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Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire	By : CMW Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11952 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, though wish I did. The only money I have goes toward good wine and chocolate. You can't

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Chapter Fifty-Four

After the Fair

Remus bolted out of bed and ran for the door wearing only pyjama bottoms. He looked toward Jasmine’s bedroom. The door hung open. Sirius buttoned his trousers as he ran toward the stairs.

Sirius pointed Jasmine toward the fireplace, snapping, “Call Dumbledore!”

Remus struggled into his shirt in the hallway, already running as Sirius bolted through the door, his clothes trailing behind, waiting to be plucked out of mid-air as he ran.

“Outside,” barked Remus, wand raised.

They both stopped to look out the front windows, looking for signs that an intruder had made it through the Belljar Charm and Hecate’s Hawthorns. The hedgerow rustled. Sirius finished dressing. Remus tied his shoes. The clabberts were agitated; the bright lights in their foreheads flashed madly, lighting up the yard.

“On the street.”

“Dumbledore’s not there,” Jasmine called from the top of the stairs.

Remus assumed Dumbledore was already in Hogsmeade.

Arielle opened the door to her bedroom and wandered out. Faust soared out of the room to land on Sirius’s shoulder, then popped away, reappearing outside, hovering over the hedgerow. Skeevers, the Puffskin, scooted out but cuddled up to Arielle’s toes. “What’s happened?” she yawned.

Faust, the phoenix, screeched in outrage and disappeared, reappearing outside to attack whatever lie in wait on the other side of the Hecate’s Hawthorns.

Jasmine froze. “Er, the festival got a bit wild, baby. That’s all. Let’s go back to bed now.”

Just as she turned to rush Arielle back to safety, the fireplace in the sitting room roared to life. Everyone jumped. Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the house. “Jasmine!”

She dashed downstairs and skidded to her knees in front of the fireplace. Sirius followed while Remus stood guard at the window, listening to the conversation. She called back to Dumbledore, “There’s someone outside!”

“I know. Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout are on the way. You remember the code words to verify their identities. I’ll be there when I can.” When Jasmine nodded, Dumbledore continued. “Hogsmede has been attacked. Take Moira now. Put her to bed. Anne-Mette will join you later,” the old man instructed. Jasmine’s best friend’s youngest daughter stumbled barefoot through the fireplace in a puff of ash, wearing a nightgown and robe. Just Arielle’s age, her face was covered in ash, except the tear tracks. “Remus, Sirius, go out to meet Filius and Pomona now and loose Buckbeak in the yard.” The Floo closed with a whoosh.

Just then, the Hecate’s Hawthorn rustled again. Remus and Sirius rushed out to the porch, wands held in high duelling position. Remus broke the posture only to tap his wand atop Sirius’s head, performing a Disillusionment Charm. Sirius disappeared, though the air shimmered around his shape. Not the best disguise ever, it would do in a pinch. The two outside, though, didn’t look concerned to see Sirius Black, Notorious Murderer. They did look worried about whatever lurked on the other side of the hedgerow. Pomona Sprout directed the plants back to their place, flanking the gate while Flitwick held his wand at whatever was there. Her face twisted into a look of worry and disgust. A male arm flopped in mid-air.

Sirius pointed to Professor Flitwick, a man he’d known for more than twenty-five years. He demanded, “Middle name?”

“March,” the man replied promptly, his eyes focused on the hand. Blood dripped from the longest finger.

Remus’s stomach clenched but he shoved the feeling away for the moment. His wand pointed at Professor Sprout, he asked, “What does one plant around tomatoes to prevent nematodes?”

She tried to smile beneficently but the effort wavered as her eyes scanned the other side of the hawthorns, and her expression fell instead into a curious mixture of horror and gratification, “Marigolds, dear, and they are so pretty and so useful, too. Severus just loves to work with the petals.”

Remus and Sirius lowered their wands a fraction and walked out to the street.

Impaled upon the Hecate’s Hawthorns, a man dangled a foot off of the hard-packed ground. Thorns poked through the body like spears. A puddle of blood expanded under the body. The roots of the plants poked through the soil into the puddle, like straws.

Sirius swore.

Remus whistled in mock appreciation.

“Quite,” said Pomona crisply. She took a deep breath and said, “It’s so nice to see my sweet babies so happy.”

“This is happy?” asked Remus, staring at a gruesome sight.

“Oh, yes, just look how glossy the leaves and thorns are,” burbled Professor Sprout.

Remus winced, his eyes on the body, “I think that’s actually blood doing that.”

“Indeed it is,” she chirped. “Look how the roots are just drinking it right up! Oh, yes, it’ll be much more aggressive and vicious with strangers now.”

Remus looked askance, “What about with non-strangers?”

“The hawthorns will be far more protective now, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep the little one away from them, just in case.” Her expression matter-of-fact, she sounded prosaic.

Filius Flitwick cleared his throat. It sounded like a high-pitched squeak.

Remus looked chastened. “Right. Who is he and why is he there?”

Sirius pointed out the obvious. “Black cloak, mask – Death Eater. Going to assume the why involves death.”

Filius waddled closer, inspecting the man’s back. ‘There’s a footprint here. Someone helped him into his current predicament.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other for a long moment but said nothing to indicate who would have kicked a Death Eater in the back, driving him into a deadly plant – murdering him on Jasmine’s doorstep. The professors gave no indication of knowledge – either they didn’t know or they were so used to not saying what they knew that they could mask it.

“Who is he?” asked Remus.

“And is he actually dead?” added Sirius.

Flitwick waved his wand. The body lifted off of the thorns – they followed until the body hung several feet away. Remus plucked the wand from the man’s hand and pressed his fingers to the man’s bleeding neck.

“He’s dead.”

Sirius plucked the mask from the man’s face with invisible fingers held it aloft. It looked like the mask hovered in mid-air. “Yaxley.”

“What should we do with him?” asked Flitwick, waving his wand. The body flopped in the air.

“The Aurors will handle it, of course,” said Sprout, “but... the Hecate’s Hawthorn would appreciate the blood if removing the body happened to take a while.” She sounded practical.

Flitwick laid the body on the ground, next to the plant, over the blood puddle. The leaves rustled. It looked and sounded like gleeful thanks.

“We’ll need the Aurors, if only to get the news out that he’s a Death Eater,” said Sirius, “though I’ll need to stay upstairs during that conversation, my own reputation being….”

“Less than sterling,” supplied Remus. The only answer was a look.

Dumbledore Apparated without the customary POP. Declining formalities, he looked at the body over his half-moon shaped glasses and asked brusquely, “Dead?”

Remus thought that if the man wasn’t yet dead, Dumbledore would dispatch him without a second’s remorse for daring to attack the house.

Sirius confirmed, “Dead.”

Dumbledore looked at Sirius. Not toward the conspicuous hole between the standing people, but at Sirius. Remus assumed that, even though Sirius was Disillusioned, Dumbledore could see him quite clearly. Perhaps the glasses that he always wore were charmed to do more than correct geriatric farsightedness.

“Who was he?”

“Yaxley,” Remus supplied.

“The girls are fine then?” The end of the sentence’s pitch turned up at the end, making it a question.

Remus nodded.

Dumbledore looked at the body and said, “Leave it for the Aurors.” He looked at Professors and Flitwick and Sprout. “Anything else I should know?”

“The Hecate’s Hawthorns dispatched the intruder quickly, but now the Death Eaters are aware of the added security measure they provide. You’ll need to protect them somehow, perhaps adding another layer to the wards,” suggested Sprout.

Dumbledore nodded, “Thank you, Pomona.”

“Someone pushed him into the plants,” Flitwick reported.

Dumbledore looked over the rim of his glasses again.

Flitwick pointed out the boot print. Dumbledore looked over the rim of his glasses again, considering. He said only, “Thank you. Is that all?”

All four of them nodded, though Sirius just looked like a shimmer in the air when he moved.

“I’ll be back soon. Until then, Filius, please make sure the school’s wards are holding strong. This was a daring manoeuvre. I don’t want them to dare any more. I doubt that we’ll see another attack tonight, though.” He dismissed them with a polite,” Thank you both for your assistance.”

The professors wished them a good night and luck then Disapparated.

Sirius asked, “What happened out there?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily, looking very old. “The village was attacked, so many….”

Remus looked down the street, into the village. Smoke plumes marred the sky, making the snow look dirty and bleak rather than picturesque.

“Mister and Missus Zonko are dead, as is Gam Fenna, the delivery boy for Bettina’s Blooms. He had charge of the shop while Bettina is visiting family.”

Remus thought of the boy, Gam. He had been affable, pleasant, really. Such a pity. They’d – Sirius, James, Peter and he had spent a fortune at Zonko’s as boys. He’d miss the old man and his patient wife.

“Auror Sloane Dawlish died trying to protect the Zonkos. Nymphadora has been admitted to St. Mungos,” said Dumbledore.

“Is she…” started Sirius.

“She’ll be well, in time, she’s very uncomfortable right now, however. The Jones-Lieberman family is also in the hospital,” Dumbledore continued, “Madame Rosemerta and Mrs. Flume are missing. I can only assume that both ladies have been abducted.”

Remus’s jaw dropped. Mrs.Flume, the owner of Honeydukes, was only his mother’s age. Rosemerta, though… sweet, sexy, beautiful Rosemerta. Of course, that’s why she’d been kidnapped. If they ever saw her again, she wouldn’t be the same cheerful, bawdy woman. He resolved to visit Tonks in the hospital soon.

Dumbledore spared him a look, “The post owlery was attacked. Niles Nilson is….”

Sirius yelped, “Fuck no! Anne-Mette! Jasmine will….”

Niles Nilson was Jasmine’s best friend’s amiable husband. Jasmine would be devastated.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Anne-Mette will be here in a little while, as soon as she packs some clothing for herself and the girls. She’s with Auror Proudfoot. I’ll join them momentarily. Have a bed and a sedative potion ready – and stay inside the grounds,” he instructed.

“What about Siobhan?” Sirius asked, referring to Niles and Anne-Mette’s older daughter.

Jasmine had spent several evenings telling them about the other family. Remus felt like he knew the other family already. He felt sick to his stomach.

“She’s safe at Hogwarts. We’ll get her in the morning,” replied Dumbledore.

They nodded. Dumbledore Disapparated. The men trudged inside with heavy hearts to give Jasmine the news.

Hours later, Anne-Mette was tucked into bed in the empty guest room, clinging to her children. Niles was dead, all of the post owls were dead and their business destroyed with them, killed by a Death Eater with a vicious streak toward animals, McNair’s signature. Jasmine had held her friend while she cried and ranted and blamed everyone from Voldemort to Dumbledore for the death of her beloved. Dumbledore had only nodded and fetched a very sleepy and confused Siobhan from Hufflepuff. They would go to her sister’s home in America the next day. Until then, though, Jasmine held her friend and cried.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At 3:30 in the morning, no one moved quickly, especially not the old man that he felt like. Severus trudged up the hill to the castle, wanting only to get to his bed and his woman. He’d have to report to Dumbledore, first, however. The raid had taken only three minutes. In three minutes time, ten Death Eaters had destroyed the heart of the small village.

They’d all Apparated to Malfoy’s estate, afterward, for some post pillaging rape, bragging and the obligatory Irish wake (Danny Boy included) for dumbfuck Yaxley that he’d been forced to kill – pardon – that he’d witnessed an Auror duel with while he’d pinched ingredients from Dogweed and Deathcap, the Herbology shop.

He deliberately didn’t think of the dead or those who were left to pick up the pieces of their lives without the people the loved. There’d be time for that later, in his shower, with a glass of Scotch.

~~~~~~~~~

My thanks to KazVL and several other fic writers from the olden days for “March”. Because of them, he’s always been “March Flitwick” to me.
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Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire