Chapter Five
Harry sat in his living room, his body slouched low in the large chair that sat in the middle of the room. His eyes were glazed over, staring blankly ahead. His right hand clutched a glass of amber liquid which rested on the arm of the chair, a cigarette perched between two of the fingers holding the glass. He brought the glass up to his lips automatically, his gaze not moving from the blurry spot he stared at on the wall.
This was the worst shape Harry had ever been in, and not just physically, though the wound in his side was one of the worst he had ever had. His mind was what truly pained him. He had been so close, if not for that little girl- stop- how could he even think that, since when had he ever regretted saving an innocent life? But this had been his one great chance! He had planned for months to pull off his attack on Malfoy Manor, still one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of wizarding England.
The snake, Nagini, had been there. She was all that stood between Harry and finally attacking Voldemort one on one.
For months, he had been gaining information about the manor, capturing and torturing Death Eaters for information about the layout, meeting patterns and inner circle of Voldemort's followers. He was very good and had received all the information he needed to pull it off.
The memory of the girl's scream pulled him out of his stupor. Her icy blue eyes were burned into his mind. He turned his head lethargically towards his front door where they had left from. Laying on the ground in the hallway was a plush green dragon. He had seen the girl carrying it, he thought her name was Antigone, but his mind was fuzzy, he couldn't remember. He stood and stumbled forwards, a combination of alcohol, lack of sleep and his injuries making it difficult for him to stay upright. It was pretty pathetic.
He grabbed the stuffed animal from the floor and collapsed back into his chair. Why did he have to show up again, especially now? The blue eyes shifted into his grey ones, boring into his soul. Such familiar eyes, eyes that belonged to- no! Harry pushed the image out of his mind, gripping the dragon hard in frustration. He forced himself to stop thinking of the past, the past was gone, no longer relevant. None of it mattered. All that mattered now was that he get to Voldemort.
He put the dragon down beside him, squished between his hip and the arm of the chair. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He stared at the piece of silver that lay on his coffee table. Not the sword of Gryffindor, no this was a Smith and Wesson 500, the most powerful production handgun ever made. His tactics would have to change if he was ever going to defeat Voldemort.
He had acquired the gun recently and had tested it out a few times during his raids. It served to put fear in the eyes of the Death Eaters who had never before seen the muggle killing device. He picked it up off the table, its five pounds of weight heavy in Harry's hand. His mouth turned into a faint smile as he stared at it.
Harry was drawn back to thoughts of Draco, the cool metal colour of the gun reminding him of Draco's eyes.
Those eyes had stared down at Harry on the day of the battle at Hogwarts. Harry's eyes had barely been open, he had been terrified that Voldemort would find out he was still alive. He was barely conscious, but he remembered those silver eyes staring down at him, pleading Harry to trust him. "Trust me, let me save you." Those words burned in Harry's memory, he could never let them go. Even now, they sent shivers through him, his eyes closed.
Draco had been thrown back into his life. Why had he let him stay? He couldn't let this happen again. He couldn't- He stood abruptly from the chair, tucking the gun into the holster that lay attached to his hip. The weight felt comfortable there, made him feel a little more in control.
He knew his thoughts weren't right, they didn't make sense, nothing made sense anymore, his life consisted only of revenge, what kind of life was that anyway?
He paced the room, raking his fingers through his hair. The air around him crackled with unbridled energy and he had to act quickly to calm himself, to restrain the magic that instinctually flowed out of him. Since throwing out his morals and scruples about the kinds of magic that were 'right' to use, Harry had become immensely powerful, and no longer owned a wand of any kind. Even spells were no longer necessary to Harry's using magic. Just a thought about what he wanted done was usually enough and the magic around him would spring into action and make it happen.
Other than his magic, Harry had also trained himself physically, the lithe muscles that covered his body were proof enough of that. His physical prowess in battle gave him the upper hand over most of the middle aged Death Eaters he was accustomed to fighting, none ever expected a physical confrontation.
He recalled the terror in Wormtail's eyes the previous night when Harry's strength had overpowered him. Glancing up at Voldemort, Harry had seen a similar fear in his features. This made Harry grin, he had given Voldemort something he had never expected, an enemy almost as ruthless as he was. Last night, Voldemort had witnessed what he had helped create, and it had been monstrous.
This reaction from Voldemort was just what Harry had been hoping for, he was worried, frightened, he had a worthy adversary. Harry was getting to him. Now he just had to keep at it, never let up, and victory would be in his hands.
Harry laughed bitterly, it was funny really, without the help of Voldemort, without him taking away everything that Harry had held dear, Harry never would have been a threat, he would have been weak. But every time Voldemort had tried to kill Harry, had attacked his friends, killed those dear to him, he was unknowingly creating the man who would eventually be his downfall.
Voldemort gave Harry purpose in life, kept him living, breathing, functioning. Harry had never even stopped to ponder what his life would be like when he finally rid himself of his mortal enemy. In fact, Harry had never pondered a scenario where he actually made it out of the final battle alive. Barring some miracle he did escape with his life after defeating the Dark Lord, Harry didn't intend to stick around much longer afterwards. What would he have left to live for? What purpose could he fulfil?
Harry sat back down on the chair, lighting up another cigarette. He had brooded on these thoughts all day, the darkness outside now creeping into his living room. The faint orange glow from the lit cigarette cast eerie shadows on Harry's face, making him seem ominous and frightening. He picked up the stuffed dragon once again, not even realizing he had done it. His thoughts unconsciously drifted back to those he wanted to dwell on no more. His giddy bitterness faded, replaced by only the sad musings of a lonely and depressed young man.
What had he become? Why hadn't he been worried for Draco's sister, she was a helpless little girl. The only reason he had saved her was because he convinced himself that it would be the right thing to do, it had not been an instinct. This disturbed Harry. Had he become so detached from the world that he could not even worry for the safety of a little girl anymore?
His mind slowly shut down, artificially subdued by the various substances he had ingested throughout the day. On the brink of complete unconsciousness, he felt a vague tingle in his fingers, emanating out from the dragon. His eyes flew open, a sort of manic grin on his face.
Sudden pain shot through his head, the familiar burning, excruciating pain of his scar that had become so familiar to him over the last twelve years. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay conscious, any vision he saw now could be the one to change the tide in his favour.
Voldemort stood in a room, Lucius stood next to him. Nagini still lay in her regular spot, coiled around Voldemort's shoulders. The two men spoke. Bellatrix and a few other Eaters stood around, Voldemort never went anywhere now without a complete entourage. The two men spoke, both with confident smiles on their faces. Harry could hear every word they said.
Coming out of the vision, Harry could not stop laughing. This was perfect! He had another chance! Draco had actually brought him something of use. He looked down at the plush dragon in his hands, how could he have not felt it before? It was so blatantly apparent now. He could sense the magic of the tracking charm on the stuffed toy, put there by Lucius on the night of the fire. This would work out all too well.
Lucius, or Minister Malfoy as the rest of the world now knew him as, had made a public statement that morning, assuring the public of his safety after the burning of his home, and assuring them that whoever was responsible would be brought to justice.
The Minister had stood at his grand podium in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Dressed in some of his finest robes, he painted an imposing portrait for all his underlings at the Ministry. All respected him, most thought he was intimidating and a scant few were actually petrified of their minister. That was all well for Lucius, fear would keep them in line better than respect.
Ministry workers had been concerned for the safety of their Minister until he had finally shown up, two hours late, that morning. All had heard of the misfortune at Malfoy Manor and were thoroughly relieved when he finally showed up. All stood still, paying rapt attention as he stood before them, preparing to address them.
"Wizards and Witches," he had started, a coy smile upon his face, "as you can see, I have escaped unharmed from last night's attack on my home." Many cheers rose from the crowd at this statement. The public had become very supportive of their new minister in recent months. "Many of you must be wondering who would be cruel enough to do something like this to someone trying to help and better this society." Nods and shouts of agreement came from the crowd. "Well, I can tell you now that those who set fire to my home were the same people who framed me for my alleged involvement in the Department of Mysteries scandal. The same rebellious organization that put me behind the bars of Azkaban for a crime I did not commit. But I escaped from that hell, just the same as I did this one, not injured or unstable, but stronger than when I began. The rogue members of the Order of the Phoenix have caused my Ministry nothing but trouble since the day I came into power. Their misguided views on my intentions for this country have led them to acts of terrorism. They are undermining your faith in me, you, the masses, who have elected me to lead this country. They are nothing but the remnants of those loyal to a senile old man. From this moment forward, any man, woman or child found to be tied to this resistance group, any known or suspected members of the Order of the Phoenix continuing to remain loyal to their unjust cause will be arrested and dealt with accordingly." Lucius bellowed over the crowd. His voice held strength, as did his stance, the people trusted him. All who had gathered to witness the Minister speak, and all who listened over the WWN gave their cheer of agreement.
Harry smiled one last time before falling into artificial unconsciousness. The Minister's days were numbered, he guaranteed it. Soon, the wizarding world would be plunged into uncertainty, and they would have to dig themselves out this time, nobody, neither good or evil would be there to pull them out. For the first time since Voldemort had first risen to power before Harry was born, the world would have a choice.
If anyone had been able to see the Boy Who Lived now, they would have wondered where they had gone wrong? How had the once bright, happy boy become this? Unconscious, depressed and utterly numb. His parents, Sirius, Remus, they would all have been so disappointed.