center Harry Potter; Fifth Year Unchanging center
The flames had grown closer. The very earth had been ablaze for many days. The red tongues lashed out and scorched all that, and soon the red tongues would lash out, scorching anything within reach. So much had already been lost to the fire's kiss, and suffocating smoke. The orange glow had almost surrounded the battered remains of a once lively creature, now it lay frozen, cursed by Death Eaters. Struggling frantically against an invisible hold as the heat of the fire intensifies. It couldn't break the curse that held it. And then the fire was upon it, eating away from the bottom up, but the pain from the fire slowly turning it into ash, was enough to break the curse.
When it was free from the invisible bind, shivers coursed through its body, trying to shake off the flames. It was a damp day, like all the ones that followed the dire day after the Inn had been destroyed, and all those lives had been lost, but now was not the time to stop and mourn for fallen friends. The wet air made the fire sizzle angrily and smoke. Fog encased the fire, but it wouldn't die.
Flying high, up into the clouds. The thinning air, wet with a coming rain, made the fire spit in furry, about to lose its pray. Still shivers coursed through its body, and with a defeated fizzle the fire died. Flying freely now, one lone carpet disappeared into the late evening sky. Flying away from the fear that had cloaked the land below, it soared faster than any bird and most broomsticks could ever travel. One mission was set deep in its very fibers, to find the boy that caused all the fear.
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"Untie me!" Harry yelled at the people looking down at him from the table were they were eating. Harry knew that Gudgeon and every other Death Eater would be looking for him. A tall wizard stooped to untie Harry's feet, and an equally tall and a slender woman was untying his hands.
Harry shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. His glasses were gone, and most likely broken.
"Daddy, Daddy its Harry Potter. I can see his scar!" A little girl yelled in her high voice. No sooner as she had said this, five faces were staring intently at his scar. Harry could feel his face grow hot with embarrassment. His hands and feet were still tied together, temporally forgotten.
"Daddy untie him. Harry Potter shouldn't be tied up," It was the same little girl who had noticed his scar. The man's face left his range of view. Soon, with some muttering from behind, Harry his hands and feet where free. A boy who looked a few years older then him pulled him to his feet.
The boy stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. "Its an honor to meat you, Harry Potter. My name is Salem Main." Harry was struck by how much Salem sounded like Percy. He made Harry home sick.
"Its nice to meet you too, Salem." Harry turned to the man who untied him, thinking that he was head of the house, " I really need to be leaving. I'm sorry for interrupting your meal." Harry wanted to go as quickly as he could. He had to warn them about the Death Eaters. "If anyone comes here looking for me, you haven't seen me okay? If they don't believe you, just tell them where I went. Don't make them angry." They were all looking at him, like he was crazy. The little girl was tugging on his tattered robe.
"Harry," she said. Harry bent to her level, and she whispered in his ear, "Did you get into trouble, Harry?"
"Don't worry about me," He stood back up, ready to leave, but the little girl was tugging on his robes again. He bent back down.
"I'm Maggie Main, and I'm four years old." She looked proud of herself. Salem picked her up and swung her onto his back. She gave a shriek of delight followed by a hail of giggles.
"You really must stay for the rest of the meal, we have plenty," said the lady who had helped untie him. Harry looked at their table. Each plate looked half full, yet hardly touched, like the meal had just began. Harry didn't see any more food.
"You can sit next to me, Harry, and I'll give you my potato," said Maggie.
"Quiet Maggie," said her mother. "Please stay for dinner, Harry."
"I can't. I'm sorry, but you really don't understand. I have to go." Harry didn't want to be rude, but they wouldn't like it if a whole bunch of Death Eaters came to dinner to.
She was going to protest, but the man put his hand on her should and she didn't say anything else. "Is there anything that we can offer you if you can't stay for dinner?" he asked Harry. "Maybe a warmer cloak. It's very cold outside."
"That would be great," Harry replied. When the two adults went off to find an extra cloak Harry turned to Salem, "Could you tell me what day it is?"
"Goodness, you don't know what day it is?" He asked Harry. "Its August seventh. Do you need the year too? Just joking with you."
"Thanks," said Harry. The two adults came back into the room. She was carrying a thick fur cloak, a hat, and a scarf. He held a pair of boats, with fur lining.
"I know that its summer," she said, "but the nights here get cold very fast. Your up north pretty far."
"Where am I, anyway?" Harry had no idea where he had fallen out of the Floo Network. Salem laughed lightly at him.
"How do you not know where you are?" Salem asked Harry.
"It was the Floo. I sorta just dropped out, and ended up here." Harry was liking Salem less and less whenever he said anything.
"Where were you going, Harry dear?" Asked the mother.
"Well, I was um, going to see, I had to meet..." Harry couldn't tell them that he was about to go see Voldemort face to face against his will. "I was just traveling," Harry said at last. Everybody was looking at him funny. The two adults exchange a look that clearly said something was up.
"Can I travel with you Harry Potter?" The little girl piped up.
"You don't want to come with me, its to cold outside for little girls," Harry told her. She looked at him with sad little eyes, and her bottom lip stuck out.
"So, where am I?"
"You're in Finland, dear. A long way from home. I would offer the fireplace to you, but we haven't had any Floo powder for the longest time," she said
"Oh that's okay. I really must go." The nagging fear that the Death Eaters were going to come at any minute was growing stronger.
"If you must go, then you must go." The father shook Harry's hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Harry Potter."
"Yes a real treat," said Mrs. Main. "Come back and see us if you're are in the area."
"I'll do that," said Harry. He fished around his pocket and found his bag of money. He offered them three galleons for the robes, but they wouldn't take his money. Mrs. Mane wrapped the wool scarf around his neck. She led Harry to the door, with the rest of the family following. Maggie was still on Salem's.
Harry stepped out into the early evening. The wind whipped around him, blowing his cloak around his legs. He had to grab onto his hat to keep it from flying away. He turned back towards the door to say his good-byes. Mrs. Main was pulling Maggie off Salem's back. Harry watched as Maggie ran away on her chubby four-year-old legs. She came back only minutes later with a pair of heavy gloves. She squeezed by her brother and Mr. Main and out to Harry. She held up the gloves to him.
Harry bent down to her leave. "Thank you, Maggie." He handed her the three gold coins that he had try give to Mrs. Mane early. "Take these, Maggie, and when nobody is in the room put them on the table where your mum will find them. Okay?"
She nodded her head, and clutched the coins in one small hand. Harry could see her shaking from the cold. "Go back inside," he told her
"I want to come." She was pouting again. Her mom called her.
"Go on," Harry coached. She hugged his leg and then ran off to her mother. Harry waved at them, and then turned to walk away. Their calls of good- bye followed him; Maggie was the last to stop yelling her good-byes.
As Harry walked, he bent his head to the wind. He held on to his hat with one hand and his cloak with the other. The ground was frozen underneath his boats. Harry walked on, into the darkness. The stars came out, and the moon was will into the dark phase, rose above the treetops, giving off little light as he went.
Harry walked until his legs were numb with the cold, his teeth chattered, and his fingers felt like ice. He plopped down onto the frozen ground stretching out his tired legs. He pulled his gloves off to blow on his raw fingers until they felt warmer. He wished he had a fire to warm up by, and some food to eat.
Harry shoved his hand into his pocket. His cold fingers grasped a warm round object in the cloak's pocket. He withdrew his fingers, bring the warmth with them. In the feeble light, Harry could see that he held two potatoes. Harry bit into one of them. The warmth flowed through him as he ate. He put the other potato back in his pocket, to save for later. With some of his strength back, Harry got up.
He dragged his feet on through the night. The moon slowly moved across the sky as night turned into day. Harry looked up at the Heavens high above him. He hoped for a shooting star to wish upon, but none streaked across the sky. The stars just winked back at him, and the North Star guided him.
He looked back to the way he had come. The sky seemed to hold a secret that it wasn't going to tell. Harry turned back to the Heaves back the way he came. The stars were tinged with a greenish glow. Harry went back to his walking. He went to the south.
Harry didn't pass a single house as he went. His feet felt like lead. The early morning air chilled Harry every time he inhaled, and hung in a frosty patch in front of him. He wanted nothing more but to go to sleep. He stopped on a hilltop and sunk down on his haunches. Harry looked around from where he rested, but saw nothing, except for frozen ground. He rose back to his feet.
His head started to swim. Black blotches passed in front of his eyes. Harry stumbled backward. He flung his arms out to steady himself. He fell, deep into blackness. He was rising up again. Something soft supported his tired limbs, it pillowed his head, and he sunk into it's middle. He wondered vaguely if the flying motorcycle was back. The swaying helped him drift off to sleep.
No dreams troubled him that night as he slept. Not a flash of green, or jeering voices, and no visions of Voldemort. He huddled in his robes, a mere ball, flying through the sky with the wind rush over his face, and through his black hair, threatening to freeze him.
The darkness of the night was fading away. The sun rising in the east set the sky on fire, lighting it up with purples, pinks, and silver on a royal blue canvas. The glow of the sun lit up Harry's face as he traveled southward. He tried to shut out the sun's rays, wanting a few more hours of sleep, but never the less it was a losing battle. Harry sat up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but was promptly knocked back over by a strong gust of wind that made his tired eyes sting.
High above the green land Harry peeked over the edge of a magic carpet. His magic carpet. The carpet wasn't what it had been a few days ago. The fringe by his feet was burnt off; the rich purple fabric had mud ground into the very fibers. The carpet had lost all of its beauty, but not its speed, or its connection with the boy sitting on top of it.
"Where are you taking me?" Harry asked the carpet, running a hand over the rough fabric. The carpet shuddered under his touch. The carpet had slowed its speed, allowing Harry to stay in a seated position.
The carpet had flown higher over the land. The air was thin and had a biting coldness to it. As Harry searched the horizon, he saw nothing but the ground. Trees dotted the landscape, but nothing to tell him where he was, or where the carpet was taking him.
"How did you get away?" Harry asked the carpet. He had been awake for roughly an hour. He didn't expect the carpet to say anything, after all, it was only a flying rug, but it responded to his voice and touch. It was like having a conversation with an infant, you could talk all you wanted, but you would never get a decent conversation. Harry talked on any way.
He marveled in the feeling of not having to do anything to get somewhere. After so much traveling on foot and broom, and even Floo Powder, all of which took away his dwindling strength. The carpet under him had molded itself to Harry to keep him from falling as they banked a curve or when they had to fly low among the trees an dodge them.
When the sun was high overhead, Harry dug into his robe pocket for the other potato. Harry gingerly bit into. He didn't have to hide the face he pulled at the taste. The potato had grown cold, and at some point, it had taken a beating in his pocket. He debated pitching it over the side, and if his stomach had rumbled for the umpteenth time that day, he would have. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll eat the potato!" He took another bite, his stomach lurched, "This thing better not make my sick." He ate it one small bite after another almost painstakingly.
"You know," he said to the carpet, "I've really got to stop talking to myself." The carpet shuddered almost in agreement.
As dusk settled around them, the carpet made a slow descent. They had come across a small village. The carpet skirted the edge of the row of houses, expertly keeping out of sight. Before the first stars peeked through the darkness that started to cloak the sky, the carpet slowed and stopped next to a craggy wood house. The carpet rippled under Harry, propelling him to the front, until he had to stand. Harry gave the muddy rug a questioning star. The rug gave him a little nudge until he was standing right next to the back door. Harry watched the flying rug closely as it knocked on the door using the tassels on the corner of the rug. The tassels barley made a noise.
"You want me to knock?" It nodded. Harry did so.
No one came. He knocked again, this time louder, still no one came. Harry sat down on the carpet to wait. As soon as the door swung open, the carpet flow out from under Harry, who landed on the ground with a thump.
"What do we have 'ere? A traveler and- and I'll be, one of my rugs!" said a man's voice.
'Oh-oh,' thought Harry, 'he's think I stole one his rugs.' Harry looked up at the man, who stood framed in the doorway with yellow light flooding out around him into the semi-darkness. It was hard for Harry to get a look at the man's face.
A women's voice came from somewhere inside the house, "Is that them?"
The man reached down to help Harry to his feet. "Up you get." He hauled Harry to his feet. "Aye, why don't you come in?" He stepped into the house, and the carpet flow into the house and Harry followed it in.
An old woman met them in the hallway. She had gray hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head. She had on red robes with silver trim that matched her hair. A pair of small oval spectacles sat on the brim of her nose allowing her to peer over them at Harry. She grinned at him, showing off a set of straight, white teeth.
"Come in, come in!" She pushed open a door farther down the hallway. "I'm so glad you made it! We were getting worried about you dear." The woman wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. He stared at her. The women keep talking unaware of Harry's confusement. "How's the little one doing? And where's Helena? You didn't leave her to take care of the horses did you?"
"Er- who ma'ma?"
She stopped halfway into a large dinning room. Her eyes bored into Harry's making him squirm. He saw her eyes widen when she found his scar half hidden by his bangs. In one swift motion, she had dropped his arm and had backed away from him. "Oh my," she breathed.
"What's wrong?" Asked the man who let him in. "Nothings wrong with Helena or the baby, is there?" He peered at Harry.
"It's Harry Potter," the women hissed.
"It can't be," he ogled at Harry's forehead, Harry let him. "It is. It really is!"
"Join us for dinner Harry?"
"That would be nice," Harry said. He didn't elaborate on how hungry he really was. The potato hadn't filled his stomach for very long.
"Do you like stew? I could make something else if you prefer."
"Stew would be great." She led Harry to the table in the center of the room. She disappeared throw a doorway, and when she came back with a tray with three steaming bowls of stew, rolls, and a pitcher of milk.
"Here you go. Beef stew, nice and hearty. I dear say that you need to get back your strength. I never would have thought that Harry Potter would show up one cold summer evening on one of my husband's carpets." She handed him the bowl of soup, and a large spoon.
"Thank you," Harry said. He ate the soup, letting it chase away any cold that was left from his long flight on the carpet.
"You are most welcome. It doesn't look like you have been eating much these past few days. Do you need anything else?"
"No thank you," Harry said.
Harry broke off a piece of the roll and dipped it in to the stew. The three of them talked while they ate. The told him that their daughter was coming for a visit along with her husband and baby. Mr. O'Klause, the man that let Harry in, told him about how he had woven and enchanted all the flying carpets for the Magic Carpet Inn.
After dinner Mrs. O'Klause, lead Harry to one of the guest rooms that they wouldn't be used for their daughters visit. The bedroom was very grand, he looked around it after climbing into the bed with the evening news. The walls were white with green vines traveling up the wallpaper. Harry's cloak hung on a hook on the back of the door. The scarf was hanging there too. His boats were off to the side. Two windows were on the right side of the room. Green gauze covered the windows; keeping people from looking in or out. A fireplace was on the wall opposite of the windows. The coals were still hot, but there were no flames were burning behind the gate.
Harry sat up against a stack of pillows with a thick green bedspread covered him. He picked up the newspaper and scanned the front page to find anything that might be of interest to him.
Just below the centerfold, there was a story about a family being killed the day before. Harry scanned the article with a growing fear. Names popped off the page at him. A distraught neighbor found them after seeing strange light coming from the windows. She had heard their cries.
"Dinner is good tonight, Mother," said a boy about Harry's age. Two other boys chorused their approval of the meal. The two boys were young, six or seven. They were eating dinner with their fingers not caring that they should have out grown that.
A row of windows looked out to the north. The boy's mother and older brother had their backs to the windows. When the little boys started to make blowing up sounds to go with the flashes of little that they saw coming from they neighbor's windows their mother was annoyed with their actions.
"Stop it you two!" she snapped at them. "Eat your dinner, and not another peep out of you."
"But mother," whined one of the young boys.
"Not another word!" She snapped back at him. The meal went on in an uncomfortable silence. The boys still watched the lights, but it wasn't until a scream shattered the night air that their mother whipped around to face the windows.
"Good Heavens," she said. Another scream followed the first. The mother turned to her oldest son, "Stay here with the kids. Don't let anyone in until I come back. And put out that fire."
She grabbed her wand that had been sitting on the counter and raced for the door. She crashed through it and shouted over her shoulder to her boys to lock up the house. She reached the Main's house.
She peered through the windows. Robed figure's ransacked the house. The Mains themselves huddled in a corner of the room. Mr. Main wasn't there. She scanned the room for him. She found him lying on the floor by the upturned table.
The little girl was crying. Her brother was trying to make her stop, but it was no use. Their mother was trying to make the intruders see reason. She was indeed pleading for her and her children's life. She was also defending some one else.
"He just a boy. He is of no use to you and your dark lord. He could hardly walk he was so tired."
"Be quiet!" one of the men in black yelled at her. He shot her with a hex and she fall silent. The little girl cried harder. "Make her shout up, boy!" the man in black leaned menacingly close to the little child. She snuggled back into her brother trying to get away.
No one in the house noticed the neighbor who peeked in through the kitchen windows, but she felt like she was being watched. She turned to her home and saw a small face pressed against the window. Her oldest boy was watching her.
She ran towards him. He pulled the window up. "Get the Ministry over here. Tell them that there are Death Eaters of some kind attacking the Main's. Do it quickly." She was about to run back when he grabbed her arm.
"Are they all right?" he asked. She didn't answer. She didn't know what to tell him. "Mother, are they all right," he asked again.
She shook her head. "Just get some help." She ran back to the Main's house. Not much had changed. Some one was standing over the Main's, wand pointed at Maggie, who was crying even harder. Food for their dinner was spilt everywhere. The house seemed to be filling up with smoke.
"He's not here anymore. Kill him." one of the men in black commanded. Two people in black seized a third. A fourth figure in black came forward.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted the fourth figure. The person in black who the curse was aimed at fell limp in the hands of those who held him up. She couldn't hold back the scream that rose in her throat.
Every person in the room turned to look at her, as she peered trough the window. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. "Do come in and join us, Mrs.," said the man who had just killed some one. She turned to flee, but hands grabbed her.
"Avada Kedavra!" It was the same man who had killed one of his own. A boy no older then Harry watched his mother go limp in the hold of two people in black. The discarded her on the front lawn of the Main's house.
The people went back into the house closing the door behind them. The boy had to fight to keep his younger brothers away from the windows. He watched as green light filled the house repeatedly. He watched as the door open again and people in black robes flooded out of the house. One of them sent the dark mark up into the sky.
The green glow, the same green as the killing curse seeped in through the windows where the boy watched the people Disapparate. The boy turned to his brothers.
"Stay here," he told them. "I don't want you near those windows. Do you understand?" He asked. They both nodded.
The boy went to the door. He crossed the front lawn and found himself standing over his mother. He closed his eyes, and bent down next to her. When he finally opened his eyes he looked right into the shocked and frighten eye's of his Mother. He groped for her hand. It was cold to the touch and stiff. He didn't have to check her pulse to know she was dead.
Before putting her hand, back down he hugged the small hand and kissed it gently. He closed her eyes, but he couldn't forget the look in her haunted eyes. He had heard people say that the dead look like they're sleep, he found that to be wrong. Even after he closed her mouth, she still looked scared. With one last look at his beloved mother, he moved on to the house.
He saw much of the same as his mother, but the horrors that greeted him were beyond nightmares. Everything was broken or smashed right down the to the table. Five unmoving people lay on the floor. The boy didn't know whom to go to first.
A man in a black robe lay a few feet past the door. A scar was visible on his face. It stretched from one side of his face to the other. The boy looked at the other people lying in the room. His neighbors. Mr. Main lay face down by the table, and Mrs. Main lay facing the ceiling with one arm swung over Salem. Salem was hunched over, like he had been sitting up, and had just fallen over. The boy could see something under Salem. Blonde hair could be seen under Salem's chest. The boy recognized the hair as Maggie's
The boy didn't have to feel for a pulse. He could feel death heavy in the air. He walked over to the man in black. He wanted nothing more then to spit in his face, but with a shaking hand, he closed the man's eyes. This man's eyes didn't hold the fear that his mother's had. He seemed to know what was coming for him. He had been ready for it. The boy stepped over the dead body. With his nerves on end, he crossed over to Mr. Main.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to try to roll Mr. Main onto his back, so he moved onto Mrs. Main. When he got close to her, the air changed, it felt alive, but he knew Mrs. Main was gone. Memories of coming over to when he was younger to play with Salem flooded his mind. He remembered sitting with the Main's when his own mother wasn't home. Mrs. Main would watch him and give him as many fresh cookies that he could eat.
His hand shook more as he closed her eyes. The look of horror on her face penetrated his mind, just like his mother's glazed look. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up as he felt something move.
He got the impression that he wasn't alone anymore. He was about to flee; the fear was choking him. A scream punctured the air. Five small daggers sunk into his leg. He reeled backwards. Yelling mixed with screams, his yelling.
He pulled his leg away. The five daggers shrank back. His leg burned where it had been punctured, and five lines of blood made rivers down his leg. His knees gave out from underneath him.
He collapsed. He brought his injured leg up to his chest to wrap on arm around it. The hair on his neck again with the feeling of being watched. He raised his eyes up. "Aaagh!" He yelled.
Maggie Main's face was hardly a foot from his own. Her pale eyes were round and haunted. Her face was void of all colors, but a sickly green color that seemed to shimmer on her ghostly skin. She looked deranged with a misshapen grin on her faced. It showed all her pointed baby teeth.
The boy jumped up. He bolted. He didn't turn around when he heard feet following him. He tripped on the thresh whole of the door. He turned and Maggie was right next to him.
"Why do you run?" she asked him. She looked like a broken doll with her blonde hair hanging in wisps around her face, and that grin. It gave her a look that suggests that her lips had stretched to allow all her pointed teeth to show. She reached out a pale green hand to him. She touched his face and he didn't try to cover the fear that made him shake at the four year old's touch. She wasn't a ghost. He could tell that now that her hand was on his face.
He tried to swallow back his fear, this little girl needed him. He could see tears forming in her eyes. His hands still shook, but he picked up the little child that still looked green. He thought that the Death Eaters had done something to her, or it was a reaction to so many killing curses, but that couldn't be right he reasoned. No one else had been green, or had they been?
He stepped out side with Maggie snuggled up to him. Her head rested on his shoulders, her legs rapped around his waist, and her small arms circled his neck. He looked up at the sky, hoping to see a shooting star, but the skull and snake leered at him from the sky. Any wish made on that surly wouldn't come true.
He looked at the little girl who clanged to him. He realized that the ghostly green glow came from the hideous snake and skull.
He sat down on the front step of the house. He looked back towards his own home and saw empty windows look back. He was glad his brothers didn't watch him. He looked back at his mother. He could make her out in the glowing green light, and he broke down.
He sobbed, cursing the people in black who came this dark night and didn't leave until they left four orphans, and shattered two different families. They had killed one of their own, but he couldn't bring himself to grieve for the fallen Death Eater.
He cursed the ministry for not coming when he begged them. They didn't care how powerless they were, how outnumbered, or out-magicked, they hadn't cared. They hadn't saved his mother, or Maggie's mother, or Salem, or Mr. Main. They didn't care that they left a teenage boy in charge of looking to see if anyone lived through the attack. They didn't care that he and Maggie would have nightmares for the rest of their lives. He could only think that they didn't care.
And the boy sitting on the step cursed the very reason that brought the people in black to the Main's house. He cursed the boy who he had heard Mrs. Main defending. He hoped that he would never see the boy they had been looking for.
One question tugged at his mind. Why didn't she die? How could she live through that? Surly they know that she was still there. Was this, sparing her, their idea of mercy? Was it their sick way of showing that they had a soft spot for little blonde headed girls? The questions keep repeating in his head, giving way to more questions.
"Maggie?" his voice sounded hollow and dead. She pulled back from his shoulder, the grin still in place. "How did you live through that?" He hadn't meant to say it that way. He had meant to ask her in a nice way, but his voice was full of bitterness. He tried again. "How was it that you lived, when everybody else died?" All he could hear was bitterness, and he was getting angry, at himself, Maggie, or someone else all together he didn't know.
"Salem told me to play dead, like what our dog use to do. He told me that right before he went to sleep. When is he going to wake up? Mummy and Daddy too?" She looked at him, waiting for him to answer her. He couldn't tell her. He could hardly let himself think that his mother was dead. He didn't tell her anything.
He sat there late into the night, to tired to get up and go into his own house, but he mainly didn't want to have to tell his brothers that their mother was gone forever. Some time late, when he had stopped thinking, and was just staring into the greenish glow the ministry showed up. The pointed their wands at him and Maggie, ready to curse them, until they saw that he was only a boy hold a sleep child. They came closer to him. One of the ministry people tried to take away Maggie, but he snapped his teeth at the hand. He couldn't think of any other way to fend off the new people.
The ministry people were dressed in black, and he now put people in black, and the night with evil. They stared asking him question. He answered, giving as little information as he could. The ministry people stood in groups talking about him. Some went into the house, others went into his house, but he just sat there.
Harry set up in bed. All he could see was green. Sweat poured down his face. He swung his arms out, he was still part way asleep. His fingers grasped onto the thin hangings on the bed's canopy. He realized where he was.
He had fallen asleep about halfway through the article. He saw everything so clearly, when he was asleep, he had felt every fear that the boy and his mother had, and now that he was sitting in the bed, he could still feel their fear. But worst then the fear was the guilt that he felt. He couldn't help but think it was his fault.
"Great," he muttered. "More deaths on my shoulders," he flopped back onto the pillows. "Fun," he breathed as an after thought.
A/N: Finally I've updated. I had some trouble getting this chapter beta- read, but I've got one now, Bodie. An important little note; I'm changing my penname to Majestic Whirligig. I'm also renaming the whole story. My first choice title is: The Night of the Broken Glass.
If you want to be notified when I update again, please leave your e-mail in a review.
The flames had grown closer. The very earth had been ablaze for many days. The red tongues lashed out and scorched all that, and soon the red tongues would lash out, scorching anything within reach. So much had already been lost to the fire's kiss, and suffocating smoke. The orange glow had almost surrounded the battered remains of a once lively creature, now it lay frozen, cursed by Death Eaters. Struggling frantically against an invisible hold as the heat of the fire intensifies. It couldn't break the curse that held it. And then the fire was upon it, eating away from the bottom up, but the pain from the fire slowly turning it into ash, was enough to break the curse.
When it was free from the invisible bind, shivers coursed through its body, trying to shake off the flames. It was a damp day, like all the ones that followed the dire day after the Inn had been destroyed, and all those lives had been lost, but now was not the time to stop and mourn for fallen friends. The wet air made the fire sizzle angrily and smoke. Fog encased the fire, but it wouldn't die.
Flying high, up into the clouds. The thinning air, wet with a coming rain, made the fire spit in furry, about to lose its pray. Still shivers coursed through its body, and with a defeated fizzle the fire died. Flying freely now, one lone carpet disappeared into the late evening sky. Flying away from the fear that had cloaked the land below, it soared faster than any bird and most broomsticks could ever travel. One mission was set deep in its very fibers, to find the boy that caused all the fear.
center *~*~* center
"Untie me!" Harry yelled at the people looking down at him from the table were they were eating. Harry knew that Gudgeon and every other Death Eater would be looking for him. A tall wizard stooped to untie Harry's feet, and an equally tall and a slender woman was untying his hands.
Harry shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes. His glasses were gone, and most likely broken.
"Daddy, Daddy its Harry Potter. I can see his scar!" A little girl yelled in her high voice. No sooner as she had said this, five faces were staring intently at his scar. Harry could feel his face grow hot with embarrassment. His hands and feet were still tied together, temporally forgotten.
"Daddy untie him. Harry Potter shouldn't be tied up," It was the same little girl who had noticed his scar. The man's face left his range of view. Soon, with some muttering from behind, Harry his hands and feet where free. A boy who looked a few years older then him pulled him to his feet.
The boy stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. "Its an honor to meat you, Harry Potter. My name is Salem Main." Harry was struck by how much Salem sounded like Percy. He made Harry home sick.
"Its nice to meet you too, Salem." Harry turned to the man who untied him, thinking that he was head of the house, " I really need to be leaving. I'm sorry for interrupting your meal." Harry wanted to go as quickly as he could. He had to warn them about the Death Eaters. "If anyone comes here looking for me, you haven't seen me okay? If they don't believe you, just tell them where I went. Don't make them angry." They were all looking at him, like he was crazy. The little girl was tugging on his tattered robe.
"Harry," she said. Harry bent to her level, and she whispered in his ear, "Did you get into trouble, Harry?"
"Don't worry about me," He stood back up, ready to leave, but the little girl was tugging on his robes again. He bent back down.
"I'm Maggie Main, and I'm four years old." She looked proud of herself. Salem picked her up and swung her onto his back. She gave a shriek of delight followed by a hail of giggles.
"You really must stay for the rest of the meal, we have plenty," said the lady who had helped untie him. Harry looked at their table. Each plate looked half full, yet hardly touched, like the meal had just began. Harry didn't see any more food.
"You can sit next to me, Harry, and I'll give you my potato," said Maggie.
"Quiet Maggie," said her mother. "Please stay for dinner, Harry."
"I can't. I'm sorry, but you really don't understand. I have to go." Harry didn't want to be rude, but they wouldn't like it if a whole bunch of Death Eaters came to dinner to.
She was going to protest, but the man put his hand on her should and she didn't say anything else. "Is there anything that we can offer you if you can't stay for dinner?" he asked Harry. "Maybe a warmer cloak. It's very cold outside."
"That would be great," Harry replied. When the two adults went off to find an extra cloak Harry turned to Salem, "Could you tell me what day it is?"
"Goodness, you don't know what day it is?" He asked Harry. "Its August seventh. Do you need the year too? Just joking with you."
"Thanks," said Harry. The two adults came back into the room. She was carrying a thick fur cloak, a hat, and a scarf. He held a pair of boats, with fur lining.
"I know that its summer," she said, "but the nights here get cold very fast. Your up north pretty far."
"Where am I, anyway?" Harry had no idea where he had fallen out of the Floo Network. Salem laughed lightly at him.
"How do you not know where you are?" Salem asked Harry.
"It was the Floo. I sorta just dropped out, and ended up here." Harry was liking Salem less and less whenever he said anything.
"Where were you going, Harry dear?" Asked the mother.
"Well, I was um, going to see, I had to meet..." Harry couldn't tell them that he was about to go see Voldemort face to face against his will. "I was just traveling," Harry said at last. Everybody was looking at him funny. The two adults exchange a look that clearly said something was up.
"Can I travel with you Harry Potter?" The little girl piped up.
"You don't want to come with me, its to cold outside for little girls," Harry told her. She looked at him with sad little eyes, and her bottom lip stuck out.
"So, where am I?"
"You're in Finland, dear. A long way from home. I would offer the fireplace to you, but we haven't had any Floo powder for the longest time," she said
"Oh that's okay. I really must go." The nagging fear that the Death Eaters were going to come at any minute was growing stronger.
"If you must go, then you must go." The father shook Harry's hand. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Harry Potter."
"Yes a real treat," said Mrs. Main. "Come back and see us if you're are in the area."
"I'll do that," said Harry. He fished around his pocket and found his bag of money. He offered them three galleons for the robes, but they wouldn't take his money. Mrs. Mane wrapped the wool scarf around his neck. She led Harry to the door, with the rest of the family following. Maggie was still on Salem's.
Harry stepped out into the early evening. The wind whipped around him, blowing his cloak around his legs. He had to grab onto his hat to keep it from flying away. He turned back towards the door to say his good-byes. Mrs. Main was pulling Maggie off Salem's back. Harry watched as Maggie ran away on her chubby four-year-old legs. She came back only minutes later with a pair of heavy gloves. She squeezed by her brother and Mr. Main and out to Harry. She held up the gloves to him.
Harry bent down to her leave. "Thank you, Maggie." He handed her the three gold coins that he had try give to Mrs. Mane early. "Take these, Maggie, and when nobody is in the room put them on the table where your mum will find them. Okay?"
She nodded her head, and clutched the coins in one small hand. Harry could see her shaking from the cold. "Go back inside," he told her
"I want to come." She was pouting again. Her mom called her.
"Go on," Harry coached. She hugged his leg and then ran off to her mother. Harry waved at them, and then turned to walk away. Their calls of good- bye followed him; Maggie was the last to stop yelling her good-byes.
As Harry walked, he bent his head to the wind. He held on to his hat with one hand and his cloak with the other. The ground was frozen underneath his boats. Harry walked on, into the darkness. The stars came out, and the moon was will into the dark phase, rose above the treetops, giving off little light as he went.
Harry walked until his legs were numb with the cold, his teeth chattered, and his fingers felt like ice. He plopped down onto the frozen ground stretching out his tired legs. He pulled his gloves off to blow on his raw fingers until they felt warmer. He wished he had a fire to warm up by, and some food to eat.
Harry shoved his hand into his pocket. His cold fingers grasped a warm round object in the cloak's pocket. He withdrew his fingers, bring the warmth with them. In the feeble light, Harry could see that he held two potatoes. Harry bit into one of them. The warmth flowed through him as he ate. He put the other potato back in his pocket, to save for later. With some of his strength back, Harry got up.
He dragged his feet on through the night. The moon slowly moved across the sky as night turned into day. Harry looked up at the Heavens high above him. He hoped for a shooting star to wish upon, but none streaked across the sky. The stars just winked back at him, and the North Star guided him.
He looked back to the way he had come. The sky seemed to hold a secret that it wasn't going to tell. Harry turned back to the Heaves back the way he came. The stars were tinged with a greenish glow. Harry went back to his walking. He went to the south.
Harry didn't pass a single house as he went. His feet felt like lead. The early morning air chilled Harry every time he inhaled, and hung in a frosty patch in front of him. He wanted nothing more but to go to sleep. He stopped on a hilltop and sunk down on his haunches. Harry looked around from where he rested, but saw nothing, except for frozen ground. He rose back to his feet.
His head started to swim. Black blotches passed in front of his eyes. Harry stumbled backward. He flung his arms out to steady himself. He fell, deep into blackness. He was rising up again. Something soft supported his tired limbs, it pillowed his head, and he sunk into it's middle. He wondered vaguely if the flying motorcycle was back. The swaying helped him drift off to sleep.
No dreams troubled him that night as he slept. Not a flash of green, or jeering voices, and no visions of Voldemort. He huddled in his robes, a mere ball, flying through the sky with the wind rush over his face, and through his black hair, threatening to freeze him.
The darkness of the night was fading away. The sun rising in the east set the sky on fire, lighting it up with purples, pinks, and silver on a royal blue canvas. The glow of the sun lit up Harry's face as he traveled southward. He tried to shut out the sun's rays, wanting a few more hours of sleep, but never the less it was a losing battle. Harry sat up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but was promptly knocked back over by a strong gust of wind that made his tired eyes sting.
High above the green land Harry peeked over the edge of a magic carpet. His magic carpet. The carpet wasn't what it had been a few days ago. The fringe by his feet was burnt off; the rich purple fabric had mud ground into the very fibers. The carpet had lost all of its beauty, but not its speed, or its connection with the boy sitting on top of it.
"Where are you taking me?" Harry asked the carpet, running a hand over the rough fabric. The carpet shuddered under his touch. The carpet had slowed its speed, allowing Harry to stay in a seated position.
The carpet had flown higher over the land. The air was thin and had a biting coldness to it. As Harry searched the horizon, he saw nothing but the ground. Trees dotted the landscape, but nothing to tell him where he was, or where the carpet was taking him.
"How did you get away?" Harry asked the carpet. He had been awake for roughly an hour. He didn't expect the carpet to say anything, after all, it was only a flying rug, but it responded to his voice and touch. It was like having a conversation with an infant, you could talk all you wanted, but you would never get a decent conversation. Harry talked on any way.
He marveled in the feeling of not having to do anything to get somewhere. After so much traveling on foot and broom, and even Floo Powder, all of which took away his dwindling strength. The carpet under him had molded itself to Harry to keep him from falling as they banked a curve or when they had to fly low among the trees an dodge them.
When the sun was high overhead, Harry dug into his robe pocket for the other potato. Harry gingerly bit into. He didn't have to hide the face he pulled at the taste. The potato had grown cold, and at some point, it had taken a beating in his pocket. He debated pitching it over the side, and if his stomach had rumbled for the umpteenth time that day, he would have. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'll eat the potato!" He took another bite, his stomach lurched, "This thing better not make my sick." He ate it one small bite after another almost painstakingly.
"You know," he said to the carpet, "I've really got to stop talking to myself." The carpet shuddered almost in agreement.
As dusk settled around them, the carpet made a slow descent. They had come across a small village. The carpet skirted the edge of the row of houses, expertly keeping out of sight. Before the first stars peeked through the darkness that started to cloak the sky, the carpet slowed and stopped next to a craggy wood house. The carpet rippled under Harry, propelling him to the front, until he had to stand. Harry gave the muddy rug a questioning star. The rug gave him a little nudge until he was standing right next to the back door. Harry watched the flying rug closely as it knocked on the door using the tassels on the corner of the rug. The tassels barley made a noise.
"You want me to knock?" It nodded. Harry did so.
No one came. He knocked again, this time louder, still no one came. Harry sat down on the carpet to wait. As soon as the door swung open, the carpet flow out from under Harry, who landed on the ground with a thump.
"What do we have 'ere? A traveler and- and I'll be, one of my rugs!" said a man's voice.
'Oh-oh,' thought Harry, 'he's think I stole one his rugs.' Harry looked up at the man, who stood framed in the doorway with yellow light flooding out around him into the semi-darkness. It was hard for Harry to get a look at the man's face.
A women's voice came from somewhere inside the house, "Is that them?"
The man reached down to help Harry to his feet. "Up you get." He hauled Harry to his feet. "Aye, why don't you come in?" He stepped into the house, and the carpet flow into the house and Harry followed it in.
An old woman met them in the hallway. She had gray hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head. She had on red robes with silver trim that matched her hair. A pair of small oval spectacles sat on the brim of her nose allowing her to peer over them at Harry. She grinned at him, showing off a set of straight, white teeth.
"Come in, come in!" She pushed open a door farther down the hallway. "I'm so glad you made it! We were getting worried about you dear." The woman wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. He stared at her. The women keep talking unaware of Harry's confusement. "How's the little one doing? And where's Helena? You didn't leave her to take care of the horses did you?"
"Er- who ma'ma?"
She stopped halfway into a large dinning room. Her eyes bored into Harry's making him squirm. He saw her eyes widen when she found his scar half hidden by his bangs. In one swift motion, she had dropped his arm and had backed away from him. "Oh my," she breathed.
"What's wrong?" Asked the man who let him in. "Nothings wrong with Helena or the baby, is there?" He peered at Harry.
"It's Harry Potter," the women hissed.
"It can't be," he ogled at Harry's forehead, Harry let him. "It is. It really is!"
"Join us for dinner Harry?"
"That would be nice," Harry said. He didn't elaborate on how hungry he really was. The potato hadn't filled his stomach for very long.
"Do you like stew? I could make something else if you prefer."
"Stew would be great." She led Harry to the table in the center of the room. She disappeared throw a doorway, and when she came back with a tray with three steaming bowls of stew, rolls, and a pitcher of milk.
"Here you go. Beef stew, nice and hearty. I dear say that you need to get back your strength. I never would have thought that Harry Potter would show up one cold summer evening on one of my husband's carpets." She handed him the bowl of soup, and a large spoon.
"Thank you," Harry said. He ate the soup, letting it chase away any cold that was left from his long flight on the carpet.
"You are most welcome. It doesn't look like you have been eating much these past few days. Do you need anything else?"
"No thank you," Harry said.
Harry broke off a piece of the roll and dipped it in to the stew. The three of them talked while they ate. The told him that their daughter was coming for a visit along with her husband and baby. Mr. O'Klause, the man that let Harry in, told him about how he had woven and enchanted all the flying carpets for the Magic Carpet Inn.
After dinner Mrs. O'Klause, lead Harry to one of the guest rooms that they wouldn't be used for their daughters visit. The bedroom was very grand, he looked around it after climbing into the bed with the evening news. The walls were white with green vines traveling up the wallpaper. Harry's cloak hung on a hook on the back of the door. The scarf was hanging there too. His boats were off to the side. Two windows were on the right side of the room. Green gauze covered the windows; keeping people from looking in or out. A fireplace was on the wall opposite of the windows. The coals were still hot, but there were no flames were burning behind the gate.
Harry sat up against a stack of pillows with a thick green bedspread covered him. He picked up the newspaper and scanned the front page to find anything that might be of interest to him.
Just below the centerfold, there was a story about a family being killed the day before. Harry scanned the article with a growing fear. Names popped off the page at him. A distraught neighbor found them after seeing strange light coming from the windows. She had heard their cries.
"Dinner is good tonight, Mother," said a boy about Harry's age. Two other boys chorused their approval of the meal. The two boys were young, six or seven. They were eating dinner with their fingers not caring that they should have out grown that.
A row of windows looked out to the north. The boy's mother and older brother had their backs to the windows. When the little boys started to make blowing up sounds to go with the flashes of little that they saw coming from they neighbor's windows their mother was annoyed with their actions.
"Stop it you two!" she snapped at them. "Eat your dinner, and not another peep out of you."
"But mother," whined one of the young boys.
"Not another word!" She snapped back at him. The meal went on in an uncomfortable silence. The boys still watched the lights, but it wasn't until a scream shattered the night air that their mother whipped around to face the windows.
"Good Heavens," she said. Another scream followed the first. The mother turned to her oldest son, "Stay here with the kids. Don't let anyone in until I come back. And put out that fire."
She grabbed her wand that had been sitting on the counter and raced for the door. She crashed through it and shouted over her shoulder to her boys to lock up the house. She reached the Main's house.
She peered through the windows. Robed figure's ransacked the house. The Mains themselves huddled in a corner of the room. Mr. Main wasn't there. She scanned the room for him. She found him lying on the floor by the upturned table.
The little girl was crying. Her brother was trying to make her stop, but it was no use. Their mother was trying to make the intruders see reason. She was indeed pleading for her and her children's life. She was also defending some one else.
"He just a boy. He is of no use to you and your dark lord. He could hardly walk he was so tired."
"Be quiet!" one of the men in black yelled at her. He shot her with a hex and she fall silent. The little girl cried harder. "Make her shout up, boy!" the man in black leaned menacingly close to the little child. She snuggled back into her brother trying to get away.
No one in the house noticed the neighbor who peeked in through the kitchen windows, but she felt like she was being watched. She turned to her home and saw a small face pressed against the window. Her oldest boy was watching her.
She ran towards him. He pulled the window up. "Get the Ministry over here. Tell them that there are Death Eaters of some kind attacking the Main's. Do it quickly." She was about to run back when he grabbed her arm.
"Are they all right?" he asked. She didn't answer. She didn't know what to tell him. "Mother, are they all right," he asked again.
She shook her head. "Just get some help." She ran back to the Main's house. Not much had changed. Some one was standing over the Main's, wand pointed at Maggie, who was crying even harder. Food for their dinner was spilt everywhere. The house seemed to be filling up with smoke.
"He's not here anymore. Kill him." one of the men in black commanded. Two people in black seized a third. A fourth figure in black came forward.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted the fourth figure. The person in black who the curse was aimed at fell limp in the hands of those who held him up. She couldn't hold back the scream that rose in her throat.
Every person in the room turned to look at her, as she peered trough the window. She wanted to run, but she couldn't. "Do come in and join us, Mrs.," said the man who had just killed some one. She turned to flee, but hands grabbed her.
"Avada Kedavra!" It was the same man who had killed one of his own. A boy no older then Harry watched his mother go limp in the hold of two people in black. The discarded her on the front lawn of the Main's house.
The people went back into the house closing the door behind them. The boy had to fight to keep his younger brothers away from the windows. He watched as green light filled the house repeatedly. He watched as the door open again and people in black robes flooded out of the house. One of them sent the dark mark up into the sky.
The green glow, the same green as the killing curse seeped in through the windows where the boy watched the people Disapparate. The boy turned to his brothers.
"Stay here," he told them. "I don't want you near those windows. Do you understand?" He asked. They both nodded.
The boy went to the door. He crossed the front lawn and found himself standing over his mother. He closed his eyes, and bent down next to her. When he finally opened his eyes he looked right into the shocked and frighten eye's of his Mother. He groped for her hand. It was cold to the touch and stiff. He didn't have to check her pulse to know she was dead.
Before putting her hand, back down he hugged the small hand and kissed it gently. He closed her eyes, but he couldn't forget the look in her haunted eyes. He had heard people say that the dead look like they're sleep, he found that to be wrong. Even after he closed her mouth, she still looked scared. With one last look at his beloved mother, he moved on to the house.
He saw much of the same as his mother, but the horrors that greeted him were beyond nightmares. Everything was broken or smashed right down the to the table. Five unmoving people lay on the floor. The boy didn't know whom to go to first.
A man in a black robe lay a few feet past the door. A scar was visible on his face. It stretched from one side of his face to the other. The boy looked at the other people lying in the room. His neighbors. Mr. Main lay face down by the table, and Mrs. Main lay facing the ceiling with one arm swung over Salem. Salem was hunched over, like he had been sitting up, and had just fallen over. The boy could see something under Salem. Blonde hair could be seen under Salem's chest. The boy recognized the hair as Maggie's
The boy didn't have to feel for a pulse. He could feel death heavy in the air. He walked over to the man in black. He wanted nothing more then to spit in his face, but with a shaking hand, he closed the man's eyes. This man's eyes didn't hold the fear that his mother's had. He seemed to know what was coming for him. He had been ready for it. The boy stepped over the dead body. With his nerves on end, he crossed over to Mr. Main.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to try to roll Mr. Main onto his back, so he moved onto Mrs. Main. When he got close to her, the air changed, it felt alive, but he knew Mrs. Main was gone. Memories of coming over to when he was younger to play with Salem flooded his mind. He remembered sitting with the Main's when his own mother wasn't home. Mrs. Main would watch him and give him as many fresh cookies that he could eat.
His hand shook more as he closed her eyes. The look of horror on her face penetrated his mind, just like his mother's glazed look. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up as he felt something move.
He got the impression that he wasn't alone anymore. He was about to flee; the fear was choking him. A scream punctured the air. Five small daggers sunk into his leg. He reeled backwards. Yelling mixed with screams, his yelling.
He pulled his leg away. The five daggers shrank back. His leg burned where it had been punctured, and five lines of blood made rivers down his leg. His knees gave out from underneath him.
He collapsed. He brought his injured leg up to his chest to wrap on arm around it. The hair on his neck again with the feeling of being watched. He raised his eyes up. "Aaagh!" He yelled.
Maggie Main's face was hardly a foot from his own. Her pale eyes were round and haunted. Her face was void of all colors, but a sickly green color that seemed to shimmer on her ghostly skin. She looked deranged with a misshapen grin on her faced. It showed all her pointed baby teeth.
The boy jumped up. He bolted. He didn't turn around when he heard feet following him. He tripped on the thresh whole of the door. He turned and Maggie was right next to him.
"Why do you run?" she asked him. She looked like a broken doll with her blonde hair hanging in wisps around her face, and that grin. It gave her a look that suggests that her lips had stretched to allow all her pointed teeth to show. She reached out a pale green hand to him. She touched his face and he didn't try to cover the fear that made him shake at the four year old's touch. She wasn't a ghost. He could tell that now that her hand was on his face.
He tried to swallow back his fear, this little girl needed him. He could see tears forming in her eyes. His hands still shook, but he picked up the little child that still looked green. He thought that the Death Eaters had done something to her, or it was a reaction to so many killing curses, but that couldn't be right he reasoned. No one else had been green, or had they been?
He stepped out side with Maggie snuggled up to him. Her head rested on his shoulders, her legs rapped around his waist, and her small arms circled his neck. He looked up at the sky, hoping to see a shooting star, but the skull and snake leered at him from the sky. Any wish made on that surly wouldn't come true.
He looked at the little girl who clanged to him. He realized that the ghostly green glow came from the hideous snake and skull.
He sat down on the front step of the house. He looked back towards his own home and saw empty windows look back. He was glad his brothers didn't watch him. He looked back at his mother. He could make her out in the glowing green light, and he broke down.
He sobbed, cursing the people in black who came this dark night and didn't leave until they left four orphans, and shattered two different families. They had killed one of their own, but he couldn't bring himself to grieve for the fallen Death Eater.
He cursed the ministry for not coming when he begged them. They didn't care how powerless they were, how outnumbered, or out-magicked, they hadn't cared. They hadn't saved his mother, or Maggie's mother, or Salem, or Mr. Main. They didn't care that they left a teenage boy in charge of looking to see if anyone lived through the attack. They didn't care that he and Maggie would have nightmares for the rest of their lives. He could only think that they didn't care.
And the boy sitting on the step cursed the very reason that brought the people in black to the Main's house. He cursed the boy who he had heard Mrs. Main defending. He hoped that he would never see the boy they had been looking for.
One question tugged at his mind. Why didn't she die? How could she live through that? Surly they know that she was still there. Was this, sparing her, their idea of mercy? Was it their sick way of showing that they had a soft spot for little blonde headed girls? The questions keep repeating in his head, giving way to more questions.
"Maggie?" his voice sounded hollow and dead. She pulled back from his shoulder, the grin still in place. "How did you live through that?" He hadn't meant to say it that way. He had meant to ask her in a nice way, but his voice was full of bitterness. He tried again. "How was it that you lived, when everybody else died?" All he could hear was bitterness, and he was getting angry, at himself, Maggie, or someone else all together he didn't know.
"Salem told me to play dead, like what our dog use to do. He told me that right before he went to sleep. When is he going to wake up? Mummy and Daddy too?" She looked at him, waiting for him to answer her. He couldn't tell her. He could hardly let himself think that his mother was dead. He didn't tell her anything.
He sat there late into the night, to tired to get up and go into his own house, but he mainly didn't want to have to tell his brothers that their mother was gone forever. Some time late, when he had stopped thinking, and was just staring into the greenish glow the ministry showed up. The pointed their wands at him and Maggie, ready to curse them, until they saw that he was only a boy hold a sleep child. They came closer to him. One of the ministry people tried to take away Maggie, but he snapped his teeth at the hand. He couldn't think of any other way to fend off the new people.
The ministry people were dressed in black, and he now put people in black, and the night with evil. They stared asking him question. He answered, giving as little information as he could. The ministry people stood in groups talking about him. Some went into the house, others went into his house, but he just sat there.
Harry set up in bed. All he could see was green. Sweat poured down his face. He swung his arms out, he was still part way asleep. His fingers grasped onto the thin hangings on the bed's canopy. He realized where he was.
He had fallen asleep about halfway through the article. He saw everything so clearly, when he was asleep, he had felt every fear that the boy and his mother had, and now that he was sitting in the bed, he could still feel their fear. But worst then the fear was the guilt that he felt. He couldn't help but think it was his fault.
"Great," he muttered. "More deaths on my shoulders," he flopped back onto the pillows. "Fun," he breathed as an after thought.
A/N: Finally I've updated. I had some trouble getting this chapter beta- read, but I've got one now, Bodie. An important little note; I'm changing my penname to Majestic Whirligig. I'm also renaming the whole story. My first choice title is: The Night of the Broken Glass.
If you want to be notified when I update again, please leave your e-mail in a review.
