23: Facing Fate
It was morning.
Remus knew it without even opening his eyes. He could sense the light that must be streaming through the gap in the curtains to stain his eyelids, could hear snatches of morning birdsong beyond the half-open window. And he could feel Dora’s warm body curled snugly against him, her legs tangled around his, her cold toes brushing his shins, her fingers soft against his back and her hair, bright pink, he knew, and tousled, tickling his neck and chin as she shifted in her sleep and buried her face deeper into his shoulder.
He could picture her face, the look of peace, the half-hint of a dream-smile teasing her lips as she snuggled against him, her skin smooth and flawless in the soft morning light, her hair a tangled, chaotic mess for which he was a good part to blame. He’d woken to that beautiful sight so many times before.
But now he couldn’t bear to look, couldn’t bear to open his eyes and see the sight etched so clearly in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t bear to see it and know that this would be the last time, the last time he would see her there, the last time she would sleep so peacefully in his arms - that they had made love together for the last time in their lives.
For this morning, by the ruling of the Wizengamot, they were both about to die.
No. He couldn’t open his eyes. Opening his eyes would make it real.
A week had passed since the trial’s ruling had effectively rendered him a dead man walking. Hermione had spent the first few days afterwards working like a fiend to compile a suitable appeal against the ruling; but when the panel of three randomly selected Wizengamot members chosen to decide whether or not an appeal would be heard most unfortunately turned out to include Tertias DeWinter and Achilles Kingross, the outcome was obvious. The request for an appeal was denied.
And so Remus had found himself, along with his wife and son, technically under house arrest. Teddy’s jail sentence had been postponed on compassionate grounds until after his parents had faced their fate, but the condition of this short reprieve was that he was magically tagged in order to prevent him moving more than one hundred yards in any direction away from his family home. Remus and Tonks, at Matilda’s regretful request, had agreed wearily to abide by a similar restriction and remain with their son at Winter Hollow. Visitors were permitted, but of course only those already in the know were able to come, for Matilda Breakspear had imposed a jinx called the Vow of Silence over proceedings - in other words, those present at the trial were only permitted to speak with others in the same situation about all they had seen and heard in that courtroom. Anyone who broke the restriction would be instantly struck dumb, and would remain mute until the Department for Magical Law Enforcement - who would be instantly alerted - allowed it to be lifted. Hermione, who’d been considering an accidental leak to the press in the hope of an outcry from Remus’ former students and Tonks’ old friends, found this doubly frustrating “ not only had her plan been thwarted, but she’d created the spell for the Vow from an old DA jinx, and had personally suggested its use to Matilda several years before. She’d ruefully been forced to admit that she’d been hoisted on her own petard.
The question now remained “ what exactly were two people supposed to do under house arrest when they had only a week to live? Remus had done the best he could and Dora had quickly joined him, playing games, reading, and just talking with his son, with Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Kingsley, Molly, Bill and Arthur. Teddy had vanished into the garden with Victoire one morning, and it had been with wry amusement that Dora had reported hearing the words “…if you think you’re breaking up with me over some stupid jail sentence, think again Lupin! You’re not getting rid of me that easily! And if the words for your own good even think about crossing your lips, I swear…” echoing from behind a nearby bush. Like father, like son, she’d dryly remarked, and added that Victoire had now most definitely got her motherly approval. Just like his father, Teddy needed a woman who wouldn’t let him get away with being a bloody martyr.
And so they had talked. Teddy had told them every little detail of the last twenty years he could remember, his school days, his Christmases with Gran and Harry’s family, parties with the Weasleys, his first kiss, his first date with Victoire. Andromeda had clung to Dora, showing her photos, talking about Ted and Teddy, just grasping those last few mother-daughter days with all the strength they could. Harry had told Remus all about his family; his Marauderesque son James, who lived up to his namesake’s reputation so enthusiastically, his younger son Albus with his determination to do right, and little Lily, another brilliant little redhead just waiting for her chance to shine. He talked of his pride and mild envy at Ginny’s Quidditch career, the joy he found even in the worst days of his job, and simply how content he was. And as he talked, he smiled.
Remus was so happy for him. No one deserved that kind of peace more that Harry Potter.
But beyond simple family conversations, one piece of positive news had arrived in their weeklong incarceration. Molly had reported with profound relief that Penny Weasley had started to recover from her coma and had been slipping back into consciousness several times a day. Finally, yesterday, the Weasley matriarch had happily reported that Penny was awake, sitting up, and asking coherent questions about her department, the Portal and just what on earth was going on. Percy had already applied to Matilda and Kingsley for permission for his parents to breach the Vow and fill both himself and the Head of the Time Division in on recent events, and the last Remus had heard, they were still waiting on an answer.
Teddy’s relief had been painfully palpable. His son had slumped into a chair with his face in his hands and all but sobbed when Molly had delivered the news of his friend’s improvement “ he had sent a letter back with Molly almost begging Matilda and Kingsley for permission to see her himself and apologise before leaving for his term in jail. The answer had yet to come but Remus fervently hoped it was positive.
It had been a difficult, a long, drawn out and painful way to say goodbye to those he loved, made unavoidable by the Portal’s slow repair, the forging of fresh hourglasses, the rebalancing of spells. But all along there was Dora, sticking to his side as much as she could, smiling at him, touching him, kissing him with passion in every moment they spent alone. It had been the very night after the trial, when they were both still half-reeling from what they had to face, that she had clung to him, held him and whispered that she wanted them to make love again for the first time since Teddy’s birth, that she was sure, that she was ready, that she wanted it so much it almost burned her soul. And Remus had no wish to refuse her. He wasn’t sure he could have refused her even if he’d tried.
And so every morning for that so-long week, he had woken and seen her face, half-smiling, pressed against him, hair pink, body warm, the wife he loved more than anything held within his arms. And each morning he’d known that it was one less moment they’d share.
And this was the last morning. The last moment. The last time.
How could it be the last? How could he never wake to this wonderful sight again? How could the world roll on regardless if Dora was not in it?
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
He’d seen so much life. She’d seen far too little. Regardless of his fate, she deserved to live.
But she wouldn’t. This was her last day alive. Their last day.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He would never, if he’d lived a thousand years, have given up the chance he’d had to see his son as a grown man and meet the fine adults his favourite students had become. And a part of him couldn’t help but feel shamefully glad of the fact that he’d never have to face another agonising night beneath the glare of the full moon. But it would have been so very much easier if his life had been snuffed out unaware on that battlement twenty years before.
Against his skin, he could feel Dora twitching, shifting, her hands flexing, her head rubbing against his shoulder. She was starting to wake up.
And if you don’t open your eyes now, Lupin, you’ll never get to see her at peace again. You’ll only see her sorrowful and afraid.
For a moment, Remus breathed deeply, allowing the air to fill his lungs, to brace him for what was to come. And then he opened his eyes onto the last morning he’d ever have to face.
* * *
It was with a kind of grim inevitability that Nymphadora Tonks had watched the last hours of her life stream away too fast. Such things always did.
She’d woken to find Remus staring down at her and the love and warmth and sadness in his eyes had hurt her heart, yet all at once had melted it like snow in the winter sun. She’d reached up to touch his face, to stroke her fingers through his hair and they’d kissed and kept on kissing until a subdued, reluctant knock at the door had roused them back into the horror of the real world. With a face more steeped in misery than any Tonks had ever seen, Teddy had peered around the door and told them that the Weasleys had just arrived to say goodbye.
And so it had begun, their last goodbyes, spoken this time with the force of knowledge, with the inescapable truth of death upon the other side. Due to the potentially distressing nature of what was to occur inside the Portal chamber, Matilda had decided that, outside of those present in an official capacity, only immediate family would be given permission to bear witness. Both Harry and Hermione had successfully argued their way in to an unresisting Matilda - Harry to watch over Teddy, who was technically a criminal, and Hermione in her capacity as independent legal representative, to ensure that the sentence was carried out as humanely as possible “ but Andromeda, pale faced and shaking, had respectfully declined. Her chin raised, her eyes a maelstrom, she had told Matilda that she had seen enough of her daughter dead to last her a lifetime.
And so it came as no surprise to Tonks that, once she and Remus had dressed quietly in the same clothes they had worn in battle and headed downstairs, she had found her mother, clothed formally in black velvet robes, seated in the living room with a small influx of solemn Weasleys.
All come to say goodbye. Forever.
It had been the most painful hour of Tonks’ life.
One by one, she’d hugged them, held them, a succession of red hair pressed against her face, of tears and soft farewells, of mutters about injustice and the stupidity of the Wizengamot. All had taken their turn; Bill with his chin set grimly against his scarred features, Arthur quietly shaking his head as he stepped wearily away, Molly sobbing uncontrollably until her husband had been forced to lead her gently to one side. Ron had sworn fluently about DeWinter and his ilk as his shoulders shook, and Ginny, although her eyes told a story of the same anger, had merely held them both for a moment, before clenching her fists and stepping away. Victoire had surprised them both with the fervour of her embrace before she had moved over to wrap her arms around Teddy and hold him tightly until it was time for her to go. And then, one after another, each with a backward glance of tears, of rage, of sorrow, the Weasley family had stepped outside and gone.
And through it all, Andromeda had remained silent and still upon her chair, waiting for her moment, waiting to face her daughter and her son-in-law and say her final goodbye.
And Tonks’ heart twisted and tore so violently at the thought of it that she could barely stand to breathe.
Mum. My mum. How can I say goodbye to my mum? How can I see her say goodbye to me?
This can’t be happening. Please, it can’t.
But it was.
She had watched as her mother rose gently to her feet, watched as she stepped forward towards Remus, took his hand, spoke softly to him, pulled him into a gentle embrace. Remus had returned the gesture with affection, had smiled quietly, sadly, nodded as she thanked him for being part of her family, acknowledged the strength of her acceptance with open gratitude.
And then, Andromeda Tonks had moved away from her son-in-law and turned to face her daughter.
And everything became too real.
Tonks had no idea how long she and her mother spent crushed in each other’s arms, both sobbing unashamedly as they clung to one another almost desperately, trying to still time and close out the world, to make the truth disappear and fate change its mind. Somewhere, distantly, at the back of her mind, she heard Remus and Teddy discreetly make their exit, but in that instant, she didn’t care, she couldn’t care about anything but the woman who’d birthed her, raised her, loved her, defied the evil of her family to give her life and keep her safe. She’d already lost so much. If death was inevitable, Tonks knew that she had little choice but to accept it, but the pain it would cause her mother to lose her again was almost too much for her to bear.
And Teddy, the last of her family, was about to be sent to Azkaban. How could the world be so cruel to a woman who’d done nothing but defy the wrongs of the world she was born into?
Oh, mum….
But she was no longer a child. Her mother’s embrace no longer has the power to hold the world at bay.
And so, when the knock at the door had sounded, when Harry and Achilles Kingross of the Wizengamot had stepped into their home and grimly announced that the time had come, Tonks had little choice but to ease herself out of her mother’s arms and step away.
And the moment that door had closed behind her, the moment she had stepped out of the house that should have seen the rest of her life pass by and left her mother to weep alone, Tonks felt her heart shatter. Her legs all but gave way “ only Remus’ quick reactions kept her from plunging to the ground, and the grasp of his arms was the only thing that kept her upright long enough to reach the perimeter of the wards in order to Portkey to the Ministry. But as the familiar yank and squeeze of Portkey travel dragged her away from her home and her mother, one thought burned against Tonks’ mind.
If it was this hard to say goodbye to mum, how the hell am I ever going to manage it with Teddy and Remus?
And the honest answer was that she didn’t think she could.
* * *
“You can’t, Harry.”
Oh, Hermione. Why do you always have to make so much sense?
Those last words of his dear friend rang through Harry’s head as he walked down the path from Teddy’s house with that utter bastard Kingross a half step ahead, Teddy at his side, and Lupin half carrying poor Tonks just behind him. He supposed he could have just gone ahead and done what he’d been considering without having to face up to Hermione’s voice of reason, but somehow it hadn’t seemed right to make a plan like that without telling someone, and Hermione had happened to be there when the idle, desperate thought had solidified into a half-dose of necessary resolve.
Matilda had asked him to go with Kingross and bring the Lupins back to the Department of Mysteries via Portkey. And the thought had assailed him all at once “ could he change the destination of the Portkey? Could he take them somewhere else, hide them, keep them all safe? All he’d have to do was knock Kingross out and…
That was about as much as he managed to voice before Hermione reluctantly but sensibly put the brakes on his flow of words. He couldn’t, she’d said simply. For one, he’d be arrested for assault and flouting the ruling of the Wizengamot, an Azkaban offence of some magnitude, and Ginny and the children would hardly appreciate his arrest and incarceration. Secondly, Ministry Portkeys were carefully charmed against tampering “ he wouldn’t have time to make any changes. And most importantly of all “ did he really think that Remus would let him sacrifice his freedom on his account?
He couldn’t, she’d told him, sadly, wearily and with resignation. And curse it, she’d been right.
And so, just as it was supposed to, the Portkey had deposited them directly into the Portal chamber, under the Portal’s waiting glow.
“…Listen, Croaker, I’ve already got Chaudhry, Zeller, Brightwell and Fortescue on a final warning for refusing to show me how this damned thing works. You people have been shilly-shallying all week about fixing this thing to the point where it can do what we asked of you, and Chaudhry’s been muted twice for trying to spill the beans! Now, I’m rapidly losing my patience with this division. I am Head of the Unspeakables whether you like it or not, and if you don’t get over there right now and set that Portal up exactly as you’ve been told, I am going to close the Time Division for good and fire every damned one of you! Now move!”
Harry grimaced. Although there was no doubt that Aloysius Sproule was currently heading his personal hit list, Tertias DeWinter was very close behind him.
The bony old Unspeakable apparently felt the same “ shooting DeWinter’s now turned back a look of utter loathing, he started across the chamber, muttering vehemently under his breath as he brushed past Harry.
“Head of the Unspeakables, my arse! If you spent more time in the Department rather than swanning off abroad on your personal projects and leaving poor Edgar Fortescue to pick up the slack, maybe you’d have a bit more respect around here! You arrogant, obnoxious, malicious…”
The muttering dried up rapidly as the older man’s eyes fell upon the solemn form of Teddy waiting a few steps further on. His eyes darted rapidly over to the pale-faced Lupin and to Tonks’ tear-stained cheeks before slipping back to his colleague. His lip twisted.
“Lupin, I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want to do it. But he’s going to close the Division if I don’t. He’s already threatened to sack Rajesh…”
“Croaker! ”
Croaker cast a brief look of death over his shoulder in the direction of DeWinter’s bellow before turning his attention back to his young workmate. Teddy’s smile was a thin, wavering line. “It’s okay, Bert. I understand. It’s not your fault.”
Bert Croaker sighed deeply. “Thanks for saying it, lad. But it doesn’t help much.”
And then, with a final glare in the direction of DeWinter, who was expounding on some point or other to Achilles Kingross, Croaker turned and moved over to the Portal. His bony fingers reached out and moved the hourglasses into place, one by one, each in turn.
And to Harry, each one seemed a death knell in the life of two of his friends.
He glanced over towards the Lupin family again. Both Kingsley and Hermione had appeared and were shakily saying their goodbyes, Kingsley catching Tonks in a rough embrace and Hermione wiping her tears as she leaned into Lupin’s shoulder. Matilda was standing a few steps behind them, her face a battleground of emotions; guilt doing war with duty, sorrow fencing with resolve. She’d voted against the death sentence, he remembered, and in her eyes was a shiver of horror at what was about to unfold, but other than a brief, single glance in his direction that whispered with the frustrated helplessness that Harry himself was fighting to contain, she made no acknowledgement of her thoughts.
And then suddenly, Remus Lupin was at his side, smiling wanly at him, his teacher, his mentor, his friend. He was the last true link that Harry had to his parents, the last of the Marauders to be flung beneath the cruel heel of fate. He had taught him to fight the incarnation of fear itself, helped him beyond measure as he learned how to defend himself from the inevitable, and given him the strength to find the courage to go on and face his own death for the good of the wizarding world. He was a good man who’d fought a long war against the world, the Death Eaters, against the pull of the moon, and his own fears.
He didn’t deserve to die like this.
“Remus,” he said softy. “I’m so sorry.”
The gentle smile was painfully familiar. “Harry, you of all people have nothing to be sorry for.”
Harry couldn’t help but shake his head. “You’ve done so much for me and I’ve never really thanked you.”
Lupin gave a quiet laugh. “I always felt I didn’t do enough. You’ve nothing to thank me for. If I did make any small contribution, then the man you are today stands as more than thanks enough. And you looked after my son, Harry. There isn’t enough gratitude in the world to express my thanks for that.”
Harry could feel the damp pressure welling behind his eyes, but he would be damned if he was going to let himself cry in front of the likes of Tertias DeWinter. “You don’t deserve this. Either of you.”
Remus’ smile was softly ironic. “Now there’s something I’ve heard all my life. I never really deserved to be bitten. I’m sure I never deserved to lose my friends. And I certainly haven’t done enough to deserve my wife.” His lips curled slightly bitterly. “I’m used to it by now. This is the way it has to be. At least this time it’s not something I’ll have to live with.”
Harry closed his eyes against the waves of bitter pain that assailed his chest. “Remus…”
“I’m sorry.” Harry opened his eyes once more as he felt Remus’ hand come to rest gently against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t…” He shook his head. “Harry, there is only one thing I really want to say to you.” He took a sharp breath. “Live. Enjoy your family, enjoy your work, enjoy your life. Because nobody deserves that more than you do. And please… Teddy…”
Harry nodded. “I’ll look after him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t blame himself.”
Remus closed his eyes for a brief moment of apparent relief. “Thank you.”
Harry managed a smile, albeit a sad one. “Thank you. And give my love to Sirius and my parents. Because we both know they’ll be there waiting for you.”
For a long moment, the two men merely stared at each other, Remus’ hand on Harry’s shoulder tightening into a grasp. There was no further need for words.
“Minister. Madam Breakspear. Mr DeWinter.” The voice of Bert Croaker broke roughly into the silence, sharp edged and almost forced. “The Portal is ready.”
* * *
Teddy was sure of it now. He was going to be sick.
Somewhere away to his left he could hear the voice of Matilda Breakspear quietly replying to Bert’s words, but the specifics eluded him behind the dizzying, sickening buzz that had filled his mind and the knife-sharp pain that stabbed his soul.
Because it was time.
Time for him to lose his parents once more.
He remembered vividly the horrible sensation of loss that had filled him when he had watched his parents’ death for the first time so many weeks before. It had been the first time that they’d been more to him than pictures on the mantelpiece and someone else’s memories, the first time he’d looked at their faces and seen two people that belonged to him.
And then, he hadn’t even known them.
He’d never spoken with them, argued with them, laughed with them, held them, seen the love in their eyes as they smiled at him and each other, seen them so happy to be together, seen them fit so well into each other’s lives and then back into his as though they’d been there all along. They hadn’t been real people back then.
They were now.
And the pain he’d felt before was a drop in a storm-tossed ocean compared to the excruciating agony of this.
My mum. My dad.
I have to watch them die again. And this time it’s forever.
And they know it’s coming. No quick oblivion like it would have been before, never even knowing they’d been killed. They’ve had to watch it coming and wait. And that’s all my fault.
He could feel the tears welling in his eyes once more, although he was amazed to find he had any left after the events of the last few weeks. The red glow of the Portal as it spluttered into life seem to stain the chamber like crimson blood and made his stomach roil.
Oh Merlin…
And then suddenly he was caught within a warm pair of arms, pink hair pressed against his face and he all but dissolved into weeping as he lost himself in his mother’s embrace. He grasped her robes and clung to her and he could feel her body shaking with sobs once more just as it had when she’d held Gran. The smell of her surrounded him, such a simple thing that he’d never known until a few weeks before, and she smelled like home, like love, like everything he’d ever wanted from a family.
She was his mother.
“I love you, mum.” The words escaped from his lips almost unbidden, but he felt her arms tighten, felt her shoulders tense as she pulled him even closer against her and held on for dear life. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he heard her murmur, the whisper cracking and breaking around her tears. “My darling Teddy. My little boy.”
And then his father was there too, wrapping his arms around both of them, engulfing Teddy completely as he pressed his greying head against theirs, added his scent and his feel to the mix and Teddy breathed it all in desperately, trying to imprint their smell, their touch, their sound upon his memory, frantic that he should never forget how it felt to have them here, real, in his life. He’d had them for less than a month but he was determined that he would never, ever let himself forget.
And there were words he had to say to his father too, words that needed to be said.
“I love you, dad.”
He heard his father’s voice cracking as he replied. “I love you too, Teddy. I love you too.”
It was a moment that Teddy wanted to make last forever.
But it had to end. There was no choice.
And as they all pulled apart, he stared into their faces, memorising the lines of his father’s features, his mother’s expression, every little change and quirk that he could find that made them real, that made them his. His mother tried to smile, her face wet with tears as she reached out and traced her fingers down his own sodden cheek, staring at him with the same intensity he could feel behind his own eyes.
“You’ll be all right, Teddy,” she said softly, her voice wavering painfully. “Six months is nothing and you’ve still got Harry and your Gran. But you hang onto Victoire, do you hear me? She’s just what you need, that girl, and you’re just right for her.” Her lips twitched. “Even your father knew when it was time to stop being a noble prat and just accept love for what it is. You make sure you do the same.”
Teddy nodded quietly, remembering the fight in the garden a few days before, remembering Victoire’s fierce determination, and his mind flashed back to his days spent stalking his parents’ past, to the same fiery determination splashed across the face of his mother. If a stubborn woman had her heart set on loving you, history seemed to suggest it was a good idea to let her.
He loved Victoire so very much. He couldn’t bear to hurt her. If she wanted to wait for him to get out of prison, that was her decision. He had no right to make it for her.
His mother must have seen the decision that dawned within his eyes. Her smile was like the rising sun.
And then he was facing his father, who smiled at him so warmly, so gently, so lovingly as he stared down at his son.
“Take care of yourself, Teddy,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying powerfully. “And I want you to remember above all else that this wasn’t your fault. I am so grateful to have had the chance to meet my son the man and I am so very proud of you. Even given how it’s ended, I wouldn’t change these few weeks for the world.”
“Mr Lupin.” Matilda’s voice was filled with regret. “Mrs Lupin. I’m so sorry. But it’s time.”
He couldn’t stand. He was going to fall, to collapse in a heap, and if Harry had not at that moment placed his arm firmly around his godson’s shoulder, Teddy felt sure he would have tumbled straight down to the floor. To one side he could see Kingsley Shacklebolt watching his parents as they moved across the room, his face set like stone, his eyes stormy. He could hear Hermione sobbing somewhere behind him, but it all seemed unreal, like a dream; he slumped into Harry’s grasp and watched his parents, as he had done so many weeks before, as they played out the last great moment of their life. Tertias DeWinter was already waiting beside the Portal, his wand drawn, the incantation for the Switching Spell that would fly through the tear in the Portal’s field and exchange the two fake corpses for the real thing lingering almost lovingly on his lips. Bert, his reluctant part played, had already retreated to stand by the impassive Kingross, as Matilda Breakspear read once more the ruling of the Wizengamot.
And he saw his parents, stood holding hands just as they had been in the instant he’d hauled them out of the past in the first place, staring into each other’s faces, seemingly all but oblivious to Matilda’s words and DeWinter’s waiting wand. He saw his father mouth a simple I love you, saw his mother mouth the same in return, saw them lean together, their lips meeting, ignoring DeWinter’s snort of disdain as the kiss between them deepened, lingered and finally broke. They stared only at each other as Matilda, pale and wan, stepped reluctantly away to allow DeWinter to come forward, his wand raised and aimed into the Portal’s scarlet maw. His lips parted…
* * *
This is so wrong.
The thought refused to leave Kingsley alone. It had battered him throughout the sentencing, harassed him throughout the agonising week long wait to get this far, and now it was screaming in his brain, demanding that he stand up, that he shout the words out loud, that he put a stop to this travesty before it was too late.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Because it was no longer his decision to make.
And never in all the twenty years he had spent as Minister for Magic had Kingsley Shacklebolt ever felt so powerless.
And so he could only watch in impotent anguish, as Tertias DeWinter raised his wand and pointed it into the glowing maw of the Portal, and opened his mouth to say the incantation that would end the lives of his two dear friends once and for all.
He could see their faces, washed in crimson light. He could see their love and their pain.
And he knew then that there was no way he was going to be able to watch.
Kingsley closed his eyes.
“Permuto!”
That was it. He heard the Switching Spell strike the Portal with an audible fizz and, eyes still closed, he waited in pain for the harsh thud as two lifeless fake corpses replaced the two living breathing souls, for the declaration that it was done, that Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin were no more.
But it never came.
Instead came a pop. And then, there were sharp gasps, and the voice of Tertias DeWinter once more sounding vividly into the silence.
“What the bloody…? Permuto! Permuto! What is this? Why is nothing happening?”
Kingsley’s eyes flew open. He saw shocked faces, confused expressions. And best of all, oh yes, thank you Merlin, he saw Remus and Tonks still standing holding hands, bewildered but most distinctly alive in the centre of the chamber.
DeWinter and Kingross looked furious. Matilda and Bert looked amazed. But dawning slowly across the faces of Hermione, Harry and Teddy beside him was just the tiniest hint of hope.
“It didn’t work!” The sound of DeWinter’s fist slapping against his robed leg startled everyone. “It didn’t bloody work! That damnable Portal ate my spell!”
A slight hint of a smile was spreading across Hermione’s features as she stepped hurriedly forwards. “Well, Mr DeWinter, I would say that that is all the signal we need to show that history does not demand that innocent lives be sacrificed! By the temporal theory of your Unspeakables…”
“Chaudhry!” DeWinter’s exclamation cut sharply into Hermione’s speech, viciously squashing her words. “Get Chaudhry in here! He told us this would work, he lied before the Wizengamot! I’ll have his bloody hide! I’ll…”
“He theorised!” Hermione was not to be silenced, it seemed. “He theorised, under threat of his job, and he was wrong! Obviously the magic can’t travel through the raw expanse of time after all. You can’t blame…”
“This is going to be done!” Spittle was flying from DeWinter’s lips now “ Kingsley had never been a fan of the man but he’d never until now considered he might be downright unhinged. “The Wizengamot ruled!” He took two harsh strides forward and caught Tonks’ arm in a vicious grasp, all but hauling her over. “If I have to throw them through that Portal myself…”
That was the limit. Kingsley had already half-stepped forward, when he saw Matilda’s expression of fury, and realised that Harry was already two steps ahead; but Remus was far closer, catching hold of DeWinter’s fingers and yanking them away from his wife as he shoved himself in between them, his expression rich with uncharacteristic fury.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on…”
“Remus, his wand, don’t let him…”
“Mr DeWinter, this is out of order!”
“Get your hands off them right now or you’ll answer to me!”
Voices were rising, fists were waving, wands were being drawn. Things were getting well out of control.
I have to put a stop to this, I have to calm them down, I…
“Wait! WAIT!”
For half an instant Kingsley wondered if he’d shouted out loud, if the words screaming in his brain had slipped out of his lips. But then he realised that the door had banged open and a figure had careered into the room, breathless, robes dishevelled, his glasses askew, his red hair chaotic as he slumped with his hands on his knees and gasped desperately for air. And then he heard Hermione’s voice split the sudden silence.
“Percy?”
And it was. Percy Weasley, his Senior Undersecretary, hauled himself back upright, flushed and panting, to face the gallery of bewildered faces that stared at him from all across the room. His nose wrinkled.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, slowly, carefully bringing his breathing back under control. “I’m so sorry, Minister, Madam Breakspear, for just bursting in like that. But I had to. My wife begged me and I had to…”
He broke off, still struggling to get his breath back as Kingsley caught Matilda’s eye and exchanged a long, bewildered look with her. DeWinter on the other hand, looked even more infuriated.
“There’s no excuse!” he roared, his voice echoing painfully throughout the chamber. “How dare you barge into a closed Wizengamot proceeding without so much as a by your leave? How did you even get in here?”
“Tertias.” Kingsley’s voice was clipped but it nonetheless put an end to DeWinter’s rant. “I’ll deal with this. Percy, if you’ve got your breath, I’d appreciate it if you would explain yourself.”
Percy nodded, his glasses wobbling perilously on his nose as he glanced around the room. His eyes lingered for a moment on Remus before slipping back to his boss.
“Minister,” he declared formally (and under any other circumstances, Kingsley might have laughed to see such formality in the wake of such an entrance). “I’ve come here straight from St Mungo’s, from the bedside of my wife. As I’m sure you know, Penny came round properly for the first time yesterday, and this morning Madam Breakspear gave my parents permission to breach the Vow and tell us both what’s been happening. And so they did.” He squared his shoulders and there was something in his voice, in his stance, that made Kingsley breathe again with some kind of hope. For surely, surely Penny would not have asked her husband to make such an extraordinary journey if she didn’t have something vital to explain…
“The thing is,” Percy’s voice was now mostly level once more. “The moment we told Penny about what had happened with the Portal and Professor Lupin and his wife, she told me I had to get down here and tell you that she needs to speak to you all right away.” His gaze shifted to the glowing crimson of the Portal. “Because before you do anything irreversible, there’s something that she needs to say.”
A Little More Time by Pallas
Chapter Endnotes: When I wrote this chapter, my beta suggested that a better cliffhanger would be to leave the chapter at the end of the second last section section. But I decided that last chapter's cliffie had fulfilled my mean quota on that score...;p