These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.
Chapter 23
Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, – no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou are not more fair
Than small white single poppies, – I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, – with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink – and live – what has destroyed some men.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Draco Malfoy lounged against a lamppost, handily Disillusioned to escape the notice of passers-by on the street, and kept watch over the town home of the Delacour family. Severus Snape had been a friend of Draco’s family since long before Draco had been born; he had been a helpful mentor to Draco at Hogwarts, subtly steering Draco into the path of the Light as Draco’s questions regarding his father’s views and methods had begun to disturb the boy. Draco was aware that Professor Snape had even spoken to Lucius Malfoy in support of Draco’s decision to marry Luna.
Surrounded by Gryffindors, it was difficult not to let some of their traits rub off on one; never let it be said that the inmates of Slytherin House did not also have standards of loyalty and support of one another in times of need! No, when Professor McGonagall had approached Draco with Snape’s request that Draco be in charge of protection for Fleur Delacour, Draco had immediately stepped up and accepted the commission. Whilst renegade Death Eaters were roaming about, one could not be too careful.
Therefore, it was with terrific swiftness that Draco responded when he saw the unmistakeable flashes of spells being cast from within the Delacour house; he sent his eagle Patronus with a message for Tonks, before hurtling through the front door and racing into the sitting room.
Hermione shook her head and rubbed her face, struggling to clear the fog from her mind and the sleep from her eyes. Now that her services as night nurse were no longer required, she was struggling to reacquaint herself with sleeping at night and being awake during the day. For Stormy was free of danger now, no longer having to ingest the potion to fortify her heart, and she was swiftly regaining her strength and stamina. She did not require constant watching as she slept. The child had been moved back to her nursery, and Nanny now slept in an adjacent room, with the door ajar.
Stifling a yawn, Hermione stood and crossed to her closet, pulling out jeans and a tee-shirt. The “quarantine” had been ongoing now for more than a week. If things had continued with Professor Snape as they had been after Stormy awoke, the easy camaraderie of reading together, talking about everything under the sun, and long, wandering walks all over the Estuary grounds, she would no doubt have been as happy as Skye and Shadow were with the course of events. She, however, had not had a proper conversation with the professor since the night he had walked out of Stormy’s room with her heart in his hands. Time was ticking and she was unable to move her plans along at all while confined to the Estuary with three pairs of happy lovers, an adoring eight-year-old, and an elusive Potions master whose ability to make himself scarce was swiftly beginning to wear upon her nerves.
Hermione tugged the tee-shirt into place and slid her feet into her bunny slippers before sitting at the writing desk and making an effort to ingest the tea and toast provided by Nanny. The doyenne of the Estuary nursery had swiftly adopted Hermione as one of her own nurselings – for how could she fail to love someone who so obviously doted upon Miss Stormy? – and proceeded to scold, bully, and cajole her as if her name was Snape. Nanny was not above drilling Hermione with questions when she delivered the tray, either; over time, she had induced Hermione to speak of her home, her parents, her education, her opinion of Professor Snape as a teacher, and her matrimonial prospects. It was quite apparent to Hermione that Nanny was a force to be reckoned with within the Snape family, seeming to have liberties far beyond the boundaries of other house-elves Hermione had known.
Hermione picked up her quill and set about to write a letter to Harry, in answer to his latest scribbled note. They were not allowed to send owls, or to use the Floo, but the professor was in daily contact with Minerva McGonagall, and communications were passed on in that way. Hermione was munching a piece of toast and jotting a cheerful note for Harry to share with Ginny when she became aware of a commotion in the Estuary Entrance Hall.
Fleur was in a panic. Severus had told her that she was to be watched and protected while he was unable to be with her, and his obvious caring and concern had made her feel cherished and proud. She had not, however, expected to actually need the protection.
She had been sitting in her mother’s parlour, sharing a cup of morning tea with Percy Weasley, who had dropped by for his daily visit to exchange information regarding the state of affairs at the Estuary. She was in the act of passing a plate of homemade macaroons to Percy when there had been a shout and the door from the hallway had exploded inward, blasted open with a spell rather than opened with the door handle. A group of men, their faces obscured by eerily familiar masks, had burst into the room, wands drawn, and begun shooting spells and shouting instructions. The two men in the lead each had a house-elf firmly attached to one leg as the elves attempted to defend their family.
Percy Weasley had risen from the sofa upon which he sat, grasping Fleur’s arm and unceremoniously thrusting her to the floor, and pulled his wand with an impressive flourish, bringing down the two men in the lead with cries of “Petrificus Totalus!” Fleur, from her vantage point at Percy’s feet, was able to observe the fierce determination the young man displayed as he faced the inexplicable attack. Vaguely, she remembered that this Weasley brother had been awarded an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for his heroic deeds in the battles against the Dark Lord; it seemed to be something of a family trait, after all.
There was a further scramble of motion in the doorway as Draco Malfoy burst into the room, leaping over the bodies of the downed assailants and catching two others from behind with Stunning Spells. The fifth intruder, perceiving himself to be the only one of his confederates left standing, attempted to Disapparate, but was foiled by the Anti-Disapparition Jinx which had activated the moment the ward alarms had been tripped. Nymphadora Tonks, stepping through the ruined door into the sitting room, brought the last brigand down with a lazy flick of her wand, swiftly turning then to each of the attackers and shooting ropes from her wand to bind them.
“Everyone all right?” Tonks inquired cheerfully, nudging one of the attackers with the toe of her trainer.
Percy bent to assist Fleur to a standing position. “Are you all right, Fleur?” he inquired, earnestly solicitous.
Fleur dusted herself with her hands, smoothing her rumpled robes in the process. “What was that?” she demanded, a querulous note in her voice.
The fireplace at the far end of the room flared with green flames and Severus Snape’s face appeared there. “Fleur?” he called. “What happened?”
Draco crossed the room to kneel and speak to Snape. “We just had an attack here, Professor. Five men, all in Death Eater masks. Percy Weasley was here and he helped to fight them off. Tonks has arrived and we’ve taken all five into custody; no one is hurt.”
Fleur knelt beside Draco. “Severus, you must come instantly!” she cried. “Who are these men? I am afraid!”
Snape surveyed Fleur dispassionately. “You know I am under quarantine and unable to come there now, Fleur,” he said in a reasonable tone. “Draco, please ask a house-elf to call Madam Delacour to her daughter’s assistance.”
From Snape’s side of the conversation came additional voices. “I apologise, but I must attend to matters here. I will see you as soon as I can, Fleur.”
And in spite of her shout of rage, he was gone.
No one noticed the sentry left near the back entrance to the Delacour house as he fled the scene to make his report to Alverard.
A short time earlier, the Estuary door bell had chimed and a house-elf went to answer the door. Lucius Malfoy spoke in his imperious tones, asking for Miss Stormy.
“Lorry will see if Mistress is receiving guests,” the elf answered. “Will sir come in?”
“I will wait here,” Lucius replied.
Descending the three very shallow steps which led down from the great oaken door of the Estuary, Lucius crossed the apex of the circular gravelled drive, removing an item from the pocket of his silvery robes. He knew that the likelihood of his winning Sophronia at this late date were so miniscule as to be nonexistent. Not only did Sirius Black possess the unfair advantage of having shared a teenage romance with her, but he and Sophronia had been living for days beneath the same roof. How could Lucius hope to compete in such inequitable circumstances? And yet he found himself patently unable to stop trying. He had been able to buy everything he wanted for all of his life, but this one thing, this woman who could undoubtedly make him happy in ways of which he had only dreamt, was beyond his reach. Even in his knowledge of her unattainability, he found himself returning here repeatedly, in the hopes of receiving one kind look, or one more view of the roguish dimple which appeared when she laughed.
One sure way to make his visits acceptable to Sophronia was to tie them to Stormy’s convalescence. The exasperating child had recovered from her near-death experience much too quickly to suit Lucius; he was running out of excuses to visit based on Stormy’s needs. Yet he had in his possession one last bribe to fate: a Princess Playhouse.
Placing the rectangle of pink fabric on the grass of the verge of the lawn, he removed his wand and spoke the incantation specified by the Playhouse manufacturers. It instantly expanded, assuming the shape of a small tent. In the manner of wizarding tents, this one was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside. However, as this was a child’s plaything, the inside was sized to a child, and the interior was as colourful and fanciful as the most whimsical little girl could demand. It was outrageously dear, but well worth the expense if it gave him one more excuse to call upon Sophronia.
“Hi, Mr. Malfoy!”
Lucius turned to see Stormy emerging from the interior of the house, leaving the door open behind her; the reason for this became apparent as Black, and then the two Weasley brothers, followed Stormy out into the morning sunlight.
“Good morning, Stormy,” Lucius responded, at his most charming. “Come see what I have brought for you.”
The child was wearing a pink dress covered by a white pinafore; from out of the pocket of the overdress, part of a pink Pygmy Puff peeked. She skipped across the drive onto the verge, beneath the shade of one of the trees which were scattered over the front lawn of the Estuary.
“It looks like a pink tent,” Stormy said, looking down at her gift.
“Yes, but what does it look like on the inside?” Lucius responded in a wondering tone.
“May I see?” The child fairly radiated curiosity.
“Certainly you may,” Lucius responded.
Stormy dropped to her knees and crawled into the tent; from within, her exclamations of delight were clearly audible.
“You may as well give up,” Black murmured with false concern as he joined Lucius beside the tent.
Lucius shot Black a look of malevolent dislike. “I will continue, as always, to do precisely as I please.”
Then the Weasley boys joined them, the two of them vying with one another for the title of “tallest, reddest-haired, with most freckles,” and the conversation became general.
This is how Alverard and his fifteen comrades found them when they materialised apparently out of the air, each of them removing their Disillusionment Spells at Alverard’s command, and watching the four men form a defensive semi-circle about the anomalous pink tent at their feet.
Snape withdrew his head from the fireplace, breaking the Floo connection with Fleur, and turned to glare at Nanny.
“Can you not see that I am speaking with someone?”
As he spoke, a tremor of sensation ran down his spine, just as had happened moments before, when the ward alarms at the Delacour home were breached.
“That Mr. Lucius Malfoy is calling, Master Severus. Nanny thought you would want to know,” the house-elf replied evenly.
“Lucius just Apparated in?” he repeated to her.
“Yes, he did, a few moments ago, Master Severus. He is asking for Miss Stormy, but Mistress has gone down to receive him.”
Snape frowned as he stood, checking to make sure his wand was in its place, up his right sleeve. “Come to the door with me, Nanny; there is something amiss and I may need you.” He turned on the spot and felt his attempt at Disapparition bump against the solid wall of the Anti-Disapparition Jinx, which was only activated by the wards being contravened.
“Come!” he shouted to the house-elf, noting the panic in her tennis-ball sized eyes as he sprinted through his bedroom and into the corridor.
Hermione cocked her head as she heard raised voices in the hall; what on earth was wrong now? Placing her piece of toast neatly back on its plate, she dropped her quill and crossed the floor to open the door, stepping out into the hallway and moving to peer over the banister into the Entrance Hall, below. To her puzzlement, she saw Sophronia, Skye, and Shadow crowding the doorway, while Professor Snape pushed his way through them, bellowing at them to, “Stay back!”
Her heart leaping into her throat at this unprecedented behaviour, Hermione pulled her wand and pelted down the staircase to join the Snape women in the hall.
Lucius immediately went into battle mode as the forms of the interlopers became distinct. Coming up the left side of the drive were a half-dozen men, led by none other than Mulciber; on the right side of the drive came Alverard, leading another group of comparable size.
“Death Eaters?” Black snapped, sparing a momentary glance at Lucius.
“Yes,” Lucius said, and began to fire curses with deadly accuracy.
Unaware of the drama taking place outside of her Princess Playhouse, Stormy was confused by the onset of shouting and other perplexing noises filtering in from outside. For a moment, when Fletcher flung himself out of her pocket and scampered out the tent flap, veering off to one side, she was simply dumbfounded. Soon, however, she shouted, “Fletcher, come back!” and darted out in pursuit of him, unwittingly running directly towards the oncoming phalanx of Mulciber’s men.
Snape reached the Entrance Hall with Nanny on his heels, to find Sophronia and the girls standing in the doorway with looks of horror on their faces. Pushing past them, he could see Lucius, Black, and the Weasleys standing in a defensive posture with their wands drawn.
“Stay back!” he shouted to the women as he erupted from the house. He had a fast impression of two groups of fighters advancing up either side of the drive before he saw the flash of pink fur dashing towards the group on his left; with a sick lurch of horror, he saw Stormy clamber out of an incongruous pink tent and hie after her pet, heedless of the death awaiting her on the drive.
Summoning speed he did not know he possessed, Snape ran after Stormy, shooting non-verbal Disarming and Stunning Spells at the attackers as he advanced. From behind him he heard a shout; after the first two words, he knew the voice belonged to Alverard.
“It’s Snape! Do not kill him! I want him to see this! Ten extra Galleons to each man who brings down one of these fools!”
With the hyper-focus born of battle situations, Snape took careful aim and methodically threw Full Body Binds on the two men aiming for Stormy. When Stormy saw the two men fall, she stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly aware that she was surrounded by danger. Reaching her side, Snape shoved her behind him, parrying curses aimed at them with sure, measured movements.
“Stormy! Get into the house NOW!” he bellowed at her.
“But Fletcher!” Stormy cried in anguish.
As he turned his head to speak a sharp reprimand to her, he felt the blast of magic, sent his way by Mulciber, he was quite sure, which hit his extended wand arm and shattered it from the elbow down. He felt the agony as blood and bits of flesh splattered his clothing and the gravel at his feet, yet he was bending to retrieve his wand from the ground with his right hand when he was hit by the Full Body Bind which knocked him off his feet.
With a cry of pure terror, Stormy ran from her fallen brother, bolting back to the perceived safety of the pink tent. As Snape hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his already-ruined left arm, he felt a wave of faintness pass over him. He watched, as if time had slowed to a crawl, as Sophronia darted out of the house, her eyes fixed on her defenceless child. In a moment that felt like rank cowardice, Snape closed his eyes so as not to see the annihilation of his stepmother and his baby sister.
Lucius Malfoy felt his lip curling in aristocratic disdain as he looked upon Alverard’s pathetic attempt to punish Severus Snape. The Gryffindors who had lately been making Severus so unhappy by their presence in his house were certainly of use, now. The younger Weasley boy stood to Lucius’ left, efficiently delivering and parrying spells, just as he had done at the side of Harry Potter; Black and the older Weasley boy were engaging the group to Lucius’ right. Black carried on with too much taunting talk, but both he and Bill Weasley were quite proficient.
All was going well until he became aware of Severus’ voice behind him – good, they needed another wand! – but his swift look over his shoulder showed Severus falling, his wand-arm destroyed, and Sophronia’s daughter sprinting back towards the tent. Lucius began to fall back, meaning to cover his fallen friend – but then Sophronia was in the middle of it all, obviously thinking of nothing but that wretched child. Hearing her mother’s voice, Stormy changed her course and ran into her mother’s arms; Sophronia promptly forced the child to the gravel and covered her with her body, never thinking to pull her wand and cast a protective spell. Sophronia had likely never used a defensive spell since she left her last Defence Against the Dark Arts class, more than twenty years ago.
Now Lucius planted himself firmly in front of Sophronia and Stormy, fiercely fighting to keep the blackguards off of Severus whilst keeping Sophronia safe as well. “Sophronia, take the child and get into the house!” he shouted.
Cowering in abject terror, Sophronia seemed to be frozen in her protective attitude over the child; she did not appear to hear the words Lucius addressed to her.
“Black!” Lucius roared. “Sirius!”
Looking back over his shoulder with a manic light in his eye, Sirius paled at the sight of his beloved crouching on the ground behind Malfoy, her body curved to protect a gibbering Stormy.
“Get them into the house!” Lucius shouted and Sirius back-pedalled swiftly to reach the females.
Lucius directed his attention then back to Mulciber and the four men still standing with him; they had fanned out a bit over the drive to cover the smaller fighting group of Order members more completely. With no thought in his mind save to bring this farce to an end, Lucius sent non-verbal Killing Curses, one right after the other, and took down the assailants closest to Severus.
From the next man in the group, whose eyes were dilated with fear as Lucius trained his wand upon him, there came a scream of, “It’s Malfoy! He’s using the Unforgiveables!”
Snape lay upon the gravel, blood from his arm continuing to flow, staining the drive red as it pooled beneath his body, and he watched the drama unfold with the curious detachment available only to those whose lifeblood is pumping out of their bodies. Unbelievably, Lucius had fallen back in time to lay down a rash of protective spells to keep Sophronia and Stormy safe; now, Black was moving back as well, covered by Bill Weasley. As Snape watched, he could see the stance of Lucius’ body change, becoming more purposeful; Snape was not surprised to see the twin jets of green light which streamed from Lucius’ wand. Though he could not see them fall, he heard the bodies, one after the other, hit the ground behind him. There was a terrified screech, also from behind him, containing the word “Unforgiveables.”
At that moment, Sophronia rose to her feet, galvanized by Black’s encouragement to run back into the house. The sudden, seemingly aggressive movement drew Mulciber’s attention as he was aiming at Lucius; in his distraction, the curse went wide and a jet of green light was streaking at Sophronia, carrying with it the unmistakeable sound of a heavy object moving in her direction at great speed.
Without pausing to think, Lucius obeyed the instinct to protect her, and he lunged to his left, taking with his own body the Killing Curse, which would have claimed Sophronia’s life. His last thought, before he fell lifelessly at her feet, was, Live well, my love.
Seeing Lucius take the curse that was meant for her, Sophronia knelt again upon the gravel, reaching with desperate hope to revive him. She had neither witnessed, nor fought in a battle; she did not understand the significance of the colour and sound of the spell that had knocked Lucius to the ground. Stormy clutched at the back of her mother’s robes, finally beyond sobs in the midst of the chaos.
Skye and Shadow, clinging to one another in the shelter of the doorway, watched as everyone they loved stood against the men who came up the drive hurling unfriendly spells. Ignoring the commands and pleas of Nanny, who strove to move them back from the doorway, the girls cried out with one voice as first, Lucius Malfoy fell, then as their mama went to her knees as well. Thinking only that Sophronia had been injured, the girls ran down the shallow steps onto the drive, kneeling on either side of their mother, their anxious hands feeling up and down her torso, searching for the wound which had felled her.
Hermione’s feet, clad in the ludicrous slippers, hit the tile of the Entrance Hall just as Shadow and Skye eructed onto the drive. Gaining the doorway, she paused mere seconds to assess the situation.
To the right, a group of men were being held at bay by Bill and Sirius; on the left, a smaller group of men were battling Ron. Here and there she could see where members of the opposition group had fallen; directly before her, she saw an unmoving Lucius Malfoy, with all of the Snape women crouched beside him. Her frantic eyes swept the action again, seeking out the one whose wand would single-handedly even the odds against the remaining ten attackers who dared to invade his home, but he was not there.
Nanny was by her side and seemed to know her thoughts.
“There!” the house-elf shouted, pointing to the left, to a frighteningly still figure sprawled in a puddle of blackish fluid which Hermione all too easily recognised as blood.
Hermione ran directly for Snape’s body, coming to a stop between him and the masked men, her aggressive attitude resembling nothing so much as a lioness protecting her young.
She could see Bill and Ron pulling back now, tightening their defences around the fallen and the vulnerable, the immediate presence of their women bringing a blazing intensity to their efforts to fight off the Death Eaters and their compatriots. Reaching for Snape’s ebony wand, which lay inches from what remained of his left hand, Hermione straightened, shouting, “Protego!” She felt the power of the Shield Charm gush simultaneously from both wands and she struggled to focus the power, bringing it lower and lower until it hovered at her knees and spread over Snape’s body like a shimmering blanket.
Reaching within herself for the stores of her magical energy, Hermione directed her considerable skill to maintaining the protective shield over the bleeding body of Severus Snape, trusting in Ron to protect her, and praying that it would end soon, before it was too late for the wizard at her feet.
Though Hermione was unaware of it, Nanny followed directly behind her as she ran across the drive, the house-elf diverging from Hermione’s path to reach Stormy. Master Severus had said that he might have need of her, and Nanny chose to interpret those words as permission to remove the child from danger. Using the magic she was permitted as the child’s nurse, Nanny detached Stormy’s hold on her mother’s robes and levitated her directly back into the house, pausing only to say, “Leave Mr. Malfoy! He is dead, Mistress! Come into the house – come now!”
Skye and Shadow, having seen the truth of Nanny’s words in the unmoving form of Lucius Malfoy, frantically urged Sophronia to retreat, but Sophronia continued to shake the silvery robes and to call for Lucius to open his eyes and to speak to her.
Macnair strained to hear what was going forward at the house, but the flashes of light which he could see through the trees did not make sense; if a dozen armed men attacked a bunch of women, why would there be so many curses and hexes flying through the air?
Signalling to the two recruits under his command to hold their positions on the perimeter, he moved forward through the trees, keeping to the middle of the lawn bisecting the circular drive. Half-way to the house, he saw Alverard and Mulciber falling back, accompanied by perhaps six of the mercenaries they had hired to fight, who were continuing to fire haphazardly in the direction of the house. Breaking into a run, he gained their position.
“What’s toward?” he panted, coming to stop between Alverard and Mulciber, who alternated sending Stunning Spells flying towards the Order members.
“The Order of the Phoenix happened!” Mulciber spat, glaring at Alverard. “Not only Snape, but Malfoy, too, and God knows how many Weasleys. They’ve even got that Mudblood bint standing over Snape’s body and fighting as if she thinks she can save his worthless arse.”
Macnair felt the sour taste of defeat rise in his throat like bile. “What are we going to do?”
Alverard emitted a short laugh. “We’re going to fight, you fools! Kill them all!”
Mulciber spat on the ground. “I’ve had just about enough of you and your stupid plans, Alverard. Where’s the gold we came after? This isn’t about killing – it’s about getting gold!”
The mercenaries gathered around the three former Death Eaters began to back away, thinking to themselves that this was a lost cause and not worth the bother. Certainly no gold seemed to be forthcoming for their efforts. They began to slowly melt into the trees, unnoticed by the trio who were snarling at one another like rabid dogs.
The deserters did not make it very far, however. There were loud popping sounds from every direction, and armed persons began to Apparate in, some wearing the distinctive robes of the Auror Department. The two remaining perimeter guards were being frog-marched forward, each one held on either side by grim-faced captors. One deserter, blanching visibly, threw his wand down and raised his hands in surrender, shouting to his fellows, “It’s Harry-Bloody-Potter, lads! Pack it in!”
Hearing this shout, Alverard interrupted Mulciber’s tirade. “Don’t you want revenge on Snape? What kind of cowards are you? Fight or I’ll kill you myself!” he snarled.
And with one accord, Mulciber and Macnair turned their wands on Alverard and shouted, “Avada Kedavra!”
Snape watched as first Hermione, then Nanny, sprinted out of the house; by his reckoning, only three members of his household had failed to spill out of the house, making themselves targets for Alverard and company. The three who remained in the house were all house-elves; it briefly crossed his mind that it was a pity he could not offer them a pay-rise for this show of good sense.
He saw Nanny forcibly remove Stormy from the scene and felt a mild gratification; dimly, he knew he ought to feel relieved, but such emotion required far too much energy from a man trembling on the cusp of crossing the Veil to the Other Side. Now Hermione was hurdling his body and landing squarely on her bunny-slipper clad feet. He could feel her hand upon his wand as if it were upon his own flesh, and felt some regret that he was too far gone to appreciate the sensation properly. The Shield Charm she cast felt like the softest and warmest of blankets; inconsequentially, he thought it was a shame that she could not join him for a cuddle beneath the comfort of the mantle. Now she was crouched by his head, the slippers at his eye level, and she was murmuring, “Finite Incantatem.” He was able to move again, and to speak.
“I am growing inordinately fond of those slippers, but please don’t let them be the last thing I see before I die.”
A/N: Though it seems to have gone on and on, please keep in mind that the entire battle occurred over the span of mere minutes.
Though Sophronia, Skye, and Shadow are all witches with wands, the girls have been educated at home as proper young ladies, and have never learnt defensive spells such as are taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts. And Lucius was correct about Sophronia; she hasn’t cast a defensive spell since she left Hogwarts and, in her panic, she does not recall one to use.
Kel pointed out that house-elves have powerful magic of their own, which prompts me to explain two things in my narrative. The house-elves at the Delacour home did not use their magic to attack the intruders because they did not have permission to use their magic in that way. That’s the way it is, in my universe. The house-elves have to have permission to use their magic in ways outside of their usual duties. Nanny did not grab Stormy and Disapparate back into the house because she was affected by the Anti-Disapparition Jinx which prevented Snape from Disapparating in the house. House-elves at Hogwarts can Apparate in spite of the restrictions on everyone else, but my theory is that special allowances are made for their movements in the execution of their duties.
I must give thanks on bended knee to my beloved Slytherin, who worked with me tirelessly to plot out the choreography of the battle, drawing graphs and even physically acting things out until I could see it in my own mind. If I did not bring it clearly to your minds, it is I who have failed in my job, not he. We were eating barbecue at Red, Hot, and Blue when we worked out who would cover whom in the battle; we were both moved to tears at the notion of Hermione standing guard over Severus’ fallen body.
It looks like I’m on a reasonable schedule to finish this novel-length story by my self-imposed deadline of August 26; wish me luck that my Muse (and my Slytherin) remain cooperative to the end!