DISCLAIMER: None of the characters involved belong to me.
"Avada kedavra!"
Those two words were all it took.
All it took to kill thousands upon thousands in this horrid war, all it took to make me snap just enough.
Those six syllables cause three people to move into action quickly that all I saw of them were blurs of black, of massive and flouncing brown, of incredibly lengthy white-blond fanning behind her. All three had moved to the aide of my daughter, wands drawn with fierce expressions. Earlier on, a part of me snapped as the branch of my twin snapped from our family tree. Maybe it'd made me barking mad; maybe it was to prospect of the dark haired bitch standing before me nearly sawing the lowest branch from our tree. "GET BACK!" I wouldn't stand for that. "She is MINE!" I howled at the three fierce faces, pushing them aside with as much care as I could muster in such a situation. "Not my daughter you—" There was only one expletive to cover how I felt at that moment.
"Ooh?" Bellatrix cooed, eyes going wide. "Mummy wants to avenge Fweddie?" her lower lip stuck out in a puppy-faced expression she'd seen many a small child use to get what they were told they couldn't have.
"Not my daughter," I repeated, knuckles white from clutching my wand with fury. It shook less in fear than rage. I suppressed a slight whimper from hearing my son's childhood nickname from her cackle. Despite my focus, part of my mind remained on his face at different ages. I felt a little relief when George and he went of to Hogwarts. Pranking someone else for a change. And maybe with less time at home, they're appreciate Ron and Ginny more. Fred was the one who tried to coerce Ron into making an Unbreakable Vow.
Fred and George. It was meant to always be like that. Even when they lived separately and were married to beautiful women, it was intended for them to be spoken of in a union still. Not George minus an ear. I usually thought of them in conjunction; their antics always were. Weasley Wizard Weazes. Blowing up toilets. Generally behaving like Peeves. How often had she gotten messages from McGonagall?
"What will your children do when Mummy, too, is dead?" Bellatrix malicious feigned care. "Gone, just like Freddie?" she leered.
"You—" My voice sounded beyond shrill, to the point of being screechy. "will NEVER TOUCH MY CHILDREN AGAIN!"
She laughed at me. Cackled, like I told a hilarious joke, with her dead eyes. Maybe she truly found it hilarious that I wouldn't stoop to the level of Unforgivable Curses; then again, I knew some ghastly defensive spells. Praefoco; suffocates the victim. Pulsusubsisto; stops the heart. Exuro, Occupo, Impleo, the list goes on.
She lifted her wand, but I moved more quickly. A dull-colored jet hit her in the chest, gray like monsters inside me. Ultionis; my revenge. Her smile faded into a blank stare, though her eyes bore no light to leave them.
Exhausting. I felt remorse only for the moment I realized I'd taken the life of another, but then, how many lives had she taken or destroyed? How many lives had she aided in being taken or destroyed? When I see Neville Longbottom's face lighten, I know the answer. When I see Harry, I know. That boy has lost his parents, his god father, friends, to these people. To these monsters. I lost my son and nearly my daughter. My husband was in prison because of their curses. An ear-shattering cry of grief in a high, spine-curling tone. It rang out at the same time the black head, hovering above a sweater I produced, called another curse.
"Protego!"
Invisible barriers.
Protection.
I suppose it was what we all need.