Fred took a deep breath in through his nose and stretched. He loved the spent, slightly tingly feeling after a good stretch, even moreso if it was with a face full of sunshine just after waking. He didn't relish the need to get out of bed, as it was lovely and warm under the covers, but as usual, the thought of all they could get up to during the day won out.
George was still asleep when he returned from the shower, so he did his brotherly duty and kicked George's mattress until a pillow flew through the curtains and faffed him in the face.
"Good morning, slugabed!" Fred shouted happily. Nothing quite like tormenting a sibling – it always put a grin on his face.
"I hope an erumpent mistakes you for a female." George growled in return.
Fred laughed and kicked the mattress again. "At least you know he's horny."
"Ugh." George grunted.
Fred dressed himself and grabbed the marvellous map. George heaved himself out of bed and slapped Fred up the back of his head as he headed into the showers, while Fred went to wait for his worse half in the common room. He plonked himself down in his favourite chair and tapped the map with his wand.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He whispered. As the ink began to spread over the parchment and reveal the castle, the grounds, and all beings within, he flicked his wand at the fireplace to start the fire.
"Let's see what you have for us today, O revealer of secrets." He muttered gleefully as he put his wand away and picked up the map.
He looked first at the Great Hall, as he usually did. Breakfast was nearly over, so he knew the traffic in the Great Hall wouldn't be thick, but instead he saw there was almost no-one there. Filch was there with Missus Norris, and there were a few Hufflepuffs, as well as a first-year Ravenclaw. He didn't recognize any of them.
"Where is everyone?" He asked the map.
He scanned around, opened up the map further, and finally located a huge knot of people outside right next to the lake.
"Oh right! It's Second Task this morning!" He told the fireplace. "Hang on..." He zoomed in a little bit further, and saw four names in the lake. "What are you doing in the bloody lake at the end of bloody February in bloody Scotland?"
He zoomed in further, and saw a mark next to one of the names that he'd never seen before. He frowned, and zoomed in as far as the map would go. He stared at what the map told him, while the reality of what he looked at slowly dawned on him.
"George! GEORGE!" He shouted as he gazed at the map in horror. He dropped it on the coffee table and pulled his legs into the chair as though to climb away from the thing.
"What? What are you banging on about?" George jogged into the common room, freshly dressed.
Fred just pointed at the map. "We... should see if there's anything we can do. To help." He tried to keep his voice from quivering, really he did.
George gazed at the map where his twin pointed.
"I was just watching things, you know? Watching all the people setting up the event for today. I never thought..." He trailed off with a horrified look at the map. "They're in the lake, George." He whispered.
George frowned and stared down at the map. "Didn't know Diggory had a sibling here at schoo... no, that can't be. Delacour is from Beauxbatons, so they must have brought other people in. Why in Merlin's massive mango would they put people in the lake? It's bloody February! They've got to be nearly frozen solid in water that cold."
"Read the notation under that weird mark." Fred breathed heavily, to get his nerves back under control.
George looked quizzically at his other half before he did as he was bid, and as he did his eyes grew large and his lower lip trembled. "You're right. We should probably go find him and offer anything we can."
"I don't think he'll even find out until it's over, or nearly over. We might just want to leave school while there's still one to leave." Fred stood up from the chair, ready to go pack.
"Your first idea was better. Nobody wants friends who cut and run at the first sign of trouble. That's what Ron would do." George frowned.
Fred sighed, defeated. George was right. "Let's head out there then. They'll be bringing the Champions out before long, we'll see if we can offer assistance as soon as he's done."
"If he's in any state of mind." George frowned. "And if he isn't, then I will take this opportunity to say you're a bastard, and it's been a delight to torture you these past sixteen years." He said, but his heart wasn't in it, and his words were hollow. George expected a grin and a punch, but Fred was numb, just like he was.
Daphne felt a strange, bubbly feeling in her chest as she and Neville made their way into the Slytherin stands. Neville held her hand after they'd stood up from the breakfast table, and hadn't let go since! It was the first time they'd held hands in public, and behind her habitual blank face, she danced with joy. Everything was proceeding wonderfully, in public. In private, she was already far happier than that. Neville had shown her how ardent he was, how she affected him, and she had to admit it was absolutely mutual. At the end of their Valentine's date, once they were alone, he'd pressed her softly against the wall and snogged her gently but forcefully.
It had been the most brilliant thing she'd ever experienced, and she hadn't waited to beg him for more. He'd denied her, of course, she knew he would. It didn't matter how much she wanted it, she was no market trollop and he was no thrillseeking flake. He'd let her know that he was committed to her and that he wanted her properly with both actions. It was a shame it was too early to send Father a betrothal contract. She had no doubt Neville already had one prepared and simply waited for the proper time to send it, as decorum dictated.
She had been so happy that she had sat with Hermione in Charms the next morning, just so they could whisper about their Valentine's dates. That had been an eye-opener, for sure - another one. It seemed that every time they actually got time to talk to each other, Hermione opened her eyes just that much further. She hoped she fell in love with Neville that much one day, and that he loved her the same. She knew she was wishing for the moon and stars, but that didn't change that she wished for it.
She looked around at the thronging stands erected on the shore of the Black Lake. She hadn't seen Hermione at breakfast, and Daphne couldn't spot her in any of the stands. Maybe she was with Duncan, giving him last-minute encouragement. Luna caught her eye from the Ravenclaw stands, and waved to her happily. Daphne waved back and risked a brief smile in return. Daphne still couldn't believe everyone dismissed Luna as just some kind of fruity woolgatherer. The evidence to the contrary was right there on her bookbag and proclaimed her a member of the Hogwarts Poetry Club. She brushed her fingers across her own silver and sapphire patch and smiled at Luna again, who smiled back knowingly.
Several platforms floated near one edge of the lake, connected to the shore and each other by walkways. It was on the center platform, larger than the rest, that she finally saw Duncan. Hermione was not with him. It wasn't like her to be anywhere but with him. Maybe she stayed behind to do some research? Maybe she didn't want to watch the surface of the lake for an hour? Honestly, whoever came up with these events was a genuine cretin.
"I see Duncan but not Hermione." She whispered to Neville. "Did she mention that she wasn't coming to you?"
"No," He replied, "She didn't mention anything. I'd expected her to be there with Duncan."
Daphne tried to smile for him, despite the cold that settled into her stomach. "I suppose we'll have to pay attention then so we can share it with her later."
"Sound plan." Neville smiled back at her, and patted her hand that he already held with his other hand. She'd have preferred a kiss, but one had to remain proper in public.
Ludo Bagman's voice rang out over the lake and the stands then. "When I blow the whistle, your Champions will have one hour to find and retrieve what's been taken from them, and return here to the start! Are you ready Champions!?"
There were no replies, just chattering teeth.
Bagman blew the whistle anyway, and the four shivering Champions dove into the freezing lake.
"I hope he'll be alright down there, it's bloody freezing.' Neville muttered. "Whoever came up with these tasks needs to go shovel dragonshit for a living."
"Agreed." She whispered back. "First for pointless endangerment of the Champions, and second for no thought spared to the audience. Did they hope for a big turnout to sit and literally watch the surface of a lake for an hour?"
Neville chuckled. "That too. If I didn't know the Champions personally I certainly wouldn't be here." He leaned closer and whispered to her, "I'd be trying to get you into a broom closet somewhere."
Suddenly Scottish February wasn't so cold.
She could feel heat creep into her cheeks no matter how she tried to stop it. The thought of being alone with him, of him making her do things... She rubbed her thighs together involuntarily as she leaned over and whispered back "You don't have to try."
Neville's confident grin melted as his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as well. His expression settled on stunned joy.
Some time later, after they had both cooled down again, Daphne noticed something odd in the Gryffindor stands.
"Nev, have you ever seen the twins look like that before?"
Neville frowned and looked where she indicated. Fred's and George's faces were both the same shade of ghastly grey-green. They looked like they sat in anticipation of a Wizengamot sentence for excessive pranking. There was not a hint of laughter in anything about them.
"No, not ever." Neville looked back at her, and there was fear in his eyes. "Something is very wrong." His grip on her hand became tighter, without slack.
The minutes thereafter stretched by like taffy as they both scanned the surface of the lake for any sign of activity.
After what seemed like days, there was a splash near the main platform as Viktor emerged from the water with a soaked and freezing Katie Bell.
"I knew it, I bloody knew it!" Neville hissed under his breath. "It's not what's been taken, but who."
"That would mean Hermione -" She whispered back to him. Oh no.
"Exactly." His jaw set in a grim determination.
Fleur was next into the air as she swam and carried what looked like a smaller, younger version of herself. Katie Bell helped the smaller girl up onto the platform while Viktor helped Fleur up, and both were wrapped in towels and blankets immediately by Madam Pomfrey.
Cedric surfaced then, a bare moment after Fleur. Cedric towed an older looking man who looked around, confused.
"Cedric's father, Amos." Neville whispered to her. "Gran knows him from the Wizengamot."
"Where's Duncan?" She whispered back. She felt the coldness from before creep upward from her stomach toward her throat. "Shouldn't he have been first?"
Neville spared a glance for her as he rubbed her back comfortingly.
"Please let them be okay." She whispered very quietly.
Neville's nerves stretched tight, like sinew that dried so tight on tenterhooks that it hummed in the breeze. Daphne was concerned for her new friends, but she didn't even know half the truth. If something had happened to Harry...
He got to his feet and pulled Daphne with him. He had to get down there, he had to know. The entire Wizarding world depended on it, whether it knew that fact or not. Daphne never once let go of his hand, even while he gripped hers tighter than he should. They threaded the path down from the stands to the edge of the lake in a hurry, without really seeing anything around them. They tried to use the walkway to get to the main platform, but two Aurors barred them entry. He had to content himself with being as near to it as he could from the shore.
He paced back and forth along the water's edge as Daphne tried to soothe him, but the knot of worry in his chest wouldn't allow it. Finally, a splash signaled Harry's arrival.
Unlike the others, Hermione didn't awaken once she was out of the water. Harry didn't notice either, as he was intent on swimming to the platform with her extra weight. Cedric and Fleur each took one of Hermione's arms and pulled her onto the platform, then returned to help Harry.
The smaller version of Fleur draped a blanket over Hermione, and then screamed.
Everyone turned to look at her except Harry, who took one glance, and then knelt at Hermione's side.
"...No, no no no no..." Harry's voice quavered as it spewed its litany. He took his wand out and flicked it at Hermione, and Neville could see a gout of water burst out of Hermione's nose and mouth.
She didn't move.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted at her.
Madam Pomfrey was at her side in an instant, and wove complicated diagnostics with her wand. She flicked her wand at Hermione, and a tiny burst of lightning played over her body. Hermione jerked, and then was still. Madam Pomfrey repeated the spell, but Hermione refused to move. She lay like a lump of stone between Harry and Pomfrey.
After a third failed attempt at the lightning spell, Pomfrey directed Harry to pull Hermione upright, then poured a vial of something down her throat. Harry stroked Hermione's hair and called her name in a constant stream.
"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up! Hermione! Come back to me! Hermione! I need you!" He chanted, over and over and over.
Madam Pomfrey tried the lightning again, another three times, with no effect. Neville could see tears stream down her cheeks as she leaned over and whispered to Harry.
Harry screamed at her in return. "NO! DO SOMETHING! THAT'S A LIE! FIX IT!"
She said something else to Harry that Neville couldn't hear, but Harry screamed "NO!" and buried his face in Hermione's chest as he crushed her to him. He rocked back and forth and repeated "No. No. No. No. No."
Neville looked at Daphne, and her face mirrored his own terrified despair. It had finally registered in her mind, as it had in his, the truth of what they had just witnessed.
Hermione Potter was dead.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,
I am writing on behalf of the Faculty and Staff of Hogwarts School of Magic. It is with our deepest regret that I must inform you of your daughter's untimely death this February twenty-fourth.
Hermione was our top student in every class that she took, and our top student overall, and it saddens me greatly that we have lost such a bright and promising witch.
Arrangements for returning her body to you are under way, pending the official investigation into her death though I should not expect this to take more than a few days. Our thoughts are with you in this most unfortunate time.
With deepest condolence,
Professor Minerva J. McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
Evelyn dropped the letter from nerveless fingers.
Hermione was dead. Her baby. Her little girl.
Her no-longer-little young woman, happy and excited to share her feelings about her first boy.
The owl that had brought the letter gained height as it flapped northward in a straight line from the kitchen window. She watched it slowly disappear into the distance with the feeling that the laws of nature no longer functioned properly. Tiny shards of her interactions with her daughter stabbed into her mind.
Hermione's beautiful little tear-stained face as she came to her with arms out when nobody had come to her sixth birthday party. What had she done when confronted with that? "Now you know you can only rely on yourself." She'd patted her little head, her wild hair compressed and sprung back into place like a sponge. Hermione had stopped trying after that and started to disappear into books.
More tears when the children at school began to bully her for reading too much. What had she done? Boxing lessons for a seven year old.
Unexpected smiles this past Christmas when she'd shown up trailing that handsome young man. What had she done? "Boys only want one thing, Hermione. They will use you and discard you and you're far better off without them. Focus on your studies, it will serve you far better in the long run. Get rid of him."
She realized now that was almost verbatim what her mother had told her when she'd asked about her father. Hadn't she hated how paranoid and pinched her mother had been when she was young? Hadn't she vowed to get away from her and never return? How long had it been since she'd spoken to mother? Without meaning to, Evelyn had become her. She'd become the very thing she'd hated and vowed to repudiate.
Then she'd done the same thing to her own baby.
As the scenes of Hermione's life played before her, she saw that her baby had only wanted to know that her mother cared. She hadn't wanted a solution to the problem. It wasn't a puzzle to be completed, not an equation to be solved.
She'd treated her daughter as an annoyance. An intrusion into the peace and quiet of her own studying.
And now she was dead.
She'd never gone bra shopping with her. Never asked her about her studies. She had no idea what her interests were. She had no idea what her favourite colour was. She'd given birth to the most precious thing in the world and treated her like a stranger. Had turned her into a stranger. Now she'd never see her again, not for Christmas, not for birthdays, not ever. She'd never see her baby work magic.
The full weight of what she'd done to her child and the consequences she'd wrought slammed home in her mind as gravity seemed to twist in on itself. For the first time, she recognized the emptiness she called peace and quiet. The unfathomable horror of how she had neglected her child stared into her mind from behind her eyes. For the first time since she was a teen, Evelyn Granger burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Rita rubbed her hands together gleefully as she finished sealing the frame and flipped the newly-minted front page over. Another huge scandal brought to the Wizarding world by Rita Culicida Skeeter, and this one at some personal expense. Cameras were not cheap. It had been a miracle that Bozo was able to salvage the film out of the mess the MacFusty brat had turned his camera into, but salvage it he had. She had turned it into another full front-page spread and strangled another few galleons a week out of Cuffe with it.
She loved a good tragedy, it was like free gold.
She hung the framed front page of her latest triumph on the wall next to the others and made sure it was straight. A message slipped in under the office door before she was finished.
"Miss Skeeter, there's a girl here to see you." It said, and hung there in midair while it waited for her reply.
"What does she want?" She asked tersely. Why couldn't they just get all the damn information and then talk to her? How hard was that?
"She says she has information that you'll want."
Oh if only she had a galleon for every time she heard that... "Fine. Tell her to wait, I'll get there when I get there."
"Yes, Miss Skeeter."
Rita sat back in her chair and warmed herself a cup of tea.
Halfway through her cup of tea, her paranoia got the better of her and asked 'what if she does have something juicy and goes to someone else with it?' Consequently, Rita found herself in the lobby several minutes before she meant to be.
The only girl in the lobby was a willowy young woman, with long, straight, platinum-blonde hair and icy grey eyes.
"Good afternoon, miss...?" Rita addressed her.
"No names." The girl replied.
"Well, if you aren't willing to be a credible source..." Rita began to turn away.
"You want what I know, and I can prove it with one sentence." The girl said firmly. She wasn't anxious or frightened, which probably meant she had other buyers lined up already. Besides, Rita's instincts screamed at her to at least listen. She didn't have anything else pressing, not after the Tragedy At Black Lake.
"Alright, I'll bite." Rita said condescendingly - wouldn't do to have a source get too confident, after all. "What's your sentence?"
The girl looked from Rita to Penelope, the new lobby girl, and back again. Then she stepped up to Rita and whispered in her ear, close enough to feel her silky hair on her neck.
"Albus Dumbledore killed Harry Potter." She whispered.
Trollshit! Her mind shouted immediately. She opened her mouth to dismiss the girl, but stopped.
What if it wasn't?
"Can you prove it?" She whispered back excitedly. If it wasn't trollshit, it would rock the entire Wizarding world like nothing before.
"No." The girl said, "But you can. I portkey to the continent tomorrow morning, and I'm not saying where."
Leaving the country? If she fled the country in fear for her own life that would make the story seem like it were true even if it wasn't. The wheels in her mind began to spin. She needed more.
"Come to my office." She told the girl, and spun on her heel. She had to force herself not to run.
She closed the door behind them, then locked, sealed and silenced it. She activated her secret dictaquill in her bottom drawer, and set up her quick-quotes quill on parchment on top of her desk.
"Start at the beginning," She instructed the girl, "It doesn't matter how long it takes, don't spare any detail. I'll need everything you know."
"Alright. I'm not telling you what I did to get detention, because that could be used to trace my name, and it isn't relevant. The fact that I got detention is, though. As my punishment, I was made to hand-clean Dumbledore's office with a rag every day for an entire month. As you can imagine, that takes a fair amount of time. One day I was cleaning as normal, and hit a secret rune under the lip of the desk. Imagine my surprise when a pensieve and a cabinet full of memories came out of one of the walls."
"Dumbledore has a pensieve in his office?" Rita asked before she could stop herself. If he did, it would connect a few dots she remembered from her own time at Hogwarts.
The girl nodded. "I've experienced Dumbledore's own memories. That's how I know what I'm about to tell you."
"I see. Please continue." She smiled. Dumbledore's own memories! Thank you Merlin! this would mean more money than she knew what to do with.
"Harry Potter's story doesn't begin with Harry Potter. It begins with his parents, James and Lily Potter." The girl went on to spin a horrifying tale of deliberate information leaks, prophecy, Death Eaters - Snape! She knew it! - and Dumbledore playing everyone and the whole situation like a harp. When the girl paused, Rita stepped in with some questions to clarify.
"So Dumbledore was a witness to James and Lily's Will?"
"Yes. If you go to the Ministry to view it - it's a matter of public record after all, you'll find that it was sealed by the Chief Warlock." The girl explained.
"One Albus Dumbledore." Rita finished. "What does Sirius Black's unlawful incarceration have to do with it?"
"Sirius Black was James Potter's best friend and Harry's Godfather. Dumbledore kept him in prison without a trial on purpose because Sirius would have stopped at nothing to get custody of Harry." She filled in.
"Which Dumbledore couldn't have if he was to give Harry to his muggle Aunt." Morgana's minge, it was all making sense!
"It was the muggle Aunt's husband who actually killed Harry just trying to make the baby shut up. The fat muggle slapped baby Harry around and threw him in a cupboard. The muggle authorities found baby Harry's blood in the cupboard, but no baby body. They arrested the fat muggle and he went to prison."
"Wait, wait, how do you know any of that?" Rita interrupted. She couldn't possibly know any of that, Dumbledore couldn't be everywhere at once.
"Same way I know the rest of it. Dumbledore went to the muggle prison and Legilimensed the stupid fat muggle. He keeps the muggle's memories in a separate vial, as though it would contaminate everything else."
Now that sounded like something Dumbledore would do.
"I saw the muggle's memories." The girl said. "He was looking right at baby Harry when baby Harry Disapparated."
What?
"Wait, so baby Harry Potter Disapparated? Where did he go then? How did he die?" Rita couldn't stop the excited trembling of her fingers.
"I don't know. It's possible that Harry Potter is in fact dead, because that's the last anyone ever saw of him. I don't think he is though. I think he's still out there somewhere. Why else would Albus Dumbledore get his hands dirty and use a Killing Curse on a muggle if not to keep that information quiet? What Dumbledore wants more than anything is to control Harry Potter, after all."
"Dumbledore used a Killing Curse?!" Rita near-shrieked. That was an entire special issue all to itself.
The girl nodded. "He did. He made sure he was alone first of course, so you'll never be able to prove that part."
Shit. Well, there was still more than enough to work with.
"I think that girl's death under the lake had something to do with it." The girl said after a moment.
"What? Why? What could some muggle-born dying have to do with Harry bloody Potter?"
"That's what I asked myself, but it was Dumbledore who gave the idea for reviving the tournament to Bagman. Bagman took all the credit of course, but I think Dumbledore chose him for that reason. Also... Harry Potter, if he had lived, would be about the age when boys discover girls."
Rita felt her jaw slacken and fall open. She was right! The whole thing fit together snugly like a puzzle that led to only one conclusion - Harry Potter was alive and at Hogwarts. The fact that Dumbledore ignored every other student's safety pointed to that clearly enough. Could Dumbledore have engineered the girl's death because she was involved with Potter?
She had a lot of legwork to do. Facts needed to be corroborated. Usually she wouldn't bother, she'd just let public opinion do the work for her, but this... This was the end of Dumbledore. If she bolloxed it up, she was the one who would be finished. She could start at the Ministry. If the girl was right, the Will would still be sealed.
"So either Harry Potter is dead because of Albus Dumbledore, or Harry Potter isn't dead and is at Hogwarts and other students are dying because of it." Rita summed up. The story would be a nightmare of work ahead of her, but if she managed it...
"That's the size of it. Do you have everything you need, Miss Skeeter? Once I leave the building, I'm going to stay gone."
"Thank you, give me a moment to review." She picked up her parchment, now several feet long, and scanned through it. The act of reading through it spoke of Dumbledore's obsession with Voldemort and the prophecy that concerned him and Harry Potter. It spoke of Dumbledore's absolutely callous disregard for the lives of people around him, lives he manipulated and ended when it suited him.
What she held wasn't an article, she realized. It was a book. A big, fat book with neverending royalties.
"Just one more question." Rita turned back to the girl. "What do you get out of this? Why give this to me?"
"That's the easiest question of all. I'm getting the twenty galleons you're going to give me, which I'm going to use to get a portkey out of the country, and I'm getting revenge on a petty tyrant who thinks people are nothing but his personal playthings."
"I'm not going to give you -"
"Or I'll burn that transcript right now." The girl inexplicably had a wand in her hand, just like that.
She debated letting her burn it, she would have the actual transcript from the dictaquill in the bottom drawer. She could make do with that... No, sometimes the quick-quotes wrote things in a way that she hadn't seen it, and turned out to be gold more often than not. Twenty wasn't a ridiculous price, really. She'd never paid an informant even half that before, but if this turned out to be true...
"Fine." She fished twenty galleons from her secret stash in the hidden drawer and handed them to the girl. She would have to find a new place for her secret stash.
The girl ran her wand over them and removed the tracking charms she kept on them. Damn her!
The girl took in Rita's expression and snorted in a most unladylike way. "Really, Skeeter. I've been playing the good girl and dodging Dumbledore for months. You're far less sneaky and far less dangerous than he is. Have a nice life, I hope you utterly ruin that bastard."
With that, the girl undid the magic on her door and left.
She would need to take a leave of absence. If Cuffe caught even a faint whiff of what she was doing, then he would demand to be included, demand that the Prophet break the story. That was never going to happen. She would fight him over it and then quit if he refused to relent. She would rather not burn any bridges she didn't have to, so a leave of absence was the best option. Rita had enough money stashed away in various places to live comfortably for a number of years, so she wasn't so concerned with the lack of salary.
She would need to contact people who knew Dumbledore personally too. That should be the first order of business, who knew when they might die of old age.
She took a deep, bracing breath as she packed the all-important transcripts in her bag, closed up her office, and went to Cuffe's office to give him the bad news.
Wolly reminded himself to stand up straight and not fidget. It was very impolite to go to another elf's private place without an invitation, but it was what Mister Harry had asked him to do. Wolly decided to compromise - that was a new word he'd learned just this week - and stand politely far away, but close enough that he could still talk to her.
She sat against the far wall and hugged her knees while her head rested on them. She looked terribly thin and frail. Wolly reminded himself that he brought her good news, and wondered what she might look like after she bonded with Mister and Missus.
He cleared his throat to let her know he was there. She gasped and stood instantly, her head swivelled to look every direction as her hands stayed in front of her as if to deflect blows.
Her eyes locked onto him, and widened just before she dropped to her knees with her head on the floor.
He understood. He'd had much the same reaction when he met Lammy the first time.
"Miss Alis? Please get up. My name is Wolly, I would like to talk to you if you're alright with that."
"Wolly?" She looked up from her prostrate position. "That bes House Elf name. You bes House Elf?"
Wolly smiled. "I am."
"Wolly doesn't looks like House Elf. Doesn't talks like House Elf." Alis noted. She raised herself up to her knees and looked at him properly.
"Bonding to my new family changed me a little, that's all. I used to be just like you, except I had a good family before the bad wizard killed them."
"Lucky." Alis said.
"You will be too." Wolly smiled again. "The time is coming when your master will be dead."
Her face broke into a brief expression of joy before she slammed her head into the floor.
"No! Bad Alis! Not for wishing master bes dead! Bad!" She slammed her head into the floor several times before she stopped and sat back to look at him again. "Why Wolly bes here? Why talks to bad Alis?"
"My Mister asked me to come talk to you, to see if maybe you know of other House Elves who are treated badly like you are. My Mister wants to free all the House Elves who serve bad witches and wizards so they can bond to good witches and wizards who don't hurt Elves."
Large tears formed in the corners of her eyes and fell with audible splats on the stone floor.
"For true? Alis can bond to different family?"
Wolly nodded. "My Mister promised to bond you himself if you don't find a family who wants you. A good family is what waits for you."
Alis fell from her knees to her behind and sobbed as hope bubbled up inside her, but then she started to punch herself in the head. "Alis don't deserves goodness! Alis takes Mistress to bin tip and leaves her to die! Alis is bad! Always bad!"
He wanted so badly to tell her that her Mistress was safe and far away, but he couldn't. He knew that Alis would have to tell her Master if he ordered it. He would have to wait to tell her until she was free. He'd even left his medal behind on purpose for just that reason. He did the right thing and bit his lips even though it hurt his insides to not tell her.
"Alis knows others." She said when she finished punching herself. "All serve bad witches and wizards. Master takes Alis to clean when mistress bes tiny, and Alis meets all the sad Elves like Alis."
"Do you remember their names?" Wolly asked hopefully. That would be perfect, if he only had to talk to Alis. His heart was heavy and unhappy just being here to talk to her. He didn't want to have to talk to any more.
Alis nodded. "Some. Alis only meets some once and doesn't remembers them." She frowned and squinched up her chin as she thought, "Alis mostly just remembers Dobby. Master always wants Mistress to make babies with young Master of Dobby. Oh! Also Gromp. Master wants Mistress to make babies with Gromp's young Master if Dobby's Master says no." She punched herself some more. "No babies for Mistress now, Alis does bad!"
"No, Alis. You would not harm your Mistress. Your Master made you do it. Your Master is bad, not you. Alis must obey."
Alis stopped punching herself and looked at him with big, understanding eyes that dribbled tears. She sniffed and nodded. "Alis must obeys."
"Do you remember the names of the families Gromp and Dobby belong to?" Wolly asked.
Alis nodded. "Master goes ons and ons about getting Nott's monies or Malfoy's monies. Always plotsing for other family monies and powers."
"Thank you, Alis. I think you are a good Elf with a very bad Master. I will come visit you again if you want."
Alis's eyes grew wider. "Wolly's Master bes okay with Wolly gone somewheres else?"
Wolly nodded. "Mister wants us to have friends."
Alis frowned. "What is friends?"
"Friends are others that we like to spend time with."
"Alis never hears that before." She shook her head so that her ears flapped.
"It's okay, you'll hear it again later. I have to go talk to Gromp and Dobby now, but I have to ask one more question. You don't have to answer if your Master made you not speak of it, I don't want to get you in trouble."
"Alis answers if okay." She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands.
"The one your Master calls Dark Lord - did he give anything to your Master to keep safe?"
Alis shook her head and sent her ears flapping again. "Alis hears Master complain about that long times. Master always hates Malfoy and LeStrange for bes favourites. Master says Malfoy and LeStrange bad choices. Weak. Stupid. Master's Dark Master should chooses Master instead."
Wolly couldn't believe his luck. He had names to give Mister Harry! He grinned at Alis and made a mental note to make certain that Alis was freed from her terrible family as soon as possible.
He bowed to her. "Thank you again, Alis. I will come see you again if you want, just call me."
She nodded. "Alis likes talks. Alis bes alone for long times. Wolly is sure is okay if Alis calls? Alis not wants trouble for Wolly with Mister."
Wolly smiled. "Mister would think it's great if Alis calls. He would be happy if I came to talk to you."
"Wolly's Mister bes happy for talks? Not loud for shirkings?" Her eyebrows rose along with her pitch.
Wolly smiled back at her. "You'll see, sometime soon I hope. Talk to you later, Alis."
She nodded and smiled a little smile. "Talks to you later, Wolly."
She heard and felt people arrive. How, she didn't know. She would have to ask Hermio-
No. She couldn't do that anymore.
The fact that anyone had arrived at all was unexpected, she had thought it would just be the two of them through the ceremony - that's why they hadn't minded that the church was so tiny.
At first it was just the one arrival, followed after a moment by another, then another, then a flood of them all at once. Horatio didn't look up. His expressionless face remained as though carved from stone as he stared straight ahead at her coffin, and she wondered how he could not notice the loud bangs some of them produced when they appeared.
Within the space of a few minutes the pews were full and people had lined the walls and aisle. Who were all these people?
Last to arrive, nearly whisper quiet but directly next to her were two beautiful blonde girls and a tall chubby-cheeked teen boy. He and the shorter blonde supported the tall handsome lad who had come to their house at Christmas with Hermione. He barely seemed to register where he was at all. His helpers vacated a seat just the other side of the aisle from Evelyn and gently sat him into it. He made no movement on his own, he did nothing but breathe and stare straight ahead. He seemed a pale ghost of the passionate young man he'd been only months before.
The taller blonde stood on his far side next to the chubby-cheeked young man and held his hand, while the shorter blonde stood in the aisle with her hand on... Donald? David? Dudley? The ghost-boy's shoulder.
"Excuse me, miss? Who are -" She began, but stopped when the girl turned red-rimmed eyes of cold fire on her and glared into her soul.
"Hermione was my best friend." She hissed, low and dangerous. "I only met her this year, and I loved her more than you ever did. I have nothing to say to you."
Spikes of guilt tore open her chest and made it hard to breathe. She'd thought she'd finished her crying over her daughter, but pain radiated from her heart through her whole torso and sent stinging water to her eyes.
"Who the devil are you speaking to, Evelyn?" Horatio looked at her from under furrowed brows.
He couldn't see them, she realized. Or hear them. To him, they were still alone in the church with their dead daughter. They were using magic right then and there, all around them.
So why did she see them?
The reverend stepped to the podium then, and her questions were pushed to the back of her mind, though she did note that the reverend couldn't see or hear them either.
The service was short and to the point. Evelyn had no belief, and even if she had it would have evaporated in the storm of grief that followed reading that letter. It shamed every ounce of her that her grief was partly for herself and not wholly for the stranger she had made of her beautiful little girl.
Horatio had no belief either, but his parents were devout catholics. It was how he had been raised. It had seemed somewhat charming to her in the beginning that he followed his parents' beliefs, but as he sat and listened to the reverend spout soothing gibberish, she could see in his eyes that he hated it. He felt a fraud, the same as she did. She saw then that he was only there because he didn't know what else to do.
The shame and emptiness inside her welled up again and flowed a constant stream of silent tears down her face. Never took her to the beach. Never baked a cake together. Never bothered to ask what she studied. Would never see her smile. Would never see her wedding dress. Would never have a grandchild.
She'd had everything. Everything. And she'd ignored it. Patted herself on the back for doing such a good job while she flushed every ounce of possibility down the bog.
The absolute loss consumed her as Horatio just set his jaw and stared ahead at the reverend, who never missed a beat.
Evelyn didn't hear even half what the reverend said. The service was over in moments it seemed, and Horatio helped her up from her seat. Hermione's friends graciously waited for them to leave, and she felt their presences depart as her husband led her to the car. They were gone by the time he closed the door for her. They had a pressure to them that she hadn't noticed, but when they were gone she felt empty again, open to the sky.
Cold.
Alone.
Horatio drove them home again, helped her from the car, and reheated leftovers for dinner.
"Eat, Evelyn. You need to keep up your strength." He told her when he saw that she wasn't eating.
Why though? What was the point?
Corban took one look at McNair and thanked Merlin he hadn't been called upon to be his Lord's nursemaid. The grotesque little mockery glared hatefully at him as he knelt in front of the threadbare and moth-eaten chair and wheezed a command like the words were in its chest and it had to force them out.
"Report."
"My Lord," Corban acknowledged, "We cannot capture the girl. Dumbledore has killed her. The spy suspects that Dumbledore means to tell the boy at the appropriate time that we are responsible for her death and set him loose upon us. The spy suspects he means for us to kill the boy so that Dumbledore can then kill us - you specifically, My Lord, but we would soon follow."
The twisted baby's visage wheezed in a monstrous parody of mirth.
"The old fool is still trying to win!" It chuckled mockingly. "Severus is quite correct, he means to goad the boy to blind rage so that I may kill him and the fool may kill me. Very well."
"Very well, My Lord?" Corban asked. After cheating death he was alright with Dumbledore killing him?
"Yes, Corban. We will give Dumbledore the audience he so obviously seeks. You will go to each and every one of my Death Eaters. I want all of them present for my resurrection. You will provide me the boy. I require his blood. You will alter the Triwizard cup to fetch me the boy and the old fool. Drop them in the cemetery outside, Walden will have the ritual prepared. I want the rest of them invisible and hidden, they are to incapacitate the old fool. Nothing more! If I am denied Dumbledore's life I shall be most displeased. No-one is to harm the boy. He may be stunned, but he belongs to me. Am I clear?"
"Perfectly clear, My Lord." He replied. He had no idea how he was going to make that happen just yet, but it was also clear he had better figure it out.
"I expect to hear of your progress in your next report." It was not a question. It wasn't even a statement. It was a threat, one he understood all too well.
"Of course, My Lord." He bowed his head.
"You have your orders."
That was dismissal. Corban remained with his head bowed low as he backed away and turned to go. McNair stared after him, his eyes silently begging for aid.
He pitied the poor bastard, but they all had their parts to play. He knew McNair loved to kill things with his stupidly oversized axe - so much that he'd made it his job at the Ministry to do so. He would have plenty of that when the Dark Lord rose again, so he should be doing everything he could to make sure that happened, not griping about his lot. Miserable sod.
Corban had his own problems anyway. The Dark Lord hadn't demanded all the free Death Eaters, he'd demanded all the Death Eaters. That meant he had a mass breakout of Azkaban to engineer. That meant money, Imperius curses, and Obliviations. That took time and energy. Then when they were free he had to herd all those half-mad kneazles to where and when the Dark Lord wanted them. He could already feel the headaches that would generate.
Corban sighed as he exited the dilapidated manor house and stalked to the Apparition point where he returned home.
He had plans to make.