IWSC
Durmstrang, Y4
Theme: Write about taking a big risk.
Main Prompt: [First/Last Line] Your death is an event that happens to everyone else.
Secondary Prompt: [Quote] "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."― Edmund Burke
2694 Words
AN AU with slight Indiana Jones undertones. Warning for somewhat graphic depiction of slow death/illness. I do not own Hero by Superchick, Harry Potter or any characters therein. Thanks to Corrie, Lee, and Emmy for betaing.
Your death is an event that happens to everyone else. At least, that's how Anthony'd always believed it to be. Collapsed behind stone rubble as spells flew past, he soon learned the folly of such perceptions. Death didn't come in an instant. Absent one moment and there in the next. It was a slow, torturous event whose end might never come, and Anthony had a front-row seat to every agonizing moment of it.
Paralysis borne of both fear and his injuries was just one part of the mental and physical anguish that crashed against him in waves. He wanted to fight. But without his wand, he could do nothing. Everything in him cried for relief from the pain tormenting him, but when sensation and colour faded from his awareness, terror took its place. If he'd had his wand, Anthony would have done anything to end it all.
Moments or centuries after he'd first been pinned behind the rubble, it seemed as though death's long torment was finally ending when…
Who was that?
"Accio Idiot's wand!"
Stunning midnight-black hair and blue eyes, he must have been blind to have never noticed before, bent down next to him. Handing him his wand, she ordered, "Cover me!" and never before had his Protego shield felt stronger or more important.
This angel must be protected at all costs; as she patched up his side, the pain that had held him hostage faded against this renewed sense of purpose. No spell could be allowed to harm her.
Throughout the rest of the battle, all that Anthony saw was his angel and those dangers that might seek to take her away from him. He had no choice but to follow like a moon orbiting its planet, and as she unleashed an unholy fury on the world around them, he did everything in his power to protect her in return.
Purple from the left.
"Protego!"
An unearthly cold.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Green from the right. His wand conjured obstacles between them and any unforgivable that might touch a hair on her head.
When they finally learned that the battle, no, the war, was over, Anthony took the time to focus on his hero. Hair now askew, that piercing icy gaze could only belong to…
"Daphne Greengrass, at your service."
"Anthony Goldstein, and I'm pretty sure that's my line, milady."
Anthony never even saw the spell heading his way, but the widening of Daphne's eyes and the way she lept in front of him would haunt his nightmares forever.
"You can't do this!" Daphne glared at the Ravenclaw as he put the last of the clothes in his trunk. Everything in her wanted to hex the man silly, but just that one protest had left her gasping for breath. Six months had passed since the final battle; six months in and out of St Mungo's due to an unidentified curse.
All she knew was that her body was betraying her, and despite that, Anthony had stuck around, no doubt a result of misplaced gratitude. What else could it be when everything that had granted her power–her looks, magic, and words–were drained? Even her hair, once a point of pride, had begun to fall out thanks to the curse.
Anthony stayed out of gratitude, and she hated herself for it. Death would be kinder. At least once it came, she would be free from the suffering.
A warm hand in her own chilled one brought her back to the present. As he helped her drink some tea, Anthony relayed his insane plan. "I'll be back in two, three months tops, Daph. I've studied all the maps and broken the code. Once I find the Ziggurat de Magica, the Aurora Ealis blossom will be within reach to cure you. Surely, you agree that it's worth it!"
"Not at the cost of your life!" Daphne rasped, cursing her lack of air. Anthony was just too smart, smart and kind. Some days, she wished that she'd saved a Gryffindor who didn't know the meaning of research. Other days, she wished to be less pragmatic so that she could comprehend Anthony's rose-coloured perspective. It was true that his research had shown that Aurora Ealis offered her the chance at getting back to normal, but the journey to collect the plant was filled with more dangers than she could justify. Why, all the writings they'd found had mentioned the need for suffering and blood to even find the place! Even ignoring that, every week, she was weaker from the curse. The chances of her even making it another three months felt like an impossibility. Getting Anthony to acknowledge that, however, was where the difficulty lay.
"You stepped in to help me; I refuse to let those bastards win by sitting on my arse as you suffer!" he argued, as she'd expected.
"But–" A yawn escaped her, and suddenly, keeping her eyes open became an impossible task. Drat that man, had he spiked the tea?
The ghost of his lips could be felt as a voice whispered, "Sleep, Angel. I'll return when I have the cure."
Heart thrumming with exertion, Anthony chanced a look behind him as he ran. Damn, the boulder was still there. The Aurora Ealis bloom could only be found at the top level of the heavily warded Ziggurat de Magica in the Amazon rainforest, but the true danger came after breaking through the wards. The entire place was a labyrinth full of traps designed to kill.
Hence the boulder gathering speed behind him that just so happened to be impervious to magic.
And the poisonous spikes before that.
And the arrows.
And the toxic sludge…
All of which had been activated just today, day ten in the maze, after nearly two months chipping away at the wards.
Spying a small alcove, Anthony dived in just in time to avoid being flattened. With a grin that he was sure Daphne would call idiotic, he went to pull out his wand… only to find that it had fallen out during his mad dash to safety. Worse, several fuzzy vines had begun to wrap around his person while he was distracted.
Devil's Hound.
Related to the Devil's Snare, Devil's Hound only retracted its vines when exposed to certain sounds, a lesson that he only remembered from watching Daphne from a distance as she did some extra credit. Her singing was truly something else.
How she had known popular music from the Muggle world he didn't know, but her rendition of "Hero" by Superchick had made several pots of Devil's Hounds calm. That had been a good year or two before she became his hero, but even then he'd thought she had an amazing voice.
Quickly casting his mind back to the lyrics, Anthony sang along with the memory of his love colouring every verse.
"You could be a hero
Heroes do what's right," he sang, as the reminder of her risking life and limb for him came to mind and meshed with the next line about saving lives. She'd gone so far beyond what's right that hellish day in May.
"You could be a hero
Heroes join the fight for what's right." If he'd only been more on guard, the curse that ravaged her body would have never hit either of them, and now, it was up to him to do what was right so that the monsters wouldn't win.
As he continued to sing, the vines slowly loosened their grip. He had to hurry. Daphne was waiting.
Every day was harder than the last. Getting out of bed was a battle, and the dozens of potions she had to take just to limit the curse's spread made food tasteless. What was the point anymore? Was there a point?
She was so alone. There'd be no tears if she died.
No, that wasn't true. She had the kiss to prove it. Anthony cared. He was risking everything for her; the least she could do was keep fighting in return. She was still fairly sure that any affection he felt was borne of gratitude, something that would evaporate once the scales were balanced, but something in her wanted to protect him from more pain than was necessary, and if that meant continuing to fight the good fight until he returned, she would do it. What was that saying he loved so much? Something about evil only winning when good men do nothing?
Daphne still wasn't sure if her health qualified as something that needed to be fought against to combat evil, but it was part of what made Anthony the man he was, and even knowing that his eventual departure would destroy her in ways the curse never could, she would endure… for his sake if not for her own.
Anthony had called her an angel, but he didn't know that it was his own actions that saved his life. Weeks before the battle, the man had taken to hiding poems around the school; silly inspirational things that more often than not had made her laugh despite the darkness around her. But when she read his final poem, one against judging according to house colour, she'd been reminded that she had power to use for good or for evil. It had granted her courage that she never would have anticipated otherwise. Courage that she used when she saw him pinned behind a rock.
Carefully pulling out a worn copy of that particular poem, she got the strength to fight for one more day.
Anthony did not know the magic that transformed the final staircase into a never-ending torture device, but he was sure that he'd been climbing them for days now. Every time he sought to take a break, the stairs would turn to sand, losing him immeasurable progress. His food rations were gone, and his water supplies were running equally low. The monotony of the climb gave his mind time to wander.
'What's the use? If you keep this up, you'll be the one cursed to a slow death. You should just go home. Take a nice shower. Relax. You've earned it,' his mind argued while his stomach grumbled. To his shame, Anthony even began to turn around once or twice before the song that he'd begun to associate with his hero would come to mind. As long as there was a chance, no matter how slim, that Daphne was waiting for him, Anthony had to keep moving forward. He refused to let the evil of the world take her from him while doing nothing.
Just the idea was enough to bring him to his knees.
And turn the stairs back to sand… only this time, he wasn't able to get back to his feet quickly enough.
A vortex formed below him, slowly pulling him closer and closer to its depths. The rushing sand cut into his flesh like glass, and all Anthony could think was that…this was the end. He'd failed Daphne, failed to save her from his own stupidity, a form of negligence that was an evil all its own.
He could almost hear Daphne's voice as the vortex pulled him in…
Only to transport him outside of the ziggurat, or more precisely, right on top of it where, under the full moon, a field of golden flowers shimmered.
The Aurora Ealis! He'd found it! Now to collect the most potent healing herb in the world.
Crawling forward, he reached out a hand, and a single drop of blood touched the beautiful bloom.
Gold turned ash-grey as the plant shrivelled and died.
His hand no longer bled.
Heart hammering at being so close yet so far, Anthony tried again to grab a flower. This time, all the muscle aches he'd suffered on the journey came to an end. Again and again, he tried. Again and again, the flowers lost their glow, and some insignificant hurt came to an end. Finally, there was nothing left to heal, and it seemed as though all would be well after all.
This time, the flower's golden gleam turned silver, and for all that it remained beautiful, he knew instinctively that it had lost its healing properties.
Wracking his brain, he tried to remember everything he'd read about this ziggurat and its garden. There was something there… something about blood? Anthony remembered that one of the wards around the place had been a blood ward; however, in bypassing its detection shield, the blood ward had let him through as well. Could it be that simple? Blood willingly given rather than forcibly taken?
Grabbing his penknife from his boot, Anthony sliced down the palm of his hand, hoping against hope that this would work. Pressing his bloodied hand against the ziggurat floor, all the flowers seemed to bloom anew with a light that was almost blinding. Hesitantly, he tried to touch one. His hand kept bleeding, and the flower kept twinkling. Instinctively, he knew the flowers' magic was under his control.
Not knowing how many might be needed to stop the curse, Anthony grabbed a dozen of the beautiful blossoms before Portkeying away.
Great rasping breaths were all Daphne could hear. Her skin stretched grotesquely over her bones, and whatever hair she'd had was long gone. No matter her good intentions to stick it out for Anthony's sake, Daphne knew her time was almost up. Nothing could save her now, and honestly, it was a relief. As much as she wanted to see that handsome face once again, his presence had ever been as much a torment as it had been a pleasure. She knew well the source of his affection, even if he claimed otherwise, and what was life without love?
A door slammed, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might get to see him after all. But no, her eyes refused to open, and her tongue remained glued to the top of her mouth, not even allowing her to express her happiness at his safe return.
Suddenly, something soft was placed in her hands.
Two somethings.
And a Third.
Satiny softness wrapped around her bald head like a crown, and a sudden flood of strength allowed her to open her eyes. There was a glare from the room being more brightly lit than it had been in ages, but then she blinked, and there was Anthony staring at her with so much love in his eyes she couldn't stand it.
All of the aches and pains that had tormented her faded from awareness though whether that was from the miraculous blossoms that he'd covered her with or Anthony's intoxicating presence was unknown.
Tears welled up in her eyes. He'd done it. He'd really done it! Sitting up, Daphne watched as her body filled out. No longer was she a skeleton with flesh! Eagerly, she reached up, wanting to feel the long silky tresses she'd always been known for.
Yet her head was still bare.
Her lips were suddenly captured by Anthony. "How I've missed you!" he exclaimed in between kisses. "You gorgeous, wonderful, amazing angel, you! Will you marry me?"
Daphne floundered. He couldn't mean that. Could he? She was still bald. The flowers hadn't brought back one of the foundational aspects of who she was.
Something of that must have been said aloud as Anthony just held her tighter. "I love you, Daphne Greengrass. Not for how you look, which is gorgeous by the way, or for what you've done for me. I love you for being uniquely you, unafraid to stand up when something is wrong no matter who is watching. Your courage inspires my own. Help me be a better man who'll never stand down when evil shows itself?"
Gazing into the eyes of the man she'd faced death with, Daphne had only one answer to give. Just as his words on the page an eternity ago had inspired her to join the battle, his words now made her heart soar.
Emotions threatening to overwhelm her, Daphne nodded frantically.
"Yes," she whispered. Then stronger, "Yes!" Yes, she wanted to spend the rest of her now wonderfully long life fighting alongside Anthony, her own personal hero.