Title: Once Upon a time...
Rating: PG-13, some non descriptive violence, character death, sad.
Summary: Once upon a time they stood together as friends, but today they stand on opposite side of a battle field torn apart by a war that they don't understand.
Disclaimer: The universe that these characters belong to is the Harry Potter universe and thus belongs to J.K. Rowling. The characters involved belong to the following people, and I thank them deeply for giving permission for their characters to be used to for the fanfiction. If you're curious about the universe that these characters belong to and would like to find out more, please go to our profile page and read the bio. Thank you.
Harry Wells and Mowanza King and the Conchordes belong to the Author of this fanfiction, Tiks.
Crikket Levington belongs to Angie.
He knew this day would come.
The day when everyone was turned against each other. If he had learned anything from the tri-wizard tournament, it was that he could always rely on the people closest to him, his friends. Anza, as a joke, had slated his name in, and even in competing, Harry was able to get the sort of education that sitting in a class room never had. A wild ride, a shock to the head, and he was able to use magic as though for the first time. Not without hitting up a wand shop to get a wand meant for him, and not a hand-me-down, of course. That had been a happier time. He, Anza, and Crikket, all bundled into a shop like he was young again, selecting a wand for him. It worked. A beautiful maple wand, surprisingly swishy, with a unicorn hair as the core. The dragon heart string he had been given had been to rigid, the wandmaker had said. Made for dark magic. Harry had been surprised to hear that, but never questioned his family on the subject. Let the pie lie, he had always believed. Besides, his life had been fairly good since the explosion, since Hogwarts.
Up until that point.
Anza had gone to the other side of the war. The pained look on his face when Harry refused to go with him still haunted his mind. Anza truly believed Darren to be the same person he was at Salem, someone he was close with. Anza chose Darren because of his heart ache, because he was a friend, but Harry couldn't do the same. Despite what Darren believed, despite the mania that ran through his veins, Harry did not believe it was the right move. He loved the muggle world, but to mix the two would be dangerous as life currently stood. The wizarding world could hardly keep itself from war without a total break down every few years, it seemed. Or so he'd read in his books.
The war had made most of his relationships shaky. He wanted to go back to the times when they were all cramming themselves into the Hogsmeade carriages, or when they were trying their best to figure out the best move for the Triwizard tournament. He missed how shaky he was when he took Crikket's hands into his own for the Yule dance. Spinning her around the dance floor, hoping to all of the gods he could think of that he didn't accidentally tread upon her feet. She had looked so stunning that night. It was something seared so clearly into his mind, something he knew he'd never be able to forget. He could only describe it as pure magic. A thing beyond what he did with his wand, what he was able to do with his hands. Beyond any school and doctrine. Holding her that night, under the lights, for their first yule ball together, as his date, it had sealed his feelings in. And Anza, oh Anza, who had been laughing at them until it finally happened, who had been so happy for them that he forced Harry to drink some Firewhiskey with him later on in the night. It had been well. What had happened?
Harry heard a voice from the other room and stirred. He had been sitting in the Conchorde Hut, which had been extended, a few more rooms added for the Equalists to stay in. He leaned back into the old wooden chair and rubbed his eyes very gently, trying his best to move away from thoughts of the past. He was met with rough stubble on his chin, with a groggily, saggy sort of expression on his face that had come about from lack of sleep. Oh, it was time to go. They needed to move. Tonight they would defend the muggle line from the invaders. The battle plan had been met, and they needed to move, fast. Evelyn poked her head in and looked over at Harry. She had been calling him, he realized, and he smiled at her a little sadly. "I'm coming." He said in a tired voice and slowly picked himself off of the chair. She nodded and ducked back inside of the hallway, and he could hear the voices of the other equalists. Of Teddy, of Bill, who was always so loud. Once upon a time he couldn't tell the difference between the twins, ever.
Given now they lacked one twin, it was easy. Harry rubbed his eyes again and moved through the hallway. He wore a simple tshirt, a pair of converse, and jeans. Nothing more, nothing less. The others wore different assorted robes, unless muggleborn, who wore thick and heavy jackets, as though that might deter some spells from entering onto their being. Harry knew better.
"Are we ready?" He heard the gruff voice of Birtch ask. Harry looked around at all the soldiers, weary in a line. A nod from each one and they began to disappear out of sight. Harry rubbed his eyes and disappeared, too. What had he really gotten himself into? And what would it mean, to be against Anza, during this time? He wasn't sure.
With a crack they were there. The dew in the morning, the movement against Darren. Harry dug into his pocket for his wand. Not everyone from the equalists were there. They couldn't bank in on all of their numbers disappearing at once. His eyes looked over the young and old faces alike. He looked over the now familiar Conchordes, with their steely resolutions, to Teddy, who seemed broad, ready. He looked away from them and thought of Crikket. He had begged her to stay behind, but ultimately, it hadn't been his decision. She'd be there, in turn, but somewhere else on the front lines. Not where the hexes were flying, but it was close enough to make him nervous. She was a good witch, better than he… But even the best couldn't stop a killing curse. His eyes turned toward the line, watching the sun as it rose in the sky, and the first few fires from the other side, and the forest there, lit up the plains. He heard the Conchorde battle cry and he rushed into the forest with them. The battle had started. The rest of the equalists would be at the city, protecting the front lines in case… In case they didn't make it through.
Harry felt a burning hex hit his arm. He turned, grabbing his arm violently, just in time to see another member of the equalists hitting the ground from a killing curse. He heard gun fire and knew Craig was somewhere in the forest, the only muggle among them, avenging Eben's death, probably. Harry wasn't sure. He rushed through, feeling the wind hit his face, and thought of hair Crikket's red hair smelled. He threw a hex at a Muggle Republic member, doing his best from stopping them from getting to her front. He threw another.
And then it hit him. Square in the chest.
Anza hadn't been aware of who he had been aiming at.
Anza wasn't sure what he was even fighting for anymore. He had joined Darren because he had wanted to support him. He wanted to support a friend, to back him in a cause because he felt that simply, Darren would do the same in return. But as he watched his friends join the Equalists, as he watched the lines split, he felt ignorant. He knew nothing of muggles. The ones brought around made him sick, so thick with war on their voices, with lust and hate in their blood. This wasn't a cause worth fighting for, but he couldn't leave. He was bound to it now, he would have to fight. He had given his word, his wand, his everything. And as the battle raged, as they stormed to take their first city, they were faced with the 'common enemy', the Equalists. He ran through the forest in terror, throwing hexes and killing curses to try and save himself, but as he fired one killing curse on a tall, lanky individual, his heart dropped. Recognition hit him just as Harry began to slump to the ground. A white noise penetrated his mind and he began to scream. Anza dropped his wand and rushed forward, barely missing a hex as it flew over his head. He dove for the ground, tears streaming down his face as he grabbed Harry, pulling his limp body onto his lap.
"Harry! Harry! HARRY WAKE UP!" Anza shouted, though he knew it was entirely useless. Tears streamed down his face as he looked as Harry's half open eyes. He thought of the triwizard tournament. He thought of Crikket. Oh god… Crikket. What was he going to do? He held onto Harry, pushing his face into his friend's chest, sobbing over him. He was at a loss now, the feeling in his gut thick, painful. He looked up slowly to a pair of boots. He hadn't heard anyone coming close. His eyes upturned, tears on his face, and his eyes met the wand tip of an old professor: Bill Conchorde.
Bill showed no mercy.
—
As the bodies were drug in after the battle, as both lines began to retreat, Bill grabbed Anza's body, so limp, so simple, almost serene with a wet face. He lumped him with Harry on the body mats, and the other fallen, but wondered exactly why.
Because of remorse. Anza had, within his eyes, asked for some sort of forgiveness as Bill brought the killing curse down on his head. It was all Bill could figure. Remorse. That's why he brought Anza's body on their side.
Because once upon a time.
He was.