Disclaimer: Neither the story or the characters belong to me, they are the property of J.K. Rowling and Parvati-Blossom. I am just a humble translator who wanted to share this amazing story with all of you.
Warning: This story containg strong language and images. We are dealing with the dark side here! Please keep that in mind.
A/N: YES! I'M BACK! I am terribly sorry for the extremely long wait. Life happened. But, you should be happy to know that I am done with the translation (all 18 chapters!). I will be posting them every other week to give you time to process things... and because I am a fan of cliffhangers... Unless I am highly encouraged to speed the process (many, many reviews would do the trick).
Once more, I am sorry for the delay, and I won't make it longer. Enjoy!
Chapter 14
Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix
February 4th, 2005
Time: 4:15PM
"It could be a trap," Neville suggested.
Francisco put a hand on Lucas' shoulder to stop his obvious response.
The members of the Inner Circle of the Order had met, as previously planned, to receive new information from the Contact. The Spanish had decided to give them a preview of the message they received the day before, at the expense of exposing one of the secret tools of the INC, and their conjectures. Disbelief was the main response, especially since most had been unaware of Lucas' family and dark past.
"We know. But we're willing to listen to what the Contact has to say. If there's even a small possibility of it being true, we're willing to take the risk."
"And what means would you need for such attempt, Francisco?" Dumbledore asked.
"That's why we're here," Javier answered. "We need the Order's support, at least tactically."
The Spanish knew that if the Order did not provide resources, they would still go to the Fortress. It was an unavoidable decision, especially after seeing the serious expression in Lucas' face. But they needed to increase the probability of success of the mission, even if that meant working with the Order.
"If what the Contact has said until now is true, this could be a good time," Ron suggested. "Filldeserp is weak and the death eaters are upset, without a real leader."
"But the Fortress' defenses are still solid," Neville shared. "An infiltration… is not easy. We haven't done it in years."
"Everything depends on the Contact's information," Dumbledore said. "Although I agree with Ronald. This could be our chance."
Unlike previous messages from the Contact, this one would count with its presence. The risk was very high, but it was possible that the Contact wanted to ensure the fidelity and validity of their inquiry and wanted to participate in the organization of the operation. The Contact seemed ready for their last strike. That worried the Order, undoubtedly, because for them long-term information was most precious than an instantaneous bomb.
The Spanish, instead, were ready to sacrifice the Contact for the mission. Actually, for any mission that would mean a great blow against the power of the Dark Order in that endless war.
The doors of the room then opened and a figure entered with an imperious march. Dumbledore stood up and the Contact stopped at the other side of the table. Their face was hidden behind a death eater mask and a cloak hid their head and attempted to hide a very significant future: the Contact was a woman.
"Are you ready to fulfill your side of the deal, Dumbledore?" The woman asked with a firm and challenging voice.
"Yes."
"Then this is the moment you have been waiting for," she concluded sitting down at the head of the table.
"Could you take off that stupid mask? It's disgusting," Ron said.
"I imagine you can understand, Weasley, the necessity for my identity to continue as a secret," the Contact whispered, her voice full of poison.
"We understand you are part of the circle of those closer to the Lord," Neville mentioned.
"Correct. Although it is clear that circle is currently divided."
"You… what side do you say you are?" Shacklebolt asked.
"That's none of your business," the Contact answered dryly. "The fact is that the Dark Lord has gone on a trip to Germany to look into the rumors of a new prophecy concerning his heir. The defenses of the Fortress rely on the magic of both Lords; if one is out of the building, it is slightly weakened. It's not a great advantage in general, but it is when Filldeserp's magic is so volatile."
"The jerks must know that. This could be a setup," Ron interrupted.
"Yes, but…" the body of the Contact leaned in Lucas' direction. "Are you willing to abandon your daughter when there is this small chance? You won't have it again. Filldeserp has decreed that the girl will move at the end of the month…"
Lucas sat up straight, pale and shaking. His black eyes were constantly looking at the Contact.
"Cecilia is dead."
The woman's cruel laugh made every auror shiver.
"I took part in the organization of the girl's capture, De Santos. I was there when Filldeserp killed your wife." Her voice hinted at a smirk. "Foolish woman. Filldeserp didn't even have to look for her in the chaos of the ministry; she gave herself up. She did not have enough breath to say any last heroic words. She died scared. She died alone. Where were you then, Lucas? Ah, of course. You were meeting with members of the INC, believing they had predicted Filldeserp's movements."
Lucas was quickly next to her and slapped her. The woman laughed again, the mask not slipping out of place, and set the other cheek, looking at him directly in the eyes.
"Your daughter is alive, De Santos. And worse, she is only alive because Filldeserp's intervention. You owe it to him." She made a dramatic pause. "Cecilia loves him."
Before he could hit her again, Neville stopped him. He tried to calm him down, to awake him from the Contact's mockery, but the Spanish was out of himself.
"I am not saying anything but the truth," the Contact said. "You'll see it with your own eyes and then you'll understand how clever Filldeserp truly is. You can't escape him, ever."
"Then, what are you doing here, dirty traitor?" the Spanish spat.
"Don't think me on your side. I am not on your side," she openly announced to the members of the Order, directing her attention to all of them. "I only wish to survive. Unfortunately, despite my ideals being theirs, certain past events threaten my position." She moved toward Lucas. "The path to hell is made with good intentions. Remember that when your own daughter betrays you. She'll be the light in the dark."
Fortress of the Dark Order
February 6th, 2005
Time: 6:00PM
What would a father be capable of doing for a daughter?
Few would not be capable of not acting when hope shines in the horizon, even cowards. Lucas was not a coward, and nothing would stop him from risking everything and nothing.
A fortress would not stop him. Two Dark Lords would not stop him either, much less one.
What did it matter if the means to reach Cecilia was a dark magic charm provided by the Contact? Under any other situation, it would be immoral. This transcended the ethical dimension. For a daughter, only results mattered. Francisco and Javier were more cautious of the repercussions and dangers, but they still supported him, and Lucas knew that when he recovered his judgment, he would appreciate the unconditional gesture of friendship. They increased Cecilia's chance of survival.
Ron, Ginevra, Luna, and Neville's presence, however, were indifferent for him. They were not there for Cecilia, as they had not known her and her death would not affect them directly. They were not with him to aid in her rescue, but to enable an offensive maneuver for the Order and the British Ministry. Once Cecilia was in his arms, for Lucas the Light could fail or triumph; none of that held any importance for him anymore.
He was truly blinded in the abyss that divided uncertainty form certainty, desperation from temperance.
They had walked miles on foot given the risks of being detected if they apparated too close to the barriers until they reach the defenses of the Fortress. Then came the hardest part: the charm and the quiet entrance. Supposedly, Neville's team would act as a distraction and Filldeserp would not get in the way of the Spanish, but nothing would guarantee it. They had to be prepared for every scenario, especially the worse.
They stood as the Contact had indicated and focused, chanting with assiduity the words in Latin. As daily users of white magic, the charm would take a greater amount of energy from the one they were used to sacrifice, but they trusted that, since they were a considerable number of wizards, they could overcome the loss quickly. It was another risk in that darkness.
It could be a trap, but it was all or nothing. Life or death.
The charm took effect in a moment; the moment they needed for seven people to enter and the barrier to return to its position. It was a moment too long for the instant Lucas truly required.
With the end so close, adrenaline accelerated his steps and in less than fifteen minutes they were under the imposing shadow of the threatening physical doors of the fortress. It had been some time since they last felt so alive. For the first time in what was almost a decade, they were taking the initiative; the reins of that night were under their control.
They split in two groups, each one with their special portkeys… each one with their mission, each one with their future.
The cards had been shuffled.
Time: 6:30PM
Filldeserp sighed, massaging his temples. After Voldemort's departure three days earlier, keeping the Dark Order in check had been a challenge. His own followers had started instigating him to start the plan they had been formulating for a long time, but the heir was sure it was not the time.
The more veteran death eaters who were loyal to Voldemort had not set foot in the Fortress since his departure, showing their Slytherin side in their desire for survival. Those days Filldeserp's patience was almost non-existent and just one comment on the purity of blood of his wife would have been enough to set on fire every single death eater.
He still could not understand how the Dark Order had fallen apart in such way so suddenly. From the beginning there had been factions closer to one Lord or the other, but they were united in one cause. It was possible that on his wedding ceremony, his speech about the wrongness of blood purity and about true purity, the one related to magic, had fractured the Cause to a certain extent, especially for the conservative aristocrats. Added to that, the confrontation between Hermione and Voldemort had shown who he would protect, and many now considered him a traitor. Some death eaters had refused to follow his orders and he had to resort to a long session of torture, his specialty, to remind them who they were disobeying.
In the meantime, other sectors allied to the Dark Order, like many vampire and werewolf clans, had proclaimed once more that their alliance was with Filldeserp, which had awoken the suspicions of many observant death eaters. In the case of a separation, the faction allied to Voldemort would not find much back up beyond the borders of England as Filldeserp had taken care of the "foreign" affairs of the Cause since his affiliation to the dark side. And now, the death eaters could visualize that superior scheme the traitor had fabricated.
Peculiar rumors had even begun to circulate through the hallways of the Fortress; some said that he had never abandoned Dumbledore and that the entire scheme had been part of a greater plan to weaken the power of the Lord. Others, that everything had been contrived by the Ministry of Magic; and some considered that he had chosen to abandon the Lord since Phinehas' offer.
Curiously, nobody thought he had done it for himself.
He leaned back on his chair, absently stroking Nagini's head who was lying on his lap. He closed his eyes tiredly, for a moment wishing he had never entered that political game and envying the people who had the possibility to disappear from Great Britain, not being disturbed again. But he loved his ideals too much and he was too loyal to his allies to quit. He would not solve anything hiding, and he had the power, if not the obligation, to change reality.
"Harry… the chimney has lighted," Nagini hisses, bringing him back to the present.
Surprised by the event, he laid Nagini on the floor and walked to the chimney in his study. Only a few people had access to his floo, and they would only contact him through it if they had imminent bad news. He took a deep breath, trying to gain strength, and kneeled in front of the hearth.
In the ashes he saw the face of Megan Jones.
"My Lord!" The woman yelled, upset and breathing with difficulty.
"Megan, what is going on? From where are you calling?"
"From my office in the Ministry, my Lord." To Filldeserp's worried expression, Megan hurried to continue. "It's urgent, Dumbledore has just told me… they're attacking the Fortress!"
"Megan, take a deep breath," he commanded, his face turning pale. "When?"
"Right now, my Lord… they have notified the Order, to every ally available… I don't know how, but they have acquired the coordinates and a way to cross the barriers with ease."
"What is their objective, Megan?"
"To kill you, my Lord." The voice of the death eater trembled. Without being able to stop it, Filldeserp appreciated her gesture of worry.
"Megan, listen carefully. Your services are not required anymore; do not take any more risks. Go to Gringotts and ask for access to the account 1697. It is yours…"
"I will not abandon you, my Lord," she interrupted him with insolence. "Of course I can't be a spy anymore, the Ministry will detect this communication and will inform Dumbledore. But I am still at your service. I will eliminate every member of the Order that gets close to you, my Lord."
Filldeserp was silent, surprised by such promise. Jones was one of the death eaters who had never seemed partial to any of the Lords in particular, and she had always acted in function to her political ascension within the Ministry. Of course, under such circumstances, that confession of utmost loyalty could be empty, but the vehemence in her voice seemed to indicate otherwise.
"I will be waiting for you then, Megan."
He closed the communication and stood up. He snapped his fingers and the house-elf Zeeky materialized, ready to fulfill the orders of her master. Finally, someone who did not care if his interests were or were not with Voldemort.
"Notify your mistress she must remain in her chambers. It does not matter what she sees or hears."
Zeeky nodded and disapparated. Filldeserp sighed again, hating the circumstances. The Order of the Phoenix could not have chosen a more ideal time to attack. Casualty?
"Nag, I need your poison."
The snake slithered to him, showing with pride her shining fangs. Filldeserp extended his hand and magically made a cut on his left index, where Nagini leaned and pushed her venom. Filldeserp pursed his lips, holding back a moan of pain. With his blood, now mixed with the poison of the Slytherin snake, he traced a rune on the floor, reinforcing the barriers against portkeys, both internal and externals, and apparitions by those without a Dark Mark.
He waited a few seconds to recover himself and then traced another rune, this time activating the dark mark of every death eater in England. Even if it was not the most conventional method to call for them, it was the most efficient. Those who refused to answer would find themselves the subject of pain similar to the pain of a cruciatus until they did.
"Nag, order the inspection of the terrain. A battle is approaching."
Without waiting for an answer, he went to his desk to grab his gloves and wand. However, the snake went to him and with overwhelming speed she wrapped around him until she reached her neck, where she place some 'kisses' with her tongue on his cheek.
"Take care… my boy."
Time: 6:40PM
Lucas, Javier, and Francisco skillfully moved through the hallways of the Fortress, efficiently guided thanks to the detailed memorization of the map and its instructions. Their boots were charmed to not make any noise, and they made sure at every corner they would not run into a death eater. Lack of opposition bothered them. They were entering one of the main areas of the Fortress, one they assumed would be better protected, but they had not seen even one guard. Even when the Contact had warned them she would do everything she could to make sure of it, they had not believed she had that power.
The finally arrived to the Lukyan chambers. After exchanging one look, the three raised their wands and made the door collapse, and with it, all of its protection spells. They had not used any charm, but one of the INC's field specialties. Thus, they entered the room, where a man and a woman were on the couch, playing with a six year old girl.
Lucas felt all his blood leaving his body. With only one look he was able to confirm the girl was his. He felt his heart break to the image of his daughter, alive after a little more than a year of thinking her dead. The image of her corpse had roamed his worst nightmares, just like the failure of his existence. To his side, Francisco and Javier also went pale.
After all, those green eyes had only belonged to ghosts until days before.
Dymtrus and Maryska stood up surprised by the intrusion. The woman immediately took Cecilia in her arms and tried to escape to one of the rooms. However, the three aurors were ready for action, remembering their mission, and obstructed her exit.
"Maryska!" Dymtrus yelled, standing in front of her to stop a direct attack.
With violence, the man ripped the chain surrounding his neck and gave it to his wife. They spoke in fast Ukrainian and neither of the Spanish was able to understand the instructions they were exchanging, but they were obvious. The woman would not leave without her husband, and he insisted she should leave. Neither of them knew the portkey would not work by their leader's disposition.
The Ukrainian rolled up his sleeves and extended his arms and immediately, a sort of earthquake shook them, making them have to hold on to the wall to not fall. Javier, the quickest of the three, countered with curses, taking advantage that the attention of the elemental was divided between his wife, who continued to refuse to activate the portkey, and the duel. Francisco rejoined the duel and made a gesture to De Santos, who immediately understood his intentions.
Lucas held his wand tightly and walked toward Maryska, who was crying with Cecilia, holding her against her chest. A wave of hatred shook him. His Sara should have been holding Cecilia, not that unknown woman, that kidnapper. He hated her for the year they had taken from him and his daughter. He sent a curse against the woman, who was thrown against the wall by the intensity of it, letting go of Cecilia on the way, and who Lucas carefully levitated to the floor. The Spanish walked to his little girl, who was shaking, and kneeled next to her.
"Ceci…" He whispered, full of emotion. Without being able to hold back, he hugged the girl and began crying.
However, Cecilia screamed in horror. Strong magic separated him from her, throwing him with force against the floor. The girl extended her hand instinctively and out it came out a heat wave that created beams of intense colors that impacted against him, causing small burns. Lucas moaned, watching the scene shocked.
Cecilia was an elemental; an elemental of light.
"Go away," Cecilia whispered in reluctant English.
"Ceci… don't you recognize me?" Lucas asked, broken. "I'm your dad."
"No!" The girl screamed, furious; from her skin emanating pure magic. "My daddy is Dy."
"She has returned from oblivion…"
Out of himself, he stood up and faced Dymtrus, who was fighting against his two partners. Everything happened so fast that the Ukrainian did not have time to react. A fist threw him to the floor, and seconds later new hits broke his nose and face. Francisco had to hold Lucas to stop him, as he was sure his friend was willing to beat him to death.
"How dare you! How dare you!" Lucas yelled, maddened. Dymtrus watched him in silence. "She doesn't recognize me… what did you do to her? What did you do to my little girl?"
"Lucas!" Javier yelled pointing at Maryska.
The woman had stood up and ran to Cecilia, activating the portkey. However, as the Spanish had predicted, nothing happened.
"Your precious Lord has locked you in the Fortress, without an escape," Lucas spat, freeing himself off his friend's hold. "He is probably too busy saving his own skin." He kicked the Ukrainian on his stomach. "Now, answer me. What did you do to Cecilia?"
The Ukrainian remained silent. Maryska moaned, holding Cecilia tightly, knowing her husband's tactics. But Lucas also understood. The Lukyan were a family of honor and tradition. They would not betray their Lord, so they would not reveal any information.
They would keep his secrets until they died.
"Then, I will have to convince you," Lucas whispered, pointing his wand at his eyes. Dymtrus did not show any reaction and continued giving him a challenging look.
"Lucas…" Javier muttered next to him, hesitant. "Remember Cecilia is here." Lucas' eyes softened, but a smirk took life on his face.
"I will remember it, partner."
He could argue he was not better than Filldeserp or Voldemort. After all, he was willing to torture to obtain the information he desperately needed. Nevertheless, the difference lied in the reason behind the action. He was not doing it for power or domination; he was doing it to get his daughter back. In front of him he had the man who had pushed him away and substituted him in his daughter's life.
He had taken his daughter's love, erasing her memories.
He waved his wand to cast the curse, but Dymtrus extended his arms and set it on the floor, causing an earthquake again. It was clear that he was also an elemental. Of course, Filldeserp had chosen them for a reason. That man had most likely trained his little Cecilia until exhaustion, extracting each one of her talents, depriving her of her childhood…
Lucas felt so much hatred he almost pronounced an unforgivable curse. However, he stopped himself and in that second of hesitation, Dymtrus stood up and with effort, reached his wife. He was breathing with difficulty, but he still raised a wall of earth almost six feet high in front of his family. Lucas had to admire his potential and his will.
He heard whispers in Ukrainian and guessed they were reconsidering the situation. Too bad it would not work, as neither of them would leave that place alive while they were at his mercy.
"Lukyan, don't be a coward. Hiding behind a wall? How long do you think that will stop us?"
"Enough to turn you into ashes," the Ukrainian screamed. The Spanish exchanged an amused look.
"Neither Filldeserp or his element will come to save you, Lukyan," Francisco said. "Give us the girl and your existence might not be so miserable."
"Sheila is ours. The Lord gave her to us to take care of her, and I will not disappoint him," Dymtrus muttered.
"But it turns out I'm the father. Lord or not in the way, Cecilia is my daughter!" Lucas yelled. Javier had to hold him again to stop him from throwing himself at the Ukrainians.
"Calm down, Lucas. You must not lose control," his friend whispered in his ear. "Our priority is Cecilia's wellbeing."
"You're not my dad!" The girl screamed with indignation.
Dymtrus lovingly played with Cecilia's hair, whispering a few words in her ear, and took her in his arms to hug her and calm her down. That image, such a perfect and intimate image of a father and daughter, created a new wound in Lucas' heart. It had been a year since Cecilia had given him her love… and he had thought her dead. He had not fought, had not searched. He had abandoned her to those psychopaths who were only interested in her potential, and not in that little person growing behind those green eyes…
The Ukrainian gave Cecilia to Maryska, who took a few steps back to not be in the immediate area of fighting, and took once more a dueling stance, letting the wall fall.
"I guess there's no other way but to decide this like true wizards," Dymtrus muttered.
The Spanish nodded, granting the Ukrainian the first movement. He made a series of complex movements with his wand, whispering unintelligible words, and thick roots came out of the ground underneath the aurors. Lucas was able to move in time, but Francisco and Javier were trapped in the vegetation.
"This number seems more adequate, don't you agree?" Dymtrus said with a smirk.
Lucas clenched his teeth and cast an offensive spell, which was absorbed by the Ukrainian's shield. He took a few steps forward and experimented with a succession of curses, forcing Dymtrus to move quickly to avoid them. The man was gasping, still suffering from the hits the Spanish had given him on the floor. He would not last long if Lucas continued to demand agility.
He cast again a series of spells, which opened a deep wound on his left arm, as well as destroying more furniture on their way. The wife screamed, scared by the amount of blood, and Cecilia struggled in her arms, constantly crying for her father. The woman had to kneel down to put her on the floor, but she was not able to hold her back, and the girl started running toward Dymtrus, who was focused and did not notice her presence…
A brutal explosion destroyed the wall to the left of the elemental and he used his wand to levitate some of the debris and throw them against Lucas. However, given his exhaustion and his lack of magical reserves, the direction of the rocks was not so precise and one of them went straight for Cecilia.
Lucas observed everything in slow motion. How the rock would hit her girl and would probably kill her with its weight and the force of impact. He could see her blood, her green eyes, and the great disillusion in her eyes to his failure. He was too far away to stand in the way of the debris, and could not create a shield strong enough to protect her…
Everything was lost.
Cecilia cried and fell. He closed his eyes before the rock fell on her, but at that moment an extraordinary white light surrounded her. Neither Lucas nor Dymtrus could see if something had happened to her.
Livid from the horror, Lucas lost control. He threw himself over Dymtrus and did not care about anything else. The life of his daughter could be pending of a thread because of that man. He did not care if there was an audience or not. He did not care anymore that he was an auror, one of the 'good' guys. That man had tried to kill his daughter.
The Ukrainian's screams never reached his ears. In his mind, everything was silent. He could only see Cecilia's innocent face. His robes were soaked in blood and the smell of death and pain filled the room. His wand was waved once more and, without mercy, he took the life of that man… of that monster… in the most painful way his mind could imagine in his current state.
When the life of the monster was gone, Francisco and Javier were also freed from the roots. The room remained silent for a moment, examining the room. Francisco walked slowly to his friend, almost with fear, and took his wand away carefully. The two Spanish looked at each other in the eyes, but Lucas' were submerged in an unreachable darkness.
"Lucas! Lucas! Francisco called him with worry. There was only insanity in his eyes.
Javier, in the meantime time, went to Cecilia. The light was diminishing, and the Spanish observed the sand surrounding the girl. It seemed the debris had been dissolved thanks to that barrier. It was incredible.
The light was gone. Cecilia was lying on the floor, probably unconscious from the effort. Javier took a deep breath, relieved. If something had happened to her…
"Lucas, Cecilia is alive. She is all right," he said, taking the girl in his arms. He looked at Maryska out the corner of his eye, but the woman seemed frozen against the wall, staring at nothing in particular.
Lucas turned to see him and meaning returned when he saw Cecilia. He ran toward him and Javier gave him the girl. He held onto her with desperation, but with absolute love. The tears came down his face, a mixture of happiness, guilt, and nostalgia. With every second passing he seemed to be falling apart more and more.
"Come on, Lucas. It's time to return to headquarters," Francisco whispered.
That meeting had been forged in blood.
Time: 7:10PM
He ran as fast as he could through the hallways, trying to take as many shortcuts as he could to reach his destination faster. There was no doubt where he would find one focus of the infiltration. If Lucas had found out, as he guessed, of the existence of his daughter, nothing would stop him until he got her back.
Unless he arrived on time.
When he reached the door that led to the chambers assigned to the Ukrainians the distinctive smell of blood warned him of what he would find inside. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the guilt. If something had happened to Dymtrus and Maryska, right under his roof, where he had promised them his protection…
He opened the door.
A hurricane had destroyed the room. Almost no piece of furniture had been left untouched. One of the walls was severely damaged and debris was lying all over the room. Wood, glass, and ruins.
A drowned sob resounded throughout the room. He took some steps in that direction and he found Maryska, shaking, and leaning on a corner. She seemed to have gone mad based on the lack of coordination in her movements. With caution, he kneeled next to her and held her face with his hands. Those eyes were not focused on anything, but they constantly diverted to the other side of the room. The woman's clothes were stained by blood, but it was not her own. By her looks, it had come from holding onto a wounded body.
"Dead… destroyed…" She was sobbing in Ukrainian. "Useless…"
She started to cry hysterically. Filldeserp felt a knot in his throat guessing what had happened before he even stood up and walked to the other side of the room. Lying there was Dymtrus' body. His expression of indescribable pain remained in what could still be recognized of his face.
He had failed them.
The knot spread to his stomach and he held back a twist. Ironically, he had participated in more morbid scenes; but nothing had affected him as much. Dymtrus was not only an ally, but also a friend. Beyond his usefulness, he had appreciated his company, wisdom, and personality.
And he had failed him, in the only thing he had promised not to fail.
He walked back to Maryska. Now, the only thing he could do in his memory was to protect his loving wife and to avenge his death. He snapped his fingers and ordered the elf, who had appeared next to him, to bring him a sedative. When he returned, he gave it to Maryska, who lost consciousness immediately. Filldeserp sighed and asked the elf to take her to the destination.
He stood up and watched the empty room. There was no time to deal with Dymtrus' body, but he swore he would return after the battle and would give him the burial he deserved. For the moment, he had to settle for preservation charms on the body and some protection spells to keep people from profaning the area.
He was about to leave when the house-elf apparated next to him.
"Master! Master!" the female elf yelled as loud as she could. "The Mistress has disobeyed, Master! Zeeky has failed you, Master! Zeeky could not keep her in her chambers!"
It seemed that everything was turning for the worse that day. Whay had Hermione chosen to disobey him that day? He clenched his fists, trying not to let all his anger out on the elf, who was crying and proposing self-punishments, each one deadlier than the other.
Perhaps he should take one into consideration.
Time: 7:00PM
When Zeeky apparated next to her and informed her of Harry's request, Hermione was ready to accept. However, the house-elf continued talking and informed her how worried the elves were for the safety of their master given that the Fortress was under attack. It made Hermione reevaluate her decision, especially when Zeeky mentioned that several aurors had managed to infiltrate the building, with unknown purposes.
Nevertheless, knowing Voldemort was not present, she guessed the Order's plan was to assassinate Filldeserp, taking advantage of the numerical advantage a surprise attack provided them. She would not allow it.
Zeeky begged her over and over not to do it, but she ordered her to open the door of the room. The elf could not disobey the order, even when it directly contradicted the order of her other master, and the indecision of who to obey seemed to destroy her inside.
She hurried her steps once she was in the hallway. She had no idea of Filldeserp's whereabouts, nor did she know to what level the Order had managed to infiltrate the Fortress. But she was sure that she had to be there, next to her husband, and suffering the consequences of what that decision caused in her life. She was not willing to have Harry keep her in a room while he had not only to protect her, but also the Fortress, his allies, and himself.
It was time for her to show where her loyalties lied, as much as she knew the pain it would cause her old companions would tear her apart. She had chosen to be with Harry, and she had to face every consequence. Now she was part of the dark side, although she would never be willing to fight against her friends. But she would protect the person she loved the most in the world. She would protect the future she had chosen, as selfish as that was.
She continued her descent. The fastest way would have been to ask a house-elf for Filldeserp's location, but she feared they had orders to stop her. She had to let her instinct guide her, even knowing how large the Fortress was and that Harry might not even be inside.
But she could not run much. With her wand ready in her right hand, she turned to her right and was forced to an abrupt stop. A few feet in front were Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna.
For a few seconds they remained exactly as they were. No words, just looks. They were on opposite sides; that explained everything.
"Hermione," Luna greeted her. Her voice did not show kindness or coldness.
"What are you doing here?" The question was stupid, but it was the first one to cross her mind.
"What does it look like?" Ron answered sharply. "We're here to kill Filldeserp and rescue you!"
She felt emptiness in her stomach. That was not possible anymore.
"I appreciate the effort, but it won't be necessary," she said as calmly as she could.
"Someone else killed Filldeserp?" Ron asked, with surprise and indignation. He most likely had great plans for it.
"No, I meant the rescue," she tried to answer with indifference. "It is my decision to remain here."
"Why, Hermione?" Neville asked, his eyes shining with grief.
"Because this is where I'm supposed to be," she answered with a weak smile. "Here is where I am needed."
"We need you!" Ron yelled. "And in a way that doesn't mean using you as an instrument of war!"
"It never meant that. You can't understand it, but…"
Ginny took a few steps forward, cutting her speech. Hermione was not able to raise her wand against her, but there was no danger. The red-hair was looking at her attentively, as if trying to figure out some great mystery. Her chocolate eyes seemed to have clouded, and she was whispering some words, without waving her wand. Her gaze shifted to her stomach.
"You are pregnant," she declared, her eyes returning to normal. Four faces paled to the news, although Hermione's did not do it out of shock, but because of what it could mean for them.
She was right.
"You allowed… that monster… to touch you?" Ron yelled, his ears turning red. That exasperated Hermione.
"He is my husband! What did you expect?"
"We thought he had forced you! Did he threaten you, Hermione?" Ron started to speculate.
"Elementals cannot engage in coitus unless both agree to it, not under any method of persuasion, and they have to be compatible," Ginny said not taking her eyes of Hermione. "It is true. It was her choice."
Stupefaction immobilized her friends. They had convinced themselves that she had abandoned the Order under a spell or threat. But they had not even wanted to consider the possibility she had left them. The horror in their expressions, the understanding of the betrayal, covered their faces with the suffering she had experienced seven years before.
"You don't know what you've done, Hermione," Neville muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "But you're still in time to change things. Come with us. We will protect you and your child…"
"Even if I wanted to leave him, I know it's impossible. He'll search both heaven and earth trying to find us. And anyway, I'm not planning on leaving him. That is my decision."
She knew there was no going back. From that point, she was a potential enemy. In her womb lived Filldeserp's heir, the promise of another kingdom of darkness.
"Then…" Ron whispered in a decisive tone, with pain obvious in his expressions. "We have to kill you too."
One thing was to think about it, to understand there was no other way; but it was very different to hear it from the lips of a friend. She almost felt hysteria filling her, but she tried to keep calm. It was the logical thing.
She would not let herself be killed.
"We don't necessarily need to kill her, Ronald!" Ginny yelled. "We can… take her with us."
"What for? It will be the same in the long term!"
"I will not let you kill Hermione, much less an innocent creature who hasn't even been born!"
"It's Filldeserp's child, Ginevra! It's scum!"
"It's not! Prejudice is clouding your judgment."
"Ron, Ginny is right," Neville whispered, pale and shaking. "We can't kill Hermione… I… I couldn't. I'm not willing to take her life, even if she's with Filldeserp… she… she must have a reason for it…"
"You're the ones who can't accept reality," Ron spat at them. "It's obvious Filldeserp has brainwashed her. Hermione would never do this. And as much as it hurts, it's our responsibility to stop… the curse lineage from spreading… it will be another Dark Lord. Why not remove it before it's born? It will be harder once it's grown…"
"Are you not hearing what you're saying, Ron? You're talking about a child who hasn't even been born yet!" Ginny screamed. Ron took a threating step toward her.
"Shut up, Ginny!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Ron raised his fist, probably to hit her, but Neville stood in the way, holding his fist with both of his hands.
"Don't you remember? 'Separated… we're like Nargles under our own mistletoe,'" Neville quoted, giving a smile to Luna, who nodded with pride. Both Weasleys took a deep breath and crossed their arms, as if suppressing the impulse to hit the other. Neville then turned to Hermione. "Could you… explain, Hermione?"
What could she tell them?
She had fallen in love. She had believed in him, she had seen what was sleeping inside of him. She had discovered Harry, hidden beneath mountains of corpses and drowned memories. She had seen how little by little he came back to the light, and how his almost black eyes had turned emerald for her. She had participated in many meetings and had learned that not everything was black and white. And above everything else, she had been witness of all the love he had for her, and for the child they had created, together.
Was that enough to justify her betrayal?
She did not think so. To their eyes, she would be like a spoiled brat, who as soon as she got what she wanted, would not let go of it, despite what she had left on the side, what had previously meant the world for her.
She only knew she felt complete. Not only had she helped heal Filldeserp's wounds, but he had also helped hers. She knew that if she was ever separated from him, she would feel empty, miserable, dirty.
She loved him. Those two words defined everything. Her past, her present, and her future. And the future of the magical community.
"I'm sorry, Neville. There's nothing I can explain," she smiled with sadness. "I love him. And if your mission is to kill him, then…" With all her strength, and with her eyes full of tears, she raised her wand and pointed it at them. "I can't allow it."
"You see I was right?" Ron's face was distorted by anger. "She has become his perfect weapon. His personal puppet. She's not our Hermione anymore."
"I was never your Hermione," she replied. Ron took a deep breath.
"Let it be, then." And before either of the other three could stop him, he had thrown the first spell.
Hermione cast a protego, and took a few steps back. She examined the dueling location, analyzing every weakness. The hallway was wide, but it did not stop being a hallway. She also had limitations in her use of magic, as lately the baby seemed to be feeding of her magic, and taking most of her reserves. The only possibility left was her element. She was thankful Harry had trained her so efficiently for such occasion.
She gave herself a second, when she tried to give her apologies and show her sorrow to her old friends. But that was not the time anymore. An abyss was separating them.
She activated her element. It wrapped around her and then spread, going straight for the aurors, who had to move to the walls to avoid a direct attack. Ron was the only one who moved toward her, throwing spell after spell and getting closer every time. With the wind, Hermione diverted each attack, taking care not to destroy the walls. She did not allow herself to fall back and kept her stance.
"I never believed I would have to fight you," Ron said with a forced smile.
Hermione nodded. She had imagined it.
Ron cast a new charm, which made many other Rons appear, almost surrounding her. She chuckled. It was so typical of Ron to play with optical illusions. The seven Ron pointed their wands at her and cast an expelliarmus.
There was no escape, as much as she tried to block all seven. Her element was not covering her three hundred and sixty degrees. Her wand was taken from her hand. She almost regretted the loss.
"Now what, Ron?" Hermione asked, allowing herself a petulant tone, showing her element.
Ronald pursed his lips. Seeing the action repeated some many times made her shiver. Then, a mischievous glow reached those blue eyes. Some wonderful idea, most likely. Hermione rolled her eyes.
The seven Ron ran simultaneously toward her. She sent sharp bursts of wind to all of them, but none stopped, despite having their arms scratched and blood marking their path. It was clear Ron had detected her weak spot: physical attacks.
She put more strength in the wind, trying to throw the red-hair far away from her; but he had raised a powerful barrier that worked as a shield as he moved forward. In a few seconds she was at his reach and he threw her to the floor, holding her there from her back. There was only one Ron let, bleeding and gasping.
And Hermione would die there. Perhaps Filldeserp had been right. She should have remained in her chambers…
"I'm really sorry, Hermione."
"What are you sorry for, Ron?" She spat not able to control herself, barely able to breath. "Killing my father? Having caused my mother's death? Or my upcoming death?"
Everyone was left paralyzed to such accusation.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.
"Don't play innocent now, Ronald. I know it was you. Coward. You feared for your life… almost like Wormtail… you valued more your own skin than your friends," she whispered, full of an anger she did not know she had. "And you have the nerve to call Harry a traitor."
"Hermione… what are you talking about?" Ginny asked, slowly walking toward them.
They would not believe it. And Ron was not willing to admit anything. How impudent.
"It must be some lie Filldeserp has given her," Ron said with a frown.
Everything was Filldeserp's fault in Ron's eyes. Perhaps he also blamed him for falling when he was learning to walk as a child.
"Are you going to kill her?" Neville asked keeping his distance, as if that freed him from any responsibility.
"Yes," Ron answered with conviction, setting the tip of his wand on her neck.
Oddly, Hermione did not feel fear to that statement. Her mind was blank and she had no more strength to fight. She closed her eyes, willing to find her end, upset she could not tell Harry how sorry she was.
"I don't think so," a cold voice whispered extremely close.
She then heard a hit and the pressure against her body disappeared. Strong arms lifted her from the floor and pushed her behind them, not letting go of her hand, while she heard someone complain.
She opened her eyes and saw Harry's somber but intense expression. A few feet away, Ron was on the floor, with a hand on his nose. A smirk appeared on Harry's face.
"You can't say you didn't deserve it, Ronald."
"Jerk."
"Who was the one willing to kill Hermione, Ron?" Harry said rhetorically. "Out of fear of… what? A child who hasn't even been born yet… or perhaps the betrayal hurts more?" He spat the word. "You couldn't forgive her despite everything she sacrificed for the Light… you could not conceive another ending but death. Should I consider another ending for you, Ronald?"
"Harry, please…" Hermione whispered squeezing his hand.
He turned to look at her and she tried to tell him what she wished without words. He seemed disturbed when trying to understand her expression, but gave her a weak smile. The members of the Order remained silent, being witnesses of a dialogue in a language far from their understanding.
"Perhaps it is time, Ron, for you to discover the truth about yourself," Harry muttered, letting go of her hand and walking to the red-hair. "Time for you to start judging yourself before you judge anyone else."
Ron could not move. Harry leaned in front of him and looked him in the eyes.
"You cannot continue escaping yourself. Legillimens!"
Hermione watched how Ron twisted in pain under the strong mental force Harry was pushing on him. Neville, Ginny, and Luna remained static, not knowing what to do. They remained like that for several seconds, sharing the sound of Ron's screams. Harry was not being gentle in his treatment of the different layers in the mind of his old friend. Hermione just hoped he had enough self-control to not destroy Ron's mind in the process.
Finally, Filldeserp stood up and Ron's screams stopped. He was only gasping and holding his head with both hands, swaying.
"Ronald Weasley murdered Hermione's father that summer before our seventh year. Voldemort deceived him until he had him under his grasp. He offered him his life in exchange for that… favor," Filldeserp said, his eyes setting coldly on the three friends. "He accepted. Then, he accused me of the murder and tried to convince himself that was the truth. The memories of the entire event lied in his subconscious." Harry's tone had turned fiercer as he continued his speech. "Of course, in the meantime, the Order started to suspect me and pushed me aside. Wasn't it a clean plan, absolutely worthy of Lord Voldemort himself?" Harry laughed out loud, which resounded throughout the hallway.
Everyone, even Hermione, had gone pale. In his laugh there was a vibrant consternation, which hid guilt, pain, loneliness, and anger. She wanted to be closer to him, but something stopped her. The dark aura surrounding him was unfamiliar. It was proof of a raw suffering, which had not been completely understood or observed.
It was… the pain of failure.
Ginny was shaking; Neville was on his knees on the floor, with his head almost touching the hard surface. Luna was hesitating, walking slowly toward Ron. Hermione felt as if she had turned to stone, and Harry was laughing, empty, inconsolable.
It was the image of a destroyed friendship; although, at that moment, everyone seemed united. Between death, torture, and war… belonging to different sides, Hermione had the strange sensation that ideals did not matter anymore. There, they were inexperienced children again, just arriving to Hogwarts, to a world of infinite possibilities… there everyone felt the defeat, the disillusion of those children, of the people they had been.
The laughter ended. Ron opened his eyes and set his gaze on Hermione. There was so much regret, so much guilt in his eyes, that she could not take it anymore. She turned her eyes away, escaping more pain.
"Hermione… I'm sorry. You've no idea how sorry I am…" Ronald whispered, a sob escaping his lips.
She wanted to cover her ears and stop listening. She took a step back, crying as well, absolutely broken before the truth.
Ron stood up shaking and tried to make his way toward her. He wanted to touch her, hug her, to let out everything she was feeling. But Filldeserp stood in his way, his face full of disdain.
"She does not want anything to do with you. Can't you tell?"
"Move!" Ron yelled out of himself. "This doesn't concern you!"
"Oh, it doesn't?" Again the empty laugh. "Even if I hadn't been implicated, everything that causes her pain concerns me."
"What do you care? You're just using her!"
"How dare you?!" Filldeserp yelled and Ron crashed against the wall. Luna cried and ran to him. "Move, Lovegood."
"No!" She yelled. "Stop this insanity, Harry!"
"MOVE!"
A magical force forced her out of the way. But her will was stronger and she released herself from the magical hold, standing in the way between the curse thrown by Filldeserp, and a stunned Ronald. A deep wound opened in her chest, where she had received the hit. She fell to her knees, almost unconscious.
"Luna!" Ginny cried, running to her, holding her and examining her. "She needs urgent medical attention!"
"Harry, please…" Hermione muttered, walking to them. "Let them leave the Fortress." He glared at her, showing his frustration. "Please." He closed his eyes and sighed.
"Do you have portkeys?" He asked, sickened by that sign of mercy. Ginny nodded with desperation. "As of now you have one minute to activate them."
Ginny did not hesitate and disappeared with Luna. Neville thank them and disappeared as well. Ron remained for a moment, watching the couple. Hermione had surrounded Filldeserp's waist with her arms, thanking him. He saw how his eyes glowed to her smile, and how he leaned to kiss her on the lips.
"I'm sorry… for everything, Hermione…" Ron whispered, overwhelmed by that image of love and protection. "…Harry."
They looked at him. Hermione smiled, showing her forgiveness. Harry, instead, did not change his expression.
"Leave now, Weasley. You're wasting seconds."
"What's the point? I already wasted a life," he replied, but disappeared anyway.
Time: 7:30PM
Remus would have preferred to not participate in the attack, but the commitment to the cause had prevailed. To a great extent, he was afraid of not being able to return home, where he knew Tonks and little Hannah were waiting for him; they needed him. Now, after having experienced a life of abandonment and disappointments, he was not willing to become an absence in Hannah's life. The world was too hostile. Perhaps there was not enough innocence there to hope. But his perspective changed to that new opportunity to bet for the Light, for good.
For that same opportunity, that he had to defend and protect, he had agreed to attend and be part of the ranks of the Order in the battlefield. He had been a passive witness of the ability of the Ministry's rune experts, who the Order had been able to recruit for the unusual attack; and they had been able to destroy the barriers that held the illusion of invisibility the Fortress of the Dark Order held. He had even been forced to the back as he gave way to the aurors who had come, not only from the local ministry, but from allied countries, all ready to destabilize the balance of power. Some creatures, like centaurs, were also present. It was a great display of magic and support which Remus had not seen in many years. Anxiety could be felt, but also the adrenaline, as it was the first time in that war that the side of the light took the initiative in enemy territory.
When they had advanced enough to see with clarity the tall towers in that magnificent building, they also noticed the shadows lingering in that immediate horizon. They had the element of surprise, but the Dark Order had evidently managed to come together and form a solid front. Awaiting them were death eaters, vampires, werewolves, and other allies. Despite the distance, Remus could feel the essence of dark magic surrounding them, vibrating with unusual excitement; the essence that, despite his constant rejection, still existed within him and wanted him to be a part of it, not caring about the lunar phase.
Numbed, he observed the succession of events as a spectator of a play. At a prudent distance from the Fortress, the Dark Order did not allow them much farther. Filldeserp's imposing figure had walked to the front of his allies and announced, with a strong and cold voice, that there would be no mercy in that encounter; that the invaders had been condemned to failure.
The side of the light did not take a step back, but the anxiety increased. Perhaps some had fantasized with the rumors of Filldeserp's weakness, and had believed they could prevail without a major challenge. But, though human, he was a Dark Lord. Weakness would not be an evident feature in his appearance.
For Remus, however, that was his first encounter with the living corpse of who had been Harry Potter. His heart beat faster, because he knew the past had finally caught up with him.
The beginning of the battle was confusing. Both sides were mixed and the night was lit by the curses, charms, and hexes. Deafened by the overwhelming noise of the cries of pain, the calls for help, the screams exchanged in every duel, he moved instinctively, to wherever his feet led him.
Until he was finally a few feet away from Filldeserp. His memories did not explain the existence of that person, but even so, he understood he needed proof. For minutes he only watched him, as he had done so during the battle at Hogwarts, because the transformation was shocking. The passion in his movements, the speed, precision, and even the deadliness of his attacks, showed the fruit of seven years of training. He was not a student surpassed by the circumstances; he was a man aware of his choice and of the people depending on him. He managed his subjects, sometimes, without even using words. A glance was enough for Anthony to leave his side and help a death eater fighting three aurors.
There was the strength of the dark magic he had felt before. He could understand how centuries old vampires had gone to him and formed an alliance. Even Remus, whose wolf was subjugated, felt he had to bow to him, to accept him as leader. It was incredible, unconceivable, that a man could focus so much power, such intensity.
After defeating another auror, Filldeserp turned to his direction and finally saw him there, static. His expression did not change, but his body immediately took an aggressive stance. With bitter irony, Remus wanted to believe that the past had conquered him, Lord Voldemort's great heir. That in his gaunt face, perhaps he could also see the ghosts of his parents, his godfather, and of so many people who had died in the hope of his salvation. But to want was not enough; he could not believe in redemption anymore.
"Lupin," Filldeserp greeted him, raising an eyebrow. "Professor Lupin, what an extraordinary encounter."
"Harry," he replied, because the pseudonym would have been too much.
"Remus!" Another person yelled behind Filldeserp, who he then noticed was Hermione.
He was surprised of the protective gesture the dark wizard made, as he extended his arm to set his body in between hers and Remus', obviously believing his objective would be her. His wand, which until then had remained passive in his hand, pointed at him with determination, but Remus did not move.
"Don't hurt him, Remus would never attack you," he heard Hermione whisper. Her brown eyes were questioning him, as if looking a confirmation of what she had said.
Lupin was shocked. Filldeserp had lowered his wand, although distrust was still present in his green eyes. A memory of Harry and Hermione in their third year at Hogwarts, when she had tried to reason with him, made him understand what he had always believed, after all. Hatred was not predominant there anymore; what gave strength to the darkness at that moment was a completely opposite feeling. It was an odd footprint of fraternity.
That was why those men and women were willing to die for him; because he was willing to die for them; especially for her.
The answer was so simple, so close, so ordinary, that it almost seems like a joke in that place, with spilled blood, in that uncertain future.
But only he could see it, and as such, only he could judge what happened next.
Filldeserp had returned to the duels, but Hermione had remained one last moment in front of him, trying to express something with her eyes. Seconds later, an exclamation of bewilderment and urgency gave notice to a betrayal.
The death eater Filldeserp had gone to help had changed her wand's direction and had pointed it at her own leader. His expression had changed to one of disdain, but not incredulity. Of her, he could only notice her blond her before an Avada Kedavra broke the established order.
In a moment, everything exploded. The deadly curse, destined for Filldeserp, was intercepted by Hermione, who fell inert on her husband's arms. Remus would later swear everything stopped until a piercing roar came out of Filldeserp himself, who fell to the ground on his knees. His left cheek had suddenly taken the appearance of dead flesh, burned.
A very peculiar fear made Remus shiver. Some members of the Order fell back to the sudden appearance of dementors, and even the death eaters seemed paralyzed, not understanding what was happening or where they were coming from. He, nevertheless, walked to Filldeserp.
He could have killed him and ended the war right then with ease. But that body was shaking, perhaps because of the suffering he was not allowing himself to express by crying, surrounded by an elemental fire that was not attacking. That body had been left without an answer, but Remus could not find the courage to take the question away from him.
A dementor got closer to them. The werewolf was ready to cast a patronus, but his thoughts were not focused and he only managed some mist.
"Remus…" He turned and saw Filldeserp, holding Hermione with a hand under her neck. "Could you use your portkey and take her to your place? I'll take care of the dementors."
Perhaps as a guarantee of his implicit promise, he extended his wand and said the charm that he, Remus Lupin, had taught him twelve years before. But, unlike those days, the patronus was not a deer, but an otter, which got rid of the dementor in one attack.
Remus then leaned over Hermione's body, took her cold hand, and activated his portkey with the latent memory of that which she had communicated with her eyes before her sacrifice.
An impossible future.