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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1174 Summary: Harry gets one night that gives him a glimpse into what life could be like with the Dursley's. But events turn for the worse and both Harry and the wizarding world are left wondering what it's consquences mean for the future of the world. Hitcount: Story Total: 501422; Chapter Total: 8887 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I don't own anything. JK Rowling owns the entire Potter Universe. No copyright infringement is intended. I write fan fics for fun! |
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Chapter 45: The Sufferer and the Witness Harry was thrown into the opposite wall as the world around him split apart and the air became heavy will light and noise. Smoke and flying debris clouded his vision and cut him off from the others. But he knew that there was a battle waging on around him. He could hear shouts and yells, spells and hexes being bellowed in various degrees of hatred and haste. The very walls around him seemed to be quaking and shifting with the chaos as wood splintered and glass shattered, embedding in his skin and tearing at his clothes. He was snapped out of his temporary daze when a spell ricocheted and hit at the section of wall directly above his head, blasting the plaster and the beams apart. Harry rolled out of the way just as the debris fell with a thud to the floor exactly where he’d been knocked by the initial blasts and intrusion. His deft and catlike roll, honed by his years on a broom as a Seeker, brought him to the feet of several hooded figures that were forcing their way in through the windows of the sitting room attempting to flank the fighters who were focusing on the assault coming from the front of the house. Without thinking or pausing in the slightest, Harry sent a string of stunners at the group, several fell to the ground unconscious and still, a few continued on, sending their own hail of spells towards Harry. He ducked behind a nearby table and sent up a shield charm just as their spells reached him. “It’s Potter!” several loud cries went up as the intruding Death Eaters recognized him and sent up the call to the others. He heard several responded yells of his own name, as the news was passed on to the others. He knew now that their attention would be focused on capturing him, bringing Voldemort the ultimate prize in hopes they would be rewarded for delivering him. Whether it be dead or alive, he did not know. But Harry wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Just as several spells came through the walls and the doorway from the kitchen, joining the ones that had been launched by the Death Eaters before him, Harry concentrated on the garden outside of the Burrow, wanting to lead the Death Eaters out of the house and away from the trapped fighters in the kitchen, wanting to break open this battle and allow them space to maneuver and breathe…or if need be–flee. And he knew he was the perfect bait to do so. Without even turning on the spot or remembering the 3 D’s, Harry found himself landing quietly on the snowy garden, directly behind the hooded figures assailing and assaulting his friends in the kitchen and destroying and damaging the Burrow. At the thought of what was happening to the Weasley family home because of him, a flare of anger rose up on him and he sent a pulse of an energy he could not name or describe at their backs. The shockwave knocked them to the ground, stunned and momentarily disoriented. Several of their hoods had flown off and Harry recognized a few of the Death Eaters who had been atop the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore had died, along with Rudolphus Lestrange and McNair. Harry’s spell surge had allowed pressure to be taken off of those in the kitchen and he saw Bill, Remus and Mr. Weasley fight their way through the ruined doorway and blown apart window, stepping over debris and rubble of their ruined kitchen. All three looked bruised and tattered. Remus was bleeding quite copiously from a cut on his cheek and Mr. Weasley’s shoulder hung slightly limp, blood already soaking through his shirt and robes. At the sight of the stunned Death Eaters they drew their wands on the feebly stirring figures, who were just starting to come around after being knocked down by the force of Harry’s power. Bill and Remus cast several binding spells and Harry could hear the Death Eaters grumbling and snarling in protest as they were tied up before they could do anything to defend themselves. “Harry! Are you alright?” Remus cried out as he looked up to find the source of the Death Eaters collapse staring back at him and the other two. “I’m fine,” Harry told him as they reached him, just now realizing that there was blood coating the side of his own face. He must have been cut from the shards of glass, wood, and plaster blasted into the air by the force of the Death Eaters initial volleys to the house. The house. The others were still in the house fighting off the Death Eaters that had been trying to sneak in through the sitting room. “The others…they’re still inside!” Harry yelled as more yells could be heard from inside and the light from exchanged spells could be seen through the shattered windows, reflecting on the snow outside. The momentary victory over the Death Eaters on the ground before him had assuaged him for a bit and made him forget about the still very dangerous and looming threat of the still attacking Death eaters. The others seemed to come around also and they turned back to the house. At that moment, a body came bursting through the remnants of a side window, hitting the ground hard and rolling before coming to a stop on the snow-covered grass. Harry instantly recognized the large, tall figure as Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was stirring feebly on the ground; his groans of pain were audible over the sounds of battle still raging on inside the house. Bill and Remus rushed over and kneeled beside the fallen Auror. Several spells shot out the window that Kingsley had been thrown through and scorched the ground beside the men, barely missing Bill’s leg. From where they were crouched around Kingsley, they were in clear view and in dueling range of the attacking Death Eaters. Simultaneously, Bill and Remus grabbed Kingsley under the armpits and dragged him away from the house and into the garden away from and out of the reach of the Death Eater’s spells. “He’s in bad shape,” Bill said as they pulled Kingsley’s nearly unconscious body to where Harry and Arthur stood, holding their wands on the subdued attackers. Shacklebolt was bleeding profusely from several gaping wounds on his legs and arms and it looked as though he had been blasted by a spell on his mid-section. The air was filled with a sickening smell of burned fabric and scorched skin as Bill peeled back the layers of his robes to reveal the place where a spell and blackened and charred the already dark skin. “Kinglsey…can you hear me?” Mr. Weasley said, gently shaking the Auror. He let out an unintelligible moan, but did not open his eyes up. “We need to get him to the safe house,” Remus interjected. “He needs medical attention. Molly can tend to him and call on Poppy if need be,” he added. The men looked around at each other, no one ready to decide who would take Kingsley away and leave the rest to fight the battle waging on around them. “Dad–you go,” Bill said finally. “Your shoulders hurt badly and you probably know the wards best there. You’ll be able to get him help the quickest,” he added. Arthur looked like he was going to protest for a moment. He looked around at the damage to his family home and to the flashes of light still being exchanged within. He then caught sight of his bloodied and limp shoulder and the man lying broken on the ground before him. He nodded reluctantly and bent down to grip Kingsley’s slack hand, readying them both for Apparition. “Take care of your brothers,” he told Bill firmly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he added. Bill nodded and moved forward to embrace his father momentarily before breaking away to allow for him to disappear to safety. Then with a pop, Mr. Weasley and Kingsley were gone, leaving the three men alone and back in the midst of chaos, staring at the spot where the two had vanished. But they were rocked back to reality when the sidewall of the sitting room exploded outwards, sending Harry, Bill, and Remus flying to the ground and covering their heads as they were showered in debris and dust. Frantic panic filled Harry as he imagined in his mind’s eye, the bodies of his friends lying on the snowy ground around him, thrown to their deaths by the explosion. His own body and been thrown and pelted to submission, he couldn’t imagine what had become of those fighting inside. But as he slowly picked himself up off the ground, he heard distinct voices shouting abuses into the air, still fighting and still breathing in air. “You know you’re going to pay for that you bastards!” One of the twins shouted out in a cocky and goading manner. “Yeah! But right after we kick your arses!” the other twin yelled, as they backed out of the kitchen, firing spells back into the smoke and dusty remnants of the kitchen they had just retreated out of. Harry looked up in time to see their spells hit a few of the tailing Death Eaters and send them crashing to the ground as the twins joined the others outside. “Hey…nice of you three to join the fight,” Fred jabbed at Bill, Remus and Harry as he sent a string of stinging and stunning spells back into the crowd of newly righted Death Eaters. “There might still be a few left if you’d like to get in on the fun,” George interjected as he parried away a curse and sent his own back in response. “Where are the others?” Bill barked out, casting a shield charm as a particular nasty bludgeoning hex was sent towards the group at large. The spell rebounded and exploded into the side of the house, collapsing several more sections of damaged walls and windows. “Where are Ron, Percy and Charlie and Moody?” he yelled again as another blasting spell hit the ground around them, kicking up dirt and snow. “They were holding off some Death Eaters on the other side of the house,” Fred answered. “I thought they’d made their way out already?” “We haven’t seen them,” Remus said as another loud explosion rocked the Burrow, making the magically held additions and levels sway ominously, the sound of creaking wood and unstable foundations filling the air. It was obvious that there was still fighting going on inside and the others had not made it out. And by the looks of it, if the spell work and dueling continued inside, they’d be trapped under the ruins of the near-collapsing Burrow. There were several yells from inside that sounded panicky and heated, though the source of the shouts was not clear. Harry hoped to God it wasn’t one of theirs. “We need to get in there and get them out,” Bill said, observing the same circumstances as Harry had. “We’ve got to move fast and make sure we don’t get pinned inside ourselves.” “There’s got to be at least a dozen Death Eaters left inside,” Fred supplied in a slight panic as he looked around at the hooded figures captured on the ground. “We’ll be outnumbered–“ George piped up. But Harry interrupted him, a plan forming wildly in his head suddenly. “We’ll need a diversion,” Harry supplied. The others all looked around at him to continue. “I’ll–I’ll Apparate in and draw them away–“ “Are you crazy?” Bill asked him incredulously, looking at him as if Harry’d gone mad again. “Harry, you’re not going in there alone–it’s suicide,” Remus said concernedly. “They want you and they’ll do anything–“ “Exactly! They’re gunning for me. But they’ll be screwed if they kill me before Voldemort can get his hands on me,” Harry pressed to his former professor and the others who were still looking aghast at his idea. “I’ll make them follow me and you go in and get the other three out…make sure they’re alright.” “I’ll be fine–If anything goes wrong–they won’t do anything so bad as to kill me. Voldemort wants me himself,” Harry assured them as Remus looked at him wearily. “That’s not a real reassuring thought there mate,” Fred said seriously. “Look–we can’t sit here and chat about this–we need to get in there,” Harry growled at them, trying his hardest to bite back on his anger and rage. “I’m going,” he added firmly as he stepped back from the group and turned to face the house. “Be ready to go in,” he shouted over his shoulder, not waiting for their response as he concentrated on the first floor landing between the kitchen and sitting room, hoping that it was still there for him to land on. A quick squeezing sensation washed over his body and then was gone, leaving him in the midst of a thick cloud of dust and debris, teetering precariously on the remains of the ruined staircase. Spells of all different colors flashed around him on all sides and he had to duck to avoid several that narrowly missed his head. He squinted through the particle fog trying to make out his surroundings and locate anyone so he could discern friend from enemy. As his eyes focused to the unusual dimness of the room, he noticed several gaping holes in the walls of the house, opening up to the opposite side of the house the garden was on. To his surprise, spells were being shot into the house through the many holes and he could faintly see hooded figures through the flying debris, standing outside, assailing the house with spells from the outside along with the ones on the opposite side of the sitting room. That meant there were more Death Eaters that had arrived then they’d initially calculated. He needed to lead these attackers away and he needed to get them away quickly so the rest of his friends and fellow fighters could make it to safety. Then, with a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach, he saw wedged in a corner of the sitting room, hidden behind turned over furniture and firing spells both out a nearby gape in the wall towards the outward front of Death Eaters and over the top of the overturned furniture towards the Death Eaters still inside, Ron, Percy, Charlie, and Mad-Eye. Ron and Charlie were the focusing on throwing spells at the two groups of Death Eaters, alternating their attacks, while Percy seemed to be working on maintaining a shield charm over their barricaded area. Mad-Eye was slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and a blood soaked bandage over his good eye, his magical one still as his body was. Harry didn’t know whether he was alive or dead and really didn’t want to think on it at the moment. He had to get the others out of there alive while he still had the chance. Feeling dangerously reckless and intense fury building towards those hurting his friends and ruining their home, Harry stepped down from the rubble of the wooden stairs, straight into the midst of the crossfire of spells, throwing up his own shield charm as spells from all directions and from both sides bounced off. “Hello there,” Harry sneered as the spells stopped flying and everyone recognized it was him in the room. He could hear the Death Eaters on both sides arguing over what to do, unsure of how to continue this fight, unwilling to do something that would have them incur the wrath of Lord Voldemort as a result. “Just thought I’d join your little get-together here,” he added with a mocking smile, feeling the confidence and fearlessness rising within him. “You know–get my feet wet–test out my wings,” he said with a smirk as he found himself very amused at their lack of action. “Come on now,” he teased and taunted as he turned around and eyed them all with a cocky grin. “Bring on your best. I haven’t had a good work out in a while.” His mocking challenge must have struck some sort of chord with the Death Eaters because several spells erupted from the ends of wands, as well as choice words of abuse from their mouths at his insolence. Harry stood there, wordlessly conjuring a shield charm that once again dispelled their curses and hexes. Harry let out a laugh and looked down at himself mockingly. “Was that it? I think you missed,” he scoffed aloud at their attempts. A few spells were sent his way, but he ducked the jets of light and repelled a few others with his right arm, the spells bouncing off the metal and ricocheting as though he’d cast a shield. “Here…let’s shake things up a bit,” Harry said. “Make things a bit easier for you….a little bit more fun for me,” he teased, disappearing noiselessly and seamlessly, reappearing behind the cluster of Death Eaters in the sitting room. He found himself sitting upon the sill of a shattered window, his legs swinging childishly as he watched the Death Eaters look around for him. “Let’s play cat and mouse, “ Harry called out, causing the Death Eaters to whirl about and fire spells wildly to where Harry had been sitting before he disappeared again with a blink of an eye. He’d never been able to Apparate like this before, so quiet and quickly, but something was telling him and allowing him to keep this charade up. It was really very invigorating to be causing this confusion and be in complete control of things for the first time in a while. He didn’t feel particularly angry or vengeful at the moment, but powerful and formidable giving him a sense that he could do no wrong. He appeared again perched on the wooden mantel over the Weasley’s fireplace. From this vantage point he could see Remus and Bill crouching low and advancing into the room, using the diversion he was creating to help move the injured Mad-Eye and the others away from danger. “I’ll be the mouse,” Harry called out, causing the Death Eaters to again spin towards him. He repeated his earlier feat and disappeared just as the spells smashed into the fireplace, stone and wood crumbling to the ground. He appeared right in the middle of the group of searching Death Eaters in the sitting room, who were all too shocked to react when he spoke again from right within their midst. He had to fight the urge to burst out into laughter as the hooded figures jumped and bumped into each other in shock and confusion. “You guys can be the cats,” he teased, vanishing again and reappearing in the middle of the hole in the wall, in clear view of both groups of attacking Death Eaters both inside and out. “Or I could play the cat,” he called out with a grin, Apparating away just as spells sailed in from both directions. This time he placed himself standing on an exposed ceiling beam, leaning against an upright, adjacent beam that hadn’t been blasted apart and looking down on the scene as the Death Eaters once again searched around for where he’d disappeared to. From this spot, he could see that only Percy and Charlie were left, both creeping towards the open kitchen and waiting for their chance to sneak out and join the others. Unlike the Death Eaters, they’d spotted Harry on his perch on the ceiling beams and both were watching for his next move while slowly making their way out of danger. “And you could be the big, fat rats!” Harry shouted down to the Death Eaters playfully as they shot spells up into the ceiling beams and exposed areas of the second floor where he’d been. He didn’t want to Apparate back into the middle of the sitting room and risk Percy and Charlie being found out as they made their escape, so he relocated himself only a few feet down the rafter, near the opposite end from where he’d been. He knew his attempt at keeping up his diversion for Percy and Charlie had gone wrong before he’d fully reappeared and the surroundings came into focus as his entire right side erupted in pain that rivaled that of having been slammed into a tree by a car. Either the Death Eaters had caught onto his game or they’d gotten lucky with a wayward spell aimed at where he’d last been. Either way, Harry knew he was in trouble. Before he could assess anything or make an attempt at escape from danger, several more spells slammed into back and torso, slicing his skin and bludgeoning and pelting him. He felt several of his ribs crack and break and the room spun as he was pelted again with more hexes. They weren’t aiming to kill, but to maim him enough to capture him. Unable to stay on the beam any longer, Harry toppled the several feet to the ground and landed on the debris and rubble below. He heard several shouts of victorious banter go up around him as the Death Eaters appeared to have beaten him. But blind panic seized him and Harry felt the adrenaline begin to rush, stemming off the pain he knew was raging through his battered body. He had never had any intention of being captured at any point of his plan and he was not going to allow them to take him now and he definitely had no intention of going quietly if they attempted it. He cast several rounds of spells at the Death Eaters, wielding his wand wildly as he pulled himself to his feet, staggering out of the sitting room to get away from their advances. He stumbled over the overturned kitchen table and the rafters and beams that had fallen into the room from the floors above. Each time he fell, the Death Eaters following came closer and he was forced to become more wayward and crazy with his defensive hexes and curses. His spells mixed in with the attacker’s created even more chaos and sent more debris and pieces of the collapsing Burrow into the air. Finally Harry found himself falling onto wet, cold earth, the blood coating his hands and coming from his wounds reddening the white snow. He’d made it outside and to where the others were, tending to their injuries and waiting for Harry to emerge. But this time, Harry found himself unable to pull himself back up, his pain returning full-force, weakening his body and clouding his mind. He managed to bring himself to his knees, half-crawling away from the Burrow as the Death Eaters he’d managed to hit recovered and started back on their chase. And then to his horror, the Death Eaters that had been bound and knocked out by his power surge earlier began to stir around him. He heard several of his fellow fighters yelling for him and casting spells as the Death Eaters broke free of their bindings and began to join in on the battle again. Harry kicked out with his legs and his feet connected with a nearby Death Eater, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt of pain. He reached up through the fog of pain he was experiencing and sent another, feebler wave of spells around the group. This momentarily knocked the Death Eaters back long enough for Harry to see Remus, Charlie, Bill, the twins and Percy rushing to join the renewed fight. But before they could reach him, Harry felt somebody grasp the back of his head by his hair, pulling him back roughly into a sitting position. The point of a wand was thrust hard into the side of his neck, rough and eager breathing loud in his pounding ears. “Look what I’ve found,” a throaty voice of one of the unknown Death Eaters growled in his ear. “The Dark Lord will be sure to reward us…but I wonder what he’ll do to you? Whatever it is…I’m sure he’ll allow Fenrir the afters for his bit of payback for what you done to him. ” Harry tried twisting away, the threat of the wand held him tight. A thought ran through his mind also that kept him from acting rashly. Maybe if he let them take him, they’d leave the others alone? He looked around and saw that the others were succeeding in subduing their attackers; hooded figures were falling all around him as his friends fought to get to him. But Harry knew there were more Death Eaters still inside that he’d stunned and injured. It would only be a matter of time before they were all grossly outnumbered again and he knew that the Weasley’s would continue to defend their house no matter the odds or the circumstances. But before Harry could think about submitting or giving himself up willingly to save his friends, something or someone hit both he and the Death Eater holding him hard to the ground, causing him to be freed from the captor’s wand. Harry looked up for the source of the blow and saw Ron wrestling with a large Death Eater, trying hard to pin the man to the ground and gain the advantage. Both had abandoned any spell or wand work and were throwing punches and trying to throw the other off. Harry tried to right himself enough to help Ron out, but in one quick movement, Ron landed a blow to the hooded figures head and the man stopped fighting, knocked out from the force of Ron’s punch. Ron scrambled off the unconscious Death Eater and back across the snow towards Harry. Harry attempted to use Ron’s outstretched arm to lift himself up, but Ron bypassed Harry’s reach and grabbed him under the armpits and around the chest, lifting him slightly off the ground and dragging him away from the fray. “Stay down,” Ron snarled as Harry struggled to stand up instead of let Ron do the work. The barking tone of Ron’s voice, along with his physical pain caused him to listen to Ron and allowed his friend to pull him to safety. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Ron breathed in his ear as he struggled with his own injured feet to haul Harry away. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” “It worked, didn’t it?” Harry snapped back, feeling very miffed at the idea that his friend was lecturing him in the middle of all this chaos. “Everyone’s out…that’s what–“ But the rest of Harry’s retort was cut off by a loud yell of warning directed their way. “Ron! Harry!” Charlie bellowed. He pointed his wand towards them and for a second it looked as if he was about to curse them, but his spell sailed over their heads. As both he and Ron turned towards the direction of the spell, the saw Charlie’s curse narrowly miss Dolohov, who had been sneaking up behind Ron and Harry in an attempt to harm them. Dolohov raked his attention from the two teens and fired back a string of retaliatory spells in Charlie’s direction. The world, the chaos, the fighting seemed to stand still and all eyes seemed drawn to the jets of purple and red light piercing the air, moving in slow motion towards their target. Charlie hadn’t been able to throw up any defenses; he’d been focused on throwing Antonin Dolohov off his brother and Harry, disregarding his own protection and guard for a split second. The purple spell struck first, hitting Charlie square in the chest. His hand went to his heart just as the second jet of light caught him across the neck and throat, his eyes going wide with fear and realization as it sliced deeply into his skin. Charlie dropped to his knees as blood saturated his shirt and he futily reached his hands up to his neck to stop the flow of crimson from the gaping wound. Shaking and weakening from blood loss and unable to breathe, Charlie slumped to the ground stirring feebly. Ripping through the fantasy-like trance that had been cast as Charlie Weasley had gone down; Ron’s scream of rage brought everything racing back into focus. Harry watched as Ron spun around and shot a very powerful bludgeoning hex at Dolohov, who crashed against a broken pile of wood and walls and went still. Ron abandoned his aid to Harry and ran to his fallen brother, casting strings of spells at any remaining Death Eaters his brothers and Remus hadn’t felled. Harry watched numbly as Ron dropped to his knees beside Charlie and began trying to help, screaming for the others to hurry up. With renewed bursts of energy and power, the Weasley brothers downed Death Eater after Death Eater and made their way to Charlie’s side, doing what they could to save the second eldest Weasley brother. Harry looked around in a daze, not really able to take in what had just happened in the span of only half a minute. As he surveyed the area, it seemed that they had succeeded in downing the Death Eaters and protecting what was left of the Burrow, but there were no sentiments of victory. No, the air was filled with the panicked cries and shouts of four frightened men, hovering over their mortally injured comrade and brother. Slowly, Harry picked himself off the grass, wincing and stifling a moan as his body shook in protest, suffering the affects of the many curses he had taken. Painfully and unsteadily, Harry limped over to the crowd of red-haired men, standing over them, only able to stare in shock and horror as he watched the scene before him. “I can’t get it to heal,” Percy cried out in panic as he traced his wand over the large laceration across Charlie’s throat. The dark magic from the curse that Dolohov used was preventing Percy’s healing charms from closing it and stopping the bleeding. Charlie was deathly white and covered in massive amounts of his own dark blood. He was shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide and searching, sick gurgling noises escaping his mouth and through the wound on his neck, blood pouring from his mouth and onto his pale lips and chin. His blood-soaked hand clung tightly to Fred’s as Bill and George worked on his bruised chest. They had ripped open his shirt and were trying to heal the internal injuries that the purple spell had done to him. The skin was dark and nearly black where it had struck and it was obvious their efforts were doing nothing to ease his pain and suffering. “Do something else then!” Ron shouted to his brothers as he tried to stem the flow of blood with some of Charlie’s discarded shirt, but the blood continued to flow. “Shhh, Charlie….it’s gonna be ok,” Bill soothed as Charlie tried to mouth something to them, but could not draw air enough to form words. More blood spilled onto his chin from his internal injuries and he choked on the crimson liquid, his eyes rolling back in his head as he struggled to hang on. “Stay with us Charlie…stay with us,” Fred pleaded as he squeezed his hand tightly, willing his brother to keep fighting. But Charlie’s eyes rolled back in his head again and his grip on Fred’s hand slackened. “Charlie!” Bill shouted desperately at his younger brother and best man. Charlie’s iris’s momentarily slid back into view as they swiveled around to each of his brothers. He closed his eyes in pain and fear and tears escaped from the corners of his eyes and slid down his dirtied cheeks. His other shaking hand grabbed for someone and Bill took hold, gripping tightly, tears running down his own face as he began to lose composure. He knew as well as everyone else there, that they would be leaving this fight without their brother. Charlie began to quiet in his struggle to breathe and hold on; the gurgling and gasping noises becoming softer and less frequent. The stillness, the reality of the situation was suffocating and Harry couldn’t stand it any longer. He couldn’t stand to look on as his best friend and his family watch their brother die, placating and calming him with soothing words and mummers, not able to do a thing as he slipped into oblivion and away from this life. There was a deafening buzzing noise filling Harry’s head as his eyes only vaguely the sight before him, as he only partially saw Charlie Weasley take his last gasp of life, his hands going limp and lifeless in each of his brothers’ grasps as they watched him slip away. George and Ron let out cries of grief and frustration into the cloudy winter sky above before joining the others in an outpouring of tears and sobs. Through a whirl of noise and confusion within his own mind, he saw Bill reach forward and put to fingers to Charlie’s face, closing the lids over his unseeing blue eyes, eyes that would never light up or gaze upon anyone or anything again. Harry turned away, his breath catching in his throat, the pain and ache of his own body and injuries dispelled and replaced by another, filling emotion. He couldn’t bring himself to cry or weep over Charlie’s death. He felt the same grief and shock over its completeness and suddenness, but anger and fury seemed to be pushing away the sorrow and angst and filling him with a need for release. The curses were meant for you. Dolohov wanted you. Charlie died saving you, Harry A voice that sounded like his own, not of the dreadful, high-pitched voice that had haunted him before. The voice was accusing and hate-filled, fueling his torment and unrest. You brought this war to them. You involved them and drew them in. Now you have to face them, knowing one of their sons and brothers is dead so you can live a bit longer…so you can do your job. Harry clutched at his head, which was pounding in rhythm against his skull as if his brain were begging to be let out and he couldn’t blame it. His eyes scanned the ruins and the damage, the unconscious and injured Death Eaters littering the scene. Those that could, had already Apparated away and disappeared from the Burrow. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something stir near where he had last fell. Harry turned slowly and watched Dolohov struggle to get to his feet, clearly hurt and in pain, trying to sneak away. Harry stared hard at the black cloaked figure, his jaw clenched tight and his teeth grinding against one another. Dolohov was going to get away, cowardly running off to save himself. He was going to go free, to live another day, to kill another day. The something that had building up inside him as he honed in on Dolohov and locked onto him began to overwhelm him. Harry felt his wand arm rise, not on its own accord, but by something deeper within himself, aching for revenge. And then he spat the words with venom, bright red light erupting from his wand and hitting the unsuspecting Dolohov square in the back as he tried to escape. His screams of pain rent the air and carried the quiet landscape, echoing off the trees. Harry stepped slowly closer like a predator stalking and taunting its wounded prey, a sadistically calm and determined look on face as he watched the man writhe and convulse on the ground under the effects of his spell. Harry kept his wand on Dolohov, his hand unnaturally steady, unyielding and unwilling to relinquish the stranglehold he had. Satisfaction and deep seeded glee seemed to invigorate him and wash away any effects of his injuries. It was as if Dolohov’s suffering and shrieking was feeding his aura and healing his body. He needed to feel the pain that he’d brought upon the Weasleys. He wanted Dolohov to experience the same misery and agony he had put Charlie through. Now standing over the man, Harry released the Cruciatus curse and bent over the now whimpering and shaking Dolohov. He waited until Dolohov regained enough composure and control to open his eyes and look at him. Dolohov’s dark orbs went wide as they locked upon Harry’s face. The registration of who had attacked him, drained remaining color from the Death Eater’s face, fear filling his features. Dolohov’s fear and apparent terror rushed through Harry like a wave of pleasure. “Please…please….stop,” Dolohov breathed out in pleading as Harry raised his wand again to strike. Not wanting to hear this man, this killer, beg for forgiveness that he so didn’t deserve, Harry waved his hand brutally through the air, lifting Dolohov off of the ground, slamming him against the same spot that Ron had blasted him before. Along with the new round of screams and cries, the sound of snapping bones met Harry’s ears. Not yet satisfied and feeling totally indifferent and reckless, Harry approached the Death Eater slowly again, taking pleasure in watching him suffer and squirm about fruitlessly on the ground, too broken to escape now under his own power. Harry raised his wand again and easily summoned again the hatred and power enough to spit out the Cruciatus curse. Dolohov shrieked even louder than before, his body contorting and his muscles contracting involuntarily as he tried to escape the intense, tortuous pain assaulting his body and senses. Behind him, Harry heard voices shouting loudly. He turned his head slightly towards them, thinking for a moment that the other Death Eaters had started the fight back up. But instead he saw blurs of red running towards him, calling and shouting at him. They were going to stop him. Didn’t they want Dolohov to pay…to endure hell for his sins? To reap what he so deserved? Dolohov couldn’t go free…surely they’d understand that in the end. Wordlessly, Harry sent up a large shield charm around him and the area in which he held Dolohov at bay. He watched for a moment as the others hit the resistance of his barrier and stumbled backwards, unable to penetrate it, unable to stop him. He turned back to Dolohov, who was still under he curse, but no longer screaming. Harry released the spell and kneeled down next to the near unconscious man. He’d bitten through his lip to stem the pain of Harry’s curse; blood was dripping down his chin from the wound. Muscles involuntarily and spontaneously spasming and jerking about, ruined by the effects of Harry’s spell. “St-op…” Dolohov panted out brokenly, slurring and stuttering as he did so. “I–I–I’m–“ “Sorry?” Harry finished quiet and dangerously, staring him down coldly and unforgiving. “Y–ye-s,” Doholov responded brokenly, nodding as best he could. “I…don’t believe you,” Harry whispered cruelly and calmly as he reached up and put the cold fingers of his right hand around the bruised neck and throat of Antonin Dolohov. Dolohov made gasping sounds and weakly pried at Harry’s metal fingers as they tightened their grip around his neck. Then with strength that seemed to come from no real physical place, he lifted the Death Eater off the ground and off of his feet, slamming him hard against the side of one of the undamaged walls of the Burrow. He held him pinned there, feet off the ground, supported only by the steely fingers holding him round the neck and throat. “This isn’t the first time you’ve ruined a family,” Harry said quietly and poisonously, placing his face inches from Dolohov’s horrified one. “You’re only sorry because someone’s finally going to make you pay for all you’ve done.” “Ple-ase…ha-ve…mer-cy…” Dolohov cried exasperatedly and desperately, choking out the words as he gasped for air. “Mercy?” Harry repeated, a small, sick smile catching the corner of his mouth. “That may have worked before with your master…but I’m not Lord Voldemort. I hold no such capacity to bestow–mercy–on those who don’t deserve it.” Harry slammed Dolohov hard against the wood siding, his head cracking loudly with the contact, his eyes rolling back in his head in response to the blow. Harry repeated the act twice more, each time the sound of bone whacking against wood and plaster echoing in the air. Harry still held Dolohov firm in his hand, enjoying this torture and drawing sick satisfaction from his agony. “Fo-r-gi-ve…m-e…” Dolohov croaked brokenly, blood seeping from his ears now and from the wounds created from the blows to the back of his head. “I…b-eg…of…y-ou. For-g-ive…me.” Harry licked his lips, trying to hold back the amusement he was getting from Dolohov’s feeble attempt at reconciliation and repentance. It had taken being brought to death’s doorstep for this man to come to this point, to feel sorry for his actions and his atrocities. But Harry could feel no compassion; not because he was so consumed by revenge and rage, but because he knew that Dolohov was not sorry or remorseful over all the people he’d killed and lives he’d ruined. Dolohov was only now regretful of his past because of his fear of death, his selfishness and concern for only his own life, now that it was his time to answer for his deeds. “Why don’t you try asking God,” Harry whispered into Dolohov’s ear as he leaned in close. Harry’s hand tightened dangerously around his neck, crushing into his windpipe and choking off his air supply. “Maybe he’ll be willing to forgive you…after you’ve answered for all you’ve done…explained to him why.” Harry pulled his mouth away from Dolohov’s ear and looked the dying man straight in the face as he compressed his hold on the Death Eaters neck, strangling him and snapping and tearing essential bone and muscle; the devastating power of his prosthetic arm doing its work. Harry didn’t look away and didn’t feel a shred of emotion as the last bit of energy left Antonin Dolohov. Somewhere within him, there was a part that realized what he had done, grasped the reality and the heaviness of the act. But it could not come forth at the moment. Any guilt or remorse that he knew might come later was replaced by numbness and indifference. He should feel something after killing a man, watching him die at his own hand, but he could only stare into those blank, lifeless eyes and feel nothing. A shaky and hesitant hand gripped his shoulder, ripping him away from his preoccupation. Harry turned his head to look for the source of the touch, still holding Dolohov’s lifeless form aloft and found Remus standing beside him. Remus’s gaze traveled from Harry’s blank face, to the Death Eater’s unresponsive one. Remus was wide-eyed and pale, looking at Harry with an expression that held so much concern and alarm, that it was the only thing about the situation that seemed to unnerve Harry a bit. Harry released his hold on Dolohov, letting him fall to the ground in an unceremonious heap. He could only stare down at the body, not sure what to do or what would happen now. It was now that Harry realize that his face was glazed with hot tears he hadn’t known had fallen at all. He couldn’t remember crying and vaguely wondered when they’d fallen. “Harry–come on,” Remus whispered quietly, his voice shaking and broken. Harry didn’t move, continuing to stare down at the man he’d killed. “Harry–“ Remus repeated, attempting to make his voice sound a bit stronger and composed. “Let’s go,” he pressed, grabbing hold of Harry’s left forearm in an attempt to draw him away. Harry took a step with Remus, not able to rip his eyes away from Dolohov. “What about the other Death Eaters?” Harry heard himself say, calmly and firmly, as if nothing had happened. “They’ve gone–Disapparated, “ Remus responded, clearly unnerved by Harry’s blank tone. Harry nodded and looked around at the quiet scene. The house was still in ruins and remnants of the battle lay strewn around the yard. The Death Eaters were gone, save the one casualty. Bill and Percy remained near Charlie’s body, but Ron, Fred and George were nearer, all standing and watching him. Fred and George looked away as Harry met their gaze. They looked sick and pale, their movements nervous and shaky. Ron kept Harry’s gaze as they locked eyes and Harry drew closer with Remus. But there was something in Ron’s eyes that again hit a distant nerve within the numbness consuming Harry. Ron looked…fearful…afraid of his best friend and what he’d done. “We should–go,” Remus said aloud as he and Harry joined the others near Charlie’s body and where Mad-Eye now sat upright, nursing the wound to his head now that he’d regained consciousness. The others looked up and nodded slowly, avoiding looking at Harry and keeping a slight distance. Harry noticed this of course, but could care less at the moment. He just wanted to get away from this place, go somewhere he could think and attempt to clear his clouded mind. “I’ll take him,” Bill spoke up, lifting Charlie’s torso up and attempting to cradle his dead brother in his arms. “Someone should go ahead–make sure Mum’s–make sure she doesn’t see–“ “I’ll go,” Fred said softly. “I’ll take Moody with me and clear everyone out.” “I’ll help,” George interjected and Fred nodded in acceptance as both men their way to the disoriented ex-Auror on the ground, helping him to a standing position. “Someone needs to help Percy, Ron and Harry through the wards of the safe house,” Bill spoke up, trying to keep composure in his voice once again. “I’ll come with you,” Percy said quietly as he moved towards Bill and motioned for Bill to shift Charlie so he could aid him. Bill silently accepted and exchanged a quick thankful nod with his estranged brother. “I’ll take these two,” Remus assured the others, gesturing to Ron and Harry who stood a few feet apart from one another, silently staring around and avoiding any sort of communication, silent or verbal. The others nodded in agreement and with one last look around, Fred and George disappeared with Moody supported between them. Bill and Percy waited another agonizing minute or so before departing also and following their brothers to their safe destination. “Grab hold,” Remus spoke up, holding out his arms to Harry and Ron who had continued the strained and tense silence. “The wards will make Apparition take a bit longer…but we’ll be safe where we’re going,” he tried to assure them. Ron took Remus’s arm without question, waiting for his former professor to side-along them to the unknown safe house. Harry continued to stare around, torn between going with and running away where he didn’t have to look the Weasley’s in the eye and know what he’d done to their family, where he wouldn’t have so much to lose. “Harry–mate–“ Ron spoke up, causing Harry to look around at him, surprised to hear his voice. “Let’s go,” he finished firmly, holding out his hand for Harry to take. Harry looked at Ron’s outstretched hand and then at Remus, who nodded encouragement. Without anymore thought, Harry took Ron’s hand and waited for the pressing darkness to take him away from the ruined Burrow and the place of lost innocence. He only had to wait a moment longer to welcome the crushing sensation of magical transportation, relishing in the brief moment where he could at least feel something. A/N: I’m stopping right there for now. I think this chapter will stand good by itself where I’ve ended it. I hope you got as much of a reaction reading it as I got writing this. I’ve had this planned for so long, that actually writing it was tough and I had to pause several times to gather my thoughts. Once again thanks for reading and I hope to have the next chapter out sometime next week. Thanks! |
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