(Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows—Chapter 31: The Battle of Hogwarts)
Verity was deep in a dream about making Felix Felicis in a cracked cauldron that sprouted two new leaks for every one she mended. Professor Slughorn peered over her shoulder, saying unhelpful things like, "Potter did this perfectly the first time," and, "Professor Snape spoke so highly of you; I'm afraid he seems mistaken," despite her protests that her cauldron was at fault, not her skills as a potioneer. Suddenly, Professor Slughorn said, in a high, sharp voice most unlike his own, "Wake up, stupid!"
Verity shook her head. "What?"
"Wake up!"
Verity opened one eye to find herself in bed with her sheets twisted around herself and every light in their dormitory on.
"Get up, MacLaren."
"Parkinson, wh-what?" Verity asked. They had only just gone to bed.
"Professor Slughorn said to get everybody ready. The Dark Lord is coming, and we're evacuating." She sighed, as though she would rather brave the Dark Lord.
Verity, on the other hand, leapt out of bed before Pansy finished talking. She dove into her trunk and resurfaced with a black dressing gown, which she shoved her arms through before returning to her trunk. When next she came up for air, her hands were full with her wand, her last few Skiving Snackboxes and her box of potions. She tried for another few handfuls, but Pansy grabbed her shoulder.
"Enough!" she snapped. "We're supposed to be in the Great Hall now." Verity shoved what little she'd grabbed into her pockets and stood. At the last moment, she reached under the edge of her covers and tugged out Fred's last letter.
The Great Hall was dark when the Slytherins arrived. Filch hobbled around lighting candles, but the main light still came from the bright stars on the enchanted ceiling. As they filed into their seats, a tense silence burned with suppressed whispers and racing pulses.
It took minutes for the House tables to fill: no one wanted to goof off. Verity's heart leapt as she saw a familiar face at the Gryffindor table; Professor McGonagall spoke, but she didn't hear her. Somehow, Fred and George and their entire family were at Hogwarts. He had been scanning the Slytherin table for her, because their eyes met and they smiled, the smiles of people who were tired and afraid but had their night improved a bit.
"...Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."
A blond boy stood at the Hufflepuff table. Verity recognized him: Ernie Macmillan, a good kid all around. "And what if we want to stay and fight?" he said. Several people applauded; one third year Gryffindor piped up with "Hear, hear!"
"If you are of age, you may stay," said Professor McGonagall.
Fred shook his head. No, you're not staying. Verity tried to arrange her face into an and-you-think-you-can-stop-me look, but her attention was caught by Lavinia Justice, the sixth year next to her, waving her arm in the air.
"Where's Professor Snape?" she demanded once she had Professor McGonagall's attention.
"He has," replied Professor McGonagall, "to use the common expression, done a bunk." Much cheering, though not from the Slytherins. Verity fixed her thoughts on Fred to steady herself. "...move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects—"
Professor McGonagall's authoritative voice was drowned out by another, a high, cold, terrible voice that echoed through the Hall, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Verity had never heard it before, but as it spoke a chill gripped her, and she knew it must be him. The one they were fleeing.
"I know you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me." She clutched the edge of the bench. "Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. You have until midnight."
The voice faded, leaving a silence more terrible than the words. Harry Potter had come back. That was why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named waited at their very gates, with her parents and the Malfoys and the Death Eaters. That was why Fred and George and the others were in the Great Hall. Why Potter himself was here, on the other hand, she hadn't the slightest idea. She wondered with a pang if Draco waited outside as well.
Everyone in the room weighed Harry's life against theirs.
Pansy made her decision first. She got up, trembling, and cried, "But he's there! Potter's there! Somebody grab him!"
Crabbe and Goyle half-stood, ready to obey Pansy, but the other Houses got to their feet first. Wands out, three quarters of Hogwarts stood down Draco's few remaining lieutenants, daring them to "grab" Harry Potter.
"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall said coldly. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."
Verity stood with the rest of the Slytherins and cast another glance to Fred. He smiled reassuringly, but mouthed one word. Go. Reluctantly, she turned to leave. Then a mad thought struck her. Her mother was outside the castle. She ran.
Verity hurried toward the Forbidden Forest. She didn't like the idea (she had spent seven years keeping far from it, not over-fond of the creatures inside), but it was the only place she could stay undercover. She crept along the edge of the trees, trying to keep track of both the Death Eaters nearby and the dark interior of the forest.
Snap! Her feet flew out from under her as she slipped on a crooked branch. An instant later, a jet of green light whistled over her head and hit a tree ten yards away. It burst into flames.
She heard an imperious voice from the direction of the Killing Curse. "Stay here, Greyback. I'll take care of it."
Verity struggled to her feet and whisked behind a tree. She knew it was a pathetic hiding place, but she didn't exactly see anywhere else. She resisted the urge to run as Bellatrix's footsteps grew nearer, then stopped. A tree less than five yards away exploded. Verity gasped. Another silent moment, and the tree she hid behind blew up. Flames and shards of wood flew at her. She screamed and leapt from behind it, shielding her face with her arms.
Bellatrix raise her wand and Verity cried out. "Mother!"
They froze; the darkly beautiful Death Eater and the fair girl in the plaid pajamas, neither saying a word. Bellatrix shook herself out of the shock Verity's words had given her.
"What did you call me?" she said.
"Mother," Verity said quietly. "That's what you are, aren't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Bellatrix's hand tightened around her wand, and Verity plunged ahead. "Mrs. Malfoy told me. She told me you had a daughter and abandoned her—me—in a Muggle town. She told me I was your daughter."
"Oh." Bellatrix dragged her words out with unmistakable relish. "You're the little street rat Cissy kept around the house. What's your name, lovely?"
"Pansy."
Bellatrix closed in on her until they were inches apart, and Verity smelled some rich, sickly scent on her. "Liar," she hissed.
"Verity," she breathed.
"That's better," Bellatrix laughed. "You heard Cissy talk about that girl, and thought you'd turn up, Mummy's long-lost baby girl back home? Handy I haven't seen her in so long. Why don't you prove it?"
Verity closed her eyes and replayed Mrs. Malfoy's words. Bellatrix's wand pressed into her side, and her hands raised. The sleeves of her dressing gown slipped down, revealing her bare arms.
Bellatrix shrieked as though she had seen a ghost. She seized Verity's left arm twisted it until she was staring at the grey mark. "That shadow…" she whispered. "The shadow…"
"Shadow of what?"
In answer, Bellatrix forced her own sleeve past her elbow, exposing the Dark Mark branded there. Verity looked at their two arms. Of course she found the shape so familiar. She had seen it on Mr. Malfoy once, though when he'd caught her staring he'd sent her to the attic for the week. Both her parents had it; somehow it passed to her.
"How did you survive?" Bellatrix demanded. "Tell me!"
"I don't know," Verity confessed. "I don't know."
"Isn't this a jolly family reunion!" said Bellatrix. "Why did you come back? Didn't Cissy tell you I wanted you dead?"
"I…" Verity stopped. She hadn't thought. What had she wanted to hear? Bellatrix wasn't really her mother? She was, but hadn't abandoned her? She was so sorry and couldn't wait to take her back, and they could live happily ever after? "I wanted answers." She hoped that was a safe reply. "I've never spoken to my own mother."
"Now you have," Bellatrix said. "Are you having fun?" She pushed Verity down, scraping her hands on the uneven ground. "You've got your answers! Here I am, your mother, the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. Why, pray tell, should I give that up to take care of a snot-nosed mistake? I don't love you, I don't want you. Nobody wants you," she lashed out.
Verity lay where she had fallen, unsure if she had the strength to move.
"It's a shame," Bellatrix continued, her voice poisonously sweet. "You were so brave coming out here, but I can't have anyone know my dirty little secret. I won't kill you right away, though; where's the fun in that? I want to hear you scream first." She pointed her wand at Verity. "Crucio!"
Her heart must have exploded, her bones must have splintered into a million pieces, she was screaming, screaming loud enough for them to hear her in the castle. Her head spun, the world was nothing but pain. Wild, insane laughter far away. Dementors. Though she could barely connect one thought to another, she remembered there were no dementors. It was Bellatrix.
After days, months, years of pain, Bellatrix removed her wand. Verity gasped for breath. "Isn't it lovely to know your own mummy doesn't want you?" she sang out. "I told you, little one, no one wants you. None of your 'friends' have come to your rescue."
Verity's heart skipped a beat. Come to her rescue... Fred was no match for Bellatrix. He would come to his death. As Bellatrix raised her wand, she braced herself.
"Crucio!" Her skin burned, white-hot knives stabbed into her chest again and again and again. She wanted to die, she wanted to die. She was sobbing on the ground, but she held back the screams rising in her throat. At last, the pain receded. Forcing her head up, she saw Bellatrix's puzzlement and annoyance.
"Why won't you scream?" Bellatrix asked. "What's the matter with you?" Verity remained silent as she had for years, with much more at stake than Lucius's shouts or Draco's insults. The noises of battle inside the castle became dim and far away; her ragged breaths loud in her ears. "Why don't you scream?" Bellatrix demanded. "Answer me! Imperio!"
A warm, white fog clouded Verity's mind. The pain ebbed away; her mind was blissfully clear.
Tell me the truth, said a small voice in the back of her mind, a faint, echoing voice that sounded like Bellatrix. Tell me.
Verity was about to obey when another voice piped up. I can't. The second voice sounded like her own. It made more sense, now she thought about it. She listened to the voice and tried to fight back the way Professor Moody taught them so long ago.
Tell me.
She'll find out about Fred. She'll kill him. I can't tell her.
Tell me.
I can't. Harry Potter could fight this off.
You're not Harry Potter, are you, the voice said nastily.
"Because..." she dug her fingers into the grass, trying so hard to hold in the words, "if Fred hears me he'll come running, and you'll kill him." She buried her face in her bloody hands as the numbness dissolved and the pain returned, along with the realization of what she had done.
"Fred?" The delight in the harsh voice was terrifying. Bellatrix knelt beside Verity and forced her head up so she had to meet her eyes. "My Verity is in love! Mummy shall have to meet her baby girl's boyfriend, won't she?" she said. "And if Mummy doesn't like him…she'll make sure he never comes calling again!"
"No!" Verity gasped. "No, please. Kill me, anything. Leave him alone!"
"Why so frightened? Is he a blood traitor? Or a Mudblood?" She giggled madly. "This is perfect!" She pointed her wand at Verity's throat. "Sonorus. Now we know your Freddie can hear you." She grabbed Verity by the hair and dragged her to her feet. She fingered her wand lovingly, a painter deciding what to do with a fresh canvas. She broke into a smile. "How do you like blood?"
Verity caught her breath. Bellatrix saw her flinch, and her grin widened. She rolled up her sleeves. Verity's throat was dry. Bellatrix pointed her wand at Verity's chest, and Verity shut her eyes tight.
"Sectumsempra!" The side of her leg seared with pain, and she cried out and fell to the ground. Hearing her amplified voice echo, she fumbled in her dressing gown for her wand.
"Quietus," she murmured. Reaching down, she felt a huge tear in her pajamas, and something warm and wet soaked her hand.
It was a moment before she realized there were no further attacks, no delighted laughter.
Bellatrix lay on the ground too, unconscious. A pair of black-clad legs stood in her field of vision. "Draco," she gasped.
"Get up," he said. "She'll be awake soon." Verity took his offered hand, and he pulled her to her feet. "Get out of here!"
She didn't move. Still clutching his hand, she asked, "Why did you save me?"
"Get out of here," he repeated. "The Stunning Spell barely hit her, but it would have been worse if she'd hit you full on." His hand flicked to his chest as he spoke. "She'll be up again before you know it, and I'd hate to be you when she does."
Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck. They broke apart, and she stumbled away.
As she made it out of sight, she faintly heard Draco say, "I didn't see who stunned you, Aunt Bella, but they won't get far. Verity'll bleed to death before she can cause trouble—if she could have in the first place…"
Verity fell and rose, staggered and fell again, across the grounds inch by painful inch. Her leg was so hot, so hot, but the rest of her was so cold. Blood flooded down her leg, but she didn't dare look, knowing she wouldn't be able to go on if she saw the red lurking in her peripheral vision.
As the minutes ticked by, the pain in her leg became so intense, the only way she managed not to pass out on the spot was to see his face as it appeared in her nightmares, hurt and dying, and tell herself she could make sure it stayed a dream if she made it to the castle.
Another step, another fall, rise another time.
As she neared Hogwarts, she wondered how to pass the Death Eaters, but that question answered itself as, with an explosion and cries of triumph, they breached the castle's defenses and rushed in. Verity was halfway through thanking heaven for their departure when she realized the people inside were—Fred was—in greater danger.
She made it to the oak front doors, been blown off their hinges, before her leg collapsed under her. She toppled onto a great chunk of stone. "Ohhhh!" When she saw the damage, she retched.
Bellatrix's curse had done its work. The cut wasn't deep, thanks to Draco, but the curse had skidded across the entire side of her right leg, and blood streamed from the wound, dripping into her shoe and onto the flagstones. However much she'd lost on the way, it was too much.
Her wand shook as she gripped the edge of her dressing gown and whispered, "Diffindo." The bottom few inches tore away, and she tied the black flannel around her leg with trembling fingers. Blood seeped through the fabric, but it was contained. Trying her leg again, she could walk, barely.
Bracing against the walls, she made her way inside. She choked on the dust and smoke in the wreckage that had been the Great Hall. Explosions rocked the castle. Students, teachers, and Death Eaters were locked in combat across every square foot. House tables had been thrown aside; rubble and broken glass were strewn everywhere.
The haze in the air, the curses flying, and her own rapidly blurring vision made it impossible to make out who was who, but Verity saw no flashes of red hair. She stumbled to a nearby corridor, dodging the curses that hit the walls with a crack.
Blindly she dragged herself up staircases and down corridors, searching and searching.
Fred entered the corridor, crossing curses with a hooded Death Eater while Percy and the new Minister dueled next to them. Everything slowed. The throbbing in her head divided her consciousness into heartbeats.
Fred laughed.
Why wouldn't her head stop spinning?
Harry Potter ran toward them.
Why was he here?
"Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?"
Did Percy say something funny?
The smoke stung her nose.
"You're joking, Perce!"
Fred's Death Eater crumpled.
She leaned against the wall, barely awake.
"Confringo!" A distant voice. No one in the corridor. Outside?
"You actually are joking! I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"
An explosion; the world ran too fast and too slow. Someone screamed Fred's name, a high scream that didn't stop. Was it her? The wall buckled. Someone threw her arm out, screamed, "Protego!" A shield erupted from the wand at the end of that arm—was it her arm? The rubble hit it with dull thuds. They flew off their feet and landed hard on the ground, but they were alive. Fred was alive. He spoke, but nothing reached her over the roaring in her ears. He smiled, and she offered him a weak smile in return. She fell forward.
The world went black.