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The Shadow of Death
Chapter 20: A Shack on Sand
Black robes billowed around his calves as he strode through the cold, dark halls of Azkaban. Swelling waves rattled the stone walls, weaving a solemn tune with the Dementors' clicking breaths. Murmurs echoing off stone quieted at his approach.
A pair of Death Eaters shivered and bowed as they passed him. A grin of pleasure fought for purchase over his lips.
The doors to his new meeting chamber opened with a negligent wave of his hand. His followers stood at his entrance, staring ahead in absolute silence.
The corner of Voldemort's lip twitched.
"Much has happened of late, my friends." Nagini slithered into his lap as he sat at the head of the table, his followers mimicking his actions. "It has been two days since the Hogsmeade attack. Barty, tell me your opinion of Potter."
Bellatrix bristled in her seat beside him. His eyes darted toward her and she looked away, head bowed. Barty stood from his seat, eyes lowered.
"Of course, My Lord." The blonde wizard pulled his wand and placed it to his temple. "Allow me to show you."
He flicked the silver memory strand into a basin at the centre of the table. Barty and Bellatrix's fight with Potter and Delacour projected above its shimmering surface.
"From what I've seen I can affirm Severus's assessment of his mediocrity." Barty's eyes shimmered as they took in Neville's death. "He adapts well, but his use of magic is paltry at best."
Voldemort leaned forward as the final part of the battle played out. "He is emotional. And can achieve new, yet unimpressive, heights when under duress. Why did you not capture him?"
The gathered Death Eaters turned in unison to stare at the wizard in question. Barty glared at Bellatrix.
"I assumed him dead when the building collapsed, My Lord." He winced when Nagini hissed at him. "And Dumbledore arrived earlier than anticipated since Rodolphus and Rabastan fled from him."
The Dark Lord glared at the two men, who glared at Barty. The blond wizard returned their stare, a smirk creeping across his thin face.
"It is just as well," Voldemort said. "If Potter went missing now all of Magical Britain would take up arms. Either way, I cannot touch him until I know the contents of the prophecy. Augustus, how have you progressed?"
His skeletal fingers whispered over Nagini's cool scales.
"Well, My Lord," Rockwood rasped, moving to stand on quaking legs. "The Unspeakables have not altered their defences. I was able to infiltrate the department quite easily."
Voldemort paused in his absent minded stroking of Nagini. The snake nudged at his hand, hissing her displeasure.
"What did you find?"
Augustus's eyes remained cool under Voldmort's gaze. "I found the prophecy, My Lord. But only Potter or you can retrieve it."
"I cannot risk entering that department for only the prophecy." Voldemort resumed his slow strokes. "Luring Potter there to retrieve it could bear fruit worth the risk. However, this Unspeakable poses a threat. Severus?"
"My Lord," Severus drawled, "there is little to report. Unspeakable has laid low since he killed Greyback two months ago. I've hardly seen him skulking about the castle of late."
The torches' scant light dimmed, casting the room in an inky dark. Bellatrix's loud breathing filtered through the room. He stood from his seat, slamming his hands on the table.
"You are failing, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. "Unspeakable is Dumbledore's man. You are Dumbledore's man. Have you learned nothing of our strongest enemy?"
A singular drop of sweat fell from Snape's large nose. Bellatrix sniggered behind a hand.
"My Lord, he does not tell me-"
"Do not give me such paltry excuses," he roared. Nagini fell, hissing expletives at his feet. "Use what little cunning you have, Severus, and find out what he is doing or you will know the meaning of pain."
The sallow wizard's face paled and he nodded.
"I expect worthwhile information, Severus." Voldemort walked around the table. "Barty."
"My Lord."
"You are to cease your missions in the muggle world." The Dark Lord placed his hands on the table in front of Lucius. The blond wizard shrunk in on himself. "As for the rest of you… I have given some of you missions to carry out. I will not tolerate failure. When you are not out on mission you will reside here unless I allow otherwise."
Voldemort paused, taking in his followers. The Death Eaters bowed their heads and offered no resistance. His lip twitched.
"Bellatrix, stay behind." The Dark Lord retook his seat, staring at the witch over steepled fingers. "The rest of you leave."
She bowed her head as the others left, their feet scuffing against the stone floor. Voldemort's eyes took her in and his stomach lurched.
"Bellatrix…Bella, I require your assistance." His voice was smooth as silk and her violet eyes snapped up to him. "I have a plan that will allow me to kill Dumbledore and I require that which only you can give. Tell me, Bella, what would you give to see me bring Britain to heel?"
He forced his eyes to dip lower. It took all of his willpower to not flee the room. His stomach jolted once more.
Her violet eyes widened, a cruel, yet loving, smile bloomed on her red-mottled face. Bellatrix's chest heaved and her eyes glimmered in the low light. His eyes saw it all.
Devotion. Insanity. Hatred. Desire.
'Revolting.' His skin felt as though worms trekked through him.
"Anything, My Lord."
He reached out, slow and purposeful, twirling a strand of her hair between his spindly fingers. She stilled, sweat tricking a slow path into her robes' neckline.
Bile burnt his throat. 'I must play my part, too. All this will be worth it in the end.'
"Disrobe, Bella."
—0v0—
"Away! Go away! Don't come near him!"
Her voice reached a fever pitch, ringing in his ears. Harry stared at the stone wall in front of him. It had not changed in the past hour.
It had been two days since Hogsmeade and he had been cast awash, lost and alone in a burning forest on an island. Trees did nought but crash around him, threatening to crush him, to burn him.
The taste of ash and blood sat bitter on his tongue.
'If I was just a bit faster…' The flames raged around him, consuming, looming over him 'No, I have a part to play. I made the right choice… Right?'
Milky brown eyes, framed by a pale face stained with blood, stared back at him. The boy turned beneath his mother's tight grip, skin flaking off and falling to the ground like drifting snow. Black liquid oozed from his nose, eyes and the corners of his mouth.
"He'll be fine! He just needs…he needs…"
Harry shook his head.
"I needed you to save me." The boy's voice was as coarse as sand. "But you didn't. You're weak, pathetic. Disgusting."
Trees crashed into the earth around him, shaking him to his core, and crumbling to ash beneath hungering flame.
"I did what I had to do!" Harry growled, pulling at his hair. "Gods, I'm delusional. They aren't real."
"But we were real," Brea Greengrass hissed. Her innards drug across the floor as she walked toward him. "And now we're real to you."
He swung his fist, stumbling as his arm passed through the image. It wavered before fading into nothing.
"L-let Harry live. Kill m-me instead!"
Harry screwed his eyes shut and pulled up the hood of his grey robe.
It offered no solace, no escape.
"Step aside, woman."
His chest heaved. Sweat poured down his back and face, freezing him.
He could not escape.
"Mummy?"
Harry drew the Elder Wand. Cold laughter rang in his ears.
"He is mine… Take him. Train him. He will be different from the others…my legacy."
"We need more assassins with your power." Bile stung his throat "You know what must be done."
A cacophony of voices overcame him and Harry sank to his knees, slapping his hands over his ears. "No," he muttered.
"Kill or die. Be strong or perish."
"Why is this happening?" He shook his head, his body trembling as the world crashed and burned around him. "What's wrong with me? I DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
"You're weak."
"You run from the truth!"
"The answer is there, reach out and find it."
"You're not human, not anymore."
Harry cracked an eye open. Faces, hundreds of them, all in differing stages of decomposition, surged about in front of him. Their teeth gnashed and they clawed at one another to get to him, wailing in an endless deluge of agony.
Foetid arms reached for him. Muscle, skin and sinew hung from their macabre limbs.
And Harry recognised all of them.
He had killed every last one. The boy's face surged forward until it was inches from its own. Rancid, hot cold breath splashed over his face.
"You're running from us, Potter." The boy sneered down at him. "And we'll hound your every step until you stop."
"Tell me," Harry rasped. "Tell me how!"
The boy smirked and retreated into the leering sea of faces.
Harry's shoulders slumped and he screamed. Pain bloomed in his chest and behind his eyes. He screwed his eyes shut against it. Ice settled in his veins and his heart shuddered.
The faces jeered, laughing cold, high laughs.
His brain drummed against his skull. 'I can't stop them. Why won't they leave?'
He screamed again and fell, deep into an unnatural embrace. The arms chilled his very bones. It was something he did not understand, could not comprehend. They shook him.
And he opened his eyes, pausing at what he found on the stone floor just beyond his knees.
Their taunts beat against his eardrums, vibrating at the intensity.
Harry reached out and touched the wet spot.
Tears.
"Weak!"
Fire roared in his chest. Harry raked the Elder Wand through the air with a primal yell. Magic leapt to his aid.
It cut and slashed the faces. They exploded in showers of gore.
Elation tore through him, a manic grin plastered on his face.
'They're leaving.' Grim, satisfied laughter spilled from his lips.
His laughter turned to cackles as he cast, their agonised screams sounding as music to his harried heart.
"What… are you doing?"
Harry whipped around, his wand held aloft. Sparks hissed from its tip. His chest heaved and his prior glee faded to nothing.
He lowered the Wand. "Nothing, Greengrass."
She eyed the wall to his left and shrugged before closing the door. Harry turned. The wall was littered with gouges and burns, chunks of stone missing.
Shaking his head, he looked back at Greengrass. An uncharacteristic smirk adorned her face.
"Why did you ask for this meeting?" Harry rounded on her, his face twisted and his body shaking. "In fact, why did you not warn me of the Hogsmeade attack?"
She remained silent.
"It is your fault," Harry hissed, levelling his wand at her throat. "I have been far too lax with you, Greengrass, and you failed me. There will not be a next time or you will share the same fate as your dear sister."
"Firstly, I knew nothing of the attack." Greengrass tapped her finger against her chin and smiled wickedly. "And second, fuck you."
Harry stilled, his eyes narrowing to slits. "What?"
Danger filled the word but Greengrass did not back down. Her smirk grew.
"Fuck you," she repeated.
The Elder Wand sparked against her throat. She still did not move.
"I'm afraid I won't be working for you anymore." The blonde witch tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder.
Fire surged through his veins. His teeth clenched and he pressed his wand into her throat. A small rivulet of blood ran down the column of her neck.
"Then you will die," Harry hissed.
"I don't think you will, actually." She batted his hand away. "Dumbledore won't let you, and I've made arrangements just to be sure."
"Such as?"
Greengrass strode to the door, her gait casual. She looked over her shoulder, the doorknob in hand.
"I've changed my will." Her icy blue eyes turned molten. "If I die or lose my mind then all Greengrass assets will be turned over to the Malfoys. Lucius was, of course, eager to agree."
He stalked toward her. "Then you will die by his hand."
"His payment was an Unbreakable Vow." Greengrass pointed her wand at him and he stilled. "I have nothing to fear from him or you."
The doorknob twisted and she walked through the door. Harry stood, rooted in place.
"Oh, and one more thing." She turned around, her gaze cool as ice. "One day I will find out who you are, and I will kill you. When that day comes I hope you rot in hell."
The door's slam reverberated through the room.
The wall bore the brunt of his fury. Stone melted to slag, flowing to the floor to form sizzling pools. Chunks of stone whistled by his ears and explosions clapped his eardrums.
Another roar ripped itself from his throat.
"It seems Miss Greengrass has outplayed you, Harry, but I must ask you to refrain from damaging the school."
Harry paused, scowling at the Headmaster. The old man popped a sherbert lemon in his mouth and hummed in content.
He sighed and sagged against the wall, jagged rocks digging into his spine.
"I have felt the same many times." Dumbledore chuckled. "But this is only a minor inconvenience to you at most, my boy. What troubles you?"
"She will regret betraying me." Harry lowered his hood. "I will find a way-"
Dumbledore held up a weathered hand. "You will do no such thing, Harry. I expect you to follow that command above all others." He threw Harry a pointed stare.
Harry scowled at the Headmaster for several tense moments until, finally, he looked away. "When will we continue the horcrux hunt?"
Dumbledore replied, "Your attempt at deflecting leaves much to be desired, Harry. But to answer your question, we shall continue after the holidays as I believe we both will be rather busy at that time."
"And the attack on Hogsmeade." Harry stared at the wall over the Headmaster's shoulder. "How many did we lose?"
Dumbledore coughed and peered at the ground. "Ten, with thirteen more in critical condition at Saint Mungos. There were many more outside of Hogwarts students."
Harry closed his eyes. Images of the broken, dead boy burned into the back of his eyelids. His mother's sobs rang in his ears.
"How did Winky miss this?" Harry's words broke the silence, but only just. "She has been watching the Slytherins, reading their correspondence when possible. She should have reported this."
"I find it unlikely that Winky knew anything," Dumbledore replied. "I doubt their parents gave them anything more than a vague warning."
"Still, it should have been apparent," Harry groused.
Dumbledore's serious gaze turned on him. "But that is not what truly has you upset, Harry."
Harry jerked away, his mouth set in a thin line. He ignored the shades flitting about, whispering in his mind. "I do not want to talk about it, Headmaster."
"And, yet, you should," he replied gravely. "Though you hide it well, I can see your emotions slowly consuming you, Harry. It is not wise to hold such things in."
Ice settled deep in his stomach. The murmurs drummed in his mind, pounding with sadistic fervour. Fogged eyes stared at him, judging him. Laughter, cruel and low filled his being.
"I tell you I don't wish to speak of it and you continue to pester me!" Harry whipped his head around with enough force to pop his neck. "What do you want to hear, Headmaster? How I think I'm going insane? That I see those I've killed everywhere I go? I'm broken and I don't know how to fix it. Is that what you want to hear?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I would never wish such pain on anybody, Harry."
"Yet you remind me of it at every opportunity," he hissed. "You bought me, took everything from me and gave me a name, an identity. I don't know who I am anymore, if what I am is real. If it's what I'm supposed to be! Tell me who I should be, Dumbledore, and I'll be that person."
Harry's shoulders slumped, his breath catching in his throat. "Please, I just want it to stop. I don't want to see them anymore."
The Headmaster's eyes widened. "Harry, what-"
"I keep seeing him, that boy," Harry choked. "He was innocent and I could have saved him…But I didn't. I've murdered so many people and I don't know what that makes me anymore. I was an assassin, unfeeling and perfect. Am I a monster? A pawn? Please, tell me."
"Sadly, I cannot." His head jerked up. A tear fell from Dumbledore's wrinkled cheek. "But I do know you are not a monster. You regret your actions, even if you do not realise it. But you are lost, just as I once was many years ago."
He looked away. "What do I do?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "You allow yourself to feel whatever comes naturally to you. Find yourself, be who you feel you should be and not what others expect you to be."
A dark chuckle left his lips. "Enigmatic as always. I am a killer, Headmaster."
"As am I, Harry." Pain flitted through the old wizard's eyes.
"How long did it take you to recover?" His breath hitched at Dumbledore's expression.
"Truthfully?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. "I never did, not fully at least. It took me several years to accept who I am and I had a great deal of help."
"Then you should help me." Harry patted his chest. "I am your responsibility."
"That is true." The Headmaster inclined his head. "But I should not be the one to help you through this. I believe there is another more well-suited for the task, large as it may be."
"Who-"
Harry's eyes snapped to the door and jerked his hood over his face as the doorknob turned.
"I have returned from the meeting as requested, Albus." Snape's dark eyes roved the room, stopping on Harry. His lip curled in a light sneer.
Dumbledore smiled at the surly man. "Have you learned anything of import, Severus?"
"The Dark Lord has ceased operations in the Department of Mysteries." Snape smirked, his eyes glistering like dark, glossy beetles. "He hopes to lure Potter there to retrieve the prophecy for him."
"That is promising," the Headmaster murmured. "How does he intend to lure young Harry there?"
Snape shrugged.
"Use Black." Both men turned to stare at Harry.
"Unspeakable, I do not believe it wise to place anyone in such danger."
He raised a hand. "It is the best way, Headmaster. Potter's disdain for Delacour is known and he has no close friends to speak of. It is a lie to say he is close with Black, but Voldemort will not know. Plus, I will be there to protect him."
Black eyes sought out Dumbledore. He nodded hesitantly.
"Make no moves unless I allow it, Severus." The Headmaster pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Was there anything else?"
"The Death Eaters, as well as the Dark Lord, have been quiet." Snape's gaze turned back to Harry. "He has commanded them to lie low in Azkaban. I don't know what it is, but I believe the Dark Lord is preparing for something large. He has given out many tasks, though none are allowed to speak of it."
"What of his progress with the vampire covens?" The need for a new mission overwhelmed Harry.
Snape shifted. "Progress has slowed and the Dark Lord's representative is hesitant to speak of it. I will have more useful information after the holidays."
Harry grit his teeth and glanced at his watch. "Very well. I have previous engagements so I must be off. Please let me know of anything else of import, Headmaster."
He left, ghostly figures nipping at his heels.
—0v0—
Words blurred and blended on the yellowed page. The smell of old books filled her nostrils and she smiled.
Students' whispers, hesitant to incur the wrath of Madam Pince, settled over her. The quiet turns of pages filled her ears.
Here there was peace, comfort. At least, most of the time.
Shoes scuffed the library's stone floor beside her. Magic, cold and violent washed over her with all the grace of a whirling blizzard. Fleur glanced at her watch. Her lips thinned.
"You're late." Her eyes bored a hole into the book in front of her.
"I was held up by the Headmaster." His low, gravelly voice surprised her. "You needed help with your NEWTS, right?'
"Yes, I-" She looked up.
Her eyes widened. "You look terrible!"
Dark bags sagged beneath his puffy, red eyes. His skin, while normally pale, looked as if he'd died recently. His hair was messier than usual and his robes lay wrinkled over too thin shoulders.
"You 'aven't slept." She took a quick look around them. "Is it because of 'Ogsmeade?"
His eyes narrowed. Most would have flinched away, but she'd long grown used to it. Fleur raised a brow.
"Partly, yes," he sighed. "But I do not want to talk about it."
Fleur chuckled sardonically. "'Ow predictable. But you should talk about it."
Harry grabbed her tome. He perused it for a few seconds before placing back on the table with a sneer.
"Why does everyone want me to talk about my feelings today?" Fleur would've missed his words were it not for her sensitive hearing. He looked up at her. "You would not understand."
"You're right," Fleur snarked. "I wouldn't understand sleepless nights reliving what we saw. I could never comprehend watching Neville turn into a husk, his screams echoing in my ears."
She gave him an expectant look.
"I do not trust you." Harry stood from his seat. "I have no reason to."
"Besides zhe fact zhat I watched your back at 'Ogsmeade?" she hissed. "I know you thought of letting zhat spell hit me, but you didn't. Surely, zhat 'as to mean something?"
His green eyes bored into her, consuming her, leaving her bare beneath them. Fleur shook her head and stared back resolutely.
"I did not want to deal with the aftermath with Dumbledore," he said. "Nothing more, nothing less. Get this through your head: I. Do. Not. Trust. You."
"And. I. Don't. Believe. You."
Harry snorted, standing to his feet. "Believe what you want, Fleur. This is a waste of my time. I am going to rest."
"One zhing." Fleur held up a finger and he stopped. "Zhere will be a ball at my Papa's estate on Boxing Day. 'E expects you to come."
He opened his mouth and Fleur stopped him with a raised hand.
"Before you say no, because I know you will…" Fleur stood and handed him the invitation. "Zhis is part of our betrothal. 'E took zhe liberty of announcing it to zhe French and British Ministries. If you do not come zhen Dumbledore will pay zhe price for you slighting 'im."
"What makes you so sure that will happen?" He eyed the envelope for a moment before stuffing it in his robes.
"Papa is a vindictive politician." She rolled her eyes. "And 'e is very traditional. 'E will pay any slight against 'im back in kind."
His fist curled around the invitation. Its crumples whispered through the alcove.
"Fine." He turned and stalked from the library.
Fleur bit her lip as she watched him leave. 'This has to change… But how?'