The Second Chance
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.
Thanks SO much to those who reviewed in the last chapter: Guest, BlackPanther101, .cool, Rachel, HazelMidnight20918, Phoenixx Rising, biblioholic, vnj, Ash-Bookworm113, Kimco96, coolchickdiv, G Wiz 13, Biaa Black Potter, Sushi, LadyGryffin17, v1cky84, Jaffaninja, QuestionsAndAnswers, Lauraw18, Oirasse, Kurinoone and awesomeperson17, your reviews were incredible- I really couldn't have done without them! This chapter is dedicated specially and specifically to you, my faithful reviewers! :D
Chapter 16: Second Intentions
After her success in baking pies that actually made a distressed James to finish her bacon- and egg pie whole, Lily suddenly thought that baking pies were actually more than worth the trouble.
As she retrieved her next batch of pies from the oven, something seemed to weigh down heavily on her heart... perhaps it was the absence of the childish, grinning face of a certain dark- haired man, his bark like laughter, and his accurate guesses at determining the pie flavour by only taking a whiff of it.
It wasn't that they hadn't tried. But indeed, there was not much hope left; just as there hadn't been much hope for the Muggles in Greville's Town, when the Death- Eaters came raiding. They had been completely defenseless and helpless against magic, not to mention the fact that they were taken by surprise. It had been a lowly act of Voldemort... but since when had the Dark Lord cared? Chivalry and nobility was nothing in those ruby red eyes, nor compassion or mercy... not when he wielded his wand and killed her son, Harry, who despite everything, still called the Dark wizard 'father'...
Sirius was gone. A part of Lily tried to hope, tried to stay strong and share this strong belief with James, who suffered a more severe blow at the loss of his best friend... but it was becoming more and more difficult to do so amidst the dark times of war, especially after they had lost their son, regardless of their strong, desperate pleas and beliefs that Harry would return to them.
Wiping away a stray tear, Lily laid the freshly baked sheperd's pie on the table, glancing up, anticipating to see her husband sitting by the fireplace, staring into space, or idly drawing futile plans that might lead to him finding Riddle Manor. But when she did, he wasn't there.
His cloak, wand, boots were missing as well. All that was left was a note, in which she crumbled to the floor upon reading it.
James arrived, spinning, amidst the dark trees that stood erect and tall all around him, casting him under long, omnious shadows. His keen ears picked up nothing but the cacophony of the insects, the gush of a nearby river, and a slight rustling that proved to be nothing but a small night creature, leaping over a fallen branch and scampering away into the darkness...
Suddenly, there were several loud cracks, causing the Auror to go rigid.
He was completely surrounded, a prey caught in the middle of a circle of black. The Dark Lord himself was the last to arrive, a brilliant green lightning snarking up into the sky as he did, idly reminding James of Harry's comment about Voldemort's favour in making dramatic entrances...
"So you turned up, Potter... I would have expected no less from such a fool."
James did not bother asking what did Voldemort want with him. There was only one plausible answer. "I promise to come willingly with you," James said, looking directly at those taunting ruby red eyes. "But I have one condition."
Voldemort appraised him, looking vaguely amused. "Obnoxious as always. You do realize you are in no position to do so."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
There was a flash of light as James said this, and behind him, Rosier gave a startled yelp, before inadvertently, his hands slowly began to reach up and choke himself.
James' fists were clenched tightly, and his eyes were hard. But the Dark Lord did not even flinch at the sight of his servant being slowly strangled to an eventual death before him.
"By all means, kill the man, he is of no useful purpose to me," said Voldemort softly, watching Rosier's crumpled and jerking form with something akin to sickening interest. The his red eyes glittered, "But be forewarned, by bringing the death of one of my followers, you bring destruction to your own kind... and the man held in my captive is of more value to you than that filth is to me..."
James smiled back, his bitter and cold. "You are no more than I expected either."
Slowly, Rosier regained his breath, as James released the Death- Eater from the Imperius Curse. But as he lay there, gasping for air, Voldemort smirked and directed the wand at his loyal follower.
"You bring me no gain if you fail to even defend yourself," he said, a cruel smile on his face as he advanced on the cowering Death- Eater slowly. "And alas, there is only one fate that befits your helpless, pathetic kind..."
"No!" James shouted, even as a jet of green light darted out and hit Rosier in his chest. The man's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell backwards with a thump, his eyes staring sightlessly, body limp. Beside Rosier, the rest of the Death- Eaters went rigid, fearful of what they might do to evoke the Dark Lord's wrath upon themselves...
"Unlike you, Potter," Voldemort's smirk was even more pronounced now, his pupils cruel slits as he narrowed his eyes at James, "I am no fool. Do not think for one moment you can double- cross me... and as to your conditions, I think I might fail to comply. Think of me as a poor host if you wish."
James felt heavy iron shackles cut into his ankles, and worst still, his knees, elbows and wrists, the sudden movement causing him to drop his wand. Voldemort leviated the wand to James' eye level, taunting the Auror, before blasting James' wand into a few broken, useless pieces, with a strong blast of Dark magic. James recoiled slightly in horror, watching as the last fragments of his plans and hopes were extinguished into nothing more than smithereens.
His ruby gaze still trained on the Auror, Voldemort reached down to the corpse of Rosier and snatched a golden chain Rosier had been wearing from the dead man's neck, before throwing it to the ground before a trapped James was standing.
Where there was a beautiful, iridescent blue stone with golden swirls embedded in the locket- a lapis lazuli stone- the enchanted blue stone now emitted a faint, pearly glow.
"A tracking charm," Voldemort continued, smiling. "Did you think for a moment you would be able to lead the Order here by your flimsy spells? It's clever, I'd give you that... but it is of no match for me." He held James' burning gaze for a moment, savouring James' bitter defeat for a moment, before turning and addressing his Death- Eaters, "Take the prisoner."
James gave involuntary struggle as the Death- Eaters approached, but the iron chains served to bind him tighter than before. It was then when James noticed that they weren't chains, but silver serpents coiled around him. He watched with rising horror as one of them wrapped itself around his torso, his chest, and crushed him with every single struggle he made.
"A new adaptation from the Devil's Snare," Voldemort informed James, his eyes still glittering. Taunting him, for being foolish enough to play the Dark Lord's game. "I would advise you to keep still if you desire to see your mutt a last time before you face death... and besides, I have one more surprise for you. I'm sure you'll like it very much. Until we meet again then."
The Dark Lord turned and vanished with a crack, brilliant green light illuminating the night sky once more as he departed.
He didn't know how many days he had spent there. They could have only been hours. Days. Months. Perhaps a year. He didn't know; he couldn't tell. The oppressive darkness that blinded him in his cell remained, barely cowering before some rare glows by an occasional lantern.
Sirius leaned against the cold, greasy and damp wall that marked a few bloodstains, and stared into space, his eyes haunted, his mind still spiralling, as it had the day he had saw his little brother he had never given a second thought to as the person he really was.
Of all things he'd expected of Regulus, it was never this. His little brother hadn't been brave, he had just been a snivelling coward that kissed the robes of Lord Voldemort, craving for the Dark Lord's power. Just like the others.
He would never have believed it, if he hadn't witnessed those two memories by himself, heard the last conversation between Rodolphus and Regulus.
But there hadn't been much point, had there? Regulus evaded death that night, but it still found him later, when the Dark Lord ordered the Kiss on Rodolphus Lestrange.
At this thought, Sirius shivered slightly, in the cold, and the pain clawed in his chest, just as the cell doors were flung open once again, and a solitary lantern came bobbing through the darkness, down the flight of stairs. Turning his head away from the light, Sirius' keen ears heard the footsteps of two men approaching, and one shuffling noise...
"Hurry up will you!" snarled a guttural voice Sirius knew to be Goyle Senior's. "I know you can be faster than this."
"My feet are tied, morons," responded an all- too familiar voice, causing Sirius to snap up and push himself forwards, tugging desperately at the metal chains binding him.
"Perhaps it would help if you could loosen the chains a little? Maybe I could walk faster, and you needn't be trapped here all day," James' smooth voice came from the top flight of the stairs. Squinting against the light, Sirius could make out Nott Senior descending the last steps first, still holding the lantern aloft.
Silence was met at James' words, and there was a look of suggested incredubility on Nott's face as he glared at his prisoner. James sighed, sounding completely unfazed.
"I guess you're not that thick, then," he said regretfully, stumbling down the last steps with a loud clink again. It was then when James finally looked up, and his eyes met Sirius' immediately.
Silence reigned.
Sirius wondered why James was remaining so quiet. All his best friend was doing was simply stand there and gape at him with widened eyes, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. What was wrong with him? Surely Sirius didn't look so bad...
But as a matter of fact, he did look in a pretty bad shape. Straggly wisps of wet dark hair were hanging over his face like a curtain, a side of his face caked in dried blood, and his hands, legs and body twisted at awkward angles, bloody and beaten, his black robes were tattered and ragged. Days of not seeing light or warmth, of dwelling in the haunt of Dementors cast a shadow over his eyes, and for a moment, if Sirius had seen his own reflection, he would have been stunned at how similar he looked to his brother, Regulus, when the younger Slytherin had been in that exact same cell, once.
The Death- Eaters exchanged a few unintelligible words before starting to unlock the cell on Sirius' right. Brutally, they threw James into the cell, causing Sirius to inhale sharply as his friend hissed in pain on the floor, winded. Then the lantern was gone, Nott and Goyle were already hurrying back up the steps, Goyle holding the lantern this time.
There was the creaking of gates, then they heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the bolts fixed back in place.
"Prongs," rasped Sirius, before noting that the syllable uttered from his lips sounded nothing like his voice... it was dry, raspy, faint... and a bit deeper than his usual voice. "Prongs," he tried again. "What are you doing here? I thought you got away!"
The last part sounded more like himself. Slowly, he watched as his best friend pushed himself up painfully, and gave Sirius something between a grimace and a grin. "Hello, Padfoot," James said simply, which told Sirius all he needed to know.
This was all intended.
"No!" said Sirius, louder this time, his voice bouncing off the walls and echoing eerily around the cells they were held in. "What on earth were you thinking- you musn't be caught! How dare you come here and-"
"What would you have me do!" snapped James, not letting Sirius finish. "There was no other choice. No other way to bring you back."
"And pray tell me what have you achieved by locking yourself up in this hell hole!" Sirius shouted back at his friend, his anger and frustration boiling over, a furious kind of protective rage coming over him.
"I had a plan!" James protested, and Sirius fell silent, his breath coming in mists of white forming before him. "But it failed."
Sirius never thought he could feel as exasperated as he did now. He gritted his teeth angrily before saying, "You never really planned it out, did you? Or you cared for was to rush straight into danger and give up yourself before you actually thought of the consequences!"
"All I cared for was to bring my best friend back!" James hurled back, even as he struggled to sit upright.
Silence, again, was met at this, before Sirius said in a much quieter tone, "You shouldn't have."
"You would have done the same, if the roles were reversed."
"You're different," Sirius said, looking up at James with a sudden sorrow in his eyes that made James' heart constrict at the sight, and wonder what the Dementors had done to the ever laughing, annoying Sirius Black. "You have a family to care for, Lily and Damien depend on you, so does the Order. I don't. That's why I can afford to do it while you can't."
"Don't you even dare tell me that you can afford to bloody die for me while I can't," snapped James, a torrent of emotions building within him. Anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, fear, all jumbled up in one complicated mess he was surprised he was still sane. "We're the Marauders. I did as you would have, or Remus would have done for any of us."
A small smile lifted the corner of Sirius' mouth for a brief moment.
"The Marauders... I've not heard them for a long, long time."
"Yes you have," replied James in a testy voice, even though fear was thumping his heart wildly, wondering if Sirius was still sane. "Your memory is horrible. It suits you, though."
There was another long, long stretch of silence. Nothing was heard but for the steady trickle of water down the wall, and James' frequent struggles against the silver serpents binding him. They seemed to emit a soft, pearly glow, but Sirius, with a haunted look on his face, never seemed to notice. James' arrival had provided a distraction from his misery, but now the light had went out, and his mind was once again lost in the darkness.
Guilt had found him the night he discovered Regulus' innocence, and had stabbed him, repeatedly, killing him from the inside like a cancerous disease, as he remembered the time he had avoided his little brother's steady gaze, fixed on him but nobody else, as though trying to convey a message.
I was tracking down Horcruxes.
He handed him over.
Still, Regulus never said a thing, never told anything to the Ministry to save his own life from being thrown into Azkaban.
Why?
The question haunted him in his dying mind, he felt the cold, chilling echoes of the Dementors' presence weighing down on him, heavily, like a physical weight. Where guilt was a powerful emotion, in Azkaban, guilt could kill.
"Padfoot," James said aloud, through short gasps of breath, trying to forget the pain of the crushing serpents around him then. "Padfoot, what did they do to you? Why are you so quiet? Are you alright?" He faltered at the last bit, barely betraying the unasked question, "Are you insane?"
It didn't seem very probable as Sirius had been able to talk to him properly just now, when he was scolding James for hurrying into rescuing him, but after that, the sorrow that clouded over Sirius' eyes, the mist numbed and shrouded Sirius' senses stole over, and his best friend was left, staring blankly into space like an empty shell, devoid of life, a few decades older than he actually was. What had they done to Sirius? It had been but a few days, but it was enough to reduce a bouncing, full of life Sirius to a living corpse.
Sirius didn't reply for a long moment, before he suddenly said, with a painful intake of breath- a name James never expected his best friend to bring up ever again. "Regulus," he said.
"What?" James wasn't sure if he heard right.
"Regulus Acturus Black," Sirius repeated himself, louder this time, his fingers trailing across the moss coating the wall he was leaning against.
A chill stole over James; of everything that had happened, this was what he least expected.
"Your brother," James said, as if to confirm it.
Sirius gave him the barest of nods. "He was a Slytherin. He believed strongly in blood purity and scoffed at Muggleborns. And when he was 18, he joined Voldemort."
"You hated him for it," James said, recalling the way Sirius' knuckles went white as his fingers curled around the glass of Firewhiskey he's been holding when he heard the news from Snape. "Even after you had been disowned."
Sirius didn't reply. "He was a traitor. He betrayed the Dark Lord, and he was tracking down Horcruxes even before we knew of their existence."
James was suddenly struck silent at those words. But Sirius ploughed on, as though James were never there. "He was in league with Rodolphus Lestrange. Lestrange wanted revenge because the Dark Lord abandoned him. Lestrange told Regulus about the Horcruxes, and Regulus tracked them down. But Lestrange decided he couldn't wait. He sold out Regulus for a place back at the Dark Lord's side.
"Voldemort was cunning- he decided to let the Ministry do the job for him. One of his spies revealed to the Ministry about Regulus' location. We thought we'd been given a tip. We thought that it was a Death- Eater hideout. But do you remember, when we turned up at that cave, Regulus was the only one there. He was gasping and choking as he leaned against the rocks, there was blood splatters all over them.
"I didn't know what to do then. Nor did you, you just stopped beside me and stared. But Ryan found him, and called out to the rest. Within seconds, it was all over. They Stunned him and revived him. That was the last I saw of him, until the day he was sentenced to eternal imprisonment in Azkaban. The time they led him away from me, I thought he'd avoid my gaze, but he just kept on staring at me. As though he wanted to tell me something, badly, but couldn't. I didn't understand him at that time. I looked away.
"After he was thrown into Azkaban, Voldemort sent Dementors to perform the Kiss on him. Regulus was smart, and he swapped places with Rodolphus." Here, there was a sudden gasp, as though he were relieving a painful memory. "I thought he lived. But that day, when I asked Rosier what had happened to the supposed Rodolphus, Rosier said he'd been killed too, when he tried to escape. Rosier said the Dark Lord never sent for Rodolphus, so the man attempted an escape, and the Dementors swooped down and performed the Kiss."
Sirius stopped, his eyes no longer blank, but staring into the far distance, unseeing. "Regulus is dead," he said at last. "He died for doing what was right. And I as good as killed him for it."
James remained quiet throughout Sirius' tale. When Sirius had stopped speaking, James looked up at last, worry and sadness mingling in his words.
"You need to fight this, Sirius. Guilt will kill you in Azkaban."
This time, Sirius lowered his head, resting it on his drawn- up knees. "I know."
Meanwhile, completely unaware of his father's death, Rosier Junior was sitting at the Slytherin table, taking a few last bites of his dinner before the dishes were cleared away. He had been training with his newly chosen dueling partner for the last few minutes in an unused classroom, and he had to admit that he was nowhere near disappointed at his choice.. He was pretty confident they would win this round, providing Potter would act just as he expected the boy to and choose Granger, the filthy mudblood as his partner.
However, Rosier's eyes narrowed as he watched Kit Mason walk into the Hall, and behind him trailed none other than a disheveled- looking Damien Potter. The mudblood and blood traitor was with Potter as well, but Rosier noticed that they wished Potter and Mason good luck, before sitting down at the Gryffindor Table, and watching the Headmaster with eager anticipation.
There was only one conclusion Rosier could draw from this development of things, and he could only think of one accurate description of it- 'not good'. Somehow, Kit Mason had decided to compete in the Mudblood's stead… and Rosier had a vague idea just what Kit was actually capable of. Steeling himself, he stole a glance at his partner, who did not return his gaze.
The food cleared away from the table, as expectant silence fell in the Hall. It was as though with bated breath as the crowd watched the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore rise gracefully from his seat to the front, and stretch out his arms once more, as though to embrace the entire Hall.
"This evening," he began, his eyes twinkling merrily, "is the first duel between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Now, without further ado, may the contestants please step forwards onto the stage."
Rosier stood up slowly, his eyes all the while trained on Damien Potter, who was shaking Weasley's hand vigorously, as though for luck, with Mason standing slightly behind the pair, looking exasperated and bored. The whole school erupted into deafening cheers as Potter and Mason stepped onstage first, before gradually falling silent as Rosier Junior made his way onstage as well, his partner following some distance behind him.
Up on the podium, Kit's eyes met Draco Malfoy's unfazed ones, with a barely concealed smirk. "We meet again," Kit said to the Slytherin, his voice taunting.
Draco barely refrained from an eye- roll. "Indeed," he said lightly, before stepping away from what he regarded as the 'mental Gryffindor', looking completely unconcerned if not slightly wary… though Kit thought he heard Malfoy mutter under his breath "Just my luck."
Rosier and Damien seemed to be holding each other's piercing gazes, having an impromptu staring competition before the duel actually began. Kit punched Damien discreetly, albeit quite hardly, in his back, forcing the younger Gryffindor to snap out of the staring match and blink rapidly. Rosier smirked and looked away, seemingly slightly triumphant.
"What'd you do that for?" snapped Damien, annoyed. "Now he has the upper hand!"
"Both of you have effectively lost the upper hand," said Kit through gritted teeth. "Honestly, a staring match right before a duel? Excluding the fact that it was an extremely childish thing to do, you were blinding yourself for no reason at all."
Indeed, after keeping his eyes wide open for a few minutes, and trying to ignore the brightness of the candle flames in the background, Damien thought he saw black spots dancing in the corners of his eyes, impairing his vision. Damien swore aloud.
Professor Dumbledore, who was merely inches away from where they were all standing, chose to remain oblivious to all the little commotions happening onstage. His eyes still resting on the mass of students before him, he continued to address the crowd, explaining the rules and regulations all over again, effectively drawing a few groans from each House.
"I feel the need to repeat, that as the rules state so, no dark curses, hexes or jinxes are tolerated in this duel. Needless to say, the Unforgivable Curses are strictly prohibited as well, as it is against the law- "
"What happened to 'needless to say'?" muttered Damien under his breath.
"…decreed by the Ministry of Magic." Here, Dumbledore paused and turned to face the four duelers standing on stage, preparing for the upcoming match. "Now, may the opponents step forwards and shake hands with each other, as a mark that this duel is merely a friendly match, and no unnecessary and unprecedented violence is accepted."
This time, breaking all traditions of competitions between Slytherin and Gryffindor House since history, there was no hand- crushing before the match, merely a light handshake, or perhaps it could only be called as a brush of palms. As Draco moved forwards to shake Damien's hand, their eyes inevitably met. That moment that lasted the briefest of seconds was awkward and uncomfortable, before both averted their gazes and resumed their positions at opposite ends, intending to forget anything that might have hinted something less than arch- enemies for the past few weeks, when Harry had once been the unofficial go- between them.
Suddenly, Dumbledore raised his wand, and a large ring appeared, suspended in the middle of the Great Hall. There seemed to be a magical barrier around it, a shimmering haze of magic, surrounding the entire structure. Dumbledore motioned for the four contestants to enter the ring, and the four of them immediately obliged without a word; the Slytherins going through first, as Damien had lingered behind to wave at Ron cheerily, and Kit rolled his eyes.
Facing the crowd of students before him once again, Dumbledore continued to speak.
"I have placed a barrier around the ring," he began. "In the event that a spell were to go astray, it would disappear upon contact with the barrier, so the audience need not worry of getting hurt," he added, a small smile of assurance on his face as his eyes lingered upon a few chattering First- Year girls at the Ravenclaw Table. Taking another breath, he continued with a new tone, one with finality and the barest hint of anticipation and excitement, "The duel will commence on the count of three. The champion goes to the House who manages to unarm their opponents, or whose opponents are unconscious or have forfeited the match. The count begins, three! Two! One!"
Even as the crowd cheered at the last word, 'Begin!', the first spell had already thundered out of Rosier's wand, a Stunner, intended for Damien. The youngest Potter narrowly avoided the spell, causing a collective round of 'ooh's from the crowd. Narrowing his eyes, Damien immediately sent three bursts of light shooting out of his wand, two were red, one yellow. Rosier ducked instinctively, and to the Gryffindor's surprise, the Slytherin was fast enough to avoid all three of the spells- he didn't even need to conjure a shield. Idly, Damien wondered if he would be so humiliated that Kit would need to help him defeat Rosier after the transfer student finished with Draco. That thought was unbearable.
Meanwhile, as Rosier and Damien fought each other, spells battling back and forth, Kit and Draco were circling each other, almost slowly, eyes keen and alert, waiting for the first move; the advantage. Key was that if your opponent fired first, you could dodge and fire your curse with lightning speed and end the duel quickly, of course only if you were quick enough. After all, technically, said opponents' eyes would be trained on his or her own spell, waiting for it to impact, and any experienced dueler would know that staring at a jet of bright light in the middle of a duel was not the wisest course of action, especially when it blinds you for a few seconds. These seconds could be crucial.
However, unbeknownst to Kit, he himself had taught Draco that trick and perfected the Slytherin's moves himself, so neither of them were about to take the bait and fire the first curse. Kit, upon realizing this, decided to go for the first and simplest course of action. He could think of a hundred and one ways to end this duel quickly, but most of them did not apply if he were to mask his true skills at dueling. He wanted to make it look like it was more of carelessness on Draco's part that the Slytherin lost, as he inevitably would. Kit had decided that winning this match was the best way of proceeding with his plans to unveil the truth.
His mind still calculating possible outcomes of the situation, Kit sent the first jet of fiery red light speeding towards Draco, the spell darting out of his wand so fast it was nothing but a blur of red. But Draco swerved out of the way quickly, firing a spell in Kit's general direction, his spell deadly fast. As predicted. Kit ducked under the red light, which whizzed above his head and hit the shimmering barrier, fizzled and died instantly.
Next came an entire onslaught of curses, fired by Draco, raining on him heavily that kept him swerving and ducking. There were loud cries and cheers at this spectacular display of what Kit suspected almost the entire Hogwarts population regarded as fireworks instead of actual potentially harmful spells, and this caused annoyance to rise in Kit once again for being put upon stage and watched as he dueled, seemingly for entertainment.
For the next few minutes, there was no room for other thoughts, just ducking and weaving, and conjuring faint silvery shields, as Kit dodged Draco's rain of spells. The Slytherin did not put much power behind his curses- he had only managed to keep up the quantity, not the quality. And Kit was starting to worry that perhaps he had revealed too much, as he continued to dodge the rain of spells upon him, and the crowd cheered and screamed in excitement. Which only served to irritate him even more.
Sweat was forming on Draco's brow on this obvious strain; he didn't seem to be able to hold up his constant blast of three or four spells per two seconds, not if he wanted to conserve energy for the rest of the match. Kit seemed to realize this, for suddenly he ducked extremely quickly to the side, round the ring anti- clockwise. Draco's eyes widened and he immediately directed his curses towards Kit's new position. All this happened so fast that the Slytherin neglected to notice that Kit's back had been facing Rosier, and now that the Gryffindor had avoided Draco's onslaught of curses… they were going to hit Rosier instead.
Almost instinctively, Draco drew up a barrier to shield Rosier from the curses, before noticing suddenly how appalingly Gryffindor- ish his actions were. Of course, Kit took this advantage of Draco firing up a shield to fire four stronger spells in the Slytherin's direction.
Meanwhile, even though Draco had managed to cast a shield over Rosier, the sudden faint green, glowing shield beside, if not around him, served to distract the younger Slytherin, and Damien pushed home the advantage, shouting out spells verbally (as they seemed to be stronger for him when he did) and consistently, never even pausing for breath.
The crowd cheered even louder, but Kit was still able to hear Damien's somewhat heroic cries of 'Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Ahh!" And much to Kit's amusement, at Damien's cry of 'Ahh!', a feeble jet of yellow light darted out from his wand too. Not to mention, the youngest Potter looked simply ridiculous.
One of Kit's spells managed to catch Draco in his leg, causing a gash to appear, and the Slytherin stumbled, slightly, but in the act, Draco managed to lose his wand. Kit watched as the Slytherin's grey eyes watched the dragon heartstring wand skittered away from its owner, landing a metre away from Draco. The Hall fell silent, as though in expectation- after all, Kit already had his wand trained on Draco. But Kit looked hard at those calculating grey eyes, thinking, before turning away, and signaling for Draco to pick up his wand again.
The crowd roared; Kit ignored them. After all, strictly speaking, he hadn't unarmed Draco- the Slytherin had dropped the wand himself. Though he could have Stunned Draco if he wanted to, right then, and ended the match the way he wanted it to- showing not skill on his part, but carelessness on Draco's. But at the last minute, Kit reminded himself of his now being a Gryffindor, and attacking an unarmed opponent was definitely not what a true Gryffindor would do. He had to play a foolish Gryffindor's part… and what's more, victory would not have tasted sweet to him if he had won the duel that way.
But as Kit's back was turned, Draco had Summoned his wand effortlessly, and in one fluid action, he fired a purple curse at the Gryffindor- and only a handful who recognized it, gasped in horror, even as the barriers were now flashing red, sensing the use of Dark magic within the ring.
Kit's eyes widened, before whirling around and throwing up his shield, instinctively, as he had always done in the battlefield. And that was why, in a moment his instincts took over completely, he accidentally uncovered his mask, and a beautiful, iridescent blue shield expanded before him, and the dark curse Draco fired fizzled and died almost immediately upon impact.
The crowd fell silent at the sudden unexpected display of extremely advanced magic. And Kit...
Kit's eyes were dark, extremely so, as he lowered his shield to look at the slightly smiling Slytherin before him.
"I knew you were more than you let on, " Draco said, his eyes taunting, even as the red flag was raised. He didn't even look surprised at Kit's actions.
Nothing more was said as a blue light emitting from the barrier around the ring began to envelop Draco, transporting him before the staff of Hogwarts, where Dumbledore was standing, looking grave.
Only minutes before it had happened, Damien's Cutting Hex had hit Rosier on his forehead, causing a red gash to appear, but when Kit's brilliant azure shield suddenly unfolded, both stopped in mid- action of cursing one another, distracted.
But as Draco was transported away from the ring, Damien still looked dumbfounded, gazing at the spot where Kit's shield had expanded with disbelief and shock written all over his features. He was still wearing that expression when Rosier's Stunner hit him from behind, sending him stumbling before sprawling to the ground.
But in the next second, Rosier had joined the youngest Potter on the floor as well, as Kit stood with his wand outstretched before him, his eyes a dangerous dark blue.
A/N: Yay, that's chapter 16 done. I've really come far, haven't I? *Grins
Please tell me what you think, as usual: Was the duel as you expected? Did any of you guess I was going to reveal Kit's shield this way? Do tell!
Rating system:
'.' for lovely/ :D for awesome
'O' for okay
'X' for terrible.
Until next time. Cheers!
Epsilon Scorpii