Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Therefore, the first of the ten commandments that I set is :"Thou shalt not sue my sorry little ass" Ok? I shall now proceed to dream up the next nine.....dreams
Another Disclaimer: I do not own the ten commandments either, apart from that one, which is the product of my own imagination. Ok, I shall shut up now....
(Words in italics are thoughts. Words in bold italics are memories. Words in bold are the Disclaimers. The rest is story.)
He could feel his hot breath rush back into his face as he ran, stumbling over the bodies of so many innocent lives. All this for me he thought, and a painful tear trickled down his cheek as he passed the crumpled heap that was Ron. He knew he had to make it to the gate though, no matter what. He knew that was what his friends would have wanted. He couldn't stop, too many more lives were at risk.
His pulse was beating furiously, as shots of bright green light illuminated the path he followed. Death Eaters screaming "Avada kedavra!" followed in his wake, their curses shattering the tombstones that they hit as Harry dodged behind them. What was it that she had said? His memory was a blur, and his mind was constantly switching itself off from the reality of what was happening, turning to a no more comforting image of his mother.
She was walking up the path.
The battle raged, and yet it was strangely uniform. The Death Eaters stood in a line, a solid wall of black robes, showering curses, varying in degrees of fatality, onto the small army that was the Order of the Phoenix. Harry was stood between Ron and Hermione, their wands raised, their mouths shouting out curses at the Death Eaters. He had been lucky. The most damage he'd received so far was a mild curse which had caused a large and painful boil on the end of his nose.
He pushed his round spectacles up his sweating nose, and turned his head to see if anything was happening behind them. Whatever happened, the Muggles mustn't see; it would be too dangerous for them to become involved. He was wondering what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would say, if the news arrived that he had died that night. A twisted smile flashed across his face as he imagined their dismay at the funeral bill which would inevitably follow.
There she was. Her face was pale gold, and she had a warm glow which was central to the area of her heart. He green eyes glimmered, her translucent robes swished in a nonexistent breeze. The night itself was unusually still, save for the backwind that was generated as the spells split the air.
She was walking so calmly. How could she walk like that when so much was happening? She drew near, and Harry could see that she held something in her palm.
She came up to him and took his left hand, and held it in hers. He could see his own hand though hers, and the sight unnerved him.
"When the time comes, Harry, get to the gate. Don't let it turn to ashes." And with that she pushed the thing that she was holding into his hand, and before his eyes she seemed to dissolve into the night.
He looked down at the object. In his palm, slightly ruffled and damp from his sweat, was a flaming red feather. It was only small, but the edges were tipped with gold and the blood red crimson became darker as the feather came to a point.
He turned her words over in his mind. Ashes… a phoenix feather!
A cold gurgle next to his ear, and a dull thump distracted his attention, and he was called sharply back into the reality.
No! It was too painful, he didn't want to think. He didn't want to remember. He wasn't even sure he wanted to live anymore. He was running, but it was slow progress, as every careful glance could decide his, and many others fates'.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans, pushing his dirty black robes aside. He pulled out the feather and looked at it. It was crumpled and bent, but it was the colour which concerned Harry the most. The blazing red was fading, and now the feather looked sickly pale. Harry's heart jumped, as he judged the distance between himself and the gate. It wasn't far. He would have to make a run for it, he just needed to get behind that grave.
He darted out from his hiding place and dashed behind the next just as a blaze of green smashed the stone he had just come from. Sweat poured off his face, and his jumper clung uncomfortably to his skin, his robes heavy with sweat and rain water.
He could see something obstructing the gate, but whatever it was, he was sure it was dead. It wasn't moving, just lying in a heap under the wrought iron gate.
He ran to the gate, but just as he thought he would get away, something was clinging to his leg, and he fell into the mud. A small, flaming red head rose from the mud, and Ginny Weasley pushed Harry down. Harry struggled to comprehend the situation he was now in, as she raised her wand to his heart.
"Ginny! Ginny, what are you doing?! I have to GO! Why….?"
"You know Harry," she said, seeming not to care that Death Eaters were beginning to gather around them "I always wanted you. When I was at school, you were everything I wanted. Shame. And then you didn't want me did you? You wanted someone, something better. Well I'm ever so sorry Harry. But if I can't have you, no one can. This is the way it has to be."
Her speech over, Ginny stepped back, her wand still pointing at Harry. Harry looked down at his hand. The feather was gone, and in it's place was a pile of ashes. A black figure stepped forward from the crowd that had gathered, and, pulling down his hood, the cruel face of Malfoy loomed over Harry.
"Anything you want to say, Harry, before you die? You know, I have so been looking forward to this." Then he screamed: "CRUCIO!" and immediately Harry felt a mind numbing pain, like hot daggers piercing at his skin. He writhed with the pain, screaming as the scorching knives repeatedly punctured his flesh. Then, though only semi-conscious of it, a tall, dark figure stepped forward, and the Death Eaters moved aside to let him pass. His eyes where like snake eyes, fiery and dangerous, his nose two slits in his smooth face.
He flashed an evil smile at Harry.
"Goodbye Harry." Swish curve and flick "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry had only a split second before the spell hit him and tore him away from his flesh. His death was filled with pain, as a invisible spirit grabbed him and pulled his spirit quickly away from his body, which he watched crumple into a small heap on the ground.
A pathetic spectacle of a brave boy's end.
Hey, sorry it was so shit. Just a one shot. I'm not too good at this sort of thing. Whatever.
Me x x x