Shades of War

by Alohaemora

In the heat of the battle, it was easy to mistake one woman for another, what with their waist-length blond hair and simple black robes. But at their cores, they radiated very different colors—cunning, nerve, wisdom, loyalty—and in the end, perhaps it was the reality of war that allowed these colors to shine through.

2 May 1998

I.

Green and Silver

Daphne Greengrass

Ambition, cunning, resourcefulness, determination

"Tori!" Daphne screamed, ducking around a second floor corridor, just as a loud BANG rent the air, rocking the castle walls and shaking the floors. "Tori!" Daphne cried again, half-sobbing as she swiveled around, her expression desperate. "Astoria, where are you?"

"Daph," Theo was panting as he tried to keep up with her. "Daphne, screaming isn't—going—to—"

"Tori!" Daphne ignored her boyfriend, screaming yet more loudly. "Merlin's pants, Astoria Greengrass, I'm going to kill you!"

"Daphne," Theo's voice was stern now. Seizing her wrist, he pulled her into an empty alcove near the second floor landing, tucked away from the fighting. "Daph—you have to calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Daphne shrieked, trying to wrench her hand out of Theo's—but to no avail. Lean and lanky as her boyfriend was, he had a surprisingly strong grip. "My sister's missing! Do you understand me? She's missing! Oh, Merlin—oh—my parents are going to kill me!" Daphne wailed, tears springing to her eyes.

Theo swallowed, his expression softening. "Look—we don't know she's missing," he said quietly. "For all we know, she could have made it out with the others. She might be in Hogsmeade right now, waiting for us—"

"We were the first ones out after Pansy and Lily, Theo!" Daphne snarled, finally succeeding in yanking her wrist out of Theo's fingers. "We would've seen her!"

Theo rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Daphne—"

But Daphne had already sprinted out of the alcove, back into corridor, her long platinum-blond tresses flying behind her. She was fueled by a desperation, a determination that she knew Theo didn't understand. Theo had no family. He had lost his mother to Scrofungulus at the age of eight and his father to the allure of the Dark Arts, long before that. Daphne had taught Theo more about love than he had learned from either of his parents.

"Daphne!" Theo's frantic voice floated up suddenly from somewhere behind her.

Daphne ignored him, hot tears springing to her eyes once again. She was determined not to slow down, not to stop—because if she did, reality would catch up with her all-too-quickly, and she was afraid of what it would do to her—

"Daphne, stop! I—I see her!"

Daphne froze in her tracks, swiveling around. Theo, his expression horrified, was pointing to a balcony on the opposite side of the corridor, where a white-faced Astoria was trapped between the banister and a large, vicious-looking man with matted grey hair. Even from such a distance, there was no mistaking the man's pointed teeth.

"NO!" Daphne screamed, ducking past several multicolored jets of light as she tore down the corridor, leaving Theo in the dust. In what felt like a matter of seconds, she was at her sister's side—and with a well-aimed jinx, she sent Fenrir Greyback stumbling back several feet.

"Daphne," Astoria whimpered, burying her face in her elder sister's cloak. "Daph, I'm sorry—"

"Pretty ladies," Greyback growled, picking himself off the floor and moving towards Daphne and Astoria, his amber eyes glittering dangerously. "My, my, you both look like treats, don't you?"

"We're pure-bloods," Daphne said with as much conviction and haughtiness as she could muster, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes in her best imitation of Pansy Parkinson and Lily Moon.

"Haven't you heard?" Greyback let out a gravelly laugh that made the hairs on the back of Daphne's neck stand on end. "Everyone in the castle is fair game now, the Dark Lord says. And I've always thought, the purer the blood, the better it tastes…" Greyback licked his lips, and Astoria moaned, clutching Daphne's hand tightly.

Daphne's heart was beating so rapidly that she thought it might leap out of her throat. She knew she had less than a minute to find a way out of this mess—one wrong move, and Greyback would pounce. Desperate, shaking with terror, Daphne glanced around the destroyed corridor, looking for something, anything—and suddenly, she found her answer in a flash of honey-blond hair.

"Look!" Daphne cried, pointing towards a balcony one floor down, where Lavender Brown and Terry Boot were dueling with a Death Eater that Daphne was only vaguely sure was called Travers. "Look at her! She's a pure-blood, too—and a traitor to our bloodline!"

Greyback's hungry, murderous eyes flickered briefly away to land on Lavender—and Daphne seized her chance. Pointing her wand at the floor beneath Greyback's feet, she screamed, "CONFRINGO!"

The tiles exploded and Greyback was flung backwards—and with Astoria in tow, Daphne ran like she had never run before, not stopping until she had laid eyes on Theo's wonderfully familiar face. With a strangled cry of relief, Daphne hurtled forward and flung herself into his arms.

"You're all right," he said hoarsely, hugging her tightly. "And Astoria, too—oh, thank Merlin—"

"Theo, we have to get out of here," Daphne cut him off, her eyes filling with shameful tears. "I-I think—I think I just betrayed the Dark Lord—"

If Theo was taken aback by this declaration, his expression didn't show it. Taking one of Daphne's hands and one of Astoria's, Theo marched them towards the nearby staircase.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Daphne caught one last glimpse of Lavender Brown's honey-blond curls before Theo whisked her out of sight.

II.

Red and Gold

Lavender Brown

Bravery, daring, nerve, chivalry

"Duck, Terry!" Lavender bellowed—and not a moment too soon. Terry threw himself flat on the ground just in time to miss a jet of bright green light from Travers's wand.

"Impedimenta!" Lavender screamed at Travers, but he deflected her spell with a slash of his wand.

"Give it up, stupid girl," Travers snarled, sending a jet of orange light directly at Lavender's heart—she leaped out of the way to avoid it. "You're going to die a slow, painful death if you keep this up—"

"STUPEFY!" Terry roared, and with a blinding flash of red light, Travers suddenly keeled over, motionless.

Lavender's jaw dropped. Swiveling around, she gaped at Terry, who had his wand out and pointed at Travers, his expression one of immense satisfaction.

"Cocky bastard," Terry scoffed, lowering his wand. "I swear, these Death Eaters think they're untouchable—"

But that was as far as Terry got, for the very next instant, an ear-splitting explosion pierced the air—and the world was ripped apart. Lavender felt herself flying through the air, and all she could do was clutch her wand as tightly as possible and cradle her head in her arms. She landed hard on her back against the wall of the first floor corridor, smacking her head against the stone.

Groaning, Lavender blinked slowly, looking up. A large portion of the seventh floor had been blasted apart—even from six floors below, Lavender could see that an entire wall of the castle had been blown clear off its hinges. Enormous gusts of cold air were entering the expanse, biting into Lavender's skin. Shaking, she pulled herself unsteadily out of the wreckage of the first floor corridor, looking around.

"Terry?" she called out, gripping her wand tightly as she climbed over a pillar that had fallen over the landing. "Terry, say something!"

A chill stole over Lavender's heart. Quickening her pace, she jogged around the corner, towards the now banister-less balcony that overlooked the marble staircase—and the sight that met her eyes caused her entire body to go numb with horror.

Terry was slumped back against what was left of the balcony's railing, unmoving—but that wasn't the worst of it. His entire body—his face, his neck, his chest—was covered in angry, red slashes. He was almost unrecognizable. Bile rose to Lavender's mouth, but she forced herself to keep it at bay, as she sprinted towards him.

"Terry!" she screamed, hurtling forward—but she was intercepted by a gray blur that sped four-legged across the cobbled castle floor. Lavender saw a flash of amber eyes—long, yellowing nails—and the very next second, Lavender found herself pinned to the ground, and her wand was knocked out of her hand.

"They're not as fun once they're dead," Fenrir Greyback's raspy voice hissed in Lavender's ear, his pointed teeth stained with what appeared to be fresh blood—and Lavender's stomach felt like it was falling away…no…no, no, no, Terry couldn't be dead, he couldn't be dead…

"NO!" Lavender growled, and suddenly, by some miracle—perhaps Greyback had not expected her to fight back—she managed to wrench herself free of his grip. Still wandless, shaking from head-to-toe, Lavender shot down the corridor and fell to her knees at Terry's side.

"Terry," she gasped, seizing his collar and shaking him. "Terry, wake up—wake up!"

Greyback's gravelly, mocking laugh echoed in Lavender's ears—and in that moment, the fact that she wandless, defenseless at his mercy stopped mattering. Fueled only by the pain, and the anger, and the anguish she felt for the families who had suffered at this monster's hands, Lavender screamed and launched herself at Greyback's waist, bringing him down sideways.

"You're finished!" she shrieked, squeezing his throat with her bare hands. "Do you hear me? You're done!"

For a moment, Greyback spluttered and choked in her grip. But then, one of his massive hands found Lavender's wrist, closing around her forearm—he was stronger than she was, she couldn't deny it—and he wrenched her upwards, dragging her by her honey-blond curls towards the railing-less balcony. Lavender gasped for breath, coughing, kicking, screaming—but Greyback was holding her as easily as he would a ragdoll—and the next thing Lavender knew, the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. She was dangling directly over the edge—Greyback was going to drop her down to the Entrance Hall, to her death.

Summoning every last ounce of energy she could muster, Lavender screamed and kicked out. The heel of her shoe made contact with Greyback's throat, and he bellowed in pain, dropping her—not over the ledge of the balcony, but rather back onto the ground. Lavender had scarcely a moment to breathe—reaching out blindly, she managed to close her fingers around Terry's hand just as Greyback rounded on her again—and the very next moment, he tackled her and Terry off the balcony altogether.

Lavender's world fell away—or perhaps she was falling from the world. Her body slammed into the hard stone, and she saw stars flash before her eyes. And then, the werewolf was on top of her—and his claws found the left side of her face, ripping mercilessly, tearing at her skin—he leaned over her, and Lavender saw a flash of putrid yellow teeth—

"NO!" Lavender heard someone scream, followed by a loud BANG—but the voice sounded very far away—or was it Lavender who was far away? All at once, she felt herself disengage—the weight was gone from her chest, the pain disappeared…Lavender's vision went dark, and she knew no more.

III.

Blue and Bronze

Luna Lovegood

Intelligence, knowledge, intuition, wit

Luna raced across the Entrance Hall with Ernie and Seamus, shooting jets of red light into a nearby crowd of masked Death Eaters. Several of them crumpled, felled by the stunners, but Luna didn't stop to count how many.

"This way, Luna!" Ernie bellowed, holding out a hand for her. Luna seized it, deftly navigating herself through a wreckage of collapsed pillars and suits of armor.

"Where should we go now?" Seamus asked, wiping a hand over his sweaty, grimy brow.

"I dunno," Ernie shrugged, glancing back at Luna as the three of them jogged through the Entrance Hall. "I reckon we could go out onto the grounds—I heard Aberforth telling Professor McGonagall we're still outnumbered out there."

Seamus and Ernie exchanged a look, and Luna wondered if they were thinking the same thing she was—that their beloved castle was collapsing, quite literally, around them with every passing moment.

Suddenly, Luna heard something that made her pause. Frowning, she swiveled around, scanning a nearby rubble that looked like it had once been a banister or a railing of some sort.

"Luna? What's wrong?" Ernie stopped in his tracks, staring at her.

"I hear something," Luna turned and looked at Ernie, pointing towards the rubble. "Over there—do you hear it?"

Ernie and Seamus shared a wary look.

"Er—Luna," Seamus said uncomfortably. "Are you…are you sure?"

"Completely," Luna said, without heat. She was used to people not believing her, but if only Ernie and Seamus knew just how certain she was that something—no, someone—was in danger, perhaps they wouldn't hesitate so. Gripping her wand, Luna set off towards the ruined banister, her eyes peeled, though she wasn't quite sure what for.

Then, she saw it—the loose curl of honey-blond hair, sticking out from under the splintered marble. Luna gasped.

"Help," moaned Lavender Brown's feeble voice. "Help…help me…please…"

"Ernie! Seamus! Over here!" Luna cried, dropping to her knees beside the marble and quickly shifting a large portion of the stone with her wand.

"Bloody hell," Seamus panted, as he and Ernie screeched to a halt before the wreckage, their faces draining of color. "Is that—no."

Together, Luna, Ernie, and Seamus heaved the last of the marble away from the pile, revealing the identically lacerated bodies of Lavender Brown and Terry Boot. One look at Terry told Luna that he was beyond saving, and her chest seemed to constrict with the realization, but she pushed the feeling away. Lavender was, by some miracle, still alive, but only just.

"We have to move her out of the way," Luna declared. "It isn't safe. She can't be out here like this, both—both of them." Luna glanced at Terry's pale, still body, and swallowed.

"What happened to them?" Ernie asked, sounding nauseous, as he helped Luna pull Lavender upwards by her arms and legs.

"These are werewolf marks, I think," Luna said, considering one of the numerous angry red slashes on Lavender's pale chin.

"Werewolf—?" Seamus began in a strangled voice, but at that very moment, the heavy wooden front doors of the castle burst open, and about twenty of the largest spiders Luna had ever seen forced their way into the Entrance Hall. Screams and shouts pierced the air—fighters scattered, and jets of red and green light flew into the midst of the incoming acromantulas, which simply reared, charging forward with greater haste.

"Seamus, grab Terry and go!" Luna ordered, as she and Ernie began running with Lavender's feebly stirring form between them.

Seamus didn't need telling twice. Swinging Terry's bloody, broken body over his shoulder, Seamus sprinted down the corridor after Luna and Ernie.

"In here!" Ernie bellowed, ripping open a nearby tapestry and ushering Luna and Seamus into the mercifully empty chamber beyond it.

Breathing heavily, Luna gently lowered Lavender's head onto the floor. Then, standing up, she swung her own cloak off her shoulders and draped it over Lavender's body. Touching Lavender's wrist, Luna made sure she could feel a pulse before she stepped back.

Seamus swore under his breath, pressing his palms into his eyes. "What the hell did you do, Lavender?" he muttered.

"She's alive, Seamus," Luna told him, squeezing his shoulder. "Right now, it's the best we can hope for." She glanced one last time at Terry's crumpled, motionless form and closed her eyes.

"Mates, if we don't get out of here now, we're not going to be alive much longer," Ernie said frantically, sticking his head out of the tapestry. "Those bloody spiders have taken over the entire castle!"

Seamus swore again, looking at Luna. "Let's go!"

Together, they shot out of the tapestry and down the Entrance Hall, towards the oak front doors. The stone floor trembled around their feet as they ran. The castle was full of anguished yells and blinding flashes of light. Without looking back, Luna and Ernie tore down the steps and into the grounds, Seamus bringing up the rear.

Almost immediately, Luna felt her chest tighten. A chill stole over every inch of her body, to the very tips of her waist-length, dirty blond hair.

The air around them had frozen in a horribly familiar way. Dark shapes swirled out of the darkness, circling above them in a great wave toward the castle, faces hooded and breath rattling…and suddenly, in the distance, Luna saw three easily recognizable figures. Hermione was shaking Harry's shoulders, as though trying to wake him…

Luna raised her wand, acting without thinking—she knew what to do—and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ernie and Seamus do the same. The silver hare, boar, and fox soared through the air, past Harry, Hermione, and Ron, causing the dementors to retreat. Luna, Ernie, and Seamus rushed forward to join the trio.

"That's right," Luna said, looking directly at Harry, willing him to feel her certainty—her belief in him. She knew with every fiber of her mind that he could do this, she was sure of it. "That's right, Harry. Come on…think of something happy…"

Harry looked at her, his expression hollow—but Luna knew—she knew, not just in her mind, but in her heart that he could do this.

"Something happy?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"We're all still here," Luna whispered. "We're still fighting. Come on, now…"

Luna gazed at Harry, her expression blazing. And then, she saw it—her intuition, her wisdom, her faith reflected in his eyes. Harry gritted his teeth, raising his wand and slashing it through the air—and with a roaring whoosh, the night was cloaked in silver.

IV.

Yellow and Black

Hannah Abbott

Dedication, patience, loyalty, diligence

"You have one hour…dispose of your dead with dignity…treat your injured…"

"Miss Abbott, can I trouble you to tend to Miss Johnson for a moment?" Madam Pomfrey asked breathlessly. Her face looked thinner, more worn than usual—she looked like she had aged several years in one night. "I'm afraid I have to look after Miss Brown."

"Oh—of course," Hannah said at once, jumping to her feet. "Is—is Lavender all right?"

But Hannah didn't need to hear Madam Pomfrey's explanation. Looking across the Great Hall, Hannah saw Lavender sprawled out on the raised platform at the front of the room, her face screwed up in pain, her head lolling. The left side of her face was covered in blood. Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil were each clutching one of her hands.

Several feet away from Lavender, on the floor of the Great Hall, lay Terry Boot—pale, and still, and silent. Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner shielded his face from Hannah's line of sight, but Hannah found that she didn't much want to see it. Eyes filling with tears, she covered her mouth with her hand and turned away from the horrible scene.

Hannah walked back to the row of medical kits laid out on the platform, her heart heavy in her chest. Fingers trembling, she uncorked a vial of pain potion and reached for a nearby goblet—but her hands shook so violently that several drops of the potion hit the table, splattering the front of Hannah's robes.

"Damn," Hannah muttered under her breath, setting the vial down and drawing her wand to siphon the potion off her robes.

"Here, dear, let me help with that," said a voice from behind Hannah, and she swiveled around to find herself looking at a tall, willowy old woman with a formidable-looking face, whose needle-thin gray hair was tied in a tight knot at the top of her head. There was a distinct familiarity about the woman's features that told Hannah at once who she was.

"Mrs. Longbottom?" Hannah asked.

Neville's grandmother looked surprised for a moment, but then her expression cleared. She gave Hannah a small smile.

"Why don't you hand me that vial, Miss…?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, reaching out a bony hand.

"Abbott," Hannah swallowed, handing Mrs. Longbottom both the vial and the goblet. "It's pain potion, for Angelina Johnson—she's had a head injury." Hannah pointed toward where Angelina was lying atop the nearby platform, her forehead wrapped in bandages.

"Ah, I see—I'll take care of her," Mrs. Longbottom promised, tipping the vial of pain potion into the goblet. Setting the now-empty vial down, she gave Hannah another thin-lipped smile. "Abbott, did you say? Would you happen to be Hannah, by any chance?"

Hannah blinked rapidly, surprised. "Yes, ma'am—I am."

Mrs. Longbottom's smile widened. "Neville's told me a great deal about you—from what I've heard, you're a remarkably talented witch, Miss Abbott."

Hannah's cheeks flushed pink. Slightly openmouthed, she watched Mrs. Longbottom cross the hall to take a seat next to Angelina. Then, releasing a slow, deep breath, Hannah turned around to face the expanse at large once again.

Madam Pomfrey had put Hannah and Alicia Spinnet—both of whom had proved themselves very useful over the past half-hour—in charge of leading the healing efforts for adults and children with minor injuries. Even as Hannah watched, Alicia got to her knees in front of a badly bruised second year with a bottle of dittany, her expression simultaneously calm and kind.

Whatever Mrs. Longbottom said, Hannah didn't feel much like a talented witch at the moment.

Hannah pressed her lips together, her stomach twisting into a horrible knot. What kind of a Healer could she be, if she couldn't keep a clear head at a time like this? The hushed murmurs in the Great Hall seemed to swoop in on her, suffocating her—

"Hannah!"

Hannah whirled around just in time to see a tearstained Susan Bones stumble into the Great Hall, flanked by Luna Lovegood. Between them, they were supporting—

"Ernie," Hannah gasped, rushing forward. "Oh, my—what happened—?"

"His body—he's been paralyzed," Susan cried, without preamble, tears spilling down her pink cheeks. "He was hit by some curse, he can barely stand, Hannah—please, do something!"

Susan's terror was stifling—Hannah's chest seemed to fill with despair, as she gaped at the unconscious form of her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself—suddenly feeling just as helpless and incapable of movement as he obviously was.

"Hannah!" Susan sobbed. "Hannah, do something—!"

"Hannah," Luna interrupted, her voice quite calm, in striking contrast to Susan's breathless sobs. "Come on, Hannah, think—you know what to do. Is there a spell—a potion? What do we need to give him?"

Hannah looked at Luna, her expression frozen in shock. And then, at last, with the greatest effort it had ever cost her, Hannah forced herself to clear her mind and think. At once filled with new purpose, she drew herself up to her full height.

"Bring him over here," she commanded, sweeping her long mane of gingery blond hair over her shoulder, as she led Susan and Luna towards the raised platform upon which the injured were being treated. Together, Susan and Luna half-walked, half-dragged Ernie towards the platform.

Deftly, without missing a beat, Hannah reached inside a nearby medical kit, withdrawing two vials of pain potion, along with a small tube of Essence of Vitality. Snatching up an empty goblet from the stack on the table, Hannah tipped the two vials, along with the tube, into the goblet, stirring the concoction with her wand.

"Here—make sure he drinks this completely," Hannah gave the goblet to Luna, who appeared to be far calmer and better-equipped to act than Susan, who looked near-comatose. Hannah reached out and squeezed her best friend's hand. Then, reaching inside the medical kit, Hannah procured a standard spellbook of medical incantations, quickly flipping it open to the page she needed.

Stepping towards Ernie, Hannah raised her wand and looked at Luna. "Did you feed him the entire potion?"

"I—yes, I think so," Luna said, glancing into the empty goblet.

"Good," Hannah declared, as she reached out and gently touched the side of Ernie's pale neck, ensuring a pulse. "Because this is going to hurt. Corpore motum!"

A jet of amber light shot from the tip of Hannah's wand, directly at Ernie's legs—Ernie's eyes shot open and he bellowed loudly in agony. Susan gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth.

"What are you doing?" she cried, her eyes wide with horror.

"I'm stimulating his nervous system," Hannah said, raising her wand again. "Corpore motum!"

Ernie let out another howl of pain, his eyes rolling backwards, and Susan shrieked, throwing herself between Ernie and Hannah.

"Stop it!" she said frantically. "Stop it, Hannah—you're hurting him!"

"Susan, she's helping him," Luna began—but Susan shook her head, her expression slightly manic.

"Susan," Hannah stepped forward, her voice serious. "Listen to me."

"No," Susan gasped. "No—no, Hannah, I won't let you—!"

"Susan Georgina Bones," Hannah said loudly, seizing Susan by the shoulders and giving her a shake. "If you don't let me do this, Ernie will never be able to stand again, much less walk!"

Susan mouthed soundlessly at Hannah.

Hannah released her best friend, her expression resolute. "We can't give up on him, Susan," Hannah said firmly, swallowing heavily. "If there's one thing you—and Ernie—have taught me since…since sixth year, it's that—that you can't give up just because things aren't…pretty."

Susan looked up and met Hannah's gaze, her eyes suddenly blazing with a fierce, familiar loyalty—and immediately, inexplicably, Hannah was transported to the beginning of her sixth year, when Susan had lost her beloved aunt and Hannah, her mother, within months of each other. She remembered so clearly the first Christmas without her mother, spent at the Bones'. The night had ended with Susan and Hannah collapsed under the Christmas tree, reminiscing, simultaneously laughing and crying—and at the end of it all, they had picked each other up, and Hannah had realized that she would be able to face the New Year, so long as she had Susan by her side.

"Come on, Susan," Hannah continued patiently. "We have to do this, for Ernie. We can do it together."

Susan glanced back at Ernie's frail-looking form, at his feebly flickering eyelids, and her chin trembled. But then, she looked at Hannah, clenching her jaw—and she raised her wand.

---

Author's Note:

When was the last time I posted a one-shot, am I right?! Welcome to 'Shades of War,' a character study of four women from different houses, on the worst night of their lives.

This was written for four different challenges on HPFC: the Hufflepuff Challenge, the Ravenclaw Challenge, the Gryffindor Pride Challenge, and the Slytherin Challenge. Basically, for each challenge, I had to pick a character from the house and write a story that showed the character demonstrating the qualities valued by the house. I really hope you all enjoyed this!

Ari