Disclaimer: I own no one from Harry Potter or Twilight. I wish I did, but I don't. I don't even own the computer I'm typing on.
Note: Holy crap, chapter three. Yeah. Hard to believe it's here isn't it? Sorry It took me so long, I was having a bit of writers block for a couple of days, then I caught the flu (this is going to sound horrible but I managed to write as Edward while I was sick and attributed that fact to feeling almost dead anyways.) Then I absconded to Italy for about a week. That word is fun, abscond… Anyhow since I obviously don't own a house I also don't own a laptop, and all Internet service at the hotels we stayed at would cost money. And I'm cheap. So that was a stall in it's production. Sorry bout that guys.
Again I would like to thank every person who reviewed, and put my story on their favorites list. It is an honor. A few people inquired upon my bike living dynamics. It is quite simple. I live on a regular old mountain bike. There are perks to living here (no mortgage, don't have to shampoo carpets and the like.) though the downside is that I have to ride over to my friend's house and utilize her shower…
Defy the Stars
Chapter 3
They had a problem, an issue, a hitch in their plans. Problems were normally something he could deal with. They were easily shooed from his agenda with a sweep of his own regal hand. Though that was few and far in between, he didn't do problems. Though this particular problem they should have seen coming (It was inevitable), should have taken steps to assure that it wouldn't come about. But it had, because they didn't.
Draco just barely flinched as a hand slammed down on the table in front of him. Reminding himself sternly to keep his composure, Malfoys never lost their cool over a small problem, a mere snag really. His grey eyes traveled up the arm to a furious rounded face framed by the traditional Weasley red hair. Though Molly Weasley could hardly be considered a snag. "-And you didn't think to tell us?" Her angry tone had his eyes just watering to look away from the woman's face. "I'm his mother for Merlin's sake!"
His eyes found their way to Harry. His dusty clothes, bad posture and ruffled hair paled in comparison to Draco's own immaculate appearance. His body was bent forward in his rickety wooden chair, his face sullen; looking thoroughly chastised. But Draco knew the signs, loathed as he was to admit it.
Harry's glazed eyes were trained on one spot on the well-worn table, sitting in the center of the crammed Burrow's kitchen. Harry may have looked like he was paying attention to Molly Weasley's tirade. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" His grey eyes grudgingly made their way up to Molly's face. The truth was Harry was meditating, he had withdrawn into his own mind; a habit that he had fallen into when times became unnecessarily stressful. It was a habit he developed shortly after mastering occlumency. Something, the only thing, that Draco envied about the brunette.
"What were you thinking?" Molly wailed, seemingly having worked herself out of the rage she had kicked up. Though one word out of Draco and it would be back with a vengeance, a fact of which he was reminded of when his hand received a sharp squeeze from Ginny. His jaw locked again, the retort dying on his lips. He gazed over at his beautiful wife. The best, that's what Malfoys wanted, and what Draco got.
Even though he and Ginny had married a couple of years ago, and conceived a child, Molly still didn't trust him. He held back a sneer as the older woman collapsed into a pitiably mismatched chair, making it creak. The sudden wail from the piece of furniture snapped Harry out of his trance. Ginny rose slightly from her seat to his left, her movements were hesitant. Her unseeing eyes shifted about merely out of habit. She seemed to make up her mind and stood from her chair, feeling her way around the table to where her mother sat. "He…he could have…could be-" The older red head sobbed unintelligibly as her daughter placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.
"But he's not." Ginny reassured her mother, embracing the older woman.
"It'll be alright, Mrs. Weasley." Harry inserted in a tired voice from his own seat. He stood slowly, "We'll get him back." He assured, a hard look falling onto his face.
Draco sneered then, feeling quite ill at the sight of all of them, bloody Gryffindors.
Green eyes, unfocused and underlined with heavy bags, scanned over the same sentence twice. Harry hadn't slept a wink since Ron had officially gone missing three days ago. They had tracked Mcnair's progress to Florida, where they promptly lost the trail. The second team, comprised solely of the Weasleys at the moment, were currently scouring the state, determined to locate a trace of some sort, anything to lead them to their missing family member.
His eyes roved tiredly down the next page, glancing over the moving picture of a vampire. He did an instant double take, the man reminded him strongly of Edward. The intense eyes, the pale skin, the inhuman grace... but it wasn't just Edward that looked like this, it was his whole family. Coven, he corrected himself after a short moment before he scowled at his own conclusion. He had jumped to that, he didn't know for sure. He hadn't even seen that much of Edward's family to begin with. Hell, he may have just as well leapt upon the decision and beaten it with a stick.
Harry rolled his eyes up at himself and dropped his head onto the book with a thump. His nose was pressed up against the pages and his eyes were focused on the couple of words in front of them. Ice cold…God damn it. But everything pointed to it! The boy's skin was abnormally cold when Harry had shaken hands with him. He limply raised his head to lean back in the stiff chair he had managed to snag in the Malfoy family library. Pouting at the ceiling, Harry's head drooped over the back of the chair. "Drop it. It's none of my business." Harry relentlessly berated himself quietly, only stopping to raise his head and flip the book shut to see the author's name, Henry McGregor. He flipped it back open with a disdainful sniff.
He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the idea, hand pushing his bangs back over his scar. But it lingered in his mind, lurking like one of Luna's wrackspurts. He pushed his thoughts back to Ron, and dutifully leaned over the book, looking for anything less than a werewolf that could help them defeat vampires. He refused to ask Remus to pull himself away from his wife, or ask any favors on his behalf. He returned to his book, skimming lightly through the pages until he reached a promising paragraph.
Tearing them apart and burning them worked, "But would just burning them do anything?" he inquired out loud, staring intently at the book as if he expected the answer to be revealed if he looked closely at the aged pages.
"You could try fiendfyre," Neville piped up from his left. Harry jumped at the sudden appearance of his friend. He turned to look tiredly at the taller, bulkier brunette.
"We could," Harry furrowed his brow and trailed off uncertainly. He repressed the urge to ask how long the other man had been standing there, knowing it was just long enough to incriminate his sanity.
Neville smiled and set his own set of books down; Harry thought he spied something herbology related amongst the titles. "But it is incredibly difficult." Neville continued in an understanding tone.
Running a hand through his unruly head of hair, Harry sighed and looked dejectedly down at the picture of the vampire. Again reminding Harry sharply of Edward, he pushed the boy from his mind once again. "It is." He agreed tentatively. Flipping the book closed, inwardly blaming it for all of his problems. He stared at the italic letters imbedded smugly in the front cover. The rather-large-for-sub-text-text spelling out a hateful name, McGregor. "What else is there? Incendio is too weak to properly affect vampires." He whined not breaking eye contact with the book's cover. Can you tell us that, McGregor? Harry thought at the book spitefully. A small glare worked its way onto his face.
Neville watched Harry scowl down at the book cover, passing it off as another of Harry's odd habits that appeared often enough when he was tired. "Maybe we could ask a Naturalist then?" He spoke slowly, almost carefully about them, his eyes watching Harry's reaction to the word.
Harry's green eyes strayed up to look at Neville, the spiteful expression dropping off of his face. He had heard of Naturalism before. They were a group of witches or wizards who believed that they could be one with their natural element. They believed that they could wield them as an extension of their own person, to better the world around them. They also held life in the highest esteem.
"Draco has a contact in one of the Norwegian colonies, I think." Neville continued, pulling a chair over from a surrounding table and settling into it as he spoke. He gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully.
Harry shifted in his chair, plucking at his earring in thought. They also believed that to use their powers for personal gain was to depreciate themselves and the element they harbored within themselves. He narrowed his eyes at his lap. The Naturalists honed their magic to be a conduit for a single element and could roughly control the direction of which they released that element. Harry wracked his brain for further information, but couldn't seem to remember anything further.
"I'm, not quite sure what element he-" Neville trailed off searching for the words. Control was implying too much power over the magic they dabbled in.
"Harbors?" Harry supplied in slight amusement.
Neville beamed at him. "Yes." He nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure he knows someone who harbors," he glanced at Harry gratefully for the word, "Fire."
Harry hummed, a doubtful look crossing his face. "That might work, if we found a fire naturalist powerful enough…though they might not agree with destroying the existence of another being no matter how…" He stopped there, twisting his right wrist around, at a loss for words, his face crinkled as if he had swallowed a lemon. He was debating between gross and deformed, not really thinking either appropriate.
"Dead?" Neville snorted, leaning forward in his chair, a broad smile stretching across his face as Harry snapped his fingers and nodded enthusiastically.
"Well," Harry grinned evilly at the book sitting on the edge of the table. "That concludes my study session. Thanks for the help, Nev." He turned a genuine smile at his friend who smiled back at him in return.
"Anytime mate," a minor pause and Neville shifted in his seat. "And Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Do me a favor and get some sleep." Neville all but ordered, not making it sound like a favor at all. Harry glared at the Mediwizard in training, who glared back just as fiercely.
"I'll try." He replied, stiffly unable to find a reason to sleep when he could be helping to find Ron.
"That's all we ask." Neville sighed wearily, dropping his glare as he rose from his own chair.
The roll, at the mercy of slender fingers, fell in little pieces onto the lunch tray. Topaz eyes burned into the abused hunk of bread. It had been five days since Edward had last seen Harry. Not that he had garnered many relevant answers out of that particular encounter. Edward glowered darkly at the half demolished roll.
The teacher had mysteriously disappeared that Friday, surrounding pedestrians had seen him enter an alleyway. He had rushed down it hoping to find the man, only to discover a dead end. It was almost as if Harry had been airlifted or teleported away, one of the many mysteries surrounding the British man.
Everything about Harry intrigued and frustrated him, drew him in and pushed him back at the same time. Edward knew that he shouldn't even be trying to get closer to the man; his scent alone drove him to the breaking point. He had nearly attacked him on his first day in class; his scent was so appetizing, so appealing. Gods, everything he did seemed to appeal to Edward. From the way he fiddled with his earring when he was nervous, to the faces he made when he was thinking. He was as readable as a book, yet so hard to understand, to grasp. His mind was shut tight, surrounded by some sort of wall.
Staring at the pile of crumbs on his lunch tray, Edward hissed softly at his own thoughts. The sound made Rosalie raise an eyebrow in his direction and Emmet to smirk at him. Jasper spared him a bemused expression; Alice's smile flickered widely before it was gone again. She delved back into focusing, trying to grasp the future of Harry Potter. That was another thing that Edward found frustrating, Alice could only get flickers and hazy visuals of the other man's more mundane future. A fact that annoyed the smaller girl as well.
He had already tried running from his attraction, his hunger. Needless to say he had been drawn back in. Like a drug, Harry was like his own personal drug. He let a smile slip onto his face.
Oh. Someone's obsessing again. Edward scowled at Emmet. The bulkier boy averted his eyes to the ceiling, his expression an attempt at innocence. Well you are. His lips were twitching upwards, and his eyes flickered back to Edward's own, chin still raised. Edward blocked out Emmet's thoughts and skillfully ignored Rosalie's louder, negative ones.
Letting loose an explosive huff, Edward stood gracefully, tray in hand, and dumped his food into the nearest trash barrel. He knew Emmet was right, he was being slightly obsessive. He was a danger, a monster, he would lose control, it was inevitable. He shouldn't be getting too close; he shouldn't want to know him. And yet, the hazy image of Harry brushing his teeth flashed through Alice's mind. I find myself doing just that.
The dagger's silver surface reminded Harry of a liquid as he slowly rolled it, the tip of the weapon digging a small hole in the polished tabletop. His calloused fingers walked around the black leather covered hilt in an almost spider-like fashion. He paused briefly in his actions when the light caught the blade just so; making the carved runes stand out starkly in comparison to the fluid-like silver they were engraved in.
It had been five days since Ron had been declared in mortal peril by the Weasley family clock. Harry began spinning the knife in the opposite direction a bit faster. They had tracked Mcnair and his newly acquired vampire coven to Florida; from there they made their way up the Atlantic coastline through New England and into Canada. His emerald eyes were still trained unblinkingly on the dagger. The bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.
He had tracked them to Canada at least before Malfoy and Longbottom had double teamed him and locked him in a room at the Malfoy manor located on the Isle of Man. They had claimed it had been for his own good, demanded he sleep without the aid of potions and relax while they handled the rest. They'd come get him when they found something.
They believed it was a gesture of true friendship, Harry disagreed. He was fine. He would be fine. As soon as he found Ron.
"Good lord, Potter!" Malfoy's astounded voice broke the melancholy silence that had surrounded Harry. His wide grey eyes roved the room over the broken picture frames, chairs, vases. His mouth had opened slightly as he finally forced himself to look at Harry. "When…How-Potter?" Draco sputtered meaninglessly as he gestured to the mess the smaller man had made of the room. He visually pulled himself together, jaw setting in a stubborn manner. "Five hours. You did this in five hours of being shut in here?"
"The first ten minutes actually." Harry intoned, sitting back in the chair, drawing Draco's attention to the hole he had all but carved into the table as he removed the knife. The smaller brunette, having settled his anger earlier by taking it out on his surroundings, now felt slightly vindictive towards his well-meaning captor.
"That was mahogany!" He sputtered, poise lost again to Harry's disastrous anti-furniture antics, forgetting for an instant that all of the damage could easily be repaired with a simple flick of his wand. Draco hardly lost his cool. However, when Harry put effort into it, he could easily get under the Malfoy heir's mask and pry it loose.
"And still is." Harry nodded at him looking out over the rest of the table where he had carved rough a map of America into it, marking it strategically.
"Potter!" Draco snarled warningly.
"Malfoy." Harry droned, a malicious smile playing at his lips.
"Neville," Both men turned their eyes upon the man leaning in the doorway, his eyebrow raised and the beginning of his sentence lingering in the air. "Sent me to get you two." Charlie's red hair was the same as always and a burn mark ran the length of his muscled arm. His short, stocky frame was a few inches taller than Harry's own more delicate one. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out Harry's wand.
Catching it when it was tossed to him, Harry smiled sheepishly at the elder Weasley and stood from his chair. "Thanks. Good to see you mate." He wiggled his wand in between his index finger and thumb, and brushed by Malfoy. Charlie nodded at him a smile stretching to crinkle the corners of his eyes, before he turned nonchalantly back into the hallway.
The sound of his heavy boots hitting tiles seemed to reinvigorate Draco, who whirled upon the slight brunette, an insult on his lips. He was however greeted by the back of the Boy-who-lived and a wand tip pointed over his shoulder. With a swift flick the room around Draco reverted to its original pristine condition, and the heel of Harry's boot disappeared around the corner.
"This isn't over, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, feeling slighted by the ease at which their ritualistic argument had been dismissed. He stalked out of the room and easily caught up with the shorter man. "Just because you fixed it doesn't make it all hunky dory." The last words were dripping with sarcasm and malice. Harry raised an unconcerned brow at him, mouth twitching in his amusement.
"Yes it does." Harry stated sounding mildly scandalized. "I broke it and then I fixed it." He gestured a little with his hands a dreamy look that resembled Luna's own settled onto his face. "Hunky dory," he concluded with a wispy tone in his voice.
Draco glowered at the other man. "It's not just that. It's the principle of the thing." His voice had a strained quality to it and Harry shrugged out of his odd mood swing to look at Draco in a slightly apologetic way.
"Well then, as a matter of principle, I owe you one."
Tonks was contemplating living out the rest of her pregnancy in the bathroom. She practically ran up the stairs, painfully aware of her screaming bladder, and all but threw herself down onto the toilet with a sigh. The baby had begun to put pressure on her bladder, and made it almost impossible to hold it for long periods of time.
She frowned and blinked at the giant pile of laundry sitting in an intimidating sort of tower across from her. Since Harry had left to search for Ron, the house had declined into a vicious state of disorder. Not that Tonks didn't mind some proper mess, and lack of organization, but it was beginning to disgust her. Remus had managed to figure out the dishwasher earlier that week, when the mound of dishes became over bearing to look at. The problem was that, while they had lived at least a year and a half in the muggle world without Harry in their lives before, they had sparsely used magic to do small things, like the laundry. But soon after Harry made his departure, Tonks had felt as if she were being watched. Call it auror intuition; she just didn't feel it was safe to use magic in the house.
Pulling her elastically inclined pajama pants back up, she washed her hands quickly before turning back to the pile of clothes with a determined look on her face. They hadn't attempted to figure out the washer and dryer in the basement, until today. It was Tonks' day off, and Remus would be at work until four. She had to face this alone and without magic.
Her shoulders lost their determined look and drooped a little at the prospect of lugging the whole monstrous mountain downstairs. She shook it off and, ignoring the almost continuous I'm-being-watched-feeling as best as she could, scooped up an armful of clothes.
If Remus were home he would have laughed, seeing her tentatively making her way down the stairs, eyes peeking warily around an arm load of laundry. She stepped off of the last step and felt around with her toes, making sure she wouldn't tumble down a stair by accident. She let out a sigh, and turned to make her way haltingly down to the five-yard by ten-yard basement.
Her thoughts were drawn back to Remus. He had been on edge lately, though he had assured her that it had nothing to do with the full moon being the night before. He was extra edgy, almost anal to a point, over protective. He would want her to call when she was going out, and coming back. Tonks knew it had something to do with the feelings she had been getting and suspected it was connected to the vampires he smelled on Harry after he came home from school. They were often a source of hostility in Remus, even though he tried to keep his opinion of them neutral, he couldn't help but be disgusted by them. He was a werewolf after all, and werewolves and vampires do not get on well at all. He had told her not to mention them around Harry. Tonks didn't dig too much farther into the matter.
She dumped the load of clothing into the machine to the left, remembering that Harry always used that one first. Pulling the giant orange bottle of Tide towards her, she could only find it in herself to blink at it as she attempted to figure out the mechanics of it. A small nozzle protruded from one end and she flipped the container so the nozzle was at the bottom. Now what? She shifted uncomfortably and picked up a small clear cup with various lines and numbers on the inside. She leaned down so she was eye level with it and scowled. "Maybe I should call Harry." She thought aloud to herself. Standing straight again she shook her head at her own idea, he had more than enough to deal with without her muddling in with a mundane problem.
About two minutes later the machine was making odd noises and spitting up fine foam all over the floor. Tonks stood at the base of the stairs, clutching the phone to her ear. Eyes trained on the washing machine warily, still debating whether or not to call Harry. She knew that magic and muggle didn't mix very well, having encountered a similar problem about half a year before with the dishwasher. As the foam crept towards the base of the stairs, growing in height as well, she quickly made up her mind. She fished about in her pajama bottom's pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. She quickly dialed the number into the phone and pressed talk.
The machine squealed and hissed as a new wave of foam emitted from the top of it. The phone rang twice then a click and an exasperated hello sounded at the other end.
"Harry?"
"Tonks is that you?" Harry's voice sounded different over the phone, different and surprised. Tonks didn't really blame him, seeing as they hadn't spoken for a number of days. She made an affirmative sound as the machine belched up another round of foam, this batch seemed colored. The foam had reached the stairs and was now overlapping itself.
"Is something-" Harry was cut off by a yell from the background that sounded suspiciously like one of the twins greeting her. Harry let out an exasperated breath. "Is everything alright?" He inquired, sounding tired and worried all in one. Tonks wondered briefly if the man had been getting any sleep.
"Not really." Tonks eyed the machine in front of her with a sort of resentment she reserved for the battlefield.
You could almost hear Harry snap to attention on the other end of the phone. "What?" He breathed out, the panicked sound in his voice made Tonks wince, she should have elaborated. "What happened? No one's hurt, right?"
Tonks' pulled a face at Harry, even though he couldn't see it. "You worry too much. It's nothing as serious as all that." She chastised him lightly and the machine clanked loudly from under its foamy veil.
"What was that?" Harry inquired sounding wary again. The basement, in Tonk's humble opinion, was far too small. The foam had covered the ground in less than ten minutes.
"The washing machine." Tonks huffed, aggravated.
His voice took on a resigned tone, "You tried to do the laundry." He concluded to himself more than anyone else.
"It's the thought that counts, right?" Tonks backed up to the second stair, just in case. She could almost see Harry pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I didn't interrupt anything important, did I?" Tonks added as an after thought, feeling slightly guilty at using up so much of her friends time.
"No…well, yes…but nothing I can't hear about later." Harry waved off the resigned tone creeping back into his voice. "Now, Tonks I need you to tell me what the washing machine is doing exactly."
Swallowing thickly, she glanced at the shuddering machine, the lid lifting above its foamy exterior to let loose a small wave of foam. "It's spitting up foam." She stated, drawing out the end of her sentence in a questioning manner. "Making angry noises, and shaking." She concluded tapping her finger against the backside of the cordless phone.
"How much foam is there?" Harry's voice held a certain amount of dread.
"Um." Tonks looked out over the basement. Most of the bubbles had popped leaving soapy water pooling across the cement floor; though a thin layer of the foam still floated on top of it. "There was a lot. Now there's about a quarter of an inch of water on the floor."
Harry breathed deeply, sounding to Tonks like static on the police car's radios. "First thing you need to do, Tonks, is to turn off the washing machine." He sounded like he was speaking through his hand, much like Remus did when he was extremely aggravated.
Nodding, Tonks hummed in agreement, sounding sheepish even to herself. "Then what about the water?" her inquiry surprised Harry.
"I…don't know." Harry stated slowly, sounding slightly put out by this particular revelation; then he muttered something to himself, most of which Tonks did not hear. What she did hear made no sense, "Bloody McGregor." She chose to ignore it, well aware of Harry's oddities by this point.
Humming in thought again, Tonks made to roll up her pant leg, pinning the phone to her shoulder with the side of her face. "Remus might know then." Harry made an affirmative noise. "Well, sorry to bother you about something like this, Harry." Tonks apologized.
"Oh! Oh no! No trouble at all!" Harry assured her, a smile in his voice.
"You're sure?" Tonks inquired.
"Positive. They just found where they're holding Ron, somewhere in Antarctica. They were just talking about the infallible defenses the place has." Harry explained as if he had been present for the whole meeting that Tonks call had dragged him out of. "Your call came as we were adjourning for a sort of research party." Harry reassured her once more. Tonks rolled up her second pant leg and bravely stepped into the thin layer of water.
Sloshing towards the machine that was still spitting small amounts of foam and making disagreeable noises, she let out an understanding "Oh," before reaching out and turning the dial into the off position causing the terroristic machine to cease it's grumbling at once. "Well, I suppose I'll let you go then." Tonks said, not wanting to hold up Harry's researching any longer.
"Alright, don't forget to call Remus about the basement." Harry reminded gently as they said their goodbyes and Tonks hung up the phone.
"Alright, let's get rid of you." She glared down at the water surrounding her feet, and jabbed the numbers she knew to be Remus' work number.
His eyelids were heavy; he struggled to keep them open. Glazed blue eyes focused on the white puffs of breath that flowed out of his mouth with every labored heave of his chest. He wasn't going to deny it, it was cold. His eyes drooped shut before a sharp jolt to his wrists made them fly open again. Ceasing momentarily in its violent shivering for a moment, his body started up again in even stronger tremors than before. Wiggling his numb fingers again, he grunted, reconsidering his statement about the temperature as an understatement. It was freezing, and the nearly open stone cell he was in certainly didn't help things. Shifting so that he was kneeling, he found it hard to maneuver his toes as well. His hands had been cuffed to the wall behind him and the manacles had been magically reinforced as well as spelled to keep him from falling asleep. Mcnair's doing, "Damn decent of the bloody wanker." His gruff voice quivered with him as he leaned forward so that the chains were holding him up, peering out to the left of his cell.
There, leaning against the wall, was a decaying young man dressed in tatters. Gaping mouth twisted in a slightly disturbing way, and dried up eyes sitting in the sockets. Its knees were distorted awkwardly, and its back was hunched over in a classical muggle zombie movie position. "Still there…" A lock of grimy red hair fell forward into his face as he let himself fall back heavily onto the wall, ignoring his numb fingers and toes the best he could. Mcnair had guards similar to this one everywhere just in case he did manage to get out.
Ron didn't quite fancy himself being bitten by one. The bite of a zombie slowly killed the victim, affecting the brain first until all functions were lost and the heart finally stopped. Consequently, this was where the muggle end got a bit hazy on the details, Ron found that they believed zombies rose on their own; when really it was the necromancer that raised the newly dead to strengthen his own army's numbers.
Ron twisted and pulled at the manacles around his wrists, testing their strength. He knew his daily rituals would produce no better results than the first time he tried. However, it didn't stop him from making an attempt.
Grunting, Ron pulled at his left wrist a bit harder than usual, not having felt as much pain or resistance as before. To his surprise, his left hand slipped a bit roughly out of the manacle. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and with a pained moan, moved his cramped arm around to have a look at his newly freed hand. He let his breath back out in a sharp hiss at the blackened and bleeding appendage. Though the blood was very sparse it was still there, as was the evidence of frostbite. He let his aching limb drop onto the dirty, snow-covered cell ground with a whispered cuss.
He sat there watching his own blood clot, finding the process oddly fascinating. His eyelids began to droop again as his head slowly bobbed its way forward onto his chest. This time he didn't bother attempting to stop himself as he drifted off. He was awoken again with a harsh zap to his right wrist and he jumped up with a curse, letting his weight pull his right hand harshly out of the manacle as he did so. He stayed as he landed, face down on the frozen stone floor, his breathing harsh and eyes closed. He slowly lifted himself up, and let himself rest against the wall, mind working furiously. Eyes still drooped with exhaustion.
A light clapping from the right of the cell made Ron's eyes widen and he reflexively pushed himself further against the wall. His face moved its way into a scowl of defiance as he shifted himself to look at the woman.
"He's loose." She stated in a sultry tone, eyes fixed on his face. "Would you really risk trying something so foolish?" She inquired; Ron presumed she spoke of him attempting to escape. Her bare feet were covered in snow, red hair littered with little white flakes that wouldn't ever melt from body heat. She stepped sideways in an almost seductive way towards his flimsy cell door. It squeaked when she opened it. His breathing increased, as she drew closer to him. "You won't make it." She stated in a breezy sigh, taking several more swaying steps towards him. Her dark eyes slowly looked him up and down. "Best not to try." She gave a whispery laugh that sounded quite practiced to Ron.
"Why do you care?" He inquired of her a bit more gruffly than he had intended. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, moving his attention to a point over her shoulder. The female vampire stopped all movement before taking the remaining steps towards his person.
"I would hate for you to meet an," she paused glancing at his neck in a suggestive manner, "untimely end." Her voice was breathless, black eyes trained on him as her fangs glinted in the dimming sunlight. She hadn't fed for quite some time, and obviously didn't feel like draining a polar bear or a penguin instead. He paled when she gripped his forearm, inhaling deeply by his neck. She groaned into his ear, tightening her grip when he attempted to move away. His neck prickled as her lips descended slowly towards it.
Seconds seemed to slow down into minutes until time caught up with an audible snap. Ron screamed in pain, squirming as if to get away from the extremity that caused him discomfort. "Bloody hell!" He ground out through his teeth, tears leaking out the side of his eyes. "Couldn't you have snapped her arm in two?" His voice was borderline hysterical. Spit flew from his lips as he turned his eyes onto the vampire responsible for hefting him all across the country. He stood tall in front of the crouched form of Victoria. Ron could only assume he had torn her away from him. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, he wore only an over coat and a pair of pants.
"You are not to touch the human. Not yet. Not while he is still of some use." The man's voice was firm, hard and unforgiving. Ron let out another pained noise as he tried to maneuver himself into a more comfortable position. The taller, bulkier male all but dragged the famished woman out of his cell. The door slammed shut with metal deforming force, and they were gone as quickly as they had come.
He huffed out a shaky, puffy white sigh and blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake. Harry had noticed he was gone by this point and was no doubt searching for him. He let himself slump lower against the wall, body still shaking from the below freezing temperatures as he cradled his broken arm in between his legs and torso.
He had to be looking for him; it was the only hope he had left.
Harry's usual study area had been invaded quite thoroughly, in his humble opinion. His friends had spread themselves out, Bill procuring Harry's usual table. Harry had managed to snag his favorite chair; though, he had been forced to evict once the twins descended upon him like a vortex of emotional discomfort.
Bill stared out over the library's occupants solemnly, "The wards are poorly constructed, but still effective." He stated quietly, a hint of frustration clear in his dark eyes.
"So it's not going to be an easy get in, kill the bad guys and get out kind of job." Neville interjected in a slightly dejected tone, his hand squeezed Luna's right knee as she stroked his spine with a long, orange painted nail. Neville, being a Medi-wizard in training, did not find himself to be fond of prolonged fighting. He had already worked with broken soldiers from the war. The forgotten aftermath, the uncelebrated heroes.
Shaking his head in the negative, Bill shifted his attention to the bulkier man. "Unfortunately." Bill leant heavily on the table he stood in front of. "Set the wards off and they fall. The wards fall and Mcnair will know we're there."
Fred and George scowled and summed the end results up in a collective whisper, "And raise his undead army." George seemed to sit a little higher into the chair he had snagged from Harry and Fred let his forehead fall on top of his brother's head at the thought of zombies.
"With all of the room he's got in those wards of his, the army is most likely massive." Draco intoned, his face held an expression of mild disgust.
Leaning forward, Harry hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth, though a bit louder than was necessary. "I sense a 'but' somewhere in there Bill." He shifted slightly on the hard tiled library floor, glaring at the Weasley twins half-heartedly.
"Not a but per say…" Bill sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But there is a problem."
"That was technically a but Bill." Charlie pointed out before he withdrew from the conversation once again.
Bill sent his brother a look. "Magic that hasn't been keyed into the wards sets them off." He sent a look out over the cluster of familiar faces.
"All types of magic?" Luna inquired airily, her eyes peering uncannily into Bill's own.
Bill shifted a bit and looked at her, still uncomfortable around the distant woman. "Yes, even portkeys, apparation, and brooms…." He trailed off as the problem became apparent to the rest of the room, waiting for someone to state what they already knew. After a couple of minutes of heavy silence Bill gave up. "It would take days to travel from the ward limits to his stronghold." Ginny heaved a heavy sigh at his words.
"We don't have time for that." The blind woman all but hissed. Her red hair falling over her shoulders as she stood, unfolding her guiding cane as she went.
"Isn't there anything we can do?" Neville inquired, looking quite frustrated.
Luna paused in stroking Neville's back, her eyes found their way to Bill's again. "Is there anything the wards could have missed?" She paused as Bill shrugged and shook his head, "Magical creatures," A negative looking stare was directed at the mysterious blonde, "Muggle vehicles?" Here Bill had to pause.
Bill's face shifted from frustration to realization. "That actually might work." Luna smiled knowingly and leaned back in her seat, continuing to stroke Neville's spine with her right index finger.
"Now we need a decent battle plan." Draco stated. "Preferably something that will surround him."
"And not involve you in the muggle bit." Fred grinned at the pure blooded man standing a few feet away.
Draco lifted his head up proudly and sniffed indignantly at the twins. "Malfoy's do not lower themselves to such levels." His lips lifted at a corner.
The pack of snowmobiles revved their way over the more or less flat-if-not-at-a-slight-upward-angle frozen wasteland in front of them. Slight hills and outcroppings could be seen almost continuously in the distance. Harry grimaced down at his wrists through the dark visor of his helmet for a moment, missing the weight of his gauntlets. The twins had made them for him a year and a half ago, as a Christmas present when they learned that he was rubbish at tracking. They had imprinted runes into them to notify him when dark magic had been used heavily in an area. The runes had also allowed him to extend some extremely basic accidental magic through them, nothing as advanced as a spell. The magic released was more of a push or pull sort of deal, weak but effective when necessary. Because of their magical properties he had been forced to take them off for the time being, otherwise they would have gone off as soon as he had entered the wards.
They had come up with a suitable plan. One team would wait back at the manor, the other two would approach Mcnair's base from opposite sides. One would scale the cliff; the other would approach from the arctic tundra. As soon as the two teams infiltrated the base, the third team would be free to apparate into the building and assist in apprehending Mcnair.
Harry stared at the back of Neville's helmet as he made a crackling comment into the communication link. "The wards are just ahead. We should reach the midway point in about thirty minutes if we keep the speed at sixty miles an hour, over." Bill revved his engine in reply and sped up a bit more to come level with Harry on his own snowmobile.
The channel fizzled once more, "You boys just got to the wards? Over." One of the twin's voiced over impatience lacing the tone clearly though the slim film of static.
"We got to the cliff twenty minutes ago. Over." The other twin piped up a grunt at the end as he most likely hefted himself up another foothold in the steep cliff that Mcnair's hideout overlooked.
"Oho." Harry smirked into the small microphone inside of his helmet, eyes narrowing at the unspoken challenge the twins had provided them with. "How far up the cliff are you blokes? Over." He inquired, a doubtful tone in his voice; the cliff had been estimated at least a couple hundred foot climb.
"About a quarter of the way there, Potter. Over." The second smug twin's voice answered him with a smile in his voice as a clank from their climbing gear echoed into Harry's earpiece.
"I seriously doubt that Fred. Over." Bill scolded lightly, feeling the rise in spirits as they closed in on their brother's captor.
"I'd like to remind you," The sixth voice drawled out then paused for a second to search for a word, "gentlemen." Draco stopped presumably to roll his eyes from where he sat with Luna and Ginny in Malfoy manor. "That this channel isn't for idle chat. Over." The last word was nearly growled out by the Malfoy heir.
"Oh pish posh Malfoy, old bean!" Fred laughed in a false tone before his connection fizzled out, the man not bothering to say the customary 'over'.
"A load of codswallup, my good man!" Came the slightly deeper tones of the second twin, his voice as drawn out and drawling as his twins. Harry swore he could hear the smile in their voices.
Neville ducked his head, most likely snorting at the twin's antics, before he straightened out again.
Ginny's crackling chuckle made it's way to Harry's ears next. "By the way, guys," She interjected into the conversation; Harry smiled at her voice and looked quickly up at the full moon hanging overhead in the clear sky. "Draco forgot," She paused when a droning background noise, that sounded vaguely like Malfoy, interrupted her. She snorted, "Okay, sorry, neglected to inform you that Blaise Zabini, that naturalist Neville was asking after, will meet you at the half way point. Over."
"Bit late to be including the other kids in the game isn't it? Over." Bill inquired swerving his vehicle between Neville's and Harry's.
"Well, naturalists don't exactly have conventional mean of communication, Bill." Ginny chastised back, "It took longer for the owl to find them and get back to us." She paused after her explanation, "They said they'd act as a mediator between you and the vampires. Over."
"Wait, you said they, plural. Last I checked, Blaise Zabini was only one person. Over." Fred's voice interjected.
"He said he might be bringing a friend along with him. Over." Ginny clarified to the man as his snowmobile fell back level with Harry's.
"A friend? What is this, a dinner party? Over." George's voices grunted as they hauled up on the cliff face.
"Might as well turn into one if all we're doing is mediating. Over." Charlie's voice cut through evenly.
"Mediate?" Neville inquired. "Then how are we going to take care of the Vampires?"
Ron glared at the twisted cell door before he raised his booted foot to kick it. The action jarred his broken arm and he hissed in pain, rocking backwards as if the motion would soothe his agony. "Bloody Christ."
Slight movement out of the corner of his eye made Ron halt all unnecessary movement, his blue eyes slowly drifted to his dead puppet guard. He cautiously peered at the grotesque being from under his unkempt fringe, inhaling deeply as its leg twitched forwards. Its right eye rolled out of its socket and dangled in front of the agape mouth. Moments passed before the zombie closed its mouth with an icy sounding crack, flakes of flesh fluttering to the ground as it stood. Its shriveled eyes swiveled to stare directly at Ron's hunched over form not inches in front of the damaged cell door. The action was made two times more gruesome when the right eyeball had to swivel in an entirely different direction to accomplish this.
The zombie tilted its head, eyeball swinging slightly, as it assessed the situation at hand. Ron backed away from the door slowly, praying that the zombie would just become catatonic again. Righting its head to a semi-upright position, the undead creature paused for another moment before its jaw opened and a deafening high pitched screech emitted from it.
"Damn!" Ron covered his ear with his good hand instinctively, the appendage still blackened at the fingertips. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to drop it to his side and twisted himself so his left side was facing the door, broken arm shielded from the heavy metallic force that blocked him from freedom. He backed away, giving himself ample distance between himself and the door. His blue eyes glanced up quickly at the still wailing zombie. He inhaled deeply and let it out in a desperate war cry as he launched himself at the door. Straining against the bolts of pain that shot down his right arm, Ron rammed himself into the door again. It moved slightly and Ron's resolve hardened, he had to get out now. Harry or no Harry, Ron could not afford to wait for him any longer.
Harry turned sharply at the sound of movement behind him, his feet kicking up snow and ashes of previously burned undead. His wand arm moved upwards, an incendio on his lips. The zombie let out a sharp scream; jaw dropping lower than it should have been possible. Black spittle flew from its open mouth and into Harry's face. The brunette drew backwards slightly, eyes half lidded and eyebrows raised in a disbelieving sort of disgust. His wand was still poised in mid swish. His arm seemed to lower itself by itself, and he used his own sleeve to wipe away the thick opaque substance. "Alright. That was gross." He murmured to himself frowning heavily at the undead being that was exhaling heavily in his face.
The shorter human gagged at the heavy stench of death that flowed from its-Harry took a second glance at the creature with a skeptical eye- her mouth. He made a sharp noise of disgust. With a sharp flick of his wand, a red beam of light cut through the zombie's midsection. The zombie crumpled to the ground still making screeching noises in protest to Harry's sudden apparation.
Everything had been going smoothly; they had just reached the halfway point when the ground had started to shift slightly. Within seconds, what had begun as a gentle motion quickly turned violent as undead mobs rose from the ground in patches. Harry, not being a karmic favorite within the universe, had been dislodged from his vehicle and his group. He had urged them on, however, he would catch up. It was minutes later that the wards fell, sending a shudder through Harry's spine.
He had been relieved of his jacket and helmet shortly thereafter by a horde of decaying creatures, that he had been unfortunate enough to apparate into. The sound of revving engines from behind him caught his attention. He turned about, glancing at the growing forms of Neville and Bill before he clicked his tongue, a grin on his face. He apparated, the squeezing feeling lasting but a moment before he felt himself drop onto the back of Bill's snow mobile seat. The man cried out in surprise turning his unprotected head to look with astonished eyes into Harry's laughing ones, the vehicle swerved slightly to the side causing Harry to grip Bill's waist. The man grudgingly turned back to look in front of him, his cursing barely heard over the vehicle they rode. The slight brunette peered over the red head's broad shoulder to see a second form riding with Neville as well.
Harry gained Bill's attention with a poke of his finger into the man's abdomen. "Bill!" At the man's slight bob of the head Harry continued. "That Zabini?" He pointed at Neville's vehicle with the finger that had previously jabbed the older man in the stomach. Another bob of the head, though this one had an air of exasperation.
Harry nodded and slid down in his make shift seat, knowing the other man wouldn't see his gesture.
His legs burned and his feet slapped harshly against the ground. The lack of feeling in his toes made it difficult to stay coordinated and the pain in his arm kept him from concentrating correctly. Apparation would be almost impossible without harming himself further. Ron huffed loudly as he turned the next corner, stopping when his arm twinged uncomfortably from its position against his chest. He pressed his back against the cold stone, inhaling through his teeth. He rolled his head downwards as he heard the groans of another group of undead from around the corner, presumably from the other end of the hallway.
The red head pushed himself away from the wall, staggering slightly as his muscles spasmed. "Damn." He swore again, the word was quickly becoming his favorite. He hobbled a couple of steps before moving slightly faster at a jog. The groaning from the pursuing zombies spurred him on at a faster rate. Despite all of his injuries and the desperate situation he found himself in, Ron considered himself lucky he hadn't stumbled upon the coven of vampires. He huffed as his feet dragged on the ground, putting in some extra effort to lift them up higher.
Ron had been loose for what he estimated was really about a half an hour when it felt like a lifetime. Even though he was farther from his prison, he had never before felt so helpless and trapped. He rounded yet another corner barreling past a zombie and inadvertently knocking its arm off at the shoulder with a crunch. Ron snarled in impatience, if he had his wand he could apparate and end the madness; though with his lousy luck Mcnair had destroyed it.
Slowing when he came to the next corner, he peered around it. The sudden tilt in his body weight propelled his body forward awkwardly. Ron grunted in surprise and regained his balance jerkily, eyes on his feet. His size twelve feet shuffled to a stop, toe to toe with another set of feet. His blue eyes narrowed at the gray pair of feet, flickering down to the thick yellowing toenails. Ron's eyes traveled up the hunched form and stared into the gaunt rotting face of a zombie. The horrifying face was the last thing Ron saw before a sharp blow to the back of his neck sent him careening into oblivion.
His feet pounded against the slippery stone floors in the dark under levels of Mcnair's hideout; the freezing temperatures hardly bothering his sweat covered body. Harshly letting a curse fly ahead of him into the dark, Harry watched as it flared, illuminating the narrow hallway. Harry allowed himself to run into the nearby wall, using his arms as springs to launch himself to the right and continue on at his relentless pace. "Ron!" Harry called out not slowing down. A harsh blow to his left side sent him careening into the rough stone wall a distinct crack was heard when he hit, though Harry felt no immediate pain. The wizard tumbled to a stop, bruised and panting, glasses flying off and skittering loudly down the corridor. He twisted around awkwardly on the ground, emerald eyes locked onto dirty dark skinned feet, bare and unaffected by the below freezing temperatures. His eyes shot up to meet with the blood red eyes of his attacker. A sneer worked its way onto Harry's features.
"No need to call him." The man flashed a brilliant yet deadly smile at him, standing only a few feet from Harry's crumpled form. His thick accent sounded deceptively calm and soothing. "He can't hear you." The smile stretched wider and Harry snarled in rage, swinging his wand arm in a sweeping motion. The burning hex sailed into the wall adjacent to Harry, missing where the vampire had been.
"Shut up," Harry spat through clenched teeth as his ribs began to ache harshly. He attempted to rise from the floor despite the pain. "Just shut up."
The dark skinned vampire made a tisking sound from behind Harry. The-boy-who-lived crumpled back onto the slick floor the wet from it sinking into his shirt and pants creating more of a chill than it had before. "And here I thought that killing you would have been more of a challenge." Harry was positive that if he could see the vampire's face his grin would have rivaled the Cheshire cat's. The pain in the young man's ribs was almost unbearable; even so Harry managed to throw himself over onto his back, wand extended towards the vampire. He did not foresee the wand being plucked easily from his grasp and tossed carelessly over one broad shoulder of the dark skinned creature that loomed over him. Hungry eyes peering into his own, moving forward to fill Harry's blurry vision, every line on his perfect face sharper than it had been minutes before, every detail vivid. As he got closer the air around him seemed to grow warmer.
As the vampire closed in on his neck Harry was certain that the increase in temperature was part of the deathbed experience. At least he was, until a shielding charm wrapped around him causing the vampire to back up a few feet, confusion coloring his features. Features that were not there seconds later when an uncontrolled blast of fire enveloped his being. The blinding white caused Harry to close his eyes momentarily. Once he felt it was safe, Harry allowed his eyes to focus on the approaching dark skinned man in nothing but a pair of pants. The heat in the corridor seemed to linger with the man that Harry haltingly recognized as Blaise Zabini. His eyes then flickered to the bright red mop of hair that rounded the corner, considerable lighter skin, his breath stopped for a moment. "Harry?" Bill's voice, Harry released his breath. "Harry, are you alright?"
The considerably broader man knelt down next to Harry briefly, gripping his shoulder roughly. The smaller prone man let out a strangled cry of pain that caused Bill to remove his hand as if Harry had burned him. He eased his way around Harry glancing at the charred corridor, eyes lingering for a moment on an indistinguishable lump of glowing red metal and glass, a puddle on the floor, most likely Harry's missing glasses. They then wandered to the still smoldering wand that lay beyond that, winking at him from the darkened edges of the hall. Bill's left foot toed a neat looking pile of ashes. "Got the Vamp."
"My glasses. Bill, can you find my glasses?" Harry inquired, not moving an inch, breathing becoming more difficult for him by the minute. "My wand too." Harry added as an after thought voice sounding winded.
Bill looked again at the other man's destroyed affects as Blaise moved closer to Harry examining the younger man. "Erm," Bill scrunched up his nose. "The fire kind of…" He trailed off letting Harry piece it together himself.
Harry blinked back tears. "Even my wand?" He whispered to himself, the sound of his voice amplifying as it bounced off of the walls.
"I'm sorry Harry." Bill intoned softly, eyes averted from the man lying on the ground. He let the silence consume them for a few moments, tense atmosphere building. "We should probably go on." Bill broke the melancholy pause, striding forwards a few steps.
Lifting his eyes from Harry's mop of dark brown hair, Blaise eyed Bill skeptically. "Weasley, we don't know if Potter's even in the condition to be moved." He looked back down at the man at his feet. "For all we know it could be his back that's broken."
"Then you stay here." Bill turned and gave Blaise a look that Harry didn't catch.
"It's not my back." Harry interjected. Gazing up at the ceiling a determined look in his eyes.
With a sigh Bill turned himself away from the two again. "Zabini," he began only to be interrupted by Harry.
"Just go, Bill." The man's voice was resigned and tense. "The sooner we get to Ron the better." Bill nodded and took off at a run down the corner, the sound of his steps fading gradually.
"I thought you were a pacifist." Harry drawled out, exhaustion coloring his voice as Blaise crouched down nearby peering at Harry, as if he could figure out what was wrong without touching him.
"They bloody well ripped my pants." Zabini stated in way of answer, voice gruff with emotion, Harry quirked a tired brow at that. "What? They're my only pair; I'm allowed to be titchy about my pants every now and then. Besides, everyone knows that zombies and vampires aren't properly alive anyhow. Ruins the balance of things if they're allowed to exist in large numbers like this, it's almost a blessing that they can't copulate naturally." The darker man rambled in a valid attempt to drown out the silence.
"Copulate?" Harry snorted, eyes hooding as he allowed Blaise to prod at his right arm for a couple of moments. The thick calloused fingers worked their way haltingly down his extremity the man inquiring if he hurt every so often.
"Hey!" Harry instinctively twisted away from Blaise's fingers as they got closer to his ribs, he winced as the pain spiked with his movement.
Blaise ceased his inexperienced prodding with a grunt and a wince of his own. "Sorry," The apology sounded hollow, "I'm not exactly a mediwizard like Longbottom." The man's dark gaze redirected itself to the hallway behind him, the groaning of Zombies echoing eerily down it every so once in a while.
"That's not it." Harry dragged the sentence out confusion coloring his voice. Blaise looked back at Harry, their eyes meeting. Harry remained silent not quite knowing how to phrase what he wanted to say. His eyes moved from Blaise's face to the ceiling.
"Well, then what was it?" Blaise pushed on impatiently after waiting a minute or two for Harry to continue.
"Mcnair, what happened to him?" Harry inquired after the wizard they had seen briefly during the battle on the upper floor before he scurried away to the lower levels.
Blaise scowled at a stone in the wall next to him. "Can you stand?" He inquired and Harry allowed the change in topic for the moment.
"Probably not by myself." Harry informed the taller boy as he eased his way to Harry's other side and began helping him up. "Are you going to answer my question or play doctor?" Blaise halted and gave Harry a sidelong glance.
"You know that sounded right kinky don't you?" Blaise informed the man as he slipped Harry's left arm over his shoulders and grasped the other man's waist with his own right hand.
Harry grunted in pain at the transition, "Didn't mean it like that." He strained out as they took slow halting steps down in the direction that Bill had gone.
Blaise nodded his head and rolled his eyes, "Mcnair." He stated the name in a spiteful tone and Harry tilted his head towards him. "As soon as we started gaining ground and you had gone below he ran off." The dark skinned man grunted as Harry faltered and he was forced to support all of his weight. "Then that oversized tick went after you." He simplified as they reached the corner and turned tentatively. "And here we are. No one knows if Mcnair is still in the building or not."
Inhuman screeches and moans echoed down the hallway, Harry took that as a clear sign that the necromancer was still alive and well. They continued onward, wary of what might come their way. Blaise opened his mouth to say something when a wayward spell hit the wall only meters in front of them. The hallway shook and Harry would have toppled over had it not been for Blaise's firm grip on his waist.
"Stay." Blaise stated firmly pointing an index finger at Harry's nose as he helped Harry lean against a wall. "I mean it, Potter. Don't you dare move. You're in no state to do anything now." Then he was gone down the hallway.
Normally Harry reveled in his sightlessness, enjoying how the colors softened and blurred together. But now he watched the blurry lights and dark deformed blobs bob and weave, the slightly discomforting images were accompanied by alarming noises. It was almost impossible for him to tell who was winning. The young green eyed man grit his teeth in frustration and despite his powerless state he used the jutting stones in the wall to help him crawl along it towards the action. His last silver knife seemed to weigh more on his hip than it did earlier. He had lost a majority of them in battle; he was still not very good at throwing them. The walk seemed to take forever and his ribs ached and throbbed, and shot fiery pain through his body when he moved wrong.
He finally reached the corner, sounds of battle more pronounced than ever. He used the corner to help him peer around it. Spells were flying everywhere; the main target was a slim blur that had its blackened back to him. Harry guessed that the man was Mcnair. He pushed off marginally from the corner taking in the scene before him. The necromancer seemed to pulling bodies out of the ground and putting them between him and his attackers. Harry scowled and slowly drew his last knife, knowing that his next action could end badly. He'd never actually hit his target before, his lack of practice aiding in his almost constant failure.
With a short snarl Harry let the knife fly in Mcnair's direction hoping for at least a moment's distraction so that his comrades would be able to apprehend him. Harry inhaled painfully and crumpled to the ground in pain just as the projectile hit Mcnair in the shoulder. The necromancer doubled over with a pained wail, sounding almost inhuman. A second later his form dropped to the ground courtesy of a binding curse. His pained sobs turned into hysterical cackles. "You're," He paused, still chuckling to himself, "You're all too late."
"What?" Draco huffed out a sneer etched onto his face. His usually immaculate appearance was ruffled and his clothing was smeared with a wet black substance. All the blonde got in response to his demand was a manic laugh.
Ginny stepped forward her milky white eyes glaring out from the dark scars around them, her face grim and collected. "What are you talking about Mcnair?" The blind girl demanded, slowly, threat in her voice.
"WHERE IS HE?!" Fred roared stepping forwards and hefting the man up by the thick ropes that bounds him.
His face was twisted into an ugly smile, eyes wild and wide darting from person to person. "He's all ready gone."
It was hot, too hot. He felt like he was dying over and over again. This was hell, what he got for taking so many lives; He had taken lives hadn't he? He couldn't remember anything, not through the fire. There was too much pain, too much suffering to think, to do anything but breathe and scream. He let a raspy cry slip past his lips; the fire crawled through his veins. His hands rose to claw harshly at himself, he needed to get it out, to get the burning out of him. It was taking him piece by piece, eating at him for what felt like a lifetime. His magic snapped back trying to lash out at the fire. Trying to hinder its movement through his veins. Running rampantly through his body in an electric current, it spurred his weak movements. The fire had spread to his magical core tearing into it as well. Weakening it, devouring it.
His eyes were wide open, skittering around the dark ceiling, figures moved in and out of his peripheral vision. Having begged them for mercy had never worked before, now he had deemed them the demons in his purgatory. Ice-cold hands gripped him harshly, pulling his hands away from himself, stopping him from removing the pain. His magic zapped him harshly, as if reprimanding him and the burning feeling seemed to flair. Brilliant red eyes stared into his own pain filled ones, and a hideously white grin spread its way over the face of his own personal demon. "Now, now child," his voice was deep, patronizing. The tormented man wasn't listening to him; his focus was on the frigid hands of the newcomer.
"Please," he whimpered in a harsh voice, barely above a whisper. "Just kill me," He breathed out before he writhed from the pain, eyes squeezing shut. "Stop toying with me, and just kill me!" He snarled in finality, his magic stinging his captive's hands harshly. The man didn't seem to notice.
A stark bark of laughter assaulted his abused senses. "I already have Ronald, I already have."
Review Please. I would love to know what's wrong and what you thought of it. Again I'm very sorry It took me so long, but I'm confident that this chapter was pretty good. Tell me if you think otherwise as well. Again: review, review, review, review!
