Christmas was a sombre affair. Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora, who insisted on being referred to only by Tonks, appeared on her mother's doorstep on Christmas Eve with black news. The witch had a hand on her stomach and a grim expression.
Artemis made herself scarce while the two witches spent their time together having hushed conversations. She spent most of her time holed up in the brewing room, working on a Mandrake Restorative Draught for Sturgis Podmore. According to Miss Jones, his condition hadn't changed, and he was consistently doing absolutely nothing.
The night the two men had been injured had ended rather quickly after Kingsley's offer. Artemis had barely nodded her assent when Andromeda had begun tugging her out of the room. The two of them had remained silent until they were situated in Andromeda's kitchen, a steaming pot of tea between them.
That had been when the older witch explained that she was, in fact, not a healer but the next best thing. She'd taken Madame Pomfrey's Advanced Healing class in her sixth and seventh year before she'd run away with her husband, but she'd never continued her studies.
But until Artemis, she'd been the best they had as Madame Pomfrey had turned down their offer to stay at Hogwarts where she believed herself most suited to help the students.
Artemis stirred the draught counter-clockwise slowly, staring down at the bubbling potion, her mind on the lessons Pomfrey had taught her. She only knew as much as she did because of the climate of her seventh year. In sixth year, the class she'd taken with the mediwitch had been more to do with physical injuries and not magical. Artemis would bet her wand that Advanced Healing would have continued on that vein if the Carrows hadn't been instated.
She blinked hard, trying to dispel the image of Anthony panting and in pain from her mind.
The ladle she'd been stirring with clattered against the cauldron as a tremor began in her fingers. Artemis clasped the hand to her chest and heaved in a breath. She couldn't afford to fall apart; there were too many people who would need her help soon.
"All right, kid?" The voice came from the doorway behind Artemis, causing her to jump violently.
She spun around to face Andromeda's daughter. Tonks had a concerted expression on her face and a hand on her slightly protruding stomach.
Artemis unclenched her fingers and shook out her hand, "I'm fine."
"I heard Kingsley's trying to recruit you," Tonks's voice was neutral, but her eyes narrowed slightly as if she disapproved.
"Something like that, I suppose," Artemis felt thoroughly scrutinized. Her hand tingled, and she frowned down at it, itching to cast a Diagnostic Charm to understand the tremor. She continued absent-mindedly, rubbing at her knuckles, "I'm not much of a fighter."
"I remember you, you know," that got Artemis's attention, "seventh year for me, probably first or second for you. You were the kid that I ran into outside of the kitchens."
Artemis's eyes widened, "That was you?"
Tonks's smile was wry, "I suppose the blonde isn't quite as bold. But what I mean to say is ... don't let yourself become too absorbed in all this. This war isn't your responsibility. I can't stand the thought of more children — "
The older witch broke off and rubbed at her jaw, staring out the window at the snowy landscape.
Artemis's eyes wandered to the swell of Tonks's stomach and felt immeasurably guilty, "I understand, but you won't be able to change my mind. I think I made it up years ago without even realizing."
Tonks only nodded hollowly.
"Don't think about another child dying, Tonks," Artemis stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm, "I could save countless lives, countless mothers, daughters, and sons."
Kingsley arrived at Andromeda's the day the Mandrake Restorative Draught was finished. He wore dark robes and a rather grim expression.
Andromeda's farewell had been tearful, despite only knowing Artemis for a short amount of time.
"You are to keep out of trouble, dear," Andromeda crushed Artemis to her chest, "you hear me? You are not to put yourself in harm's way."
The echo of her father's words hurt more than Artemis had been ready for. She looked away and bit her lip to keep from crying. She nodded and said her goodbyes.
Kingsley apparated the two of them into a forest, then stepped away, "Before we reach the safe house, there are a few things you should know."
Artemis raised an eyebrow at the wizard.
"The Dark Lord's true name has some sort of taboo upon it. You are by no means to utter the name when at a safe house. We are hunted everywhere we go, and there is no reason to lead them to our doorstep," Kingsley crossed his arms over his chest, "and finally, each house is under a special enchantment that forbids anyone but the keeper from revealing its location."
Artemis nodded.
"Any questions?"
"Where is my brother?" Artemis knew the question wasn't of the variety he'd been speaking of but didn't care.
"Your brother was last seen at a compromised safe house fleeing with Justin Finch-Fletchley," Kingsley said matter-of-factly.
Artemis's knees went weak, and she lowered herself to a crouch, hugging her knees to her chest, "He isn't dead, is he? I want you to tell me."
"We don't believe he is."
"And my father?"
"If he's alive, he won't be the same person he was before he was taken."
Artemis knew that. She knew the effects of long-term magical torture. She took a steadying breath.
"You said the safe house was compromised? Does that happen often?"
"No, but it still happens," Kingsley's voice was strained, "as much as I wish I could guarantee safety for all — "
"I understand," Artemis rose to her feet and shook out her hands, "let's go."
The safe house where Artemis resided with Kingsley, Hestia Jones, Sturgis Podmore, and — for some odd reason - Lee Jordan. The house was affectionately referred to as the Cheshire Outpost by Kingsley and The Prison by Lee.
Podmore had been administered the Restorative Draught and had made a near-full recovery within a week. The night he'd finally felt well enough to join them for a meal, he'd fallen at her feet and profusely thanked her, making Artemis wholly uncomfortable.
The safe house was fully equipped with a brewing room with supplies which were restocked each day by a shy house-elf named Lo. Artemis spent her free time hidden in the dark room, working at completing a stock of the most common healing potions to give to Kingsley. He had asked her to so each safe house would have a stock if one was compromised.
It was beyond a headache, infringing on hair-pullingly awful, but gave Artemis something to do with her hands and focus on aside from her friends and family.
After a few days of solitude aside from the uncomfortable mealtimes where Kingsley, Sturgis, and Hestia discussed Order business Artemis never quite understood, Lee began to appear in the brewing room. He mostly sat in silence, writing things down on a bit of parchment and tapping at his mouth with a quill, lost in thought.
When Artemis had finally asked Lee what he was working on, he'd explained about his secret radio program, which he used to spread awareness about the war and the movements of Death Eaters.
"You know," Artemis mused, screwing the lid on yet another pot of Burn-Healing Paste, "it could also be beneficial to talk about defensive spells and potions that could help those in hiding."
Lee had frozen, then walked up to her and planted a fat kiss on her cheek, "That's brilliant. You're brilliant, Williams."
Artemis snorted to herself and shook her head, returning to the table covered with fat jars. She stacked them into three-tall groups and divided them up before magically sending them to each small trunk she had along the wall.
"Miss Williams?" Kingsley's voice sounded hours later when Artemis was divvying up the small jars of leftover Dittany paste into the nearly full trunks, "The meeting is about to commence if you'd like to listen in."
"I'd rather not," Artemis smiled, but it felt more like a wince, "I finished the kits for you, whenever you need them."
Shacklebolt eyed the trunks and nodded solemnly, "Of course. We will be in the dining room until midnight."
The moon was a sliver of what it had been days before, a needle sewing together the fabric of the sky. The stars glimmered brightly the way they never had when Artemis had lived in London. The countryside cottage in Cheshire was the exact opposite of her childhood home.
The light of the stars was just bright enough to cast a pale glow on the white snow.
It was peaceful.
Artemis let her head tip back and fall against the stone wall, exhaling a slow breath. She was exhausted and shaky from working tirelessly on the kits for Kingsley. There had been full nights she'd stayed up until she heard the crowing of a rooster from a neighbouring community over the hill.
Biting her lip to keep it from wobbling, Artemis raised her wand hand and watched it with a sharp eye, waiting for it to tremor. Nothing happened.
"Fuck," Artemis hissed and fisted her fingers.
It had only happened a few times, but that was enough to make her nervous. She didn't quite trust herself to repair any nerve damage she suspected was present, but Madame Pomfrey was quite far away, and Andromeda wasn't skilled enough.
"Fucking Carrows," Artemis grumbled, letting her eyes squeeze shut, "fucking Occlumency. Fucking Death Eaters."
After another deep breath, she let go of her feelings. She couldn't afford to lose the plot because she was so wrapped up in her anger. Instead, she stayed silent and listened to the distorted murmur of voices floating through the wall.
All she could hear was rumbling, but it was pleasant and lulled her into a state of relaxation.
It had been far too long since she'd simply existed around so many beings. It made her miss Hogwarts fiercely.
She wasn't tempted by Kingsley's offer to sit in on the meeting, though. Something at the back of her mind told her she didn't want to know the risks the Order took. The aftermath she could deal with, but the anxiety of knowing would be worse.
The telltale scraping of many chairs signalled the end of the meeting. Artemis stood and brushed at her behind where a wet spot had grown from sitting in the snow for so long, despite the warming charm she'd cast.
She wondered who was attended the meeting.
Immediately Artemis shook the thought from her mind. No, she didn't need to know how many people were risking their lives day in and out.
Artemis had only just resigned herself to wait behind the house until the cracking of apparition started when she saw the first Death Eater.
Her breath left her lungs, and she pressed her body against the wall so quickly she clocked her head on the hard stone, causing her to see stars.
There were at least six of them, flying around as dark masses in that way only Death Eaters could. They whizzed around the border of the Outpost before all rushing at once and puncturing the wards with a deafening bang. The screeching alarm sounded as the cloaked figures materialized at the front door.
"Knock knock," the door splintered apart or at least sounded like it did.
Artemis pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle any sounds clawing at her throat. Someone inside, probably Kingsley, shouted something unintelligible, and there were a series of distinct thwip noises that signalled Portkey travel.
Artemis bit at her finger as she rifled through the pockets of her loose cardigan, searching for her wand. Her hand closed around the cool wood, and she felt her heart stutter.
Loud, crashing sounds were coming from within the cottage, and Artemis froze for a moment, looking to her left where a window was situated. Flashes of red and green light lit up the grass from inside.
The glass shattered as a wayward spell hit it, and a scream had fallen from Artemis's throat before she registered it crawling up.
"What are you doing — run!" yelled the familiar voice of Lee Jordan from inside.
It hadn't been directed at Artemis, but it shook her out of her daze. She pushed off from the cottage wall that had been her home for a bare week and ran.
The guilt was like a stone in her stomach as she made a break for the other side of the anti-apparition line, knowing full well that she had no idea where she would go. Her trainers skidded in the slush, and she righted herself a second before she could pitch forward and break her ankle.
She pumped her arms as fast as her legs worked, trying not to jump at every crash and bang that sounded behind her back. There was a sound similar to before when the door had been blown in. Garbled shouts and curses grew louder as the fight moved from inside the house to the expanse of snow that laid beyond.
Artemis's stomach dropped.
Her eyes were trained on the copse of trees that marked the property line when a strong arm banded around her waist and jerked her backwards. She pitched back into the arms of her captor, her feet sliding out from under her.
Then, she screamed.