Silver Blood
Chapter 8: The Beginning of the End
A sharp pain like no other spread throughout his chest, making it seem like his muscles were slowly tearing. The images around him were becoming more clear. He wasn't sure what that meant, all he knew was that he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. He was sure this wasn't real. His friends and teachers weren't anywhere near him...were they? He remembered going to the Ministry, and seeing Fudge dead, then Voldemort came out of no where telling him these dark secrets; thoughts that way back in his unconscious he was all ready thinking. Or was this all a dream?
Harry shut his eyes putting himself in more darkness, but there were no images or voices there.
"Harry!"
"No!" Harry said covering his ears. "This all a bad dream, I'm going to wake up soon and you'll all be gone!"
"Harry!" the voice continued.
"GO AWAY!" Harry screamed.
"Harry, wake up!"
Suddenly, Harry stopped surprised by the familiar voice. It was Hermione, he knew the voice anywhere. Slowly, he opened his eyes. What he saw before him almost made him die from shock. He was in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione standing over him, a look of both anger and concern. Ron was standing a little ways away, an unreadable expression plastered on his usually happy face.
"Hermione? Where did you come from? Where am I?" Harry asked, looking around. They were sitting in front of the fire, the flames only somewhat big since they seemed like they were slowly dying away.
"Oh please, Harry James Potter, don't you fake amnesia on me!" she snapped.
Harry cringed slightly from instinct. He knew that when she was angry he and Ron would do about anything for her so she wouldn't snap their heads off. But why was she angry? Had he been here the whole time? Was everything a dream, even having the Ministry asking him to look out for Fudge? It couldn't have been, he was sure that it was summer and they weren't in school...
He shut his eyes again and shook his head. He was so confused. What had happened?
"Hermione, what happened? Why are we here? Isn't it summer?"
"Honestly, Harry! You fall asleep when I'm talking to you and then you pretend like you don't remember! What has gotten into you?" she asked, folding her arms crossly.
Ron finally lifted himself from his spot and walked over beside her. "He's probably doing it because he knows what he did wrong."
Harry blinked up at his friend. "What? Ron, what are you talking about? What did I do?"
Hermione glared down at him. "Well, to answer your first question, we are on summer break, but we decided to get together after Ron came back from his vacation. Remember? You asked Sirius if we could stay at Hogwarts together to hang out before we planned what to do for your birthday!"
Harry looked even more confused. "Wait, you came back, Ron? I thought your family wasn't due back until the day before my birthday."
Ron snorted. "Yeah, it was a long time ago. I owled you while I was there and told you we'd be back early so you, Hermione and I could hang out. Gee Harry, you don't have to go "erasing" your memory just because of one mistake. Just because you're famous doesn't mean you're perfect."
The jealousy was not hidden in Ron's voice, which hurt Harry even more. His friends knew he hated the attention that he somehow got. Sure, he defeated Voldemort and escaped tons of encounters with Death Eaters and creatures of all sorts, but he was doing what he had to, to protect himself and everyone else. What he needed most was his friends' support and they have given him more than enough when he was training to defeat Voldemort. Why were they suddenly angry with him?
"That's not fair," Harry said angrily. "I never said I was perfect and I really don't know what you guys are talking about!"
The two of them looked a bit startled at Harry's outburst, but it was only for a second. They each exchanged unreadable glances and turned back to him.
"Well, if that's true then I guess we should tell you what you did," Hermione stated a bit more coolly than she normally would.
"Okay...what?" Harry asked, awaiting what they would say.
Ron spoke up first. "You remember the article in the Daily Prophet about Fudge going crazy?"
Harry nodded. "You mean the one about how they found him in Voldemort's chamber?"
"Right that one," Hermione voiced, without even wincing at the mention of the Dark Lord.
"Well, the Ministry wanted to send him away to a far away place and they went to see Sirius about asking him for his help. Since you now live with Sirius, you heard their conversation and I guess thought you had a better solution," Ron said partially bitter. "You said that Fudge was planning to take the place of the Dark Lord so he should be taken away from the Ministry and to a secret location, one of the secret locations of the Ministry meetings. And since you're the famous Harry Potter they believed you— "
"Wait that's not right— "
"And then when they removed Fudge," Hermione continued as if they had never heard him, "the Dark Lord had his chance to escape. That had been the plan all along. And now he's lose somewhere planning who knows what."
"No wait, he didn't escape he's still th— "
"Just because you wanted to prove yourself to the Ministry," Ron finished, cutting Harry off.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione at their disappointed faces. He shook his head. "No, it's not true, I would never endanger anyone, especially you two. You guys are my best friends!"
"Well, now you're thinking with your head," Ron shot back. "But it's too late. All ready two towns in the muggle world have been burned down. The Ministry can't even track the Dark Lord now, he's moving too fast."
"Not to mention several wizards have been attacked by dark creatures in their own homes," Hermione went on explaining.
"STOP! It's not true! I wouldn't be so careless!" Harry shouted.
Ron glared down at him with a glare almost as cold as Draco's. "Well, you were careless Harry. And now everyone is angry at my dad, blaming him not you for all these problems! Of course they wouldn't, you're the famous Harry Potter!" Ron shouted with angry and hatred, his eyes welling up with tears.
Hermione looked sadly at him and rubbed his back. Harry looked at them hurt and shocked at the same time. His friends...how could they think he'd do something like that? He wouldn't...he didn't, did he? Had that all been a dream? Had he fell asleep and dreamed he had done things right because he didn't want to face the truth? Harry shook his head with disbelief. He could feel his heart aching inside, not a physical ache but an emotional one. Something that burned inside him, as if burning a hole straight through him.
Ron wiped his tears away. "You know, I hope you're happy Harry. Everyone's looking up to you now. It's all about you. I'm just glad I'm not Sirius who has to come home from an important meeting to this."
"Sirius?" Harry asked. "Where is he?"
For once, Harry looked up at them hopefully. Sirius always made things better, he made Harry feel like the problems he were facing were all in his head, that everything would be all right as long as he believed they would. He needed him now, to tell him the truth. What had happened and what was real and what wasn't?
"He's coming home in just a little bit, he's on his way," Hermione said, not looking at Harry but comforting Ron. "But I doubt he's going to be very proud of you, Harry. In fact, I'd say he'd be very disappointed."
"You're wrong!" he shouted, making Ron and Hermione jump slightly. "Sirius would never betray me. Not like you...not like Cedric or Cho...," he shook his head, picking himself off the ground and backing away. "He wouldn't, he'd take care of me. He'd tell what was really going on and that everything would be all right."
Hermione shook her head almost sadly, "That's what you thought about Dumbledore too, Harry."
"Hermione's right. Did you see the way he looked at you?" Ron asked him. "It was like he couldn't believe he had brought you under his wing and there you go running off trying to save the world by yourself, forgetting everything he taught you. It was almost the same as during the Triwizard Tournament— "
"S...Stop!" Harry stammered, backing away almost tripping on his own feet. "N...No, just leave me alone. Go away, all of you!" he shouted. "I'll figure a way out of this, I always do! I haven't let anyone down before, not even myself, and I won't do it now just because you say I will! You're not friends of mine if you don't support me!"
"Oh, you mean like say 'go Harry, go! Kill more people!' or cheering you on like your little fan club?" Ron snapped bitterly. "No thanks, I'd rather not."
"I haven't killed anyone!" Harry shouted with rage. "I haven't hurt anyone and I haven't done anything wrong! You're...You're...," Harry backed away some more. He could feel something happening inside of him, but what was it? His lips seemed to be moving slightly, as if they were shaking from cold except that he wasn't cold. "You're lying," he whispered hoarsely. "It's all a lie. Everything's a lie...Everyone. Professor McGonagall, she didn't really pick me as a Seeker, it was all part of Dumbledore's plan..."
Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances. "Harry, just calm down," Ron said softly taking a step forward.
Hermione nodded, looking a bit frightened. "You're not making any sense, Harry. Please...don't get angry, you'll hurt someone again."
"I HAVEN'T HURT ANYONE!" he screamed, looking at them with loathe as if they were Slytherins disguised as his friends. As if they betrayed him.
Hermione whimpered and stepped back as Ron held out an arm, as if protecting her from him. Harry looked at them, anger flowing through his veins. How could they treat him like some...some murderer. He had never done anything wrong. He never wanted half the things in his life to happen, but they did. He had finally survived hell onto to sink further toward the burning flames. Maybe this was the consequence of surviving the last encounter with Voldemort. He didn't win without a price, just like Voldemort had said right before he fell. Harry remembered it clearly...
The sky had turned a massive gray and black. Harry was down on his knees gasping for breath, blood staining his body from head to toe. He was tired, weak and most of all sick of fighting. The duel had lasted so many hours he lost count. Voldemort wouldn't give up, or die and neither would Harry. It was a lot more difficult with his Death Eaters in the way always guarding him. Finally, the two of their wands had met their limit and exploded with a burst of light sending the sky lighting with flames and a bright golden color. The Death Eaters had scattered and now all there was left was a bruised and battered Harry in the midst of a lot of dust, smoke and blood.
He heard something move in front of him. Slowly, he raised his head and waited as the dust cleared. There, kneeling beneath the once "royal" and "superior" robes, which were now battered and blotted with stains of a dark liquid. Voldemort's wheezing sounded a lot like Wormtail's, only less human. His wand was nearby, still in one piece surprisingly, but it wasn't in reach. Harry's had managed to stay in his hand and had a crack going down it from the top to just the middle. He knew it was fixable, but that meant that it wasn't as useful as before.
Still, he wasn't finished fighting yet. He knew what had to be done. Ever so slowly, he lifted his sore and bleeding body into a standing position. He could feel the blood rushing out of his cuts, sliding down his legs, arms and face, but he knew he had to do it. Just one more thing and it'd be all over. Harry somehow found the strength to walk as he moved closer and closer to Voldemort. His scar still managed to scream with pain as the burning flooded through him as it had from the very start of being in his presence. Harry could feel blood oozing out of his scar as he got closer, trying to ignore the splitting pain in his head. It was actually not much more painful than the way his whole body felt.
Finally, he was two feet in front of the Dark Lord. Carefully, Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Voldemort, despite his pained and weakened state. Even though his vision was becoming blurry now and then he managed to stay upright. When he blinked back the blood that was falling into his eyes he saw that Voldemort had lifted his head and was staring mercilessly and still hungrily at Harry, despite his pride being ripped apart. Somewhere deep inside Harry probably felt kind of sorry for him, for the life that he didn't choose to live just like Harry had, but at the moment all he was feeling was the urge to finish this so he'd never had to deal with any more pain or death ever again.
Harry realized he had been pointing his wand at him for two minutes. It was now or never. He had to do this. He wasn't a killer, but he had to do it. It wasn't like pointing his wand at Sirius, that he couldn't do because unconsciously he had felt the bond between them. But with Voldemort there was nothing but hatred. Harry griped his wand tighter, the words almost forming on his mouth.
Voldemort's usually cruel face twisted into another sinister grin. "Go ahead, Harry," he hissed. "Kill me. But remember this, you will not defeat me without consequences. You will have your turn soon..."
In anger Harry shouted, "Impedimentium!" A blinding blue flash of light erupted from his wand, surrounding Voldemort's pale and battered body. The light twisted around him, curving around every inch of his body. Still, his cold, hungry red eyes never left Harry's face, as if silently promising him his last words. Soon, a cold thick blue cage wrapped around Voldemort, caging him in ice for an eternal sleep...
Voldemort had been right. Even though Harry had defeated him, he hadn't won because it hadn't gained him what he had wanted, which was a normal life. He had Sirius, yes and he had friends and Hogwarts...but now that he knew that not everything he had lived through was real so he couldn't count anything anymore.
"No please...please stop," he whimpered crumbling to his knees.
XXXXX
The sounds of pitiful whimpering had been going on for at least twenty minutes, if not longer. However annoying they were, they were music to his ears. After so long finally he got revenge. In the past, he had always been worried about one thing: his reputation. He wanted the whole world to eventually fear his wrath. But in order to do that, he realized when it was almost too late, he had to rid of his main problem first. And his problem was Harry.
Voldemort sneered down at the form that was slowly crumbling. He was now squatted on both of his knees looking up at something invisible with a mixture of pain, fear and loneliness etched into his features.
"Please...Please stop it...It's not true," Harry muttered, his voice not leaving out one inch of pain and betrayal.
Voldemort watched him a little longer, feeling the need to let him mope a little longer before showing him the images that would finally break him. It had been too long since Voldemort had felt this excitement for revenge. It was the sweetest thing he had ever felt. Watching Harry suffer was more pleasurable than watching any of his past enemies suffer. In a sense, it was truly enjoyable. Voldemort only regretted not having a glass of unicorn's blood to celebrate with.
Laughing coldly out loud, Voldemort lowered his hand from pointing at Harry. Slowly, Harry's head drooped down. Feeding off of Harry's fears and pain brought Voldemort new strength, but it wasn't going to be enough especially without his wand. His plan had to work. It was something he had been planning from day one, but never had it totally figured out, so he kept it in the back of his mind. The day that he went to destroy the Potters was the day he was also planning to unleash his flawless plan that would bring about terrors to the world and help him to have control of Europe before advancing on the muggle world. But he had been stopped by the little baby, Harry Potter and since then from his defeat of the small child he had had to put his plan in the very back of his mind till he figured out a way to destroy Harry.
He frowned as he remembered all the plans that were truly brilliant but somehow failed him each time. He always got Harry right where he wanted but the weak, skinny boy would always escape him somehow. He thought for sure his last plan was to be flawless and in a way it had worked. Harry had come to him easy enough and he had his Death Eaters surrounding the boy along with many Dementors. They were all cheering him, their master, on and pushing Harry into every curse thrown at him.
It was perfect, absolutely perfect...until their wands met for the last and final time. Even between all the pain Voldemort had been putting on him till he was close to bleeding to death, the boy wouldn't give in to death. Voldemort had constantly told him to just give up, that he would just put himself into more pain and that it wasn't worth it. The boy had, however, gotten him several times but the blows hadn't injured Voldemort in the least. The only spell that hurt him was the glass spell where shards of glass came flying all around the opponent, cutting them. Voldemort's robe had been torn up a great deal and even small patches of dark blood were seen here and there, but Voldemort wasn't weakened like Harry.
Still, Harry was too stubborn to quite while he was down so Voldemort had thrown his strongest curse at Harry, his killing curse. Harry had also found enough strength to throw one last powerful spell and that was it for the both of them. The charge of both their wands, brothers to each other, had reached their limit and had practically destroyed each other. At first, Voldemort thought he won since the blast from his wand had cracked Harry's, but he found that his strength had deteriorated and he had fallen to his knees, unable to get up. His supposedly loyal servants had fled the scene, fearing their master's demise even before it had happened. They would pay, once Voldemort's final and very first and most ingenious plan was carried out...with the help of Harry of course.
Smiling broadly, Voldemort lifted himself up from the chair and turned toward the fire again. It was much lower than before, but with a quick dose of energy, Voldemort's red eyes glowed hungrily and the flames shot up a bit higher. The world would pay for his suffering, but not as much as Harry would pay. Voldemort realized just before Harry had put his mind and body to sleep that maybe killing him wasn't the way to go about destroying him, or at least defeating him. He was still a child no less, and a human child at that. Humans had much more weaknesses than any creature or inhuman being. And their fears were usually the way to feed on something much bigger. To break them down until they were almost completely useless, but just enough to carry out the biggest event that would go down in history.
Voldemort walked toward Harry, bending down and placing a cold, pale finger on his scar. Slowly, he traced it as he had done many times to try and figure out why it was so hard to defeat this child, this boy with no extraordinary powers, even though his magic was above average. This time, though, he was tracing it with glee and understanding, as if he had figured out the deepest secret of the world. He stood back up and placed his whole hand over Harry's forehead, his long spider-like fingers slipping like ice through Harry's somewhat untidy hair. He too looked upward like Harry had moments ago, a strange gleam in his hungry, snake-like eyes.
"This is for you Salazar,"Voldemort hissed in parseltongue. "Watch as I pull off the greatest plan every in the dark magic history. It will all be in your name. Your brilliance, combined with mine, will destroy all muggle beings leaving the wizard world under the control of the Dark Arts. It will be unstoppable and will be so fast even Dumbledore will cease to see it coming,"he grinned sinisterly. "And this boy, this sacrifice, is for you as well. The boy who has fought to save this world, will be the key to its destruction. Soon...very soon, this world will be the way you imagined it..."
TO BE CONTINUED…