“Arthur? What’s wrong, dear?”
It was past midnight, and Arthur Weasley stood by the window of the Burrow, watching the stars twinkle. Something felt wrong. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had a foreboding feeling about something.
Before Arthur could answer, the wards around the Burrow screamed.
“Everyone down!” Arthur bellowed, his wand already in his hand as he spun toward the door.
The front wall of the Burrow exploded inward in a shower of timber and shrapnel. Death Eaters poured through the breach, their masks gleaming in the firelight, their wands raised and already casting.
Arthur threw up a shield charm just as the first volley of curses came flying. Behind him, Molly was already moving, shoving Ginny and Hermione toward the back stairs while her own wand came up to fire a stunner at the nearest attacker.
Bill came thundering down from the upper floor, Percy right behind him. Both had their wands out and were already casting before they’d reached the bottom step.
“How many?” Bill shouted over the chaos.
“Too bloody many!” Arthur fired a blasting hex that caught one Death Eater in the chest and sent him flying backward through the broken wall. He didn’t get up.
Remus Lupin appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, his wand already moving. A barrier of silver light erupted in front of the family, giving them precious seconds to regroup.
“Where are the twins?” Molly screamed.
“Here!” Fred and George appeared from the cellar, their arms loaded with what looked like an arsenal of their experimental products. “Got the good stuff!”
“Arthur, the floo!” Remus shouted. “Contact the Order!”
Arthur spun toward the fireplace, but even as he moved he could feel the wrongness in the air. The magical signature was all off, twisted somehow.
“The wards!” he shouted back. “They’ve put up anti communication wards! We can’t floo out!”
“Then send a Patronus!” Bill yelled as he deflected a purple curse. “Someone get a bloody Patronus out!”
“Percy, get the girls upstairs!” Arthur ordered. “Ward the upper floors!”
“I’m not hiding!” Ginny’s voice rang out, her eyes fierce and defiant. “I can fight!”
“We all can,” Hermione added, her wand already raised.
There was no time to argue. The Death Eaters were pushing forward, their curses hammering against Remus’s barrier with increasing fury. Arthur could see more figures in the darkness beyond the broken wall. This wasn’t a raid. This was an assault.
“Fine!” Molly snapped. “But you stay behind us, you hear? Fred, George, what have you got?”
The twins sported identical grins that would have been unsettling under less dire circumstances.
“Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Fred announced, lobbing several small spheres toward the advancing Death Eaters.
“And some new experimental surprises,” George added with glee.
The powder exploded on impact, plunging half the room into absolute darkness. Screams and curses erupted from within the black cloud as the Death Eaters stumbled into each other.
“Now!” Arthur roared.
The Weasleys and their allies opened fire. Spells flew through the darkness, illuminating the room in bursts of colored light. Arthur’s stunner caught one Death Eater square in the face. Bill’s cutting curse dropped another. Percy’s piercing hex punched through a third attacker’s shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.
But for every Death Eater that fell, two more seemed to take their place.
“They’re coming through the back!” Hermione shouted from her position near the stairs.
Arthur’s heart sank. They were surrounded.
“Remus, take Bill and Percy! Hold the front! Molly, with me! We’ll handle the back!”
The family split, adults moving to meet the new threat while the twins continued lobbing their experimental products with abandon. One Death Eater got too close and found himself encased in what looked like living treacle. Another stumbled into a puddle of something that exploded upward, coating him in a substance that hardened instantly into stone.
“Brilliant!” Fred crowed.
“Told you the Cement Jinx would work!” George added.
The celebration was cut short as a new figure stepped through the broken front wall. Even in the chaos, even through the darkness and smoke, there was no mistaking that wild mane of black hair or the mad gleam in those dark eyes.
Bellatrix Lestrange had arrived to play.
“Well, well,” she purred, her voice cutting through the din of battle like a knife. “The blood traitor Weasleys and a dirty mutt, all gathered in one pathetic little hovel. How convenient.”
She raised her wand and a purple curse erupted from its tip, so fast and vicious that Remus barely managed to deflect it. The spell struck the ceiling instead, bringing down a shower of debris.
“Bellatrix!” Remus snarled. “Face me! Your quarrel is not with them!”
“Oh, my quarrel is with anyone who stands against the Dark Lord,” Bellatrix laughed. “But I’ll be happy to start with you, mutt.”
She attacked with a fury that was almost beautiful in its violence. Curse after curse flew from her wand, each one deadlier than the last. Remus met her assault with grim determination, his own spells forming a defensive web that kept her at bay.
But Bellatrix wasn’t alone.
Another figure emerged from the darkness beyond the wall, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Fenrir Greyback stepped into the firelight, his yellow eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.
“Fresh meat,” he growled, baring his teeth in a grotesque display of a smile. “And I smell young ones too.”
“Over my dead body,” Bill Weasley stepped forward, placing himself between Greyback and his younger siblings.
“That can be arranged,” Greyback lunged.
The werewolf moved with inhuman speed, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. Bill barely got his shield up in time. Greyback’s clawed hand struck the magical barrier with enough force to send cracks across its surface.
“Percy!” Bill shouted. “Help me hold him!”
Percy was already moving, his wand weaving a complex binding spell. Ropes of light shot toward Greyback, wrapping around his arms and legs. The werewolf snarled and tore through them like they were paper.
“Going to have to do better than that, boy!” Greyback laughed.
At the back of the house, Arthur and Molly were fighting for their lives. Three Death Eaters had broken through, and more were pressing in behind them. Arthur’s stunning spell caught one in the chest, but the other two were already firing back.
“Reducto!” Molly’s blasting hex struck the doorframe, bringing part of the wall down on one of the attackers.
A cutting curse slashed across Arthur’s arm, opening a deep gash that immediately began bleeding. He stumbled, his wand arm suddenly weak.
“Arthur!” Molly screamed.
She stepped in front of her husband, her wand moving in a blur. Spell after spell erupted from its tip, holding back the Death Eaters through sheer ferocity. But there were too many, and they were pressing closer.
In the main room, the battle had devolved into pure chaos. Fred and George were still lobbing their products, but they were running low. Hermione had joined Ginny near the stairs, both of them firing spells at any Death Eater who got too close.
“Stupefy!” Hermione’s stunner caught one attacker in the leg, sending him sprawling.
“Petrificus Totalus!” Ginny’s full body bind hit another, freezing him mid curse.
But for every Death Eater they dropped, two more pushed forward.
Remus was losing ground against Bellatrix. The mad witch was simply too skilled, too vicious, and she was enjoying herself far too much. Her laughter rang through the burning house as curse after curse flew from her wand.
“Dance, little wolf!” she cackled. “Dance for Bella!”
“Expelliarmus!” Remus tried to disarm her, but Bellatrix batted the spell aside contemptuously.
“Is that the best you can do? The great Remus Lupin, reduced to schoolboy charms?”
She fired a curse that Remus couldn’t quite identify, something dark and writhing that moved like a living thing.
“Protego Maxima!” His shield barely held as Bellatrix’s follow up curse slammed into it.
Near the broken wall, Bill was fighting desperately against Greyback. The werewolf was toying with him, laughing as Bill’s spells glanced off or failed to penetrate his unnaturally tough skin.
“You’re strong,” Greyback acknowledged, ducking under a cutting curse. “For a human. But you’re still just food.”
“Percy!” Bill shouted again.
Percy was doing his best to support his brother, but he was engaged with two other Death Eaters who had broken off from the main assault. His piercing hex took one in the shoulder, spinning the man around. His stunning spell caught the other in the chest.
But it left Bill alone against Greyback for just a moment too long.
The werewolf’s clawed hand shot out, faster than should have been possible, and caught Bill across the chest. The curse woven shield Bill had erected shattered. Fabric and flesh parted under those vicious claws, and Bill went down with a cry of pain.
“Bill!” Ginny screamed from the stairs.
“No!” Percy turned, abandoning his own fight to rush to his brother’s aid.
It was a mistake.
One of the Death Eaters he’d been fighting fired a purple curse that caught Percy in the back. The spell lifted him off his feet and hurled him against the far wall with bone breaking force. He hit hard and slid down, leaving a smear of blood on the wallpaper.
“Percy!” Fred’s anguished cry rang through the house.
George was already running toward his fallen brother, but Greyback was faster. The werewolf pounced on the prone Bill, his jaws opening wide.
“Get off him!” Remus appeared, having broken away from his duel with Bellatrix. A bolt of silver light struck Greyback in the side, throwing the werewolf off Bill’s body.
Greyback rolled to his feet, snarling. “Lupin. I’ve been waiting for this.”
“Then come and get me,” Remus growled.
The two werewolves clashed in a fury of tooth and claw and magic. Remus fought with everything he had, his spells precise and powerful, but Greyback had given himself over to his beast entirely. He fought with animalistic cunning and savagery.
Behind them, Bellatrix laughed.
“How touching! The wolves fighting over scraps!” She raised her wand toward the back of the house, where Molly was still defending her wounded husband. “Let’s make this more interesting, shall we?”
“Molly!” Arthur tried to warn her, but he was too weak from blood loss.
The curse struck Molly in the back.
For a heartbeat, nothing seemed to happen. Then Molly staggered, her wand falling from nerveless fingers. She turned slowly, her eyes finding Arthur’s across the burning room.
“Arthur,” she whispered.
Then she fell.
“NO!” Arthur’s scream was inhuman in its anguish. “MOLLY!”
He tried to crawl toward her, but the Death Eaters were between them. One raised his wand to finish Arthur off.
“Bombarda!” Fred’s blasting hex caught the Death Eater from behind, blowing him clear across the room.
George was at Arthur’s side a moment later, dragging him back toward relative safety. “Dad, we have to move! We have to get you out of here!”
“Your mother,” Arthur sobbed. “Molly, she’s… she’s…”
“I know, Dad,” George’s voice was thick with tears. “I know.”
At the front of the house, Remus and Greyback’s battle had reached its conclusion. Remus was bleeding from a dozen wounds, his robes torn and his face pale with exhaustion. But he’d managed to drive Greyback back, away from where Bill lay bleeding.
“You fight well, Lupin,” Greyback acknowledged, circling like the predator he was. “For a half breed who denies his nature. But you’re tired. Weak. Human.”
“Better human than monster,” Remus spat blood.
Greyback’s laugh was more growl than anything else. “We’ll see about that.”
He feinted left, and when Remus moved to counter, struck right. His claws raked across Remus’s chest, opening wounds that immediately began to bleed. Remus stumbled, his wand arm dropping.
“Pathetic,” Greyback sneered, and without wasting a moment, he moved in for the kill, his jaws closing on Remus’s throat.
“REMUS!” Hermione’s scream was lost in the chaos.
Greyback tossed Remus’s body aside like a broken doll and turned his attention back to Bill, who was trying desperately to crawl away. The werewolf’s yellow eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure.
“One mutt lost,” he growled, stalking toward Bill. “Another mutt gained.”
“No,” Bill tried to raise his wand, but his hand was shaking too badly. “Please…”
Greyback’s jaws opened wide.
The bite was savage. Greyback made sure Bill would survive it, made sure the curse would take hold. When he finally released his grip, Bill collapsed to the floor, already beginning to convulse as the werewolf infection began its terrible work.
“There,” Greyback said with satisfaction. “Now you’ll understand what it means to be truly powerful.”
“You bastard!” Fred’s voice was raw with rage and grief.
Both twins opened fire, their spells flying with reckless abandon. But Greyback was already moving, retreating toward the broken wall where the other Death Eaters were beginning to pull back.
Bellatrix stood in the doorway, surveying the carnage with evident pleasure. Bodies littered the floor. The Burrow was burning. The Weasley family had been shattered.
“Such fun,” she purred. “We really must do this again sometime.”
“Avada Kedavra!” Ginny’s curse flew from the stairs, fueled by pure hatred.
Bellatrix dodged it with ease, her eyes wide but a wild grin on her face. “Ooh, the little blood traitor has some fire! Perhaps next time, dear. For now, our work here is done.”
She disappeared into the darkness with a crack of apparition. Greyback followed, his laughter echoing through the burning house. The remaining Death Eaters retreated, leaving behind only destruction and death.
In the sudden silence that followed, the survivors slowly picked themselves up. Fred and George rushed to Percy’s body, but even from across the room, Hermione could see it was too late. Arthur was cradling Molly’s corpse, sobbing into her hair. Bill lay on the floor, writhing in agony as the werewolf curse took hold.
And Remus Lupin, the last Marauder, lay still in a pool of his own blood.
On the stairs, Ginny stood clutching the wooden railing, her eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down her face.
XXXXX
Harry was laughing at something Daphne had said when the floo roared to life.
They were all gathered in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place. Harry sat on the sofa with Daphne tucked against his right side and Astoria on his left. Susan occupied the armchair nearby with Hannah and Tracey perched on the arms, while Fleur had claimed the other end of the sofa. They’d been discussing their imminent return to Hogwarts, debating what the new term might bring.
Fleur's veela magic hummed restlessly as she observed them, responding to Harry. Back then in the training room, when she'd watched him cast those powerful spells, when he'd embraced her and she'd inhaled his scent, her veela nature had sung with recognition. This was what she'd told herself then, what she'd been trying to ignore all morning.
But after a couple of days here in his presence, she’d come to realize her feelings for Harry were rapidly growing beyond their friendship and the gratitude she felt for what he’d done for Gabrielle. The veela in her recognized something in him, something powerful and protective that called to her most primal instincts. And the woman in her appreciated his kindness, his strength, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence.
But he already had lovers. Beautiful, talented witches who clearly adored him and whom he cared for deeply. What place could there possibly be for her in that dynamic?
She watched as Harry said something that made them all laugh again, his emerald eyes bright with amusement. Daphne swatted his chest playfully while Astoria giggled. Susan rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. Hannah and Tracey were grinning openly.
They were happy together. Content. A unit that had formed naturally over time.
And Fleur felt like an outsider looking in.
The realization shouldn't have stung as much as it did. She'd only been in Britain for two days. She had no claim on Harry Potter, no right to feel this strange possessiveness that her veela nature seemed intent on having. Yet she couldn't deny what she felt, couldn't ignore the way her magic reached toward his whenever they were close.
Harry turned slightly, his gaze finding hers. He smiled, and Fleur felt her breath catch.
"Fleur, you're being too quiet," Harry said.
"I am enjoying listening," Fleur replied, but even she could hear the slight strain in her voice.
Daphne pulled back from Harry slightly and stared at Fleur with knowing eyes. The look in her eyes made Fleur slightly uncomfortable, that maybe she wasn’t hiding her budding feelings as well as she’d hoped.
Suddenly, the floo flared to life and everyone turned toward the fireplace.
Nym stumbled through the floo, her hair a shade of dull brown that said enough about her emotional state. Amelia followed a moment later, her expression grave.
Harry was on his feet instantly. “Nym? What’s wrong?”
Nym opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her eyes were red rimmed and her entire body was shaking. Amelia placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and stepped forward.
“There’s been an attack,” Amelia said quietly. “The Burrow was hit approximately two hours ago. Death Eaters. Multiple casualties.”
The room went deathly silent. Daphne’s hand found Harry’s and squeezed tight.
“Who?” Harry’s voice came out flat and cold.
Amelia met his eyes steadily. “Molly Weasley. Percy Weasley. And Remus Lupin.”
For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
“How?” Harry’s voice was still quiet.
“Bellatrix Lestrange led the assault,” Amelia continued. “She had Fenrir Greyback with her and approximately a dozen other Death Eaters. They erected wards before attacking, prevented anyone from getting out or calling for help. By the time someone managed to get a Patronus through and reinforcements arrived, it was over.”
“Bellatrix,” Nym’s voice cracked on the name. Her hair flickered between colors, unable to settle. “That murdering bitch killed my mum, and now she’s killed Molly. She killed her from behind like a coward. Didn’t even give her a chance to defend herself.”
“And Greyback?” Harry asked.
Amelia’s expression darkened. “Greyback killed Remus Lupin with his bare hands. Tore out his throat. Then he turned on Bill Weasley. He survived the attack, but…”
“But what?”
“Greyback bit him,” Amelia said with a sigh. “He’s been turned. He’s a werewolf now.”
Daphne’s grip on Harry tightened.
“Greyback said something before he bit him,” Nym added, her voice filled with rage. “Said one mutt lost, another mutt gained. Like it was a fucking joke.”
Harry still hadn’t moved. He stood frozen in the center of the room. His emerald eyes had gone distant, and everyone who knew him could see the storm building behind them.
“Where are the survivors?” Harry asked.
“St. Mungo’s,” Amelia replied, eyeing the girls around him. She’d been made aware of the dynamics present in this household, and although a part of her didn’t fully reconcile with the fact that her own niece was involved with a wizard who apparently had a harem around him, she didn’t object if Susan was happy. “Arthur was badly injured. Cutting curse to the arm, blood loss, shock. The healers say he’ll survive but it’ll take time. His twin sons have minor injuries, cuts and bruises mostly. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were both caught by debris when part of the house collapsed. Miss Granger has a concussion and some broken ribs. Miss Weasley has a fractured arm and extensive bruising. They’ll both make full recoveries.”
“And Bill?”
“Still at St. Mungo’s,” Amelia said. “The transformation has already begun. There’s nothing they can do to reverse it. He’ll be a werewolf for the rest of his life.”
An uncomfortable silence set in as everyone grappled with the news. Harry’s breathing had gone very slow and very controlled, as if he was trying desperately not to lose control.
Then his magic exploded outward.
The windows rattled violently in their frames. The fire in the hearth roared up the chimney with sudden fury, sending sparks flying across the room. Every loose object began to shake and vibrate. Cracks appeared in the plaster walls, webbing outward from where Harry stood.
“Harry!” Susan’s voice cut through. “Harry, you need to control it!”
But Harry wasn’t listening. His face had gone deathly pale, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white. The temperature in the room dropped sharply, then rose, then dropped again as his magic lashed out in waves.
“Mrs. Weasley,” he said softly, and the name was filled with such anguish that it made them all flinch. “They killed Mrs. Weasley.”
Images cascaded through his mind. The original Harry’s memories, accompanied by his feelings. Molly Weasley welcoming him to the Burrow that first summer, her warm smile and warmer hugs making him feel wanted for the first time in his life. Molly treating him like one of her own sons, feeding him and fussing over him and showing him the kind of maternal love he’d never known existed.
Molly knitting him a Weasley sweater every Christmas. Molly making sure he had enough to eat. Molly hugging him fiercely and telling him he was always welcome in her home.
And now she was dead. Murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. Cut down from behind like she meant nothing.
“Harry, please,” Daphne’s voice was muffled against his chest. “Please control yourself.”
Her words seemed to penetrate the rage. Harry took a shuddering breath, then another. Slowly, painfully, he began pulling his magic back under control. The windows stopped rattling. The fire settled. The cracks in the walls ceased spreading.
When he finally looked around at the gathered women, his eyes were clear but burning.
“This ends now,” he said firmly. “No more waiting. No more planning. No more playing by rules that only we follow while they butcher innocent people.”
“Harry…” Daphne started.
“They’ve been terrorizing people for months,” Harry continued, his voice gaining strength with each word. “Torturing. Killing. Destroying families. Murdering good people like Molly Weasley who never hurt anyone, who spent her whole life taking care of others. And what has anyone done to stop them? What has the Ministry done? What has the Order done?”
He turned to Amelia. “You know I’m right. You’ve known it for months. The system is broken.”
Amelia was quiet for a long moment.
“We’ve had this conversation before, Harry,” she said quietly. “You and I have discussed the failures of our government, the corruption and incompetence that’s been allowed to fester for decades. I told you then that I agreed with you. That many of us in the Ministry, the ones who actually give a damn about protecting people, have thought the same things.”
“You did,” Harry acknowledged. “And you told me that changing things would take time. That we didn’t have the resources or the political capital to take aggressive action.”
“That’s still true,” Amelia said. “Fudge may be gone and I may be Minister now, but the problems he created remain. Half the Auror corps is dead or compromised. The Wizengamot is still controlled by old pureblood families playing political games. Our resources are stretched to the breaking point trying to maintain basic security, let alone mount offensive operations against deep-rooted Death Eater positions.”
“I’m not asking you to mount offensive operations,” Harry said. “I’m not asking the Ministry to do anything. I’m telling you that I’m going to do it myself.”
“Harry, you can’t just…” Amelia started, but Harry cut her off.
“Can’t what? Can’t go after the Death Eaters who are killing innocent people? Can’t hunt down the monsters who murdered Molly Weasley and turned Bill into a werewolf? Can’t take the fight to Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback and everyone else who thinks they can terrorize the magical world without consequences?”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Amelia replied calmly. “I was going to say you can’t do it alone. But you’re not alone, are you?”
She looked around the room at the gathered women. Susan, Hannah, Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria, all watching with fierce determination, Nym shaking with barely contained rage, and Fleur sitting still, her veela magic humming just beneath the surface.
“No,” Harry said quietly. “I’m not alone.”
“Then let me be clear about where I stand,” Amelia said. She drew herself up, and suddenly she wasn’t just Amelia Bones the woman, she was the Minister of Magic. “As Minister, I cannot officially sanction vigilante action against Death Eaters. The Ministry must maintain at least the appearance of proper procedure and rule of law, especially during wartime.”
Harry’s expression darkened, but Amelia held up a hand.
“However,” she continued, “as a witch who nearly died when Death Eaters attacked my home, who only survived because you intervened to save me and my niece and her friend, I understand exactly where you’re coming from. And as someone who has spent decades watching our justice system fail to protect its citizens, I can’t say I disagree with your assessment.”
“So what are you saying?” Daphne asked.
“I’m saying that if certain Death Eaters were to meet with unfortunate deaths,” Amelia said carefully, “well, that’d be good riddance, I say.”
“You know could lose your position for this, right?” Harry asked. “If anyone found out you’re going to be involved in hunting down Death Eaters.”
“I don’t think it would matter in the new world that’s coming for all of us,” she said simply, and Harry’s eyes widened. That was basically her consent to being involved in the vision he had for Britain’s future.
His lips curved upwards as he gazed at Amelia who gave him a firm nod. “Understood, Amelia.”
“Good,” Amelia said. “Now, what exactly are you planning?”
“I’m going after them,” Harry said simply. “What I did to the Carrows will look merciful compared to what I’m going to do to the ones responsible for this. Greyback and Bellatrix especially.”
“We’re coming with you,” Daphne said immediately, pulling back from Harry’s embrace.
“No,” Harry’s response was immediate and firm.
“Harry!” Daphne’s eyes flashed. “You can’t just exclude us from this!”
“I’m not excluding you,” Harry said, his voice gentler now. “I’m being realistic about capabilities and readiness.”
“We’ve been training,” Hannah protested. “We’re not helpless.”
“I know you’re not helpless,” Harry said. “You’re all skilled witches. Talented. Dedicated. But fighting Death Eaters, especially Inner Circle members like Bellatrix and Greyback, isn’t the same as training. It’s not dueling in a controlled environment where the worst that happens is you get stunned and wake up five minutes later.”
“So we’re supposed to just sit here?” Susan stood up, her composure cracking. “While you go off and risk your life?”
“You’re supposed to keep training,” Harry said. “Keep getting better, keep preparing, so that when the time comes you’ll actually be ready to stand beside me in real combat.”
“And when will that time come?” Astoria asked quietly.
“When you can demonstrate you have the skills, the reflexes, and the mindset to survive what I’m about to walk into,” Harry replied. “This isn’t about whether you’re capable. It’s about whether you’re ready.”
“Harry’s right,” Amelia said, and everyone turned to stare at her in surprise. “I’ve seen combat. Real combat against trained killers who are trying their hardest to end your life. I’ve watched good Aurors, people with years of training and experience, freeze up or make mistakes that got them killed. It’s not about being capable or surviving one battle. It’s about having lived through it enough times that your body knows what to do even when your mind is screaming in terror.”
She turned to the younger women. “None of you have that experience yet. You’re all talented, all skilled, but you haven’t been tested in real battle. And testing yourself for the first time against Bellatrix Lestrange or Fenrir Greyback is a good way to die very quickly.”
Susan looked like she wanted to argue, but she couldn’t find the words. Hannah’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Daphne pressed her lips together in frustration.
“Next time,” Susan said finally, her voice fierce. “Next time, we’re coming with you. No arguments.”
“Next time,” Harry agreed, “if you’re ready, I won’t stop you. I promise.”
“We’ll be ready,” Daphne said firmly. “You can count on that.”
Harry nodded. “I know you will be.”
“However,” Amelia spoke up again, “not everyone here falls into that category.”
All eyes turned to her.
“I’m coming with you,” Amelia said simply. “I have the experience, the training, and frankly the authority to back up whatever action you decide to take. My home was attacked by Death Eaters, Harry. They tried to kill me and Susan and Hannah. You saved our lives that night, but that doesn’t mean I’m content to sit back and let you handle everything.”
“I’m coming too,” Nym said, her voice rough with emotion. “Bellatrix killed my mum. She killed her own sister in cold blood, and now she’s murdered Molly Weasley. I owe that bitch a debt written in blood, and I’m going to collect every drop.”
The grief and rage in Nym’s voice was palpable. Her hair had finally settled on a blood red that perfectly matched the fury in her eyes.
Harry stared at her for a long moment. He could see the pain there, the desperate need for vengeance.
“Alright,” Harry said quietly. “Nym comes.”
“What about me?” Fleur’s voice was soft but steady.
Everyone turned to look at her. The French witch had been so still throughout the discussion that it was easy to forget she was there. But now she stood, her blue eyes meeting Harry’s without flinching.
“I am capable, ‘arry,” Fleur said. “More zan capable. I ‘ave fought before. I competed in ze Triwizard Tournament. I faced a dragon and dark magic and obstacles zat would ‘ave defeated most adult wizards. And my veela ‘eritage gives me advantages zat few ozers possess.”
Harry considered her words. Fleur was older than Susan, Hannah, Daphne, and Astoria. More experienced. She’d proven herself in the Tournament, shown courage and skill beyond her years. And she was right about her veela abilities. In a fight, those could be a significant advantage.
“You follow my lead,” Harry said finally. “Understood?”
Fleur inclined her head. “Understood.”
“Harry,” Daphne stepped forward again, her jaw set stubbornly. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
Harry pulled her into a tight embrace. “I promise. I’ll come back to you.”
He kissed her, then turned to embrace Susan as well. Both girls held on like they were afraid to let go.
“We’ll be ready next time,” Daphne said again. There was absolute conviction in her voice. “Next time there’s a battle or a mission, we’ll be prepared. We won’t give you a reason to leave us behind.”
“I know,” Harry said softly. “And I’ll hold you to that.”
They pulled away and exchanged glances with each other before they all filed out of the room together. Harry could hear their voices as they headed toward the stairs, already discussing training regimens and spell combinations. They would push themselves harder than ever, he knew. They would make sure they were ready.
To be continued…