[A/N - got excited so here's a double update for you guys today :) ]
The four of them arrived at the Lovegood residence three days later. It was a very strange home located in the middle of the marsh. It appeared as though the house had been built over time, with strange additions expanding oddly at all angles until it towered high above them. The most miraculous thing was that the house remained standing despite it's nearly forty-five degree tilt. Dahlia had thought the Burrow was leaning; it had absolutely nothing on the Lovegood estate.
Looking at the home of Luna's childhood, Dahlia felt she understood the girl completely. This house and Luna made perfect sense, from the mismatched windows to the strange trees with odd looking fruit that drooped down on vines that surrounded the house.
Dahlia approached the door hesitantly, glancing back over her shoulder to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron and Harry seemed the most skeptical, but Hermione only seemed determined. She huffed and strode up to the door, brushing Dahlia aside. She rapped smartly, and waited for a response.
After a few moments, the sound of feet shuffling could be heard, and then the sound of many locks being undone. Dahlia shared a wide-eyed look with Ron - that didn't bode well. Finally, the door swung open to reveal Mr. Lovegood.
He looked ten years older than when they'd seen him at the wedding. He'd let himself go, and that was putting it nicely. His clothes were stained and wrinkled like he hadn't bothered to change in days. His skin hung on his bones as though he hadn't eaten a proper meal in months. He was pale, his skin looking almost paper thin. His eyes were hazy red, opened wider than normal giving him a crazy expression. His pale blonde hair was stringy and tangled - direly in need of a good wash and combing.
"H-hello, Mr. Lovegood," Hermione began hesitantly. She was the only one of the four of them who managed to contain their shock at his condition. "We're friends of Luna's... we were wondering if we could come in and talk?"
Mr. Lovegood lit up at the mention of Luna, or perhaps it was just the same moment that he laid eyes on Harry. He opened the door a little wider, gesturing them inside as he rambled. "Oh, friends of Luna... yes, yes, come in."
"Where is Luna, sir?" Harry asked kindly as he stepped into the dwelling. Dahlia followed closely behind him with Ron on her heels. She half expected some strange, unidentifyable creature to attack them upon their entry, but the dwelling was suspiciously quiet.
"She's... out," Mr. Lovegood's face darkened for a moment before he plastered a falsetto smile on his face and shuffled forward. "Come, come - I'll make tea!"
Dahlia followed him, regretting their decision to come already. Harry's expression told her he agreed, and Ron simply looked on edge. The entire house was odd - there were strange gadgets, and half finished inventions littered on every surface. Random items were tossed on the floor as though a child had thrown them around. Clothes, tools, silverware, it was a mess.
Dahlia tried to pay it no mind as they followed the erratic man into the kitchen. Thankfully, this room was in better shape than the others. The counters were clear, though the table held what looked like the makings of a time turner on it. Dahlia spared a moment to pray that an man as eccentric as Xenophilius never managed to make that time-turner operational. Mr. Lovegood immediately started a pot of tea while the Gryffindors filed awkwardly into the room.
"What can I do for you?" Mr. Lovegood asked eagerly as he shuffled around the small room.
Dahlia, Ron, and Harry all looked to Hermione, silently deaming her their spokesman. She huffed at being the elected one to speak, but she stepped forward regardless. "I wanted to ask you a question about the Rune you were wearing at Bill and Fleur's wedding."
Mr. Lovegood stopped bustling around the kitchen, turning slowly to face Hermione. He pulled on a chain around his neck, the silver rune displayed against his grungy shirt. "This rune?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded, eyes wide at the sight of it. "Yes - what does it mean?"
"It's not a Rune, my dear," Mr. Lovegood corrected with a small smile as he turned back to the tea. "Nearly fifty years ago, it was the symbol of a Dark Wizard known as Grindelwald. Since then, there is a stigma that follows it, but no one ever sees past the darkness to the story behind it."
Hermione glanced triumphantly at Harry, a silent I-told-you-so. "That's what I've come to ask about - what is the story behind it?"
Mr. Lovegood cocked his head at Hermione quizzically. "My dear girl, have you never heard the tales of Beedle the Bard?"
"Those are children's stories," Ron spoke up, cheeks tingling pink when Hermione glared at him. "I just mean... mum used to read those to us at bedtime, you know?"
Mr. Lovegood sniffed as though offended. "Children's stories... my boy, they are more than simple stories. They are legends."
The hair on Dahlia's arms stood up. Legends implied that there was some truth to the tales, but that was impossible. Even a magical pot that produced whatever the user wanted was a far stretch for her, and she'd been brought into the future.
"Are you familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?" Xenophilius asked as the kettle on the stove began to whistle.
Dahlia's blood ran cold, her breathing becoming difficult. She shuffled closer, anxiously waiting for the strange man to continue. The tale of the three brothers was rumored to be about the three Peverell Brothers - her great-grandfather Ignotus Peverell, and his brothers Cadmus and Antioch.
"Yes," Hermione withdrew a copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard from her bag. "I brought a copy with me."
"No need for all of that," Mr. Lovegood said disapprovingly. He glanced at each young witch and wizard in turn. "I'm sure everyone else here has heard the story?"
Ron and Dahlia nodded. She hadn't gotten much of a normal upbringing, but like every young witch or wizard she had fallen asleep to the Tales of Beedle the Bard nearly every night of her youth. Harry, however, blushed, shaking his head. "No - sorry, I don't."
Mr. Lovegood huffed, rolling his eyes. Dahlia stopped herself just short of giving Harry an indignant look - she forgot he was raised by muggles. "The story goes like this: there once were three brothers traveling along a dark, winding path at twilight when they reached a deep treacherous rive. Anyone who attempts to cross would be swept away and drowned. The brothers were learned in the magical arts, so they conjured up a bridge with their wands and proceeded to cross. They were halfway across the bridge when a hooded figure appeared before them. The figure was the enraged spirit of Death who felt cheated out of their deaths. Death cunningly decided to pretend to congratulate them, and proceeded to reward them with gifts of their own choosing.
"The oldest brother was a competitive man and asked for a wand more powerful than any other in existence. Death granted his wish by fashioning a wand from a nearby Elder tree on the banks of the river. The second brother was arrogant and wanted to humiliate Death. He asked for the power to recall the deceased from the grave. Death granted his wish by choosing a stone from the river bank and presenting it to him as a Resurrection Stone. The youngest brother did not trust Death and asked for something that would allow him to leave without Death being able to find him. Death was reluctant, but removed his own cloak from around his shoulders and presented it to the youngest brother as a cloak of invisibility so powerful it would hide his own even from Death himself.
"The three brothers were satisfied with their gifts and continued on their ways. The oldest brother went to a nearby village where a wizard he had previously quarreled with lived. He sought out the man and fought him with the wand, killing him. The oldest brother then proceeded to boast of his all powerful wand, gifted to him by Death himself. He declared himself invisible, daring someone else to challenge. Him. That night, while the eldest brother slept, someone slit his throat and stole the Elder Wand. And so Death claimed the first brother.
"The middle brother returned home. He turned the rock three times in hand and the figure of the girl he had once been engaged to before her early death appeared before him. He was so happy, but she was sad, and cold. While she was present, she was separated from him by a veil. She had returned to the mortal world, but she didn't belong there. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, hung himself from the balcony so as to truly be with her. And so Death claimed the second brother."
"Death searched for the youngest brother as the years passed, but was never able to find him. It was only when the third brother reached a great age did he take off the cloak and pass it on to his son. Greeting Death as an old friend, they departed this life as equals."
Xenophilius pushed a piece of paper he'd doodled on across from them as he spoke, drawing the triangle, the line and circle. It clicked in Dahlia mind all at once - the cloak, the stone, the wand. The master of death.
It all clicked in her head at once. Xenohilius was saying that the legends held true about the objects - the wand, the cloak, and the stone. "Grindelwald was obsessed with finding a wand," Dahlia glanced at Mr. Lovegood sharply, her voice tight. "Are you saying that the Elder Wand exists?"
"Wand of Destiny, Death Stick, Elder Wand, it goes by many names through history," Mr. Lovegood nodded furiously as he spoke. "Always won at the price of a life. You can trace the wand's violent descent through the centuries."
Dahlia's throat tightened, eyes widening. Grindelwald went in search of the Elder Wand... what if he found it? If Grindelwald found it, and Albus beat him... that meant... Dahlia nearly threw up. She clutched the bag around her shoulders a little tighter, needing to reassure herself to its presence. If Xenophilius was telling the truth, and if Grindelwald had found it prior to his defeat by Albus... then she had the Elder Wand in her bag.
"It always accompanies violence?" Hermione asked softly, brow furrowed.
"Legend has it that the wand can't pass owners unless a life has been paid to Death," Mr. Lovegood said as he shuffled to the door. "One moment - I have cookies!"
He waddled from the room quickly. Dahlia watched him leave, still too frozen to move. A life had been paid the night she took the wand - she'd killed Albus, and taken his wand. The wand that might possibly be a wand forged by Death incarnate himself.
"Do we honestly believe him?" Ron asked the group, looking around to gage everyone's responses.
"Obviously not - these are children's stories," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, a stone that can bring back the dead, and a wand fashioned by Death? Never in a million years."
Dahlia would have said the same thing, if she hadn't been born nearly a thousand years and then transported ahead to the future to be raised in a time where she was the only one of her family's name, somehow the secret descendant of the most evil Dark Wizard of their time. And if she wasn't fairly certain she had the wand in the bag on her back.
"I think I believe him," Harry said quietly, "Voldemort has been looking for something - he was after Grindelwald. If Grindelwald was the last one to have the wand and Dumbledore defeated him..."
Dahlia bit her lip; they'd made the connection from Grindelwald to Albus. She prayed that the false memory Snape implanted would hold and Harry wouldn't remember who had truly killed Albus that damned night.
"That means Dumbledore won it when he defeated him," Ron whispered, his face paling slightly. "Which means it's now Snape's."
Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief, but she was the only one. Everyone else was stricken by the idea of Snape possessing an all powerful wand. She was simply relieved that Harry didn't remember who had truly taken Albus's wand that night.
"Are you really believing this?" Hermione seemed surprised. She turned to Dahlia for support, looking at her expectantly. "What about you? What do you think?"
Dahlia swallowed, shrugging. "I think I want to research more about it." Best to stay neutral than to choose sides when it came to Hermione and Harry. The silent treatment could last for days - she'd learned that lesson the hard way.
"Well, if Snape has it, Voldemort already has it," Ron said sourly, but before anyone could elaborate on that thought Mr. Lovegood came trotting back in.
Dahlia shared a look with Harry. It was time to go - they got the information they needed, and it was best to be on their way. Harry seemed to agree because he stood to his feet, smiling politely at Mr. Lovegood.
"Thank you so much for the tea, Mr. Lovegood, but I think it's time we get going."
Dahlia and Hermione stood quickly, smiling at Mr. Lovegood. Xenophilius immediately shook his head, shuffling to block the door.
"No, no you must stay. You haven't had any cookies!" He sounded almost deranged; his demeanor had shifted darkly.
Dahlia glanced around the room cautiously. There was a stairway leading upstairs, but no door. No other exit option. Something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on what.
"Xenophilius," Hermione spoke slowly and sternly. "Where did you say Luna was?"
Dahlia stiffened, watching the old man closely. His expression broke at the mention of his daughter, his fierce expression turning distraught.
"She... she - th... they took her," he whispered the words, though he didn't move from in front of the door. Dahlia's heart plummeted at his words. She had a bad feeling she knew who they were.
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded sharply, "Who took Luna?"
"Death Eaters," Xenophilius said mournfully, wailing as his hands came to cover his face. "Took her as punishment for what I was printing about you!" He pointed a finger furiously at Harry's face, hand shaking in anger.
Dahlia paled, "Harry, we have to go."
"No - Where did they take her?" Harry demanded again, storming up to Xenophilius.
"Harry - we have to go now!" Dahlia screamed, grabbing his jacket and pulling him towards the back stairway. "He wasn't getting cookies - he was calling the Death EAters."
As if on cue, the sound of four Death Eaters apparating outside. Dahlia shoved Harry up the stairs, ushering Hermione and Ron up next. She hung back, plunging her hand into her charmed bag. Now was as good of a time as any to test the theory of Albus's wand being the Elder Wand. If they didn't escape, it would be her last chance to ever attempt it in the first place. She felt the wood brush against her fingers; her hand closed over it.
Dahlia turned to glare at Xenophilius, pulling the wand from her bag. She set her gaze on the quivering old man, raising the wand to his eye level..
"All you had to do was ask for help," Dahlia said coldly, glaring at him down the length of the unfamiliar wand. It felt strange in her hand, but perhaps that was just the years of seeing this wand yield to her guardian. "Luna is our friend - do you think we would have let her stay captured? You could have asked for help."
Mr. Lovegood only wailed in response, blubbering an apology. The longer the wand rested in her hand, the more it seemed willing to bend to her will. It was powerful, there was no doubt about that. She could feel the power radiating in it at the very core of her magic. With a flick of her wand, the words fell from her lips without a second though. "Obliviate."
Her spell hit him the face, his eyes rolling back into his head as he slumped against the door to the kitchen. The door was yanked open a moment later, Death Eaters barging in.
Dahlia attacked immediately, the wand responding better than she ever would have imagined. The power of the wand flowed through her, uniting with her magic until they flowed in unison. Her dark magic surged to the surface like the wand called to it. The spells were instinctive, barely requiring her to utter a word.
"Sectumsempra," Dahlia snarled, the curse flying from her wand and colliding with the first Death Eater that stepped through the door. He wasn't hooded or marked - a new recruit, by the looks of it. She didn't linger on him as he fell to the ground with a scream. Spells shot through the door, blasting it off the hinges. Dahlia ran back towards the stairs, staying low as she dodged the volley of spells.
The Elder Wand reacted better than her own wand ever did. It spun in her hand, identifying the Death Eaters even through the dust of the rubble as the doorway was exploded open. Curses fired one after another in rapid succession, screams of pain echoing from the death Eaters as the spells found their mark. She didn't realize that she had created a bubble like protective charm around her that moved as she walked. The spell wasn't white like most protective charms; it was a bright purple, swirling and shifting in the air in front of her. Her bubble absorbed the spells that struck it, each spell feeding her power. Dahlia was drunk on the feeling, slashing the Elder Wand through the air and watching each Death Eater fall.
"Dahlia!" Someone screamed her name. Dahlia turned to find Hermione at the top of the stairs, beckoning her. The horrified, stricken look on Hermione's face jolted Dahlia back to reality. Hermione was holding her hand out, waving Dahlia to her side. Dahlia didn't question it, she ran up the stairs, deflecting spells as she hurried towards Hermione.
"Grab on!" Hermione screamed, offering her hand. Dahlia accepted her hand. Harry and Ron grabbed onto her other arm, linking all of them.
Hermione raised her wand, a spell firing from her wand. It struck a small horn on the mantle, and then Hermione was spinning on her heel, pulling the three of them with her into the darkness just as the house shook.
The world twisted and turned, finally righting itself as they were deposited onto the rocky shore of a river. Dahlia groaned as she hit the ground, rolling over the rocks. Harry landed in the shallows of the water, emerging half-soaked.
"That bloody bastard!" Ron stood up first, spitting fire. "He fucking sold us out!"
"Ron -" Hermione was getting to her feet, examining the minor cuts on her arm from their landing.
"No - don't say it's okay because they took Luna. It's fucked up that they took Luna, but he sold us out!" Ron was personally offended, his cheeks flushed nearly the same color as his hair. Dahlia stood up, examining a slash on the back of her calf.
"He just wants his daughter back," Harry was bitter, storming towards them from the shallows of the river.
"What did you do back there?" Dahlia asked Hermione. "That horn - what was it?"
"An Errupant Horn," A ghost of a smile flickered over Hermione's face. "Highly explosive - classified as Extremely Dangerous by the Ministry. They're technically illegal."
"So you blew his house up?" Dahlia's jaw dropped as she gaped at Hermione. "I'm impressed. Hermione Granger, fighting dirty?"
"He sold us out," Hermione said haughtily, though her eyes twinkled. She turned serious a moment later, holding Dahlia's gaze. "I heard you erase his memory."
Dahlia's eyes flashed wide in surprise; she hadn't exactly wanted them to witness that. She scrambled to explain herself, but before she could get a coherent thought together Hermione continued speaking.
"Thank you for doing that - if Vol... You-Know-Who..." she scowled at Ron, "If he knew we were onto him and looking for them too that wouldn't be good."
"You're welcome," Dahlia said numbly, surprised that Hermione saw things the same way she had.
"While we're on the topic of what you did, what the fuck was the dark magic?" Harry snarled, crossing his arms.
"That was me saving our asses," Dahlia said, cutting Harry a sharp glance. Dahlia spotted the Elder Wand on the ground near her feet, leaning over to pick it up. She wasn't sure if the Elder Wand had summoned that amount of force from her magic, or if was simply the result of it being contained and suppressed for the last several weeks. She tucked it up her sleeve and out of sight, slipping her arm into her bag to exchange wands.
"Was it necessary?" He growled, crossing his arms and glaring at her.
"Honestly, yes," Dahlia planted her hands on her hips, amber eyes flashing. It was freeing to release the magic; it was intoxicating to watch the Death Eaters crumble at her feet. Ron mumbled something about setting up the wards as he backed away from their impending argument. Hermione simply sighed and started to unpack the tent a few yards away, her ear tuned into the conversation. "They walk into there trying to kill us - I'm not going to make it easy for them, Harry."
"Don't take it easy on them! But you don't need to use dark magic!" Harry bellowed, storming towards her. "If we do that we are no better than them."
Dahlia scoffed, face twisting into a sarcastic laugh. "I use their magic against them. That doesn't make me like them. They do it to cause pain; because they get off on being sick and twisted. I do it to protect the people I love. It is not the same thing."
"We don't need it to win!" Harry snarled, pacing angrily in front of her. "We shouldn't use it."
"We absolutely should," Dahlia countered, looking at him in amazement. "They are trying to kill us. I'm not actively looking to kill them, but I will meet them with deadly force every time they try to kill us!"
"Every life is worth something," Harry argued, glowering at her. "If we kill them we aren't any better than them."
"You're right - every life is worth something," Dahlia forced herself to sound calm. "Some lives are just worth more than others, and when it comes down to it, I'll choose. I will choose our lives over theirs."
"Do you realize that makes you a murderer?" Harry snarled, staring at her as though he didn't recognize her.
Something in Dahlia snapped at his words - at his accusation. Cold, deep numb emotions spread through her, slowly taking over her body. She fixed Harry with a cold, hard look. A harsh smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes showed no humor.
The word stung, but it settled deep inside her. It was true - she'd murdered Rudolphus Lestrange in cold blood without a second thought during fourth year. She'd lost count of how many Death Eaters had fallen to her in battles. She'd even murdered the only man she'd ever called a father. It wasn't an incorrect term, but he used it wrongly. However, if murderer was the term Harry wanted to use to describe her self preservation, then so be it. "Then I'm a murderer."
Harry gaped at her, rubbing his eyes and looking at her again as though he couldn't recognize her. "Who the fuck even are you?"
"I'm someone who won't let it be you, or Ron, or Hermione who dies," Dahlia snarled. They were screaming at eachother now, standing a few feet away. Harry's hand twitched as though he longed to go for his wand. Dahlia's nostrils flared at the thought; she would love to put him on his ass in a duel.
"I won't stop using my dark magic in a fight," Dahlia snarled, holding her head loftily. Her amber eyes held Harry's green eyes unwaveringly. Two sides of the same sword; the dark and light side of the moon. She waited, watching to see what his next move would be.
Harry's eye twitched, the vein in his forehead pulsing larger. He opened and closed his mouth several times before snapping it shut, his jaw clenched closed tightly. Hermione must have predicted a bad outcome, because she came running forward to intervene.
"Harry, if you're going to be mad, you might as well be angry with me too. I blew up the house," Hermione tried to deflect Harry's anger. Dahlia didn't budge from her defensive stance, chest heaving as she glared at Harry.
"You don't use dark curses!" Harry spat, glaring around Hermione at Dahlia.
"I could have killed them anyways! Look - we need to focus," Hermione grabbed Harry's shirt, giving him a shake.
"Don't get fucking mad at me because you feel guilty that Luna Lovegood was taken captive all because Xenophilius publicly defended you!" Dahlia shot back shortly, glaring at him indignantly. Harry nearly exploded at her comment, trying to dodge Hermione to get to Dahlia.
"Shut the fuck up!" Harry bellowed at her, held at bay by a Separating Charm Hermione performed. Dahlia snorted, shaking her head as she turned away. She refused to be Harry's punching bag today.
She stormed past where Ron was erecting the wards, ignoring his calls after her. "Tell the others I'll be back by morning," Dahlia called over her shoulder angrily as she continued storming into the forest. She turned the portkey to Peverell Cottage, appearing on the lawn.
She landed with a sharp pain in her right leg, but didn't stop to check it. She stormed into the house, going straight into the drawing room. She was so furious she wanted to break things; instead she threw herself on the couch, tossing an arm behind her head.
She focused on her breathing, trying to slow her heart rate. Trying to calm the swell of magic swirling inside her. Harry'd called her a murderer; something she was, without a doubt. It was a sickening realization, a horrible slap in the face by reality. Tears leaked from her eyes as she focused on the wooden ceiling, blinking furiously. It wasn't something she ever wanted to be.
She closed her eyes, counting her breaths as she tried to gain control of her spinning emotions. She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again she was being shaken awake, someone calling her name.
"Dahlia! Dahlia, wake up."
Her eyes flickered open, squinting at the fuzzy image of Draco Malfoy hovering above her, face scrunched in worry. Relief flooded his features when she opened her eyes. "Dahlia, darling, where are you hurt?"
Dahlia pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to shake the sleepy fog from her mind. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Draco was scanning her body, roaming down her arms and torso for injury. "There's a trail of blood leading from the porch to the couch, and you're the only one here."
A twinge of pain below her knee made Dahlia remember her injury on the riverbank. The events that unfurrowed after words hit her next, her face darkening with the memories.
"Dahlia - what happened?" Draco ran his hand down her leg, searching for injury. She flinched when his finger brushed against the side of her calf. He froze, his grey eyes pinning her with a look.
"Life up your leg." It was an order - not a question, not a suggestion. She obeyed, turning so her leg hung off the couch, allowing him to take her foot into his hand. He lifted it, exposing the underside of her calf. Dahlia laid eyes on it for the first time since the beach, wincing at the exposed muscle. It was much worse than she had originally thought.
What she thought had been a simple slice from a rock was actually a deep laceration that expanded past the facia and into her muscle layers. It had clotted off and stopped bleeding for the most part, but a jagged piece of flesh was gouged out leaving her leg open and exposed.
Draco summoned supplies from the kitchen with the wave of his wand, remaining crouched before her, her foot trapped in his grasp.
"Who did this to you?" Draco asked tightly, using his wand to cut away her pants at her knee.
"No one did it," Dahlia said softly, taken back by the protective growl. "I fell when we were landing after apperating unexpectedly. We landed on some rocks - landed wrong, slipped, and cut myself."
Draco grunted in response to her story, studying the slash closely before setting her foot down in his lap as he sorted through the potions at his side. Dahlia waited nervously, her anger at Harry still simmering.
"What else happened?" Draco asked, not looking up at her as he selected a potion, removing the cork top. He lifted her foot, turning to expose her injured. She watched him as he observed her wound, noticing how he didn't flinch or grimace even once. He remained a cool mask of contained anger, tending to her needs. He glanced up at her, his grey eyes meeting hers briefly.
She realized she still hadn't answered his question. "Nothing," Dahlia muttered, hanging her head to avoid looking at him.
"I can feel your anger," Draco said softly, glancing up at her. She met his gaze, blushing. The walls around her resignation caved in; she found herself admitting, "Harry and I got into a fight."
Draco's face darkened, looking down at her mangled leg. "Did he hurt you?"
"What?" Dahlia gaped at Draco in surprise before shaking her head. "No - no, nothing like that. He just got pissed about me using dark magic again."
"Oh," Draco glanced up at her apologetically. He held a vial over her leg, poised to pour it's contents on her calf. "I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt."
"Just do it," Dahlia gripped the arm of the couch, gritting her teeth in preparation of the pain. Draco dumped a Sanitizing potion on it, the potion foaming up and fizzing immediately. Dahlia hissed against the pain, her face scrunching up as her head fell back.
"Get it off your chest," Draco said, as he reached for another potion. She heard the clinking of the vials rattling around. "What happened with Potter?"
"We were at the Lovegoods, and Xenphilius summoned Death Eaters. I fought them before Hermione exploded the house and apparated us away," Dahlia explained in between pants as the potion continued to sterilize her wound.
"You were really at the Lovegoods?" Draco asked sharply, cutting her a sharp glance she didn't see. Dahlia nodded, huffing as the stinging began to slowly decrease.
"We thought that was a false alarm. You took out six Death Eaters," Draco said softly, "And that was before the house blew up."
"I know," Dahlia grunted as she heard him uncork another bottle. She winced; she had a feeling she knew what was next, and it would be twice as painful.
"Dahlia, I can give you a pain reliever for this part," Drao offered, surprisingly gentle. Dahlia shook her head, inhaling deeply in preparation.
"No - I have to be able to apparate back to the Gryffindor camp. You can't apparate alone after taking a Pain Reliever Potion," Dahlia protested, lifting her head to look determinedly at Draco. "Just do it."
Draco paled slightly, but he set his jaw in determination. "Okay - you'll need to not move your leg for at least a full ten minutes after I pour the Dittany."
"How long will it hurt, do you think?" Dahlia asked warily, her eyes lidded with pain.
Draco hesitated, but he met her gaze with a resolved look. "Probably three minutes, at least. Maybe more."
"Lovely," Dahlia let her head fall back, her hands gripping the sides and back of the couch. "Alright - just do it."
Draco turned back to her leg, looking at the wound apprehensively. A flicker of anger flashed across his face, his grey eyes flashing. "Nowhere in this argument did Potter bother to realize you were injured?"
"We were busy fighting," Dahlia snorted, eyes closed in anticipation. She lifted her head, opening one eye to look at him. "Draco?"
"Yeah?" He looked up, his name on her lips twinged his heart strings. Her amber eyes observed him closely as though she was memorizing his face.
"Don't stop, even if I scream," Dahlia attempted at humor, a small smile flashing across her face. Draco gritted his teeth, nodding.
"Right. Here we go." He turned his attention to her leg, pinning it against him. He tilted the bottle, letting the contents drip from the vial onto her skin. The moment the potion made contact with Dahlia's skin it hissed and bubbled up.
Draco knew the moment the pain hit Dahlia; the spit second after the potion boiled against her skin Dahlia twitched, her back arching, face scrunching up in pain. Draco ignored the pain in his own chest as he continued, dripping the vial onto her wound until the skin began to boil and heal it closed.
Draco could tell Dahlia was in pain. Her entire body was rigid, her eyes squeezed closed. Her breaths came in haggard breaths, short and quick. Her small hands were fisted around the couch, holding her upper body in place.
"Hang in there," Draco found himself saying; trying to do something to soothe her pain. His heart twisted at the anguished expression on her face. "Just a few more minutes - it's okay, just hang in there."
Dahlia barely managed to nod back to let him know she'd heard his words. A whimper escaped her, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Draco reached out, his hand brushing the lone tear. "I'm going to kill Potter," Draco muttered to himself as he tried to comfort Dahlia as the Dittany sewed her skin back together.
"T-talk to me," Dahlia managed to gasp out, eyes flickering open to look pleadingly at him. "It helps."
Draco was surprised by her request, blurting out the first thing that popped into his mind. "I've always wanted to become an animagus."
Dahlia gasped against the pain, whimpering as she twitched inwards, nearly jarring her leg. Draco pinned her leg down, despite her cry of pain. He winced, but held her leg firmly down. He began listing all the ways he was going to murder Potter for dragging her into this mess when her broken voice began to speak.
"Wh-what form... would you want?" Dahlia managed, chest heaving. Her eyes were closed as though she had to focus on how to speak, but he was encouraged by her response. Draco tabled his murder list for later, focusing on Dahlia. She didn't need his anger right now.
He forced a chuckle, fighting against his own emotions as he watched her wrestle against the pain. "Honestly, I would choose a Phoenix."
Dahlia snorted, her back slowly relaxing enough to let her fall back against the couch. Draco hoped that was a sign that the potion was working quickly. He kept his hands on her calf, holding it steady.
"Are you just saying that because I gave you part of my soul?" Dahlia asked, a remnant of her old snarky self sparking to life. Draco barked a laugh, shaking his head.
"No, actually. In all honesty, I've always been fascinated by Phoenixes ever since I was a little kid. The burning and be born again of the ashes thing fascinated me," Draco admitted, relaxing slightly as she did. Her face was still puckered in pain, but it had clearly subsided some. Draco felt it was safe to begin sprinkling Numbing Potion on the now marred skin.
"Really?" Dahlia looked at him curiously.
"Yeah," Draco tossed her a half smile. "What really sealed the deal for me was the fact that there are no recorded cases of an animagi taking the form a Phoenix."
"It issues a challenge," Dahlia said with a smile, understanding why he would be drawn. "I've thought about being an animagus a lot, too."
"What would you want to be?" Draco asked amicably as he began to wrap bandages around her leg. He could tell the pain had subsided, but was still present so he continued to talk to her, hoping to distract her.
Dahlia rolled her eyes, giving him a fake stern look. "Well, a moment ago I would have said a Phoenix, but now I sound like I'm copying you."
Draco glanced up at her in surprise, a timid smile on his face, "You would choose a Phoenix too?"
"Yes," Dahlia said haughtily, ignoring the brushes of his fingers against her calf. "But not for the deep reasons you would."
"What's your reasoning then?" Draco asked with amusement in his voice as he tied off her bandage.
"Then I could set things on fire at will," Dahlia admitted, cheeks flushing slightly with her admission. Draco laughed out loud, sitting back on his heels. Dahlia's face lit up, all signs of pain gone as she laughed. Her amber eyes flickered warmly, her smile so sweet and innocent he couldn't resist but want to make her smile like that time and time again.
"Dahlia, I've seen you with fireballs. You can set anything you want on fire whenever you want," Draco said between laughs, his grey eyes lit with merriment. Dahlia laughed with him, test flexing her foot.
Her leg hurt, but it was healing quickly thanks to Draco's administrations. "I suppose you're right," Dahlia conceded, sharing a smile with the handsome boy across from her.
"Can you tell me what you four were doing at the Lovegoods?" Draco asked, gaging her reaction carefully. Dahlia opened her mouth to say no out of instinct, but caught herself. This wasn't about the horcruxes, which was technically their mission. Their visits to the Lovegoods fell in a morally grey section of their mission, not technically a part of it, but a new interest.
She found herself curious about his opinion in this matter - after all, their group was slightly torn on whether the Hallows even existed. Her short use of Albus's wand had been powerful, no doubt. It was more powerful than her own wand, but she didn't think she would describe it as all powerful. Afterall, Albus Dumbledore had been a powerful wizard; perhaps his wand was just as powerful.
"Actually, yeah," Dahlia found herself saying, patting the couch next to her. Draco took a seat, glancing at her curiously. She could see the excitement he was tampering down at her finally agree to tell him an aspect of the mission.
"Okay?" He seemed surprised that she was going to tell him something.
Dahlia cleared her throat, glancing cautiously at the Slytherin boy beside her. "Have you ever heard of the Tale of the Three Brothers?"
Draco snorted as though that was a ridiculous question. "Obviously. It's a children's bedtime story. My mother used to read it to me when I was young."
"Okay, well, what if I told you that I think parts of the story are true," Dahlia whispered, watching his reaction closely. His brow furrowed, confusion sinking across him.
"What are you saying?" He asked slowly, grey eyes piercing her.
"Okay... here me out." Dahlia pulled a piece of parchment from her bag along with a quill. She drew the Deathly Hallows Symbol on it, turning it to Draco.
"Does that mean anything to you?"
Draco studied the rune, recognition flashing in his eyes. "Yes - that's Grindelwald's mark," he said immediately. "The Dark Lord has been looking for him."
Dahlia nodded, fueled by his response. "Okay, why has the Dark Lord been looking for him?"
Draco shook his head, glancing up at Dahlia. "I don't know - I wasn't allowed to sit in on those meetings."
"Okay, well... hear me out." Dahlia inhaled, preparing for her speech. She hoped he would listen all the way through instead of telling her she was off her rockers. "The tale of the three brothers talks about how the three brothers meet Death, right?"
"Legend has it that it's the Peverells," Draco said, looking at her pointedly.
"Okay, yes, so let's say my great-grandfather and his brothers encountered Death. Supposedly, Death granted them an item of their wish. A cloak of Invisibility, an all powerful wand, and a stone that could raise the dead."
"I don't see your point," Draco said, looking at her as though she had slightly lost her mind.
"Look!" Dahlia shifted closer to him on the couch, turning the paper to face her. "A Cloak of invisibility." She drew the triangle.
"The Resurrection Stone," Dahlia drew the circle inside the triangle.
"The Elder Wand," Dahlia drew the line down the middle, finished the rune. Draco looked at her, eyes widening.
"What are you saying?" He asked, leaning towards. He wasn't skeptical, wasn't judging her thoughts. He just simply waited for her to explain where she was going with this.
"Just hear me out - let's say for a moment that these three things exist. This rune is the sign of the Deathly Hallows, and Grindelwald knew that when he took it as his symbol. What if Grindelwald found the Elder Wand?" Dahlia said softly, meeting Draco's gaze. "What if that is why the Dark Lord is looking for him? Because he's the last known owner of it?"
Draco's breath caught in his throat as he processed the thought. He ground his jaw, looking at Dahlia. "You think these things are real."
Dahlia inhaled deeply before nodding, pulling Albus's wand from her pocket. "Yes - more than that... I think I have it."
She offered him Albus's wand hesitantly. Draco looked at it with wide eyes, his gaze flickering to her eyes in dead shock. "What...?"
"Albus is the one who defeated Grindelwald nearly fifty years ago. What if he won the Elder Wand from him?" Dahlia caressed the wand in her hand, the wood feeling familiar in her hand now, the magic inside caressing her back. "I used it," Dahlia admitted, focusing on the wand as she spoke.
Draco simply gawked at her, "You -... right...Is it all powerful?"
"It's more powerful than any wand I've ever used before," Dahlia admitted as she offered the wand to him. Draco shook his head, looking at the wand as though it was poisoned. She shrugged, returning the wand to her pocket. "I don't know if I would say it's all powerful."
"But you think that is the Elder Wand?" Draco seemed slightly doubtful, but was willing to weigh her possibility.
"I think there's a chance, and I want to find out if it's true." Dahlia set her jaw grimly. "I'm also willing to bet a hundred galleons that the Dark Lord believes the wand exists, and that's why he is seeking out Grindelwald."
"It would make sense," Draco admitted reluctantly, still eyeing her pocket as if the wand were a bomb. "He has no need for a new wand, but an all powerful wand would grab his attention."
"If the Elder Wand exists, that means that the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility exist too," Dahlia mused, sharing a glance with Draco.
"So... you were at the Lovegoods to learn about the Deathly Hallows?" Draco questioned, bringing the story full circle.
"Yes. He was wearing the rune at Bill and Fleurs wedding so we went to him for answers."
"You blew up a man's home based off a rune he was wearing at a wedding?" Draco clearly found it humorous. Dahlia smacked his arm lightly, laughing despite herself.
"That's not funny - we didn't go there intending to blow up his house. We never would have, actually, if he hadn't fucking ratted us out." Dahlia defended the Gryffindors actions even though she knew his comment was teasing.
"Does Harry know you have what might be the Elder Wand?" Draco asked suddenly. Dahlia shook her head immediately, her face clouding with anger.
"No, I didn't have a chance to tell him before he started biting my head off." Dahlia scowled at the memory. "I don't think I'll be telling him after that."
"Smart choice," Draco agreed, his eyes roaming over her body. Dahlia blushed under his intense stare, pulling away slightly.
"What?" She asked, glancing down at herself expecting to find her clothes bloodstained again.
"Just remembering how you looked in that dress at Bill and Fleur's wedding," Draco's voice was low, his gaze turning hungry. Dahlia blushed, trapped under the intensity of his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered that night. The ambush at the wedding, the moment they shared in the forest... she shivered at the memory of his lips against her ear as he'd whispered words she'd replayed a thousand times in her mind over the following weeks.
"I'll be happy to model a green version of that dress whenever you get around to buying it for me," Dahlia teased beach after a moment, her voice breathy. Her response had his eyes fluttering closed against the wave of desire that swept over him.
"You shouldn't say things like that," he growled, grey eyes opening and pinning her with a lustful glare. Dahlia shrugged, giving him a smirk. What if she wanted to provoke him?
"I want what I want," Dahlia responded, her eyes falling down to his lips. His tongue darted out of his lips, parting and wetting them. She swallowed nervously, captivated as she watched his mouth move.
"And what is it that you want, Dahlia darling?" His breath hitched, his body shifting forward ever so slightly towards her. Dahlia's eyes flickered up to his, the word on the tip of her tongue when the door to the library burst open, a panicked Blaise in the doorway.
"What the hell happened?" He gasped as he ran towards them. Dahlia and Draco separated immediately, pulling away from each other as though stung. Blaise skidded to a halt in front of them, his eyes scanning both of them for injury. His eyes settled on Dahlia's bandaged leg, eyes bulging.
"There's a trail of blood leading in here," Blaise huffed, the panic in his eyes dying slightly as he took in both of them alive and well. "Care to explain that?"
Dahlia opened her mouth to explain what had happened when Theo came sprinting into the room, calling out their names. "Blaise! Dahlia! Draco!"
Theo skidded into the room, sagging against the door in relief when he laid eyes on them. "Oh - for the love of Merlin - who's blood is that?" He demanded, still obviously panicked.
"I slipped after apparating," Dahlia explained, pushing herself up to stand. She winced against the weight on her bad leg, putting the majority of her weight on her right leg. "I cut my leg on some rocks."
Theo and Blaise relaxed, scolding her for giving them such a scare. Draco simply looked at her, the desire burning in his eyes. She wasn't sure what made her blush more, the way he looked at her or the images that the look in his eyes prompted - each was dirtier than the next.
She left the check-in sooner than normal, needing the space to breathe after the near encounter with Draco. The thought of her fight with Harry was long gone; the image of Draco was all she could see in her mind, the lust in his eyes pooling wetness in her panties.
She returned to the Gryffindors camp well before dawn to find the camp completely set up. She walked limped into the tent, ignoring Harry who was sitting on guard duty. Dahlia went straight to her compartment, throwing herself down on the uncomfortable sleeping back and drifting off to sleep.
The next few days were extremely strained. Harry was so hot-headed that they cut him from the horcrux rotation, meaning that each of them were required to take longer shifts. Ron was nearly as bad as Harry with the locket, though his mood would lighten considerably once he handed the locket off.
Harry, on the other hand, stormed around in a foul mood no matter what. He refused to speak to Dahlia at all, and refused to acknowledge her presence. Hermione tried to deescalate the situation, which only resulted in Harry yelling at her. Hermione had sniffed at him, reminding him that she agreed Dahlia shouldn't use dark magic.
Hermione's snub hurt, but Dahlia had expected it. Dahlia tried to ignore it, throwing herself into researching the Deathly Hallows and the exploits of Grindelwald. It was over a week later when she got tired of finding nothing useful and started coming up with creative solutions for her problems.
The image of the book in the Peverell Library flashed through her mind - the one with the Deathly Hallows symbol on the cover. Until now, Dahlia had been avoiding leaving the camp to return to the Cottage unless absolutely necessary for check ins. Harry was so high strung she knew it would blow his top for her to be mysteriously leaving so soon, but after he'd spent the last several weeks ignoring she was angry enough to not give a damn anymore. Dahlia settled her resolve, standing up from the table and marching from the tent. She strode past Harry who was on guard duty, ignoring his calls after her as she flipped her portkey and transported to the Cottage.
She barrelled through the front door, going straight down the hallway towards the library. Dahlia made a beeline for the table she and Draco had occupied a week prior. She rifled through the stack of books until she found the book with the rune branded into the leather cover. Dahlia spun on her heel, focusing on the Gryffindor campsite.
She landed on the cold ground out in the snow outside the tent. Harry could be heard yelling inside, most likely about her. Dahlia rolled her eyes as she trudged through the layers of snow on the ground, stomping her shoes off as she entered the tent.
Harry gawked at her as she entered as though wondering where she got the audacity. Dahlia ignored him as she settled into her previously occupied chair, opening the book in her lap.
"Where the fuck did you go?" Harry snapped, marching around the table towards her. "I went chasing after you but you just fucking vanished!"
Dahlia didn't glance up from the book as she looked at the first page. Part of her wanted to make a snarky remark about how at least he was talking to her now, but she silenced that voice in her mind. "I had to go get something."
"What did you get?" Harry demanded angrily, slamming his fist down on the table. "Where did you go?"
"That's none of your business," Dahlia said shortly, flicking the page. "And I went to get something that might help us."
"I'm so fucking sick of your secrets!" Harry bellowed, spinning around to glare at Hermione. "I told you - she's never honest!"
"Harry -" Hermione tried to console him, but Harry wasn't having it.
"No, Hermione, do not do that. Do not try to talk me down. You know I'm right - you said it too!"
Dahlia gave Hermione a pointed look, closing the text in her hands and spinning the chair around to face Hermione. "Oh, she did, did she?"
"Yes!" Harry snarled, nostrils flaring. He didn't seem to realize his mistake as Dahlia's glare slid from him to the witch standing behind him. Hermione cowered under Dahlia's threatening look, but she owned up to it.
"I just said that there's a lot we don't know," Hermione said softly, giving Harry a disappointed look.
"Yeah, because it's none of your business!" Dahlia snapped, crossing her arms and glaring pointedly at the two of them.
"It is our business!" Harry bellowed, the locket swinging wildly around his neck. "We're out here risking our lives and you have secrets!"
"Secrets that don't have anything to do with you!" Dahlia countered, getting to her feet. "It's none of your business, Harry."
"Does it have to do with your prophecy?" Hermione spoke up timidly. Dahlia spun to face her, aghast at her words. Even more shocked by her audacity. Harry turned and gaped at Dahlia, looking between her and Hermione, stunned wordless.
"What prophecy?" Harry spun to look demandingly at Dahlia after a pregnant pause. He was shaking his was so angry, his face nearly as red as Ron's. "Do you have a prophecy too?"
Dahlia glared daggers at Hermione who pointedly ignored her. Dahlia ground her teeth as she turned to face Harry's fury. "Yes," she grudgingly ground out.
Harry gaped at her, running his fingers through his hair as though he couldn't comprehend what was happening. "Who the fuck are you?" He looked at her in bewilderment, shaking his head in disappointment. He turned angry again very quickly, his green eyes flashing dangerously. "What's your prophecy?"
"It's none of your business!" Dahlia responded shortly, turning to pointedly glare at Hermione. "It wasn't Hermione's place to bring it up."
"Why did Hermione know about it?" Harry demanded, hurt resonating in his voice.
"She saw me take it from the Hall of Prophecy in fifth year," Dahlia flinched as she admitted it, knowing she'd lit the fuse to Harry's temper.
Today, of all days, he had insisted on being allowed back into the Horcrux rotation after a near all out brawl between Ron and Hermione. Dahlia had ended up conceding simply due to the fact that she couldn't handle the heavy, dark weight of the horcrux weighing on her neck for one more second longer than absolutely necessary.
The horcrux was like an expedient, leeching into your mind and bringing up the deepest, darkest thoughts. The humiliatingly, hurtful things that one would never speak of. It twists your mind, riling your anger and bombarding you with the most negative thoughts one possesses. It was a manipulative, dark, horrid magic that Dahlia detested having anywhere near her person. That same dark, manipulative magic hung around Harry's neck, exploiting his anger that would already be astronomical to a whole new level.
She witnessed the effects of the horcrux the next second - Harry imploded. His face turned beet red, and strangled noises gurgled from his throat, but no words formed. For half a second she thought he'd choked himself on his own anger. Harry fumed silently for a moment before finally managing to grind out, "You've had a prophecy since fifth year?"
"Yeah." Dahlia was going to kill Hermione. Any fondness she'd held for the girl shattered in the moment, at that betrayal.
"And you didn't feel like that was something important to tell the class?" Harry was losing it; he began to laugh hysterically, so hard that tears formed in his eyes and fell down his cheeks.
"I felt like it was my problem, and that you three were already busy with your prophecy!" Dahlia snapped back, her temper flaring.
"That doesn't mean that we couldn't have helped you!" Harry yelled, looking at her in amazement. "What even is your fucking prophecy anyways?"
Dahlia swallowed; she should have anticipated him asking that, but she hadn't. All she could manage to do was shake her head, refusing to utter the words that predicted her future. Too many secrets lay bundled up in those prophetic words. Secrets she wasn't ready to put out into the world.
"Seriously?" Harry shook his head, laughing almost madly to himself. He lifted his furious eyes up to Dahlia, finger pointed at the flap to the tent. "Get the fuck out."
Hermione started forward to protest, but Harry held up his hand. "Do not push me," he spat at Hermione, glaring at her. "You kept secrets too."
Hermione's jaw snapped shut. Dahlia was already in motion; she couldn't keep doing this. Walking on eggshells, sneaking around. Maybe it was better she left - clearly she didn't belong here with them. With a wave of her wand all the books that belonged to her - the ones she provided from the Black Manor and Dumbledore's collection sailed into her outstretched bag. Hundreds of books thudded into the deep abyss of her bag.
When the last book was inside, Dahlia zipped her bag up, tossing it over her shoulder. She pinned Harry with a spiteful look, amber eyes flashing. There was one thing they needed to do - one object the mission focused around them procuring. "I'm going to go get the fucking sword."
Harry laughed as Dahlia strode towards the exit. "I don't give a fuck what you do, as long as you aren't here."
"Don't worry," Dahlia spat over her shoulder as she strode out into the cold shivering against the numbing wind chill. "I won't come back."
Harry followed her outside, continuing to probe her. "First you're okay with being a murderer, now you're a prophecy child?" He scoffed at her, "Seriously, it's like I never knew you at all."
Dahlia spun around, the tears that had built up in her eyes spilling onto her cheeks. "Maybe you don't, Harry," she spat over her shoulder. Her wand slipped into her hand subconsciously, her fingers curling around it.
"Clearly, I don't know a damn thing!" Harry yelled indignantly. "Clearly you don't trust me enough to tell me!"
"Maybe it's because if I told you, you wouldn't accept it!" Dahlia screamed back, her magic crackling to life in the air around her. She willed it to dissipate, not wanting to unintentionally curse Harry. She was angry, but she wasn't about to curse him.
"There's nothing you can't tell me that's worse than my prophecy," Harry countered, glaring at her. Dahlia hated the look in his eyes, the contempt for her he held, but she held her ground.
He sounded so naive that Dahlia barked a sarcastic laugh, sounding nearly half mad herself. "Harry, there is shit so much worse going on you can't even understand."
"Maybe I would if you would fucking tell me!" Harry bellowed, green eyes flashing. Dahlia shivered against the flurry of snow falling around them, her lack of layers allowing the cold to seep straight into her bones. The wind was picking up, and it was well below freezing. She was wearing nothing except for a tank top and a pair of spandex shorts, with her cloak tied loosely around her shoulders.
The Gyrffindors often made fun of her for her odd outfits; frankly, she was focused on saving the world and preferred to do it in comfort. Though comfort certainly wasn't what the outfit was providing outside in the snow, it had been fantastic while curled up in the chair by the fire inside.
"Harry, if you call me a murderer simply for using my dark magic in a fight, then you don't stand a chance of understand what the fuck is happening," Dahlia growled, turning away from him. "You will not understand the decisions, the choices I have been forced to make - some of which you have personally forced my hand in. I won't waste the breath trying to explain it to you."
"Fine," Harry screamed after her retreating back. "Just get the fuck out of here!"
Dahlia ran out of the wards and into the woods that surrounded them. She stifled the sob she'd been holding back as she fumbled with the porky around her wrist, twisting the Peverell crest symbol around and transporting to the only people she wanted to see - the only other place that could maybe be a home.
Peverell Cottage.