Crossed Hearts

Chaper One

The Dark Mark

A friend is someone who knows everything about you,  but loves you anyway.

—

The humid summer air was nearly suffocating, even at such a late hour. A thunderstorm had dampened the lengthy grass of the Burrow, and another threatened the skies. The trains of two elderly wizards were weighed down by the moist earth. A thick layer of mud had begun collecting upon the soles of their boots as they approached the unique looking home of Arthur and Molly Weasley. The moon managed to peek through the thickening clouds above for a few fleeting seconds before dissolving back into blackness.

Albus Dumbledore took his counterpart, Minerva McGonagall, by the elbow to help the aging witch steady her strides through the almost quicksand-like mud. She sent him a feeble smile of appreciation. Dumbledore was always a gentleman, no matter how grave the circumstance. Minerva clutched a small snoozing child on her hip, seemingly dead to the world. The little girl's hands were wrapped snugly around the neck of Deputy Headmistress with a tiny black kitten purring quietly in her arms, tear stains were clearly visible through a thick layer of soot coating her entire body. The small gold locket, on a chain too long for her little neck, hung over her dirty jumper. The two wizards stood before the weathered wooden front door, neither feeling quite prepared to deliver the news of the slaying of another Order member. There had been so many untimely deaths, and there were still so many more to come.

"They managed to orphan two children in a matter of weeks, Albus," whispered McGonagall, with the slightest hint of terror in her solemn voice. "First, young Neville Longbottom, and now poor Winifred McKinnon—"

"And I fear more will suffer the same fate before it is all over," sighed Dumbledore.

"They were so young," said McGonagall. "None of them were more than twenty five years old, and their children will—"

"Their children will know their parents gave their sanity and their own lives to protect them," said Dumbledore wisely, "but that will unfortunately bring them little comfort."

McGonagall nodded slowly in reply, tears stinging her radiant green eyes, propping the sleeping girl higher on her hip. Dumbledore offered the tearful woman his handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes several times with her free hand before returning the small white cloth to her dear friend. He made certain McGonagall had collected herself before knocking on the Weasley's door. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder whilst they waited for an answer. Footsteps grew audibly nearer as Minerva cleared her throat to prime her vocal chords. Arthur Weasley looked through the peephole in the center of the front door before he even considered opening it. Countless locks could be heard disengaging prior to the opening of the ancient door.

"Albus, Minerva, to what do I owe this visit at such a late hour?" asked Arthur, welcoming the two inside and closing the door behind them. He was wearing his pajamas, a nightcap, and clutching an illuminated lantern. "W-Why is Winnie with you?"

It was obvious, judging by his appearance and lethargic body language, that Arthur had just woken from a deep sleep. Heavy bags were visible under his kind eyes, matching that of Dumbledore and McGonagall. None of them had received more than a few hours of sleep a night in what seemed like decades. His expression showed great concern.

"Arthur, we apologize for disturbing you," said Dumbledore softly, "but we could not wait until the morning."

"Please, take a seat," said Arthur, suddenly more alert. He lifted the little girl from McGonagall's arms and cradled her against his chest, gently rubbing her back. Dumbledore and McGonagall sat upon tattered sofa across from Arthur in his oversized armchair. A fire in the adjacent hearth. "What is this all about?"