Forty-Six

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Day: 1568; Hour: 1

"Left!" Harry orders, and they flip sideways, two green jets nearly skimming their shoes.

"Lumos!" Hermione yells, pointing her wand over the line of Harry and Ginny's shoulders, and the two of them cast quick Stunning spells.

"Right," Harry directs, and they pull upright again, Harry bringing the broom to the ground.

Hermione binds both the Death Eaters before she's off the broom, and looks at three other bodies on the ground. All three are dead, one of them with their arm and half their face charred. Panic, and she shoves it back.

"I don't think we were the only safe house to wake up with the place on fire."

"This was their plan. That's why they only put the anti-Apparition wards up before setting the place on fire. They didn't have time to come in and kill us, because they had to get here. They're all going to be here. From the new leaders to the new recruits. It's the bloody fucking Graveyard all over again." Harry has gone as white as the moon, but there's a brilliant spark of hunger in his eyes that scares her.

She looks up toward the manor, her body urging her to run in that direction. Draco is supposed to be there. McGonagall, Lupin, Anthony... Hermione stops the list of names in her head at the pop, jerking her wand up as she turns to face behind her. Three men stare back at her as they get their footing, and then lift shocked eyes above her head. A string of curses, and then four more people appear. This is a team, she thinks automatically.

"Hermione," Harry calls, and hits her arm. She looks down at his shirt, clutched in his hand. "Put this on. Give me yours. Hurry."

She gives him a look like he's crazy, but he moves past her, rushing whispers at the people who just came. "The orange," Ginny tells her, her wand trained on the gates, and Hermione turns her back toward the people, yanking her shirt off. She pulls Harry's on quickly, smelling sweat, smoke, and him, and uses her wand to cut to ribbons the shirt she's slept in since she was a child.

"If you can't Apparate here, go as far into the woods as it takes. The wards have to end somewhere. When you bring them to Mungo's, I want the two of you to come back. You're the transporters, alright? Anyone coming in injured, bring them out. Got it?" Harry sounds frantic but in control, and the two men nod.

Hermione quickly passes out the strips of orange, and by the time she's done, there's nineteen of them wearing them. "Give one to anyone else going in," she tells one of the appointed transporters, shoving the strips into his hand before bending to tie her boots.

"There's seventeen of us going in. Five of us will break to the left, five to the right, and seven, straight. At the willow tree--" Harry starts laying out the plan.

"What willow tree?" a man asks, double knotting the jagged strip of orange.

"The gigantic tree in the middle of the lawn. It's about seven meters from the porch," another man hisses, and he looks at all of them like they're idiots.

"No one moves forward until all three are there," Harry continues, his words punctuated by the looks he keeps throwing toward the manor. "We can't know the situation this far away, so we will go on one of two plans when we're there. Plan one, we attack as an entire unit, spreading out only as far as the scope of Death Eaters in the front. Plan two, we split up into teams again, taking the left and right, and straight into the house. Clear?"

No one questions him, though she doesn't expect them to. Harry quickly splits them up, pushing her and Ginny to the left, and joining them a moment later. They take off past the gates in a line, spread out enough to be of assistance but also not leaving any space unchecked to the left of the grounds. She can make out the flash of red in the moonlight to her left, and the shine of Harry's skin on her right, but they are far enough away that she almost feels alone. But this is okay, because she knows how to stand on her own. Her wand swings from side to side with every fall of her foot, her eyes scanning through the deep blue of darkness. It's hard to see in the depth of night, under the mass of tree foliage, but it also means it's harder for them to see her.

The Fallout by EveryThursday (reposted)Where stories live. Discover now