Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Broken Family
Marcus's body was on fire. Not in the literal sense, but it felt like it was. He cried out in pain as his body lifted off the ground. He clenched his teeth. He wasn't going to give them the chance to find his weakness. His body fell back to the ground and he gasped for breath, coughing up the blood that was flowing through his body. He might need that blood…
Marcus was gasping for breath. He looked up at the man standing in front of him and then down, forgetting that a mask covered his face. The man didn't know who he was, nor did Marcus know the man. Well, technically he didn't. All he knew was what he had been told.
"Are you going to tell me who you are or not?" the man asked. He didn't have a British or Irish accent; it was more the lines of a Southern accent, like someone from Texas.
"No," Marcus said, masking his voice.
He cried out in pain as pain shot back through his body. He clenched his fists and teeth. This man wasn't going to find out who he was. Too much was on the line for this guy to find out who Marcus was. He wasn't even sure what side this guy was on. Did it really matter? If the man had been his father, even then he would go through torture rather than turn over the information needed to destroy all of them.
"I could do this all day, boy," the man said. Marcus's body continued to be on fire.
Marcus focused on the blonde girl he loved. He focused on her green eyes, her athletic build. He focused on the thought that he had a daughter at home that needed him to come home. A daughter who had already lost her parents and didn't even know it. How would she respond to the man, who'd raised her, death? He couldn't let that happen. He focused on those two things and the pain subsided to a dull annoyance.
"Answer me!" the man roared. Great, he'd made the man mad. The man pulled something from his pocket. "Now!" Marcus stood shakily. And, the man apparently had a knife too. Marcus shakily pulled out his wand.
"No," he said, still masking his voice. The man let out a growl and threw a spell at Marcus. Marcus watched as the ground next to him burned. Apparently the man didn't have a very good aim.
"I'll make you," the man said.
"And how exactly will you do that?" Marcus challenged, throwing a charm at the man, causing him to collapse.
"I'll find a way," he grunted, but Marcus had already Apparated. Jonathon Flint let out a roar of anger.
Marcus may have known the man. He'd only met his brother Jonathon once, at a family get together and the tension had been high then. Jonathon may have known Marcus, but he couldn't allow him to. Jonathon had chosen the Dark Side.
Marcus looked at Number Twelve before lowering his hoodie's hood and taking the ski mask off his face as some woman looked at him with a terrified expression. He barely looked at her as he watched the house of Number Twelve appear. He pushed the gate open, wondering why they needed a gate in front of a house that no one could see other than wizards, and walked through the front door.
Marcus threw the mask onto a table and nodded at some of the portraits. He found that slightly awkward. He hurried past the portrait of the woman who always screamed when the doorbell was rang and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was in there, filling people's plates, many of whom probably didn't want any.
Marcus sat down in a chair and Mrs. Weasley placed a plate in front of him. Marcus toyed with the food, not hungry because his body was still on fire. He looked up as he heard someone else enter. There she stood. She had her hair pulled into a pony tail at the nape of her neck. A small girl held the elder's hand and was sucking on her thumb, looking innocent.
Marcus felt a small smile play on his lips. Anastasia was anything but innocent. She may put on an act, but when she was at home, she was two years of pure terror. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the man she believed to be her father. She was too young to understand the truth, so they hadn't told her. She ran to him and hugged him. Marcus buried the pain. He didn't want to scare her.
"What did you find out?" Katie asked, sitting down. Marcus looked at her and then at Anastasia. He placed his daughter on his knee.
"I'll tell you later," he said, easing with his family's presence. She looked at him and then away with a nod. He watched her bite her lip and take a bite of the food Molly had placed in front of her. He wrapped his arm around his daughter's waist and took a bite of his own food.
"Jonathon?" Katie asked, running a brush through her hair later that night. "Who is Jonathon Flint?" Marcus lounged on the bed with his hands behind his head. "You know him?" she asked, looking at him in the mirror. He shrugged and winced slightly.
"I've met him once or twice. He's fifteen years or so older than me, Katie, so he moved out when I was two or three. What was I supposed to do? Say 'Hey, I'm your youngest brother Marcus and we're on opposite sides. Kill me now'?" he asked. She came over and sat down on the bed next to him.
"Well, when you put it that way…. Look, Marcus, I love you and he's your brother. Even if he is on the Dark side, don't you think you should at least try to talk to him? You can't choose your family like your friends," she pointed out, stroking his hair.
"I can choose my family in a sense. I chose you," he said, looking up at her. She smiled softly at him and kissed his forehead.