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When Dark Falls by MithrilQuill

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It was a particularly cold Sunday morning when Blaise and Theo Apparated in King’s Cross station. The cold gave them an excuse to draw warm cloaks around themselves. Blaise checked his watch impulsively every minute and Theo was looking around at the Muggles a little nervously.

“You ever been out in the Muggle world like this, mate?” Blaise asked.

Theo shook his head, resuming his intent staring. They made their way into the heart of Muggle London, looking around searchingly at the signs. Blaise checked his watch again. It was still eight o’clock and their meeting in Diagon Alley was at two in the afternoon.

Theo suddenly pulled Blaise into a dirty, deserted alleyway. “We’re drawing too much attention. What’s that spell you always use to transform your clothes?”

“Veste Mutata,” Blaise replied reflexively. “But it doesn’t transform them; it just changes them for another pair I have in my closet… more of a switching spell, really.”

Theo nodded and stepped closer to the mouth of the alley, pointing out a drunk pair of young men. “Can you switch our clothes with theirs?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Blaise said, pulling out his wand. The spell itself was relatively easy, Blaise had performed it many times, but they had to make various alterations to the clothes to make them fit. Finally, looking much more like Muggles and feeling quite uncomfortable they stepped back out into the main street.

“There!” Blaise said moments later. A pawn shop stood just across the street from them. They crossed the street and stepped inside. It was not a pretty sight, and Blaise knew that the man would do anything to rip them off, but it could not be helped. They weren’t exactly here to make a profit.
They had agreed to go to several shops and only show one of their pieces at a time. Blaise pulled out an elegant ruby-encrusted gold paperweight in the shape of a phoenix and set it down before the man. The Muggle shopkeeper’s mouth was almost visibly watering at the sight of the extravagant thing.

“I’ll give you a thousand pounds!” Blaise raised an eyebrow, though in truth he had no idea how many Galleons a thousand pounds was. The man seemed to grow a little uneasy under his glare.

“Alright, alright!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, “I can give you three thousand!”

Theo was absently examining other items in the shop, and Blaise wondered if he had neglected to use the agreed upon charm. Turning back to the eager shopkeeper he managed, with only a facial expression to bring the sum up to six thousand pounds. Blaise wanted to accept this, but, looking at Theo, he saw the other boy shake his head a little bit.

“Come on, we haven’t got all day and we know it’s worth at least eight thousand,” Theo said.

“Look, if you wait a couple of days I might manage to find a buyer willing to pay eight thousand, but then you need to keep in mind that I get a share of that, but if you’re in a hurry then six thousand is as high as I can go.”

Theo gave the man a long, hard look and then nodded almost imperceptibly. They waited a half hour for the man to get the money and by this time Blaise was checking his watch in rising panic, despite Theo’s constant calming charm.

Finally, they walked out of the shop with six thousand Muggle pounds, which Blaise carefully placed inside his mokeskin pouch before they moved to the next shop. They spent the next five hours familiarizing themselves with London’s Muggle pawn shops as they sold off every valuable possession that they could spare without raising any eyebrows. A combination of Blaise’s intimidating facial expressions and Theo’s basic mind-reading spell ensured that they weren’t ripped off by the Muggle shop owners.

“Finished, and just in time for the meeting!” Theo announced after they had sold their last piece. Blaise was still trying to work out, in his head, how much they had made in Galleons. He gave it up as a bad job and looked down at his watch. It may be pitch dark, but it was still one o’clock in the afternoon.

“We’ve still got an hour,” he said, stepping into another darkened Alley behind Theo.

“I wish Fortesque’s was still open.” Theo said longingly.

Blaise stopped with his wand half-raised. He let his wand arm fall to his side without changing their clothes back and grinned. “Let’s get some Muggle ice-cream!”



Dean looked down at his sketchbook. This was the fifth sunrise he had drawn since yesterday. He could animate the drawing quite realistically now, but that still did not make it real. The sun hadn’t risen in weeks. He had stopped counting, weeks ago, at fifteen days.

“Oooh,” Luna said cheerfully, taking a seat beside him. “That’s quite good. Though I still think it would be more realistic if you add a Freshwater Plimpie or two. They become rather excited at sunrise. Daddy and I make Freshwater Plimpie soup quite often, it’s very good for you.”

Dean grinned affectionately back at the Ravenclaw. She may say the strangest nonsense sometimes, but he had lately discovered that even the silliest things she said had a very sane and practical purpose behind them. It still took him long minutes to figure out what she was really trying to say with these bizarre stories, but he had all the time in the world now. It didn’t look like this war, or this suffocating darkness, was going to anywhere anytime soon.

He tapped his wand on the drawing and tilted it towards Luna, rather happy with the final product. Together, they watched the miniature sun rise. Colorful birds sang from the branches of gently swaying trees (although he realized he needed to work on the coloring of the trunk). Then, suddenly, a couple of horned, fishlike creatures jumped out of the small stream, their skins glinting beautifully in the reddish glow. Luna’s smile was gorgeous when she saw them.

“We make an excellent team,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded in agreement.

“We could do it, if we tried. And I don’t think anyone’s going to be able to think differently enough to try.”

Dean turned to look her full in the face. He knew that she was trying to say something that meant a lot to her; otherwise she wouldn’t be this ineloquent. “What is it, Luna, what are you talking about?”

“We’ve got to find a way to kill Dementors off for good; something stronger than a Patronus. It’s the only way of getting rid of this mist so we can see the sunrise again… I’ve got a list of ingredients ready.”



Remus was pacing in a state of near-madness. It had been hours already, and still Tonks was screaming, and screaming, and screaming. If she was hurt, he would never forgive himself. If the baby was… no; it was too late for that. If the baby came out a werewolf then he would not inflict the same pain on it that society had inflicted on him. He would love his child and give him everything he needed. Little Teddy Lupin would not need to feel alone in his transformations… his father would be by his side, just like the Marauders had been there for Remus.

“It’ll be alright,” said Molly Weasley, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. She had been a great help to both Tonks and Remus in the last few hours.

“I’ve got to go back inside, Remus, but I don’t want you to worry. It’s all perfectly normal – no complications to worry about.”

“When will it end?” Remus said desperately. “Why is she in so much pain?”

Molly chuckled. “Don’t worry, dear, before long you’ll be waiting for your second child just like this.”

She continued to chuckle at Remus’ expression as she went back into the room.

Remus remembered Celeste’s words at their last training session. He remembered her calm confidence as she told him that it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference if his son was a werewolf because his family would love and try to protect him all the same.

“And others will love him too,” she said, “they won’t be able to help it. Babies might be helpless, but they have one weapon: their heartbreaking cuteness.”

“But I’ve sentenced him to a life on the outskirts of society; he’ll be shunned all his life!”

Celeste shook her head. “Why are you so sure? Maybe his birth will open people’s eyes to the prejudice that they’re living in. He might live in a much better world than you did.”

“How?” Remus asked. “Things only seem to be getting worse.” He gestured to the darkness outside the window.

“I think we’ve reached the bottom, Remus, things can only get better from here. How can they possibly get worse now?”

“Remus! Remus! He’s a healthy baby boy, Remus! Come look, look at him the dear thing!”

Remus was jolted straight out of his memory at these words. He was not sure how he got there, but suddenly he was looking down at the face of the tiniest and most beautiful creature on this earth. Little Teddy Lupin’s hair had already gone through five different colors since Remus had laid eyes on him.



Theo’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Blaise had never seen him like this. His own heart was being crushed by a feeling of depression that grew with every passing second. He watched Theo pull out a piece of paper, the Muggle equivalent of parchment. It was very geometric, polished, the writing on it clearly set by a machine and not a human hand. Blaise glanced at the page, but glanced away when it came to the address. He couldn’t trust himself…

“Theo,” Blaise said, preferring to look down at his carpet and around at the paintings that had hung in his room since his childhood than meet his friend’s eyes. “I- I think you should put down the rest of the plan without me. You know how terrible I am at Occlumency. And… I know it’ll be alright if our plan works, but what if it goes wrong?”

Theo grabbed the front of Blaise’s robes and pulled him up so they made eye contact. “Are you afraid?” he hissed disbelievingly. Already, there was a fear of betrayal in his voice.

“You know I’m not afraid for myself. My mother, Theo, my mother!”

Theo shook his head. They had not had this conversation before, but Theo was acting as if they had been though all this a hundred times. “From what I’ve seen in the last few days Aveline Zabini can more than take care of herself. I can’t do this without you… you’re the one with the flair for spell-invention. You’re the one who’s been researching all those protective charms. No, look at me, Blaise, we’ll fall within seconds if we’re not together in this.”

A sound near the door distracted them for a few seconds. Blaise took this opportunity to perform a non-verbal spell to dry his traitorous eyes. There was no spell to rid him of the fear that was slowly consuming him. Blaise knew that there was no other way. They couldn’t be responsible for the plan that led to the Weasley girl’s capture. Already, Blaise and Theo had been forced to witness terrible acts; already they had played a part in destroying people’s lives. Aveline Zabini did not have too many iron-clad morals, but there was one principle that she had always – almost obsessively – stood by and that was that Blaise should never hurt a creature that was weaker than him. The image of the Imperiused Pansy floated through Blaise’s vision and images of young, beautiful girls that the Death Eaters took advantage of before killing, and they raised a thousand unasked questions in Blaise’s mind.

There was no question that his mother would not want him to continue to be part of this. She had made it clear from the start that if there had been a way out she would have spared him the indignity of being servant to anyone. He just wished there was a better way to live up to her upbringing and regain his independence without risking her life.

“No amount of planning is going to make me a good Occlumens, Theo.” Blaise said. “I’m going to ruin our entire plan if-”

“If the Dark Lord wants to see the plan before the attack then I’ll take it to him.”

Blaise finally nodded and pulled out his wand and, with a note of revulsion, he summoned the dead ferrets that they had prepared earlier. “I’ve got to teach you the mirroring spell, then.”

His friend nodded and rolled up his sleeves before pulling out his wand.

When Blaise’s forearm began to burn Theo had already mastered the spell and they had already discussed the details of their secret plan in clear and condemning detail.

Theo’s Dark Mark wasn’t burning.

The Dark Lord knew that Blaise was terrible at Occlumency. They had just signed their own death sentences.

Blaise continued to stare at the Mark in rising panic. If he did not answer the call he would be found, and killed, in no more than a day. If he went to the Dark Lord he would be killed immediately and so would Theo… and his mother. He continued to stare at the disgusting, pulsing thing.

“Blaise!” Theo was shouting now. “You have to go; you have to do your best. It’s the only way. All you have to do is think of something else. Keep the official plans firmly at the front of your thoughts and-”

Hot tears began to fall as Blaise’s mother entered the room. He had sentenced her to death. He had sentenced all of them to death. Her hands grasped his face firmly from either side and she pulled his eyes up to hers.

“I thought you were strong,” she said and he tasted disappointment in her tone and in her omission of his name. “You’ve been sitting here for days wasting your time on indecision and weakness instead of planning, instead of doing what you have to do to make me proud.”

Blaise shook his head, trying to escape from her penetrating stare. “I’m going to fail!” he said with rising hysteria. “I’m going to fail and then we’re all going to be punished, you don’t understand, I can’t do this and he’s going to punish you too, mother!”

“I do understand,” she said and this time Blaise reeled out of her grasp at the venomous tone in her voice. “I understand, finally, that you are weak. That you never deserved to be my son.”

“Wh-what?” Blaise’s mind had stopped functioning.

“You are not my son,” Aveline said, revulsion showing in every line of her face. “I killed my son with my own hands because he was going to hold me back, to ruin my life, because I despised his father. I did it without weakening, but then I found you, in a Muggle orphanage, your power was strong then, even though you were a baby, and I deluded myself into thinking that having such a son would not hold me back, it would help me rise to greatness. Look at you now. Weak. Pathetic. I am not your mother and I do not want to see your face ever again. You can go back to the bloody Orphanage if the Dark Lord lets you live after you have failed him.”

With that Aveline Zabini pulled out her wand and sent Blaise to the Dark Lord. He collapsed to his feet before the Dark Lord, his mind reeling, an emptiness slowly overtaking him. Blaise had already died; there was nothing the Dark Lord could take away from him now.

He could not kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. He could barely move. Her words were roiling around inside him. He could feel the Dark Lord watching that memory with him; he could feel the pleasure that it gave the powerful wizard to see what Blaise had been reduced to.

The Dark Lord ran a hand through Blaise’s hair, pulling his head up painfully so that their eyes met. “You see, my dear boy,” he said slowly, “you have no one left but me.”


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