CHAPTER 16: DAMAGE CONTROL

AN: Get comfortable—it's a long one.

26 May 2019, Kriváň, former Slovakia

When the Portkey transported them from Budapest into the middle of the Carpathian mountains, there was a wizard and a ghost waiting in front of a cottage.

The wizard quickly snatched control of the stretchers from Neville and without a single word hurried inside, Bill afloat behind him. Neville sluggishly made to protest but the ghost spoke first: "The healer's in Harry's debt. Let him do his work."

Neville recognised her—it was the Grey Lady, one of the Hogwarts' ghosts.

She appraised him back. "I know your face."

Neville nodded absentmindedly, still a bit bewildered. The last time his eyes were open, they were staring at the inferno Harry turned the Parliamentary Library into. The image was imprinted into his eyes and he could still see its flashes whilst standing in the middle of the dark mountains. Only a few seconds ago, his ears were filled with screams of panic. Now there were only crickets to listen to.

He realised the ghost was still waiting for a reply.

"I used to go to Hogwarts," he said belatedly.

"Of course you did."

Neville blinked to clear away the lingering daze. He looked around properly. The one-storey cottage, or a log cabin actually, was standing on top of a low hill, surrounded by towering mountains from all sides. Their tops were covered with snow even this late into spring. The white caps shone against the dark sky and the black woods that the world otherwise seemed to consist.

The ghost was giving off a hue of light of her own.

"Are you…" Neville searched for words. "Are you here on Harry's orders?"

She quirked one incorporeal eyebrow at him. "Harry needs not to order. I'm his messenger."

She started floating towards the cabin, clearly expecting him to follow. He did. "How does that work?"

"He didn't ask me to explain that." And she clearly wasn't going to. "He did ask to explain the wards around this place. They'll cover simple magic from the prying eyes of the Army as long as you stay inside the clearing. I'm to warn you against venturing further. There are also perimeter-alerting wards in place, but nothing else. This place is supposed to be open for all people in possession of Harry's emergency Portkey. Stay on your guard but know that they are sentries around this place and you'll be warned of any danger."

"'Sentries'? As in… Harry's kinds of sentries?"

"Yes."

They entered the building. It was a proper country cabin, with sturdy walls made out of aged dark logs and white sealing in between them. The Grey Lady led him through a dark hallway to a spacious room that probably served for a living room on normal days but now was turned into an infirmary. Bill was lying on a table in the middle, still unconscious and unmoving; with a globe of bright light hovering above him. The healer was leaning low over Bill's chest. He didn't acknowledge Neville's presence in any way, fully focused on his task. A well-worn bag floated in the air next to them, open wide. A number of potion vials were scattered around, most of them empty.

Neville rounded the table to see what the healer was doing. His eyes bulged open the next moment, when he saw Bill's injuries in full for the first time, in bright light and with his robes vanished. He quickly looked away, covering his mouth and barely suppressing the urge to throw up. He hastily changed his course of action, backed away from the table and sat down on a wooden bench by the window. He refrained from talking to the healer, letting him work uninterrupted, hoping he was good at what he did.

He was an old man with thinning hair and hunched back. His wand hand was steady as it moved over Bill's shredded frame without pausing, and that was good enough sign for Neville.

He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. It was then, leaning his head back against the wall and listening to the healer shuffling around, that he took a deep breath for what seemed like the first time since they left their rental house on the banks of the Dunai river in Budapest. They were most assuredly never coming back. How much did they waste on the rent?

Something cold brushed his hand. He started and opened his eyes. The Grey Lady was floating close, leaning towards him. "Ted Lupin just Portkeyed to the edge of the wards."

Neville immediately jumped to his feet and hurried out of the cabin. "Teddy?" he called softly into the dark night.

"Over here," a tired voice answered from his left. A moment later, Teddy stepped into the light off a window. He looked his true self tonight. And also knackered.

"Where's Annie and Gregory?" Neville rushed to ask.

"In a safe house in between here and Serbia, staying there for the night. They are both okay."

Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "Were they followed?"

Teddy shook his head. "They were gone by the time the army arrived at Rusty's. George sent four more muggleborns to guard them, just to be sure."

"Where's George now?"

"Tying all the loose ends, I'd imagine."

"Rusty's Lot?" Neville assumed.

Teddy looked down. "Burnt to the ground with two whole streets around it. Rusty's dead."

Oh. "And Sadecki?"

"We're not sure. He disappeared before the Army got there, we know that much."

"How many… how many muggles died?"

"There's no way to know for sure. Let's hope Popović got most of them out when the attack started."

"And Molnar?"

"She was captured, and so was her husband," Teddy said gravely. "Hopefully, Harry'll be able to get them out before it's too late. How's Bill?"

It didn't surprise Neville that Teddy had already heard about Bill's injury. "Unconscious. The healer's with him now."

"What happened to him?"

"He got wedged in between the floor and several tons of marble. His chest is all caved in."

Teddy gulped audibly at hearing that. "But it wasn't a magical injury?"

"No, it wasn't," Neville confirmed, taking some consolation from that, too.

"Can I see him?"

Neville thought about it for a second. "In my experience, it doesn't help the patient any if you distract their healer."

They decided to let the wizard work in peace and sat down in a different room, an old-fashioned kitchen of a sort that could easily belong to a rural museum. Neville started a fire in the ancient wood burner, more for the comfort of the crackling flames than any necessity. He went searching for a kettle, planning to make a tea the muggle way to occupy his hands.

He only had too much experience with waiting whilst his friends lay in blood in the other room. He knew to welcome any idea that would help pass the time.

Teddy sat down by the table, staring into the darkness behind the window.

"Did you hear about how they found us?" Neville asked softly.

Teddy nodded silently.

"It's always the small things, isn't it?"

Neville had panicked momentarily and drawn a wand at a stranger. And now, people were dead.

Teddy looked up at hearing Neville's comment. "I shouldn't have led you through the Apparation points just like that. I should have explained first, should have told you more about how they worked. Or I should have followed the guy, Obliviated him on the spot, or at least-"

"Whoa- stop right there, Teddy. It was me who freaked out and drew attention to us, not you. If anyone should be beating himself over this, it's me," Neville firmly argued. "And trust me, I'm furious. At myself, I mean. But there's no point in crying over it. Let's be glad it wasn't a security breach that caused all of this, or an ally betraying. It was just my stupidity, plain and simple. I won't go as far as to hope that I can be cured of it; but it'll certainly be easier to avoid the same mistake again than to change all the wards around all your safehouses or test everyone with Legilimency. I've had to go through that before, during the war, and it was a real bother. It's no fun, going around suspecting your friends of betrayal."

Teddy got successfully distracted from his pity party. "How long were you in the army?"

"From the moment the IMRA was established until it fell apart. What was it then, four years? I trained to be a soldier long before then, though, since we lost Hogwarts."

"What did you do when it became clear you wouldn't be one anymore?"

Neville noted down the strange follow-up question, spotting the personal interest behind it. Was Teddy thinking of a change of career?

He chuckled softly for an answer. "To my eternal shame, I became a politician."

Teddy quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I had very little say in it, and it was only for a few months," Neville hurriedly added, as always feeling the need to defend himself when it came to this particular chapter of his life. "After Riddle disappeared under his Curtain together with a whole continent, the world became absolute mayhem for a couple of years. The Statute of Secrecy was broken, muggles were in an uproar and the Resistance suddenly had thousands of European wizards uprooted and without homes to take care of. The ICW was after our necks; we were the only European wizards available to be blamed for the breach of the Statute. They quickly seized their chance for a power overhaul: it was the first time since its foundation that European wizards lost control of the Confederation. We had to fight hard not to lose representation altogether-"

He stopped himself and glanced at Teddy. "Sorry, didn't mean to go off like that."

Teddy shrugged. "Actually, I wouldn't mind hearing this. I was too young back then to follow."

"Your grandma didn't explain?"

"She did- she tried, later, when I was older and asked. But she wasn't there. So please, continue."

"You sure?"

"Well, it's not like we have anything else to do while waiting."

Neville conceded that point. He had many burning questions on his mind but Teddy wasn't the person who could answer them.

"We quickly settled in Finland and established governments in exile there. Found representatives from as many countries as we had nationalities within our ranks, to take the vacated seats in the Confederation. I let myself be persuaded to take the seat for Britain. We couldn't spare anyone better to waste their time at the summits; the truly experienced were in Finland, organising the new settlement there, or leading peace talks with muggles."

Neville grimaced, remembering his short stint in the ICW. "I'd never seen a bigger bunch of pompous, self-absorbed twats. To say we've been treated disrespectfully would be putting it mildly—in their eyes, we were just self-appointed laymen, banished from their homes. Still, the magic of the treaties recognised our votes no matter their opinion. Very little good did that do to us—Britain was still found guilty for the breach of the Statute and as we took the seat for Britain, we also took the blame for it."

"They blamed you for the Curtain?"

Neville looked away from Teddy and got back to opening the various cupboards in search of some tea leaves. "Back then... tempers were running high. Riddle turned a lot of people's lives upside down with his decision to reveal magic. The warlocks of China, the Korean shamans, the Amazonians... They hadn't had a care in the happenings of the world before, but now they had been drawn out of their hiding. They weren't interested in the inner workings of our war; they only saw us as the Europeans who exposed them."

Neville turned to check if Teddy still followed; the young wizard was watching him with a fierce scowl. "For compensation, we had to found and finance a bureau that would hide criminal activity of wizards among muggles, to keep the tension low. It wasn't really a punishment, you see—every other nation got tasked with a similar agenda, as part of the worldwide efforts on the muggle relations plan. But try to explain that to people back home. It was me who came back to Finland with that verdict, so it was felt proper I should lead such a department. And with that, my political career was over—I became the most hated wizard in the new settlement, taking the rest of our very much depleted resources to protect muggles and persecute wizards. When the next ICW summit came about, no one even suggested I should try to run for a seat. You can't imagine how relieved I felt."

"If you had the votes, why didn't you make the ICW move against Riddle?"

Neville bowed his head. "We didn't have that sort of power," he said after a moment, the conversation taking him back to the months he considered some of his biggest failures. "The standing of the other countries was clear: the ICW's utmost goal had been to uphold the Statute. With it now broken, the main responsibility changed to keeping peace with the muggles. Nothing within that duty bound them to intervene and sort out our mess in Europe. They pulled back the support they provided to the Resistance and considered the case closed."

Teddy was frowning now, probably taking all of this in. Neville gave him a moment.

"Come on, though—they couldn't just ignore the fact that a whole continent fell to a Dark Lord. There must have seen the potential threat to their own security, if nothing else."

"You're right, they see the threat alright," Neville said. "But you won't like the conclusion they've reached."

He watched as Teddy's eyes widen, the implication sinking in.

"We know they've been meeting with representatives of the Empire, closed doors negotiations and all," Neville confirmed.

"The ICW's negotiating with Riddle?!"

"He might have been a Dark Lord once, but he's the Emperor now, with a powerful stronghold. A peace treaty is seen as the best solution by many wizards who haven't lost their homes or loved ones to him."

He hesitated then, considering the possible danger of Teddy knowing what he was about to add. He inwardly shrugged and continued. "There are certain provisions in the peace treaties the ICW signed with the UN after the Statute fell, added there as a show of goodwill in those early tensed times. If the muggles are in a war with the Empire, the ICW is obliged to provide suitable aid."

Understanding flashed in Teddy's eyes. "That's why you want to bring the Curtain down. You want to force the ICW's hand."

Neville frowned at that assessment. "I wish it was that straight-forward. The treaties aren't magically binding. The ICW could technically back down from their promises. The Confederation is fractured, though—some don't trust in a deal with Riddle. So, the primary goal of the Resistance's plan is to eliminate the dark lord. But, if we don't succeed in that right away, and a war breaks out, we want to provide the anti-Riddle fraction of the ICW with an argument."

It took Teddy a long moment to ask his next question. "Where does Canada stand in all this?"

Ah, of course, Teddy grew up there. Neville didn't reply right away, gathering the tidbits of information he remembered, trying to give Teddy a fair answer. "When the Curtain rose, they offered to take us all in. There already was a community in Canada—lots of European wizards moved there in the same wave your Grandmother and you did. And some of us took the offer. But the rest… We saw it as the ultimate defeat. Setting roots so far away from home, it meant giving up hope entirely. We decided to establish a temporary community, as close to our homes as possible. Even if it meant living in the frozen Lapland."

"And now?"

Neville's shoulders slumbered. "You know better than me how the life of a European wizard looks in the Americas. Or anywhere else but home, for the matter."

"I guess you want me to say that it can get rather... bare, at times."

Neville found the simple word rather fitting. He travelled through various continents many times and found their indigenous magics beautiful, fascinating and completely incomprehensible. As for Europeans wizards living there, they struggled with the same problems Neville's community did in Lapland: they were far away from their homes where their peoples had been cultivating their magic for thousands of years. Away from the safety of powerful wards, the comforts of complicated charm structures and the convenience of the native community, one's life could really get rather bare.

"If you want to negotiate with the leader of the Latin-cursing, wand-waving wizards, you wouldn't go to Finland. No matter our official political standing within the ICW, we lost the real stronghold: the cities, the schools and the ministries that our predecessors saturated with magic for centuries. It's only natural for other world leaders to speak with Riddle about the new world order-"

The door swung open and the healer stepped in. Neville swallowed the rest of his argument; the healer had his full attention right away.

"Your friend suffered a severe contusion of his heart and lungs; both his spleen and liver were almost completely crushed; his intestines, kidneys and stomach were pierced through or even ground at several places. His ribs and spine were fractured many times over, further damaging the organs," he listed without preamble. He wasn't British, his accent had a southern hint to it. "I've stopped the internal bleeding and pulverize the other fluids in his cavity. The potions are regrowing most of his organs as we speak, and the same goes for the bones. It'll be a very slow process, what with the scope of the damage he suffered but he's responding to the treatment as well as could be expected. He'll need charms and more potions to support him for the next couple of days, but given enough time, he should recover from all of these injuries fully."

Neville recognised the inclination at the end of the last statement. He steeled himself for the bad news.

"I'm worried for his brain, though. The trauma already caused severe intracranial bleeding before you put him into stasis. I relieved the pressure inside his skull but the brain had been damaged considerably. It might have done permanent harm."

"I don't understand," Teddy spoke up. "Neville brought him back while he was still breathing. He wasn't cursed. The injuries aren't magical in nature. There shouldn't be anything permanent about them."

"There's still much we don't know about the wizard's brain, young man," the healer rounded on him. "The potions won't be much help to us here. It's a discipline I'm not well-versed in but even I know it requires incredibly complicated magic to rebuild someone's brain cells—if it can be done at all."

"What exactly are you saying?" Neville interjected.

The wizard sighed. "I'm saying that I'm out of my expertise here. If you wish for your friend to survive, you need to bring in a specialist."

The Grey Lady burst through the wall then, stopping only a few inches short from flying into the healer. He startled, taking a hurried step back from the incorporeal mass.

"Remember the debt owned, Cantalupi," she hissed at him, her usual impassive face giving way to irritation. "Do your duty and take proper care of the wounded."

After his initial shock, the healer apparently found some of his lost resolve. He straightened his back and looked the ghost in the eye. "I'm doing my duty by informing you I'm not familiar with the proper procedure here. I'm doing my duty by recommending the best course of action needed for your friend's survival."

The ghost glared at him silently for a couple of seconds. Neville noticed the healer gulp under that gaze and he could almost sympathize. It wasn't every day that you faced an angry ghost. They usually stayed detached from the happenings of the world.

"Do you have a name for us?" the Grey Lady conceded at last.

The healer hesitated for a beat but he obviously had someone in mind. "My colleague from Rome, healer Millefeuille. She should be on duty tonight."

The ghost turned to Teddy. "Change into Zabini and bring her over. Use whatever means necessary to make her cooperate."

Teddy nodded. Neville watched as he conjured a mirror. With his eyes focused on the reflection, Teddy started changing his appearance to the same one Harry had worn earlier tonight.

"Should I go with you?" Neville asked Teddy.

"No," the ghost answered before Teddy could. "Zabini travels either alone or with a whole squat. Teddy, disguise it as a personal matter. Be short, be unrelenting. Neville, be ready to subdue her when they apparate in—if necessary. I won't be over for another half an hour, at least. You're on your own."

Neville was left staring at the ghost, eyebrows raised, as he realised it was Harry's words coming through her voice. Had it always been the case?

Teddy left a moment later. The Grey Lady floated out of the room, too.

"I need to go back to monitor your friend," the healer said. He frowned at Neville's burnt cheek. "Come with me, I'll address your wounds there."

Twenty minutes later found Neville nervously pacing in front of the cabin. His shoulder was newly sown and covered in anti-scarring gauze. The burns on his face and neck were mostly gone now, too.

"They'll be here in ten seconds," the Grey Lady spoke up next to him, making him jump in fright. "The healer is cooperating for now—but she's wary of the situation. Get ready."

Neville nodded. He rolled his shoulders in his new robes, transformed to look like the Army's uniform. He took a wide stance beside the door of the cabin and clasped his lit wand tightly at his side. A second later, two figures apparated some twenty metres away from the cabin. Neville's eyes immediately landed on the witch. She wore the long coat of a healer on duty, her hair pinned into a no-nonsense bun. She was probably the same age as him, or at the same time, she could be twenty years older—you could never tell for sure with witches and their beauty products.

Teddy, still disguised as Zabini, nodded at him shortly. "This way," he barked at the healer and strode inside the cabin.

She didn't follow right away, looking around with her eyes wide. Neville twitched his wand hand and beckoned to the door, staring at her sharply. He'd learnt it was better not to let the captives pause and think.

He marched right at her heels invading her personal space when she shuffled inside the cabin and then to the room where Bill still lay on the table. His head was propelled on a pillow, and a see-through balloon covered his mouth, pushing air into his lungs in short intervals. His upper body was covered by a damp cloth soaked in potions, hovering just above his chest. Neville noticed that the cloth seemed to be higher up in the air than even an hour ago—the potions were performing their magic, restoring Bill's chest back to its healthy proportions.

The witch's eyes landed on the other healer in the room. She stopped in her tracks.

"Danilo?" she asked. Neville didn't detect any warmth in her voice—they weren't friends. "What's going on?"

"You have a patient to take care of," Teddy barked before the healer could answer, his hand pointing at Bill. "That's all that needs to be going on, ma'am."

She looked down at Bill. Neville followed her eyes and cursed inwardly—Bill's self-transfiguration spells had worn off and they had forgotten to reapply them. He lay on the table without any glamours, his real face clean shaven for anyone to see. Well, maybe she wouldn't know his face- except that she did. Recognition sparked in her eyes almost immediately. Well, maybe they could pretend Bill was their captive- Except that she recognised Neville, too. When she glanced back at him, standing there in the conjured army robes and armed, he knew the charade was over.

He didn't act immediately, waiting to see her response to the new situation.

Teddy hadn't noticed the shift in the room and carried on in Zabini's authoritative voice. "It's your duty to take care of the wounded. Get on with it. Now."

She shook her head. "Not when the wounded is the enemy of the Empire."

Wrong answer. Neville had her disarmed the next moment, her wand flying into his hand. Teddy stopped him from taking further steps, though. "There's no need to Imperio her just yet. Let's offer her an alternative."

She visibly flinched at the mention of the Unforgivable, her eyes flicking between Neville's threatening wand and Zabini's imposing figure. She gathered some of her courage back a moment later, straightening up in defiance. Neville didn't let the brave front fool him; her eyes were still frantically skipping between every armed wizard in the room.

"The punishment for helping the enemies of the Empire is death," she hissed, glaring at the other healer judgingly. "You've abducted me, you've dragged me over here. I'll never help you willingly."

Teddy accepted that, nodding sagely. "If that's the truth, you won't indeed give us another option than to Imperio you. Once we'd be done here, we'd erase your memories of this whole ordeal and give you a Portkey back home. But I'm afraid that's not where this would end for you." He shook Zabini's head ruefully.

"You see, this face has most probably been compromised. You've been seen leaving with Zabini tonight: your disappearance would be investigated, your mind scraped for the tiniest possibility of reversing the Memory charms. You are a brain specialist—I have no doubt you've seen what a treatment like that can do to your mind."

Teddy paused dramatically, letting that sink. "Or," he said softly after a moment, "you'll give us a reason to protect you from all of that."

With that last sentence hanging in the air, his appearance started to change. Neville fully expected to see the brown of Teddy's normal hair but instead, it turned raven black and unruly. Neville quickly schooled his surprised face when the rest of Zabini's features didn't change into those of Teddy Lupin, but that of Harry Potter.

Neville had to stifle his chuckle when he realised Teddy didn't adjust Zabini's tall figure that much, leaving his impression of Harry stand much taller than his godfather actually did.

"Do you know who I am?" Teddy asked, looking intently at the witch who was now gaping at him in utter shock. Oh yeah, she recognised Harry's face all right.

"A ghost…" she breathed out. "... a story."

"No ghost. A wizard, from flesh and blood," Teddy argued firmly. He turned his eyes upwards, his head too; and the lightning bolt on his forehead flashed in the bright light above Bill's bed. "You know your field, you know that cursed scars can't be replicated. You are no feeble-minded child, either; you won't let any dark wizards dictate you your own history. You know who I am and you know what I survived."

She gulped and said the name voicelessly.

It was enough for Teddy. He nodded solemnly. "I'm offering to be in your debt. I'll protect you and yours from the repercussions of being here tonight with the same powers that kept me alive no matter how hard the Dark Lord tried to change it. Swear that you'll do your best to save Bill and I'll owe you a debt for that."

She was staring at him, her mouth gaping open; and just like that, Neville knew they had won her over.

She looked away after a second and turned to Bill. She narrowed her eyes, assessing him as a healer would a patient for the first time. She reached her arm towards Neville, palm raised upwards.

He hesitated at first but then he floated her wand onto her hand. "Slow movements only," he warned her.

She nodded and curled her fingers around the hovering wand carefully, heeding his order. She sent a diagnostic charm at Bill next, a deep frown settling on her face when it rang the results in her head.

She looked up at her colleague across the table. "Les avez-vous forcés à me traîner jusqu'ici car vous aviez peur d'annoncer vous-mêmes la mauvaise nouvelle?" she hissed.

Neville's French was rusty but he still remembered enough to get the gist of her sentence. Did you drag me over here because you were too afraid to deliver the bad news?

His heart skipped a beat.

The Italian healer shook his head resolutely and replied in English for their benefit. "I've sworn an oath that I would do my best to save him. As much as it pains me to say it," he added bitterly "that meant sending for you."

It was clear there was no love lost between the two colleagues.

She let out a long, shuddering breath, but her shoulders had now straightened, her posture showing resolve where there had been none a moment ago. "What equipment do you have?"

The healer gestured at the leather bag by his side. "Everything. They keep me better stocked than the hospital."

She sighed one more time and reached into the bag.

Two minutes and one oath later, they left the two professionals with Bill alone. The moment the door closed behind them, Teddy changed back to his normal self, a huge grin plastered over his young face. "I've always wanted to do that."

Neville chuckled himself. "You were quite convincing."

"Watched Harry do it enough times. We got lucky she was this starstruck, though. It wouldn't have worked otherwise," Teddy admitted. "When Harry gets here, he can do his thing and convince her properly."

They decided to go back to their tea, knowing they wouldn't help anyone by breathing down the healers' neck. According to Teddy, Harry had much more subtle ways of keeping eyes on the witch.

The Grey Lady flew through the wall of the kitchen a minute later. "Harry's on his way."

Teddy immediately jumped to his feet and Neville once again dropped preparing the tea. They rushed out of the cabin, the ghost easily overtaking them both. It was her who greeted Harry first when he apparated to the edges of the clearing.

It was quite dark this far away from the lights of the cabin but the faint glow of the ghost illuminated the incoming wizard enough to safely recognise Harry's tired frown. Neville's eyes quickly scanned him over; he bore no visible signs of injuries. He had changed from Zabini's uniform into a checked flannel shirt of all things. The soot and the sweat had disappeared too, probably under a Scourgify charm or two. It made Neville realise he hadn't used one on himself yet. He probably smelled.

Neville watched from afar as Harry's frown gave away and he smiled a weary smile at the Grey Lady. The ghost returned it.

"Thank you," Harry said softly. He then raised his arm and clasped the ghost's forearm in a gesture of gratitude.

Neville felt his eyes gulping open as the ghost grasped Harry's hand with her own, imprisoning Harry's flesh in between her incorporeal arm and fingers. "My pleasure, as always," she replied fondly.

Teddy caught Neville's shocked stare and winked at him, not at all perturbed by the casual show of the impossible. Neville forced his gaping mouth closed and returned his eyes back to the ghost. She clenched Harry's hand firmly one more time before she floated away and disappeared through the wall of the cabin.

Harry turned to Teddy then and engulfed him in a firm hug. That show of affection wasn't as shocking as touching a ghost, but it still surprised Neville to the bone.

"You were quite brilliant," Harry said softly. "Although I'd say I'm not usually that dramatic."

Teddy chuckled into Harry's shoulder. "I respectfully disagree."

Harry laughed back.

He pulled away and clasped Teddy's shoulders to look him straight in the eye, completely serious again. "Are you alright?"

Teddy grumbled. "You've seen everything that happened tonight. You know I didn't get hurt."

Harry resolutely shook his head. "I've no idea what's going on in here," he said, tapping Teddy's temple with his finger. Teddy swatted it away, rolling his eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

"Are you alright?" Harry repeated.

Teddy looked down, and mumbled, "I'll be fine soon."

Harry nodded and took a step back. He finally looked at Neville. "I'd quite like that tea if there's some brewing."

Neville now remembered the kettle he left on the stove. He could hear its distant wheezing all the way from here. He swore softly and jogged back to the kitchen.

Harry and Teddy joined him inside a few moments later, although they stopped in the hallway first. Neville watched through the open door of the kitchen as Harry casually leaned against the door to the living room. He closed his eyes and tilted his head against the wood as if to eavesdrop on the healers who tended to Bill on the other side.

He stood motionless for a long minute, and then a second one. Teddy was looking at him quietly, and Neville was looking at them both, searching for any signs of magic Harry was obviously performing.

He didn't see, or feel, any.

It did give him a chance to stare at Harry unabashedly, observing him in light of everything he had learned since the last time they'd seen each other. Back then, he'd considered Harry to be a mere smuggler. A resourceful one for sure, but still a smuggler. He still looked the par now, what with the unassuming muggle clothes and his youthful face. But Neville now knew better. Come to think of it, he should have known better the first moment he had seen him at Hermione's all those months ago; shouldn't have been fooled by the casual appearance and aloof manners. This was Harry Potter, after all.

It took one more minute for Harry to move. "Hmm," he commented softly, opened his eyes and walked into the kitchen. By that time, the tea had a layering of black skin over its surface. It'd be strong; Neville left the leaves there for too long. It was just as well. They still had a long night ahead of them.

Teddy walked in behind Harry and closed the door. He put up a privacy ward next. "So?"

Harry sat down by the table, leaning back against the wall. He took out a bag of dried leaves and small white papers from his breast pocket. "We got incredibly lucky. I believe I found strong enough reason for her to help us," he said absentmindedly, busy with rolling his joint. "She's good people. We should be straight with her."

Neville brought the cups and the pot over. He didn't need to ask about whom Harry was talking; there was only one she in the house.

By some unspoken agreement, no one said another word until Neville finished pouring the tea and they all sat down, nursing a steaming cup each. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable—it couldn't be, what with the evening they'd just had, and with Bill lying unconscious in the next room. But it wasn't awkward, either. Harry was puffing impatiently on his joint, the smoke disappearing the moment he exhaled. Neville observed the wizard as he lounged on the wooden bench, his limbs splayed wide, one of his legs bouncing.

There were many questions swimming in Neville's head and he contemplated which one to ask first. Before he spoke up, Harry beat him to it.

He addressed Teddy, his voice remorseful. "Your flat in Berlin was crawling with soldiers by the time I got there. They confiscated everything."

Teddy sagged deeper into his seat but he didn't look surprised. "That's... all right. I carry all the important stuff with me."

"Good. The Army also interrogated your friends, and your colleagues."

Teddy's eyes opened wide in panic. "Dean! Is he all right?"

"I got to him first; Portkeyed him to a safe house in Prague. He thinks he's been arrested for playing video games; probably cursing you for getting him that console in the first place."

Teddy frowned. "You don't want to tell him about the People?"

"I thought you should have the honours. Thought you'd like to see his face when he finally finds out you're a member of a secret rebel society."

That made Teddy grin. "Thanks, Harry."

The smile was only short-lived, though. "Where will I live now? What should I do?" he asked frantically a moment later.

Teddy wasn't thinking about a change of career. He was forced to abandon his life because his wand's signature was found side-apparating known enemies of the Empire across Europe. The realisation flashed through Neville's mind with a sharp tang of guilt.

"I'm sure George will be happy to have you in the Town."

Teddy's frown got only more pronounced at Harry's suggestion. "I'm not going to hide in the Town. You know I'm useful to you up here."

Harry was shaking his head resolutely. "There are plenty of ways you could be useful in the Town, too."

"Bloody hell, Harry, we've been through this already! George has no need for a Metamorphmagus in the Town. But you do—you go through litres of Polyjuice potions every month."

"I'd rather spend Polyjuice on an experienced soldier than have my godson in danger."

"I'm a soldier, too! Do I need to slap you with the diploma from Durmstrang again?"

Neville got the distinct feeling that this was a recurring argument between these two.

Teddy took advantage of Harry's momentary silence and kept pressing. "You know I can hold my own, you've taught me loads yourself! Give me a chance to prove it."

"I did," Harry said softly. "I gave you a task—to show Bill and Neville around. And how did that work out?"

Oh. Low blow. Neville frowned, watching as Teddy twitched under the accusation. Harry wasn't done yet, though. "Rusty's dead. And so are tens of muggles. Molnar, too. St. Vitus in Prague might have been compromised. You can't go back to your home, and neither can many of George's contacts in Budapest!"

Teddy seemed to be getting smaller and smaller throughout Harry's list. At this point though, his eyes suddenly narrowed. He straightened up on his chair and jabbed an accusing finger back at Harry. "Ha! Nice try, Harry!"

Neville's eyes kept flicking between the two of them. He was confused by Teddy's sudden proclamation but he still didn't hesitate to come to his defence. "None of that is Teddy's fault, Harry, and you know it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I do know that. But if Teddy's stupid enough to blame himself, there's no reason why I shouldn't use it against him and guilt-trip him to stay put, is there?"

Huh?

There was no real annoyance in Harry's voice when he said that. When Neville glanced at Teddy, the young wizard appeared only pleased with himself for seeing through Harry's poor attempt at manipulation. There was none of that crestfallen quilt in his face anymore. Neville returned his eyes to Harry to see the corners of his mouth twitching.

Hmm. Maybe Harry wasn't such an arsehole after all.

"You can't keep coddling me forever," Teddy returned back to the matter at hand, his voice much calmer now. "It's you who always says we should use all our assets."

Harry sighed, completely serious again. "You've drawn attention to yourself. When Riddle finds out who you are, he'll throw everything he has onto capturing you. He knows what my weaknesses are and he'll use you against me. For what it's worth, though, I'm sorry."

Teddy wasn't giving up. "Well, he doesn't know who I am yet, right? Let me help out until he finds out. If it happens, I promise I'll hide and you won't hear a word of complaint."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, considering it. "I can't be sure anymore I follow everything Riddle's doing," he started slowly. When Teddy took a breath to argue, Harry raised his hand to stop him. "But I'll think about it. In the meantime, you can stay in Prague with George."

Judging by Teddy's smile, even this small concession was a big victory. It made Neville wonder what type of parenting figure Harry used to be when Teddy was a teenager.

Harry was talking again. "And by the way, Nev, it wasn't your stupidity that caused this, either," he argued, going smoothly back to a conversation that he hadn't been a part of. "The blame is all mine. I've grown too complacent, too confident in my abilities to keep you safe. I shouldn't have let you traipse into the wizarding world without proper instructions."

He turned back to Teddy. "I've seen the wizard at the Apparation point as clearly as you lot, and I've seen his reaction to Neville drawing his wand. I paid close attention to Army reports afterwards but when nothing came up, I assumed the guy hadn't reported the incident." He shook his head ruefully. "I should have seen this coming from far away. Instead, I was confident I could watch Riddle's every move. I shouldn't have underestimated Tom like this."

He paused to drag a last powerful puff of his joint and threw the butt away. He glanced away from them both, staring into the wall. "After all we've been through, I really should have known better."

Neville watched the butt disappear before it hit the floor. He shrugged. Assigning blame was pointless. He didn't care who had a bigger part in it, as long as they all learned to avoid their mistakes. He had more pressing matters to discuss now when Harry was finally here and talking.

He took the opening. "Are you saying you can watch Riddle? The same way you watched us?"

"I'm saying that after tonight, Riddle has it confirmed that if he gives orders mentally, I won't be aware of them," Harry muttered. "That complicates things."

"So that means you can," Neville surmised. "Is it the same power that allows you to fight like you did in the library? To see… more?"

Harry looked at him, his eyes contemplative. It took him a moment to speak up, and when he did, it was to ask a question of his own. "Now that you've seen me fight, would you go the other way if I said I had it under control?"

Neville paused, surprised by that question, although he didn't have to think much about the answer—he had decided that would have been the right course of action hours ago, when he stood atop the staircase in the Library and watched Harry go against eighty soldiers and win. He didn't say as much now, though, because that wasn't the right answer. "I'd do what my leader would order me to."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. "Alright, then. What would you advise Bill to do?"

Neville glanced at the door, in the direction where Bill now lay unconscious. "You saved my life tonight when we were supposed to be covering your back," he said to Harry as a way of an answer. "Thank you."

Harry grumbled. "I consider us even."

When Neville looked at him in confusion, Harry added. "For that Imperio. I stand by my reasons why I cast it but even I understand it isn't entirely kosher to throw that curse at your friends."

Neville had almost forgotten about that incident. Now that it was out there, he frowned in annoyance. "No, that wasn't alright," he hissed but without any true vehemence behind it. As Harry said, he had saved his life since. They were even.

He wasn't above using Harry's rare moment of guilt to his advantage, though. He returned back to his questions. "How are you doing it, Harry? What allows you to see what's behind your back, or what's happening to Riddle thousands of kilometres away? Can you teach anyone else?"

Thump. Harry slammed his cup down and the sound of the china hitting the table reverberated through the kitchen. "Oh, fuck off, Nev. I've had enough of this persistent interrogation."

Neville blinked in surprise. Harry's jovial aloofness was completely gone; replaced by very tangible irritation without a single warning.

"I'm not obliged to tell you more than I already have. We are allies: you know what you need to know in order to work with me. Stop asking for more as if you have a right to insist on these answers!"

Allies, not friends. Neville didn't miss that message.

He was startled by the vehemence of Harry's statement and it took him a moment to decide on a proper reaction. He knew that responding in kind wouldn't get him anywhere. Harry was correct—if he wasn't willing to give them the answers, they really had no ground to push for them.

When he finally spoke up, it was with a different line of questioning altogether. "It's considered common courtesy even between allies to let them know you are a Legillimens."

Harry seemed to be momentarily taken aback by the change of topic but he was quick to recover. "'Courtesy', you say?" He chuckled dryly. "The last time I did the courteous thing, I let Pansy Parkinson live after she surrendered her wand. The next moment, she's getting rid of her binds and throwing a dagger at Ron Weasley's back. It was her who finally taught me courtesy is not practical."

Neville remembered that story. It was beside the point here, though. "You're not denying it, then. You've been reading our thoughts."

"No. I'm in no habit of reading your lot," Harry argued calmly. "I skim the occasional superficial thought if I can't help it. They're harder to ignore when emotions are running high and you're practically screaming them into my face like you did tonight."

"I can't really confirm you're speaking the truth now, can I?"

Harry shrugged. He was back to his usual nonchalant demeanour. "If you're that worried, have your Occlumency shields up all the time I'm around. The exercise would only do you good."

Neville frowned. That would be a real pain in the arse. He wasn't skilled enough to have his shields up without conscious effort. No, he'd rather do without. Come to think of it, there wasn't much left that he had to hide from Harry, anyway.

That didn't mean he was happy about it. "For someone who constantly invades other's privacy, you sure guard your own business closely," he grumbled. The hypocrisy irritated him.

Teddy spoke up, nodding enthusiastically in support of Neville's point. "Try to live with that through puberty!"

Neville ignored the attempt at levity. "We were stuck in a caravan for three weeks. Why didn't you tell us about George? Or Fred? Teddy? You could have told me about the People when we met at Hermione's. Planning for this mission would have been half the trouble!"

Harry stared at him flatly. "You learned about them the moment it was safe to know."

Neville was waiting for Harry to elaborate but after a few seconds of silence, it became clear Harry had no intention to. Neville took a breath to argue for the explanation Harry owed them. He reconsidered, though. He forcibly pushed down on his irritation and leant back on his chair with a loud huff.

Harry was watching him closely. "You've decided to wait for Bill tackle this one, haven't you?"

Neville took one more calming breath. "I thought you weren't reading my thoughts."

Harry chuckled. "No need for that. We did spend three weeks in a small caravan. Not to mention six years in one bedroom."

"Why Fiendfyre?" Neville asked then. "Why did you ask me to conjure the Fyre?"

Harry's eyes narrowed at another sudden change of topic. He didn't grant Neville any other reaction, though.

"It was the most effective spell for the occasion."

Neville stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the evasive reply. "Why didn't you conjure it yourself?" he rephrased.

Harry tilted his head, smiling slightly. "I never really mastered that spell."

Harry wasn't the only one who had learned to read the other well. Neville recognised that smile. Harry grinned like that when he was able to tell the truth for once. He would give them a thinly veiled truth and knew it would be understood incorrectly.

So from that smart-ass grin, Neville deduced Harry was indeed unable to conjure Fiendfyre but not from his lack of skills. There must have been other, less obvious, reasons. What's more, Neville was almost sure Harry could control the spell. He remembered with painful clarity the moment he stood on the balcony of the Library and the Fyre was wrenched from under his control. He remembered the murderous rage when the flames turned their attention to him.

He hoped it wasn't Harry's rage that fuel the flames but right now, he couldn't think of an alternative. Harry was the one who had asked him to use this particular spell. He was the one who had planned to turn the Library into an Inferno with the cursed fire. And he was the one who got out of the building unscathed.

Neville couldn't think of any other explanation to all this other than that it was Harry who controlled the Fiendfyre.

The similarities to the way Ginny died came to mind. He was careful to Occlud his thoughts, avoiding Harry's eyes for good measure. There was no point in confronting Harry about his suspicions right now. That would only lead to more evasive answers and even more distrust between them. That was the opposite of what they both needed right now.

"Is there any food around here?" Teddy spoke up in the following silence, effectively changing the topic. "I'm starving."

Come to think of it, Neville was too.

Instead of answering, Harry took out a casserole from the pocket of his jeans. The moment he raised its lid off, the salivating smell of baked meat filled up the whole kitchen.

"Is that Winky's roast beef?" Teddy asked, eyeing the casserole with a shine in his eyes.

"Winky?" Neville repeated in astonishment, recognising the name. "She's still with you, after all this time?"

"Not even severe arthritis can keep that elf from pestering me," Harry grumbled absentmindedly. His arm disappeared in his pocket all the way to his elbow, and he seemed to be rummaging in the space there in earnest. "Oh dear, I forgot to take the potatoes. I won't ever hear the end of this."

Teddy chuckled and whispered loudly towards Neville. "Winky's also the only authority Harry ever listens to."

Harry frowned at him. "Behave, youngling. And set the table for four. George will be here soon."

It appeared Harry had remembered to take the dessert at least. He took the box out and they sat down to a late dinner of roast beef with a treacle tart on the side.

Neville was helping himself to a slice of each when they heard the front door open. He looked up in alarm but seeing Harry's calm face, he assumed it must have been George. They listened to his quiet steps and then the squeaking of a door. Neville guessed he had gone to see Bill. They ate in silence until the door to the kitchen suddenly opened and a stranger walked in.

Neville dropped his cutlery and had his wand trained at him in an instant. The fork hit his plate with a loud clank.

The man raised his empty hands. "Polyjuice potion, Neville," he said calmly.

Neville glanced at Harry and Ted. Neither of them even looked up from their food. He let his wand slip back into its holster and grumbled, "This is getting old."

George shrugged the stranger's shoulders and sat down to the last empty plate. He helped himself to a hefty portion of the meat. "Molnar's dead?" he asked a minute later.

Harry nodded gravely. "Her interrogation started before I got to her."

"Oh," George breathed out. "She poisoned herself?"

"She bit the capsule right away. Didn't suffer much."

Neville winced. He met the witch only a few hours ago and technically, she was the one who'd sent them to the Library to get captured. However, she'd been under the Imperio when she did that. She had seemed nice before then.

Harry continued. "I managed to get her husband out. He's a bit worse for wear but he'll live."

George took that in with a nod. "I pulled all their friends out of Budapest. No one else got taken. As for Prague—St. Vitus stays safe, as always. No one even approached the cathedral."

"Should I kill Zabini or do you want to have the honours?" George asked next.

Harry hesitated. "He hasn't been compromised yet."

"Yet. You know it's only a matter of hours. The investigation will reveal you wore his face tonight." George paused to swallow his bite. "I have enough mouths to feed, I don't need to take care of useless prisoners, too."

"I know. Keep him alive for a few more days, I'll talk to him soon."

"You've tried to convert that arsehole before. I can't imagine he'll be more inclined to cooperate after months of imprisonment. He's more useful to you dead now."

"Few more days. I'll kill him then if need be."

Neville's eyes skipped between George and Harry, as the two of them discussed death and murder whilst munching on their beef, their appetite intact. He'd lost his, though. He pushed the unfinished plate away and leaned back in his chair. No one paid him any mind.

"What's Riddle doing?" George asked.

"Interrogating the survivors. He called the press over but he didn't release any statements yet."

George looked down at his wristwatch where planets floated across the dial. "The deadline for the morning print is in two hours. Is he trying to cover everything up?"

Harry shook his head firmly. "The whole of Budapest saw the fire. He has to give them a story. Otherwise, people would know something's amiss."

George scrunched up the stranger's face in thought. "Why's he hesitating?"

"I reckon he has a major decision to make. He can either spin it as an accident and we carry on as we did; or he'll out us to the public as the enemies of the empire."

George stopped eating and started drumming his fingers on the table in thought. Neville sat back, watching the two of them in silence, curious where this would lead.

"You could have gotten out of there without the big boom; Merlin knows you've faced worse odds and you've slipped away without anyone the wiser," George said slowly at last. "But you didn't this time. You wanted the whole city to see, you wanted it to be in the papers. Why?"

Harry smiled. "If Riddle blames it on us, he'll tell everyone what we are capable of. If he covers it up as an accident, we tell whomever we want."

George narrowed his eyes at Harry in understanding. "You want to start recruiting."

Harry nodded. "It's time we showed the public that there's another viable option out there than just following him."

"It's risky. If he decides to blame us, he can easily swing the public opinion against us. You did destroy a wizarding landmark. And probably killed a lot of someone's children."

"That I did," Harry conceded softly. "Forty-three, to be precise."

Harry's face was the picture of cool detachment when he said that.

His leg started bouncing again but he didn't light another joint.

"Hopefully, they will be the last ones," Teddy spoke up for the first time in a while. "You needed to show the stick for the carrot to work."

Harry shrugged in indifference. "Sure. We can hope for whatever we want. But that's not how wars usually go. Anyway, we don't have to worry about their parents. It was the foster half-bloods, again."

Harry turned to him before Neville had to ask for clarification. "Sadecki told you about those—wizards and witches bred by the army; born from muggle mothers who were raped and killed after giving birth. That's why all the soldiers in the Library were so young and not that well trained. Riddle hopes I'll show mercy to them. Or, he just doesn't want to waste purebloods, who knows. In either way, at least there are no parents that would take it personally. And as for the general public—if he decides to blame us, I'll call in some favours at the papers and try to mitigate the tone of the accusations."

"You would show the pull you have over the press. He'll most probably have everyone involved removed," George pointed out. "Is this really worth it?"

"Yes. We can't allow him to set the tone," Harry retorted firmly. "I'm not too worried for my contacts. They wouldn't do anything overt and they'd cover their tracks well enough," Harry waved that concern away. "No, if he truly decides to blame us, the journalists will be the least of our problems."

"Hm?"

"It would mean he finally feels threatened enough to move openly against me. It would mean he's recruiting, too—recruiting the public opinion to sponsor a war."

George stopped his drumming. "Oh," he breathed out. "Are you ready for that?"

Harry shrugged. "I hoped for a bit more time. But it was a risk I was willing to take."

"He'll know what you're doing," Teddy softly chimed in. "I mean—he'll recognise the change in your pattern, recognise that you upped the game tonight."

"Yes. And the way he'll spin it in the morning press will tell us how threatened he feels by it. If he decides to publicly admit his biggest failure and tell everyone that Harry Potter is alive, it means he's finally taking us seriously."

When no one seemed to see the obvious flaw in that logic, Neville decided to finally join in and point it out. "Why would he have to publish your name? What stops him from saying that it was just some group of muggle-loving terrorists? There would be no shame in publishing that; every regime has enemies. He certainly wasn't ashamed to launch the manhunt for Bill and me."

Harry grinned at him. "Of course he won't name me in the article." The grin kept growing, changing Harry's face into a rather manic show of teeth. He didn't add anything else.

George next to him rolled his eyes in exasperation and took pity on Neville. "Harry made sure Riddle never quite managed to kill his name, as he did with Dumbledore's and the others'. The name's powerful and still reverberates with wizards. If Riddle publishes tomorrow that some muggle lovers did this, it'll be a piece of piss to arrange that by the end of the week, the whole Empire knows that Harry Potter is alive and killing soldiers at large," George explained. "And Riddle knows it."

A knock on the door sounded in that moment, further punctuating George's line. It also made Neville, Ted and George jump in surprise.

Only Harry didn't look startled. "Come in, Vivia," he called softly. He got his limbs in order, quit the bouncing and finally sat up like a civilised person.

The door opened, revealing a wide-eyed witch standing in its frame. Neville realised she had probably been standing there for a while.

Harry confirmed it with his next words. "We're prepared to explain everything you've just heard. But can you tell us about Bill's condition first?"

She blinked once, then straightened up and stepped inside the room. "I've completed the procedure. We'll be monitoring him now, watching for any signs."

Neville shared a look with Ted. "Can you elaborate?" he asked. "What's wrong with him?"

"Oh. I thought you'd been given his diagnosis." She cleared her throat and started anew.

"He suffered severe bleeding into his brain followed with immediate swelling. It damaged his cortex irrevocably. And you see, the problem with the brain is that the potions can't simply regrow the organ with the parts that are unique to each of us, without knowing the right formula. I mean… we can't just copy the cells that were unharmed without a... map off all the unique synapsis and circuits between them. These are responsible for his unique personality. Without knowing them, I can rebuild the organ and restart his basic functions and instincts, but you wouldn't get your friend back."

Neville was frowning viciously, the explanation sounding awfully familiar. Everyone else seemed dubious, though.

The witch saw she was losing them. She tried again. "Basically, our potions can't simply rebuild what houses his mind, his memories, his sense of self without the potions knowing his mind, his memories and his sense of self. But all of this was stored in the cortex that was destroyed. You see the problem now?"

Neville understood perfectly. He swallowed, his throat dry.

"However, a wizard's personality gets imprinted in our… magic, for lack of a better word, through our daily use of it. Its reflection exists independent of our brain; magic remembers even if the body's destroyed. The best we can try to do is to... pousser- to prompt his magic to provide the formula to the potion."

"What results can we hope for?" Harry asked when she paused.

"If my spells work correctly, the potions can recreate his cortex together with his mind and even some of his memories."

"And if they don't?" Harry prompted.

"His magic won't respond. He'll stay the way he is now, unresponsive and able to perform only basic functions-"

Neville's heart clenched, now remembering his parents in St Mungo clearly. He closed his eyes, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in his chest. He couldn't bear the thought of Bill...

"-or his magic will react violently to my intrusion, and the backlash will kill him," the witch finished into a solemn silence.

"What are the chances?" Teddy asked, his face pale.

"Understand that this is all very experimental." She shook her head. "It's as far from the scientific approach as healing can ever get—we're messing with the concept of what makes us magical, something that no wizard ever analyzed sufficiently. There are certainly no statistics I could rely on here."

When that answer only earned her four unrelenting stares, she sighed. "Between the three options? Probably even. The spells work slowly. We'll be watching him constantly but I don't think we'll be able to see any reaction sooner than in an hour."

"Is there anything we can do in the meantime?" George spoke up, his voice carefully even.

She shook her head. "I've worked hard to create the right environment. Any interference would only disturb it."

"Thank you," Harry spoke up, his voice sincere. Neville quickly nodded in agreement.

Harry got up from the table and approached her. "There wasn't much time for manners before. Allow me to rectify." He offered her his hand. "I'm Harry."

She gingerly took it. "Vivia Millefeuille. We met before, years ago, in-"

"-in Hogwarts, during the Triwizard Tournament," he interrupted her. "I remember. You were quite upset when the Goblet of Fire didn't pick you as the Beauxbatons' champion." He didn't let go of her hand after they shook.

She looked shocked by this. "I'd never dreamed you'd…"

"I have a very good memory for faces."

She frowned now. "I cried like a silly girl that evening."

He smiled kindly at her. "You are ambitious. You must be, to get the position you hold now."

Neville looked at her properly, trying and failing to recognize any of her features. He had been fourteen during the Triwizard Tournament and although his teenage self had certainly paid a lot of attention to the new addition to Hogwarts, he admired a lot more other pretty faces since then. Millefeuille was still attractive; Neville suspected that she could be even lovelier if she smiled.

Harry finally dropped her hand and turned to the rest of the room. "I believe you recognised Neville here. As for the other two gentlemen—I'd prefer not to reveal their identity just yet. I hope you'll understand my caution. I could give you fake names but I don't plan on lying to you tonight." He gestured to the food on the table. "Would you join us for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," she said slowly.

"Tea, then? Neville, would you mind?"

Neville looked at the kettle on the wood stove, considered making another brew the muggle way, and then conjured some instant hot tea inside the pot.

Harry sat back to the table and beckoned the healer to do so, too.

"What exactly did you get me into, Mr Potter?" she asked then. "Is my family in danger?"

"We're doing our best to prevent that," he assured her. "You've been seen leaving with Zabini by four different people. We've already altered their memories. The next step is to cover your absence. Can I ask for one of your hairs, for a Polyjuice potion? And your immediate schedule? I'll send someone to impersonate you for the next few hours. They'll watch for signs of surveillance. Once we've confirmed there's none, you'll be able to go back to your life."

She frowned at that plan, not answering his request right away. She glanced at the other faces around the table. "What's going on here?"

Harry smiled gently at her. Neville watched, surprised and fully impressed, as Harry turned on his charm with very little effort, the uncaring stoner persona he usually portrayed gone for the moment, giving way to a persuasive charisma. He made himself look slightly older tonight, leaving the misleading appearance of a barely-adult behind. His clothes didn't scream respect; quite the opposite, he looked like a muggle carpenter in that shirt. But the lack of care with which he wore it spoke volumes, too.

Neville remembered George's words from before. Harry was recruiting.

"You've probably guessed but let me sum it up anyway—the Dark Lord didn't win completely. There are people who still oppose him. We work in hiding for the time being but we still have the power to help a lot of good people—like your nieces."

Her eyes opened impossibly wide at hearing that. "Comment as-tu..." she breathed out before she paused. When she spoke up again, her voice turned ice cold. "You've done your research. How did you learn about my nieces?"

"From Madame Maxime."

"La Directrice? She's one of you?"

"Yes. We were the ones who created the false identities for your nieces, Madame Maxime just communicated it all with your sister. She's a very public figure; she can't very well be seen forging blood certificates. "

"Does she know? My sister, I mean."

"No. There was never any need to put her into more danger."

The witch shook her head ruefully. "We just wanted to give them a chance for a good life. They're both very talented girls, they didn't deserve to be shunned by society just because my sister fell in love with the wrong man."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "We fully agree, they have a right to a good life, as much as the rest of us." He paused for a moment. "And they have a right to live it without fear of being discovered."

The volume of his voice dropped. "You know very well what the punishment for lying about your blood status is. They'd be both killed if anyone found out. Your sister would be punished, too, for lying about her affair with a muggle."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No," he said resolutely. "What good would that do? I'd only bring attention to Madame Maxime. You have nothing to fear from us—if your family were discovered, we'd be in danger, too."

He took a deep breath. "I'm saying that it's not right for your family to live with that fear looming over their heads every day. We're doing our best to change that."

He waved at the rest of the people around the table. "I wanted you to know who it was that you helped today."

She heaved a sigh and then reached up with her hand. She pulled one of her hairs out and gave it to Harry. "I'd be doing the rounds just about now," she said calmly. "But it's not unusual to be late. I'd finish my shift around six in the morning. None of my patients is an urgent case but I'd still prefer if you replaced me with someone who can recognise the difference between mending and healing charms."

Harry conjured a plastic bag and placed her hair inside. "I'll do my best."

"We're not finished talking," she warned him when he got to his feet.

"I wouldn't expect anything else." He nodded at the hair in his hand. "Let me get this sorted first."

Bill lay in the exact same position as a few hours ago. Still unconscious and still not breathing on his own. His torso was covered with potion-soaked cloth and a shiny orb hovered over his mouth and nose, pushing air and who knows what else into his mending lungs. There were no visible signs of healer's Millefeuille magic.

Neville watched as the orb compressed and expanded in even intervals. The predictability of the movement was mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the hectic night he was having.

The Italian healer was dozing off on an enlarged bench by the window. Millefeuille was still very much awake, her eyes on Bill's unresponsive form. Every now and then, her eyes would glance up at Neville. Something was obviously on her mind. It was only a matter of time until she addressed him.

She took a deep breath. Here it goes.

"I saw your picture in the papers a couple of weeks ago. There were no names but I recognised both of you right away. There were quite a few stories about the Resistance published back in the day."

Neville knew. He remembered the propaganda photographers chasing them around their camp in France, forcing them to pose.

"The article said that you infiltrated the Empire. Is that true? Have you been living outside of Europe all these years?"

He nodded imperceptibly.

"Oh." She paused for a short moment. "Is Fleur still with him?" She pointed at Bill.

He looked up at her with more interest upon hearing Fleur's name. "Were you two friends at school?"

She snickered at that. "We were anything but." She sighed. "We were teenagers back then, and I'd like to think I've outgrown my jealousy. I'd like to know how she's doing."

Neville considered the consequences of letting her know and didn't find them dangerous. "They have three daughters now," he said. "Almost fully grown. The oldest is apprenticing in China now. They've done very well for themselves, what with Bill's curse-breaking in Egypt. They lead a very comfortable life."

She took that all in with one rather bewildered nod. "China, Egypt…" she repeated in astonishment. "It sounds almost unbelievable to me now, after all these years confined in the Empire. Don't get me wrong, life got so much better now that we're out in the open. But it's moments like these when you get reminded of the price we paid."

Neville stared at her, surprised to hear such a view on matters.

She mistook his frown for confusion. "I mean, we secured all the magical sights that truly matter, but we lost contact with other cultures, with the obscure and the exotic," she elaborated. "We have no one to learn from, to provide contrast to our standards. It's my belief that it'll leave us stunted, as a society, in some ways; and probably hinder magical development, too. It makes me wonder if the Empire can last for long if we stay this secluded."

She was on a roll now. "I was so excited when the Crossing opened. I thought we would finally be allowed to travel again, to communicate with the outside world. I applied for a permit right away—and was denied as everyone else I know who asked. 'It hasn't been confirmed safe for wizards to travel beyond', was the only justification we were ever given. There's no authority you can appeal to. I tried four more times, once for every year the Crossing has been opened, and received the same letter back every time. They didn't even bother changing the automatic reply in those five years."

Neville was at loss as to what he could say to that. He had never considered the plights of your normal wizards living in the Empire. Somewhere in his mind, he had them all categorized as the enemy. It was probably useful, made him appropriately cautious. It took moments like these to throw his stereotypes back into his face.

He was saved from commenting when the door opened and George walked in, still wearing the face of a stranger.

"Any change?" George immediately asked.

Millefeuille looked momentarily put off by the interruption, apparently not done with the previous discussion. She obliged him anyway, waving her wand at Bill.

Her spell brushed his body with incredible softness, as not to disturb the healing magic at work. Neville had seen her cast it several times by now, and it always only ruffled Bill's hair gently.

She shook her head when she read the results. "No response so far."

"It's been an hour," George pointed out. "What does it mean?"

"It doesn't have to mean anything. The magic could simply take more time to respond. I'd wait for at least two more hours before we draw any conclusions."

Despite her words, Neville didn't feel much assured. His heart sunk, and he reached to clasp Bill's hand.

Wait a minute.

He grasped his wand instead and aimed it at George's Polyjuiced form. "It's been more than an hour."

The wizard stared at the tip of his wand in confusion. "What?"

"You haven't changed back. Who are you?"

The wizard's alarm disappeared. He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Calm down, Nev. I've taken several doses, we always do."

"That's not how Polyjuice works."

"It is if you take it in capsules."

Neville's wand didn't waver but he didn't start cursing, either. Instead, he beckoned the wizard to explain.

"The capsules have walls of different width, calculated to dissolve in your stomach gradually, one each hour. I've taken four—they'll be releasing a dose of the potion into my system every sixty minutes without anyone the wiser. We always take capsules these days—you don't need to do any suspicious potion drinking in front of the people you're trying to fool; and in case you're captured, your true identity won't show if they let you sit for an hour. Not to mention, you avoid the taste of the potion altogether, which I consider the biggest advantage by far."

George turned to Millefeuille. "I trust I don't need to stress how sensitive this piece of information is. It won't leave this room."

The healer was looking at him in fascination. "This is ingenious! The possibilities! These capsules, what are they made of?"

"Hold your horses, woman!" George glared at her. "That's a company secret. You can't share this with anyone, anyway. That includes your colleagues or the research facility-"

Neville zoned them out because, in that moment, something started happening with Bill. Neville caught a movement with the corner of his eyes—there, Bill's right hand started twitching.

"Vivia," Neville called over their raised voices. When he had her attention, he pointed at Bill's hand. "What does that mean?"

She was by his side in an instant, wand already aimed. There was a glow to Bill's fingers now, the air above their skin seemed to shimmer.

She cast her gentle scanning spell again. This time, it connected with a bang, energy frizzling in the air around Bill's body and sending a backlash at the healer. She stumbled back a few steps.

"Well, his magic is reacting now," she surmised. "And it doesn't like my intrusion."

"Do you mean…"

She looked at Neville with sad eyes. "It means it's fighting against the suggestions I've made. It won't heal Bill."

The door opened with a blast and Harry stormed inside, Ted right on his heels. He rounded on Millefeuille. "What else is here to do?"

She shook her head, looking at her feet.

Harry dismissed her, strode to the table in the middle of the room and reached for Bill's hand.

"Mr Potter," the witch halted him. "I really don't think any disturbance is a good idea right now."

"Can I make it any worse?"

He didn't wait for a reply. He clasped Bill's hand in between his two and closed his eyes in concentration. Neville watched Harry's eyelids flutter but otherwise, he was completely still. And so stayed the rest of the room, even the Italian healer who had woken up to the commotion a minute ago and now stared blurry-eyed at the rest of them.

A minute passed without anyone moving. And then Harry's shoulders slumped down and his head fell. Neville saw his fingers go white as he clutched the edge of the table. He stayed like that for a second before he looked up at Millefeuille. "Do your best to save him. I implore you."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

"I already have," the healer whispered but Harry wasn't there to hear it anymore.

She approached Bill anyway, her wand blazing. Neville didn't know much about her field of magic but he recognised the dispelling movements of her wand well enough. He assumed she was cancelling her enchantments that were causing the air in the room to heat up and crackle with energy now.

The other healer rushed to help her. Neville moved out of their way and sat by the window. Teddy hurried out of the room after Harry but George stayed. He joined Neville on the bench now, sitting down stiffly.

They watched the two healers work in silence.

Three minutes later, Neville had to leave the suffocating room. George chose to stay but Neville walked out of there and into the kitchen.

Harry and Teddy were there, talking in hushed tones but still loud enough for Neville to hear.

"There must be something you can do," Teddy was saying.

"I've tried calming his magic, tried talking to his mind. It didn't work; there was nothing I could reach."

Harry was standing with his back to them, leaning his hands against the wall on either side of the small window, staring into the blackness beyond. "I'm not a miracle worker, Teddy," he mumbled a moment later.

It took Teddy a long time to reply and when he did, his voice was small but determined. "I know exactly what you are, Harry. There must be something in your power to help him."

Harry looked up at that. He glanced at Neville standing in the doorframe and then dismissed him with a shrug. "Okay, Teddy. Tell me what you think I am."

Teddy gulped in the face of Harry's glare but he didn't relent. "I'm not completely blind, you know. I've read the Tale, and I've heard the stories. The Stone, the Wand, the Cloak. I connected the odds but I never approached you about it, because it never mattered. Don't worry, I've never actually done any research, never asked any questions. If you haven't noticed me snooping then no one else-"

"Teddy," Harry spoke up evenly, interrupting the budding rant. "What do you think I am?"

"Well, you managed to gather all the... Hallows, didn't you? If so, that would make you the- the Master of Death."

It was silent for a moment after Teddy's reverent proclamation. Then, Harry burst into laughter.

It was an ugly laugh, bitter and cold.

Teddy looked stunned. "Are the stories lying?"

Harry was still snickering, a certain hint of desperation to it now. "Sorry. It's just funny, listening to my old naive hopes repeated by someone else." He rolled his eyes at Teddy's question. "The stories are... vague."

"Please—explain."

Harry once again glanced at Neville before his eyes returned to Teddy's pleading face. He released a long breath. "What powers did you imagine a mastery over death would grant? What's death in that title? Is it the fleeting moment of someone's passing? Or the master's own death? Or is it some sort of mythical entity, as was the character in the fairytale?"

He didn't wait for Teddy to reply. "There's no such creature as Death; or if there is, I've never met it and I doubt it would take a human for a master, anyway. As for controlling someone's death—every single human being can assume power over that. Healers can postpone it, killers rush it. As for my own death… well, that's very much the last thing I've ever mastered. No, Teddy. Death is the state of being dead. That's what the Hallows grant power over—the mastership over the dead, over everything that opposes the living. Or at least that's my understanding of it."

"What does it mean?"

Harry shrugged casually but his eyes were ablaze. "Take Bill lying in the next room. You're asking me to use my powers to save him. Well, there's very little I can do for him whilst he still breaths. But once he's dead, then sure, he's mine to command. Or at least what's left of him here."

Neville stumbled at hearing that, his knees threatening to give away. He clumsily sat down on the nearest chair.

Teddy finally seemed to have noticed him. "Are you all right, Nev?"

Neville looked up at that question. All right? No, he supposed he wasn't all right. He watched Harry's face go ashen and knew the news had reached him. For Teddy's sake though, Neville still had to voice it.

"There was nothing the healers could do. Bill's gone."

...

A/N:

Next one's the finale (of the second arc). Coming out soon.

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