To choose the lesser evil
by DerLaCroix
AN:
This is one little dark nugget that started haunting me during the last years, demanding that I write it down to exorcise it.
Yep, I was not having a good time. And this one was blocking my writing, so it had to go for me to finally pursuit other, lighter topics, again.
Anyway - I wrote it down, so someone may want to read it.
Chapter 1 – Rude awakening
Sitting on his bed, Harry voiced his sudden realisation.
"I am never going to finish school. I'm going to be dead before turning 18."
A disturbing realisation, for sure, especially since it also meant that he most likely had less than, what – 800 or so – days left.
The last week had brought some much needed clarity to Harry. Like a sledgehammer to a mirror, all the pretty illusions were shattered and he had realised what really laid ahead.
Death.
So far, he just got lucky.
When Voldemort killed his family, Harry should have died. Only for some reason no one ever figured out, he didn't. Dumbledore said it was his mother's sacrifice. Bollocks – there would have been plenty of parents to die for their kids throughout history. Had never worked, though. So. Fate? Luck? Aren't these two just the same, in the end?
First year, Voldemort did not know his touch was toxic to him. Or he would have been dead.
Ron got hit quite hard, it could have been him, as well. Just plain luck. To be honest, all three of them should have been smudged into the toilet walls by the troll, in the first place. Again – sheer luck carried the day. Better not even get started about the forbidden forest, jinxed brooms and all that crap.
Second year- A dozen people almost died. Hermione almost died. Only sheer damn luck meant that no one got offed by the basilisk. Ginny just made it, barely at the last second. And if it weren't for Fawkes, Harry would have died.
Third year – fucking demon spawn swarm year. By all rights, half the school should be dead. And especially Sirius, Harry, and of course Hermione – right after Harry would – SHOULD have failed to drive the Dementors off, by all that was right. There were dozens of them, some say a full one hundred! They only managed due to a priceless artefact and his sheer audacity of making the Patronus charm work, just because they had seen it work, once, already. Pretty sure they damaged the time line or something else doing so, just like they used to say on an episode on that Starship Enterprise series that Dudley was watching while Harry had to do chores.
Fourth year – Impossible to tally how many times he should have died, just the first task was like a dozen times where a fraction of a second stood between him and all but certain death. Cedric was killed. As an afterthought. Just like dozens of people ever since, to be fair. He was but the first that Harry personally knew.
And on that fateful night - Harry cringed when he caught himself using these ridiculous words - Voldemort managed to counter Harry's protections. And almost killed him - never forget the almost dying part, no matter how used you have become to it, he reminded himself. If the dark tosser hadn't toyed around with him first, Harry for sure would have been done for. Even so, only another lucky freak occurrence had saved Harry's bacon. Hundreds of wands were made of a single dragon heart, or from the hairs of the same unicorn, and ended up facing each other, but no one ever had any interactions like that. But no, phoenix feathers do have a 'brother wand effect' or whatever crap they call it, that causes them to lock up in a contest of wills when they are used against each other. Just... spiffing...
Harry wasn't complaining about still being alive - not at all, he very much appreciated that state of existence - but there was something to calling a duck a duck. And calling sheer rotten luck - luck.
Last year really made him realise what the stakes really were.
Death.
What was once just a concept, a thing he knew happened to his parents, or to an unlucky boy he barely knew apart from bumping into each other on the hallways or during a match, suddenly became real.
Sirius died.
Hermione also almost got killed, and so had to come clean about what was going on, and her parents finally put a foot down. As of now, she was either on her way, or already in France, settling into Beauxbaton, with her parents taking a sabbatical - whatever that was - until the situation with Voldemort was handled. Harry assumed it meant a long time off work, as she mentioned travel and study plans they had had for a long time and would now pursue. Her letter was blotchy and spotty as if someone had spilled water on it - and unlike Hermione's usual standard - not magically fixed or rewritten properly, full of corrections, and most of all, apologies for being forced to abandon him. Hedwig was currently on her way to deliver his response, mostly an attempt to console her, to who knew where. That owl was certainly going to get her cardio done this year. It was only letters, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try to at least keep contact with what might very well be his last friend left.
Ron and Ginny both got hurt really badly. Molly Weasley blew her top at him and he was pretty sure that he would not be getting a jumper this year. Being told to stay away from her children kind of implied that. He wondered how that was going to work out being in the same house at Hogwarts, same dormitory, even, but who knew what she was thinking.
Same for Neville's grandmother – she had been livid that Neville was in that fight, and when she learned about the broken wand, she had almost cursed Harry. Pretty sure an invite to the Longbottom Christmas Ball was also out of the question. The Lestranges were more likely to get one. Only time would tell if Neville actually showed up to Hogwarts this year.
Luna was gone, too. Her dad packed up and she's now living with him in a yurt in Lapland, herding Snorkacks or whatever. Her last letter wishing him well was even less coherent than usual. At least she told him that she was not blaming him, and looking forward to visiting him sometime in the coming years.
At least someone was not blaming him. Everyone else did. Remus hadn't spoken a word to him, yet. Tonks had even slapped him.
Just as well, the public was currently firmly believing him and Dumbledore being lone voices of truth, and Harry was once again the chosen one, destined to fight Voldemort, to save all of them.
Most likely in an epic duel in the ruins of Hogwarts, in between the corpses of students, teachers and Death Eaters slain in the siege and assault of the castle, if the trend of ever worsening end-of-year catastrophes held true.
And be honest - hero and saviour was his status with the public opinion as of today, to be fair. Who knows what they'd come up with, tomorrow. He might be a public menace, again, depending on whom Skeeter was targeting next when she got bored gnawing on what's left of the administration.
"Fuck that - I quit," was the last coherent thought before he slipped into a fitful sleep, his nightmares eagerly awaiting him beyond the darkness.
While Harry was dreaming his nightmares, someone else was living through one, wide awake...
*** In a cupboard, under the stairs***
Her parents were dead. Well, not yet, but you had to be honest. Nobody survives a surprise visit by Death Eaters. She knew that.
They were already dead; it was just a matter of time.
And pain – lots of pain.
She had to bite on her knuckles to keep quiet as she heard her mother's pleading and cries of pain got louder and louder, as did the rhythmic grunts and thuds.
Her father was not faring any better, she could hear someone shout curses, and each was answered by a hoarse yell in her father's voice. She had to force herself to look out of the gap between the cupboard door and the door frame and to stay on guard.
Thankfully, her parents were not anywhere she could see, not that she tried to. She could hear enough that she knew what was done to them. She'd rather just curl into a tight ball and cry her eyes out, but she had to stay silent and keep looking out so that they would not surprise her. She didn't have her wand, she hadn't taken it with her when she had rushed downstairs after hearing her cat snarl. But it wouldn't have mattered. When she caught a glimpse of who was in their living room, she had turned to flee, to warn her parents, but in the end, she had no chance but to hide in the cupboard in the entrance hall. It had been close, she barely managed to get into that cupboard when the front door opened and another Death Eater came in.
She had never even thought about fighting, knowing well that she was unarmed, and massively outnumbered, even if there were no sentries out in front of the door. Again and again she repeated to herself that she couldn't help her parents, no matter how much she wanted to. All she would achieve was to get herself killed, as well. Hell, if she hadn't come down when she heard the first sounds, she would be right next to them already. All she had left was to watch out and the sharp end of an umbrella, and the resolve to shove it into the throat of at least the one that was to open the door.
"Have you found her?" a sweet female voice demanded to know, somewhere in the living room. She could feel the blood freeze in her veins when she recognized it. Nobody ever forgot the way Dolores Umbridge spoke.
"No, she isn't in her room. She must have escaped, somehow," some other - male - voice answered.
"Too bad. This was supposed to be her party," the far too pleasant voice replied, but got drowned out by her mothers wails becoming faster and frantic, before dying down to a sobbing after a male voice had cried out in pleasure.
"What's the matter?" Umbridge asked as if she were consoling a child. "Don't you like the attention of a proper pureblood? After he gave this much effort? Such disrespect for your betters, tsk, tsk. Just like your daughter."
She nearly screamed in rage when she noticed what just happened. 'This bitch is taunting my parents!'
"What? Noooo. Why would we do that? It's far too early," Umbridge answered to something her parents had said, too low to be overheard from afar.
"Too bad about your brat. She is the actual reason why we are here – the things she did, she and her friends...she caused this... change of plans..." she heard Umbridge continue, her voice getting softer and softer, until she could barely be heard, no matter how much she strained. Carefully, she opened the door a bit wider, not knowing why she wanted to hear. She didn't act on behalf of her smarts, it was just instincts.
"... and your daughter caused this, and she will pay for it. She was promised to me when I joined up with the Dark Lord. We will find her, and my friends will teach her to know her place. And since she has this problem with remembering it, we agreed that it needs to be... educational. You see, the final proposal was to make this a concurrent thing - once she has accepted her lessons, we are going to start over. You know, heal her up as if new, remove all memory of what we did to her, and then start again, from the beginning. And again, and again. Until the lesson has sunk in, and has become part of her instinct," the sweet voice continued. "Now you must excuse me – I need to head to the Ministry to make sure your daughter will be placed with proper foster parents, once the news of tonight's tragic events become known. While I'll be out running that little errand, my associates will introduce you to the base lines of the curriculum they have worked out for your daughter. Have a nice evening, my dear, and don't get up on my behalf - I'll see myself out," Umbridge finished, sounding as if she had just announced to leave a tea party.
She barely managed to throw herself back, deeper into the coats, and to close the door before Umbridge strode by.
It took all her willpower to keep silent and hidden for the next hours, having to listen to everything. She tried burying herself under the coats, trying to plug her ears, but the cries and taunts still registered with her.
She briefly pondered if it would have been better to jump out when Umbridge had passed by. She might have got her, she might have gotten away, as well, she might... But she wouldn't. She couldn't make it. She would have been caught. And then, these men would have... She burrowed deeper into her pile and wept.
When she heard the double call of 'Avada Kedavra', a part of her wanted to wail, to scream, to run out and stop these men from doing that, from killing her parents. Another part of her knew that while these monsters just wanted to finish what they had started, this was actually a mercy by now. Both parts were unable to get a reaction from her body. She was spent. She couldn't even muster the strength to cry.
When these bastards passed by her door to leave the house, she held her breath, afraid that they would find her; that all this had been in vain. But they just left. Laughing and bantering. Five minutes later, she slowly rose from her numb, scraped knees and opened the door.
The heat hit her the moment she stepped out. The living room was on fire, as were the stairs. Only the open door to her left and the draft of air it supplied had prevented her from being suffocated by the thick smoke that was blown into the house. Her cupboard next to the entrance and the staircase was probably the only part of the house not yet on fire. All her clothes, all the memories and all her books. And her parents. A part of her was thankful that this way, she'd not be able to see her parents after what had happened. Seeing would make things even worse.
Looking down at her sheer camisole and short pants pyjamas, she gave a sigh. After picking the only picture that was still hanging from the wall, showing her and her parents on vacation in France, she took her spring coat from the cupboard and threw it over her shoulders to cover up. Her mothers bag was still on the desk next to the door. She took it. Slipping into her shoes and donning a cap to hide her face at least a bit, she took a last look back, sighing. She had to leave.
ooOOoo
An hour later, it must have been two or three o'clock already, she stood in front of a house.
At first, she had just walked around in a daze, not knowing what to do and still in shock from what she had seen. Not being able to cry had made everything so surreal, and yet so real. She wasn't distraught about it, she had accepted it already. Her family was dead, her house was gone, and she had nowhere to go to. And an army of dark wizards after her, intending to make the rest of her life a nightmare.
She had walked a long way thinking about that, nearly naked under her coat. The light fabric held by just two buttons felt utterly inadequate in regards to covering her. She knew that her knees were covered in bruises and her face swollen from her silent tears. Her hair must be a fright, she hadn't brushed it since going to bed, and it was untameable in the morning.
It was a beautiful night, this 9th of July, no – it was the 10th already. That such horrors could happen in such a warm, starry night was another of the surreal things in her life. Looking up, she could see the stars very clear here in the outskirts of the town, nearly as well as she could up on Astronomy Tower in Hogwarts. She really liked Astronomy class, the predictability and well known rules of the stars' movements. There was the northern star, and there, Ursa Maior. In a scurrilous way, she was a bit sad that Orion was not visible this time a year. It was her favourite constellation, along with Canis Majoris, with Sirius shining brightly against the black sky.
That very moment, when she was looking up at the stars while a few miles away, her house was engulfed in flames; it came to her. She knew where she had to go.
She found a few coins still left in her mum's bag from the last trip to Diagon Alley to get some books to study over summer. Counting, she found one Galleon, six Sickles and a Knut. That, the picture, her nightshirt and the coat was all she had left. It was enough for now. Carefully holding her only true protection from the elements and stray glances closed with her left, she stood at the curb and raised her wand arm, calling the Knight Bus. Took a few minutes. Must have been further out. Stan Shunpike was his annoying self, but she just pushed the Galleon into his hand, receiving six sickles in return.
Twelve Sickles left. If her plan failed, she could make one more ride – a small comfort. Hastily, she made her way onto a bed and sat down.
By the way Stan had gaped at her when she left the bus five minutes later, she must have given him quite a show as she was thrown every which way on the bumpy ride. She didn't care.
It was hard to find the right house. In the dark night, each house looked just the same, and she had to look at a few signs to get a feel for direction. Ten minutes later, she was sure that these houses would look the same even in broad daylight, but she was sure she had finally found the right one. It didn't help that she had jumped at each cat she heard rummaging in the bins.
Carefully, she made her way to the front door. Naturally, it was locked. For a second, she thought about using her wand, underage magic to be damned, before remembering she did not have that option - it was lost. Shaking her head in an attempt to clear the fog of exhaustion building up, she decided to try the back of the house - maybe there was another door.
True to her prediction, there was a back door, and luckily enough, it actually was unlocked. Silently, as not to rouse anyone, she padded into what turned out to be the kitchen. Waiting a bit to let her eyes adapt to the slightly darker interior, she continued into the house. She crossed the living room, still not sure if she was in the right house, and found the stairs leading up.
On the upper floor, she first found a bathroom, and then an empty guest room. She found another door which she nearly ignored, because of the locks on the outside and the cat flap. On a whim, she still opened it, and there he was - in the pale light she could see his unruly hair. That hair was unmistakably his; she would recognize it among hundreds. After all, she saw it every day at Hogwarts.
Carefully, she pulled the door closed before she softly padded over to the bed. It took her only two or three steps. The room was tiny, just enough for the bed, a desk with a chair and a wardrobe. An open owl cage next to the desk, the window open to allow hunting. A shelf full of various stuff completed the interior. But that was secondary, she reminded herself. She had to talk to him first.
Even in the bad light she could see him tossing and turning in his sleep, moaning slightly, in what was obviously a nightmare. Not surprising, given his circumstances. She could truly understand now. Slowly, she extended her hand and touched him softly on the shoulder.
He woke with a start at the barest touch. His gaze flickered to and from, found her outline, and immediately jumped at her, knocking her over and to the ground. Instantly, his hands found her throat, squeezing hard, as his weight settled on her torso, as he knelt on her, pinning her to the ground, crushing her with his weight. In panic, she tried to push him off, her bare legs kicking at him, her arms flailing to hit him, to push him off, or simply break his hold on her constricted windpipe, as his unfocused eyes stared hatefully right through her.
Impotently, she tried to pry his unyielding fingers loose, her legs flailing useless as he sat on her now fully exposed chest, her camisole ripped to shreds during their brief, but completely silent fight. She didn't quite care about her nakedness as her sight grew dim, and she became aware of the irony that she had escaped a Death Eater attack, only to die at the hands of Harry Potter.
ooOOoo