Lawrence’s boots landed back on the floor of what had once been Hannah’s living room. It was a week since he had collapsed in a corner of it, so greatly relieved to have escaped Misslethorpe and Oulton Broad. With some healer's advice from Hannah and Sandy’s poultice, his wound from the duel at the start of the month had closed and he looked and felt a great deal better. His complete preoccupation after sleeping had been Hannah’s plan.

“She’s home, but so is he.” He reported, pulling his cloak from his shoulders in preparation for the next step.
“You’ll need to stop him interfering.” Hannah’s voice was calm, detached. Her exterior didn’t reveal the inner panic at what was about to happen. She portrayed the feeling that there was nothing else she could lose and they needed to just get it done. Inside she was screaming, terrified about tonight’s events. Terrified about whether she’d wake up or not.

A black sack of clothes was sat on the floor by her feet, she’d not explained their purpose yet. Lawrence would no doubt figure it out.
“You’ll be Johann. Storm is more likely to let us in, then.” From her jean pocket, Hannah pulled out a small vial. Polyjuice potion. It was offered to her uncle.

Lawrence looked between the sack and the potion extended in Hannah’s hand. He took it without further hesitation. Neither of them would admit their own fears about the plan. They had agreed, promised.
“He won’t be a problem.” Lawrence assured her. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to adequately impersonate Johann’s Storm’s mannerisms, or his accent, but he was so very ready to break a few bones of that old bastard who had nearly killed him. He unscrewed the top of the vial with thumb and forefinger, and held it out, ready to receive. “You got part of him?”

From her pocket, she also pulled out a tiny box. Within was a few hairs, carefully taken from the dressing gown offered to her back in November. She dropped them into the proffered vial.
“Just make sure you don’t speak. Despite what you think, Miranda Storm is bright. She’ll know.” Another vial was plucked from her pocket. “That is why you’ll take this when we apparate outside. It will make you act drunk. Only a drop, though. She needs a reason for why we’re there.”
“Mm.” Lawrence nodded, he followed. The polyjuice potion gave a less than appetising bubble just before he knocked it back.

The sun had set when they reappeared in Hogsmeade. Lawrence inhaled deeply, reached into the pockets of the long, dark grey coat he was wearing. Hannah was going to marry this stick insect. But this stick insect had two hands! Lawrence had even cracked a smile on discovering it. He’d been without his left hand for over a decade. The novelty of these minutes with both took the edge temporarily off the horror of what lay ahead. He unstoppered the second bottle using both hands, just because he could.
“A drop.” He uttered to Hannah close beside him, and followed to the letter. “Bloody hell.” Appear drunk? Ruddy felt it.

Inside, Miranda Storm was sat in the small office, staring at a scroll of parchment, half covered in her scrawl. The book editors had asked for a copy of her first draft by the end of April. That had been before Lawrence’s visits and a nomination to become Minister for Magic. Miranda had two chapters towards Dementing the Mind (title subject to change).

It was while explaining the basic effects of short term exposure when her next distraction arrived in the form of a bang on the front door.

“Gerda!” While shouting, Miranda realised the house elf was at the hospital, reordering parchment she’d been ordered to alphabetise. Ignan was upstairs sleeping off what Miranda had joked as ‘old age’. With a sigh, she reluctantly stood and left the office, bare feet carring her through to the front door which she pulled open.

Dark eyes darted between the two figures and she said nothing to either.
“Ignan!” Stepping back to allow entry, the healer addressed her former staff member. “What’s he taken this time?”

“I think it’s badly brewed sleeping potion.” Hannah gave her uncle a push through the front door and into the house. They’d made it across the threshold. Lawrence stumbled into the cottage ahead of his niece and past Miranda. His heart was racing but it hard enough to walk in a straight line. He kept his mouth shut as he wandered in a vague circle in the living room carpet under the gaze of the two witches.

Upstairs, Ignan was roused from his nap from Miranda’s shout to their house elf. He’d got up early to return to the school and complete some duties to allow for more time that afternoon with Miranda. The following day he would have to work again, as the school was hosting a panel in an attempt to educate the students on how not to procreate. There was another voice downstairs. Ignan frowned, not recognising it. They were not expecting guests. Miranda called up to him, so he got up and made his way down the narrow cottage stairs, tucking his shirt back in beneath his navy jumper. He didn’t speak a word until he’d taken in the sight of tiny Hannah Bombay and Johann stumbling around the living room.

“He’s not…?” He asked, not finishing his sentence, the expression on the ladies faces answering. “Idiot. Johann! Sit down.” He man-handled his cousin’s shoulders and backed him over to the sofa to make him sit down. Lawrence allowed himself to be directed, playing his part, but his hand lifted gently into his pocket to clasp around his wand in readiness.

“Where did you find him?” Ignan asked Hannah, turning to her.
“Outside my flat door vomiting purple slime. He’s a mess.” Her eyes darted between the Storm couple. “He insisted he’d come off the potion.” It would only be another moment before Lawrence felt a lot better. Hannah was worried they might be able to hear the pounding of her heart. On the sofa Lawrence watched carefully, a sense of rising dread steadily replacing the feeling of inebriation. Just get out of the way old man.

“He has more than once.” Ignan agreed with Hannah, “But he’s an addict.” He turned his back on Johann and appealed to Miranda, to take a look at his relative, commenting: “Purple though, not luminous blue.” Not the same as last year when he had been lucky not to die, had Balfour not got him to hospital. The moment Hannah mentioned the colour made Miranda mildly suspicious but hadn’t said anything at first, simply watching Johann. Badly mixed potion could turn a drinker’s insides any colour.
“It’s not the norm.”

On the sofa behind Ignan’s back, Lawrence made more lucid eye contact with his niece. The second potion had worn off. He gave her a slow nod, a signal.

Stood beside Ignan, Hannah gave the tiniest nod to her uncle, steeling herself for agony. Steeling herself to die.

Lawrence’s swift move to standing from the sofa brought the attention of the others in the room, Hannah didn’t move, keeping still as he had asked her. He needed to have impeccable aim. His hawthorn wand raised, cast fluidly, the tip aimed straight at Hannah’s chest. His hand didn’t wobble, but held absolutely steady.
“Desinoviscus!”

As Johann’s hand outstretched, Ignan turned back, looking over his shoulder. He took everything in far quicker than he could say aloud, and acted on impulse. Firstly, that was not Johann’s ebony wand. He and his cousin had the same wand wood and it was instantly recognisable. Secondly he was definitely no longer drunk on potion but dangerously alert. In one sudden movement, Ignan threw his left arm out at Hannah in an effort to shove her at Miranda and out of the path of the spell, firing another at the figure which resembled his cousin, but quite clearly was not. He took a blow to his left shoulder, but ignored it, closing in on the other wizard.

“No!” Miranda yelled as she watched her husband jump in front of the spell.

Hannah stood frozen for a second as the spell hit her heart. She felt the life leave her body, her soul being wrenched away. Her knees gave in, her body losing consciousness as it hit the hard wood floor. Miranda sprang to life, diving to her knees beside the unconscious witch. As her fingers went to Hannah’s throat, Miranda felt her own heart sink.
“She’s dead!" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.

The moment Hannah’s body ragdolled Lawrence turned his wand on defending himself from Ignan’s close range attack. He had to trust Miranda’s instinct to assist Hannah went without any command or request. He didn’t have a chance, the older wizard was on him. Lawrence was blown back over the sofa, and sprawled on the floor. His appearance was starting to change, not that he was keenly aware of it as he parried curses.

“Your badge!” Ignan roared at his wife, arms up to hold a shield. Lawrence landed a curse squarely, twisted his wand, yanking out the rug beneath Ignan's feet. He took advantage of the upset to the Professor’s balance, silently casting extorqueo to wrench Ignan’s right shoulder out of the socket. Ignan yelled out in pain - his left was numb enough from the blow before, and now white hot pain shot through his right. He couldn’t raise his arm to fight back and switched his wand to his left. Johann’s face was fading away, sharp cheekbones disappearing and skin tone darkening. Black curls were brown, shaggy, and blue eyes a predatory brown.

The next few exchanges brought down part of the ceiling, broke Lawrence’s nose and slammed Ignan into the wall. The impact took the breath out of him. Lawrence was upon him, a wild, untamed force who dragged him to the floor before the fireplace. A curse hit him on the side of the head, cracking his right eye socket and he collapsed forward reeling. Ignan’s left hand was still free to cast. Johann’s left hand had faded with the polyjuice, and Lawrence braced himself with the stump of his arm and threw his hand down on Ignan’s forearm to stop another spell. Neither of them was going down quietly.

Lawrence found his balance over the older wizard and lifted himself enough to bring his left boot down on the dislocated right shoulder with such force something snapped. Ignan let out an ungodly yell of pain, which made even his attacker wince, and Lawrence landed on one knee, right shin across Ignan's stomach, and disarmed the older man, tossing the ebony wand into the front of the fireplace grate, inches from the flames. Ignan struggled as best he could, gasping for breath with the excruciating pain.

“Bring her back!” Lawrence yelled at Miranda, broken nose muddying the clarity, “You have to bring her back. She has to break the curse."
“She’s dead!” Miranda yelled back, her wand out but with no idea what the hell to do. She’d given her badge a squeeze while watching in horror as Lawrence threw her husband to the floor. “You killed her!”
“Bring her back Andy, or I’ll kill him.” Lawrence retorted, not shifting off Ignan.

Miranda hadn’t realised the tears in her eyes until the threat came. Her wand was pointed at Hannah as she tore the clothes off her chest with a quick spell. It revealed the brand on her chest but Miranda was more interested in what was beneath her skin. Her hand shook as she muttered an incantation.
“It was Desinoviscus,” Lawrence called, eyes bright as he stared down at Ignan incapacitated. The older wizard was doing his best to glare back, flexing his left hand to try and push Lawrence off. “Stopped her heart with pressure. Just enough, no more,” Ignan struggled harder and Lawrence leaned hard on his left foot again. Ignan cried out.
“Stun it.” He called to Miranda, “Her heart - get off you c-!” Ignan let loose profanities. “She won’t do it without help!”
“Shut up and let her think.” Lawrence spat, smacking Ignan across the face.

It was near impossible to concentrate with Ignan yelling out in pain. Miranda had worked in the field before but never under such pressure. Never with a loved one’s life at stake. she was panicking, terrified. Tears began to stream down her face which she wiped away with the sleeve of her cardigan.

The curse. She’d heard of it. Vicious. Deadly. But she needed to try what Ignan had yelled. A deep calming breath was taken as the witch pressed her wand tip against Hannah’s chest where her heart lay beneath. A shock of electricity shot into the younger witch’s organ, causing her body to judder. But no life. Miranda gasped in frustration before cutting through the skin with a quick charm.

With her chest bared open, blood beginning to seep, Miranda dropped her wand to the floor at her knees, leaning over the body and slowly sliding her hand through the gap to touch the witch’s heart.

Lawrence could barely tear his eyes away from Miranda as she began to try to revive Hannah. She had to, she would. If she didn’t, he had failed Hannah, murdered her. There was blood dripping down his own face, and his sight out of his right eye was blurry since he’d taken the last curse to the head from Ignan. Miranda was falling back on her training through her panic, but Lawrence could feel his own panic starting to take hold. His strong emotions drawing the dementors.
“If she dies, he does too Andy.” Lawrence reiterated, and looked back to Ignan beneath him. “So you better talk fast and help your wife.”
“Percutio,” Ignan cried to Miranda by way of advice, "Fuck you,” he replied through gritted teeth to Lawrence, beyond livid. “You can do that spell. You can stop Hannah dying.”

Tears were streaming down her face by the point as Miranda’s fingers enclosed around the heart. Only once before had she done this with no potions available. It was risky, it didn’t guarantee anything but it was the only choice. She desperately tried to block out the voices of the wizards near her as she began to massage with more force.

Suddenly there was movement and with her right hand, Miranda snatched up her wand, once more performing the stunning spell.
A massive sigh of relief came as the heart suddenly jerked to life and Mira withdrew her hand.
“She’s alive.” The witch was suddenly pointed a shaky wand at the wizard pinning her husband down. “Release him or I’ll leave her like that to bleed out.”

Lawrence studied Miranda intensely for no more than a second, making a snap judgement on the truth of what she’d said. He lifted his wand and then his weight from Ignan, stepping back and away from the other wizard, knowing he had to leave as quickly as he could, aurors would be descending on the cottage if they weren’t already out there. The older wizard didn’t move, clearly in a great deal of pain. He had put up a good fight. Lawrence crossed the floor cautiously to where Miranda was bent over Hannah. His niece still looked dead, there was no colour to her face and her muscles were slack. Her open chest looked like a butcher’s shop, ribs cracked open.

“Do it,” he spoke decisively, though in a quieter voice than before. “Keep her safe when I am gone.”

“Get away from my wife.” Ignan had reclaimed his singed wand from the grate with great effort, though he could barely hold it off the ground with his left arm to point it at Lawrence.
“She won’t see me again old man.” Musgrave replied calmly, nothing mattering now that Hannah was alive, and raised both arms in surrender. He backed rapidly from the room into their kitchen, grey coat catching at his legs before he reached for what remained of the polyjuice.

Ignan’s wand clattered back to the living room floor, followed by his left arm. His vision was drawing in at the edges. He couldn’t feel his right arm at all and there was a sharp pain spreading across his chest. Out in their back garden there was the exchange of spells and he twisted his head as best he could to see Miranda.
“Mira?” He asked, not quite able to comprehend all that had happened over the past ten minutes, and all that was still happening, Hannah’s body open on their living room floor.

It was a split second analysis of who needed help first and Miranda remained beside Hannah, now using her wand intricately to knit muscle and skin back together. Her heart was beating of its own accord. She would wake soon. Hopefully.

But with Hannah’s condition now a lot more stable than her husband’s, Miranda crawled over to him, grabbing his hand with the one that wasn’t covered in blood. Her face was red, hair falling over her shoulders in a mess as she brushed away more tears. Ragged breathing came from both of the Storm but hers wasn’t due to pain.

“I need to get you to St Mungos.” Her badge was once more out and she was rubbing it, smearing it with Bombay’s blood. “I called the aurors. They should be here soon.” Soon could be anytime between now and in an hour’s time. So much for immediate responses.
“They’re here.” Ignan assured her. “I’ll be fine, bones can be mended.” He put on a brave face, “You will be too.” His eyes were watering, he most certainly wasn’t crying. A sharp pain shot through his body, and he felt his heart skip a beat. He grabbed at Miranda’s hand. “You know I love you,” he uttered feeling that he needed her to know just at that second.

“Dementor!” The shouts from outside were swept in through the open back door with a cold blast of air. Dark fur raced in on a scramble of claws, the cat shot past Hannah’s body and up the stairs in fright, just as the fireplace beside Ignan erupted into flames. Help from St Mungo’s arriving. He dropped her hand.