Author's Notes: Hey guys! Redspark here. This is one of my first fanfics written for Lord Illusion. I was given the song The Plagues, so if you haven't heard it yet (and why not?) I suggest listening to it before reading this. Please review!
I do not own Harry Potter or Prince of Egypt.
A head of wild black hair bobbed through the rushes and mad cackling echoed through the emptiness. A small slim figure leapt out from the brush and bounded to the waters' edge. The crazy eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange glittered dangerously and her demented laughter continued as she crept to the edge of the water, taking out a small glass vile of black liquid.
The plan was simple: poison the muggles' last water supply. Any muggle who was stupid enough to drink it would die, ridding the world of their filth. Any muggle who was smart enough not to drink it (and how many are there of those, right?) would eventually come out of hiding and be captured - or better yet, in Bellatrix's mind, would die of thirst! And soon all the stupid muggles would die anyway!
A sick grin twisted her face and small maniacal giggles crawled up her throat as she uncorked the vile in her hand and slowly tipped. As the black liquid was just coming to the lip of the vile Bellatrix paused, looking up sharply at a sound coming from... the water? She cocked her head like an innocent kitten and looked down just as the water began to ripple and boil. She suddenly jumped back, forgetting the vile, as a large, dinner-plate sized toad-like creature landed splat where she'd been squatting.
She gasped as the dry air around her became alive the deafening croaks of hundreds, maybe thousands, of the strange creatures. Bellatrix hurriedly twirled around, dissipating into a stream of black smoke that screamed back to the city it came from.
The city where the toads were going.
Harry Potter stood sullenly on a stone balcony overlooking the gray, war-torn landscape below. A muggle city could be seen on the horizon, smoke rising from it in several areas to meld with the dark sky.
There, in that city, was where He Who Shall Not Be Named created his capital. There was where the muggle slave trade was established. There was where Dumbledore's Army had been targeting their merciless deluges of pestilence and plagues that were fantastic in proportion. But there, in that city, was no Dark Lord. At that moment Dumbldore's main interest was not in where he was located, only in the freedom of the muggles.
He had ordered Harry to stay and lead a part of their army against the Dark Lord's capital to retrieve the enslaved muggles while Dumbldore focused his other troops on located The Unnamable. Not that Harry was resentful of Dumbledore giving him this assignment, but as he looked over at that tortured city on the horizon he could only think of his opponent.
Dumbldore was not the only one to leave another in charge of this mission; Voldamort had also assigned rule of the city to someone else in his absence. One who had once been one of Harry's closest companions, one who had turned away from all that was good under the influence of the cursed hoclaux and joined the Death Eaters, one who Harry had once been able to call brother.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill out.
He knew his orders, and that there was nothing to help his friend now. The muggles were to be set free and Voldamort defeated, along with everyone else with him. However, no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, Harry could not help wishing that Dumbldore had chosen another to serve as his brother's enemy.
Harry choked out a desperate sob as he pressed his forehead in his fist, whispering the name he had never thought he'd have to fear.
"Ron..."