"I'm going deeper underground
there's too much panic in this town" Deeper Underground, ???
One year later... April 1996
"Everything hurts..." moaned Hermione, limping, in her way to the Great Hall.
"Please don't start that again." Said Ginny, in a rather foul temper. It was That Time Of the Month, and she had not much patience Those Days.
"Do you think we should stop that?" said Hermione, sounding rather dreamy.
Ginny laughed. Hermione was not, under any circumstances, a sporty type. Her element was research and experimentation, not physical exercise- also proved by her everlasting lack of enthusiasm towards quidditch. However, the older lass was blossoming under the daily practice. And Ron, for one, was rather pleased with it. He even stopped complaining about the whole thing after Ginny, very slyly, pointed out that his girlfriend's body was developing in a very interesting way. Ron went crimson, of course, but grinned wickedly.
"You could stop, of course, but Ron would be extremely disappointed..." the redheaded left the meaning hanging in the air, while enjoyed watching the ever-so-self-confident Hermione Granger blushing. After all that time, she still blushed. Ginny thought it was rather cute. "And I enjoy the looks I get from the lads a lot, so I'm continuing, thank you very much." She stated, with another devilish grin.
"Is there another thing you think about?" Hermione protested.
"Well, there's survival, fighting evil and saving the world, and all that, of course. But that comes second" she said, in mocked vanity. Hermione laughed hard.
"And I don't want my brothers to worry about me when I'm out" Ginny said, suddenly serious. Ron and herself were the only members of the family not in the army now – but they were still studying. Even Percy, The Pompous, joined the war effort- as a strategist. To say he was a perfectionist was an understatement, like "Fudge is a bloody fool".
The girls reached the table and joined Harry and Ron. Truth to his word, Harry had made an effort to be good friends with Ginny, and their training together every day had certainly developed camaraderie. But Harry never looked at Ginny as anything else than a friend: he got over Cho, and was currently dating a sixth year Hufflepuff, Susan Bones. Ginny was too busy savouring the attention she was receiving from the other males in Hogwarts to pick a serious date. She was quite careful with who she give her heart to. She wasn't skinny like her brothers, but curvy like her mom, and she developed the habit of walking around the school without her robes as much as she could. She was having fun flirting, and though Ron didn't find it funny, but what could he do?
"Trust girls to jabber when the world is falling down under our feet." Said Ron.
"Now what, Ron?" asked Ginny, in an iron-cutting tone. Her very little patience was flying through the window.
"Didn't you know? Gringots was broken last night."
"You mean, again?" Hermione asked. "Gringots was broken into in our first year, remember? Quirrel invaded it trying to steal the Philosopher's stone."
"It was the Bank in Sydney last night. Seems they needed some cash, as all the confirmed Death eaters lost their fortunes to the governments," informed Harry. He looked rather tired.
"You look awful, dear." Said Ginny, carelessly.
"Thank you." He answered heartlessly.
"Anytime." She shot back, scanning the room. "How did you know about it? We are not receiving any owls anymore..."
"Dumbledore." The guys said at the same time. They were getting good at the twin's game. "We spoke to him as you were in the shower." Harry said.
"You girls take forever to get ready..." muttered Ron.
"Always the gentleman." Ginny replied, helping herself with some sandwiches and orange juice.
"What's the matter with you today?"
Ginny shot her brother a look. Sometimes he was just SO dense...
''
June 15th 1996.
Snape inhaled deeply. Being the nice teacher was definitely not his favourite role- even when it was in a position he had sought for years, but it was the best disguise possible. He was officially dead, and what student, in his right mind, would believe that nice, supportive, patient Professor Alejandro Leal and the slimy git, cruel and ruthless Potion Master were one and the same?
Of course, because of the whole Professor Moody incident, he had to be extra-careful when taking the polyjuice. He even spent plenty of time in his private chambers to make a stronger potion, which effects would last longer. Nobody knew about it, except Dumbledore, McGonagall and himself.
That was the reason why he was taking deep breaths and counting till fifty while he was teaching the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs how to resist the Imperius curse. Death Eaters liked to put wizards under that curse in order to confuse the Aurors. Make the innocents do their dirty work, be punished, while they stay in the shadows pulling the strings.
"Miss Greenfield, please." His voice betrayed anything but concern. If he could, he would grace the lass with his coldest sneer. "It's inside of your mind. Try to hold on yourself and resist. I am sure you can make it."
The blonde before him nodded determinedly, and positioned herself for another go. He cast the curse again and watched as she tried to resist. There was a progress, no mistake there.
Every student of the class was submitted to the curse until they could reject the orders. This lot was keen, apt and smart- and had been training since the beginning. If the oldest fall, they might stand a chance.
He dismissed the class at the proper time, and went to his desk, scrutinizing the assignments before him. They had so little time... so little time... they had to be trained against vampires, werewolves, dementors, acromantulas and giants- all the giants Hagrid couldn't convince coming to the side of light. And against other wizards, wizards with black hearts and years of experience in the arts of duelling and ...
Merlin and the Four Founders help us.
"Professor?" one of his students had stood behind, that little sphinx he had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing as Arien. 'Lilith take her to...'
"Yes?" he answered in his best-sugared tone.
She grinned. "We're not going out, are we?" she asked, staring at his now light-brown eyes.
"It's not safe to go out, child." Stressing the child, Snape reinforced the distance between them .
"And it's not safe to receive owls either?"
"Do you have anyone to get owls from?"
"Yes. I'd like to know of the Weasleys."
"They are all engaged in the war, child. That's what I've heard from Dumbledore, at least."
"And how's it? The war, I mean."
'Bloody Circe. Curiosity, thy name is Arien.'
"Bad, child. The war is bad." She sat on the chair before him, transfiguring it in a larger one, so she could be at eye-level. Then she retrieved her wand from her pockets and performed locking and silencing spells in the defence against the dark arts classroom.
"The twins taught me that." A moment of silence, one reckoning the other. "How bad?"
"Why your Bogart turned into an elf?"
She shivered. "I asked first."
"But I'm not saying anything till you answer." She bit her lower lip. He knew he hit a score.
"That's my mother's kin."
"The thing you're most afraid of in the world is your kin?"
"You'd too, if you knew them. They are very powerful. They have their own kind of magic."
"And where is that powerful people? We could use some help."
"They're not around, sir. And they wouldn't give a damn. How's the war?"
''
If one could be bored, Ginny was. No owls from home, everyone going hysterical from being locked at school waiting for the strike of the Death eaters, and- guess what -left aside like the third wheel- or fourth, or fifth, who cares! – Because Mione and Ron were snogging in some private empty classroom, and Harry was off to see that girlfriend of his.
It's not that she was jealous, for pity's sake. She had enjoyed herself quite thoroughly after being- ught! - dumped (it was very careful, but it was still rejection). She had dated several guys, flirted with many others, and to hell with what people thought of it. She was fifteen after all, and with the perspective of being killed right after graduation...
She was most definitely NOT jealous of Harry. He was free, after all, and a good guy- it would have been easier if he wasn't perhaps. She could be free to loathe his immortal soul forever and ever, and get on with it. But no. He had to be Harry bloody Potter, the gentleman, the perfect, the wonderful Harry Potter and take that out of her. So he was dating Susan Boots.
But damn, a Hufflepuff! 'Couldn't you just shoot me, Harry?'
She was still wandering around the castle, aimlessly, when she realised her stair was changing. "Bloody hell. What else could happen to me?"
The stairs could take her to the dungeons, of course. A Weasley, alone, in the dungeons. She quickly left in search of another stair that let her back to safe grounds.
"Lost, Weasley?" 'Oh, damn.' She turned slowly, making sure she grabbed her wand in the process. 'Reflexes'. She would need that now.
"The stairs changed whilst I was going to the fifth floor." She replied calmly. Malfoy was leaning against the wall, reckoning her from his half-closed eyelids and, for once, his goonies were nowhere to be seen. Her wand was already in position.
"Over there." He waved to his left, and turned his back to her.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, as you ask so kindly, yes you are excused. Now move. This is Slytherin zone." He said all that as if he was only getting rid of her, and he was, after all, Draco Malfoy. Was it possible that being locked at school had softened him? Or was it the fear of his father being defeated, or the fear of being killed with all others when the Death Eaters eventually invaded the school, or was it a trap?
Most likely the last.
She walked in the opposite direction. If she could locate Snape's classroom, she would be able to go back to her upper floors. The problem is, the halls were dark and confusing, and after twenty minutes, she was still trying to figure a way of getting the hell out of there. The dungeons were a part of the castle she did not know well- she never felt like knowing, anyway. Not with all the Slytherins that lived down there.
"Point me." She was somewhere in the south of the castle. If she could go northeast, she would be under the main entrance...
"What are you doing here?!" oh, boy, just how lucky could she be?
"Isn't that a little obvious?" she shot.
"No, Ms. Weasley, it is not. There's nothing obvious about a Gryffindor, alone, wandering in the dungeons." He replied sarcastically. Oh, how she hated to look like a fool. And there it was, she was looking every inch a fool.
"I'm trying to get out of here, in case you failed to see." He shuddered. Apparently he didn't take the word 'failed' lightly.
"I told you in no uncertain terms how to leave."
She shot him a look. He stood his ground, annoyed. Then he walked to her and grabbed her arm. Her other arm was already flying to twist his pulse, her wand forgotten, when she heard him:
"Follow me." The phrase went out hissed, as if it was difficult, and she was dragged to the west. When they reached the second floor, he let go of her and waved to the hall. "Go forth and you'll reach the back entrance of the hospital wing. Try to act sensibly next time and not to wander in the dungeons. The knight in shinning armour is a role that does NOT suits me at all. Good afternoon." And with that, he left, and she was alone in the corridor, completely confused.
"What the hell???"
''
Snape looked at his pupil for some moments, trying to decide what to tell. But then, as she would probably know it either way, he decided not to bother with subtleties.
"Spreading its ugly tentacles around the world. We don't have such a thing since Grindewald, in 1945. The muggles, then, thought it was about some lunatic in Germany. Of course he was just a minion of Grindewald, actually, when his master was defeated by Dumbledore, he fell."
"Is there a minion threatening the muggles now?"
"They don't need to threaten, child. They just go and kill. The muggles' government is convinced that this is a new biological weapon of some sort, even when they can't find any trace of viruses or anything. They will very likely attack the first one they can blame about, and then they'll be involved in a war of their own. Voldemort, of course "– there was no use in pretending to be scared of his name- "sees it as a good way of hiding, creating havoc and---"
"Covering the tracks, isn't it?"
"Quite much it. And there's the racial part of the problem as well..." she shivered then, and looked down. "You're not comfortable with blood purity, are you?" the question was merely rhetorical.
"NO. In my... place... we were mistreated for it. I hate it." Then, lower, "I hate to be looked down at."
He decided to store that information for later "He has his personal issues, of course. But also, it's so easy to drive people into that current of thought. You see miss Hermione Granger? She's muggle-born, and she's one of the most brilliant witches Hogwarts' ever seen... of course, I'd like you not to keep it between us."
"I will, even if there's no need for it..." she asked, with the ghost of a smile.
"Anyway," he didn't want to discuss that, "the main reason is to create a ... sort of... ideology, however sick, for others to follow..."
"Bewitch the mind..." she whispered.
"In a way, yes. Brainwash, have you ever heard of it?" she nodded. "And also, he's after the wealthy and power of the hybrid families. That is his ultimate goal."
"Yes, you are right. It's sick."
Snape thought it hadn't hurt, in the end, talking with her. As soon as the conversation left the personal field, he had even enjoyed it.
Now that he didn't have to live as a spy, he could treat Slytherins as he wanted. Maybe there was time – they were locked, without communication with the outside world, stuck with some of the greatest wizards and witches of this age. And they were so young yet; if he could undo the brainwash... it was worth a try.
''
"HE WHAT?!?!??!?!"
"Ron, could you scream a little louder? I don't think Malfoy heard you down at the dungeons." Ginny replied icily. If Ron had a drop of restraint, which he momentarily didn't, he would have known that pissing Virginia Elizabeth Weasley in one of Those Days wasn't the wisest idea. But he was rather pissed off himself, and didn't read the clear signs of danger: she was utterly still, she had her hands on her hips, she had that I'm-gonna-kill-you-SLOWLY look in her eyes and she was – the greatest red alarm signal- talking in a very quiet, very silky voice. Hermione tried to call his attention to that, but Ronald Thomas Weasley was seeing red and oblivious to anything, and anyone else than his little sister.
"Don't you go sarcastic at me, young lady." He said in a voice that was quite dangerous as well. They were arguing in the middle of the Common Room, not really caring for how embarrassed the other Gryffindors were. "What did he want with you?"
"He wanted what every other boy his age wanted, Ronny, dear." Several surprised gasps were heard in the room "What the hell do you think? That I had a nice little chat with him? Hey Malfoy, by the way, would you like to snog me senseless in some empty classroom? Get a grip, Ron! I got lost, he took me the hell out of there. Don't know why he did it and if I'm lucky I'll never find out. Now get the hell out of my way!"
"Virginia Weasley" he said, very slowly, "I don't want you anywhere near Draco Malfoy. Is that understood?"
"Ronald Weasley" she said in the exact same tone "First, I don't want myself anywhere near Draco Malfoy; and second, but not least important, I'm not a little girl anymore, even when you try to fool yourself into believing so, and when I want to do something, I'll do it, regardless to whatever you may have to say in the matter, just because I CAN! I'll take my own decisions about who I date, what I do, think and dress, and if you don't like it you can go to hell. Is that UNDERSTOOD?" and with that she left to her quarters, leaving a very stunned Hermione and Harry, and a very royally pissed off Ron behind.
''
Christmas eve, 1996, HogwartsThe snow covered the landscape, as if somehow a faerie tale had come to life, sparklingly white and quiet. Eerily quiet. Nobody would like to say out loud that Hogwarts had lost much of its spirit, its laughter and carelessness, drowning in its solemnity, a shell devoid of soul of what it had been not long ago. Every now and then one Head of House would walk sternly towards a specific student to take them to his office and say their parents were dead.
That was why she was taking the risk, of course. Oh, she'd told herself she was being folly and all, but was it something she could do about it? No. If Pomfrey hadn't told her she was gloriously healthy and clean, in perfect sanity, she would cry out loud that she'd been taken under a spell. It could still be a spell, however, wandless magic. The magic of a certain pair of silver eyes.
No one could have been ever crueler about the matter than herself. Many times at night she told herself she was still hurt about Harry and was doing this just to piss him royally- but who was she fooling? Harry would only worry about her kamikaze relationship, not about her having one at all. It would more likely be he would be relieved.
And when she sneaked to the less-known hidden corners of the castle, she wasn't thinking about Harry. In fact, she utterly forgot about there being a Harry Potter at all. And that, at first, was the most fascinating thing about Draco Malfoy- he could make her forget. For real. Not forgetting for half an hour, or a night, but truly not mind, not care, not remember about her first love at all. When they were together, the world stopped being.
And all thoughts ceased when a strong arm pulled her inside the room. They locked the door eagerly and put every possible locking and silencing spell in the classroom.
"Though day, Gin?" he asked, with the most utterly devilish grin possible. His hands were already resting on her hips, her lifeline for almost six months now.
"If only you knew" she breathed, holding him closer. The whole pretence drew all her strength: being around him, not showing how much he affected her, how much she wanted to run to him and hold him in front of everyone, to show she was proud- heavens forbid it - of him, of being with him. Not possible, unfortunately. Both houses would unite in the first time in a thousand years.
To kill them both.
"Hey, hey, what could possibly piss off my little tigress?" he asked in mocked bewilderment. It was his way of doing this, of course. Draco Malfoy was NOT honey-sweet. He was addictive. Intoxicating.
"Shut up and kiss me" she replied, causing him to laugh out.
"A bit carried away, now aren't we?" he teased with one eyebrow raised high. He had beautiful eyebrows. And eyes. And oh, let's not even begin to think on his lips... too late.
When had it started? What had happened? She couldn't figure what had been the beginning for her dear life, that exact moment in which they had given in and accepted that they had to meet or else they wouldn't function. They had started meeting in the most inappropriate places and times, at first she thought he had set it up. Ron had infuriated her above bearable levels telling her not to 'stick with the ferret prat'. She told him she was 'not sticking with anyone'. Then, just to prove that she could, she began actually opening room for talking- and it had been his turn to feel wary, and to think she was up to something. They would come to the library at the most ungodly hours, and stare at each other. Then came the stage in which they touched each other when they crossed paths – lightly, unsuspiciously, fearing being discovered. And to hell if the whole forbidden part hadn't turned her on. One day she was struck when he moved his head to the side, and walked out of the library. She followed. Harry was off with Susan, Ron was training wizarding duel with Arien, and Hermione was catching up Arithmancy up in her dorm. He walked to an empty classroom, she went after him- Ginny'd been training for a year and she was just that damn good. And she was also intrigued. And when she entered the room, he being alone, casting some fire in the hearth startled her and they began talking, and soon they began kissing.
"You have no idea how much I wanted this..." she moaned, breaking the kiss.
"I think I do" he answered, in his own supercilious way. Between them, it was a teasing, and she knew it. And he knew that she knew it.
"How have things been at the Serpents Den?"
"Havoc." He replied simply, walking away and falling graciously in a chair. from all the impossible things, who could have thought of this? It was insane. This lad's father had nearly gotten her worse than killed, and here she was, kissing him senseless. "Even worse than in the other's quarters, I guess. They at least are under threat from under one of the sides..." merely a whisper, now.
"Hey..." she soothed, running her finger through his hair. God knew she wouldn't get tired of that. "I'm here. I'll always be around."
"Things will get pretty bad, Gin. The light side won't trust me, and the dark side will hunt me like a deer."
"We'll figure something. We've got some time still.".
''
"Harry, you're letting your guard down." Arien said, striding forth and repeating the movement. "See? Your left side is completely vulnerable like this. Come, try again."
It's been one year and a half and they were quickly approaching the third belt. Soon she'd have nothing to teach them. And then what? And then Harry, Ron and Hermione would leave Hogwarts to some Auror Training Centre; she had heard them discussing it endlessly in the library. They whispered, but she could hear them all the same. And Ginny? What would Ginny do? Soon Malfoy would be out as well, hunted by both the sides of the war. Would he give in? Would he join Voldemort? Would he join the Aurors? Would he just run and hide?
The students had grown in number. Dumbledore had asked her to take some other children – release some tension, he said. That was not far from truth. With the school under martial law, it was just too easy to loose sanity. Inter-house rivalry had grown to murderous mutiny. There were two classes now, as some of the Slytherins had joined them.
"They are here because the Headmaster asked me to. Step out of the line, any of you, and you're out. You won't use my art to kill one another." She had said when the first Slytherins entered the training room, months ago. She'd been frightened to death that they'd start fighting for real in her dojo.
No wonder they had volunteered to take lessons, Slytherin is the house of cunning, and they were sly enough to understand they would need whatever they could get to protect themselves – from their mates.
"You're training the blasted Death Eaters, Arien!" Ron yelled at her after the lesson. Give Hermione the credit, he was starting to control himself a bit.
"I'm under orders of the headmaster, Ron, and I'll see them done." Was the reply.
The signal echoed though every room of the castle. The alarm signal. The one that said 'we're being attacked, everybody run to their positions.'
The wannabe knights stopped dead on their spots and then began running. Fifth years and up were due to help teachers if requested- which meant, if there were too many enemies for them to deal on their own. The others were to go to hiding places were god only could spot them. Arien got her bag and grabbed her wand, praying that she had learnt enough in case she might need it. At the door, students parted ways, olders going to the main hall and youngers going to the haven.
"Good luck, guys!" the half-elven yelled, as her friends went out of sight.
The younger students gathered in the secret room –slipping down through a hole at McGonagall's office study desk. It was cold, and dark, and no one dared to conjure a fire to warm up for fear of the magic attracting the death eaters. So they waited, in silence, hugging each other, pretending they were comforting others- when the truth was that they needed comfort themselves. It was nine o'clock in the evening when the attack begun.
''
Harry, Hermione and Ron went to the second line of fire. The first were composed by the teachers and the seventh years, with the fifth years behind. Ginny was standing right behind her brother, throwing worried glances toward a certain silver-blond slytherin.
They somehow broke the wards. As soon as the enemy was visible, the battle of curses begun. The damned green light of Avada was often seen, but Flitwick was levitating a piece of marble as a shield. The killing curse had to make straight contact with the target to work. (1)
They could not, obviously, attack efficiently like that. Their own curses were blocked by the marble shield, which, by the way, was quickly showing signs of breaking.
"Drop it, Flitwick. We need to attack." Dumbledore said. He was shining, in a way. It was a different wizard standing at the main gate, yet the same. Though the order was absolutely insane, it made all the sense of the world.
The marble shield fell with a noise. And the light side took advantage of the fist precious seconds to take most of the whole first line of death eaters down. A group of green flashes of light illuminated the patio for a blink, and they fell instantly dead.
And then they shot back.
Most of the seventh years fell when they did, their bodies shielding the younger students behind them.
And the sixth years stood ahead, taking the place of those who had fallen – Harry had the impression he'd seen Katie fallen on the ground, but he couldn't pay attention to that now, while he was wildly casting killing curses. He moved forth, feeling Hermione and Ron walking boldly on his side. But they all were, teachers and students, and the figures in black were moving forth as well. More and more people fell as they approached, as none of the sides even bothered using anything but The Unforgivable.
Suddenly he felt thrown back, and sick, and dizzy. While he struggled to gather his strength he realised he'd been hit – but he was alive. He was The Boy Who Lived, Again. Ron turned back to help him up.
"We don't have time for a nap, pal." He said, in a lame attempt of a joke, but Harry got the not-so-slight sign of fear in his eyes, and felt blessed.
"I'll keep that in mind, Ron." He said. But it was not what he wanted to. What he truly wanted to say – even if Ron already knew of it- was, 'dude, you're like a brother to me'.
"Watch out!" the scream was followed by a body, Hermione's body, forcing them down again. The light flash passed right above them and through two fifth years, hitting the wall of the castle.
"That was close." Said Ron, standing up again.
When they looked around, there was no more death eaters to kill. The attack had been frantic, massive, and fast. Apparently they've underestimated those young adults. Madam Pomfrey opened the door behind them and start – uselessly – trying to find someone who could use some aid. They were all dead, and the only ones who needed help was a fifth year slytherin who'd broke her arm while dodging and a fifth year Ravenclaw who slip on a rock and cut her chin.
"My friends!" echoed the voice of Dumbledore "I must ask you to go render your fellows inside the castle and tell them to go to the main hall. All shall sleep there tonight, under the care of our deputy headmistress. Myself and the other teachers will patrol the surroundings of the castle and make sure there's nobody else hidden around."
His voice was full of sorrow, but also authority. All students moved as one towards the hidden haven, though some took longer, trying to search for their friends – in the group, or in the ground.
And then Harry saw it. The three of them, together.
Neville, Seamus and Dean.
Oh, shit.
"What are you looking at, Harry?" Hermione asked. This was one of those very rare times in which Ron was more perceptive than his girlfriend was, as his gaze followed the path of Harry's, as Hermione merely stared at his eyes. Both boys looked at each other, then back at her.
"Nothing, 'Mione."
"I'm still a little dizzy, that's all." Harry said sheepishly, not looking at her eyes. She put her arms around both of them, and pushed them to the castle.
"I don't know about you..." she said, wearily, "but I am in sore need of chocolate."
She'd have to know, of course. But that could be postponed for tonight.
''
"How many, Pomfrey?"
No need to ask how many what. "Sixty-two, Minerva. Flitwick, Sinistra, Trewlaney, Vector, thirty-eight seventh years, twelve fifth years and eight sixth years."
"I'll go back to patrolling. Please keep an eye at them."
"Of course." Again, no need to ask.
''
"Mione?"
They were already in their sleeping bags, gathered in the Great Hall. Very few were asleep, though. No matter what the DADA teacher might say, none of them could find some rest.
And every time Ron closed his eyes he saw his friends dead again. He relived that utterly frightening moment when he thought Harry was dead. When he thought Hermione was dead. When he heard a curse cut in the middle and thought Ginny was dead.
"Say it, Ron. Anything I could do for you?" she answered softly.
"Would you like to marry me?" she stared at him – when he asked her to be his girlfriend, he stammered. Now he was quite confident, he said it straight.
"What?"
"Wouldn't you?"
"No. It's just that... well, it's a bit sudden. "
"Just think about it." He said, kissing her forehead.
And she kept staring at the enchanted ceiling, watching the dark night fade and the first rays of light of the dawn showing. Why was it that she felt so utterly lost? Why did it all had to happen all at once, putting on her shoulders a burden she certainly wasn't ready to bear? Why was it that they couldn't – couldn't, damn it, have a bloody normal adolescence?
And with the first rays of light she heard something, or rather someone, singing softly. She didn't understand a word of it, but the meaning was all to clear. It was a lament for those who died, melodious and solemn, telling to the raising sun the tales of those who were gone.
And the clear morning sky was suddenly a cloudy sky, and rain began pouring down.
''.
A.N.:
In case you didn't notice, in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, when Harry and Voldemort were duelling Harry survived because he hid behind a gravestone – the curse hit it instead of him. So I'm treating the curse like some evolved sort of sabergun.
Grinning.