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❨ chapter eleven. ❩
❛ fool's gold. ❜

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Sredoka Reserve,
Bulgaria.
5:00 pm

    THEY WERE BUT ghosts, gliding through the dense mist that covered the forest floor. The Aurors were all scattered across the forest, all of them clutching their wands, on guard and ready for disaster to rear its ugly head, as they trudged and fought their way through the densely packed trees, rotting moss squelching under their heavy boots as they moved. While most of the Aurors seemed to have lapsed into an uncertain silence, there were some that still whispered to one another — it was the only explanation for the way Gideon Prewett's arms kept flailing as he walked beside Skye Dawlish; he had to be talking to her rather animatedly, perhaps about Quidditch, judging by his enthusiasm. But the sounds of their footfalls and whispered conversations were muffled by a useful charm that Longbottom had had the privilege of casting before the Aurors entered the forest.

    To no one's surprise and everyone's disappointment, the forest seemed to go on forever. Though they had left England shortly before daybreak, apparating from point to another as they made their way across the continent, it was still well past midday by the time they had cleared the security points of each country standing between England and Bulgaria and found themselves staring at the edge of the Sredoka reserve, the lush greenery mocking them as they took in the vastness of the forest.

    That had been five hours ago.

    "Have you given any thought to what I said?" a thin voice asked. Moody whirled around and was not entirely surprised to find that Scrimgeour had fallen into step with him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected Scrimgeour to seek him out on this long trek, but surprisingly, it had taken the other man a lot longer than Moody had first thought.

    "You say a goddamn load of stuff on a daily basis," growled Moody, keeping his eyes trained at the terrain before him, "You'll have to be more specific."

    "Don't insult yourself, Alastor." When Moody did not so much as shrug, Scrimgeour sighed and went on, "Okay, fine. I was talking about my . . . concerns regarding the Auror Office."

    "What, that you think we've got a mole in the office?" asked Moody bluntly, "Yeah, I've thought about it."

    "And?"

    "And I would like to remind you that we've seen plenty of spies and double agents within the MLE for ages now. It's war, Rufus. People switch sides like England changes its weather. It's why no one knows everything anymore. Not you, not me, not McKinnon, no one."

    "And that doesn't bother you?"

    "It's safer this way."

    "That's all you have to say?"

    "Look, I don't like all this secrecy any more than you do, but the truth of the matter is that we're losing this war — what? You know it's true, I know it, everyone knows it, even if MacDonald won't admit it. People are scared, terrified, including Aurors and the like."

    "So what, we just turn a blind eye and let the cowards leak information?" countered Scrimgeour, ducking low to avoid the thick branches of a stooping oak tree.

    Moody fixed him with a look. "No, we make sure no one but those we trust most have all the vital information. What can you let the other side know if you don't know anything yourself? Best if we keep our cards close to our chest."

    "We don't know anything either!"

    "Who says you or I aren't the ones working for You-Know-Who?"

    "What?" spluttered Scrimgeour angrily. "How - how can you accuse–"

    "Hold your thestrals," Moody cut in, "I'm not accusing anyone. All I'm saying is I can't trust you any more than you can trust me. And MacDonald, similarly, can't trust anyone."

    Scrimgeour swore and mumbled something inaudible under his breath. With a sigh, Moody trudged on.

    "This could very well be a trap!" Scrimgeour suddenly snapped, "MacDonald gets some tipoff from some mystery bloke, and now all his best Aurors are on this mission, miles from home - yes, I know there's not many of us left in the first place, but that's beside the point."

    "What, scared you'll get hurt, are you?"

    Scrimgeour ignored the comment. Instead, he went on, "I tried to reason with MacDonald, make him see sense."

    "I was there. I saw how well that turned out," replied Moody dryly, recalling the blazing row he had witnessed just the night before. It was a wonder Scrimgeour still had his hearing, really.

    "I was expecting you to back me up, you know. He listens to you, MacDonald does."

    "Dunno why he does that. I don't listen to myself, although that might be for the best. I'd've finished you off ages ago otherwise, the lengths you go to vex me."

    Scrimgeour shot him an annoyed look, but Moody simply shrugged in return.

    "If we go through with this plan and die," growled Scrimgeour finally, apparently accepting that Moody was neither going to agree nor help him with his ideas, "then on your head be it all."

    "I've a tough neck, reckon I'll survive," shrugged Moody, "If not, you can do the honors and finish me off."

    "Don't tempt me," was all Scrimgeour said as they neared the edge of the forest. Moody allowed himself a grin.

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King's Cross station
London, England
5:30 pm

    "I'LL SEND WORD later this week, alright?" bellowed Remus as the four boys dragged their trunks, brooms, and cages off the Hogwarts Express for the last time. But the noise on the platform had reached such a crescendo that Sirius barely heard what Remus was yelling at them.

    Peter too seemed to be struggling to discern Remus' words over the din of the crowd. "You'll what?" he shouted in Sirius' ear, making him jump.

    "Christ, Pete!" yelped Sirius, throwing an angry look over his shoulder at the shorter boy. "Quit yelling in my ear, will you!"

    Peter mouthed a sorry, Sirius, while James grinned at them all fondly as he brought up the rear.

    Winding their way through the many witches and wizards and menacingly tiny children - Sirius wondered, as he did every year, why these children were brought to a station where they could so easily be trampled - who had descended upon King's Cross today and were now exchanging hugs and saying their hellos and farewells, the four boys searched for a place to exchange their own goodbyes before they were swept away by their respective families.

    "Over there!" called Sirius, spotting an empty space beside one of the trash cans. Remus gave him a disgruntled look, but seeing as the platform was otherwise so occupied that even breathing had become a laborious task, the boys trudged over to what Sirius now saw was an overflowing trash can from which came a nastily putrid smell that made them all retch.

    "Hang on," muttered Remus as he pulled out his wand and waved it at the affronting mound of garbage. Orange sparks flew from the tips of his wand, and while the charm he'd cast didn't make the sight any better, it had made the air around the area much more breathable.

    "Nice one, Moony" said Sirius appraisingly, "knew you'd learned a thing or two at Hogwarts."

    "Yeah," grinned James, "pity you didn't."

    Sirius rolled his eyes. "Your humor's degraded terribly since we first met."

    "Living with you had to have some side effects," quipped Peter as James and Remus chuckled lightly.

    For the first time since term had ended the week prior, Sirius took a good look at his friends. Remus, with his tired face and worn cardigan, was leaning against his trunk. Peter's full face was glistening with the exertion of heaving and dragging their trunks across the platform, and James, his hair as messy as ever, stood with an unusually thoughtful expression on his face. The werewolf, the outcast, the hellion, and the rebel. A most unlikely group of friends if he'd ever seen one.

    Standing in the overcrowded station, surrounded by chattering people and owls and lingering steam from the Hogwarts Express, Sirius couldn't help but think of how he had never fully considered the wonder that was their friendship, nor had he ever fully appreciated the three boys who now meant more to him than anything else. Now, when the protection of Hogwarts was over, and they were about to stagger into the uncertainty of the real world. Now, when they had nothing else to tie them to one another, nothing to draw them to the same place year after year.

    "Guess this is it then," said Peter finally, smiling at each of the boys in turn, "the end."

    "You make it sound so final, Peter," replied James, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke. "It's just school that's ended, not us. We'll keep seeing each other... right?"

    For all his charm and composure, there was a definite note of doubt in James' voice as he finished talking, however.

    "Yeah," nodded Sirius, just as Remus said, "Of course, you prat."

    "Not as often as before though." Ever the realist, thought Sirius as they all looked at Peter, who waved his hand vaguely as he continued, "Nothing's going to be the same now, is it?"

    "No, it won't be," sighed James, and they all fell quiet.

    Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered with Sirius that they all suddenly looked uncharacteristically pensive, somber even. Any other day, he would have called them out for the atrocity of it all. But tangled in his own web of doubts and fears as he was, Sirius couldn't muster the strength to break the awkwardness that had descended upon them. He never had been very good at expressing his thoughts, and right now, he was sure he couldn't trust himself with words. Then –

    "Frankly, I think you're all being extremely ridiculous and dramatic, which isn't all that strange when I think about it."

    Sirius looked up at the sound of the hoarse voice to find Remus staring down at them all with a wry, exasperated smile. Sirius shrugged then frowned as he cast his eyes down once more. He tracked the movements of a tiny beetle scurrying across the stone floor, willing himself to keep his mouth shut but ended up blurting out, "It'll be strange not having to see the lot of you every waking moment from now on, though."

    A second of stunned silence met his words — perhaps because in all the seven years they had known each other, Sirius had never once been known for voicing his sentiments, eloquently or otherwise — and then Remus snorted. Sirius' eyes snapped up to meet his tired ones.

    "Is that your way of saying you've grown attached to us, Sirius?"

    "Are you saying he has feelings?" Peter asked Remus with a mock gasp.

    James let out a small laugh as he reached over to pat Sirius' chest, "Does a heart beat in there after all?"

    Sirius rolled his eyes as he swatted away James' hand, smiling in spite of himself as he watched the other boys dissolve into laughter. And just like that, the levity that had been missing from their midst throughout the ride home returned. The threat of what lay ahead was no less poignant, but as he stood there, laughing so easily with the boys he had known since he was eleven, it dawned upon Sirius at long last that perhaps what tied them together was never Hogwarts after all.

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Sredoka Reserve,
Bulgaria.
5:20 pm

    THE SILENCE WAS deafening. Despite the gentle breeze weaving through the forest, the surrounding trees now seemed to stand still, and the critters that had moments ago been bristling along the forest floor too seemed to have melted into the shadows that lurked around the edges of withered trees and sunken roots. Utter silence had fallen over the group of Aurors who had come to a halt before a pair of barren trees that were illuminated by the bright Bulgarian sunshine.

    "Nice day for it, wouldn't you say?"

    Alice glanced over her shoulder to see Frank Longbottom approaching her, an easy smile gracing his long face. He came to stand right beside her, hands deep in his pockets as he leaned against a tree trunk, not at all looking as though he was about to raid a Death Eater safehouse.

    "I doubt the good weather will make the job any easier," mumbled Alice, nearly tripping over a tangle of rotting roots as she shifted on her feet. Frank's hand twitched as though to reach out to steady her, but then, seemingly thinking better of it, he held it back.

    Wiping a hand across her brow, Alice turned to face Frank, who she saw was wearing an expression of curious determination as he peered over the heads of the assembled Aurors.

    "How did they know where the entrance was?" She didn't really care, nor did she want to know. It was the stifling silence and tangible apprehension that was making the words spill from her mouth.

    Frank cast her a sideways look. "Who cares?"

    He was right. It didn't matter how they knew; what mattered was the fact that Alice was now staring right at what being an Auror meant: danger. She hadn't been under any childish presumptions about what her job might entail, what its high cost might be, and yet, staring at the trees beyond which lay who knew what dangers, for the first time since she had joined the Auror Office, Alice felt a twinge of fear.

    "First mission?"

    Alice looked up into Frank's frowning face and, after the briefest moment of hesitation, nodded. If there was the slimmest chance that she would die here — and the chance of such was great indeed — then she would make sure her last words were not lies.

    Frank gave her a lopsided grin. "Well, even if you die, at least it'll be hailed as a hero's death."

    "You're a right real ray of sunshine, you know," mumbled Alice, glancing away and staring at the trees that were now being surveyed by Moody and Joseph McKinnon.

    Frank laughed.

    "You'll be fine, Fawcett," he added quietly after a few moments, during which, seemingly satisfied they had found the right place, Moody and McKinnon gestured for everyone to take their positions. "Moody says you're one of the best new Aurors, you know?"

    Alice blinked. "He knows who I am?"

    Frank ignored her question and went on, "Reckon you'll do just fine. Come to think of it, you're already doing way better than I did my first time out on the field. Embarrassing, I was."

    "What happened?" asked Alice as they maneuvered themselves into position, ready to move at a moment's notice.

    Frank glanced at her, and Alice could see the cogs whirring in his head. Then, just as Ismene McKinnon signaled for one of the Aurors to move forward, Frank leaned in and, with a slightly bashful look at Alice, whispered, "How about, when all this is over, I tell you over a cup of coffee?"

    Alice stared up at him. Whatever answer she had expected, this was not it. Then again, Alice mused wildly, who was she to expect anything from the tall man with the lopsided grin? It registered upon her that she had spoken to him on only two occasions now, and neither of the two instances could be construed as anything more than polite, coworker chatter.

    Distantly, she noted that Frank Longbottom had an awful sense of timing. She also noted his beaming grin faltering.

    "It better be a riveting tale, Longbottom," Alice found herself whispering back coolly, though she could feel the heat climbing up her face. "Or else you'll be picking up that bill."

    Grinning once more, Frank muttered, "Deal."

    Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alice turned back just in time to watch a tall, ginger-haired man stride forward, his tartan coat billowing behind him as he drew nearer to the barren trees.

    As though an invisible hand had upturned a bucket of ice water upon her, the truth of where she was, and for what reason, came crashing down upon her once more, all thoughts of foaming coffees and men with bad timing forgotten.

    She watched, frozen in place, as Gideon Prewett stepped into the space between the two trees and halted.

    Her stomach lurched.

    For a split second, she was certain that the Auror would be thrown off his feet; surely a curse would be in place to bar entry of outsiders like themselves, which would effectively warn the Death Eaters of their presence and thwart their carefully laid plans. But then the Auror took a step forward, moving towards what appeared to be another long stretch of lush trees and herbage, and as he did so, for one, fleeting second, the air shifted around him like a thin, silvery veil. Then Alice blinked, and Gideon Prewett had vanished.

    Frank let out a soft whistle from beside her, and Alice tightened her grip on her wand.

    It was time.

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Sredoka Reserve,
Bulgaria.
5:30 pm

    THE INCESSANT TAPPING of boots against the marble floor only heightened Antonin's burgeoning apprehension. Turning away from the giant window where he stood watch over the endless forest at whose edge stood the manor, the man surveyed the room behind him, his eyes coming to rest on a tall, plump man who was dressed in familiar black robes, his bruised hands curled around a silver mask. His dark hair was pulled back into a knot today, and he sat slouched in a chair across the room, his leather-booted feet tapping against the floor rhythmically as he gazed outside one of the grimy windows.

    Antonin ran a hand down his haggard, scrubby face.

    "Quit that, will you?" he half sighed, half snapped. His scratchy voice echoed around the spacious landing, breaking the fragile silence that had descended upon the group and drawing several pairs of eyes to himself. Antonin ignored them all and instead kept his eyes trained on the wizard sat at the other end of the room.

    After a moment's hesitation, Dante Pyrites halted his movements obediently but raised a bushy brow.

    "If I didn't know any better, sir," he said slowly, his lip curling under his mustache, "I'd say you was feeling a little . . . agitated."

    Antonin felt his cheeks flush, and a wave of anger coursed through him. But before he could lash out, a high-pitched, feminine voice said, "Oho! Agitated, eh?" Antonin glanced around and saw Merida Selwyn grinning. "Big word for you, isn't it, Pyrites? Been reading the dictionary?"

    A pouchy, bald wizard snorted. "Didn't know he could read."

    "'Tis a wonder you can," retorted Pyrites, "With brains like yours, 'tis a miracle you lived to see thirty."

    "You son of a bludger," grunted Crabbe, hand reaching for his wand. "I'll show you . . ."

    "Shut up," growled Antonin, his voice rising with his anger. "All of you, shut up!"

    They stared at him, some affronted, others amused. Others still sat motionless, as though they could not hear him.

    "Look at all of you. I can't believe such dullards fell into my lot. Worse than petty children, you are," seethed Antonin, his anger bubbling deep within him now. Now that it had started, he found it very hard to stop the words from escaping his mouth. "We're not here to kill a Mudblood or attack a bunch of house-elves. No, this is so much more serious, so much more dangerous, and yet here you all are, bickering and jesting with one another without a care in the world. All our planning – all my planning – is going to go down the cauldron, and all because the rest of you can't take this job seriously."

    "We'd've if it'd been worth it," mumbled Pyrites so quietly Antonin almost didn't hear him. But the words had made their way to his ears, and he felt anger surge within him once more, hot and letal and ready to strike.

    "You–" began Antonin but stopped abruptly when a black-cloaked figure moved on the edge of his periphery. The witch, her plait of dark blue hair waving behind her as she walked, came to stand before him in seconds, her gaunt face inches from his own. She was standing so close to him that Antonin could smell the faint scent of stale whiskey and frankincense lingering upon her.

    "You're a fool, Dolohov," whispered Merida, her dark eyes flashing menacingly as she stared down at him, "a fool, if you can't see what's really happening here."

    "What do you mean?" he asked, peering around the room to see a few of the Death Eaters smirking and shaking their heads. "What are you–"

    "Isn't it obvious?" Merida cut across his rambling, "Don't you see why we've all been sent here? Why it's us who's stuck here and not the others?"

    "I asked to do this," argued Antonin, not entirely sure why he felt as defensive as he did, but all the same, there was something unsettling about the knowing look Merida was giving him. "I asked the Dark Lord to entrust me with this mission, to let me lead in his name. I–"

    "You asked for this?" repeated Merida incredulously, apparently surprised by this revelation, but then she burst out laughing. "Oh, Dolohov. For such a cunning wizard, you sure can be utterly witless." Her voice was barely audible even though there was no other sound in the room, but Antonin heard every last syllable, his heart sinking with each word that escaped her cruel mouth. "You're so desperate that you're willing to do anything to rise above your station, aren't you? But sadly, amongst many other things, you lack the foresight needed to get what you desire." All the mirth had left Merida's face now. "You won't see the truth until it's too late. Mark my words, boy: you'll always end up doing their dirty work, Lestrange's and Malfoy's and Nott's. Always second to those who the Dark Lord entrusts with his plans."

    Antonin shook his head, "The Dark Lord trusts me."

    "Trusts you? If you believe that, then you truly are a bigger fool than I thought, Dolohov, and we both know there's no lack of those under this roof."

    "Shut up," hissed Antonin, taking a step back and raising his voice, "You dare mock me, Merida? You, who has never once been trusted to carry out a mission for the Dark Lord? Tell me, does he even know your name?"

    "Of course he does," hissed Merida, her own temper rising now, "and I've led missions for him before."

    "Oh, yes, I remember," laughed Antonin, all trace of mirth missing from his tone, "that Hogsmeade fiasco was you, wasn't it?" He was pleased to see his words have their desired effect; Merida turned a vivid red before his eyes. "Pity. No wonder I haven't seen you at our meetings for over almost two years now. Still aren't invited, are you? Bet your family's just grateful you're still alive."

    "Bet yours is disappointed you are," she spat.

    "Guess we'll never know, seeing as they're all dead."

    For a moment, Antonin thought Merida looked as though she'd love nothing more than to make another scathing remark. But to his surprise, she merely scowled and stormed away from him, resuming her previous position of watching the gardens on the eastern edge of the manor. A sweeping glance around the landing told him none of the others were willing to meet his eyes, though he caught a few people looking away hastily as he turned towards them. Only Dante Pyrites and Cian Crabbe were still watching him with curious expressions.

    Taking in a shuddering breath, he turned towards one of the grimy windows,  intending to resume his watch, when the front door banged open. Antonin quickly drew his wand, watching the others mirroring his action, and held his breath as he fled across the floor and peered over the banister.

    "Selwyn?" called Antonin, a deep ache building against his chest as a black-cloaked, blonde haired man came sprinting into the hallway below, swirls of dust rising in his wake.

    The man wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, his eyes darting around apprehensively between locking on Antonin's. "They're here," he panted, pointing a thumb behind him, "the Aurors. They've found us."

    There was a moment's ringing silence, Selwyn's words still echoing in everyone's ears, then chaos erupted within the manor.

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A/N:
look, I know we haven't seen nearly enough of Juliette lately, but we're reaching the climax of Act I, and that unfortunately doesn't include Juliette in the thick of action, so she's being sidelined in her own story, poor girl. If it helps, she does get her fair share of action and excitement starting Act II?

Side note: I don't think this chapter was particularly good, but I liked parts of it. And I didn't want to overthink this chapter and end up not moving on with the story, so here we are. In any case, thanks for bearing with me.

and shoutout to faithrewarded for her encouragement! I kept having doubts about this story, and if it wasn't for her, I probably wouldn't have found the motivation to finish this chapter. Do yourselves a favor, and go follow this gem of a writer!!