Disclaimer: I own nothing, all of Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling.
A/N: For Round One of the "Before I Fall" Competition. Just a side note- I had never read anything by Lauren Oliver before this challenge and looked her up after signing up and I truly suggest her writing for anyone who has some spare time. Happy reading!
To Get What We Deserve
My mother always said you should do one nice thing a day. But when you wake up in a cramped cot to the sound of shouting every morning and panic running through your veins as sure as oxygen, those words become less and less meaningful.
Today, I wake up to the same frantic shouting and banging on my door. Still bleary eyed, I jump out of bed wand ready. You never know what's coming anymore. Just last week, one of our bunkers out in Derbyshire was attacked at dinner time. The team was too busy making good on mince pies and treacle tart to react. There were no survivors.
Based on the laughter and whooping I hear as a never ending stampede makes it way down the stairs past my door, I realize its no attack and lower my wand. Running a hand through my hair with a relieved sigh, I realize I'm the last in the room to get up. Once upon a time, this was my childhood room. I spent countless nights hiding out here from whatever chores Grandmum decided to hand out to the ever growing lot of Weasley children. When the Resistance formed and Grandmum offered up The Burrow as a headquarters, I chose this room out of nostalgia. I also decided to give up my old bed to Gregor Smith when rooms ran out so it didn't seem as if I was above any other wizard here just because of my Weasley heritage. When the world is out to get you, its better to be brothers than superiors. Later on, both Lorcan and Lysander came to join us as roommates and recently the bedroom seemed much smaller than it did in the years long since past.
Out of the four of us, I was the last to wake it seemed as all the other beds were abandoned. Not surprising though, as I hadn't returned from a meeting with Viktor Krum on the mainland until well past dawn. Krum is one of the few who had seen the last Wizarding War who is part of our Resistance, and even he is hesitant to call himself an ally most of the time. Thankfully he found his allegiance last night and I was able to get a Patronus out about a Muggle bomb in South London before morning commute.
Nowadays its much safer to travel the Muggle way and blend in than show you're a witch or wizard. The countless of both magical and non-magical folk who would have perished would be innumerable if Krum hadn't chosen to send me a coded owl yesterday afternoon. Thank Merlin Lorcan still works for the Ministry and has ways of procuring portkeys.
Shaking the last remnants of sleep from my head, I made my way over to the wardrobe opposite my bed. I did keep that out of my old room while the others have to live out of trunks. Opening the creaky old doors, I survey my options for the day. My eyes linger for a moment on an old Chudley Canons shirt. The faded orange stands out brightly from the monochromatic jumpers I've picked up in the recent years. I go to pick up the shirt before shaking my head and deciding on just another black jumper. Same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow as well, I'd assume. My wardrobe hasn't changed much since war came to our doorsteps and black seems the best colour. Hides the stains of what becomes necessary in open warfare, I've found.
After changing, I make my way downstairs. The raucous only increases the farther towards the kitchen I go and I survey the familiar scene once in the doorway. Gran insisted on staying even after her house was invaded by the insatiable young men and women of the Resistance. She claimed that she made it through two wars waging on this doorstep and it never did her wrong so why leave now. Personally, I think she loves having so many to dote on and scrawny mouths to feed as they come through. No one ever seems to be well fed enough in war and if there is anyone who could fix that, its Molly Weasley. If any attack came during her dinnertime meal, she'd hex the attackers here to Norway in the name of making sure we are all well fed first. I worry for her, as in the past few months the last few streaks of Weasley red hair has been replaced with silver in a speed I haven't seen since Grandda passed. But The Burrow truly is the place to house head of resistance. The house is so expanded from my youth in order to fit all of the extended Weasley family in it for family gatherings that it can hold the most of our Resistance compared to any of our other locations. Not to mention it came with some wicked protection spells that have been in place from before I was born making it the safest spot as well.
Most the seats are already taken at the enlarged table by the time I get to breakfast and I try to scope out where I can fit in between the jammed bodies to have a chance at food. By the excitement level of the house, I already know that today is going to be a day I need to have as much energy as possible. My eyes rest for a split second on a single silvery head, separate from the rambunctious group by a few places, eating his dry toast and eggs in silence.
Scorpius Malfoy, my mind considers the name cautiously. He is one of the few purebloods in our ranks. That is to say, one of the few purebloods whose family was on the wrong side of the war the last time. In Hogwarts, things like that barely mattered, but now that we are faced with threats to our freedom again hisses of Death Eaters past are not uncommon. While it might not be the Death Eaters we are fighting, not many from their side fancied taking up with the Resistance. Most fled the country or chose to keep locked away in their old family homes. Now, we are being targeted less on bloodlines, as almost all have been tarnished, but instead on how we disregard wizarding tradition in favor of embracing Muggle notions. Many don't see the difference between the two and Scorpius Malfoy hasn't had much of a warm welcome in our ranks.
Malfoy did save us all once, but many like to forget that. I think for a moment that if I went and sat with him maybe people will stop sneering at him every time he is on a mission and accept his presence. After all, without trust we are nothing but a bunch of scared teenagers. Instead, I chose a space next to an Irish wizard, Brannigan, who was a few years older than me in Hogwarts and a Hufflepuff. He smiles at me through a mouth full of chewed bread and syrup and I do my best not to grimace.
No nice deed for Malfoy today and one turned stomach for Albus Potter, I think. Lysander spots me from his place across the table and calls over to me.
"Oi Potter, up for a spot of Taliban hunting today?" he cries with a smirk. The Taliban is what we've taken to calling the opposition. In Muggle Studies, we learned about an organization that once attacked the Muggle world with crude plots and brainwashing as they felt much of the freedoms of the world were too sacrilegious. Our Taliban is much the same, having stirred up mass fear with a few large attacks that began the war but kept up thereafter with small suicide missions or shoddily planned attempts- all in the name of the Wizarding World. Plus its a Muggle phrase, which is sure to peeve them off.
"What?" Is all I manage out around my mouthful of eggs. I'm not much better than Brannigan after my stomach realizes it hasn't tasted real food in days. Grandmum always did make the best breakfast.
"Found one of their headquarters. Taken up in the outskirts of Wiltshire," he shoots a pointed look down the table at the lonely blonde before turning back to me. "Thought we owed them one after what they did to 'Tilde's place." Both the Lysander twins had spent time at the hideaway in Derbyshire a few months ago, and it was where Lorcan's girlfriend was stationed the night of the attack. Before then, I had never seen either of the two throw a killing curse. Last mission, Lysander had cast a bodybind on one of the few men who we captured during battle while Lorcan Crucioed him to bits. Myself and Erin Finnegan, the only other two on the mission, had turned away halfway through. I could have stopped them, but I chose not to. In times like these, we take what little comfort we can get. Even if it is in things we never could have imagined ourselves doing before.
It's a war out there, you see. And sometimes you need to make the hard decisions that no one else wants to so we all make it out alive. But sometimes we don't. Make it, I mean.
"Could be the same ones who got your Mum and Dad," someone added. The faces here were often changing, and I didn't always know peoples names, but everyone knew who I was. And that meant they knew what happened to my family. The great Harry Potter, mutilated and murdered by a group of scoundrels. This was before any of their major attacks, before they were the Taliban. My parents were at a charity event for an new Wizarding orphanage when the place was attacked. My father, as noble as we has, offered himself up in exchange for letting the children go. He thought my Mum had gotten out with the rest of the officials, but they say that when they got him unarmed and bound, they brought her in and killed her first.
James signed up for battle the next day. Lily and I soon followed. Thankfully, James's wife found out she was with child before the war started and after much urging he left for the mainland where it wasn't as bad. He made me promise to write and keep him informed so that if we ever needed him he'd come back. I haven't owled him in seven months. He's better where he is. As for Lily, she's up at Hogwarts which is the safest place in Europe if you ask me. I'm the only Potter left in action, and no one could stop me. Sometimes when I talk at meetings, I feel as if some of the older members forget I'm Albus Potter, the Boy Who Lived's Son rather than the messiah himself. I should take it as a compliment, but look how good that got him. No, now when I look in the mirror and see the same hair and eyes of my father that I was always so proud of as a boy I instead focus on the cold look in my eye my father never had and the blood that can never be quite washed off for doing what I've had to do.
"What's the team looking like?" I find myself asking.
"You, me and Lorcan from here. Some of the Northend is coming down for it too- the Carrolls, Adria Finch, and your cousin Louis I hear." I frown for a moment, mulling over the last name. I hate working missions with family. Even when it was with James I hated the way he looked at me afterwards. 'Little Albus,' I could practically hear them pitying me as I did what I had to do, 'how did you end up here?'
"I want to go," came a small, but firm voice. The noise in the kitchen stopped abruptly as all heads turned towards Scorpius Malfoy.
"What," Brannigan practically hissed next to me.
"I want to go," he reiterates slowly, eyes scanning the crowd. "None of your are skilled cursebreakers and I know the area well."
"Yeah, because they're practically living in you're family's house." Grey eyes flicked to Lorcan's blue, glaring.
"Exactly, I grew up there. I know what the terrain features and I know the perils hidden behind every rock. You really think Malfoys are dumb enough to leave themselves unguarded around their own home when there are lots like you who think we all still practice dark magic and worship snakes?"
"You could be leading us intro a trap, why would we trust you?"
When grey eyes turned to mine, I realize that it's my decision to make. People are murmuring around me and my adrenaline starts pumping. My mind goes into overdrive like it does in battle when its all about survival, them-or-me them-or-me them-or-me.
"No," I practically thunder. Brannigan claps me on the back and the room's tension seems to dissolve around me as tactics are drawn up for the attack later that night. I turn back towards my breakfast but can't shake the piercing grey eyes on my neck.
~o~o~
"Ouch, watch where you're stepping Scamander."
"You stepped on me, Lorcan! And it sounds ridiculous calling me Scamander when it's your last name too."
"Yeah well-"
"Quiet!" I hiss back at my two companions, almost wishing I had allowed Malfoy to come at this point. The twins haven't stopped arguing since we left the Burrow and we're waiting for the rendezvous with the rest of the team merely a hundred feet from the enermy hideout. There is a bit more squabbling before the two quite down behind me. Then we wait.
"Did you hear that?" Lorcan hisses, somehow now next to my ear.
"Hear what?" I grind out, still trying to find the rest of our team. Lorcan doesn't respond but there is a whoosh of magic followed by a snap on our right making us all freeze. The Northend was supposed to meet us to our left. Definitely our left.
"Al-"
"Shh!" I demand again, heart racing. I crouch low, before letting a familiar feeling wash over me. One of the reasons I'm so useful on missions is my animagi form- a large wolf. I retain most of my senses and gain a few more in this form as I begin to stalk forward, checking out whatever it was to our right. I hear a mumbled curse ahead of me and I almost let myself believe it is one of the team. At that moment, I hear footsteps behind me and look back to see the twins followed by our backup charging wands out in my direction.
The figure seems to see the at the same time, raising his wand arm.
"Expellia-" I make my choice in a split second and lunge mid cast, knocking the man to the floor. Wide eyed and flalling, he turns his wand to me. Instinct takes over and there is a ripping of teeth and claws as a single shout is heard through the night. Everything I see is covered in red.
"Albus," I recognize Louis's voice, unable to control a snarl as I turn on my cousin. I see his pale hair back up in the moonlight before Lorcan makes his way forward carefully.
"Al..." he says carefully, eyes not looking at the corpse below my paws. I morph back into human form, anger subsiding, trying to explain myself.
"I had to he was going to attack you guys," I babble, voice carrying higher than it should so close to enemy territory.
"Al..." Lorcan tries again.
"No, no I know what you think about attack in my wolf form. But I had to, I had it under conrtol."
"Albus," Lysander says, gabbing my arm, pulling me away from the scene of the crime. In the distance, I see the small house we were supposed to attack and realize that it looks completely emptied out. Confusion sets in and I glance down to the man I killed. Seeing the corpse, I do something I've never done. I double over and vomit.
The cold ground of Wiltshire is stained red except for a small patch of silvery hair. Scorpius Malfoy lies dead just miles from his family home.
~o~o~
The comfort and explanations fall on deaf ears the next few days.
'He was sent to tell us someone leaked that we know where they were supposed to be. They fled that afternoon instead of staying fight, cowards.'
'None of us knew he was coming.'
'You only did what you thought was right.'
'This is war Albus, you know best of all of us what that means.'
And I do. I know that it means that choices no longer are for right and wrong but for what's necessary and for survival or death. I know that we can't hold punches and expect our enemy to just fall in line. I know that nobody plays fair and sometimes you end up getting bit for it. But I do know that no one should actually be bit like that. That I should ever cause that.
As I dress myself in the black suit I've donned too many times for too many funerals, I think back on what it could have been if I had followed my mother's advice. What Scorpius Malfoy's last day could have been like if I had showed a bit of kindness- if that would have been his last day at all. But that's the thing, these choices we make always come back to haunt us.
What I know most of all is that if the situation was ever to happen again, I'd do the same thing. If it hadn't been Malfoy, if it had been one of them, things could have ended differently.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I run my hand through my hair. Its gotten messier over these past few months as if each time I run my hand through it, it stays just a bit more mussed. Sighing, I begin to fiddle with the tie. Scorpius Malfoy may not have deserved to die but none of us deserved what we got either. Grandmum didn't deserve to have her family torn apart for a third time. My father didn't deserve to watch the one woman he ever loved executed in front of him. Lorcan didn't deserve to lose his girl. James didn't deserve to have to bring a baby into such a dangerous world. At the end of the day, tis the hard decisions that will fix this for all of us.
I stop trying to fix the tie, regarding the man I see in the mirror. With that, I begin to undress out of the funeral clothes. There are many things I can't choose in this world but today, I won't be going to another funeral. Today, like every other day, I'm going to stand up and fight so that people begin getting what they deserve.