A/N: Let's go FUCKING kill some characters *cocks shotgun* Yeehaw!
The Battle of Grim Old Place: SUFFERING
Most of the individuals trapped in Grimmauld Place had gone to war and had thought that, hopefully, they would never go back to war again. Death laughed in the face of their hope and said that whilst it was true that hope died last, the death of hope sure was delicious to watch as it gasped and writhed.
Like a broken record, over and over again, a train of thought seemed to repeating itself in every mage's head: Please, I don't want to die in Walburga Black's house. Please, if there is a god or a series of gods – don't do this to me. I've got the capacity to change for the better, I swear! This isn't me just saying this now, I'm really going to turn over a new leaf - a new book even! I'll mow down however many trees it takes for me to change. Please.
It was a complex train of thought, all in all. Unfortunately for the thinkers Death didn't believe any of their prayers. In fact, she dropped her usual pastime of watching Tom Riddle to entertain herself with the Battle of Grim Old Place. It would go down in history as the author's most hated series of chapters.
Sirius Black took up his wand and aimed it at his mother, an expression of concentration intermixing with rage only problematic sons had when dealing with problematic parents. Walburga looked at him and said, not as cruelly as Sirius had expected: ''Haven't got any werewolves to set on me, do you, son?''
Severus could be heard abruptly laughing in the most bitter tone anyone had ever heard come from him. Remus shut him up with an expeliarmus that hit him straight in the mouth.
The Order fought valiantly against the most heinous opposition. The Weasleys, however, were all over the place, scattered in the wind like red mist.
Ron Weasley and Harry Potter (honorary Weasley) were pitted against the one, the only couple of Wiltshire that made their relationship work without a duel in over ten years: Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy!
Meanwhile, not far from them: Molly and Arthur Weasley were up against the inexperienced Draco Malfoy and the ever-present-for-wars-that-have-nothing-to-do-with-him-a-slav Igor Karkaroff.
''Junior!'' Moody yelled, wand ready and his form constantly vigilant nowadays. He looked like a rabid dog ready to tear apart his target.
Barty and Avery turned around at the same time, worry lined creasing their frames in an unflattering light. They'd have to put lots of creams to get those out if they wanted to keep their youthful visages. Avery touched his face and felt dread coiling around his insides.
Moody put his dreads to bed: ''Not you, lover boy. I meant Crouch's disgraceful son!''
Avery shrugged, hiding that he was grateful not to go against legendary Mad Eye: ''Tough luck, Barty.'' And pushed the young Death Eater towards Moody.
Diggle, however, managed to keep Avery busy enough. One of the spells he fired cut a lock of Avery's hair. It was the greatest tragedy of the battle for Avery. Well. One of the greatest tragedies of the battle. The other one hadn't yet come to pass.
Avery cried out in a mournful rage: ''Sectumsempra!''
Diggle toppled down, clutching at his neck, profusely trying to stop the bleeding. He smeared Walburga Black's Black walls. Her painting exclaimed: ''DISGUSTING!''
While her painting shouted atop her lungs, Walburga was silent for a change as she cast against the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Sirius went silent, too. They climbed up the stairs, as the downstairs raged in cacophony of spellfire. At some point during the battle, Walburga shot her son with a cutting hex, and Sirius returned it tenfold harder.
But just because their spell casting was silent, didn't necessarily mean that their battle was wholly without commentary. Because like mother like son, neither couldn't help but be the dramatic force they were known to be.
''YOU UTTER DISGRACE, SIRIUS!''
''CRY ME A RIVER, WALBURGA!''
''YOU UNGRATEFUL BOY! IF YOU WERE ANYONE ELSE'S SON YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN SENT AWAY A LONG, LONG TIME AGO! THE THINGS I LET YOU GET AWAY WITH – WHAT YOU'D DONE TO BOTH SEVERUS AND THAT WEREWOLF WOULD HAVE LANDED YOU IN AZKABAN!''
''YOU DIDN'T DO SHITE FOR THAT, O MOTHER OF THE PUREST, MOST INBRED BLOOD! THAT WAS ALL DUMBLEDORE'S DOING!''
Walburga fired off two hexes consecutively, finding power in giving her son a piece of her mind: ''HA! YOU THINK DUMBLEDORE SENT THE LUPINS MONEY AS CONSOLATION? YOU THINK DUMBLEDORE APPEASED ABRAXAS MALFOY INTO NOT PRESSING CHARGES AGAINST YOU FOR HARMING HIS, THEN FAVOURED, WARD? IT WAS BECAUSE OF MY DOING, IT WAS BECAUSE OF ME BEING YOUR MOTHER THAT YOU'RE HERE WHERE YOU ARE NOW!''
Sirius repulsively looked at his mother then. The very last thing he wanted to be was indebted to her. ''HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME! REMUS WOULD HAVE TOLD ME!''
He sent a spell at her. It hit her in the chest and caused her to fall down. She gritted her teeth and realised that it was a potent petrificus totalus.
Only after her son fled to aid his comrades did she proudly put together that her son hadn't aimed to kill. Her standards were low, but she lowered them some more for good measure.
The view she had from her position was very nice. Orion Black's sexy (to be fair, Walburga thought Orion was sexy all the time, without fault) painting waved at her and mouthed: I love you.
Walburga wished she could smile at him. Ugh, bloody children and their potent petrificus totaluses.
Lucius and Narcissa fought against young Order members their son's age. It was kind of disconcerting.
Ron and Harry mirrored their movements.
''We won't cast any unforgivables.'' Narcissa turned to her husband and joked. ''They may rebound on us.''
Lucius said to his wife that, as the more experienced combatant of the two of them, it was in poor taste to say such things in duel. Narcissa gently placed a hand on Lucius' cheek and said: ''Darling, while I do love you, this can all change if you don't let me have my fun with the miracle child.''
He nodded at that. There was something about his wife, now that she was on ancestral ground, that filled him with a sense of relief and calm. It would be very hard to kill anyone of Black blood.
Harry sent a testing hex at Lucius, who deflected it.
Narcissa sent a tripping hex on Ron. He fell down some stairs. Harry ran to aid him.
Lucius turned around and couldn't help but grin: ''What is it with you and just effortlessly winning in combat?''
Narcissa smiled very proudly of herself. ''I suppose I'm a natural.''
Then said natural got hit with a stray bone shattering hex in her ankle and toppled down on her husband like a led balloon.
''Mother! Mother, I'm sorry!'' Draco exclaimed from down the corridor. His combatants were Molly and Arthur Weasley, who decided to take five for a moment after turning Igor into a rugby ball. One that Arthur promptly punted across the room.
''Are you out of your mind, Draco?!'' Lucius shouted, outraged. ''Where were you aiming? Don't you know how to duel?!'' He almost didn't stop himself from asking who had taught him how to duel in fear of Draco shouting YOU DID in front of Arthur Weasley, that menace of a man.
Draco rushed towards his mother to see if she was all right. Narcissa would live, but she was in a lot of pain right now and the look she fixed her son with would have murdered men and women in a more deadly way than the Basilisk's eyes could. ''I'm fine, my dragon.'' She whispered.
Languidly Molly and Arthur walked over to the Malfoys. Arthur, because he never could keep his mouth shut when around Lucius, had this to say: ''Well, that's one way to raise a child, I suppose.''
Lucius glared at Arthur, then, and abandoned his wife in order to toss insults at his long-life nemesis.
Molly and Narcissa exchanged those looks they'd grown accustomed to exchanging. A more observant observer would describe the meaning of this gaze as: We married them and we love them, but they need to fuck. And we'd be fine with that.
Lucius pretended to laugh at an insult Arthur sent his way. He flung his hair out of the way and sneered: ''I won't be laughed at by a man that's neck deep in debt because casting a contraceptive charm is too much hassle for him.''
''There's nothing wrong with having a large family! Now what's disgusting is the set up of your family-''
''Well, Arthur, I never took you as a homophobe-''
''I couldn't care less about any of that, don't you dare spin this – you piranha of a man – this is about fascism and pureblood prejudice leaking off of you in full!''
''I hate how dirty that comparison sounds!''
''You hate how accurate it is! Is Draco supposed to learn good values from a Death Eater?''
And now they were duelling. Lucius couldn't take another insult about his bad life choices. He desperately wanted to toss Arthur Weasley to the ground and show him who was boss. Oh well, with that in mind maybe Narcissa's constant comments of his frustration when around Arthur Weasley made sense? Lucius had a lot of things to think about. Arthur just drew the worst out of him! That precocious fiend!
Molly healed Narcissa's ankle and asked her to test her leg out. Narcissa did and thanked the woman for brilliant spell work.
''Well, with how many injuries my boys have gone through due to quidditch, or this and that – I had to learn healing spells.'' Molly shrugged.
''Very good job for a self-taught woman. I trust you didn't take the classes at St. Mungo's?''
The tension between Molly and Narcissa rose like a wall. Draco tried to alleviate the tension by asking after Molly's many, many children.
Molly boasted: ''Bill's in France with Fleur. He married rich.''
Draco elbowed Narcissa, who then said that Molly had raised a very level headed boy, if his priority was money.
Molly admitted that they really didn't have as much as other households, but that she'd tried her best. Narcissa agreed. ''Parenting is very hard.''
''Charlie's off in Hungary nowadays. There's a new job opening he's going to take. I'm very proud of him.''
''He's the dragon tamer?'' Narcissa was trying to keep track of all of these Weasleys. Lucius knew them all by heart because KNOW THY ENEMY, CISSA.
''Yes, yes.''
Draco said that having a job where you had to interact with dragons sounded wicked cool. Narcissa laughed and said that if he went to have such a dangerous job she'd personally ensure his trust fund would disappear. Draco scoffed: ''It sounds cool, but it's probably just a lot of dung scraping, anyway. Really, mother – no need for such drastic measures.''
Fred and George ran their own joke shop. They were abroad in France, trying to open up another branch. Apparently the French loved pranks. Some Antoinette Mercier woman wanted to fund them, solely so she can have as many Fake Exploding Peacocks to buy off of them and terrorize her ex-husband who's a native Englishman.
Narcissa laughed into her hand, abruptly. Molly, unaccustomed to this woman exhibiting anything other than poise and elegance, balked. Draco groaned. All three of them, briefly glanced over to the infamous duel happening nearby.
The way Arthur and Lucius duelled could be likened to a passionately heated tango.
Molly averted her eyes first, as she couldn't watch this dumpster fire of a situation her husband had finally decided to untangle.
''I hope that Ron wasn't harmed too badly.'' Narcissa only knew Ron Weasley because he was Draco's age, otherwise she couldn't care less.
Ron was with Harry, being tended to, at the bottom of the stairs. Molly boasted about how her youngest son was so brave. An auror.
A green killing curse whizzed through the air. It nearly grazed said youngest son. Molly screamed aloud. Duelling in such close proximity to many other duels was a terrible idea. Narcissa's breath stopped. She looked at Draco and ordered him to take cover immediately.
''Mother, don't be ridiculous.'' Draco didn't get much time to talk, because Narcissa hit her son in the shin, causing him to fall down - just in time for a blood congealing spell to fly over his head.
Molly caused a scene by calling out whoever had dared cast an unforgivable in such close quarters. Augusta Longbottom merely levelled her old, incredibly wrathful gaze and apologized through gritted teeth. But in her defence, she merely gestured to the presence of Bellatrix Black.
To change the topic, Narcissa looked to Molly and asked: ''How's your daughter?''
Their husbands still fought and Narcissa didn't know whether leaving him to his game was a smart idea. Molly seemed to be having a similar dilemma.
Ginny was in Hogwarts with her girlfriend Luna. Molly sighed: ''She wants to be a quidditch player.'' Then she rolled her eyes. ''Children and their ideas.''
''Well, Ginny could play professionally.'' Draco put in his two knuts into the conversation. ''She is the best on her team. Potter just had dumb luck and raw talent. They don't care for that in a professional setting as much as strategy.''
Molly patted Draco on the cheek and pinched them, for good measure. ''You've raised such a respectful boy, Narcissa.''
''Thank you, Molly.''
Arthur and Lucius had given up duelling to physically wrestle each other down. It was just as awkward as one might imagine two grown men fighting like schoolboys.
Molly, Narcissa, and Draco decided to leave them to it. This had gone on long enough.
''There's got to be some part of this house that's neutral?'' Molly asked the real questions.
''Try the Library.'' Narcissa said. ''If I know my family, and I do, someone would have already thought to convert the Library to a med zone.''
Bellatrix thought that of all the things she could have done, going up against Augusta Longbottom was by far her most ambitious feat.
''I'm very pleased to see you out of Azkaban.'' Augusta said and held her wand in a tight, unforgiving grasp. Her eyes scanned Bellatrix. With abhorrence she said: ''Your punishment was not good enough.''
More chilling words had never been said to Bellatrix. She primed her wand for attack, taking on a duelling stance that would elicit awe. ''Frankie was collateral damage, I just want to clear that up.''
Augusta shot first.
Bellatrix evaded.
Remus and Severus squared off. This wasn't a duel, per se, as much as it was a coming clean party.
''It was wrong what we did to you at Hogwarts, Severus.'' Remus apologised on behalf of all of his the Marauders (dead, dead-to-Remus, and rigidly dead set in his way that his actions had no consequences).
''Shut up.'' Severus, a somewhat emotionally intelligent individual, had this to say. ''You're only apologizing because I've got you on wand point, dog.''
Doge made a grave error in turning around from his duel to see what Severus wanted from him. Avery took this opportune moment and fired off a sleeping jinx. Alas, Doge fell and twisted his neck in a very unfortunate angle. Avery closed his eyes and hissed: ''Yikes.''
Death claimed her victim and moved on to another room. She marvelled at the spaciousness of the venue, as Grimmauld Place tended to be very cramped and claustrophobic, akin to a prison sons wanted to flee from. Ancestral magic acted in conspicuous ways. A space fit for many battles was what the Black family wanted – then it would be as they wished.
She skipped and shimmied up to a frenzied Thoros Nott. Lovingly, Death caressed the back of his neck and enjoyed the way he tensed up. Fear clawed apart his stomach and bathed in its acid. Shakes occupied his fingers. His opponent didn't take long before overtaking him. Tonks' hair switched to bubblegum pink from sour green, when she saw the old man topple down in a bind.
''Oof. Not nice to freeze up in battle like that, Lord Nott.'' She winked and levitated his body to a nearby couch to sit on until they got all of this sorted. ''I hear Azkaban gets better and better the more you return!'' Then, remembering herself. ''Wait, no, don't escape again.''
Thoros could only think of what a long time it'd been since he'd last duelled. Then he came to the conclusion that it was better to freeze up when up against someone who didn't want him dead, than to do so against someone with a personal vendetta against him.
''Sir, where do I take prisoners?'' Tonks shouted.
Moody, who was in a bloody battle with Barty Jr, fanned away this question. ''I don't ruddy know, Tonks, take him to the Library. It's probably been converted to a neutral zone by now.''
She saluted the man and pulled Thoros up into a standing position. ''Let's go.'' She pushed him hard. Thoros staggered, but caught himself from falling face first on the floor.
Neville somehow found himself up against a slav that really, honestly, nobody had any idea how he had involved himself in a british civil war during the 1970s. Even stranger was how he'd run across the man. He was a rugby ball, for Merlin's sake.
''Boy.'' Igor Karkaroff panted heavily from exertion. Turning yourself back into human form took out of one's self apparently. ''Don't make any sudden movements and everything will be fine.''
''That's not reassuring.'' Neville said it how it was. Before Igor could gather his bearings, Neville charged him. He'd learned that sometimes the best offence was actually physically attacking one's opponent. Igor didn't see this powerhouse coming.
What he also didn't see coming was Barty Jr taking his duel against Moody and bringing to over to where Igor was getting his arse handed to him by an eighteen year old.
''I'm going to tear you limb from limb!''
''Bring it on, you decrepit hound! You're worse than professor Kettleburn and that man's got half his limbs on him.''
''How dare you liken me to that absolute bloody idiot. I only lost half of my face, my leg, and my eye - that man's barely managing to exist without the aid of magic!''
''Animals never liked him I have no idea why he taught Care for Magical Creatures.''
''Every time I had lessons with him as a boy I worried that he'd die.''
''How he's managed to live to be one hundred and something is beyond my scope of understanding-''
''-Hey, Barty, can you help me out -oof.'' Igor did not finish his train of thought as Neville punched him straight in the face.
''Can I help YOU out?'' Barty Jr, bolstered by the flame of war and adrenaline, had a lot of things to say to Igor Karkaroff. In fact, the tidal wave of emotion that erupted from within the traumatized young man was so unrivaled that Moody calculated, did so correctly, and decided to push Neville and himself out of the way.
Igor, dusting himself off, coughed and wheezed. ''Da, we're on the same, side after all!''
Neville asked why they weren't duelling them, but was shushed by Moody, who looked very, very pleased with his deductive abilities. He'd sharpened them and turned them into unerring after he'd made a grave miscalculation in 1968. Never again, he swore!
Barty laughed straight in Igor's face. Without his General there to tell him what to do, he allowed himself more freedom in expressing the thunderous rage swirling into a maelstrom, devouring him from the inside out. He stepped up and aimed his wand at Igor. Igor raised his wand in defence.
''Same side?''
''Yes!''
Neville, not having any frame of reference as to why Barty Jr. may take offense to the mere existence of Igor Karkaroff, turned to Moody and asked him after this bad blood.
Moody just shook his head and smiled a warren, pleased little smirk.
Barty nodded along, pretending to agree with Igor. ''Oh, right, yes. Of course. We're on the SAME side. Right. My apologies if I don't see that camaraderie since you NAMED me.'' He fired off an unforgivable at Igor; finding his treasonous behaviour in the 1980s, just that, unforgivable. It missed.
Moody pulled Neville out of harm's way and whispered: ''They're doing our bloody job for us, lad. Watch and learn.''
Igor angrily shot three cruciatus curses at Barty, realising that pulling one's shots was ill advised. ''You're just going to let the aurors win, then? Wouldn't Bellatrix tell you that it was us against them?''
Momentarily, Barty stopped his attacks. He thought of Bellatrix. She would not be pleased to note that they'd ganged up on each other. But just as she had bad blood to sort out with the Dark Lord, so did Barty have some to sort out with Igor.
''Barty, just out of curiosity,'' Moody called out, ''son, how did you find Azkaban?''
''Azkaban was not the worst of it.'' Barty hissed, remembering years upon years of having his father imperius him. He was back in full swing now, ready to end Igor Karkaroff's acquitted arse.
In a series of very intricate spellfire, coupled with the fact that both parties disliked each other, alongside the mere concept of having Moody goading them on - the end result turned out to be very favourable for one Alastor Moody.
Splashes of green littered the room. If it weren't for Moody's old friendship with Bartemius Crouch Sr, he'd have just crossed over his son's dead body, but because Moody wasn't a bad guy he decided to bend down and close the lad's eyes.
Neville was coming to terms with the futility of life as he stared down at Igor Karkaroff's cooling body. ''He was alive one moment and then -'' The boy was going through a lot. ''Then he just isn't anymore?'' He looked to Moody for guidance and reassurance. He looked to the wrong person for this. The old auror just shrugged and said that Neville ought to help him levitate the bodies off to some corner.
Very awkwardly and slowly and with a lot more thoughts on his mind than Neville thought possible for him to have, he acquiesced to Moody's request.
But then, because Neville was one unlucky boy, he got shot in the shoulder blade by Severus Snape. He'd missed Remus. Neville was in tremendous amount of pain. He clung onto Moody and bit through screams. Hopefully he'd continue having use of that arm.
Moody heaved a sigh and helped Neville to the Library. There ought to be someone over there that had a good head on their shoulders.
Death didn't think any of these people had their heads attached properly. But she wasn't going to complain. Because this was the most fun she'd had in a long, long while. Her fingers ghosted over Barty's face. He'd lived too long for her taste. Four years longer than was initially anticipated for him.
Abraxas did not like how his actions painted his character. Donned with the Hallows, he sprinted for the least populated area of this anarchy-riddled pandemonium. This sanctuary of his was not the Black Library, thank you very much. Half of the damned soldiers (the term was used loosely) were already evacuated to the premises to be tended to by the deadly Tonks combo.
No, what Abraxas needed right now was privacy. He passed by Sirius Black, who was sprinting towards Severus and Remus' duel. They locked eyes and Sirius vaguely tried gesticulating to Abraxas to piss off. Abraxas was appalled by the manners of his not-per-se godson. He got all of this from his mother.
Going up the stairs he found that Walburga Black had freed herself and was chatting up Orion Black's painting. The comments alone made Abraxas go red in the face. He looked a little bit like Arthur Weasley, who was doing very strange things to his son.
''LUCIUS!'' Abraxas shouted. Lucius pushed Arthur off of him as if he weighed nothing; it was amazing what fear did to a person. ''LUCIUS, HAVE YOU ANY DECENCY!''
Arthur Weasley opened his mouth to say quite a few things about this, but he did not want to call attention to himself and his obviously tousled appearance that had very little to do with a physical altercation, and more to do with Lucius' lipgloss smearing. In the end he just gave up and let Lucius explain to his father that he'd finally manned up.
''I- he - we - it - this isn't how it looks like, father!'' Arthur, then, decided to go in for another kiss. After breaking it, Lucius screamed out: ''Narcissa doesn't mind!''
''Neither does Molly. She's told me to branch off. We're both very satisfied with our sexualities and aren't afraid of trying out new things.''
''Well, I mean, with seven children, I'm surprised she hasn't urged you to branch off sooner, Arthur.'' Abraxas said. Then, turning to his son, and in a flabbergasted tone: ''In the ancestral home of your wife, you decide to hook up with,'' Abraxas couldn't even bring himself to say the words. He hurried his step. At that moment he decided that he was going to leave everything he had to Draco. Though, upon retrospect, only on the condition that Draco take care of his peafowls. The boy would do it. He was a good lad.
The only place that Abraxas knew for a fact would not be occupied, due to its shrine-like aspect, was nearby. He pushed himself to run faster, wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and opened the door to the late Regulus Black's room.
There he found Hermione Granger, hiding underneath a desk.
''Hello, dear girl.'' He said and offered her his arm to take. ''They really won't come in here. No need to hide.''
''I'm not taking your hand.'' There was a heaviness in Hermione's words. She pierced him with a glare.
''Then don't.'' Abraxas turned away and sat on Regulus' bed. That poor, poor boy. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. Hermione had her knees to her face and she stared at him from under the desk.
''I ratted him out.'' Hermione whispered, her chest full of knots, ''The only person who's ever truly understood me.''
Abraxas leaned back on the bed and hated how much he found Hermione's words accurate and painful. ''I promised I'd kill him.''
''Oh.'' Hermione said. Then, she laughed. Abraxas looked back towards her. She was smiling a lopsided smile full of confusion. ''That's bad. Worse than what I did, at least.''
Abraxas smiled, too. ''Quire right, my dear.''
She pushed herself from underneath the desk and stared down at Abraxas. Next she made a shooing motion and he scooted closer to the wall.
After reclining next to the old man on the bed, both of them staring up at the ceiling, Hermione inquired, very quietly: ''What do we do now?''
