The room felt oddly tranquil; Harry was certain that an instant before the chamber had rung with the tolls of battle but the only sound he could hear, as the violent feeling spell sped into his Godfather's chest, was a low keening moan. Sirius, the wayward son of the Black Family, arced backward - a cascade of ebony hair and dirty robes. It seemed to take an eternity as he sailed effortlessly through the air but was over the blink of an eye. The shocked, pain-filled grimace never truly overcame his Cheshire grin as he slipped through the decaying fabric covering the archway on the dais; and then he was gone.
Harry waited as a tortured breath passed then another for him to reappear.
He didn't.
Trembling arms wrapped around his shaking frame, holding him back - not that he had the strength to do so. The weak wounded whimper that Remus tried valiantly to suppress, as the werewolf bodily hauled the teen out of the fight, rumbled through Harry - the only proof it had been uttered. The Veil disappeared from view as his pseudo-uncle barreled through a mass of jewel-toned curses into the next room.
The time-turner room...
The keening reached a fevered pitch that made his chest ache until he wrenched himself free of the werewolf's bruising grasp; if only so he could breathe through the pain. Harry crouched against the wall, his hands pressed uselessly against his ears, and his heart raced wildly until a sharp PING resounded as something intricate to his soul snapped... Violently.
He collapsed unmoving to the glass-littered ground; shimmering dust exploded around him from the landing, it coated him - filled his lungs, and stained him deeper than was visible. He floated; lost somewhere above his body in a cloud of pain and panic as his core changed. It started small, a shift here or there deep where no one was supposed to touch - then things happened very quickly.
Frozen wildfire Raged in his chest as the world returned in surround sound and technicolor.
"I killed him!" Bellatrix's ruined cackle echoed through the Department of Mysteries - carrying over the din of the battle.
A Kaleidoscope of colors danced in his eyes - shades of Orange, Red, Yellow, Green, Purple and Indigo. His heart ached for a missing Blue - one it hadn't even realized it needed.
"I killed Sirius Black!" The female LeStrange gloated again from somewhere deep in the shadowy department. As the words reached him, the world fell still.
Harry sat up. Remus was bent over, face distorted in grief and worry, and fell back slowly as the teen stood. Every movement happened in a flash but still took an eon as Harry slipped around his pseudo-uncle and started towards the foul Indigo color which continued to call him, to reach out with slimy tendrils to pull him along the right path. He didn't pause as he reached the rotating room - he knew which door would lead him to her. He tore into the hall leading back toward Courtroom 13 and lunged forward toward the wild raven-haired witch.
The doors to the lift slid shut just a second behind him. They were alone. The strength of his grip on his phoenix core wand caused the wood to creak in agony.
"Oh, is Lil' Potty angry with his Aunty Bella?" Her voice mocked him with its sugary sweetness - almost more than her words.
Harry raised his wand with the full intent of using the worst curse he knew - only to pause with it held at casting height. Some deep part of him rebelled at the thought of using magic to avenge his godfather, and an image of burnt flesh beneath his hands surfaced from a dark veiled place in his soul. With a surge of movement, he wrapped his starvation-thin hands around her scrawny neck – wand and all.
Bellatrix's heavily lidded eyes flew open as they tumbled to the ground. Her own clawed hands came up to wrap around his wrists in an attempt to free herself. Harry held on with all the strength he possessed and after a second she screamed. Deep, clear Amber fire bled from his fingers - and BURNED them both. He grinned through the pain and watched with wicked pleasure as the Lestrange female struggled to free herself.
Almost regretfully, she stilled after barely a minute, and he pulled back, panting. Harry just sat there half on top of the dead woman - his scar started to flare and the lift dinged.
The power that had aided him, so Hot and unlike the Magic he was familiar with, began to fade as his anger burned down to Embers.
He turned his head as Dumbledore entered the atrium in a flash of burnt Amber with the Dark Lord arriving a second later shrouded in a lingering Black lite by a pale Orange. Harry could feel the weight of the Headmaster's unease—measured, calculating - while Voldemort's interest coiled around him like a lingering specter as the two men stared at the scene presented to them in the lift.
"Harry…" Dumbledore said his name very slowly - as one would to a wild animal. Harry ignored him as he stood with jerky movements, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, and faced his longtime enemy.
"Potter…" The creature sneered liplessly. His snake eyes peered at Harry with disdain.
"Riddle," Harry replied softly. Voldemort snarled at him and raised his wand, Curse on his forked tongue, only to freeze as he looked at the body at the teen's feet.
"Potter, Bellatrix was worth ten men," The possessive hiss was enough to chill the bones of lesser men. Harry couldn't bring forth enough emotion to give any proper defiance. "How do you plan to repay me before your Death?"
The room felt oddly tranquil; Harry was certain that an instant before the chamber had rung with the tolls of battle but the only sound he could hear, as the violent feeling spell sped into his Godfather's chest, was a low keening moan. Sirius, the wayward son of the Black Family, arced backward - a cascade of ebony hair and dirty robes. It seemed to take an eternity as he sailed effortlessly through the air but was over the blink of an eye. The shocked, pain-filled grimace never truly overcame his Cheshire grin as he slipped through the decaying fabric covering the archway on the dais; and then he was gone.
Harry waited as a tortured breath passed then another for him to reappear.
He didn't.
Trembling arms wrapped around his shaking frame, holding him back - not that he had the strength to do so. The weak wounded whimper that Remus tried valiantly to suppress, as the werewolf bodily hauled the teen out of the fight, rumbled through Harry - the only proof it had been uttered. The Veil disappeared from view as his pseudo-uncle barreled through a mass of jewel-toned curses into the next room.
The time-turner room...
The keening reached a fevered pitch that made his chest ache until he wrenched himself free of the werewolf's bruising grasp; if only so he could breathe through the pain. Harry crouched against the wall, his hands pressed uselessly against his ears, and his heart raced wildly until a sharp PING resounded as something intricate to his soul snapped... Violently.
He collapsed unmoving to the glass-littered ground; shimmering dust exploded around him from the landing, it coated him - filled his lungs, and stained him deeper than was visible. He floated; lost somewhere above his body in a cloud of pain and panic as his core changed. It started small, a shift here or there deep where no one was supposed to touch - then things happened very quickly.
Frozen wildfire Raged in his chest as the world returned in surround sound and technicolor.
"I killed him!" Bellatrix's ruined cackle echoed through the Department of Mysteries - carrying over the din of the battle.
A Kaleidoscope of colors danced in his eyes - shades of Orange, Red, Yellow, Green, Purple and Indigo. His heart ached for a missing Blue - one it hadn't even realized it needed.
"I killed Sirius Black!" The female LeStrange gloated again from somewhere deep in the shadowy department. As the words reached him, the world fell still.
Harry sat up. Remus was bent over, face distorted in grief and worry, and fell back slowly as the teen stood. Every movement happened in a flash but still took an eon as Harry slipped around his pseudo-uncle and started towards the foul Indigo color which continued to call him, to reach out with slimy tendrils to pull him along the right path. He didn't pause as he reached the rotating room - he knew which door would lead him to her. He tore into the hall leading back toward Courtroom 13 and lunged forward toward the wild raven-haired witch.
The doors to the lift slid shut just a second behind him. They were alone. The strength of his grip on his phoenix core wand caused the wood to creak in agony.
"Oh, is Lil' Potty angry with his Aunty Bella?" Her voice mocked him with its sugary sweetness - almost more than her words.
Harry raised his wand with the full intent of using the worst curse he knew - only to pause with it held at casting height. Some deep part of him rebelled at the thought of using magic to avenge his godfather, and an image of burnt flesh beneath his hands surfaced from a dark veiled place in his soul. With a surge of movement, he wrapped his starvation-thin hands around her scrawny neck – wand and all.
Bellatrix's heavily lidded eyes flew open as they tumbled to the ground. Her own clawed hands came up to wrap around his wrists in an attempt to free herself. Harry held on with all the strength he possessed and after a second she screamed. Deep, clear Amber fire bled from his fingers - and BURNED them both. He grinned through the pain and watched with wicked pleasure as the Lestrange female struggled to free herself.
Almost regretfully, she stilled after barely a minute, and he pulled back, panting. Harry just sat there half on top of the dead woman - his scar started to flare and the lift dinged.
The power that had aided him, so Hot and unlike the Magic he was familiar with, began to fade as his anger burned down to Embers.
He turned his head as Dumbledore entered the atrium in a flash of burnt Amber with the Dark Lord arriving a second later shrouded in a lingering Black lite by a pale Orange. Harry could feel the weight of the Headmaster's unease—measured, calculating - while Voldemort's interest coiled around him like a lingering specter as the two men stared at the scene presented to them in the lift.
"Harry…" Dumbledore said his name very slowly - as one would to a wild animal. Harry ignored him as he stood with jerky movements, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, and faced his longtime enemy.
"Potter…" The creature sneered liplessly. His snake eyes peered at Harry with disdain.
"Riddle," Harry replied softly. Voldemort snarled at him and raised his wand, Curse on his forked tongue, only to freeze as he looked at the body at the teen's feet.
"Potter, Bellatrix was worth ten men," The possessive hiss was enough to chill the bones of lesser men. Harry couldn't bring forth enough emotion to give any proper defiance. "How do you plan to repay me before your Death?"
Harry knew he ought to be afraid, but an ache had settled into his chest, and everything else felt unimportant. He gazed dispassionately at his great enemy as the faux man lifted his wand, and a malevolent scarlet Curse sped toward him. The teen jerked sideways, unsteady from the pain in his hands, and narrowly escaped the thin beam.
Dumbledore took the Dark Lord's distraction with Harry as an opening and, while the raven was still not pleased with the old man, he could admit it was to his benefit.
The Headmaster was said to be the only man Voldemort feared, and through his daze, Harry could see why. For every bright Curse the snake man fired, Dumbledore countered it with impressive—if impractical—bits of Transfiguration. The teen was forced to duck more than once as the Stone-and-Water Golem, formed from the previously ostentatious fountain, shot Geysers at the Dark Lord, only for them to be blocked. The battle between the two Titans lasted both seconds and ages.
The Headmaster had the edge—his Spells simply did more—and Voldemort was quickly wearing down.
Everything was going well.
Harry blinked lazily, and when he opened his emerald eyes again, another scarlet Curse was barreling toward him.
All he could do was watch as it splashed into his chest at lightning speed.
At first, he could have sworn he was under the Imperius Curse as a numb, thoughtless feeling crept over his exhausted mind. Then, he screamed powerlessly as the Curse overtook him.
There was a ripping pain as the wound in his Soul reopened—tearing so deeply that he could feel things vital and intangible being stripped away.
He wanted to cry, but the pain robbed him of his tears, and his legs gave out.
He fell...
He Burned...