CH17: Forbidden Fruit

September 22nd

4:56pm

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Harry

Once again Harry found himself standing in front of a horde of malcontent men and women. The next stage in Voldemort's plan had been initiated and the news spread through the camp like wildfire, carried on hushed whispers and anxious glances. Voldemort was exploiting the most basic human need – offering food to anyone willing to betray Harry and the rest of the resistance. Discontent seeped into the very fabric of the camp, weaker witches and wizards weighed their options, some had already turned.

In the midst of the gathering shadows, a man's voice pierced the air, cutting through the murmurs like a dagger. "The rations aren't enough!" His words echoed the sentiments of many, the faces in the crowd reflecting desperation and the toll of malnourishment.

Harry stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. His eyes swept over the gaunt and weary faces of those he had vowed to protect. "I understand that Voldemort's offer is tempting," he began, his voice carrying the weight of empathy, "and I know the rations have been stretched thin. But we need just a little more time. We're doing everything we can to secure more provisions and ensure your safety."

"No you're not! The muggles have food, they won't notice a slab of meat going missing."

Flashback

"I've thought about it all night, believe me, I haven't made this decision lightly," Harry began to his inner circle. "In honour of Hermione's memory, we will not exploit our muggle brothers and sisters–"

"Agh." Moody's displeased grunt was simply an audible expression of everyone's thoughts. Harry could see it in their eyes, they were just as hungry as everyone else yet they still respected Harry's position above them.

'The right choice isn't the easy one, but I am trying, for you Hermione.'

"We won't have long before there's a revolt." Daphne didn't waste time trying to debate Harry's decision, she had already failed to convince him the night before after all. "Every day we all go hungry, another person will join this Godwyn until we find ourselves at the wand point of those we called friends."

End of Flashback

'How quickly they abandon everything we stand for.' Harry hid an angry clenched fist behind his back as he quieted his thoughts. "Yes, the muggles have food, and yet if we take it from them, we will be no better than the thugs we fight."

Someone from the back of the crowd stood on something to elevate himself higher than the rest and pointed an accusatory finger at Harry. "Maybe if you stopped fighting a moral war you'd win the real one."

The man's challenge had awoken a collective fire in the gathered people, a chorus of "yeah!" and "he's right!" followed. The crow began to get more rowdy as their anger was communicated in insults and verbal curses.

'This is getting dangerous.' Harry turned on his heel and made for the house just a few steps ahead of him. 'She can't have died for nothing,' Harry justified himself, 'it's up to me to preserve her legacy.'

"Look at him running with his tail between his legs!" A man cried out to the jeering laughter of those around him.

'They don't understand, they'll thank me later.' The wand sang to him a symphony of death and his brain itched to indulge it. 'Any one of you could be Hermione's killer and yet here I grovel to sustain her innocent passion. Just trust us.'

"I'm not sticking around to die a slow death, surely Voldemort will be merciful if we bring him Harry Potter." There wasn't nearly as much traction after thy statement, next to no one had the courage to jump on that bandwagon but it had been the tipping point for a certain legendary leader.

"Do you think you could?" He couldn't help himself there was too much mess cluttering his brain for limitless rationality and he had reached his breaking point. "If your bravado matched your skill with a wand maybe you could."

The ringleader hadn't expected confrontation and so his mouth hung open, wordless. A witch stepped ahead of the speechless man and spread her arms, indicating the thirty odd protestors around her. "Three dozen against one, do you expect us to fear you?"

'Fear…' In a blink of an eye Harry drew his wand and spoke aloud "proiciamus fumum."

In an arc before him, a large cloud of smoke blew over the group. The front row braced themselves for an attack that never came. Instead they turned their eyes to Harry and found him waving his wand in concise motions, directing the smoke into shapes as if it were an orchestra.

Above the gathered mass, the cloud took form. Shapeless voids turned into ashen curves and a clearer picture began to coalesce. A skull loomed over the hungry witches and wizards, some of them had the presence of mind to raise their wands in defence but it was misguided as Harry wasn't attacking them. The skull's mouth opened slowly and from it burst a snake, scaled and vicious. The snake launched towards the masses, its jaw wide and fangs brandished. The crowd scattered and tripped over themselves trying to get away from what they thought would be certain death but just before the snake reached the height of their heads it turned sharply and coiled around itself. Those that had fallen rose up on unsteady feet, the snake had settled in the eye sockets of the skull and ever so often hissed threateningly at the people below.

"That is what awaits you should you betray your fellow wizard, subjugation at the hand of the vile snake that has attacked your homes." Harry studied the men and women carefully, happy to see what rage they had before was now gone and so he drove his point home with a final message. "Never forget who took the food from your children's mouths, nor those that work tirelessly to fill their bellies."

The air was thick with shame and regret. Sure, some still held resentment for the limited rations they had received, but their short lived act of rebellion had ceased. Only now did Harry leave them in their quiet contemplation, no insults followed his exit, only mutters of consolation and helping people off their backsides.

September 24th

12:07am

Black Chateau Forest, Isle of Man

'Godwyn'

In the clandestine shadows of the forest beside the chateau, a secret meeting unfolded once more. A dozen unnamed men and women gathered, their faces hidden in the dim light of the campfire as they exchanged hushed whispers. A shared desperation lingered in the air, a common thread weaving through their silent camaraderie.

Food was passed around, a meagre offering in the face of the hunger that gripped their stomachs, yet a reward for their 'bravery' in standing up to their comrades. As each person received their portion, a whispered refrain emerged, "Thank you, Godwyn." The name carried weight, a symbol of hope and rebellion against the perceived incompetence that had left them starving.

A figure stepped into the middle of the circle, the hood of their cloak casting a shadow over their features. As the murmurs subsided, the mysterious figure revealed their face, and the name "Godwyn" echoed through the gathered assembly.

"Brothers and sisters," Godwyn declared with a fervent conviction, "tonight, we take back the fight against Voldemort. We'll cripple the incompetent leadership that has had the good witches and wizards of the Loyalists starving, and tomorrow we'll dine as kings!"

A chorus of cheers erupted from the dozen, their voices uniting in a shared belief that Godwyn's rebellion would bring about change. The forest absorbed their fervent hopes and whispered conspiracies, unaware of the storm that brewed beneath its leafy canopy—a storm that threatened to reshape the course of resistance against the darkness that loomed on the horizon.

Godwyn raised his wand high in the air and spun slowly so that all could see his face and he theirs. "Follow me and reclaim our destiny!" His cry began a movement as everyone finished their food and surged forward to follow their leader. Godwyn led his followers through the forest until finally they reached the camp.

'This madness ends tonight,' Godwyn told himself, 'I will not allow death's slow embrace to take me.'

With sinister vigour, he took his first steps towards the main house, wand drawn and heart steeled.

September 24th

12:14am

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Remus

Remus Lupin wandered through the dimly lit halls of the chateau, his mind running with possible solutions to the food crisis that plagued the camp. He had been racking his brain for options, trying to find a way to alleviate the hunger that gnawed at the edges of the community but never found an end that was devoid of death.

'Sooner or later people will start dying,' he thought as he placed a tender kiss on Tonks' head. 'Whether that be ours or someone else's… well only time will tell.'

Leaving his room, he decided to take a stroll through the halls in search of inspiration, however he didn't get very far. As he entered the hallway, he unexpectedly found himself face to face with over a dozen cloaked figures that blocked his path.

"Move aside, Remus."

"What is this?" Remus knew he had to stall for time. He had no idea as to the intentions of thirteen cloaked figures but he did know he had left his wand in his room and needed to count on back up.

The man in front stepped forward and lowered his cloak to reveal — Dedalus Diggle. "This is the next step," the older man said, "we can't wait to starve because our leaders hesitate."

Their intentions were clear – to gain entry and capture or kill Harry in his sleep. Remus, his instincts urging diplomacy, stepped forward, attempting to pacify the disgruntled group. "We're working on a solution," he assured them, his voice a calm counterpoint to the tension that hung in the air. Attempting to deflect their misplaced anger, Remus claimed, "This Godwyn has misled you. There are other ways to address our challenges besides whatever you have planned."

However, Dedalus Diggle had had enough. With a determined expression, Diggle revealed, "I am Godwyn."

Remus' shock was no act, his mouth agape as the pieces formed in his mind. "Dedalus…" Remus locked eyes with his old comrade, a man he thought he knew as he questioned him. "You killed Hermione?"

"No, I did." Another man, larger than Diggle, stepped forward and revealed himself to be Sturgis Podmore. "We're taking charge of the war effort, starting with attacking the muggle compound. They have a stash of food, and we intend to steal it. For the good of wizardkind"

"This is madness!" Remus' yell was raw but he also hoped it woke some of his family up in their rooms just behind him. "What's next? Will you kill me too?"

The group grew increasingly agitated, dismissing Remus's attempts at reason. Sturgis issued a chilling warning, "We've killed once, and we'll kill again."

"Remus? Are you alright?"

'Thank Merlin.'

Behind Remus, Sirius had left his room, groggy but armed. "What's all this then? Is there another fire?"

"No, get back in your room mutt." Sturgis fingered his wand eagerly, anticipating confrontation.

Sirius woke up quickly at that as he stepped out into the hallway, angry words on his lips. "Oi, who the f—"

"Sirius, Remus," at the back end of the hall, Harry and Daphne had left their room and eyed the scene with cautious eyes. "Are we under attack?"

"Greengrass! You leech!" One of the men at the back of the conspirators stepped out of the group and raised his wand with aggressive intent. "My family is starving because of you!"

In the blink of an eye, a spell whizzed out. Remus, attempting to defuse the tension, stepped in between the conspirators and his approaching friends. What felt like a punch smashed into his neck and he fell to the ground.

'What… what was that?'

The world was swimming before his eyes. From his place on the ground Remus could see Sirius staring at him in shock. As if the world had slowed, his dishevelled friend came to his side and grabbed his neck.

"Murderers!"

'I know that voice.' Remus flicked his eyes to the left and saw his girlfriend draw her wand. 'Nymphadora… who died?'

She didn't answer, her wand firing off spell after spell. Movement further left caught his eye, a boy, black hair and glasses had joined Nymphadora's assault. 'James? You're back… how?'

"You're going to be okay, look at me look at me Remus."

Remus did as he was bid and looked at his lifelong friend. Dishevelled wasn't the right word to describe anymore, he was down right distraught. 'Of course I'm going to be okay,' Remus tried to say although it didn't come out quite right and seemed to only make Sirius worse.

Remus felt weaker, his consciousness was fading. His neck turned to the side and he witnessed the final part of Nymphadora and James' foray. Nymphadora had grabbed a table leg from one of the hall tables and was bashing it over a man's head. James went over and stopped her and pointed in his direction. Nymphadora's front was covered in blood and her face was a mix of blood and tears.

'Beautiful as ever, my dear.' Once again his words failed to rise past his throat and as the black spots clouded his vision, his sight was a blurred image of James, Sirius and Nymphadora huddled around him. In his fleeting last moments of consciousness, Remus's final thought echoed through the chaos – 'I just wanted to talk.'