"In skating over thin ice, our safety is on our speed."
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapter 37 ~ Dublin
ECOTS
"Idiots. Run."
The building was large, looking to have been a sprawling office or warehouse at one point in time with a brick façade. This benefitted the edifice, since it was harder to burn. Only part of the building was on fire, but the lower, outer wall sure as hell was blazing from that Death Eater's hex.
So when Fred shouted for them to run straight into the flames to get inside, Kalliandra naturally had questions.
So did Dean.
"Are you MAD!?" he bellowed, "Reducto!" shouted. The blasting charm barely tossed the elderly zombie backwards in time, Dean's spells coming fast.
"Got any other ways to lose them!?" the Weasley twin shouted, running head first towards the open, collapsed doorway that was consumed by vicious flames.
Dean cursed before running after them, as if it were highly against his better judgement. "Son of a-"
One of those faster zombies burst through the hoard, rushing them.
Kally didn't need to be told to run twice, bolting towards a wall of flames that would invariably give them third degree burns.
"AQUAFINA!"
A jet of water powerfully burst out of Neville's wand, slamming into the flames licking at that same open doorway they'd all been aiming for. The fire was already significantly lowered there, but area around the doorway was still collapsed.
By some act of gravity defiance the upper story was still holding strong, the support pillars for it not having yet reached their points of failure.
Ducking their heads they all tore through the blazing heat, her skin licked at painfully by the flames but only for a second. Some type of foam launched out and struck all of them as soon as they rushed inside the building, the torrent of orange and hot white sizzling for a half second-
Kally slammed into a wall, groaning yet somehow alive and inside, foam dripping down her entire body. They weren't dead. Coughing, she gaped at Neville. "Aquafina?" The flames had already jerked up high again, driving the creatures back. "Isn't that a bottle water brand?"
Dean's back collided into the wall next to her, a hex launched out past the flames at the oncoming creature-brigade. "It's a spell too," he said, shaking hunks of fire-dousing foam off his shoulder. "Causes no end of trouble for wizards shopping in Muggle marts, accidentally spraying their local grocery store clerks with firehouse-worthy water blasts when they're finishing up a honey-do list to pick up some water!"
Kally spluttered, unsure of whether or not he was actually kidding. The fire was loud, smoke blowing throughout the entire room.
"Come off it, Thomas!" George tossed over conversationally, the twin having wound up on a pile of collapsed bricks. "You know that's never once happened-"
"It happened to my dad!"
He grunted assent. A second later a cacophonous amount of noise revealed the twins using magic to restack the bricks into place, the only thing holding back the oncoming hoard of things the intermittent wall of flames on the building.
They'd only gotten past it due to Neville's spell and that foam, and they could only breath inside the building due to their bubblehead charms. The smoke was acrid and thick. The top meter of the room could no longer even be seen.
They'd just trapped themselves inside a fire to avoid being torn limb from limb by the undead. Kally would have patted herself on the back for reaching a new level of recklessness if Potter had only been around to twitch.
One of those things burst through the flames, charging like a fiery bull that was seriously pissed at its matador.
It nearly got to Neville, but a solitary brick flew across the room, slamming directly into the thing's skull and getting stuck in it with a resounding crunch. The creature looked almost surprised that there was now a brick caved into its brain, it mouth still open in a terrifying, teeth-clacking threat as it dropped first to its knees, before falling face first to the ground.
From the stairwell behind them stood Ginny Weasley, fiery red hair whirling around her face in the heat, looking pissed.
"Ginny!" Fred shouted, clearly excited as he spread his arms out wide to his little sister. "We're here to rescue you!"
The red-head gaped. "Rescue me? Rescue me?!" A shrill note had entered her voice, a neon orange spell cutting through the flames and nearly taking off her head. Kally was fairly certain that was the only thing that prevented the witch from outright murdering her twin brothers then and there.
"Oh good," Dean drawled, "the Death Eaters are back."
"Was beginning to get a bit bored of just zombies," Fred chirped.
"They're so over-played out," George piled on.
"Wait, Ginny!" Fred began gesticulating wildly, gesturing between her and Dean, clearly not having forgotten that her and Dean had dated and that he'd referenced a 'sex life.' "What the hell did you do with Thomas here when you were dating?!"
"No need for details," George casually piled on, shooting spells through the flames. "We just need to know exactly how painful to make his killing."
Dean groaned, and Regulus used the time to launch a table through the flames and into the nearest Death Eater on a broom. "Does anyone else think it's high time we fled?"
Ginny sputtered at her brothers, then made an irate sound. "Upstairs! The smoke's less dense in other parts of the building!"
Kally didn't need telling twice, bolting up after her, the other Gryffindor's feet rapidly disappearing in the smoke. The others had taken it upon themselves to start erecting a barricade of tables and bricks behind them at the base of the stairwell to slow the things down.
It probably wouldn't stop the Death Eaters, but it was obvious the bastards were just toying with them at this point.
"I can't believe we might die because you two tripped over one another!" Regulus boomed, reaching the oddly serene looking room on the second floor. After they'd gotten up the stairwell they'd taken several turns through dark halls, finding a room on what Kally could only suspect was the other side of the building – the one not on fire. The halls were still filling with smoke regardless.
Inside the room were Amarante and Tres, along with a tired looking girl, her long black hair looking like it'd seen better days, a bubblehead charm firmly on her head as well.
Kally didn't miss the signs of several nearly healed boils on her coffee-colored skin.
"Hey guys," Amarante greeted as if soot-covered, pissed-off looking witches and wizards stormed his secret hideout on a daily basis, "great news. Cure works!" He gave the Muggle girl a slight elbow, the girl returning a weak smile.
Fred and George let out triumphant whoops.
Not a single person looked ready to flee.
Kalliandra could only sputter, flipping her hair out of her face. "You all do realize that the fire will spread right?" Did wizards not fear fire? Gesturing quickly at the door, she added, "Seriously! There's a fire! And Death Eaters! And-"
"And lions and tigers and bees, oh my!"
Neville, Dean and her all blinked at Amarante, who was looking rather proud of himself.
"That's not," Dean stated, as the only other legitimate Muggleborn in the room, "how it goes."
The DADA Professor's brother just shrugged carelessly, ignoring him. "Eh, that film was rather boring. Nice to see you, Kalliandra. That was some fine running you and Harry did in Hogsmeade."
Standing there, soot covering every inch of her, with singed hair on the left side of her face and chopped off hair hanging lopsidedly down on the right, courtesy of a hexed hospital, their current building on fire with zombies and Death Eaters outside, she suddenly realized something.
She was entirely on board with Regulus. She was going to hex each and every single one of them.
Before she could so much as take a menacing step towards the flippant wizard, Regulus had grabbed her arm hard. "Pack up, let's go. There's gotta be a back way out of here," he ordered the others.
"By chance," Tres stated hopefully, "did you bring brooms?"
"Oh we did," Dean told, Tres looking seriously hopeful. "But the Death Eaters incinerated them."
Tres' face fell. "Oh." He sounded seriously morose.
Outside, one story down, something crashed, the entire building shaking as part of the wall presumably collapsed.
Neville swore something that earned him twenty points from Gryffindor.
Kally felt like she was going to murder someone, tugging her arm away from Regulus. "There is something seriously wrong with all of you," she stated, sounding only slightly dangerous.
"Welcome to my world," Ginny bemoaned from the hall, the Gryffindor not having moved from her position crouched by the stairwell, wand ready. The glint in the girl's brown eyes clearly indicated she wanted to use it.
Regulus had already started to move though, grabbing Kally and dragging her back into the darkened hallway. "Live now, annihilate the amoebas later," he promised, "Lumos," muttered under his breath.
Then he'd grabbed Ginny, forcefully dragging her away from the stairs as the girl shouted in irritation. "There is nothing good at the bottom of those," he slowly drawled, "other than a swift and messy end to one of my headaches."
He then began to wave the rest of everyone towards the opposite end of the dimly lit hall, smoke already coiling around the ceiling like vicious, angry snakes. "We're going to have to make our way out of Dublin on foot," he ordered, the others all piling out, Amarante helping the weakened girl.
"Is she a-" Dean questioned.
"I'm a Muggle, if that's what you're driving at," the girl wheezed, impossibly blue eyes clenching in a grimace.
Amarante and the girl never got past Regulus, the Potion's Master catching the French wizard's arm. "Which potion worked? In case you and your brother's shoddy spellwork catches up with you and neither of you imbecilic travlers bothered to write it down."
Amarante looked at the hold on his arm and made a very unpleasant face. "Number seven," he snapped, now will you-"
Regulus abruptly released him, already losing interest. He instead met her gaze in the dark hall, smoke increasing. "Seven! You have that girl?"
Kalliandra nodded, shooting him a thumbs up and already bolting forward to catch up with Ginny, Neville, Dean and Fred. It was surreal. They were under attack by the undead, a pile of bricks and flames – flames that would eventually also kill them – the only thing holding the creatures at bay thus far, and they were somehow all moving calmly.
It reminded her of fire drills as a kid at school.
At least they wouldn't suffocate. Bubblehead charms were excellent for that.
Within minutes everyone reached the ground level on the far side of the building, the smoke down here almost non-existent, the building large enough to be taking awhile to burn.
The first floor here also lacked windows, so Dean used a keyhole to scout it out.
The way he jerked away from it told them all they needed to know.
"There's two dozen of them."
Kally watched the Muggle girl's face pale considerably, Amarante heaving an irritated sigh as he adjusted two large duffels on his shoulder, something clanking within them. "Now what?"
There was plenty of undead to go around, all being attracted by the fires burning on the opposite side of the building. Death Eaters could still be in the sky, the fire in the building would soon spread, and they had to get out on foot.
Only now they had to get through the throngs of undead, and they had no way of knowing if any of them had superhuman strength.
The two Weasley twins looked at one another, identical, manic grins crossing their faces.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Swamp?"
"Swamp."
Ginny, Neville, and Dean all suddenly grinned.
Regulus just groaned. "We're all going to die."
ECOTS
They were all shockingly silent.
Harry's fist slammed into the nearest tree, the impact painful, but enough to answer his question and keep him awake.
They'd been walking for the better part of five hours, it well past three in the morning, and he'd taken to doing that recently.
It was better than slamming it into Dumbledore.
Heaving several hard breaths, thinking on the fact that Ginny and Kaylens could be dead by now, he again steeled himself. They had to move on. This hadn't been the one.
Harry drug himself back to an erect, rigid posture, staring deep into the woods. The light of the remaining dove had gone out minutes before, but he hadn't needed it to direct him. They were close. Ever since they'd been moving the forest had felt more and more wrong, the twisted darkness of the place crawling across his skin like a plague of insects.
Now his fist bled, and a tingling had already begun, tracing its way aberrantly across the damaged knuckles. Healing: he was cursedly aware that it would start soon. It was slow, not instant the way Kaylens brow had healed at the Battle of Grimmauld, but it was still a hell of a lot faster than nature had ever intended.
Harry didn't know what the hell was happening to him.
His malachite gaze shot through the darkened woods, seeing all of it in stark, crystal clarity. The others were all attempting to light the way with Lumos charms, even Ron, but not Harry.
He could see everything.
He set off at a fast clip, Ron bitching about no need for an early morning jog. Ignoring that, not wanting to say enough to give Dumbledore any type of opening, he found himself damn near shocked by footsteps somehow keeping pace with his.
Luna had come up alongside him, the others hanging back still. Even Dumbledore was smart enough to know when he shouldn't be bothered. Luna though apparently didn't care.
Either that or they'd taken a group vote and decided that she was the least likely one he'd kill.
It'd been over two hours since he'd found out Dumbledore had betrayed the others. Harry's entire body was still vibrating with the barely controlled anger, but even that kind of anger would abate eventually. Fight or flight, adrenaline itself, could not be maintained inevitably.
Casting a cutting look towards his friend he merely ground, "Yes?" as if she were an irritating sort of fly.
She appeared non-flummoxed, and simply smiled in the darkness. "You were quiet, Harry. I thought you could use some company."
Despite himself he actually scoffed, uttering not a word. Instead Harry just started walking faster, feeling the other part of Voldemort's soul calling to him.
His scar throbbed now, but not in a painful way. Instead…it was more eager. It wanted to find its own kind, it wanted to be reunited. How in the hell someone could split their own soul into that many pieces, when it was against every natural law, he would never know.
"The horcrux is a tree isn't it?"
Harry's cutting gaze shot to her, the wizard stepping over a downed tree branch. For what it was worth, in his anger, any other accromantulas had stayed far, far away. "What makes you think that?"
"Because you keep attacking them." Luna made it all sound so simple.
She was also right. What he could feel, hear inside his own mind drawing him closer….whatever it was stretched up from the earth itself and high into the night sky, and in the Forbidden Forest there was only one thing that could do that.
Trees.
Luna snagged his elbow and linked hers through his, it taking every ounce of Harry's self-control to avoid doing something drastic that would physically harm her, or worse: hurt her feelings. The last thing he needed was a crying girl. Instead, the shorter witch somehow magically keeping pace with him, he cast an odd look down at their linked arms, only just resisting the urge to shake her off. "You know," he told her bitterly, "I'm not exactly in a cuddly mood, Luna."
The Ravenclaw smiled serenely. "I know, which is why you need someone to for you. Kally's not here, so I'll substitute until she gets back." Once again Luna had said this so matter-of-factly that there was no room for argument. As if the universe were really that simple. "She won't mind."
It was almost like they weren't in search of a horcrux, walking through a part of the Forbidden Forest so thickly laced with dark magic that it literally swallowed the wandlight, accromantula webs high overhead, with a Headmaster that had betrayed them all for strategy, while their friends were probably dying at the hands of Death Eaters.
Harry's entire form stiffened regardless, an invisible knife twisting in his chest. Luna would substitute for Kally until she got back...
He could only hope she was right. Kaylens needed to get back. He didn't want to think about why.
Sucking in a frigid breath, he glared into the night. Luna was Luna. She always was move observant than anyone else, and he was darkly certain the witch could see things the rest of them couldn't.
It shouldn't have surprised him then, when she lifted her free hand and pointed directly to a particularly old looking oak, the thing stretching unnaturally high, dwarfing even the Giant Sequoias of the American West.
Oaks did not grow that high.
Harry felt his scar beginning to throb, a distant thrum within him telling him they were here.
They had found the horcrux.
Extricating himself from Luna's hold, he walked towards it, wand out and ready. It was almost peaceful really.
Luna attempted to follow, only for a sudden sound of pain to cut from her throat.
Harry whirled around, seeing Luna's entire form swallowed by a sudden, gaping hole in the moss-coated ground.
He didn't think.
He jumped in after her, barely hearing Ron and Hermione screaming their names.
ECOTS
Things had gone terribly wrong.
A resounding BOOM filled the room, so damn loud that it nearly tore out her eardrums.
They'd had maybe ninety seconds of calm before another earth-shattering shudder had torn through the building, part of the floor elsewhere obviously collapsing. That had been followed by the sound of feet pounding upstairs, the undead things having gotten past the fire wall and inside.
Amarante and Tres had slammed the door to their room shut only seconds before the undead hoards started pounding at it.
An impact, rather like a battering ram, nearly sent the two wizards flying off their feet. Tres winced. "At least these are the weaker ones," he tried to jest.
"Yeah, you get one of the stronger ones and they just tear the door right off the hinges, not so much as a hi, how do ya do asked."
"Rather rude of them."
Another BANG sent Amarante's eyes nearly crossing. "Oh yeah," he grunted, "ya think?"
The ten of them were now trapped in a small, first floor room, zombies on either sides of the doors, Death Eaters invariably up in the sky, and smoke was starting to creep through the cracks.
"There's no sodding way that is going to work!" Ginny hissed, looking like she was doing the calculations. "It took you two at least half an hour to make the swamp that big! You can't just stroll out there and try that! They'll tear you apart!"
Fred and George stoically smirked, making quite the display of cracking their knuckles, rolling their shoulders, swinging their arms, and in general imitating someone about to run a Muggle marathon. "Open to suggestions."
Kalliandra still wasn't following entirely, but it sounded like they could make some kind of joke swamp that the zombies would get stuck in. That wouldn't help them with the Death Eaters, but they had multiple problems at this point.
Outside, overhead, they could hear maniacal laughter, the Death Eaters resorting to taunts. "Bit hot in there for you?"
"Aw I thought Phoenixes liked fire!"
Dean frowned, but Kally winced. "How long do you two need to make a swamp?" she asked, well aware that they were inevitably about to die anyway.
Fred and George took long enough making mock finger calculations, which only slightly resembled actual mathematics, that Regulus finally did give into the urge to hex one of them right in the ass.
"Ow!" George muttered, rubbing his hindquarters. "Fine, fine…for a small swamp, two minutes?"
"Just need enough of those things and the Death Eaters preoccupied so that the rest of this lot," Fred gestured at everyone present, "can hold the rest of them back."
Kally drug her hands over her head, the bubblehead charm feeling odd as she tried to think. It was a numbers game. They were outnumbered, and needed to reduce that. "Okay," she finally said, "I think I can do that." She'd been practicing with McGonagall.
The twins both eyed her shrewdly, Neville and Ginny doing the same. They already knew what she was thinking.
Ginny actually opened her mouth to possibly protest, only Neville cut her off. "Okay, Kally you do…your thing," rounding on Amarante and Tres, who were still holding the door closed, he winced, "you two keep doing that. Don't move."
"Oh yeah, because letting disgruntled gents that wanted to eat my innards was at the top of my to do list for the day," Amarante griped.
Neville ignored him, pointing at Ginny and Dean. "You both, soon as Kally does her thing, you take opposite sides of the door and severing hex the heads off any zombie you see getting near, Regulus-"
The wizard hissed almost irately. "I do not need some sixth year fancying himself a strategist to provide me with the mind numbingly simple directive of 'defend against the Death Eaters.'"
Neville smirked grimly. "Good. You and I will handle the bastards on brooms then, while Fred and George swampify the hell out of downtown Dublin."
"Might I suggest," Fred stated with mock diplomacy, clearly addressing Neville and Regulus, "fireworks?"
George grinned with barely concealed glee. "Yup, with all that serving of the Dark Lord I bet those cowl-faces really could use some midnight glee. A show would be lovely this time of night."
To everyone's utmost shock, a slow, strange expression crossed Regulus' face, one that almost resembled a smile. "Well," he stated slowly, "who doesn't like fireworks?"
At that Fred actually sputtered, elbowing his twin. "Would ya look at that? He's going for it?"
And then a harsh, metallic clack broke through the room, everyone's gazes darting towards it.
The Muggle girl held a Glock 45, and had just chambered a round, her blue gaze steely as she clipped another round to her belt. She didn't even glance up at the looks they were giving her. "These things," she stated calmly, "really dislike being shot in the head."
The girl continued inspecting her firearm, looking for all-the-world like an avenging, exotic creature from some type of mythology – now that she was healing. Coffee-coloured skin, blue eyes that were so blue they looked almost out of place, and inky black hair halfway down her back in a low slung ponytail had the Weasley twins somewhat gaping.
Fred and George both made simultaneous sputtering sounds, the distinct sounds of them each claiming, "Dibs," heard.
The girl's impossibly blue eyes flickered up, narrowing like a hunter pursuing a particularly irritating rodent, the Weasley twins both straightening up instantly.
Another pound against the door reminded them of the urgency of the situation, the sudden sound of things slamming into the roof of the building, obviously hexes from the Death Eaters, loud.
They clearly weren't content to just sit back and enjoy their Order of the Phoenix bonfire anymore.
BANG!
The door to the stairwell splintered, followed by a sudden and new BAM from the door leading to the outside. That door though…
A hinge tore off, flying across the room and embedding itself into the wall directly across.
"Shit!"
Now both doors were being attacked, Fred and George throwing themselves against that one, straining to hold it. "Let me guess!" George bellowed, "that's a strong one?"
"Now or never," Tres growled.
Kally was already crouched down by the base of the door, near Fred and George's feet and yanking her gloves off, shoving the bare skin of her palms directly down on the cold concrete floor.
Regulus snarled, but she ignored him, her eyes already fluttering closed, trying to mentally drown out the sounds of the doors breaking down. Every BAM made her nearly jump, as did Regulus' growl. "I might already be infected," she protested back, somehow not panicking about that quite yet, "besides…this is easier." If she could feel the ground with her actual skin…
"What the hell does she mean she might be-"
"Not the time, Dean."
"Oh yeah, did I forget to," BAM, "mention that? We got our bubblehead charms knocked off and cut up a fair bit." Fred sounded almost jovial. "That hospital was a real house of horrors."
Desperate, trying to concentrate, Kalliandra slowed her breathing. Each breath was coming quicker now, swifter, the deathly chill filling her lungs. The sounds of the others shouting grew to a quiet hum around her, other senses suddenly far more important.
It only took her a moment.
Practice with McGonagall had paid off. Pinpricks of golden magic crawled over her fingers, sliding over her skin like dripping water, Kalliandra gathering the magic to her…
She reached out.
The speed of it, the feel of it as her magic snapped outwards in every direction was intense. A pressure filled the air, as if the room's occupants had been suddenly shoved into a submarine and dunked down deep into the ocean's depths, the room almost pressurized.
Kally barely heard the sudden, uncomfortable sounds everyone around her made. She wasn't looking to hurt them. Instead…
Her magic slithered in all directions, crawling across the flooring and sliding beneath both doorways, suddenly meeting dual barricades of things that were unnatural¸ things that could no longer think for themselves, things that were dead, but also not.
It wasn't like in Hogsmeade, when she'd been able to feel the energy pulsating from the living, evaporating from the dead. The energy of the recently expired felt almost like steam, still there but sizzling. This though…this just felt wrong.
The pressure in her head began building, her breaths growing more and more ragged.
"Getoff me!" Dean roared. "Somethings wrong with her!"
The sounds of the scuffle went unnoticed, the frigid world taking on a hotter quality, every nerve within her burning with intensity as she felt those horrible, terrible things. They still had energy left, but it was nothing compared to that of the living. Just touching their energy though…it made her sick.
There were at least forty of them, Dean's count having been off. One strong one was right outside their front door, four weaker ones on the stairwell, others trying to crawl up the building like insects, yet constantly sliding back down. Others were just waiting outside.
Counting….she could feel the tiniest traces of life left within all of them.
They were so outnumbered.
Struggling, Kally barely managed a whimper, "Forty…there's forty…" Breathing unsteadily, she pressed, "I can get a few near the building…"
Kalliandra didn't wait for Fred and George to respond, instead drawing, and this time…
It was easier.
Snapping the threads reanimating the dead, when those threads were already so tenuous and frayed, was easy compared to killing someone fully alive.
The pressure within the room grew, the sound of things dropping near the doorway beginning to be heard-
"Go!" she gasped.
Fred and George burst out the front door, Neville behind them as they shouted complex words in Latin that she had not a prayer of understanding.
Shaking, trying to down more of them, she let her magic fly, sliding from creature to creature in the cold January night, reaching out and remorselessly ripping their last remaining tendrils of life away.
It was so, so easy compared to what it'd taken to snap Bagman's lifeline, months ago. Now though there was no lingering scent of spilled butterbeer, Potter wasn't next to her, and it was only her and the others desperately fighting to get away.
Kalliandra got to fourteen when she lost count. Heart racing, fluttering unnaturally within her chest, her breaths became gasps, the non-witch screaming and never once realizing that she was.
It was getting harder, each thread taking something from her-
The energy snapped viciously back at her, slamming into her like a wrecking ball, Kally's form going limp and bashing into the ground face first. Around her she could hear shouting, feel impacts, vibrations, the building shaking…
She was still conscious.
She could barely move.
Kally's nose had started to bleed as a firm grip snared her by the back, hauling her up and shoving her forwards. "Don't even think about it," Regulus threatened, "you're the only one of them I can actually stand."
She had enough consciousness left in her to realize that Regulus was half-carrying, half-dragging her, throwing hexes at the sky. She had enough consciousness left to blearily see a man crashing down to the ground on a broom, blood spewing as he slammed amidst a limp pile of the undead. She had enough left to dimly realize that she'd shoved far more than fourteen of those creatures into a permanent afterlife, that Ginny and Dean's severing and blasting charms were taking out more, that Amarante and Tres had joined in, that someone distantly was shooting a gun, a shot taking a creature dangerously near her and Regulus in the head, splattering and then…
There was a bog, in the middle of downtown Dublin. The rest of those things seemed to be stuck in an elaborate type of swamp that closely mirrored the Brea tar pits, Fred and George Weasley whooping loudly as it grew, the swamp somehow growing and following the group as they fled, chasing after them, cranes cawing and frogs ribbiting while zombies fell into its murky depths.
Kaliandra had enough time to feel somewhat confused.
After that her entire world went black.
ECOTS
Gravity was not his friend.
It was a quick drop.
Roots tore vindictively at his skin on his short way down, clumps of dirt breaking off in the impromptu sink hole and raining down, Harry slamming into the dirt right besides Luna. The impact was still enough to drive the wind from his lungs, the traitorous things seizing up and sending him coughing raggedly.
Luna was somewhere besides him, coughing loudly herself.
Well, at least they were alive, he thought dryly. Cracking his gaze he hazily saw a good three meters of empty space above him, the dust and dirt thick in the air giving it an odd brownish tint. Roots and rocks stuck out of the dirt walls, making for an absolutely lovely, tangled-looking climb out.
Luna hacked besides him.
Apparently she was choking on dirt and dust too. "Leave it to you," he groaned, "to find the one and only sink hole." Gingerly shoving himself up from where he'd lain flat on his back, he heaved a grateful breath, peering up at their impromptu trap. "Well isn't this just-"
His words caught in his throat, for that was when Harry caught sight of Luna, seeing why she was actually coughing.
Several roots coiled tightly around Luna's slender throat, the ragged edges digging into her skin and cutting it, drawing bloodas they attempted to squeeze the life from the ordinarily peaceful Ravenclaw. Her lips were parted, a choking gasp coming from them, her normally protuberant blue eyes bulging.
The muscle in his chest nearly stopped.
"NO!"
Harry threw himself across the mud-laden ground, fingers snaring at the first root his grip touched. In a frenzied panic he attempted to rip it from her throat.
That was a mistake, only causing a cry of pain to rise up from Luna as he inadvertently pulled it tighter. Above them someone was shouting, the entire night lighting up with spell-fire.
He knew…he knew the others were already under damn attack as well, but Harry only had time for one damn crisis at a time.
He all but leapt on top of her, shouting, "Hold still!" Luna made a choked sound that he swore to hell sounded like agreement, the Ravenclaw's fingers somehow already shoved between her very breakable looking neck and a ragged, splintery root that was trying to crush it, his friend desperately tugging at it.
Luna's hand hold was the only thing preventing it from killing her right then and there. Never before had her fingers looked so delicate, so small.
When he pulled at the roots they just got tighter.
Half straddling her, both of his hands on the damn things, a bolt of frightening realization struck him: pulling on the roots wasn't going to work.
Harry snared his wand and aimed it at the largest one-
He didn't even see it coming.
A root slithered out of the dirt wall, sliding out of it like a sadistic worm right out at home, coming up from behind….
Then it bitch slapped him so hard that he flew off her, head slamming into the opposite dirt wall of the pit. Harry saw black, spots rifling through his vision. The sound of loose dirt raining down surrounded him, and it took him a dark moment to realize that the actual roots were alive.
And then something grabbed his hand.
Harry choked loudly, scrambling too late.
It was already gone. The root had snagged his wand right out of his hand.
The damn roots were playing a sadistic game of keep-away with his wand, the eleven inches of Holly already being passed up the sink hole from root tip to root tip, the ends acting like fingers on the ends of spindly hands.
Harry scrambled to his knees and lunged, fingertips grazing it and just missing. Looking around, desperately, he saw Luna starting to slump over, the sounds of her gagging lessening, her feet kicking less. "Hold on!" The desperate tilt to his tone terrified him.
Above him he could see the night blazing with a new life, flashes of yellow, green, purple and blue lighting it up as the others defended against themselves against an unknown foe. Watching his wand get passed around, he had a damn good idea what the new foe was.
The trees were alive.
Harry was on his feet, looking around desperately, and with no other options he took two steps and launched himself at the dirt wall, shoving a foot against the compacted soil to vault himself upwards-
This time his hand did snag it, "Diffindo!" tearing from his throat the instant his fingers so much as touched the Holly's end, a cutting charm repurposed into a curse destroying the things that had stolen it to begin with.
Both he and his wand dropped down, crashing back into the pit. Harry incoherently shouted several more times, slashing and attacking the roots overhead. They weren't attacking him, they were just trying to keep him from Luna. Luna.
His gaze jerked to her, finding Luna's eyes barely fluttering, the roots coiling steadily around her throat, her chest, like a self-satisfied boa constrictor.
The sickening feeling that launched through his chest was enough to nearly send him retching, Harry somehow overcoming that and moving.
"Sectumsempra!"
The curse slammed into the largest root, the one crushing Luna's chest. A splintering crack filled the night air. The root may have splintered off, the life dying from it, but it still remained solidly around her, still crushing her.
Harry lunged to tear it away with his bare damn hands, only for a root to shoot up right out of the damn ground, nearly impaling him. Jerking back he snarled, "Diffindo!" Wand slashing, Harry darkly realized something.
He'd have to kill every damn root here if he wanted to get to Luna.
There were too many.
A volley of hexes and charms was thrown out, Harry aiming away from his friend as he combatted the walls, the things coiling around Luna's legs, the one around her chest now reduced to mere ash.
But the roots kept coming, the Forbidden Forest's towering trees having a limitless supply, Harry standing there, heaving a horrid breath as the things writhed unnaturally around him. Not one made a move for him so long as he stood still. They only attacked her. And they only attacked him if he tried to get to her.
Luna was entirely non-responsive, and he unable to get to her.
The panic rising in him was palpable, the knowledge that the brain could only go without oxygen for so long present and damn real.
He needed to approach this differently. He needed Hermione, but she was above ground with her own problems. Think.
He had to prevent them from getting into their self-created pit.
A second later Harry threw a permanent sticking charm at the walls around them, the dirt walls becoming a trap for the roots shooting out of it, the squelching, immovable sound satisfying him deeply as the attack suddenly abated.
Though they hadn't been attacking him.
A concrete solidifying spell was thrown at the pit's base for good measure, just in case any other ones got the grand idea of trying to impale his ass again. The crackling of it working, the damp soil rapidly changing to gray cement as roots pounded into it from the other side gave him a chance to finally reach Luna.
It was screwed up. The pit was only two meters wide, yet he'd been unable to so much as touch her, to try to save her, because of the viciousness of the onslaught.
"Luna," he muttered, struggling to unwind the one around her throat, her entire form limp. "Luna come on." Luna's head lolled as he supported it, unwrapping the wooden assailant until the bare skin of her bleeding throat was exposed.
The bleeding wasn't bad. She wasn't spurting. She'd be fine. She had to be.
Harry's fingers were pressed against her throat in an instant, finding her trachea and sliding posteriorly, searching for her carotid.
Her pulse was there, but barely.
She wasn't breathing.
A dagger of panic shot through him, Harry's hand shooting to the back of her neck, feeling along her vertebrate, trying to palpate whether or not her neck had been snapped in the assault or not. He wasn't panicking. He couldn't afford to. Professor Gai had taught them that, the wizard appearing to be a blithering imbecile at times but a damn wizard at first aid, and he'd taught them the safety protocols for moving someone with a head or neck injury in an emergency.
He didn't feel anything, that meant…
He could move her.
Harry's arm was drug around Luna's back in an instant, shifting her so that she lay on the ground. Tapping her face the whole damn time he repeated her name, getting absolutely nothing out of her.
In an instant he was pinching her nose, tilting her head back, Harry pressing his mouth to hers and breathing for her. First one breath, then he pulled back, catching his own, counting to five, six…
He gave her a second breath, again counting.
Luna Lovegood wasn't breathing, and Harry suddenly found himself shaking.
He pressed his mouth back against hers, desperate. By the tenth breath his heart was hammering, everything in him damn near quaking at the prospect. He fumbled for her neck again, still finding a weak pulse, Harry hanging onto that like a literal lifeline.
Some of the roots had been small, others large, the things nearly crushing her. The internal damage that she could have…if her heart stopped…
He wasn't sure she'd survive full blown chest compressions, given she'd already been crushed.
Harry gave her another desperate breath, the hiss of air making it down her windpipe the only reassuring sound in the utter silence. Luna's chest rose, her shirt torn in places that any red blooded male would find interesting as hell under other circumstances, but she didn't move.
The pop of apparition besides him he ignored. Luna needed air and she needed it now. Anything else could wait. He hadn't been able to protect her, but he should have been. The looming figure standing over him as he gave her another breath heaved one of its own, Harry cursedly aware that Dumbledore stood there, watching.
"Harry…" Dumbledore's voice sounded like it had aged decades. "I believe now is the time to-"
"No," he hissed, sucking in a breath, not wanting to hear anything akin to giving up. Hatefully he gave Luna another breath, his hand once again finding her pulse. "She's still alive-"
"I only meant," the Headmaster stated, sounding almost saddened, "to take her to the hospital wing. Poppy will have more success than we will here."
Between breaths Harry paused, heaving several quick oxygenating ones of his own. Dumbledore was standing there, dozens of root-tip-sized tears in the wizard's robe. Above ground the fight must have been just as frenzied.
Harry knew he was right. They were in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, miles from help, at night. If anything attacked them again he'd have to stop breathing for her, and then Luna really would lose the rest of her pulse. Dumbledore could portkey inside the castle or apparate with her to the edge of the grounds at the very least, cutting the travel time down by hours.
Not to mention artificial respirations contained very little oxygen. It was only enough to temporarily sustain life, it was not permanent. Long enough on just that alone and the person would still sustain brain damage. He both cursed and thanked Professor Gai for teaching them that much.
He wasn't sure he trusted him, but…he had no choice.
Giving her another quick breath, Harry darted up, gesturing at her limp form, Luna's pale hair splayed out messily around her face. "Fix her." It was almost a threat.
Dumbledore hesitated only a moment, only pausing to cast Harry a meaningful look. "You still must-"
"I'm aware," he viciously bit. "Don't worry. I'll kill your precious horcrux." If Ginny, Neville or Kaylens had been hurt, if Fred and George had been damaged, or worse…it wouldn't be for no damn reason.
For a second the Headmaster's blue eyes met his, the half-moon spectacles no longer grandfatherly. The man crouched down besides Luna, an ancient hand laying upon the girl's shoulder, Dumbledore pausing for but a moment.
"I hope one day, Harry, you might understand…I would not have sent them had I not believed them fully able to survive the attack."
Harry didn't even have a chance to reply, for a moment later both Luna and Dumbledore were gone.
It left him with nothing to do other than to stand there, breathing hard, shaking.
Something in his eye was burning, Harry dragging his sleeve hastily over it, hating this. Kaylens' words from that very day came shooting back to him, feeling like ice. …it's a war, and even when we do win, a lot of people are going to die….
Godric he hoped she was wrong.
He hoped even more fiercely that he'd see her again. Her, Ginny, Luna.
Dirt flaked down, falling by his feet. Looking up, he saw Ron hovering at the top of the pit, eyeing the sticking charms with some disgust. "Brilliant mate," came the sarcastic commentary, Ron's wand aiming at the sides, "Cemento," fixing the issue.
The sides of the pit hardened over, the sticking charms now glazed with a permanent cement. Harry felt sick. Luna could be dying, the others were in plague-infested Dublin, probably being attacked by Death Eaters, and here he was stuck in a damn hole in the ground.
Ron was now laying on his stomach, reaching a hand down. "Think you can reach me, Harry?"
Harry's jaw hardened, looking around at the bottom of the pit. Yeah…he could reach him. Harry shoved a foot against the side of it and jumped up as hard as he could.
He caught Ron by the wrist, his friend's new strength – courtesy of werewolf blood – yanking him brutally out and tossing him to the ground with a resounding thud.
For a second Harry just lay there, breathing hard and grimacing. His mind was still with Luna. That was the second time he'd had to breath for someone else, only this time it'd actually winded him. That had been on top of everything else.
Harry wasn't sure how much time passed, but eventually light footsteps approached. Looking up, battered and beaten, he found Hermione standing there. Her brown hair hung limply around her face, the usual curl beaten down, twigs and leaves sticking out of it.
Her jeans had a thorn-covered vine still sticking to them.
Besides him came a loud groan, Ron rolling over onto his back and making a face. The entire right side of his best mate's cheek was smudged with dirt, a dark bruise already forming around his neck.
Harry about choked on his words, more winded than even he'd realized. "So," he grunted, "you two played a game of 'fun with twigs' too then?"
The look Hermione shot him was one of warring relief and annoyance. "Dumbledore used some kind of weed killer spell," she said quietly, her eyes looking him over worryingly. Her lips parted, as if ready to admonish him for doing some brash again, like diving headlong into a pit was brash, only-
"What happened to Luna?"
Ron's interjection was almost worried, something he just about never sounded, his question cutting off any possible reprimand Hermione could have had.
Yeah, it should have occurred to Harry that Ron would have seen what was happening. Even in the dark, even though Ron was still learning how to use it, werewolf vision would have given him a leg up.
Grimacing, shoving himself up onto his elbows, that nauseous wave came back anew. "A bunch of roots got her neck and chest," he relayed numbly. "She's alive, but not breathing, so Dumbledore took her."
Hermione's mouth opened and closed twice before she managed to formulate words. "She's not…"
"No." His expression darkened, eyes cutting across the forest to the damn tree in question, the one Luna had been able to recognize even before he had. "She called out the horcrux, and about a second later the entire forest attacked." Shoving himself the rest of the way up, almost gingerly, he growled, "Call me dumb but I think it was pissed."
Extending a hand down to Ron, his best mate wore an almost unreadable expression. Finally he lifted his arm, snared his wrist, and allowed himself to be tugged up. "She better," the Weasley stated, sounding eerily like Harry had only hours earlier when threatening Dumbledore, "be okay."
"Yeah," Harry half croaked, guilt daggering through him. "I tried but…I wasn't fast enough." Dragging a hand through his unruly hair, he felt sick.
The looks that both Ron and Hermione shot him clearly conveyed their skepticism. "Uh huh," Ron ground. "So says the wizard that snapped an accromantula's neck in half."
Harry's hand froze where it was, his gaze narrowing, breathing getting harder. "I don't know," he stated with brutal honestly, "how I did that." All he knew was he'd rather wanted to snap Dumbledore in half. The accromantula had just shown up at the right time to give him a convenient outlet.
Ron was right though. He should have been able to do something.
Hermione was gnawing on her lip, looking almost upset, seeing through him as always. "You know that's not your fault, Harry. You can't protect everyone all the time."
It took considerable restraint to avoid balking at her. "Spare me the intervention," he grumbled, turning back to the task at hand. Gaze fixating hatefully on the tree, the one that needed some serious pruning, he growled, "We have work to do."
Hermione now just frowned. "Is Dumbledore coming back? Shouldn't we wait-"
"I don't care where Dumbledore is," he half snapped, regretting it almost instantly from the hurt look on Hermione's face. Turning to look her in the eye, he arched both of his eyebrows. "He threw our friends and family into the path of Death Eater's, Hermione. And I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit sick of his meddling." And that…
Harry actually meant. Even if he logically understood Dumbledore's reasoning, there were some lines that you just didn't cross.
Dumbledore had crossed it. Harry would figure out what to do about it later. Right now…
He had a horcrux to kill.
"Stay here," he half commanded, not seeing the irritated looks his friends shot him. He'd witnessed what that thing had done to Luna for just calling it out. He wasn't losing anyone else tonight. He couldn't.
Ron made an angered sound, moving with a clear intent to follow-
Harry spun around to stop them, but Hermione had already snagged Ron's arm, pulling him back. Looking between the two of them, glad that Hermione at least had listened, his voice vibrated painfully. "I can't… I can't lose anyone else tonight, alright?" Gesturing with his wand for them to just stay where they were, he half-begged, "Just…just stay there, please."
Harry didn't know which was worse: the bewildered look Ron was shooting him or the sympathetic one from Hermione.
Harry couldn't handle this. First Kaylens had to leave, then he'd gained the knowledge that Ginny, Neville, Fred and George might not return, and now Luna…
He couldn't lose them too.
Walking backwards, he just roughly ground, "Please."
Then Harry Potter turned around, finding the threshold he and Luna had crossed not minutes earlier.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry braced himself.
Then he stepped over it, walking around where the sink hole had opened up, and nothing happened. Nothing happened other than Ron bitterly tossing, "Oh yeah, Harry? What makes you think we'd be okay with losing you then? Huh?"
Harry paused, his back to his friends, entire body tensing for a long moment. Then he bitterly bit, "The things didn't attack me, Ron. They just….prevented me from helping Luna." Swallowing, nausea swelling so violently within him that he thought he'd physically be ill, he croaked, "So I think…." walking forward further, the bark of the tree now visible, "I can get closer…"
Harry was right. He was close to it. Close enough to see the way the bark was carved into runes in spots. Close enough to see how unnaturally thick the bark itself looked.
Close enough to feel the dark magic pulsating within.
But none of that was what disturbed him. What disturbed him was that the tree was making a quiet, barely discernable sound.
It sounded like a child crying.
ECOTS
He was on babysitting duty.
Remus couldn't be certain, but when Dumbledore had left after giving them their unbelievably drab night's assignment, he swore to Salazar Slytherin that the Headmaster had actually waggled his eyebrows at him, before winking in Tonks' direction and leaving.
Remus Lupin had stood there and sputtered for the better part of thirty seconds.
Nymphadora Tonks had somehow turned the leader of the Order of the Phoenix into nothing more than a meddling old romantic, that was somehow in on her grand plan for them to spend more time together. And now here he was, while other Order members were out and about doing important things for the war effort, stuck babysitting with her.
Surely Padfoot and Prongs were rolling in their graves.
"What," he growled threateningly, still staring at the closed door of his former quarters, "did you say to him?"
They were in his former quarters at Hogwarts, from years ago when he had been a Professor for that year's time span, and had it been under better circumstances Remus might have been enjoying himself.
As it was he was trapped, stranded at Hogwarts with Tonks and Emily Bothan.
Tonks made a dismissive sound. "Why Wolfy," she chided, sounding unbelievably innocent, "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're referring to."
Remus made a disbelieving, skeptical sound with his throat. "Oh I'm sure you do." Taking a seat on the settee nearest the stairs, he inclined a skeptical eyebrow. Tonks was not innocent. She was far from it. She was the antithesis of the very concept. He now had a whole catalog of images in his mind labeled 'Tonks naked derriere' to prove that.
Really, the witch had not been lying when she'd claimed she did yoga.
"Well, maybe just a little," the vile, evil blue-haired object of his nightly fantasies finally conceded. He blamed her entirely for them. Had she not broken through his wards and seduced him in his own bedroom his dreams would have remained as they had been for the past decade – unbelievably drab and conveniently devoid of Playwizard quality bodies.
Instead they were now filled with a multitude of images of her, looking any way he desired.
Oddly Remus found he preferred her, just her, in the exact same typical proportions she currently had. He didn't fantasize about her having a different nose or chin, different sized breasts or longer legs.
No, instead the damnable witch had him fantasizing about her, just as she was, the only variant her hair color and only that because she seemed to change it on a daily basis.
Remus Lupin growled in irritation. This was exactly what he had been concerned about – the witch was distracting.
Tonks just shot him a grin. He wouldn't be surprised if the cursed little minx was reading his thoughts. She'd even cornered him at Number 12 Grimmauld and gotten a good snog out of him, of which he'd found himself powerless to protest.
At some point he would learn to use important words around her, ones like 'no.'
Other than that, his campaign to avoid the witch he'd most recently slept with had been going quite well, right until today.
They had lost contact with the Order's Irish branch, and that included Emily's Muggle father, President Kenneth Bothan several weeks ago. Naturally the man's daughter was taking the lack of letters and 'phone calls' from her father hard.
Now Emily Bothan's wavy red hair hung in her face, the little girl's nose wrinkling as she stared mutely down at the ground.
So…they had been charged with babysitting duty. Sighing, Remus felt a stab of guilt. He'd been concerned about his own problems dealing with Nymphadora, when there was a child in need. Speaking of…
Tonks was kneeling in front of the girl, jingling a magical set of skeleton keys in front of her face, as if that would somehow cheer the ailing child up.
Then it occurred to Remus exactly what she was doing.
"Tonks, she is a child, not a dog," he reprimanded, waltzing over and snagging the keys out of her hand mid-jingle. Where did she even get these? He held them up demanding, "What are these even to?"
The now blue haired witch gaped at him, her mouth parting in shock. She also ignored his rather important question.
Remus sat down across from the two, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow challengingly at her, forgetting all about his previous concerns. He'd get her back for plotting against him with Dumbledore later. Now he had the matter of the child to deal with.
"I just thought they both would like shiny things," Tonks explained, practically pouting at him.
"She is also not," he said staidly, "a ferret." Those wiry weasels did harbor a preference for sparkly things. Pausing in consideration, he added, "Or a gold-digging woman who's biological clock is ticking."
Emily Bothan had glanced up, peeking at their ongoing conversation with the most miniscule signs of interest.
It was the first time Remus had seen the child so much as blink since their arrival, Dumbledore assuring them that 'she was a good child who would be back to her usual self in no time.' Remus hadn't been quite so sure about that. She'd been quite happy at Grimmauld, but the Order had decided, collectively, that she'd be safer at Hogwarts given the situation.
And by situation, he meant the one where her father had insisted on going back to Ireland to uphold his sworn duty to his people, even though his wife was dead and daughter was here.
Remus found himself inexplicably angered with the man. It might be war, but if anything were to happen to him then that child would become an orphan.
Tonks gave the child a pat on the head and a tweak of the ear, further making him frown – he'd have to have a long chat with her about the differences between a puppy and a child later – as she stood up, heading over to him.
Then Tonks plopped down onto the settee alongside him, sliding her arm nonchalantly through his and nuzzling up against him, whispering, "You were a Professor, so kids are your area of expertise. So…go." She made a gesture as if 'sicking' him on the kid.
Remus stared at her with a firm lack of amusement, and tried to not let her pleasing scent distract him. "Are you are implying that I can cheer someone up on command, just because they're a kid?" He seriously hoped not.
She nodded exuberantly.
Mooney groaned.
Emily just looked at them both from her position on the stairs leading up to the bedroom loft, her pale eyes looking sad.
Tonks held out one arm and gave a pat on his lap with the other. "Come on Emily, come have a big of a snuggle with us. I'm due because this one," tapping him now on the head consolingly, "is a bit grouchy."
Great, now she was also treating him like a dog.
"Perhaps," Remus stated with the patience of a wizarding war veteran, "young Emily would not like to sit and would instead like to play a game."
"Yes!" Tonks said, grinning wickedly. "Pin the tail on the Wolfy."
The look he shot Tonks openly questioned her sanity. "Come anywhere near me with a pin," he assured, "and I will see your head shaved bald in your sleep."
The metamorphmagus waggled her eyebrows. "Why you hound, I had no idea your tastes trended to that type of exotic."
He glared. "I'll lock you in a room with Crustantheus for a week."
Tonks smile disappeared, the woman looking horrified. However, that got the little girl's mouth to twitch. She'd obviously met Dumbledore's irritatingly dour doorknocker.
Still, the child did not seem to be about to move. In fact, she was preternaturally silent.
Still looking utterly betrayed, Tonks released her hold on his arm and leaned forward towards the girl, conjuring a few little birds out of her wand's end. The green, red and blue hummingbirds whizzed around the child's head so fast that it sent her auburn hair blowing in the breeze generated by their fast-moving wings.
This, at the very least, elicited a tiny smile from the girl.
"Come on, Emily," Tonks said with a smile, "you can talk to us. What's bothering you?"
Remus barely restrained the urge to tell Tonks what an asinine question that was, when the reason was obvious, only Emily decided to actually open her mouth and speak then.
Looking at them through a flurry of feathers, one of the hummingbirds now perched on the top of her head, the child sadly said, "I'm afraid your friends are going to die tonight." She sniffled, looking down. "And they're nice, but the mean things hunting them aren't."
Remus Lupin stared at the girl, glancing at Tonks, who had gone entirely ashen faced. "You told her what was happening tonight?" he hissed.
Tonks barely managed to blink, mumbling, "That's the problem Mooney…I didn't."
That was when Emily started singing a song, sticking out her fingers and letting the hummingbirds land on them. "Thrice betrayed, then three will die. At the eclipse the light will leave his eyes."
Remus stared, feeling as if the entire room had gone icy. The little girl's innocent voice just continued singing, her sing-song voice scarily not matching her chilling words.
"Thrice betrayed, then three will die. At the eclipse the light will leave his eyes."
ECOTS
The oak was massive. It was sprawling, its branches spread out in every direction, reaching towards the unseen night sky, out into the forest, and all the way down to the ground in places.
It looked like skeletal fingers had desperately sought help, unable to find it in time.
The crying though….it sounded like a damn child, Harry grimacing, his hand going to his scar and clutching at it, trying to mute the sound.
"Harry…" Hermione's voice reached him, calling from behind the invisible line he'd ordered them to not dare cross. "What's wrong?"
Shaking his head, his hand dropping abruptly from his scar, the crying continued. He didn't know why he asked, since he already knew the answer, but the words came regardless. "So, you don'thear it?"
"Hear what mate?" This time it was Ron that sounded bewildered, nervous.
Harry just shook his head, throat getting tight. There were no children here, so whatever he was hearing…
"What are you hearing, exactly, Harry?" Hermione too sounded nervous, like she was afraid of the answer. Harry almost didn't want to give it to her.
But he did.
"Like a kid," he told gravely, "sobbing. Scared." Without thinking his hand fell upon the tree, nothing happening. The only thing that did happen…was a feeling.
A feeling of the utmost, overwhelming loneliness he had ever experienced.
A child was alone, curled in the forest, left by himself for so very, very long.
Unable to move, Harry afraid to move, for to do so would be to leave the child all alone all over again, he found himself physically trembling.
Someone find me. Please find me!
This…this wasn't right. His throat was clenching, almost choking as he swallowed down a strangled sound.
I'll go back. I'll be good. I don't care that the other boys bully me. Please I'll be good.
Suddenly he knew. He knew what this horcrux was. He knew why it was crying, and Harry knew why only he could hear it.
"It's Voldemort's childhood innocence," he choked out, bowing his head against the trunk, both his hands now against it. "It-he…he was just a kid. He was scared." Everything…the orphanage, the lack of family, being in Slytherin house and hated by the other three, the fear at the end of every year when the Hogwarts Express returned. Others celebrated, but he would return to a lonely, crowded and cramped room where he'd barely see the light of day for months on end.
When he did he had been bullied, harassed, beat by the other children.
All of this, the years of sadness, hopelessness, swept through him like a tidal wave.
Harry Potter's gaze was wet. Riddle had been just a child.
And Voldemort had left that part of him out here, all alone.
Harry knew what he had to do.
Voldemort had created this horcrux first, ridding himself of the part of his soul that he had deemed weak early on. The creature he'd grown into had no use for such emotions as fear or loneliness, and in his childhood he'd had plenty.
No matter how innocent it was though…it had to die, so that Voldemort would too.
Remaining still for a moment, Harry felt rattled. Of all the things he'd expected to find, this hadn't been it. Not after the attack, Dumbledore's betrayal, the plague, everything. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered to it, "for what I have to do." Clenching his fingers tightly against the bark he gutturally promised, "I'll be with you soon though."
He would. He knew he would. Because if the childhood innocence had to die, because it was a part of him, then so did he.
Harry was a horcrux, and he knew now what that meant.
Giving it strength, willing it to know how cursedly sorry he was, Harry heaved a heavy breath, and then…
He stepped back, wand raised, scared to say the words. He couldn't. How could he? Voldemort had set the trap on the perimeter of this horcrux, rigging it to attack any who drew near it, but the innocence within it…
The horcrux could not defend itself, no matter what darkness had created it. That was perhaps the darkest thing about it: it had trapped the soul of a child permanently within it, and that child now begged for someone to please find him and rescue him from these dark woods.
Ultimately it was Ron who gave him the strength, his best friend urging him from behind. "Harry…you have to. You can do this." Ron, who didn't even understand that he was going to be murdering a child, and yet…
His two best friends did not push him further, nor did they try to draw near. As always, they seemed to understand what he was going through, not asking questions he was unready to answer.
Blinking, gaze once again burning, Harry felt a lump in his throat. That was exactly the problem, he knew he could. This horcrux…it didn't suspect it. It didn't expect it from him.
The boy expected him to possibly abandon him, all alone in the dark, just like Voldemort had years ago. To leave him out here in the forest, frightened. The boy's innocence would never expect to be fully destroyed though. The other horcruxes….they would, and they would fight back, but this one…this one with all its innocence….
It did not see it coming.
"Incendio."
The first spark licked at the base of the tree, the flames quickly forming, rising. The lush, green vines covering the branches began to burn, shriveling as they blackened, disintegrating into ash.
As the bark caught fire, the screaming began. Hysterical, scared, frightened.
Around them roots, vines…they struggled against Dumbledore's weed killing spell, trying to attack but too weak to succeed. They were the only defense that Voldemort had left for his childhood self. While they struggled, the tree fully ignited.
The innocent boy that Tom Riddle has once been cried.
And so did Harry.
As it burned before him, the crying, the screaming for help went unheeded. For the boy that was Tom Riddle no help had ever come, not now, not ever. Instead Voldemort had abandoned him out here in the Forbidden Forest, and now…
Harry Potter burned what was left of him.
It was true. Help did not come for everyone, but a release…
That was all he could give him.
Deep in the Forbidden Forest, Harry Potter cried.
