Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe; all of its characters, places, and situations all belong to J.K. Rowling. This particular situation belongs to me.
Summary: An absent Harry returns after seventh year trained, and the damns of war finally break loose as a brutal attack forces everyone into action, bringing two unexpected allies.
Warnings: Disturbing violence, mentions of non-con (nothing graphic), death, possibility of slash. Some AU, OotP compatible. Character death. It's a war people, there will be…unpleasantness.
Author's Note: This is my first fic; all I ask is that you read, review, and leave constructive criticism. Thanks to pistaccio pudding for the beta.
Prologue
Number 12 Grimmauld Place shuddered, the house normally hidden from the entire world except those few who knew its existence; buried in London like treasure in the warm sand of the Caribbean. The occupants the most powerful of the wizarding world sat in confused silence, unsure, what was that? What was happening? Then it hit, like the air being knock out of you, fear, a sharp prickling of the skin was felt as the residents jumped in to action; wands drawn, hidden by wall corners, dueling stances perfected by years of training now being put to practical use, as the house gave its last shuddering breath and a door became visible. The wizards and witches tensed, they held their wands steadily as the door; the lid of their fiercely guarded treasure, opened.
They could have never imagined what happened next.
"Blood" Remus Lupin whispered, and indeed there was blood. It thickly coated the two figures stumbling through the door, darkly robed with hoods obscuring their faces. Labored breathing filled the silence, coming out in hard, heavy pants. Choked, strangled sobs followed as a pale blond head rose.
Harry Potter sucked in a sharp breath, it was a stab wound to the lungs; he could hardly breathe. This was not happening, he thought furiously, what is happening?
Albus Dumbledore stepped forward; rich, regal purple robes flowing around the slim, aging figure, his wand was still drawn yet his faced held such compassion and his collogues could hardly fathom why.
Draco Malfoy visibly stiffened as Dumbledore approach. He looked tired, weak almost; and abandoning any pretense of what others might think, of the pride he held so dear to him even a day before, Draco Malfoy wearily fell to his knees, landing next to the other figure huddled in a tight ball, shivering; and thought left the minds of those staring as the once proud, noble Draco whispered a broken "Please…" into the now deafening silence.
"Mr. Malfoy, Draco what happened?" the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry asked, discreetly gesturing the others who had still remained as poised as earlier to slowly move forward. They did so; Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody and lastly Molly Weasley all appeared from around corners, from behind furniture, wands still at the ready but slowly, calmly moved forward stopping just behind Dumbledore.
At those words, at that simple request Draco closed his eyes and turned his head away, a gash, deep and thick previously hidden by loose blond hair became visible. Headmaster Dumbledore quietly asked Mrs. Weasley to retrieve Poppy from the school, and to do so as quickly as possible.
The figure beside Draco slowly raised their head, everyone except Dumbledore and the still absent Molly stiffened, wand grips tightened and faces became intimidating, blank slates; and every one of those faces crumbled, gasps echoed, eyes widened and the residents fought to keep their forgotten dinners down. A dark head of hair appeared as the clothed hood, stained a deep red, fell back and with it the mangled face of Blaise Zambini appeared, deep blue eyes, once the reflection of the rising of night were empty vacant pools, red rimmed and filled with tears, crystal water falling without check down pale, tanned skin, cutting lines through blood. Deep gashes covered the right side of her face, eerily reminiscent of Draco's own, beginning at the temple running down disappearing past her neck. She clutched something tight to her chest, her knuckles white, she was holding on so tight; her hands shaking, fingers missing nails, slowly dripping blood, and without warning the bundle was dropped to the floor and the empty eyes of a naked boy, chestnut brown hair and haunting brown eyes looked up at Dumbledore, yet not really seeing.
Everyone gasped, Tonks made a strangled noise within her throat before she was running, turning the corner where the sound of gagging and splashing could be heard. Harry Potter was paralyzed, unmoving, unblinking he stared at the boy, not comprehending the meaning. Molly Weasley, followed closely by Poppy; a disproving frown marring the latter's face, came rushing, no doubt motivated by the sounds of Tonks' nausea. Molly stopped at the sight that greeted her, tears formed and pooled over her eyes; she made a choked sob and began to move forward, intent on covering the child, of holding him close, the instinct of any caring mother. The nurse followed, trying to keep her professional façade in place. She was failing miserably. However, before either could reach the grisly scene, they were stopped with a look by Dumbledore, a look so angry it was frightening: it screamed of power, of need a for justice. They didn't know it, but no one dared move a step forward until he allowed it."What happened?" he asked again, voice firm, hard, there was an edge that had never, ever existed before with Dumbledore, his gaze lingering on the dead, obviously sexual defiled, boy before him.
Blaise locked eyes with Albus, her mouth opened and blood, cherry red and fresh fell from it. Remus looked away. She spoke, a dead voice echoing in the hall, "I, Blaise Elizabeth Zambini, Head of the Zambini House, do hereby swear a wizard oath of allegiance to one Albus Dumbledore and to one Harry Potter in their fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort."
Harry Potter's snapped back to reality, eyes focusing on the bloodied witch before him, he cocked his head to the side and a strangled sound of confused disbelief escaped, while Dumbledore turned his head to Draco who opened his mouth. His lips cracking with the effort, new blood spilled from numerous deep, mangled gashes across his face. His eyes were no longer wary, no longer tired, but sharp and bright; like molten, silver lava. He looked delirious, like someone closed to breaking under the weight of something much too big to the carry. Words flowed from his mouth: not the strong, fluid culture tones, or the drawls or angry passionate whispered insults. His tone was a pitch too high, a little too strained, there was a desperation that did not sit well with anyone, but nonetheless he spoke with a conviction and a surety that left no room for doubt: "I, Draco Lucien Malfoy, Heir to the Malfoy House, do hereby swear a wizard oath of allegiance to one Albus Dumbledore and to one Harry Potter in their fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort."
Nobody moved as the magic of the oaths took place binding the two battered Slytherin's to their targets, ensuring their promised would be fulfilled.
Dumbledore was the first to speak; he shifted his gaze from Draco to Blaise, face softening just a little, voice a tad more reminiscent of the grandfatherly figure he is known for: "Head of the Zambini House child, what of your parents? You had an older brother as well, if I remember correctly?" The question was asked but everyone knew the answer.
"…Dead" Zambini whispered; thick rain drop tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks before dripping off, landing on the bare chest of the child below her. "There was too many an..and we tried t-to run, but were could we go? …Nowhere….there were too many and I…I begged and…." It had started as an animalistic howl, and ended in a sob. She curled on the floor, around the body of her brother, and cried. Rocking back and forth, soft pleas, desperate askings and promised offerings were heard: to bring back her mother, her father and her brothers. She remained like that as tears poured down the faces of the others in the room, until Draco softly uncurled her from her position on the floor, pulling her to rest against him. In the process, the rest of Alexander Luis Zambini was exposed and Remus Lupin could not contain a growl. Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye twirled away from the scene, his wrist flexing with the need to curse, to hex those responsible. Tonks had yet to re-enter the room, and horrified moaning could be heard from down the hall. Molly and Poppy continued to cry, hugging each other close, one wanting to comfort the children and the other to heal their broken, scared bodies.
Harry Potter walked forward, slowly pulling off his outer robe, and laid it over the boy, unable to look at the damage. Long, vertical slices wore down his chest; residual tremors from the Cruciatus made his fingers twitch, his mouth twisted open in a silent scream. Harry couldn't comprehend the idea of experiencing such torment; the raping of body, mind and soul. The stealing of innocence. He crouched down in front the two of them; injuries became that much more obvious as close as he was: the patches of hair missing from Blaise's scalp, ripped clean off, the chipped and missing teeth from her mouth visible as she opened and closed her mouth, taking in air and losing blood, the purple stains of finger tips that painted her skin. Draco; who, under his robes, was now reveling a mosaic of bruises, gashes, blood; of a white, milky film that was spread about.
Harry absorbed the images and respect bloomed in him for his peers before him who survived, who were stronger then anyone he had ever met and, he believed would ever meet. Slowly, he raised his hand and placed it under Draco's chin, guiding his face, his eyes, toward him. He stared at pained, clouded rain storms and simply said: "Tell me…"
And so Draco told.