The Prince of Air and Darkness by starlightzephyr
"Ill new is an ill guest they say..."
-The Lord of the Rings
Ginny. With each stride towards the council chamber more names rang like funeral bells in his head. Minerva McGonagall. Susan Bones. Percy Weasley. Nymphadora Tonks Another step. Charlie Weasley. Cedric Diggory. Sirius Black. Albus Dumbledore. How many more were dead or missing? More names of the fallen filled his head, but before he could consider them a voice interrupted his reverie.
“Harry.” Hermione was walking briskly towards him. “Did you hear the news?” Harry nodded. She looked remarkably composed. Her face was ashen, but he had expected her to be sobbing. Instead she sighed. “I can still hear the screaming.”
He gaped at her in astonishment. “You were there?”
“Of course I was there Harry. Why do you think I look like a train rolled over me?” She pinched the bridge of her nose to try and alleviate the pain in her forehead. “It’s been a terrible morning.”
Confusion swelled inside him. He could have sworn Hermione had been at either the prison or the hospital for the past two days. Since when had she joined Ginny on her supply raids? “How did you escape?” he demanded.
“I escaped because my shift was up.” She raised her eyebrows. “But by then we managed to charm him anyway.”
“Charm him? What are you talking about?” He stared at her as if she had gone insane.
She returned the stare. “Malfoy’s blowup of course.” She saw at a glance he had no idea what she was talking about and hurried to explain. “It was my fault I suppose. Last night on my shift I was so fed up with Malfoy I charmed him quiet. He broke free of the spell by midnight and I suppose all the forced silence gave him plenty of time to think of loud insults and strengthen his lungs. He woke up the entire prison complex with screams of ‘Mudbloods!’ and ‘Muggle Lovers!’ We finally slapped a stronger silencing charm on him, but not until he’d had plenty of time to dodge our curses and tell us all personally how he felt about us.” She heaved another huge, dramatic sigh, and grinned reluctantly at him. “All’s well that ends well right?” Then she stopped in her tracks. “Harry, what were you talking about?”
They had almost reached the council chamber. Suddenly Harry did not have the heart to tell her about Ginny. She would find out soon enough.
Terry Boot, who was according to gossip, Ginny’s current boyfriend, met them outside the chamber. He looked terrible. Harry offered a grimace, “I’m so sorry,” he began.
Terry held out a hand to silence him. “S’ not like that,” he admitted. “We broke up two weeks ago. But still, what happened, it’s just horrible. Horrible,” he repeated, shaking an apologetic head at Hermione. She backed away from him. “What’s happened?” she hissed in Harry’s ear. “Tell me!”
“It’s Ginny,” Harry said. By then he could say no more because they had reached their seats and it was time for the council to begin. Harry surveyed his council members with a mixture of pride, but also grief at the new most of them were about to learn.
A few of the council members were older, like Remus Lupin, Intelligence, Poppy Pomfrey, Health, and Filius Flitwick. Defense. But most of the councilors at the table were students from Harry’s school days, the more hardy young people who had lasted through the war. Fred and George Weasley were arguing with Colin Creevy about internal affairs. They looked so serious that he knew they must have heard about the events of yesterday. Cho Chang and her husband Michael Corner were speaking together in hurried whispers. Padma Patil sat quietly sorting papers. It was little wonder the council had been nicknamed Dumbledore’s Army, after the organization most of them had been a part of in their school days.
Three chairs were empty at the table, and would not be filled that day. The one on Harry’s right was Ron Weasley’s, Chief of Strategy. He had been injured during the last attack on the wall. That was the attack where they had captured Malfoy. The other chair was Neville Longbottom’s. As far as Harry knew, Neville was fine, but he did not like to leave the wall. The wall was Neville’s obsession. He spent almost all of his time up there, watching for attackers and directing the spells he had invented to be further strengthened. The wall had been Harry’s idea originally, but Neville had brought it to fruition, Neville and his amazing gift with plants.
The third empty chair belonged to none other than Ginny. More regrets flooded Harry’s mind. The two of them had not spoken for a long time. At least they had not spoken of anything but war strategies and supply raids. Their already delicate friendship seemed to have dissipated after Ron’s nearly fatal injury. He had always meant to try and reconcile. Maybe even to make things as they had been long ago between them. Now he would never have the chance.
Ernie stood up. He cleared his throat. “As many of you are already aware,” he cast a glance of condolence at Terry. Please don’t say something idiotic and pompous, Harry silently begged. “The valiant flower of our rebellion has been cruelly plucked from our midst.” Too late. “Like a pleasant summer that runs too short, the brave Ginerva Weasley has been torn from us.”
Harry sat on his hands to keep from standing up and shaking him by the shoulders. How could he talk about Ginny, their Ginny, the Ginny they all knew and loved, in such a ridiculous fashion? But for those who had not heard the news the shock of the information drowned out Ernie’s flowery words. Padma was slowly opening her mouth and closing it. Hermione had put her head in her hands.
Ernie continued his little speech for a time, and then stopped when he finally noticed the look on Harry’s face. He coughed. “More information will be shared about this tragedy when I have had a chance to speak with our noble leader in private.”
“The sooner we kill him, the better Harry,” said George.
“We meant Voldemort, of course,” added Fred, noticing the terrified look on Ernie’s face. Cries of agreement chorused the twins.
“What about the Horcruxes?” someone said. The Horcruxes were no secret in this council chamber.
“All six of Lord Voldemort’s original Horcruxes have been destroyed,” Harry reminded them. “But we still must kill his mortal body, which is well protected.”
Padma looked up from her papers, “And there’s still no telling if he hasn’t made more.”
“I don’t think he has,” said Colin. “I mean, he wanted seven, and it not as if he knows we’ve destroyed the others, right? We can’t afford another Ginny. I say we get rid him once and for all. Send a team of our best to that bloody island. Assassination’s the kind of thing rebels do, isn’t it?” His speech was met with some murmured approval, and then a scattering of hasty arguments. Many at the council were shocked to see the normally subdued Colin suggest something so desperate. Harry worried that the loss of Ginny might have unhinged him.
Remus Lupin opened his mouth to speak, and everyone else became quiet. Remus rarely spoke at council; he rarely spoke to anyone. He had changed since the loss of his wife. His hair had completed its transformation to wolf gray. His face, too, had taken on a cloudy shade. Although he retained his essential nobility, any shred of warmth in his personality was presumed dead along with Tonks.
“In this case, Colin, I do not think cutting the head off the snake would do the trick.” He drummed his fingers along the table. “I have seen more of Voldemort’s Britain than anyone else in this room, and I will warn you that that Britain is three separate worlds now. The first world, the countryside, is now ruled by the dark creatures that Voldemort set loose or coaxed out of hiding. These monsters prey on strays from the slave villages or fight amongst themselves. The second world is made up of the Muggles and Wizards who have not taken refuge in London. They live in miserable slave villages, servants to the Dark Lord’s every whim, victims of regular recreational purges. But the third world is not a world of monsters or slaves, it is the world of the elite. The supporters of the Dark Lord live a life of ultimate decadence. They throw lavish parties at the finest castles in Britain, including the Voldemort’s own, Azkaban. They gossip, hoard treasure, intermarry, and abuse their slaves. Even with the Dark Lord gone, it is not a lifestyle they will readily give up.”
“If Voldemort has created an elitist class,” said Hermione, “then that’s all the more reason to fight back.” She was still drying her tears. “While assassination is indeed a rash way to do so, I think it’s time we moved our rebellion to the offensive.”
“The plan, then,” said Harry. “We must continue with the plan.”
“The plan,” the others conceded in murmurs of agreement. But all of them were thinking of Ginny.
* * *
Two voices simultaneously called Harry’s name as he left the council chamber. Harry turned around to see Remus and Ernie both standing in the archway. “After you Mr. Macmillan.” Lupin motioned Ernie towards Harry. He waited patiently in the archway as Harry and Ernie conversed in the hall.
“There’s something I didn’t announce to the council because I felt it might damage our vital morale,” Ernie informed him. “I wanted to tell you before the announcement was made publicly.”
“What?” Harry impatiently fumbled with his cloak clasp. He was still angry about Ernie’s speech.
“Ginny’s supply team was found last night. Demelza Robins, Anthony Goldstein, and Natalie McDonald all currently reside in Azkaban.”
He stopped fiddling with his cloak. “That’s wonderful!” Ernie said nothing. “That’s a good thing, right?”
Ernie gulped. “The thing is…” he stammered. Ernie never stammered. “They’re all quite horrifically injured, and they all gave terrible accounts of the rather,” he paused again, “grisly demise of their leader.” Harry gave him a hard look. “Evidently Bellatrix Lestrange led the slave caravan, and she felt an example was necessary. She let the other go free, so they would return with messages from the dark lord.”
“Slave caravan?” said Harry. Images of Ginny being tortured and killed invaded his mind. “You told me they were on a supply raid.”
“From what I understood from Demelza, Ginny spotted the caravan during their flight, and decided to investigate.” Free the slaves is more like it… thought Harry. “I would suggest you speak to the team yourself, Mr. Potter.” Ernie seemed to have recovered his usual formality. “Perhaps during on of your regular visits to our Chief of Strategy?”
“Right,” said Harry. He swallowed. It was hard to be angry anymore, at least with Ernie. It was too easy to imagine Bellatrix laughing over Ginny’s mangled body. He bid goodbye to his Chief of Supplies. He would go to the wall and tell Neville the news. Then he would go to the hospital.
“Harry,” a voice called to him as he started down the passageway. He had completely forgotten Lupin.
“Sorry,” Harry found it difficult not to stare at Lupin’s newly ash colored hair. “What did you want to speak to me about again?”
Lupin’s lips curved upwards in the imitation of a smile. “I didn’t say.” The man quickly realized Harry was in no mood for feeble attempts at humor. “But I will now. I said in council I knew more of Voldemort’s Britain than anyone else, but I didn’t say all I knew. Information about Voldemort and this country has recently come into my hands, strange information. Tell me Harry, what do you know of Morgan le Fey?”
Harry tried to remember his History of Magic. He recalled the taste of the end of his quill as he absentmindedly chewed on it. He could picture Hermione furiously taking notes, Ron drooling in his sleep, and the Professor Binns droning on about the greatest period of Muggle/Wizard cooperation Britain ever saw.
“Morgan le Fey was an evil sorceress,” Harry answered. “She summoned Dark creatures, and used spells to keep herself young and beautiful. She helped undermine Merlin’s goal to bring Muggles and Wizards together in the kingdom of Camelot. She stole things, seduced people, and caused general havoc.”
“A nasty piece of work,” Lupin agreed. “But she was also one of the most powerful witches in history. I tell you this because in my travels I have heard rumors in both slave and Death Eater circles, though only rumors mind you, that Lord Voldemort has inherited her magic. That somehow he has mastered her dark powers, and learned her terrible secrets.”
“Can you find out more about this?”
“I’ll do my best,” Lupin promised. “I tell you this, not to frighten you, but because we must keep in mind that as we move our plan into the offensive, Lord Voldemort is also growing stronger.”
* * *
Night had almost arrived when Harry reached the Janus Thickey ward of St. Mungo’s. “This way,” Luna Lovegood swept towards him dreamily. As an assistant Healer she wore the lime green robes, but Harry noticed she had tied a spangled pink sash around her waist and her earrings were upside down miniature candelabras. “Watch your step,” she said. “The floor is infested with shadow eaters.” Harry had no idea if she was telling the truth. These days Dark creatures were everywhere.
Hermione was already sitting by Ron’s bedside. Her face was covered in red blotches and her eyes were still misty. Ron was fast asleep.
Harry was too concerned to bother with tact. “How long have you been crying?” he demanded.
“A few hours, on and off.” She wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “The children at the refugee camp thought I’d gone insane, moping all over the place, bursting into tears at the slightest mention of redheads.” She almost laughed. “I feel much better now, honest.”
He resolved firmly not to tell her what Ernie had told him. His face set and his lips clammed together. Hermione must have noticed because she gave him a careful glance and opened her mouth to speak.
Before she could talk, Ron yawned loudly and opened his eyes. “Don’t tell him,” Hermione mouthed unnecessarily to Harry. He nodded. Ron coughed. “You’re awake!” she cried. “How are you today?”
“My back aches and I can barely see, but that’s nothing new.” Ron scooted upwards and propped himself against the pillow. Harry was pleased and impressed with this show of mobility. A week ago Ron had been unable to move his chin without help. “Really, I’m doing much better, I should be back to help in no time.”
“It most be rather boring, just sitting here,” said Harry, because he could not think of something else to say.
“’S not bad. I mostly just sleep, and the new assistant who gives me my potions is really pretty!” Harry’s gaze drifted over to where Luna was mixing two potions together on a table at the end of the wing.
“Ron,” he said slowly, “Is the assistant blonde?”
“Yeah, and I know I can’t see her very well, but she’s got this beautiful, soothing voice…” Hermione’s gaze followed Harry’s. She began to laugh.
“Ron, that’s Luna Lovegood.”
He coughed again. “Loony Lovegood? The raddish girl?”
Harry patted his head. “Don’t be mean. She’s giving you potions that’ll save your life, and she’s really pretty, remember?”
To their surprise, Ron did not come up with an angry retort. Instead he leaned back against his pillow in contemplation. “Yeah, I guess so.” They spent the next half hour laughing, joking, and on Harry and Hermione’s part, speaking of anything but Ginny. After a while Ron fell asleep.
“I hope we didn’t overexert him,” said Hermione as they left the ward.
“Nah, it’ll do him some good.” Harry grinned. “So will Luna.” They both laughed, but the laughter was short-lived.
“Listen,” said Hermione in a voice that could drive laughter out of any occasion. “Something happened right before Ron woke up, you had this expression on your face.” She paused. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” It was not a question.
“You don’t want to know.” Harry assured her.
“Does it have something to do with what Ernie spoke with you about after council?” she persisted. “Something to do with why the names Robins, Goldstein, and MacDonald are registered in the hospital check in?”
“How did you?” He stammered.
“I did a little investigating.” She turned to see if there was anyone else in the corridor they were walking through. “Tell me what Ernie told you.”
She knew too much already. He told her the rest. She did not cry. Her eyebrows bent together in deep concentration. “And they all gave accounts of her death despite horrific injuries,” she finally said.
“That’s what Ernie told me.”
She stopped walking and lifted a hand to her chin. “Ginny may be alive.”
Harry stopped walking. “What?”
“It’s seems rather suspicious doesn’t it. Almost like those who took her wanted us to be certain she was dead. Why else send three people back to us? If they wanted to make her an example, they would have sent her body back. Lord Voldemort and his servants are experts at messing with people’s memories. I think we should go see the supply team.”
“If there’s any chance, any at all,” he said, “that she’s alive, we have to know for sure.” They had reached the urgent care section of the first floor. The plump witch at the desk had told Harry the supply team had huge bites all over their bodies. As of this afternoon no one had been able to determine what kind of creature the bites had come from.
“Goodness, even if she is alive, you’re not thinking of going after her?” One look at his face told her he was. “Don’t do anything rash. Even if we can’t get sense out of the supply team, there may be a way to know if Ginny’s alive or dead. I have an idea.”
A/N: All right readers, its time for you to decide which chapter you’d like next! Because of the way this story has been plotted the next chapter could either be Vow, which will tell of Neville, Draco, the fates of the supply team, and Hermione’s “idea” or it could be Betrothal which will inform you of Ginny’s fate among the Death Eaters. I will post whichever chapter readers request.
Also, this story requires a ton of minor original characters so if you’d like to make a cameo please let me know. Just leave me a review with your name (or a cool one you make up), a brief description of yourself, and whether you’d be more likely to be a Wizard Rebel, a Muggle Refugee, or an Evil Death Eater.