This chapter's a bit short, but I hope you still enjoy. Happy Late Holidays!
-C
Chapter 9 The Patronus
Just close your eyes, the sun is going down...don't you dare look out your window darling everything's on fire, the war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. -Taylor Swift "Safe and Sound"
I spent all of that day worrying myself sick. What was I to do? I was expected to kill as well. But I wouldn't-couldn't-do that. When the time came to leave, I was furious with myself for not coming up with a plan. I was completely panicked, and one good jolt away from losing my dinner.
At least ten of us stood together in the entrance hall, awaiting Voldemort and his instruction.
One by one, they began to dissaparate into the dismal, grey-clouded day-I looked up at them through the only un-boarded window, watching the black streaks of mist that were bodies race through the sky. I joined in, one of the last to go; I stayed behind the others, deathly silent, and hoping Susanna's tail of dissaparation was black as well. That would definitely raise some questions if it was white.
We flew over the countryside, Voldemort in the lead-every once in a while a Death Eater would swoop down, propelling themselves through a building or a house, leaving a suddenly roaring fire and biting screams behind them. I watched each one until we had flown too far ahead to see them anymore. In most of the houses and buildings, inhabitants escaped...but in some, no one came rushing out the doors.
I prayed they had been empty to begin with.
We stopped at a muggle village.
"Master, why did we stop?" Jugson, a broad man with a hooked nose, inquired.
"To strike terror in the hearts of all those who lay eyes upon us," Voldemort answered viciously as we looked into the brink of the now-peaceful village. "There are wizards here, and they will tremble in fear at the sight of us," his gaze snapped to me, Death Eaters robes blowing in the wind that pressed us on the top of the hill. It struck me how odd it was for him to be handsome. A man like him should be twisted, horrible to look at- "Susanna," he said with eerily calmness. "Welcome to your first walk with the Death Eaters."
He waved his hand and suddenly something smooth and cold was covering my face-I put my hands up to feel it, and looking at the Death Eaters around me, I realized-I was wearing the silver Death Eater mask along with the rest of them.
I looked no different than them.
"Torches," one man grunted, and throwing his wand hand into the air, we were all supplied with heavy, metallic, twisting torches. At the top a black flame burst into existence, scorching the evening air. I stood looking at it uncertainly, on the brink of throwing it at Voldemort and running. If there was any way I could warn the townspeople below, I would do it in a heartbeat.
"Formation!" Voldemort barked, joining in the double file line with the rest of us. Hissing and cackling excitedly, they began to chant. They chanted of death, and Voldemort, and snakes-I moved my mouth, not sure if I was chanting with them, or if words were even coming out at all.
We left the hill, stepping onto the street. Muggles threw open their doors, cowering in fear-several of them held telephones in their hand, no doubt calling the police.
I stared intently at the feet of the man in front of me-I was in back-and tried to stay with the rhythm, continuing to march. We were halfway through the village now-my heart was pounding furiously, my grip slipping on the torch, the heaviness pulling my stiff arm down-I stumbled on my robes, but quickly regained my balance. We were almost there. Almost there. I fixated on a point on the horizon, glad no killing or torture spells had been fired from the wands of the Death Eaters.
I had barely uttered the thought when a toddling baby came into the street, wide eyed and reaching out to the Death Eaters, curious.
It was Bellatrix that went for her wand-his mother and father were screaming for their child, running toward them-I braced myself. I could do this.
"Avada-"
"PROTEGO!" I screamed furiously in my mind. Wandless. Nonverbal. I watched the baby's mouth twist into a surprised "o", his parents screaming as they caught up with him, whisking him away.
The killing curse rebounding, the green light shooting off the shield and just over our heads, scattering us.
With an enraged cry, Bellatrix struck out. Not at the baby and his sobbing parents, but at the house behind it.
Heart lurching, I could do nothing to stop it-the house was already harboring fire, the supports crumbling and spitting ash, flames and smoke colliding with the air. The family turned to watch, crying but not screaming. So the house had been empty of all other human inhabitants. I had broken out into a cold sweat-other Death Eaters had begun to throw their torches, lighting houses afire- in my adrenaline-induced fury I tried to put them out with my mind, but I was quickly growing weary-I was shaking all over, and ash was raining down around us-panic, confusion, and chaos-and yet we kept marching.
No one suspected that it was me who saved the boy and his family, no one suspected that it was me who was trying like my life depended on it to keep the flames from utterly destroying everything.
We finally made it through the village, ash covered and robes smoking. The silver masks twisted into grotesque shapes were oddly clean: not a streak of soot was to be seen.
Our group finally vanished into the forest, coughing but laughing merrily, talking lightly and making joke of all the lives they had wreaked havoc upon.
"One of those parents must have been magical, I almost got them!" Bellatrix was stomping her feet.
"Calm, Bellatrix," Voldemort ordered. "There will be more killings tonight."
His words struck fear into my heart. I prayed that no one would see me shaking, and that they would put the watery tracks on my face down to smoke-induced tears.
"Lazaraith, Macnair," Voldemort called lazily. We were in the countryside now, having dissaparated away from the muggle village.
"Oh!" I jumped up from where we were magicking our robes clean. I had forgotten that I could be addressed as Lazaraith-I had grown slightly used to Susanna, but not my surname.
Macnair was a young, large man with dark hair and the beginnings of a neat mustache.
"My faithful followers," he spread his hands once he had gotten us away from the rest of the group. "Your Lord has a special task for you."
I trembled.
"Yes, my Lord?" Macnair bowed his head, and I mimicked him, muttering the same sentence.
"I need the two of you to scout ahead. Show your eagerness to prove yourselves," he said softly, stroking his bone-handled white wand. I could only imagine the number of people whose last sight had been that wand, and a blinding flash of green light. Too many.
"Yes, my Lord," I beat Macnair to saying. "What shall we look for?"
"Find them, discover their numbers, report back to me before nightfall," he stood up and glided away.
"Yes, my Lord," we called back together.
"Well?" He snarled, turning to me. "Let's go, then!" He shot up off the ground in a funnel of black smoke. I did the same, speeding to catch up to him. The grounds landmarks grew smaller under our flight, and suddenly we landed.
"Borehamwood," I murmured, reading the sign.
"They're in this forest, that's what the Dark Lord suspected," he hissed, looking around as a muscle in his jaw jumped.
"Let's go, unseen then," I walked briskly past him. How could I warn them what was coming? A warning was the best I could do. We ran for a while, robes snapping behind us, and delved deep into the trees.
The piercing cry of a wolf sounded through the night, breaking my concentration and reminding me painfully of Remus. It wasn't a full moon, so the wolf must have been just that-a normal animal. But still. The faces of my friends shot through my mind.
"Think," I muttered to myself. "What would James do? Or Sirius? They're clever, they're near the top of the year...I am-was-, too, but they would be better at this sort of planning than me," I thought within the safe confines of my brain, correcting myself with a past tense and a flinch.
"I'm going to do a tracking spell, wait here and stay quiet," Macnair snapped, turning his back on me.
This was my chance. A message, a message...how would I-
"Patronus, Lily, obviously! And here you had me thinking you were clever!" the answer came to me in the form of Sirius's teasing voice and rolling eyes.
"Use that lovely silver doe of yours and warn the poor chaps, now is not the time for hesitation!" I heard James now, and couldn't resist a smile as his face washed through my mind.
I had trouble conjuring one-I had always had trouble with that spell. But there were no dementors around to leech of my happiness-there was, however, the small problem of keeping the doe a secret once she was formed. Putting my wand away after the nonverbal spell and a darkening charm so none of the silver light would seep into Macnair's view, I hissed the message.
"Homenum Revelio..." Macnair was loudly spouting off spells, wand raised and back to me. How much would it take to break his concentration?
"My name is Louise," I muttered to it, lying. "And we witches in the village have received word from another town just attacked by Death Eaters that they are heading your way, and they are going to attempt to eliminate your small band of resistance. Be prepared. Do not return this message, I am being watched," I hissed as quietly as I could, sending the wide-eyed doe scampering off between trees, darting and jumping until she was out of sight. I sighed, turning my gaze back to Macnair, wavering.
"Quaero hominis..." he continued to mutter. A last wave of light came off in sheets from his wand, and he turned to me, just as I was kicking at the dirt with my toe, hands placed innocently on my hips. He couldn't have turned around at a better time.
"Let's go, that way," he barked as a flare of light shot up from the general direction that my doe had scampered off then. "My searching charms have found them!" He shouted, breaking into a run.
"Are you mad?" I hissed, yanking him back. "We can't just go rushing in there, we're not attacking, now are we? We're scouting," I hiss. "And keep your voice down!"
He glowered at me, furious. Roughly taking out his wand again and holding it aloft in a grip that could have crushed it, we snuck ahead.
"Please don't be talking about the warning, please don't be talking about the warning..." I thought desperately to myself as we walk, wands lit and held aloft, both facing different directions as we crept through the trees, nimble stepping over protruding roots.
"Listen," Macnair flung an arm out, catching me on the waist. I glared at him furiously, but he was not looking at me.
A low, indistinct hum of talking was drifting through the trees, voices rising and falling like the flow of a river. Macnair's eyes flitted around, taking in everything, looking for any sign of human life, any at all-
"Look," I said in a hushed voice, pointing down. Several footprints lead in the direction we're going, disappearing under the leaves several paces ahead. But it was no coincidence-they are leading us to the men Voldemort is after.
"Follow me," he crept forward, commanding me as he went.
I didn't respond, merely fell behind him, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds, heart beating wildly. Because, I realized with a start, once we attack, these people won't know it's me who warned them. They'll attack me just like the rest of them.
Fear began to course through my veins as my heartbeat speeds up, and the grip I had on my wand was shaking.
He pushed stealthily through a bush that was taller than both of us, and stopped abruptly-I caught myself from running into him, and he brought a finger to his lips, eyes wide-he motioned me to step near him, and my heart dropped at the scene.
If we would have taken one step further, we would have both fallen down a steep ravine. Only foolishness stopped us from noticing how the treeline abruptly stopped right where we stood.
Tents were set up, people bustling about, and fires are being started-every once in a while, various people would throw glances over their shoulders at the dark trees behind them.
"They're more prepared than we thought," Macnair murmured, and I barely contained my yelp of satisfaction. They've gotten the message, and they'll be ready. Thank Merlin they didn't send back a Patronus per instruction.
"Fourteen...fifteen..." I follow Macnair's lead, beginning to count as well. A crow lands on the ground near us, squawking loudly.
"Bloody hell!" Macnair swore, jumping back. In a defensive moment, he killed the bird with a quick spell and it gave one more feeble hop before it crumpled, just a dark mass of feathers now. For him, killing was instinctive. I tried to cover my shaky intake of breath, disgusted. I had seen too many horrors tonight. I would never become desensitized to them.
"Around seventeen," I spoke up and he glared at me, lip curling.
"Who asked you?"
"The Dark Lord did, you imbecile," I snapped, relishing the insult. "If he wanted only you to do the work, he wouldn't have asked me to come." Macnair hissed insults at me all the way back, thinking I couldn't hear them just because he was behind me.
I stopped once we reach the edge of the trees again, back into the open. Without a look behind me I dissaparated.
The feeling of apparation was different this way-the Death Eater's way was slower, and more like flying-this was the way they preferred to do it-not just appearing and disappearing with a pop, but the dramatics of the black smoke. And destroying things, and watching them be destroyed.
At Hogwarts, we had learned to Apparate in fifth year-normally it would have been later, but with Voldemort on the rise, they wanted us to know how to get out of the situation quickly if need be. It seemed ironic now.
We made it back as the sun was sinking lower into the sky.
"How many?" Voldemort met us as we approached them.
"Around seventeen, my Lord," I told him first. He nodded slowly, pulling out a small snake from the insides of his robe like it was the most normal thing in the world, having a snake there.
"Sanguinis is hungry, and she shall feed tonight," he said softly, holding up the baby cobra to the sun. He hissed something at the snake, in the same grating language he had used in the dark room. Parseltongue, I realized. Voldemort was a Parselmouth.
His followers crowded behind him, spreading out from his lead, anticipating the attack with baited breath.
"Let us begin!" Voldemort roared. The masks appeared back on our face, but not the torches. He set off, a black blur against the darkening sky. I waited until the last second to leave-I shot up, steps behind everyone else, following with determination, willing them to be ready, to be on guard. Macnair took the lead, showing everyone the way. We flew rapidly over the woods we had just walked through, and dove into the ravine as suddenly as it had appeared.
We materialized, all around the camp, surrounding the premises, black columns shooting down onto the ground and becoming people.
"Protego! Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" We were met immediately with spells-Death Eaters threw them off easily, stopping the blasts of light with flicks of their wand.
The band of resistors flew toward us, determination set on their face. But the Death Eaters had one thing that they didn't-they wouldn't kill, wouldn't torture.
I pointed my wand at people and hesitated, like I was thinking about what spell to use, then quickly blocking as the lights of spells came streaking toward me. I had to make it look like I was doing something.
"Stupefy!" A male voice shouted, and I whirled around, about to block it. It was too fast. It connected with my chest in a nasty, sickening moment and I went flying, vision going black, and landing on the ground, leaves and twigs crunching beneath me, not slowing my fall at all.
I gulped in heaving breaths, the sound of the battle around me oddly distorted. Thankfully the Stunner hadn't knocked me out. I tried to roll over, to look for my wand-I felt incomplete without it, exposed.
The air around me swirled, thick with flying spells and flying bodies. Stabbing pains riddled my torso as I pulled myself along the ground with my forearms. I ran my hands along the ground for my wand as a sickly blue spell shot straight over my head, missing and hitting a tree behind me-the tree exploded in a shower of ash.
That had been meant for me.
I jumped to my feet, swaying slightly, looking for my attacker-
"Avada Kedavra!" The man screamed towards me. Tears were running down his twisted face-behind him lay a body, perhaps his wife-and he was taking his grief out on me-
I stared at the green light, time slowing down. I couldn't move my feet, they were rooted to the spot.
Couldn't move. The thumping sound of my heartbeat was all I heard, blood was rushing in my ears-
At the last second, I realized-this light was going to kill me. I flung myself down and to the side, skidding but not feeling a thing. My breath was coming in gasps, my heart beating faster than I thought was possible. I looked down at my shaking hands, and-
"My wand!" I blurted, grabbing the saving piece of magic and rolling up, pointing it back at my attacker all in one motion. I was still shaky, and slightly off balance-in a full out duel, this man would win, hands down.
Something barrelled into me, forcing me to turn to black smoke, flying up into the sky until the screams of revenge from the people could no longer be heard. I gained control of my dissaparation and flew away from whoever had ran into me-later I found it had been Rosier- and joined in with the rest.
I kept an eye out behind me, like any minute that man might show up and try to kill me again. I hadn't known the spell he had used, but it looked horrible. Of course, what the Death Eaters had done to his group was more horrible by far.
At least they had been warned, or else it would have been just like slaughtering them in their sleep.
Back at the safe house, Voldemort's fury was unimaginable.
A\N-Please take ten seconds to review, even if it's just one word. I haven't been getting many lately! Please tell me if you like the story, or even if you don't!
-C