By Alarun
Part 5
"…Uuunh…"
"…What hit me..?"
"…I think it was a train…"
"…Oh, man…"
"…And it hit me too…"
"…I think…"
"…I'm gonna be sick…"
Fred, or George (they couldn't tell themselves apart this early in the morning), ran unsteadily toward the nearest bathroom, holding his hand over his mouth. The other Weasley twin put his head back down on the stair and closed his eyes, wishing for the staircases to stop spinning and cursing the phantom pains of twins.
All around him, students lay groaning and writhing on the ground. It was like the site of a massive battle, but instead of blood, there was alcohol. George (or Fred) wondered idly what had happened to all of the professors.
* * *
"Severus!"
Harry tried to run forward, but his legs refused to listen to him. He did not remember that female voice that had just screamed Severus's name, but he knew who it belonged to without a doubt.
He had realized that he was alone in the pensieve when the world shimmered from a Death Eater meeting to a beautiful English house. Unable to resist, Harry explored the front hall of the cottage, searching the moving pictures for signs of familiarity.
He saw Lily and Snape waving at him from one, holding a small, black haired baby between them.
He saw Lily in a wedding dress, dancing with Snape,
laughing and hugging and kissing …
He saw the pictures that Hagrid had given him; only James was replaced with Snape.
He looked out the window and saw people dressed up in Halloween costumes, running down the dark street in unadulterated terror …
He heard his mother screaming Snape's name.
Harry broke out of his paralysis and ran up the stairs two at a time, taking the first door on the left. It was a nursery, and he saw himself—almost a year old –crying in the crib. His mother and father were kneeling at Snape's side, who was writhing on the ground, choking back screams. Lily was holding his hand in both of hers, tears running down her cheeks, speaking reassuring words. James looked concerned, taking Snape's vital signs with his wand.
Then he realized. Like a dying man focuses on the smallest detail in the pit of trauma.
Why was Snape in all of the pictures with Lily?
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, couldn't move as he saw Voldemort glide into the nursery. His wand was raised menacingly, and James Potter jumped protectively in front of Lily, Severus, and baby Harry. His glasses had fallen off, and were lying on the floor behind him.
Voldemort never slowed down, never looked at James. He only muttered "Avada Kedavra," in his serpentine voice, pointing his wand lazily at Harry's father.
James couldn't dodge, the spell was cast too close, and it hit him in the center of his chest. Green light flashed around the room, and in slow motion the Marauder sank to the blue-carpeted floor.
Lily Potter screamed and stood, brandishing her wand like a sword. Harry moved between the two, trying desperately to protect his mother, only dimly realizing that this was a memory.
Before the second Unforgivable could be cast, before Lily could throw a curse, the entire room swirled in a vortex of color with Harry in the center. Everything faded out, and Harry felt the dungeon floor hit the back of his head.
"Harry!"
"Is he going to be---?"
"Yes, hand me that blue potion over there, third from the left..."
"This?"
"Yes!"
"Harry?"
"Harry, are you ---"
Harry Potter screamed.
* * *
Lucius Malfoy attempted to apparate onto Hogwarts' Grounds, as he attempted every time he visited the school. To his surprise, the world came back into focus outside of the Main Gate. He stood there for a moment, looking at the front door, scowling confusedly.
The Malfoy line was known for quick recovery time. Lucius placed his hand on the door handle, twisted and pushed it open.
He felt his mouth drop open at the sight of the wreckage inside the Great Hall.
* * *
"Janessa, Isaac! It's time to eat! Come on, hurry up!" Mrs. Nielson yelled out the kitchen window to her adolescent children. "Don't forget to wash up! I made tuna fish ---" The woman's voice died in her throat as she looked out of the window, the previous scrubbing of the celery forgotten in her hands, the cold water still on, and she knocked a chair over in her scrambled attempts to get to the back door.
She tried to open the screen door, but her hands were shaking so badly that it took her what felt like an eternity to properly push the door handle. Bounding off of the cement steps into the neatly trimmed grass, she ran over strewn toys to reach her children.
Janessa and Isaac were lying motionless on the ground; her older son had attempted to shield his sister with his body. Surrounding them were intimidating forms in billowing black robes and expressionless silver masks. None of them moved.
"Isaac! Janessa!" She ignored the men, suffering from shock, and fell next to her children, looking for a sign of life in their wide eyes. She found none, and she screamed.
Something grabbed onto her shoulders, pulling her back. It was her husband Robert, and she tried to cry hysterically into his chest. He pushed her away from him, and forcefully turned her to face the circle of strangers. One of them said "Imperio," holding up a thin stick. Then she knew nothing.