A/N: This is Beater 2 of the Chudley Cannons checking in for Round 8 of the QLFC.
Prompts: Voldemort!wins AU two years after good ol' Voldy gets into power. 3. (word) moonlight and 4. (word) revolution
Word count (before A/N): 2,998 words
A special thank you is in order to my lovely teammates, Annie (Sadistic Hufflepuff) and Mary (MaryandMerlin) for beta-ing for me.
I am not J.K. This is her world; I merely dabble. Enjoy!
Harry's body bounced up and down, limp like a doll, as Voldemort cursed him. Everyone was laughing; everyone except Bellatrix.
Bellatrix wasn't watching the supposedly dead Harry Potter being tortured by her master.
Instead, her eyes were locked on Narcissa, who stood just below the body, cringing at each curse and bounce. Finally, her sister sighed with relief as the body hit the ground.
"My Lord," Bellatrix purred, her hand slipping into her pocket. "May I?"
She produced a long, shiny dagger from the depths of her robes. Red jewels lined the hilt. Sadly, she had lost her special dagger some months ago, but Dobby wasn't around, which meant her aim hadn't failed.
Voldemort stood tall, too proud to say anything. Too delighted to stop her. Bellatrix sauntered over to the body. Harry Potter was certainly a convincing actor, but Narcissa, she'd never been very good at lying.
Bellatrix loomed over the body, her knife poised in her hand. It sailed through the air, slicing deep into the boy's thigh.
As she suspected, on impact, the boy's eyes opened wide, and he gasped, staring up at her. She smiled, wide and maniacal. Her face would be the last thing Harry Potter ever saw.
Two Years Later
Seamus Finnigan stepped out of the Ministry building and onto the streets of London. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street, the sky fading from watermelon-red to dusky purple.
He adjusted the insignia pin on his collar, letting the golden skull-and-snake stand out more prominently. It was law to have one's magic insignia visible at all times, but Seamus felt ridiculous wearing it.
It was ridiculous, too, that all Half-bloods were required to wear gold to show what level of magic was in their blood. The Purebloods wore a green skull-and-snake instead. And Muggleborns… well, they didn't have the chance to receive an insignia.
Seamus watched as a Muggle woman pulled her children closer at the sight of him. It might have been the scars crisscrossing his face—Seamus never had them healed with magic, instead wearing them as a reminder to what could have been—but it was probably the stupid insignia.
Bloody Voldemort. He disclosed magic to the entire world duing his rise to power, doing unforgivable things—including the Unforgivables—to a lot of Muggle people as a demonstration of what magic could do.
Voldemort had told the Muggles that if they chose to obey him, he would spare their lives. There was war and famine and worldwide pandemonium, but in the end, magic won out. Dark magic. Seamus learned quickly that people with good intentions were always crushed by men with absolute power. And that's just how it was now.
Damn, Seamus thought. When had he become so cynical?
He slipped into an alley, closed his eyes, and Disapperated. Even with Muggles knowing about magic, Seamus felt a duty to them. He wouldn't disappear in front of them because he didn't want to scare them anymore than they already were.
When he opened his eyes, Seamus stood in a dark, damp passageway. The sewers. The Underground.
"Lumos," he muttered, letting his wand light the way. When he found the door nearly half an hour later, Seamus knocked three times in quick succession, then, only once, he slapped the door with his full palm.
It opened slowly, and Seamus felt the wards surrounding him as he crossed the threshold.
"You're late," a voice said.
"It was a long process," Seamus retorted, shaking his wand to put out his light.
There was clicking, then the whole room was lit by little floating bulbs. In the center of the small room stood a table with the map of the world pinned down. Neville Longbottom smiled at Seamus from the other side. Beside him stood Luna Lovegood and George Weasley.
Ginny, the Patil sisters, Cho Chang, Oliver Wood, and Hannah Abbott were positioned around the room.
"So," Neville asked, "how'd the interview go?"
"I'm in."
There was a sigh of relief. Luna, Seamus noticed, kept her keen eyes locked on him.
"What happened, then, Seamus?" she said. "What did the Headmaster make you do?"
He walked closer to the table, resting his hands on its edges. He was afraid of this. The details. "It started off like a normal interview, yeah? Why do you want this position and what're your credentials and all that," he sighed, looking directly at Neville. "Then I had to torture a Muggle woman till she couldn't see anymore."
No one spoke for a while. Neville gave Seamus a sad smile, which didn't help Seamus feel any better. They'd talked about this possibility before, knowing full well what Lucius Malfoy was capable of.
"Good," Ginny stepped forward, leaning on the table. "They'll believe you now. We need that. We need you at Hogwarts. It's the only way we can make ground on our revolution."
Seamus nodded. It was true; they needed an inside man. After the battle, those who survived on the side of good and justice wanted to destroy the school, hoping to disrupt Voldemort's plan to teach only his Pureblooded followers about magic. The Order had planned its destruction for weeks. But then Ginny spotted just the glimpse of a ghost harboring round-rimmed glasses and shaggy hair, floating in the Great Hall. It was a ghost no one had ever seen before, but they all knew.
She wouldn't let the Order destroy his resting ground.
So now, two years after the battle, the Underground—which is what they called themselves after the Order was destroyed—needed a man inside Hogwarts. They wanted to make sure the students were protected. They also needed to find who was still on their side.
"Should we call you Professor Finnigan from now on?" George said. He was joking, but he didn't smile. He never smiled, no matter who or what it was.
Seamus ignored him. "Malfoy wants me moved in before September. That gives us two weeks to figure out how to communicate."
Neville nodded. "Excellent. You hear that Cho?"
"I'm on it," Cho said. Seamus watched as she fiddled with various objects on her work stand—pocket watches, coins, glasses, a half-blood insignia pin.
"Any news from Crimson Rain?" Seamus asked, looking down at the map.
"Not much," Neville said. He pointed toward Africa. "Two months ago, they were in Nigeria, but I don't think they stayed long. My guess is Hermione took them back to South America. It seems safest."
"Safe," scoffed Ginny. "What a meaningless word."
Neville shot her a look that said, "watch your mouth, Ron's still out there," but before he could reprimand her, Parvati piped up.
"I noticed there was a disturbance in Japan last Monday. Two dead, don't know if they're magical or not, but I have my people looking into it," she paused, deciding if what she said next really mattered. "They said there was a redhead involved. I don't know about you, but I don't know many redheaded Japanese people."
"It wasn't Ron," Ginny said.
"You don't know that," George spat back.
Again silence filled the room. Talking about anyone not around anymore never ended well, especially for Ginny and George who only had each other.
There were three quick knocks followed by a slap on the door.
"The lights, Hannah," Neville said.
Hannah wrestled Dumbledore's Deluminator from her pocket, again swallowing the room in darkness.
The door opened slowly, revealing a tall, skinny shadow.
"Yes," demanded Neville.
"Oh, enough of the dramatics, Longbottom," the shadow said. The lights in the room clicked back on as Draco Malfoy passed through the ward.
"Just once," Ginny mumbled, "I'd like to see those wards go into action."
"What? And have me disintegrate upon admission?" Draco said, his lips curling into a smug smile. "Aw, Weaslette, I didn't know you cared so."
"Shut up, Malfoy. What is it?"
"Ah, there's that Weasley tact," Draco closed the door, his eyes landing on Seamus. "Finnigan, you idiot. You're in trouble."
Draco, a strange addition to their revolution, was their spy. After the battle, his mother was publicly executed for lying about Harry's death. His father assumed the role of Headmaster of Hogwarts as a punishment; he'd be stuck forever in the very place he hated most.
Then, almost a year later, Draco was found to be hiding a wanted bloodtraitor in his home. Astoria Greengrass. When she was executed, Draco screamed and screamed. He cried. He fell to his knees and wept over her lifeless body.
Seamus saw it on the telly. Because Voldemort wanted to embrace some parts of Muggle culture.
A week later, Draco was giving the Underground information.
"How am I in trouble?" Seamus asked.
"My father," Draco's smugness was gone, replaced by rare sincerity. "He knows. There are men stationed outside your flat, ready to kill you."
"Shite!" Ginny yelled. "Bloody piss…"
Luna grabbed her wrist. "We need a plan."
"Oh, I have a plan."
"We're not murdering everyone in sight," Neville shot her another look.
"I…" Ginny sighed. "I have no plan."
If it were up to Seamus, he'd take whatever Voldemort's men threw at him. He was tired of fighting. Tired of hurting and running and struggling. Tired of being on his own. Both his parents were killed. Nearly everyone's parents were dead now. The world was a mess.
"Crimson Rain," said Neville looking only at Seamus. "Parvati needs more worldwide allies. And you wanted to go with D—"
Neville stopped.
Crimson Rain. The name was a play on "Mudblood," crimson for blood and rain because rain turns dirt into mud. The group was made up of the few Muggleborns who escaped before Voldemort got to them. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley (who, despite his Pureblood status, refused to leave Hermione's side), took off all those months ago, barely keeping in touch, always moving around. Dean Thomas, Dennis Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Angelina Johnson were with them.
Seamus wanted to be with them too. Anywhere Dean was, Seamus belonged. Neville had fought and fought hard with Ron about going. They needed Underground people with blood status keeping tabs on all of Voldemort's men. But Ron loved Hermione, and he wouldn't leave her.
Seamus loved Dean, but that didn't seem a fit argument for Neville. So Seamus stayed behind, always hoping he'd never hear bad news about "the evil Harry Potter's sidekicks" in mortal peril.
"What do you have on you?" Neville asked.
Seamus did a quick stock count: his wand, his clothes, and that damned insignia. "Nothing."
"Sorry, mate. That's all you get."
"Wait," Ginny rummaged through a beaded bag slung around her neck. She pulled a cloak from it. "Take this."
The fabric was soft, silky. Seamus felt like crying into it, blubbering like a baby till all the bad stuff went away. How had that day gone so wrong? He was supposed to lay low for a few years, then infiltrate Hogwarts. Gain knowledge and build armies inside the infrastructure.
The people in that room, the people he knew had very little left but would fight till the very end, were already working their way into the system. Luna was a kitchen maid at the Leaky Cauldron, learning from the loose-lipped drunks. Ginny and George turned the joke shop into a bookstore, watching what knowledge was passed into the world. Cho was in the government, Hannah at Gringotts, the Patil twins both wrote for the Prophet. Draco was usually locked up at Malfoy Manor, but Lucius liked to talk.
And Neville was the mastermind. He was a wanted man and couldn't leave the very room they were standing in. So he worked hard to plan.
"Okay," Seamus said. "To South America."
Hermione pulled her hair up into a bun. They were living in the rainforest, in the middle of Costa Rica, in a one room abandoned shack. And they were always covered in sweat and flies and more sweat and more flies.
It really was a beautiful country, though. There were parakeets and parrots outside their windows every morning. Monkeys in the trees. The flowers were vibrant, like a Monet painting. Dazzling like Van Gogh. And Hermione had to admit the rainstorms were gorgeous. A cacophony of Mother Nature's finest instruments.
But it wasn't home.
Dean entered. Hermione knew it was him without having to turn around, because she set up the wards for that exact purpose.
She had become quite good at setting wards the last two years, so much so she managed to create a charm powerful enough to obliterate anyone who walked through one without permission. The caster of the charm could easily feel who the person entering was. If it ended up being a Death Eater, then the caster would know to start packing.
Every day Hermione prayed Neville's wards were still holding up.
"Hermione, I think we found something," Dean said quietly. He'd been quiet since the day they left. Subdued like he wasn't fully there anymore. He'd also kept shooting angry glances at Ron on a daily basis, for which Hermione couldn't blame him. She was lucky in that she got to keep her boyfriend in spite of losing everything else.
She turned to face Dean. "What is it?"
"It's… just follow me."
Outside, Justin and Angelina gardened, tending to the few plants they were able to grow. Dennis was a bit further off, trying to lure a parrot down from a palm tree. He wanted to train them like owls but had no luck thus far.
They'd been in Costa Rica for a little over a month now. Soon they'd have to pack up again and move.
Staying too long in one spot was dangerous; Hermione would always protect these people, even if that meant burning down half the world to keep them safe. She'd also uproot them just before they got comfortable. Because comfort meant laziness and laziness meant death.
Boy, her mind really had changed since the battle. But, she told herself, that's what war does. It changes people.
Dean walked down the dirt path they created weeks ago, leading her to the very edge of where their outer wards ended. Ron was waiting.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"This," he held out his hand, a look of determination on his face. The gold half-blood insignia rested in his palm.
"That's home," Dean said. "The ones used down in the village aren't this elaborate."
"Or clean for that matter," added Ron.
"We have to go," Hermione said, tentatively taking the pin from Ron. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, and laying a light kiss on her forehead. Dean looked down at his feet. "We can't risk staying here. This shouldn't have even made it into our wards. The curse would have destroyed it. It's unwanted. Unless…"
Unless it was a friend.
Hermione looked toward the ward's edge. She stepped away from Ron's embrace and placed a hand on the invisible bubble guarding them. Then she pushed through, stepping away from its protective shield. She pocketed the insignia and drew her wand.
The air began to shift in front of her, becoming fuzzy. The air pulled back, turning into fabric and revealing a bruised and beaten man. Hermione barely had time to react before Dean and Ron rushed from behind her, pinning the man down on the ground.
"Oi, you lot!" the stranger screamed. "It's me!"
Ron had the stranger's arms locked above his head, while Dean wrestled with his legs. They all paused in their struggle to see who it was.
"Seamus?" Dean said. The old Dean. Not the quiet and hard one Hermione had to endure the last few years. No. This was the Dean he was always meant to be. Happy and a little bit starry-eyed.
Which meant Hermione had to restrain him before he blindly accepted the stranger to be Seamus.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Dean dropped to the ground. Hermione closed her eyes, a headache starting to press on her temples. "Ron, tie up Seamus. I'll get Dean back to the shack."
It wasn't until midnight till they finally believed Seamus's story.
"So it's not getting any better?" Angelina asked, sipping a cup of tea. The seven of them were crowded into the shack. They didn't have chairs, just cots, so they had moved the furniture into a circle. Seamus sat beside Dean, who was extremely upset with everyone but Seamus.
"It is, and it isn't. We can't get footing," Seamus leaned into Dean. "If we were all together, maybe, but we're outnumbered."
"We will never go back to Britain," Hermione said. "It's suicide."
"I don't even want to go near Europe," Ron added. "It's too close. Even here feels too close."
Dennis sipped his tea. "So what do we do?"
Hermione looked at Ron, who in turn took her hand and spoke. "We survive. We continue to survive and help in places where we can. And when Neville needs us, we fight."
Dennis nodded, now raising his cup in a toast. "We survive. We fight."
Seamus laid his head on Dean's shoulder. Everyone was asleep and the shack was dark, but at least they had the moonlight shining through the windows.
"I missed you so damn much," Dean squeezed Seamus close to him.
"Me too."
"How do you feel about all this surviving till we fight business?"
Seamus laced his fingers through Dean's. "I think there's a chance to survive now that I'm here. I was starting to get a bit… disheartened back home."
"Yeah. Me too. But maybe this is how it should be. Maybe now we can start moving forward."
"This is good," Hermione mumbled from her cot across the room.
"Yeah," Ron's voice chimed in. "It's been two years since we had any news. Now we have a new place to start from."
Crimson Rain would be leaving Costa Rica for good. This time with a little bit more hope about their future.