Words of the Unforgiving
Chapter Four: The Day that I Die
Authors Briefing: A HUGE thank you to all my reviewers! You know who you are! I couldn't have this story without any of you and I luv you all! Opps, I forgot to add up the points in chapter three, but now they are all up-to-date!
Who sings 'The Day That I Die'? (Hint: GC) (5 points)
What is J K Rowling's first name? (5 points)
Why was the American version of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" changed to "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone"? (5 points)
Gryffindor: 25
Hufflepuff: 0
Ravenclaw: 0
Slytherin: 55
And, as usual, everyone gets the usual five points for reviewing! Thanks for reviewing and I hope this story is actually going somewhere...
...I swear the happiest day of my life is the day that I die...
"So, tell me, why we're travelling the Muggle way," said Harry, tyring to ignore the voice, yet remember what it had said. They had been in the van for four hours, and everyone was getting bored.
"Because nobody will think that we would ever take a car," Hermione answered in her patient way. "And besides, the twins wanted to try it out the Muggle way!"
She pressed her lips together and Harry quickly guessed that she disapproved. He was smart enough to suppress a chuckle that was threatening to escape, but instead brought up the topic of Voldemort.
"So, what has Voldemort been doing? You guys have been joined the Order, haven't you?" Harry looked at the twins. They both nodded.
"But we promised not to reveal anything, on pain of death," Fred recited solemnly. Both Harry and Hermione looked deeply disappointed.
Harry looked out the window once again. The dark gray sky reflected his brooding mood and the green rolling hills made him feel isolated. "It looks like-"
The world suddenly spun and there was an ear-piercing screech as burnt rubber met tar-seal. The next thing Harry knew, he was spinning upside down and was being thrown around like a feather, crashing into Hermione and somehow ending up in the middle with Fred.
The van was upside down at the bottom of a steep hill. All the windows had shattered, the sliding door had flung open and the acrid stench of petrol filled the air, making the stunned occupants dizzy.
"George?" asked a weak voice, breaking the deafening silence. Silence answered the call.
Fred was the first to come to. He had a gash on the side of his head where blood was flowing freely down to his bruised and sprained neck. He tried to move, but stopped when pain swept through his mangled body, making him and his twin cry out.
"Fred?" asked George. He had fallen out of the door and was lying halfway up the hill; his arm was twisted unnaturally underneath his heavily bruised and cut body.
He had enough sense to get his wand – which was miraculously unharmed – and he used the same spell that Gildroy Lockhart had once used on Harry to take the bones out of Harry's arm.
With his arm no longer in pain, George managed to get up and stumble down the hill toward his brother. Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the stench of bloody petrol, he crawled inside the wreckage to where his brother lay.
"Fred!" George cried.
"George, I c-can't f-feel my body," Fred stuttered, frightened by the unnerving feeling of numbness that was extinguishing the pain.
George looked his brother's body over. Fred's lips were turning blue and his face was white. Blood covered his twisted body and bruises were starting to come through on the exposed flesh.
"This w-will be remembered as th-the d-day that I d-d-die," Fred said, trying to smile bravely.
"No! NO!" George yelled out. He could feel his brothers' heart beating, their pulse synchronizing and becoming the one that they were meant to be.
"Mum'll kill me if you don't come home," George gasped.
George maneuvered himself around Harry's unconscious body to support Fred's neck.
"Just rest," he murmured, wanting to make his dying brother as comfortable as he could.
For five minutes, they lay like that, each boy hoping that help would come before Fred died, but knowing that it wouldn't.
George stared at Harry's upside-down body and wondered what had made them crashed.
Slowly, he became aware of the tinkling sound of glass. Hermione's head emerged from the back and she was shaking out shards and slivers of glass from her bushy hair.
He would have said something to her if he didn't feel Fred's heartbeat plummeting.
It was no use speaking to George. He had withdrawn deep inside himself, where he could feel Fred's weak heart slowly coming to a stop.
The moment Fred stopped breathing and his heart beat its final beat, George let out a cry so passionate and full of anguish that Hermione burst into tears and covered her ears.
She knew then, that Fred had died.
George was breathing heavilly. He felt as though something had been forcefully ripped out of his body; his mind; his soul.
Hermione noticed the foul smell that hung in the air. "George, the van is going to explode! We have to get everyone out of here, now!"
His head snapped up and she saw tears flowing down his dirty face.
Together, they gently dragged Fred's body out and lay it down, metres away from the van.
Without a word, George ran straight back to the van, ignoring the protests that came from his body.
Awkwardly taking Harry by the ankle, George heaved, and started taking him away from the time bomb. Hermione was silent, but helped take Harry and drag him beside Fred.
George turned and stared at what was left of the van and watched Mike limp and stagger out towards him. Hatred burned and blazed through him and he watched Hermione rush out to help the injured man.
It was like watching a movie in slow-motion – not that he knew what a movie was. The van exploded in a fiery ball of smoke and flame. Angry, hot flames engulfed Hermione and the driver, killing them almost instantly. The shockwave hit a few seconds later, throwing George roughly on the ground.
He watched, astonished, as the fallen bodies of Hermione and Mike were devoured by flames. A whimper from beside him told him that Harry had woken, but he took no notice.
He was in a horrified fascinated trance which he couldn't break out from. Harry pushed himself up from the ground and stumbled towards his best friend.
"Hermione!" he croaked. He put his hand inside his clothes to pull his wand out, but found it snapped clean in half. Without thinking, he willed the flames to stop hurting Hermione. It took a few minutes and by the time he got to Hermione's body, it was too late.
Hermione, one the best friends he would ever have, was dead.