Chapter Thirty-Three – Murderers
The faint light of dawn crept through the heavy curtains of the Gryffindor dormitory, bathing the room in a sombre grey. Harry slowly opened his eyes. He immediately felt the dull pain spreading through his skull, as if someone was hammering on his temples with a relentless rhythm. A small moan escaped his lips as he sat up and got out of bed.
His eyes went black for a moment, but then he regained his balance. Determined, he put one foot after the other in the direction of the bathroom. He could still hear his roommates snoring. Although he had been the last to go to bed the night before, he was the first to get up. As always.
Even though it really had been very, very late last night, Harry thought as he splashed cold water on his face to freshen up a bit. It helped a little, but the dull ache in his head remained.
Harry sighed. Yes, that was what you got when you were as busy as he was. It was obvious that he had slept far too little and his body was protesting. But last night... Harry shuddered at the thought of what he and Daphne had accomplished together. They had pushed the boundaries of their magic, their might, their morality forever.
For a moment, Harry saw the unicorn's silver eyes staring back at him in fear, but he pushed the memory from his mind. There was no point in dwelling on it now. It was done. He had done it. And full of greed and willingness and burning desire, he had reaped the harvest for it. There was no point in looking back on it now with anything but pride. And he hated pointless things. Daphne had taught him that.
At the thought of his girlfriend, the memory of a familiar, iron taste spread across his tongue. He swallowed. Then he dressed and made his way to breakfast in the Great Hall.
There he was greeted by the aroma of freshly baked bread and fried bacon, accompanied only by the quiet murmur of the students and teachers who were up as early as he was. There weren't many of them. The hall was still quite empty. There were fewer people than the flickering candles that hovered above the tables, casting a warm light on the scene. But one important person was already sitting at the Gryffindor table, and Harry naturally approached her.
As he got closer, he saw that Daphne was also wearing a slightly pained expression. She was staring unhappily at the bowl of cereal in front of her, which she was slowly stirring with her spoon. With her other hand, she was rubbing her temples.
Harry sat down beside her. She looked at him sideways. Unlike the night before, when they had consumed the unicorn's heart and been filled with magic in its purest and most powerful form, her eyes were both golden again. And unlike the night before, there were now dark circles around her eyes. She looked as tired as he felt.
"We really must go to bed early tonight," she said without a greeting.
Harry poured himself a cup of breakfast tea and handed one to Daphne, who accepted it gratefully. "We'll do that. Unlike you, I need my beauty sleep. Let's take it easy today, and tomorrow everything will look completely different..."
Unfortunately, things didn't look so different the next morning.
When Harry opened his eyes after much more sleep, he was plagued by another headache, even worse than the day before. It was as if several small hammers were hitting his temples at the same time. He groaned softly and closed his eyes again, as if he could banish the pain, but it didn't help.
Summoning his resolve, Harry pushed himself upright, every move feeling like an uphill battle. He felt as if he had endured a night of rigorous training with Daphne, or one of Snape's gruelling detentions. His body felt heavy and sluggish, as if he had fallen into a cauldron of viscous potion. A pang of nausea rose in him, and he suppressed the urge to lie down again. What would be the point? All he could do was grit his teeth and hope he hadn't caught the flu or something.
Nevertheless, this time it took Harry much longer than usual to get through his morning routine. So long, in fact, that the other boys were already finished by the time he finally made his way to the Great Hall.
The others were talking all the time – about the results of the last day of the Quidditch League, Professor Grubbly-Plank's escaped unicorn, the short skirts of the Beauxbatons girls. Harry had to stifle an exasperated groan. Couldn't they just shut up? Their shrill voices were like scalpels in his already irritated brain.
As they entered the Great Hall, it was much more crowded than the day before. Harry immediately recognised the figure of Daphne, sitting in her usual place at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was sitting across from her and seemed to be talking quietly about something. But if Harry had to bet, he would guess that Daphne wasn't listening at all. His girlfriend was slumped over, her elbows on the table, her hands rubbing her temples, her usually neatly combed hair rather dishevelled today. Harry could feel a tingling, uncomfortable sensation running through their bond. It was hard to put into words, but it reminded him of the feeling of ant bites on his skin.
They sat down, Ron next to Hermione and Harry, as always, next to Daphne. His girlfriend looked at him. It seemed that last night had not given her the rest she had hoped for either. Her face was tired, the circles under her eyes had grown darker and her face even paler – a stark contrast accentuated by the flickering candlelight that cast shadows across her features.
"Sleep badly?" he whispered to her as he poured each of them a cup of tea.
Daphne's lips curled into a thin line. "Do I look like I slept well?" she retorted, her voice laced with irritation.
Harry jumped at the sharpness in her tone. She must really be in a bad mood if she was talking to him the way she usually did to annoying first years. Still, something bubbled up inside him.
"You used to look better," he replied, his voice sounding just as harsh as hers.
Hermione, who had overheard their exchange, interjected from across the table with a worried look on her face. "You both look exhausted. What –"
"We get plenty of sleep," Harry cut her off. He knew her speech well enough, the number of times he had heard it over the last few years. You'd think with a mind as bright as hers, she'd learn eventually, but obviously not. "And we're fine."
"You don't look fine, mate," Ron chimed in, his expression a mix of worry and pity. Harry couldn't decide which he found more aggravating. "You look really bad."
Before he could stop himself, Harry blurted out, "I didn't comment on how awful you looked in your dress robes, mate, did I? So just keep quiet now!" The argument hadn't helped his headache. It was pounding harder and harder against his temples, accompanied by increasing pressure in his chest. He took shallow breaths. That helped, at least a little.
Ron's face darkened at the retort, but thankfully he remained silent. The mood continued to sour, however, and cast a shadow over the rest of the breakfast until it was finally time for the first lesson of the day: Defence Against the Dark Arts, shared with the Slytherins.
Everyone took their usual seats, Gryffindors to the right of the classroom and Slytherins to the left, with the exception of Daphne, who sat next to Harry as usual. And except for Tracey Davis, who wasn't here today.
The light of the rising sun streamed into the classroom through the high windows, bathing everything in a reddish-orange glow. The light also danced on Daphne's crown of black hair, but somehow it made her hair look paler, less vibrant and shiny. Harry decided he didn't like the morning sun.
Soon after, Professor Lupin began his lesson. This time the topic was again defending against dark magical creatures. Within minutes, most of the class was hanging on Professor Lupin's every word as he spoke so vividly about the dangers of fighting vampires that Harry suspected he must have once fought these dark creatures himself, who had joined Voldemort in droves during the last war.
It would have been a fascinating subject if Harry hadn't been so terribly tired. His eyes kept threatening to close, and only the throbbing headache that wouldn't go away kept him from falling asleep right then and there. He wasn't the only one struggling with fatigue, for at that very moment, Daphne let out a long yawn that she just managed to hide behind her slender hand.
But Professor Lupin had seen it. "Am I boring you, Daphne?" he said.
Suddenly the eyes of all the students were on them. Hermione, sitting one row of desks in front of them, gave them an accusing look, as if they had committed the greatest sin in the world. If only she knew, Harry thought.
"Do you already know everything I'm telling you?" Lupin continued to ask.
Daphne straightened. Her posture radiated her usual confidence. "As a matter of fact, yes. I didn't learn anything new today, but that's not your fault, Professor. Please continue with the lesson."
"With anyone else, I would strongly doubt those words." Lupin's voice sounded completely serious as he said this. His eyes slid over Daphne, and for a moment he also glanced at Harry, his gaze filled with a certain hardness, Harry thought.
It had been like that since last term. Ever since Sirius had died. True, Daphne had erased Lupin's memories after he had refused to help them on their path, after he had even tried to stop them, but somehow his subconscious seemed to remember that there was a wall between them. But Harry didn't care. Let Lupin wall himself in until he couldn't breathe anymore. Then his end would be as quiet and insignificant as the life he had led. So utterly forgettable.
"But then again, you and Harry are the two best students in the school for a reason," Lupin went on. "Hm, but perhaps to alleviate your boredom a little, Daphne... do you know what the standard spell against vampires is?"
"You mean besides the Killing Curse?"
Lupin's jaw twitched briefly. His posture tightened noticeably, but he nodded curtly. "Yes, besides the Killing Curse."
"Then it's simple," Daphne said with a curt wave of her hand. "It's the enhanced sunlight spell. Lumos Solem Maxima. Vampires hate sunlight, though it's a common misconception that it turns them to ash or something. But it does weaken them, and it's quite possible they'll flee if the spell is strong enough."
"And I suppose you've already cast the spell?"
"Of course. I learned it years ago."
"Then congratulations, Daphne. You've just been given the honour of performing the spell in front of the whole class." Lupin stepped back to his desk and leaned against it. "The stage is yours, as they say. The others, pay attention, this could be enlightening for you."
Harry rolled his eyes. This was so typical of Daphne, and now she had another opportunity to show off her magical skills. She really liked to do that.
Indeed, a smile played around Daphne's lips as she moved her wand with ease, as if she had performed the spell countless times before.
Harry could feel the flow, the vibration of their bond as Daphne focused her magic, like a sponge soaking up water and growing bigger and bigger. The flow grew stronger and stronger, it never stopped. Goosebumps spread up his arms and legs, a shiver ran down his spine and an iron taste of blood settled on his tongue. All at once.
Something was wrong here! So much magic power for such a small spell?!
He opened his mouth, but too slowly. Suddenly, Daphne's eye glowed a bright green and then – BOOM! A wave of uncontrolled magic swept through the room, accompanied by a blinding light. Harry instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms in front of his face, just in time to feel a heavy heat rush to his eyelids. There were screams behind him and a chair toppled over with a loud thud. The smell of singed cloth filled the air.
When the light finally faded and Harry slowly opened his eyes, he saw Daphne gasping for breath beside him. Her jet black hair was sticking to her face, drenched in sweat. Her wand hand was shaking, as if she had the chills. But that wasn't what worried Harry the most. It was the look on his girlfriend's face – it was completely grim, and the expression in her eyes, now golden again, was as hard and cold as real metal.
Around them, their classmates, who had taken shelter behind desks and books, scrambled to their feet. Some still rubbed their eyes, others shook their heads dazedly. The classroom had become noticeably warmer, more like the height of summer than the depths of winter.
"Erm, yes, the spell was probably a little too strong," Lupin said, leaning heavily on his desk. His cheeks flushed from the heat of the light. With a wave of his wand, he opened the windows, letting in wonderfully cool air. "The vampires would probably be out for your blood by now, Daphne, to take terrible revenge rather than flee. Perhaps you should practise the spell a little more."
With that, Lupin turned back to the rest of the class. "But you all saw the spell and the sunlight it produced, yes? Very well. Now please practise it for yourselves. The incantation is Lumos Solem Maxima. Your overzealous classmate cast the spell silently, but that will come much later in the syllabus. We'll discuss your results in ten minutes. And Daphne" – he glanced back at their desk – "you might want to take a break now."
The corners of Daphne's mouth twitched as if she wanted to click her tongue, but she seemed to be able to hold it back. She placed her black wand on the table in front of her. Her hands were calm again, but Harry could still sense her inner turmoil. And so he leaned towards her.
"Trying to blind Malfoy and his cronies, are we?" he joked. Meanwhile, the other students around them had begun to cast spells of their own. Fountains of light continued to illuminate the classroom, some smaller, some larger, but never nearly as overwhelming as Daphne's. All the while, Lupin went from table to table, offering tips and assistance. "If you'd said anything, I'd have brought sunglasses."
"Harry, do me a favour and just be quiet."
There had been no kindness in Daphne's voice when she'd said that. She had never spoken to him like that before, not even when they first met in the Restricted Section all those years ago. Nor did it sound like the amused, affectionate banter they sometimes shared. It just sounded... cold. And Harry couldn't feel anything else through their bond. It was as if it was going nowhere, into a deep, dark abyss.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Harry felt his own anger rise. Okay, so she had failed a spell for once – no need to take her bad mood out on him!
"What's your problem?" he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "I was only trying to lighten the mood!"
"Trying, yes. But we don't always succeed, do we?"
Harry's anger flared at her biting remark. "Like you did with your spell?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted his harsh tone. But it was too late to retract his words. Daphne's expression hardened further, her scowl now aimed directly at him.
"Well, why don't you show me how it's done properly, Mr. Great Wizard?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and mockery.
A mixture of defiance and anger flared inside Harry. He loved Daphne, he really did, but at that moment her whole behaviour went against his grain. Who did she think she was? Didn't she sense that he was sorry for what he'd said? But no, instead of responding to his feelings, she reacted so ... childishly. He didn't have a better word for it. Was it so important to her to always master every spell perfectly? How vain! He really had no patience for such an attitude right now.
And his bloody headache only made things worse!
Harry suppressed a curse. And he suppressed the urge to rub his temples. Instead, he gripped his wand tightly. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the spell he had to master now, if only to prove to Daphne that she couldn't talk to him like that.
With a fluid movement of his hand, he thought resolutely: Lumos Solem Maxima!
But before he could see the full effect of the spell, he felt something eerie happen.
A sharp twitch suddenly seized his left eye, accompanied by a suffocating pressure in his chest and a surge of scalding energy coursing through his veins as if his blood were on fire. The magic inside him raged, wild and untamed, and he fought to keep it under control.
He was losing the fight.
A blinding light erupted from his wand, far too brilliant, far too powerful, as the air crackled with energy. Then, like an explosion, a deafening roar.
BOOM!
Harry was thrown backwards, slamming his back against the edge of a table. His eyes drowned in white light, heat burned his face, his head throbbed. There were screams and the sound of shattering glass and wood all around him.
And then it was over.
The spell had only lasted a fraction of a second, but it had been long enough.
Blinking rapidly, Harry gradually became aware of his surroundings. His heart raced in his chest, his body drenched in sweat as if he had sprinted from the depths of the dungeons to the highest tower, gasping for air.
His surroundings didn't look much better. His spell had left a trail of destruction. Parchment, books, quills, anything that wasn't firmly anchored, lay scattered in all directions. Chairs and even a few desks had toppled over, taking with them several of his classmates, who now struggled dazedly to their feet, including Dean, Seamus and Neville behind them. The others were still sitting, but their faces were flushed as if from a bad sunburn and their hair was dishevelled as if after a terrible storm. The air in the room was a chaos of dust, smoke and magic.
Two of the windows had been smashed and some of the shards must have hit Professor Lupin. A few drops of blood ran down his cheek. Shock and dismay were written all over their teacher's face.
Gradually, however, Lupin seemed to regain his composure as he surveyed the devastation in his classroom. He took a step forward, staggered, and then sat back down on his desk.
With a shaky voice he announced, "That's... that's enough for today. The lesson is over."
Daphne hurried through the corridors so quickly that the clicking of her heels on the stone floor sounded like the hooves of a galloping hippogriff. Harry struggled to keep up, at least partially. Part of him, the part that could still think clearly despite this damned throbbing headache, was just annoyed.
Annoyed at his own failure in class, annoyed at his tiredness, annoyed at the bright sunlight streaming in through the dirty windows, annoyed at his own girlfriend who had been acting like a real bitch all day.
"Wait a minute!" he called after her.
Without so much as a glance over her shoulder, Daphne replied, "Nobody's forcing you to follow me. What if I don't want to see you for once?"
What if he didn't want to see her for once, Harry thought grimly. The throbbing in his head worsened and there was another painful pressure in his chest. He could've gone mad!
To be honest, Daphne was just pissing him off with her behaviour today, with her bad temper and her nastiness. He wasn't like one of her rabbits she could take her bad mood out on!
He opened his mouth. "Daph–"
"Greengrass!"
That was Tracey Davis. She came running towards them, and though she had missed the earlier commotion in the classroom, her demeanour was one of distress, despite her surprisingly polished appearance, as if she had just emerged from a high-profile event. And if Harry had thought that Daphne and he were in a bad mood, he was proven wrong. Davis was glowing with anger and, Harry wasn't sure... Despair? Yes, she looked desperate, the way her face, hands and whole body were shaking.
But Davis seemed oblivious to Harry's presence, her focus entirely on Daphne. "It's all your fault, Greengrass!"
Daphne paused, turning to face Davis with visible annoyance etched on her features. Normally she tried to control herself more. Her cheeks looked unnaturally pale in the harsh winter light, her eyes hard. "What, for Morgana's sake, are you talking about?"
Davis had reached her by now. Her hands were clenched into fists as she shouted at Daphne. "It's your fault I went to the Aurors! I never would have done it otherwise! Do you know what he's got now? Ten months! Ten bloody months!"
"So?" Daphne replied indifferently.
"It's your fault!" Davis's voice began to shake. Harry thought she was having to fight not to burst into tears. "Your fault that I put my trust in this bloody corrupt system! They... they couldn't prove everything... Ten months in the low-security wing of Azkaban, that will be like a holiday for him! And then he'll come back to hurt me even more because I dared to betray him!"
As soon as Davis had finished, Daphne let out a loud snort. She crossed her arms and gave her roommate a disdainful look. "And what's your problem now? You come here and accuse me as though I were Grindelwald or Voldemort when all I did was offer my opinion."
At the mention of Voldemort's name, Davis flinched visibly, but didn't respond. She stared at Daphne, whose anger now seemed to be unleashed as well.
"What you did with it was entirely your responsibility, Davis. Yours alone. Yours, not mine. And you're a witch, for Morgana's sake! In ten months you'll only be more powerful. Stop being such a victim!" Daphne snorted again, followed by a dismissive wave of her hand. She continued her walk. "Whether you cry or rejoice is of no importance to me. It should only matter to you. Kick or be kicked, those are the only choices in this world. And it's about time you made up your mind. Just like the rest of us."
With that, she quickened her pace, leaving Davis behind, who didn't say anything back. Harry could only assume that she needed to digest Daphne's words. He, too, hastened his steps to catch up with his girlfriend. He thought she was right about everything she had just said.
He opened his mouth to tell her just that, but Daphne raised her hand, adorned with a black ring. "No, I don't want to talk about it. Let her drown in her sea of self-pity. It's none of my concern."
"I just wanted to –"
"What do I care about her and her father? I don't give a damn! I have enough problems of my own. If she can't stand the harshness of this world, it's her own weakness. I'm certainly not going to treat her with kid gloves. Pity is just a particularly cruel, slow-acting poison. Or do you think I should have been kinder to her?"
"Of course you could have been kinder, but –"
Daphne jumped and turned with a jerk to face Harry. She clicked her tongue. "Oh, really? Is that what you're telling me now, Harry?" Her voice was sharp and caustic. "If you're looking for a friendly person, you've come to the wrong place. So save your lectures, I'm not in the mood for them."
Harry felt his own temper begin to boil again. Once again she was reacting like an absolute bitch when he – once again – was just trying to be supportive!
"Bloody hell, Daphne!" he snapped. "I'm just trying to support you. But if you'd rather spend your time snapping at me like that, fine. But don't expect me to just stand here and take it!"
Daphne's angry glare bore into him, but without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed away. "Then I certainly won't stop you. Why don't you do what you want? At least then I'll have my bloody peace."
For a moment, Harry was really on the verge of turning around and walking the other way, consciously leaving Daphne behind for what felt like the first time in years – but then a moment of clarity suddenly flashed through him, like the first rays of sunshine after a raging storm, like the beginning of the thaw after a winter that had gone on far too long, like the last note of a terrible melody.
A storm, a winter, a terrible melody that had been playing all alone inside him.
"Stop!" he cried, his voice loud and determined. "Stop! Stop!"
Daphne groaned in annoyance, but stopped. She turned back to him, rubbing her temples. "What is it now?"
"This, this isn't right!" He pointed at himself and Daphne, ignoring his own headache, which was throbbing violently again. "We're not like this, Daph. Not to each other."
Daphne frowned, her face grim. But then, suddenly, her eyes widened and a look of realisation appeared on her pretty, pale face. Without another word, she took his hand.
Her manicured fingernails dug painfully into his flesh as she gripped his hand tightly. Without hesitation she pulled him with her, her steps quick and firm as her heels clicked on the stone floor.
Harry, a little surprised by her sudden action, let her lead him, for he could sense from their bond that she too had realised something at that moment. The same thing he had realised. He must have caught her thoughts, or she must have caught his. It didn't really matter.
His heart began to beat hard and painfully in his chest, which was reflected in Daphne's chest, which rose and fell very quickly.
Together they hurried through the corridors until they reached the seventh floor. Moments later, they slammed the door to the Room of Requirement behind them. It had taken the form of a cosy fireside room with two armchairs, a table and a shelf full of old books and scrolls. It was their usual place when they came here to study.
"It's our Impetus," Daphne said as soon as the door had closed.
Harry nodded briefly. "It seems so. But... so soon?"
"It has to be. There's no other explanation for our behaviour today. And you've had headaches all the time, haven't you? And a tightness in your chest? Tense nerves? We are going through withdrawal, Harry. Our Impetus is hungry! It needs food!"
"It's just... It's starting sooner than we thought."
"But we're prepared for it."
Harry swallowed. His stomach began to rumble as if he'd eaten something bad, but he nodded again. Yes, they were prepared. They had read enough to know what awaited them after their deed, their seizure of power. Again, the text from the old book in the Black Library came to his mind, the one he had read so many times before their nightly ritual.
The price that ambitious wizards had to pay for such overwhelming power was always high and relentless.
High and relentless... but not as high and relentless as a life of weakness. A life on the edge, with unattainable dreams and pointless compromises. A life most witches and wizards have led.
But not them. They wanted more. Much, much more. Until there was nothing left.
And if that had a price... well, Harry thought, then they would have to pay it. The alternatives were far, far worse. Even at such a price.
Those who eat the heart of a unicorn obtain great power but must in exchange offer the pain of others to their body as compensation.
Daphne's words surfaced in his memory, spoken many years ago, in another fireside room, but also after an argument between them, their very first. And their last, to this day.
Back then, Daphne had risked her life for him, as she had done so many times after that, swooping down as a little crow on the Maybe-Voldemort creature in the forest to save his life. How strange that he had been disgusted by the unicorn blood-stained creature then, and then, a few years later, had gone even further...
He also remembered the words of the centaur Firenze. A cursed life from the moment the blood touches your lips.
Harry shook himself and pushed the memories from his mind. They were going nowhere anyway. They had gone over that stupid rumour more than enough before they had made their decision. It wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was the future. And anyway, it was the whole damn world that was cursed!
Yes, all that stupid talk didn't matter, Harry thought determinedly. All that mattered was that they could deal with it, just as they had planned.
"But it's nothing we can't handle," Daphne spoke his thoughts.
She waved her wand. Again, her left eye turned a familiar green that Harry was sure only he could see. But there were also beads of sweat on her face as she struggled to keep her magic under control this time. And indeed, all that happened this time was that two big, fat boars appeared in front of them, already bound with ropes so that they couldn't resist.
Daphne gasped and pointed at the animals. "There. One for you, one for me."
Now Harry drew his wand as well. After one last look at Daphne – an expectant smile playing around her lips – he gathered the magic inside him. His left eye twitched again, which he was sure was now also filled with a different colour; different, but not unfamiliar.
At the same moment, they cast the spell.
"Crucio."
"Crucio!"
The boars squealed in pain, and a comforting warmth filled Harry as he felt the life power of the conjured animal flow through him. It was simply wonderful, like a drink of water after a long thirst, only much, much sweeter. A truly delicious drink.
Harry laughed with relief – when suddenly everything changed.
Suddenly he felt as if he couldn't breathe. A terrible pain shot through his body, as if thousands and thousands of glowing needles were piercing his temples, as if his blood was boiling and his very being was being turned inside out. He collapsed, rolling on the floor, trying in vain to extinguish the flames inside him.
The pain permeated Harry's entire consciousness. He felt like he was losing his mind. He screamed and put his hands to his head, but it didn't help. The pain was getting worse and worse and worse.
Another scream reached him.
Daphne!
Harry forced his eyes to open. Daphne was lying beside him, writhing on the floor. Her body writhed in pain. She threw her head to the side, right in front of Harry's face. Her eyes had lost almost all of their golden colour, replaced by a dark red from burst veins.
"Daphne!" Harry tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle. He tasted blood. Lots of blood. Everything around him began to spin.
Still, he tried to pull himself forward, slowly, much too slowly. His fingertips almost touched Daphne's skin. Only millimetres away.
"H-Harry," he heard a faint croak. Daphne looked at him, but he didn't know if she could really see him.
He wanted to tell her that he was there, that he would help her, but there was just another gurgle. And blood.
The pain was everywhere. Harry could barely think straight. But he held on as long as he could. He had to keep fighting or they would be lost. He couldn't give up, he couldn't!
One last effort.
There!
His fingertips touched Daphne's glowing skin.
A final searing pain shot through Harry. Then his eyes went black, and all the pain left him.
Only slowly and unsteadily did his mind return from the dark abyss into which the cruel pain had torn him. Images and colours flashed through his mind. He was dreaming. In his dreams, he was flying high above the clouds, towards the radiant sun, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get any closer. The air grew thinner and thinner, his wings grew weaker and weaker, then he fell to the ground and the dream began again.
The first thing he felt was pressure in his chest, then heaviness in his arms and legs, then nausea. The closer he came to consciousness, the more he tried to delay it. Imaginary wings tried to conquer the heights of the sky, and before he could reach the light, his eyes opened.
Light blinded him, but it was dimmer than the sun. A gasp sounded beside him, bloody and full of pain. He tasted blood too. He swallowed and felt as if he were choking.
A red mist fell over his eyes, a stinging pain, and he was back in the darkness, and the chase for the unattainable goal began again.
He awoke as the taste of blood in his mouth became unbearable. Without opening his eyes, he rolled onto his side, coughed, vomited and rolled over again. He fell asleep again before he could think about what had happened. This time he wasn't tormented by dreams.
The next time he woke, he felt better. Not well, but the taste of blood was gone and his head no longer felt like it was being stabbed with red-hot needles. He felt weak and haggard, like butter on too much bread, but it no longer hurt. Or he was too numb by now.
His head lay on a soft surface that rose and fell gently. A pleasant scent reached his nose, pine needles with a hint of lemongrass and sweat.
Harry tried to open his eyes, but immediately everything around him was spinning.
"Careful, my prince of night. You've been gone a long time," a familiar voice said.
It was Daphne's voice. His head was on her lap, Harry realised, and at that moment he also felt her pleasantly cool fingers stroking his temples. Behind her he felt the warmth of a nearby fire. He heard the flames crackle and a log break. It was pleasant. It was peaceful. It was... empty.
Blinking to adjust to the light, he opened his eyes. The swirling colours slowly formed a picture that became clearer and clearer. Above him he saw Daphne, but the sight of her made him gasp.
Daphne's pale face seemed to float in the half-light of the fireplace room, her bloodshot eyes glowing ghostly in the darkness. She met his gaze, but her amber irises seemed dull and lifeless, as if an impenetrable mist had settled over them.
Her hair, usually so lustrous and silky, hung in strands, framing her pale face like a dark veil. Even her lips, usually so full of life and colour, now looked dry and chapped, with a bloody gap between them as if she had bitten herself.
Harry's heart began to race as he took in the disturbing sight. Not even in his worst nightmares had he seen her like this, and a feeling of dread washed over him as he wondered what had happened to her.
"D-Daph," he breathed. His tongue felt heavy. "What... what happened to you? You look... you look..."
Daphne smiled at him, but there was no joy in her smile. He stared, stunned, as he watched the skin at the corners of her mouth crack and blood slowly seep from the wounds. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard her words.
"You've also looked better, my love," she whispered softly, running a hand through his hair. With the other hand she picked up a silver mirror and held it out to him. "But see for yourself the consequences of our actions."
Harry held his breath as he saw his reflection. His face was as pale as the moon, but with dark circles under his eyes that contrasted sharply. His usual green eyes were gone, replaced by cloudy, milky orbs that had lost all trace of life.
His lips, which Daphne had always raved about as being so soft, were now cracked and grey, as if they had been exposed to a pitiless cold for a very long time. The skin around the corners of his mouth had also cracked, and tiny drops of blood dripped from the wounds, making his distorted features look even more sinister.
A feeling of despair washed over him as he realised that he looked exactly like Daphne.
What had they done to themselves...
No, he thought, suddenly angry. What had they not done? They hadn't gone far enough, they had still been holding back, afraid to go all the way!
"So you see it too," Daphne said, her voice a little louder than before. More powerful. "We have obtained great power, but must in exchange offer the pain of others to our bodies as compensation. Others, my love. Not animals, not even real ones. Other people."
Harry swallowed, but it was the same conclusion he had come to. "Will then everything be as it was before?" he asked.
Daphne gave him another eerie smile. Fresh blood dripped from the corners of her mouth and ran down her chin. "Oh, I hope so, my love. I hope even better. And then I'll finally feel my love for you again."
Harry closed his eyes and tried to calm the stormy thoughts in his head, the racing of his heart, the roaring in his ears. He gathered his strength, knowing he would need it soon.
"We can't risk this within the castle walls," he said determinedly, opening his eyes again. "It would be too dangerous."
"It would be foolish, yes." Daphne's black-painted fingernails slid across his cheeks, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her eyes were fixed on the distance. "We need to venture beyond the castle grounds to test our hypothesis. Fortunately, there's someone we still have a score to settle with. The perfect first victim..."
The night had shrouded the land in impenetrable darkness, broken only occasionally by the pale light of the moon, which stood like a lone sentinel in the sky. But the moon was not entirely alone. Two crows flew through the night, no more than a wing's length apart.
They were Harry and Daphne. It had been a long flight, the many miles from Hogwarts to here. But now they could finally see their destination.
They landed side by side on a country lane that stretched through the darkness. As always, Harry felt a crushing heaviness as he turned back, as if heavy chains were wrapped around him and pinned him to the ground. This time they felt even heavier than usual, Harry thought, or he was weaker. Probably the latter.
He still felt miserable. His eyes flickered, his head throbbed, his chest pounded. It was as if there was a greedy maw inside him, sucking out everything that made him whole. All his strength and power. It was really time to feed this maw, this reactor of unparalleled power inside him, with a different kind of fuel. Before it was too late.
The lane they walked side by side was lined with tall, dense trees, their leafless branches reaching up to the sky like bony fingers. The rustling of the leaves and the ghostly howl of the night wind filled the air with an eerie atmosphere. At least there wasn't any snow here, Harry thought as he took in the surroundings. That would only have made things even gloomier. Nevertheless, he pulled the black cloak he was wearing tightly around his body as an icy chill began to creep into his bones.
After a few minutes' walk, a wrought-iron double gate appeared in front of them, with what appeared to be a long driveway behind it. The iron bars of the gate were decorated with patterns that shimmered in the dim light as if they were alive. There was no hint of rust on the dark metal, but the sense of magic over the gate was all the stronger. How good that they had removed the trace from their wands a long time ago, Harry thought.
He looked at Daphne. "Do you think you can make it?"
Daphne met his gaze, one dark eyebrow raised. It looked somehow fake. "Does Snape never wash his hair? Can crows weather any storm? Could I already cast more magic at eleven than many others do in their entire lives? Of course I can!" She gestured with her hand. "Now step aside. You're in the way."
Silently, Harry stepped aside to make way for her. Despite her confident words, he could clearly see how much strength it took for her to use her magic to loosen the protections over the gate and the estate enough for the two of them to slip through. Her hands were shaking and her face was lined with strain. In the pale moonlight she looked even paler than before, her hair even duller, as if the darkness of the night had swallowed all its lustre.
Harry noticed the metallic smell of blood in the air. Daphne's skin around the corners of her mouth was torn again, blood seeping out, leaving dark stains on her pale skin. And not just that. Blood was also oozing from her nose. But she seemed too engrossed in her magic to notice and wipe it away, and Harry didn't dare touch her either. The smell made him sick. Disgust and loathing flooded his senses. He had to pull himself together not to push Daphne away in disgust. Everything inside him screamed to get as far away from her as possible, or even to attack her.
These feelings confused him. He loved her after all. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he hurt her. Not her. Not Daphne.
At last, the double gate swung open silently in front of them. Daphne had done it. The protections would now let them through without warning the inhabitants of the estate.
Daphne opened her eyes again. There was a hint of confusion in her features as she reached for her face and looked at the blood on her fingertips. But then she just wiped it off on her black cloak. "Let's go," she whispered.
Together they stepped through the double gates and walked along a gravelled path. The tall hedges that lined the path muffled the sound of their footsteps. It wouldn't have been necessary. They had cast such powerful disillusionment spells on themselves that they were almost invisible in the night and completely silent to other beings.
As they walked on, Harry noticed white, ghostly apparitions scurrying between some bushes. For a moment he thought they were ghosts. But as they got closer, he realised that they were bird-like creatures, their feathers immaculately white, in stark contrast to his and Daphne's magical selves. Harry couldn't make out exactly what kind of birds they were in the dark, and they didn't have time to find out. Without stopping, they walked past the animals.
Eventually, a magnificent house emerged from the darkness in front of them. It was a majestic building of golden-white stone, its gables rising like towers into the night sky. The roof was covered with polished shingles that glistened in the light of the stars, and the windows were draped with curtains of fine cloth. The house must have been huge. The Dursleys would have been green with envy, Harry thought, but he couldn't find any pleasure in the thought.
A beautifully manicured garden stretched out in front of the house, lined with bright and fragrant shrubs even in winter. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the gentle splash of a fountain in the middle of the garden. It was a place of splendour and extravagance that filled Harry with a sense of disgust.
They climbed a wide stone staircase and found themselves in front of a large, magnificent door, which also opened silently in front of them. Crossing the threshold, they entered a hall of impressive size.
The hall was lavishly decorated with marble pillars and floors, and a large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its glass shimmering grey in the darkness of the night. The walls were painted a dark shade of red and decorated with numerous portraits of witches and wizards from the family's long history. The sounds of sleep drifted over to them from the picture frames.
No one noticed them enter, with one exception. A witch with long blonde hair in one of the portraits closest to the door raised her head. She blinked sleepily and peered into the silence where Harry and Daphne stood, almost invisible. She couldn't see them, but her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, Harry waved his wand. He felt a twitch in his left eye, a pang of nausea, but the spell worked. The witch's head fell back onto her chest and then she too fell asleep, oblivious to the intruders moving about her house.
"Do you sense anyone?" Daphne asked quietly next to him.
Harry concentrated on his magical senses. He felt a tingling sensation, nausea rising again, accompanied by a stab in his heart and a bloody taste on his tongue. Beads of sweat formed on his face as he struggled to control his magic, but eventually he was able to give the all-clear. "He's on the first floor. I sense a house elf in another wing, but no one else. His wife is absent."
Daphne nodded solemnly, a grave expression on her pale face. Even now her eyes were dull and milky, as if no emotion stirred in them. "I feel the same."
Only the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her excitement.
They climbed a grand staircase to the upper floor of the magnificent manor. All around them shone the accumulated splendour of centuries past and the wealth on display.
Fine curtains of heavy velvet hung in deep folds in front of the windows, and the soft moonlight that streamed through the windows made them shine with a shimmering silver. On the walls were busts of serious-looking figures, their marble faces filled with a sense of haughtiness, along with magnificent vases, jewels and golden ornaments.
Harry quickened his pace, unable to bear the decadence any longer. Besides, their destination was so close now. Just a few more steps.
The door to the room was open when they finally reached it, and a warm, welcoming light shone through the open door into the dark corridor, a stark contrast to the blackness that surrounded them. It came from a crackling fire burning in a large stone fireplace. And in front of the fireplace, their target sat in an elegant armchair, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand, sipping slowly.
The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the man's thoughtfully wrinkled face. His eyes stared into space as if lost in another world, no doubt a world of intrigue, schemes and sinister intentions.
Harry and Daphne stood motionless for a moment, watching their enemy. Through their bond, Harry felt his partner's emotions as if they were his own; the same excitement and determination that filled him now that the moment of decision had arrived.
For a moment, he focused his magical senses once more, pushing aside the searing pain that coursed through his body. They were lucky; the coast was clear. The woman was still gone, and the house elf still occupied a distant corner of the manor. Their path lay open before them.
Lucius Malfoy would be the first food for their Impetus tonight.
As one, Harry and Daphne raised their wands, brown holly and black ebony, united as accomplices in a dark mission. But it was a mission that would lead them to great power, and that was all that mattered now. They could not have come so far in vain.
Daphne's hands shook violently as she began to weave a spell, and Harry could see blood dripping from her nose again. It fell onto her wand where it evaporated with a hissing sound. Despite the obvious effort it took, Daphne finished her spell so that no sound could escape the room.
A pained gasp escaped her pale lips as she finished. But her face was as determined as ever. She nodded at him and he nodded back. Together they approached the armchair. Their victim still had no idea what was about to happen to him.
Harry's heart thundered in his chest, the rush of adrenaline drowning out the dull ache that coursed through his veins. But his grip on his wand remained steady as he took aim at Malfoy.
Silently, he counted down in his head and then, at the same moment as Daphne, said, "Crucio!"
Red flashes shot out of their wands, twitching through the air and striking Lucius Malfoy like two snakes biting at the same time. A deafening scream of pain shattered the silence of the night as the bastard was struck by the pain of their curses.
"Aaaarghhh! Aaaaaaarrgghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Aaaarrgghhh!"
Malfoy fell from his chair. His body writhed on the floor in convulsive spasms, his arms and legs twitching wildly, his eyeballs rolling in his head. He screamed and screamed and screamed.
"Aaaarrgghhh! Aaaaaaarrggggghhhhhhhhhh!"
Harry was filled with a wonderful warmth and power that gripped every fibre of his being as he absorbed Malfoy's life power. It was as if an invisible energy was coursing through his veins, enlivening his senses and clearing his thoughts. Yes, it felt as if a grey veil had been lifted from his head, as if a fresh breeze had blown away a foul smell and allowed him to breathe deeply for the first time in a long time.
"Aaaarghhh, Aaaarrrrrrrghhh!"
With each passing second, the stream of life power seemed to grow stronger. The red flashes that continued to shoot from his wand pulsed with indescribable intensity. Harry felt them penetrate his very core, flooding his senses with an intoxicating sense of power.
"Pleassss– Aaaarrrrrghhhh! Aarrggggghhhhh!"
A wide grin spread across Harry's face. It felt good to feel strong again. To be strong again.
And from now on he would only get stronger and stronger!
Harry clutched his wand tightly when he suddenly felt something. The flow of magic weakened, but the flow of life power became even stronger.
He forced his eyes to look away. Daphne had finished her spell. She leaned against the wall, panting heavily as she ran her hands through her sweaty, pitch-black hair. But despite the exertion she had just experienced, a dreamy smile played around her lips.
Above all, her face was as lovely as ever. The grey pallor had faded from her cheeks and her skin had returned to its natural colour. Her eyes were no longer dull, but shone with a brilliant play of gold and green, more perfect than ever.
She was truly beautiful, Harry thought. The most beautiful creature on earth.
And Malfoy had tried to break such a beautiful creature! Tried to give her to his unworthy and wretched son like a cheap piece of meat! Tried to make her his concubine!
The thought filled Harry with a hatred he had never known before, a fire of rage that burned hotter than any earthly flame. He looked back at Malfoy, rolling on the floor, out of control and out of his mind. He looked as if all the flesh had melted from his body, and his eyes were nothing but red clumps; they must have burst at some point. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough!
With a hateful scream, Harry intensified his curse. It hissed as it hit Malfoy's body, throwing him back several metres. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
For a moment, Harry felt like a judge in the courtroom of Hell, deciding the fate of a damned soul. He knew that all the torture in the world wouldn't be enough to punish Malfoy for his crimes, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
He tightened his grip on his wand once more. He took a step forward, adding more magic to his curse – when suddenly it was all over.
From one moment to the next, the flow of life power dried up. Malfoy's body stopped twitching, not a muscle moved. His face, lying in a pool of blood and other bodily fluids, had become a mask of agony, frozen forever in the last cruel moments of his life. He was dead.
"You killed him." Daphne's voice cut through the silence like a silver blade.
Harry nodded slowly. Yes, he had. He had become a murderer, or a knight of justice. Or whatever. It didn't matter what you called it. All that mattered was that it had felt good.
He turned back to Daphne, and at that moment he noticed another change. It was as if a grey veil had been lifted, not just from him, but from the whole world. The fire in the fireplace was still flickering, but it was brighter, more radiant than Harry had ever seen it. And the starry sky he could see through the windows seemed both wider and more majestic than it should have been on a dull January night; not even in his crow form far above the cloud cover had he been able to catch such a glimpse of paradise. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as if he were a bird that had escaped from its cage into freedom.
The feeling was no stranger to him.
He had last felt it in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest when they had gained their Impetus.
His gaze fell on Daphne, who gave him a knowing smile, as if she could read his thoughts. A golden glow surrounded her, all the more evident against her dark clothing and her now shiny, pitch-black hair, as black as sin. But it wasn't just her appearance... she seemed to tremble with magic. The air around her shimmered, her eyes shone with a golden-green glow, like amber surrounded by emerald flames, and their bond vibrated with a sense of absolute bliss. And finally, there was the warmth in her gaze again that he had missed so much.
It was a warmth that Harry felt as well. A wonderful warmth that enveloped him like a fire in a fireplace, only the temperature in the room hadn't changed one iota. The warmth was not in the room, he knew, it was in him. It was a warmth he had felt time and time again over the last few years, a warmth whose source was all too familiar to him and which he was sure he would not want to be without for the rest of his life.
Daphne's smile deepened, her eyes reflecting an unspoken promise as she took a step towards him – when suddenly a noise interrupted their togetherness.
They both spun around. They were no longer alone. In the doorway stood a tall, elegantly dressed woman with blonde hair. She stared at them, frozen. Slowly, very slowly, as if she needed time to process the reality, her eyes widened in horror. She opened her mouth and –
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green flash struck the woman in the centre of the chest. She fell to the ground. She was dead.
Harry whirled back to Daphne, who lowered her wand. Her expression was one of regret.
"What a waste. So much lost life power," she muttered. Then she turned her gaze back to him. "You disapprove of what I've done?"
Harry shook his head. Suddenly he felt a little dazed again, although the feeling of power was still there. "No, but... that was another person, Daph... that was a line..."
"That I hadn't crossed yet," Daphne finished his sentence. She stepped up to him and gently squeezed his hand. Her skin felt so soft against his. So, so soft. "It seems we've both crossed a line today."
"We've changed a lot, haven't we?"
"We had to change, Harry, or we would have perished. I couldn't have lived like that."
Harry sighed heavily but nodded. He put his arm around Daphne's waist, who immediately snuggled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He saw his reflection in her golden-green irises, distorted as if he were a grotesque creature. But he also saw her affection, her passion, her burning desire to rise above the bonds of this world – with him by her side. She was willing to sacrifice anything for this, even her own humanity.
And he would not leave her alone on that path, Harry had sworn to himself a long time ago. Hell, she had sworn it to him too, on that day of disappointment and despair when Sirius had died and he had sworn bloody revenge. They had both chosen this path and now there was no turning back. Only time would tell what that would mean for them in the end…
But whatever the future held, neither of them would face it alone. There was something deeply comforting about that thought, Harry felt.
Gently, he pressed a kiss to Daphne's dark crown of hair, absorbing her scent like a life-saving elixir. "Thank you for being by my side."
"Always," Daphne whispered. "You'll never get away from me, or I from you."