Flipped
Chapter Six
Death?
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Disclaimer: obviously, I do not own HP and Co. Obviously, those who do own said businesses should learn that. And get back to writing…. Okay… not that im bitter or anything… nooo, not at all… JKR owns HP guys, and if she wants to keep it that way, shell hurry and get writing…. Anywayz, on with my pointless banter of a fanfic.. Tootles!
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"Hurry,"
The urgent voice of their worried mother prodded the frightened children to move quickly up the stairs. They shot each other terrified glances occasionally the noises, pops, shouts and bangs from downstairs thundering in their ears.
Five red heads, two carrying a smaller red head, hurried ahead of their mother up to the top of the rickety house, into Bill and Charlie's room. Molly shooed her children in, and turned last to shut the door firmly behind her. A muttered spell provided little comfort, but she cast it all the same. As she turned to look at her fearful children, she set her face to show none of the terror that she felt. It would not do to frighten the boys further.
Her façade however, was only that: a shallow mask, which did nothing to hide her feeling to her too-receptive children. The panic and fear that she struggled with was evident by her face, posture and presence. The boys around her, and Ginny in Bill's arms, contrarily, seemed to be comforted by this rather than scared farther.
"Mom-"
"Hush, Charlie" Molly whispered, cutting off any conversation. It was foolish to think they would be safe here, waiting for someone to come and finish them, but she could think of nothing else. They had not planned for this. He was never supposed to be able to have broken the wards in the first place.
She shook al these thoughts from her head however, when she heard the whimper from one of her sons. She focused on them once more, and noticed the tears flowing freely down Fred and George's faces; the fear and confusion on Charlie's; the simple unhappiness of the baby Ginny; and the calm, tolerated terror on Bill's face that pained Molly more than anything else. He knew what awaited them. He knew it was hopeless, and that robbery of her son's innocence wounded her far more than any curse could.
They are all just babies, her mind wailed. They don't deserve this.
She knelt down, holding her arms out shakily.
"Come here," she murmured, tears falling down her own face now. Five boys shuffled forward, clutching at their mother desperately. "I love you all, you know that right?" she asked, not expecting, not wanting, and answer.
She never found out if she was to receive one.
At that moment, a resounding 'BOOM' split through the house, shaking the foundation, and causing the small tower to sway slightly.
Molly stood suddenly, looking fearfully at the door that blocked access to their small hide out. Shouts could be heard from downstairs, and molly was not sure she wanted to be able to distinguish the words. Her husband was down there now, dealing with what? How much time would they have before he inevitably came. Their time could very well be running short.
And then, it came to her.
"Charlie? Bill?" she whispered, her eyes still on the door.
"Yeah, mum?" they whispered back, small frightened voices quivering.
"Where are your brooms?"
Understanding dawned on her oldest boys' faces. They hurriedly ran to the closet, yanking it open and pulling out their used brooms. With any luck, Molly thought, they would promise to be an ample investment of a Christmas present.
"Hurry, mount them boys," she was still whispering, not trusting her voice not to shake. "Bill, ride with Ginny and Fred. Charlie, with Percy and George and Ron. Hurry, now."
"Mum-"
"No questions Charlie, please?"
"But mum-"
"Charlie!" she desperately took her gaze away from the door to glare at her son.
"Ron's not here."
The simple statement made Molly stare for a second, then perform a rapid head count. Five, six including Ginny. Five. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny, but not Ron. No short, grinning toddler that she had thought was in hand of one of his older brothers. No Ron.
"Where is your brother?" she demanded in a shrill whisper. Bill opened his mouth, guilt etched into his face, when he was cut off by the sound of creaking, the noises that the old steps in the Burrow made when someone walked up them.
All seven people in the room froze.
"Never mind, it's not your fault," she told Bill. She hurried the boys to the window, ignoring their small protests. "Get on your brooms and fly, boys. Fly as far as you can; don't worry about muggles or anything, just fly." She gave them what she hoped was a reassuring smile. From their small, returning smiles, it seemed to have done some good, and Molly was strangely reassured.
"By mum," Bill sniffed, and hugged his mother tightly before climbing to the windowsill, and urging Fred, now holding Ginny, up with him. Molly hugged each of her sons quickly, and gave Ginny a kiss on the forehead. She would never see them again, she was sure. She prayed to whatever powers were listening that they would get away safely. When Charlie, Percy and George we on the windowsill as well, Molly gave them all her last peace of advice.
"Don't look back boys,"
Bill took off, his broom dropping slightly and then popping back up to fly higher than the roof of the house. Charlie was next, his Quidditch skills churning as he took off out the window, his broom dropping even further than Bill's had before he caught control of it, and zoomed away to join his brother. Molly said another short prayer, then turned around, and hurried out the door, slipping quietly into the hallway.
She needed to find Ron.
Where would he have gone, her mind raced. The answer presented itself immediately. Ron was always happiest in his bedroom that he shared with his brothers. He loved his playpen and his toys, he always had.
Molly rushed down the stairs as fast as she dared, trying to not make any noise. The landing to Ron's room was just two flights down… When she heard whispering coming from the turn right in front of her, one flight from Ron's room, she knew she was too late. She had met the monster halfway. Her last thought, as she continued to rush down the stairs, was that she was glad that her children got away, and prayed a final time that Ron would be all right.
She stumbled down the last few stairs, momentum carrying her farther than she had intended. The middle-aged mother nearly ran into the wall opposite her, and when she was able to regain her footing and look up, she was staring into two red orbs.
Molly Weasley screamed, and then collapsed, as the owner of the red orbs whipped up his wand, and shouted dark words of power. The mother of seven lay on the stairs, staring blankly into oblivion.
"Fool of a woman," Voldemort spat, starring at her from above. He grinned maliciously, before turning to some of the men behind him. "Find the children. Outside, I believe, they are."
They nodded, and turned to hurry downstairs and outside.
When Bill and Charlie had taken off, they had not gotten very far when Bill's broom began to descend, shakily at first, but sharper by the second. Bill, afraid of flying, unlike his younger brother, panicked, and before either boy knew it, Bill, Fred and Ginny were careening headlong into the Burrow's garden.
Charlie, seeing their trouble from above, called out too late, and watched as his brothers and sister crashed into a Kekaro bush.
"We have to help them!" George shouted, feeling in his chest the pain that he knew meant Fred was hurt. Charlie, pausing for only a second to consider his mother's warnings, followed Bill, and landed the three next to Bill and Fred, albeit a safer landing than Bill's had been.
"Charlie! Mum told up not to stop," Percy whined from behind him, his young face giving away his fears. Charlie turning to Percy to tell him off, looked behind his brother instead, at their house, and Percy saw his face pale. Before he could ask his brother the obvious question, George had rushed foreword, to where Bill and Fred were lying.
"Fred!" he called, his small voice pain-filled. Charlie, turning from the house, hurried to his brothers' side, Percy following, not looking back; he remembered his mother's warning.
Percy, watching George go to Fred, knowing where he was with his uncanny twin psychic, and Charlie running to help Bill, frantically searched for their sister, Ginny. Of all his siblings, Ginny was the one he felt the most connected with, and he was desperate at what happened to her in the crash. He didn't have to look far.
The bundle of blankets that Molly had wrapped her in was lying in the dirt, a few feet from Bill and Fred, Percy unsteadily ran to her side, dreading what he would find, and not able to not look. His morbid curiosity would not rest, and he slowly picked up the bundle, fearing the worst.
When he shifted the bundle, to Percy Weasley's great surprise, it gave a small lurch, and began wailing. Ginny had always had the most powerful lungs. He smiled, and started back towards his brothers, carefully carrying the precious bundle.
When Charlie got to Bill's side, he knew it was worse than he had thought. Bill was trying for all he was worth to get up, but he looked to be in so much pain that Charlie was afraid for his older brother. "Stay still," he scolded him, remembering his mother's orders whenever one of the boys had gotten hurt.
Bill started at his voice, terror filling his eyes when he recognized his brother.
"Get out of here! Why did you land? Get away! Take them all and Hurry! GO!"
Bill's shouting did little good. As George helped Fred out of a bush, Fred cradling his arm, which hung at an odd angle, Charlie was aware of many tall somethings surrounding them, all with black robes, white masks, and wands.
All the boys present began shaking, and little Ginny continued to cry, Percy doing his best to quiet her.
Fred and George, old enough to understand what was happening, grasped hands, and reached for a brother's hand. Charlie and Bill, sitting in the grass beside them, realized what the small boys wanted, and Bill took Fred's good hand, clasping Charlie's in his other. George held Fred's arm, and clasped Percy's hand next to him, who held Ginny carefully. The link created by the siblings whispered with unseen power, anger, and fear.
As one, the five boys thought of one thought together. The one thing they all desired at the moment. Safety. The whole family, together, safe.
No words were whispered, but a shimmering, not-quite-light radiated from the children encircled by the Death Eaters.
It lasted only a moment, before, also as one, each of the Death Eaters raised their wands, and shouted the darkest curse at the unarmed children. Six shouts of inhuman, evil words. Six streaks of green death rushing to claim their poor victims. Six small thuds as the minute bodies hit the ground.
The Black robed men seemed to think nothing of their sin, and one came forward slowly to look at the bodies. He counted, and paused over the last. He stood, unsure for a moment, and then strode back to the house, the rest following behind him, none looking back to see the atrocities he had caused.
Voldemort had not been idle while his servants took care of the last of the Weasley line. He stood in the tiny hallway, muttering arcane words that no one understood, and any Death Eater listening unconsciously turned away from.
The Dark Lord seemed to be in a trance, and in a few moments of confusion, where his servants got quite afraid, he seemed to figure something out. He snapped his head up, a gleam of malice making its way into his chilling, blood red eyes. He turned, and walked slowly down the stair to the nearest landing. The door on this floor was closed, and the Dark Lord eased it open, without magic.
He stepped into the small room, taking in the two small beds on one side and a playpen on the other. It was dark, before the Dark Lord raised his arm, and light flooded the room from his palm.
A whimper from the corner drew his attention, and Voldemort grinned. He strode to the corner of the room with a playpen, and leaned maliciously over it to see the other side.
"Hello, my dear boy," he crooned, making the small, redheaded toddler before him shiver.
"Gah," the young boy stated shortly, holding out a closed fist. He whimpered again, seeing the scary man in front of him smile again. He didn't like that. It made him scared.
Voldemort, ignoring the babe's outstretched hand, drew his wand, for a final time. He pointed at the small child, and smiled outright.
"The last, I daresay, of a pathetic and ruined line." He began to laugh, a chilling, booming bark, that made the already unsteady house shiver. Ron, before him, began to cry silently, his large, blue eyes staring at the man before him.
Voldemort raised his wand, and, at the same moment, Ronald closed his eyes, wishing in his small heart for his family. And Safety. As the remaining Death Eaters returned to the house, Voldemort bore his arm down to the child, and shouted the curse he was famous for.
A speeding green light, but before that, a golden aura, that blinded all watching, and enveloped a small child and a Dark Lord. The rush of Death, unto the least-suspecting victim, and an explosion that caused the entire house to fall to ruins.
Many miles away, in a dark and protected castle, an old man jerked awake, feeling a release in power in this world that he had not felt in a long while.
A/N: well? Please review, and tell me what I need to work on. TY.