Chapter 2 - Dave: Wake up.
Mrs. Weasley was the first to take action, ignoring Ron's outburst and rushing toward the figure. A few shouts came from other members, but she just glared at them in response.
"We don't have time to argue! The poor child is bleeding to death!" And Harry noted with shock that both things she said was true. After the spots cleared from his vision, Harry saw the shock of white-blonde hair against the overwhelming red of their clothing. A coppery smell began to fill the air, and he saw that the person on the table was barely breathing. Rusty blood began to seep through the cracks of the table, and Harry, in what could only be described as a bewildered daze, watched blankly and uncomprehendingly as Mrs. Weasley desperately waved her wand.
"He could be a Death Eater!" Moody boomed, trying to wrench the wand out of her hand. "We can't trust him, much less help him! If we-"
"Shut up, Alastor! There is a child bleeding to death on my kitchen table, and you're concerned about Death Eaters? We don't have time for this! He's dying!" Mrs. Weasley yelled back to him, determination like steel in her eyes.
Moody seemed shocked into silence, and Mrs. Weasley finally was able to carry him out of the room, levitating tentatively behind her.
The stench of iron started to overwhelm him, and Harry's eyes watered. He looked at the ceiling, and noticed the sun and gear symbols were engraved into it. Finally realizing his wand was still pointed at the ceiling, he lowered it and snapped back into reality.
As in the typical fashion, questions began to overflow in his mind. Who was that kid? Why did he appear here? What were those symbols? It seemed Ron and Hermione were sharing his thought process, as usual. The three of them could practically read each others' minds. He gave them both a meaningful glance once they looked over at him, and the two nodded slightly.
Slipping out of the room was easy, since everyone was still in an uproar and looking about suspiciously, as though other people were going to drop out of the ceiling.
In the hallway, Fred, George and Ginny were already waiting. The common mischievous smirks had disappeared from the twins' faces, and Ginny looked somewhat troubled.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked, eyes so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
"As if we know! I hope that guy's okay..." Ginny said, trailing off and looking at the floor. Her hands nervously wrung out the bottom of her crimson sweater, and Harry longed to hug her and comfort her. A faint blush tinged his pale cheeks red at the thought. He dismissed it, and focused back on what had just happened.
"We should discuss this upstairs." Harry told them, and he began ascending the stairs two steps at a time, attempting to escape the heavy scent of blood that soaked the halls of the house.
Molly was incredibly confused.
The boy, as it had been revealed, had been bleeding severely, and had extreme wounds in both his stomach and chest. She had half a mind to bring him to St. Mungo's. He was incredibly scrawny as well, and she was extremely concerned. Honestly, it was a miracle he was still alive. It was as though he had been stabbed... The woman frowned. I'll have to ask him when he wakes up. The poor dear...
As she finished up recasting a few healing spells and was about to exit the room, a small groan echoed around the room. She looked back in surprise, and saw her patient slowly sitting up, hand on his head and eyes still closed.
She rushed over to check on him, once more worrying about his health.
"Shit, what happened?" He muttered under his breath, opening his eyes slowly. She only realized her mistake in how close her face was to his at that moment.
"Agh!" He recoiled away from her and scrambled backwards, successfully slamming his back against the headboard of the bed.
"Jesus fuck, ow!"
"You shouldn't be up yet, you're horribly injured. And watch your language!" Molly said sternly, frowning as she lightly shoved the boy down into bed. She noted how he had a strange accent. Perhaps he was American? Though she couldn't see why an American would break into the headquarters. He resisted against her, sitting up and looking around.
"Where the hell am I?" He asked with a fierce undertone, opening his eyes to glare at her. She unsuccessfully stifled a gasp as the irises were revealed to be not blue, green, brown, or any other typical color, but a bright, fiery red that seemed to glare into her very being. Power seemed to radiate off of him, and Molly was honestly doubting herself for a moment. They stayed like that for a while, vibrant red glaring into light, chocolaty brown. It was at that moment that she remembered that this child, no matter how skinny or young he may be, was a possible threat to the Order, and the wizarding community in general.
Then she had a thought. Remembering the sunglasses that had come with him, she held them out to him as a sort of peace symbol.
"I take it these are yours?" She said, her voice hiding how unnerved she was by this boy, and in particular, his eyes. I suppose that explains why he wears them, she thought, and for a moment wondered how it must have been growing up and having everyone treat him that way. The idea of it saddened her.
"Yeah. Thanks," he told her, taking the sunglasses and placing them on his face. Now that he was awake, she noticed how incredibly pale he was, and how the boy's blonde hair bordered on white.
"I'm Molly," she told him. "And you are?"
There was a moment of silence. For a moment, the boy's face contorted in pain. But it was gone so quickly that Molly could barely even convince herself it had happened. His expression was stoic and somewhat tense. But it wasn't laid back and calm; Instead, it was as though he was just holding back from crying.
"D-Dave," he finally managed to say. The boy - No, Dave, she chided herself - had looked unsure as he said the two words that should have been second nature. "That's it, though. What the fuck did I do to become an amnesiac?" He wondered out loud, looking at her with an accusatory eyebrow raised. Her motherly instincts were screaming at her to scold him for his language, but she held back. She had seen war enough to know that sometimes, age didn't matter in determining if you were a child or not.
Dave was definitely not a child.
"I'm not sure, Dave. But you remembered your first name, at least, and I'm sure it will all come back in time." She briefly wondered if he was telling the truth, or lying about his 'amnesia'. We always have Veritaserum to check, she told herself. But honestly, she wasn't sure what would be worse - Dave turning out to be a spy, or his memory actually being gone.
"That shit's hella depressing, dude. It's like that kid who keeps slurping through his straw, trying to get the last of the slushy even though there are only atomic-scale amounts of the slushy anymore, and you're just like 'Woah there champ slow down?' But no, that asinine little jerk-off just keeps on slurping, trying to make that invisible slushy count and all that happens is that weird sucking noise. Everyone's shaking their heads, because this tiny dumpass is shrieking about their cherry vomit juice being gone, and it's their fault for drinking it, and this little asshole won't shut up? And the slushy sorta sucked ass in the first place. It's pretty shitty, bro."
Mrs. Weasley could only stare.
"Just so you're aware, I don't trust you," Alastor had said to Dave as the younger sat in the library. "I'm convinced you're a Death Eater."
"You make it sound like I would care," Dave replied nonchalantly, eyes still trained on his book as he flipped a page. "I don't even know what that is. I've already told you that, haven't I?" His gaze left the book and looked up to the old Auror, and though his shades hid his eyes Moody could swear he was rolling them.
"I'm going to prove that you're untrustworthy. Everyone else here is too naive to notice on their own," Moody continued on. Part of why he was telling Dave was as a test to gauge his reaction. He wasn't wholly convinced that the kid was a Death Eater, but he was damn certain that he was the only one in the house with a proper amount of concern toward the kid.
Unexpectedly, a grin came to Dave's face, and its wideness seemed incredibly out of context for the current situation. Alastor's eyebrow raised. Dave's grin dimmed down into more of a smirk, though it was still cocky as ever.
Alastor decided that Death Eater or not, he really didn't like this kid.
"Whatever. I'm always up for a challenge, though. Shit's too boring around here."
And with that, he set the book aside, brushing past Moody as he walked out of the library. The Auror turned to watch him leave, Dave's golden blonde hair and self-assured strides making him pretty difficult to ignore.
Damned kid.
Thanks for reading! Please leave a review with what you thought.
Well, I hope you enjoyed! Also, thanks to my main bitch CittenKitCat for helping me out!
(btw in the first paragraph this is basically how it went down
"HO DON'T DO IT," SCREAMED THE ORDER
* MRS WEASLEY RUSHES TOWARD DAVE *
"OH MY GOD," SCREAMED THE ORDER IN RETALIATION
i couldn't help myself ok i am memelord)
