CHAPTER 75: Irreconcilable Differences (Part 7)

Montague Manor

9:30 p.m.

"Oh, my. Aren't we in a pickle?"

The voice taunted and laughed. It circled him as his heart continued to speed up. He struggled against the rope, with each movement burning deeper into the already dark red circles around his wrist. He had thought of fear as a commodity, a childish reaction he would no longer feel. But as the night had gone on, the figure had made him remember. It had torn into his body, mangling it, enjoying itself as he inflicted gradually more intense types of pain.

It wasn't hunting for food. It wasn't aiming to achieve any single goal. It only wished to pass the time.

"Now tell me…" the figure stepped from his right side, its face remained covered in shadows as it jabbed the knife at the arm of the chair and lodged it there. "What am I to do with you now?"

It was a rhetorical question, but even if Harry had wanted to answer he wouldn't have been able to. The figure peered in, its face lighting up as it revealed a pale face, disfigured and covered in scars, as it stared at him with those dull green eyes.

Harry blinked, and the vision immediately faded away, his mind giving him a respite from his nightmares as he stared down at the manor below the hill where he'd set camp. This should have been the first place he searched when he began his hunt for Montague. When he'd read what Junior's parchment had said, he had wanted to slap himself in the face if not for everything else that had happened that night. It was the obvious choice. One he should have at least checked out just from what Graham had told him happened between their parents.

It was fitting, in a way, that Montague had chosen this of all places. The dark side of him enjoyed the poetry of all of this. It had been the place where the Montagues had lost everything, where his parents had exposed themselves for the murderous bigots that they were. And now, it was the place where he was going to end the Potter-Montague feud. Once and for all.

The manor was just as Harry had expected it to be. It somehow looked more decrepit than Montague's other residency had. If not for the faint orange light coming from inside, Harry would have thought that no one had been there for decades either. The wood in the walls looked like it had been slowly eaten out by termites, with the grass unbearably long and the windows cracked or broken from the previous battle that had been fought inside. The only thing missing was a few ghosts roaming around to complete the haunted manor vibe the place had.

Harry took a steely breath as he squared his shoulders. He'd been scouting the place for long enough. No one had been coming in or out, and there weren't any anti-apparition or anti-portkey wards. It was as clear as it was ever going to be. And yet, he still remained watching from above. Junior had warned him it was a trap, though that would have been plain to see regardless. And though he'd prepared, having Bedivere enchant some weapons for him and give him a portkey keyed to 37 Castle Hill Road, there was still a sense of urging that Harry couldn't quite rid himself of.

But just like with most things in his life, he pushed through it. He'd been preparing his whole life for this fight, had done his due diligence, and thought of every eventuality. Prepared for it all. He would be no one's prisoner. He would not fail or falter. He would not lose. Junior had warned him it was a trap, and he was right. Only Montague didn't know it yet.

Making his way down the hill, Harry used the long, unkempt grass as his cover. Not knowing what Montague had in store for him, it would be foolish for him to begin using up his magic in such a careless way. So he used the darkness, used his environment to maintain him secure as his heartbeat slowly lowered, and he crept closer and closer toward the manor.

Climbing slightly and making sure not to grab onto the borders of the frame, Harry crossed the threshold and entered Montague Manor. The place was eerily silent, and if not for the light that seemed to come from deeper within the house as well as the revolting scent that nearly incapacitated him, he would have let his guard down slightly. Instead, he kept himself crouched and hidden as he searched through every room of the manor. Meticulously and thoroughly, Harry made his way through the place, and it wasn't until the fourth room that he found something interesting. Three half-rotting corpses had been carefully laid out on the floor, their bodies brutalised beyond recognition, and at the centre of them was a newspaper article that had been pinned to the ground with a knife.

CARNAGE AT THE SILVER WEREWOLF

"Aren't you too young to drink?"

"What about you, kid? What will you do now that you're one of us lowly fuckers?"

"Getting your hands dirty. Using a bit of… restricted magic every now and then. You know… surviving?"

"Yeah… I really enjoyed carving that cunt's face wide open."

Harry felt as if his entire system had been shocked, dropping the article as it slowly sunk onto the floor. He felt chills crawl up his back, their scream's ringing in his ears as he began to let out shaky breaths.

The deeper he made his way into the manor, the more bodies he encountered. Each with its own article. Each with a reminder of all that he'd done in the short amount of time since he'd escaped from Grimmauld Place. Every man he killed lay at his feet. And those he had tortured and let live were circled in every article he encountered. He saw the men he tricked at the pubs, pretending to be their friends before attacking them. Read about the shady managers who he attacked at Montague's warehouses and stores, and the barely out-of-school teens he'd traumatised for the rest of their life.

The manor had been turned into a mausoleum for his crimes, and Harry couldn't help but relive each one. Seeing their bloodied faces and hearing their bone-chilling screams as he went deeper into the house.

It wasn't until he'd made it to a vast room, candles and torches lighting it up fully, that he realised he was no longer hiding. His wand had been lowered as he brazenly stepped into what he had thought was an empty room. A notion that had quickly been dispelled by the same cackling laughter that haunted his nightmares. He quickly turned and trained his wand at his target, only for him to be shocked by the red-headed fiend he had thought he would never see again.

"Dolohov," he growled as everything came back to him. Susan's whimpers right before her throat had been slashed, the way her body fell helplessly into his arms. The dead look in her eyes as Harry realised he had killed her. His restraint. His decision to spare the bastard. And for a moment, he could hear a small voice whisper inside of him. Reminding him he couldn't kill anymore. Reminding him just how close he'd been to completely lose it. How his parents, how Susan would feel if they had seen him kill all those people.

But the voice was quickly suppressed by the raw hatred he felt for the madman. And Harry hurled a series of blasting curses straight at Dolohov's head. But he had seen it coming, exploding into a burst of smoke that travelled the room in a mere second before reappearing. Dolohov laughed maniacally, barely catching himself on his feet before quickly grabbing his wand like a knife and plunging it to the ground, and the moment it connected with the floor it lit up a massive blue flame that quartered him off completely, drawing a line that spread across the entire length of the room.

Harry launched another series of curses at Dolohov, but they were all intercepted by tendrils formed by the very fire itself. And while Dolohov didn't seem surprised by the development, it didn't stop him from letting out his eerie laugh.

"You like it? A gift from our host. Who knew such a frankly boring chap would have access to magic that is just so fun."

"Where's Montague?" Harry growled.

"Eh, doesn't really matter, does it?" Harry didn't say a word, letting his glare scream out his hatred for him. "Come ooon. You didn't expect a man like that Montague guy to stay here when he knows you're coming, did you? Between you and me, he doesn't seem to be the fighting sort."

"Instead he left his patsy here, did he? Are you that eager to be murdered?"

"Such anger," Dolohov smirked. "What killer instinct you have. If I weren't so disappointed, I might actually feel a little pride."

"Disappointed?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm disappointed. I'm very disappointed. But don't you worry about that, you seem to be back on the right path. Let me just give you a push. Ohhh boys!" He yelled out, and before Harry could react the doors to the massive ballroom were pushed open, and nearly a dozen men stepped through, pinning him between the massive blaze of blue flames and the semi-army in front of him.

Harry immediately got into a fighting stance, attempting to keep his eye on all twelve men as they began to surround him in a half circle as he ignored Dolohov's continued laughter.

"You have lackeys now?" Harry snarled at Dolohov.

"Oh, they don't work for me. I like to think of myself as a one-man show, you know? No, these people hate you all on their own. Something about you butchering their friends."

"Didn't learn from your friends, huh?" Harry called out to the group of men as they began pulling out their wands. As they did, one of Harry's hands went to his never-ending pocket where he grabbed the cube he'd prepared for a situation just like this one. And though Harry's anger hadn't quelled completely, he felt more in control than how he'd been when it was just Dolohov in the room.

You're not killing them, Potter. Making an excuse for Dolohov is one thing, doesn't mean you're allowed to fall off now.

"You're not picking us off this time," one of them said coldly.

"I don't need to," Harry replied before pulling out the Rubik's cube, squishing it forcefully with his right hand before hurling it up into the air. As soon as he did, a few of them began launching curses at him and forcing him to roll and run to avoid them, but most of them stared at the cube in confusion. It began to solve itself mid-air, and as soon as it hit the apex of its trajectory and all its faces matched in colour, a bright light emerged from it and summoned all the wands in the room barring Harry's that had already been keyed to the cube's magic.

The wands flew to it, with all of them - except Dolohov's, which got caught by the fire tendril's before it could reach the cube - getting stuck on the cube before it landed on the floor. The room immediately descended into chaos, with most of the men rushing over to it in an effort to recuperate their wands, giving Harry the perfect chance to make his move.

Harry summoned the cube to him and just as he was about to banish it across the room, Harry felt as Black's wand was ripped from his hand and launched into the air. He turned around and saw Dolohov wink at him. "No party pooping, Potty."

Harry growled before his eyes widened as he saw the six men that were all charging toward him. He pulled out the knife from his back holster as a precaution before he rolled to dodge one of the men that had launched himself at him. Harry slashed at two others, hitting one on the arm and slicing off the other one's index finger. But none of them were stopped by this action, and as the other three neared closer, Harry was left with no option. Pulling one of the wands from the cube, he pocketed it for a second before he threw the cube across the room and hope the men took the bait.

"Get him!" One of them shouted instead, while a couple of the ones in the back went to retrieve their wands.

"Fuck me," Harry muttered, fumbling for the wand before he was clocked right in the face. The man was tall and broad, and when his fist hit Harry's jaw it sent the boy flying for a moment. He landed on the ground, and having no choice, he picked himself up and hurried away. Finally managing to pull out the wand, he cast a long series of tripping jinxes, stunning charms, as well as expulso, reductor, and blasting curses.

But the men who tripped quickly stood up. The ones hit with the stunning charms were barely slowed down. And those hit by the curses took the blows in stride as they continued to persecute him.

Harry was once again knocked to the ground, and before he knew it there were two men right above him, hurling punches at him, while another two of them began kicking him. In mere seconds, he had been overpowered and received dozens of blows to his head, his torso, and even his legs. But throughout it all, he never lost his grip on the wand.

"Get the wand!"

"Get the knife!"

"Oh, fuck no!" Harry snarled, managing to block one of the kicks that had been aimed at his head, before using all his might to pull the wand out from under him. "DEPULSO!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling as though he'd channelled all his magic into one spell. And the feeling hadn't been far off, as all four men were thrown various feet away from him with the spell - much more powerful than any he'd cast before without his wand. But he immediately felt the toll on him, almost as if a part of his very energy force had been sucked out of him with it.

But Harry didn't allow himself to think much about it, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out the enchanted deck of cards. Forcing his body up, already feeling the bruises from the blows he suffered, he threw the cards up into the air. Inspired by a stupid muggle magic trick, the cards had been enchanted with a modified version of a disillusionment charm that made him disappear before the last one had hit the ground.

"Where is he?" One of the men shouted before suddenly, they were all looking for him. They used their hands and bodies to try and find him. To sneak away, Harry was forced to duck and dodge all the ones close to him, barely making it out before he heard someone yell "Homenum Revelio!"

Immediately, Harry felt all eyes land on him right before he was sent flying across the room. He crashed against one of the far walls, feeling his back shout in pain before his arse hit the ground. And when he tried standing up, his torso began to burn from the inside and push him back down to the ground. He tried again, only this time his right hand was struck with three consecutive nails that pinned him to the wall. Harry screamed in pain, feeling his head get cloudy as he began to lose his cool.

He used the wand to summon Black's wand from across the room, catching it with an extra hand before transfiguring the nails into water. Blood began dripping from his hand, but he ignore it. Breathing heavily, he turned towards the attackers before immediately running toward them and hurling more curses at them.

He stopped with the stunning charms that were so clearly not working. He stopped trying to trip them and disarm them. Harry completely ignored the couple of tricks he still had hidden in his sleeve and launched nothing but curses, willing himself to cast them as strongly as he possibly could. Forcing the wand to comply as each curse he tried to cast got increasingly tiring for him. But there was a difference, if only slightly notable, and after a couple of hits, the men were beginning to fall.

One. Two. He reached three men down before a cutting curse hit him right below the eye, leaving a large, notable gash across his cheek. It threw him slightly off balance, giving the opportunity for more of them to hit him. Struck in the back of the leg with a reductor curse, he heard something break inside of him. Launched back and forth across the room, all the others had recovered their wands and none decided to resort to using their fists to punish him.

He felt as if he had his air blown out of him. As his body began purpling all over, as he could barely stand without feeling intense agony. And the more his body was hit with blow after blow, the less he was thinking. Everything was happening so fast. He could barely breathe. Barely managed to keep Black's wand stuck to his hand.

And suddenly everything stopped. The pain stopped. The blows stopped. Harry stopped. Or at least, the world around him did. He felt as if it got slower and slower. He began to feel light-headed, Harry blinked a couple of times before he realised he hadn't stopped moving. That the world hadn't fully stopped. He was still fighting.

Ducking and dodging, Harry didn't bother to put up any shield charms knowing they would be easily destroyed by any curse that was hit with it. Instead, he once again pulled out his knife and jumped on the first man he saw. Harry struck him in the neck, hearing a crazed roar as he did, before pulling out the knife. Blood began to spill out and the man fell to the ground. And Harry kept stabbing at him as he did.

He was dead before he hit the floor, but the man had its uses as he served as the perfect human shield. Hidden behind him, Harry pulled out the bloody knife from the man's eye socket before launching it across the room. It hit one of the men between his nose and his lip, and when Harry saw that everyone stared at it in horror, he rolled out from under the man and began launching more and more curses.

Blood began flying everywhere. The only sound other than the screams of his victims was Dolohov's maniacal laughter. And as bodies began dropping and their numbers lessened, the men grew more terrified of the monster in front of them. But nothing could save them. Not their increased efforts to murder him, nor their pleas for mercy before Harry blasted their bodies apart so brutally it was as though he'd reached into them and pulled their entrails out one by one.

But he didn't stop. His body kept going until there was no sound. Until even those he had managed to incapacitate had had their heads blown off to the point of no recognition. And once he did, his body gave up on him, and he plummeted to the ground. He began shivering, feeling more tired than he had ever felt before. And as his breathing began slowing and the smell of blood began to fill his nostrils, Harry felt his heart stop.

What have I done?

He forced himself to his knees and looked at the surrounding massacre. The corpses that littered the floor were barely recognisable, no different from the ones that had been spread all around the manor. "No, no, no, no, no." His voice sounded as broken as he felt, and he tried to suppress the sobs that were building up inside of him.

You're a monster.

He tried looking away, tried to ignore all the corpses that surrounded him, but he couldn't. Couldn't help but watch, stare, and wish this was nothing more than another nightmare. But even he couldn't lie to himself with such an enormous farce.

"Well that was fun, wasn't it?" Dolohov's voice barely registered with him. And even as he saw the man towering over him, grinning down at him with a piece of the skin of his forehead peeling off, revealing the red, black, and green mess behind it. "Those half-wits thought they could actually kill you. HA! Now that… that's as good as jokes come."

Harry wanted to feel angry, wanted to push through the tiredness, and force himself to stand and beat the crap out of Dolohov. But he didn't. He couldn't. Didn't even look at him for long before he let his body fully drop onto the floor.

"Come on, Harry. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy this. You wanted it, I could see it in your face. When you were going at them, butchering those fools… Wow! That was something to see. I knew you had it in you." Harry heard Dolohov's knees crack as he knelt beside him and trailed his hand over Harry's face before licking the blood that his fingers had picked up. "I saw it the moment I met you. You and I… we're the same. Kindred souls, in a way. Yeah, sure, I had to kill your pretty little girlfriend to make you accept that. But it was so worth it because now, deep down, you have. You could have run away, apparated out of here. You could have subdued them all if you tried hard enough. If I had been wrong about you, you would have done a hundred things differently. So no matter how much you try to tone down your attacks, or how much you want to believe, to be able to convince yourself that you are nothing like me, deep down we both know you can't. It's who you are. It's who you've always been. The ruthless killer I know and love."

Dolohov stood up, idly cleaning his clothes before he giggled. "You've heard them, haven't you? Heard all the people that have called you a monster for being who you are. How everyone looks at you with such fear. My question is, why fight it? They know you're the devil already… cutting off your horns won't change that."

Harry didn't say anything. His eyes stared at the blood that was pooling below the corpse in front of him.

"I'll be seeing you, Potty." Dolohov cackled as he began to walk away. "And even now… I just can't wait."

37 Castle Hill Road

10:30 p.m.

There was a loud crack as Harry apparated onto the entrance of 37 Castle Hill Road, only to fall to his knees immediately. His world was blurry, dizzy. And the pain from his injuries had begun to catch up to him, merging with the exhaustion to fully cripple him. He could barely keep himself awake and breathing, much less have the strength to stand and walk. Apparating had only made it worse, because not a second passed after he had hit the floor before he vomited all over himself.

Harry ignored the smell of it, ignored how badly he wanted to vomit yet again. He needed help. Needed rest. Needed anything but to be bleeding out on his front porch. He had wanted to apparate straight to Parkinson Palace, but it was too far from Montague Manor. The house had served as his best bet to contact Parkinson Palace given their connection via the floo network. With it, he could easily alert Bedivere and Kieran of his condition and ask for help.

Gripping the door knob tightly, Harry picked himself up. He ignored the pain and fatigue as he twisted the knob and threw himself inside. "Kreacher!" He shouted as he began crawling across the kitchen and towards the living room. "Regulus!"

But neither answered, and Harry was left with a coughing fit that sprayed blood all over the floor.

Why the fuck aren't they answering? Did they decide to take a fucking holiday today out of all days?

Resolute on gaining Regulus' attention, Harry made his way to the kitchen table before pulling himself up with the chair. Supporting himself with both his arms and hanging onto the chair, he turned and looked at Regulus' painting only to see him staring blankly at him. "Reg- ah!" His insides spasmed and he keeled over slightly. And when he pushed himself back up to look at the portrait, he saw that Regulus was still there. In the same position.

He hadn't moved an inch.

"What the fuck?"

"Do not bother, Mister Potter," a cold voice spoke from the living room, immediately freezing Harry in place at the familiarity of it. "Your elf and your… friend are indisposed at the moment."

Harry turned towards the living room, but he was met with nothing but darkness. He squinted his eyes as if that would help him see better through the intangible wall in front of him before the room was suddenly lit by a small fire from the tip of a wand and lit up a cigarette. It lasted for only a moment, but it was enough to see Elijah Montague's icy expression from the other side of the room.

With great effort, Harry fumbled for his wand in his pocket, nearly losing his balance and falling onto the ground in the pathetic attempt. But he managed to pull it out, and before Elijah could do anything Harry trained the wand on where he knew the man to be.

"CONFRINGO!"

But instead of a jet of fiery orange light flying across the room and hitting its target, sparks fizzled out of the wand.

Harry felt his stomach drop, as he tried twice more to cast any sort of magic from the wand but instead was met with the same pitiful results. And when he looked back up towards the dark living room, almost fearing that Montague would already be on his face with his wand aimed at his throat, he saw nothing more than the light from the cigarette. Montague took two more puffs of it, sitting in the armchair all the way across as Harry could do nothing more than stand, frozen in shock before he threw it on the ground where it was suddenly extinguished as a shoe stepped on it.

The next thing Harry knew was pain as a bright red spell hit him in the chest and sent him flying across the table before he crashed on the floor below. He wheezed for air, feeling the cuts all over his face as he tried to crawl away before a foot slowly stepped on one of his hands. Harry pushed down a scream and watched as Montague knelt over him and titled his head. "I heard you were looking for me."

Before Harry could reply, he heard his fingers crack, and he howled in pain. Montague didn't care, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him up slightly before striking him in the face and sending him back onto the ground. Harry groaned, trying to get away only for his foot to be grabbed and pulled, dragging Harry across the shard-covered floor before being picked back up again and shoved against the wall.

And just as Harry was about to fall back to his knees, Montague held him back up and looked deep into his eyes. "You are an impressive wizard, Mister Potter, I'll give you that." With a quick flick of his wand, Montague summoned Black's wand to his hand and began analysing it in front of him. "I must confess when I first heard of what had happened to your wand, I had thought it would be your end here in the Wizarding World. Imagine my surprise when my men began to be hunted down by a fierce and powerful opponent."

Harry whined, trying to breathe as blood dripped from his mouth.

"It wasn't until I investigated the matter thoroughly that I realised it was you. And even then, it was hard to believe. I had to witness your questionings of my men first-hand to understand what I was dealing with exactly… and it's good because it gave me an insight into just how powerful you truly are. To be able to bend this foreign wand to your will…" Montague trailed off, but his eyes never left Harry's. "Most impressive. Even without our family history… it will be my honour to be the one to kill you."

Montague punched him in the nose so hard, Harry's head reeled backward and hit the cold wall behind him. But he didn't stop there. Montague continued his brutal assault on him for a while before throwing him back onto the floor.

"It's simple to understand why men like you treasure your power above everything. When one has a near-limitless source of something, it's easy to forget people can get by without it. Once I saw you in action I knew I couldn't face you head-on. It was only a matter of trial and error to test just how much you could push yourself before your magic started to take a toll on your body. Fortunately for me, you never faltered with your crusade."

Montague grabbed Harry by the trousers, pulling him back slightly, before unlatching his back holster and pulling out the knife it held. Harry barely registered the panic he felt through all the pain, and his efforts to escape turned out to be futile because Montague had him pinned against the wall once again.

"When I first heard the news of my brother… I could not understand how it was that you had murdered him. Murdered him… and somehow framed the Davis girl for it. But now I see… now I understand why my brother fell to you…"

Harry felt as if his eyes were beginning to close, his body shutting itself down from the mixture of pain and exhaustion he was feeling. And just as his vision was starting to turn blurry, he felt his own knife stab him in the gut. Over and over, Montague kept stabbing him with a bestial ferocity that shocked Harry back to life.

"But I am not my brother." Elijah Montague said coldly, jabbing the knife up inside Harry's body, making him thrash and scream in agony.

Montague pulled the knife out before stabbing him one final time, pushing the knife in further for good measure. Harry spit out blood, feeling the adrenaline fight, trying to keep him awake. His body was shutting down for a final time.

"Good riddance, Mister Potter," Montague whispered in his ear, grabbing his face with one hand while keeping him standing with the other arm. "Breathe your last breath knowing that you will not be alone there for long. For I'll send the traitor Yaxley, as well as the entire Parkinson family with you as soon as I can."

No.

Pulling on his last remaining ounce of strength, Harry grabbed the handle of the knife and forced it out of his torso. He screamed but acted quickly, using the knife to quickly stab Elijah Montague's gut. The man gave out a surprised shout, letting Harry and Black's wand drop to the ground. And before he could recover, Harry quickly fetched the wand from the floor and apparated away.

The last thing he could remember before passing out was the cold, dark room where he'd crashed before a tall man towered over him.

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter we see what's happening with the students at Hogwarts and the Death Eaters at Azkaban. Be excited!

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As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)