Oct 27, 1978: You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream - Alice

[Mary Macdonald]

Mary breathed, shaky but relieved, as her words seemed to be accepted. Frank, wan as he was, even granted a short-lived smile before giving them the sweetest of affections and taking his leave. The door shut quietly behind him, and Alice gingerly moved to make more room for her on the bed, and spoke...

The emotion she'd kept at bay - or her panic had, in its overwhelming way - burst through her internal dam in the quiet of things. Now that it was just them, now that she knew Alice would make it through tonight, now that her sister was being so dear. Quiet tears burned down her cheeks in a fiery fury as she succumbed, the effort of holding herself together too much to take anymore. "I am always scared for you!" She hated the admittance more than she hated the tears and the blotchiness of her face when she cried, but it was the truth, and it couldn't just be hers anymore. Sinking into the bed and tears wetting the pillow that belonged to somebody else, she held Alice's hand tightly. The undercurrent of fear in her days that she did her best to ignore, it blossomed to dreadful life in her nightmares, in this night...it wasn't something to speak of, it wasn't how she wanted to live her life, wondering when the worst would happen to someone else she loved. But it was there, lingering, looming, sneaking inside her shadow nonetheless. How could Alice and Frank bear it, when they knew far better than she did what the true horrors of their time were, and had faced them so quickly? It felt like they'd graduated, married, trained as Aurors, begun work for the Order, all within the blink of an eye. And now we're here.

Mary let out a weary breath as she wiped her face and met the other's eye. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't mean to make this harder than it is. And this isn't to say I don't believe in you - I do, with all my heart. It's my head that's the problem, when I let myself think about everything you're all up against...I know the Order needs you. I need you too. Please, please be careful." She reached out, gingerly combing her fingers through Alice's fine blonde hair. Calming enough, she began humming an old lullaby. Dream Alice, as she'd so cleverly reworked it as a child. How many times had they been together like this? After moving to the Fortescue home, Mary had crept into Alice's room whenever sleep failed her - and later at Hogwarts, whenever she wanted to pick her brain about her books, or friends, or boys, or nothing at all. Secrets swapped when the rest of the home or castle was asleep, giggles and tears and everything in between. She'd believed those nights would never end.

They won't. This terrible bloody war will end, and we'll be here together still.

"Do you want to talk about what happened? Or are you ready to sleep? We'll all stay here until Roddy's said you're okay to go home, promise."

[Bilius Weasley]

Bill had seen enough splinched limbs to know it wasn't worth apparating home tonight, the few brain cells still working in his favor arranging proper transport home. He stumbled off of the Knight Bus, wavering under the moonlight in the abrupt quiet of their street. Their unit had been called to West Bromich earlier in the night, rapidly splitting into smaller teams as the hours drew long and the emergencies multiplied, magical injuries on non-magical folk abounding as a terror swept through the region. Aurors, Hit Wizards, Obliviators - they were all too many steps behind the attackers to do any good, and as he'd worked under the supposed protection but actual scrutiny of at least one of the above, Bill tried to think only of the task at hand. Healing the ones unfortunate enough to get caught and need his care, setting them to rights and easing fears while the Aurors worked against his efforts, prying out painful details that would shortly be erased, arguments ensuing when, in defense of his patients, he could no longer hold his tongue. With the frenzy of it all, he'd thought this would be one of those nights that bled into day before they were dismissed. But eventually they were sent to the hospital for reports, and once left to his own devices, Bill shoved his stained robes into his bag and raced his thoughts to the bottom of a flask as he walked along the river.

He couldn't ignore, however - that things were picking up. The Death Eaters were bolder. Chaos, insensible destruction, tying them all up in these nights of fear...to what end? Because they can. They've proven that they can, and no one's stopping them. Of those who'd come to help tonight, who had watched his back while he healed, how many were truly with him? The rumors around their world weren't just whispers these days - Nettles and Arthur were up at all hours too, called in or unable to sleep. So many of them were pushing back against everything now falling against them, but they were so preoccupied with defense, making so little progress offensively - We're going to be overwhelmed. Overrun. As long as the Order's kept quiet, the public doesn't know anyone's doing anything that matters...

He turned his feet towards home, gripping the rail as he made his way up the stairs, and entered to find company. "Frank? What're you doing here?" he asked, more sharply than the bloke deserved. Green eyes darted to Roderick, growing more anxious at the muffled sounds of a woman's crying from the spare room. Frank was out here, looking like the world had punched him in the face, and Rod seemed hardly any better. He wouldn't say that he and the Longbottoms were thick as thieves, but they were the good sort, and if Frank was here, and a woman was crying... Alice will be fine. They'd be worse if she wasn't. They'd be worse. "Who's in there, Rod?"

[Roderick Bones]

As the door to Danny’s room closed behind Mary, Roderick felt himself let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. This was what he did, this was what Bill did. They saved lives, they healed who they could, and they didn’t let their emotions get in the way. But it was hard not to when it was Alice Longbottom. A woman too sweet for this world. Her sister was the love of his life, and he was thankful that tonight he was not telling Mary that her sister had died. Tonight, or in the morning, he’d answer the questions the order would have for him. He just hoped by then he had answers because right now all he knew is that whoever had been on that street tonight was capable of dark and powerful magic, spells that he hadn’t seen before. Pacing around the living room, he felt anger welling inside of him. He wanted to punch the wall, to rip down their ever-present party sign. Too many people he loved were putting their lives on the line, and he was seeing the effects of it. What if one day Edgar showed up with more than scrapes and bruises? What if something happened to Amelia when she and Frank were in the field? Could Roderick handle if Frank showed up on his doorstep with his sister injured in the same way Alice had been?

He cared about the Longbottoms, dear friends of his younger sister. It wouldn’t be right to not send her an owl and let both her and Annette know what was going on at this flat, and he was grabbing a quill when the door opened and Frank came out. “Hey,” Roderick said quietly, abandoning his search for a quill and paper to check on Frank. All they both knew was that Alice had been alone, but he was sure Frank had questions that Roderick could only hope that he could answer, “She’s up? Does she seem coherent?” He could hear Mary crying through the door, and it was breaking his heart. But he needed to focus right now, and try and fill in the gaps of what happened from what Frank knew. “Any questions I can answer for you?” He motioned for Frank to sit on the couch, busying himself in the kitchen with getting water so that they could talk when he heard the front door open. It was only Bill’s sharp voice to Frank that fully pulled him from his thoughts, and he came back into the living area with cups in hand.

Bill was trashed, Roderick knew his friend and roommate well enough to know that. He shoved the cups of water at both Bill and Frank, running his now free hands through his hair. Bill had been on call tonight, which meant that he’d probably seen whatever destruction had occurred in the area where Alice had been injured. This meant that maybe he could fill in the blanks in the information that he and Frank knew, “Alice and Mary, Alice was hurt. She’s stable now but it was…it was bad, mate.” There was no point in pretending that he hadn’t thought Alice was doomed when Frank had arrived covered in blood, with Alice actively bleeding. She’d need to rest for a while, which meant staying out of the field, and he’d have to trust that Frank could convince the spitfire she needed to lay low for a bit. “What happened out there? Alice was alone - trust me, Fabian knows we’re livid - what did they do this time?”

[Frank Longbottom]

“It’s getting worse out there, isn’t it? Sometimes it feels like we aren’t going to win…”

Frank closed the door behind him slowly, with a measured quiet, as his wife’s words echoed in his mind. They had chosen this life - dedicating themselves to a cause greater than themselves, a war fought underhand and in the shadows. They had chosen it, clear eyed and free willed. They had chosen it because they believed the fight was worth whatever it personally cost them. Until now, that had meant spending their years since graduation in frantic study, with an endless plague of trials, exams, and looming threats. Now they were facing the demons themselves, running on training and adrenaline - with the thrill of continuing to find each other at the end of every trying day. They made their own joy at home, and gave each other quietude when needed, and planned their wedding - and their world balanced. Precariously, it balanced.

Tonight, by the tips of his fingers, he’d caught their world as it toppled.

Alice on the pavement, the burning heat and strength of her life-force forcing itself against his hands as he tried to stanch the bleeding. He doubted he’d ever forget the feeling in his hands or in his heart, however clean by magic he’d made himself since.

He was coming out of that daze. Through the initial crowd at Rod’s, his retreat for air, finally seeing her eyes open again, hearing her speak his name…

She was the strongest of them, so much more than anyone knew, and yet - they had almost had to say goodbye. Tonight.

Frank had long thought that their belief would hold them through the length of the war. That whatever came their way, they’d know they were on the right side, and their sacrifices would be worth it in the end. But when the battle was always uphill, their feet slipping and sliding them back in the muck, when making headway felt impossible - what were they left with then? He couldn’t believe that their faith was misplaced, that they had been duped. And at the same time, Alice was right. It was getting worse, attacks happening more frequently and with greater daring, and the end sometimes not only seemed far away, but out of their grasp entirely…

"Yeah, she’s - she’s up. Apologizing to us for the scare, you know Alice," he said through a choked laugh, brought to the moment by their Healer’s voice. That Roderick did this for them - opening his home, taking on their burdens - was a testament to the man he hoped to call brother soon. Just as he and Alice had chosen their paths, Rod had chosen his. And tonight, Frank didn’t envy any of them. Their Healer had to be struggling to hold himself together too, especially with Mary’s release of emotion sounding through the door, and Frank pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I don’t have the words, Rod. I owe you my life," Frank said after a time, hoarse and worn-through. "Thank you." He released the other man with a shudder of a breath and collapsed to the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, heels of his hands landing on his tired eyes. He had too many questions to count, and hardly knew where to begin. "Her injuries," he started quietly, "could you tell if curses were used? Anything that would hinder her recovery beyond - normal seems foolish to use, but you know what I mean?" He shot to attention at the sound at the door, wand in hand on instinct, and relaxed again at seeing Bill, despite the less than friendly greeting. "Good to see you too, Bill." The Mediwizard was on edge, reeking of cheap liquor, and Frank’s eyes followed his to the spare room in understanding as Rod caught him up. Tonight’s events never should have happened, even from a purely logistical standpoint - how had she been out alone? - and while he knew the Captain would be beating himself up about it, words between them were to be had. Frank took the offered glass from Roderick, looking up to the bloke in renewed concern. "Why don’t you take a seat, mate," he encouraged gently before turning his eye to Bill, glass rotating in hand. "I found her in a muggle neighborhood. I don’t know which, exactly, but I think I could find it again. Her injuries though, they had to be of magic. Was there any word of such attacks tonight?"

[Alice Longbottom]

There would be time to talk with Frank, to share their fears and concerns, and worries about tonight. For now, she was grateful that he was giving them space. And since they were at Roderick’s, she knew her husband well enough to know that Roderick was one of his best friends, and would be a good ear to listen or shoulder to cry on should Frank need that. Right now she needed her sister, and her sister needed her. Mary sunk into the bed next to Alice, tears flowing door her face, admitting her fears to Alice. She felt tears burning in her own eyes and squeezed Mary’s hand tightly as she let them fall. She didn’t want to admit her own fear to Mary, because her sister had enough to worry about already. She didn’t need to know of the rituals she’d started with her husband, in case it was the last time they ever saw each other. The promise to always show up at night at their home, to spend those moments together. She had broken that promise tonight and had let herself get caught off guard. She knew better, she should have taken someone else with her. It simply wasn’t safe, and the recent quiet from the Death Eaters had made her too comfortable.

They cried together, and Alice gave her sister a weak smile as Mary spoke. “My sweet Mary,” she said as she brushed some of her sister’s hair out of her face, “I promise you I will always be careful. I wish I could promise you I won’t ever get hurt again, but I need you just as much as you need me. So it’s always my intention to make it home, to see you again. Please remember that.” She curled into her sister as Mary began humming a lullaby that had always been Alice’s favorite to hear, and closed her eyes as she listened. She was so tired, but she wanted to know more about her injuries. She wanted to know what happened, and she wished her mind wasn’t so fuzzy from whatever Roderick have given her. It was clear he didn’t want her to dwell on the pain, but it was making her memories hazy and she just wanted to rest. “I don’t know, Mary,” she mumbled quietly, giving her sister’s hand another squeeze. “I can’t remember what happened. I’m ready to sleep, but promise you won’t leave the room until I’m out?”

[Mary Macdonald]

The last time they had cried together, those were happy tears at Alice's wedding just a few weeks ago. Alice had looked like she'd stepped out of the pages of one of their novels, a fairytale princess on her wedding day, none of the almost too many - oh, how she had had to talk Frank down from overfilling the place, sweet man - picture-perfect flowers able to compare to her beauty, the way she glowed from within with such happiness. That day had gone in a blur, laughter and tears and speeches and dances and bubbly, and it was hard, so hard, to know that that day of pure joy could exist in the same world as this night of terror. It wasn't fair that this was the time they were living in, that Alice had had to choose between a life on the sidelines or a life in the fight. It wasn't fair that she couldn't just be, go on a proper honeymoon with her new husband without the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. But even so, Mary knew in her heart that even if they had come to be at a different time - where there was a fight against injustice, Alice would be there. It wasn't really a choice, not for her. It was a calling, and Mary had to trust that it wasn't a siren's song.

"I'll remember," she affirmed tearfully. "I promise, I'll remember." Alice tucked in closely beside her as Mary brushed her hair with care, hoping to calm herself and her sister with the familiar tune, with the quiet, with the confirmation that they were both here, and they were okay. The hour was late, and Alice's words rebounded in her mind, and she would always try to come home. She would always try... Alice's words came more slowly, and Mary smiled faintly and kissed her forehead before whispering back, "I promise. You can rest now, Alice." She snuggled in with her, concern brewing in her belly as Alice's words sunk in. If Alice didn't remember what had happened, what were they to do? How could they know that she would heal? That those who had come after her wouldn't have another chance? She stared up at the ceiling as Alice drifted off in her arms, for when her eyes fluttered shut, she saw Frank carrying a bloody Alice into the flat, Rod's face just concealing his fury and fear as he worked, her sister deathly pale and quiet on this bed...

She waited until Alice's breaths were deep and slow and steady, and she had settled into sleep, before gingerly slipping from the bed. She tucked the blankets in around her slight frame and breathed, wiping her face and twisting back her hair before leaving the room in something of a daze. Hugging herself, she followed the sound of hushed voices to the living room, finding Bill with Roderick and Frank. "It's alright, she's asleep," she assured, placating hand out as Frank was already up on anxious feet. "I'll stay with Roddy, you should be there when she wakes up." The air in the room was heavy, thick with tension, and she wondered if any of them would get any natural sleep tonight. No doubt they had been trying to piece together what had happened, vent and brainstorm and problem-solve, feel what they hadn't been able to in the heat of the moment - but their faces were drawn, bodies so tense, that she worried they hadn't been able to get far either.

She climbed up next to Roderick on one of the couches as close as she could be, arms slipping around to hold him as she leaned into him. Tonight could have been a tragedy if not for his quick action, expertise, the open-door policy he held for Order members in trouble - and she knew that it could never be easy for him, healing in such an emergency. But that tonight was Alice, with Frank, and her...she could hardly fathom the level of stress he'd been under, and still was. She would find the words to thank him, a way to soothe him, give him someone to let out what he was feeling to, when they retired, and in the coming days. But for now, with his mates, she would be here, be brave with them, listen to what they had tried to figure out. Swallowing the returning lump in her throat, Mary looked up at that dear face and whispered, "She's resting, she's herself, and she's going to be okay, honey. You did that."

[Bilius Weasley]

Bill took the glass his roommate ever so gently offered him, draining it as the others spoke. Alice was here, Alice and Mary, Alice was recovering, Mary was here because Alice was recovering. He blearily headed into the kitchen to refill his glass as he tried to wrangle his thoughts. If there ever was a night to come home and be useful, it was a night like this. Get it together, Weasley. "I'm sorry I wasn't here," he told the Healer in their midst. Roderick wasn't one to get worried easily, and Bill wished he'd been home to share the load. Knowing that Andy and a few of the others could always lend a hand, give a new idea, kept him going. But even being able to rely on them didn't make the impossibility of their situation, the endless stretch of darkness before them, an easy thing to swallow. Passing by Frank, Bill gave the lad's shoulder a squeeze and sank into his chair.

"Sh*te, mate, where d'you think I've been?" he asked wryly at Frank's query, glass by his feet and up again in a moment. Bill headed to his room and took down the cork-board on his wall, returning to lay it on the low table in the sitting area, over forgotten books and plates, and crouched down before it. With the muggle road-map of the country now laid out before them, he grabbed a spare thumb tack from the side and ran his hand over the thin paper as he scanned for... "West Bromich. Had a full crew of us out there tonight, whole neighborhood had to be blocked off. Had my hands full treating muggles, dunno yet if the Aurors made any headway finding the attackers. The muggles all had the same reports, though - attacked out of nowhere, didn't know what was happening, how to fight back, inconsistencies in identifications. But they were young," he said in disgust. "They all said they were young." He stabbed the pin into place, fishing around under the board until he found a pen, and marked the date on the map. Rocking back on his heels, the Mediwizard surveyed the map, looking for just about the millionth time over the pins and fresh-to-fading inked dates for any sign of a pattern. The work calls took them all over the city and beyond as they chased after the damage done, and this pin marked another new place, just as seemingly random as the last.

With a sigh, he rose and returned to his chair. "Think she could've been there? You said she was alone out there, Rod? How the hell does that happen? She's got - she's got the team of Aurors and - and whatever you call yourselves in the Order." He shook his head, biting his tongue before he got himself into hot water here. There was no need to point fingers, not when Frank was already beating himself up, if he had to guess. But nothing was adding up. Were the Longbottoms stretched too thin? In over their heads, working double-duty for the Ministry and Dumbledore? Talk went on quietly, to not disturb the - hopeful - slumber of the girls, and at the sound of the door Bill leaned back to check the hall. Mary, mismatched sweater and pajamas, red-eyed and raw as he'd ever seen her. Not that he'd spent all that much time yet with his roommate's new-old girlfriend, but she'd always had a full face on, hair done, put-together. He gave her a nod, quiet as he watched her on her way to Rod, and felt an odd smile quirk briefly as he caught the way she looked at him. Maybe, maybe, Rod had been right after all to pine after her all these years. 

[Roderick Bones]

Working in healing - especially secret at the flat healing - meant that he had to be the strong one. No one had died on him yet, but there had been some close calls. Alice was one of them, and he was too close to this to try and remain impartial. He was furious, anger seething under his skin as he thought about the state she had arrived in. He wanted answers from the people he knew in the Order, Fabian mostly, but he would be calling Edgar at a more reasonable hour. Out of the three of the group of elder brothers he had, Fabian was the most act-first-think-later of them. Sometimes that served him well, but sometimes it made for frustrating situations. Fabian was the captain, he was the one responsible for the agents under him. Yet Alice had been alone, and if Frank hadn’t found her tonight would have easily become one of the worst nights of all of their lives.

But hearing the woman he loved crying behind the door where her sister was recovering, looking at Frank at this moment, he wanted to break. He wanted to take a step back and process, to be there for his family. There was so much he wanted to say, and was thankful for the hug that Frank pulled him into. It was a moment to breathe, to switch from emergency healing into a state of mind that wasn’t pulling him in every direction. He blinked back tears when Frank thanked him, because Merlin, of course Roderick was going to pull out all the stops to save Alice. Alice, who had apologized for scaring everyone, was the world’s kindest soul in his opinion. Rubbing his eyes after Frank let him go, he didn’t want to break down and cry yet. His healer’s mind was still needed tonight, and he listened to Frank’s quiet question. The walk to the kitchen for water wasn’t just for Frank’s sake, as much as it was time to ponder the question. Was it a curse? There was no way it wasn’t magic of some sort, but he’d never seen this sort of injury before.

The news of who was in their spare bedroom sent Bill into the kitchen for more water, and Rod acknowledged his apology with a nod of his head. It’s not Bill’s fault that he was at work tonight, because surely if Alice was injured so severely then there had to be more people hurt than just her. He listened intently, fingers tapping against his leg. Muggle village, magical injuries. Bill was quick to his room, and Roderick knew the corkboard was coming out. Roderick didn’t remember when Bill started keeping track of things, but there were plenty of days after work when he was gathered around it with Bill and Annette, logging the days' events and trying to piece something together that could help. West Bromich wasn’t an area he was too familiar with, but it seemed like attacks never had any sort of pattern. At least not that they had been able to figure out. Hearing that the attackers were young caught him off guard because he was positive the magic he’d seen was more advanced. And he wouldn’t describe any of the people they “suspected” were Death Eaters as young.

He moved from the wall to survey the corkboard, hoping that maybe this pin would be the final piece of the puzzle. But it wasn’t, it never was. It was just another muggle village with not enough information for them to work with, inconsistence stories, and confusion. He’d got bits and pieces of information out of Amelia and Edgar before, but he couldn’t ask his siblings to report everything to him. A question directed at him pulled his eyes up to Bill, and he sighed, sinking down onto a couch. “I think it’s a good chance if that was your only call tonight. Her injuries were magical, but it wasn’t something I’ve seen before,” he spoke quietly, “When Frank got here, I thought she’d been stabbed. Repeatedly. But it would have to be the sharpest knife I’ve ever seen. I did my best, I’m hoping she will heal just fine. But it’d be a lot easier if we knew what we were up against. How injured were the muggles?”

The door opened, and Roderick looked down the hall. It was likely Mary, he doubted Alice would be up for a while, and gave her a weak smile as she joined him on the couch, and Frank left to go sit with Alice. He put an arm around her shoulders and was glad when she settled into him. Tonight had been hard for all of them, and he appreciated her presence here as much as it pained him that it was Alice was the one who had been hurt tonight. He placed a kiss on Mary’s temple at her words, trying to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. “Yeah, she’ll be alright,” he said, more to himself than to the group. He had done enough tonight, he needed to remember that. “This is some dark magic, and I don’t like hearing that it was done by anyone young. We’ll see how they try and explain this away in the Prophet.”

[Frank Longbottom]

Rod's eyes were swimming a bit when they separated, and Frank let him go, anxieties creeping up as the Healer thought his questions through. Was there enough information in the wounds themselves, and in how he'd Healed her, to know what kinds of curses were used? Or would they need to try some tricks of memory to not only bring back Alice's knowledge of her attackers, but their methods as well? He half hoped that that knowledge could remain hidden for her, that she could be spared the intimate details, for her sake. He knew nightmares of this night would await him for quite some time, if they ever left, and he didn't want that for his wife, even if the physical reminders couldn't be ignored. But no - no, he doubted they would be so lucky. Dumbledore, Fabian, their supervisors at the Ministry, they all needed an accurate report of the attack. So they could add it to the list, so they could hatch theories in secret, so they could stop something like it from happening to someone else. And Alice...she would want to know. Hell, he wanted to know, his under-developed sense of revenge on the receiving end of a crash course tonight. Not that he would do anything impulsive, but...you won't be able to rest, not knowing. She won't either.

There was nothing he could do to protect her. There wasn't. Nothing that they didn't already do, anyway. And look where that landed them.

He fidgeted with his half of their tracing-charmed rings, wishing he hadn't waited as long as he had before acting. That he hadn't thought she was simply running late. You should have been able to tell. You should have known...

The arrival of Rod's roommate wasn't entirely welcome, given Bill's sloppy state, but Frank sipped his water absently and sank more deeply into the couch at the other man's conveyance of...empathy, an apology, whatever that clap on the shoulder meant that was more than whatever words he could wrangle. And Frank could give him some grace, even if he couldn't get on board with his methods. What Roderick and Bill experienced on the daily was beyond anything that any training could prepare them for, and they remained on call for the rest of them, day after day. Bill was gone and back again, carrying the board and map that had seen better days, and Frank leaned in to spy the placement of the new pin. It was hard to say now, but he'd give the place a visit and see... He leaned back onto the cushions, stomach turning as the Mediwizard described the scene. A full crew, muggle neighborhood cordoned off, so many hurt, young assailants...

But he went on, and Frank's tenuous hold on his patience was up. "Watch it, Bill. Please," he snapped quietly. He knew the other man was catching up, he hadn't had the time with this situation as the rest of them had, they were all looking for answers and someone to blame. But he couldn't listen to it anymore, not when the same thoughts kept running rampant in his mind, and when he knew he could've been there. If she'd sent a patronus, if she'd stopped home before going, if he'd felt the danger she was in... His eyes shot to Rod as their Healer spoke up, elaborating on Alice's injuries, and he felt like he was going to be sick all over again. He swallowed it down, listening as the two exchanged information around him, a white-knuckled grip on his glass, until the bedroom door creaked open. Frank jumped up, relieved to hear from Mary that Alice had been able to fall asleep, and gave the lads a nod before high-tailing it back to the room. He tried to open the door as quietly as he'd closed it, and he could almost imagine that everything was fine, if he tried. Alice was curled up in sleep, the streaks of tears down her cheeks a matching set of Mary's, even as she now rested peacefully. With a determined breath, Frank set the desk chair by the head of the bed, and settled in for a night on watch. Wand in hand, facing the door, her soft sleeping breaths the sweetest sound...

[Mary Macdonald]

They should get some rest. They should. Rod kissed her temple, the worry in his eyes far older than his years, and he sounded so...tired, it just yanked on her heartstrings. Things would be better in the morning. Things were always better in the morning. Alice would wake, and she'd have a clearer head, and they would all rally again...

"What do you think they'll write? And what do you mean, young?" Mary asked in concern, a new mix of anger and fear sparking her into activity again. The attackers, he had to be talking about the attackers. And they were young. That was relative, to be sure, but the newest Death Eaters had to be her year - right? The lot she hadn't seen since graduation, those who Hogsmeade was now positively without even on student visit days? That's this morning. It's a Hogwarts day this morning. In the morning, scores of Hogwarts students would descend into Hogsmeade for a normal day of friendly shopping, first dates, and general...frivolity. She couldn't be there, she just couldn't, not when there was so much still unknown in terms of what had happened tonight and how Alice would be when she woke up. Madam Puddifoot would be cross, initially - she'd understand, she'd have to understand. Because this night wasn't over yet, and it was terrifyingly easy to imagine the likes of Meredith Mulciber and her cronies vying for a spot in the ranks, fighting tooth and claw for something with much more severe and permanent consequences than anything they'd gotten up to in school, and what if there was more of an identifying description than "young" and she could actually help...

"I need to send an owl. Two - Remus, and Madam," she muttered in distraction, giving Rod a squeeze before shifting to sit on the floor. Ignoring the map and what it signified as well as she could, Mary took up a discarded pen from the coffee table and Remus's note from her pocket, writing him a brief message of thanks in the margins with an attempt at her usual spritely script. Her old friend had had the forethought to send her here, and while it was so difficult to remember that he too was caught up in all this - they were now in it together in a sort of way, for better or worse, and she decided to take comfort in the thought. She found a spare piece of paper and wrote a similarly brief note to her boss, citing a family emergency and promising an explanation as soon as she could return to the village, and hoped it would suffice for now. Bill returned - when had he gotten up? - with his owl and lengths of cut string, hand out for her notes. She gave them to him to roll and secure, and leaned back against Roddy's legs, eyelids heavy.

[Bilius Weasley]

Maybe they were the greatest, most prideful fools of all. Maybe they would never figure one thing out. Maybe they'd remain three steps behind Tom and his band of followers until their own numbers were up.

As he, Roderick, and Frank poured over the map, Bill had to wonder. While it may be futile for them to mark such incidences, he didn't plan to stop. That would feel like giving up, and if nothing else, marking the map felt purposeful - yes, their work already was, but there could be a greater meaning to it all. If they could just find the right pieces...

But, as they always did, they wound up back in their assortment of found couches and chairs none the wiser.

And, as more often than not at times like this, he'd stepped on a nerve.

I'm trying, mate.

Bill held up his hands in mute apology, feeling for the bloke who looked about to be sick. He didn't want to take too long of a think at how he'd handle a similar situation himself, if Annette or Rod or Arthur or Molly or the kids were taken, or attacked, or lost their memories or their minds - but he could guess, and it wouldn't qualify as "well." Frank was just holding it together, Rod was doing his best at it too, and what could he really do to help? He wasn't one for meaningless platitudes, he hadn't assessed Alice, he hadn't been here, he didn't know the extent of her injuries, her reactions. He wasn't one for false hope, and he hoped now that there wouldn't be a need for it here. Rod had taken to Healing like a (poisonous) duck to water - Bill trusted his word, and so Alice was stable...

It was some luck, really, that Frank had found her and brought her here when he did. The muggles left in the neighborhood...he knew they would have lost more lives had he and the team been any later. Or if they'd been treated by muggle paramedics only. He listened intently as Roderick spoke, nodding and grim at the assessment. "Some seemed to be coming out from under the Imperius," he said, a wary eye sent Frank's way as he ticked through the mental notes of his locker room discussion with the others. Not about to boke, are you? "Keep sipping on that water, mate. Others were hurt by flying debris, explosions. At least one had injuries like Alice's, was murder getting the bleeding to stop. The whole thing was...odd. Some of this, some of that. Obviously no reason to it," he said with a frustrated huff, hair shortly standing on end after his hand ran through. "But there was no reason to it. No - signature, you know? No two victims with the same exact injuries, or the same story, or found in the same way."

Nagging thoughts as to how the attack had come about were momentarily pressed aside as Frank and Mary swapped cover, and he couldn't help a weary chuckle at the girl's question. "Prepare yourself for a shiny cover-up, love," he said simply, finishing his second glass. "The other victims tonight, their stories haven't added up yet, but they consistently said the attackers were young. So - we've got that." A bit of nervous energy seemed to strike her, and he rose to retrieve their owl from its roost while she wrote. He didn't feel of much use to anyone tonight - surely Nettie would've known the right things to say, and would in the morning - but he could take care of this, and give them some time. He motioned for Mary's little scrolls when she was done, and tied them to the bird already softly hooting in eagerness to go off into the night. "Don't think we're solving this tonight, kids. Might as well get some shut-eye," Bill said with a tight smile, bird on his shoulder, board in his hands, as he headed to his room for the night. "Get me when she wakes up, alright?"