The Second Chance
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of J. K. Rowling and Kurinoone's universe. This story is written with permission from Kurinoone, and is written based on Kurinoone's fabulous, beyond awesome story- "The Darkness Within" (which was inspired by by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful story- "The Shattered Prophesy").
Chapter 2: The Last Letter
Hogsmeade was a total chaos.
The Death- Eaters had arrived some time around ten o' clock, setting fire to the village and killing the villagers out of malicious fun. Bodies were strewn all around the place, blood found in puddles on the road.
Sickened by the sight and slipping over the blood, James and Sirius arrived at the Black Tomb, their faces hardened with grief.
"James- Prongs, listen, this is probably a bad idea. Do you have any idea how large their number is? They broke through the wards as though it were nothing," said Sirius, trying to grab his friend.
James shook off Sirius' hand roughly, angry tears spilling from his eyes. "Don't hold me back, Padfoot. If not, I might do something desperate- "
Taken aback by the mad gleam in his best friend's eyes, Sirius let go instinctively, but opted instead to follow his friend through the horrible trail of blood splattered everywhere. "You're not the only one who is grieving," said Sirius, trying to talk some sense into James. But how could he comfort others, when he himself felt torn apart? It felt as though the Potter family would never be whole ever again.
"Harry is not dead," repeated James, shaking his head as he did so. "Voldemort would want to kill Harry in front of all of us, before lowering him into the Black Tomb. It's the sort of thing he would do, to torture us. So there's still a chance... to save my son."
It wasn't without reason, but Sirius found the logic in that statement very forced. "Just be careful," said Sirius at last, his throat numb. "Damien's alone at Potter Manor. He's waiting for you."
James gave his best friend a tight nod, before turning to continue their journey.
The Black Tomb suddenly came into full view, making James' breath hitch in their throat. So far, they had encountered less than five Death- Eaters, none of which a few simple hexes could take care of. But as they approached the Black Tomb, they noticed with sickening apprehension, that hundreds of Death- Eaters were grouped before the platform where the Black Tomb was placed. Even in the unlikely event that Harry had survived, would they stand a chance to save him from Voldemort?
The rest of the Order were to regroup and arrive soon. Although how soon, James wasn't sure. He was not going to stick around the Order meetings waiting for plans and instructions that were fruitless. He had to do something. Lily, Remus, Tonks and half of the Order was also at the Burrow, attending the meetings. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the underaged Weasleys were locked in their rooms at Arthur's home too. Only Damien insisted on returning to Potter Manor, alone. He didn't want any company. After ensuring that the wards were set up and safe, only had Sirius permitted James to leave for Hogsmeade.
There was a sudden crack! and the very air seemed to crackle with electric. One of the Death- Eaters had spotted James and Sirius. They were edging closer, smirks hidden beneath their black masks.
"The Master is coming," James heard one of them say. "He is bringing with him Harry Potter."
"Or what is left of Harry Potter," laughed the other.
None of them lunged at James or Sirius yet. The Death- Eaters were certain that Potter and Black were not going to leave Hogsmeade until the Dark Lord arrived with Harry. There was no need to rush in for the kill. The Dark Lord, after all, had given them orders- that James Potter's life was his to take.
Sirius suddenly caught sight of Remus' sandy brown hair. The third Marauder was stationed somewhere behind the Black Tomb. He gave Sirius a signal, then blended into the sea of black robes, making his way purposefully to his assigned place.
"The Order's here," said Sirius in a low voice to James. "They circle the Death- Eaters and surround them, though I fear not for long. Our number is barely half of theirs."
James nodded, pushing his grief aside temporarily. No emotions were allowed on the field, or they would lead to inevitable downfall.
The clock striked. Twelve o' clock. The witching hour of midnight.
Harry's seventeenth birthday.
Seconds passed in tension, everyone's eyes trained on the raised platform, awaiting the Dark Lord's arrival. Seconds turned to minutes, but yet nobody arrived. Hushed whispers travelled through the crowd, Death- Eaters, villagers, Ministry Aurors and Order members. Even Sirius shuffled and strained his eyes to look properly in the gloom. What was Voldemort playing at?
Then the Dark Lord did come, arriving with a resounding crack on the platform, a flash of lightning illuminating the overhead sky as he did so. There was horrible, impregnable silence for a few seconds, before it turned to muffled cries of terror. But still no one striked yet. All were awaiting the order of the Dark Lord.
The ruby red eyes quickly found the hazel ones. Voldemort's thin lips stretched into a mirthless smile. "James Potter," he mused, his voice amplified over the Sonorus Charm. "Come to join your eldest son."
James' fists were clenched by his side. His wand was already out, prepared for combat, but Sirius' arm restrained him. "Not yet," his best friend whispered in his ear.
"Harry Potter's death shall be a lesson to all of you," continued the Dark Lord, his red eyes scanning the crowd, causing many to look away for fear of eye- contact. "Those who defy me defy life itself. Those who stand by me shall be rewarded. My followers outnumber yours by five times. You are powerless to resist my reign."
"Admit defeat, and you will be spared. On the contrary, every man, woman or child who stands in my way shall be killed, instantly and mercilessly. You have brought war upon yourself. Today, Hogsmeade village is one filled with death and horror. Bear in mind, if you had cooperated, if you had turned to me before it was too late, your loved ones would still be alive. But the same cannot be said for the Potters, I'm afraid." Voldemort's lips stretched into another cold smile as his eyes locked with James' again. "Doubtless Severus has informed you of your son's death. It is too late for you to do anything right now. It is all your fault; if you hadn't convinced Harry to come to the Light, doubtless he would have been alive today."
"Alive a mindless puppet, controlled by you?" the words cut James' throat even as they left his mouth. "Harry would have preferred to die."
Voldemort cocked his head to one side as he studied James. "Well, what's done is done, isn't it? There is no point living in the past. Though I am glad you made it to Harry's funeral." He gave a mocking bow, and James' rage boiled over within him.
"Crucio!" he cried, a jet of fiery red light darting out from his wand. However, on meeting the invisible barrier, the Crustacius Curse sizzled, flickered and died, leaving Voldemort unharmed and amused.
"You might serve a life sentence in Azkaban for nothing, Potter," said Voldemort. "Why don't you make it worthwhile."
He flicked his wand once, and the body of Harry James Potter was held up, suspended by an invisible rope for all to see. Beside Sirius, James gave an anguished cry and made to leap forwards, but Sirius held onto his best friend stubbornly, his face looked as though it was carved of stone. Only the sparkling tears in Sirius' eyes gave any indication that he wasn't a statue.
"Not yet," he repeated to James through clenched teeth.
"Then when!" James was half- shouting the words, but he didn't care anymore. "Harry is dying, Sirius. I'm sorry, I need to do something."
It cut Sirius deeply that his best friend had called him 'Sirius' instead of 'Padfoot', which meant that James disagreed with him, and was going to do things his own way. Sirius' advice was lost on James.
"Prongs," said Sirius for the last time, warningly, his voice strangled with the battle of emotions coursing through him.
"Sorry Sirius," was the dreaded reply. James then wrenched his arm free of Sirius' iron grip, and to prevent his best friend from stopping him again, James sent a mild Stinging Hex at Sirius, then pushed his way upfront towards the invisible barrier. The Death- Eaters parted to make way for him at Voldemort's command.
Out of cruelty, Voldemort leviated Harry's limp figure across the black tomb towards where James was standing, separated by an invisible barrier. Immediately, the eldest Potter crumbled, his figure collasping pathetically before the barrier, in no state to fight.
"Harry," he repeated over and over again, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Harry, talk to me."
Voldemort laughed. "Try something, Potter. Why don't you try to save your son's corpse from my hands, at the very least?"
With renewed determintation and fury, James lunged himself at the barrier, firing ten to twelve jinxes, hexes and Unforgivable Curses in rapid succession, each blast stronger than the next, but no avail. Tears clouded his vision as he saw his son swaying like a limp puppet in the wind, and more jets of light thundered out from James' wand. However, all of them disappeared on meeting the invisible barrier.
Sirius was torn. Dumbledore's plan was to stay back- it was clear the Order members weren't going to act until Dumbledore gave the signal. But there was no time left. James was in danger. The Dark Lord was only playing with him; like a cat plays with a rat before it eats it.
Quickly making his decision, Sirius shouted, his voice carrying through the crowd.
"FIRE! All members of the Order and Ministry, FIRE!"
Remus, recogonising Sirius' voice, sought to support the second Marauder, and quickly raised his wand and signalled to the others. Within seconds, a full battle had emerged; jinxes, hexes and curses rained down heavily in all directions; only those within the confines of the invisible barrier remained unharmed. The sole aim of the Order was to break down the barrier, whilst the remaining Ministry Aurors tried to take down as many Death- Eaters as they could. For the first time in long years, Aurors and Order members fought alongside each other.
Voldemort could sense the barriers slowly weakening, but it was of little consequence to him. The only reason he came to Hogsmeade was to provide a little drama for the people, and instill fear within those who opposed him. Those achieved, his last wish was to harm James Potter, the parent whom, in the Dark Lord's opinion, stole Harry away from him, and converted the Dark Prince to Light.
He leviated Harry's limp body higher in the air. James was immediately distracted, and one of the cutting hexes found their target. Blood spread across James' back, rendering him temporarily helpless. Three more jinxes found their mark, but the fourth was successfully blocked by Sirius. Remus was fighting Rosier whose mask had been torn during their fight.
Voldemort dangled Harry's body tantalisingly before James before flicking the corpse into the black coffin. Another flick of his wand, and the black tomb was ablaze.
"No," gasped James. "Harry!"
Suddenly, the invisible barrier separating Voldemort from the battle cracked, only by a fraction; but it was enough for the Order members. With a cry, all lunged forwards, trying to enter the barrier. The first to do so was surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.
Voldemort did not bother to strengthen the barrier. He cocked his head to one side, considering the young Slytherin before him. "Another traitor?" he said, his lips displaying a taunting smile.
Draco did not reply. He swerved to one side, avoiding the curses Voldemort sent his way and ran towards the Black Tomb, where an unconscious Harry was being burnt. Draco made the mistake of stopping as he saw the face of his best friend. Was he still alive? Was there hope?
Behind him, Snape was duelling the Dark Lord to buy him more time. The Order members were too, fighting to enter the barrier, but the Death- Eaters were blocking the entrance with their bodies, sending curse after jinx at those who came near. James was now severely injured; his back was bleeding profusely, but he showed no sign of giving up.
Draco sent three hexes thundering out of his wand at the barrier. As he was from the inside, once the jets of light hit the barrier, the invisible shield sizzled and died, allowing all to swarm onto the platform. But it was all too late.
There was a massive explosion, and the Black Tomb disappeared amidst a plume of acrid, black smoke. Voldemort laughed and disappeared with a crack. Then Sirius' voice was heard, yelling, "Prongs!" with infectious panic. The Death- Eaters were already Apparating away, leaving irrepairable damage in their wake. Fire, blood, smoke, severed limbs and screams lingered at the site of destruction.
Draco stared in horror and shock as ashes rained down on him. His eyes were stinging with rebellious tears, from smoke or sadness, he didn't know. Amidst all the chaos, his knees gave way and he sank to the ground before the spot where the black tomb once stood.
Back at Potter Manor, Damien was staring blankly out of the window, lost in thought. His vision kept on blurring, but no matter how he swiped the tears away, they kept on coming. In spite of all his sadness, there was fear too. He was afraid he might lose his father again. Uncle Sirius, Remus, his mother, the Weasleys... all of them were currently fighting for their lives, and for Harry, at Hogsmeade.
Damien didn't see the point of going to Hogsmeade anymore. All was lost already. Harry was gone. Why did the Order members need to arrive at the village and add themselves to Voldemort's victim list? Was revenge wise?
However, Damien knew- if he himself were given the choice, he'd vouch to go to Hogsmeade and fight for revenge, too. It was part of him; Gryffindor blood coursed through his veins, as well as his father's. But he still didn't want the Marauders to go. He didn't want to lose any of them now that he had lost his elder brother.
There was the sound of fluttering wings by the window. Dazedly, Damien went over to see what the commotion was.
It was Hedwig. She hooted softly and raised her right leg, where a letter was tied clumsily. Surprised, Damien relieved Hedwig of the piece of parchment, petted her and allowed her to fly away. Damien turned over the parchment, and his breath hitched in his throat.
Damien, it wrote.
I want to tell you lots of other things, but I'm sorry to say, I don't have time for it. I don't know what is happening. Voldemort's plans may not be as they seem. My plan is desperate. I have combined blood and magic. If Dumbledore asks you, I hope you will reject the offer, but I can't and won't stop you. You'll understand what I'm writing about in due time.
Promise me you'll stay safe, and never remove the Layhoo Jisteen.
And thanks for Hedwig, her somersault was very amusing. Somehow I don't think I'll be able to take care of her. For that, I apologise one last time. I hope you'll be able to make Potter Manor home again, though it'll be really hard.
I know I was not much of an elder brother; indeed, I feel like the world's worst member of a family. If ever given a second chance, I'd really like to grow up normally with Dad and Mum. Will you ever end up marrying Samantha? Will Ron and Hermione ever get together? I suppose I'll never know.
Trust me when I say I do not want to end this letter, since it shall be the last words I can ever say to you, yet if I do not do so, I fear none of these words will ever reach you. For safety reasons, please do not attempt to rescue or contact me again. Your efforts will be fruitless.
Goodbye.
Your brother,
Harry
The words and sentences in Harry's letter did not flow well; indeed they sounded as though the words were scribbled in a rushed jumble. The first few sentences were confusing and made little sense to Damien, but Harry mentioned that Damien would understand them in due time.
The parchment was slightly wet, the ink was smudged and blotchy, and the handwriting ugly, but that old and singed piece of parchment was Damien's most treasured possession. Tears spilled from the youngest Potter's eyes again, and he clutched hold of his eldest brother's last words, sobbing uncontrollably in the darkest corner of the room.
Later that night, when it was almost four in the morning, the flames in the fireplace burned emerald green once again. Damien was crouched in the corner of the living room, his head in his hands as he fell into an exhausted sleep. But as the figure approached him slowly, the youngest Potter looked up and found himself staring at a pair of familiar green orbs.
"M-Mum?" he rasped.
Lily gave his shoulder a squeeze in reply. In the dim light that filtered in through the windows, Damien saw his mother's hand reach up to her eyes again, before turning back to him. "You'd better come with me quickly," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"Why? Where are we going?" asked Damien, trailing behind Lily.
"St. Mungo's," his mother replied, sounding as though she might break down any second. "Your father's... hurt."
Damien felt as though someone had squeezed his heart. Wordlessly, he followed Lily into the fireplace. The emerald flames shot up at Lily's words, and his mother disappeared in a rush of green. The youngest Potter followed suit hurriedly.
The world spun around him in a dizzying manner, before Damien ended up sprawled in a familiar white building. The odour of spells and potions was overpowering. Half- wishing he was still asleep, sinking in blissful oblivion, Damien pushed himself up. Lily was still standing, but her back was facing him. Perhaps she didn't want her youngest son to see her crying.
"James' condition is very weak," she said, forcing the words out of her mouth. "Healer Davis said to bring you here, before he undergoes surgery, just in case- " her breath hitched in her throat. "He doesn't make it," she finished at last.
Damien saw her hand going to her eyes again and took a deep, steadying breath. "Dad will make it," he said firmly, surprised at the reassurance in his own voice. "He's stronger than what most people think. It'll take more than whatever it is to kill a Marauder."
Lily laughed, a small, shaky sound, but it was hope nevertheless.
"Your clumsy words always manage to make me feel better," she teased lightly, squeezing Damien's hand for comfort.
Damien offered back a smile, but as they approached James' ward slowly, courage failed the youngest Potter altogether as he saw his father. Wires, flasks, spells and enchantments were weaved around James' bed. Only his father's face could be seen beneath the haze of magic.
"One visitor at a time," warned the Healer, ushering Lily out. He turned to Damien. "You have five minutes. Stay at least two metres away from the patient."
He nodded, then went out, closing the door silently behind Damien.
It felt weird talking to an unresponsive father, even so when aforementioned father had been a very noisy parent. The only recogonisable feature was James' mess of jet black hair, which both Harry and Damien had inherited.
"Dad," Damien started, his voice sounding more like a croak. "Y-You can hear me, right? Healer Davis said you could."
James' little finger seemed to twitch a bit, but it was more likely to be Damien's hopeful imagination. Something constricted painfully in Damien's chest.
"I'd really like to go and hug you for one last time, before the surgery... but Healer Davis said I couldn't. He said it might affect your conditions," he said to his father, trying to explain himself. James' finger stopped twitching.
"Promise me you'll stay healthy, alright? H-Harry's not around to save your life this time, so you must make it on your own," finished Damien, thinking that if he annoyed his father enough, he might be able to wake James from his coma state.
James' thumb twitched, and this time Damien knew it was no illusion. A brief smile flitted across his features before the door burst open.
"Time is due for Mr. Potter to undergo surgery," announced Healer Davis. A group of Healers entered as well, all dressed in white as they approached James. Tears sprang to Damien's eyes for no apparent reason. As his father was wheeled out of the door, Damien sneaked a touch, making an embarassing pinky promise with James' limp thumb.
Pretending to retie his shoelace, Damien crouched low and whispered in James' ear.
"You've promised me now, you've got to come out of this. You haven't passed on the Marauders' secrets to me yet, so you can't go. Recover quickly, Dad, and come back to make Potter Manor home."
A/N: Sorry for the lack of suspense in this chapter. Please drop me a thought and review! :D
Take care,
Epsilon Scorpii