Warnings: violence and death.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
It is possible that there are spelling or grammatical mistakes. If you see them, please notify me and I'll rectify it.
Enjoy!
Unbreakable Ties
Chapter 2
":…:" Parseltongue.
oOoOoOo
It was chaos. Spells flew everywhere and it became harder and harder to avoid getting hit. Especially while defending one of their fallen friends.
It had started out so well. The wards had been old and powerful. Money had been no issue which meant that they had been well-maintained. But Bill had always been good with wards and ancient runes – one of the reasons he had become a curse breaker in Egypt – and he was skilled enough to take the ancient wards down. At least temporarily.
They had not encountered anyone once they had entered the well-maintained grounds surrounding the manor. They had also not encountered anyone once they had entered the actual manor.
In fact, they had not encountered a living being – neither with their magic or with their senses – until they had entered the family wing. The halls had been empty and clean. The library had been empty and clean. The cellars and dungeons has been empty and clean. The kitchen had been empty and clean. There had not even by a single sign of the presence of house elves, except for how clean everything was.
Everything they had seen had been empty and clean, with no sign of either living beings, items that could be classified as dark, items of considerable value or even portraits. It was as if the manor was slowly losing its liveliness. As if the Malfoys were losing their money and were forced to sell all their valuables. He wondered briefly if You-Know-Who had anything to do with the emptiness of the manor, but he quickly pushed that thought away.
And they were nearly ready to assume that the manor truly was empty. Right until they had finally stumbled upon the family wing. Because the moment they had entered that wing all Hell had broken loose.
Lucius Malfoy was in a bad shape but he attacked as fiercely as ever as soon as they came within view. Bellatrix Lestrange might have lost her right eye but she was just as dangerous as before. The Lestrange Brothers might have been weakened after Azkaban in a way the only female Lestrange never had, but they were still capable of some impressive magical feats. Narcissa Malfoy might look delicate but she cared deeply for her family and she fought back like a cornered wild-cat.
And Draco Malfoy might be underage, but he had been tutored in the magical arts since he had been young.
And lastly, the house elves might be treated badly, but they were still loyal to the family. And their underhand tactics were just as, if not even more dangerous than, the dark spells that were fired towards them.
Mad-Eye Moody had been the first one to go down, courtesy of the combined effort of Bellatrix Lestrange and a lucky shot of two house elves. Tonks had been next, quickly followed by Charlie as he attempted to defend her downed body. Oddly enough, they were all still alive as far as he could see. But they would not be getting up any time soon.
Luckily enough, the also managed to take out Draco Malfoy rather quickly as he was not used to fighting. Not like them. Not like his family.
He just kept on fighting, even as he tried to shield his fallen brother. His spells became more and more desperate as they were quickly surrounded by the smaller number of enemies and their own group became smaller and smaller as Hestia and Fred were both taken out shortly after one another.
A nasty curse hit Kingsley and he grabbed at his wand arm with a sharp, pain-filled breath. His wand clattered onto the floor. His own nearest opponent, Rodolphus Lestrange, got briefly distracted by the sound of wood on expensive stone but it was enough for him. His curse connected with the oldest Lestrange and he was blown back against the wall with a loud crash. He did not get up again and blood started to appear around his head. The first of the Death Eaters to fall, though he doubted that he had killed the man.
But they had already lost six of their own at that point and the three of them were not enough to defend their fallen allies against five well-trained Death Eaters. Especially because the loss of her husband had angered Bellatrix Lestrange enough that she started to use more deadly spells and curses than before. Relatively harmless cutting and torture curses were now exchanged for clearly dark curses meant to kill and red and green beams often left her wand.
It didn't take long before a bright red Crucio hit George and he was downed with a toe-curling scream of pain. The one good eye of the female Lestrange lit up with pleasure at the noises she managed to wrench from him.
It was only a spell send her way by Bill that finally stopped the torture curse as the crazed woman was forced to duck out of the way. But it didn't stop her from levelling her wand on his younger brother. Nor did that stop her from shouting the Killing Curse towards his panting and heaving form.
George wouldn't be able to move out of the way in time. Nor would Bill be able to stop the curse as he was currently engaged with both adult Malfoys. He himself had no clear shot to stop the curse with any magical means he could think of. So he did the only thing he could do. He raced forward and jumped in front of the curse.
Time seemed to slow down as the green light of the spell came closer as he moved forwards. He had so little time before it would reach him, but he was determined to save the others. It was the last thing he could do after he had betrayed his own family so cruelly. He focused all his magic and just wished. Wished for them to be somewhere safe.
He ignored the tear that made its way alongside the bridge of his nose as he focused on his wish to see the others safe and the green curse flying towards his younger brother.
The last thing he heard before he and the curse collided and everything became black was his older brother's desperate voice calling out for him.
oOoOoOo
It was disorientating, waking up after he had retreated into his ow mind. It was especially disorientating as he couldn't quite remember why he had retreated as far into his mind as he had.
Nor could he remember how he had gotten into the small, white room he was currently laying in. Especially because the white room was completely unfamiliar to him.
The room was completely white, with a small window high upon the wall. He wouldn't be able to see through it if he were standing – it was simply too high – but he could catch glimpses of the grey sky in his current position. The bed he was lying on was hard and white. The covers were white, his pillow was white. The small night table was white. Everything was white and boring. Even the two doors leading elsewhere were white.
He focused on the reason why he was in the white room. He had retreated into his own mind. He was aware that his retreat had been partially caused by Voldemort. The loss of Sirius combined with the betrayal of his grandfather had been too much.
But that didn't explain why he had sank as deep as he had. Nor did it explain why he had been dragged out of his mind so abruptly. The last handful of times he had retreated he had woken up like he had gone to sleep: slowly and painlessly. This time, the change from being inside his mind to going back into reality had been abrupt and not unlike the feeling of a trip with a portkey.
He vaguely remembered a familiar, possessive voice but he couldn't remember the words that voice had spoken. Nor could he remember why it had felt familiar. He just remembered that something was wrong with that voice.
His confused mussing was interrupted as Madam Pomfrey entered his room. Her very presence did explain the whiteness of the room. It, however, did not explain how he had gotten there. He distantly remembered talking to Voldemort before he had retreated inside his mind. He remembered accusing the snake-like male of betrayal. But mostly, he remembered the still painfully raw loss of Sirius. His godfather and the last family member, though not by blood, that meant anything to him.
"We are pleased to have you back with us," the school nurse told him kindly, "how are you feeling?"
He just shrugged. He didn't actually know how he felt. He was confused. He felt he loss of Sirius. And he felt betrayed.
She quickly cast a wide arrange of spells he had never heard of. Nor did he see what the spells did, but her hums of satisfaction or confusion showed that they did something.
"You are in a decent shape physically. A bit too thin, but your wounds healed well and there is no lasting damage. Your magic levels are a bit on the lower side of normal, but some rest will fix that," she stated resolutely as she looked at him sternly, "we'll have to wait to see how your mental health has been affected by your stint into your own mind. Therefore, I would like to keep you for at least two more days before you're allowed to return to your dorm room."
"The Headmaster would like to speak with you as soon as I am done with your check-up and after I have given you your potions," she continued as soon as she realised that he wouldn't answer her verbally, "do you feel up to it?"
"Yeah," he answered hoarsely.
"Good," she stated firmly, "I'll send a house-elf for some food, so expect both your food and the headmaster to arrive approximately at the same time. You are to eat everything on the plate. You are far too thin and you need the nutrition's and vitamins."
He just nodded. He had been inside of the Hospital Wing far too often to know that fighting the woman wouldn't do him any good.
"I have a nutrition potion and a potion meant to temporarily boost your immune system for you," she told him kindly, "you need to take both. I also need you to tell me as soon as you start to feel tired. Even if the headmaster is still present, just call for an elf and send him or her to me. It is important that you get enough rest."
He nodded again before he obediently drank the two potions he was handed.
"Good," she nodded satisfied, "you can expect your food to arrive within a couple of minutes. The headmaster will probably arrive within a quarter of an hour. Any questions?"
"Just one," he said slightly more steady than before, "what time is it?"
"It is just a little past two PM," he was told, "and it is the second of October. You have been inside your own mind for nearly four months."
oOo
"I'm glad to see you awake, my boy," Dumbledore told him as soon as he had seated himself down in his conjured chair. The chair itself was as colourful as the one he had conjured during the trail a little over a year ago. It clashed horrible with his robes and it blinded him almost as much as the whiteness of the room in the sun.
"How are you feeling?" he asked him.
He chewed the bite of food he had taken – some plain porridge with fresh fruit – before he answered.
"I'm fine," he said with a shrug as he took another bite. Dumbledore watches for a couple of minutes as he finished his porridge and started on the chicken soup.
" I have a couple of questions I hope you can answer for me and a couple of subjects that need to be discussed," he finally said after he had finished eating, "starting with what you can remember of the night you withdrew inside you own mind, if you do not mind."
He furrowed his brow as he thought back to that day. He didn't want to lie to Dumbledore, but he just couldn't tell him everything. How could he, when he had Voldemort as his grandfather? When it had been Voldemort who had caused him to retreat into his own mind, but not for the reasons Dumbledore might believe?
"I got a headache during the History of Magic exam," he started of slowly, "at the time I didn't think anything of it. I wanted to pass that exam rather badly as I need E's or higher to remain in Hogwarts."
Dumbledore leaned forward at that but he didn't interrupt him.
"After the exam we went outside. My headache had become worse and my scar started to hurt," he continued, "It was a vision, only this time I was in it. I saw part of the Ministry. And S-Sirius being tortured by Voldemort."
He breathed deeply as a flash of pain shot through him.
"We tried to find either you or McGonagall, but neither of you were present so we went to ask Umbridge," he stated matter-of-factly. It was the only way he could keep going.
"It wasn't hard to convince her to let us go to the Ministry," he remembered how dirty he had felt after the conversation he had had with her, but he had been determined to save Sirius and to forget about everything else.
"It wasn't hard to get into the Ministry, as no one was there. And it wasn't hard to find our way through the Ministry," he said with a humourless laugh, "the vision had been rather detailed, after all. However, we were attacked before we could reach our destination. We managed to reach it unharmed, but Sirius was not there. No one was there."
"Would I be correct in assuming that your destination was a large room with rows and rows of prophecies?" Dumbledore interrupted him before he could continue.
He nodded in response, "I picked up one of the orbs as it had my name on it. We were surrounded by Death Eaters almost immediately."
He remembered how frightened he had been. How afraid he had been that he had led his own friends into an ambush. How scared he had been that he wouldn't be able to get them out.
"I managed to distract them and we ran," he continued, "we split up. Ginny, Neville and Luna one way, Ron and Hermione a second way. I went a third way. The Death Eaters followed me, as I had expected."
"They managed to catch up with me and surround me," he said with a frown. He remembered that one of them had hurt him. He remembered the pain he had felt. A pain so terrible and all-consuming that he had blacked out. He didn't quite know what happened between that point in time and the moment he was suddenly emerged into the chaos of battle.
"They threatened me, I think," he continued slowly, "and I got hurt. But I don't really remember what happened next."
Dumbledore mirrored his frown.
"What do you remember after that?" he asked, "do you remember what happened to your friends?"
He shook his head.
"I remember being in the battle in the same room as before. I remember S-Sirius being killed by Bellatrix Lestrange," he smiled bitterly as he remembered the soul-searing pain that had shot through him as soon as the spell had hit his godfather. He remembered running towards him and throwing himself at the body. And he remembered Bellatrix, "I remember going after her. I wanted her to hurt as badly as I did at that moment. I shot spells at her, but I can't remember which ones. I just remember that she got hurt. I also remember that I removed her eye."
Dumbledore looked slightly disturbed as his vicious expression and the manic gleam but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Voldemort showed up," he stated flatly before he closed his eyes, "I remember that we talked. I retreated into my own mind after that."
"He didn't hurt you?" Dumbledore asked surprised, "he didn't try to convince you to join him. Or to kill you?
"No," he answered softly but he didn't open his eyes. It was a lie, partially. He had hurt him. But it wasn't the kind of hurt one could heal with a sweep of their wand. Or, one could. But as Wormtail had shown, it wasn't the kind of healing one needed.
Silence rang through the room after that and minutes went by in which neither of them spoke or moved.
He was starting to feel tired, but he wasn't tired enough to sleep just yet.
"Do you know what kind of spell Sirius was hit with?" Dumbledore finally asked. He opened his eyes to look at the headmaster and he cocked his head slightly as he considered the question.
"Does it matter?" he finally said, once again a bitter tone present in his voice, "he is dead."
"It does matter," Dumbledore said with a kind smile, "he did not die that evening. He is laying in the room next to yours. Whatever spell hit him, it forced him into a coma. But we do not know what spell it was so we can't help him."
"Sirius is alive?" he asked softly in disbelief, "he did not die?"
"No Harry, Sirius is still alive," Dumbledore repeated, before he pressed gently, "so please, try to remember what hit him."
He frowned as his mind once again went over that scene. He remembered the disorientation. He remembered seeing Sirius duelling with his cousin. He remembered trying to make his way over. And he remembered seeing a spell flying towards Sirius and his godfather going down.
"Purple," he finally said, "the spell that hit him was a dark purple."
Dumbledore nodded, a thoughtful look on his gnarled face.
"Can I see him?" he asked hopefully.
"You would have to ask Madam Pomfrey that, my dear boy," Dumbledore said, "but I don't think that she would disallow it."
He opened his mouth to ask about the rest of his friends but a yawn interrupted him before he could speak. He tried again but another yawn made it impossible.
"My friends?" he finally managed to asked.
"Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom both had some cuts but both healed without gaining scars," Dumbledore said soothingly, "Mister Weasley and Miss Lovegood were both unharmed."
"Poor Emmeline Vance didn't make it," he continued, "and Sirius is in a coma, as you now know. But we have faith that we can find the spell that did this to him and he is unharmed otherwise."
"And Ginny?" he asked with a frown, once again wide awake and fully allert, "how is she?"
"We do not know," he was answered mournfully, "Voldemort ordered her to be taken and we haven't heard of her ever since."
"No," he whispered. He hadn't liked the way she had been acting towards him but he hadn't wanted her to get hurt.
"Why her?" he asked, "why not one of the adults?"
"We don't know," Dumbledore told him, "we hoped you or Sirius would know."
Dumbledore arose from his colourful, flowery chair after that and made it disappear with a casual sweep of his wand.
"I'll leave you to rest for now," he said gently, but his eyes showed how troubled he was, "I'll stop by after dinner to ask some more questions, if you do not mind."
He left with a polite nod towards him before he could answer.
He was left behind in a completely white room without a single thing to occupy him but what he had just been told and too awake to rest. He was not looking forward to that evening.
oOoOoOo
The mind on the other side of the link was once again active. Slow, confused and still echoing feelings of loss and betrayal, but active. A quick check had told him that much.
But he knew that the boy would be alright.
His heir was strong. His upbringing had made him resilient. His genes made him powerful. His ancestry made him wilful. His heir would bounce right back and it wouldn't be long before he would be where he belonged: right next to him.
He would have to train him beyond the Hogwarts curriculum, of course. Hogwarts provided the very basics. And only the basics of Light magic at that. But there was so much more.
His father had been a Potter, a line he had managed to trace back to the Peverells. The Potters were known to be capable combatants and the line generally brought forth Aurors, healers, Hit Wizards, Unspeakable and masters in Transfiguration. The Peverells on the other hand were rather obscure and only known for their neutrality.
James Potter's mother had been a Black. The Blacks were mainly known for three things. Firstly, for being a large family before the war and their inbreeding. Secondly, for being completely and utterly bat-shit crazy. Bellatrix didn't help that rumour. And Thirdly, for their Dark magic and prejudice against muggleborns. And it was true that Blacks often became masters in specific branches of Dark magic.
But the Blacks were also the line that brought forth metamorphmagi. And though no true metamorphmagi had been born until Nymphadora Tonks, it was known that most of the magically strong Blacks and those related to them were capable of altering their appearances slightly.
The Black line generally produced strong Aurors, Unspeakables, politicians, masters in interrogation techniques and spies.
The Blacks and Potters were both known to bring forth capable, natural leaders.
The boy's mother – his daughter – had brought a couple of powerful lines together in form of his heir. He himself contained the blood of the Slytherins, the Gaunts and the Peverells. His wife had provided the genes of a Lamia, a dark and powerful creature.
The Slytherins and the Gaunts were both known to extremely powerful wizards, Parselmouths and masters of most branches of the Dark Arts. Though, the reputation of the Gaunts had taken a hit with their over the top inbreeding. The Slytherins were also known to produce masters of the Black Arts and masters of Parselmagic, a branch they had created. Both lines, however, were also known for their prejudice and hatred against everything that was not pure.
A Lamia on the other hand was known as a demon that devoured children and was at least part serpent. They were extremely beautiful, graceful and powerful dark creatures that hunted with the ease of a large wildcat and guarded their young with the ferocity of a nesting mother dragon. That last part wasn't odd if one knew the Greek myths surrounding the creature.
It was said that the Lamia were the daughters of Hecate, the Greek goddess of Magic, ghosts, sorcery, necromancy and herbs and poisonous plants. And though he personally didn't believe in that, it was true that Lamia were masters of those types of magic. And it was known that Lamia, though dark and rare, were seemingly blessed by Magic.
And his daughter had been powerful. Whereas he had been able to willingly hurt people with his controlled underage magic, she had been able to use her controlled underage magic to float and to make flowers bloom. And that was just one example he had taken from Severus' mind. She had healed small animals. She had used her control to gain more knowledge. And she, like him, had been capable of using slight wandless magic even after she had gotten her wand.
He had always known that she was far more powerful than her husband. He had already acknowledged that grudgingly when he hadn't even known that she was the result of the mixing of his seed with his wife's egg. But he could explain that power now. It was just a shame that she hadn't been willing to use it to fight for him and his ideas.
But he had his heir now. And his heir was just as powerful, if not more, than his mother had been.
After all, he combined all those lines in one single, young, malleable package. He could still be trained.
But first, he had to be brought home.
I hope you enjoyed this new chapter.
Reviews are as always appreciated.
~Marwana
