They came from all sides, inhuman and savage, like predators who’d caught the scent of prey. Harry counted at least a dozen distinct voices in that chorus of violence.
“Here they come,” Nym said.
Harry turned to Xenophilius and smiled. “Don’t worry. Your home will be as good as new when we’re done taking care of those mutts.”
“I sure hope so.”
The first werewolf crashed through the window in an explosion of glass and wood. It was massive, easily seven feet tall with matted gray fur and yellow eyes that burned with feral intelligence. Its claws were easily six inches long, curved and wicked.
Fleur’s cutting curse took it in the throat before it could fully clear the window. The creature went down in a spray of blood, its howl cutting off into a wet gurgle.
“Nice shot,” Daphne said, then fired her own curse at the window where two more werewolves were trying to force their way through simultaneously. The explosion sent both creatures tumbling backward.
The front door exploded inward. Three werewolves charged through the opening, moving with terrifying speed. Harry’s Blasting Curse caught the lead one center mass, literally blowing it apart. Amelia and Nym took down the other two in a coordinated strike that left both creatures convulsing on the floor before going still.
“There’s too many entry points,” Amelia shouted over the chaos. “We need to consolidate position.”
“Upstairs,” Harry decided. “Narrow corridors, limited approaches. Move!”
They fell back in fighting retreat, spells flying as more werewolves poured into the house. Luna and Xenophilius stayed close to the group, the older man occasionally firing off curses that were surprisingly effective.
A werewolf lunged at Daphne from behind. Luna’s banisher hit it mid-leap, and the creature crashed into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.
“Thank you,” Daphne said, genuinely surprised.
“The Wrackspurts told me where to aim,” Luna replied calmly, as if this were perfectly normal conversation.
They made it to the stairs. Harry turned, firing another Blasting Curse that brought down part of the ceiling, creating a temporary barrier of rubble and dust. It wouldn’t stop the werewolves for long, but it bought them precious seconds.
The narrow stairwell worked in their favor. The werewolves could only come up one or two at a time, which made them easier targets. Harry and his group maintained a punishing rate of fire, cutting down anything that tried to force its way up.
It didn’t take long for the main bastard to announce himself. Greyback’s voice echoed through the house, rough and cruel.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!” Laughter followed, dark and mocking. “I’m going to enjoy this, Potter. Going to enjoy making you watch while I tear apart everyone you care about.”
“Big talk from someone hiding behind his pack,” Harry shouted back. He fired another curse down the stairs, catching a werewolf that had almost made it to the landing.
“Oh, I’ll get to you soon enough. But first, I think I’ll start with the pretty ones. Heard you’ve got quite a collection. Wonder how they’ll scream.”
Fleur’s next curse was particularly vicious, taking the head clean off a werewolf that had managed to reach the top stair. “He will not get the chance to find out.”
Claws scraped against walls and doors. Harry and Amelia reinforced the floor, ensuring it would hold under the onslaught of claws, slams, and curses.
More impacts shook the house. The werewolves were coordinating now, hitting multiple points simultaneously to divide their attention. Windows shattered on the upper floor.
“They’re trying to surround us,” Nym observed as she tracked the sounds. “Probably coming through the roof too.”
“Let them,” Harry said grimly. “Every werewolf that comes through is one less we have to hunt down later.”
A section of the ceiling gave way. Two werewolves dropped through, landing in the middle of their defensive position. For a moment, chaos reigned. Xenophilius went down with a cry of pain as one of the creatures’ claws raked across his shoulder.
Luna let out a sharp scream. Her wand moved faster than Harry had ever seen her move, firing curse after curse. Most missed, but enough connected to drive the werewolf back.
Harry’s Severing Charm cut the creature in half. Amelia finished the other one with a curse that stopped its heart instantly.
“Papa!” Luna dropped to her knees beside Xenophilius. Blood was seeping through his robes, but the older man was still conscious.
“I’m alright, dear,” he wheezed. “Just a scratch.”
“That’s not a scratch,” Daphne said, kneeling beside them. “Hold still.” Her wand moved in precise patterns, stemming the bleeding with ease. “You’ll be fine, but you need to stay down.”
More werewolves. Always more werewolves. Harry was starting to wonder just how large Greyback’s pack actually was when new voices joined the chaos outside.
“Stand down!”
“That’s Kingsley,” Nym said, surprise evident in her voice.
Through the shattered windows, Harry could see flashes of spellfire that weren’t aimed at them.
The Order had arrived. The wards prevented magical travel, and since they were still intact, it meant someone had carved a hole in the barrier to allow them entry.
“Well, this just got more complicated,” Amelia muttered.
Bill Weasley shouted, “There’s at least twenty of the bastards out here!”
“Non-lethal curses only!” Kingsley instructed. “We take them alive if possible.”
“Are you insane?” Moody grunted. “These are werewolves, not pickpockets!”
Harry exchanged glances with his companions. The Order’s arrival meant more help, but also more complications. Their methods were fundamentally different. The Order would try to capture or drive off. Harry’s group was here to kill.
“We keep doing what we’re doing,” Harry decided. “Any werewolf that gets past the Order, we put down permanently.”
The werewolves were vicious, coordinated, and utterly fearless. Greyback had trained them well. They used the darkness and their superior speed to hit and fade, keeping both groups off balance.
Bill Weasley hit one werewolf with a curse that should have knocked it unconscious. The creature simply shrugged it off and kept coming.
Charlie Weasley’s follow-up curse was decidedly more lethal. The werewolf’s chest exploded, and it went down hard.
“Charlie!” Kingsley’s voice was sharp with disapproval.
“It wasn’t stopping, Kingsley,” Charlie shot back. His experience with dangerous creatures was evident in how he moved, always keeping something solid between himself and the werewolves. “These things won’t respond to stunners.”
“He’s right,” Arthur Weasley added. The normally mild-mannered man looked grimmer than anyone had ever seen him. “We need to use stronger measures.”
“Our orders are to minimize casualties,” Kingsley insisted.
“Well, our orders mean jack shit to them,” Bill countered. “Wake up, Kingsley. This isn’t some protest gone wrong. These are monsters.”
The division within the Order was apparent. Kingsley and Remus who had also arrived on urgent notice were trying to maintain some kind of moral high ground, using curses designed to incapacitate rather than kill. Moody, the Weasley brothers, and a few others had no such compunctions.
Harry and his group remained perfectly unaware of those divisions as they fought inside the house. Another werewolf made it to the top of the stairs. His Blasting Curse hit it dead center, and the creature dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
“Harry!” Remus’s pleading voice came from somewhere on the grounds. “You don’t have to kill them!”
“Yes, I do,” Harry shouted back. “Every single one I let live is one that might kill someone else tomorrow.”
“There are other ways!”
“Name one that works.” Harry fired another curse, this one blowing apart a section of wall that a werewolf was using for cover. “Name one way to stop a creature that exists to kill and infect. I’ll wait.”
Remus didn’t answer. Harry could picture the internal struggle the man was going through, could imagine how everything they’d discussed less than an hour ago was colliding with the reality of this fight.
Greyback’s laughter cut through the chaos again. “That’s it, Potter! Show them what you really are! Show them the killer you’ve become!”
“At least I kill things that deserve it,” Harry retorted. He caught a glimpse of the massive werewolf through a gap in the walls. Greyback was even larger than his pack members, his fur darker and his eyes burning with malevolent intelligence.
“Deserve it? Who made you judge and executioner?”
“You did. The moment you started terrorizing innocent families, you gave up any right to mercy.”
“Mercy?” Greyback’s voice was mocking. “Is that what you think this is about? You’re no different from me, Potter. You kill because you’re good at it. Because it makes you feel powerful.”
“I kill to protect people. You kill because you enjoy it. We are not the same.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll even believe it.”
A tremendous crash shook the entire structure. Part of the tower’s upper section collapsed, sending everyone scrambling for stable footing. In the chaos, three werewolves made it through the defensive line.
One went for Luna. Xenophilius, injured as he was, reacted on instinct and threw himself between them. The werewolf’s claws caught him across the chest, opening wounds that were immediately fatal.
“Papa!” Luna screamed in raw agony.
The werewolf reared back for another strike. It never got the chance. Five different curses hit it simultaneously, two from Harry’s group and three from the Order members who’d made it inside. The creature literally disintegrated under the combined assault.
Luna was on her knees beside her father, her hands trying uselessly to stem the bleeding that couldn’t be stopped. Xenophilius’s eyes were already glazing over, his breathing shallow and rapid.
“Luna, my dear,” he managed to say, blood flecking his lips. “The truth... always print the truth...”
“Papa, no, please.” Tears were streaming down Luna’s face, her usual serenity completely shattered. “Don’t leave me.”
“So proud... of you...” Xenophilius’s hand came up to touch her cheek, then fell limply. The light faded from his eyes.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Then Luna’s scream shattered the stillness. It was pure grief, pure rage, a sound that made even the werewolves pause.
She stood, her wand raised, and the spell that left her lips was one Harry had never heard her use before. It was dark magic, probably something she’d read about in one of her father’s more esoteric books. The curse hit the nearest werewolf and the creature simply... disintegrated into ash and dust.
“Luna,” Daphne started, reaching for the girl.
“They killed him.” Luna’s voice was flat, emotionless, terrifying in its absolute lack of feeling. “They killed my papa.”
Her next curse took down another werewolf. Then another. Her aim was perfect now, no longer distracted by Wrackspurts or visions. She’d become focused, deadly, channeling her grief into violence.
Harry understood. He’d been there himself, after all. Sometimes the only thing that could dull the pain of loss was making those responsible suffer.
“Cover her,” he told Fleur and Daphne. “Don’t let her get surrounded.”
They moved to flank Luna, protecting her while she unleashed her fury on the remaining werewolves. Amelia and Nym held the stairs, their defensive line absolute. Nothing was getting past them.
Below, the Order was making progress. Harry could hear Moody’s barked commands, could see flashes of spellfire through the gaps in the floor. But they were still holding back, still trying to capture rather than kill.
“This is ridiculous,” Moody’s voice growled. “We’re giving them too many chances to hurt people.”
“We have our orders, Alastor,” Kingsley said, his voice strained.
“Your orders are going to get someone killed.” Moody’s magical eye whirred. “Potter’s group has the right idea. These things need putting down.”
“We’re not executioners!”
“No, we’re soldiers in a war.” That was Charlie. “And in war, you kill the enemy before they kill you. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not that simple,” Remus argued, his voice carrying up the stairs. “Once we start killing without trial, without mercy, we become no better than them.”
“Pretty words,” Bill said. “But tell that to Xenophilius Lovegood. Oh wait, you can’t, because he’s dead. Killed by creatures you wanted to capture alive.”
The argument was cut short by more werewolves. They came in a coordinated rush, hitting the Order’s position from three sides simultaneously. Harry saw Remus go down under two of the creatures, saw the blood spray as claws found flesh. Greyback. One of them was Greyback.
“Remus!” Kingsley’s voice was desperate.
Harry was moving before he consciously decided to, levitating through the gap in the floor and hitting the ground running. His Blasting Curse took Greyback off Remus, throwing it through the destroyed window and out into the open. The second one turned to face him, its jaws dripping with Remus’s blood. It didn’t get up fully, Harry’s Bone-Breaker shattering its skull.
Remus was badly hurt. Deep gashes covered his chest and arms, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes found Harry’s, and there was something in them that might have been understanding.
“Harry,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk,” Harry said, kneeling beside him. “Save your strength.”
“No.” Remus coughed, more blood. “Need to say this. I’m sorry… I…”
“Remus, please.”
“James would be proud of you.” Remus’s hand gripped Harry’s arm with surprising strength. “Not for the killing. For the courage. For standing up for what’s right even when everyone tells you you’re wrong.”
“Remus Lupin.” Kingsley was there now, his face ashen. “Hold on. We’ll get you to St. Mungo’s.”
“Too late for that.” Remus’s breathing was labored. His eyes were starting to glaze. “Yes. Tell Sirius... tell him I’m sorry. Sorry I doubted...”
He didn’t finish the sentence. His grip on Harry’s arm went slack, and the light faded from his eyes.
Harry stood slowly, something cold and hard settling in his chest. Around him, the battle continued, but he barely noticed. His eyes found Greyback through the chaos, locked onto the massive werewolf that was responsible for all of this.
“Greyback!” His voice cut through the noise like a blade. “This ends now. You and me.”
The giant werewolf’s laughter was cruel. “Finally decided to stop hiding behind your little whores?”
“Decided to stop wasting time on your pack.” Harry stepped forward, his wand steady. “They’re dead or dying. Now it’s your turn.”
“Big words from a boy playing at war.”
“I’m done playing.”
They moved simultaneously. Greyback charged with inhuman speed, claws extended and jaws wide. Harry’s first curse missed by inches, his second hit but Greyback shrugged it off. The werewolf was upon him in seconds, forcing him into close quarters combat where magic became secondary to reflexes.
Harry Conjured a shield just in time to catch Greyback’s claws. The magical barrier shattered under the impact but bought him the second he needed to roll aside. His Cutting Curse opened a gash along Greyback’s side that would have killed a normal person. The werewolf barely noticed.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Greyback snarled.
“I intend to.” Harry’s next spell was a chain of Blasting Curses, each one forcing Greyback back a step. The werewolf’s fur was smoking now, burned by the magical impacts, but still he came on.
Around them, the battle had devolved into brutal close quarters fighting. Harry’s group and the more pragmatic Order members were systematically eliminating the remaining werewolves. Kingsley and a few others were still trying to use non-lethal force, with predictably poor results.
A werewolf lunged at Arthur Weasley from behind. Charlie’s curse intercepted it mid-leap, and the creature’s heart stopped before it hit the ground.
“No more holding back,” Charlie announced grimly. “Anyone who disagrees can leave. The rest of us are ending this.”
Moody’s cackle was dark and approving. “About bloody time, boy. Show these youngsters how real men fight.”
The shift in tactics was immediately noticeable. Without the Order members pulling their punches, the werewolves began falling rapidly. Bill and Charlie worked in tandem, their curses coordinated and brutally effective. Moody fought like a man half his age, his paranoia serving him well as he tracked multiple targets simultaneously.
Kingsley looked torn, caught between his orders and the reality that those orders were costing lives. Finally, he seemed to reach some internal decision. His next curse was still non-lethal, but he’d stopped trying to dictate what others did.
Harry didn’t have attention to spare for any of that. Greyback was pressing him hard, using his superior speed and strength to keep Harry off balance. The werewolf was smart too, not just some mindless beast. He baited Harry into overextending, then exploited the opening with savage efficiency.
Claws raked across Harry’s side, drawing blood. The pain was sharp and immediate, but Harry channeled it into focus. His Reductor Curse caught Greyback in the shoulder, spinning the massive werewolf around.
“Getting tired, Potter?” Greyback’s grin was all teeth and malice. “This is what I do. Kill little boys who think they’re heroes.”
“Funny. I was thinking the same about killing monsters who think they’re invincible.”
Harry’s next spell was a Bone-Breaking Curse aimed at Greyback’s legs. The werewolf dodged, but barely. His movements were getting slower, the accumulated damage starting to tell.
“Your friend Lupin,” Greyback said conversationally, circling for another attack. “He screamed real pretty before he died. Begged even.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? Or do you just not want to believe it? Either way, he’s dead. One more body at my feet.”
Rage surged through Harry. He channeled it into his next curse, a Piercing Hex that punched clean through Greyback’s side. The werewolf howled, more in fury than pain.
“There it is,” Greyback laughed. “There’s the real Harry Potter. The killer wearing a hero’s mask.”
“I never claimed to be a hero.”
“No? Then what are you?”
“Someone who does what needs doing.” Harry’s voice was flat and emotionless. “Someone who understands that people like you can’t be reasoned with, can’t be reformed, can only be stopped.”
He fired three curses in rapid succession. Greyback dodged the first, blocked the second with a chunk of rubble, and took the third straight to the chest. The impact threw him backward into the wall hard enough to crack the stone.
“I am going to enjoy killing you,” Greyback growled, pushing himself upright. Blood matted his fur, and his breathing was labored. “Going to take my time. Make it last.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
They clashed again. This time, Harry was ready for Greyback’s speed, already moving before the werewolf completed his lunge. His Severing Charm caught Greyback across the face, opening a wound that destroyed one of those yellow eyes.
Greyback’s howl of pain and rage shook the remaining walls. He abandoned any pretense of strategy, charging at Harry with pure animal fury.
It was exactly what Harry had been waiting for.
His Blasting Curse hit Greyback center mass, stopping the werewolf’s charge cold. Before Greyback could recover, Harry followed up with a Piercing Hex that punched through the werewolf’s chest, then a Cutting Curse that opened his throat.
Greyback dropped to his knees, both hands trying to hold his throat together. Blood poured between his fingers, more blood than any creature could afford to lose. His remaining eye found Harry, filled with hate and disbelief.
“You,” he gurgled. “You little...”
“Save your breath.” Harry raised his wand one final time. “Though I suppose it doesn’t matter. You won’t need it where you’re going.”
Harry hesitated for a moment before images flashed before his eyes. His face hardened, and the Killing Curse hit Greyback squarely in the chest. The massive werewolf stiffened, then toppled forward like a felled tree. The impact shook the floor.
For a moment, there was silence. Then reality crashed back in. Harry looked around, taking stock of the situation.
The werewolves were dead. All of them. Harry’s group had been brutally efficient, and the Order members who’d embraced lethal force had pulled their weight. Bodies littered the ruined house and the grounds outside, some werewolf, some dangerously close to human.
Xenophilius Lovegood’s body lay where he’d fallen. Remus was nearby, his expression peaceful despite the violence of his death. A dozen Order members Harry didn’t know well were down as well, victims of their own reluctance to kill.
Luna stood over her father’s body, her wand still raised and her face streaked with tears and blood. The dreamy girl who’d fed radishes to invisible creatures was gone. In her place was someone harder, someone who’d learned in the worst possible way that the world wasn’t kind to dreamers.
Daphne moved to her side, pulling the girl into a gentle embrace. Luna didn’t resist, but she didn’t relax either. She stood rigid, her eyes fixed on her father’s body.
“It’s over,” Daphne said softly. “Luna, it’s over.”
“Is it?” Luna’s voice was hollow. “Papa’s dead. The Wrackspurts say he’s not coming back.”
Fleur joined them, adding her support to Daphne’s. Together, they formed a protective barrier around the grieving girl.
Harry walked over to where Kingsley stood, his face grim as he surveyed the carnage. The senior Auror looked up as Harry approached.
“This is what you wanted?” Kingsley asked, his voice hard. “All this death?”
“This is what was necessary,” Harry corrected. “Every werewolf here was a killer. Every one of them would have gone on to hurt more innocent people if we’d let them live.”
“We could have captured them, put them on trial.”
“To what end? So they could escape? So their friends could break them out? So some bleeding heart could argue they weren’t responsible for their actions?” Harry shook his head. “No. This was the only way to be sure.”
“You’re judge, jury, and executioner now?”
“In this case? Yes.” Harry met Kingsley’s gaze without flinching. “And I’d do it again. I’ll do it every time someone threatens innocent people. That’s the difference between us, Kingsley. You want to follow the rules even when the rules don’t work. I want to keep people safe, whatever it takes.”
“That’s a dangerous road you’re walking.”
“Maybe. But it’s the road I’ve chosen.” Harry gestured at the bodies. “How many of those Order members would still be alive if you’d used lethal force from the start? How many chances did you give the werewolves to kill your people?”
Kingsley’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought.” Harry turned to leave, then paused. “And Kingsley? This is the last time I’m going to say this nicely. Stay out of my way. I’m fighting this war to win it, not to make myself feel morally superior. If the Order can’t accept that, then we’re going to have problems.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a warning. There’s a difference.”
Harry walked away towards his girls, his face grim. As Kingsley stared at him, Charlie Weasley approached, his face serious. “Potter’s right, Kingsley. I know you don’t want to hear it, but he’s right. We could have saved Remus if we’d been willing to kill from the start.”
“We saved more lives than we lost,” Kingsley grunted, and there was no mistaking the grief in his voice. Charlie’s eyes softened and he placed a consoling hand on the taller man’s shoulder.
“Did we?” Bill joined his brother. “Or did we just make things harder than they needed to be? I don’t enjoy killing, Kingsley. None of us do. But sometimes it’s necessary.”
“That’s not what the Order stands for.”
“Maybe it should be.” Moody stumped over, his magical eye fixed on the werewolf bodies. “Maybe instead of standing for pretty ideals, we should stand for actually keeping people alive. Revolutionary concept, I know.”
“Alastor, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious, Kingsley. And I’m seriously telling you that we need to rethink our approach. The war is escalating. Voldemort’s forces aren’t playing by rules, and neither should we.”
Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. “I hate to say it, but they have a point. We’ve been trying to fight a civilized war against an enemy that doesn’t understand civilization. Maybe it’s time we adapted our tactics.”
Kingsley looked around at his fellow Order members, seeing the same sentiment reflected in multiple faces. The organization was fracturing, split between those who still believed in Dumbledore’s methods and those who’d seen enough death to question them.
“This isn’t over,” Kingsley said finally. “We’ll discuss this with Dumbledore.”
“You do that.” Harry said dismissively as he walked across. “Tell him that the next time his methods get in my way, I won’t be so polite about moving them aside.”
His group was with him. Nym and Amelia had finished checking the perimeter. Luna came with Daphne and Fleur who were speaking to the girl in low, soothing tones.
“We need to go,” Harry said quietly. “Before this turns into more of an incident than it already is.”
“What about Luna?” Fleur asked. “She cannot stay here.”
“She’s coming with us.” Harry looked at the girl, seeing the hollowness in her eyes. “Luna, you’re going to come stay with us for a while. Is that alright?”
Luna nodded slowly. “The Wrackspurts say it’s safe with you. They say Papa would want me to be somewhere safe.”
“Then it’s settled.” Daphne took Luna’s hand gently. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and somewhere quiet.”
As they prepared to leave, Arthur Weasley approached. “Harry, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about how this turned out. Remus was a good man.”
“He was,” Harry agreed. “I have a feeling he was also starting to see the truth about Dumbledore. I think that scared him more than the werewolves did.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “I’ve been having some doubts myself lately. About the Order’s methods. About Dumbledore’s strategies.”
“Then do something about it.” Harry’s voice was firm but not unkind. “Don’t just accept what you’re told because the person telling you has a reputation for wisdom. Think for yourself. Act for yourself. That’s all any of us can do.”
With that, Harry activated the emergency portkey. The familiar hook behind his navel yanked them away from the ruined Lovegood home, away from the bodies and the blood and the fractured remains of the Order of the Phoenix’s unity.
They materialized in the living room of Grimmauld Place, the sudden quiet almost jarring after the chaos of battle. Luna swayed on her feet, and Fleur caught her before she could fall.
“I’ve got you,” Fleur said gently. “Come, let us get you cleaned up and into bed.”
“I’m not tired,” Luna protested weakly.
“You’re exhausted,” Daphne corrected kindly. “You’ve been through something terrible, and your body needs rest even if your mind doesn’t.”
They led Luna away, leaving Harry and the others in the entrance hall. Harry’s side was still bleeding where Greyback’s claws had caught him. Nym noticed immediately.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She pulled up his shirt, examining the wounds with a critical eye. “These need cleaning and sealing. You’re lucky he didn’t gut you.”
“I’m lucky in general,” Harry said, allowing her to lead him to a chair. “Could have gone a lot worse.”
“Could have gone better too.” Amelia’s voice was grim. “We lost Lovegood and Lupin. Good people both.”
“Lovegood died protecting his daughter,” Harry said. “And Remus died because he was overwhelmed. Not the deaths they would have chosen, maybe, but not meaningless either.”
“Cold comfort.”
“It’s the only comfort we’ve got.” Harry winced as Nym’s cleaning spell stung the wounds. “This is war. People die. All we can do is try to make sure those deaths count for something.”
Nym worked in silence for a moment, then said quietly, “You know the Order is going to be a problem now. Kingsley looked like he wanted to attack you.”
“Let him try.” Harry’s voice was flat. “I’m done dancing around them. Done pretending we’re all on the same side when we clearly have different priorities.”
“Some of them seemed to agree with you,” Amelia observed. “The Weasley brothers, Moody. Maybe even Arthur, though he’s too diplomatic to say it outright.”
“The Order is splitting,” Harry said. “Between those who still worship Dumbledore’s methods and those who’ve realized those methods aren’t working. Eventually, they’ll have to choose sides.”
“And if they choose Dumbledore?”
“Then they’re choosing wrong.” Harry’s voice was hard. “I’m not going to let misplaced loyalty to a manipulative old man cost more lives. If they stand in my way, I’ll go through them.”
Nym finished healing his wounds and sat back. “You mean that.”
“Every word.” Harry met her eyes. “I know that sounds harsh. I know it probably makes me seem like exactly what people like Kingsley think I am. But I’m not going to sacrifice innocent lives for the sake of appearing reasonable.”
“No one’s asking you to,” Nym said. “I’m just making sure you understand what this means. The Order was supposed to at least be neutral. Now some of them might become enemies.”
“Then they would’ve made that choice, not me.” Harry stood, testing his newly healed side. “I offered cooperation. I offered to stay out of their way if they stayed out of mine. They’re the ones who decided their methods were more important than results.”
Daphne returned, looking as tired as they all were.
“Luna’s in bed,” she informed. “Fleur and Nat are staying with her. The poor girl is in shock. She’s not crying anymore, just staring at nothing.”
“That’s not surprising,” Amelia said gently. “She watched her father die. That kind of trauma doesn’t just go away because the danger’s past.”
“We’ll take care of her,” Harry said firmly. “However long she needs, whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.”
“She killed three werewolves,” Daphne said quietly. “Did you see that? Three. With curses I didn’t even know she knew. That dreamy girl who talked to invisible creatures turned into someone terrifyingly competent.”
“Grief does that sometimes,” Harry said. “Strips away everything but the essential. Forces you to focus on survival.” He knew that better than most. “She’ll find her balance again eventually. But it’ll take time.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, she has us.” Harry moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to check on her. Please tell the others what happened.”
They nodded in understanding and giving them a small smile, Harry walked away.
XXXXX
Luna’s room was dimly lit, just a single lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Fleur and Nat sat on the edge of the bed, the former’s hand resting on Luna’s shoulder. The younger girl was curled on her side, her eyes open but unfocused.
“How is she?” Harry asked quietly.
“Quiet,” Fleur replied. “Too quiet. She has not spoken since we put her to bed.”
Harry approached the bed slowly, not wanting to startle Luna. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”
Luna’s eyes shifted to him, and she gave a small nod.
Harry settled on the chair beside the bed. “I know there’s nothing I can say that will make this better. Nothing that will bring your father back or change what happened. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. You have people who care about you, who will help you through this.”
“The Wrackspurts are gone,” Luna said suddenly, her voice small. “They used to always be there, showing me things, telling me things. But now it’s just empty.”
“They’ll come back,” Harry said, though he had no idea if that was true.
“Will they?” Luna turned to look at him directly. “Or did they leave because I’m not the same person anymore? Because I killed those werewolves and felt glad doing it?”
Harry was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “You’re still you, Luna. What you did tonight doesn’t change that. You protected yourself and others. That’s not something to feel guilty about.”
“Papa always said violence should be the last resort. That there was always another way.” Tears finally started flowing again, silent and steady. “But there wasn’t another way, was there? They were going to kill us no matter what.”
“No, there wasn’t another way,” Harry confirmed gently. “Sometimes the world doesn’t give us good choices. Just bad ones and worse ones. You chose to protect yourself. That’s not wrong.”
“It feels wrong.” Luna’s voice broke. “It feels like I should have done something different, been someone different. Someone who could have saved Papa without becoming what I became.”
“You became a survivor,” Harry said firmly. “You became someone strong enough to do what needed doing when it mattered most. Your father would be proud of you, Luna. I’m sure of it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because his last words were about being proud of you. Because he died protecting you, which means he wanted you to live. Whatever you had to do to survive, he would have supported it.”
Luna curled tighter into herself. “I don’t know how to do this. How to keep going when everything hurts so much.”
“One moment at a time,” Harry said. “That’s all any of us can do. One breath, one heartbeat, one moment at a time. And eventually, the moments start adding up. The pain doesn’t go away, but it becomes bearable. You learn to carry it instead of being crushed by it. And you have us. And we’re not going anywhere.”
Nat stood, moving to sit on Luna’s other side. “He is right. You are not alone in this. We will help you through the dark times ahead.”
“Why?” Luna asked. “Why would you help me? You barely know me.”
“Because that’s what you do for people you care about,” Harry said simply. “And we care about you, Luna. We cared about you before tonight, and we care about you now.”
Luna was quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft Harry almost missed it.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Nat said gently. “Just rest now. We will be here when you wake.”
They stayed until Luna’s breathing evened out into sleep, and Harry carefully extracted his hand from hers. They left the room quietly, leaving the door slightly ajar so they could hear if Luna needed anything.
In the hallway, Fleur and Nat both leaned against him tiredly.
“Zis war,” Fleur said softly. “It takes so much from everyone.”
“It does,” Harry agreed, pulling them close. “And it’s going to take more before it’s over. That’s why we have to end it as quickly as possible. Every day it continues is another day people are suffering.”
“The Order will not see it that way,” Nat sighed.
“I know. They’ll call us reckless, bloodthirsty, whatever helps them sleep at night.” Harry’s voice hardened. “But we’re the ones actually stopping threats. We’re the ones saving lives. History will judge which approach was right.”
They made their way back downstairs where the others were waiting. The atmosphere was somber, everyone processing what had happened in their own way.
“What now?” Susan asked softly.
“Now we make sure this matters,” Harry said. “Greyback’s dead. His pack is destroyed. That’s one less threat to innocent families. One less monster terrorizing the wizarding world.”
“The Order will probably still find a way to condemn it,” Amelia said dryly. “They’re good at that.”
“Let them. I don’t need their approval.” Harry looked at each of them in turn. “We knew what we were getting into when we started this. We knew there would be consequences, criticism, opposition. None of that has changed.”
“But the Order,” Andromeda began.
“The Order is irrelevant,” Harry interrupted. “They had their chance to adapt, to recognize that their methods weren’t working. They chose ideology over effectiveness. That’s their problem, not ours.”
“Some of them seemed willing to reconsider,” Nym pointed out. “The Weasleys, Moody. Maybe even Arthur.”
“Then they know where to find us if they want to talk,” Harry said. “But I’m not holding my breath. People don’t change their fundamental beliefs easily, especially when those beliefs are tied to someone they admire.”
He moved to the window, looking out at the night. Somewhere out there, Voldemort was planning his next move. Somewhere, Death Eaters were hurting innocent people. And somewhere, Dumbledore was probably hearing about tonight’s events and calculating how to use them.
“We keep moving forward,” Harry said finally. “We identify the next threat, make our plans, and eliminate it. That’s the only way this ends. Not through negotiation or hoping our enemies see reason, but through systematically destroying their ability to hurt people.”
“You sound very certain,” Daphne observed.
“I am certain. About this, at least.” Harry turned back to face them. “I’ve seen what hesitation costs. I’ve seen what happens when you give your enemies too many chances. Cedric died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sirius suffered all these years and nearly died because he was reckless. Tonight, Remus and Xenophilius died because the Order wasn’t willing to do what was necessary.”
“We can’t blame ourselves for everything, Harry,” Narcissa said softly.
“I don’t. I blame the people who had the power to change things and chose not to use it.” Harry’s voice was hard. “I blame Dumbledore for his manipulations. I blame the Ministry for its incompetence. I blame the Order for its self-righteousness. And I blame Voldemort and his Death Eaters for being evil bastards who enjoy causing pain.”
“And what about you?” Cassie asked quietly. “Where does Harry Potter fall in all this?”
“I fall in the category of people trying to actually fix things,” Harry said. “Maybe our methods aren’t perfect. Maybe we make mistakes. But at least we’re acting. At least we’re trying to make a difference instead of just talking about it.”
The room fell silent. Outside, the night continued its slow progression toward dawn. Tomorrow, there would be consequences to deal with. The Prophet would have a field day. The Order would likely escalate their opposition. Dumbledore would make his moves.
But tonight, they’d won. Greyback was dead. His pack was destroyed. Innocent families could sleep a little easier knowing one of the worst monsters in the wizarding world had been permanently removed.
It wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things. But it was something. And in a war that seemed endless, sometimes something was all you could ask for.
“Get some rest,” Harry told his companions. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
They dispersed slowly, each heading to their own rooms. Harry waited until they were gone, and then returned to Luna’s room. He settled into the chair Fleur had vacated, watching the young girl sleep.
She looked so small, so fragile. It was hard to reconcile this vulnerable girl with the fierce warrior who’d helped take down three werewolves. But both were real, both were Luna. Just like Harry himself contained multitudes—the boy who’d survived the Dursleys, the wizard who’d faced Voldemort, the leader who’d built this group, and the killer who’d ended Greyback.
People were complicated. They contained contradictions and held opposing truths simultaneously. The key was learning to live with that complexity instead of trying to simplify it into neat categories of good and evil.
Harry knew he wasn’t purely good. He’d killed people, would kill more before this war ended. He’d made choices others would call dark or wrong. But he also knew he wasn’t evil. He was just someone trying to protect the people he cared about in a world that seemed determined to hurt them.
Was that enough? Would history remember him as a hero or a villain?
Harry decided it didn’t matter. He wasn’t doing this for history or recognition. He was doing it because someone had to, and he’d decided that someone might as well be him.
Luna stirred in her sleep, murmuring something incomprehensible. Harry gently adjusted her blanket, then settled back in the chair.
One moment at a time, he’d told her. That’s how you survived loss and grief and trauma. One moment, one breath, one heartbeat.
And tomorrow, they’d all face whatever came next. Together.
To be continued…