Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, not to me.
AN: Hello all, and welcome to my first fanfiction on this website, which I am very excited to bring you. This is the first chapter of many, and lengths will most likely differ enormously, depending on how much I am able to write. I will try to publish a new chapter every fortnight, at least, though the frequency can change. Either way, I hope you'll enjoy!
It was a battlefield, one he had created. Death Eaters fought with members of the Order, and he was in between, trying to dodge spells, and trying to get Neville out safely. He had passed the still form of Moody, almost fallen because of the vibrant blue magical eye that now rolled over the floor of the stone amphitheatre. Dolohov had tried to take the prophecy from him, but Sirius had protected him, pushing the man aside, and the pair of them were now duelling fiercely.
Somehow, Harry was sent flying, limbs flailing, until he landed, harshly, against the stone wall. The prophecy had gone flying as well, but Neville had caught it, he saw, as he opened his eyes, having closed them when he hit the wall. His wand had fallen underneath him, and he could feel both pieces sticking into his back, separated.
But as fast as it was caught, it fell as well, as Neville's fingers contracted, and he screamed once more, subjected to the Cruciatus again. The orb seemed to take longer than usual to reach the ground, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, Harry wondered if it had anything to do with the time-turners that had been destroyed.
The thing shattered, and a pearly white figure emerged, and if he hadn't known any better, Harry would have considered it an angel, only without wings. It was Trelawney, he realised with slight shock, as he watch her mouth move, but whatever she said was drowned out by Neville's screams. He caught slight fragments of it.
He registered the words within his mind, knowing they were important, even if it wasn't the whole prophecy. 'the seventh month dies,' 'the hand of the other,' and 'the one with the power,' were the only sentences he was able to hear. Neville's screams stopped as Harry heard another voice, Lucius', shouted. "No! The prophecy!" He bellowed, and the one torturing Neville, Bellatrix, Harry noted, lifted the curse, her dark eyes swivelling to the white form, just in time to see it fade away.
Lucius turned to him, while Sirius came running to them, Dolohov bound and unconscious. Bellatrix, however, was quick to get his godfather's attention, and the pair duelled, with Lestrange cackling as she cast numerous curses at her curses.
Harry found himself grasping into the folds of his robe, his hand clutching the hilt of the knife Sirius had given him. It was not a wand, but he supposed it was good enough, as a last resort. Swiftly he pulled it out, but instead of a blade, there was nothing attached to the hilt, and Harry cursed to himself, remembering how he had tried to open one of the doors with it, but the knife had melted instead.
With a vigorous wave of his arm, he attempted to throw the thing at the blonde-haired Death Eater , his silver mask long discarded, opposite of him, standing whereas he himself had crumpled against the stone. But his body did not cooperate, and a flash of pain took hold of him, and his free hand moved to his shoulder, as the hilt dropped the ground, harmless as it was.
Breathing heavily, Harry looked around, his head flitting from left to right, desperately searching for a way out, unwilling to be captured, or killed, by Malfoy, whose cool face was pulled into a snarl, as the man levelled his wand to the boy's painfully moving chest, the robes covering it stained with warm, dark stains. Blood.
In the darkness that ensued when he closed his eyes, even if only for a second, the faces of his friends drifted forward. Hermione, her lips slightly apart, her eyes shut, still breathing, albeit barely. Ron, panicked, blood gathering at the corner of his mouth, as tentacles wrapped around his torso and neck. Neville, his face set with pain, his lips parted with a silent scream. Luna, her dreamy look forgotten, still, unmoving, pale. Ginny, one cheek on the cold, stone floor, while the other was covered by strands of red hair. He was to blame. He had led them all there, and they were all hurt now.
As Harry looked past Malfoy's blonde hair, he locked eyes with another, who reminded him somewhat of another old man, of the same white figure as Trelawney, uttering a prophecy. It was Dumbledore, and his pale blue eyes were not twinkling, for once, behind his half-moon glasses. Instead, they were set in cold rage, as they surveyed the battle happening below.
With a wave the Headmaster pulled Malfoy toward him, away from Harry, and he slammed into the raised platform, upon which the gateway stood, the curtain still billowing slightly, even in the absence of any breeze.
Only one pair was still duelling now, and it was his godfather against Bellatrix, both of them so focused they had noticed the lack of spellfire around them. "Come on, you can do better than that!" He called out, goading her, his voice echoing off the walls of the otherwise silent room. Only seconds later, a beam of light struck his chest.
He fell backwards, and the black veil seemingly reached out, as if to catch him on his slow descent. It enveloped him, caressed him, took him.
Harry shot up, ignoring his pain, and ran for the gate. He registered Lupin reaching out, taking hold of his wrist, but he slipped out of the man's grasp. "Sirius!" He called out, desperate, "SIRIUS!" The whispers were deafening in the silence that ensued. They didn't stop. Despite being so loud, he could not make out what they were saying.
He reached out with one hand, briefly touching the veil. It felt, comforting, yet foreign. It reminded him of his dad's cloak, ever so slightly. He felt arms wrap around him from behind, the fingertips trembling against his chest. It was Neville, he knew, though he wasn't sure how. "Sirius..." Harry tried again, his voice barely above a whisper this time.
"He- he's gone, Harry." Lupin's voice, his breath hitching in his throat. The man went to stand in front of him, taking hold of Harry's shoulders as Neville slowly guided him back. Neville's arms slipped away, and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Lupin, hiding his face in his chest, obscuring his sight on the veil, tempting him, wanting him, pulling him. He wasn't sure how long he remained in that position.
"We ought to return to Hogwarts."He heard, Dumbledore. The man had neared them. "We'll have to get to the atrium, and I can create a portkey for you there. The wards here prevent me from doing so."
Slowly, Harry untangled his and Remus' embrace, and he looked towards the Headmaster, steeling his gaze, resolving to be strong. But a scream had that resolve crumble like a piece of parchment. He looked around, and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, clutching a bleeding shoulder, as the figure of Bellatrix hurried off through one of the doors. He pushed past the older man, running for the door. It was like he was on the quidditch pitch again, his eyes only focused on one goal; Bellatrix.
He entered the room with the brains, which the witch promptly levitated into his path, nearly making him slip. He ran past a groaning Luna, a confused Ginny, a giggling Ron, and an unconscious Hermione.
He exited the room, into the round hall with the many doors, just as Bellatrix passed through another door, the right one, he saw, glimpsing the lifts behind her. But as she pulled it closed, the room twisted again. Hoping luck was on his side, he opened one of the doors, and the hallway showed, with one of the lifts ascending.
He was quick to enter one of the lifts, and it rattled upwards, after he pushed the button proclaiming 'atrium'.
Harry was in time to catch the witch before she could make her way to the phone booth, though it seemed she had noticed as well, as she threw a spell at him, forcing him to dive behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren. His hand shot to where he kept his wand, but grasped only at air, and he realised once more it was broken, the two halves left in the room with the veil.
"Come on out, little Harry." Bellatrix called out, taunting. "Why are you hiding? Don't you want to avenge my darling cousin?" This seemed to make something snap inside of him.
"I do!" He stated, hearing it echo all around him, as he stepped out from behind the fountain, into open view, as he heard the lifts rattle once more. Lupin and Dumbledore stepped out to see Harry get struck by the Cruciatus.
"Give me the prophecy, this is your last chance!"She called out, and Harry, after regaining his breath, answered her.
"The prophecy is broken, smashed to pieces."
"No!" Bellatrix said, "Accio prophecy, accio prophecy!" But nothing flew towards her. In her moment of anger, she struck Harry with the Cruciatus again.
It felt like a thousand knives were raking along his skin, on ever inch. It was some of the worst pain he had ever felt, and when it ended he lay, panting, as Remus moved beside him.
"Please, master! Forgive me!" He heard, and he twisted himself in the direction of Bellatrix again.
"He cannot hear you here." He stated, still breathless.
"Can't I, Potter?" All the occupants of the atrium heard, a cold voice, sending a shiver down his spine, as Remus moved protectively in front of him. Voldemort had appeared, pale, gaunt, a snake-like face, gleaming red eyes. The man seemed to ignore Dumbledore, who was now pointing his wand at him, while Lupin pointed his at Bellatrix, standing up from his position by Harry's side.
Many spells and curses were exchanged, though Harry was only dimly aware, as somewhere above him, Fawkes flashed into existence, capturing his attention. He dove down, and swallowed a green curse, headed straight for Harry. The killing curse, he knew.
The phoenix exploded in a flash of fire, leaving a small, featherless creature in its wake, which Harry carefully picked up in his cupped hands. He watched as Dumbledore encased Voldemort in a cocoon of water, before the man disappeared, and the water returned to the fountain. Bellatrix was momentarily distracted, and then stunned by Remus.
"Stay where you are, Harry!" Dumbledore warned him, looking around worriedly, though he wasn't sure why. Voldemort was gone, wasn't he? It was over.
Right then a searing pain took hold of him, originating in his scar. The atrium disappeared. He could only see the red-eyed creature whose claws dug deep into his skin, melting into him, becoming one. He no longer knew where he ended and the creature began.
He heard a voice. "Kill me, Dumbledore." His own, but not truly. "If death is unimportant, Dumbledore, then kill the boy."
Scared and blinded, Harry could not help but find himself agreeing with the voice. Death. The veil flashed before his eyes again, followed by the sight of Sirius falling into it. Let it end, he thought, he prayed. Death is preferable to this. Please, let it end.
He could be with Sirius again. Oh, how he longed to see him.
The nails retracted, and the creature let go.
Harry's eyes fluttered open, but promptly closed again, as he sunk back into the darkness.