Title: The traitor

Author: Lilya

Genre: Angst/Drama

Summary: Bloodtraitor is not a light word that can be flung around carelessly. But wizards have a long memory… Let us step back to the Year of Our Lord 1656. Whatever happened to the Hanleys and the Clarks?

Main characters: OMCs, OFCs.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: The world belongs to J. K. Rowling. The idea was born from an essay I read at Red Hen Publications: I fully credit the author as my muse.

Characters and realization are mine. This is a work of fiction outside canon.

Warning: not for Weasley fans.

Historical Notes:

1) The Wizarding World's society here described is based on patron-client relationships, pretty much like Roman society, from top to bottom. The idea is not mine, but the Red Hen's.

2) Even in the real world, the 16th and 17th centuries marked a drop in tolerance with the supernatural. In the HP world, the isolationist movement had already been present for some time, but here it began as a widespread necessity: wizarding families began to withdraw from mundane society, until it came to the Treaty of Seclusion of 1692, which was to the whole process what a lock is to a door. This idea was also borrowed from the Red Hen.

3) Goodman and Goodwife were the equivalent of today's Mister and Mrs. for the lower class. Middle-class people would be referred to as Master and Mistress, with the latter being used equally for married and unmarried women

4) Witch Finders: followers of Matthew Hopkins (unknown-1647), who styled himself Witch-finder General and was responsible of about 300 executions for witchcraft between 1644 and 1646. He and his cronies would ride into town, conduct a search which invariably demonstrated the place was teeming with witches, torture them into confession and receive 20 pounds (more than a year's wage for most people) plus expenses and any gift the grateful population wished to give them. Known to employ most methods now stereotypically associated with witch hunting (i.e. dunking, prickling, finding invisible marks).

According to tradition, he was unmasked as a witch and executed, however historians agree he died of an illness, probably tuberculosis.

His organization will be mentioned in the story, but he will still be a Muggle – who, unbeknownst to him, did ride along some real "witches": these volunteers would bail out or warn real wizards and witches.

Final note: I am no Historian, I just did as much research as I could. All mistakes are mine and everyone who knows better is invited to correct me.

For a better comprehension, I added some grammatical notes at the end.

The Hanleys & the Clarks

John Hanley: a merchant, aged 33

Anne Clark: his wife, aged 32

Mary, David and Samuel Hanley: John and Anne's children, aged 11, 9 and 4.

James Hanley: John's brother, aged 29

Martha Corner: James' wife, aged 24

Martin: James and Martha's son, aged 2

Mary Wood: John and James Hanley's mother, aged 52

Peter Clark: Anne's father, aged 62

Margaret Higgs: Anne's mother, aged 55

Jane Clark: Anne's sister, aged 35

Matthew Clark: Anne's brother, aged 26

Elizabeth Nott: Matthew Clark's wife, aged 23

Margaret "Maggie" and Elizabeth Clark: Matthew and Elizabeth's children, aged 5 and 2

The Weasleys

Simon Weasley: one of the 9 Weasley brothers, farmer, aged 37

Amie (Amy) Gilbert: Simon's wife, aged 36

Henry and William Weasley: Simon and Amie's oldest children at Hogwarts, aged 16 and 14

Richard, Sarah, Joseph & George Weasley: Simon and Amie's children, aged 10, 7, 6 and 3.

THE TRAITOR

Suffolk, England. Anno Domini 1656

The pale autumn sun was setting as John Hanley slowly dragged himself up the path that lead to the small house. He sank his head between his shoulders, to protect himself both from the chilly air and the chance of being recognized.

He feigned stumbling as he knocked with his rough walking stick on the door.

A thin woman with blondish hair and watery blue eyes peered out. "Who is it?"

John raised his head, looking straight into her eyes. She gasped and threw back the bolt, standing aside to let him in and sending her son to call her husband.

"Thank thee, Goodwife," he murmured as he crossed the threshold.

As soon as the door closed, John straightened his back. The walking stick shortened and thinned, his clothes went from tattered, formless rags to fine, resilient garments, though they appeared extremely wrinkled. Three other children – a seven year-old girl, a boy already breeched and another still in his toddler dress – peeked from the stairs, but Amie shooed them away.

"Sarah, bring them upstairs. Simon will be here in a moment." she said, leading the unexpected guest to the table. "Sit down, you must be tired. I shall fetch you some ale."

She moved to rummage in a chest as he sat near the fireplace. A few seconds later, the door opened again. The boy – Richard, if John remembered well – rushed through, joining his sibling upstairs, and a sturdy man with a shock of red hair stepped inside.

"Master Hanley! Nay, do not raise on me account, sir." He sat down at the table across from his guest. "I thought ye'd be in Hogwarts by now. They are looking for you and yours all over the place. Ye raised such a racket in all the parishes!"

"I know," John sighed. "Unfortunately, it couldn't be avoided."

Amie placed two tumblers and a bottle of ale on the table along with some bread and cheese.

"Was your discovery caused by your Ancient Magic?" Simon asked nervously.

"Nay, it was not so," he replied. "Merely an unfortunate circumstance – one of the children had a burst of magic in the marketplace."

"I understand. And I s'pose Thomas Clark's arrest last week did not help, either," Simon said, taking a sip from his tumbler. "I heard they almost caught you."

John took the tumbler with both hands. "Aye, 'tis a miracle we all escaped. My wife's family is with us – they arrived shortly after Tom's arrest…" He gulped some ale. "There was no time to use our chimney: before we told everyone, they were almost at our door…It is a miracle we escaped." He sighed, rubbing his forehead with a hand.

"How did you make it here?" His eyes nervously glanced at the door. "Did anyone see you?"

The other man shook his head. "No, no body. I disguised myself as a beggar and no one knows of our connection here."

"Right. No one," Simon murmured, drinking some more.

"We came by way of the woods. We had to leave immediately and brooms were not safe. Luckily, our hunters stopped to search the house first."

Amie covered her mouth with her hands. "By the woods! With your children…"

"It was not easy but with God's help, we made it," John took a sip of his ale, as if to rinse out the harsh taste of those two days spent on the run. "Martha had a hard time. She is in the family way. You know Martha, James' wife?"

"I think I saw her in town a time or two," Simon replied.

"I shall make a potion for her," Amie said, immediately setting to work. "Are they still in the woods? All of them? I'll send you something to eat, they'll need it."

"The Lord bless thee," John's voice was full of gratitude. "I apologize, our presence is dangerous for you…but ye must help us."

"Of course, Master Hanley. Ye made it this far already, ye will just need our chimney, right?" Simon asked.

John nodded and took a sip of ale. "There's also another thing I require of thee."

"We are at your service."

"Thy father, God rest his soul, was a Witch-Finder for a while. Thou served with him, didst thou not?"

"Exactly, Master." Simon answered, puzzled by the turn the conversation had taken.

John Hanley looked straight at him. In the smoky, flickering light, his face looked carved in stone and his blue eyes glimmered like pools of mercury. "I need thee to find me, Goodman Weasley."

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and the children's footsteps and chatter coming from above.

"Master Hanley…" Simon began, but the other man motioned for him to be silent.

"Surely they have asked for thy assistance already."

"And I did give it – though my advice hath confused them rather than helped them, of course."

"I know, I know…yet the problem still stands." He paused for a moment, then explained, "Were we not what we are, we could never escape. Not with such commotion... We must protect our interests in the surrounding counties."

"The Wizengamot ordered this?" Amie asked, unconsciously clenching her hands on her apron.

"There is no order," John explained. "But I must keep my family safe. You understand this, naturally," he added, glancing at the stairs the Weasley children climbed a few minutes before.

"Of course…" Simon murmured, following his gaze. "But Master Hanley, what shall happen afterwards? My good name shall be ruined if…"

"Thou must not worry, Goodman Weasley," he said kindly. "My family knows of my intentions. No blame will be placed on thee and thy services will be rewarded."

"Oh. That's very kind of you, sir." He mumbled. "If I may be so bold, do you know what measures they will take afterwards? Shall we remain in their service?"

John knitted his eyebrows. "I am not sure, but I doubt they will be able to keep thee."

"But they could not take the farm for themselves – their faces are well-known around here." Simon argued, worriedly.

"Nay, but they might need to sell the land. They will certainly put a good word for thee with the other families."

He blushed deeply, lowering his head. "Ye understand, Master…I've children too…"

John smiled. "Have no fear. I have arranged everything at the best of my abilities – after that, God's will be done."

"Amen," Simon and Amie murmured together.

"If all is settled, I shall go and bring the others hither." He stood up.

Amie blinked. "You mean to leave now?"

"Aye, if we can."

The red-headed wizard furrowed his brow. "Beg your pardon, Master, but I do not think we can bring you all here tonight. There are men keeping watch on the road. One beggar is fine, but a whole troop would surely be questioned."

"And those poor children…they need a good night's sleep. They could share with ours," Amie added. "Though our house isn't as comfortable as yours…"

"Thank thee, Goody Weasley, but we'd rather not be separated."

Amie blushed. "I regret I cannot house all of you…"

"Well, maybe not here…" her husband said thoughtfully. "But I know a place were you and yours can stay safely. Thou knowest, the shepherds' hut?" He added, turning to his wife.

She thought it over for a minute. "Yes, it would suit us fine. A little small, maybe, but 'tis filled with hay."

"What do you think, Master Hanley?"

John considered his options carefully. Goody Weasley was right, the children were exhausted – so was everybody else, himself included. They had hardly slept the night before – if they had indeed organized patrols or something like that… They couldn't be captured now, practically one step away from Hogwarts. But now they were under Goodman Weasley's protection, so to speak.

"Is this place far from here?" John asked.

"No, not far if we cut through the fields – less than half a mile. 'Tis the best hiding place, you see: your family can get there through the wood, it's right at the edge."

John thought some more, then nodded. "Very well. Also, spread the word to thy neighbours a beggar thou questioned crossed the witches' path as they fled Southwards."

"I will, Master."

"Good." John took out a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, conjured an inkpot and a feather and asked for the exact position of the hut. As Simon explained, he sketched a map and wrote a few words of explanation. Then he took his wand and waved it over his message: the ink dried, the picture became much more definite, as if it had been painted by a consumed cartographer. One last tap of the wand and the cloth folded on itself, sprouting feathers and wings. A small sparrow flew away from the table and up through the chimney, undaunted by the smoke and flames.

"Now that my family hath been informed," he said "We shall plan our escape. Thou canst lead me thither afterwards."

Simon bowed his head. "Of course, Master."

A cold wind had begun to blow in the night.

Two figures wrapped in cloaks stood by the shepherds' hut, waiting, their gaze fixed on the dark forest. The pale light of the lantern one carried flickered and danced restlessly, while the bluish flame standing proudly at the end of the second man's wand hardly stirred.

Finally, other bluish lights glimmered in the distance, steadily moving closer.

A voice called among the trees, "John? Is that thee, brother?"

John Hanley stepped forward, his wand shining even brighter. "Yes, come. Goodman Weasely is with me."

Cautiously, like a cat venturing into unknown territory, a man stepped forth, his wand ready. He too had black hair, but his eyes were of a lighter blue. His tired, careworn countenance aged him, making him resemble his brother even more.

John reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder, and he turned back, nodding toward the wood. One by one, the rest of the Hanleys and the Clarks began to emerge.

After James came his wife Martha, tightly wrapped in her cloak but with her wand in hand.

Anne Clark-Hanley rushed forward, wordlessly hugging her husband – and eliciting a squeak of protest from Sam, her four-year-old, who found himself squished between them. John laughed and ruffled his hair, then kissed Anne's forehead and moved to take his son David off his sister-in-law's back.

"Thank thee for carrying him, Bess."

The woman gratefully passed the boy to him. "It was no trouble, he walked as much as he could, poor thing. Where's thy Mary? She was carrying my Maggie."

"Here, aunt Bess," a black-haired eleven-year-old girl wheezed, trying not to drop her squirming charge.

"Thou canst put her down, Mary, we are safe now."

Mary Hanley didn't need to hear it twice and gently set her cousin on the ground. As soon as she was free, young Maggie Clark sprinted to her mother.

John Hanley looked around. Matthew Clark had put his wand away and was helping his mother with Grace, his second born. Jane Clark, his sister-in-law, was thanking Goodman Waesley and inspecting the basket of food Goody Weasley had hurriedly prepared for them.

He couldn't see his mother and his nephew, then he spotted them behind Anne.

The only one unaccounted for was his father-in-law.

John approached Mother Clark and Matthew. "Where is Master Peter?"

Matthew frowned and glanced toward the wood. "He was supposed to close the group."

"He wanted to make sure nobody was following us," Mistress Margaret Clark added, already reaching for her wand.

"We should go b…"

"No need to fret!" A gruff voice interrupted them. "I'm here. I told you I wanted to be sure there were no Muggles."

"Oh, Peter!" Mistress Margaret rolled her eyes and took him by the arm. "Come, the Widow Hanley is already inside. She hath more common sense than thee."

"Bah, common sense. Oh, Goodman Weasely! God bless thee for thy kind assistance."

"Master Clark, Mistress Clark…" the red-head said, bowing his head in salute.

Almost everyone was into the hut by now, but Matthew Clark and James hung back with John.

"Fortunately for us, we met no trouble," James was telling his brother.

"Good. Are you sure you were not followed?"

"Aye, we took turns hiding our tracks," Matthew answered. "My father was particularly thorough."

"Beg your pardon, sirs," Simon Weasley said, approaching. "I shall take my leave now…you understand…"

"Of course." James nodded.

"We shall meet to-morrow morning, Goodman Weasley."

"Certainly. Master Hanley, Master Clark, God keep you and your families." He took his lantern and started walking homeward, while the three men joined the rest.

In the middle of the floor a fire was blazing merrily, its azure flames casting long shadows on the wooden walls without smoking or touching a single straw. Still, there were so many holes and cracks that it wouldn't have been enough without a couple of additional spells. Anne and Jane were finishing an enchantment that blocked all sound and light, making their refuge look cold and empty on the outside, while Mary Wood-Hanley charmed all insects out of the hay where they would sleep.

Elizabeth Nott-Clark, Martha Corner-Hanley and young Mary Hanley tended to the children and the oldest Clarks had already found another reason to bicker.

"I have every right to smoke in peace," Peter said, glaring at his wife as he packed his Meerschaum pipe. "I have waited all day!"

"Thou shalt not light that foul thing where we are going to sleep. Or art thou trying to set the place afire?" She sniffed and made a show of putting their food away from him. "That surely will not attract the Muggles' attention."

"Peace, mother," Matthew intervened. "We shall vanish the smoke."

All but mollified, she kept unpacking the basket, occasionally glaring at her husband and muttering vague threats.

Anne walked up to them, one hand on the leather pouch at her belt. "What shall we do with the caskets, now?"

"Take them out. Who carried the second?" John asked.

"My mother," she replied as she searched through her purse. Finally, a case even smaller than her fist gleamed in her palm. It looked like a toy, although a perfectly-made one, down to every tiny nail.

Anne placed it on the ground, and her mother placed another next to it, then, the two women raised their wands again: "Finite Incantatem."

The two boxes began to grow, until they regained their true size.

James cleared his throat. "I think we should hide them somewhere."

"Aye," Jane Clark agreed. " 'Tis better if no one sees them."

"Wouldn't it be safer if somebody kept them on?" Peter Clark said.

"Master Clark," Widow Hanley replied. "We all need our rest and I doubt it would be achieved by sleeping on our fortunes."

"Aye, 'tis true…" Peter acknowledged.

"We could bury them beneath the hay," Martha said. "And retrieve them in the morning, before Goodman Weasley sees them."

Everybody nodded and murmured in agreement. John and Matthew immediately set to task, then joined the others around the fire to eat their meagre supper.

As they ate, John explained the plan for the following morning.

"We shall move one hour before dawn," he said as he drew a map in the air with his wand. "And cross these fields to Goodman Weasley's house." He pointed to an area of green solid smoke.

" 'Tis open land…" Elizabeth observed nervously, unconsciously pulling her daughters closer. "Aye, so it is, but 'tis not used at this time of the year," John said, trying to comfort her.

"Moreover," Peter Clark said. "No body will be about at that hour."

"As ye can see, the house is not that far. Goodman and Goody Weasley will be waiting for us and before dawn ye shall be safe at Hogwarts."

At those words, Anne laid a hand upon his own. "John…" She started, but he hushed her with a glance, then looked around the circle. "Ye know I will not be persuaded, so please, let us not discuss it further."

The widow Hanley raised her head, looking straight at her son. "So….Weasley agreed with thee."

"Aye, mother, he did." John's voice held a pronounced note of finality.

An uneasy silence fell, engulfing the whole room like a wave. Louder and clearer than a battle call, it reminded them they were still in danger.

To Be Continued...

Grammatical NOTES:

- thou: II person singular informal. In formal speech the II person plural (ye, you) was used. thou you (subject)

thee you (object)

thy, thine your (genitive)

thine yours (possessive)

Thouis used in informal speech and when addressing one's subordinates. When a subordinate addressed its superior, he or she would use ye. If it helps, think of French and the difference between toi ( thou) and vous ( ye).

- The II person plural was still you, however they used ye for the subject of the sentence (ex: ye are late) and you for the object (ex: I miss you).

- Verbs after thou generally end in –st or – est, but in this story I only used them for present indicative. The only verbs used in their past forms are to be (wast, wert), to do (didst) and to have (hadst).

- Verbs in third person singular ended in –th instead of –s as we are used to, so we have hath has and doth does

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