CHAPTER 19
WHEN Norah next woke up, she was lying flat on a hard surface she couldn't quite figure out what it was, and her surroundings were completely dark. But she was vaguely aware she wasn't in the dark, though, and she could feel the fabric of the blindfold that covered her face against her skin. It took a few moments for the fog of confusion she found herself in to dissipate. But then, when it did, everything came back to her and suddenly. No holes were missing. None that she could remember anyway, and she tried to think about where Lestrange might have brought her, if the kid, Verity was here, and what she might be able to do to get her and herself out of this mess they were both in.
She tried to move her arms, but the magically enchanted zip ties that bound her wrists together only cut into the skin of her wrists.
More tears came to her eyes. She yanked hard on the bindings in a desperate attempt to breakthrough. She felt a warm trickle of blood run down her wrist as she sliced into the soft skin. The cuts on her palm seemed to have stopped bleeding and the fresh blood dripped over the crusty dry blood from before. She tensed when she heard the creaking of a floorboard and after an initial pause, began yanking hard.
She heard a door fly open, slamming into the wall at her side. It came from her left. She swore, tugging harder and harder, sure at any moment she was about to be killed. Heavy footsteps thudded towards her quickly and she yelped as she felt a pair of delicate hands close around her wrists.
A pair of hands that were too soft to belong to Rodolphus Lestrange. The hands held her firm, and she stopped struggling.
Norah let out a gasp of relief as she felt the zip ties that bound her wrists together were severed, likely by a Severing Charm. Still, her body trembled, her lips quivered, and she could not ignore the dull pains in her belly.
"Shh," came a young witch's voice, soft and mystical, but urgent, and laced to the brim with panic. When she spoke, one hand left her wrist so she could place a finger to her lips. "He doesn't know I got out from the room he had me locked in. He doesn't know about this room. He's gone, I think, to check the outside perimeter. I knew he would bring you here, Mrs. Brennan."
The kid.
Norah felt a wave of relief wash over her as she realized George Weasley's coworker and Pan's friend didn't sound hurt. Tears of relief rolled down her cheek and her free hand went to the blindfold that Lestrange had wound around her. It ripped away and the blindfold fell to the floor ungracefully. Norah's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in a dimly-lit unfamiliar room.
It was a finished room of sorts, the floors done up with wood and carpet, the foundation covered with wooden paneling.
It was dimly lit, and Norah's eyes struggled to adjust, but as she looked around and in front of her, she found herself staring into the bright blue eyes of who she could only assume was Verity Raywood.
For just a moment, she was almost taken aback by how similar they looked. Both of them had blue eyes, the same short blonde hair, though different face shapes and noses, and to say nothing of height. Norah tried to sit up, though a harsh cry of pain was ripped from her lips as it felt as though knives were slashing in her belly, twisting and twisting.
Clutching at her stomach, she doubled over, a groan escaping her throat between her clenched teeth as pains ripped through her stomach, cramping her entire lower half. She cried and begged for release from this pain, but it wouldn't come. Lestrange had done something to her, she was sure.
This was some sort of sick twisted punishment for both rejecting his advances years ago when she was just eighteen, and again, by refusing to give up the location of the Burrow, the pain she would endure for refusing, was the loss of her baby, she was sure of it. Amid her private Hell, she began to hallucinate.
A blinding white light glared into her eyes and an image of a laughing child floated across the haze in her vision. It was a little boy, with large blue eyes that came from both his parents, a head of black hair, like his father, and her nose, chubby hands reach up to Norah, asking to be held and comforted.
But this perfect, beautiful image began to distort, the child beginning to transform, like a shapeshifter or a boggart, into a hideously malformed wretch.
It screeched and clawed at itself and her in utter malice. The horrible understanding settled clearly into her mind.
Either she was losing her baby and was miscarrying it after the brutal physical ordeal of thinking she could go up against the likes of Lestrange and hold her own, or she'd lost it earlier while she was unconscious, and this was her body's way of letting her know it.
She must be dying, surely she was, the pain was too much, fever was beginning to take over, and she could feel herself beginning to burn up. Alone…utterly alone, save for this girl for company, alone in the middle of Merlin only knew where Lestrange had brought them, over, done, at an end, totally ruined. Ollie and Pan beyond her reach, forever… A delicate hand touched her brow, and the younger blonde witch's voice floated through the murkiness.
"Mrs. Brennan? Mrs. Brennan, are you—" She said something else, but whatever it was, it was muffled.
Go away. Norah didn't want to return to face reality, even if what was waiting for her here amid her hell wasn't better. But the voice caught at something inside of her and began pulling her from the darkness like a Summoning Charm whether she wanted it to or not, and she realized that she was about to emerge from the darkness at last. Some smothering veil broke, and she arose and opened her eyes. Norah's eyelids fluttered open. She was slumped against one of the walls, fever burning her body from the inside.
Every sinew of her body hurt, her head pounded, and she felt entirely too weak to even sit up. All the strength had left her, leaving her nothing but a shell of a witch.
"Here, drink this, it's not much but it should help," came the voice again, and the accompanying face of the young blonde who could pass as a relative on her mum's side swam into view.
Norah stared at Verity Raywood in shock, before finally remembering what had happened.
She stared numbly at the tiny vial of some sort of thick garish-looking potion that Verity Raywood seemed to have procured out of her back pocket, before reaching out to take it.
"You're Verity?" Norah muttered, feeling she already knew the answer. She was surprised she could find her voice at all.
Her tongue felt as rough as sand, and anything more than that, and she thought she might just vomit, but the mention of the name of the girl who'd been taken caused her new companion to earnestly nods her head.
"Yes," the younger witch nodded and motioned towards the vial in her hands. "Drink it. It will save you and your baby. It's not much, just a little Strengthening Solution. It will tide you over until Healer Jones can look at you," she murmured in an eerily soft and mystical-sounding voice that made Norah question it.
Needing no encouragement, Norah fumbled with the tiny glass vial's cork with shaking fingers, managing to tilt the vial to her lips and swallow the strange concoction, if nothing else.
However this witch had managed to come across it, it was thin but hot and immediately sent a tingling, pleasant warmth throughout her body and almost instantaneously, her pains stopped.
Norah closed her eyes and swallowed the rest. Her stomach heaved with a horrible bout of nausea, and she thought she was about to attractively vomit it all back up at once, but by sheer force of will, she kept it down.
She couldn't tell if the baby had been saved or not. She flinched as Verity Raywood knelt into a crouch so the younger witch was more or less at eye-level with Norah and could look into her eyes.
Verity offered Norah a wane little smile, but it was tight with worry.
"Welcome back to the land of the living. Both of you," she added, the blonde's sky blue eyes growing glassy and distant as she took on a faraway look, as though she were seeing something unfold from someplace else that Norah could not follow her to.
Norah uttered an incoherent noise at the back of her throat, though it took her longer than anticipated to regain the power of speech. Her throat still tingled and burned from the concoction she'd just drank, but she managed a weak, "Thank you," that was trembling with emotion as she realized that Verity Raywood had just saved her baby, whether she knew it or not.
She wiped at the tears trailing down her cheeks with the heel of her hand and sniffed a few times to get herself under control.
Norah knew she needed to be strong and see Verity out. Bile burned in her throat as she struggled to sit upright, weakly resting against the harsh wood of whatever room she now found herself in. It reeked of decay and rot. Of death itself.
Verity shook her head.
"I did what anyone else would have. I couldn't just let you die. Not when I could do something to help. Your baby. Your child will one day become best friends with your husband's former partner's son. Teddy, Mr. Weasley says his name is. But…" The younger blonde's interjection brought a worried line to Norah's brow as Verity's voice trailed off and she fell quiet.
"What? What is it?" she asked, swallowing down hard as she stared blankly at Verity Raywood, her confusion obvious.
The younger witch's icy blue eyes washed over Norah Brennan.
"He's going to need you soon," she spoke, almost prophesizing it in a way that elicited a violent shudder from Norah as a cold chill crept its way into the room as if a Dementor were present. Frowning, Norah stared blankly.
"Wh-what? Who? Who's going to need me soon?" she asked worriedly in a tone that instantly sounded sour, almost too shocked to voice the words.
But then, it hit her square in the chest as Verity did not tear her gaze away from some distant spot behind Norah's head and understanding began to take root in Norah's mind.
"You're a Seer, aren't you? You can see the future, is that why—"
But Verity interrupted and nodded before Norah could finish her thought.
"Yes. He wanted me to tell him Mr. Weasley's parents' address, but when I wouldn't give it up, well..." Her voice cracked as she gestured towards the shiner of a black eye she looked to have been given. "This should speak for itself," she answered bitterly. "He hit me with a Stinging Jinx."
Norah said nothing as she eyed the eighteen-year-old Seer warily. Her mind had always wondered at the power of Seers.
She was now sure Verity Raywood had known to some extent what this night would bring long before they'd both found herself kidnapped and held hostage in Merlin only knew where the bloody hell Lestrange had brought them, and for what nefarious purposes, she didn't like to think it.
Norah was almost certain there was some reason why Verity had allowed herself to be taken.
Whatever the reason, Norah thought the beginnings of understanding were beginning to take root in her mind.
Take care of her, she told herself. Still, she stared at Verity Raywood long after she had made her eerie prediction just now. She almost didn't want to ask the witch of this man she was referring to.
But there was a glint in Verity's blue eyes that were so like her own, she could read the younger witch's eyes without the Seer even having to open her mouth to speak. Ollie. Norah almost let herself smile but tampered it back. Of course, he would come for her.
Everything within her told her that her place, her responsibility, was getting Verity out of this hovel and to St. Mungo's if she needed medical attention at any cost.
However, she could feel her heart ready to burst within her chest, aching for Ollie to come for them. Verity's gaze washed over Norah as the younger witch rose to her feet, brushing her hands on the seat of her pants before offering an outstretched hand to Norah.
Norah took it and rose to her feet, shakily so. She held the wall for a moment, breathing slowly in and out through her nose as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over it. With the help of Verity, she straightened her gait and looked around for an exit. There was only one. The door at the top of the stairwell. Their one way out.
"What did you tell him? To fuck off, I hope," Norah asked in a warbling voice, hoping the Seer had the good sense to stay quiet.
From the looks of the various bruises that now littered the witch's bony collarbones, and her hell of a black eye that was sure to take weeks to fade and heal, she'd said nothing, but still, Norah wanted to be sure. Verity smiled, though it looked as though just the effort to smile was hurting her, and the expression looked more like a pained grimace as her smile faltered.
"I told him…that Death was coming," she answered in a breezy voice that stuffed the chills down Norah's throat.
But before the older witch could say anything, Verity flicked her gaze towards Norah again.
Norah drew in a breath filled with dread, knowing that the Seer was referring to her husband when he allowed his raging temper to get the better of him and the Obscurus would emerge and erupt to the surface.
"We need to leave, now, I—" Norah started to say, tugging on Verity's arm, and pulling the petite blonde towards the stairwell.
Though before they could reach the edge of the stairs and make their escape, the entire foundation of whatever hovel they were in shook violently, as though an earthquake were ripping through the area.
Startled, Norah's gaze was drawn to the only room of the drawing-room at the top level of the decrepit old home. The witches pulled away from one another, darting towards the window, only to see the darkened sky outside flicker as if something were swallowing the sky whole.
Even where the women stood, the sound that ripped through the air was piercing.
It sounded like thunder but magnified to be ten times worse. The foundation of the home trembled beneath their feet as it was rocked by a whirling barrage of jinxes that flew above the window, aimed right for the roof.
With Verity clinging to Norah's arm for support, Verity and Norah could only look out at the window in shock.
The Riddle House in Little Hangleton was under attack, and Death himself was coming for Rodolphus Lestrange, just as Verity predicted.
She could make out Ollie's form just barely beneath the shroud of black mist that was engulfing her husband, but she had no time to let her heart soar at the sight of her beloved having come to save him, as a cold hand tugged on her sleeve.
Verity's voice was a mixture of excitement and trepidation as she spoke.
"We have to go," Verity pleaded. Her words pulled Norah out of her stunned stupor, sure she had never seen her husband this…monstrous before.
Norah touched her waist to ensure she still had her wand.
Shockingly enough, she did. Rodolphus Lestrange must have lowered his guard and assumed she wasn't much of a threat to warrant not relinquishing it from her possession and had allowed her to keep it.
Probably to lure me into a false sense of security before killing me, she thought bitterly but shook the unhelpful notion from her mind as soon as the thought entered her mind.
Without bothering to look back, knowing she would stay if she did, she tore her gaze from the window, she ran out the door, into the hallway, and down the creaky stairwell. Norah breathed an audible sigh of relief, watching Verity barrel out the front door and into the night, her silhouette almost being swallowed by her Obscurial that was now wreaking havoc on wherever it was that Lestrange had seen fit to bring her and Verity to. Norah ran for the door, her wand still in her hand, not caring if Lestrange had done something to the door, though Verity had made it out in one piece.
And she did open the door and almost made it too.
She reached out, ready to plant a foot into the darkness that seeped from every orifice of her husband's body, swallowing the yellowed, dead grass of the lawn, when she felt a cold hand on her elbow yank her backward.
She yelped as she was pulled backward, and she went flying onto the hardwood floor. The door was slammed shut and Norah heard the sound of it locking. Pain shot through her limbs from the fall, and she felt the warmth of her blood pouring down her wrist.
She opened her eyes and looked up, her fear so powerful she couldn't scream. Her heart dissolved in her chest as Bellatrix's husband stood towering over her, tall, looming, powerful, and dressed entirely in his black robes. He looked the part of a Death Eater, his eyes almost seeming to glow, even in the darkness of the Riddle House as he cocked his head to the side. She began to scramble backward, forcing herself up onto her feet.
Lestrange began looming forward, and finally, Norah managed to shakily get to her feet. She was halted by some old coffee table that caused a bruise to form on her hip as she accidentally bumped into it, but she forced herself to ignore the throbbing pain. She raised her wand, her body trembling. He tilted his head to the side, and she barely managed to make out the sight of Lestrange's lips curling upwards.
"You shouldn't have done that, Luv," he snarled.
"I—I'll kill you, Dolohov, you—you pisscloak! Let. Me. Go!" she shouted as her temper welled within her churning stomach, inherited from her father over the years, but her voice cracked and broke as she realized how precarious her situation was.
There was no way out of whatever was about to happen to her unless help came for her. He said nothing by way of response as he stepped calmly towards her, and she lashed out by sending a poorly-aimed Stunning Spell his way.
Cursing herself for not being ambidextrous as she gritted her teeth, she tried again, over, and over, until he finally got close enough, she thought she could hit him.
Before she could send a well-aimed Petrificus Totalus at his chest, Lestrange grabbed her arm and twisted the appendage behind her back. The pain of her arm being twisted forced her to move her body around and as her wand fell from her grasp and collided with the floor, she was shoved up against the moldy wall.
Tears began to come to her eyes as she felt him push her hard up against the wall with only one strong hand. He grabbed onto her free wrist, the one covered in blood, and brought it up above her head and pinned her against the wall, not letting her even so much as squirm to try to break free. She tried to wrench away from the Death Eater who now had a vice grip on her arm, but he was too strong.
His free hand went to squeeze the back of her neck and she felt his hips press against her. She readied herself for whatever was to come.
Instead, she felt the hand leave the back of her neck and softly stroke its way through her hair.
"Shh…" he whispered. "Shhh…."
"Please," she cried through her tears, finally letting them fall despite her best efforts to quell them back and not let the man see it.
"Shh," he repeated, softer this time, and gently dragged his fingertips over her cheekbone. She felt his hand slide back to her hair and grip her hair, hard.
Norah did not have time to register the pain that engulfed her wholly as he yanked her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat.
In one swift movement, Rodolphus shoved her head back towards the wall and her forehead slammed onto the wallpapered hard surface with a loud, sickening thud that was sure to leave one hell of a black eye later on.
She saw more spots blotting her vision and a tiny little cry left her lips.
"Please," she begged, but her plea fell on his deaf ears and was ignored.
"Shh…" he said again, and her hair was yanked back again as he tugged on her hair, and her head slammed against the wall for a second time.
This time, she felt no pain and heard no thud but saw only black as she fainted. She was not awake or cognizant enough to see the front door fly open with a loud bang that nearly caused the walls to shake. The Auror's wife was not awake to see the intimidating figure of Ollie Brennan standing looming in the doorway, a look of murder in the man's narrowed black eyes.
The man who had her and Verity both as hostages were now completely and at the mercy of none other than Auror Ollie Brennan. As Ollie stalked into the hallway to meet his nemesis head-on, his former colleague was forced to look into his listless black eyes.
The eyes of Death itself.
PANSY shivered as she recognized immediately where Ollie had brought them, but for it to be the famed Riddle House wasn't exactly what she had been expecting. The house seemed to live as if it were under a constant shadow as if the sun kept reaching for those walls that shrunk away from the light, as if afraid of the light of day. The windows looked like they stayed black, the walls cold.
Surely, there were ghosts inside, the ghosts of the Dark Lord's victims were surely a certainty, she thought, and shivered with gritted teeth. The uneasy feeling pricked at her heartstrings as she grew more and more uneasy with each passing moment.
She accidentally nudged against George. She nearly jumped out of her skin as Ollie spoke to them. For a moment, she wasn't even sure the Auror had spoken, as the voice she heard was not rough and coarse and grating, but softer, more subdued, that she almost missed it. He barely turned his head to look at his wife's cousin, sparely her the uncomfortable feeling of having to look into his eyes and see nothing but blackness.
"Wait out here until I've dealt with Lestrange. Potter will keep you safe," he commanded and started to stalk off towards the lonesome old Riddle House, though he halted in his tracks as he heard Pansy call out to him as she stepped forward.
"We will," she promised her cousin's husband, trying not to cringe as she was well aware she was lying through her teeth.
It was a struggle to keep her mind closed off and blank from the naturally-gifted Legilimens, but somehow, she managed.
If Ollie and Norah were in trouble, then she and George were helping them, and she would be damned if she was going to just stand out here on the sidelines with Harry and watch her family get slaughtered by the last surviving member of the Lestrange family.
She offered a curt nod, watching Ollie go, though his reassurance that he could hold his own against Lestrange didn't help. She chewed on her bottom lip and called after the Auror who was as good as a brother figure to her.
She didn't understand why, but she thought she was running out of time to say what was on her mind. Now might be the only time.
"Be careful!" Pansy ordered Ollie in a trembling voice, reluctantly taking a step back and taking George with her.
She tried to put as much distance between herself and the old Riddle House as she could, sensing something horrible was about to happen as a horrible feeling of cold dread seeped its way into her bones. Ollie nodded but didn't look back.
"Stay," he growled, the only thing he could say to the lot of them, stalking his way towards the Riddle House, praying to Merlin and anyone else who was looking out for him, Tonks, even, that Norah was still alive.
He had made it halfway up to the house when a figure came barreling down the front steps.
Pansy's heart soared when she caught the familiar flash of blonde hair and did not bother to tamp down the smile as Verity came sprinting towards Pansy and George, only to skid to a halt in front of Ollie, practically barreling into the man's broad chest. He shot out an arm to steady the blonde Seer and rested both of his hands on either of her shoulders.
"It's Verity, right? Where is he? Where's Lestrange? What's happened? Norah, Miss Raywood, my wife, she's blonde, just like you, have you seen her?" Ollie growled in a hoarse voice.
Verity lifted a shaking hand and pointed towards the house, blubbering something incoherent. Frustration mounted within his chest, as Ollie wished the witch Pansy's age would just come out and say it, but she was in shock, Ollie realized with a jolt.
Ollie nodded and relinquished his hold on the young blonde.
"Go with Pansy and George, they'll take you back to the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will call for a Healer if one's needed."
"She—she needs you, Mr. Brennan, sir… I…" Verity stopped, she didn't know what else to say. "Help her," she finished in a sob. "Help her." The silence that followed was the most excruciating of her life.
Verity ripped away from Ollie and darted towards George, just as every muscle in Ollie's body went rigid, preparing for a fight.
He allowed hatred to flood through every orifice of his body, he allowed his vision to cloud and let the monstrous parasite assume control once more. His entire being became fixated on one purpose alone. Saving his wife and unborn child.
He paused only once to look over his shoulder towards Pansy, who was helping Verity to stand upright as her strength was rapidly failing her, throwing one of the blonde's arms around her shoulders.
"Get back to the Burrow. I'll deal with this, my way, Pan."
Any other time, Pansy probably would have argued, but after her conversation with Ollie earlier and the bitter words he'd spat at her, she understood that whatever quarrel Ollie had with Lestrange, it was a far greater issue than she could imagine.
She nodded numbly, recognizing now that the best thing she and George could do to help Norah and Ollie was to stay out of the wizard's way, to head back to the Burrow as he said, and ensure Verity received medical treatment if she was suffering from any injuries.
"Ol, mate, he's unstable and dangerous," Pansy blurted out as she and George stepped back with Verity in tow. "Don't do anything stupid, mate, you hear me? Your kid, he'll need you. Norah, she needs you. And...and I need you. We..we love you."
Pansy cringed as the words left her lips in her warbling voice that sounded on the verge of tears. They didn't quite sound right, coming from her, but she could think of nothing better to say at an emotionally charged time like this. She fell silent, waiting.
Ollie looked up, his turned black eyes filled with astonishment as his lips parted.
"You think it's going to be a boy, huh, Pan?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging his lips upward, but just as soon as it had flitted across the handsome wizard's face, it vanished again.
Pansy blinked, alarmed, but was quick to recover.
"I—I don't know. Probably. Maybe. Mrs. Weasley says there's some sort of test unless you and Norah want to be surprised when it's born, but…please….be careful," Pansy pleaded reluctantly, near tears, her words clumsy and blunt as they began to head down the hillside, her dark hair blowing slightly in the wind, thanks to the thunderstorm.
Ollie's turned black eyes clouded over slightly as the wizard turned away before looking back slowly to give his wife's cousin a brief but warm smile as he nodded.
"Me and Nor won't be long behind you, I promise," he uttered in a hoarse voice before turning on his heels and walking away, barking an order once more at them all, including Harry, to go without George and Verity and get Verity somewhere safe and looked at for any wounds she might have, much to the chagrin of George and Pansy.
But he wanted them all long gone so they wouldn't see what he would do to Rodolphus Lestrange, once the two of them were alone.
The Obscurus burst forth without warning as his eyes rolled back into his head and barreled towards the lonesome old Riddle House on the hill.
In a reflexive move of protectiveness, Ollie flew through the open doorway of the Riddle House, flung off balance the moment he materialized in the entryway and become a solid figure once more. For a moment, he was unsure of what was happening.
Frantically, he began to search the lower levels of the house in search of his wife. He groped along the wall with one hand, holding the lighted tip of his wand in the other hand, though not even the Lumos Charm was enough to flood enough light into this old haunt of a house.
He came to the living room and stood in the dark, eerily quiet house. He froze when he felt something nudge against the edge of his boot and he knelt down slowly.
Ollie's face drained off-color as he immediately recognize the object he'd placed his hand on as Norah's face.
"Norah?" he whispered hoarsely, a sudden ache of fear and panic now settling in the pit of his churning stomach. "Babe? Luv?"
He shook his wife's body but got no response in return. Ollie stared, unable to take his eyes off the horrific scene in front of him, feeling sure that at first, his mind was making a sport of his vision, taunting him with this. It was bad enough that his nightmares were filled to the brim of one day accidentally losing Norah in a tragic accident that he himself had a hand in, but this was much worse.
Now, however, the only thing he felt as his gaze flicked between Norah Brennan's seemingly lifeless body and then towards the shadow hovering in the furthermost corner of the room, spying, watching him, was a burning, uncontrollable rage within his veins.
Rodolphus Lestrange looked as though he were itching to raise his wand against Ollie but wanted to gauge the Auror's reaction first. Ollie ground his teeth and tried to contain his panic and fury as he stood and marched towards Rodolphus in a fury.
He was going to have to kill him to stop him. At this rate, Lestrange had better hope they killed him. Blood was in his eyes, and all that mattered to him was lying lifeless there on the floor. Lestrange had taken her from him. A horrible ringing began to screech in his ears, his heart was almost bursting against his ribs. Oh, Merlin, oh god, he was feeling it. A drop of rage, now fevering and spreading through his body like Fiendfyre, burning hotter than any fire any dragon could flame. His breaths were half-mad, and he was falling out of control.
A strange itch began to rupture on his jaw and wrung in his mouth as he stalked forward towards Lestrange, deflecting the wizard's jinxes sent his way with ease. A horrible, earth-shattering scream ripped through the air, shaking the foundations of the Riddle House and cracking the very wooden floorboards beneath his boots as the Obscurus threatened to demolish the entire house. From somewhere, in the back of his mind that was still somewhat alert as the Obscurus within him took over, Ollie could vaguely hear Rodolphus Lestrange, saying something incoherent.
Nausea riled his stomach and bile rose to his throat, and he erupted into an explosion of anger before he could stop himself, kicking aside an overturned peeling faux leather armchair in the process as he stalked towards Rodolphus.
"You killed her, why? Tell me why! Norah Brennan is MY wife, you piece of dragon shit son of a bitch! MY WIFE, NOT YOURS! You thought you could take what's rightfully mine, Lestrange?" he shouted in a deep voice that did not belong to him. Ollie grew even angrier when he did not respond. "TELL ME!"
This was the Obscurial talking, using its Power voice, using him as a vessel for his rage, his pain, everything that made him who he was, and feeding of him until there was nothing left.
The Death Eater's face revealed no remorse as he smiled, albeit almost sadly, or as close as he could manage when it came to feeling a semblance of anything for his comrade Jack Brennan's last surviving son.
"Because I could, how's that for an answer as to your 'why?'" Rodolphus cackled wickedly. "Oh, Ollie, what to do with you," Lestrange sighed tiredly. "I am told that the apple does not fall far from the tree. You're just like your father, did you know that, Brennan?"
Oliver, almost in slow motion, slowly lifted his head, and Rodolphus was not at all surprised to see unshed moisture, wretched tears, glistening in Ollie's black eyes. He truly was a broken bastard, Jack's son. Taped and held together at the seams, but still alive.
Off to his right, something silver glistened out of Ollie's peripheral vision, and given their close physical proximity distance, he barely had the time to dodge the dagger as it hurled towards him.
Though by whatever grace Merlin had chosen to bestow on a broken bastard like him, he managed to wrap his hands around the man's wrists, staving the dagger from reaching its intended target. Him. Ollie felt his hand begin to shake violently, as the knife quivered in his hold, his lips trembling as he looked into the cold brown eyes of the man his own father had once called a friend, the man's eyes hollow.
He cursed himself for his own blindness. Why had he not seen the truth that much sooner? Ollie did not know who he was angrier at this moment: Lestrange or himself. The pressure in Ollie's head finally exploded along with a blood-curdling scream that caused the own hairs on the back of his neck to stand up as he grunted and growled with the effort, tearing the dagger away from him and plunged Rodolphus Lestrange's own dagger into his chest.
He dove at Lestrange before he knew what was happening, tackling him to the ground, and plunged the knife, the very same one to have killed that house-elf that Vimly had spoken of.
The one who worked in the kitchens at Hogwarts. Dobby, he thought its name had been.
Norah had always liked him and had been devastated to learn of the elf's death. He thought it only fitting Lestrange should be killed with his own knife. He dug the dagger deep into Rodolphus Lestrange's broad chest with such a raging passion that Ollie swore he felt his pupils shrink.
A series of memories flitting through his mind as though it were a Pensieve rolled in his mind and with it, it equaled a hard rip through flesh.
The other kids in Hogwarts ganged upon him in his first year and dunked his head in a toilet in the loo, all because of who his father was, his mother leaving him alone with just Vimly and Father for company, sunsets spent on the mezzanine of their balcony, his partnership with Tonks.
And Norah. A beautiful Veela with a tough-as-nails exterior that she had adapted to hide her pain from the rest of the world. Cobalt blue eyes.
The most beautiful thing to ever happen to him. How he had saved her life that night in Knockturn Alley from the likes of Antonin Dolohov, Norah in his favorite plum-colored dress she'd worn the night of their first date and still happily wore for him every anniversary. Norah in his arms, crying over the loss of her father when the wizened old warlock had passed away last year, Norah glaring at him before erupting into an explicit stream of cuss words that Dora and Remus Lupin would have shouted at her for saying in the company of their son if the two had survived the Battle of Hogwarts. Norah taking the simple white lily flower that he had offered her the night he'd asked her to marry him, smiling at him underneath the willow and elm trees. Her lips pressed against his with fervor after she had said yes to his proposal, and how he learned her skin was ticklish at the nape of her neck. Norah terribly sick in his arms as she revealed to him that they were going to become parents.
Ollie felt his strength begin to drain away as he made one last push of the blade into Rodolphus's lungs, Ollie's blood-slimed fingers remained still and unmoved, despite the spasmodic twitch now and again.
The wizard's lifeless form crumpled to the ground and Ollie felt himself collapse back against the wall behind him, using the wooden wall as a support brace as he hung his head in shame, bathed crimson in the wizard's blood, that precious life force, and wept.
His shoulders started to heave in the sweet release of his life's worth of anguish and pain, his throat screaming for relief, just a single drop of water, and hot rapid tears marred his blurred vision. It took a few moments for the haze of rage to dissipate as he deeply inhaled, his cracked lips opening and his fingers clawing at the air around him so he could breathe again now that the worst of his rage was fading and the Obscurus within him was settling. With painstaking slowness, he lifted his gaze and with a sickening jolt, remembered. Norah.
He did not bother to spare the corpse beside him now with a massive gaping cavity in his chest at a second glance.
Not when his entire world lay motionless on the floor. He quickly closed off the gap of space that existed between them as a surge of adrenaline vented him towards the seemingly lifeless figure of his wife.
Ollie couldn't help but notice how doll-like she felt in his arms. Too loose and relaxed. Though it was the cold chill that clung to Norah's ashen skin that frightened him the most. Merlin's Beard, his beloved wife looked like death. He let his body fall against the wall, using it as a brace, and gingerly lowered himself to the floor again. Once he was settled, he balanced Norah's lower body across his thighs, thereby freeing his left hand which no longer had to support her knees as he held her. Lifting his free hand, he gingerly tried to rub warmth and life back into one of her arms, praying silently to Merlin and anyone else he could think of, that his wife was still alive. A choked sob caught in his throat.
This wasn't supposed to have happened. It should have been him. Norah should never have intervened. If he was meant to have died by Lestrange's wand, then so be it, but why had she interfered? Why couldn't she have run from the start?
She and their baby would be safe now. Safe and unharmed, not lying here in his arms as cold as death. He held her tightly as he dared in his arms, his heart nearly ceased to beat there on the spot as a startled cry of alarm left his lips as her eyelids fluttered open.
Norah's blue eyes began to swim as if she could not focus on Ollie's face.
Ollie for a moment had grown hopeful, but even more desperate. She was still alive.
"Norah? Babe, is that you?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe his eyes. He grew panicked as her eyelids flickered a couple of times, barely perceptively. "No, no, don't go to sleep, Luv, you hear me, Norah? Nor, Babe, stay with me," he urged, as he pressed his forehead to hers.
For one brief moment, Norah saw her husband through the haze that was beginning to take over her vision. She raised her hand to caress his face.
"Please, Luv, don't do this to me, Norah, don't," he begged, his voice cracking as he whispered her name.
The Veela's delicate fingers lingered on his cheek and then fell to her side, leaving streaks of blood down his jaw.
Norah's head fell back against Ollie's arm, and her eyelids fluttered closed again.
"No!" Ollie screamed, his body shaking with sheer force as if he could will Norah to be healed that way. His scream sounded out the familiar sound of someone Apparating directly into the living room of the Riddle House, having been instructed by Mr. Weasley to come to the Auror's aid.
It was Remus Lupin's father, Lyall Lupin, of all people, who heard Ollie Brennan's screams and instantly turned on his heels, his wand drawn, towards the source of the noise.
His eyes grew wide with alarm at the horrific scene in front of him, seeing Rodolphus Lestrange's lifeless body bloodied on the floor inches away from Auror Brennan, a silver dagger sticking straight out his chest.
Mr. Lupin had received an urgent Patronus from Minister Shacklebolt himself, begging him to come to Mr. Brennan's aid as it was a matter of utmost urgency.
The world-renowned expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions had been informed of an Obscurus attaching itself to Oliver Brennan at a young age, and the now thirty-four-year-old wizard's latest outburst had nearly destroyed the entire first floor of the Ministry of Magic.
The entity could not be allowed to remain attached to the man's soul if it could be extracted. The procedure would be extremely dangerous to attempt, even with Mr. Brennan's consent if he agreed. Considering that Mr. Brennan had been a personal friend of his son's, with Oliver having saved Remus's life once from a fellow werewolf in Fenrir Greyback's Pack, he vowed to do what he could for the man.
Lyall had come without hesitation after receiving a second Patronus from Arthur Weasley, informing him where the adult Obscurial could be found. But Lyall Lupin could not have prepared himself for this.
To see the Obscurial leaning over his wife's body, Arthur had told Lyall the man's wife would be here. Lyall Lupin's normally kind brown eyes grew wide with alarm as his pupils dilated even in the darkness at the horrific sight now in front of him.
He remembered losing his beloved Hope and prayed Remus's friend would not experience the pain of grieving the one who held his heart, as he had, as he was doing, as he mourned the loss of his only son and his daughter-in-law.
These days, all he had left to call his own was his grandson, and he supposed, Mrs. Andromeda Tonks. The two of them were becoming closer as the days passed as they shared in their care for Teddy, grieving together, becoming something of close companions.
Lyall shoved aside thoughts of his friendship with Mrs. Tonks, for now, refocusing his mind back to the present matter.
Lyall darted to where Auror Brennan sat on the far side of the living room, cradling his wife's limp form. Lyall knelt into a crouch, fearing her life was lost. He yelled the Auror's name urgently. Once, twice, three times, and still, Ollie Brennan did not respond at all.
His soul was already lost in thinking the love of his life was dead. But it was at that moment that Norah inhaled sharply, her unconscious body taking over and trying to find the breath that was failing her. She was still alive and still fighting.
Lyall's hand shot out to feel her heartbeat beneath her blouse.
Ollie came back to himself at the sound. It wasn't over yet. He gingerly gathered his wife in his arms and looked towards the older man who copied his movements as he rose to his feet. It took Ollie a moment for his confusion to clear, recognition dawning in his eyes as his eyes made a quick scan of the wizard's tired and lined face to recognize Tonks's husband's father and was surprised to see Lyall Lupin, wondering if the Ministry had sent him here in regards to his little Obscurus problem.
"We need to get your wife back to the Burrow, sir, a Healer's been called for her," Lyall spoke in a polite but firm voice, suggesting it wasn't up for debate at all.
Ollie numbly nodded as Norah lay limp in Ollie's arms as he allowed Remus's father to take the lead, trudging the seemingly endless distance away from the wretched Riddle House as swiftly yet as gently as he could.
As he walked outside into the rain, doing his best to control his gait so he didn't slip on the way down the hill, he let his tears run down his face, thankful at least they would be indistinguishable from the unforgiving rain which continued to pelt down on him and Mr. Lupin.
Though before he could turn on the heels of his boots to follow Remus's father's footsteps, as the man vanished once they reached the bottom of the hill that overlooked the Muggle village, a faint voice made him pause. His wife's voice.
"Ol….wait….please…" she croaked in a raspy voice, muttering something incoherent. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke.
Ollie came to an abrupt halt, taken aback by his wife's request to linger here in front of this damned bloody haunted house. Yet another place that would hold nothing but bad memories for them. He grew puzzled when she didn't speak, though he exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as she spoke again, her eyelids slowly fluttering open.
"What is it, babe? What do you need?" he asked his wife, quietly.
At this rate, he would bottle the moon's rays of light for her if Norah had asked it of him.
It took his wife several minutes to find her voice, and she did not even realize her body starting to shake.
"Burn it...please," she whispered in a voice so faint as the rain and thunder picked up that her words were almost drowned out by the clap of thunder that rent the air.
Ollie hesitated at hearing his wife's request, knowing there would be an inquiry at his job if Shacklebolt found out he had gone against his command and taken orders into his own hands to deal with Rodolphus Lestrange, and destroyed Lord Voldemort's former hideout and his parents' home. But more important than his future at the Ministry, more important than his job, there was a deeper layer of him that wanted to fulfill any request his wife had that would have her smiling again and smiling because of what he'd done. The corners of Ollie's lips twitched as he turned on his heels, fumbling to raise his wand while still maintaining a firm grip on Norah, not letting her fall.
"Incendio." The incantation left his lips without much thought, which surprised the Auror. He, Norah, and Lyall Lupin were left to watch at the bottom of the hillside as Tom Riddle Sr.'s house went up in flames.
As he watched the red and orange flames rise into the dull and grievous grey morning skies above their heads, the flames of his incantation that had now set Tom Riddle's house ablaze rose into the sky as if they thought they could challenge the heavens to stop their consumption of the old haunt.
There were times, such as right now, Ollie thought as the glint of the fire danced in his eyes, where a fire was the only solution.
Somewhere, deep within him, there swelled a want to know if what he was doing now because of her, and for her, was right.
That it wasn't stupid to save her from the nightmares that were sure to haunt her after being forced to spend an hour in the Riddle House. It would be ugly for Norah, he thought, just as ugly as his years spent trying to prove his worth to the Order.
The Order of the Phoenix had been slow to trust him following his induction into the organization, knowing who his father was, and the background he came from. Were it not for his increasingly warm friendship with fellow Auror Nymphadora Tonks as the years had passed, even despite his status as her partner, he would have never been accepted as one of them.
As the whiff of the bitter air and cold rain began to dampen his face, clearing a path between the streaks of red blood on his face, he felt vindicated and free at last. Ollie looked around for something he wanted to see but was not sure of what that thing was, at first. But then, he found it.
He knew he found it when he looked down at the witch in his arms. His wife was regarding him with such a look of pride and love that threatened to make his heart burst. Merlin, but even in the light of the fire and in her anger and horror over what Rodolphus had done to her, there was no denying that his beloved wife was still beautiful. He did not even notice the weeny little ashes and bits of debris that were now settling onto her shoulders. He wondered if Norah even took notice of it at all. Her blonde hair glowed even in the blackened dark thunderous skies above her, her skin turning amber and harboring a radiant glow to it from the fire burning Riddle's home to ashes in front of them.
He felt a tug on his arm and was pulled out of his mind's musings as he looked down to find her arm resting over the top of his bicep. She was tugging on the sleeve of his thick black woolen sweater, silently telling him without speaking that she was ready to go home.
And Ollie swore he saw Norah smile before drifting off to sleep in his arms.