumbledore must have made some sort of gesture as his men all lower their wands and step back, Harry heads over to Dumbledore as I move to get up. I pull the man I was on off the ground but then hook my arm around his neck in what would be a strangle hold should I exert any pressure. Better safe than sorry.
We stand in the field for another three hours as negotiations come to an end. The moon is high above us and a gentle breeze floats around us. All of a sudden they’re shaking hands and stepping apart. None of the men with me dare to smile or have any sort of hope as Dumbledore disapparates. We’ve come so close too many times to get excited any more. It makes the fall out hurt even more. The Order members start to leave as well and I let go of the man I’ve been detaining for the last few hours. The boys start to leave as well, walking across the fields to where we’ve set up untraceable portkeys.
Harry still stands across from me. I don’t notice anything else. He’s there; he’s not a dream; he’s alive.
My hand twitches as if to reach out for him.
He’s gone.
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...we sacrifice the few.
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