Malfoy Manor was always quiet. Silenced, still. Nothing made a single sound. Not a noise. It was always quiet. That was, until the screams, the laughter, the roar of "Crucio!" And then, all was quiet again. Watchful. Empty, or so it seemed. No one wanted to face the wrath of Lord Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange. The quiet was unnatural, forced, observant. Seeping into the stone work and golden trimmed paint. Even the portraits, the house elves, and the owners.
And now, with a skipping step and fire-like voice, the quiet was broken. It splintered and spread like a spiderweb. Sticky and seeping the silky sweet voice. And then it was shattered. They were all in the banquet hall when it happened. When hell was raised and heaven fell in sparks of fire and metal melting. It started, at first, as echos.
First a step, and a skip, then a spin. And then over again. The tap-top-tip of heeled shoes against the white marble of Malfoy Manor. And then, distorted by the distance, a voice, high and hot and harboring. It was female, no other could sound as it did if it wasn't. And it was almost recognizable. Almost but not. And then it got closer and louder and the words began to float. Like bubbles that popped with even the slightest touch.
"Remember, Remember,
The Fifth of November.
Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot.
I see no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot!"
The voice was slow, and dipped at the right sounds and words. Sweet and syrupy, like honey. It stuck and sticked with everything it was. And then it was on the repeat. Over and over and over again. As the voice was loudest it could be, new lines were introduced. But it didn't sound quiet right. Wrong, words mixed and mingled. And soon the knew why the voice was recognizable.
"Harri Potter, Harri Potter, 'twas her intent,
To burn up Voldemort and his Terrorists
Three dozen wizards down below, and fiendfyre's sharp burning glow
Poor old Tyranny to overthrow
By Merlin's Providence she'd be caught
With the pieces of his dark soul and his death at her control
Hollar Bitchs, you reap what you sow. Let the screams ring while we act as coal.
Hollar Bastards, heres the hindsight, this is for all those lives you've stole."
Then they felt the wards, Malfoy Manor's wards had collapsed inward. Closing off, shutting down, fortified. And the very wards Voldemort had put up, solidified. Trapping them, in iron bared cages. And soon more and more and more were piled on top. There was no hope of escape. They had been betrayed, because these wards listened to only those with pure Malfoy blood and those of Marrige Bond.
The Dark Lord's magic was like a summer storm. Hot and humid and suffocating. Dark and black and evil. It swept along the walls with red eyes. They were in the Banquet Hall, and there he sat, on his bone white throne and black marbled steps. There he was, furious. And then she danced though the huge double doors. Singing another wrong set of words.
"They'll all Remember this thirty-first of December.
Fire, Rebellion and the Death of You Lot
There be no reason
Why their fiendfyre demons
Should ever be forgot."
Voldemort roared, loud and raging, as what he saw, guaranteed it all. The palm sized, golden Slytherin locket, blackened and destroyed. The black leather bound book, open and teared, a gaping hole of melted leather and parchment, its ink dried on the pages like blood. The ring, with it precious ebony stone gone, blackened and burnt to a crisp. Not a piece of the once gold metal in sight. The cup, bronzed and aged, with the badger proudly poised in pounce. Melted and stabbed, the Hufflepuff Chalice was ruined. And then came the Ravenclaw Diadem, with its sapphire jewels smoked and snuffed and silver caved in and broken, the Ravenclaw legacy, Gone. And then shriveled body of his precious snake. Dead with her eyes clawed out. Shuffled off this mortal coil. And with them, the very pecies of his soul.
Explosive waterfall of chaotic corkscrews and coils of ebony hair, and eyes so like the curse that killed her mother. Scar cutting across her forehead and splitting her right eyebrow in half. Keen features and sharp teeth. Watching, watching, watching. Her only response was a laugh, low and cold, and more than half insane. With a giggle, cackle, and smile. She stepsidded the bright green curse as Voldemort lunged from his throne.
"I guess it's time to finally die. I'll see you all in hell."
With a burst of blue light and the faint whisper of "Expecto Patronum!" A large and profound stag pounced from her wand, and an elagant doe jumped after it. Rushing out the window with a small message,
"Tell them it's time, and that I'm sorry, but we knew all along."
As Lord Voldemort and Harri Potter began their legendary duel. And she danced once again, like smoke through the air, unable to be caught or contained. Voldemort was angry, furious, he spat the harshest, darkest and meanest spells he had, over and over again. But she didnt slow, that was until, they all heard the synchronized voices of her three dozen wizards.
"Feindfrye!"
And then, as the fire roared, taking shape into hundreds of animals, and with the crackle of melting metal and burning wood, she spoke as Voldemort did.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Those curses connected, with ozone in the air, the acidic green met in the middle, leaking molten magic. There was a battle of wills, when Harri Potter began to sing again, but it wasn't a song.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark the one as his equal, but the one will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…
That is the prophecy Tom Marvolo Riddle. The one you killed my parents for. The one I'll die for. Perhaps I'll the chance to kill you in another life."
Then, she lowered her wand, just as the flames consumed the walls. And that green so like her eyes, took the soul of Harri Potter.
Down on the large grounds of Malfoy Manor, they had their wands held high, fire spewing into the sky, many could here Hermione Granger sobbing. Many could hear Ronald Weasley's inraged scream as those beautiful patroni bounded from the house. Many could see the look on Minerva Mcgonagall face. Because Harri Potter was supposed to deliver the message. In person and alive. She wasn't supposed to die.
But they weren't going to stop. Because Hera Potter gave her life for this. She gave her herself up for this. And they wouldn't stop this this ancient manor was all but dust. Their world would be free and no one would forget her name. Harri Laellana Potter, she would forever be their Heroine. Their Savior.
With tears and cries and sobs, the light burned brighter, higher, stronger. The world would be free. The magic will be cleansed, the government reformed. Voldemort Dead. Gone. They would be safe and open and protected.
All because of one girl. One Orphan girl they had all, at least once, hurt. She was selfless, brave, strong and true. She was everything they aspired to be. They wholr world would know her name and smile.
Authors Note: Who knows the song, Remember, Remember, The fifth of November? Well this is very clearly based on that. I was reading another HP fic and and it mentioned the song and then BOOM. Here this is. Also, I'm not very good at dialogue, so that probably needs work. Feedback is welcome, I beg you to review. I will continue this. Thanks for reading.
~TheAbyssLooksBack22~