Chapter twenty three

Revenge

/

"Revenge is sweet indeed, but it will never undo what has already happened."

Author unknown

/

From then on, quite pessimistic articles were constantly appearing in the Daily Prophet. About the possibility of further vicious attacks on wizards and Muggles, about the hot tracks of the Ministry of Magic, or about those, which were not so hot in turn, and others like them. Nevertheless, the situation in general was calm so far. The Azkaban refugees seemed to evaporate from the face of the Earth, as did the horde of Dementors.

Outside the windows of Hogwarts Castle, a white snowstorm raged along with a strong wind. Students hid inside most of the time, huddled by crackling fireplaces, and as Christmas approached, they began to languish in class. However, at that time, Harry's heart was gripped by unfounded fears...

/

Tall figures in hooded cloaks... Snow, a shining window, a robust man with a moustache... a terrified screaming. A sharp, green light...

Angela covered her mouth with both hands to stifle the scream that threatened to escape her throat. There was a deafening silence in the bedroom. Shaking, she reached out of bed to the bedside table, opened the bottle of white pills and immediately threw two in her mouth.

I won't think about it, I won't, I won´t… I don't even know those people, this used to happen to me before as well, she repeated to herself over and over again, as she lay down again.

I cannot do anything for them…

However, despite this self-persuasion, she kept staring into the dark for a long time before she managed to fall asleep again.

/

A dark and windy evening descended on Privet Drive. Snowflakes fluttered through the air, visible in the light of yellow street lamps, before quickly disappearing in shadows. There was no one outside. Only an emaciated black cat with bright yellow eyes ran from one side of the street to the other, the frozen snow crunching softly under her paws. A warm yellowish glow, dimmed by thick curtains, streamed from the windows of several houses, and twinkling Christmas lights were often displayed above them around the eaves.

Two streets away near an intersection, a muffled crack suddenly sounded from a dark corner. Immediately, at least ten more followed, and everything fell silent again. The black cat that was just passing by. It angrily snarled at several tall figures in black cloaks and ran away. In the window of one of the smaller houses opposite the corner, a curtain was drawn back unnoticed.

Eleven Death Eaters slowly and quietly came out of the shadows into the light. The one leading them only looked around once and gave them a quick motion with his hand. The group with hoods on their heads headed to the Privet Drive.

The curtain quickly fell, and a few minutes later Mrs. Figg slipped out of the house in fright, curlers still in her hair, and released a little brown owl into the night.

The vast majority of the inhabitants of Little Whinging were calmly watching TV in the warmness of their homes and had no idea what was happening behind the walls of their houses. All the street lamps in the Privet Drive suddenly went out.

The figures hidden by the darkness of the night stopped in front of one of the model houses. One of them pulled a wand from their pocket and shot a narrow beam of light at the goal post. A glint of metal number four flashed and disappeared again.

The dark figures spread out around the house unobserved, waiting motionless. The light and the loud sounds of the TV playing streamed out from the large window that most likely led into the living room. White snowflakes slowly fell on the black mantle and remained on them.

Suddenly, all the figures moved forward at once. An unidentifiable sound came from the front door and the shadows slipped inside. Only a short while later, two frightened screams came from the house. But then one of the Death Eaters conjured an impenetrable wall around the house, and house number four went completely silent. Only the light from the window continued to shine into the inhospitable night.

Arabella Figg was pacing nervously not far away at the end of the street. She knew she could not do anything on her own. And by the time her owl arrives to its destination, it might be too late.

Then she remembered that another wizarding family lived nearby. If their hearth was connected to the Floo Network... Mrs. Figg pulled her coat tighter to her body and scurried off towards Lilac Corner.

/

About five days after the photo of the demolished Azkaban appeared in the newspaper, Angela was nervously pacing the sixth year girls' bedroom, a fight going on inside of her.

Go, don't go, tell, don't tell, go, don't go, tell, don't tell, shut up, reveal...

"…damn it!" Angela cursed aloud.

She still could not decide what to do.

So far, she had not really revealed anything important to Dumbledore, and she was not really in any danger, but if she went to him now and informed him of what was in store for her this Christmas, it would be different. She did not even tell him about her prophetic dreams, and the last one...

She stopped in her march for a moment and remembered one summer holiday evening, when her aunt was alive. Marion Rosier was always willing to advise her niece, when she was on the hook.

What her aunt would have told her to do in this moment? Well, in her heart, she knew, even though Marion was not around anymore…

Angela clenched her fists and then walked decisively out of the bedroom.

/

There was a tempting roast pork on a plate in front of Harry, but his stomach was so tight that he could barely get a few bites in. Hermione watched him carefully.

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

"No, no, it's just... I have a strange feeling. As if something should happen."

"You scare me, mate," Ron looked up from his meal.

Harry frowned. He looked over at the Slytherin table and realized that Angela had not come to dinner yet...

/

A little later, Harry sat thoughtfully in the common room, watching the crackling logs in the fireplace. He had returned from Snape's office a moment ago. Unexpectedly, the professor cancelled his Occlumency lesson for that day. It made him even more suspicious that something was up. Across from him, Hermione was giggling on the couch and Ron was trying to tickle her to death. It was nine o'clock and Harry regretted not having a date with Angela.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall entered the room through the portrait entrance and headed toward Harry with a serious expression.

"Potter," she addressed him quietly. Harry froze. "Please, come with me."

"What's going on?" Harry asked in a choked voice, ignoring Hermione and Ron who looked up at them with interest.

"Just come," she urged him again.

Harry stood up and McGonagall looked around the room.

"Is Miss Prescott here?" she asked Ginny who was sitting nearby.

"No, Professor," Ginny replied. "I do not know where she is. She has not come yet."

"All right. When she appears, tell her to come to me at once."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry hesitantly followed McGonagall out into the corridor. He was not at all surprised when they headed to the headmaster's office.

/

"You can definitely do it, Angela. I trust you."

"I wish I believed in myself like that," sighed the young witch. "But there´s something else, Headmaster," she continued quickly, as she could tell that Dumbledore was expecting someone.

He was pale and had a worried expression in his eyes.

"I have such a strange…" Angela stopped mid-sentence when there was a knock and the door opened.

Angela turned around. Obviously saddened McGonagall walked in, followed by Harry. They looked at each other in amazement.

"Good evening," Harry recovered, still keeping his eyes on Angela.

She lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Just sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Miss Rosier, can we discuss this later?"

"Yes, of course, Professor," Angela nodded her head.

She took it as a signal to leave and stood up as Harry sat down in the chair next to her. She sensed that he was trying to speak to her through mind, but she did not look at him.

"I haven't found Miss Prescott, Albus," the professor announced quietly. "She wasn't in the common room."

Angela stopped halfway to the door and turned back.

"Are you looking for Daria, Professor?" she asked tensely. "Why? Did something happen?"

Both McGonagall and Dumbledore looked at her in surprise.

"You know Prescott?" the professor asked suspiciously.

"Well, yes," Angela shrugged. "She's my best friend... Ah, you're in wonder because I'm a Slytherin and she's a Gryffindor, aren't you?" she realized quickly.

None of the professors said anything to this and Harry stared intently at Fawkes on the perch.

"I know where she probably is. If you want, I'll go get her," Angela offered.

"That would be nice," Dumbledore nodded. "You better stay here, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully and Angela walked out of the headmaster's office, shutting the door. She stopped behind them for a moment. She had a really bad hunch now...

/

Harry waited. Dumbledore watched him seriously for a moment, slightly surprised by the wall in Harry's mind he sensed.

"I have bad news for you, Harry," Dumbledore finally began.

What else, Harry thought cynically.

"First, you have to promise me you'll try to stay calm."

He just shrugged, not exactly willing to promise anything without knowing what was going on. Dumbledore took a deep breath.

"About an hour ago, Mrs Figg's owl arrived at the Ministry of Magic. She wrote that Death Eaters had appeared in the Little Whinging. An alarm was immediately raised and about twenty Hit Wizards moved to the Private Drive. But it was too late. Unfortunately, we can only speculate as to what actually happened..."

Dumbledore paused and McGonagall started talking instead. Harry gripped the armrests of his chair and waited for the rest.

"Three bodies were found in front of the house. Arabella Figg and the couple from the other end of district – the Prescotts. Mr Prescott was a wizard, but his wife was a Muggle. Arabella probably wanted to contact us through Floo Network from their house, but they were not connected at Mrs Prescott's request. They were all killed by the Unforgivable Curse," McGonagall's voice broke.

"And at your home, Harry…" Dumbledore continued quietly, looking into his eyes as he did so. "Your uncle and cousin are dead."

Harry could not breathe at all for a moment, Dumbledore's last words ringing in his ears.

Dead, they are dead...

"What about Aunt Petunia?" he asked, almost choking on the question.

"She was visiting her girlfriend at the time of the attack. She was lucky. For all we know, she came not long after the Death Eaters disappeared."

Harry gritted his teeth.

What luck Dumbledore spoke of? She found her husband and son dead! What luck was in that?!

He wanted to yell aloud, but he remained stubbornly silent, his gaze fixed somewhere behind Dumbledore.

"We don't know how they managed to break through the protective wall we created around the house. Especially after the Dark Lord returned, we made the defensive charm even stronger. But it was not enough," said McGonagall. "I'm so sorry, Potter."

"We're trying to hide from the press that they were your relatives, but you should prepare yourself for the fact that someone from the Ministry might reveal it. In that case, it will be in the Prophet tomorrow morning," added Dumbledore.

Harry put his head in his hands and closed his eyes tightly.

It cannot be true. They died… They are dead. Because of me... Again.

Dumbledore guessed what Harry was thinking.

"Harry, I don't want you to think it's your fault…"

"Why not?" Harry reacted, his voice shaking with repressed emotions. "After all, it's true. They are dead only because of me. Do you know which Death Eaters they were? I'd bet the ones who escaped from Azkaban recently."

"Most likely," Dumbledore agreed reluctantly.

"Malfoy," Harry gritted between his teeth. Desperation and rage darkened his eyes. "He wanted to take revenge on me. It was mostly because of me that he was sitting in Azkaban."

"Harry, you shouldn't…" Dumbledore began, but Harry stood up from his chair and cut him off sharply.

"No, shut up," he snapped coldly. "I don't need to hear anything more now."

Harry made his way to the door with clenched fists, swung it open and stepped out. He almost knocked Angela down the stairs, as she was leading Daria up to the Headmaster´s office. Harry looked at the surprised brunette with tears in his eyes that he couldn't hold back anymore. He ran down the stairs in a flash and was gone.

"Come on," Angela urged Daria, even though she was still looking down the stairs. She sensed such desperation and hatred in Harry that it scared her.

They entered through the still open door. Dumbledore looked up at them tiredly.

"Rosier, are you somehow related to Prescott?" McGonagall asked quietly as she remembered a certain family tree.

"Yes," Angela replied confused. "We are distant cousins."

"Come and sit down, both of you," the school headmaster invited them.

Angela felt a hard lump in her throat that did not allow her to breathe calmly. She saw concern in Daria's eyes. They both settled down across from Dumbledore...

/

Angela slowly walked over to Daria, who was clutching the windowsill.

"Daria," she addressed her gently. "I'm so sorry about what happened to your parents."

Daria turned to her with silent tears streaming down her face.

"Why? Why?" she whispered.

Angela hugged her tightly and Daria burst into heart-rending sobs.

"They were so brave, your parents, willing to help anyone all the time," Angela whispered, stroking her hair with one hand, tears glistening in her eyes. "You must be as strong as they were. You will be fine… Only time will help you..."

Then she registered a figure at the end of the corridor. It was Draco walking around, watching them in confusion. Daria's sobs echoed around.

"Come with me. I know of a place where no one will disturb us. Come on," Angela led Daria gently away, toward the Room of Requirement. There was no way she needed any spectators now.

Draco watched them disappear from his sight around the corner of the corridor, and he was surprised that he would want to be in Angela's place right now, comforting Daria instead, no matter what happened to her.