Search:

SIYE Time:10:06 on 29th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


Normalcy
By notadryeeye

- Text Size +

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: 500804; Chapter Total: 9484
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 just write fan fics for fun and to take up free time.




ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Chapter 46: Matters of Blood and Connection

“Keep applying pressure on that, Gin,” Molly Weasley told her daughter as she rushed around the makeshift infirmary that had been haphazardly set up in the living room when Arthur and Kingsley had arrived at the safe house injured and shaken.

Ginny watched as her mother went back to help Hermione, who had been trying along with Molly, to set her father’s shattered and dislocated shoulder. She knew her mother was a gifted witch, wonderful at healing and restorative spells; she had to be with such a large family of boys who had a knack of getting into scrapes and scuffles. But the damage to these men was stretching Molly Weasley’s abilities to the limit and Ginny could see that as she did her best to help her mother out and tend to the wounded.

Nervousness and anxiety were assaulting Ginny’s senses as she pressed a bloody cloth to a large gash on the side of Alastor Moody’s head. She was not accustomed to dealing with any sort of injury and medical situation. Blood and gore frightened her in a way nothing else did. Life and loss were in the balance and having to deal with these severe injuries and not knowing what to do for them left her helpless and scared.

And it had not helped that Fred and George had showed up a few minutes ago from the battle with him slung between them. They had allowed Molly to hug them to assuage her worry for her family and give thanks for the fact that they were back safe. The twins had told them that the others would be coming soon behind. Then they had left the room without another word or explanation.

Both had been unhurt, save a few scratches and bruises, but they had been very pale and quiet. They usually were able to find some sort of lightness in the direst of situations, using their knack for humor and candor to bring smiles when there should only be tears. But they had paused only to calm their mother and deposit the injured Auror, leaving Ginny and the others in a state of even deeper worry and anxiety. Something was not right.

“You’re doing fine lass,” Moody’s quiet voice started her back from preoccupation, wrenching her eyes away from Tonks and Fleur, who were trying their best to heal the severely injured Kingsley Shacklebolt on a makeshift bed on the other side of the room. Of everyone who was back, he was by far hurt the worst.

Ginny looked down at the grizzled ex-Auror, who’s previously good eye lay in ruin behind another bandage that had been taped onto his face to cover up the wound. She found his magical eye on her as she tried to stem the dripping cut on the side of his head that still needed healing. She found her hand was shaking, showing her distress. He had clearly noticed, and even in his state, he was doing his best to calm her. His voice had been quiet and less grating than normal.

She nodded shakily and tried to smile as he reached up and patted her gently on the shoulder with a knarled hand.

“Do you need anything else? Something for pain?” Ginny asked softly, wanting to return the favor for his empathy despite his own suffering.

“No…I’ve had worse than this before,” he replied with a small crooked smile of his own. Ginny tried hard not to think about all the war and fighting he had seen and what it had done to his body as she looked back into the scarred and weathered face of the man before her.

The sound of her mother’s and Fleur’s cries of relief broke her away from Moody and she looked up to find Fleur jumping into Bill’s arms and holding him tightly, her body wracked with sobs as he buried his face in her hair and rocked her back and forth to soothe her. Molly had embraced Percy, and seemed to be drinking in everything about her previously estranged son as he stood before her. Percy returned the hug; his eyes closed as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder and let her fuss over him.

“Oh thank God,” Molly cried as she momentarily released Percy and embraced Bill. “Are you two hurt?” she asked as she stepped away and looked them over. They too bore many scrapes and cuts, Percy had a small burn on the side of his neck. But otherwise they looked physically alright, but had that same pale, shaken look the twins had.

“No,” Bill answered quietly, not showing any sign that he was happy and relieved to be among his family, safe and alive.

“Where are the others?” Tonks asked as she stood next to a still unconscious Kingsley who she had been working on healing. She looked quiet worried that Remus was not yet among those who had returned. Hermione too locked eyes on Bill and Percy, eagerly awaiting the answer.

Bill paused, swallowing before he looked back up to answer her question.

“Remus, Ron and Harry are coming behind us,” he replied quietly. There is was something in the way that he responded that worried Ginny. It was as if that reply had cost him so much to say and her heart sank, imagining what state or what injuries they might have received.

“Where’s Charlie?” Mrs. Weasley asked of her eldest son, realizing that her second born had yet to be mentioned or returned.

Bill’s eyes averted from his mother and he looked as though he might become sick. Percy too had lowered his head. And it was then, that Ginny noticed Fred and George standing behind their brothers, both remaining quiet and sullen.

“Where’s your brother?” Molly repeated, her voice shaky and nearing hysterics.

Percy looked up and met his mother’s eyes for a second, looking as though he might say something to answer he inquiry, but he shook his head and looked away again.

Bill met his mother’s gaze next and Ginny’s world reeled as she took in her eldest brother’s expression.

Despite the scars marring his handsome face and the slightly weathered look about him due to the years of working the pyramids in the deserts of Egypt, Bill looked like a lost little boy, about to tell his mother something that would break her heart. Tears filled his wide brown eyes, eyes that only he, Molly and Ginny shared, while the rest of the boys had the bright blue of their father. He was biting his quivering lip, wavering between keeping his devastating secret or telling them the truth.

“Mum….” He began brokenly, “Mum…I’m…I’m so…sorry…” he tried to finish as tears began to roll freely down his face. Molly began to shake her head from side to side, backing away slowly, trying to get away from the reality of what she was being told.

Ginny could see that behind Bill and Percy, Fred had broken out into silent sobs and George was running a hand over his face to keep his own composure.

“No…no…” Molly repeated. “Where’s your brother? Where’s Charlie?” she cried as she began to break down. Arthur hurried over behind her, disregarding the injury to his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his wife, rocking her back and forth as he too began to cry.

“We…tr-tried…” Bill attempted to continue. “We couldn’t…do…anything,” Bill sobbed and Fleur wrapped him up in her arms and he melted into her, his cries’ mixing with Molly’s, who had sunk into her husband’s embrace. They both clung to each other, weeping for their son and trying impossibly to console each other.

Ginny felt the world sway around her as the truth of it all hit her.

Charlie was gone. Her brother was dead.

Images of his broad, freckled face and bright smile filled her head. Moments and memories of him flashed through her mind’s eye like a cruel filmstrip.

Charlie had been off to school or in Romania for a good portion of her life, but like all her brothers, they had their special times together and things that only they’d shared.

Charlie’d been the one to give her, her first broom ride, taking her up one evening when she was five and he had spotted her hiding in the garden, watching the boys fly in the orchard. He’d nicknamed her ‘firebug’ when she was little and still called her that in tease. She remembered all his letters home from Romania, filled with tales of dragons and danger, laced with the excitement she knew he was experiencing. She still had them all.

He was the free-spirited one of the family. He was different from all her other brothers, not only in his broader physical appearance and shorter stature. But Charlie was always wanting to be unique, to see things see things differently and do things that not everybody did.

That was the driving force behind his desire to work with dragons and move away from his family to a strange and distant country. It was one of the reasons for his wayward and often freelancing social life. He’d never once in his twenty-five years been tied down to one girl despite Molly’s constant insistence that he settle down. And Charlie always loved having a good time, always being the life of the party wherever he went.

But she also knew, that like the rest of the Weasleys, Charlie was fiercely protective and proud of his family. He had given up working on the dragon reserve, sacrificing what he loved to do, to come home to be with them when asked to aid the Order. His family, doing the right thing had always been so important to him. And even though she didn’t yet know the manner of his death, she knew he’d gone, died, fighting for his family and a cause he believed so much in.

But all that was over now.

Ginny knew it wouldn’t feel completely real for a while, until time passed and his absence would truly set it in. But just the quickness and the shock of what had happened and how things had changed and fallen apart in such a short span of time, that was the hard and the heart-wrenching thing of it all. The war--as real as it had felt before, as close as she was to it because of her love for the man in the center of it all–it suddenly seemed to have come home and hit harder in a way she could never imagine.

The sobs of her mother and father filled her ears and seemed to fill up the room around her, choking off any other noise and suffocating her. She was so lost at that moment that Ginny didn’t look up or hesitate to melt into the comforting arms that enfolded her and held her close. She found herself crying uncontrollably the chest of somebody that smelled of smoke and dirt and who was crying also, their tears falling into her hair.

For a split second, she expected to look and find Harry had come back, had rushed into the room, attempting to be her rock in this darkest of times. But the arms that wrapped around her were whole and complete, the chest not at all familiar and as she looked up, through her tears, she saw only red.

Fred had crossed the room and was now holding her tight, sharing in her pain and trying to hold her up.

“It’s ok Gin,” he soothed to her, his voice thick with the tears and emotion of the tragedy at hand. “It’s ok…”

Appreciating her brother’s embrace, she sunk back into him, letting out her anguish and allowing herself to get lost in her mind, trying to get away from the reality of it all; trying not to think about the horrible truth that her brother, Charlie, was dead.

She only faintly heard her mother’s voice speak shakily and brokenly through the haze that seemed to settle in the room and around her brain.

“How–how d-did–he–it–happen?” Molly asked, her voice cracked and hesitant, as if she wanted to have the absolution of knowing how her son had been killed, but at the same time, was afraid and terrified to know the truth.

“Dolohov–“ Bill spoke up after a few seconds, taking time to collect himself enough to speak. “Dolohov hit him–with–a form of the bludgeoning curse–I’ve never seen it before…”

Bill stopped, sensitive to the gasp from his mother and the string of angry curses from his father at the news.

“Why didn’t you bring him here? Surely we could have tried–“ Molly began to cry out and beg her son for a better explanation, not satisfied that a hex normally not designed to be fatal would do such damage to her son.

“He also got hit–hit with a–“ Bill began slowly and painfully, his voice teetering on the edge of breaking.

“Bill–no,” George’s voice interrupted him and Ginny looked up to find her other twin brother looking pleading towards Bill as if begging not to go on.

Bill’s gazed wavered between George and his parents, who also looked torn about the subject, wanting to know what had happened to their son, yet dreading the knowledge.

“They have a right to know,” Bill said, locking eyes with his mother and father. “They need to know.”

George bowed his head, shaking his head in disagreement, but not arguing any further.

“Charlie also took a slicing curse,” Bill continued, his words catching in his throat. “Across the neck….” He finished, not being able to hold anything back anymore. Horrifying images of her brother’s gruesome death flashed across Ginny’s mind and she felt like she may be sick.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Arthur cried out. “I shouldn’t have left you boys alone–“ he continued, his voice filled with guilt and anger.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Fred tried to assure his father. “It happened so fast and there was nothing any of us could have done, Dad.”

“It was my responsibility to protect them,” Bill interjected, sounding as torn and self-deprecating as Arthur. “I promised you I’d look after them and I didn’t, Dad. I should have gotten us out of there sooner…there so many of them.”

“Bill–don’t put this on yourself,” Arthur broke in. “You all did what was right…what was asked of you. You fought so bravely. But I’m a father…and I’m responsible for all of my children…no matter how old or young. You’ll understand that when you’ve had your child,” he continued, his red and watery eyes landing on Fleur, who was holding tight to Bill. Bill’s hand went automatically to Fleur’s still flat stomach, covering the growing life inside.

“I shouldn’t have left my children alone,” Arthur reiterated.

“We weren’t alone,” a new, tired sounding voice startled nearly everyone in the room. Ginny looked up to see a very battered and defeated looking Ron standing in the doorway, his eyes roving over his grieving family. Hermione raced to embrace him, and wrapped herself around him, letting out the stress of her worry and anxiety in the form of heavy tears.

Ron hugged her back, his hands rubbing her back soothingly, but he had eyes only for his mother and father.

“We were all together,” Ron continued. “And Charlie wasn’t alone. We were by his side. We were all with him…when…when he let go,” he trailed off, tears cascading down his face as he tried his best to at least give his mother and father that knowledge and small comfort that they had indeed all been together at the end.

-------------------------------- ----

There was a long and complete period of quiet reflection and near silence after that last thought by Ron as they all took in the events of that afternoon and evening. The crying, which had previously been sobs, was instead steady streams of tears and calming words of comfort and strength exchanged between family members.

Molly and Arthur took turns embracing and holding each of their children, things becoming even more emotional as Molly clung to Percy, the time apart and spent estranged being erased as she welcomed him back unconditionally.

Ginny found herself wrapped in Ron and Hermione’s combined embrace when Tonks let out a gasp of relief and hurried across the room, throwing her arms around a very pale and drawn looking Remus Lupin, who had just entered the room, solemnly watching the broken scene of a mourning family. Remus returned her embrace, closing his eyes and breathing her in, one hand resting on her swollen belly.

“What took you so long?” Tonks scolded tearfully, her anxiety and worry finally spilling out after having stayed calm and steady for the Weasleys.

“I’ve been here…I just…needed to take care of a few things,” he said quietly, his voice filled with an unreadable emotion.

Tonks didn’t ask what he needed to attend to, but continued to hug him and let her tears fall in relief. After a bit, they broke apart and Remus stepped forward to Arthur and Molly who were sitting together with Percy and the twins.

“Molly…Arthur…I’m so sorry,” he tried to convey his condolences without breaking down. “I’m sorry for…for your loss,” he added, trailing off, at a loss for what to say.

Both nodded solemnly and tearfully, both accepting Remus’s embrace as he moved forward in an attempt to comfort them.

Just as he pulled away from Molly, there was a loud banging noise from the room above them and the sound of breaking glass. The entire room jumped and several of her brothers grabbed for their wands, the tension and the readiness for a fight still coursing through their systems.

“What–what was that?” Hermione gasped in surprise as Ron’s grip on her tightened.

Everyone looked around in confusion, except for Remus, who stared steadily ahead, not even blinking as the crashing sound repeated itself.

“Where’s Harry?” Molly’s voice interrupted the strained silence, realizing who was missing from the scene after observation of the room.

But there was only silence in response to her question.

All of the brothers seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes, focusing their attention on the floor or staring off into space, their faces long and their expressions unreadable and undecipherable. There was something unspoken going on between them and it was unsettling to all those watching.

“Where is he?” Ginny found herself asking aloud, sounding a bit desperate and for the first time since learning about Charlie’s dead, she was focusing her attention on a new worry.

“He’s upstairs,” Remus finally spoke up where the others were unwilling to. “He’s up in one of the bedrooms…he…wanted to be alone,” Remus answered hesitantly, his eyes drifting up the ceiling as if he could see through the floorboards to the room above.

“Is he hurt? Is he ok?” Ginny asked through her tears, stepping away from Ron and Hermione and moving towards the doorway, wanting to go up and check on him and be with him.

The response to her inquiry scared Ginny. All of her brothers shared weary gazes with one another and exchanged heavy looks as they continued to be silent.

Ginny shook her head, unnerved by their attitudes and actions, and strode further across the room, intent on going up and finding him. But Remus stepped in her way, blocking her path and holding out his arm placating.

“No, Ginny…I think you should stay here,” he said quietly in response to her disgruntled expression at being stopped. “Be with your family.”

“I want to see him,” she pressed, taking a step and trying to bypass her former professor.

“Ginny,” Remus repeated firmly, shaking his head in an attempt to dissuade her. Ginny was confused and worried at his behavior and looked around once again to find her brothers shaking their heads or conveying the same message in their own manner.

Ginny conceded and stepped back, fear gripping her unnaturally now as another bang resonated upstairs.

“I’ll go,” Remus assured her, though his tone was not as willing and confident as she had expected. He gave one last quick scan of the room before leaving for the hallway. His footsteps could be heard, sounding off painfully slow as he made his way up the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked the room at large as she turned around to find them watching her carefully. “What happened?” she questioned, knowing there was something more than the effects of Charlie’s death weighing heavily upon them.

“After…after Charlie…” George began, his voice unsure and unsteady, the pain of voicing his brother’s death out loud evident in his tone. “After he…passed…I heard screaming. When I turned to look…Harry had his wand on Dolohov and had him…had him under the…the Cruciatus.”

George paused, both in response to the shocked gasps and noises from those who had not been present at the time of the fight, and because of the nature of the retelling of the situation.

“I thought he deserved it,” Bill spoke up, his tone guilty and heavy, relieving George of having to carry on. “I thought Dolohov deserved to feel pain for what he’d done. So I didn’t stop him…”

“But then Harry didn’t stop…” Bill continued. “Dolohov was screaming…and pleading…” he trailed off, his eyes glazed as if reviewing the scene in his head as he was speaking.

“My mind finally caught up with what was happening…” Fred interjected. “We tried to stop him…but he threw up a shield charm around himself…we couldn’t get through…we tried everything.”

There a strange sense of already knowing what was going to happen in this gruesome and all too real tale. The room at large already seemed to know the result of this struggle and what it had eventually culminated in, what act had occurred. But until it was said aloud, until it had become real and final, then they would hope against hope that this story would end differently.

“He went beserk…and we couldn’t do anything…” Fred broke off.

“Harry killed him…he killed Dolohov,” Ron said in a hollow and dead sounding tone, repeating the words as if trying to absorb them while looking straight ahead, his eyes far away and dark.

“No,” Molly let out in a quiet, horror-filled voice as the information sunk in.

Then there was complete and heavy silence enveloping the room. Ginny didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t breathe and the walls seemed to close in around her. Her sudden need to be with Harry, to hold him and see him grew stronger, but at the same time, she was afraid and terrified of what this might do to him, of what had truly changed within him. She couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, the looks on her brother’s faces and the reaction of Remus told her that it was indeed true and the walls that had been cracking and fracturing for so long within, had finally crumbled beyond repair.

“I’ve never been afraid of him before,” Ron breathed out into the shocked silence. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images, the experience, and the realness of it all. Hermione was blank and unmoving against his chest, not being able to take anything in. “He did it--and what was worse was after--the way reacted. I don’t know if he doesn’t realize it…what he’s done--or he just doesn’t care.”

------------------------------ -----------------------
Remus stood stock still outside the last bedroom down the long hall of the second floor. There were no more sounds of distress or any sign of movement within the room at all. But Remus was sure that behind the door stood, or sat or lay Harry Potter.

His heart was screaming at him to rush into the room, to be with Harry and not let the young man stew and be alone with his thoughts right now. But his mind was holding back, not yet able to wrap itself around the nature of the deed and what exactly he had seen. He was afraid of what he would find, what state Harry might be in, or what exactly he would say to even attempt to provide comfort or assurance. There seemed no words for this situation.

Slowly and defying the hesitation in his brain, Remus placed his hand on the brass doorknob, listening again for any sound. Taking a steadying breath, he slowly turned the knob, listening for the click of the lock on the catch, before it swung open slowly and noiselessly.

The furniture in the bedroom had been thrown around and broken, pieces of an old oak dresser lay toppled against a side wall, a nightstand smashed beside the door as if it had been thrown across the room against the wall.

In the corner, a large, full-length, oval mirror stood shattered and broken, most of the old mirror lying in fragments on the ground, some crushed to powder by the footsteps of the young man standing before the window next to it, staring unseeingly out into the darkening sky beyond.

“What is it?” Harry’s calm and soft voice shocked Remus and caused him to jump at the sound.

“What do you want?” Harry repeated quietly and composed, still staring out the window.

“I–I just wanted to make sure–I didn’t want you to be alone,” Remus stumbled, trying again to say the right thing in a situation that wasn’t at all right. “I thought maybe–you wanted to talk–“

“About?” Harry answered unruffled and coolly.

“About–things,” Remus replied lamely, cringing at his word choice. “About–what happened.”

“You–want to talk about–how I killed a man?“ Harry began as he turned around slowly to face Remus. “You’d like to talk about that?” Harry reiterated, still maintaining his collected front and tone.

“I thought you’d–you should know–it’s–alright,” Remus struggled, unnerved by the calm stare and blank face that Harry was showing him. “The Ministry won’t be…you won’t go to–“

“Azkaban?” Harry finished for him, his eyebrows rising slightly as he spoke. “That’s what should happen right…when this happens…when you murder somebody?” Harry continued, his voice growing harsh and uneven as he turned his glare away from Remus and back out the window.

“But no…I’ll be–patted on the back–given a medal and congratulated for my services in battle,” Harry said with sarcastic amusement in his tone. “Because that’s what we’re trying to do, right? Defeat the enemy at whatever cost…by whatever means necessary?”

The last statements that he made sounded as though he were searching for a reason, looking for Remus to validate him; the words thrown out there desperately so he might be assuaged and given a motive and purpose for his actions.

“Harry–you were–distraught–angry after Charlie died,” Remus began, the words spilling out. “We all were…and…any one of us would’ve done–“

“But you didn’t,” Harry said simply. “I did.”

“And–I didn’t kill him because of Charlie,” Harry continued in a dark and definitive tone. “I did it because he deserved it Remus. For all he’s done–and to stop him from hurting anyone else…”

Harry trailed away and Remus could only continue staring at his back, his tongue tied and heavy and mind racing in confusion and anxiety.

“He was pleading…” Harry spoke into the silence, turning now to face the mirror, his eyes on his own broken face, reflecting off the shattered and fractured glass.
“He begged for me to stop…and I didn’t,” Harry said into the mirror. Remus wasn’t sure if Harry was talking to himself or to the room at large. “He told me he was sorry…and he asked me to forgive him…”

“Do you know what I told him?” Harry asked Remus in a near whisper as he turned from the mirror.

Remus shook his head slightly from side to side. He hadn’t been able to get close enough to hear the words exchanged. He had only been able to view the look of cool contempt and the power radiating from Harry and the fear and terror of Dolohov as he was tortured and strangled to death.

“I told him–to try that with God,” Harry responded tonelessly and with no visible emotion except indifference. “I told him–maybe he’d forgive him,” Harry continued in the same dead and unmoved manner.

And then a small, malevolent and horrible smirk crossed Harry’s lips, shaking Remus to the core.

“But I guess–I was wrong in telling him that,” Harry half-sighed, half-chuckled sardonically.

“There is no God,” Harry said shaking his head. “At least not one who gives a damn about what goes on down here.”

Remus could only stare unabashedly at Harry, not recognizing any semblance of the boy he had seen grow up these past few years.

“No…there are only foolish, power-hungry, soul-less men,” Harry continued. “Who try and play that role.”

Harry looked up from his preoccupation and his grey eyes met Remus’s brown, connecting and truly communicating for the first time since Remus had entered the room.

“You’re afraid of me,” Harry said quietly. It was a statement not a question, and one Remus couldn’t truly deny.

“No…I’m not afraid of you Harry…I’m afraid of what’s happening to you–“ Remus replied.

“No…you can’t lie to me,” Harry refuted him, shaking his head. “I see it in your eyes–the fear and the revulsion. Just like I saw it Ron’s eyes–everyone’s faces–the fear and the disgust in what I did–what I’ve become…”

“But what am I?” Harry asked quietly of himself as he turned to face the mirror again. The pieces missing in the mirror created an eerie effect, showing only half of Harry’s face, the other half was shattered and cracked, distorting the half not in darkness.

“What am I?” He repeated softly, but his face was showing the first glimpses of emotion, his eyes and brows furrowing and his face contorting and wavering as he grappled with his feelings, teetering on the edge of losing control. He was swallowing repeatedly in attempt to keep his emotions at bay, his breathing become more rapid, his muscles and body less composed and relaxed.

“What am I?!” he yelled in desperation, swiping at the mirror with his right hand and smashing the remaining glass in the mirror, sending it cascading around the room and onto the floor. He proceeded to grab the wood frame of the antique mirror and flung it against the wall where it broke apart with a large crack.

“She said it would be hard…she–she said I’d lose myself along the way–that I can’t run from it,” Harry cried out brokenly, running his hands frantically through his hair as he began to pace around erratically.

“Who?” Remus found himself asking. “Who is ‘she’, Harry?”

“But I don’t want this,” Harry said in a shaky voice. “I can’t–I won’t–be like him. I can’t let it happen like this--”

“Harry–talk to me,” Remus pleaded. “Tell me what you mean. Let me in so we can help you.”

“It doesn’t matter in the end–it’s going to–“ Harry continued, shaking his head and ignoring Remus’s pleas. “It won’t stop---I can’t win.”

Remus was about to continue to try and get Harry to speak more coherently, to calm down and talk to him, but his eyes were drawn to Harry’s left hand. In Harry’s pacing and frantic movement, it had moved to his back pocket, and his wand was now clutched tightly, his hand closing and flexing over the wooden handle. His eyes stayed locked on it, weary of the power of the wielder and what may come.

“I have to–I have to–“ Harry stuttered, looking around wildly, rubbing his left fist against the side of his head as he breathed out and panted wildly. There was a palpable change in the temperature and energy of the room, everything seemed static and alive, the air ripe with electricity waiting to be unleashed.

“It has to end–before I–I’ve already–“ Harry continued to ramble and cry out wildly.

He seemed to pause for a second, looking at his raised hand and recognizing the wand in his hand. His expression changed from frazzled and distressed, to contemplation as his eyes flicked from his wand to Remus, and back again.

Terror and possibility suddenly flooded Remus’s mind as he realized what may be about to happen.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered as he re-clutched his wand in his hand and cast Remus a genuinely apologetic look.

Then the bright blazing red of spell light filled the room, silencing the chaos within.

----------------------------- -------------------

The living room was still filled with shocked silence and overall disbelief in what had taken place within the last few hours. The tragedy and senselessness of Charlie’s death, the enormity and the brutality of Harry’s actions; both seemed to be beating down on the hearts and minds of all the occupants of the room.

But they were also listening for any movement or noise from the upstairs, each taking turns glancing upwards towards the ceiling as if they could see through into the room above. For the last few minutes, there had been no sound or even murmur of voices, indicating a conversation going on between the two men.

But the quiet, deceptive calm was interrupted by yet another crash of breaking glass, the sound of the shards hitting the floor like rain echoing into the room as an inarticulate yell of pain and rage followed it. Several of the people in the room jumped, others clutched each other slightly tighter as they sat close to each other.

The outburst was followed by the sound of footsteps, pacing wildly and unevenly around the room, the pattern of the sound broken and unpredictable. The din of voices, muffled by the floor, mixed in with the pacing and then suddenly stopped as if somebody turned off or muted the sounds.

And then there was the bellow of a voice, as if shouting out a spell or incantation. The yell was followed by a loud thud, as if something or someone had crumpled to the floor.

Wands were drawn and Bill, Fred, and George stood up, their eyes fixed on the entrance to the sitting room, where the landing of the stairs was visible in the dimly lit hallway.

From above, there was the sound of footsteps moving across the room, stopping for nearly a minute before moving again. Then there was sound of the closing of an upstairs bedroom door, and the creaking of floorboards as the footsteps slowly trod across the carpeted upstairs landing.

The room seemed totally void of air or noise; and everyone seemed to be holding their breath, set on tenterhooks, waiting for the unknown person to emerge.

The footsteps seemed slow and deliberate as they made their way down the staircase, but were made even more agonizing by the atmosphere and the tension gripping those still clinging to the fear and emotion of the day. They didn’t know what was going to be coming down those stairs and what scared them, was what and who it possibly could be.

“Remus!” Tonks breathed out as she got from her spot in a chair next to a still unconscious Kingsley and stood before him. But she stopped short of embracing him as he held two objects in his arms, his face white and more ashen then before.

“Remus, what happened?” Arthur asked from his spot next to his wife.

“I stunned him,” Remus replied hollowly, his eyes searching the room, but not taking in the expressions on the faces around him. “I didn’t know what he was going to do…to me…or himself…”

“He’ll be out for a while…” Remus continued, ignoring the shocked and distraught whispering and murmurs. He stepped further into the room and set the contents of his arms down on a nearby table. The clank of Harry’s metal prosthetic sounded clearly into the room as he set it alongside what looked to be a bloody t-shirt and jumper.

Ginny felt her eyes go wide and her stomach drop as she viewed the items that had been placed on the table. She didn’t know whether the blood on the clothes, as well as staining the silver metal arm, was from Harry and whatever wounds he may have suffered from the battle or worse…were from Dolohov and were the remnants of the brutal act.

“Is there any Dittany I can use?” Remus asked as he straightened back and searched the women for an answer.

Molly nodded.

“Is he hurt badly?” she questioned, her voice thick and cracked.

“He’s got some pretty deep lacerations and pretty bad burns that’ll need healing up,” he answered with a nod.

Molly got up from her place on the couch and began to move around the makeshift infirmary they had constructed, picking up bottles that may aid her.

“Molly…no,” Remus said gently, moving forward to take the supplies from her hands. “I’ll take care of him….you need to be with your family right now.”

Molly stopped collecting the potion bottles, but her facial expression conveyed confusion and incredularity at Remus’s words.

“Harry is part of our family,” Molly said firmly, her eyes focused on Remus’s, her face set and defiant in her statement.

“I’m not sure he realizes that right now,” Remus said sadly and softly, his gaze unwavering from Molly’s protective one, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation at hand.

The fight and the defensive look on Molly’s face faltered as Remus continued to try and make her understand. Her features fell and she swallowed heavily, nodding and handing Remus the healing supplies before she stepped away and allowed Arthur to wrap his arms around her again.

Ginny watched Tonks move to help Remus gather up what he needed, pausing only to acknowledge her help and nod in thanks. Without another word, Remus returned to the hall and back up the stairs, Tonks close behind him.

She stood frozen in her spot. Her brain was numb and sluggish, unable to process anything about what had happened. What had gone on upstairs? What had happened and what was bad enough for Remus to have to stun Harry? Was Harry threatening to hurt himself? Or was Harry going to hurt Remus?

She wanted answers; for someone to elaborate and explain things for her. But she also felt as if she didn’t want to know the truth. She wanted this day to start over, for things to go back the way they were, no matter how screwed up they seemed before. She could deal with the uncertainty of this war, of having her boyfriend fighting and in the center of it. But dealing with him now, trying to connect and provide comfort and understanding for a situation she’d never dared prepare herself for, she was lost and afraid to even try.

Would there be enough of him left to love, enough that would even recognize her love and concern in return? The way her brothers talked and the looks on her faces told her she’d be hard pressed to recognize the man she’d hard for in the man that had come back from the recent battle.

But despite the confusion and fear running rampant within her own mind, she was going to be damned, if was going to give up on him now. It had only been earlier today that she’d told that she was going to be there for him, that she continued to stay because he’d not given her reason enough to give up and leave. And she wasn’t going to let this be the reason either.

------------------------------------ --

“How was he even still standing?” Tonks asked quietly as she dabbed at an open wound on Harry’s side, watching the skin begin to knit itself back together and heal. It was only one of the many cuts and gashes he had received during the battle, along with large patches of spell burns and areas where hexes had bludgeoned and bruised him, cracking ribs in the process.

The injuries would have felled and knocked out a healthy man. But Harry had spent the previous month out in the wilderness, on little food, and in extreme conditions. He had not been in perfect health, but yet he had been able to gather enough strength to take a life and according to Remus, appear unharmed afterwards.

“I don’t know,” Remus replied without looking up as he healed a patch of burned skin on Harry’s shoulder.

It broke Dora’s heart to see him like this; to know what this was doing to Remus. She knew just how much he loved and cared for the young man lying broken both in mind and body on the bed before her.

They’d spent hours, talking, her listening to him reminisce about his best friends, talk about what he missed about them, what he wanted for Harry and how he wished his life would have so much different. Remus felt a responsibility for Harry, being as he was the last one left of that cohesive group of friends who had been there in the beginning and Harry was his last real link to that time, those people.

So to see Remus feeling so helpless and lost in not being able to do anything for Harry or provide any sort of real protection or comfort for him, it left her with that same lost, helpless sense. The man she loved was hurting and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Do you think he’s got anymore on his legs that need healing?” Tonks found herself asking, realizing that Remus had now stopped applying Dittany to wounds or using his wand to heal burn marks or bruises on Harry’s torso. He was instead sitting still and unmoving, staring longingly into Harry’s pale and scratched face as if etching every last detail of the unconscious form into his memory.

“While it was happening…” Remus spoke, his soft voice starting her a bit. “I didn’t recognize the person doing it. There was nothing in that face that I recognized as being Harry Potter. It was so cold…so uncaring.”

Dora reached out her hand and put it over Remus’s as he continued to watch Harry’s chest rise and fall, the teenager’s face was calm and serene…as if he were just sleeping.

“I watched him strangle a man to death, Dora,” Remus said desperately, looking up and meeting her eyes, his filled with tears. “I watched him take a life and not even blink an eye.”

He searched her with his eyes, as if pleading and begging her to do something to ease this pain. His tone was broken and distressed.

“I don’t understand,” Remus breathed out. “I don’t know what to do….we’re losing him…”

“We can’t give up,” Tonks said squeezing his hand. “That’s not what we do…we keep trying and we stick with the people we love…hoping it means something in the end.”

Remus watched as Dora’s hand rested on her gently swelling stomach, and he realized that her statement was holding double meaning for him. She wasn’t just speaking of not giving up on Harry, allowing him to slip away and continue on this dark path alone. She had been the one who had stuck with him for so long and despite his many attempts to screw things up, to drive her away and keep her out of his life and away from his own darkness.

But she hadn’t given up on him. And here they were, about to have a baby together in five months time, start a life and a family that he never thought possible for himself. What would be possible if they didn’t allow themselves to totally allow Harry to break away and fall into this darkness? Could he be saved if only they refused to give up and swore to stay the course, weathering the bumpy and winding road they seemed to be going down?

The moment of reflection and contemplation was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom opening slowly and then clicking shut. Both Remus and Dora looked up to see Ginny standing just inside the closed door, watching the scene carefully before her, looking weary and worn from the day’s events.

“Do you need help with anything?” She asked as she gestured towards the various vials and bottles of healing potions and salves. But both Remus and Tonks knew that she had not come up to help in the healing and treating of Harry’s injuries. She needed to see him and this was the perfect pretense to allow her that time to come to term with things without having to have him blow up or act indifferent towards her. She could be with him, without having to worry about whatever backlash may come.

“Are you sure? I think we’ve got it pretty–“ Tonks began, making sure Ginny really was up to this.

“Yeah…I just…I need to get away…from…downstairs,” Ginny stumbled, referring to the reminder mourning of her brother downstairs. “Just need to…do something to occupy my mind.”

Remus lent her a sympathetic and understanding smile and moved aside from his place next to Harry, allowing the young woman to take her place beside the bed. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she sat down on the edge and took the dittany soaked rag from him and began dabbing it on a series of cuts that ran along Harry’s collarbone.

Remus watched as she slowly mended the wounds, using her right hand to apply the potion, her left hand slipped into Harry’s, rubbing her thumb against the palm of his hand before entwining their fingers together.

Ginny, who had been broken at the news of her brother’s death, but had always been so strong and had held things together in composure, suddenly seemed to deflate and give into the weight of her emotions.

She let out a soft sigh, signaling the breaking of the dam within, and then began to let out soft sobs as she brought Harry’s and her entwined hands up to her lips and kissed his knuckles gently, reaching up with her other hand to sweep away the dark tendrils of hair that fell across his forehead.

She shifted her position on the bed and moved closer to him, caressing the side of his face gently, while sliding another hand behind his head, bringing it slightly off the pillow as her tears began to fall in earnest.

“I love you so much,” she whispered through her tears. “And I know you’re not going to want to hear it when you wake up. But I’m never going to stop. I don’t know how to stop…and I don’t want to,” she cried softly as she kissed his forehead gently, her lips lingering and brushing across his scar.

“I wish I could take you away,” she wept gently, still cradling his head and touching his face and lips gently with her fingertips. “And we could have all the things we’ve dreamed about…a life together…just us. We could have that house…that family…”

Both Dora and Remus had silent tears streaming down their faces as they turned away, allowing the young couple this moment and Ginny to pour her feelings out. Listening to her quiet, desperate wishes and desires, spoken to an unconscious and unhearing Harry were difficult to take and hear.

Her words brought forward the realization that it wasn’t just Harry that was suffering, losing himself and falling deeper into despair. It wasn’t just his well-being and his sanity at stake here. There was a life, a relationship and a love that was hanging in the balance. Failure in any way for him meant the destruction of a life together for two people that had barely begun to grow. Hearing that they’d thought of a life beyond this war, despite the odds stacked against them and the enormity of the task in front of them, made it all the harder to watch as they struggled to hold onto those dreams and desires.

“Please don’t give up,” she pleaded quietly. “You can push me away all you want…but please don’t forget…I’m right here…and I always will be,” she finished, resting her head on his bare chest and closing her eyes as the tears continued to come, falling for the both of them.

A/N: I hope you are satisfied with chapter and find it emotional. I’ve tried to make it that way and I know it made me tear up writing it. I had a lot of time to write this weekend. I was stuck inside all day Saturday and Sunday after we got 7 inches of snow in less then 24 hours. Next chapter we’ll have Harry wake up and we’ll see the real fall-out and repercussions begin to unfold. So stay tuned.



Reviews 1174
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear