Written for Charms in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assigments). The fic is 1,499 words, just under the 1,500 word limit.
Disclaimer: I don't own the settings, the characters, or their personalities. I do believe I own this particular AU idea, though.
Enjoy!
"This meeting of the Wizengamot has been adjourn – " The dismissal was cut off by a flash of green light. The Minister slumped in his seat. There was no doubt as to whether or not he had been killed.
Several screams sounded. Desks were upended and objects were strewn about the room as many of the Wizengamot surged towards the exit in an attempt to escape.
Harry shot to his feet and drew his wand. He saw various others do so as well, just as several people materialized at the center of the room. The black robes and white masks made it obvious who was staging this attack.
Harry fired curses at them, and then ducked behind a table that had fallen forward to avoid the spells shot in retaliation.
He saw Amelia Bones begin to throw spells at the group, along with four or five others. Clearly most of the Wizengamot were only familiar with the political side of things. They had been left outnumbered.
And for what? Harry thought wildly. Their master has just recently been seriously injured by us. It would help nothing if they were injured as well.
The only thing he could think of was revenge. And in that case, it would be something like a hit and run. Which meant they had an escape…
He ducked below the seats and edged out from behind the table. His small build kept him hidden behind the seats. He began to sneak down towards the group. They were staying close together, which could mean they had a Portkey of some kind.
He reached the ledge that marked the midway point from the top of the seats to the center of the room. He'd have to blow his cover, if only for a second.
He inhaled sharply and dove from his place behind the seats. Someone must have expected this; jets of light shot his way. He ducked and rolled, just barely missing the edge of the platform.
He made a glittering shield materialized in front of him. If I run towards them, they'll be gone before I get close to them. That means…
He held on to the plan he had just formed. He was close enough to the group, the seats weren't that high…
With that last thought, he stumbled backwards to the back of the ledge, where the backs of his knees knocked into the stairs. Without another fully-formed thought, he went with his instincts and ran clean off the platform.
He was suspended in air for just a moment; he twisted his wand towards himself, bellowed "ASCENDIO!", and with the extra boost from the spell he shot towards the group of Death Eaters at full speed.
He could see the Death Eaters part, trying to get away from him; Harry yelled, "Gelata!" at the space they left him and, as he hit the ground, drove his wand into the now soft section of the ground and shouted, "BREVIS TERRA MOTUS!"
From where his wand had dug into the ground, the earth shook forcefully and threw every single Death Eater to the ground accompanied by sickening cracks like gunshots. Harry was no exception, and he was thrust from his kneeled position and thrown harshly towards the ground. He felt multiple painful cracks and knew he had broken more than a few ribs.
That was his last thought before darkness took over.
Harry's vision swam into view. He coughed and winced. Definitely some broken ribs.
Someone shoved his glasses onto his face. He blinked into the suddenly blinding light.
"I'm surprised," a voice sounded from beside him. He turned to see a Healer wearing St. Mungo's lime green robes.
"Why?" His throat felt raw.
"Your medical records show that you're prone to sleeping for around three days before coming back into consciousness. It's only been one day."
"The situation wasn't that bad," Harry tried to shrug, but he couldn't move very much of his body. It hurt too much to try, anyway.
"I think that should be, 'The situation wasn't that bad compared to others I've been in.'" The Healer smiled wryly. She had long, fiery red hair. "You've only hurt three ribs, a shoulder, and a knee. That's like a miracle compared to your previous injuries."
"More like godsend," Harry muttered. He hoped this meant he had to take less Skele-Gro.
"All of this means that you'll be out of here sooner." The Healer glanced at the door. "You have some visitors."
"What kind?" He assumed it was the Wizengamot members that had been fighting with him, making sure he hadn't died yet.
"Um, the good and bad kind," she winced. "The press wants to speak with you. You know, about the fight and what you were thinking when…"
"News travels fast," He fell into a fit of coughs. The Healer held a glass of water to his lips and he gulped it down.
"I imagine you must be irritated," she commented. "You're already famous, what with your parents, being tutored by Dumbledore himself, your face-offs with You-Know-Who, and then becoming the youngest member of the Wizengamot in – what, a century and a half? And now you just saved the Wizengamot and captured a good number of Death Eaters. Your reputation is getting larger by the second."
"I didn't save the Wizengamot," Harry protested weakly as she gave him a vial of a Skele-Gro. He gulped it down, grimacing at the taste. "Most of them had already escaped."
"They'll twist it however they like. Trust me, I would know."
"What, you were famous at one point?" Harry stumbled over his words. "I mean – how would you know? I mean – "
"You don't recognize me?" she feigned hurt.
"Sorry," he muttered guiltily.
"It's quite alright," she smiled. "I was famous for a short time, and then the war caught up with my freedom."
"What happened?" Harry asked, not able to help himself.
"I was a Quidditch player. I realized there was a war underway and I was helping no one by playing Quidditch. So I quit, and because I had taken the right NEWTs for a job as a Healer, I took that up." She said pleasantly, as if people asked her all the time. Maybe they did, if they had known her as a famous Quidditch player and were curious about why she decided to quit.
"Take this," The Healer handed him a cup full of a silvery liquid. It was milder than some others he had tasted before. "It'll help you get some sleep for three or four hours. By then the worst of the healing would be over, and you'll be right as rain." She smiled again. She really did have a beautiful smile.
"I haven't been paying attention to Quidditch as much as I was before," Harry told her. "What with my new seat in the Wizengamot…and Voldemort…" The Healer flinched but did not comment. Harry was used to that reaction to the name, and so he didn't say anything.
"I haven't been listening to it on the wireless, either," she admitted. "St. Mungo's is always crowded. People are always injured. We get very few hours of sleep, it's gotten pretty bad."
Harry felt a bit guilty. Here he was, without an official job. Sure, he was part of the Wizengamot, but that was a title and an occasional thing. Sure, he was given the title 'Honorary Auror', so he would have the rights only an Auror would have so he could capture Death Eaters. And still he didn't earn his own money. It wasn't as if he needed it. But so many people were working hard to care for themselves and others, while he had no job and was perfectly well off.
"You know, you could think of your growing reputation as a good thing," The Healer suddenly spoke, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. "For one, you're already famous, so you're not going to get a bigger target on your back than you already have."
"Thanks, that's a real comfort," Harry retorted sarcastically.
"And two," she continued over him, "You're garnering respect all over the place. So if you ever need to gather an army, or some powerful allies, your reputation could do wonders for you."
Harry felt stupid for never thinking of it. "You're right."
"I tend to be occasionally," the Healer said, a bit smugly.
Harry felt his vision darkening. "I think the potion's beginning to work," he managed to say.
"I may not be here when you wake up." The Healer smiled down at him. "Since you'll be asleep, and people will be coming in to St. Mungo's with new injuries, I'll have to go tend to them. Someone else will be here to make sure you get the right potions when you wake."
"One more thing." Harry fought to stay conscious. "What's your name?"
"Ginny," the Healer said. "Ginny Weasley. I was once a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies."
And then his vision went dark.
Spell Dictionary:
Ascendio - This is canon. If you don't remember it, or don't understand how it was used in this fic, I'm here to explain. It lifts the caster high in the air or makes them breach the water's surface if they are underwater. Used in the Triwizard Tournament, Second Task. It's actually the focus of the Charms Class's lesson for this assignment/challenge.
Gelata - Literally means 'jelly'. Of my own creation, using Google Translate and Latin (obviously).
Brevis Terra Motus - Literally means 'short-range earthquake'. I created it the same way I did with 'Gelata'. My theory is that the short-range version uses more force in a small area, rather than a small tremor in a large area.
YES, THIS IS A ONESHOT. I WILL NOT BE CONTINUING IT. It's just an idea for a different universe. Thank you.