Disclaimer: The characters in Harry Potter are Rowling's. I'm just playing with them a bit.

Rated PG-13 for violence, language, and some dark material.

Author's Note: This story is an idea I came up with prior to the release of Deathly Hallows, so it is post-HBP, but it disregards Book 7.

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Prologue:

She was dreadfully tired and weak, and her mind was in turmoil. She sensed where emotion and skill should be, but neither came, as though some obstruction blocked their path. She was trapped in darkness, always remembering things of her past that previously had haunted her, but could no longer emotionally affect her. She had nothing, no anger, no happiness, no grief, and no powers. She only had an overwhelming sense of purpose that told her again and again that she needed to escape this state.

But she could not get out.

She had no power of feelings or of motion. She could only see and hear, or so she believed. She could see nothing but darkness, and could hear only a dull, toneless voice that would chill her had she any ability to feel fear, a voice muttering a dark language she did not understand.

She was trapped, and she could not get out.



He was neither dead nor alive, but he existed somehow. His mind was also in turmoil, but he had the power to move on the earth and to speak and to perform magic. Yet where emotion should be, there was only a black, gaping hole. He saw and he remembered, but his memories could not emotionally affect him. Instead he had an overwhelming sense of purpose that always told him that he needed to escape this state.

With help, he could get out, but first he needed her.

He had no emotion, so he felt no discouragement when he learned of her state. All he felt was a need to find her captor. And there her captor was, who started to back away quietly.



There was a change.

Somehow the previously toneless voice was now crying out in what her memories told her was terror, but she had no power to connect to this. Still, she was curious. She did not know the horrible, cloaked figure she remembered could feel fear, only that it lived in darkness.

The voice had changed from toneless to terrified. It began speaking very fast in its dark language, but she could tell it was rambling. Perhaps this change meant a change in her mind.

Perhaps she could be freed.


Her captor could go no further. He reached under the foul thing’s hood and his armored fingers closed around its decaying throat. He could tell it was exercising all its powers against him, but they had no effect. He had no emotions to lose. The captor could sense so, and he saw that it knew that its time was at an end. He raised his other hand and reached towards the creature’s mouth. He then used some energy he had been given to pull something from its jaws, and he tried to connect to its mind.

He could sense the captor’s fear and he made his demand. I could erase you from existence. I could make you wish you never came to be, you and your foul kind.

The captor relented.



A new voice spoke suddenly, majestic and cold at the same time, but not to her.

What have you done with her?

The first voice, her captor, actually whimpered and she was faintly surprised. She did not understand its answer, but whoever owned the second voice did.

I could erase you from existence. I could make you wish you never came to be, you and your foul kind. Give her up, or I will destroy you.

Her captor evidently knew that the second voice was not lying. She did. There was no purpose in lying. But it also registered to her that the second voice was trying to free her. So she said to her captor, Let me go.

Let her go.

Her captor muttered incoherently, and the second voice began chanting in another language, a powerful language, and she knew in an instant that she’d be freed.

The darkness faded, and her vision changed to a surrounding of trees and moss. She felt nothing, but she could see that she was in some sort of spectral existence by a large pond surrounded by moisture and rainforest.

A shadow, humanoid in form, appeared at the bank, a semi-transparent spirit, and it dipped its dark hand in the pond without making a single ripple. He muttered something in the same powerful language, and she saw some silver energy move from the water into him. He then stood, looking much stronger, much less transparent. He turned towards her, and she looked into a pair eyes that shone from his invisible face. She could feel the hole where emotion should be, and knew that she should be feeling terror, looking into this unknown shadow, but purpose told her she needed to do as he asked. He then spoke.

It is incredible, isn’t it? The sense of purpose you feel. I likewise have no emotion, and therefore only know what needs to be done. I would have left you to your captor, had I not felt the need to free you.

She would have felt indignant, if she could feel. All she said in response was, Who are you?

I am called many things, he said. Invius by my allies, Periculosus by my enemies, and by some, Sorcierdarmure.

So what is your actual name?

My name is not important.

She paused, trying to work out this information, and thinking about his appearance. She had never seen anything like this shadow, and so she asked, Are you a spirit?

I am a phantom, of sorts, as are you.

What happened to you?

My heart is gone. That is all you need to know. You, however, are your mind, which has been separated from your heart and your respiration. You cannot be returned to your free state until all three elements of your soul are reunited.

She asked Could you help me?

I can, he said. I’ll end your curse if you swear to end mine afterwards.

How can I free you of your curse if you won’t tell me what it is?

His gaze penetrated her, and he said, The answer to that will find you. Do you agree to end my curse?

There was no purpose in not doing so, and every purpose in doing so. She felt no fear or apprehension in vowing to help him, and so she could only agree.

Yes, she said. I swear to end your curse if you end mine.

I hold you to that vow.

He broke the connection, and sensed that she had fallen into a slumber. The phantom that was left of her was stored in a sapphire vial the Masters had crafted, and this he stowed in his sack, and headed north, to where his sense of purpose prodded him.

The lost talisman, which he knew existed somewhere, was the only thing he could feel. If it had been destroyed, his curse would have long since ended, but not in the way it needed to end. He could only die upon its destruction. He needed that talisman. It was essential to the continuation of his life as it should be.

He was neither dead nor alive, but he somehow existed. His mind was in turmoil, but he had the power to move on the earth and to speak and to perform magic. Purpose told him that he needed to escape this state, and with help he could do so.

But first he needed her.


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Chapter 1:

Rules and regulations were the essentials of her life. Sixteen years she had lived on Goblynsrefuge, and in all those sixteen years, Lily Ginevra Potter had never set foot off the island. Her aunt and uncle had never fully described explained why. They seemed to avoid the subject all together.

She had only one surviving parent, her mother, but Ginny Potter was in no condition to raise her. Lily visited her almost everyday at the Goblynsrefuge infirmary, but Ginny could not acknowledge her daughter’s presence. Ginny was not even aware that she had a daughter. Every day, when her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione left the island on duty, Lily visited the infirmary, and everyday Ginny would continue to stare blankly at the ceiling, her eyes glazed over, and her mouth lolling open.

But her life was made of nothing more than rules and regulations. She was only allowed to speak to a few people, most of the family or Order members who came and went occasionally, and those members were told that only in the most urgent circumstances was Lily to ever leave the island. Lily, who had never set foot off Goblynsrefuge, did not know what was out across the seemingly endless bodies of water that surrounded the island, so she didn’t have much motive to see what was there except curiosity. Oh, she knew the names of lands and other places, such as Europe and Hogwarts and London, but she did not know or understand them.

Madam Pomphrey, Ron, and Hermione often spoke of another island, much larger than this one, which they called Britain. And they spoke of Britain as though it was a friend with a terrible disease. The revulsion and the sadness that entered their faces every time they spoke of this island was great. As Lily understood it, Britain was their native land, their home, and it was somehow lost to them. Voldemort had taken it. Voldemort ruled it. Voldemort purged it of those he loathed. Voldemort enslaved it.

The Order of the Phoenix, and the Partisans, as they were called, were the two most successful resistances against Voldemort, but they had not worked within Britain for sixteen years.

Some of the goblin and centaur Partisans on Goblynsrefuge said they went there for safety, as it was the last safe place in the world. They said it was hopeless, that it was long over, that it ended sixteen years ago. This island, well protected, would be the last place in the world Voldemort managed to break into. It was the last refuge. And that, more or less, was why Lily had never left.




Chapter 2:

The Death Eaters called it the Purification. The Order of the Phoenix called it the Infection. However one looked at it, it was spreading, like a cloud of blackness that engulfed everything, beginning in Britain, or what was left of Britain. So much mist and dispair did the Dementors spread, that this blackness was almost literal. Some days in winter were so dark that it made no difference whether it was day or night.

But it was spreading. The darkness had already engulfed the Netherlands, and parts of Belgium and France. The seeds of this Infection had already planted themselves in Germany. Spies, in other words, those of the Death Eaters who explored the area where the Order of the Phoenix seemed to be most active.

Two such Blackrobes set about the countryside of Hesse one night, about twenty miles south of the suburbs of Frankfurt am Main. There was a small Muggle village there, Grünehügel, where there was recently a tip-off of odd, unwanted activity.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re looking for yet, Igor?” hissed the one, glancing at the other, who was staring at the quiet village with narrow eyes.

“As soon as I wish,” sneered the other.

“You’ll tell me now. I don’t care if Dolohov is your father.”

Igor Dolohov didn’t answer, but crept through the grass to the road, toward the town square. The other Blackrobe followed, cursing under his breath, and looking around fearfully. Dolohov continued down the road, past the town square, and eventually to a small tavern, where he knocked.

The barkeeper opened the door, looking irritable. “Darf ich Sie helfen, herr?”

“Sprechen Sie Englisch?” spat out Dolohov.
“Yes, herr,” he replied, raising his eyebrows coolly. “Who are you exactly?”

Dolohov and Garaix forced their way through, and Garaix shut the door and locked it. The barkeeper took a step backward, and a second later, Dolohov had pinned him against the wall by the throat.

“There were two people in your tavern last week,” hissed Dolohov, drawing his wand. “Hooded, wore cloaks, one of them had pink hair.”

“Those veirdos?” The barkeeper squinted, trying to remember, \ his face was slowly whitening. “Ja, I remember them.”

“What were their names?”

“The pink-haired lady, called the other an odd name I can’t remember… Vasel… Viesel… Viesley…? I didn’t get the lady's name.”

Dolohov snorted and pressed his wand into the barkeeper’s jugular.

“Did you catch any of their conversation? Answer me!”

The barkeeper’s eyes widened. “They… they said somebody named Aberforth was keeping someone’s existence… a girl… a secret. Said that somebody named Voldemort…”

“Don’t say the Dark Lord’s name, you filthy Muggle!” snarled Garaix.

The barkeeper stammered apologies, and Dolohov pressed the wand further into his throat. The former yelped in pain.

“What about the Dark Lord?” he asked.

“They said he’d view the girl as a threat.”

“Did they give any names?” asked Dolohov.

“Nein, herr!”

“Anything else?”

“They mentioned a place… I think they called it Goblynsrefuge…”

“And where is this place?” demanded Dolohov.

“Dass weiss ich nicht! Bitte, herr, bitte!”

Dolohov threw the barkeeper aside and waved his wand. “Obliviate!”

The barkeeper rubbed his neck and asked, “Guten Abend, darf ich Sie helfen?”

“Nein, Sie können nicht mich helfen!” snarled Dolohov, and he and Garaix quitted the room and slammed the door on the barkeeper’s indignant face.

“Can’t we have just killed him?”asked Garaix.

“What, and alert the Order to our presence?” Dolohov was walking so fast that Garaix was almost running to keep up.

“And what was the point in all that back there?” asked Garaix angrily. “What have we found out?”

“If you’ve got any brains, Garaix, you’d know the answer to that.” Dolohov slowed, then leapt into an alleyway and crouched behind some dust bins. “He said Tonks and Weasley mentioned Goblynsrefuge… ever heard of it?”

“No. Maybe it’s the Order’s headquarters.”

“If it is, then we’ve got something new for the Dark Lord. And he’d probably be interested in that bit about the Order hiding somebody from him.” Dolohov looked around, and said, “Let’s get back to the camp and inform Amycus.”

The two of them sprinted from the alley. Behind another dust bin, in the shadows some ten feet from where the two Death Eaters had just been hiding, an older man crept out, and, as quietly as he could, followed them.



“How far to the camp?”panted Garaix ten minutes later as he and Dolohov sprinted through the grass back northward.

“Not too far, just beyond that set of hills there,” said Dolohov, pointing.

“Good. I don’t want to stay out here much longer.”

Dolohov stopped abruptly.

“What's your problem? You’ve been complaining ever since we got the assignment, and always talking about how you want to go back.”

“You should know the answer to that.”

“C’mon, Garaix, it’s just a rumor.”

“It’s not just a rumor, Dolohov, and you know it.”

“Oh? Whoever heard of something which isn’t affected by the Killing Curse?”

“Harry Potter was one.”

Dolohov snorted.

“I’ll grant you the first time he was hit with it, but the second time…”

Dolohov ran a finger across his throat, and howled with laughter. Garaix chose not to comment.

They continued, and set up the steep climb of one of the hills, behind which they would find the Blackrobe camp. When they passed the rock not far from the top, a cloud in the sky shifted its course and moved aside, revealing the half-moon. The landscape was illuminated, so that all was visible, Grünehügel, other villages in the distance, the road and all the trees and brush. They could see a stream flowing a short distance away, silvery in the moonlight.

Dolohov froze, and Garaix walked into him.

“Ouch! What was that for!”

“Shut up!” hissed Dolohov, pointing.

Garaix looked up to the hilltop, and they could see the silhouette of a man on a horse, alone and motionless, looking at the moon in silence. His outline had a silver sparkle to it, showing that he was wearing a full suit of armor. Garaix gave a small whimper, and Dolohov looked lost for words.

The armored figure gave no sign that it had noticed them. It just stared at the moon, as though it were a lifeline, almost. The horse snorted, and rocked its head, waiting for a command from its master.

Garaix took a step backward, and for the first time, Dolohov agreed with him.

The moment they moved, however, the figure moved. The horse turned around, so that the figure was staring right at them.

It didn’t move, and neither did Dolohov nor Garaix. They just stared at each other for a minute. There was a rustle and a moan as the wind blew past suddenly, and they thought they saw a flash of green from behind the knight’s visor. Then it slowly began to approach them.

“Who are you?” demanded Dolohov, but there was a waver in his voice.

The knight made no answer, but it paused.

“Answer me!” yelled Dolohov. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Again the knight remained silent. It just watched them, then they saw it drawing a wand from its belt.

“Expelliarmus!”

Dolohov sent the spell, but to his shock, the knight slapped it aside with his hand as though it was solid. They had only ever seen the Dark Lord do that.

“Stupefy!”

The jet of red light struck, but the knight didn’t seem to feel it. He dismounted, and slowly approached.

“Avada Kedavra!” cried Garaix, losing his head completely.

The green light issued from his wand and struck the knight in the chest. The force of the curse made him stagger, but he did not fall. The green eyes flashed from behind his visor again, and he raised his wand.

Garaix broke into a run, with Dolohov close behind. The knight did not chase, but watched them hightail it. A moment later, Dolohov leapt forward and took hold of Garaix’s arm, and they Disapparated.

The knight stood there, his gaze fixed on the spot they had disappeared from, for a long time, but after a while, he turned, remounted his horse, and took off at a gallop, though the horse’s hooves made no sound. Another cloud moved in front of the moon, and within minutes the knight had disappeared into the distance.

From his observation point, Remus Lupin ran off back down the road to the village.




Chapter 3:

There were only a few people Lily was familiar with, as Ron and Hermione seemed to think it fitting that her existence was kept secret. One of these, like Ron and Hermione, was a leader of the Partisan resistance, a goblin named Benedicht Grobschmied. He was the only goblin Lily knew personally, though Goblynsrefuge was home to many. And he was the only goblin she met who actually treated her with civility.

Grobschmied was Lily’s tutor, and he seemed as fond of her as Ron and Hermione were. He taught her history and theoretical magic mostly, though he also kept philosophy a firm aspect of her education. Hermione told Lily that he was amazing for his ability to keep an impartial balance between the goblins’ version of history and the humans’ version of history. Ron merely said he was better at teaching history and keeping it interesting than their old ghost teacher at school, Professor Binns.

But she could not have regular lessons with Grobschmied, as he, being a leader of the Partisans, went away on missions a lot. Firenze, the centaur who lived on the island, was another leader of the Partisans, but unlike Grobschmied, he hardly ever left the island. When Grobschmied was absent, sometimes Firenze would allow her to climb on his back and he would take her into the deeper part of Goblynsrefuge’s forest, where he would tell her of deeper magic than most wizards were aware of. Ron often said he was off his rocker, but Lily thought that what the centaur had to say had some merit. Besides, Ron often said that their old leader and mentor, Albus Dumbledore, was off his rocker when he was alive, but he also often said that Dumbledore was a great genius, and the greatest wizard of the age.



Goblynsrefuge was almost entirely covered with forest, but within the outskirts the goblins had built a town of cabins and tree-houses. The trees sometimes had spiral staircases to the tree houses, which were all connected by a network of bridges. The deeper part of the forest was deserted, because it was where the centaurs liked to go to meditate.

The largest cabin, in the middle of the forest just beyond a stream, was home to the leaders of the Partisans, This cabin was about three stories high, and only the leaders and their families were allowed in.

The room by the south windows in this cabin on the second floor was Lily’s, and every morning she would wake with the sun shining through, except when it was raining. Lily liked to stay in bed when it was raining, and on one such morning she did so, listening to the rain on the window and thinking about her parents. Her aunt and uncle spoke highly of both her parents, but somehow Lily felt closer to her father than to her mother. Perhaps it was because her aunt and uncle gave Lily her father’s old holly-and-phoenix-feather wand, with which Hermione taught Lily magic from a very young age. Perhaps it was because of all she had heard about her father.

Her father, Harry Potter, was Ron’s best friend when he was alive. They, Hermione, and Ginny all attended the same wizard’s school, Hogwarts, incidentally Lily’s birthplace. Ron and Hermione had told Lily many stories about her father, her favorites being Harry’s rebellion against a particularly nasty professor in his fifth year.

But she also knew from her aunt and uncle that her father was the top student in Defense Against the Dark Arts, because he had plenty of practice. She heard from them that her father could speak to snakes, and for that reason he was able to get into a hidden chamber and kill a deadly serpent under Voldemort’s control that he had heard lurking around the school where nobody else could.

She also knew that Harry was the Partisans' highest leader before he died. He, having survived a terrible curse from Voldemort in his infancy, had a special mind connection with Voldemort. The connection was somehow one-way, meaning that Harry could get into his enemy’s mind and see what Voldemort was up to without Voldemort realizing it.

Those days, of course, were the Partisans' most successful.

She also had been told all her life of her father’s sarcasm, his determination, his humour, and his caring personality. She wished deeply that she could have known him, wished that by some miracle, he could somehow come back to life, be returned to them, along with her wish that her mother could be cured.

Generally in Goblynsrefuge, the mornings were silent except for the distant arguments of goblins and centaurs in the distance, and the sounds of centaur’s hooves. Rainy mornings, such as this one, were completely silent except for the rain on the window and roof. But as the rain fell harder than ever that morning, there came unexpectedly the first new noise of the day, and the first new noise was a very loud Crack, followed by what sounded like squabbling.

In surprise, Lily fell out of her bed, banging her head on her bedside table. The blinding pain made her oblivious to everything, but when it began to subside, she heard someone say, “Oh, no you don’t!”

There was a squeal, followed by, “Get back here, you mad old toe-rag!”

Lily grabbed her father’s wand and ran down the stairs, but not before Firenze appeared and said, “It’s only Grobschmied.”

The door opened, and the goblin entered with his back to them, wearing, as always, obsolete fashions, with graying side-burns from which protruded his bat-like ears. Grobschmied appeared to be dragging something behind him. Ron and Hermione came rushing down from the third floor, and Ron yelled, “Grobschmied, what the bloody-hell are you doing?”

“I’ve just returned from Zauberers Höhle,” snarled Grobschmied, as the house-elf who lived with them, Dobby, appeared. “And look what I found sneaking around the dock just now.”
He gave a heave, and threw in something small with a skin so wrinkled it could have been three times too large, with even larger bat-like ears, and a snout-like nose. The thing was emitting squeals of pain and of protest. Dobby’s nose wrinkled in distain.

“Kreacher won’t be dragged around by the goblin that took Kreacher’s talisman! Kreacher wants to go to Grimmauld Place, he wants to hide in Master Regulus’s home, but he cannot, he must return to his master’s hiding place, he has to serve his master, he is ordered to return to Goblynsrefuge…”

“Oh, shut up!” snapped Grobschmied at the ancient house-elf.

“What does he mean, ‘Kreacher has to serve his new master’?” asked Hermione. “Kreacher, who is your new master?”

“Kreacher doesn’t know, he doesn’t know if Master or Mistress had any children, he doesn’t know who to go to, he doesn’t know if he has any allegiance. Kreacher is so confused, Kreacher doesn’t know who his new master is, if he has a new master.”

“You don’t know,” repeated Ron scathingly. Kreacher nodded, then shook his head, looking terribly bewildered.

“Kreacher returned to Goblynsrefuge, he needed to find Master’s friends, he assumed they’d be at Goblynsrefuge.”

Firenze, who had disappeared into the kitchen, returned with a mug of some liquid. He then approached Kreacher, and bent over as far as his horse’s body would allow, and handed him the mug, saying, “Drink this, it will help you.”

Kreacher looked at Firenze suspiciously, then downed the mug. A second later, he keeled over and fell to the floor, snoring.

Grobschmied picked up the elf and deposited him on the sofa, where he remained fast asleep. He then turned to Firenze and said, “Thank you!”

“Who was that?” demanded Lily.

“Kreacher,” answered Hermione, still shocked.

“So I gathered,” said Lily in exasperation.

Grobschmied, recovering first, answered Lily’s question. “He was your father’s house-elf, who he inherited after Sirius Black died. Kreacher worked for the Partisans as a spy, but after Harry died, he disappeared. We haven’t seen him for a long time.”

Dobby was still scowling at the sleeping Kreacher, and Ron sniggered.

“Dobby hates him.”

“Never mind that,” said Hermione quickly. “Why hasn’t Kreacher got a new master? You would think he’d go to Lily; Harry’s been dead for sixteen years.”

Simultaneously, she and Ron both looked at Dobby to see if he could provide an answer. Dobby shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said lightly. “ I can’t explain it. Kreacher should have gone instantly to the wife or any children. There would be no point in him going to Ginny, not while she’s in her condition, therefore by all rights he should be Lily’s elf. Harry Potter never freed Kreacher, did he?”

“He didn’t know Lily existed though,” said Ron.

Lily looked at the elf on the couch, not entirely sure how to react that this ancient, disgruntled elf was supposed to be her servant. She winced at the thought.

“He’s not that bad,” said Hermione. “He used to be really rude, but he improved a lot while he was working for Harry.”

“If he was still as horrible as he was when Sirius was alive, he would have called me a ‘blood traitor,’ Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ and you a ‘filthy half-blood’,” said Ron.

Lily still didn’t relish the idea.

“Perhaps he’s playing it false,” said Ron, sounding worried. “Kreacher was only Harry’s elf because Sirius gave him to Harry. What if, after Harry died, he went to Sirius’s only living relative? Bellatrix Lestrange? Do you think he’s spying for Death Eaters?”

“We’ve got a whole stock of Veritaserum to interrogate him, if necessary,” said Firenze, “but personally, I don’t think Kreacher’s lying.”

Grobschmied reached into his pocket and withdrew something. “He did carry this. He was really upset when I took it.”

It was a small silver pendant, shaped like a dragon.

“What is it?” asked Firenze.

“What does it look like?” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a pendant.”

Firenze ignored him.

“He seemed really attached to it,” said Grobschmied. “That was what really set him off, when I took it. I mostly took it out of interest, but the way he reacted at even my touching it just wasn’t normal, even for Kreacher. Do you want it, Lily?”

Lily, who already admired the workmanship, the cutting of the pendant, nodded and pocketed it.



Chapter 4:

It was another one of those days when Ron was gone on duty and Hermione was shut up in her office. Lily was scheduled to have another lesson with Grobschmied after lunch, but in the meantime, she thought to spend her spare time in the infirmary with Madam Pomphrey and Ginny.

The infirmary was a large cabin a little off the main road through the forest, which led to the dock. It was almost as large as the Head’s cabin, but it was wider and flatter, requiring only two floors and lots of beds.

Ginny’s bed was on the second floor, adjacent to Madam Pomphrey’s office, and it was there Lily found Madam Pomphrey forcing food down Ginny’s throat.

Madam Pomphrey was quite pleased to see Lily, as she was having a rather slow day. Lily was not surprised. Things were going rather slow lately. There were times when goblins and wizards would leave Goblynsrefuge or visit incessantly, some appearing with nasty injuries. Some were so horrible that Lily was barred from the infirmary, even to see Ginny. But these periods had not occurred for over a year.

“Oh, thank heavens!” she cried when she saw Lily. “I was thinking of finding somebody to look after your mother for a while, as I really needed a break. You can provide it. No offense, but Ginny doesn’t make much company.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lily dully, looking at her mother’s white face. “Sometimes I wish she’d just die, then she wouldn’t be in this state.”

“You know, she never looks a day older from when—when it happened. It is only a miracle that the Kiss didn’t affect you. She was still pregnant.”

“Yes, you’ve told me. I wasn’t exactly born, was I? If you and Hermione weren't there, and Hermione wasn't willing to use Muggle methods, I would have died.”

Madam Pomphrey smiled. “She’s a sensible girl, and she never was as reckless as Ron and Harry. I only had her in the Hospital Wing a few times. Now your father… I had to treat him a lot. Mostly for Quidditch injuries, he was prone to accidents on the field.”

“Quidditch sounds like a lot of fun,” said Lily wistfully. “Ron’s explained all the rules, but apparently neither he nor the rest of his family have played for years.”

“Nobody around here has much time to play Quidditch, and anyway, there aren’t many around who would. Goblins aren’t really interested, house-elves are too small, and you can’t exactly get a centaur on a broom. Even if you could, centaurs wouldn’t be very interested either.”

Lily knew from experience that there were lot of things in which centaurs weren’t interested. They mostly kept to themselves, except when Firenze summoned them or sent them off on some kind of job. Lily had more contact with the goblins on the island than the centaurs, and she wasn’t very fond of them, except for Grobschmied and a few others. But every time she saw a centaur she knew, that centaur would watch her the whole time she was present, as though X-raying her.

She had never told anybody about this, though it annoyed her. Shaking her head, she continued to look at her mother, who, as always, was staring at the ceiling. Ginny’s eyes were glazed over, but they looked as though they were normally brown in color.

“And there’s no cure for her?” Lily asked, already knowing the answer. She had asked Madam Pomphrey this a lot, and every time, she got a negative answer.

The thing was, Lily wasn’t entirely sure her mother was completely gone. Having visited Ginny so many times, Lily had become accustomed to her mother’s general look, so she could swear that Ginny’s face would almost express emotion, but she was never sure of that. Usually it appeared to be immeasurable sadness, sometimes despair, and sometimes fear. This was why Lily thought she probably imagined this, because every time she thought she saw emotion cross Ginny’s face, it was a dark emotion. But Firenze, who had put much thought into this sort of thing, said that he believed emotion was part of the soul. If Ginny still felt emotion, and if Firenze was right, then part of Ginny's soul was still there.

She had never mentioned this to Madam Pomphrey, and so she had no idea if the old matron had noticed it too. But it occurred to her that if a piece of Ginny’s soul was still in tact, then perhaps the rest of her soul was too. Should that be the case, then it was probably possible to cure her.

She knew that the Dementor’s curse was that the soul was removed from the body, but Lily wondered, doesn’t that kill the victim? But she heard Ron and Hermione talking one day about souls, and it sounded like the soul could be divided. Perhaps a piece was left behind that kept Ginny alive.

This line of thought intrigued Lily, and she resolved to speak to Firenze about it, and perhaps her aunt and uncle.

After friendly conversation with Madam Pomphrey, Lily looked at the clock above the office and realized that her lesson with Grobschmied was in ten minutes. Bidding farewell to Madam Pomphrey, who got up and went back into her office, Lily ran out the door and onto the road to the Heads’ cabin.

Grobschmied began the lesson by discussing the connection of the war against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald and the worldwide war that the Muggles fought, and Lily watched as he pulled out maps, pointing at the locations of various battles, both wizard and Muggle, and showing her manuevers and directions the armies took. Lily was listening attentively, but her mind remained on her thoughts back in the infirmary.

Grobschmied had just finished explaining the end of the two wars, when Lily couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself anymore, and she blurted out, “Is it possible to divide the soul?”

That caught Grobschmied off guard. Lily had thought he’d look at her oddly and tell her to ask Firenze, but instead he stared at her a moment, then he asked, adjusting his spectacles, “Where did you get that idea?”

“It occurred to me when I was in the infirmary visiting Mum just now.”

He relaxed. “I wouldn’t like to think that somebody around here is giving you ideas, Lily. What you just asked me has a lot to do with a branch of extremely Dark Magic. Yes, it is possible to divide the soul, but I should tell you, Lily, a riven soul is a cursed soul, and in all cases known, it is the soul of a person who does not deserve to live.”

“How is a divided soul so heavily cursed?” asked Lily curiously.

“Little is known about the nature of the soul, Lily, though some philosophers have put a lot of thought into it. Still, the only known way to divide the soul is to murder the innocent.”

“Oh.” Lily’s heart sank. Her idea was a good one, but she didn’t believe her mother was ever the type to murder the innocent, from what her aunt and uncle told her. Perhaps it really was just her imagination, the emotions she thought she saw on her mother’s face.



Clear nights at Goblynsrefuge were beautiful. Lily had gone out a few times with her aunt to just look at the sky, and except when a full moon shone, there were millions and millions of stars dotting the sky, so many that it was well near impossible to make out any constellations.

Grobschmied looked out at them a lot too, as did a lot of the Order when they dropped by. They had a pull toward Goblynsrefuge and its sky, especially during winter, because there was something special about seeing the night sky untainted by the Infection.

Lily’s favorite place to look out at the sky was at the dock. She simply loved to watch the sun set from there as the stars became clearer every minute. And that evening she thought to spend some time there contemplating what Grobschmied had told her. It was her favorite place to think outside of her bedroom.

So taking her father's wand as the sun began to set, she stepped outside and illuminated her wand, then she wandered past the cabins where she could see goblins and house-elves chatting or eating dinner through the lit windows, down the road to the dock.

It wasn’t that long of a walk. The dock, surrounded by trees like everything else, was maybe three hundred yards away from the Head’s cabin, distant enough for the cabin to be well hidden from the dock’s viewpoint. The dock was not a ship’s dock, though sometimes the goblins took boats out to the sea to catch fish. The dock was the only area on the island Portkeys could take people to. It was a special enchantment the goblins put on the place, so that people could Portkey out anywhere they wanted, but they could only arrive at the dock, and Apparition and Disapparition were impossible. It was a security measure. The dock was kept under constant surveillance, in case somebody unwanted appeared there. The guards, however, were accustomed to Lily’s sitting there occasionally and watching the sunset, so she would not be accosted as she arrived.

The last place she passed as she walked down the road toward the dock was a large clearing where lay the island cemetery. She visited that place at times when she really felt the need to be alone, the place where her father was buried.

As she passed, she thought she heard a scuffling inside the cemetery, and curious, she changed course and walked into the cemetery.

In the dim light of her wand, she could see something small and bent over scampering between the graves toward the largest grave in the site, Harry Potter’s grave, and she followed it until she was around ten feet away. The shadowy figure stopped in front of Harry's grave, then fell to its feet and began mumbling in a low, bullfrog voice. It was Kreacher.

“Why is Master doing this to Kreacher?” the elf wept. “Why does Master not release Kreacher from his bidding? Master is dead, Kreacher must go to Master’s daughter.”

Lily listened intently, watching the old elf sob on his former master’s headstone.

“Kreacher wants to go to Master’s daughter, Kreacher wants to go to Mistress Lily. Kreacher doesn’t want to be bound to a dead master. Not one that he cannot serve, not one whose orders Kreacher cannot hear. Master, why can Kreacher not go to your daughter?”

“Kreacher?”

Lily stepped forward, and the elf stopped crying. He looked up, and saw her approaching, and then got to his feet and bowed.

“Mistress Lily, what can Kreacher do for you?”

“Kreacher, are you all right?”

Kreacher did not answer, but instead looked at a point some five inches below her neck and said, “Mistress Lily has the talisman. Why did the goblin take it from Kreacher?”

“What is the matter, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher is frightened.”

“Why are you frightened?”

Kreacher’s eyes filled with tears again. He made a gurgling sound, and shook his tiny head hopelessly, but he did not answer.

“You can tell me, Kreacher,” said Lily in the most comforting voice she could assume.

“Kreacher does not know.”

“You don’t know why you are frightened?”

Kreacher choked, but did not answer.

“Does it have something to do with my father?”

Kreacher shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again.

“Can you not tell me?”

The elf shook his head sadly. Lily sighed. “Very well. Why don’t you return to the cabin and get some rest, Kreacher?”

“Thank you, Mistress Lily.”

Sobbing, the elf scurried off, leaving Lily in complete confusion.


Feedback: here

Chapter 5:

“News?”

“Our source has confirmed that the Order headquarters are in the area.”

“Figures. This is where their activity is most dense.”

“He also provided a list of people to keep an eye out for, which I have got for you here.”

“But he hasn’t given us the location?”

“No, he says that they have placed a Fidelius Charm on their headquarters, among other enchantments. You know the nature of the spell. We can only enter if he tricks the Secret-Keeper into telling.”

“Tell him that he had better provide it soon, or he’s a dead man. Still, it’s lead. And have you got anything further concerning this place, Goblynsrefuge?”

“The source says that Goblynsrefuge is the name of the location of the Partisans, and that we have to get through the Order Headquarters before reaching them.”

“Two birds with one stone, if he can get hold of the Order’s location.”

“That’s the end of the recording, Aberforth. There’s a leak in the Order. Whoever it is must have acted the moment Lupin told us that Amycus Carrow is in the area.”

“I’ll start sending out inquiries.”

“What of Goblynsrefuge?”

“The Partisans are well protected, but if security in the Order is breached, then their safety will be compromised. The fact that the Death Eaters now know this makes the situation even more dangerous.”

“What should I do?”

“Go to Goblynsrefuge and warn the Weasleys and Grobschmied. Tell them that they need to double security, and be prepared for the worst. And only tell the senior members of the Order. We don’t want the spy to be put on his guard.”




Over the next few weeks, senior members of the Order came to Goblynsrefuge and went incessently, including Lily’s uncles, Fred and George, but they never stayed long. Ever since Aberforth Dumbledore had sent Kingsley to warn them that there was a leak in the Order, Ron and Hermione had been tightening security and inspecting the island inhabitants, determined to be prepared for the worst. When they weren’t speaking with the Order visitors, they were shut up in their offices.

Grobschmied likewise was very busy. He, being in charge of the guard, doubled their watch, and had also personally taken up watch. He was out most of the day, and thus Lily’s lessons from him were put on hold until the leak was uncovered and stopped.

Meanwhile it was known that things were not going well within Europe. Three weeks after Kingsley’s visit, George returned briefly to inform them all that the Belgian Ministry had fallen, and that Voldemort was now exerting his forces against France. If the French were defeated, then there would be nothing to stop the Death Eaters from launching an assault upon Germany. With it now known that the Order’s headquarters were in Hesse, Voldemort would focus that assault upon that area. Along with trying to uncover the leak, the Order was at its wits end trying to help the French Ministry.

A month into this crisis, Remus Lupin turned up at Goblynsrefuge to speak to Ron and Hermione. Lily had to tell him that they were out enforcing the new security measures with Grobschmied, but that they would be back for lunch.

He sighed, and stretched on the sofa.

“So how’s it going?” he asked her sleepily.

“I feel like I’ve turned invisible lately," said Lily. "Ron and Hermione aren’t around except for mealtimes, and they’ve been really bad tempered. Grobschmied doesn’t have time for my lessons, and Firenze only occasionally.”

“I’m sorry about this,” said Lupin, shaking his head. “The safety of this island and of the Order headquarters is of vital importance at this time. I’m sure things will work out. So what have you been doing while you’ve been so discourteously ignored?”

“Mostly visiting Mum in the infirmary,” said Lily. “But that has lost its fun to. Mum, of course, isn’t much company, but Madam Pomphrey’s always welcoming. She, however, has been really busy lately as well, so I have to sit around and observe Mum.”

They sat in silence for a long time, until Lupin asked, “How is Ginny?”

“Same as always,” said Lily.

Lupin sighed again, and ran his fingers through his gray hair. “If there was a way to cure her, I’d do all I could to find it.”

“Maybe there is a way we haven’t discovered yet,” said Lily. “Remus, I haven’t told anybody this, but since you know seem to know the most about the Dark Arts, I thought I’d ask you. What happens to the soul when taken by a Dementor?”

Lupin was silent for a long time. Lily tapped her foot on the floor patiently, waiting for his answer, and finally, he said, “I don’t know really. As I told your father many years ago, the general assumption is that the soul is forever lost afterwards, and the victim has nothing left.”

Lily didn’t reply for a moment, but then she said, “Is emotion left behind at all?”

Lupin raised his eyebrows. “Are you implying something, Lily?”

“I’ve watched Mum in the infirmary all my life, Remus, and almost every time I visit, I swear I see some emotion in her face. It’s not obvious. It’s always brief, and it’s always subtle. But I keep seeing something cross her face.”

“You’re sure that you haven’t imagined this?”

“No, but answer my question. Do Dementor victims feel emotions?”

Lupin again sat in silence, for an even longer period, and eventually he said, “I don’t know if that has ever been looked into. Ginny’s mind is gone, but they say that emotion is something separate from the mind. Emotion is not rational, you know.”

The moment Lupin told her this, Lily proceeded to recount her musings of a month before, about emotion being part of the soul, and the possibility of revival if part of a victim’s soul was still in tact.

“Very philosophical, Lily,” said Lupin, smiling. “That had Firenze, Grobschmied, and your grandmother in that one sentence all at once.”

“Thanks,” said Lily sheepishly. “So, what do you think?”

“That it’s a good theory, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Lily smiled. At that moment, Ron and Hermione walked in through the front door.
“Remus!” Ron greeted, entering the sitting room and clapping Lupin’s shoulder. “When did you get here?”

“About half an hour ago.” Lupin stood, smiling grimly at Ron and Hermione. “Aberforth sent me. I have something to report.”

“Not bad news, is it?” asked Ron.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Aberforth thought you should be informed, though.”

“My office then,” said Hermione, looking exhausted. The three of them quitted the room.
Lily hesitated, then she ran into the kitchen and opened the cabinet to retrieve a glass. Then she followed the adults upstairs to Hermione’s office. The door had been bewitched to prevent eavesdropping, but this time the walls, rather than the door, would have ears. Lily placed the cup on the wall, then pressed her ear to it to hear Ron speaking.

“And have any of the Order spoken to this wizard?”

“No, but there have been several sightings.”

“You’re sure it was the Killing Curse that Dolohov hit him with? Harry was the only person who ever survived that curse,” said Hermione.

“And that was under special circumstances,” Ron added.

“Why haven’t we heard of this yet?” asked Hermione, sounding annoyed. “If this happened over a month ago…”

“Aberforth thought it immaterial, or else he thought, like you, that it wasn’t the Killing Curse I saw him use. It was only after the last sighting that he thought you should be notified.”

“I don’t blame him really,” said Ron. “Even Harry wasn’t untouched by the Killing Curse when he was a baby. His scar was proof of that. Who’s ever heard of someone who isn’t affected, even slightly, by the Unforgivables? It’s air-brained, and far-fetched.”

“What is Mistress Lily doing?”

Lily jumped about a foot in the air, and looked down to see Kreacher watching her curiously. Lily shushed him, and tried to listen again, but there was no sound in the office.

“Kreacher apologizes for disturbing Mistress,” croaked the elf.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Mistress,’ Kreacher,” said Lily.

Kreacher nodded. Lily sighed, and then stepped away from the wall. “Kreacher, could you take this down to the kitchen?”

“Does Mistr… does Lily want some water?”

“No thanks, Kreacher, just put it away for me.”

Kreacher bowed, took the glass, and scurried away. Once he had gone, Lily crossed the hall to her room and sat on her bed, musing over what she had overheard.

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Chapter 5 (continued):

Dinner that evening was quiet. Ron, Grobschmied, and Firenze had been shut up in Hermione’s office since Lupin had returned to the Order, and only Hermione and Dobby came down to eat once Kreacher and another house-elf had finished cooking. Kreacher left to take the rest of the meal to the others upstairs, and half an hour went by with hardly a word, until finally Dobby excused himself and left the subdued atmosphere.

Kreacher had not returned, so Lily took up her dishes and put them in the sink, which was then filled with soapy water. Hermione did the same, and as they washed their dishes in silence, until Lily asked, “Who survived the Killing Curse?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Were you eavesdropping? I thought I’d bewitched that door.”

Lily smiled innocently. “You didn’t bewitch the walls.”

Hermione snorted. “The glass trick, huh? Fred and George are going to want to hear about this one.”

She was quiet for a minute, and then she answered Lily’s question. “We don’t know who exactly. I’m still a bit skeptical about it. It sounds more like the kind of thing that Luna comes up with.”

“But Luna has been right before. It’s not as far-fetched as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Has she found one yet?”

Hermione laughed in response. “So, how are you taking to Kreacher? Is he as horrible as you initially thought?”

“No, just senile, I think.” Lily thought back to the encounter in the cemetery, and Kreacher’s odd behavior.

Hermione shook her head, still smiling, then her smile faded and she ran her hand through her bushy hair, her face screwed up in thought.

“What’s up?” asked Lily.

“Just thinking about Kreacher,” said Hermione. “Ron and I still can’t work out why he didn’t return immediately after Harry’s death. Like I said, Kreacher should have passed on to you instantly.”

“Did you try asking him?” asked Lily.

“Of course, but he just kept babbling about that pendant.” Hermione nodded at the little dragon hanging around Lily’s neck. “He kept saying that he couldn’t let it be destroyed. As if that was what we were planning.”

“He really wants it back,” said Lily quietly. “He just has this unhealthy obsession with it, almost like he’s soul-bound to it.”

“Grobschmied says that’s why he took it from him and gave it to you,” said Hermione. “Kreacher won’t try to take it if it’s in your possession.”

Lily nodded. They stood in silence for a moment, then Hermione asked Lily what she was thinking about. In response, Lily described Kreacher’s behavior at the foot of Harry’s grave. “He seemed to think he was still bound to Dad. ‘Why does Master not release Kreacher from his bidding, Kreacher does not want to be bound to a dead Master.’ Can you explain that?”

Hermione was staring at her, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“I… cannot,” she admitted. “Even an elf as old and senile as Kreacher would know when he is bound to a new master. Magic binds them to a wizard or witch, and they are fully aware of when they are passed to another. Kreacher shouldn’t feel bound to Harry at all. He should have passed to you.”

“I gathered that,” said Lily. “But if it is true--”

“—and it shouldn’t be,” said Hermione.

“—then it would certainly explain why it took so long for Kreacher to come here.”

“Hypothetically, if he is still somehow still bound to Harry, then he could only have come here on Harry’s orders,” said Hermione.

“Then he probably only thinks he’s bound to Harry.”

“Yes, that should be the case.”

Lily shook her head. “This is even better than anything Luna thinks up.”

Hermione did not laugh. She didn’t even appear to hear Lily. She was staring out the window, again deep in thought. It was very quiet for a minute, before Hermione dried the sauce pan she had just washed and sighed. “Why don’t you let me finish and go read a book or something? It’s almost time for bed anyway.”

Lily nodded, and did so.



“You’re sure of this?”

“I have no doubt.”

“That will interest the Dark Lord. Where is the girl?”

“Hidden by the Order. The spy says that he thinks she’s with the Partisans.”

“All the more reason to find the Order’s headquarters.”

“He’s working on it. I’m sure we’ll have them soon.”

Feedback

Chapter 6

The elderly house-elf still had no answers, and for what must have been at least the fiftieth time sice he returned to Goblynsrefuge, he made his way to the cemetery, to the gravestone of his master, hoping to be given an answer, hoping to finally be released to the red-haired daughter.

But for naught. He stood there for several hours, begging, sobbing, muttering, but his dead master gave no answers. Eventually the sun began to set and Kreacher remembered that he had promised to help Dobby make Lily's dinner, so he quitted the cemetery.

He stepped out just as a goblin led the red-haired twins down the path to the Heads' cabin, and Kreacher followed them.

Ten minutes later, Fred and George Weasley were shown into the cabin and into Hermione's office, and Kreacher wandered to the kitchen to start boiling the water.

He had just finished making the noodles when Fred and George came back down the stairs, followed closely by Ron and Hermione.

"When are they arriving?" asked Hermione in an urgent voice.

"Hopefully they'll all be here by morning," George answered. "Tell Grobschmied to keep all the junior members watched, until we find the git who betrayed us."

"By morning?" repeated Ron, looking horrified.

"Be prepared for a long night, little bro," said Fred. "And say hello to Lily for us. Tell her that we've got more methods of eavesdropping if she needs them."

Ron scowled as the twins departed.



Silver strands were swirling in the basin.

George Weasley almost broke down the door at Grimmauld Place that night in his desperation. His shouts echoed down the hallway, waking Mrs. Black, and her screams began.

"Filth! Mudbloods! Get out of this house! How dare you sully the Black residence!"

A nineteen-year-old Ginny Weasley ran down the hallway, drawing her wand.

"Stupefy!" she shouted, and Mrs. Black slumped in her portrait, unconscious, at exactly the moment that Lupin and George came burst through the opposite door.

"They"ve killed Rufus Scrimgeour!" cried George. "And they're storming the Ministry!"

"But Dad and Percy are there!" Ginny yelped as Fred ran in from the kitchen in response to George's words.

"We've got to help them!" he said. "We've got to get them out of there!"

The strands swirled more quickly, and the scene changed.

Molly Weasley's wails pierced the kitchen walls as Aberforth approached. He opened the kitchen door to see her at the table, sobbing out her despair. Ginny was at her side with her arms around her shoulders, her eyes red, and her hair disheveled. Fred and George stood nearby, their clothes torn, their faces pale under the bruises they had recently received. Fred had a bleeding gash running from his temple down his cheek, but he hardly seemed to notice it. Both were covered with blood.

"He got the Ministry then." Aberforth spoke in a low, serious voice.

Fred nodded, unable to speak. Aberforth looked around at the three siblings and their mother.

"Who was it?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"Dad, Percy, and Bill," George answered in a choked voice.

Aberforth lowered his head solemnly. Mrs. Weasley's cries grew louder and more desperate, and Ginny buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Nodding to the twins, Aberforth quitted the room to leave the family to be alone together.

This scene faded out, and a new srand was added.

"What are we going to do?" asked Lupin, his eyes fixed on Aberforth. Tonks was at his side, her hair slowly turning black, and the blood draining from her face, making her look like a goth.

"We can hardly operate here with Voldemort running Britain now," said Tonks. Aberforth nodded sadly to the truth of her statement.

"We're going to have to relocate," said Aberforth.

"Where to? The only place as protected as Grimmauld Place is Hogwarts, and it was taken over with the Ministry."

Aberforth ran his fingers through his gray hair, thinking hard. Then he said slowly, "There is a place... which Albus enchanted himself many years ago..."

"Where is it?" asked Lupin.

"It's in Germany," said Aberforth. "Al and I used to hide out there when we were fighting Grindelwald. Even Grindelwald never found it, so I hardly think that Voldemort would, and since it is on the continent... I think it would be safer to operate outside of Britain. Perhaps we could speak to foreign Ministries, and try to gain their support."

Lupin nodded, and Tonks stood to inform the other senior members.


Aberforth stepped away from the Pensieve and sighed. That was nineteen years ago. For nineteen years, the Order of the Phoenix had operated in Albus's old hideout, and now they were going to have to relocate again. Two months ago the leak in the Order was discovered. One day ago the location of the Order was stolen.

He had written it on a card which he had planned to give to Hans Gutenburg, the German Minister of Magic. In the few minutes that he and Lupin got ready to leave for Berlin, the card disappeared from his desk.

They would take no risks. They had to leave the hiding place immediately. After quick plans were made, Lupin departed to Berlin with a Port-ring to Goblynsrefuge instead. The Order was to temporarily stay there until new headquarters could be found.

It was done quickly and without hesitation. Fred and George had gone to Goblynsrefuge first to inform the Partisans what was going on, and then they returned to help Tonks get all the members out of the hideout. Fred returned briefly to inform Aberforth that Lupin had arrived at Goblynsrefuge, and then left with the box of Port-rings. They would leave nothing behind, no chance of the Death Eaters reaching Goblynsrefuge as well.

And now Aberforth remained behind at Albus's old Pensieve, sifting through the memories, trying to remember. He had already gone through all the recent memories in search of something out of place, trying to figure out who betrayed them.

He got no answers. For this, the Partisans agreed to not let a single member of the Order depart from Goblynsrefuge until the traitor was found. All the junior members were to be closely watched, and all the senior members were to be kept under top security. Just like last time.

There was a loud bang from downstairs. Silently, Aberforth drew up the memories and placed them in glass vials. He put these in his bag. Then he carefully put the Pensieve in its case and took hold of the handle.

He slipped the Port-ring onto his finger and felt the jerk behind his navel at exactly the same moment that the Blackrobes burst into the room, and was gone.
Feedback

Chapter 7:

Sleep was not something to come by the night Fred and George turned up to inform Ron and Hermione that the Order was relocating. Lily had spent the night helping the senior Order members find rooms in the Head cabin, putting sheets on the beds, helped by Kreacher, who made himself useful by cleaning out the rooms. Grobschmied was out the entire night, doubling security and preparing the other goblins for any possible struggles. Firenze had galloped off into the forest to speak to the other centaurs. Ron and Dobby, on the other hand, ended up running around like chickens with their heads cut off, finding places for the rest of the Order to stay, even after Lupin said that the Order would be happy to stay in tents outside if they must.

Hermione, meanwhile, stayed in the cabin and did what she could to enlarge the sitting room and the kitchen, helped by Fred and George and by goblin elders who knew the island’s enchantments back to front.

By the time the sun rose, tempers were running high, and Grobschmied finally collapsed on a couch and remained motionless. Hermione, her eyes sunken, gave him a sleeping draught, and then Ron burst in through the door and pounded the table, his face an odd gray color, and started complaining loudly about Aberforth and incompetence. In response, Lupin had snapped at Ron angrily, and the two of them started yelling at each other until George steered Lupin into an armchair and Hermione led Ron upstairs to their bedroom to cool down and get some sleep.

Dobby entered a few minutes later, almost in tears, and he curled up on a couch, between Fred and George, the former of whom was snoring loudly, and the latter swearing. After this, Lily sat down to eat breakfast that Kreacher had prepared for her, but she had hardly taken two bites of her porridge when, without warning, she dropped off to sleep, her face narrowly missing the bowl.

This was the state which the house was in when Aberforth found them. He entered to see them all, and Lupin looked from where he had been glaring at the ceiling, and said, “I wouldn’t look for Ron right now, he’s not happy with you.”

“That’s to be expected,” sighed the other. “What about Hermione?”

“Comforting Ron, I expect,” grumbled Lupin. “And as you can see, Grobschmied and Dobby aren’t exactly available for discussion.”

“What about Firenze?” asked Aberforth.

“Don’t know where he is,” Lupin answered. “Hasn’t come back from the forest.”

Aberforth grunted, and a minute later Hermione came back down the stairs.

“Oh,” she said, when she saw Aberforth. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” he answered.

“And the Order headquarters?” she asked.

“Taken,” he answered. Hermione nodded sadly.

“They weren’t going to wait to get it,” she said. “Have you found out who betrayed you?”

Aberforth shook his head. “Nor can I think of a place to permanently relocate to, but even if I had, that is out of the question until we find the double agent.”

Hermione nodded again, then she asked him to put off discussing this until everybody had some time to sleep. Aberforth agreed, and Hermione went upstairs to bed.



Ron and Grobschmied were still feeling resentful toward Aberforth that evening, even after they had all slept and Firenze returned from the forest. But when Aberforth suggested eating dinner in the sitting room where they could discuss the latest happenings, they had no objection, and nodded curtly.

Much to her delight, Lily was allowed to attend this meeting, and she sat between Hermione and Dobby on one of the couches, across the room from where Ron, Fred, and George sat on the other couch. On the third couch which Hermione had put into the enlarged sitting room sat Lupin and Tonks, and Grobschmied was still half-asleep in the armchair. Firenze stood next to Aberforth by the fireplace, which was emitting the only noise in the room apart from the noises Kreacher and another house-elf were making in the kitchen.

Once dinner was served, Aberforth started to speak.

“Well, the Sorcerer’s Hollow, our headquarters, was taken by Death Eaters early this morning,” he said gravely. Nobody replied, and he turned to Lupin, Fred, and George, and asked them if everything was accounted for.

“Nothing was left behind,” said Lupin.

“From the Port-rings to those stupid magazines that Claude Weasley used to read,” added Tonks.

“Hey, some of the ideas in those magazines were our own!” said Fred in mock offense, waving his fork at Tonks.

“Yeah, and you yourselves said that they were your stupidest ideas,” retorted Tonks.

“So nothing was left behind,” said Aberforth. “That is good. Lupin, did you get the Port-ring to Minister Gutenburg?”

Lupin nodded. “He’ll arrive here himself as soon as he can sort out some problem he’s got with the Ministry lawyers, probably tomorrow some time.”

“Good. It’s about time we got this meeting over with. Now we must get to the next items of business. Firenze, what is going on with the centaurs?”

“They’re preparing themselves,” said Firenze quietly. “They’ll be patrolling the roads, and they have started making armor and weapons. If the Death Eaters get into Goblynsrefuge, they want to be the first to waylay them.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility of them getting here?” asked Lily. “I thought you said that you’d left nothing behind.”

“No, but if there is a spy among us, and he manages to get out with Goblynsrefuge Port-rings, the game will be up,” said Aberforth.

“I’ve asked the other goblins to keep a close watch on all the junior members of the Order,” said Grobschmied sleepily. “They’ll report to me immediately if they suspect something.”

“And the house-elves?” asked Hermione.

“Also keeping a close watch on the junior members,” said Dobby.

“Good.”

Aberforth nodded at them all, then said, “I guess we had better start talking about the situation then. I’ve asked Lupin to begin searching for a safe place to relocate to as soon as we can, but I’m going to be spending time with Minister Gutenburg a lot of the time. He wants to speak to one of the Partisans too, if there is any among you who can act as a representative.”

He looked at the Partisans, and one by one, they all looked at Grobschmied, who groaned and started to feign sleep.

“I guess that’s settled then,” said Aberforth simply, then he added to Grobschmied, “You won’t have to be meeting with Gutenburg twenty-four seven, you know. Most likely no more than once a week.”

Grobschmied merely grunted in displeasure.

“So how is the situation at present?” asked Ron.

“The Death Eaters are still mostly concentrated in Belgium and the Netherlands, and they’re still putting their efforts on France,” said Fred.

“How far have they gotten by the last report?” asked Hermione.

“George just found out that they’ve taken Amiens and are about to press in on Rouen,” Fred answered.

“Damn,” Ron growled.

“That’s far too close to Paris,” said Grobschmied, who stopped feigning sleep and looked at the twins urgently. “Paris is the center of French culture and society, and if it is taken, France will fall.”

“And we all know the result if the French are defeated,” said George, examining his spoonful of peas thoughtfully. “The least we can say is that while Voldemort has recruited some of their numbers, the French wizards are, for the most part, being quite stubborn.”

“The French are really patriotic, you know,” said Fred, smiling. “A lot of their fighters are only motivated by their belief in French superiority. They’d die rather than allow France to fall into the control of a British wizard.”

“Vive de Gaulle, and all that,” said George.

“Who?” asked Ron, clueless.

“French Muggle,” said Fred. “Politician and war hero, had a nose about the same size as Snape's.”

“But the Death Eaters are getting relentless,” said George seriously. “They’ve recruited enough of the French to spread heavy propaganda, just like they did in Belgium and the Netherlands. The French Ministry is doing all it can…”

He shrugged helplessly. For a while, the whole group sat in silence, until Aberforth spoke up again. “Gutenburg has spoken to the German Prime Minister, and both are doing all they can to fortify Germany’s borders. But, as we all know, some Blackrobe spies are already inside.”

“Thankfully, they’ve been distracted by that knight thing, Gepanzertzauberer, as the countryfolk have started calling him,” said Lupin. “From all I can tell, the Blackrobes are terrified of him.”

“No surprise,” said Ron, before he stuffed an entire potato in his mouth.

“You still haven’t found him?” asked Hermione, shooting her husband a disgusted look.

“No, but I hope to speak to him if I get the chance,” said Lupin. “The German countrymen are getting restless in that area, both wizard and Muggle. What with the Blackrobe activity and Gepanzertzauberer…”

“It’s frustrating business,” said Aberforth. The rest of the meeting consisted of agreeing on certain political courses of action that Lily found rather tedious. The others continued to eat their supper in silence as one spoke, and Grobschmied fell asleep again.

The meeting concluded, and the others got up to put their dishes away. Lily got up, and the pendant hung from her neck as she bent over to pick up her dishes. Aberforth caught sight of it.

“What’s that, Lily?” he asked, pointing.

“This?” Lily took off the pendant, and showed him. Aberforth took it, and Lily was surprised to see his jaw drop and his face turn as white as a sheet.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Grobschmied took it from Kreacher when he turned up,” said Lily. “Why?”

“Did Kreacher say where he got it?” asked Aberforth.

“No, but he really wants it back,” said Lily simply. “For some reason Grobschmied doesn’t want him to have it.”

Aberforth nodded. “I don’t think Grobschmied knows what that pendant is, but he’ll know its worth. Now could you find Kreacher? I must speak to him immediately.”

Lily nodded and called the aged elf. He was at her side in moments.

“Does Lily need something?” Kreacher asked.

“Aberforth has something to ask you,” said Lily, indicating the old wizard. Kreacher looked, and he lifted his hand to his mouth and chewed on his fingernails as he saw the pendant in Aberforth’s hand.

“What does sir want with the talisman?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“Kreacher, where did you get this?” asked Aberforth.

“Tell him the truth, Kreacher,” said Lily.

Kreacher looked from her to Aberforth, before he said, “Kreacher found it.”

“Is that all?” asked Aberforth disbelievingly.

“Tell him the truth,” repeated Lily.

Kreacher looked at her again, and tears leaked from his eyes, before he spoke quietly.

“It was about four years after Master died, Kreacher was afraid that he’d have to go to Mistress Bellatrix, filthy Death Eater, so he fled after Master died,” the elf whimpered. “One day, Kreacher saw Death Eaters fighting two dragons, and he saw the talisman fall to the ground while they were fighting, and Kreacher picked it up when they weren’t looking. The dragons killed the Death Eaters and flew away, and Kreacher left with the talisman.”

Aberforth’s eyes were very wide, and his face turned, if it was possible, even paler. “Two dragons?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh my God,” whispered Aberforth.

“Aberforth?” asked Lily, staring at him. He didn’t answer, but still stared from Kreacher to the pendant, looking absolutely shocked. Then he gulped, and said, “Lily, I’m going to have to examine this.”

“What is that pendant?” asked Lily, worried about Aberforth’s reaction.

“Lily, don’t tell anyone else about this pendant,” said Aberforth. “Tell the others here that it must be kept a secret.”

“But what is it?” asked Lily, now feeling positively alarmed. Aberforth shook his head, then he hurried away to the room Lily had prepared for him that morning.

Lily looked at Kreacher, who looked back at her, his wrinkled face twisted into a mixture of anger and confusion.
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Chapter 8:

Aberforth Dumbledore gave no visible sign that Lily had shown him anything more than one of Grobschmied’s history books, after he had taken the pendant and hidden it somewhere upstairs. He talked and laughed with the others, and he met with the senior Order members to discuss the relocation, but Lily knew it was a mask. She had heard him pacing around his room every evening since that night, or else murmering unintelligible incantations. Lily didn’t know what to make of it, but she could not forget Aberforth’s unexpected reaction when he first beheld the pendant. But she knew better than to press the matter.

The following Monday marked Grobschmied’s two hundred and twenty-fifth birthday, which allowed him some awe-stricken comments from younger Order members, which in its turn caused the other goblins to roll their eyes or simply look confused. Lily had asked Kreacher to provide Grobschmied with a celebratory breakfast, but the elf had barely gotten the eggs and sausages on the table before one of the guards appeared at the front door accompanied by a messanger from Minister Gutenburg. He would be arriving at Goblynsrefuge in half an hour with a request for an interview with Aberforth and with the Partisan representative.

“But we scheduled for tomorrow!” Aberforth replied in some surprise. The messenger shrugged and took his leave.

“Pleasant manners,” said Grobschmied irritably.

“Did I just hear right?” asked George. “A Minister of Magic, a German one at that, changing the time of his meeting without notice?”

“Percy would have had a heart attack at the thought,” Fred remarked.

Grobschmied grumbled, then he stood and gathered his hat and coat, before sidling out the door closely followed by a bewildered looking Aberforth. Ron grunted, and then asked Kreacher to find a way to keep the eggs warm.

True to his word, Gutenburg arrived at exactly a half hour after the messenger’s arrival. Lily had gotten a glimpse of him when Grobschmied and Aberforth returned closely followed by a tall, balding man in violet robes which bore a coat of arms with the German eagle, and he gave Lily and Hermione a cordial bow before following the representatives upstairs.

Gutenburg departed for Berlin an hour after this event, allowing Grobschmied to finish his long awaited breakfast and Aberforth to relate the meeting with the others. For the most part, it was a tedious discourse on the activity of German Aurors and other soldiers placed around the borders and in the cities, and also concerned a project involved making magical weapons that the Muggle armies could use.

“But we sometimes used perfectly ordinary Muggle weapons while Harry was running the Partisans,” Ron had replied to this piece of news. “They were effective.”

“Yes, because the Death Eaters had no idea what they were or how they worked, but now they’ll be expecting that,” Aberforth retorted. “Those particular weapons also are disruptive, highly conspicuous, and cause panic.”

The more interesting and worrisome elements of Gutenburg’s discussion concerned an election that the German wizards were scheduled to have. It was Gutenburg’s last term, and he was to be succeeded by one of two officials: his secretary, Hermann Fodermaier, or the opposing candidate.

“His name is Otto Hesse,” said Grobschmied, “and it is a well-established fact that he distrusts Muggles. Apparently his parents were unwary victims in a street shooting when he was sixteen, and naturally, that affected his ideals.”

“Would Hesse allow Voldemort to take Germany if coerced?” asked Ron, looking worried. Aberforth replied that there was no way of knowing, but Gutenburg definetely didn’t trust Hesse, and Ron said, “Surely the Germans wouldn’t vote for him?”

“It’s hard to say,” Aberforth replied sullenly. “We distrust Hesse, but I know for a fact that Fodermaier is as disliked by the German wizards as Hesse. I’d hate to say it, but we’ll just have to wait and see.”

On a lighter note, Aberforth added that Gutenburg had expressed a desire to aid them in their search for new headquarters. When Lupin frowned and asked if Aberforth had agreed, he replied with a smile, “On the understanding that I provide the expenses.”

Fred, George, Ron, and Tonks sniggered appreciatively when they had heard that comment. Having had a thorough distrust of politicians in general ever since Cornelius Fudge was Minister of Magic, the Order was not going to risk getting sucked into a government’s corruption, and Gutenburg probably wanted an influencial position over the Order. Compared to the diplomacy of Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour, this was rather decent, but still unacceptable.




As Ron and Hermione put it, Aberforth’s behavior for the next few weeks echoed that of his brother when he started leaving for days at a time. After three weeks of this, Ron and Lupin finally sat Aberforth down and asked him what he was doing, and the latter answered in vague terms that irritated the other two.

“Aberforth, we trust you, but some among us would appreciate knowing why you keep leaving Goblynsrefuge with such little notice,” Lupin said angrily.

“I’ve told you, I’m putting some effort into finding new headquarters,” Aberforth snapped in reply, causing Ron to snort indignantly.

“You could tell us that much or bring one of us along,” he said, “if that was all you have been doing. We’re not intelligence cases, Aberforth. What are you up to?”

Aberforth hesitated, then he answered, “I can’t tell you.”

“We are privy to anything that has to do with Voldemort,” Ron snapped. “Your brother told Harry about Voldemort’s Horcruxes without a thought, but you can’t tell us what you’re up to?”

“I don’t know that this has anything to do with Voldemort,” said Aberforth.

“And if it does?” asked Lupin.

“If it does have anything to do with Voldemort, then this war runs much deeper and thicker than a wizards’ war,” said Aberforth angrily. “Please stop badgering me about this. I am not at liberty to tell you.”

“Ron,” said Lily from the couch, cutting off Ron’s retort before it came. “I believe him. Please don’t.”

Ron opened his mouth and shut it again, his face scarlet, then stormed upstairs, followed by Lupin. Aberforth turned to Lily and thanked her, then he went upstairs too. Lily was thus left alone in the sitting room, and feeling a bit lonely, she got up and decided to visit Ginny.

Along the way there, as she passed some newly constructed cabins, she stopped as she heard a voice calling out her name. In response, she turned, and caught sight of a tall, red haired man in blue robes waving at her eagerly.

“Claude Weasley,” she greeted, smiling at her older cousin. “Where have you been lately?”

“They won’t let the junior members anywhere near the Head cabin,” he answered, rolling his eyes in the direction of the goblin guards, who were watching him closely.

“But you’re a Weasley,” said Lily, confused. “You’re uncles are all senior members, and so was your father.”

Claude shrugged, and spared the guards a nervous glance. “It’s not like the goblins suspect me, or anything. They’re keeping a close watch on all of us. Where are you off to, anyway?”

“To visit my Mum,” said Lily. “There’s not much else to do right now.”

“Can I come?” asked Claude. “I’ve always wanted to meet Aunt Ginny.”

“She doesn’t make much company,” said Lily, shaking her head.

“But you still visit her,” the other replied.

“She’s my Mum, even in her condition.” Lily shook her head. “I don’t know about this, Madam Pomphrey might not approve.”

Claude nodded in acceptance.

“Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow?” asked Lily. “I’m sure Ron or Grobschmied could persuade the guards to allow you there, since you’re a Weasley.”

“Thank you, I’d like that,” said Claude happily, then he took his leave when one of the goblins grunted in a threatening sort of way. Lily turned and continued down the road.

Madam Pomphrey wasn’t in the infirmary. Lily supposed that she had to run an errand as she looked down the room on the second floor, which was empty except for Ginny. Lily hesitated, then she sat next to her mother and took her hand.

“Ron’s not too happy with Aberforth,” Lily said to Ginny quietly. As usual, Ginny gave no response. “He keeps disappearing, and Ron wants to know what Aberforth’s up to.”

Lily paused, wondering why she was speaking to her mother, who couldn’t possibly acknowledge her daughter’s presence, but it helped to voice her concerns.

“He looked so scared when he saw the pendant.” Lily looked at her mother’s glazed eyes. “Like he had seen it before, and didn’t want to see it again. What is that pendant, Mum?”

Ginny still had no answer.

“Aberforth thinks that we don’t know something’s up, but I hear him every night pacing around his rooms, and I’m sure he spends hours messing around with that Pensieve.” Lily’s grip on her mother’s hand tightened. “And Kreacher still goes off to the cemetery to cry on Dad’s grave. Is Kreacher really still bound to Dad?” Ginny was as silent as ever, and Lily sighed bitterly. “Where are you, Mum?”

Ginny’s breathing sped up for a moment, and Lily could have sworn she saw her face turn a fraction of an inch in her direction. Lily stared at her mother for quite some time after that, until a slam from downstairs announced Madam Pomphrey’s return. Lily started, then whispered, “Thanks for listening,” before taking leave.

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Chapter 9:

It had been sixteen years since both of them were all in one piece.

Now that he had Ginny Potter’s mind with him, his next step was to locate the rest of her. Invius knew where those remnants must be, but getting there was a different question entirely. Goblynsrefuge was a well-protected place, and all means of transport would fail. Portkeys were no good for transporting a phantom, and Apparition to that island was impossible.

There was an alternative, and it depended on their relocation, for then they would come closer to Invius than was possible for him to draw closer to them.



He landed on the dock and the goblin guards nodded to him and let him through. The forest was very dark, except for the lanterns the goblins and elves had lit along the main path, and for the moonlight that sometimes broke through the trees’ filtering branches.

There had not yet been any luck with the mission yet, though Aberforth thought he was getting closer to finding a suitable place for new headquarters. It was a small glen in the Swiss Alps, which could prove to be a sufficient place to build a base and place enchantments without detection.

But the enchantments would be a difficulty. The Order had never really had to place protective enchantments itself other than the Fidelius Charm. Grimmauld Place had already been placed under heavy spells by the Black family. Hogwarts, of course, had held a combination of enchantments wrought by the Founders and by Albus. And the Sorcerer’s Hollow was protected by magic cast by Albus in the days of Grindelwald.

Unfortunately, nobody in the Order was quite sure what spells the Blacks had used, the Founders had used magic that was unknown, and nobody in the Order could ever have the same powers that Albus had held.

Instinctively Aberforth’s hand closed tightly around the pendant.

It was very late. When he pushed the cabin door open he found that al the lights were out except a lamp in the sitting room, where he caught sight of Grobschmied asleep on the couch with a book on his leg. Upon Aberforth’s entrance, Grobschmied stirred and opened his eyes blearily.

“Have you had any luck?” he asked as he removed his spectacles to rub his eyes.

Aberforth lowered himself into another armchair. “I think we may have found a place,” he said, “but there’s still the matter of building and enchanting, and also of finding that spy.”

“I’m afraid we’ve got no new leads there. The guards are doing their best, but whoever it is very clever indeed.” Grobschmied shook his head wearily, then glanced down at Aberforth’s clenched fist. “What’s that in your hand?”

Aberforth hesitated, then he opened his fist to show the pendant. The goblin raised his eyebrows.

“You still have yet to explain why you hold such an interest in that thing.”

Aberforth did not answer.

“But I believe you’ve seen it before,” Grobschmied continued, watching the other very closely. “I also believe that you know what it is, or something about it that the rest of us don’t.”

Aberforth grunted. “Please don’t ask any questions.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Why did you confiscated it from Kreacher, anyway?”

“I recognized that symbol,” Grobschmied replied simply. “It’s an ancient one, which has been used by Gringotts goblins for centuries. They usually didn’t let on how they managed to control the Gringotts dragons, but I believe that the sight of that symbol seemed to pacify the dragons a little. All the goblins would do was draw the symbol and show it to those dragons, and the dragons would permit them to pass.”

“That is very interesting,” Aberforth replied curtly, “but that pendant is not Gringotts property.”

“I know it isn’t,” said Grobschmied. “You’re reaction confirms it, and also, this pendant was not crafted by goblins.”

It was Aberforth’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “How do you know that?”

Grobschmied took the pendant and looked at it closely. “It is of fine workmanship, but the skill by which it was made, and the properties the metal contains, they are not of goblin blacksmithing. Whoever crafted this pendant, Aberforth, must be a powerful being.”

Aberforth didn’t speak. It was very quiet for a few minutes, and Aberforth wondered if Grobschmied had fallen asleep, but then he was surprised by a question:

"Can I see the pendant for a minute?"



Ron and Hermione were very pleased to allow Claude Weasley to visit them occasionally, and therefore they prevailed upon Grobschmied to ask the goblin guards to grant him this privilege. It was done, and the guards were willing to let Claude out of their sight once in a while, much to his delight. The quarantine that the goblins had put on all the Order was strict and overwhelming, and Claude seemed to enjoy the company of his family, away from the guards.

He only ever knew his mother, Fleur Weasley, and she unfortunately was killed in the last confrontation with Voldemort. Thus Claude was left an orphan at a very young age. Fred and George had looked after him as often as they could, but since they were the most experienced with negotiating, both twins were abroad a lot. Therefore Claude really had been raised by the whole Order, babysat by one member or the other, until he turned eleven and was sent to Beauxbatons for his education.

Claude’s life at Beauxbatons sparked great curiosity in Lily, who’s education was through the tutoring of Firenze, Grobschmied, and Hermione. She had never been to any sort of school and therefore she asked her cousin all sorts of questions when he visited.

“How many people were studying with you at Beauxbatons?” she asked, to which Claude had replied that there must have been at least five hundred.

“Five hundred?” repeated Lily in amazement. “Five hundred other witches and wizards, your age, studying with you?”

“You have been sheltered here at Goblynsrefuge for too long, Lily,” said Claude in some amusement. “If you weren’t Harry Potter’s daughter, I’m sure you would have been sent to Beauxbatons or some other wizarding school as well, and you’d know that it’s actually quite normal for one to be surrounded by others his age of his kind.”

“Is there a problem with my upbringing?” Lily asked, pretending to be irritated.

“Absolutely not! Actually I envy you.” Claude grinned at his cousin. “Growing up away from a pressing society, not knowing too many people. You enjoy a small town life, having grown up with the Order and the Partisans, and their children. It is quiet here, this island is quite lovely, but the school life is noisy and enclosed, and quite frankly, I don’t like the architecture at Beauxbatons.”

Ron sniggered. “Fleur would have passed out if she heard you say that.”

Claude shrugged. Then he turned to Ron, and asked, “Has Dumbledore found new headquarters yet?”

Ron related to Claude what Aberforth had told them that morning, that he had found a good place, but that it wasn’t ready yet.

“And, of course, we’re not leaving until you find the git that sold us out,” said Claude.

“Right in one,” said Fred.

“So what’s Dumbledore been doing lately, if he’s found a place to relocate to?”

Ron scowled and Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment a noise shook the room, filling the cabin and crashing upon their eardrums.



Aberforth jumped and Grobschmied pulled the pendant back from Ginny Potter’s chest and dropped it in astonishment. The pendant was pulsating loudly, vibrating on the floor, emitting the sound one hears when blood pounds through his years under pressure.

Madam Pomfrey ran from her office the moment it started, and she stared from Aberforth and Grobschmied to the pendant on the floor as the sound grew louder. She opened her mouth to shout at them, to ask them what was going on, to say anything, but words failed her. Aberforth gaped at the pendant, unable to take his eyes off it, until Madam Pomfrey suddenly gasped and Grobschmied prodded him and pointed at Ginny. Aberforth looked at her and was astonished to see that her face had lit up with an expression none of them had seen for sixteen years. It was the expression they had all seen when Ginny was with Harry, when she was talking to him or laughing with him.

The pulse faded a minute later, as did the intensity of the happiness that Ginny was expressing, but she was still smiling, and her eyes were less glazed than they had been since the Dementor attack.



“What the bloody-hell was that?” Ron exclaimed, causing Hermione to reprimand him for his language.

Nobody answered. They all were looking around the cabin in astonishment, trying to discern where the source of the sound was, but it seemed impossible. That pulse seemed to come from everywhere.

A minute later, George Weasley walked through the front door, and asked, “Did any of you hear that heartbeat?”

Fred nodded. “I think everyone around here did.”

Lily and Tonks stood and walked to the front window, and looked outside. Indeed, lots of people, goblins, centaurs, elves, wizards, could be seen gathering on the road, looking around in bewilderment.

“Is that Aberforth down there?” asked Tonks, squinting down the path. Lily followed her gaze and saw that not only was Aberforth making his way up the path, but also Grobschmied. As they came closer, Lily thought she saw odd looks of satisfaction in their faces.

A minute later, both of them came through the front door. Tonks opened her mouth to speak, but Aberforth held up his hand and said, “We need to discuss something upstairs, and Grobschmied also wants Lily there. Claude, off you go.”

Claude nodded and quitted the room. The others turned to follow Aberforth upstairs to Grobschmied’s office.



The pulse sounded, and Invius felt it. The talisman had been found, and whoever found it had reactivated it.

Two birds with one stone, that was what lay before him, because there was only one way to reactivate that talisman in such a way. There was only one person who could strengthen that heartbeat, and he had already decided that she must be at Goblynsrefuge.

It had been sixteen years, and after sixteen years, the talisman had found its way to Goblynsrefuge, a place where Invius could not go in this state. He would have to wait, but patience was a virtue he held at its strongest. He had searched and waited for sixteen years. He could wait a little longer.
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Chapter 10:

Grobschmied’s office was a large, domed room in the upstairs where every wall and the door had a bookshelf. There were several armchairs and two smaller tables, upon which were a globe, a gyroscope, and a model of the solar system. His desk was in the center, where Grobschmied sat facing the others as though he wasn’t sure how to begin whatever he wanted to discuss. Beside him, Aberforth was pacing, looking tense.

Ron, Hermione, and Lupin all looked at them expectantly, and Lily, Tonks, Fred, and George looked curious. Finally Grobschmied took a breath, and thus began:

“You all heard that pulse just now, I believe,” he said, fiddling with something in his pocket. Ron nodded, and Hermione asked Grobschmied what it was. The goblin hesitated, then he placed something small on the desk. “It came from this.”

It was the dragon pendant. Lily fidgited in her seat, Ron raised his eyebrows, and Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail her. The others simply looked bewildered.

“Recently,” Grobschmied continued, “I had an interesting conversation with Aberforth. You all know that we talked about the Order’s new headquarters, but we also talked about this pendant. Aberforth knows something about it that he can’t tell any of us. Is it not so, Aberforth?”

Aberforth gave a curt nod, and started fiddling with the gyroscope. Grobschmied ignored him and told them about the use of the pendant’s symbol at Gringotts, and about the style by which it was crafted.

“The power by which this pendant was made,” said Grobschmied, “and Aberforth’s currently inexplicable interest in it, made me immensely interested too, so I put a spell of my own on it to test for any magic it might contain.”

“I’d tested it several times myself,” Aberforth grunted, “and got no results, but it appears that it responds differently to goblin magic.”

“I found that there’s some sort of magical disturbance in the pendant which intrigued me,” said Grobschmied, “and then I remembered a fascinating conversation I had with Hermione a few weeks ago, when she told me about Lily running into Kreacher in the cemetery.”

Hermione nodded in recollection. The others were very quiet. They all knew, of course, about Kreacher’s supposed “link” to Harry, but now it was old news, and nobody had given it much thought for several weeks.

“A fascinating thing, that Kreacher still feels bound to his former master’s will, when that link should have been severed with Harry’s death,” Grobschmied said casually, twiddling his fingers. “Assuming that Kreacher really is still bound Harry, we can conclude that either there’s a way to reach Harry from this life, or that Harry is not really dead.”

“This is beyond everything,” Ron interrupted, looking in some alarm at Grobschmied, as though he feared that the goblin was going senile. “I saw Harry die, Grobschmied, I buried him, for crying out loud!”

“You saw Harry fall from a three-hundred foot tower,” Aberforth corrected Ron. “But you never saw what happened on the top of that tower.”

Ron looked incredulous, but Grobschmied took no notice and continued. “After I remembered what Hermione had told me, I wondered if the pendant had something to do with Kreacher’s behavior and this link.” Grobschmied paused for a minute, looking thoughtful. He ran his long fingers through his think, gray hair, and then started playing with a quill on his desk. “Harry’s death did not have the results it should have had. We all were confused that his Fidelius charms were still in place, along with several other spells, and then we found that Kreacher still supposedly had a magical connection with Harry. After several hours of logic and discussion that only Hermione would care to hear, Aberforth and I decided to test this link through somebody who also had a magical connection to Harry. This morning, we paid his wife a visit.”

“Grobschmied put the pendant over Ginny’s heart,” said Aberforth, “and what happened as a result was both unexpected and enlightening. Ginny’s presence awakened something in it, because it started pulsating. You all heard it.”

“The pendant’s reaction to Ginny not only made it possible that Kreacher’s allegiance is still to Harry, but also quite probable,” said Grobschmied. “Don’t forget what that could mean.”

“Are you sure?” asked Lupin. “This is incredibly far-fetched.”

“No more far-fetched than the existence of the Chamber of Secrets, or the prophecy, or Sirius Black’s innocence,” retorted Aberforth. The others fell silent again, unable to think of an answer to this.

“It does make some sense,” said Tonks slowly. “And it is so like Harry.”

“So you think Harry might be alive?” asked Fred.

“I can only give you my suspicions,” said Grobschmied, echoing Albus Dumbledore years before.

“But how is this possible?” asked Hermione, looking stunned.

“My current worry is not how it happened, but what it did to Harry as a result,” said Grobschmied. “We all witnessed his burial, so he obviously left behind his body. I can only presume that Harry is some sort of shadow now.” Grobschmied hesitated, then added, “We also need to talk about Ginny’s reaction to this experiment.”

“Ginny’s reaction?” repeated Ron.

“If you go down to the infirmary right now,” said Aberforth, “you’ll find Mrs. Potter smiling.”

“She was smiling?” whispered Hermione, her eyes wide.

“Yeah. She gave Poppy quite a scare.”

“It can’t be,” said George, astonished. “She hasn’t shown the slightest expression since that Dementor got her. She can’t.”

“Evidently she can,” said Grobschmied. “I was stunned myself, but I think Lily might have something to say about it.”

Everyone turned to look at Lily, who fidgited again. Lupin and Grobschmied were both smiling.

“I visit Mum almost every day,” said Lily hesitantly, “and normally she always looks, as George said, expressionless, but there have been times where I thought I’d seen emotion cross her face. It was always a dark emotion, and I thought that I’d imagined it. Then, not long before Kreacher arrived here, Firenze told me about a centaur philosopher named Chiron, who believed that the soul was composed of three elements.”

Grobschmied nodded. “Thought, Emotion, and Capacity. It was Aristotle’s theory originally, but Chiron built upon it a little.”

“I visited Mum the day after Kreacher returned, and I got to thinking about Chiron’s theory,” Lily continued. “And it occurred to me that if Mum’s emotions were still there, then part of her soul is still in tact.”

“That day Lily asked me if it was possible to divide the soul,” said Grobschmied. “Thinking of Horcruxes, I told her that the only known way was by murdering the innocent. But now that I think about it, what if there was a way to remove an entire element of the soul? Ginny’s mind is definetely gone, but if her emotions are still in tact, then the Dementors only took one element. For that reason, Ginny definetely can feel emotions.”

“Do you think it’s possible to revive her?” asked Tonks, looking hopeful.

“Could be,” said Grobschmied. “Reviving a Dementor victim has never been done before, but if Ginny’s emotions and capacities are still in tact, then it is feasible that her mind is too. I’ll have to put some more thought and research into this, but I think we should all keep a close eye on Ginny in the meantime.”

“We should also keep an eye on Kreacher,” said Aberforth.

“Before you leave,” said Grobschmied, looking at Ron and Hermione, “I would like to ask you two a favor. I’m going to put Albus Dumbledore’s old Pensieve to use, and I need to borrow Ron’s memory of Harry’s death, and Hermione’s memory of the Dementor attack.”

Ron and Hermione nodded their consent. Hermione still looked slightly incredulous, but unable to refute what Grobschmied and Aberforth had told them. The rest of them looked amazed and delighted. Lily didn’t understand, but she guessed that the possibility of Harry still being alive, and of reviving Ginny had given them new hope that they hadn’t had for sixteen years.

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Note: Chapter 10 is up too, but it was posted pretty late at night, so some of you might not be aware of it. Just in case!

Chapter 11:

Though they had put much effort into it, Hermione and Grobschmied were unable to discover what spells the Black family had used on Grimmauld Place, and hadn’t bothered to find the magic which the Hogwarts Founders and Albus Dumbledore had used. Aberforth, fiddling with the pendant, insisted that they could not hope to reproduce those spells. Much as he loathed the idea, it looked like Aberforth would have to seek Gutenburg’s help with the needed protective enchantments that would be placed on the new headquarters.

The goblin elders from the Partisans had already put some spells in place, as had the most talented members of the Order, but even this did not have the desired effect. So several weeks after the senior Order members started construction on the headquarters, Aberforth arranged a meeting with Gutenburg. There he requested that Gutenburg send some trustworthy experts to help. The German Minister responded enthusiastically at first, until Aberforth said the word “conditionally.”

“What conditions?” asked Gutenburg.

“Unbreakable Vows,” said Aberforth. “I’m already struggling with one betrayel, I will not risk another.”

Gutenburg raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Dumbledore, you know that I can only do that if they agree.”

“Then we have a problem.”

“You’ve got a better bet with the Fidelius Charm, especially if you are the Secret Keeper.”

“We can use both if necessary,” snapped Aberforth. “Would you be more willing to do this if it was in repayment of your debt to the Partisan goblins? During the war, before Potter was killed, Benedicht Grobschmied managed to end a goblin conspiracy solely on the grounds that they and the Deutschesministerium had a common enemy in Voldemort.”

“I’m aware of the great service Grobschmied did us,” said Gutenburg irritably. He shuffled through his papers for a minute in silence. “Mr. Dumbledore, please don’t suppose that I have forgotten or ignored so great a debt. I am unsurprised by your low confidence in me. After the corrupt methods used by the British Ministry of Magic, and by the uncooperation of the Dutch Ministry and the Belgian Ministry, you have every right to distrust me.”

Aberforth listened, his face expressionless.

“Ever since I was elected,” continued Gutenburg, “I have tried to run this government in an honest manner. I’ll admit that I have made mistakes when put under pressure, but mistakes are part of the life of a leader. You have made mistakes, I am sure Harry Potter made mistakes, and your brother made mistakes.”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Aberforth, and he looked it. “Are you willing to meet those conditions.”

Gutenburg continued to shuffle through his papers. “Very well. Mr. Dumbledore, I took a great risk when I volunteered to help, but I want Voldemort defeated, and I doubt my country could do so without your help. I’ll meet your conditions, but bear in mind how much you ask of me in taking even further risk. If Otto Hesse gets wind of this…”

“What if you found an excuse to dismiss him?” asked Aberforth.

“Dishonest, but for the greater good,” said Gutenburg. “Don’t think I haven’t been trying, but he’s a clever fellow.” He groaned. “Wirklich, I’ll be glad when this is over.”

“The Order echoes that sentiment,” said Aberforth. There was a pause, then Aberforth extended his hand, and Gutenburg shook it.



“And so, we’ve got Gutenburg’s cooperation,” said Ron the next evening as he finished reading the note Aberforth had sent him.

“Indeed, sir,” said Dobby, whom Ron had been reading the note to. Ron smiled and put the note down.

“Dobby, how many times must I tell you, there’s no need to call me ‘sir,’” said Ron. “You’re a free elf, and you are, in every way, my equal.”

“I am indebted to you, Hermione, and Harry Potter,” said Dobby simply. “Harry set me free, and you and your wife taught me how to read and speak properly.”

Ron gestured his hand in such a way as to say that it was nothing. “Some would say that this makes you even more equal, Dobby, but Hermione and I agree that you are our equal, educated or not.”

“Thank you, Ron.”

Ron studied the note again. “It’s a bit odd that Aberforth writes that he’s got confidence in this agreement. First time since Harry was alive.”

Dobby laughed. “That’s because the last agreement Aberforth had confidence in was with Harry.”

“Yeah, when they agreed to form an alliance between the Partisans and the Order,” said Ron. “That’s why this agreement with Gutenburg is actually unusual.”

“Maybe it’s because Aberforth has the upper hand in this one,” said Dobby.

“True, and Gutenburg does seem to be a more honest sort than Fudge, Scrimgeour, or Woolf were.”

Dobby nodded in agreement, and Ron let out an enormous yawn.

“Blimey, it’s late,” he said. “I’d better get to bed, or Hermione will kill me. She wants me to start an inventory tomorrow, and I’ll need to get up early.”

“An inventory of what?” asked Dobby curiously.

“Supplies,” said Ron. “I need to check the supply of Portrings, Fred and George’s products, wands, armor, weapons, all that lot, and then I’m supposed to go out to the other side of the island and see how much progress the farm’s making.”

Dobby smiled sympathetically. “They should be fine, there hasn’t been a bad harvest since Lily was a little girl.”

Ron shuddered. That year the vegetables refused to grow properly. They had a plentiful water supply that the ocean storms provided, but Ron supposed that the ground hadn’t been tilled properly. The island’s population had to ration and to make do with what they had and outside food sources at the Order’s expense. That was a year none of the Partisans cared to remember.

“Even so, it is best to keep a close eye on the crops at all times,” said Ron.

“Quoting Hermione?” asked Dobby.

“You’ve found me out,” said Ron. At that moment there was a crash downstairs. Both wizard and elf looked at the door, startled.

“What was that?” asked Dobby.

“Probably Kreacher or Lily,” said Ron.

“Lily’s in bed,” said Dobby, “and Kreacher collapsed in Hermione’s office after dinner. He’s had a long day.”

Ron frowned, then he stood and strode out the door, with Dobby close behind. They quietly ran down the stairs and into the dark sitting room. In the moonlight streaming through the window they could see broken glass littering the floor around fireplace.

“The Sneakoscope that Lupin put in here last Thursday,” said Ron. “He was getting agitated that he couldn’t find the spy, so he set it up. Looks like it fell.”

Dobby ran over to the glass, intent on fixing it and putting it back, but as he approached it, he stopped and gasped.

“It didn’t fall,” he whispered.

“What do you mean, it didn’t fall?” asked Ron.

“The pieces are buzzing.”

Ron gaped at the elf, then he pointed his wand at the pieces and hissed, “Reparo!”

The broken Sneakoscope repaired itself, and instantly lit up and started spinning as Ron swore.

They looked around the room frantically, looking for any sign of the intruder. After a minute, Ron saw that the basement door was open, and pointed it out to Dobby, who’s eyes widened. The basement was kept locked at all times and was off-limits to everyone except the Weasleys, Grobschmied, Lupin, and Aberforth. Ron ran over to the door, and leaned forward over the stairs. After a minute, he heard the distinct slamming of a door.

Dobby instantly ran over to the front door and snapped his fingers. Ron heard a squelching noise, and he turned to see that Dobby had sealed it.

“We can’t let them escape,” he whispered.

Ron nodded, and holding his wand at the ready, he crept down the stairs. Dobby followed. It was very dark, and it took a minute for Ron’s eyes to adjust. He flicked his wand and whispered “Lumos minima.”

A very dim light appeared at the end of his wand, illuminating the hallway just enough for him to see where he was going. And there, at the end of the hallway, a closet door was open, and they could see the unmistakable form of somebody digging around in there.

Ron quietly approached, and the intruder didn’t notice. After a minute, he made a heave and pulled a box from the closet.

“Stupefy!” Ron shouted. The red light flashed, and the intruder fell to the floor, unconscious.

There was a click, and the lights flared. Dobby scurried over from the switch as Ron kicked the intruder over.

“Who is he?” Dobby asked, staring at the unfamiliar face.

Ron didn’t recognize him either. The intruder was a thick-set man with greasy black hair who reminded Ron of Gregory Goyle and Dudley Dursley at the same time. He was not somebody he had ever seen among the Order or the Partisans, and he resolved to ask Aberforth, the twins, or Tonks when he next saw them. Ron waved his wand again and ropes shot from the end of his wand and bound the man.

Dobby, meanwhile, opened the box he had been looking in, and gasped again.

“He was trying to steal the Portrings.”

Ron nodded. “I think we’ve caught the spy.”



“His name is Dan Johnson,” said Fred furiously, his face turning red as he looked the man up and down. “He joined last year after his parents died.”

They were all in the sitting room. The captured intruder, Dan Johnson stood in the middle of the sitting room, still bound with the ropes Ron had conjured. Two goblin guards stood beside him with knives held at the ready. By the fireplace Ron and Hermione stood next to Lily, and George was standing nearby, while Fred paced in front of Johnson, looking ready to hex him. Grobschmied sat in one of the armchairs, looking absolutely incensed, and Dobby, Lupin, Tonks, and Aberforth stood behind him.

“Where did he come from?” asked Hermione.

“His parents were among those who fled from Britain when the Ministry of Magic was taken over,” said George. “They were killed in the Netherlands by Death Eaters while he was at school.”

“He also was one of Claude’s friends and classmates,” Fred added, looking daggers at Johnson. “Not long after Dan’s parents died, Claude introduced him to the Order, and he fell under my wing. I introduced him to Tonks, who let him join, and the git repays our kindness by betraying his best friend, and joining the murderers who killed his parents, and betraying the people who took him in afterwards.”

Johnson shot Fred a challenging look. Fred’s fists were clenched, and they could hear him grinding his teeth in rage.

“I thought nothing of it.”, whispered Tonks, looking pale and distressed. “Claude trusted him, so I let him join. I didn’t suspect for a minute that he was a spy.”

Lupin put his arm around her shoulders and smiled at her sympathetically.

“This will be such a shock to Claude,” said Hermione, scowling at Johnson.

“It’s a shock to me,” Tonks said in an undertone.

“But how did he find out where we keep the Portrings?” asked George.

“Grobschmied already interrogated him with the Veritaserum,” said Aberforth. “He said that Claude accidentally let it slip to him that nobody except the most senior members are allowed in the basement.”

“How did your nephew know that much?” Grobschmied asked Fred, but was Lily who answered.

“I’m so sorry, that’s my fault,” she said, turning red. “Claude’s stopped by for lunch every week for the past month. Two weeks ago he was visiting when Remus came by to put something in there, and he asked what was down there. I said that I didn’t know, that only a few people were allowed down there.”

“Nobody’s blaming you, Lily,” said Hermione as she placed her hand on her niece’s shoulder. “We’ll warn Claude to keep his tongue guarded, but this isn’t your fault.”

“At least we caught him,” said Lupin. “If he had gotten away with the Portrings…”

They were all silent, knowing full well what would have happened.

“Take him away,” said Grobschmied in a furious growl, and the guards took hold of Johnson and frogmarched him out the door.

“Well, there’s one problem dealt with,” said George as soon as they were gone. “Grobschmied found during the interrogation that there aren’t any others. You can move the Order into the new headquarters now, Aberforth.”

“I will as soon as it’s ready,” he replied.

“So what are you going to do with Johnson?” asked Lily.

“Either he’ll be sent to Gutenburg or he’ll be executed,” said Ron. When he saw Lily wince, he hastily added, “We think he ought to be sent to Gutenburg and tried there. He won’t be executed if Grobschmied can persuade the guards against it, but some of them are quite bloodthirsty and quite willing to kill.”

“Don’t think I don’t know it,” Lily said, thinking of the more unfriendly goblins that she had learned to ignore since she was a little girl.

Fred lowered himself into one of the armchairs, his face still scarlet.

“Are you all right?” asked Ron.

In reply, Fred grunted, “I need a drink.”

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Chapter 12:

As he had told Minister Gutenburg, he had already dealt with one betrayal, and he was not going to risk another. Even though Dan Johnson had told them under the influence of Veritaserum that there were no other spies, Aberforth ordered a full inquiry of all the members of the Order, and not a single traitor was found. Satisfied, Aberforth prepared the Order for relocation, and sent Johnson to the Deutchesministerium, where he was tried and incarcerated for treason.

Meanwhile, Gutenburg kept his end of the bargain by sending a team of discreet workers from the Räume des Mystizismus (the German equivalent of the Department of Mysteries), and by having them all take Unbreakable Vows. The workers, who were used to secrecy, took the Vow without question, and got to work. Though they could not hope to achieve the same protection Hogwarts had held, the workers and the Order managed to erect a relatively well-protected base, with all the up-to-date spells. One could not Apparate there, nor could anyone take a Portkey directly into the new headquarters. All that was left to do was cast a Fidelius Charm once the relocation took place and everyone was accounted for.

A month after Johnson’s arrest, Aberforth and Lupin appeared at Goblynsrefuge to announce that the new headquarters were ready, and the Order would be leaving soon. Preparations were made, and by the next Saturday most of the junior members, save those who had volunteered to help the senior members, had left Goblynsrefuge. All that had remained was to move the more vital supplies safely, and that was taken care of that evening.

The Order could sit back in relief. The senior members relaxed in Aberforth’s new office once the relocation was done, relieved, until Nymphadora Tonks burst into Aberforth’s office with the incomplete inventory list.



It echoed Albus Dumbledore’s death.

From atop the tower, there was a flash of green, followed shortly after by a flash of blue and a roar of rushing wind. Ron Weasley, looking no older than twenty-five, had an expression of absolute horror on his face as a figure fell from the top of the Astronomy tower amidst high-pitched maniacal laughter, a figure with black hair and glasses. Quickly Ron raised his wand and cast a spell to slow Harry’s fall, but he still plummeted another hundred feet before landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

Ron stood there, seemingly paralyzed by what he had seen, and the laughter continued as a series of cracks sounded and the Death Eaters Disapparated. Then, with a cry, Ron sprinted in Harry’s direction. At first, Order and Partisan members seemed to think that the Death Eaters had given up, and they cheered and punched the air in glee, but Ron still ran to the foot of the tower, along with others who had seen Harry fall. The cheers died as the others saw the gathering crowd and heard the howls of shock and grief.

Ron pushed his way to the body, and fell to his knees in despair as he rolled Harry over. His face was covered with dried blood, but besides that it was white and his scar was cold. His eyes were closed, his expression showed no peace, as though he felt in death that he had not fulfilled his purpose. And in grief, Ron howled, buried his face into his hands, and sobbed hysterically.

Grobschmied pulled himself from the Pensieve and sighed in frustration. Ron’s memory echoed all he had told them afterwards, except for the flashes of light that preceded the fall. The flash of green had obviously been an Avada Kedavra spell, but Grobschmied was at a loss to explain what the flash of blue was. He groaned as he realized that another few months of research were in order.

Shaking his head, Grobschmied took the second vial and emptied its contents into the Pensieve.

Like in Ron’s memory, there was an instant explosion of noise, explosions, screams, and spells. It was chaos in the grounds, but they had managed to hold the right wing and Gryffindor Tower. It was less noisy there, but it was very cold, and sweat appeared on Hermione’s brow. There was no mistaking what that meant.

There was a terrible scream from a room nearby, and Hermione spun around, looking panicked.

“Ginny!” she whispered, before running down the hallway to the door. She opened it just in time to see the Dementor fly away from Ginny through a broken window. Obviously horror-stricken, Hermione ran to her sister-in-law, only to see Ginny’s blank face and lolling mouth, and her eyes glazed over.

She was slumped on the wall, and in all appearances was dead, but her shallow breathing was audible. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her mouth open in shock, and then she desperately shook Ginny, muttering to herself.

“Ginny, why did you come?” she moaned, shaking Ginny harder. “You’re pregnant, Ginny, why did you come? We told you to stay at Goblynsrefuge! My God, what am I going to tell Harry, and your brothers?”

Hermione looked too shocked for tears, but she at least had the strength of mind to take action. She waved her wand and said “Mobilicorpus!”

With her wand, Hermione lifted Ginny in the air, and made her way upstairs to Gryffindor Tower. As she went, there was a sudden eruption of laughter from somewhere outside, which seemed to distract Hermione, and she paused to look around in fear, but saw nothing. It seemed to be quieter.

Madam Pomfrey was bustling around the Gryffindor Common Room, healing wounds, administering potions, and mending bones, with little help, and she turned in time to see Hermione climbing through the portrait hole.

“Oh, there you are!” she cried. “At last, I could use some… Oh Merlin!”

Her eyes had fallen on Ginny as Hermione lowered her onto an empty mattress.

“Was it a Dementor?” Pomfrey asked, tears leaking from her eyes. Hermione nodded.

“Is there any way to save the baby?”

Pomfrey shrugged hesitantly. She watched Ginny for a moment, before casting a charm and turning Ginny into a better position. “Could you look after that centaur over there while I take care of this, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded, and turned to cast healing spells over the centaur’s wounds. After she healed the last burn on his shoulder, she was shocked by a sudden scream, and she turned to see Pomfrey holding a howling baby in her arms.

Grobschmied scowled as he surfaced from the Pensieve. While there was something to Ron’s memory, Hermione’s memory of the Dementor attack was no different from any other Dementor attack. He supposed that if Lily was right, then perhaps Dementors always only took the element of Thought after using the Dementor’s Kiss. More research.

“What an insufferable business,” he muttered as he scooped the memories from the Pensieve and put them back in their vials. At that moment someone knocked on the door.

“Come,” Grobschmied called as he stowed the vials into his desk and gathered his notes together.

“Aberforth, Kingsley, and Remus are here,” said Hermione, as she stepped into the office. “They say it’s urgent.”



A wizard with the intention of reaching the Order’s new headquarters could not take a Portkey directly into the headquarters, due to the recent disasters concerning former headquarters and other protected places. The closest that one could get to the place with a Portkey was some ten to fifteen miles, depending on the terrain. Then the wizard would have to walk the rest of the way there.

This new measure of security proved successful for the most part, but then Claude Weasley vanished. An inquiry found that he had left Goblynsrefuge and had arrived on a hilltop thirteen miles from the base. But he never arrived at the base. This news was alarming enough, but to make matters worse, it was Claude who was assigned to take the box of Portrings to Goblynsrefuge.

That was what Aberforth, Kingsley, and Remus had come to Goblynsrefuge to report, but the Partisans took it remarkably well. Though alarmed and distressed, they did not panic. Ron Weasley sent his Patronus to Grimrook, the chief guard, and a minute later this cry was heard all over the island.

“The location of Goblynsrefuge is compromised. All guards to the dock, this is not a drill. All others, goblin, house-elf, human, centaur, form your evacuation ranks. This is not a drill.”




“Do you think they’ll find Claude?” asked Lily as Ron gently lifted her mother from the hospital bed and deposited her on a stretcher. Madam Pomfrey had already been sent along, leaving them to take Ginny themselves.

“I don’t know,” said Ron, his face very pale. He buckled the straps to the side of the stretcher. “If he’s just lost, I hope the Order finds him before the Death Eaters. But if the Death Eaters already have them, then they’ll be here any minute.”

Lily nodded as they pushed the stretcher down the empty infirmary and out the door. Such worry was not an emotion she was familiar with, the sheer terror that her cousin would not make it back to the Order headquarters. Because Ron and Hermione had sheltered Lily so much, keeping her existence a secret to the outside, and because it had been so long since the Order’s last relocation, she never had been placed in this sort of situation before. She supposed that this was how all the adults had felt when the war was in full flow and Harry was still alive.

At the same time, she felt a slight nervousness, because she didn’t know what to expect, now that she was leaving Goblynsrefuge for the first time in her life. For the first time, she was to see another land, a place thoroughly unfamiliar to her.

“Where exactly is the Portkey taking us?” she asked Ron hesitantly as they rolled Ginny out the front door and down the road.

“A Muggle town called Guttannen,” said Ron simply. “There’s a safe point there where we’ll arrive, then we’ll be hiking the rest of the way. Think you’re up to it?”

Lily shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think any of us will be.” Ron shook his head, already looking weary. “It’s not as though we’ll be walking on level ground, and none of us have really done this for… what was that?”

For at that moment, a sound Lily was unfamiliar with, the roaring of voices and cracks and loud bangs, split the air, and Ron swore. A moment later, Grimrook’s voice echoed again.

“We’re under attack, all fighters to the dock! To the dock!”

Ron grabbed Lily’s hand and the stretcher to which he had strapped Ginny , and started to run.

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Chapter 13:

“If the Order notices Weasley’s absence before you are ready, they will warn the Partisans. For that reason, the attack is going to have to be hard and fast.”

“We’ve got enough fighters to wipe them out. The Partisans are outnumbered; they sustained a heavy loss at the battle at Hogwarts.”

“Bellatrix, you don’t understand the Partisans as I do. They operate under the same noble streak that Potter gave to them, and they are led by Weasleys, who hold the same set of values as Potter did. The Partisans will evacuate to avoid unnecessary deaths. They know they cannot win. That is why the attack must be quick and merciless.”

“I’ll see to it, my Lord.”

“Amycus will lead the attack, but Bella, you must keep to your assignment. Nothing, I repeat, nothing matters more than finding the Laerenmath Talisman and stopping Periculosus.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Amycus, fell free to kill any goblins, centaurs, or elves that you find, but do not kill any humans. Harry Potter’s daughter is among the Partisans, and I want her brought to me alive. If she dies, or if she escapes, you die. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Get the others ready.”



There were at least fifty attacking from the dock, and that was about equal to the guards’ numbers. There would be more soon; that box had contained enough Portrings to transport a whole army.

Some of the Death Eaters had broken through the Partisan ranks ahd began their charge through the trees. Captain Rok Grimrook drew his scimitar and was met by a tall, snarling man brandishing a wand. The Death Eater, however, had hardly finished uttering his incantation when Grimrook beat his arm away and viciously slashed his scimitar across the man’s chest. The wizard let out a terrible scream as the wound emitted a sinister sizzling sound, and fell dead. Goblin-made weapons enchanted with Benedicht Grobschmied’s spells were formidable indeed.

Several more screams told Grimrook that the dead Death Eater’s companions had met the same fate at the hands of his lieutenants. None of the other Blackrobes had yet broken through, but Grimrook, from his vantage point at a higher elevetaion, could see what was happening.

The Death Eaters marched forward, and Grimrook saw several goblins fall under the onslaught of spells. Most managed to shield themselves. The enemy was relentless, and clearly getting frustrated, but the Partisan guards were well-trained, and they were taught to be stubborn. Grimrook had every confidence in them. They would stand firm.

But something was wrong, Grimrook realized, as he observed the fighting below him. When they had appeared, he had estimated at least fifty Blackrobes had run to meet the fifty goblins and elves, but as he watched now, he realized that the Blackrobes were now outnumbered, by twenty at least. The Partisans couldn’t possibly have killed or captured so many so soon.

Grimrook turned to the elfish lieutenant standing beside him. “Keep an eye on the sidelines. Is the charge in place?”

The lieutenant nodded, then said, “There’s a Patronus waiting, sir.”

Grimrook looked in the direction he pointed, and saw Remus Lupin’s wolf patronus standing closeby.

“Yes?” he asked.

“The last of the evacuees are about to leave,” the Patronus said. “And the Head Partisans are on their way up. In two minutes, begin to retreat.”

The Patronus dissolved. At that moment, there was a sudden yelp as a stray spell struck the lieutenant in the chest, and he stumbled, clearly dead. Grimrook looked in the direction it came from, and saw a battalion of ten or fifteen Blackrobes in the trees some twenty feet away.

“They’ve swung round, they’re attacking from behind!” Grimrook shouted.



Minutes after Captain Grimrook announced the attack at the dock, Ron and Lily ran to the front door at the Head Cabin, the gurney on which Ginny lay magically racing after them. Aberforth, Grobschmied, and Hermione were waiting for their arrival, all wearing packed rucksacks. The moment Lily halted on the porch, Hermione tossed her one.

“Try not to lose that, it contains clothes and supplies,” Hermione said in the business-like voice she adopted which meant “no nonsense.” “And keep your wand out, this isn’t a tutoring session.”

“Where’s Firenze?” asked Ron.

“Called to battle, the centaurs need another commander,” said Aberforth. His face was turned in the directino of the dock, where the noise was increasing. Several elf guards scurried passed, wearing breastplates and brandishing scimitars the size of bread knives. A second later there was a scream, and they heard someone shout, “They’ve swung ‘round, they’re attacking from behind!”

“Time to leave,” said Aberforth promptly. Then they were off, running up the path that soon would bend around the slope and continue up the hill. As they ran, Lily glanced over her shoulder and saw people dressed in black robes and wearing pointed hoods, locked in combat with the goblin guards. The elves that had just run past leapt onto several Blackrobe shoulders and swung their weapons around the wizards’ necks. A second later—

Lily looked away, feeling nauseated at what she had just seen, and ran behind Ron and Hermione. Uncharacteristically, Hermione was muttering obscenities with every step, and Ron wasn’t.

Lily threw herself forward and jogged beside Ron, who panted to Hermione, “What about the guard, when are they leaving?”

“They’re trying to buy us time,” said Hermione. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but Grimrook’s a competent captain. Now don’t talk, you’re already out of breath, and we can’t afford to stop.”

Ron nodded. Lily did her best to keep up, but the image of the butchery she had just witnessed wouldn’t leave her, and the way things were going, she might have to stop to vomit anyway. It was lucky she hadn’t had eggs for breakfast.



Lupin paced around the watch tower, sometimes glancing towards the violent scene that was just visible at the shoreline, and other times glancing towards the road. It had been five minutes since he had sent his Patronus, and yet Grimrook had not called retreat.

Stubby, a watchelf, stood on on the tower parapet with an enchanted telescope and scanned the area.

“Looks like Grimrook’s run into a spot of trouble,” he said. “Those Blackrobes are smarter than we give them credit for.”

“Damn,” hissed Lupin, pounding his fist on the parapet.

“But Aberforth’s party is out of danger,” said Stubby, turning his telescope toward a point to the right of where he had been looking. “Hopefully they’ll be here soon.”

Lupin picked up his telescope and glanced at the battle again. The lense, enchanted to see through objects, showed an image of Grimrook and his lieutenants fighting a large group of Blackrobes. Aside from that, the other guards seemed to be beating back on the Blackrobes.

A minute later, there was a flash of blue light from the dock, and Stubby groaned, “Oh no.”

Lupin looked at the dock, and swore. “If only Grimrook had called retreat! Now they’re going to be slaughtered.”

Stubby buried his face in his hands, and Lupin watched helplessly as a second wave of Blackrobes appeared on the dock, and they appeared to be led by…

Lupin gasped, his eyes fixed on the man at the front of the second wave, who turned and shouted some order at them. Then he turned and led a group of fifteen past the battle and straight up the hill.

“No, it can’t be,” whispered Lupin, his eyes wide and his face losing color. “It can’t be, it can’t be, it’s not possible… NO!”



The Blackrobes had been surprised by the sudden elf attack from behind, but three extra elves weren’t much bother to them. They had always underestimated anything that wasn’t wizard.

The Partisans used to use Muggle firearms with added enchantments, but, as Aberforth Dumbledore said, they were conspicuous and noisy, and the Death Eaters now knew how to handle them. But for some reason, even after that it had never occurred to the Death Eaters to dual wield both magic and hand-held weapons. Perhaps they didn’t want to resemble Muggles in any way. By the road they were going, they most resembled the worst of Muggles.

Grimrook and two lieutenants who had heard his shout fought the Blackrobes that had ambushed them, but they were outnumbered two to one, and soon, they were surrounded. The Death Eater that appeared to be leading them removed his hood, revealing a lumpy face and a blind eye that Grimrook recognized as one he had put a jack knife through in the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Amycus Carrow,” he breathed, a sudden fury overtaking him.

“Make one move, Grimrook, you twitch that blade of yours, and its Avada Kedavra for you and your lieutenants,” hissed Carrow.

“What are you waiting for then?” asked one of the lieutenants. “It’s what you came for, right?”

Carrow ignored the lieutenant. Still staring at Grimrook, he asked, “Where is Potter’s little girl?”

Grimrook scowled, but didn’t speak.

“Answer me, Grimrook,” Carrow growled in a dangerous voice.

“Hopefully she is gone,” said Grimrook calmly.

Carrow’s face contorted, then he raised his wand. Grimrook didn’t flinch or look away, but stood erect, facing his enemy as he was trained to do.

There was a whistling sound, and Carrow lurched forward, an expression of shock crossing his face, before he fell forward, revealing the shaft of an arrow lodged deep in his back.

The Death Eaters wheeled around and leapt back as a cavalry of around ten centaurs broke their ranks, led by a palamino in full armor.

“About time, Firenze,” Grimrook called, swinging his scimitar at the nearest Blackrobe. “Go help the others back there, and tell the other lieutenants that Lupin’s sent a Patronus.”

“Captain!” shouted another lieutenant, jogging up to them. “Captain, I came as quick as I could…”

“What’s going on?” demanded Grimrook. “What else could have happened?”

“There’s another wave,” said the other. “We won’t be able to hold them off, and a group of them have already started up the hill.”

Grimrook didn’t have time to be startled. “All right, straight up the hill, the Heads are already on their way up. Firenze, take your group and try to stop that group Thok has just described.”

As he spoke, there was a sudden deafening roar, and a flash of orange light. A second later, the Death Eaters started screaming in panic.

“That was the charge,” said Grimrook. “Time to run.”

The lieutenants turned to the guards, and roared in unison for the guards to retreat, but there was hardly any need. Most of them were already scurrying up the hill, away from the sudden wall of fire that had engulfed one of the cabins nearby. The entire island would be ablaze in half an hour.



They had almost made it. Aberforth halted, and Ron waved his wand. The gurney that Ginny lay in stopped. Lily could see the clearing at the hilltop, and the ring of standing stones, now the one and only place where one could Portkey out of Goblynsrefuge.

“Right,” said Aberforth as they approached. “If all has gone well, there will be only two Portkeys left, one for us, and one for the guard. We’re to wait for the guard to arrive so we can decide what to do next, then we’ll be off. Once we reach Guttannen, we’ll stop only to eat and refresh ourselves, then we must be off. Who’s got the tent?”

Grobschmied raised his hand. At that moment, they heard the call to retreat.

“About time,” remarked Aberforth. “Lets get to the ring.”

They ran into the clearing, where Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting with a rubber tire outside the stones. Aberforth ran forward, and the others followed, but Kingsley was not looking at them. He was staring behind them, and pointing. The others turned.

“What the devil?” exclaimed Ron, staring at the same spot. The others turned and caught sight of Lupin waving to them frantically from the watch tower and shouting something inaudible.

“Can you make out what he’s saying?” asked Hermione, looking at him.

They edged closer, and could just make out, “…coming up hill—led by—betrayed…”

At that moment, there was a flash of green light, and Lupin stumbled forward and fell from the tower.

“NO!” shouted Ron as Lupin landed and did not move. Lily started to run toward him, but Hermione grabbed her and held her back.

“It’s too late, Lily,” she whispered. “He’s dead. It’s too late.”



Lily Ginevra Potter knew about death. It had happened more than once that some Partisan or Order member was brought to the infirmary to be put into Madam Pomfrey’s care, but was so severely injured that they were beyond her aid. Lily had witnessed more than one funeral for more than one dead soldier, but she had never seen the death of somebody she knew personally.

It was strange. She felt not the profound grief that Ron and Hermione sometimes let show when they thought of Harry, but just shock, as she stared at Lupin’s body. She wasn’t aware of how long she stood in that state of stunned disbelief, but it can’t have been long, because at that moment, Hermione tugged on her hand.

“If they’ve already made it up the hill, we’ve got to go,” Hermione said. Even as they spoke, they heard the unwelcome shouts and saw a group of the wizards clad in black robes storming up the hill. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Lily stared at her and at the others, all of whom looked as shocked as she was, too shocked to feel grief yet. At that moment, Lily felt envious of Ginny, who, of course, was completely unaware of the sudden loss. The shock had started to abate, and Lily felt as though something was ripped from her, leaving some sort of hole in place. What wouldn’t she give to not feel anything, to be as oblivious to the pain as Ginny was.

They started to enter the ring, ready to leave, but then Ron gasped.

“It cannot be,” he mouthed, his eyes wide and his face pale. They turned around again to see the approaching Blackrobes. And at the front of them was…

“Oh my!” gasped Hermione, her eyes widening too.

Lily gaped too. Lupin’s death was one source of infinite shock, but this outweighed it. The only words she could say were, “Claude Weasley?”

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Chapter 14:

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. They only stared as the Blackrobes came to a halt some ten feet away, wands drawn, and they faced them, not in fear, but in disbelief. And it was unmistakably Claude Weasley who stood at their head, clad in a black robe, but unlike his comrades, he had no mask. Instead, he was wearing a triumphant sneer that didn’t suit him.

During the few seconds in which they were forced to accept his betrayal, Ron’s face turned from chalk white to blazing scarlet, and he was visibly trembling, a known danger sign. Claude tilted his head slightly, studying his uncle curiously, before saying to the Blackrobes, “Remember your orders. If they attack, no killing. The Dark Lord wants them alive, and he wants her—” he jabbed his finger at Lily “—brought directly to him.”

“You’d take your cousin to him?” Ron was then so angry that he was rendered almost incoherent. His voice was shaking, and his temple was pulsating. “You’d defy everything you have been taught, and dishonor your parents’ memories by joining the people who murdered them?”

Claude snorted. “My dear uncle, I was taught nothing but differing opinions and inconsistencies that never made sense to me.”

Lily was still uncomprehending, stunned at what she was witnessing. Her cousin, Bill and Fleur’s son, raised by the Order of the Phoenix… it couldn’t be true. How was it possible that a Weasley could sell them all out, hand Voldemort Goblynsrefuge, and had every intention of taking them to death and captivity? But there he stood, with that horrible sneer, ready to give the order, and it would be over for them.

She saw Kingsley make a quick movement, but Claude pointed his wand at him and said, “If you want me to take Potter’s little girl and kill the rest of you here and now, instead of bringing you all in alive, by all means raise that wand, Shacklebolt.”

The Blackrobes tittered appreciatively. Lily heard one clearly say, “Although it wouldn’t make much difference to her!” He was pointing at Ginny, who, of course, was the only member of the party who was oblivious to the event.

“But…” whispered Hermione, still very white, “Johnson… he was the spy, he confessed to it!”

“Dan?” Claude laughed. “Poor little Dan. It was easy, so easy that I’m amazed a group of rebels as experienced as you didn’t figure it out. An Imperius curse when the guards weren’t looking, and he willingly poured your whole stock of Veritaserum out the window, and filled the bottles with water before he smashed that Sneakoscope to attract your attention!”

“So his capture was deliberate,” Hermione breathed.

Ron took a step forward, spluttering in his rage, but Aberforth took his elbow and held him back, shot him a warning look, then faced the Blackrobes again.

“I had to get you off your guard, didn’t I?” Claude grinned gloatingly. “My only chance was during the relocation. I volunteered to take the Portrings, and you allowed me without question. You had no reason to distrust a Weasley, did you? Family pride and all that.”

Hermione leaned backwards against Ginny’s gurney, looking appalled at what her nephew had done, but then Lily saw her glance to the side slightly and back, so quickly that Lily thought she might have imagined it. She frowned at Hermione, wondering what she was playing at. They were in a corner, and outnumbered five to one. The only thing they could do was… keep Claude talking while waiting for the Partisan guards to come up the hill to meet them as they were scheduled to do. Lily’s eyes widened as she understood.

“And as soon as you left the safe point you appeared at, you took the Portrings and ran off, away from the Order’s new borders, and took the Portrings to Voldemort,” said Hermione.

“Quite right,” said Claude. “Your guards put up quite a fight back there. Who told them to set the forest on fire? Efficient, but so inelegant. An old Muggle method.”

“They started a fire?” Aberforth, still holding Ron back, looked impressed.

“Too bad that effort hardly has a point to it,” said Claude, raising his wand. “What are the poor Partisan guards going to do when they come her to find their leaders gone, without any Portkeys left for them, and no way out of the island they set on fire?”

“They’ll keep fighting to the death,” said Grobschmied simply. “But they won’t find us dead. You’re a clever fellow, Claude Weasley, and quite as ruthless as any Death Eater would want to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the other demanded.

“You’ve completely underestimated the Partisan Guards and their experience,” Grobschmied replied casually.

Claude gazed at Grobschmied, confused, and he opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Lily heard the familiar thundering sound of a herd of moving centaurs, and a second later the Blackrobes in the back of the battalion screamed. Hermione grabbed Lily and shoved her down under the gurney, then she shouted “Protego!”



It was over in five minutes. The Blackrobes, taken by surprise by the centaurs’ sudden attack, and hit hard in their distraction by the wizards they had cornered, now lay scattered in the ring and outside, struck down by arrows and curses. Some were still alive, stirring feebly, drawing arrows from wounds, or emitting low moans. A few centaurs also lay unmoving on the ground, dead or suffering the effects of the Death Eaters’ curses. There was blood everywhere.

That was the aftermath of the carnage Lily had heard as Hermione helped her out from under the gurney. Ginny still lay atop it, miraculously unharmed. Lily supposed that the Shield Charm Hermione had conjured was meant for them, not herself.

The sky was so smoky that it was almost black, and Lily could feel the intense heat engulfing the island. That fire the guards had set was spreading rapidly, destroying all that she had ever known. The destruction that resulted from Claude’s treachery, all the death and horror, it was so big and shocking to her that she still wasn’t ready to accept it, and she could feel the tears running from her eyes as she looked around at the bodies.

Grobschmied limped to them, holding a small knife in his hand. His coat had a dark stain on it, which made Hermione ask if it was his blood. Grobschmied shook his head, and leaned heavily against the gurney.

“Are you all right?” he asked Lily. She nodded.

“That was lucky,” said Hermione. “We’ll have to thank Firenze for stopping…them.”

She faltered, and Lily was sure that Hermione wasn’t able to bring herself to say Claude’s name.

“Where is he?” Lily asked, her voice wavering..

“Dead,” said Grobschmied. “He was killed by a stray arrow. The sort of death a traitor like him deserves.”

He sighed, sat on the ground by the gurney, and ran his fingers through his hair in an agitated manner.

“Are you all right?” asked Hermione, squatting down next to the goblin. “You must be exhausted, you shouldn’t be fighting battles at your age.”

“I shouldn’t be fighting battles at all,” said Grobschmied. “I’m a scholar, not a soldier. I shouldn’t be the one witness to all the death and carnage, just the one to record it’s passing.”

There was a long pause, then Grobschmied said, “Firenze and Kingsley are dead.”

“I know,” whispered Hermione, as Lily gasped.

“It was Claude who killed Firenze,” continued Grobschmied. He looked too tired to be angry. “It was just after he was struck by that arrow, and I suppose he decided that killing one more time was the perfect end to his miserable life.”

“How could he have gone so wrong?” asked Lily, burying her face in her hands. Hermione put her arm around her shoulders comfortingly. At that moment, Ron and Aberforth appeared with Grimrook and a few guards.

“We’ve found the Portkeys,” said Aberforth, holding up the tire and a rubber duck. “Grimrook’s lending us a few guards for some extra protection as we make the journey.”

Hermione nodded.

“We’ll take the second out after you’ve gone,” said Grimrook. “There are still a few of us trying to hold off the remaining Blackrobes, but I don’t think they’ll be long.”

“Very good.” Ron took hold of Ginny’s arm with one hand and the tire with the other. The others followed suit, and Aberforth took his wand out and tapped it.

“Activus,” he muttered.

Lily felt a jerk from somewhere behind her navel, and then she was moving through wind and blurred colors, as though she suddenly was flying miles in seconds. Then her feet slammed onto something hard, and she fell to her knees onto floor boards as a gruff voice said, “Blimey, Aberforth, what happened to you lot?”

She heard Aberforth make a reply, but nothing anyone said seemed to hit home to her. Her head started pounding, and she clutched it with her hands as a cloud of blackness engulfed her, and her head hit the floor as she fainted.



It was nearby, Invius would estimate ten or twenty miles south from where he now was positioned. Ever since the talisman had reactivated, he had sensed it move from Goblynsrefuge to somewhere in the southern part of the continent and back. Invius was unable to reach Goblynsrefuge, but if he could reach the area in the mountains that was now imprinted in his memory, he would surely find whoever carried it.

It was in the area again, and if he could reach it before the carrier relocated, half of his mission would be completed. If he was lucky, the rest of Ginny Potter’s soul would be there too.

He had never been so close to retrieving it, and if fate was on his side, the Dark Collective wouldn’t be able to interfere. He had never been so close to finding the talisman, and the state of things had not been so unstable for centuries.

If he succeeded, they would become more desperate, and therefore the situation would become far more dangerous than he previously could have imagined.



“Lily?”

She groaned, and raised her head, only to have it start pounding again. She was lying in bed, in a dark, unfamiliar room, and Ron was sitting on a chair beside her, watching her with some concern.

“What time is it?” she asked, massaging her forehead.

“Nearly midnight,” said Ron. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

The pain was very intense. She tried to focus on where she was and what was going on, but it was too much to remember. So she turned to her uncle and asked, “What happened to me?”

“You collapsed,” said Ron. “Your aunt was really concerned, but the bloke here had someone check you over, and he says you’re just exhausted. Don’t blame you, but at least you lasted longer than I did in my first battle.”

“It wasn’t some nightmare then,” muttered Lily, leaning back into the pillow.

“I’m afraid not,” said Ron. His face clouded. “If the centaurs hadn’t killed that little traitor, I’d have killed him myself.”

Lily didn’t answer. She still wasn’t ready to accept what had happened in the stone ring. There was a long pause, then she asked Ron where they were.

“A safe house near Guttannen,” he answered. “The Order’s base is about ten miles from here. It will be a two-day walk, but it shouldn’t be too bad if we go at a regular pace. We’ll be leaving as soon as you and Grobschmied are up to it.”

“Is he all right?”

“He collapsed just after you did.” Ron suppressed a yawn, and rubbed his eyes. “Poor goblin, he’s too old for this sort of thing. If we’re not careful, we’ll have two people in stretchers.”

“How’s Mum?”

“Ginny’s over there.” Ron pointed at the wall opposite. “She’s about the same as always. Now you get some more sleep, we all need to be better rested.”

Lily nodded, and turned to face the stretcher Ginny lay in. She dropped off within seconds.



Lily was strong enough to begin the journey the day after they arrived at the safe house, but Grobschmied took longer to recover from the battle. In the mean time, the others planned the journey, and kept a close inventory on the supplies. Ron was told several times to check his appetite, Aberforth was shut up in one of the rooms for hours at a time, and Hermione did most of the house work.

Grobschmied, meanwhile, spent most of his time in his quarters, either reading or sleeping, and each day Hermione or Lily took his meals to his room. It looked as though they would be there for at least a week, but then they all were given greater motivation to leave more quickly when two days after their arrival, they received an owl from Grimrook to announce that what was left of the Partisan guards had arrived at the base safely, and also to ask what was taking them so long.

“I also thought it best to inform you that some of the important officers in the Order have taken the report of the battle back at Goblynsrefuge very badly. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin was very stricken by the news of her husband’s death, and since then she has thrown herself into her work for most of the day and speaks to no one. Fred and George Weasley were also horrified when they were told of their nephew’s betrayal, and I think they need to speak to Ron and Hermione as soon as possible. Morale here is very low, and for that reason, I must beg of you to arrive quickly.”

The evening after this letter arrived, Grobschmied joined them at the table for dinner, and announced that he was recovered enough to part the next day, if they moved at a slow pace. Ron and Hermione agreed, motivated by their wish to get to the base immediately. Aberforth had no objection, and their things were packed again that very night.



At about four in the morning, Lily was roused by the sound of Hermione puttering around the kitchen down the hall, and she got up to see her aunt slicing some bread.

“I was about to come and get you up,” she said as Lily entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “I’m making some toast and sausages, then after we eat we’ll leave. Why don’t you do me a favor and rouse the others?”

Most of the others were already up, also roused by Hermione, but Grobschmied’s room was empty. Lily found the door open, and the goblin’s bags were packed and his bed made, but he wasn’t inside. The only light that was on was a lamp on the desk, illuminating a thick volume. Curious, Lily walked next to the desk, and looked at the text. It appeared to be an account of the struggle against Grindelwald, but what caught Lily’s eye was a drawing near the foot of the page, which showed the exact design of the dragon pendant Lily supposed was still in Aberforth’s possession. Below the drawing was a circled footnote, which read, “The war would have been lost were it not for Albus Dumbledore’s encounter with the Laerenmathi. Now of the Laerenmathi, the most powerful of all earthly beings, and their adversaries who dwell in darkness, I am not at liberty to speak.”

Next to the footnote, Grobschmied had scrawled, Ask Aberforth.

Lily stared at this passage for a long time, bewildered by this new information, but then she heard a clang from the kitchen, and remembered what she was supposed to be doing. However, she was distracted again when she reached up to knock on Aberforth’s door. There were low, tense voices coming from within, and she paused, and pressed her ear on the door, listening.

“I told you to drop it, Grobschmied. If the situation has anything to do with the creators of that talisman, you ought to let me take care of it. You shouldn’t be involved.”

Lily then heard Grobschmied’s irritated voice retort, “I think I’ve figured out a piece of what you are so concerned about. If it is as serious as it sounds, then you should at least let somebody in authority know.”

“You don’t have any idea, Grobschmied.”

“Don’t I? One of the books I’ve been reading was an old account of the war against Grindelwald, and that war, I think is where you first saw that pendant. The witness who wrote it was somebody named Albert Braun--”

“A nosy old git,” retorted Aberforth. “He was sworn to secrecy.”

“So I could tell. Who, or what, are the Laerenmathi, Aberforth? Because I think you know the answer to that.”

“I told you to drop it,” Aberforth snapped. “You shouldn’t know that word. I don’t know what was going through Braun’s head to make him even mention them.”

“Very well,” said Grobschmied, sounding sour, “but you know that if they are involved in this, whoever they are, you won’t be able to keep it secret for long.”

Aberforth didn’t answer, and Lily supposed that the two of them were glaring at each other, and that the argument wasn’t going to continue.

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This is the longest chapter I've written so far, but I'm rather pleased with it. Enjoy!

Chapter 15:

It takes two days for a party of young and healthy people to travel from Guttanen to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. A group as well trained and vigorous as the Partisan Guards could easily cross the ten miles of steep slopes in less.

But Aberforth Dumbledore’s party included a very elderly goblin, an incapacitated woman on a stretcher, a girl who had never walked such distances nor had ever climbed mountains, and her aunt and uncle, who had not done so for almost twenty years. It was clear from the start that the party would be lucky to reach the place in three days, let alone two.

They managed to make a third of the distance by early evening before Grobschmied collapsed and Aberforth decided to set up camp. For the next half-hour, he and Hermione put up the tent, a two-room flat with a few armchairs and two camp beds set up for Grobschmied and Aberforth. Then they proceeded to place a number of protective spells around the area, such as Disillusioning spells, Muggle-repelling charms, and Muffliato. They also set up a Sneakoscope in the tent, in case somebody unwanted entered the area.

That and starting a fire was the easy part, but it is a natural law that when one camps out, something goes wrong or contrary to the expectations of the others.

“What do you mean, you only brought canned food and trail mix?” Ron demanded of his wife, who had busied herself with pouring a few cans of ravioli in a saucepan, which she had magicked to hover over the fire.

“What did you expect, I’d be carrying eggs and pork chops with me?” Hermione snapped. “If you want food poisoning, you should have brought it yourself. Or have you forgotten that when we first left your parents’ house with Harry, we lived off wild berries and cream corn for almost two weeks?”

“That was different! We didn’t really get the chance to pack food, or find decent sanctuary, because in case you’ve forgotten, we’d only just escaped a Death Eater raid!”

Sensing a Ron-Hermione quarrel coming on as Hermione swelled furiously, Lily abruptly stood from her place by the fire and slipped quietly into the tent, where Grobschmied was snoozing on his camp bed and Ginny lay motionless in a corner. There were a few mattresses on the ground, where the younger members of the party would sleep that night. Picking the one nearest to her mother, Lily lay down on her mattress and decided not to go out until dinner, when the argument would have settled down somewhat.

“Now what?”

Lily woke with a start, and turned her head to the left to see Aberforth on one of the chairs by the Sneakoscope, looking closely at something she couldn’t see. He looked distinctly puzzled, and was muttering inaudibly to herself.

“Discovering more secrets about that pendant?” asked Lily as she got up.

Aberforth jumped and whipped around, then he visibly relaxed as he saw Lily watching him.

“Just musing,” he said evasively.

Lily raised an eyebrow, then held out her hand. “May I see it?”

Aberforth hesitated, looking a little reluctant to hand it over, but evidently he could find no reason to refuse, because a minute later he handed it to her.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had confused Aberforth. The pendant, which had been cold and inactive the last time she had touched it, was now very warm, almost hot, and she could feel a noticeable pulse somewhere inside it, almost as though she had laid her hand upon somebody’s heart.

“How long has it been doing this?” she asked curiously.

“Since noon today,” said Aberforth, frowning. “I can’t think what started it though.”

“Could it be the close proximity to Mum?” asked Lily. “That was what activated it the first time.”

“It can’t be,” said Aberforth, waving his hand dismissively, “otherwise it would have started doing this while we were leaving Goblynsrefuge.”

“Maybe something else sparks a reaction, and we’re much closer to it here than we were at Goblynsrefuge,” suggested Lily.

“Perhaps,” mumbled Aberforth, shifting uncomfortably.

Lily didn’t reply. She was as bewildered by Aberforth’s attitude as everyone else, uncomprehending to his uncharacteristic disquiet that he showed every time the origins of that pendant was brought up. Lily had heard all about his brother, and she understood that Albus was often secretive, that there were many things he kept secret from the Order, but Aberforth wasn’t like that. He usually told the senior officers in both resistances everything he thought was a concern, and he normally was pragmatic and kept a cool head when confronted with even the most urgent of issues.

If the pendant, Lily thought, or these “Laerenmathi” which seemed to be connected with it, made Aberforth Dumbledore anxious and secretive, then they had to be either really important or really dangerous.



They departed early the next morning, when the stars were still out. The Little Dipper was still visible, its end marking north a few degrees to the right of a road nearby. Aberforth nodded in that direction, then he turned to the others.

“Right,” he said gruffly. “We’re going to see if we can increase the pace a bit. I want to be at least two or three miles distant from headquarters by this evening. If you can’t manage that, Grobschmied, one of us will conjure a stretcher or a wheelchair for you too.”

They nodded.

“Let’s go, and keep it quiet.” Aberforth started down the path, and the others followed.

Lily lagged a little to walk by Hermione, who had cast a Hovering charm on Ginny’s stretcher. In a low voice, Lily asked, “What’s this all about?”

Hermione whispered, “Aberforth thinks we’re being followed.”

“I haven’t seen anybody.”

“Ron has.” Hermione nodded at her husband, who was just in front of them. “He caught sight of it just as we were getting up.”

“What was it?” Lily asked her uncle.

“I’m not sure,” he muttered. “It was while I was taking down the enchantments. I thought I saw somebody on a horse coming up the road a mile or two behind us. It was really dark though, and I might have imagined it, but Aberforth’s taking no risks.”

“Quiet!” Aberforth hissed from the front, and they stopped talking.

They didn’t stop for hours, not even for lunch, and during those hours, they rarely spoke. At about noon, Aberforth looked up at the clear sky and suggested Disillusioning themselves, but Grobschmied wouldn’t have it.

“There are plenty of trees, and none of us have seen anything since Ron saw something he himself says he could have imagined,” he snapped. “You’re starting to sound like Mad-Eye Moody. Besides, if you Disillusion us, you run the risk of somebody getting lost.”

Lily, however, wasn’t entirely sure that this was the case. She herself had a strange feeling that somebody was present, or close by. She couldn’t put her finger on it, though, until she turned around and thought she’d caught sight of a dark figure in the distance behind them. But the figure was only ever visible for a second, and like Ron, she thought she might have imagined it.

The goblin’s interference didn’t stop Aberforth from keeping them at a very quick pace though. Sure enough, at one o’ clock, Grobschmied had to be put in a wheelchair that Ron conjured, and floated by like Ginny. Lily panted by Ron and Hermione, sure that she was going to collapse herself as the slope grew steeper. Her aunt and uncle were both very red in the face, and Ron was visibly sweating.

This continued until Grobschmied took pity on them and told Aberforth that they’d all be too exhausted to continue by three o’ clock if they didn’t stop. Unable to argue with this, Aberforth allowed them to rest in a clutter of trees for half an hour.

“We’d better take it slower from now on,” panted Ron angrily. “What’s gotten into you, Aberforth? If there is anybody, they could just be Muggle hikers, and the Sneakoscope hasn’t lit up or anything!”

Aberforth hesitated, then he pulled something out of his pocket. “This is what is bothering me.”

It was the pendant. Ron stared at it incredulously, his already red face turning maroon in annoyance while Hermione snorted. Lily, however, understood instantly.

“It’s still pulsating, isn’t it?” she asked.

Aberforth nodded, and handed it to her. Indeed, the pulse was stronger and harder than it had been the day before, pounding against Lily’s fingers. “I’m not running any risks, we need to get to headquarters as quickly as possible.”

Ron, still scarlet, only muttered incoherently, and Hermione asked how much farther they had to go.

“I think we’re about four miles away,” Aberforth answered, squinting up the path.

“That’s about two-thirds of this hike finished,” grunted Ron. “Why don’t we just set up camp, we’ve gone about as far as we did yesterday, and most of us are too worn out to continue. This is getting ridiculous, I can’t believe that you pushed us this hard over a stupid piece of metal.”

Aberforth opened his mouth to retort, but then he recollected himself, and reluctantly agreed, much to everyone’s great relief.



It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, the impression Lily sometimes got that something was terribly wrong. That somebody was in terrible danger. Usually it was just common paranoia, but sometimes it wasn’t. Lily had felt it the day before they had evacuated from Goblynsrefuge, and since it had been only a week and two days since that awful day, she couldn’t disregard it now. Either way, it was keeping her awake, along with the pendant that she still had in her pocket.

Aberforth’s anxiety had not abated, and he had forbidden them to light a fire. That night, they’d had cold canned beans and cream corn for dinner, much to Ron’s disgust. He would have refused to listen to Aberforth, but for the fact that Grobschmied had agreed to this. Ever since dinner the two of them had kept their heads together in deep, subdued conversation, so that they even forgot to take the pendant back from Lily, until Grobschmied spontaneously fell asleep in his chair.

Lily turned over on her mattress, frustrated by this attack of insomnia, but nothing she tried made any difference. Eventually she gave up and wandered to the entrance, where Hermione sat with her wand illuminated and her eyelids drooping, clearly struggling to stay awake. The moment Lily stepped outside, Hermione asked, “What are you doing up?”

“I can’t sleep,” said Lily. Hermione smiled sympathetically.

“Why don’t you sit down? I need to stay awake, at least until it’s Ron’s turn to keep watch.”

“Do you think Aberforth is just being paranoid?” asked Lily.

Hermione shrugged, frowning. “Grobschmied had a point when he said Aberforth is behaving uncharacteristically like Mad-Eye. I thought so too, until Grobschmied started to get worried too when Aberforth mentioned that pendant.”

Lily didn’t reply. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, and Lily pulled the pendant from her pocket. The pulse was even stronger than it had been.

“Didn’t Aberforth say earlier that it was pulsating?” asked Hermione, watching her niece.

“It is,” said Lily. “Feel it.”

Hermione put her hand on it, and made a sharp intake of breath. “That’s incredible. It’s almost as though it has a life of its own.”

For a minute, Hermione examined the pendant, then she sighed. “I know Grobschmied did explain some of what he found out about it, why it activated the first time, but I wish Aberforth would tell us where he saw this thing before, and where it came from. I mean, how terrible could it get?”

“Grobschmied is trying to figure that out,” said Lily. “You know the morning we left Guttannen?”

Hermione nodded, and Lily told her about the passage she had seen in Grobschmied’s book, and the argument she had overheard.

“Laerenmathi?” she repeated, looking thoroughly confused.

“Ever heard of them?” asked Lily.

Hermione shook her head, and Lily’s heart sank. She had hoped that Hermione would have heard of them, but she supposed that if Grobschmied didn’t know what they were, Hermione probably wouldn’t either.

“It must have something to do with Grindelwald though,” said Hermione. “What did that book say about them again?”

“That they’re the most powerful earthly beings,” said Lily. “But you’d think that we’d have heard of them, if that’s the case.”

“Not necessarily,” said Hermione. “You know, Lily, when Harry was about your age, Dumbledore—Albus Dumbledore, I mean—spent a lot of time with him trying to uncover Voldemort’s Horcruxes. When Harry first heard the word ‘Horcrux,’ I went to the school library to try to find out what they are, but the only thing I found was a book that merely said that they’re the most evil magical inventions.”

“I don’t blame them for censuring it,” said Lily, shuddering. She had only just recently been told about Horcruxes, and the idea of murdering to keep oneself from dying was abominably selfish.

“Exactly,” said Hermione. “If these ‘Laerenmathi’ are powerful enough, it might be prudent to keep their existence secret. If I were you, I wouldn’t push Aberforth.”

“Doesn’t stop Grobschmied.”

“Since when did anything stop Grobschmied from unraveling a mystery?”

They both chuckled at that comment, as Lily stowed the pendant back into her pocket, then they fell silent for a few minutes. The feeling of paranoia did not abate.

“Didn’t Gran used to have a clock that would give family members’ locations?” asked Lily.

“Yes, she did,” said Hermione, smiling fondly. “Ron sometimes wishes that we still had it, but it was lost years ago. The hands would point to places like ‘school,’ ‘work,’ ‘hospital,’ even ‘mortal peril.’”

“Mortal peril?” repeated Lily, eyebrows raised.

“Mrs. Weasley never could be too careful.”

“How did she die?”

“She was killed in battle,” answered Hermione, a shadow passing over her face. “It devastated your uncles. Harry’s death was hard enough for them to take, not to mention their brothers’ deaths some years previous.”

Lily paused again, before saying thoughtfully, “It’s funny. Peace isn’t a concept I’m really familiar with, just silence. I mean, obviously we never were at peace even at Goblynsrefuge, with the Order constantly in and out and the Guards always doing their drills.”

“It’s the most amazing feeling in the world,” said Hermione. “Imagine knowing that nothing is wrong, that nobody is going to hurt you or your family, that there is no danger in the world around you. And if you add to that a feeling of satisfaction and content with who you are and your situation... for you it would be hard to imagine, Lily.”

“Is this ever going to end?” asked Lily, laying her head on her aunt’s shoulder.

“It will have to eventually,” said Hermione hesitantly. “I hope it will soon. Sometimes I get so tired of hiding and fighting and rebelling, that I start to not really care how it ends, just as long as it does.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “It’s been so long, about twenty-five since Voldemort returned. But if you add to that all the years before 1981...”

“About fifty,” said Lily. “How can a war last this long, how can any one person perpetuate it for so many years?”

“Voldemort can,” said Hermione. “He was all but immortal before your father destroyed his Horcruxes, but he still is at large and taking over. Even though he’s mortal again, Voldemort isn’t one to give up. I can describe peace, but I can hardly remember when it was peaceful anymore.”

After this, both of them were very silent for a long time. Hermione seemed to have fallen asleep, but Lily was lost in thought, still unable to sleep. At about ten-thirty, however, Ron appeared, ready to take over watch. By then the moon had risen, and Hermione was still asleep.

“What are you doing up, Lily?” he asked.

“Can’t sleep,” she said.

“You should at least try,” said Ron. “You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, especially if Aberforth decides to work us as hard as he did today.”

Lily grunted as Ron transferred Hermione to his shoulder.

“I just feel like something is wrong,” she said.

Ron looked around the area as he replied, “In this messed-up world, something is always wrong.”

“But don’t you ever get that feeling?” asked Lily.

“Of course I do,” said Ron. “Everyone gets it. Mad-Eye Moody got it to such an extreme that he was liable to jinx anything that startled him as he got older. It’s ironic that the one curse that got him was when he wasn’t being wary.”

They were very quiet for the next hour or so. At some point, Lily wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. No matter how much her uncle tried to convince her that what she was feeling was normal paranoia, she couldn’t get rid of the feeling, and meanwhile, the pendant was pounding harder than ever.

Lily’s feeling proved to be correct at some point past midnight. Lily was startled out of her reverie by a loud whistling from within the tent. Ron, who still had Hermione on his shoulder, asked Lily to see what was going on, and she looked in to see Aberforth and Grobschmied staring at the Sneakoscope, which had lit up and was spinning.



It was pulsating, he could sense it. He had never been so close. It was right there, in a grove of trees only a few hundred feet away.

But he needed to move hastily, because he saw a group of some fifteen persons approaching the area too. They were in shadow, hardly visible but for their movement, but Invius knew those hoods anywhere.

He wasn’t sure if they were aware of the party that had camped out in the trees, but these days, in which nobody took any chances, Death Eaters always carried means of detecting and removing protective enchantments. If the carrier of the talisman had made such enchantments, then the Death Eaters would know they were there.

But there was something else there, Invius realized, as he observed them, a formidable foe, something evil that was beyond any ordinary wizard ability to fight.




“Should we get moving?” asked Ron his wand drawn and held at the ready. After the Sneakoscope started spinning, Aberforth and Grobschmied ran out dragging Ginny behind them, and with a flick of his wand, Aberforth had everything packed up.

“Into what direction?” demanded Aberforth. “We don’t know where the intruders are, we could walk right into them!”

Fearfully, Lily, hidden behind the adults, who all stood in with wands drawn, and in Grobschmied’s case, knives drawn, began looking from her aunt and uncle to the Aberforth. Hermione put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. The Sneakoscope spun faster.

“It’s getting closer,” hissed Aberforth. He hurried to their bags and began to Disillusion them, then he did himself. Ron followed suit, and Hermione did herself and Lily. With any luck the intruder would not notice them when he came.

They waited. Lily shivered, and felt the adults tense. She looked around in the darkness, scanning for anything that could have set off the Sneakoscope, and she was sure that the others were doing so too.

Then, without warning, what little light shone through the grove vanished, so that there was nothing but a cold more penetrating than winter snow, not allowing numbness, but fear, total fear, such a cold it was that it seemed to penetrate the very soul.

They could hear a movement nearby, then the darkness lifted just enough to allow them to see a group of hooded figures wandering past the grove, accompanied by a shrouded figure, cloaked in black, with black iron-armored hands and feet, with a crown around its hooded head. Its face was veiled. They stared, praying that they remained invisible to the intruders, but the crowned figure fidgeted, and stopped. The female Blackrobe at the front halted too.

Then, quite suddenly, a soft but chilling voice hissed, not inside their ears, but their heads. “It’s here.”

The woman instantly raised a wand and cried “Finite!”

And each of them became visible again. Lily moaned, terrified, and the woman turned her face toward Aberforth.

“Well, well, well,” she jeered. “Aberforth Dumbledore. Still rebelling, are you, despite obvious truths? And Weasleys, friends of the Boy Who Died. Are you still in denial of that?”

Aberforth paled and brandished his wand, but the crowned figure generating the cold raised his armored hand, and immediately Aberforth shuddered and collapsed. Hermione screamed in panic as the woman took a step backward, her face on her companion, and her hood fell back to reveal heavily hooded eye-lids and a harsh face that Lily had only ever seen in pictures.

Bellatrix Lestrange appeared to be as terrified of her companion as everyone else in the vicinity, Blackrobe or otherwise, but she recovered, and said to the rest, “I remember you two, and you, goblin, Harry Potter’s accomplices, leaders of that pathetic rebellion, the Partisans.”

She looked at Ginny. “And Harry Potter’s wife. Why don’t you let me kill her, and spare her this misery?”

Lily whimpered as Bellatrix raised her wand, but the shrouded figure’s voice spoke again. “Hold!”

Bellatrix stopped, and lowered her wand. Her companion spoke again.

“The girl has a pendant in her possession which Voldemort wants,” he hissed. “It is a threat to my masters, and to the Dark Lord. I am commanded to confiscate it. Hand it over.”

Lily tried to back away, but the demon raised its hand again, and Lily’s body froze, stiff as a statue. The figure approached her, and said even more softly, “I recognize pieces of your mind and inheritance which match what was taken from the spouse of a great enemy. I recognize a soul which, though whole, contains replicated characteristics from an essence I used to possess.”

Lily saw Ron gulp and Hermione whiten in the corner of her eye. The Death Eaters looked at Lily curiously, then Bellatrix’s face brightened. “It can’t be Potter’s daughter!” she whispered in delight. “The Dark Lord was so angry when she escaped from the assault at Goblynsrefuge. The Laerenmath Talisman and Lily Potter, two birds with one stone!”

The demon ignored her. It waved its left hand, and Lily found her body obeying commands that were not her own. She screamed as the creature slowly led her away like a marionette.

“No! No! Let me go!”

“Lily!” screamed Hermione and Ron simultaneously.

The creature turned to Bellatrix, and hissed, “Kill them.”

Bellatrix raised her wand, and cried, “Avada--”

There was a deafening bang, and Ron, Hermione, and Grobschmied were blown backward, out of Bellatrix’s aim. Another bang, and some force lifted Lily off her feet and launched her into a bush some ten feet away. A second later, Bellatrix screamed and Lily, realizing that she was in control of herself again, looked up to see that some sort of iron rope or snake had wound itself around Bellatrix, binding her. She was fighting to throw it off, but it held tight. Then a new voice, just as soft as the demon’s, but also rather majestic in tone, said, “What are you doing here, Ordruîl?”

The demon did not move, but watched as an armored wizard entered the grove, pointing a long wand directly at the demon. Some of the Death Eaters emitted cries of terror and bolted. Others brandished their wands and took steps backward, but looked as though they did not know how to act.

“What do you want, Periculosus?” the demon Ordruîl hissed.

“I am sure you know already,” said the knight calmly.

“My masters will hear of this,” hissed Ordruîl.

“Undoubtedly they know already,” replied the other. “I ask you again, what are you doing here?”

Ordruîl said nothing. The knight then hissed, “You know that I can erase you from existence. You have no business here. Leave.”

Warmth was returning into the clearing, as was light.

“No living soul can kill me,”

The knight drew a saber. “I cannot die, so I am hardly a living soul.”

In a sudden flurry of movement, the demon was pinned to the ground with the sword at his chest, and the knight plunged the sword into Orduîl’s breastplate.

There was a shriek, and the demon writhed, and his armor seemed to wither and rot, as did his cloak, until nothing was left but a cloud of dust that was soon carried away in the breeze. What remained of the Death Eaters ran like their comrades, leaving Bellatrix alone in the grove, still bound. She was gaping at the spot where Ordruîl had vanished, moaning in fear as the knight turned to her.

“I take no pleasure in seeing you, Lestrange,” he hissed.

“What do you want?” cried Bellatrix, still struggling against her bonds.

“Your master stole the essence of my emotions, and I need it back,” he said calmly. He waved his hands, and her bonds vanished. “Go, report to Voldemort, do your duty. Leave this place, unless you want to join Ordruîl.”

Bellatrix stood, and faced the knight, motionless, until her face paled even more and she high-tailed it, vanishing into the night.

Ron, Hermione, and Grobschmied got to their feet, staring at him as he walked to Lily and helped her stand. Lily looked at his visor, and realized that there was nothing but blackness behind it. The knight had no face.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked. Lily shook her head. The knight nodded. “I didn’t think so. He and Lestrange were commanded to bring the carrier of the talisman to Voldemort. They would not have hurt you, though it would be formidable if Voldemort found it.”

“Are you Gepanzertzauberer?” asked Grobschmied at the same time as Lily asked, “What was that thing, Ordruîl?”

“Ordruîl was the father of the Dementors,” said the knight. “You’ll be pleased to hear that his passing will strip them of many of their powers. And Grobschmied, to answer your question, some call me Gepanzertzauberer, and others Sorcierdarmure, but my true name is not important.”

“And what do you want with us?” asked Hermione.

“That is Ginevra Weasley Potter on the gurney, is it not?” asked Sorcierdarmure. Nobody answered him, but he didn’t comment. He walked to her, a sapphire vial in his hand. With his other hand, he seemed to command Ginny’s straps to break, then some spell of his lifted her several feet before lowering her gently to the ground. Then he opened the vial and lowered it near Ginny’s lolling mouth.

“What is that?” asked Grobschmied, but Sorcierdarmure did not answer. A voice reverberated around them, even more majestic than Sorcierdarmure’s, but in a language they could not understand. The knight bent over Ginny’s unmoving figure, a strange shimmering light or substance, like the thoughts one put in a Pensieve, seemed float out of the vial.

A cage of blue light formed around both Ginny and Sorcierdarmure as something rose out of Ginny’s chest, more silver light, which joined the light from the vial.

This gathering of light turned into the transparent silver of a ghost, then molded itself into Ginny’s form, only this image looked around, clearly aware of the world around her. She stood over her body, and gazed at Sorcierdarmure with unmistakable interest. There was a very long pause as Ginny’s image and Sorcierdarmure stared at each other, then the latter spoke, his voice echoing.

“I hold you to your vow.”

The image said, her voice also reverberating, “I am prepared to fulfill it.”

And the light, the image, sunk into the body, out of sight. The blue cage vanished, and Sorcierdarmure stepped back.

Lily ran forward and bent over her mother, to see that Ginny’s eyes, which had stared blankly at nothing for sixteen years, had closed. Color was coming into her face, which had always been so white.

“Mum?” she whispered as Ron and Hermione came forward too. Ron examined her face, then said, “What the bloody-hell did you do?”

Sorcierdarmure did not answer. Instead, he looked at Ginny, and said, “It is natural to be tired.”

Hermione and Lily both began looking from Sorcierdarmure to Ginny in confusion. Sorcierdarmure stretched his hand out and placed it an inch above her nose, and he said, “Know that everything is dependant upon your vow. Purpose dictates it. Awaken!”

And Ginny’s eyes snapped open. Hermione screamed.

“Ginny!”

“My God!”

“Mum!”

Ginny sat up slowly, her arms shaking feebly, and her eyes fell on Sorcierdarmure. She whispered, “Invius, what is your curse?”

Sorcierdarmure said nothing.

“How can I free you if you will not tell me?”

In reply, Sorcierdarmure said, “I can only give you guidelines, and there is still much to be done. First, there is a mage in the mountains near the city of Innsbruck, who can tell you what to do and who to look for.”

Ginny nodded as Ron and Hermione stared at Sorcierdarmure in bewilderment.

“Second, all that you are obliged to do, must be done with your complete will, or none of your part will have any effect. Third, the talisman that your daughter holds must be kept safe.”

Ginny started at these words, and she turned to Lily, her eyes wide, but Sorcierdarmure continued before she could speak.

“Your first obligation is to protect your daughter, but the next is to prevent Voldemort or any other foes from stealing or destroying the talisman. I hold you to your vow.”

“Why can you not keep it safe?” asked Lily. Sorcierdarmure looked at her, and Lily thought she saw something green flash in the certain nothingness behind his visor.

“I cannot tell you.”

Ron snorted, and Hermione shot him a dirty look. Sorcierdarmure stood.

“I hold you to your vow,” he repeated to Ginny. “Go with Aberforth Dumbledore to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and rest. You will need all the strength you can get before long. Once you are strong enough, find the mage Fyrasman. Remember, he will be found in the mountains north of Innsbruck. I will contact you there.”

Sorcierdarmure gave his wand a small flick, and a moment later there was a snort as a black horse entered the clearing. “You are not strong enough to walk the rest of the journey there, Ginevra, but the horse will be willing to carry you the rest of the way.”

“Don’t you need it?” asked Ginny.

“I can easily get another one.”

He turned, and with a swish of his cloak he had gone, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Lily to turn to a newly revived Ginny, who was staring at her daughter again, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. Then Hermione squealed.

“Ginny! We thought we’d lost you! It’s so wonderful, I can hardly believe it!”

Ginny, still staring at Lily, responded, “What happened to me, Hermione?”

Ron answered her. “A Dementor got you. Took your soul and everything, about sixteen years ago.”

“Not my entire soul,” muttered Ginny, but only Lily heard her. Then Ginny looked at Hermione and asked, “Where is Harry?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other uneasily, and Ron said, “I wish we’d known that you’d be revived, Ginny. We’d have had time to think of a tactful way of answering you.”

“Ron, where is Harry?”

There was a grunt nearby, and Aberforth, who had clearly regained consciousness and had been watching the scene without comment, answered Ginny.

“Potter is buried at Goblynsrefuge, unless the Blackrobes plundered his grave.”

Ginny stared at Aberforth, her expression uncomprehending, but then she paled, and tears began running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, but all she could manage was, “When? How?”

“Sixteen years ago,” whispered Hermione. “At almost the same moment the Dementor took you. Harry never knew what happened to you.”

“As for the ‘how,’” said Aberforth, “we aren’t entirely sure, or even if there was a ‘how.’”

“What do you mean?” asked Ginny, her eyes still watering.

“I’ll explain when we get to headquarters,” said Grobschmied quietly.

Ginny looked at her daughter, and then placed her hand on Lily’s cheek. Mother looked at daughter sadly, then said, “You have his eyes. What did my brother name you?”

Lily blinked, then it hit her that Ginny could not have known her name, and she stated it.

“Just what he wanted,” said Ginny, smiling desolately. Lily could feel her eyes watering too.



Sorcierdarmure, or Invius, as Ginny called him, was quite right when he said that she would be unable to make the rest of the journey without the horse. Sixteen years in a coma had taken its toll on her, and she found, to her disgust, that she couldn’t even stand unassisted.

When asked exactly who Sorcierdarmure was, Ginny shrugged and replied, “I don’t really know. He told me exactly what he told you, that his name isn’t important, and also that his heart is gone.”

“And when did this happen?” asked Grobschmied curiously. “He must have rescued you from the Dementor at some point.”

“I’m not sure,” said Ginny, as she lay on Grobschmied’s camp bed. “I remember the rescue, and I think Invius must have connected to my mind, but I don’t remember anything after that. The next thing I was aware of was the revival.”

“And while he communicated to you, you made some sort of vow?” asked Ron, frowning.

“He swore to end my curse if I swore to end his,” said Ginny simply. “I suppose my curse was the separation of my mind from the rest of my soul. Dementors don’t take your entire soul, you know, just your mind.”

“You were right, Lily,” said Grobschmied, smiling. Lily blushed as Ginny looked at her with her eyebrows raised.

“Lily had guessed,” the goblin explained. “She used to visit you in the Goblynsrefuge infirmary, and she was sure you still had emotions.”

Lily shrugged. “If your emotions were in tact, I thought your thoughts might be reachable too.”

Ginny smiled. In the last few hours, she had grown a fondness for her daughter that was as great as the love of a mother can be expected to be.

Those hours were spent bringing Ginny up to date on current events. She was shocked that Voldemort had almost taken France and had already planted agents in Germany and Switzerland, laughed at the thought of Grobschmied having to serve as a representative of the Partisan resistance for Gutenburg, and she used some of Ron’s choicest swear words when she was told about the loss of Goblynsrefuge and her nephew’s treachery.

The night’s events rendered everyone too tired to continue the journey that day, so Aberforth sent a Patronus to headquarters, informing the rest of the Order that they’d arrive a day later than expected.

They rested almost the whole day.

The next morning, their things were packed, the enchantments lowered, and Ron and Aberforth helped Ginny mount Sorcierdarmure’s horse. They left, still wary lest there were any more Death Eaters in the area, but fortunately the remainder of the journey was rather uneventful.

The rest of the Order was shocked by their appearance. Fred and George, who appeared to be as tense and angry as Grimrook’s letter described, dropped their fury about the incident at Goblynsrefuge and almost fell to their knees in astonishment when they saw their sister revived and fully aware of her surroundings.

“All right, whoever did that, it isn’t funny!” George said loudly to the onlookers, who looked just as stunned as they were.

Ginny chuckled wearily. “Nice to see you too, George. You’ve lost hair since I last saw you.”

Ron sniggered as George exclaimed, “I speak to my sister for the first time in sixteen years, and the first thing she comments on…”

Fred laughed. “It’s good to have you back, Ginny.”


END PART I

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PART II

Chapter 16:

The Partisan League was a unique rebellion, because the only thing its members had in common was an enemy: the Death Eaters. It was originally formed by Harry Potter and Benedicht Grobschmied three years after the death of Albus Dumbledore. Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, had been on the run for almost two years by then, hunting down Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes. By that point, they had made almost no progress, because they spent more time moving around than they did searching.

By chance, Harry met Benedicht Grobschmied near a wizarding village. Grobschmied, who was old enough to remember the last major goblin rebellion, took Harry, Ron, and Hermione to that rebellion’s old hideout, Goblynsrefuge, which had long since been abandoned. In doing so, Grobschmied gave them exactly what they needed: a base from which they could complete their mission.

When it became clear that the Ministry of Magic was being infiltrated, Grobschmied went to Gringotts and there gave the goblin bankers a plan of action that they were willing to take. The moment the Ministry fell under Voldemort’s control, the goblins shut down the bank and fled to Goblynsrefuge. As a consequence, Wizarding economy crashed, disrupting all of Voldemort’s progress for the next few years.

As Grobschmied met with the Gringotts goblins, Harry Potter discovered the location of one of the Horcruxes at Hogwarts, which by then had been abandoned, except for the house-elves. With their assistance, Harry extracted the Horcrux from the Room of Requirement, and then he took Albus Dumbledore’s portrait and Pensieve from the Headmaster’s Office. Once he had these three items, Harry returned to Goblynsrefuge, taking all the Hogwarts house-elves with him.

Thus began the Partisan League. With such a high goblin membership, and being led by a post-Hogwarts Harry Potter, the Partisans were not very trusting by nature, to the point that the goblins imprisoned Ginny Weasley when she stumbled upon the island because she put on a Portring that Kreacher had left at Grimmauld Place. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had been away at the time, returned a few days later to find the place in some confusion, and it took their intervention to release Ginny from the cabin the goblins had locked her in.

It took some months for the Partisans to consent to an alliance with the Order of the Phoenix, but eventually they managed because their leaders trusted Aberforth Dumbledore. But even after the alliance was made, their untrusting nature never changed.




The Order’s new base, which they called Lupin’s Outpost after the Battle of Goblynsrefuge, was located in a cove down the glen near Guttannen. That cove cut deep in the mountain side, keeping the fortress well hidden from anybody’s view. The only way one could see the cove would be by standing right in front of it or by flying over it. After the Räume des Mystizismus workers placed magical protection on it, the entire cove turned invisible to an intruder. Only by another betrayal could the Order be discovered, and because Lupin’s Outpost now sheltered the Partisans as well as the Order, the resistance had become much more untrusting than it had been previously.

After the news of the battle reached the Order, their morale almost collapsed. Of the Order’s three leaders, only one was left alive and Aberforth was in Guttannen at the time. If Captain Grimrook and the Partisan Guards hadn’t been there, the Order would have been torn apart. When the squabbling started, the Partisan Guards took charge and ran the place in their militaristic style until Aberforth’s party arrived just over a week later.

The Partisans also were a unique magical resistance because they worked with a combination of elf, goblin, centaur, and wizard magic. In the early days of the resistance, all the wizard members were trained to dual wield between wands and conventional weapons with goblin enchantments. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, it was no secret that Harry Potter was a master at this.

Captain Grimrook, who was Grobschmied’s nephew, knew almost as much about goblin magic as his uncle. When he took charge of the Order in Aberforth’s absence, the first thing he did was add to the enchantments that Aberforth and Gutenburg placed. He put everyone to work, first by supplying the Order with goblin-enchanted weapons, by strengthening the fortress walls, and then by training some of the junior members of the Order to use those weapons.

Grimrook’s taking control prior to Aberforth’s arrival did the Order a great service, but after Aberforth arrived and appointed Fred and George to replace Lupin’s and Shacklebolt’s positions, the Partisans’ way of running things conflicted with Aberforth’s methods. The junior members of the Order wanted to continue this new training that Grimrook had started, but Aberforth didn’t like the idea of running the place like a military camp.

With France on the brink of destruction, and Germany already partially infiltrated, there was neither time for the Partisans to make a full relocation, nor was there a place. They had to stay at Lupin’s Outpost while Europe was about to suffer a general war. And while they stayed at Lupin’s Outpost, the Order of the Phoenix and the Partisans would have to meet and rewrite the terms of the alliance.




Aberforth put his head in his hands and grunted in frustration as the silver memories in the Pensieve swirled. Nobody was supposed to know, but the encounter with the demon Ordruîl, Invius’s arrival, and Ginny’s revival made it painfully obvious what was happening, leaving Aberforth with a difficult decision. Should he tell somebody that last and terrible secret? If so, who could he give such information?

“Wake up, Aberforth.”

“Huh?” A younger Aberforth, looking no older than forty, turned over on his pallet and faced his brother. “What’s up?”

“Somebody’s calling my name,” said Albus, looking down a path northeast.

“I don’t hear anything,” said Aberforth, looking around.

“No, but it’s been calling all night.” Albus sat down, looking pale and bewildered. “And it’s coming from over there.” He pointed down the path. “I feel like we ought to follow it.”

“You’ve gone mad, bro.” Aberforth sat up, looking worried. “Either that, or it’s Grindelwald. From what we’ve seen, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“To do what?” Albus asked. “Lure me into a trap? Unless Braun betrayed us, Grindelwald shouldn’t even know we’re here.”

Aberforth sighed as he pulled out of that memory. He didn’t need to view it to remember the events following it. Events that explained a lot about the world, but that knowledge was something that Aberforth would give his life to forget.

Aberforth woke up in time to see Albus walk back down the path after his three-day journey up the glen with that strange man they had met.

“What did he show you?” asked Aberforth.

Albus did not immediately answer. He looked very strange, with his gaze far away and his face slightly pale. He did not even seem to hear Aberforth.

“Al?” Aberforth stepped in front of his brother and waved his hand in front of his eyes. “OI! Al!”

Albus started and stared at Aberforth. “I never could have imagined such power…” he whispered.

“What was it? Al?” Aberforth now looked genuinly alarmed.

“The Dragon Lord,” muttered Albus, his eyes shut. “He showed me the Dragon Lord.”

“The what?”

“It will take so long to explain.” Albus sat down, and stared at the ground. “Merlin, wizards are so pathetically ignorant, Aberforth.”

Indeed, they were, Aberforth thought, as he reflected. And if fate was in his hands, he would keep wizards ignorant of the Laerenmathi. But if the Dark Collective had found a way to interfere with the dealings of wizards, as indicated by the appearance of Ordruîl, then it was plausible that somebody would have to know, and there was no one left to tell.

But then, if the Laerenmathi could stop their adversaries before such a formidable fate could infect the world again, what would be the point in telling? What if, assuming Aberforth told someone, the greatest enemy was stopped without wizarding interference, and somebody knew unnecessarily?

Troubled thoughts indeed.


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Chapter 17:

Ginny Potter’s revival increased some morale among both the Partisans and the Order, but in the first two weeks she was in no shape to be of much use to either. Incapable of walking or even standing, she spent most of her time recovering in her room in the Outpost Tower, sleeping, reading, or else engaging in long conversations with her daughter.

For Ginny, the ability to feel again was the strangest thing she had ever experienced, being heaven, but also excruciatingly painful at the same time. She could move, and she could feel all the love for her family. That was an experience she had not had for such a long time, that it was almost all she could dwell on.

But she also felt the loss most acutely as she remembered. Her mother, her father, and three of her brothers were dead, her husband was lost, and the son of her eldest brother, who she only remembered as a sweet but hurting child, had died a traitor. All that Ginny had ever known had been destroyed, first her home, then her family, followed by her country. Even the two homes she found in the Sorcerer’s Hollow and in Goblynsrefuge were gone. Voldemort had exterminated them, and she was left with what remained of her family, wondering what was left in this messed-up world for them.

Then she would be angry at herself, remembering how when she was younger, she wouldn’t have let her grief drag her down into despair, that she would stand up and continue fighting. In those days, that was the way of the Order; they fell, they stumbled, they staggered, they tumbled, but they always landed on their feet because they were doing everything they could to survive.

And she had a daughter who she had never given birth to. When she was first revived, when Ginny opened her eyes to find herself in a grove of trees surrounded by people she knew, with Invius standing over her, she had initially been too tired to be emotional. But when she realized that the red-haired girl was her daughter, she felt shock, the first thing she had ever felt in sixteen years.

And, once again, she had a mission to fulfill, which she was obliged to do because she had been revived. She was glad Invius had told her not to start the mission until she had fully recovered. At the time, she had not grasped his full meaning, but now she did. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t walk. Her health and strength was drained, and so was her magic. The return of her emotions had hit her full force. All of this had left her extremely weak, leading Poppy Pomfrey to assure her that it could be several months yet before she had her old strength back.

All the same, Ginny thought, as she lay awake one evening, watching the sunset through her window, the side-effects of her revival were maddening.




Two weeks after Aberforth’s party had arrived at Lupin’s Outpost, when Grobschmied decided she was ready, he paid Ginny a visit, and there he and Lily explained all they had figured out about the pendant, and what they had guessed about Harry’s death. Ginny was very quiet throughout the discussion, speaking only to ask Grobschmied to clarify something or to repeat it. All the while, Lily could see wheels turning in Ginny’s head, and she realized that there was something they had overlooked. When Grobschmied finished and departed an hour later, Lily turned to her mother uneasily and asked her what she thought.

“What do you mean?” asked Ginny quietly.

“Do you believe that Dad could still be alive?” Lily sat down on the bed and watched as Ginny stared out the window, looking thoughtful. For five minutes, she waited, until Ginny finally spoke.

“That’s a difficult question to answer,” she said. “Grobschmied gave very strong evidence that I cannot argue with, and some part of my reason believes it, and the other part tells me not to get my hopes up.” She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned into her pillow. “I want him to be alive, Lily, and I think that it is possible, but it most certainly isn’t probable.”

Lily smiled and shook her head in agreement, but then she chuckled, and Ginny looked at her questioningly.

“Until a few weeks ago,” said Lily, still grinning, “it was thought that curing the victim of a Dementor’s Kiss was impossible.”

“Point taken.”

They were very quiet for a minute, then Lily looked at Ginny, who was staring thoughtfully out the window again. Then a new thought slammed into place, and she gasped. “Mum, that wizard, Invius, you called him, you don’t think…”

Ginny turned away from the window and looked into her daughter’s eyes.

“Grobschmied gave pressing evidence that the pendant is connected with Dad,” said Lily, her mind racing. “And Invius told Bellatrix Lestrange that Voldemort took the essence of his emotions, or something along those lines.”

“Emotions, or the heart of the soul,” said Ginny. “He told me the same thing.”

“I didn’t make the connection until now,” said Lily, “but I think the pendant holds Invius’s emotions!”

“Lily,” Ginny said quietly, but her voice unwavering. “I think you know, as well as I do, that if Harry survived, but isn’t whole… Invius revived me because I would be necessary for his own revival, and if, because of my marriage to Harry, I’m the one who activates the talisman, then Invius couldn’t be anyone else.”



Two weeks after the workers from the Räume des Mystizismus had arrived in Berlin to report the completion of the Order’s new base, Hans Gutenburg received a visit from a Partisan goblin named Rok Grimrook. He had come to report the loss of Goblynsrefuge and that the Partisans had now relocated to Lupin’s Outpost.

To say that Gutenburg was stunned was an understatement. He sat alone in his office in solemn reflection, occasionally taking long swigs from his bottle of Firewhisky. For the first time, the immensity of Voldemort’s power struck him, because everyone, Partisans included, had believed Goblynsrefuge to be impossible to invade. They had all called it “the last safe place in the world,” but one weakness exploited by Voldemort, and the island was gone.

It put the storm that was coming into perspective. France was on the verge of defeat, and everyone knew that the moment France fell, Voldemort would concentrate his forces on Germany. If the German States were taken, if their forces couldn’t hold against Voldemort, then the world would, again, see the fall of Western Europe, just as in the days of Hitler and Grindelwald.

Wizarding Germany was not confined to the modern Muggle borders. The Deutschesministerium was still in charge of all the old German States, what Muggles would call the pre-World War I borders: Germany, which covered parts of Poland and the Sudetenland, and Austria-Hungary. This meant that if Voldemort took the Deutschesministerium, he would have half of Europe under his control.

That fact alone made the situation extremely precarious. The situation in France made it difficult already. Since Voldemort had taken Rouen, there had been an enormous influx of French refugees in Germany. They weren’t aware of the seriousness of the situation, and Gutenburg thought they would have been far better off if they had fled to the Americas, where they would be far safer.

Then there was the matter of the election. Neither Hesse nor Fodermaier were very popular, but on the latest poll, Gutenburg had been alarmed to see that many wizards were more in favor of Hesse, and viewed Fodermaier as a flip-flop. Gutenburg knew that it wouldn’t help if he said so outright, and he could be thrown from office if he did, but he was convinced that Hesse would step aside and allow Voldemort to take Germany during his first term as Minister, all in the name of peace.

He took another swig of Firewhisky, and there was a knock on the door.

“Come,” he said, putting down the bottle.

The door opened, and Aberforth Dumbledore entered, followed by Benedicht Grobschmied. Gutenburg motioned for them to sit, and they did so. Aberforth looked at the bottle, and with wave of his wand, he vanished it.

At Gutenburg’s grunt of protest, Aberforth raised his eyebrows. “You asked us to come, and I assumed that we’d find you sober.”

“He’s not thoroughly drunk,” said Grobschmied. He snapped his fingers, and Gutenburg’s head cleared so abruptly it caused his ears to pop.

“Thank you,” said Aberforth, and Grobschmied nodded. He then turned back to Gutenburg. “So what did you want us for?”

“Do you remember Oskar Wittenstein, from the Räume des Mystizismus?” asked Gutenburg.

“Of course,” said Aberforth, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “He’s a genius, instrumental in constructing the base.”

“He sent me this yesterday.” Gutenburg handed Aberforth the memo. “Read it out loud.”

“I can’t read German.”

Grobschmied grunted, then he tugged the memo from Aberforth’s hands, adjusted his spectacles, and read, “Dear Sir, I am writing to inform you that the designs for the Syntheses…”

“The what?” asked Aberforth, looking puzzled.

“I talked to you about it, remember?” Gutenburg rolled his eyes. “Weapons that can be useful both to wizards and to Muggles. So named because of the synthesis of magic and Muggle technology. Continue, Grobschmied.”

“… the designs for the Syntheses are completed, but we cannot get them to function properly. We have one of the Partisan weapons as a sample, but we cannot duplicate the magic, it being of goblin origin.”

“That is why I summoned you,” said Gutenburg. “Your nephew, Grobschmied, was it he who enchanted the Guards’ weapons?”

“No,” said Grobschmied, looking uncomfortable. “I did.”

Gutenburg looked impressed. “Do the other goblins know how to do this?”

“They have the instructions, and Rok can perform the magic almost as well as I can.”

“You’re still uncomfortable about it?” asked Gutenburg.

“You know that there are vast consequences that could erupt as a result of this,” said Grobschmied slowly. “Especially if we return to enchanting some of the more modern weapons. You do realize that this could create a higher risk of terrorism and other crimes?”

“Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to us,” said Gutenburg, hesitantly.

“Put a Protean Charm on the weapons,” said Aberforth. “A goblin Protean charm, so that when the war ends, you can just ask one of the Partisan goblins to remove the enchantments. It would just leave them as ordinary Muggle weapons.”

“You’re channeling your brother,” said Grobschmied, grinning. Aberforth grunted.

“Merlin, I hope not,” he said. Grobschmied frowned, and one of his eyebrows lifted. Aberforth shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

Grobschmied looked at Gutenburg. “Listen, if you think these Syntheses would be beneficial, I ask you to let the Partisan goblins take care of this. I’ll have Rok look at the designs, and if he approves, you send us the materials.”

Gutenburg, deciding that this was the best alternative, agreed.

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Chapter 18:

The original union between Order and the Partisans came about after the destruction of Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes. The Order had been trying to get in contact with the Partisans ever since they learned of their existence two years prior to the agreement, but it was Harry Potter’s decision to put it off until his mission was completed. Due to distinct differences between them, it was agreed that they would remain separate but united. The Partisans’ base would be at Goblynsrefuge, and the Order’s base would be in Europe. Members of both would be free to go to either base, and if one needed aid in any situation the other was to provide it. At least once a month, the senior members of both were to meet to discuss any developments, plans, or discoveries they had made.

Because of the growing seriousness of the present situation, the Partisans’ relocation to Lupin’s Outpost was permanent. For this reason, it was necessary for Aberforth to assemble a meeting between the senior Order members and the senior Partisans to amend the terms of their previous alliance. The meeting took place in Aberforth’s office, on a cold night in late October, a month after the Partisans first arrived.

Aberforth’s office was a small, round room, but due to the recent decrease in numbers the amount of space wasn’t a worry: Aberforth sat at his desk in the back facing a row of six chairs where Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Dobby, and Tonks were seated. In a smaller desk to Aberforth’s left sat Benedicht Grobschmied with a scroll of parchment and a quill, ready to record the events of the meeting. Also in attendance was Rok Grimrook, who stood by the window with his hands behind his back, along with Ginny Potter, who was sipping her prescribed potion in a wheelchair beside Tonks.

At precisely seven o’ clock, Aberforth produced a sheet of paper and a quill, ready to take notes, and the meeting began.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “As you know, with the Partisan League now in permanent residence here, it is necessary to amend the terms of our alliance, but before we start on that, we need to list just what issues need to be taken into account.”

Grimrook cleared his throat, and everyone’s attention turned to him.

“The largest problem will be the same as it always has been,” he said. “It has been made clear that while both resistances are in permanent residence here, we are going to have to cooperate as one, but the thing preventing such cooperation is prejudice. There are some among the goblins and centaurs who still haven’t overcome their distrust of humans.”

Hermione nodded. “They were more tolerant at Goblynsrefuge because they were acting as host, and because that was only temporary, but the moment we tell them that establishment of a new Partisan base is impossible, a few of them might make some trouble.”

“That is a reciprocal sentiment.” Their attention turned to Fred. “While most of them like the new training you started, Grimrook, some among the juniors are not happy about being trained in such a manner by goblins.”

“How many, do you estimate, will object?” asked Aberforth.

It was Grobschmied who answered. “At most ten of the Partisans, but I cannot vouch for the Order.”

Aberforth raised his eyebrows, and Grobschmied shrugged. “When the Partisan League first really came about, quite a few of the goblins were really unhappy with being run by led by three humans along with a couple of influencial goblins. You remember Cerdic Gadlak, Gringotts’ former manager? It took his effort along with my own to attempt to rid them of their anti-wizard prejudice.”

“You were fairly successful for the most part,” said Ron.

“Anyway, there’s still a few goblins who dislike wizards, but fortunately they are more willing to fight a common enemy beside them,” said Grobschmied. “I worry more about the centaurs.”

“Explain,” said Aberforth.

“The centaurs always were less cooperative than the goblins,” said Hermione quietly. “You know how even at Goblynsrefuge they prefered to remain secluded in the forest. Almost half of them were furious at the idea of any sort of alliance with two wizards and a witch, even though one of those wizards was Harry Potter.”

“Firenze was at his wits’ end trying to make them more reasonable about it.”

“What made them cooperate?” asked George. “I know they’re more seclusive, but I’ve never seen them as hostile as you describe.”

“Didn’t we ever tell you that one of them tried to assassinate Hermione?” asked Grobschmied.

“You serious?” Fred and George both raised their eyebrows at Hermione, who shut her eyes at the memory.

“It was that black centaur, Bane,” she said. “Do you remember the chestnut, Magorian, who was originally in charge of the centaurs? Bane was one of his friends, but when Magorian agreed to join the Partisans, he went mental.”

“The git tried to shoot her as she passed him one day,” said Ron. “Thankfully, he chose to do it at exactly the moment when Grimrook and a squad of goblins came down the road. He was apprehended immediately. Magorian was furious.”

“And the centaurs were more willing after that?” asked Tonks.

“No,” said Grimrook in an austere tone. “They backed down when Magorian had Bane executed, and replaced him with Firenze to make a statement.”

“He what?”

Grobschmied sighed. “He always was a ruthless fellow, but he was on our side, and at first he was the only one among us the centaurs would listen to.”

Aberforth made a note, and then asked Grobschmied, “Are there any among the centaurs who could give us a hand?”

“Rok would know.”

Aberforth looked at Grimrook expectantly, and the latter ran his fingers through his hair, looking thoughtful.

“There is an older centaur, named Cerulus, who is fairly influencial among them,” he said. “I believe he was instrumental in helping Firenze and Magorian put an end to anti-human feelings among the centaurs.”

“Could you and Grobschmied speak to him?” asked Aberforth. “You probably should also deal with the goblins as well.”

The two goblins nodded.

“What about the elves?” Aberforth asked Dobby.

“Loyal to the end,” he replied shortly.

“And formidable fighters,” put in Grimrook.

“That’s a relief,” said Aberforth, and the others laughed. “I suppose that leaves what should be done about the alliance then.”

“Again, with this new arrangement we need to cooperate as one,” said Grimrook. “After the more distrustful centaurs and goblins come to terms with that, there still the fact that while we help each other, both resistances are run differently.”

There was a long pause, in which the others nodded in agreement, and then put their minds to work, each trying to think of a practical solution, but it was Ginny who spoke up, for the first time since the meeting began.

“Don’t amend the alliance,” she said. “Get rid of it.”

The others looked at her in confusion, and even in some alarm, as though she had gone mad. Ginny looked at them in exasperation, before clarifying, “It’s not an alliance we need, but a synthesis. On the one hand, we’ve got the Order, who have more experience fighting Voldemort than the Partisans. The Order also tends to be more consistent and more merciful, no offense to you five.”

She nodded at Grobschmied, Ron, Hermione, Dobby, and Grimrook.

“We’re not offended!” said Hermione, making a sharp gesture with her hand. “Keep going.”

“On the other hand, we’ve got the Partisans, who haven’t had as many encounters with Voldemort as the Order, but have better spying techniques and tend to be better strategists. This is because the Partisans have an advantage over the Death Eaters that the Order does not. A resistance with mixed species can use not only unorthodox methods, but also different forms of magic.”

Ginny looked at them, her expression scrutinizing. The others watched her with rapt attention.

“In an alliance, the two resistances do not share these advantages,” she said. “But if we were to reorganize and synthesize two into one, the combined advantages could be deadly for the Death Eaters.”

“But the disadvantages would be combined too,” said Fred.

“Not necessarily,” said Ginny. “If the one has a strength, but the other is weak in that area, the new resistance would have the former’s strength, but not the latter’s weakness. For example, the Order, again, tends to be more merciful than the Partisans, but the Partisans have far better security. But when you combine the two, you get a resistance that is a bit distrusting to newcomers but still somewhat merciful, cancelling out two previous disadvantages the two have when separate.”

“What did you do, think this up overnight?” Ron demanded, his eyes wide in astonishment at what Ginny was suggesting.

“A synthesis was what I had hoped for from the moment Harry first met with Aberforth to make an alliance.” Ginny paused, and closed her eyes as her head hung a bit. “It was what he had hoped for too, but under the circumstances at the time, a synthesis was impossible.”

Ron looked lost for words, and Ginny said no more.

“In a mad sort of way,” said Fred, “it makes sense. What are we waiting for?”

The others echoed that sentiment. In the hour that followed, they discussed some ideas for Ginny’s solution that Aberforth made note of. They then unanimously appointed Grobschmied to take these new ideas and draw up a plan which they would meet to discuss in a week’s time.

At nine o’ clock, the meeting concluded, and all but Aberforth and Grobschmied departed.

“Aren’t you tired?” asked Aberforth, his eyes narrowing at Grobschmied, who remained seated at the smaller desk.

Grobschmied didn’t answer, but watched him carefully.

“Are you ever going to drop it, Grobschmied?” asked Aberforth, looking fed up.

“No,” the goblin said quietly. “If it wasn’t for that encounter with Sorcierdarmure, perhaps I wouldn’t be bothering you now.”

Aberforth flinched, and looked out the window, his face whitening.

“Back at Goblynsrefuge,” said Grobschmied sourly, “you told Ron and Remus that you didn’t think whatever was bothering you had anything to do with Voldemort. But you also told them that if it did, then, in your exact words, ‘this war runs much deeper and thicker than a wizards’ war.’”

“My memory is as good as yours,” the other snapped.

“Then what do you have to say about all that Sorcierdarmure told us, all that happened?” Grobschmied rolled up the scroll he had been writing on during the meeting. “That creature that accompanied the Blackrobes, the ‘Father of the Dementors,’ had a power like nothing I have ever seen before, but you knew about the existence of such a creature, didn’t you?”

Aberforth didn’t answer.

“That talisman has a lot to do with these ‘Laerenmathi’ beings you won’t tell me about, I know that much,” continued Grobschmied, “and Sorcierdarmure all but told us that it also has everything to do with Voldemort. If what you said is true, Aberforth, then this certainly is no longer just a wizards’ war. You have got to tell somebody!”

“It also may be something that, for your information, can sort itself out!” Aberforth turned around and glared at Grobschmied.

“I’m sure it can, but while that talisman is in our possession, if the situation is as precarious as you are hinting, then everybody in this fortress is in danger!” Grobschmied retorted. “I would think that at least those in charge of the place have a right to know!”

The goblin stood up abruptly, marched to the door, and opened it. Then he turned around and said, “Consider carefully when you are going to tell somebody, because both of us know that eventually you’ll have to.”

Aberforth opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, there was a tap on the window. Both of them looked at it to see a tawny owl perched there. Without a word, Aberforth opened the window and took the note from its beak. When he finished reading, his face went white.

“What’s the matter?” asked Grobschmied.

Aberforth didn’t answer. Instead, he passed Grobschmied the letter. It consisted of only two lines:

France has fallen. They are preparing to regroup and attack Germany.

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Chapter 19:

The Infection was spreading farther and faster than ever before, and now it had destroyed the Ministère Français. The hidden palace had been infiltrated after the invasion at Rouen, and when the right opportunity came, the Death Eaters stormed the place. The assault was hard, fast, and sudden. Just like the day the Nazis took Paris, by the time the defenders of France realized what had happened, it was too late.

The Ministre and her followers were dead, her guards slaughtered, and all the employees forced to do the bidding of their conquerers. The French community was thus left defenseless, and were easily subjugated. It was over in a week.

And the next assault was already beginning. In the suburbs of Pforzheim, German Auror Johann Gärtner left his home to visit a friend in Frankfurt. His wife Helga had seen him off on the high-speed train, which he preferred to Apparating, and neither saw the dark man slip behind them onto the train. Gärtner never returned.

Immanuel Goeth, head of the German Magical Law Enforcement Squad didn’t arrive at work two weeks after the loss of the Ministère Français. His assistant fire-called him, and found his house to be empty. Two days later, his body was found in a ditch by a hysterical girl in the country many miles from Berlin.

In response, Gutenburg sent fighters to secure the borders, but the politicians were preoccupied because of the election, and it was the perfect time for Voldemort to push his forces against Germany while the current administration was almost powerless.

Germany was weak.



“It’s a gun,” said Ron, looking at the prototype Wittenstein had sent.

“Well spotted,” snapped Hermione.

Grimrook, who was carefully examining the blueprint sent with it, replied, “It’s not a bad design, but my uncle was right when he asked Gutenburg to let us manufacture them.”

“And remind me, how are we--” Ron pointed at himself, Hermione, Fred, and George, “—supposed to help you create goblin-enchanted firearms?”

“It looks like they’re ‘Syntheses’ in more than one way,” said George, squinting at the blueprint. “They’re asking for a combination of goblin and wizard spells. Look at this note, for example.”

He pointed. There, in the corner, was scrawled, Bullets ought to be capable of penetrating any magical shield.

“I can only think of one spell that is completely and totally unblockable,” George continued.

“The Killing Curse,” said Hermione, and she frowned. “What, are we supposed to enchant the bullets with ‘Avada Kedavra?’”

“At least whatever allows that curse to penetrate magical shields,” replied Grimrook. “Since the Killing Curse is not a goblin spell, I need you to work on that, along with the other wizard enchantments put on this thing.”

“Does it work?” Ron asked, picking up the gun.

“That one won’t.” Grimrook tugged it from Ron’s hands. “At the moment, I wouldn’t try it. The enchantments on that prototype are simply spells that they thought had similar properties to the goblin magic on the original they were copying from. They made it without really understanding the principles involved. Do you know the story of guns and the Japanese?”

Ron shook his head.

“When the Japanese first were introduced to gunpowder weapons, they based their designs off of foreign models, but they never were taught how the guns actually worked,” said Grimrook. “The results were unstable weapons that could be as deadly to the wielder as to his enemy. That was in the Muggle world, but the same thing applies for magic. If they don’t know the full properties of the spell they put on the weapon, the result could be disastrous.”

“I don’t know about this,” said Hermione, frowning. “Don’t you realize how dangerous making one of these is going to be?”

Grimrook nodded. “I’m aware of the risks, Hermione, especially when it comes to the spells required for those bullets. And it isn’t any more dangerous than some of the goblin enchantments our previous designs have called for.”

Hermione looked closely at the blueprint. “It gets even more complicated. Since they want these weapons to be given to the Muggle military as well, they want us to keep the magic involved inconspicuous. It will be hard not to put so many spells on the objects without them giving off sparks or flashes or that sort of thing.”

“Come off it,” said Grimrook incredulously. “Why do you think I asked for you? Ron and Hermione Weasley, who knew enough about enchanting to destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and Fred and George Weasley, who ran Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes? If there’s anybody in this fortress who is capable of this, it’s you four.”



And in Germany, where the Infection was only just beginning to touch, Hans Gutenburg’s last term was coming to a close. The magical community of the German States began taking their newspapers or listening to their wireless radios, tuning in to listen to the two new candidates for the Deutschesminster.

Most of the people liked neither candidate, which, sadly, is the case for the majority of elections. In this case, their distrust was not unfounded, but they had to choose one of them.

“Defend the borders!” cried Fodermaier over the radio. “It is our duty to defend Germany from the invaders from Britain. The Deutschesministerium has defended its subjects from such dangers since the days of Grindelwald, and we cannot allow it to fall into the hands of these Muggle-haters who are little more than terrorists!”

But what, responded the German voters, is Fodermaier going to do about reforming magical education, which has seriously undermined wizarding competence since Igor Karkaroff was headmaster? What has he to say for the influx of refugees from France, the Netherlands, and Belgium, who have settled here and taken our jobs and filled Durmstrang so that more and more of us are forced to home-school our children? Because while he sounded ready to face the international issues, nothing he had proposed for the internal difficulties would be effective.

Further, they asked, is Germany ready for another war?

“Negotiation is the key to this issue,” responded Hesse. “Germany is a mighty force, but do we need to go to war so soon after the days of Grindelwald? Do we need to fight before we parlay with the British? It is the duty of the Deutschesminterium to defend its subjects, and is it defense to send them to war? Do we try resistance as France did? The hotheaded French didn’t even try to negotiate, and see their end! We must find a different solution!”

What of the refugees?

“We cannot deport them while they are in exile, but we promise to speak on their behalf as we discuss terms. Then, should the British be willing, they will be able to return home.”

What of education?

“The education of young wizards is always of the utmost importance, and we at the Deutschesministerium recognize the failings of Durmstrang and other schools. We will do all in our power to rectify those failings.”

What of Muggles and Muggle-borns?

“We have their best interest at heart, but our priority is the community as a whole. We will find a solution that will, in the long run, be beneficial to all.”



“Who does he think he is?” Fred roared as they gathered in Ginny’s room. He folded up the newspaper and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall by Ginny’s bed and fell on her table with a thud. “Just listen to him! Negotiation? He has got to be joking!”

“If you hadn’t read the name ‘Hesse,’ I would have thought it was old Umbridge speaking,” said Ron, tapping his fingers on the table impatiently. “Anybody who has dealt with Voldemort knows that he doesn’t negotiate.”

“Gutenburg thinks that Hesse is fully aware of that,” sighed Aberforth, “but most of the people aren’t.”

“You mean Hesse wants Voldemort to take Germany?” asked Ginny, alarmed.

“Ginny, Gutenburg has told me all about Hesse,” replied the other. “He hates Muggles, and he’s convinced himself that Voldemort’s invasion is in its entirety a campaign against the Muggles.”

“Voldemort’s invasion is an attempt to take power!” she cried furiously.

“Yeah, well, for that matter Hesse is going to lower the rights of Muggle-borns,” said Grobschmied.

“He can’t,” said Lily. “There are plenty of anti-Muggle-borns in the German population, but not enough to allow for that!”

Aberforth snorted. “Lily, the Germans are scared, they’ll accept any measure as long as their families are kept safe, even if that measure is completely and totally unjust.”

“And besides, Hesse isn’t going to say so outright,” added Grobschmied. “Not yet, anyway. He can’t discriminate against Muggles yet, or Gutenburg would have the grounds to dismiss him from his campaign.”

“Not that Gutenburg hasn’t been looking for an excuse anyway,” said Aberforth. “Unfortunately, Hesse is pretty clever.”

“So he’s using the terms ‘negotiation’ and ‘a different solution’ to refer to his own little agenda,” said Hermione, her face turning steadily redder.

Ginny groaned. “The perfect bureaucrat, I must say.”

At that moment, somebody rapped loudly on the door. Fred, who was nearest, stood and opened it.

“Is Aberforth in there?” came Grimrook’s voice.

“Yeah, he is,” Aberforth called. “What is it?”

Grimrook stepped inside, followed by a balding wizard wearing the regalia of the Räume des Mystizismus.

“Wittenstein?” Aberforth raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing here? Did Gutenburg send you?”

“He says that he’s got something really urgent to tell you,” said Grimrook.

Aberforth grunted. “What is it, then?”

Wittenstein drew a deep breath, and said, “Those of us in the Räume are relocating here, and we’re taking all the records and plans concerning the Syntheses with us.”

“Why?”

“You have not heard?” Wittenstein looked genuinely upset. His face was very white, and he was twisting his hat in his hands nervously. They could see a droplet of sweat running down his temple. “Fodermaier was killed by a Death Eater not half an hour ago in his office. They’ve captured the assassin, but he’s achieved his goal. Hesse is going to win the election.”


The next chapter is really short, but it makes good filler and it will probably be up by tomorrow. Feedback

Here's the short chapter I promised yesterday. Read 19 first if you aren't aware that I posted that yesterday.

Chapter 20:

All that remained was blackened trees and ash that appeared blue-gray in the moonlight. Near the charcoal remains that once were the dock, a group of headstones were still in place, so worn by heat and destruction that some of their names were hardly visible. The largest headstone had fallen over during the battle that had taken place there those months before, and now it lay half-buried in the ash, so that all that was visible of its inscription was: TTER.

The destroyed base of the Partisans usually lay in deathly silence, but that night, the quiet was disturbed by a sound like the beating of wings, so large and low a sound that it could have been mistaken for a heart-beat. And scarcely visible in the moonlight, the shape of an enormous creature descended upon the island. It passed over the heads of the sleeping Death Eaters sentries by the dock, who had been placed there to make certain that the Partisans never returned. The creature landed lightly on the ash and folded its wings, making it appear far smaller than before, but it still was roughly the same size as a cart horse.

The creature silently moved across the ashy path that once was the road through the Goblynsrefuge forest, and it halted, standing over the fallen headstone.

The Blackrobes were roused by a majestic voice that had sounded some twenty yards away, speaking in a language they had never heard before. What was worse was that the voice seemed to have exactly the same effect upon them as the phoenix song, striking fear into their hearts as they stood to investigate.

One of them pointed, and the others looked in the indicated direction to see the winged creature chanting in the new language, one of its clawed forefeet raised a foot above the ground by the tombstone of Harry Potter.

The Blackrobes stood rooted to the spot, knowing that something had to be done, but the effect of the voice paralyzed them, so that they couldn’t budge, nor could they speak. They could only watch as a cloud of dust streamed from the ground into the forefoot, and then vanished into a glass sphere that the creature seemed to have conjured.

The chanting stopped, and the talons closed around the sphere. The beast looked up from the tombstone and looked directly at the Blackrobes, with a gaze that seemed to pierce into their very souls. Its expression, illuminated in the moonlight, was stern and angry, a reprimanding expression that caused them to back away. Several of them drew their wands.

“Don’t come near us!” one of them cried weakly.

The beast didn’t approach them, but it unfolded its wings, causing it to appear twice as large as it was. The Death Eaters backed away even further, but the creature turned and its wing swept up and down a couple of times, taking it high into the air. Within minutes it disappeared into the night, but the sound of its wings were still audible.

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Chapter 21:

The moment he received the news of Fodermaier’s death, Gutenburg acted. All records and production of the Syntheses were moved to Lupin’s Outpost, and all instructions Gutenburg had written for Fodermaier were destroyed. The Mystizismus workers modified several memories, and those most involved immediately relocated their families to Lupin’s Outpost.

With Fodermaier dead, the election took exactly the course everyone expected it to. On January 3rd, Otto Hesse was elected the new minister, and he was inaugurated the next week.

Hans Gutenburg, former German Minister, was in attendance at the inauguration, but the moment the ceremony ended, his family packed their bags and left Germany for Lupin’s Outpost. With Hesse in charge, Gutenburg had little if any say over national defense, and he was not going to stay with the Deutschesministerium when he no longer had any power to protect it from the Infection. All he could do now was continue to fight Voldemort outside of government.

Hesse’s prejudice against Muggles had already taken its effect, and the German wizarding community was losing morale and trust. It was almost certain now that Germany was going to fall into Voldemort’s hands, much more quickly than France or even Britain did. Everyone knew as much.



On the night of Hesse’s inauguration, Grimrook appeared at the dinner table to tell Lily and Ginny that Grobschmied had sent for them. Without a word, the both of them stepped into the elevator built into the tower and ascende the tower to the fifth floor, where Grobschmied’s office was built. There, they found Grobschmied seated at his desk, watching Aberforth with a tense expression. The latter was pacing around the office with a nervious look on his face.

When Lily and Ginny entered the office, Aberforth pointed his wand at the door and said, “Muffliato,” as Grobschmied gestured for them to sit in the two armchairs by the bookshelf.

“Aberforth has something to tell us, and I believe it is rather serious.”

Ginny and Lily both looked at Aberforth expectantly, and he placed the dragon pendant on the desk. He then reached into his pocket and produced a thin, leather-bound booklet with a thick seal. There was an impression in the cover, shaped exactly like the pendant. Aberforth fit the pendant inside of this impression perfectly, and the seals unlocked, allowing Aberforth to open the booklet. He then handed it to Grobschmied.

“Read it out loud.”

Grobschmied lay the text on the desk, pushed his spectacles up his nose, and thus began:

“ 31 July 1996

Approximately four hundred students study at this school every year, and each student leaves onto his own path after his seventh year. Some of them become the best of wizards and the best of men, some the most talented, and yet their level of ignorance is greater than they realize. The philosopher Socrates believed that true wisdom is understanding that one knows nothing. He was right.

They say that ignorance is bliss, but that bliss will end the moment that which you are ignorant of rears up like a cobra and bites. It has happened so many times, and if all goes badly, then it will happen soon. For this reason, I am going to write an account of an event that occurred fifty-one years ago, and then enchant this text to remain hidden, until the time comes when it must be made known.

It happened as Aberforth and I hid in the mountains just outside the city of Innsbruck, having lost our way in search of an item we thought would aid us in the struggle against Grindelwald. For many days we had wandered the Alps, hoping for so much of a sign or a whisper which might allow us to accomplish our goal, but it all came to nught. On the tenth night, in the midst of my sleep, I heard a voice inside my head, calling my name again and again. The voice did not stop when I woke up, and continued calling until the morning. I told Aberforth about it, and he feared that Grindelwald had put some sort of spell on the area, but I felt a strange pull, a need to follow that voice.

Eventually, Aberforth agreed to it, and he followed me as I followed the voice, over crags and glens, torrents and moors, until I wandered into the entrance of a hidden valley, and there was a man waiting for me. He introduced himself as the mage Fyrasman, and he told Aberforth to wait, that only I could go on.

So my brother remained behind at the valley entrance, and I continued with Fyrasman as my guide. After a mile of walking, he took my hand and then chanted in a strange language I had never heard before. Then the scene changed, and I was in a different mountain pass in a different environment, far away from where Aberforth waited.

Then Fyrasman spoke to me of many, less known rules of the universe, of which most wizards are ignorant, though the Muggle philosopher Aristotle had come close to figuring it out.

The Ancient Greeks called them elements, but really they are essences of magic, essential to Earth’s cycles, but the elements must remain balanced and checked. There are five of these elements: fire, earth, air, water, and aether. They are powerful, far more powerful than any man, more powerful than any other form of magic. They interact with each other, they can check each other, and they are neither pure nor filthy.

The four earthly, materialistic elements of magic are named târe (fire), dwfr (water), daear (earth), and awyr (air). The substances filled with the elements almost without impurities are placed in an order of characteristics: dry or moist, cold or hot.

The fifth, Aether, is the element of the heavens and the universe, and it is the most mysterious. It is the celestial element, the essence of life and creation that is most prominent beyond the terrestrial sphere. It is infinite, yet balanced. It is superior, yet equal to the other four. It centers around them, and they center around it.

Each species has mastery over at least one of the earthly essences. The more of the essences a race has mastery of, the more sophisticated and intelligent they are. The aimals we observe are of the Levels of One and Two, in other words, they have mastery over no more than one or two of the elements. The badger has mastery over earth, the bird over air, and the fish over water, but the serpent has mastery over water and earth, the whale mastery over water and air, and the ape earth and air.

The next step in this heirarchy, the Level of Three, are those who have mastery over three elements: men, goblins, elves, centaurs, merpeople, and in some cases, giants. Men have mastery over fire, earth, and air. Goblins and elves both have mastery over fire, earth, and water, and thus exercise the same magic. Centaurs, on the other hand, have mastery over water, earth and air, and merpeople over water, fire, and air.

The next step, the Level of Four, are those who have mastery over all four earthly elements. These are the two secret races, unknown to most of those in the previous Level, and with a sophisticated intelligence beyond man’s comprehension. They, unfortunately, are also divided and lost, and it is due to their conflicts that the world falls apart. The first of these races, the wisest and the purest, are the Laerenmathi, the oldest of all earthly races. Many millenia ago, more than half of the Laerenmathi were corrupted by greed and darkness, and they fell from their wisdom in punishment and became the monsters known as dragons.

The remainder of the Laerenmathi, the True Dragons, are but few in number. The second race of the Level of Four are the Fatum, or the Dark Collective, and they are fallen.

This is the heirarchy of beings, though, as in all things, rules have exceptions, and it is through one of these exceptions that the mage is created. A mage is a being born in the Level of Three, who has been granted mastery over the element he is missing, therefore upgraded to the Level of Four.

Fundamentally, this was all Fyrasman told me as we climbed the mountain pass, until we came to the entrance of a second valley. Here we stopped, and he told me that there waited the last of the Laerenmathi, who had selected me to become the newest mage.

The Laerenmathi were, indeed, dragons, but unlike the fallen dragons that wizards fear, they were neither monstrous nor bloodthirsty. The moment I saw them, however, I was struck with both fear and awe, at their stern manner and their greatness.

Fyrasman presented me to the eldest of the Laerenmathi, Ancalagar the Dragon Lord, and in response, Ancalagar led me to the top of the highest mountain, and there he granted me master over water, the element I, as a human, lacked. Then he told me many things about the Laerenmathi and the Fatum, which I will now abridge.

The Laerenmathi and the Fatum may not be the most powerful beings in the universe, because while they have mastery over the four earthly elements, there is still the Level of Five. They do not have mastery over Aether, the celestial element, and the basic understanding is that an individual with such mastery would be omniscient and omnipotent.

The Level of Five is not the main focus of this passage, and it is not in the best interest of any reader to be too curious about it. That is why the Fatum are fallen. At the world’s beginnings, the Laerenmathi and the Fatum lived in harmony, in meditation over these basic rules. The Fatum, however, held an unhealthy fascination with Aether and the Level of Five, such a great fascination that they sought mastery over it, to achieve their own ends and be supreme. They believed that the key to mastery over Aether was individualism, and so they removed their individualism and placed it in the hands of Fae, their selected Queen. In doing so, they became the Dark Collective, a fallen race where there are no individuals except Fae and her offspring.

The Laerenmathi did all within their power to stop the Dark Collective, but many of their numbers were corrupted by Fae’s evil ideas, and they were punished and an element was removed from their mastery, resulting in the fallen dragons I have described above.

These such wars continued for thousands of millenia, and were still in motion at the birth of man. The Level of Three were only vaguely aware of the struggle within the Level of Four. They saw the fallen dragons, and had legends about the greater, benevolent dragons, and occasionally, those of the Level of Three encountered one of the Fatum. Human beings, notably, were fascinated by their few encounters with the Fatum, and that evil race appears in their folklore and mythology as faeries, the magical beings that seduced them and sometimes took their children, leaving behind changelings.

Those legends weren’t far off the mark.

The struggle continued in this manner until the events that occurred a thousand years before I encountered the Laerenmathi, the deepest, darkest secret that even now is destroying the world. The war between the Laerenmathi and the Dark Collective was reaching a climax in the days of Hogwarts’ founding, and the Dark Collective was losing. The Faeries grew desperate, and they hatched a plan that would eventually give them revival should the Laerenmathi win the war. One of the wizards from Hogwarts, a curious fellow, sometimes went abroad to study magic. On one of these trips, he was met by a slave of the Fatum, who led them into their realm. There he met Fae, and he was seduced by her power and beauty.

After some months in the land of the Fatum as the Faerie Queen’s lover, he returned to England, corrupted and filled with new, evil ideologies. His wife shortly thereafter became pregnant and died in childbirth, but what is not commonly known was that the surviving child was switched with the wizard’s illegitimate son by Fae.

The changeling son of this wizard and the Queen of the Faeries was consequently a mage, but was forbidden by the Dark Collective to show his abilities. Meanwhile, the Laerenmathi were victorious in the climactic battle, and Fae was incarcerated in an ancient cave called Tyrtardus. A truce was made between Ancalagar and Etifeth, Fae’s daughter: neither was to directly interfere in the affairs of the Level of Three, and if they did, the other had every right to start the war again.

The changeling remained unknown to the Laerenmathi, and after a generation his Faerie powers became recessive. None of his descendants had such powers, until about seventy years ago, when they resurfaced. The Laerenmathi sensed it, and realized what Fae must have done.

Before they sent for me, the Laerenmathi planned to weave a prophecy which would be sent amidst the knowledge of the Level of Three when all magical aspects of the world generally feared even the name of Fae’s descendant. This prophecy would be the terms by which an elect wizard was to be created, to combat the new mage and destroy him.

Ancalagar had sent for me, because he needed somebody to hold the dark mage at bay and to protect the chosen wizard of the prophecy for as long as fate would permit me. Why they chose me, I known not.

After the defeat of Grindelwald, I returned to England and kept watch for the changeling’s descendant. Over the years, rumors reached my ears of the actions of Tom Riddle, a student from Hogwarts I had taught myself. I did my best to keep an eye on him when he was fifteen, and I kept an eye on him after he graduated, even though he was no longer my responsibility.

Riddle, however, disappeared onto his own path like all Hogwarts students, and I only next heard from him after the death of Headmaster Dippet, when he applied for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. After that unusual interview, in which I had denied him the job, he disappeared again, and re-emerged as Lord Voldemort. For years, he inflicted great persecution against his fellow men in the name of pureblood ancestry, with such a great degree of power that I began to suspect him.

I studied him, searched for his weakness, and held him at bay to the best of my ability, while I waited for the Laerenmathi to weave that prophecy. Then, in the year 1980, a former student, Sybll Trelawny, applied for the post of Divination teacher. It against my better judgement to allow the post to continue, but for the sake of courtesy, I granted her an interview at Aberforth’s inn. It is fortunate that I did, for it was then that Ancalagar chose to release the prophecy, recorded below:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies….

The moment I heard it, I knew, without a doubt, that Voldemort was Fae’s descendant, and that Salazar Slytherin must have been the wizard she had seduced a thousand years ago.

Unfortunately, Aberforth’s pub wasn’t the most ideal choice for a private conversation, and Severus Snape, then a follower of Voldemort, told his master of the coming birth. From that point on, Voldemort was determined find out who was destined to destroy him.

On July 31st that year, Harry Potter was born, and his parents had defied Voldemort three times previously. On October 31st, 1981, Voldemort murdered Lily and James Potter, but met his downfall when he tried to destroy their son.

Since then, I have done all in my power to protect Harry from Voldemort, and prepare him for what will be a long and difficult road, with many dark paths, twists and obstacles. Recently I found pressing evidence that Voldemort has created more than one Horcrux, and I also have told Harry about the prophecy. He doesn’t know about the Laerenmathi or the prophecy’s origins, but I am convinced that that knowledge will find him, when the time comes.

I will not be there to give it to him in person, because my mission as a mage has almost been fulfilled. I have little time left, only time enough to inform Harry of the Horcruxes and what must be done before any attempts are made on Voldemort’s life. I shall venture to place this record in the hands of my brother, who knows every particular of my encounter with the Laerenmathi.

As for Harry Potter, I close by saying that I believe he is capable of fulfilling what he was born to fulfill. Voldemort must be stopped, or all of the Level of Three will eventually become enslaved to the Dark Collective. And Harry must stop Voldemort himself, because the Laerenmathi cannot break the truce, nor can they interfere with their own prophecies. If the Fatum grow desperate enough, should the right situation arise, Harry will almost certainly be placed under the protection of the True Dragons.

Albus Dumbledore.”

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So sorry for the delay!

Chapter 22



“Oh Merlin.”

There wasn’t any smoke, any fire, and no blood. It baffled the police that there was no sign of any attack or disease, no poison, nothing. They were just dead.

“Oh Merlin.”

Too soon for decay, and too late for any help. Two hundred people lay in the street, killed earlier that day. All dead, all with terror etched on their bloodless faces.

“Oh Merlin.”

“Tonks, if you say that again, I’m going to hex you.”

Tonks shot Hermione a sharp, annoyed look, but she desisted. The two women stood and watched the police load the bodies into a truck, one by one, but their faces were stony. The police were baffled, but to the two witches, there was no doubt who was behind the massacre. It appeared that the Blackrobes had started their assault.

“Any of our lot live in this village?” Tonks asked as the truck’s engines roared into life and the vehicle began to drive down the lane and out of sight.

“I’ve sent a Patronus to headquarters, hopefully we’ll get an answer to that within a few days,” Hermione replied, approaching one of the remaining bodies. There were too many dead, too many to load into one truck.

Tonks gingerly nudged another body with her toe, and let out a frustrated sigh. “And Hesse will have arranged for the Muggle press to say that it was snipers. Or another gas explosion.”

“Hardly any point.” Hermione squatted next to the dead old woman, slumped over her walker with a basket of roses in her left hand, and gently slid her eyelids over her cloudy, terrified stare. “I have a feeling that by the time this is over, everybody will know about this war to some degree.”

“If there is anyone left alive by then.” Tonks raised her eyes to the dull gray sky, just as a light March shower descended upon them. “This is just the light sprinkle before the real storm.”

Hermione snorted. “If there were any wizards in this village, the Deutschesministerium would have heard about this the moment it started. Hesse may be Voldemort’s pawn and a complete coward, but surely others in there could have send aide! And what have they done? Nothing. They just let all these people die.”

“That’s because Hesse replaced all his officials with milquetoasts.”

Both fell into silence. The police had returned with a second truck and proceeded to load the last of the dead to be taken away. A few minutes later, two of them approached to take away the old woman away, and the shorter officer posed a question to Tonks.

“I don’t speak German,” she replied politely.

The officer looked slightly taken aback, but he recollected himself and nodded to them, before he and his co-worker took away the body. The basket of roses was left on the sidewalk.

Hermione picked these up, and pulled a card from them. “It’s a birthday card. The roses were a present for one of the neighbors.”

“Are you still working on the Syntheses?” Tonks asked, choosing not to reply to Hermione’s statement about the roses.

The other nodded. “Obviously we can’t approach the Ministerium with the idea with Hesse in charge, but we’re still going to try to give them to the Muggle military outside of his knowledge. And Aberforth’s preparing to open up negotiations with Switzerland and Italy.”

“How far along are you with them?”

“We’ve still got a few prototypes to improve, but with Grobschmied and Grimrook working on them along with Fred and George, I think they’ll be finished soon.”

There was another roar as the second truck took away the last of the bodies, leaving a ghost town. Hermione put down the basket.

“We should go,” she said.

Tonks nodded, and pulled a worn rubber duck from her pocket. Hermione put her hand on the duck, and Tonks pointed her wand at it. “Activus!”

The witches vanished, and the roses were left in the rain.



Lily was never allowed in the goblins’ smithy when her aunt and uncles worked with Grobschmied and Grimrook on the Syntheses, but Fred and George were always willing to show her the results when they perfected a prototype.

“Have a look at this,” George said to her proudly as he showed her what looked like a seventeenth century flintlock.

Lily took it and examined it dubiously. “This thing? You’re going to arm the Muggles with these? I’m not sure if you’re making this The Three Musketeers in action or if you’re just playing Cowboys and Indians.”

Fred laughed. “It’s more equipped for fighting Death Eaters than what the Muggles have currently got. It’s indestructible--”

“It never runs out of ammo--”

“Grimrook’s finally figured out how to make it completely unblockable--”

“The bullets don’t jam--”

“And Hermione touched it off with an Impervius charm to make it water-proof.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “And when this war ends, if we are victorious? You’re not going to leave the Muggles with these things?”

“We have Grobschmied’s genius, Lils,” said George. “The only lasting spell placed on them is a goblin’s version of the Protean charm. If Grobschmied were to completely erase one weapon of its enchantments, they all would become what they look like. Thirty Years’ War style flintlocks. Grimrook plans to do that as soon as this war ends.”

“Because the charm is of goblin origin, only a goblin can do that,” added Fred, “so if the Death Eaters got hold of one, they couldn’t destroy the Syntheses.”

“Then you’d better hope that Voldemort doesn’t get hold of one,” Lily muttered, but neither of the twins heard her.

“Goblin origin or not,” she said to Ginny an hour later, “I have a feeling that Voldemort could easily put an end to this project if he got hold of one.”

“He can, if what Albus wrote was true,” Ginny replied in a sullen tone, “Hopefully he doesn’t know about this, though I wouldn’t be surprised if some hint of what we’re doing has already reached him.”

Lily didn’t answer. Ever since Grobschmied had read out Albus Dumbledore’s account, Ginny had remained shut up in her room, not coming down for dinner, though welcoming company. And with the implication of her involvement, her reaction was unsurprising. It was one of those occasions where the truth was rather difficult to swallow. Lily still had a difficult time believing it, though she supposed that subconsciously she knew the truth of it. It was not for nothing that every day she kept running up to her room to make sure that the dragon talisman was still safe in her drawer.

In a rare lapse of character, Grobschmied had initially refused to believe a word of the account, unable to credit the idea of everything being part of a grand scheme in a war so great that nobody had even noticed it. But as time and his argument with Aberforth wore on, the elderly goblin was forced to accept it.

“And let’s face it, it does explain why goblin and elfish magic is different from wizards’ magic,” he said.

But Lily supposed that revelations given in the past few days, when added to all they had guessed about Invius, was an even greater burden for Ginny than for anyone else. Lily could see the questions and fears that plagued her mother every time she visited her, not least of all the question of Invius’s true identity. And if he was who they had guessed he was, where had he become involved in all this, and how did he end up in that state?

The worst fear that they all had, however, was what both mother and daughter would be asked to do in order to help Lily’s sometimes-dead father.

“It’s like before,” said Ginny suddenly, and Lily shook herself out of her reverie. “The resistance is arming itselt to the teeth, preparing for the oncoming storm, because there is going to be a storm, Lily. A fight like this can only end in bloodshed.”

“Do you think it’s going to end like it did last time?” asked Lily.

Ginny was silent, and Lily was instantly furious at herself for reminding her mother of the end that destroyed all their lives. She cast her mind about for an excuse to change the subject, but then Ginny spoke up again.

“I think that no individual can hold power forever,” she said thoughtfully. “Sooner or later, everything must come to dust. That’s something Voldemort was never able to accept, but it still holds true. He can’t last forever, and when you think about it, the Death Eaters would be lost without him. All they fight for relies on Voldemort, and the moment he dies, everything they stood for would collapse. It ends with his death.”

She sighed. “When we first started fighting Voldemort, all those years ago, none of us expected this war to escalate to what it is now.”

“And if we’re alive when it ends?” asked Lily.

“Wars always have an aftermath,” said Ginny. “The world will have to rebuild itself, and I don’t think the magical community in any nation will ever be the same after this. Still, when it is all over and far in the past, then I’ll be at rest.”

She was falling asleep. Her health had improved greatly since her revival, but Ginny Potter still had far to go before she was her old energetic self.

“Do you need anything, Mum?” asked Lily, concerned.

“Maybe some tea when I wake up,” Ginny muttered, before turning over to face the window, beyond which Lily could see the trees swaying in the wind of an approaching storm. She dropped off as soon as the snow started to gather on window sill.

For the first time she could remember, it was not a snowfall Lily enjoyed.

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Chapter 23:

It had previously been expected that when France fell to the Death Eaters, the blackness that had enveloped Britain and the Netherlands would spread there, but it didn’t. Instead, it dispersed.

This caused a change in morale, whether one was Blackrobe or not. Those in opposition to Voldemort’s reign of terror felt an instant rise in hope, but the Blackrobes appeared to be in indecision about it, unsure of whether to be happy about the dying darkness or to be afraid. The change led to fights breaking out among the Blackrobes, with those who were happy to see the sun again on one side, and those who were horrified by the disappearance of the “Purification” on the other.

“It will be because of the death of Ordruîl,” Benedicht Grobschmied told the others shortly before dinner as Dirk, an elfish spy, related all this to them one evening. “The Dementors have lost a lot of their old powers, and most of the Blackrobes are used to people bending down to them under despair which the Dementors forced on them. Voldemort’s lost that weapon now.”

Aberforth nodded. “I think we may expect a rise of insubordination and insurrection.”

Rise it did. Only a few days after Dirk’s report, another spy came to Lupin’s Outpost to detail an incident he witnessed, in which a group of French wizards assaulted five Blackrobes as they were taking tea in a café, and mercilessly killed them all. The Death Eaters responded by raiding the town where this took place and carrying off half the wizarding population for “questioning.”

The spy, Webben, also overheard the Blackrobes’ conversation just before the rebels attacked, and revealed that Bellatrix Lestrange “had lost favor” with the Dark Lord, to all the Partisans’ satisfaction. To some, that sounded as though she had simply lost her rank among the Death Eaters. To the experienced, that meant that either she had been imprisoned at Hogwarts (now a labor camp for Muggle-borns), or she had been executed.

But in spite of this new turn in the war, all who fought against Voldemort remained on edge. The Death Eaters had now stormed the Rhineland and Westphalia, and Otto Hesse, no longer able to turn a blind eye without rousing public fury, half-heartedly responded with a small platoon of ill-trained Aurors and a few law-enforcement squads.

These small forces Berlin sent were completely useless. They were trained to only follow orders like sheep being led into a slaughter house, and their orders were as follows: they were not to use offensive spells to “avoid provoking the extremists,” and to attempt to open peaceful negotiation with the Death Eaters.

Though resistance was rising in France, so was the death toll in Germany, and the number of refugees in Switzerland. The Magical Community of Switzerland was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the influx, not to mention the number of requests the President was getting from Aberforth and Grobschmied for an interview.

With the problem at hand, work on the Syntheses slowed as Grobschmied was sent to Bern repeatedly with Hans Gutenburg, and Fred Weasley to France where he hoped to make contact with the new resistances. Aberforth Dumbledore, meanwhile, went to the Magical Confederation of Eastern Europe, where hopefully he would make better success than he did with the Deutschesministerium.

The morale was high again, but that didn’t mean anyone was winning. The war was turning into a neck and neck race.



It was cold, so cold that it seemed that every cell in her body had frozen. The horrible, vindictive laughter resonated around her, and she ran as fast as she could, bolting toward the light, but the more she ran, the farther it seemed to get, and the dimmer, like she was somehow running backwards.

The blackness then closed in around her, and some force, almost like clawed fingers, took hold of her and scratched at her, tearing at her very soul. Screaming hysterically, she turned to face her attacker, and found that the darkness had engulfed them as well as her. She was in the hands of an invisible entity, and it was bent on destroying her.

“I’ll have you yet, Ginevra!”

With a start, Ginny sat up, staring around her chamber as the snow collected on her window sill. With a frustrated moan, she hugged her knees and sat there, trying to shake off the torment that made her fear to sleep every night.

Outside, the snowfall was turning to slush, but even with the approaching spring, the high mountains remained colder than ever to Ginny as she shivered in her quarters. She now felt calmer, but she knew that the nightmare would return as soon as she fell asleep again.

In the dreams, she was always standing in the mouth of a dark cave, and she could hear a strangled cry for help. The pity and horror of someone trapped in there always led her to wander down the cave, the light flooding from the entrance slowly fading the farther she went.

Once she went beyond a certain point, the cries became malicious laughter, and in the darkness she would sense something unreal and powerful approaching her, and every time she could swear that she could feel fingers raking her very soul.

And then would the dark entity encircle her, toying with her, before its unearthly hands would reach inside her soul and tear her mind out in the same way that Dementor tore her mind from her essence. And then she would wake up.

It seemed to her that there always was a greater purpose in something, but she never imagined it to the degree that it was. The thought of her task of ending Invius’s curse led her to wonder how much this meant stepping into the thick of this eternal war between the dragons and the faeries. Was she just a pawn in the great chessboard of life, as her husband clearly had been, easily dispensable, easy to sacrifice? Or was there a greater purpose yet for her, even in this?

Such were her thoughts, along with the endless torment of Harry’s fate. Such were her thoughts every day since Aberforth had read out Albus Dumbledore’s revelations, and such were her nightmares since she was revived.



Ginny fell asleep again an hour later, expecting to see the cave again. She did, but then the dream changed. Just as the hands came down to entrap her soul, there was a sudden howl of rage, followed by a rushing sound as the environment changed, and suddenly she found herself in a familiar rainforest cove.

The pool was clear and shallow, and the rainforest’s moisture cool and agreeable to the skin. Her feet sunk into the soil a little, and she could hear the trickling sounds of water running down the leaves and into the pool.

The last time Ginny had set foot there, she’d had no sense of touch, and had therefore been unable to fully comprehend the beauty of nature undisturbed. It was a strange place where she supposed only one’s essence could go, where one could take place. Here the plaguing thoughts of that cave and those gripping fingers wouldn’t quite reach her.

Now that she could feel again, Ginny was now overcome with a curious urge to touch the hanging vines above her, and to feel the moisture clinging to the leaves. And she knelt on the soil and dug in her fingers, delighting in the cool, damp feel of it.

She raised her head and looked at the pool, scrutinizing its waters, and wondering why it was so beckoning and yet so bothersome to her. Perhaps it was the fact that the water was so still, that it looked almost unnatural. But the curiosity was greater than the unease, so Ginny gave her worries no heed, and dipped her hand into the pool.

Almost instantly, the water, cool and refreshing to the touch, filed her, its essence spreading up her arm and into her soul, and suddenly she seemed stronger and healthier than she had ever been in her life. Gone were those disturbing images, gone was the overwhelming revelation of what was being asked of her. It was now simple truth, along with a strange sense of comfort, and a reassurance that all would be well. At the same time, Ginny’s thoughts turned clear, and she was never so aware of all existence as she was at that moment.

All the best medicines in the world pale in comparison to the waters. Ginny knew the voice which sounded in her mind rather than her ears, and she turned to see the shade with green eyes at the near end of the cove, watching her serenely.

“Hi,” she muttered, not sure how to react to this unexpected encounter.

Invius did not return the greeting, and they stood there in silence for a long time, simply looking at each other. Finally Ginny looked around the cove again, searching for anything to discuss.

“This cove is very beautiful,” she said. Again, Invius made no reply, and she proceeded to ask, “What is this place exactly, anyway?”

A dimension of ideas is perhaps the best way to describe it. The shade approached her silently, and after taking his place by her side, he dipped his hand in the water. No ripple was made, yet Ginny could see Invius solidify, as he had when she first encountered him. You see it as it best conforms to your understanding, for human comprehension is not sophisticated enough to see the truth of this place. It is where ideas take their roots, the intelligible realm where the elements of magic may appear in their true form.

“So this pool is the pure element of water.” Ginny pulled her hand from the pool, and took in the cleanliness of it.

The waters are the best medicine in the whole of creation, whispered Invius. The medicine of the world sooths the body, but bodies decay and they die. This medicine heals and strengthens the soul itself.

“So I found,” said Ginny, now beginning to comprehend the sudden change in her thoughts. “How often do you partake of these waters?”

Often enough to sustain myself, but there’s not enough of me present to be healed fully. This is my curse, Ginevra Potter. I cannot feel the waters.

“That still doesn’t tell me much,” Ginny replied in some exasperation. “At least this time, I know who you are.”

These last words came out in a whisper, and she then wasn’t sure if color was filling her face or not. If it was, it made no difference to the other.

It is as the masters hoped, then. Invius’s spectral voice cooled almost to a sigh.

“You mean the Laerenmathi?”

A wind seemed to flow gently through the cove at the sound of the word, the first thing that caused the pool’s smooth surface to ripple.

You know of them, then. It was not a question, but a calm, toneless statement. As well you should. Because you dipped your hand in the element of water, you will find that you’ll no longer be tormented by visions of Tyrtardus. Your mind is recovered now, and your soul healed. You now have more strength than ever you had before, but the journey will still be hard.

The shade waved his hand, and Ginny felt herself begin to fall back into reality as Invius spoke three last words.

She jerked awake, and looked around her chamber. It was no longer snowing outside, and the full moon shone through her window, illuminating her room. It had been the most realistic dream she had ever had, if it was a dream at all, and in her head she could still hear Invius’s last words: Avoid the wraiths.

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Chapter 24A :


None of the Partisan leaders were very happy when Ginny announced at breakfast one morning that she felt strong enough to depart to Innsbrück with Lily. Ron and Hermione, who knew nothing of Aberforth’s revelations, were told that Aberforth and Grobschmied had simply given Ginny her first mission in nearly eighteen years.

George Weasley, still rejoicing in having his sister back, was especially upset, and forgetting about his sister’s fiery attitude, which even after sixteen years under the curse of a Dementor hadn’t quite diminished, confronted her. The result was a shouting match that Rok Grimrook later insisted shook the whole tower.

Lily stood a little ways off from her mother and her uncle as it went, looking from one to the other as though she was watching a tennis match.

“No way am I staying cooped up in this fortress when there’s something I can do! And you know perfectly well that the way things are going, before long it won’t make much difference whether we’re in a fortress or not!”

“Still better, you’re taking your daughter with you! That, I cannot stand for! And staying in here is better protection than walking right into the country the Blackrobes are taking over! But no, you find the first opportunity to jump into the fire, you’ve always been like! I’ve told you before...!”

Looking around, Lily saw Nymphadora Tonks duck out of the room the moment George shouted these words, muttering something about not staying for the nuclear explosion. She turned around again and saw that Tonks’s fears had no grounds. Ginny was swelling with fury, and her face was turning purple.

“NO YOU DON’T!” She roared, so suddenly that everyone, in and out of the room, jumped. “DON’T EVEN TRY TO START THAT AGAIN! YOUR BIG-BROTHER-WATCHING ARGUMENT DIDN’T WORK WHEN I WAS NINETEEN, WHAT MAKE’S YOU THINK IT’LL WORK NOW?”

She fell silent and waved her hands wildly, seemingly lost for words, and finally Ginny pulled out her wand.

“I’ll tell you what it does do,” she said nastily. “It gives me an opportunity to test out my little friends. I haven’t done it for a long time now.”

George paled. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten the two weeks he spent in Madam Pomfrey’s care after he’d objected to Ginny joining the Order all those years ago.

“I didn’t even know that Bat-Bogeys could get that big until then,” he muttered. “But you’re still not bringing Lily!”

“Oi!”

“Fine, I’ll admit that normally I wouldn’t bring Lily with me,” Ginny snapped. “Do you think I’m keen on the idea of bringing her? If we were still on Goblynsrefuge, I’d probably have turned into Mum! I mean, judging by the evidence, I can shout like her.”

“You’re telling me,” Lily heard Ron say from the kitchen table, where he and Hermione had been reading a letter from Grobschmied, carefully avoiding getting involved in the quarrel.

There was a pause, then Ginny said in a calmer tone, “Look, George, I don’t know all we’re going to be asked to do, but apparently Lily is necessary in this mission too.”

“Aberforth made this an official order,” Lily added. “I think he knew there’d be objection from some quarters. Besides, the Blackrobes haven’t taken Germany yet. They haven’t gotten to the Brandenburg yet. They won’t be anywhere near Innsbrück by tomorrow morning.”

George didn’t look reassured, but he couldn’t argue with this. Finally, muttering obscenities about Aberforth and Voldemort and the whole blasted war, he left the room in high dudgeon.

Ginny deflated, but her face was still red. Then, turning to her daughter, she said, “Never let brothers control your life because of their egos, Lily. Never, never, never.”

*******

It was dark in the streets of Berlin under as the storm clouds gathered. It was early morning, but it seemed to be late at night, except for the occasional flash of lightning; the sort of morning which one would prefer to spend in front of a fire with the windows shut at a blanket around one’s shoulders, listening to the rain fall.

That wasn’t how the elfish spies spent the morning, but the darkness made an excellent cover for those who did not want to be seen.

The little figure darted across the streets unnoticed by pedestrians, sometimes diving behind the bins to stay out of sight until he saw an opportunity to discreetly take off again. He continued in this manner for about half an hour, before his route took him to a dark alley where a black door could be found, almost invisible unless you knew it was there.

“There you are, Dirk!” Dobby called out as soon as the other slammed the door shut and removed the hat with which he had hidden his pointed ears. “I was just going to send Webben to go look for you!”

Dirk sidled into the kitchen without answering, where the other, fatter elf, Webben, was seated at the table. There Dirk wrung his hat over the sink before drying it with a snap of his fingers. But even after this was done, he continued to twist it in his hands, in an agitated manner.

“You look conscious,” Webben noted, watching Dirk closely. Dobby nodded in agreement.

“I tried to get here as quickly as I could,” Dirk stammered, unconsciously beginning to unravel the hat. “We need to get back to the Outpost immediately.”

Dobby leapt to his feet from his seat at the small table, looking alarmed. “Why? What’s happened?”

“It has happened.” Dirk moaned, and pulled on his ears, shaking his head in terror. “The German Minister of Magic has gone and done it! We hoped he wouldn’t try, but he’s done it! We’ve got to warn them at the Outpost, and I’m scared that we might already be too late!”



I've been struck by a wave of writer's block, but I'll get the second half of this chapter posted soon. In the meantime, please leave plenty of feedback.

Chapter 24 B:


Anxiety over what she and her mother were about to do woke Lily in the early hours on the morning she and Ginny were to depart. Shaking her head and sitting up, she looked across the room and saw that it was almost four o’ clock in the morning. They had planned to leave by six.

Groaning, Lily threw off her covers and instantly regretted it. The night before, Lily had told the elves not to bother warming her room due to her coming departure, but the approach of spring notwithstanding, the cold still ripped through her body like a battering ram, and she quickly pulled on a coat and sat on a stool by the window rubbing her hands together.

Looking from her bed to the sleeping bag on the floor, it hit her for the first time that the night before may well have been the last time she ever would sleep in a bed. She supposed that she would have to get used to cold nights before long, if Innsbrück was indeed a mountainous region of Austria.

It took five minutes of trying to warm up before Lily noticed the drumming of icy pellets on the windowpane and realized it was hailing outside.

“Great,” she muttered sourly. “Should have known that it would be stormy.”

Deciding that she wasn’t going to get any more sleep for the night, Lily stood and pulled on some warm clothes, not forgetting two sweaters along with the coat. Then she picked up her father’s wand and with a single wave, she lit the room.

After she surveyed what little she had packed with as much satisfaction as was possible in such a situation, Lily then sidled out of her room, down the spiral stairs, and then down the elevator until she reached the ground floor.

Deciding she could use some hot chocolate after her rather unpleasant rising, Lily wandered into the kitchen and took a saucepan from the cupboard. This she placed on the stove, and put it on the boil.

“You’re up early.”

Lily jumped and spun around to see Ginny sitting at the table with a cup of tea, watching her quietly.

“Couldn’t really sleep,” she replied, pulling up a chair across the table from her mother.

“Well, I can’t scold you for that, otherwise I’d be a hypocrite.” Ginny spoke casually, as though nothing would be happening that day. Having only known her mother for a few months, Lily had not yet learnt how to interpret all of Ginny’s personality quirks, but she supposed that if Ginny was anything like her brothers (and after the previous morning’s display, she clearly was), she was just putting on a straight face so she wouldn’t worry the others.

After a few minutes of pensive silence, Lily asked Ginny what they’d be eating for breakfast.

“Whatever there is,” she said. “I’m totally out of practice. For quite some time, Hermione wouldn’t let me even attempt to feed myself, insisting on doing all the cooking. Granted, she is quite good, but she needs some assistance.”

“Don’t the elves do the cooking when they’re not doing their drills?” asked Lily in surprise. Rather than replying, Ginny smirked, and Lily realized. “Oh!”

Ginny sipped her tea. “This is Hermione we are talking about. She lets the elves cook for themselves, and accepts the idea of there being a military cook for the resistance, but Kreacher was probably the only elf she ever permitted to help her cook for the high-ranking Partisans. After all, he was the only elf who actually was a servant.”

“Wish he was here to cook some breakfast now. He may have not been the best of elves, but he was a rather good cook,” said Lily as she felt her stomach grumble. The old elf had disappeared after the Battle of Goblynsrefuge. From what Lily and a very indifferent Dobby could get from the other elves, Kreacher had been among the first evacuees, but was reported missing the next day en route to the Outpost. Whether he was dead, or had run for it, nobody was certain.

“Some of us would have been glad to be rid of him anyway,” said Ginny rather blithely. She had not been witness to the change Hermione and Ron said had taken place in Kreacher, and Lily knew that whatever they told her, Ginny did not like Kreacher any more than Dobby did. “Your water’s boiling, Lils.”

Lily stood and took the saucepan off the burner, poured the water into a mug, and added the chocolate mixture. When she was done, she returned to the table and waited for it to cool.

Ginny got up at that moment and started digging through the refrigerator. “Not much in here today except eggs and leftover rice. They need to restock.”

“So what’s the plan?” Lily asked as Ginny started to prepare some eggs.

“We can’t Apparate or Portkey out of the Outpost until we get past the ten mile limit,” Ginny said as she worked. “It means a trip through the mountains back to the safe house at Guttannen.”

Lily shuddered. The memory of the last trip they took down that path was an experience she was understandably loathe to repeat, and even though she knew it wasn’t likely to happen again, she didn’t want to go back down that way.

“It shouldn’t be difficult though,” Ginny said, watching her daughter carefully. “Granted, I wasn’t conscious the first time we went that way, so I have almost no memory of how rough the terrain was. But we’ve got two horses, so if we both take one, it shouldn’t take long to get to Guttannen. Do you know how to ride?”

Lily nodded. Tutoring in history and philosophy weren’t the only lessons she had received at Goblynsrefuge.



Two hours later, their rucksacks were packed, the horses prepared, and Ginny and Lily stood by the fortress gate in the rain, wearing raincoats and facing the other Partisans. It was still very cold.

Hermione had Lily locked in a tearful embrace, clutching her niece like a lifeline, but Ron and George stood in front of Ginny, lost for words. Finally, Ron said to Ginny, “You all right?”

Ginny looked over her shoulder at the muddy path and the sheets of rain pouring upon the landscape, and then she turned to her brother and replied, “No, Ron, I’m not.”

Ron shivered. “What’s this really about?”

Ginny shook her head. “I wish I could tell you. The truth is, I don’t really know everything that’s going on.”

Ron bowed his head, before pulling his sister into his arms. “You’ll be all right. We’ll make it out of this.”

Ginny nodded, and then pulled away to embrace George. As she did so, he whispered, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I should have known better.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I just couldn’t stand the idea of losing you again, but I let that get in the way of what may need to be done about this.”

“Just don’t do it again. Next time I will use the Bat-Bogeys.”

George grinned. “Go kick some Blackrobe’s butt.”

With that, he gave Ginny a leg up onto the horse Invius had left behind (which Ron had named Odin), and turned to his niece, upon whose shoulder Hermione was still sobbing.

“Hermione, let go of Lily before you drown her.”

Lily gave George a grateful smile as Hermione stepped away, babbling to the two red-haired women in an incoherent manner, but they understood her.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Hermione,” Ginny said, watching her sister-in-law in slight amusement. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s turning into my Mum.”

In spite of themselves, Ron, Hermione, and George all grinned as the latter helped Lily clamber onto Lysander, the palomino horse. Ginny and Lily turned the steeds away from the group, and then both dug their heels into the sides and cantered out the gate and down the path. The last thing Lily saw in her peripheral vision as she and Ginny rounded the corner was Rok Grimrook and the other Partisan Guards saluting them.


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Chapter 25

After Ginny and Lily departed, the others in the fortress went back to their respective occupations; the soldiers and guards to their drills and posts, the refugees to their rooms, and the officers to the Tower. The Weasleys were seated in the dining room with Rok Grimrook, sipping hot chocolate and eating breakfast which Garburn, one of the elfish soldiers, had insisted on cooking in Hermione’s place.

Nobody spoke, not knowing what to say, and so they allowed complete silence to fill the room, except for the patter of the rain outside, the occasional rumble of thunder, and the chinking of their eating utensils on their plates.

Throughout all this, Grimrook was absorbed in a newspaper, seemingly oblivious to the subdued atmosphere that resulted from the general worry. It had been a while since they had received any news from a more credible source than the press, except for the weekly letters sent from Aberforth, Grobschmied, and Fred Weasley. But even the worst newspaper is bound to report the truth sometimes, and occasionally the experienced can extract the truth from lies.

“Look at this,” Grimrook said as he laid down the newspaper. “Hesse strikes again.”

Ron picked up the paper and scanned the article. “Aren’t they some of Gutenburg’s lot?”

“All of them.” Grimrook sipped his tea. “Sacked for corruption and suspected bribery.”

Ron snorted. “Please! He’s just trying getting rid of them to play the spoils system!”

“And not to mention that all of Gutenburg’s old advisors were forced to go into early retirement.”

“You don’t say?” George entered the conversation with raised eyebrows. “When was that?”

“If you want to understand what’s going on, take a domestic approach,” said Grimrook lightly. “Politics don’t always hold the answers anymore than warfare does. I know it sounds odd, coming from a military goblin, but I got to say, if you had read those ‘less-interesting’ articles ever since Hesse was elected, you would have guessed what’s going on.”

“So who’s he trying to replace them with?” asked Ron.

“Idiots,” the goblin answered. “The gullible. Those of his supporters who would jump off a bridge if Hesse told them to, they’ll all be put in the lesser offices he’s just emptied.”

“And the higher offices?”

“That’s where I’m worried,” said Grimrook ominously, and everyone in the room fell silent.

After a few minutes, Hermione spoke.

“Have you informed Aberforth and Grobschmied that they have departed?”

“I sent an express post yesterday.”

“What are they doing?” asked Ron. “What must be done that Aberforth is hiding from the rest of us?”

“It’s not the first time officers of the resistance have kept secrets from each other,” Grimrook pointed out. “Harry didn’t inform the whole Order about the Horcruxes for years.”

“That was because it would jeopardize the whole mission if Voldemort ever found out that we knew,” said Ron. “It was, as Harry put it, like a conspiracy. The more people that were in on it, the less likely we were to succeed.”

“And you succeeded admirably,” said Grimrook. “But has it not occurred to you that maybe Aberforth’s keeping it a secret because it’s vital to stopping Voldemort?”

Ron didn’t answer, and Grimrook nodded before absorbing himself in the newspaper again.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door, and when Grimrook called for them to enter, Garburn stuck his head through.

“Excuse me, Mr. Grimrook, but Dobby and his team have returned from Berlin and are on their way here to report.”

“Ah!” Grimrook looked pleased. “It’s about time!”

“It looked like ill news, sir,” Garburn added. “None of them looked too happy.”

As he spoke, the elves all entered the room, and true to Garburn’s word, they looked extremely agitated.

“Where’s Lily and Ginny?” Dobby asked as he looked around the room, his face turning white.

“You just missed them,” said George. “They left early this morning.”

Dobby moaned and lay his head against the wall, angry at himself, and his team looked even more distressed after George spoke.

“Dobby?” asked Hermione in alarm. “What is it? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”



It was raining even harder in Austria, so that in the outskirts of Innsbrück the streets were deserted except for the occasional individual who walked down the street or drove by on their way to their various careers, or to the local primary school. Here the children were rushed into the building by teachers or their mothers, who then would hastily run back home or to their job to get out of the rain.

A car pulled over on the street nearby and five children hopped out and ran to the school. From the car, the mother of the two shortest shouted after them to have a good day and to not make trouble. Once they were well within the school grounds, she drove off. The moment she rounded the corner, two red-haired women seemed to pop into existence exactly where the car had been.

“Did anyone see us?” asked Ginny, looking around anxiously.

Lily shook her head. Apart from the distracted children entering the school, the street was mostly deserted.

“Fat lot of good this is.” Ginny surveyed the area. “Innsbrück, Austria, and it’s completely impossible to tell what part of the city we’re in.”

“Ah well,” Lily pulled her raincoat around herself tightly. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Excuse me!” Ginny called out to a man who was escorting his son to the school. She repeated those words, and then went to meet them. “Can you tell me which part of the city we’re in?”

As Ginny engaged the man in conversation, Lily turned to watch the children wandering around the school grounds, and felt a stab of regret as it reminded her of that conversation in Goblynsrefuge she’d had about schools in the outside world.

After a few minutes, Ginny finished speaking to the man and his son, and turned to see her daughter staring at the school with a pained expression.

“Lily?” Ginny approached her, but when the other did not reply, she placed her hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Lily nodded at the school, and Ginny looked from the children to her daughter and back for a few minutes in confusion.

“So that’s a school,” Lily whispered.

“Yeah,” said Ginny, bewildered.

“I was educated through Grobschmied’s tutoring,” said Lily, “on an island where I was surrounded by Order members and Partisans always going to and fro. I had little acquaintance with anyone except the officers. For sixteen years, that was all I knew. And I only had one friend closer to my own age, but because he lived with the Order, he seldom visited.”

Ginny stared at her daughter for a minute, before she began to comprehend. “Oh!”

“And then the Order relocated, and I had a friend who visited regularly for the first time in my life. And it turned out that he was lying through his teeth.”

Ginny nodded sympathetically. “It must have been painful.”

“Sometimes I envy you,” said Lily. “The state you were in at the time. You didn’t have to go through that, having someone you thought you knew and trusted stab you in the back like that.”

As she spoke, there was a clap of thunder, and the rain fell harder.

“I have gone through that,” Ginny responded quietly. “Long ago, before Voldemort returned. You probably have heard the story. I trusted Tom Riddle and thought he was the perfect confident, he turned out to be a past version of Voldemort, and he used me for his own atrocious ends. It very nearly resulted in my death, as well as your father’s.”

“Yeah, I have heard the story,” said Lily. “How old were you when that happened?”

“I was only eleven,” said Ginny. “At least you were old enough to understand and to accept the turn of events when Claude betrayed the Order.”

They were quiet for a minute, then Ginny spoke up again in a lighter tone.

“That man told me that we need to go through the main city before we can reach the mountains.” Ginny pointed behind them, where Lily could see taller buildings, just barely visible in the fog.

“Can’t we Apparate?”

“Firstly, I’ve never been here before, so I can’t really concentrate on the destination,” said Ginny. “Secondly, I never was that good at Apparation. Thirdly, I haven’t done it for more than seventeen years. Getting there in dry clothes isn’t worth the risk.”

“Oh brilliant,” said Lily in disgust. “Are you telling me we have to walk all that way in this weather? Why couldn’t we have taken the horses?”

Ginny smirked. “Never actually been in a Muggle city, have you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“See any horses?”

“No.”

“It means that people usually don’t ride horses here, except for special occasions, like showing off.”

And without another word, Ginny started walking in that direction, and resignedly, Lily followed.

“But isn’t there some form of transport Muggles use?” she demanded. “What about cars? That was a car, wasn’t it? Haven’t seen one before.”

“I’ve got some Muggle money,” said Ginny. “Just leave it to me, but we still have to walk until we get downtown.”

“By the time we get there, we’ll be so soaked that we’ll be indistinguishable from a wet dog.”

“Now stop complaining!” snapped Ginny. “Save it for when we get to the mountains, because that’s really not going to be a picnic.”



An hour and twenty-two arguments later, the two Potters finally turned a corner and sloshed their way through the overflowing streets in downtown Innsbrück, where Ginny said she would flag down a cab.

Lily, tired, drenched, and hungry, had kept her mouth shut tight for the past ten minutes, because she knew that anything that came out of her mouth at the moment would result in another row with her mother.

Ginny seemed to be handling it much better than Lily was. Now that her daughter was clearly avoiding argument, Ginny had taken a more cheerful mood, and declared to Lily that this was life, now that she was feeling proper rain for the first time in years.

“Oh, is that what getting Kissed by a Dementor does in the long-run?” Lily queried sarcastically. “It makes you pleased with everything?”

Instead of answering, Ginny announced that she’d try to get a taxi on the next street. They continued walking, and Lily thought she had so much water in her shoes that she could swear that they were being pulled off by the weight. She would have much preferred to stay in bed for the rain.

Finally they stopped, and Ginny craned her neck as she scanned the street for any approaching cabs. Lily, meanwhile, shivered beside her mother, and looked down the street, where she could see people all going their separate ways. Like Lily, they all looked quite eager to get out of the rain, especially those who, like themselves, were standing on the sidewalk waiting to flag down a taxi, or standing at a bus stop.

Her stomach grumbled, and Lily’s gaze landed on a café just across the street from where she was standing, an opportunity for some lunch. Lily opened her mouth to ask if they could at least get some food before continuing, before she noticed a man in a long, black robe and a mask step outside of the café, unnoticed by passersby, but certainly obvious to her. He was followed by several others.

Astonished, Lily nudged her mother, and Ginny paused to look in the direction Lily subtly indicated. When she saw the Blackrobes, Ginny’s expression remained neutral, except for a slight loss of color that was only noticeable to somebody standing next to her. A second later, Ginny looked down the street again, and whispered to Lily, “Pretend you don’t see them.”

Lily turned her gaze away from them, but in truth, she was carefully watching them out of the corner of her eye. The Blackrobes, who didn’t seem to have noticed them, walked down the street, past a Swarovski Crystal store, and turned a corner. The moment they were gone, Ginny took Lily’s hand and led her back down the street and around the corner again.

“Do they know we’re here?” Lily asked in trepidation.

Ginny shook her head. “I don’t know.”

She paused, and looked toward the street they had seen the Blackrobes. Then she told Lily to keep quiet, and lead her back around the corner. They walked down the street again, until they came to an intersection. There they halted, and Ginny looked all around the intersection. Then she groaned quietly, and pointed.

Lily looked to their right and saw that there were several small groups of Blackrobes down the street. Even as she watched, she noticed one stand and whisper something into the ear of a police officer, who visibly gulped.



“You couldn’t get here sooner?” Ron demanded, his face turning scarlet.

“We had to gather all the other spies, Apparate to Guttannen, and then hike ten miles!” Dobby countered angrily. “You try doing that in one morning when you’re only three feet tall!”

“You could have sent us a message!” Ron shouted. “You could have warned us before we sent them off!”

“Even an owl couldn’t get here that quickly, and you know perfectly well that a Patronus is wizard magic!” Dobby pounded the table with his tiny fist. “Quite rightly, you have no Floo Network, and it’s impossible to Apparate or Portkey in! What were we supposed to do?”

Ron looked ready to explode, but unable to think of a retort, he sat down and gripped the sides of his armchair so tightly that it groaned, close to snapping.

“How could they have taken the Deutchesministerium so quickly?” whispered George, his expression contorted with horror. “Without any sort of a struggle? How is that even possible?”

“In a nutshell, the Blackrobes assassinated Germany’s only chance at avoiding this, placed a rabid Muggle-hater in charge, replaced Gutenburg’s staff with dumbos, and talked Hesse into handing Germany to them on a platter,” said Grimrook from another chair. “This was what I was afraid of. The higher positions in the Deutschesministerium, they’ll all be Death Eaters. And Hesse is just a figurehead now.”

“Could we send Ginny a warning?” asked Hermione.

“There’s no point. By now she’ll have already walked right into the new Anschluss,” said Grimrook, resignedly. “It would be like phoning your brother to tell him that his house is on fire while he’s running for the door.”

“Then what can we do?” cried Ron, almost hysterical.

Instead of answering, Grimrook looked at Ron, completely expressionless.

“You’re not telling me that we do nothing!” Ron bellowed. “Don’t you dare, Rok Grimrook! Don’t you dare tell me that we abandon my sister and my niece in a country annexed by Voldemort!”

“I suggest you go upstairs and calm yourself. We don’t know where they are, and we can’t afford to put everything on delay to find them.” Grimrook muttered this so quietly one had to strain their ears to hear him. “The only thing we can do is have faith in their ability to take care of themselves.”



Ginny took Lily’s hand again and pulled her down the street until they came to what looked like a travel agency. Ginny looked up and down the street, and when the coast seemed to be clear, she pointed her wand at the door.

“Accio!”

A pamphlet flew through the door as someone walked out and into Ginny’s hand. This she looked through, until she stopped on a page which showed a photograph of the mountains Lily supposed they intended to go to. Ginny looked at the photograph, taking in every detail, then she stuffed the pamphlet into her rucksack. Again, she looked up and down the street.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “We’re risking it.”

She took Lily’s hand, and closed her eyes in concentration. A second later, Ginny jerked and Lily suddenly felt as though she was being forced through a hose. The air seemed to be forced out of her lungs, so that she couldn’t breathe, or move. There was pressure on all sides, like someone had completely tied her up and was tightening the ropes. Just when she thought she was going to pass out, it was over.

She looked up, and saw that they had moved. Gone were the buildings, and instead, they were standing on a small road from which Lily could see the mountains that had been shown in the pamphlet. Ginny swayed over her, and leaned against a fence nearby.

“First time in almost twenty years, that’s a killer,” she groaned, massaging her head.

“That was Apparition?” Lily asked, shaking her head to clear it. “Blimey, that was rough!”

Regaining her balance, Ginny turned to squint at the cluster of fog-ridden buildings in the distance that was Innsbrück. “Can you believe our luck?” she demanded in annoyance. “They must have taken over the second we left!”

“Do you think they saw us?”

Ginny looked back at the city with an apprehensive look on her face. Then she shook her head. Lily looked around at the mountains before them. Surely the walk into them would be even more cold and wet than their stroll through Innsbrück had been. At a certain point above them, the rain had become a blanket of snow coating the mountaintops. Lily shivered.

“It doesn’t look like the best Sunday walk,” said Ginny, following Lily’s gaze. “But we’ll only go as far as the top of that hill over there until the rain lets up.”

“Good. Climbing that in this weather is the last thing I want to do.”

“It probably would be the last thing you ever did.”

Without another word, Ginny took her daughter’s arm, and the two of them made their way up the road as the wind and the rain continued to beat down upon them coldly and ominously.


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Chapter 26 A

Lily stirred in her sleeping bag, and opened her eyes as she began to awaken to the still penetrating cold and dampness. It was still dark out, and the only sound that could be heard was the wind. The pounding of rain on the tent which they could hear as they fell asleep had stopped, at least granting them a journey the next day that wasn’t so wet.

She looked over at her mother, who was shaking with cold, but was still asleep. Lily sighed and then scooted across the tent floor to Ginny and nestled into her side, trying to get warm. Ginny stirred, but didn’t awaken. After a few minutes of this, Lily felt her mother’s warmth seep into her sleeping bag, lending at least a little comfort.

An hour later, Lily thought she might have managed a few minutes rest, but the exhaustion from the previous day’s activities made it hard to tell. Then she noticed that the wind had stopped, leaving a deadly silence and penetrating cold that felt oddly familiar.

Lily shivered, and subconsciously moved her hand to her chest and protectively gripped the dragon talisman that she still wore. It felt just like that night before they arrived at the Outpost, the night Ginny was revived, only the talisman’s pulse wasn’t so pronounced.

It wasn’t as though the pulse had faded, because she could barely feel it under her fingers. It was like the emotions of Invius were sleeping. Thus the nagging feeling she had couldn’t be him, as it was before. That eventful night, Hermione had attributed the feeling to paranoia, and perhaps this time it was. But it was the same feeling, as though they were being watched.

Then Lily felt Ginny suddenly sit up, and she opened her eyes to see Ginny looking at the clock apprehensively.

“What’s the matter?”

Ginny started. “Did I wake you up?”

Lily shook her head. “I’ve been awake for a while now. Who’d be able to sleep in this?”

Ginny didn’t answer.

“Are you all right, Mum?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny leaned forward, and turned her gaze to the tent flap. “I’m fine, I suppose. I’m worried.”

It was then that Lily noticed that Ginny had started to look closer to her actual age than she had before. Not physically, but mentally. Due to her sixteen years of lifeless existence, Ginny’s face was still young. Those years were hell to her, but her body had not aged at all. She looked as though she could be in her mid-twenties, but there was something about her eyes that made her look older as well.

Well, Lily thought, She is older.

But the thoughts of both women were interrupted as the Sneakoscope Ginny had set up next to the clock began to glow slightly and vibrate.

Both of them stared, and then Ginny stood and put a coat on before sticking her head out the tent flap. A moment later, she came back in.

“There was some people moving along the road, it looked like a few hundred feet away,” she said. “Most probably Blackrobes, but they weren’t moving toward us. I don’t think they know we’re here.”

“They’ve just taken Austria,” said Lily dryly, “so they’re bound to send people to patrol the roads.”

“In that case, we’d better stay away from the roads,” Ginny stated. Then she frowned, and stared out the tent again. “Funny thing is, why hadn’t we seen any of that until now?”



The journey the next day was just as miserable. Though the rain had stopped, it was still cloudy, and the air was so humid that even the Drying Charm Ginny put on their clothes made no difference. From the past experience of hiking up to Lupin’s Outpost, Lily knew the difficulty of always traveling uphill. Traveling uphill after a rain storm on a very cold early-spring day was another matter. By noon, both women were covered with mud, completely exhausted, and extremely cold.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have taken those horses,” said Lily irritably as she drew her blanket in more tightly.

“I told you,” said Ginny, “wizards don’t ride horses in normal circumstances, and nor do Muggles! Do you want to draw attention to yourself?”

“It would have been a lot easier,” the other retorted.

Ginny scowled, and turned away. Then she froze, staring at a shady clump of trees nearby. Lily watched her warily.

“What’s the matter?”

Ginny took out her wand, and whispered “Hominum Revelio!”

They waited for a result, but after a few seconds, nothing happened. Ginny hesitated, then put her wand away. Lily scrutinzed the trees carefully as Ginny stood and walked to them. She entered the grove, then exited, circled the entrance, then returned.

“I thought I saw…” she started to say, then she stopped. “Never mind. It must have been the trees. It is a little windy, after all.”

Under normal circumstances, Lily would have shrugged and continued rummaging through her rucksack in search of some food, but she could not help noticing how Ginny sounded exactly like her uncles when they pretended they hadn’t noticed something which, in fact, they had. Ginny’s swift dismissal of whatever she had seen was a little too swift, and the visible worry in her eyes wasn’t very reassuring. Lily squinted at the grove again, but she couldn’t see anything.



The road through the mountains wound through a light forest, across steep mountainsides and crags, further and furthur until they could no longer see Innsbrück. By then the sky had cleared, and the sun shone brightly through the trees. Throughout the march, there was a strong smell of dew and pine needles, and they could hear birds and squirrels. It was a place which Lily noted was relatively undisturbed by the crisis happening in the world she was born in, and yet she still had the distinct feeling that they were being observed.

They continued until sunset, when Ginny found a nice, quiet place to set up camp inside a small cave near the top of a scarp, from which could be viewed the adjacent mountain, facing east. Lily stood on the edge, where she could see a stream flowing at the foot of the slope. There was a second ledge rising above the other side of the stream, about ten feet below them, where she could see a fox nosing around in the dirt. Suddenly the fox raised its head, its ears perked, staring at a point in the trees warily. As Lily watched, the animal silently bolted along the edge and out of sight.

From her viewpoint just outside the mouth of the little cave Ginny had already settled herself into, Lily could distinctly see the Big Dipper rising swinging upward above the peak as the stars began to make themselves visible. The last two stars in the constellation’s handle, Lily noticed, lined up exactly with the point she had seen the fox. Mildy surprised at this coincidence, she looked from the constellation to the small ledge below.

Though Lily couldn’t see it from her viewpoint, that was the exact moment the Sun completely disappeared below the horizon. And it was at that exact moment that a blurred figure appeared just where the fox had bolted, humanoid, but at the same time, not human at all. It looked like a shadow, indistinct and faceless, but it was perspectival, almost like those drawings designed to appear third-dimensional. And it was looking directly at her.

Lily stared at the apparition, and it stared back, never moving, just watching. After a few moments of this, Lily backed away into the cave, where Ginny had already fallen asleep in her sleeping bag.

“Mum!” she hissed. “Mum! Wake up!”

“Huh?” came a muffled voice from behind her. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s something down there!” Lily turned to Ginny. “Right below us!”

Instantly Ginny was at her feet. “Where?”

Lily turned toward the edge. “Over… ” --she turned around again—“there…”

The shadow was gone. Lily stared, and scrambled to the very edge for a better look.

“What’s there?” asked Ginny, gazing at the point Lily was looking at.

“It was there!” she whispered, flummoxed. “Only a second ago!”



Half an hour later, after a full description from Lily, Ginny was still frowning at the place where Lily still swore she saw the spectre. She could tell by the insistence in her daughter’s voice that Lily didn’t think she believed her, but that wasn’t at all the case. The reason she didn’t tell Lily so was that she wasn’t sure what to tell her.

Avoid the wraiths.

The thing was, earlier that day, Ginny could have sworn that she saw something of that exact description moving in that grove of trees they passed, only much fainter. Just like the occasion moments before, when she was woken up by her daughter’s startled voice, the object was only visible for a moment. Ginny had seen it, then she blinked, and it had gone.

Invius’s warning rang in her memory, and she shivered. She had been told to avoid them, but not what they were. She understood the word as the designation given to evil ghost-like creatures in Muggle stories. It had taken Ginny days after she received that warning to remember where she had heard that word.

It was back at Goblynsrefuge, about three months before the Battle of Hogwarts. At the time, she was five or six months pregnant, and she was persuaded to remain there for the baby’s sake while Harry and Ron and the other Partisans frequently left for days at a time. Some of the time, Hermione or Grobschmied chose to remain to keep her company. To keep themselves entertained, Ginny and Hermione would read to each other, and one of the books they read from, a Muggle fantasy called The Lord of the Rings, mentioned these creatures several times.

It wasn’t as though Ginny expected the wraiths that Invius had mentioned to be the same as the Ringwraiths of that story, anymore than the wizard Gandalf was like real-life wizards (except for Professor Dumbledore, perhaps, but he was a rare exception). But clearly Invius had meant for her to understand these wraiths to be dangerous. And ever since she and Lily had left Innsbrück, they had both had that horrible nagging feeling that they were being watched.


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Chapter 26 B


“We do, however, know that the Partisans and the Order have gathered somewhere in the mountains of Switzerland.”

“I’ve known that for months. Bellatrix could easily have tracked the last group to their new headquarters if she hadn’t decided to make a display of herself. For that reason, she failed to obey my orders in every respect. Don’t fail me either, Rabastan, or you’ll meet the same end as your brother.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You are to do whatever you can to unearth the location of their new headquarters. Don’t fail me. Weasley’s actions and Bellatrix’s actions have made your mission exceedingly more difficult than it should have been. You must follow my instructions to the letter. If you disobey a single order, Rabastan, you join your sister-in-law at the Hogwarts prison.”

“I understand.”

“As you know, Switzerland closed its borders to Germany and France the moment the Deutschesministerium was taken, sealing the Partisans within a very well protected border. Nobody is allowed in or out. You have already seen Claude Weasley’s report on the protections they have placed upon their own headquarters, which are very similar to the style of the Swiss government. This shall be their own undoing, because they have effectively sealed themselves into a self-occuring trap. Now thanks to Master Weasley’s clumsiness, the Order will have doubled the magical protections, which is why you must watch from a distance. You will not approach the estimated area at all. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Now, this is what you must do…”


********


Ginny jerked awake and warily stared around the little cave, the nightmares of her past still raging through her mind. It wasn’t dark out, but it was cloudy and also extremely cold, causing her to wonder if it was going to snow. She yawned, and checked her watch to see that it was about seven o’ clock in the morning. Then she got up and made her way to the mouth of the cave, looking around for what appeared to be following them.

There was no sign of the apparition that Lily described, but Ginny knew better than to give up on something so important. Avoid the wraiths. Again she wondered about these creatures of which she had never heard before except in Muggle stories. Some wizards would automatically dismiss the possibility for that very reason, but by this time she had seen enough of the unfrequented world to understand that wizards were, in truth, as ignorant as Muggles, if Muggles were so ignorant…

She snorted; if the Death Eaters had any idea that the world’s greatest secrets had bled into Muggle mythology and legends, but remained completely unknown to wizards… Sirius Black’s mother would have had heart failure at the very thought.

The moral of the story was that nothing should really be dismissed as insignificant or irrelevant in any sense. Ginny grinned as she thought of Hermione’s reaction if she knew about any of this: dragons superior in intelligence to humans and faeries of old Muggle folklore, which were all behind the scenes in the great wars of history. No wonder it was kept quiet! Even Grobschmied had had a hard time believing it. But it was fact, and even though it was a deadly truth, it was also fantastic.

As though triggered by these thoughts, a light suddenly illuminated the trees closeby, and then what looked like a bright, silvery serpent of some sort appeared down the path. Ginny stared at it, wondering if it was a Patronus, but as it approached, it moved in a way that wasn’t quite serpentine. It almost flowed through the air, like a current.

As it landed before Ginny, she saw that it wasn’t a snake, though its body was long and it curved like a river, and it ended with a large feathery tuft at the end of its tail. Its head was also less serpentine, almost wolfish, with a pair of magnificent antlers growing from behind its pointed ears, which protruded from a mane of silvery hair. The creature stood on four bird-like legs, and it raised its head to look directly into her eyes.

“Lily!” Ginny whispered. “Lily! Wake up!”

The creature, too solid-looking even to be a Patronus, turned to look at the other red-head, who was only just stirring from her sleep. At the sound of Ginny’s voice and also at the light illuminating the cave, Lily sat up, and stared.

“Is that a Patronus?” she asked.

Ginny reached out to the creature, which did not vanish, as a Patronus would, and touched its snout to see that indeed, it was solid.

“No, it’s not a Patronus,” she said quietly, “but I don’t know what it is either.”

“It looks like one of those creatures the Asians use as a symbol,” said Lily. “Asian dragons, or whatever they are. But they’re not really dragons, they’re only part of Asian mythology.”

“Twenty years ago, this would have sounded mad,” said Ginny, smiling in amusement. “But we both know that there is more to this world than humans can ever discover. Don’t take anything for granted.”

The dragon stepped away from Ginny, then jerked its head at the path, motioning for them to follow. Then it took to the air, though it was wingless, and hovered above the path. Ginny and Lily looked at each other.

“I don’t suppose it’s safe to follow it?” asked Ginny.

“If it meant to harm us, it could have done so now,” said Lily. “And anyway, if we accept that it’s a dragon, then I suppose we can trust it. The Laerenmathi are supposed to be on our side. Perhaps it’s a guide.”

Ginny nodded, and then pointed her wand at their things, which instantly packed up again. She and Lily then hoised their baggage onto their shoulders, and looked pointedly at the dragon, which began to glide slowly down the path. The two women hesitated.

“It’s the best bet,” said Lily quietly. “As your twin brothers say, what’s life without a little risk?”

And she started down the path. Ginny grinned and followed.


********


Spain had closed its borders after France had fallen to the Blackrobes, and the Spanish government had them heavily patrolled both by the Muggle army and by wizard volunteers. This action was wholeheartedly applauded in both magic and non-magic communities in Spain, who had seen what had happened in France and did not want it to spread to their own country.

The closing of Spain’s borders meant that the only way out of Europe and the Blackrobe onslaught was across Switzerland and down through Italy. For this reason, the Magical Confederation of Switzerland was under enormous strain, and it was only through the greatest exasperation that anyone was allowed an appointment with a government official for any other reason.

“The President will see you both now.”

Gutenburg looked up at the secretary, and Grobschmied folded his newspaper and tossed it aside. Two hundred German refugees, fifty Austrian, another seventy from France. And the day before, the Death Eaters had sacked the German historical town Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Germany, burning down all the old buildings, plundering the valuables, and killing almost everyone they could find. Though the Dementors were useless now, the fear that permeated the atmosphere of Europe, spread by Blackrobe brutality, increased more and more everyday.

Grobschmied stood and followed the secretary into President Karl Stokli’s office. He was a formally dressed, balding man, bent over his papers so far that his nose was almost touching the still-wet ink.

“Benedicht Grobschmied and former Deutschesminister Hans Gutenburg to see you, sir,” the secretary announced in German, and Stokli leaned up to look at them. After a moment, he motioned for the goblin and the politician to sit down. He then reached over and shook Gutenburg’s hand.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Gutenburg,” he said in a tired voice. “I hope that you are well?”

Gutenburg returned the greeting, choosing not to comment on the obvious stress Stokli was under.

“I was very sorry to hear about the outcome of the election,” said Stokli. “Has Fodermaier’s family been compensated?”

“I’m afraid I do not know.”

“Knowing Otto Hesse…” Stokli began, but he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he turned to Grobschmied.

“It’s been a very long time, Benedicht. You have yet to visit me and my wife for your favor to my son.”

“I was inexorably detained, for which I do apologize,” said Grobschmied.

“Not at all.” Stokli gathered up his papers and put them in a neat stack. “I was told that you have been trying to get an appointment with me all week.”

Grobschmied nodded. “I represent the resistance movement called the Partisan League of Goblynsrefuge, which you have likely heard of.”

Stokli frowned. “Harry Potter’s fighting force against You-Know-Who? I thought you were wiped out at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“No, we simply hid out so we could regroup,” Grobschmied said. “You are most likely unaware that a group of German officials secretly built an outpost for us in your country after we were forced to relocate about six months ago.”

Stokli raised an eyebrow.

“I am quite familiar with the legal procedure concerning this,” the goblin added. “But concerning the considerable pressure we were under, in light of a violent fanatical organization that was hunting us down, I’m sure that you can overlook the offense.”

Gutenburg surpressed a laugh at Grobschmied’s manner of address.

“Well, I suppose I owe you a favor,” said Stokli. “Apology accepted. You can cut the polite talk now. What do you want, Grobschmied?”

Grobschmied looked Stokli directly in the eyes, and began without ceremony.

“Straight to the point, Stokli, I want you to employ as many fighters as Switzerland has got against the Death Eaters. This includes the Muggle soldiers, and I don’t care if they find out about wizards or not. I want you to send diplomats to Italy, Greece, and Eastern Europe, and even America to turn them against Voldemort. I want you to do everything in your power to liberate Germany, France and Belgium, the Netherlands, and finally Great Britain from the darkness that has consumed them. In short, I want you to help us end the Blackrobe threat forever!”

Throughout this speech, Stokli remained impassive. When it was clear that Grobschmied had finished, he remained silent, drumming his fingers against the wood of his desk. After a minute’s thought, he said, “I sympathize with your cause, Grobschmied, but you do realize that Switzerland has remained politically neutral in all wars and all crises for centuries? And the people and government of Switzerland will want it to stay that way.”

“Two hundred and fourteen years old, me, and over a hundred years of historical study. I think you can assume I know your history,” Grobschmied retorted. “Yes, you have always been officially neutral, and yet, your people have also volunteered to fight for other countries for hundreds of years.”

“True,” said Stokli wearily. “Undoubtedly there will be some who volunteer to help you.”

“Do you honestly think Switzerland will be allowed to remain neutral this time?” demanded Gutenburg. “You must consider the advice of the Partisans, Stokli! They know the Death Eaters, well enough to understand that Voldemort is not going to leave Switzerland alone!”

“If we fight them, we’ll end up giving the Blackrobes an excuse to invade,” snapped Stokli.

“If you do nothing, the Blackrobes will consider you to be easy ground and invade anyway!” Grobschmied leaned back and folded his arms, looking exasperated. “Don’t make the same mistake Minister Woolf made in the Netherlands. It’s what won the Blackrobes Holland and Belgium.”

“At least you stand a chance if you meet Grobschmied’s demands,” said Gutenburg.

“Did you?” Stokli inquired of Gutenburg. “By the sound of it, you met the Partisans’ demands, and what good did it do you?”

Gutenburg looked affronted. “The German Magical laws didn’t allow for me to remain in office any longer, Stokli, and you know it!”

“Laws can be changed if necessary.”

Gutenburg snorted. “Try telling that to the legislature. All the same, it was not under my watch that the Blackrobes took over.”

“But it was under your watch that Fodermaier was assassinated.”

“Enough!” Stokli and Gutenburg both jumped and turned to the goblin, who’s face had paled with anger. “We came here to decide how to act, Mr. Stokli, not to start pointing fingers! You of all people should know better! But think about it! If you succeed in gaining the alliance of the East and of America, you stand a much better chance, and if you are victorious, you also end this influx of refugees that has been driving you up the wall. Two birds with one stone, I should say.”

There was a shocked pause, as Grobschmied closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself. “I understand your reluctance, Mr. Stokli, and I know the history of this culture, probably more than you do yourself. But people are dying, more are displaced every day, and at the same time, other countries have started closing their borders. And it did not have to go this far.”

Grobschmied looked up, his voice calm again. “Take a look at the world, Stokli. All your colleagues who were conquered by Voldemort thought in the same box that you are in, one of tradition and corruption. Get out of that box. Start thinking practically instead of politically.”

“You must accept that the world you were brought up in is dead, because the leaders of the Wizarding World could not accept that times had changed,” said Gutenburg. “Wizards cannot go on in seclusion, because though the magical governments of the world have tried everything to hide themselves from the non-magical, the Blackrobes unveil us wherever they go. Already most Muggles in the western world are fully aware of wizards. You cannot go on like this.”

Grobschmied nodded. “Stokli, you must fight them, not for wizards, not for Switzerland, but for the whole of sentient life! You must support the cause and help us stop Voldemort!”

Stokli was very quiet. He was staring at Grobschmied and Gutenburg, his expression unreadable, and they waited for him to speak. Then, after what seemed to be an age, he said to them, “Understand that this is not an easy choice to make. I’ll need at least a day or two to think it over. Is that acceptable?”

Gutenburg and Grobschmied looked at each other, and then Grobschmied turned back to Stokli. “One day, Stokli. We will be back tomorrow at this exact time expecting an answer.”

Stokli nodded, and Grobschmied and Gutenburg stood. Gutenburg extended his hand to shake Stokli’s again, but Stokli did not take it. “Why did you decide to help them, Gutenburg?” he asked.

Gutenburg hesitated, but then spoke. “Because something told me that it was the right thing to do. My friends and advisors told me that it would take a miracle to stop Voldemort, but we have already seen enough miracles in the past few months to assure me that if we stand united, we will be victorious.”

And with those words, Gutenburg left the room, and Grobschmied followed without a backward glance.



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Chapter 27


It seemed to take hours.

The spectral dragon led them down mountain paths and around ledges, winding further and further into the Alps, only pausing to allow Ginny and Lily to catch up with it. Before long, any shimmer of city lights or whisper of pollution from Innsbruck was gone.

“Where is it taking us?” asked Lily quietly as they attempted to climb down a scarp; the dragon patiently waited on a fallen tree at the bottom.

“I hope to this Fyrasman we need to find.” Ginny gingerly placed her foot in on a rock protruding from the ledge, serving as a foothold. When it did not give way, she started feeling around the rocks with her other foot. “I wish we’d brought a rope.”

“How far down is it?” Lily peered over the edge, trying to judge the scarp’s size. “Ten feet?”

“Give or take. It’s still a long way.” Ginny seemed to have found another foothold, because she had started to lower herself down. “Look, can’t you give us a hand?” she added to the dragon irritably.

It didn’t so much as blink in response.

“Ten feet… you could just drop,” Lily suggested.

“What, and break my leg?” The other looked up at her daughter, disgusted. “For my own sake, I’m glad that I’m no longer sixteen. I would have done just that.”

She lowered herself further, and soon was about five feet down. Lily watched as Ginny continued feeling around with her right foot for foodholds, and after about five minutes, she was at the foot of the scarp, dusting herself off and looking at the dragon in disgust.

“I’ll thank you for getting us down here!” she said sarcastically as Lily started to climb down herself.

She glanced down, and instantly a feeling of vertigo overcame her, and she looked away, opting not to look down. Ginny was right. Ten feet was a long way to rock climb without a rope or harnass or anything to help her lower herself to the foot of the ledge without falling.

“There’s a foothold just beneath your left!” Ginny shouted at Lily. “Just feel around for it!”

Lily found it and dropped her weight on it. It held, and she lowered her left hand to grab a tree root, and her right to grip another rock. Then she started feeling around with her right foot.

“To your right a little bit!”

They continued like this for another minute, with Ginny shouting directions at Lily as she continued to lower herself further and further down the scarp.

“You’re about half-way there!” Ginny was standing at the foot of the slope, her face fixed on her daughter. Her expression was a mixture of worry and determination.

Lily was about to feel around for the root that Ginny had informed her was just beneath her right foot, when she felt the rock on which she had placed her left foot lurch. Lily gripped the cavities in the cliff face she’d put her hands in tightly as the rock gave way and rolled down the slope, almost hitting Ginny who leapt out of the way. But with the loss of that foothold, and her right foot without one, Lily’s only means of support were her hands, which could not take her weight, and before anyone could react, she fell.

Ginny shouted as Lily struck the ground, and the latter gasped and tried to catch her breath; it had been knocked out of her.

“Lily! Lily! Are you all right?”

Soon Lily felt her mother’s hands on her shoulder and she looked up.

“I’m…” she gasped, still winded. “I think so. Blimey, that hurt. How far down was that?”

“About five feet,” said Ginny, sounding relieved. “That was a nasty looking fall.”

Lily sat up and tried to stand, but a searing pain shot through her shin and she sat down again. There was a blood-stained tear in her pant leg, and she rolled up the denim to see that her skin had turned black with bruising, and there was an enormous abrasion in the middle of her shin, which was covered with blood.

Ginny flinched at the sight of her daughter’s injury, but was the first to recover. Lily watched in pained silence as her mother rummaged through one of their rucksacks, and after a few minutes, she had produced some cloth, a few pieces of gauze, and a long white bandage. Then Ginny pulled out her wand.

Aiming carefully at Lily’s leg, she muttered “Aguamenti!”

A jet of water rushed from Ginny’s wand like a hose. Lily flinched when the water ran over the wound, but otherwise, it was quite soothing. Soon most of the blood was washed off, and after a few minutes of this, Ginny stopped. She then patted some of the cloth on the wound, before covering it with gauze. This done, Ginny wrapped the bandage around her daughter’s leg.

“I was never any good at healing spells, and I’m not risking injuring you further” she said as she worked. “So we have to do it the Muggle way. Mind you, Muggle skills are actually a lot more useful to know than most wizards give them credit for. I learned that while the Order was in hiding, before we ever met the Partisans.”

“How so?” asked Lily.

“Well, this incident now is living proof.” Ginny stood and put the remaining roll of bandage and cloth back into her rucksack. “Two witches wandering out in the backcountry, far from any civilization they can afford to go to, and neither of them are any good at healing?”

“You’ve got a point there.” Lily gingerly tried to stand, but even with the bandages, her leg was still very painful. “I’m not sure I can walk on this thing.”

She looked at the dragon, except there was no dragon.

“Where’d it go?”

Ginny turned around to look at the fallen tree. The dragon was not there. Nor was it hovering above them, as it had done before, nor had it moved to another rock or tree. It was completely gone. Ginny swore loudly, and to their great surprise, a shout of laughter echoed to their left.

“I’d agree with that, Mrs. Potter, but don’t worry, my dragon only left to fetch us.”

The sounds of hooves reached their ears, and startled, the two women looked to their left in time to see two horses enter the clearing along the ledge at a slow pace. The first horse, a magnificent chestnut, bore a short, bald man, no taller than five feet. The only hair on his head was a handlebar mustache. He was dressed in a manner that reminded Lily of pictures that Grobschmied had once showed her of Polish cavaliermen from the Thirty Years’ War. He was wearing a furry cap on his bald head, and also a long coat that reached his knees, also made of fur, over which he wore a thick leather belt tightened around his waist.

The second rider was Invius, atop a black horse similar to the one that he’d given to Ginny earlier that year. He looked no different from when they’d last seen him; dark, metal, and formidable.

The Polish-looking man hopped off his horse, and stood before them. Though he was shorter than Ginny and Lily, there was an aura around him Lily found intimidating.

“My name is Fyrasman.” He bowed slightly. “You’ve already met my friend Invius.”

Invius said nothing. He didn’t seem to have acknowledged them, though it was very hard to see any form of expression from a suit of armor.

“You’re Fyrasman?” asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised.

“Not quite what you expected, was I?” The squat man smiled merrily. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and Miss Potter at last. How was your journey so far, besides falling and almost literally skinning your shin?”

“Actually, I do have a few questions.” Lily tried to stand again, but again failed. As she did so, Invius swung himself off his horse and hit the ground with a loud clang. They fell silent as he approached her, each step resonating as was typical of him. Then as Invius was standing right over her, he drew a wand and waved it at her shin. In an instant, the pain was gone, and Lily got to her feet.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” Fyrasman’s face turned serious. “No doubt you are already aware of Voldemort’s more recent conquest.”

“Aware?” Lily scowled. “We walked right into it!”

“And you walked out undetected, a wise move.” Invius spoke up for the first time.

“My first question is, what were those shadow things we keep seeing?” asked Lily. She described what she had seen the other night, but before she could finish, Invius held up his hand, silencing her.

“Did you say it was watching you?” Invius inquired. As always, his voice was eerily toneless, as though this did not bother him. It made Lily shiver, but she nodded.

“And it was gone when you woke up your mother?” asked Fyrasman. She nodded again.

“If what you say is true,” he whispered, “then we must get out of here immediately. If the wraiths have seen you, we are all in deadly danger.”

“But what are the wraiths?”

Instead of replying to Ginny’s question, Invius motioned for her to get on his horse. Then he turned to Lily. “Get on Fyrasman’s horse. We may need a quick getaway.”

Invius turned his helmet to look at Fyrasman, and the green light flashed behind his visor again. “You know my mind.”

“So I do.” Fyrasman tugged at his reigns as Invius climbed back on his saddle, behind Ginny. He picked up his reigns as well, and soon the entire party was moving back down the train that the two mages had appeared from.

“So what are these wraiths?” Ginny repeated. Invius did not reply, and a moment later she heard Fyrasman speak up.

“All will be told when we reach safety. For now, stay close to Invius, and keep quiet.”




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Chapter 27B


Half an hour had passed in silence. As Ginny and Lily repeatedly looked at each other in fear and bewilderment, Fyrasman scanned the area around him warily while Invius, as usual, appeared to be thoroughly unconcerned.

That curse might have removed all of Invius emotions, but somewhere deep within that black and gaping hole where his heart should have been, he could feel one little spark left, and that was need… need for his emotions, need for the insubstantial heart that was contained inside that talisman. It was the only thing he could feel, and didn’t it just burn when the very existence of those emotions was suddenly in jeopardy.

But while Invius had lost his emotions sixteen years before, he had not lost his self-awareness, and he knew that the talisman which Lily wore like a pendant was pulsating very rapidly. If he was pieced back together, if his emotions were returned and his soul was reunited, then he would be absolutely terrified, as terrified as Fyrasman and as terrified as Ginny and Lily would be were they aware of what could happen any second.

He reflected on how most of the Wizarding World were afraid to utter Voldemort’s name, and how such utterance by itself could terrify them. If Voldemort could inflict such terror just by his name, then once again, wizards proved their extraordinary ignorance, because there was another name that truly chilled the hearts of even the most courageous of mages, a name that could strike fear into every corner of the natural world, a name that even the Laerenmath Dragons spoke with the utmost gravity.

And the owner of that name could be on their doorstep at any moment.




In less than half an hour, the sky had clouded over. Having dwelt in the mountains of Switzerland for so many months, and on an island in the middle of the ocean all her life, storms were a phenomenon Lily was very familiar with, but there was something different about this coming storm. For one thing, these clouds were getting so thick and dark that were it not for her watch, she could have sworn it was evening, when it wasn’t even midday yet. All the while, Fyrasman also looked at the storm warily.

All around them, the trees started swaying in a strong wind, and Lily glanced up at the sky again to see that the clouds were all beginning to swirl around one point just behind them. In the corner of her eye, Lily saw Invius pause and turn his horse to look at the storm himself, and she felt Fyrasman fidget nervously.

“That’s weird,” Ginny suddenly said.

Lily looked at Ginny curiously.

“The wind,” Ginny hissed. “It’s blowing toward the storm.”

She was quite right. The trees were swaying in the strengthening wind, but they were unnaturally swaying toward what Lily saw was now forming a funnel cloud.

Invius’s helmet turned, so that he was looking directly at Fyrasman.

“You know my mind,” he repeated, and Fyrasman nodded.

“Mrs. Potter,” the other mage whispered urgently, “Please come over here.”

Now feeling completely terrified of something she didn’t even know about, Lily watched as Ginny, who looked as frightened as she felt, leap off of Invius’s horse lightly, and she hurried to Fyrasman’s. The mage took Ginny’s hand and helped her clamber onto the saddle behind him, as the mare snorted in protest at the third weight.

“Come on, girl,” Fyrasman said, reaching around Lily and patting the horse’s neck. The mare snorted again, and continued down the mountain path. Lily looked around past Fyrasman to see that Invius had turned his horse around and was watching the path.

“Fyrasman, take them and run,” Invius said quietly. “Take them to safety. I’ll hold him off.”

“What about you?” whispered Ginny, her eyes wide.

Neither Invius nor Fyrasman had the chance to answer. Invius suddenly drew a long saber and his reins cracked, and he shot back up the path in a full out charge, his blade raised. At the same time Fyrasman pulled on his reins hard, and suddenly the three of them were moving at a gallop, the horse running as fast as was possible considering its three burdens and the terrain. As they went, the entire path suddenly went dark as the funnel cloud touched down.

“We meet again, Periculosus!” A loud, low voice rumbled through the vicinity, startling the threesome. A small, fearful moan escaped Lily; there was something in that voice that made her want to cower in a corner, in a fetal position, and put her head in her hands. Whatever had materialized behind them had petrified her more than Voldemort or the Death Eaters or even the Dementor king Ordruîl had ever managed, even though she had no idea what it was. “A crude, tungsten construct is how Ancalagar rebuilds his chosen executor of justice? Then let us see if your abilities are as they are rumored to be!”

There was a blinding flash from behind them, followed by another, and a third; these flashes were punctuated by the clanging of metal, obviously the clash of blades. Fyrasman pulled harder on his reigns, and the horse whinnied in protest, but picked up speed.

“You cannot hurt me, Impenetrable One!” the monstrous voice boomed.

Fyrasman turned a corner, and Lily looked ahead in terror, as a loud blast rocked the area, causing several stones to roll down the mountainside. The flashes of light and the bangs continued, still visible from behind them, but Fyrasman did not look, and did not stop.



Invius could not tire, but neither could his adversary. Ordruîl had been easy. Death Eaters were pathetic. But one of the Collective was another matter entirely, let alone this one. Every swing Invius took was blocked, every lung was parried, but the longer this carried on, the better. This was not a duel of victory, but a fight to buy time; the talisman and its carriers had to be protected above all else.

Invius swung his blade at his opponent’s chest, and held out his other hand, focusing all the energy and elements, but the other leapt out of the way and took his turn to lung, interrupting his concentration. Invius parried, and instead opted for a more physical combat. But the faerie was completely unfazed after Invius’s tungsten knuckles met his face, and then a sudden blow to Invius’s breast plate sent him flying off his shrieking horse.

Invius was also unfazed by this action, but as he got up, there was a sudden flash of light, a loud blast and a lurch, and he was down again.

“You cannot hurt me, Impenetrable One,” the faerie sneered. “You cannot win. Is it not logical to simply surrender and hand me the Key?

Invius made no answer, and the faerie’s sword suddenly came crashing down on his helmet, causing sparks to fly in every direction. But again, he was unperturbed. Knowing it would obviously not do to try a physical attack this time, he focused again. Nothing would distract him this time, and just as one pulls back the string of a bow, he summoned up enough energy, and released.

A sudden wave of energy rippled through the area, blasting the faerie back a few feet, and allowing him the time he needed. Invius was soon back on his feet, but as he raised his sword again, he realized that the faerie had vanished.

He looked around quickly, and spotted his black horse, astoundingly unharmed, waiting down the road, obviously terrified by the duel by its shaking and its whinnies, but dutifully remaining in place. As he approached the stallion, the latter began to calm, believing the enemy to have fled. But Invius knew the Dark Collective, and knew that this was no victory. His ploy to buy time had failed. But it was not over yet.

Concentrating on their ultimate destination should they be successful, and absorbed in their need for assistance, Invius clambered back onto the saddle, and pulled the reigns, galloping hell-for-leather in the direction Fyrasman had taken Lily and Ginny.



Ha, now they're in trouble. I'll try to post another chapter soon. In the mean time...
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