“Sooner or later, the day comes when you can’t hide from the things you’ve done anymore,”
-Commander William Adama
The Battlestar Galactica Miniseries
Harry didn’t know how long he yelled. All he knew was that he yelled until Ron grabbed him at his shoulders by his shoulders saying “Harry, stop it. It’s okay.” When he didn’t stop he yelled, “Captain! Get a hold of yourself for God’s sake!”
Harry stopped and looked at him. “Ron,” he said, beginning to shake. “I’m so sorry.”
Hugging him, Ron said, “its okay. We’ll mourn later, but we have a job to do right now.” Major Johnson’s training had paid off. Any other group might have broken down and ceased functioning when the very force that gave it life was robbed from it.
“You’re right,” Harry said, getting down to business. “Ron, Hermione assess the casualties to our personnel.”
“Yes, Sir,” as they grabbed a shocked Colin and Michael and left to do their job.
“Neville, Luna, find out how many civilians were killed.” Harry said.
“Yes, Sir,” Neville said. “How well do think she died?”
Harry spun around, his eyes blazing. “She’s not dead! She’s been captured but she’s most assuredly not dead! Carry out your orders!” Without waiting for a response, he left to find the Weasleys.
He found the Weasleys and the Delacours in the sitting room; everyone looked shock, hurt, and fearful. As soon as the Weasleys saw them they walked over, and Mrs. Weasley asked the same question she asked at the beginning, “Where’s my daughter?” All a distraught Harry James Potter could do was present her with Ginny’s wand.
“Oh, my God,” Arthur Weasley said, his voice breaking. “She’s been taken.”
“Yes,” Harry said. “She has.”
Fred and George muscled forward and said, “You swore you’d bring her home alive!”
“I will,” Harry said. When they didn’t look especially convinced, Harry looked around and grabbed the Delacours copy of the Bible. “I swear on this, by all that is holy, I will bring her home.”
Percy broke in, “I was surprised by the D.A.’s existence, when I arrived, Harry. But I’ve sent letters to both the Ministries of Magic in Paris and London. Your secret’s out.”
“What the hell possessed you to do that?!” Harry shouted.
“Because what’s happened this evening cannot remain a secret,” Percy said. “People have died; the civilians need medical help now. These doctors don’t have the medical equipment or resources. You need government help, like it or not.” Harry stood silently, knowing Percy was right, as loath as he was to admit it.
The door burst open and Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna walked in carrying sheets of parchment.
“Here are the casualties to our personnel,” Ron said, handing him his sheet of paper.
L. Brown (WIA)
S. Bones (WIA)
T. Boot (WIA)
J. Finch-Fletchley (WIA)
P.Patil (WIA)
P.Patil (WIA)
D. Thomas (WIA)
G. Weasley (POW)
Harry’s heart tore when he saw Ginny listed as a Prisoner of War. As such, he barely heard Ron when he said, “The docs are patching them up, now. They also tell me without help the wounded enemy and civilians will die.”
“When will the help arrive, Percy?” Harry asked.
“Thirty minutes to an hour,” Percy responded.
He barely acknowledged him and asked for the second report.
“My God, fourteen civilians dead,” Harry said. He passed the lists around in the sitting room, and saw everyone groan as they saw someone they knew on it. When they were done, Harry handed both reports to Ron and said, “Post these on the D.A, message board and place the board where the civilians can see it.”
”Yes, Sir,” was all Ron said and he walked to the door.
Before he opened the door, Harry said, “Post them, and then come back, I’ve got to tell all of you something important.”
“What?” Hermione asked.
“Ah,” Harry said. “You’ll see.”
Five minutes later, Ron returned, followed by the Order members and Major John Thomas.
“Now,” Ron said. “What is it you have to tell me?”
“Let me start at the beginning,” Harry said. “I know some of you already know this, but I’ll start at the beginning for everyone else.” He took a deep breath and began. “Ginny and I were romantically involved.”
This had an immediate effect, on the crowd. MacGonagall’s eyes widened, along with Moody, Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Lupin visibly grinned.
“That’s wonderful, Harry,” Arthur said. “But why are you telling us now?”
”Because,” Harry said, “This has a direct bearing on this whole crisis.” Harry said. He launched into an explanation of how they’d gotten together. Then he got to the night of the attack on Hogwarts.
“After Dumbedore’s death,” Harry said. “I realized something. I realized that I couldn’t protect her. Not with the task I have to complete with Ron and Hermione,” Harry said. “I intend to honor that..
“Fair enough,” Fleur said.
“What did you do?” Ron asked, though Harry could tell he knew.
“At the funeral, I broke up with her.” Harry said. Shouting now, he said. “I broke up with her to prevent this! I broke up with her to keep her safe, and what did it accomplish, nothing!” He finally couldn’t hold it in; he broke down and cried.
“Harry!” Hermione said, walking over and holding him. “There was nothing you could’ve done; her fate was sealed the moment the Death Eaters Disapparated after the attack on Hogwarts. There was nothing any of us could have done.”
“Nothing!” Hermione said, rounding on her. “We could have sent her away!”
“The enemy would still have attacked the wedding, looking for her,” Hermione said. “There still would have been needless deaths.”
“We could have hidden her in one location, and made it look like she was somewhere else-“Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.
“Do you think she would have stood for that?” Hermione asked. “You know her, Harry. She would have never accepted being coddled like that. She’d call it that too, ‘coddling,’ Believe me, she preferred it this way, she preferred being captured in battle, leading soldiers into combat. Not living a life of seclusion in some safe house.”
“What are we doing here,” Molly said. “My daughter has been captured by the Death Eaters. She’s being tortured right now.”
“Your right,” Hermione said. “The Death Eaters use torture routinely in their interrogation. You are correct, Mrs. Weasley.”
“We don’t know where she is, Molly dear,” Arthur said. “Be patient.”
There came a sudden rapping of a beak on the window. Hermione ran over. Hermione ran over to and extracted the letter from the bird’s leg. She opened the letter and read it, her eyes widening. She appeared to read it again, and then read it aloud. “Attack on wedding June 21st, 1997. Objective is to capture Ginny Weasley, please take all necessary precautions to defend wedding, Vicky”
Not thinking of the implications of the letters sender, Harry thought, Too little, too late.
“Krum,” Ron said suspiciously. “Viktor Krum? Why is he telling us this, and how did he...” His eyes widened when realization took hold. “Oh, my God,” he began. “Is he a Death-“ But Hermione cut him off.
“I’ll explain in a minute,” Hermione said. But she wouldn’t get a chance at this time, because, at this moment, Colin, Anthony, and Seamus came in dragging a black-robed figure with bound hands and a sack over his head. Colin came to attention and saluted. When Harry returned the salute, Luna said, “Who’s that, Creevey?
“You’re not going to like this, sir,” was all he said, and he ripped the sack off.
Gasps of shock and disgust moved through crowd, while shock and hatred was inspired in Harry, the Death Eater Colin’s patrol picked up was Draco Malfoy.
“You little son of a…” Ron began, advancing on him, but he was cut off by Neville and Luna when they grabbed him to keep him from pummeling Draco. Draco, his face pale, tried to run in to opposite direction when
What, Harry thought angrily, is that piece of crap doing here? If he told Voldemort about Ginny, I swear I’ll… Well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. But it wouldn’t be pleasant. He cleared his head of such thoughts, and said, “We need to get the D.A. and our remaining supplies as soon as possible. We’ll take the Muggle evacuees with the exception of Doctor Thomas and the Drs. Granger back with us.
“What about the Wizarding civilians?” Ron asked. “We can’t just leave them.”
“I imagine the French Ministry of Magic will have a lot of questions for them,” Harry answered by saying. He didn’t envy them. God, the political and media fallout will be enormous. The reporters will be all over us, and they can be a bigger pain in the ass than Voldemort, and that’s saying something.
“After that, they can take their dead home by Portkey for burial,” Harry said. Then, his tone ironic now, he said. “We have even bigger problems on our hands, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, I do,” Ron said.
“Excuse me, Harry,” Sergeant Major Thomas said. “What about my wife and the other doctors?”
“Well,” Harry said. “I’m hoping the Order will stick around to make sure the wounded and doctors are safe. Then when the Ministry officials and Healers from whatever local equivalent of St.Mungo’s arrive, they can take the doctors and quietly sneak away. If that’s okay with you, Professor,” He added to Mcgonagall.
“Yes, Harry,” was all she said.
“If you’re leaving,” Mr. Weasley said, “then we’re coming too.” The Weasleys, with the exception all stood up to go, except Percy, who said, “I will stay here, and liaise with the French officials on behalf of the Ministry of Magic.”
Good, Harry thought, faintly relieved. The last thing we need is Percy Weasley sticking his arrogant nose in our business anymore than he already has.
“Are you sure, Percy?” Arthur asked, sounding somewhat concerned.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Percy said. “It’s always a good thing to have a government official on hand in these types of situations.”
“All right,” Arthur said worryingly.
We’ve wasted enough time, Harry thought. “Moonlight’s burning people! Colin put that sack back on his head!” Harry ordered.
“Yes, Sir!” He said, shoving the sack back on his head before Draco could say or do anything.
“Well,” Harry said to the Weasleys. “If you’re coming, you’re going to help move supplies.”
“Fair enough,” Arthur said, sadness still evident in his voice; sadness that reflected the sadness in his heart.
“Harry got on his mirror and ordered every D.A. member to get to the supply tent and prepare to move supplies. According to Ron, the doctors said none of the wounded D.A. member’s injuries were serious enough that they couldn’t do anything. So, he ordered everyone to start grabbing supplies, made Portkeys and took them to the Burrow. Finally they had the D.A. and the Muggle evacuees (with the exception of the doctors, whose Hippocratic Oaths would never have let them leave, despite anything Harry said or did) back in the UK and all the supplies stowed away with one notable exception: the detention block.
Before the reunion, the Order had found a Ministry-approved detention block in the same Wizarding camping store they bought everyone’s tents in. Normally they are used at big events like the Quidditch World Cup to detain troublemakers until after the game, then let them go, thereby punishing them by not letting them see the game they’d come to see. It hadn’t seen use during the reunion as all the perpetrators of the assault and petty theft apologized and stayed in the right because they didn’t want another confrontation with Ginny. Now, the block was to be used to detain Draco Malfoy until Veritaserum could be used to interrogate him. Hermione had foreseen this very type of situation when she convinced Harry to get Snape’s potion book out of storage. Now, given the current crisis, she stood aside and let Harry work. It took an hour with Snape’s instructions instead of the usual four. For all of Snape’s crimes, Harry had long ago realized, he was a genius at chemistry. During that hour the Order and the Muggle doctors arrived, covered in blood and sweat. Six of the wounded civilians and twelve of the wounded Death Eaters died before aid from Paris arrived, but they had arrived so they turned over their patients to the Healers who had come and came back with the Order.
They were all sitting in the front of the house when Harry came in and said, “You’re just in time, we’re about to interrogate Malfoy.”
“All right,” Dr. Thomas said, standing up from the sofa she and her husband were sitting on. Her clothes still covered in blood, “I’ll be there to oversee the interrogation to make sure no harm comes to him.”
“Fine,” Harry said, though personally he had been hoping that she wouldn’t come so he could punch and kick at him. When they reentered the kitchen, Harry grabbed the correct dosage of Veritaserum for Draco’s body weight and they went into the backyard.
The detention block looked like a drab, gray tent guarded by the D.A. members who weren’t on the wounded list and as such weren’t being ordered to rest because of their injuries. Inside was a torch lit room with two levels of metallic cell doors, about fifty on each level. According to Remus there should be an interrogation chamber somewhere, Harry thought. Harry stuck his head out of the tent and ordered Draco to be brought into the interrogation room before going to it.
The interrogation room was basically a room with a desk, a chair, and an iron cage where presumably the prisoner was held during the actual interrogation. One minute later, Colin and two others led a confused and scared looking Draco into the room. Dr. Thomas took one look at him in his condition and insisted on a medical check-up before anything else. As she worked, Draco finally found his voice and said. “Keep your hands off me you damned dirty Muggle.” She paid no attention and kept working, annoying him into cooperating. Finally she was finished and said he was fine. “He’s probably just shocked,” she said.
Hermione spoke up and said, “If you don’t mind I’ll conduct this interrogation, I’ve read about how to run a Veritaserum interrogation before, I know the technique.” Without bothering to wait for confirmation, she Stunned Draco and ordered Colin, Neville, and Luna to help carry him to the cage; they got him in, forced his mouth in as Hermione poured the test tube of Veritaserum down his throat. They then got out, closed and locked the door, and revived him. He opened his eyes and blinked once or twice, his eyes widening in surprise as the drug took full effect.
Hermione began with some basic questions full name, date of birth, place of birth, also parents’ names and so forth. Then she asked the important questions.
“How did you know of the wedding?” Hermione asked.
“It was fairly simple Mudblood,” Draco said, about to tell all because had drug had screwed up his brain chemistry, effectively blasting his inhibitions to hell and gone. “We always knew, Snape told them himself, but we didn’t know where it was being held. So they kept both the Burrow and the Delacours place under observation. They monitored everything, they monitored your ridiculous D.A. training, and we monitored all the Mudbloods and blood traitors who arrived. They only attacked in the numbers they did to be sure of defeating you.”
“What did they hope to gain by attacking the wedding?” Hermione asked, noting Draco’s particular habit of referring to the Death Eaters as something other than himself.
“Media time, the Dark Lord’s name would have gotten plastered across the front pages in papers all over Earth. Not to mention in one night, they would have advanced significantly towards purifying our race.”
He uses “they” instead of “we,” Harry thought. Could it be, deep down, that he’s not a killer. He’s arrogant but I don’ t think he identifies with the Death Eaters. Then he heard the next words out of Draco’s mouth.
“The Dark Lord’s orders were also to capture the Weasley slut,” Draco said. Under normal conditions, considering who was in the room, even Draco wouldn’t be that stupid. With his brain chemistry deliberately altered by the Veritaserum, however, he had no real inhibitions. And wouldn’t for four hours or until the antidote was administered, whichever came first.
Harry, Ron, and every other Weasley boy charged forward towards the cage and had to be forcibly restrained by the Order and D.A. for five full minutes until they calmed down enough for Hermione to continue the interrogation.
“What are they doing to her, now?” Hermione asked, though they all knew what was going on. “Do you know?”
“Lestrange and Zabini are probably using Veritaserum on her right now,” Draco said, a big stupid smile on his face. “Then they’ll have their fun. I imagine her screams pierce the night even now.”
Normally, Harry and Ron would have made another go at Draco’s cage, but they held back, shocked by the knowledge of who held Ron’s sister and Harry’s love. Bellatrix Lestrange, not her, Harry thought. The women was an infamous torturer, she was known for torturing Neville’s parents, Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, into insanity. They now lay in a catatonic state in St. Mungo’s psych ward. Behind him he heard Neville’s grown and Harry thought, if Bellatrix does that to Ginny, no hole is deep enough, no place far enough, to hide her from me, Ron, and Neville’s life. She will pay with her life.
“Do you know where she is being held?” Hermione asked.
“No,” Draco said. And we knew it was the truth.
“Okay then,” Hermione said, sadness and anger in her voice; anger that she wasn’t able to discover the location of her friend. “There’s nothing further to gain here. Mr. Creevey please take Malfoy back to his cell.”
“Yes, Sir,” Colin said, unlocking the cage and escorting him away.
Everyone left the room in a particularly bad mood, Harry and Ron leading the way, but Harry dropped behind to talk to Hermione.
“How in the hell did that help us, Hermione?” Harry said, angrily.
“Simple,” Hermione said. “It proved our security was inadequate. It’s always a good idea to find out about and learn from your mistakes, no matter how painful they are.”
They walked into the Burrow’s sitting room and sat down with the wounded D.A. members. Suddenly, numerous popping noises from hundreds of people Apparating in.
The D.A. members immediately got up, grabbed their wands, and took defensive positions near the door. Luna scrambled to the door, looked out and said, “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“It’s the unholy trinity of situations involving teenagers,” Luna said with a fear in her voice. “It’s a mob of government officials, reporters, and concerned parents.”
There was a great stampede of feet towards the door, and the sound of kicking on wood. Then the door broke down with the sound of splintering wood to reveal reporters doing what they did best: snap hundreds of pictures at once, ask questions at speed and all at once so no one can understand them, and violate everyone’s personal space.
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