Shades of Blue

There are many shades of blue. There are the pure blues, who seem to radiate the very meaning of the colour. There are those that border on purple. A bold colour. A mixture of red and blue, but blue has more dominance. There are those that are a sort of green colour, without the harshness of pure green, sort of soft and delicate; and there is turquoise: a cold, unforgiving colour that doesn't seem quite natural. But no matter what, they are still blue.

Set during Deathly Hallows, but at different times and not in chronological order. Some references to torture of children, but not particularly graphic, though mentions of blood and terrified 2nd years. Yes, Snape seems evil. He has a Death Eater persona to keep up and all! You should exercise caution, and that is why it is rated 13+. Explicit language mentioned but never written, though there are one or two choice phrases, however nothing I didn't know aged 10.

I don't own Harry Potter, though I wish I did, and have no right to any of the characters. I don't own Monty Python either. Please review with constructive criticism.

On this particular Sunday afternoon, a certain Terry Boot sat in the corner of the foreign language section of Hogwarts, more specifically the Ancient Greek section. It wasn't an unusual occurrence; far from it. If asked to name the 5 most regular visitors to her library, Madam Pince would have Terry Boot, just below Hermione Granger. But she was no longer here. There were many that were not here.

At the end of each book case there was the posters the Carrows posted about. Filled with lists of wrongdoers and their punishments. One of the earlier ones read: Ginny Weasley: attacking Slytherin students, Cruciatus and solitary confinement; Neville Longbottom: insulting Professors Carrow and Carrow, subjected to curse practice. One from about a month back was quite similar but with the addition of: Padma Patil: Cursing Professor Alecto Carrow, subjected to curse practice. Layers of aging parchment covered the whole library with the punishments of the students, ranging from the most severe punishments for the DA who were caught, for example days in solitary confinement and long periods under cruciatus, and the more minor ones, such as a short dose of the cruciatus for first years who got lost and were late. And right at the bottom of the most recent list: Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner: freeing detainees, Cruciatus and solitary confinement. The oppressive posters left an atmosphere of gloom, no-one wanting to even make a sound, for fear it would upset the Carrows.

Terry wished he could take Seamus' advice "Always look on the bright side of life.", but on days like this, it was impossible, and he felt more alone than ever. The towering cases leered at him, like he was some freak show. He felt like it some days. He wanted his friends back, but that wasn't possible. He would end up like them, and then what use would he be, tied up rather than translating ancient tomes. He was the only one who could translate Ancient Greek; Michael could cope with Modern Greek among other things, and Anthony was good at Latin based languages, though he excelled at Hebrew, which the others couldn't get their Ravenclaw knowledge round. They were rather behind on the Hebrew and Modern Greek because Anthony and Michael were missing, and they couldn't afford to be behind on the Ancient Greek transcripts. Parvati and Padma could translate the Indian scripts, they had lost a few days when Padma was out due to being injured, and Li could do both Chinese and Japanese, which thankfully she was on top of. There was a few who could do other languages in other houses, but Ravenclaws seemed to possess the most multi-linguists. Also, if he was strung from chains, how could he create spells to help the DA? He hated to say it, but he was the best spell creator in the school. It seemed like their best eggs were all thrown into one basket.

Ploughing on, he found a piece that may have some use, and began transcribing.

DotDotDot

Michael Corner hung limply from chains in a small cell, probably 3 metres by 3 metres, struggling as much as possible in his exhausted condition to try to resist the manacles suspending him an agonising foot above the floor. His arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, and he suspected his wrist was twisted. Oh God, he could see the page in his textbook with the exact healing spell he should use, but he was wandless, with no use of his hands.

It had felt like days since he had been brought down here, but with no sunlight he had no way of knowing just how many that number of "days" was. His voice was hoarse from lack of water and screaming, and every now and then he could hear the grumble of his stomach groaning contorted cries of hunger, but he had learnt to overcome them from the many stays in the dungeons. Damned him and his stupid heroic nature. Shouldn't his Ravenclaw logic have dictated to him that rescuing First Years from chains when the Carrows were in the next corridor was stupid: especially if you forgot a silencing charm. He knew Anthony was in the cell next door - he had seen him placed there when they were captured - but had heard no noises, so he suspected there may be silencing charm. He deserved this punishment to remind him that he should exercise more caution next time. And at least the firsties escaped. He knew from previous experience that the Carrows would take more delight in torturing him than they would recapturing the first years, so often they just got away.

There was a clink outside the door and the click of a lock. The short stumpy figure of Amycus Carrow stood there laughing. He could see him enjoying every last second of this.

"Ah, Corner. When Alecto told me, she said ya' were ta be left 'lone for a few hours, justa see if ita loosen yah tongue. I 'ope ya'll answer nicely."

"Foul, pathetic excuse for a wizard and a human being."

"Lil' bugga! Don't ya even think ya can call me tha'!"

"I'm sorry my good fellow, would you prefer it phrased differently?" Michael let of a string of expletives in various languages, suggesting various things about his mother and a pig, and calling his status as a human into question.

"Now ya talk sa I can un'erstand! Don't want nathin' o' this foreign muck!"

"I am sorry good sir, but your speech is not one I can understand, despite my wide vocabulary in many languages, none of which you would understand. It is preventing us from having a purposeful discussion."

Carrow let a wide grin consume his face, and drew his wand. Michael felt the wracking pain of the Cruciatus running through his body, but on the inside, despite his screams, he felt bolder than ever before. Terry, I told you courage doesn't have to come in red and gold.

DotDotDot

Mandy Brocklehurst sat in the top floor dormitory of the girl's wing of Ravenclaw tower. The moon was shining from behind the clouds, but little light got through. Mandy sighed. She remembered Dumbledore once saying "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light" but at times like this she doubted the saying. Padma was stirring beneath her blankets, coming out of the unconscious state Alecto Carrow had left her in after a little run in during Muggle Studies. Said Carrow had offered some quite derogatory terms about her and her sister, all of which were highly offensive and not heard in polite conversation. Something about sleeping around. Not surprisingly, Padma had retaliated, and Mandy had been forced to watch as her friend was subjected to every creative spell that was ever created. The spellwork was really quite beautiful, and her Ravenclaw self couldn't help but admire the choreography behind the precision of the movements. No, that was wrong, just plain wrong. How could she admire the work of someone who was hell bent on hurting her friend who she had known since age 7? She sat there tucking Padma back in and smoothing her hair, fussing over her like a mother hen when one of her chicks are injured. It had taken a lot more than creative spellwork to restore Padma to a state in which she was recognisable as a human being, but it was lucky that she had Ravenclaw blood, or she wouldn't have been able to help. Now, she just looked like she was recovering from a bad bout of 'flu, though Mandy knew there was nothing she could do about the cursed wound on Padma's right leg, and she may be limping for some time.

A cry sounded from one of the lower dorms, and Mandy, with barely a backward glance ran off down the spiral staircase. Padma was old enough to take care of herself for the mean time. The source of the cry came was the exact person she expected it to be from. In the second year dorm there was a young girl who had had nightmares at least twice a week since Neville and Seamus' flogging in the Great Hall. Jane Logger cried herself sick every time she had these nightmares, and Mandy couldn't blame her. She remembered the splatters of blood, and the screams of those who were watching. Many older students put their hands over the younger students' eyes, but little Jane was somehow missed. Like Mandy herself, she had watched crimson coat the whip, and the boys becoming paler and paler. Mandy thanked the men who were strung up with each blow that they refused to cry out. She thought they wouldn't make it. But they refused to grant their captors any screams that would show they were broken. It filled her with this little sensation in her heart that there was hope, and that even the tiniest things could be resisted. It hadn't made it easier to watch.

All Mandy could do was hold the little girl in her arms and try to console her, but knowing it would make no difference. Perhaps a nice bedtime story? Yes, something soothing and friendly. How about "The Fountain of Fair Fortune"? There's no harm in trying, and I can stay here until she falls asleep, poor girl.

DotDotDot

Lisa Turpin stood in the Room of Requirement coaching some younger students on the proper way to cast Avada Kedavra. She had been breeding rats for two months, specifically for this purpose, and she had over a hundred. She didn't particularly like it, but it was necessary. If it came to life or death then they must know the curse. They were all struggling with the required level of hatred needed to cast the spell.

"You have to mean it!"

One or two of them had managed to successfully kill their rat, and were helping the others, who were all steadily mastering the horrid unforgivable. Sweet little kids who were yet to understand the gravity of the curse, sitting along side big strapping 6'4 7th years who had fought against their current "teachers", the Carrows.

A 5th year boy, called Thomas Dunstan couldn't get it, no matter how many times he tried. A spell, which clearly wasn't the infamous Killing Curse due it being solid purple, shot out of his wand, and he fell backwards off his chair, spell jet causing a burn mark on the ceiling. Lisa ran over to the short mousy haired boy, who was trembling with fear. He hauled himself back up, but halfway to his feet he was grabbed roughly by the collar, and smacked round the back of the head.

"You bloody idiot, you could have killed us all!" Thomas hung his head rather awkwardly in shame. "I'm not going to save you when you have to fight for your life, I'll have my own to worry about! What will you do then, eh?" Another cuff round the head. She took several deep breaths. I'm a Ravenclaw, not some idiot Slytherin, or a hot headed Gryffindor. "Here, I'll show you the correct wand movement. You will get this right." However, there is no way I will be a sentimental Hufflepuff.

DotDotDot

Luna stood before the gathering in the common room. The entire house stood by age division in every nook and cranny, some sitting on the revered desks. She had always been seen as crazy for some of her more unusual beliefs, but now she cut an imposing figure, and was held with great respect, especially by those who saw her fight in June.

"There is no such thing as safety at Hogwarts anymore. We may be children, but we are going to have to be defenders, soldiers, and perhaps martyrs. This is the blunt truth." Her dirty blonde locks swung behind her as she scanned the room. For some reason, her eyes made you feel as if she was looking straight into your soul.

"The new teachers aren't just our teachers, they are Death Eaters. They won't care if you make an honest mistake. They will torture you. We want to give all of you a fighting chance."

"So, it's every Ravenclaw for himself?" Called Terry Boot

"Or herself!" Interupted a younger student.

"Do you really want me to go into the logics of grammar? When refering to a collecti..."

"No Terry, we aren't just looking out for ourselves. What's that phrase Colin used...One for all and all for one!"

"So it's Ravenclaws together."

"For knowledge, hope and freedom."