08 | E N D I N G

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I hate the ending myself,
but it started with an alright scene.

    REMUS WAS WALKING up and down the Burrow's kitchen like a tiger trapped in a cage

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  REMUS WAS WALKING up and down the Burrow's kitchen like a tiger trapped in a cage. The wrinkles on his forehead growing deeper with every minute, his eyes were fixated on the ground, as if he could stumble across a solution just any second, but at some point he stopped, and with an exhausted expression he leaned his back against the sink, looking at the Weasleys with pure despair in his eyes.

    "I am sorry, I shouldn't have said anything at all", Fred muttered, his face buried in his hands.

   Remus shook his head. "It's not your fault", he told the boy. "If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine. I should have told her long ago and help her finding a solution. I should have been going with her searching for Peter."

   "It is no one's fault", said Mrs. Weasley. "You — we all wanted her safe."

   But the words didn't reach Fred's brain, they never dropped in, no matter how often they got repeated during the next weeks.

   Remus had left the Burrow days ago, looking for Ember, denying anyone to come with him. Fred didn't even know where he could start looking for her, so he agreed with his former teacher to stay at the Burrow in case Ember would return.

   But she didn't.

   September passed, and it became a month now Ember was gone without a trace. At this point, the twins and Lee started the radio, sending out subtle messages to Ember, begging her to come home.

   But she didn't.

   When Ember had left the Burrow on September first, she had headed straight to Bill and Fleur's house, stealing what was left of the Polyjuice Potion they had brewed for the wedding. It wasn't that much, but enough to get her to London for a while. She needed information, and the Leaky Cauldron was perfect for getting them.

   It wasn't as crowded as Ember remembered it, but still a couple of witches and wizards found their way into the pub, whispering all they knew at each other; whether it was true or not, Ember highly doubted from time to time, and never was anything useful amongst the talks. Nevertheless, she did not give up, coming back every day with a new face, until by the end of September the Polyjuice Potion was emptied.

   Ember did not dare to return to Diagon Ally without a disguise. At all it was pointless. People didn't dare to speak openly in public. What Ember needed was someone who knew what was going on, who had an insight into the inner circle of Death Eaters, who knew where to find Peter Pettigrew. So who she needed — and she hated to admit it, was disgusted by the pure thought of it — was Draco Malfoy.

   For the night, Ember returned to Privet Drive, just like every night. Who'd thought she'd ever return to this place voluntarily? But not even Voldemort himself would have guessed that Ember could be stupid enough to ever return to this forsaken house again. It was too obvious, which made it the perfect hideout.

   Lying awake that night in the old room she'd once shared with Harry, Ember broke her head to try to find out how to get to Malfoy. What use had all her powers, when they didn't help her to find a silly boy? What did it help her to be able to travel the whole world, when she didn't know where to find him? Why couldn't she just travel to someone instead of somewhere?

   With a jolt, she sat up in her bed, immediately feeling wide awake, eyes growing round.

   Who said, she couldn't? Did she ever try it?

   Flinging the blanket off of her, she was on her feet, before she knew. The idea was as sudden, as it was stupid, but fact was, she never had tried to travel to someone. So what if it actually worked?

   Snatching her wand from the nightstand, Ember's mind was racing. She should have come up with a plan before trying this, but what would that plan look like anyway? She didn't know where he was, didn't know how to prepare for the unknown circumstances awaiting her. She could wait and break her head about this, but where was the point in that?

   "Okay", she whispered to herself. "Okay, this isn't any different than going to a place, is it?"

   Concentrating on Draco Malfoy's face, his slender silhouette, his almost white blonde hair, Ember closed her eyes. Shadows out of every corner of the room started to merge into thick black fume, covering her feet, her hands, creeping up her body, until they gulped her whole, taking her away.

·

   "Arthur!", Mrs. Weasley gasped, having Fred jerk up in his armchair. His mother's voice was high-pitched, and Fred feared what he'd find in the kitchen, the moment he got up.

   When he entered, there was a knock on the backdoor, before Remus stepped in, his face paperwhite, as Mr. Weasley's was pale as a ghost. Both the men held a newspaper in their clenched fists.

   "What's going on?", Fred asked in a sharp voice, before George stormed into the room.

   "Aren't you supposed to be at work, Dad?", George asked, cocking his eyebrows, before he looked at Remus. "Anything new about Emmie?"

   Remus opened his mouth and closed it again, like a fish on dry ground. After seconds, he just closed his mouth, handing the twins the Daily Prophet. Fred took it, noticing his hands were shaking.

   Miles away, Hermione let out a shriek so loud, the birds in the surrounding trees escaped in panic. When Ron and Harry entered the tent, they found her wide eyed staring at the newspaper in her hands.

   "What's wrong? Anyone dead?", Ron asked, still standing in the entrance. 

   And Hermione's eyes filled with tears, while no sound escaped her lips, as she looked at Harry and Ron with a horrific pleading in her gaze, that had the boys' blood freezing.

   Ron was the first to move, his feet taking step by step, not stopping before he reached Hermione. His eyes fell on the newspaper, and Harry watched even his freckles lose every pigment of its colour.

   "What?", Harry asked, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. And like in slow motion, his feet crossed the room.

   The newspaper was laying on the table in front of Hermione. She hadn't even turned a page. She didn't had to.

   All the air was pressed out of Harry's lungs; the room started spinning, the world sunk in a blur, but not enough to make the devastating headline unreadable.

Ember Potter found dead near Wiltshire

  

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