Holy crap!
I got on fanfictiondotnet to take a quick look at my reviews and wow!
There's a lot of love for this story out there. That's kind of awesome ya know?
\(^u^)/ I feel loved.
So anyways, here's chapter 23, I know I was evil with how I left you guys hanging last chapter but hey, cliffies are fun to write so ha!
All the same, I hope you guys like this chapter. I was in a bit of a sadistic mood for part of it. Poor Louis.
Disclaimer- Antarctica is cold.
~HPT~
Chapter 23- Bill
Neville sighed, swaying slightly with the rocking of the boat. It didn't look much like a water vessel when inside of it. It almost resembled a building. One with white walls and tile like a hospital, far too impersonal in case they need abandon it, but a building nonetheless. The only thing that let you realize it was a boat in the first place was the swaying motion that had unbalanced them all a bit until they had grown accustomed to it.
All the furniture was bolted down as a result, and though they could adjust it through magic, they had decided not to. After all, in the nigh-impossible chance that an enemy ever got on board, they would be un-used to the motion, and thus at a disadvantage.
The rocking of the boat and the sounds of waves against its hull was also a very soothing thing. Something to keep Neville grounded when it felt as though the world was crashing down around him.
He stood in front of a door within a very plain room that's only furniture was a metal table and two chairs on either side of it. In one seat sat Harry. He was paler than he used to be, his mane of black hair a bit wilder, and just a hint of hair along his jaw. There were dark, purpling shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of his insomnia. His hands lay crossed upon the table, and Neville could see the nails were bitten down with hints of dried blood along the edges.
He looked like hell.
It was his expression that seemed the worst thing though. His face was perfectly blank, as though made of stone, but his green eyes swam with betrayal and pain and their ever-present rage. He closed his eyes a moment. He had long ago learned that such an expression didn't bode well for anyone.
When his eyes opened they landed upon the other occupant of the room; chained as he was to the second chair. He was eerily calm, despite having just admitted to murder of members of his own family. A state, Neville knew, was the result of a vial full of calming draught and Veritaserum.
His long red hair fell in greasy wisps across his shoulders and his blue eyes stared at Harry. Neville frowned. There was something wrong with that gaze. It was dead, as though there were no life at all within him, but he was still breathing, and the potions should not have had that deep of an effect. He was paler than usual too, and despite the fact that it was a bit warm in here there was no sweat across his body like with Neville or Harry.
"Sloth." He stood at attention at the words, and the tone of them that he knew so well. He knew what would happen. No prisoner heard their codenames on this ship if they would ever leave it.
"Yes sir?"
Green eyes turned to look at him, and the emotions in them seemed dulled down, as though Harry had seen fit to bring up his occlumency shields and lock the emotions away. A dangerous way of dealing with these matters, but effective all the same.
"Leave. Guard the door. No one is to enter until I come out." His orders are direct, to the point, with no emotions inflected into the words.
Neville swallows, a familiar haunting feeling crawling up his spine. He nods, and leaves the room.
He stands in front of the other side of the door, shaking his head upon the rare occasion that someone begins to approach him. There is a clock on the wall not too far from him, and when he hears the knob of the door begin to turn it has been just over an hour.
The door opens and he doesn't turn around. Not yet. He's afraid of what he might see.
Harry stops next to him, but he doesn't turn to look at him, images of death-eaters being ripped apart by chaos magic swirling viciously through his thoughts.
He hates himself for the fear he feels in his brother's presence.
He sometimes hates Harry for causing it.
But mostly he hates Voldemort for bringing them to this point…
"You'll take out the trash wont you?" It is said as though Harry is speaking about the weather, and he nods without a word.
Harry walks past him and he sees that the teen is covered in blood, soaked in it, like he has bathed in the irony fluid. He swallows as it drips to the floor and there is a sticky sound whenever Harry's boots touch the floor, leaving red prints in their wake.
He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath to calm himself as Harry rounds the corner down the hall. Only then does he turn.
His first though is that it is not as bad as when Teddy was killed.
His second is that it is somehow worse.
Bill is still chained to his chair. But his throat has been slit and his chest carved open. He sees pieces of the redhead's busted ribcage lying on the floor nearby, and his heart sits upon the table; a muggle knife stabbed through it.
There is blood everywhere. Covering Bill from head to toe and still dripping down. It coats the table where the organ lies, and the floor beneath it.
He doesn't lose his lunch this time.
Though he nearly does when he casts out his senses and discovers the only magic in the room clinging to the knife; caused most likely when Harry summoned it.
He did not use magic to kill the man.
Neville worries for his brother as he begins the process of cleanup, covering his nose to block the scent of decay.
It never occurs to him that the corpse is far too newly made to rot as it does.
He never notices that the skin seems far paler than it should.
Perhaps if he had, he would have worried more.
~HPT~
Harry was silent for the rest of the day.
He didn't speak to Jasper, who stopped asking what was wrong after the third time he received no response. He didn't speak to his family, who were all very tense; them knowing Harry well enough to see his lack of speech as a bad sign. He didn't even speak to Paul; who merely held him close for a few moments after realizing that Harry wasn't talking.
This seemed to calm Harry down a bit, and he offered a quick kiss on the cheek as he and his family left to return home for the day. He didn't tell them what he saw, having convinced himself it was a hallucination (It must be! It couldn't have been real!), and instead chose to take a couple sips from a calming drought and take off as Wrath to spend his night with Riley and Bree.
He ran, rather than fly, as it was less conspicuous to do so; and it wasn't yet night. The running, trees moving past him in a blur, wind whipping across his scales, gave him time to think. He knew the path to the clearing and the cave well enough that he could get there in his sleep.
Bill was dead.
He was certain of this.
He had imagined it.
It wasn't possible.
Right?
And that's where his trouble lay. That doubt. That unsaid What if? It tormented his thoughts and refused to leave him be. He didn't want to think about how it could be possible…
But he was a soldier at heart.
He didn't survive the war by not covering all his bases.
With that thought in mind, he brought up his little-used Occlumency shields and locked the emotions behind them. Not a very healthy thing to do, but it would allow him to think about this more clearly.
So. Was it possible?
He had killed Bill the muggle way.
Or rather, he had killed the person he believed was Bill the muggle way.
But it hadn't just looked like Bill. It had acted like him, sounded like him, smel-
No. It had smelled like a corpse.
Of course, he assumed that was the result of Bill having just murdered Percy at the time, but all the same. And he had taken the Veritaserum. They always asked a few control questions, one of which was the person's name.
Under the influence of Veritaserum he had stated quite clearly that he was Bill Weasley. So it couldn't have just been someone Polyjuiced to look like Bill. That option was out. And besides that, the death eaters were more about self-preservation than self-sacrifice, so it wasn't as though one of them would have gone willingly to his death for a fellow death eater.
But then…
Bill wasn't really a death eater was he?
No. He was a werewolf. He had willingly joined Fenrir Greyback's pack. They worked with the death eaters, but like the other magical creatures that had chosen to side with Voldemort, they themselves were not actually death eaters. Hence why none of them ever took on the mark, and how Bill had been able to deceive them for so long. He never had the mark, and so they hadn't suspected.
In fact…
Had they not have found him when they went to the Burrow to gather some things Ron needed, and seen him standing over Percy's corpse, a dark smile on his face and an appreciative growl rumbling through his chest; then they never would have known.
He didn't even look that surprised when he saw them, though the regret in his eyes when he turned to Harry had been genuine.
But still… It had almost been as though he had wanted to be caught. Harry had assumed it was because he actually regretted his actions, regretted the monster he had allowed himself to become, but…
His large eyes narrowed, the pupils becoming slit and the thin spikes upon his head straightening. He had never asked Bill's reasoning of that day. He had asked why of course, once Neville had left the room, but nothing beyond that. He never asked about the regret he had seen in those blue eyes that had become tinted with werewolf gold.
He had been too angry, too upset, too…
Too emotional.
It had always been his problem, one he had never really been able to fix.
But still…
He slowed as he came closer to the clearing. Nobody but him knew what had been said in that room when they had been left alone. It would stay that way.
Still, something about this didn't feel right.
~HPT~
Louis Davies was a simple person.
He was pretty average looking, not an Adonis, but not ugly either, and that was ok, because really he was more interested in school than girls; and girls seemed more interested in make-up and prom and movie stars than in him. He was cool with that.
He liked science, and math, and unlike his mother, he liked living in a small town where everybody knew everybody and life was simple. Life, science, and math, were predictable. He liked that. He wasn't all that fond of change or unexpected situations.
Which was partly why he was so damn terrified.
He had watched with horror when those creatures, because they were too damn big to be the wolves they looked like, had attacked his family. He had seen the auburn-colored one tear viciously into his uncle and- oh god, it was eating him alive- and it was horrible- and there was just so much blood-
He had seen the dark grey one, which looked bigger, bulkier, rip apart his little cousins- they were just kids and they- oh god they weren't even in middle school yet and- what the fuck was that thing, that, that, monster!
He would liked to have said that he fought, that he tried to save his family, but he was just so fucking scared… He ran. He turned and he ran in terror.
And then something very big smacked into him and he fell to the ground. He felt claws digging into his legs and he turned around and he screamed because it was right there! Right on top of him! He was going to die!
The sound had made it look at him, and his own emerald eyes, which were the only thing about his appearance he felt made him special, locked with gold ones that where streaked with bits of bright blue and the monster had stopped.
He was so certain it was going to eat him, but instead it had dragged him away- off away from the bodies- oh god, they were all dead- and it had bitten him.
It had hurt, so, so much. Like nothing before, and then he had felt it tear off his clothes and- oh god no! please no! it hurt so much-
That was a few weeks ago now, or maybe longer. He wasn't sure anymore. All he knew was that the monsters were human- no, not human never human, just demons in human skin- and they had changed again the next night. Into the horrible wolf-demon-creatures, and they had brought back two more people.
Same for the night after that.
He didn't' know the names of the other four that were trapped- prisoners to the monsters- please somebody help us- there with him. But he knew from what the monsters had told them that he and they were going to become monsters soon too.
It was bad, so bad, because three of the others actually seemed excited about it, like it was something good. The last, a girl (and damn it she couldn't be older than fifteen), was as terrified as he was, he knew that, he could see it.
He could see they were just using them too. That they had caught and bit, and, and changed them for a reason. He didn't want this. He didn't want to follow them, especially not the redhead who- fuck, every night- hurts so bad- had bitten him. But he was scared, terrified. He would do whatever it took to keep himself alive.
At least for now.
And maybe, just maybe there would be some way for him to save himself- run away, far away- escape!
But for now…
For now he was trapped.
~HPT~
Fenrir chuckled as he looked upon his pack.
Including the one Bill had chosen, they had claimed four others as new packmates. There were three males, and two females. There was the one Bill had changed, the other two males were bikers they had found who were just travelling through the area. One of the girls was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, maybe younger, who had gone for a hike and gotten lost. The last girl was a druggie, or she had been, that seemed to have taken a liking to himself.
It was better than he had expected. Two of the males, and one of the females were willing. He hadn't told them what they were needed for just yet, but they were excited, they wanted this. The other female and the boy Bill had picked weren't exactly willing per say, but they were terrified enough to do whatever they were told.
Fenrir could work with that.
The next full moon would start in about four days or so. Their new packmates would undergo the change for the first time. He growled at that. The first time was painful, and would leave them all weakened. They wouldn't be able to strike against Potter and his little friends until the next month.
Maybe they could increase their numbers this full moon though, improve their chances. They had decided that they would attack on the night of a full moon, as they would be at their strongest then. Plus the wolf instincts that made werewolves look after their pack would help keep the ones they had chosen in line.
He smirked. Bill had found him.
Potter seemed to be attending muggle school of all things in a tiny little backwater town called Forks. They all lived n one house, and though there were wards on it, Bill hadn't been a cursebreaker for nothing.
He could weaken the wards slowly, until the next full moon, and then when they attacked there would be nothing left to protect them.
He looked over at his beta, who seemed to hear his thoughts and grinned at him.
Oh this would be fun.
~HPT~
Victoria smiled out on her newborns. There were enough of them now. Or at least there were enough that the losses they'd end up suffering on their way to the Cullens due to fighting wouldn't be an issue. Besides that, she was growing impatient.
It was time to move.
~HPT~
It was only a couple days later when Alice saw it. They were at lunch, all of them sitting with the members of the Black family who actually attended school, even Edward and Bella were with them today.
She was in the middle of a discussion with Draco concerning wizarding fashion, when she froze and became glassy eyed mid-sentence. Edward stiffened next to her at the vision was shown to him though her mind, and likewise everyone else at the table tensed from his reaction. They had long since told the Black family of her abilities and while the thought of a seer seemed to make them all uneasy they had accepted it after asking and being assured that no, Alice did not tell any prophecies.
When she came out of her words were enough to justify their worry.
"Victoria is coming."
~HPT~
I felt like being mean and stopping here, but then I thought, nah, it's too short, and after last chapter you guys would try to kill me for it so…
~HPT~
On the grounds of a family emergency (which concerned the Blacks as well since they were "distant relatives"), they were able to leave school and head to, at their insistence, the Black family home. The shifters were called and were on their way.
It was quiet and tense, all of them lost in thought. They had been expecting the day to come of course, but to know just how close it was now…
Alice told them that Victoria had begun to lead her army towards them, and they would arrive in the same clearing where the Cullens played baseball in two days time. There would be much to prepare beforehand, and Harry needed to find some way to make sure Riley and Bree would be safe while they fought.
Harry supposed his family getting involved in all this was somehow inevitable. If not to help him to protect Riley and Bree, than because four of them were connected to the shifters, and if not for that, then because Victoria was after Bella and Sirius were connected to her father. They may have even gotten involved purely due to their friendship with the Cullens. The only way they would not have become involved was if they had never come to Forks in the first place.
In his musings, the thought of Bill that had plagued Harry's mind were cast aside.
They had bigger problems right now.
~HPT~
Two days seemed to come and go far too quickly.
This was the worst part, Harry decided, the waiting.
He and the rest of SIN found themselves in the trees, cloaked in notice-me-not charms and scentless spells so that the coming vampires would not know they were there. The Cullens stood together, waiting anxiously and putting up a united front, the shifters flanking them on either side. Seth, Collin, and Brady were away in the cave with Riley and Bree. They were the youngest of the shifters, and so it would be best for them to be away from the battle, and if Victoria had sent anyone after the two vampires, which was unlikely, they would have a better chance with the shifters there. Sirius and the twins (who had come and gone since their initial visit on the bases of checking up on their new shop) were protecting Charley, Billy, and Bella, under the ruse of an impromptu fishing day.
Alice had assured them that Victoria and her creations would be here soon. Right now though, everything was quiet, almost peaceful. He hated this part of a battle. Harry was a fighter, a protector; it was as much a part of him as the blood flowing through his veins, but this…
It had always been something he had disliked during the war. On the occasions that they planned raids and ambushes, or even stake-outs which led to battles more often than not for them; it was always the waiting that got to him.
His limbs nearly shook with the desire to move, to go, to do something. Anxiety pooled in his belly like a harsh poison and he could already feel the adrenaline beginning to sing through his body. He was accustomed to the chaos and discord of battle, and blood, and death. He didn't enjoy it, but there was something about the rush of a fight and the feeling of victory that rushed through him whenever an enemy was felled by his own hands; and the knowledge that there were people who depended on him, people he was fighting to protect.
He did not enjoy war, but he was made for it.
His magic pulsed softly under his skin and he could feel the anticipation in it. They were coming. A few more moments and his eyes could catch blurring movement far through the trees. The blurs became forms as they slowed, though it was only his well-trained eyes, used to hunting for a tiny golden ball even in the rain, that let him see them more clearly.
There were many of them, at least twenty, give or take a few. They were led by a blur which was topped and framed in bright ginger red brighter than the traditional Weasley hair. He knew from the descriptions that this was Victoria. He tensed on the branch he was knelt upon, his every muscle tensing like coiled springs.
He waited, breaths coming just a bit quicker now and a familiar feeling of dark anger moving through him. The part of him connected to the Drake he spent too much time as surging up. Riley and Bree were his. Just like his family was his. Like Paul and the Cullens and even the other shifters were his.
And Victoria had hurt them.
Had made them fear her.
His hands curled into fists and his eyes narrowed, glowing slightly with his magic.
She would pay.
Victoria and her army slowed further as they entered the baseball clearing, stopping entirely just a ways within it. Victoria stood at the front, a dark-skinned newborn standing beside her with a smirk on his face; seeming to have taken the place of Riley. Harry watched the other newborns gathered behind the two. A few of them stood human-like, though far too still, others crouched slightly (much like the Cullens) while the rest crouched more with growls and sharp snarls rumbling out of them, and baring their teeth; they looked far more like beasts than people anymore.
Harry felt a pang of pity for them. They had been human once, but between being changed, and how Victoria had influenced them, they had been reduced to this. He shook his head and pushed those feelings back. It didn't matter. They had made their choice, and they would be dead soon because of it. He couldn't save them, they were already beyond saving.
Victoria stood there watching the Cullens with narrowed eyes that flashed with rage after running over them once. Harry suspected this was because Bella was not among them and he had to wonder at her intelligence. To come here herself and just assume that Bella would be with the Cullens…
It was foolish.
She stood there, assessing them for a moment, a dark smirk curling over her lips as she seemed to come to the conclusion that she would win; being completely unaware of the wizards and witches waiting and watching from the trees.
Thunder boomed overhead, and Harry absently wondered if it would rain again. Everyone was still for a moment, and the wake of the thunder left silence in its wake that was broken only by the snarls of the newborns and the beginnings of deep growls from the wolves.
Then, like a signal, lightning flashed across the sky and the newborns attacked.
~HPT~
Ok. So….
I have a reason for stopping it here!
I'm actually wondering if anyone would be willing to help me…
Fact is, I'm not very good with battle scenes. I do just fine if the numbers are small, but an all out battle with a lot of participants is somewhat beyond me.
Think somebody can help me out?
I really just need some basics to work from and then I'll be good.
Let me know if anybody's willing, I'll be able to do it myself if I have to, it'll just take me a couple days to get started really.
Regardless…
I promise to have the next chapter up within like a week or so. Okay?