Thirty minutes before.
Fleur brought the slice of golden toast to her lips and bit, relishing the crunch.
When she first arrived in Britain, the food had been one of her greatest enemies. It was not exactly inedible, but so often their English meals were overly heavy, and they lacked the culinary sophistication she was used to back in France.
She still missed her homeland dearly, and everything that came with it. But, to be honest, the food was no longer among her complaints. In Harry's home, the quality was such that not even Fleur could complain.
She sighed blissfully, something that did not go unnoticed.
"It's good, isn't it?" Susan asked.
The two of them were sitting at the dining room table for a late brunch. The windows were open, allowing a warm breeze to blow in, Susan's red hair swaying slightly.
"I can have no complaints," Fleur said. "That is high praise, for I love to complain about food. It's a French trait. But… who cooks it?"
"An elf," Susan said, the cadence of her voice implying that was a silly question. "Did you think that Harry cooked it himself?"
"Non," Fleur said. "I know better than that. But I have never seen this elf. I was starting to believe he did not exist."
"He likes to stay hidden."
"But why?"
Susan shrugged. "Maybe he had harsh masters in the past. Or maybe Harry has a cruel streak with his elves. It wouldn't be the worst thing he's done. I heard once that the elf doesn't even stay here full-time, but instead lives somewhere else, cooking and doing chores like an ordinary job.
"You do not believe that," Fleur said.
"It's possible. If the elf isn't here often, that would explain why he's hard to see."
"Non," Fleur said, "I meant what you said before that. Harry is not the type to hurt a servant needlessly."
Susan pressed her lips into a line. She squeezed the fork in her hand until her fingers turned white, then loosened her grasp slowly, returning her grip to normal.
"You're right," she admitted sourly. "Cruelty without reason isn't his nature. It's when he has a reason that the monster comes out."
Fleur considered disagreeing to defend her lover. She found that she had little ground to stand on, however. The ruthlessness he disabled his fellow Death Eaters with, now that he'd turned over a new leaf, lacked nothing in the way of brutality.
That was one of the things she loved about him.
But there was something more immediately interesting to her now than Harry's ruthless streak. She finished her toast in a few bites, cleaning the crumbs with a napkin, and gave Susan enough time to relax before she delivered a loaded question.
"You do not hate him as you once did. Is it because he turns you on?"
Despite having finished her food, Susan choked.
"Who just outright says that?" she demanded.
Fleur tilted her head. "I'm sorry. Was there something wrong with my question? It was spoken out of honest curiosity, nothing more."
Susan peered at her. "Is it also a French trait to talk about crude things so casually?"
"Probably not," Fleur admitted. "I believe it is a veela trait. My mother and grandmother were always the opposite of shy. They relish sex, regardless of things such as gender. I confess, I am quite bashful compared to them, but I do occasionally speak out of turn." She rested her chin on her hand, leaning over the table. "Still, I would love to hear your answer."
Susan didn't answer for a long time. Fleur started to believe that she wouldn't.
"He's not… unattractive," Susan finally said. "Recently, he's even been behaving well. The things he's done are admirable, no matter what methods he used. That's why I hate this. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel." She looked up, and Fleur could tell from one glance that she was truly lost. "If an evil person does good, what does that make him?"
Fleur was momentarily frozen.
"I do not know," she said. "My English has improved, but complex topics still sometimes escape my vocabulary. But—"
"Don't."
Fleur hesitated, unused to hearing the other girl interrupt her.
"Don't say he's not evil," Susan said. "I know you were going to. Say anything else— but if I hear that, I'm warning you, I don't know what I'll do."
It wasn't much of a threat, given that she had no way of hurting Fleur. Instead, Fleur took it as a warning. Susan would do something unpredictable. Irrational. And the fallout was something neither of them would enjoy.
"How did you end up here?" Fleur asked.
It was frankly past time that she knew the answer. Fleur had lived with these people for a month and a half now, sharing meals and watching them all the time. She'd grown closer to each of them. Compared to how they were at the start, Susan and Harry had gotten closer as well. But there was something dark beneath their relationship; something that originally pushed Susan to the point of wanting him dead.
"He took me," Susan said.
"From your home?"
"I have no home," she said darkly. "And I have him to thank for it."
She took a deep breath, but perhaps she wanted to talk about this to someone else as well, because Fleur didn't have to prompt her to keep going.
"By the end of the war, my aunt had become the minister," Susan said. "She was the only family I ever had. Even when the Ministry fell, she wouldn't break. She gathered everyone who could fight. Our Manor turned into their base. I was terrified, because it felt like everything was falling apart… but I still had hope. There were enough Aurors with my aunt that we should've been able to hold out for days."
They should have been able to. But they didn't. Fleur could tell from Susan's tone alone.
"The Death Eaters beat them?" Fleur asked.
"No!" Susan's eyes were wild. "He did it! On the day that Hogwarts fell, Bones Manor was destroyed. He killed everyone. Everyone but me! I hate it! What am I, some kind of trophy for his accomplishment! I'd rather have d-died! Like Auntie Amelia!"
There was a time when such a declaration would have stunned Fleur into silence. Those days had gone. Because Fleur knew that feeling all too well from her own past— but she got past it.
"Regardless, you live," Fleur said. "For as long as that's true, you are not helpless. Don't give up on your life. Fight to make it better."
Susan recoiled slightly. The words soothed her nerves much better than pity or apologies would have, and she collected herself, her expression turning guarded.
"I still remember it so clearly," she admitted. "Ever since that day, I've been sensitive to the smell of—"
Susan paused, her mouth open. She sniffed once, then shot to her feet.
"Smoke!" she said, looking at Fleur.
She ran to the window, and Fleur was there on her heels. Fleur drew her wand as she went. She sensed it now too, although it was faint. Something was burning. When they reached the window they discovered what.
Godric's Hollow was on fire.
O-O-O
"I am going."
"Me too!"
Loathe as she was to waste any time, Fleur spun to look back at the woman on the porch. She tried to make Susan back down with her eyes.
"I am armed," Fleur said. "I have fought before. Neither of those can be said about you. Please, stay in the house. The wards will protect you."
"No!" Susan said. "I can help! I'll carry children away, or I'll be a lookout for you, or I'll do something! Just please don't make me stay behind again. I don't care if it keeps me safe! If I'm the only one, then what's the point?"
When she said again, she didn't mean anything Fleur had done. Fleur recalled Susan's story about Bones manor. She lived while the rest had died. If Susan had to live through that again, she really might snap."
"Stay close to me," Fleur said, turning toward the town. "Unless I fall. If that happens, run without hesitating. Do you understand? These are not men, they are beasts. They tear others to shreds for pleasure."
Susan hurried to keep up. Fleur jogged, picking a pace that wouldn't leave her exhausted when she arrived. The scent of blood was mixed with the smoke now.
They hadn't foreseen this. Godric's Hollow was supposed to be safe. Harry had been so sure of it, and his logic was sound. Yet that couldn't change the screams Fleur was hearing. Who was attacking? Was it Crouch's faction again? Had Yaxley taken an aggressive step?
Fleur put such thoughts on hold. They didn't matter now. All she had to focus on was minimizing the damage.
A woman ran up the hill clutching a baby to her chest. Her clothes were torn, and blood was dripping off of one of her ankles. She was a Muggle with no idea what was really happening. Fleur wasn't sure if that made it crueler, if it was a mercy.
Just as when the village was attacked in the night, the assailants were in full Death Eater garb, hooded robes and masks and all. One marched after the fleeing woman, his wand spitting a purple curse.
Fleur leapt in the way. "Protego!"
Her shield repelled the curse, which fizzled with an unearthly groan. The Death Eater froze. They'd grown soft since the war. Picking on Muggles, they had forgotten what a true opponent was like. Fleur hadn't. She had been waiting.
The house beside the Death Eater was a sea of flames. Fleur's magic bent them to her will. They formed a fist, grabbing the dark wizard's head. He fell to his knees, screaming for help, but none of his allies heard— they mistook it for the wailing of another victim.
Fleur looked at the man on his knees, his clothes catching fire in places as his wand turning to ash. She pulled the flames off of him, letting them hover in the air. For a moment, she looked back.
The Muggle he'd been chasing was on the ground. Her knees had given out. Susan was helping her up again, saying soothing things. Fleur's eyes landed on the baby in her arms and the injury on her leg.
Fleur turned back to the Death Eater. The flames condensed and grew hotter, melting the metal of his enchanted mask. He bellowed, but only until Fleur's magic forced the melting metal down his throat. She left him to choke and burn, whichever came first.
She was vaguely aware of Susan directing the struggling woman back to Harry's house, where the wards would offer a layer of protection. Fleur didn't spare them any more attention. She had to focus if she wanted to work within this chaos.
She could barely guess at the enemy's numbers. Based on the size of the village and the direction of the different screams, there had to be at least fifteen enemies. There could be fewer, but it was likely there were more. If they noticed Fleur she would be overwhelmed. Knowing this, she chose to stay on side streets.
She had to catch Death Eaters alone, the way she did with the first one. Ducking down a garden path between burning homes, she emerged behind another Death Eater. This time she conjured a fresh batch of fire from her wand tip. A quiet "Incendio" was the only warning before the man caught flame, his screams joining with the others in the night.
Fire had always been Fleur's forte. She couldn't spew it from her hands the way her grandmother was capable of, but her veela ancestry gave her an extra mastery compared to ordinary wizards. Fleur loved bending the superheated element to her will— and during the war, she'd found no end to its applications.
The heavy steps of thick boots were Fleur's only warning that she was the one being snuck up on, instead of the other way around.
"Protego!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The man picked a poor spell for an ambush. It took him precious seconds to summon the right intent and gather his power. Although Fleur had to abandon her shield, that delay gave her just enough time to dive back into the alley she came from.
Embers were wafting down from the buildings on either side, singing her hair and prickling the backs of her arms. Fleur saw Susan coming down the same path and harshly gestured the other way. "Go!"
Susan didn't question it, running back and disappearing. Fleur crawled away from the street. It was a wise decision, because the garden fence she first used as cover was reduced to splinters by a blasting curse. Through the smoke, Fleur saw the Death Eater who cast the killing curse appear, cutting off that route, and he wasn't alone anymore. Two allies had appeared on either side of him. The narrow path around Fleur was disappearing, burning wreckage falling off the houses while the flames licked ever closer.
But if there was one thing Fleur would never fear, it was fire. A bubble-head charm bought her a bit of air and time. She rose up to one knee, taking aim through the thick dark smoke.
She chose a piercing curse for the dark muddy color of its bolt. Shrouded by smoke, the spell was effectively invisible… until the moment it bore open the throat of the Death Eater on the right. The other two recoiled, then opened fire. They couldn't see Fleur accurately through the smoke, so they chose to destroy everything instead.
Blasting curses demolished Fleur's surroundings. They broke the remaining supports on one of the houses, creating an avalanche of burning wood. Fleur hastily avoided it, and with aim deserving of a Triwizard Champion, picked off the Death Eater on the left with a piercing curse to the head.
Retreat was no longer an option. There was a wall of burning rubble at her back now, and if she didn't escape soon, she would be trapped beneath more of it. With no other choice, Fleur ran forward.
She tried her best to strafe, watching the last Death Eater the entire time. But there was little room. Without giving herself third degree burns, the path was only about as wide as her body. She had a shield spell on the tip of her tongue, and the Death Eater knew it. There was only one spell he was interested in.
"Avada—!"
His incantation stopped halfway. Fleur saw him slump through the smoke, but couldn't look further. She dove back onto the wider street as the narrow path was fully eaten by the flames.
She landed clumsily on her belly. The Death Eater was laying face down, blood dripping from under the hood of his robes. Fleur looked from him up to the woman standing above him. Susan was breathing hard, clutching the thick beam of wood she'd used to strike the wizard.
"You saved me," Fleur said.
"I told you I'd be helpful," Susan said.
It seemed like she was trying hard not to think about how she might have just killed a man. Knowing they deserved it and knowing you were the one to do it were two different things. She let go of the post from her trembling fingers and dropped onto her knees. Susan picked the man's wand out of his limp fingers. It had been so long since she held one that she just looked at it for a moment. She muttered a quiet, "Lumos." Based on the dimness of the light that appeared, Fleur estimated the wand was a poor — but passable — match for the girl.
Fleur didn't hesitate any longer. Each second wasted could mean a life lost. She stood up, and to clear Susan's conscience banished the body into the flames. If the man had still been alive, it was Fleur who killed him now. That little bit of uncertainty would help keep Susan from freezing. If it hadn't been clear before, Fleur understood that she couldn't do this alone.
"We will focus on survivors," Fleur said. "Ignore the Death Eaters if you can. Fighting will only get us killed. And if we die, no one will escape."
Susan nodded. Fleur knew that if nothing else, she was brave and tough under pressure. Not only had Susan saved her here, this was the girl who'd thrown herself at Pettigrew without a second thought.
"We must move fast," Fleur said.
O-O-O
Susan Bones hated fire with all her heart. But tonight, she was almost grateful for it. It hid the worst of the atrocities; the things that would really make her freeze.
She and Fleur ran around the borders of Godric's hollow, ushering anyone they found toward the hill with Harry's home at the top. They were only spotted by two more Death Eaters, who Fleur managed to kill with minimal difficulty. She was strong in the ways Susan wasn't, but still… Susan refused to let herself run away.
Even working with desperation, their results were far below what Susan hoped. They had sent seven people back to Harry's house, and there were three more with them now.
"We have to get out," Fleur said urgently. She was looking up, listening to the screams, which were far less frequent than they had been. "If we stay any longer, they are going to find us."
Susan said, "C-Can't we save a few more?"
It took a lot of effort to ask the question, and when Fleur shook her head, Susan was immensely grateful. She was terrified. She wanted to run more than anything. But until they had no other choice, she had been holding on, forcing herself to stay. She trusted Fleur to make the right decision.
Fleur snapped around, raising a shield that blocked a sudden curse.
"Away!" Fleur yelled.
Susan ran with the three from the village. They were all boys between the ages of ten and fourteen. Two of them were Muggle, one was a wizard. The last boys' parents had bought them time to escape, from what he said, and it was the last thing they did.
Fleur conjured a huge fireball, using it to cover their escape before running. She was surprisingly athletic. Much faster than Susan herself, who had never been a runner even before her house arrest. Soon, Susan's legs were burning. She slowed down without meaning to, and no matter how much Fleur nudged her she couldn't move fast enough.
"We are not there yet!" Fleur cried. "Susan, run with all that you have!"
She didn't have anything left, that was the problem. Not even adrenaline could fuel her anymore. The boys pulled further ahead while Susan's legs got heavy. Fleur was slowing down to stay with her. Then, Susan's feet left the ground.
A rope had been conjured around her waist, then summoned by the one who created it. Susan was helplessly yanked toward the Death Eaters. She reached out a hand, but there was nothing to grab. Fleur made a desperate lunge. There were eight Death Eaters chasing them, including someone skilled enough to conjure and summon a rope like that… and Susan was being dragged into their midst.
Fleur stood frozen for five seconds. Then, with tears running from her eyes, she ran. Despite everything, Susan briefly smiled.
She knew she could trust Fleur to make the right decisions.
Susan hit the ground hard. The fresh grass wasn't much of a cushion. A grunt escaped her lips, followed by a boot pressing down on her neck.
"This is the last one we'll get," said a familiar voice. Where had Susan heard it? Wizengamot? "I know he told us to be efficient tonight, but surely now we can take our time now."
"She's Sacred Twenty-Eight," said another Death Eater, peering at Susan's face. "There'll be arguments if we kill her."
The woman with her boot on Susan's neck spat— right onto Susan's forehead. "She's a fucking blood traitor! They can argue after I'm done. What do I care?"
"We shouldn't disobey Crouch," a different Death Eater said. "Don't act crazy just because Potter choked you—"
The woman wasn't aiming her wand at Susan anymore. "Crucio!" she spat. The man who spoke dropped to the dirt.
"You shouldn't mention that day," said another Death Eater. "That wasn't smart."
The distraction didn't last long. The sadistic woman turned her wand down on Susan again. Before casting any spells, she tore off her mask to show the ugly face underneath.
"You were there!" spat Alecto Carrow. "Was it fun, watching him slam me into the ground? You must have thought I was a joke. Tell me, is this funny? Crucio!"
Susan screamed. The pain beat against her psyche, and only when she really couldn't take any more was it paused. Alecto wanted this to go slowly.
Susan's heart pounded in her chest. She squirmed even though she knew, deep down, she couldn't get away. She told Fleur that it would have been better if she died in Bones Manor. It was the same thing she told herself over and over every day since. Now she was on death's door… and she finally realized what a ridiculous lie she'd told.
She didn't want to die! She was nineteen years old and she'd barely gotten to live! There was so much she hadn't known yet, and so many things she had left to discover.
"Help!" Susan croaked. "Please!"
She didn't know who she was talking to. The words were desperate and illogical, and even she didn't expect them to summon a… house elf?
The floppy-eared creature appeared right next to Susan's head, drawing everyone's attention. It took the Death Eaters another second to realize that he hadn't arrived alone. That delay cost them.
Harry took in the situation faster than anyone else. He saw Susan's position and the tremors from her exposure to the Cruciatus. His non-dominant hand grabbed Alecto by the back of the head and squeezed.
The bones in his fingers snapped horrifically, exerting more force than they could handle. But Harry Harry wouldn't stop. Susan shut her eyes, seeing what was coming, but the other Death Eaters watched, dumbstruck. It was over too fast for them to react. Alecto's head popped.
Only Harry didn't freeze. He threw her body at the other Death Eaters, stopping two from raising their wands. His wand flashed, spitting curses that eviscerated three Death Eaters in seconds.
"YOU—" howled what could only be Amycus.
Before he could do anything, he was grabbed on either arm by the Death Eaters beside him. The group Disapparated, Amycus dragged along against his will. Just like that, it was only Susan, Harry, and his elf, left alone with the bodies.
Susan sat up. It wasn't until the elf rubbed her back muttering "There theres…" that she realized she was crying.
Harry looked conflicted. He slowly bent down, hiding the mess that was his left hand behind his back, and patted Susan's shoulder.
Not only did she lean into the touch, she was too exhausted to be angry at herself for doing so.
O-O-O
Dobby took Susan back to the house to comfort her, but Harry knew where he had to go. He limped into Godric's Hollow, his nose stuffed with smoke and his teeth clenched.
Why did he believe this wouldn't happen? His reasons seemed so logical at the time, yet here he was. There were bodies everywhere and it was his fault. Harry barely felt the throbbing of his broken fingers. Physical pain was a kind he was used to.
A body came into sight in his path. It was small and burned beyond recognition. Harry had seen horrible sights on Death Eater raids, but this one was different. A familiar rubber ball lay beside it.
He heard cracks behind him. The Anti-Apparition wards had been brought down during the attack to allow the Death Eaters to escape. Now, it allowed the arrival of a different group. Ten Aurors of the new ministry appeared in the street. Dolohov was in the lead, the same man who questioned Harry about Snape's death. Harry looked over his shoulder at them, his eyes full of the same malice he'd been directing at himself.
"You allowed this to happen," he growled.
A few of the Aurors shifted nervously. Then, as one, they aimed their wands.
"Harry Potter," Dolohov said. "You're under arrest for murder. Submit and come quietly."