"Love is friendship set on fire.”
-Anonymous
CHAPTER TEN
(more than a little interesting)
An editorial from the Daily Prophet, the summer just after Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts:
With the death of Albus Dumbledore, and the certainty that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is no longer safe for our children, classes will not resume as usual this upcoming school year. Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall said in a statement, “We feel that students will be safer in this difficult time with their own families…” So classes will be suspended for at least a year, while the Ministry of Magic deals with You-Know-Who and his followers.
Such a move is unprecedented. The last time You-Know-Who was in power, Hogwarts continued to operate, though the dangers were great. Professor Dumbledore was also the Headmaster then, and he insisted that students were safer in Hogwarts than anywhere else, explaining that Voldemort would be more likely to attack a wizarding home than Hogwarts, which has an enormous number of protective charms around it, along with being guarded by the Professors, many of whom are among the most talented witches and wizards today.
But Albus Dumbledore is dead, and so are his assurances. It is safe to assume at this point that Hogwarts will reopen only after You-Know-Who and his followers are defeated.
Another editorial. The summer just before Harry’s seventh year at Hogwarts.
More good news! Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is reopening at last. All students may pick up where they left off when classes resume. Certainly our batch of graduates for the next seven years will be one year older than usual, but the point is, they will be getting older. Because the threat of You-Know-Who is gone. And thanks to the heroics of Harry Potter and his friends, all other Hogwarts students can continue their education. They can go to school for the first time in over a year.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
In the faculty room, the four House Heads — Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout — huddled around a round table. They were discussing Kingsley Shacklebolt’s warning. A silencing charm was on the door. They had advised Filch and the other teachers who hadn’t been included in the impromptu conference to be alert.
“What were the students doing while Hogwarts were closed?”
“Most of them stayed home, but others, like Harry, were active in the fight against You-Know-Who. I have a list of those students here. Let’s go over it, and tell me if I’ve missed anyone. We will put these students under protection…”
Professor McGonagall unfurled a long scroll, which she spread out on the table.
“Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. All the Weasleys, of course — but at the moment Ron and Ginny are the only ones who are still students here, and they’re the only ones we have to worry about. Colin and Dennis Creevey. Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom—”
“Speaking of Longbottom,” Snape interrupted, “Wasn’t Lupin going to ask him for help with the Laguna case?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“Does that have anything to do with this?”
“I don’t know.” McGonagall frowned. “To tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure of too much right now. I don’t even know where Shacklebolt’s warning came from, he was so vague about it. All I know is that he mentioned Death Eaters.”
“Death Eaters!” Something terrible flashed across Snape’s features, but he mastered himself immediately. His face was stoic when he said, “Not all of them were captured.”
“True. We must assume that the threat, whatever it is, is coming from the Death Eaters. So we’ll leave the Laguna case to the others who oppose Scrimgeour and we’ll take care of the danger to our students.”
“The problem is that there seem to be three sides in this,” said Flitwick anxiously. “Scrimgeour’s side, the Death Eaters side—”
“And our side,” finished McGonagall succinctly. Her lips curled up in a rare, if grim, smile. "Which I like to assume is the good one."
“The Death Eaters and Scrimgeour are against each other, of course,” said Flitwick. “Scrimgeour is against us, and we are against him. And we are against the Death Eaters, and they are against us.”
“I’m confused,” Sprout admitted.
McGonagall heaved a sigh. “So am I.”
------------------------------------
Ginny found Draco as he left the Great Hall after dinner. Without explanation, she started tugging him towards the nearest empty classroom, and with no resistance except a token, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’, he went along. That should have alerted Ginny to the fact that something was different, but she was too busy thinking about her brother’s warning to notice the subtle change in Draco’s attitude towards her.
Once they were inside, she closed the door behind her. Calmly, so as not to alarm him, she repeated everything Ron and Harry and Hermione had told her about being in danger from Death Eaters.
But Draco didn’t react as she had expected. Instead of being afraid, he looked bemused.
Then he spoke. “Let me get this straight. You came here to warn me?” Draco stared at Ginny. And for the first time in quite a while, his face broke out in a genuine smile. “You’re worried about me!”
Ginny gasped. “Bloody hell! I’m telling you that your life is in serious danger and you’re sitting there making jokes!” Angrily, she spun on her heel and started to march out of the room. “Fine. Whatever.”
Draco caught her by the arm and pulled her back to face him. He had wiped the smile from his face, but he couldn’t quite conceal the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
Ginny wanted to slap him. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?”
“So my father told me,” murmured Draco, and he lowered his head to kiss her.
After a few heated moments, Ginny pulled away, flushing. “All right. You’re going to have to stop kissing me, Malfoy!”
“Draco.”
“Malfoy,” she said pointedly. “Did you hear a word I said?”
“Danger. Death Eaters. Be careful,” he said, parroting a few key words of Ginny’s anxious warning. Then he kissed her again.
Ginny broke away. “Bloody hell!” Hurriedly, she backed away from Draco, putting the teacher’s table between them. “Is it just me, or aren’t we mortal enemies?”
Draco pressed his lips together, firmly hiding his grin. He didn't think Ginny would appreciate levity right now. “It’s just you.”
“You hate me, Malfoy!”
“Draco,” he said. “And I don’t hate you.”
“Yes, you do.”
Draco sighed. “Why are you hiding behind the table? And don’t think I haven’t noticed that it is my supposed hatred we’re discussing, not yours. Does that mean you don’t hate me?”
“I am not hiding behind the table,” snapped Ginny, choosing to address only the first question. “And we’ve been talking for a few minutes already! Why the bloody hell have you not insulted me yet? Are you sick?”
“I’m not sick,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. “I just had a little talk with Zabini, that’s all.”
“Blaise Zabini?” Ginny pounced. “Ha! It’s a bet. It’s a bet to see how long it’ll take you to drive me crazy. Or something stupid like that.” Her eyes narrowed. "Is it a bet to see if you can get a Gryffindor to fall in love with you?" A horrified look flashed across her face. "Or -- have sex with you?"
Draco sighed again. Then, in a movement so quick Ginny didn’t even have time to react, he leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists, maneuvering her over to his side of the table. She stumbled. He caught her.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked.
“Lower your voice, Ginny.”
“I want to know what Zabini said to make you suddenly decide that it’s fine for you to make skin contact with a Weasley.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“What?”
“That’s what he said.” Draco pinned Ginny to the side of the table, his hands braced on either side of her, on the tabletop, effectively imprisoning her in his arms. He looked down at her. She inhaled, as though to gather strength, then stiffened her spine and met his gaze squarely.
“He asked you what you were waiting for?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ginny’s eyes held his steadily. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Then may I say something?”
“By all means.”
“I think you’re tricking me. This is a lose-lose situation. If I return your advances you win some sort of bet, and if I don’t you vow revenge on me forever. It’s not fair.”
Draco leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re a suspicious person,” he said softly. His hips pressed against hers intimately, and Ginny fought to hide her blush, to keep her gaze locked on his. “I thought you hero types always believed the best of everybody.”
“First, I’m not a hero type, and second, the kind of person who believes the best of everybody is more commonly called naïve.”
“Are you calling Potter naïve?”
For the first time, Ginny smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Malfoy. Harry always, always believes the worst of you.”
Draco smiled back. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against hers now. “And you?”
“Harry and I have whole conversations about how evil you are. We—”
She didn’t finish her sentence because his lips touched hers. This kiss was the best yet. There was no urgency, no hurry, just a slow, sweet, thorough exploration of lips and tongues that ended only when Draco pulled away, his gray eyes warmer than Ginny had ever seen them before.
"It's not a bet, Ginny," he murmured. "Although I must admit, your last idea had some merit."
Ginny couldn't think clearly with his body pressed against hers."What?"
"You mentioned that this might be a bet to see if I could get you to have sex with me." Draco smiled. "In other words, you think that I think I'm capable of seducing you. I find that more than a little interesting."
"Interesting?" Ginny scowled. All right. Time to take charge. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she twined her arms around Draco's neck and leaned up to kiss him, her lips parted and inviting. She buried one hand in his silky blond hair and curled the other around the nape of his neck, sliding her knee smoothly between his legs. She all but melted into him, the kiss deepening, intensifying, as her heart pounded in her ears and his arms tightened around her.
Finally, she pulled away. She smiled at Draco. "I think you think that I'm capable of seducing you."
Before he could reply, Ginny hurried from the room. She heard him coming after her, and, still shocked at her own nerve, she fled.
------------------------------------
Kingsley Shacklebolt's tale was particularly nerve-wracking to Lupin, because he kept imagining what Tonks had gone through.
Shacklebolt had received a note from one of his friends, requesting a meeting in a desolate section of Knockturn alley the very evening of that same day. The note was sealed, in his friend's handwriting, and mentioned a grave danger, along with a plea for utmost secrecy. Shacklebolt, worried, had shown up. But his friend hadn't.
Instead, a cloaked figure, its face hidden in the shadows, had attacked him.Shacklebolt caught a glimpse of the hand holding the wand, dark brown and scarred, just before the Cruciatus Curse hit him full on. He went down, screaming.
But he wasn't one of the most feared Aurors for nothing. He still remembered his instructor's voice describing a scenario for him: "Okay, let's pretend you're not winning the fight. The Death Eater hit you with acurse, probably the Cruciatus, because they have a taste for pain. You fall to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony. Now -- you're going to have to assume that the Death Eater is standing near you, watching avidly as you suffer, because that's what Death Eaters like to do. So you'll lash out with your legs and arms. Maybe he won't expect that. Maybe he'll fall to the floor with you. That's a lot of maybes, but if things go your way, then you've got a chance to survive. If you don't have your wand, use your fists. They're weapons too."
So Shacklebolt had done just that. He rolled over, flailing his limbs wildly, and felt his forearm hit a leg. He gripped the ankle and pulled, with all his might, and the figure landed on him.Shacklebolt felt an elbow catch him in the stomach just as a voice shouted, "Levicorpus!"
There's two of them, Shacklebolt thought. The figure on top of him soared into the air. Shacklebolt felt desperately for his wand, but couldn't find it. He was still fumbling around when, incredibly, the floating figure somehow dropped its wand. Shacklebolt caught it and pointed it at the direction of the voice. "Petrificus Totalus!" he bellowed.
He turned his head just in time to see another figure dodging his spell. This one was light-skinned. That was the only impression he got before the man shouted, "Accio wand!"
The enemy's wand zoomed out of his hand. Without thinking, his instructor's voice saying 'use your fists' roaring in his head, Shacklebolt took off after the wand. He caught a glimpse of wide, stunned eyes just as he lunged forward, swinging his fist. It connected solidly with the man's cheek. He grabbed the wand back and kneed his attacker in the groin, making him double over in pain, and Shacklebolt shoved him under his accomplice, who was still floating in the air.
Shacklebolt spotted his own wand at his feet, where his second assailtant had probably dropped it in their struggle, and he picked it up, pocketing the extra wand.
"Who are you?" he shouted, his wand pointed at them.
The second attacker struggled to his feet. Above him, his companion flailed helplessly, and his cloak pooled around his neck, revealing a brown, thin body.With the Dark Mark burned into his shoulder.
Shacklebolt stared at the brand, and a chill coursed through him. Shit.
The second attacker jumped up, grabbing his partner by the ankle, and slipped his hand into his pocket.
"Put your hands where I can see them!" Shacklebolt yelled, but it was too late. The two cloaked figures had already vanished into thin air.
"Probably a Portkey," he muttered. "Damn."
And without wasting any more time,Shacklebolt headed for his friend's house, the friend who had allegedly sent him the pleading note. He was home. No, he hadn't sent Shacklebolt any notes, but would he like to stay for dinner?
Shacklebolt grimly declined the invitation. His next stop was Hogwarts. He didn't want to go to the Ministry; he feared Scrimgeour would accuse him of inventing stories, trying to scare the magical community just after Voldemort had been defeated. His mind was churning. If Death Eaters had attacked him -- him, Kingsley Shacklebolt! -- then a lot of random events that had been taking place since Voldemort's defeat suddenly had a new, and terrifying, meaning. So he warned McGonagall, then went to see Tonks and Lupin.
After the story was over, Lupin sat back, shaking his head. "Bloody hell," he whispered. "Death Eaters. That's what Tonks said, too. Of course, she was rambling at that point."
Shacklebolt exhaled heavily. "Your turn, Lupin. What happened to Tonks?"
"Well." Lupin glanced towards the door that led to the hospital room where Tonks was still unconscious. As soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived, he had taken the conversation to a secluded section of the hallway, to avoid disturbing Tonks. He gazed at the Auror now, mulling over his answer.
"Well?" Shacklebolt repeated.
"To tell you the truth," Lupin said slowly, "I don't really know."
-Anonymous
CHAPTER TEN
(more than a little interesting)
An editorial from the Daily Prophet, the summer just after Harry’s sixth year at Hogwarts:
With the death of Albus Dumbledore, and the certainty that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is no longer safe for our children, classes will not resume as usual this upcoming school year. Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall said in a statement, “We feel that students will be safer in this difficult time with their own families…” So classes will be suspended for at least a year, while the Ministry of Magic deals with You-Know-Who and his followers.
Such a move is unprecedented. The last time You-Know-Who was in power, Hogwarts continued to operate, though the dangers were great. Professor Dumbledore was also the Headmaster then, and he insisted that students were safer in Hogwarts than anywhere else, explaining that Voldemort would be more likely to attack a wizarding home than Hogwarts, which has an enormous number of protective charms around it, along with being guarded by the Professors, many of whom are among the most talented witches and wizards today.
But Albus Dumbledore is dead, and so are his assurances. It is safe to assume at this point that Hogwarts will reopen only after You-Know-Who and his followers are defeated.
Another editorial. The summer just before Harry’s seventh year at Hogwarts.
More good news! Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is reopening at last. All students may pick up where they left off when classes resume. Certainly our batch of graduates for the next seven years will be one year older than usual, but the point is, they will be getting older. Because the threat of You-Know-Who is gone. And thanks to the heroics of Harry Potter and his friends, all other Hogwarts students can continue their education. They can go to school for the first time in over a year.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
In the faculty room, the four House Heads — Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout — huddled around a round table. They were discussing Kingsley Shacklebolt’s warning. A silencing charm was on the door. They had advised Filch and the other teachers who hadn’t been included in the impromptu conference to be alert.
“What were the students doing while Hogwarts were closed?”
“Most of them stayed home, but others, like Harry, were active in the fight against You-Know-Who. I have a list of those students here. Let’s go over it, and tell me if I’ve missed anyone. We will put these students under protection…”
Professor McGonagall unfurled a long scroll, which she spread out on the table.
“Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. All the Weasleys, of course — but at the moment Ron and Ginny are the only ones who are still students here, and they’re the only ones we have to worry about. Colin and Dennis Creevey. Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom—”
“Speaking of Longbottom,” Snape interrupted, “Wasn’t Lupin going to ask him for help with the Laguna case?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“Does that have anything to do with this?”
“I don’t know.” McGonagall frowned. “To tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure of too much right now. I don’t even know where Shacklebolt’s warning came from, he was so vague about it. All I know is that he mentioned Death Eaters.”
“Death Eaters!” Something terrible flashed across Snape’s features, but he mastered himself immediately. His face was stoic when he said, “Not all of them were captured.”
“True. We must assume that the threat, whatever it is, is coming from the Death Eaters. So we’ll leave the Laguna case to the others who oppose Scrimgeour and we’ll take care of the danger to our students.”
“The problem is that there seem to be three sides in this,” said Flitwick anxiously. “Scrimgeour’s side, the Death Eaters side—”
“And our side,” finished McGonagall succinctly. Her lips curled up in a rare, if grim, smile. "Which I like to assume is the good one."
“The Death Eaters and Scrimgeour are against each other, of course,” said Flitwick. “Scrimgeour is against us, and we are against him. And we are against the Death Eaters, and they are against us.”
“I’m confused,” Sprout admitted.
McGonagall heaved a sigh. “So am I.”
------------------------------------
Ginny found Draco as he left the Great Hall after dinner. Without explanation, she started tugging him towards the nearest empty classroom, and with no resistance except a token, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’, he went along. That should have alerted Ginny to the fact that something was different, but she was too busy thinking about her brother’s warning to notice the subtle change in Draco’s attitude towards her.
Once they were inside, she closed the door behind her. Calmly, so as not to alarm him, she repeated everything Ron and Harry and Hermione had told her about being in danger from Death Eaters.
But Draco didn’t react as she had expected. Instead of being afraid, he looked bemused.
Then he spoke. “Let me get this straight. You came here to warn me?” Draco stared at Ginny. And for the first time in quite a while, his face broke out in a genuine smile. “You’re worried about me!”
Ginny gasped. “Bloody hell! I’m telling you that your life is in serious danger and you’re sitting there making jokes!” Angrily, she spun on her heel and started to march out of the room. “Fine. Whatever.”
Draco caught her by the arm and pulled her back to face him. He had wiped the smile from his face, but he couldn’t quite conceal the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
Ginny wanted to slap him. “You’re a real idiot, you know that?”
“So my father told me,” murmured Draco, and he lowered his head to kiss her.
After a few heated moments, Ginny pulled away, flushing. “All right. You’re going to have to stop kissing me, Malfoy!”
“Draco.”
“Malfoy,” she said pointedly. “Did you hear a word I said?”
“Danger. Death Eaters. Be careful,” he said, parroting a few key words of Ginny’s anxious warning. Then he kissed her again.
Ginny broke away. “Bloody hell!” Hurriedly, she backed away from Draco, putting the teacher’s table between them. “Is it just me, or aren’t we mortal enemies?”
Draco pressed his lips together, firmly hiding his grin. He didn't think Ginny would appreciate levity right now. “It’s just you.”
“You hate me, Malfoy!”
“Draco,” he said. “And I don’t hate you.”
“Yes, you do.”
Draco sighed. “Why are you hiding behind the table? And don’t think I haven’t noticed that it is my supposed hatred we’re discussing, not yours. Does that mean you don’t hate me?”
“I am not hiding behind the table,” snapped Ginny, choosing to address only the first question. “And we’ve been talking for a few minutes already! Why the bloody hell have you not insulted me yet? Are you sick?”
“I’m not sick,” said Draco, rolling his eyes. “I just had a little talk with Zabini, that’s all.”
“Blaise Zabini?” Ginny pounced. “Ha! It’s a bet. It’s a bet to see how long it’ll take you to drive me crazy. Or something stupid like that.” Her eyes narrowed. "Is it a bet to see if you can get a Gryffindor to fall in love with you?" A horrified look flashed across her face. "Or -- have sex with you?"
Draco sighed again. Then, in a movement so quick Ginny didn’t even have time to react, he leaned forward and grabbed her by the wrists, maneuvering her over to his side of the table. She stumbled. He caught her.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked.
“Lower your voice, Ginny.”
“I want to know what Zabini said to make you suddenly decide that it’s fine for you to make skin contact with a Weasley.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“What?”
“That’s what he said.” Draco pinned Ginny to the side of the table, his hands braced on either side of her, on the tabletop, effectively imprisoning her in his arms. He looked down at her. She inhaled, as though to gather strength, then stiffened her spine and met his gaze squarely.
“He asked you what you were waiting for?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ginny’s eyes held his steadily. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Then may I say something?”
“By all means.”
“I think you’re tricking me. This is a lose-lose situation. If I return your advances you win some sort of bet, and if I don’t you vow revenge on me forever. It’s not fair.”
Draco leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re a suspicious person,” he said softly. His hips pressed against hers intimately, and Ginny fought to hide her blush, to keep her gaze locked on his. “I thought you hero types always believed the best of everybody.”
“First, I’m not a hero type, and second, the kind of person who believes the best of everybody is more commonly called naïve.”
“Are you calling Potter naïve?”
For the first time, Ginny smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Malfoy. Harry always, always believes the worst of you.”
Draco smiled back. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against hers now. “And you?”
“Harry and I have whole conversations about how evil you are. We—”
She didn’t finish her sentence because his lips touched hers. This kiss was the best yet. There was no urgency, no hurry, just a slow, sweet, thorough exploration of lips and tongues that ended only when Draco pulled away, his gray eyes warmer than Ginny had ever seen them before.
"It's not a bet, Ginny," he murmured. "Although I must admit, your last idea had some merit."
Ginny couldn't think clearly with his body pressed against hers."What?"
"You mentioned that this might be a bet to see if I could get you to have sex with me." Draco smiled. "In other words, you think that I think I'm capable of seducing you. I find that more than a little interesting."
"Interesting?" Ginny scowled. All right. Time to take charge. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she twined her arms around Draco's neck and leaned up to kiss him, her lips parted and inviting. She buried one hand in his silky blond hair and curled the other around the nape of his neck, sliding her knee smoothly between his legs. She all but melted into him, the kiss deepening, intensifying, as her heart pounded in her ears and his arms tightened around her.
Finally, she pulled away. She smiled at Draco. "I think you think that I'm capable of seducing you."
Before he could reply, Ginny hurried from the room. She heard him coming after her, and, still shocked at her own nerve, she fled.
------------------------------------
Kingsley Shacklebolt's tale was particularly nerve-wracking to Lupin, because he kept imagining what Tonks had gone through.
Shacklebolt had received a note from one of his friends, requesting a meeting in a desolate section of Knockturn alley the very evening of that same day. The note was sealed, in his friend's handwriting, and mentioned a grave danger, along with a plea for utmost secrecy. Shacklebolt, worried, had shown up. But his friend hadn't.
Instead, a cloaked figure, its face hidden in the shadows, had attacked him.Shacklebolt caught a glimpse of the hand holding the wand, dark brown and scarred, just before the Cruciatus Curse hit him full on. He went down, screaming.
But he wasn't one of the most feared Aurors for nothing. He still remembered his instructor's voice describing a scenario for him: "Okay, let's pretend you're not winning the fight. The Death Eater hit you with acurse, probably the Cruciatus, because they have a taste for pain. You fall to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony. Now -- you're going to have to assume that the Death Eater is standing near you, watching avidly as you suffer, because that's what Death Eaters like to do. So you'll lash out with your legs and arms. Maybe he won't expect that. Maybe he'll fall to the floor with you. That's a lot of maybes, but if things go your way, then you've got a chance to survive. If you don't have your wand, use your fists. They're weapons too."
So Shacklebolt had done just that. He rolled over, flailing his limbs wildly, and felt his forearm hit a leg. He gripped the ankle and pulled, with all his might, and the figure landed on him.Shacklebolt felt an elbow catch him in the stomach just as a voice shouted, "Levicorpus!"
There's two of them, Shacklebolt thought. The figure on top of him soared into the air. Shacklebolt felt desperately for his wand, but couldn't find it. He was still fumbling around when, incredibly, the floating figure somehow dropped its wand. Shacklebolt caught it and pointed it at the direction of the voice. "Petrificus Totalus!" he bellowed.
He turned his head just in time to see another figure dodging his spell. This one was light-skinned. That was the only impression he got before the man shouted, "Accio wand!"
The enemy's wand zoomed out of his hand. Without thinking, his instructor's voice saying 'use your fists' roaring in his head, Shacklebolt took off after the wand. He caught a glimpse of wide, stunned eyes just as he lunged forward, swinging his fist. It connected solidly with the man's cheek. He grabbed the wand back and kneed his attacker in the groin, making him double over in pain, and Shacklebolt shoved him under his accomplice, who was still floating in the air.
Shacklebolt spotted his own wand at his feet, where his second assailtant had probably dropped it in their struggle, and he picked it up, pocketing the extra wand.
"Who are you?" he shouted, his wand pointed at them.
The second attacker struggled to his feet. Above him, his companion flailed helplessly, and his cloak pooled around his neck, revealing a brown, thin body.With the Dark Mark burned into his shoulder.
Shacklebolt stared at the brand, and a chill coursed through him. Shit.
The second attacker jumped up, grabbing his partner by the ankle, and slipped his hand into his pocket.
"Put your hands where I can see them!" Shacklebolt yelled, but it was too late. The two cloaked figures had already vanished into thin air.
"Probably a Portkey," he muttered. "Damn."
And without wasting any more time,Shacklebolt headed for his friend's house, the friend who had allegedly sent him the pleading note. He was home. No, he hadn't sent Shacklebolt any notes, but would he like to stay for dinner?
Shacklebolt grimly declined the invitation. His next stop was Hogwarts. He didn't want to go to the Ministry; he feared Scrimgeour would accuse him of inventing stories, trying to scare the magical community just after Voldemort had been defeated. His mind was churning. If Death Eaters had attacked him -- him, Kingsley Shacklebolt! -- then a lot of random events that had been taking place since Voldemort's defeat suddenly had a new, and terrifying, meaning. So he warned McGonagall, then went to see Tonks and Lupin.
After the story was over, Lupin sat back, shaking his head. "Bloody hell," he whispered. "Death Eaters. That's what Tonks said, too. Of course, she was rambling at that point."
Shacklebolt exhaled heavily. "Your turn, Lupin. What happened to Tonks?"
"Well." Lupin glanced towards the door that led to the hospital room where Tonks was still unconscious. As soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrived, he had taken the conversation to a secluded section of the hallway, to avoid disturbing Tonks. He gazed at the Auror now, mulling over his answer.
"Well?" Shacklebolt repeated.
"To tell you the truth," Lupin said slowly, "I don't really know."
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