Warning: Contains spoilers for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Disclaimer: Did you really think I owned Harry Potter? Really? X3
"Avada Kedavra!"
The sound ringing through the great hall, not three hours ago, would have caused all wands to point to the one who uttered it; but now, it was lost in the chaos of the war that roared through Hogwarts, in cries of agony and curses shooting through the cold air that carried with it the stench of death.
The sound of a duel ending.
A small ball of green light built at the tip of Antonin Dolohov's wand, for less than a millisecond. It exploded out in a flash, and a web of green lights, tangling together as they shot forward, sparking at the frayed edges, shot forward. It was just a second, less, as the smooth trail of green energy cut through the air.
It struck the chest of another wizard, and the long tail of the curse all slammed into the wizard, a flash of green pulsing across him.
He stumbled back for a moment, then his knees buckled and hit the ground, his lifeless body following. His head was turned to the side, his eyes still open, glassy and glazed over.
Dolohov's lips curved into a sadistic smirk, void of happiness, not even reaching the edges of his bloodshot gray eyes. He rolled his shoulders, straightening his coat, and turned, striding through crowds of wizards; in search of another worthy opponent.
And the body of Remus John Lupin laid there, completely and unarguably dead.
Tears wiped pale lines through the grime on the witch's cheeks as she wept, her whole body seeming to deflate a bit. She had come moments late, and the body of her husband, the body of the father of her child, lay lifeless on the ground.
She leaned over his unmoving body, hugging it, stroking his face. Already, she was dreading the long life ahead without her beloved; dreading going home and looking into the innocent face of her child, only eleven days old, and knowing he was without a father. Another sob filled her chest, and she rose slowly, getting to her feet.
Her face was torn with agony, her jaw parted slightly as if she couldn't find the strength to close it. She looked around and saw an upturned face, looking into hers. It was Antonin Dolohov's, and from the sly baring of his teeth, the sick amusement she could see in his face, she knew he had done it.
This was the man who had killed Remus.
"Confringo!" she called, her voice cracking to a hoarse whisper with the tears. A jet of flame, roiling through the air like a missile, becoming a fuller flame each moment, erupted from the tip of her wand, heading for the murderer of her husband.
Dolohov's face was wiped of expression and his wand raised, his jaw parted. It was all a moment late, and if another wizard hadn't entered into sight, the full jet of flames would have collided with the sick, condemned man's side, burning him.
"Aguamenti!" a woman's voice screeched; and it was a screech, half-crazed and half-furious. Bellatrix Lestrange strode forward, a stream of water spouting from the tip of her wand and rushing through the air, like a wave across the smooth surface of the ocean.
The water splashed into contact with the flame, which exploded in a rush of heat. Both of the forces, fire and water, equaled each other. The curses died out in a moment, and the witch looked directly at the death eater.
Lestrange's face spread into what could have been joy, but was still deranged and tortured joy. It was just insane enough to match her bedraggled hair.
"Levicorpus!" the witch screamed, her sorrow and grief being momentarily replaced by vehemence. Immediately, Lestrange's feet were thrown out from under her, flipping her head toward the ground, hanging by her feet.
The death eater was taken aback, but she quickly regained her senses and raised her wand, aiming it at the witch's chest. "Stupefy!" she howled, and red light spurted from her wand, flowing forward in a thick ray, flickering and dim like a candle flame.
The witch fell back from the force of the spell, but her footing quickly faltered and she slipped, falling down onto the ground. Her eyes were slit open, but she wasn't conscious of what was going on around her; wasn't conscious at all, for that matter. But, as if even in her unconscious state it was too important to forget, her fingers still gripped her wand, her knuckles white.
The witch's spell was broken, and Lestrange fell to the ground, quickly rolling forward and regaining her footing, her wand already raised.
The death eater giggled, her lips spreading into a cold, almost dead smile. Her eyes glinted with anticipation, for her favorite part of the duel. She stepped forward, her wand raised to the sleeping witch. Her lips formed the name of the curse soundlessly, completely lost in the sounds of battle.
"Crucio."
The unconscious body of the witch began to become alive with movement, the eyes opening, still barely aware of anything. Her back arched up, writhing and turning in crooked ways. Her mouth opened and a choked cry of anguish filled her throat. Her hands clenched into fists, and she kicked a leg, as if it would lessen the torture.
After a moment, the spell broke, and the witch's chest was heaving, her body shuddering. Bellatrix Lestrange lifted her wand again, pointing it at the witch, who was still only half-conscious, and muttered, "Expelliarmus."
She held a hand out and caught the flying wand, pressing up on it with her thumb, snapping the wand with ease. She knelt down beside the witch and whispered into her ear, "Good-bye, niecey. Aunt Bellatrix is gonna tuck you in tonight."
She tapped her wand to the witch's throat, but didn't utter the words. Her hands had dealt the spell so many times, she knew it; her lips didn't need to form the name of the curse. A green light pulsed through the witch, and she lay still, the heaving pants and waves of shudders ceasing.
And, seven feet away from her husband, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin lay on the ground, completely still.
Do you like it? Are you at the edge of your seat? If not, read it again – see if that works. I'll try and post the next chapter soon. Leave me constructive criticism in the reviews, please – but compliments are accepted as well. 83