Invaders

Dorea was still reeling from the sudden arrival of her brother the previous evening, and even more so that only hours later, she found herself in a muggle church of all places watching him get married.

She had known of his budding relationship with Melania, but since he had marched off to war, he hadn't mentioned the woman in any of his letters.

Arcturus had never been vocal of what affection he felt for the woman standing in front of him, but the unguarded expression of utter joy he wore now spoke volumes to it.

Her brother was in love with this woman and judging by the similar beaming smile of her soon to be sister-in-law, the feeling was mutual.

Dorea was happy for them both, happy that despite the misery that had gripped the wizarding world, they were here and able to celebrate the love the had for one another, though she could not help but allow her own thoughts to wander to a certain wizard who often occupied her mind.

She imagined that it was her standing at the altar, gazing across at him as he looked at Dorea the same way Arcturus was looking at Melania. She imagined that it was Charlus that had returned to claim her, the feeling filling her with warmth before dragged herself away from her fantasy.

No, this day was for her brother and the woman he was marrying, but that didn't stop her own thoughts from teasing her.

Charlus hadn't even mentioned marriage, the letters between the two of them little more than ensuring the other was okay, each of them seemingly skirting around any discussion of what, if any, future they may have together.

Dorea was under no illusion that her infatuation with the man had begun when she was just a girl, when Charlus had shown her the kind of person he was after he had fought against his own housemates to keep her safe.

Of course, Harry Evans had been there too, but she'd only had eyes for Charlus, and that had not changed in all the years that had passed.

She had almost convinced herself that it had merely been a schoolgirl crush, something that would soon pass, and for the better.

Her father would never have agreed to them marrying, so Dorea had never considered such a thing would be possible, but then she and Charlus had bumped into each other in Diagon Alley, and it was as though no time had gone by at all.

Immediately, she had felt like a fourteen-year-old girl again, and though she knew she should have declined his offer to escort her through the alley, she hadn't.

Dorea had not been able to deny herself his company, and that schoolgirl crush had grown into what she felt now.

She shook her head almost amusedly.

Did Charlus even know?

Did he still see her as that silly girl he'd had to rescue?

Dorea hoped not.

What he had done for her that day had given her the courage to stand up for herself, and for that, she would always be grateful, but she didn't want to be thought of like that.

She wanted Charlus to see her for the woman she had become, and though she had fought the urge to, she was sorely tempted to ask Arcturus how the Potter lord was.

Doing so would raise her brother's suspicions, but she didn't care.

He would revert back to being the protective big brother, but Dorea was sure he would eventually give his approval.

Once more she had to push those thoughts aside.

Here she was fantasising about something that may never be, and yet, she couldn't help herself even though she had no idea if Charlus felt the same.

(Break)

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked as he, Petr, Charlus, and the other commanders chosen to begin the invasion of the Ukraine huddled close to one another as they looked over the map of the known positions of Grindelwald's men on the border.

The Russian nodded.

"We cannot hope to enter the country and take it so easily," he replied. "It is best if we break through here and establish a defensible position," he explained, pointing to a heavily fortified area on the border.

"How many are in there?" Charlus questioned.

"No more than one hundred men," Petr assured him. "Once we take it, we will be attacked from all sides, and we must hold them off. This is our best chance of breaking through. If we fail, it would be better to abandon our efforts here."

"No, we can't fail," Harry huffed.

For weeks, the ICW forces had been here, and it would not do to simply abandon the position.

They needed to make their move now before it was too late.

"How many people can we get close enough without being spotted?" Harry asked.

Petr shook his head unhappily.

"Twelve at most, if we follow this path," he explained, tracing his finger along the map. "Any more than that, we will be seen."

Harry released a deep breath.

They would be outnumbered considerably and would be relying on the element of surprise.

From what Petr had already explained and what Harry had seen himself, this was the only viable option for an attack. Doing so from any other point would be fruitless, and reinforcements would arrive before they could overwhelm the position.

Still, the only approach was a risky one and could easily go wrong if they were not careful.

"Alright," Harry agreed. "We will keep our presence hidden for as long as we can and hope we can get close enough before we are noticed. Do you have your cloak?" he asked Charlus.

The Potter lord nodded grimly, patting his pocket.

"Then you and me will clear a path with the rest of the men following when it is done," Harry decided, indicating the route they would take. "We won't be able to see each other, but I will keep to the right, and you to the left. Do not leave any bodies where they can be seen, and do not act unless you are certain it won't be noticed."

"Understood," Charlus replied as he removed his cloak. "The rest of you will give us a ten-minute head start before following. If it goes balls-up, you are to abandon the plan altogether."

The other commanders did not seem to be please by this, but none argued.

"Then let us hope all goes well," Petr snorted, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Let us know when you are ready, and I will collect the rest of the men."

"Well, there's no time like the present. Let's get this over with."

Charlus nodded before vanishing into the confines of his cloak, and Harry cast a disillusionment charm over himself.

"Good luck, Evans," Petr called.

"Are you sure about this?" Charlus whispered.

"No," Harry replied honestly, "but we have no other choice."

He removed the knife that Nicholas had gifted him as he and a silent Charlus made their way down the path that had been marked on the map.

The position they had chosen to take loomed ahead of them, most of it being underground, but with a large, domed roof having been carved from ice.

The difficulty in taking it would be reaching the fortifications without being spotted. Once they had done that, however, the real fighting would begin.

The first man Harry came to was silenced with a flick of his wand before his blade made short work of the man.

As Harry pulled him aside and into a grove of trees hidden from view, he remembered that he hadn't discussed how Charlus would dispatch of those he came across.

Not that it was a concern.

Charlus was not foolish enough to do anything that would draw attention to them.

His thoughts were proven to be correct only a moment later as he continued on his way and looked on as the next guard on the left collapsed to the ground, struggling with his robes that seemed to have tightened around his neck.

The man made no sound as his face reddened before he fell limp, and Harry watched as the corpse seemingly moved of its own accord away from where it could be happened upon.

So far, things were going well, and in the following minutes, Harry claimed another three lives and Charlus another two before they found themselves in front of the fortified position.

Feeling his way across, Harry managed to locate Charlus, who gasped at the unexpected contact, but not loudly enough to be noticed.

"The others will be coming in two minutes, I'm going to cause a distraction to give them a little more breathing space."

"Be careful," Charlus whispered worriedly.

Harry nodded, a gesture that wouldn't have been seen by the other, but he did so, nonetheless, before carefully circling around the protruding dome.

With the weather as cold as it was, there was only two men guarding the outside entrance, which meant that the rest were keeping warm within.

It would serve to be a benefit to begin with but fighting within the construct was not an option.

They could not risk it being destroyed, or their efforts would be for nothing.

Harry needed to lure those within out, but not before his own men were in an advantageous position, and not out in the open where they would be easily picked off from the higher ground and mostly open land around them.

With that in mind, he crept around the guards and to the right of the entrance where he could see inside the area that had been dug out.

It was an impressive cavern carved into the dirt, with a roaring fire in the middle of the room and a 360-degree view to the outside.

Within, the walls had been reinforced considerably, and the men peering out of the many observation points were well protected.

There were likely additional wards in place to offer further defence to any attack from the outside, but seemingly, the possibility for someone making it inside had not been accounted for.

Harry shook his head at the oversight.

It was something he would fix as soon as he and his men safely occupied the space.

Knowing he had only seconds before the approach of his own forces would be noticed, he aimed his wand towards the stones acting as a shield around the base of the fire.

With only a little manipulation, they broke apart, causing the flames to spill from their confines.

One of the guards shouted in German to get the attention of one of his companions who huffed irritably as he approached the broken portion of rocks, pointing his wand towards them, only to be engulfed by the flames that began spreading quickly across the floor.

His screams alerted the others to his plight, and though they did their best to snuff the flames; they failed, Harry's own efforts countering theirs.

The screaming continued until the man collapsed to the ground, unmoving and the smell of burning flesh filled the room as the fire continued to spread.

Once more, the guards attempted to bring them under control, their work becoming desperate.

Still, Harry persisted, reigniting the flames they managed to douse until it became a lost cause for the guards.

When most of the room was aflame, they fled at the insistence of one of the men in command whose robes had been burned quite badly, the exposed skin a painful pink in colour.

"OUT, OUT, OUT!" he screamed.

The others didn't need telling twice.

They spilled from the cavern and into the open where they were immediately set-upon by Harry's men who had used the distraction to their advantage.

Quickly putting out the fire that he had caused, Harry removed his disillusionment charm before throwing himself into the fray, the fighting already vicious, and the men that had escaped the flames receiving the worst of it.

As disorientated as they were, they had avoided one painful death only to run into the path of another, and as Harry and Petr had trained their forces to be, there was no quarter given, no moment to catch their breath let alone prepare for a battle.

Still, they fought hard, and Harry had to turn his head to the side to avoid a rupturing curse before deflecting another into a nearby enemy who had levelled his wand at him.

The man collapsed to the ground, his screams echoing across the open expanse of land, and the first attacker followed only a moment later, bereft of his right arm from below the elbow.

Another charged at Harry, his arms swinging wildly, his wand seemingly having been lost to him.

The attempt, however, was clumsy, and Harry merely needed to sidestep the man, ramming his blade through his foe's ribcage as he did so, though there was no time to see the results of his work.

Two spells were fired towards him, one high and the other low.

Instinctively, he apparated and appeared behind the men that had sent them his way.

Once more, he implemented his blade, slashing it across the back of the neck of one of the men whilst casting towards the other.

His spell slammed the attacker into frozen ground, the sound of the man's skull cracking unpleasant, and reminding Harry of when his arm had been broken by the Dobby's bludger.

There would be no skele-gro to save this man, however, the impact had killed him instantly.

With both men dead, Harry set his sights on another target, his next spell ripping an enormous gash in the face of a man that was attempting to curse Charlus in the back as the Potter lord fended off three other men.

With a roar, an explosion rent the air, and the men that Charlus had engaged were no more, their limbs strewn across the ground.

Having been so spectacularly taken by surprise, the resistance of the defenders had been reduced to only a few left able to fight, the others scattered around the makeshift battlefield, unmoving, and lifeless.

Only a moment later, none remained, the ICW forces having claimed a decisive victory, but one they could ill afford to celebrate.

The ruckus caused would have undoubtedly alerted others nearby, and to avoid being ambushed, they needed to act fast.

"EVERYBODY IN!" Harry commanded, leading the way into the fortress the now dead men had abandoned. "YOU LOT, GET TO THE WINDOWS, AND GUARD THE ENTRANCE!"

The group he pointed to complied immediately and lined the walls, looking out for the enemy that would undoubtedly retaliate sooner than Harry would like.

"How many are wounded?" Harry asked Petr who had taken it upon himself to check on the men.

"Not too many," the Russian assured him. "A few cuts and broken bones for the most part."

Harry nodded, relieved that there were seemingly no emergencies.

Leaving Petr to his work, Harry moved on to Charlus who was talking with Reg and Gilbert.

"We need to fix this place up," he declared. "If you three focus on the fire damage, I'll get to work on some magical defences, and be quick about it. They won't let this slide."

It wasn't until Harry walked away from the trio and went to begin his own task that he realised he was covered in blood. He cleaned it off of him in the same casual manner he would have had it been dirt after a Quidditch practice at Hogwarts.

How times had changed.

Did death just not resonate with him anymore?

He shook his head.

No, he felt it, the burden of it still resting as heavy on him as it always had, he had just grown used to the weight now.

It was a morbid thought, but an observation he couldn't deny, and as he began his own work, his focus shifted to it with relative ease, and unhindered by the bloodshed that had ended only moments before.

(Break)

It had become the source of her frustration over the months that she had been attempting to identify who Weber was, and for all of her efforts, Eleanor was no closer to doing so.

From the men that hosted the unsanctioned duelling, to another who seemed to collect gold on behalf of her target, onwards to one who deposited the gold into a branch of Gringotts in Munich, to where she found herself now, she had yet seen hide nor hair of Weber.

Finally, the man in Munich had brought her here, to a shop only a short distance away from the bar her journey had began when she arrived in Germany.

She had been dragged from pillar to post, only to find herself having been pulled through a loop.

Eleanor had hoped that this would be her final stop, that Weber would make an appearance, but he had not, and she now believed he never would.

Whoever this man was knew how to hide himself, never being directly involved in the illicit goings-on of his own activities.

In a way, Eleanor admired him for his undeniable brilliance, but more than anything, she loathed him.

All she had achieved was a tour of the most unsavoury people and locations Germany had to offer in its magical underworld, but she would not give up.

She may not have found Weber yet, but listening in to the conversations she had overheard, she had at least established some leads and discovered new avenues for her to explore.

As much as it irked her to have to begin from nothing, there was nothing else for it.

Here, she was just wasting time in a basement her latest link in the chain used to reply to letters, and occasionally grab an item someone wished to purchase from the shop above.

Whether any of these letters were from Weber mattered not.

If he was unwilling to meet in person, he wasn't going to divulge anything important in writing to someone who was still a lower rung in the ladder of his organisation.

No, Eleanor's time and efforts would be better spent elsewhere, and not amongst the dusty artefacts here.

She was relieved that she had other options, and even fascinated by some of the things she had heard., though she did not expect them to be enjoyable.

How could something so highly illegal be so pleasant?

Nonetheless, she would start anew in some regards and listen out for any word on the fighting pits the German antiques dealer had mentioned.

Maybe Evans had even been there already?

Eleanor doubted men would be pit against dragons, but Evans had to learn to fight one somewhere, and why not in an illicit club where man and beast fought one another?

(Break)

"Are you sure about this, Lord Black?" Michael Macmillan asked worriedly.

The man was undoubtedly intimidated by Selwyn, but Arcturus wasn't. He would crush the man like an ant beneath his heel.

"Just play your part," Arcturus urged. "The bastard will shit himself when I make my appearance."

Lord Macmillan nodded, though he didn't seem to be entirely convinced.

In truth, the man had little experience of how the Blacks operated. He would of course have heard the rumours, which explained his rather nervous disposition on the matter.

"Well, he will be here in a few minutes, so I should prepare myself for his arrival," Michael decided, taking his leave from the kitchen where he would wait for the perfect moment to intervene.

Sometimes, timing was everything, and dealing with Selwyn was something Arcturus wished to savour.

"I do wish my husband would have told Selwyn to bugger off from the start," Lady Macmillan sighed.

"I'm surprised you didn't do so yourself," Arcturus replied amusedly.

The woman had been a Rosier before marrying her husband. Perhaps Selwyn had forgotten that, or he had just grown too bold for his own good?

"Oh, I was tempted too, but I do not think my husband would appreciate me encroaching on his masculinity. That is why I urged Melania to write to you instead."

Arcturus snorted.

The Lady Macmillan proved to be a product of her maiden-name, her shrewdness very much intact.

"What do you plan on doing about Selwyn?"

"Well, if I had my way, I'd curse him within an inch of his life, but I don't think that is the best way to start married life."

"No, I do not think it is," Lady Macmillan chuckled. "I think my daughter would prefer if you were not sent to Azkaban."

"Shame," Arcturus muttered, eliciting a grin from his mother-in-law.

"Ah, I think he is here," she announced. "Do try to keep your temper in check," she added before sweeping from the room to play the dutiful hostess.

This evening was little more than a mummer's show, but Arcturus was determined to learn of how far Selwyn was willing to go to get what he wanted.

He listened as the man was shown into the dining room, already his words laced with false friendliness.

"My, you have grown into a beautiful young woman," Selwyn complimented Melania. "I'm sure you will be a dutiful bride for my son."

"That's what you think," Arcturus muttered to himself, his fingers flexing as he itched to reach for his wand and curse the man.

"Perhaps we should enjoy dinner before discussing family matters," Lady Macmillan suggested.

"Of course," Selwyn agreed.

The man was enjoying the discomfort he was instilling within the family, and once more Arcturus wanted to throttle him.

Selwyn was little more than a bully, and one who found glee in the misery of others.

It made sense that he would follow Grindelwald.

The man wouldn't be so daring if he didn't have stronger men than him to fight his corner.

Unfortunately for Selwyn, Arcturus did not fear Grindelwald nor any of the fools that served him.

Little did Selwyn know that it would be him who would be cowed, that his farcical attempt to intimidate the Macmillans would end with him cowering under the gaze of Arcturus.

There was little talk during the meal, something that Arcturus was grateful for as he had quickly realised he couldn't trust his own temper to not boil over if Selwyn continued the way he had. However, when the dessert had been finished and coffee had been served, the man no longer exercised patience.

"You know why I am here," he said simply. "I wish for your daughter to marry my heir. Please do not make this difficult, Macmillan. We both know that I will get what I want."

"No," Lord Macmillan answered, his voice wavering though his tone was firm.

Selwyn chuckled, and Arcturus imagined the man was leering at his fellow lord.

"Are you under the impression you have a choice?" he asked disbelievingly. "I could make life very difficult for you. Let us not pretend that you do not know who I am close to nor who is winning this war. It is only a matter of time before Britain is taken, and your decision tonight may well decide the future of your family."

There was a pause before Lord Macmillan spoke again.

"It is not possible for you to have what you want," he sighed. "My answer is no."

Selwyn laughed humourlessly, the sound of rustling parchment following only a second later.

"You will sign this contract, Macmillan, and you will be grateful that I have asked very little of you. You need only pay a dowry of five hundred galleons, and your daughter will be taken care of for the rest of her days. If you do not sign it, then those days will be very few, for all of you. You owe Black nothing, and he is not here to stake his claim."

Arcturus gritted his teeth as he entered the dining room having heard enough from Selwyn who had already taken too many liberties as far as he was concerned.

"Oh, I'm here," Arcturus growled.

Selwyn was certainly not expecting this development, his demeanour changing immediately as he laid eyes in the Lord Black.

Arcturus was pleased to see the man falter, and now he would really make him squirm.

"Do you think that you can come here and intimidate my wife and her family into marrying one of your half-witted sons? I don't know what kind of stupidity you have been plagued with, Selwyn, but you seem to have forgotten that I am the Lord Black, and you have pissed me off."

Selwyn recovered from his shock quickly, his expression one of irritation mixed with fear.

"Your wife?" he sneered.

"My wife," Arcturus said firmly.

Selwyn snorted.

"You'll regret this, Black," he said with a leer towards Melania. "We both know who is coming for you."

"I don't see him here," Arcturus returned evenly. "I've not seen him on the battlefield either. It does make me wonder if Grindelwald is more of a coward than I thought. I'm not running from him, Selwyn. His days are numbered, but tell him from me that he knows where I can be found. Tell him that I said he should fuck himself, and you Selwyn, you can do the same, you snivelling piss-stain."

Selwyn's jaw clenched at the insult, but as expected, the man did nothing.

Oddly, his expression became one of amusement as he stood.

"Well done to you, Black," he offered with a bow. "Maybe if you are fortunate, you will live to see your folly. Perhaps you will even regret your actions tonight."

"The only thing I may regret is not killing you now," Arcturus returned coldly, his fingers once more twitching towards his wand.

Evidently, Selwyn got the message and slinked from the room leaving Arcturus to ponder his last, ominous words.

"Bastard," he grumbled, his mood brightening considerably as Melania wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you, Lord Black," Macmillan said sincerely.

Arcturus deflated as he shook his head.

"We're family now. There's no need to address me as Lord Black," he insisted.

Lord Macmillan nodded appreciatively, and his wife gave Arcturus a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Arcturus," she offered, smiling happily. "I do not think our daughter could have chosen a better man for herself."

"Not a Selwyn, at least," Melania quipped, grinning at her husband. "I suppose this one will do."

Arcturus chuckled amusedly.

Despite her sometimes-quiet nature, Melania had never been intimidated by the name he carried, nor had she shown any judgement for the actions of his father, brother, and older sister.

No, she had cared only for him, had been there for him when his world was falling apart around him, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her if it was within his power.

The wedding they had was not what either of them had envisioned, but they were married now, and for better or for worse, Arcturus wouldn't have it any other way.

Nor would his new wife if the smile she gave him was anything to go by.

(Break)

The blood had yet to congeal on the ground outside before Harry and his men found themselves defending their position, his assessment that they would be gifted a brief reprieve only proving to be correct.

Yaxley, Gilbert, and Charlus had managed to repair most of the fire damage, and Harry had erected some additional defences that would be difficult to breach, but he would have preferred a little more time.

Still, when the enemy realised they had no chance of retaking the position, they would give up and he would return to his work, fortifying the base even more.

They would not be willing to continue to be cut down in droves as was happening now, so a retreat would be necessary, though they were certainly determined to dislodge the ICW forces.

The land they were fighting over was within the Ukrainian border and being here gave Harry and his men access to the rest of the country that Grindelwald still controlled, something that would change sooner rather than later if Harry had his way.

What made this task most difficult was the vastness of the land and the sheer number of enemies they faced.

Between where they had situated themselves and Kyiv lay hundreds of miles, of which many could be occupied by Grindelwald's forces.

To take the Ukraine, they would need to fight their way across the country, and to do that, they first needed to solidify their hold here.

"THEY'RE CIRCLING AROUND!" Yaxley shouted from his position.

Harry nodded, turning his attention to the entrance of the cavern.

Although he had added additional protections, they wouldn't hold indefinitely under a determined onslaught.

"CHARLUS!" he shouted.

Harry didn't even need to give the man any further instructions as he crossed the room and walked shoulder to shoulder with Harry until they reached the opening, Harry moving to the left as Charlus took the right.

The first man that rounded the dome in Harry's direction died instantly, his own spine having been pulled upwards and away from his skull.

He collapsed to the ground just as one of his companions rounded the corner, only to be blasted backwards and left with a gaping hole in his chest.

Having witnessed what befell the two men, any others that may have been approaching seemingly thought better of doing so, and after almost two hours of being under attack, the wave against the ICW forces stopped.

Their enemies had experienced enough losses for one day, but they would be back.

The men within the cavern breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had taken a key position, and had survived the retaliation, but their work had only just begun.

It would only become more difficult from here.

"Take a few minutes to gather yourselves," Harry instructed, "and then we will continue solidifying our hold here. If you're hungry, eat, if you're thirsty, drink. It's going to be a long few days whilst we establish ourselves."

They were tired, most of them covered in the grime and filth that only battle brought, but they were in good spirits, and that counted for everything after what they had faced.

"Well done," Harry added sincerely. "I'm proud of how you have managed today. Any other losses or injuries?" he asked Petr who had approached.

The Russian shook his head.

"Njet, it is a good position for us."

Harry nodded his agreement.

As temporary as he hoped it would be, he knew they could be here for weeks and months as they gathered ground across the country, but looking around and seeing how well the men had defended their latest conquest, he knew they could certainly do much worse for themselves.

(Break)

There was something so undeniably soothing about walking through rural Scotland for Minerva, the brisk chill of the wind on her cheeks allowing her to feel like she was breathing freely for the first time in days.

She loved her job more than anything, but the castle, despite how big it was, often felt claustrophobic, and it was easy to feel trapped within the walls with hundreds of others, and no space to think.

This was what she needed, some time away so that she could revitalise herself, time alone so that she could think.

Minerva couldn't deny the strain it put on her as the war had increased in ferocity since Harry returned to the continent.

She had no doubt that he was the catalyst for it, and she knew he would be the one leading the charge.

As much as she was proud of him, it frightened her to think that all it would take would be an errant spell to strike him down, and that would be it.

Harry would not be coming home, and the thought filled her with so much fear, even more so since he had visited her last.

Christmas had come and gone, and February had arrived, bringing the final dregs of winter with it.

Still, the coldness was refreshing, but when the sleet began to pour, Minerva decided to head home.

She may be a witch, but even she could not prevent the path she was walking from becoming boggy.

With a final deep breath and cursory glance around to ensure no one else was nearby, she apparated away, arriving in her childhood bedroom.

With her mastery due to finish this year, she needed to consider what she would do about her accommodation.

As much as she loved her parents and their relationship had certainly improved, she had no desire to move back home, but she wouldn't be able to remain in the castle.

Once her education was finished, Minerva did not know what she was going to do, and in truth, she hadn't been able to give it much thought with everything else currently occupying her mind.

The worst-case scenario would be that she would have to move back home for a while, and the best being that a position would be found for her within Hogwarts.

Not that she was holding out for such a thing.

Albus certainly wouldn't be retiring, and as much as she would relish any opportunity presented to her, Minerva wasn't so confident she could teach any other subject.

Perhaps she could become a private tutor, or get a job at the Ministry?

She shook her head.

Now was not the time to make that decision, not when she wasn't able to ponder it with clarity.

Pushing thoughts of her future aside, she left her room and entered the kitchen where her mother was reading a muggle newspaper, the contents of which were about as pleasant as the offerings in The Daily Prophet.

All the media could discuss these days was war. The newspapers and the radio were full of the same doom and gloom. Even the wizarding wireless focused on nothing else.

"Tea?" Isobel asked.

Minerva nodded gratefully, warming her hands on the cup her mother passed to her a moment later.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Isobel pressed gently.

Minerva shot the woman a questioning look, but her mother was not going to be fooled so easily.

"You have been here for almost three days, Minerva, and barely said a word to me or your father. You just had your Christmas break, so I know that the castle is full of children. Has something happened, did you lose your position?"

Minerva shook her head and took a sip of her tea.

"No, nothing like that," she sighed.

"Then what is it?" Isobel huffed. "Has Harry been hurt?"

"Harry is fine, as far as I know," Minerva assured her mother. "I just needed some time away from the castle. There's no escape from the war there and Albus gave me the rest of the week off."

Isobel nodded her understanding and reached across the table to squeeze Minerva's hand.

"It is hard for us all," she murmured, "and I cannot even begin to imagine how difficult it is for you with Harry doing what he is. He's a good man."

"He is," Minerva agreed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

She took a sip of her tea in an attempt to distract herself from her own thoughts more than anything else, but it was to no avail.

Another tear followed and Isobel stood and wrapped her arms around her daughter's shoulders.

"It's alright," she said soothingly. "It's okay to be frightened, we all are."

Minerva shook her head.

"It's not that," she snorted humourlessly. "I'm pregnant."

Minerva felt her mother still as the weight of her own words crashed on top of her.

It had been easy to ignore when she hadn't spoken of it with anyone, easy to blame the stress she was under for the sickness she had felt in the mornings, but there was no denying four different test results nor her own intuition.

Minerva was pregnant, and now that she had acknowledged it in words, it finally felt real, an undeniable truth that she had to face.