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Author: Caleb Nova Story: That Terrifying Momentum Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 13 Words: 267,976
---------- 8:44 ---------- The silence in the dungeon corridor was stifling and Ginny sighed simply to make some sort of noise. She paced the middle of the hallway, counting the stones set into the floor. The inactivity was maddening when God only knew what was happening upstairs. Had Malfoy come out of the room at all? Had the others run into any professors who could assist them? Or would they all be ordered back to their tower? Making the situation even more annoying was Lila’s complete calm. The woman hadn’t moved from her original position at the corridor corner and apparently felt no need to converse. She was still as the rock that supported her and completely expressionless. “How can you do that?” Ginny finally said. Lila shifted slightly, as if she were emerging from thought. “Do what?” “Stand there without moving for so long.” “Training,” Lila answered shortly. That wasn’t enough for Ginny. She wanted to discuss something, anything. “Why would you be trained to stand still?” “The human eye is attuned to motion. Now be quiet.” Ginny sullenly crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall again. The time continued to drag on while her thoughts were anything but slow. She was afraid for Harry. She knew he’d carelessly put himself in danger and she didn’t trust Scott to do anything about it. Scott seemed to encourage Harry’s suicidal tendencies. It was daft, the way he thought he needed to do everything himself, and now, instead of turning to Ginny, Harry seemed to rely on Scott more than he should. It was obvious the Kharadjai had been told things that Ginny hadn’t. Why was that? Had Ginny not been forward enough with her support? Had she not made it clear enough how much she was willing to help? Maybe, no matter how far along her relationship with Harry progressed, she would still always be the younger sister, born to be ignored. Or maybe, Ginny thought darkly, Scott was a better manipulator than he seemed. Ginny snapped out of her musings when Lila suddenly moved away from the wall, her stance alert. “Did you hear that?” she asked. “Should I have?” Ginny hadn’t heard anything. “Apparently not.” Lila edged around the corner and peered back down the adjoining hall. Ginny followed suit but there was nothing to see; the hallway was completely empty. Despite this, Lila said, with certainty in her voice, “Something’s happening.” “What? What’s happening?” “Let’s go,” Lila commanded. She set off down the hallway at a fast jog. Ginny rushed to catch up. “Wait, what about Snape?” she huffed out, sprinting up alongside the older woman. “We’re supposed to watch his office!” Lila shook her head; they reached the stairs and she took them two at a time, leaving Ginny behind. “You Primes are more important,” Lila said, her response echoing back down to Ginny. Ginny realised she was rapidly being left in the dust. “I can’t run as fast as you!” she shouted. “Wait for me!” Lila must have slowed down because Ginny caught up with her at the top of the staircase. “You have to be faster,” Lila said. The Kharadjai began running again, heading towards the main stairs. Ginny was fit and she did her very best to keep up, but she just couldn’t run like that, without any apparent strain. Lila moved effortlessly ahead in a loping cadence that made full use of her long legs. She didn’t even breathe through her mouth. That was simply not fair, Ginny thought with frustration. She couldn’t be expected to keep up with someone who could run like that up a staircase. Lila wasn’t even sprinting; she was moving at a pace that was obviously well below her full capabilities. And the best help she could offer Ginny was an order to ‘be faster’? Somehow, Ginny managed to do exactly that when, up ahead, she heard Lila shout, “DROP YOUR WEAPONS! HANDS IN THE AIR!” Ginny’s heart began to race. Surely there couldn’t be Death Eaters in the school... Panting at the exertion but increasing her speed nonetheless, Ginny whipped out her wand and bolted into the hallway Lila had turned into just in time to see the older woman holster her smaller Muggle wand. “False alarm,” Lila said calmly, as if she hadn’t been screaming a moment before. “What?” Ginny panted. “Who…?” “Ginny!” It was Tonks, her bubblegum-pink hair moving into view from where it had been obscured behind Lila’s tall form. Remus was right behind her, both of them hurrying forward. “Great Merlin, Gin, what are you doing out of your common room? It’s not safe tonight!” “Yes, you shouldn’t be down here right now,” Remus said seriously. “We need to get you back upstairs.” “I know,” Ginny said with a little more impudence in her voice than she had intended. But there they went again, treating her like a child. Lila, bossy bint though she was, at least didn’t see Ginny as the baby of the lot. “That’s where we’re going.” “No time to chat. Keep moving,” Lila commanded brusquely. It was the only time Ginny had been happy to get an order from her. Figuring Lila’s commands superseded Tonks’ and Remus’ annoying desire to protect her, Ginny dutifully followed the Kharadjai towards the stairs to the second floor. “Wait, what are you doing?” Tonks called after them. She and Remus ran to keep pace with Lila, who was moving quickly again. “Hold up! Aren’t you Scott’s sister? Lara, wasn’t it? What are you doing here?” “Save the questions. I have to get upstairs now, and so do you,” Lila told them, and then sprinted ahead to vanish up the stairwell. So Lila was an equal opportunity bossy bint, then. Apparently adults were not exempt from the Kharadjai’s self-imposed authority. Unfortunately, that left Ginny to deal with Tonks and Remus. “Ginny, what’s happening?” Tonks asked as they all clambered up the stairs. Ginny did her best to condense the situation down to a few sentences, which wasn’t an easy thing to do while running. “Harry told us to watch the school while he and Dumbledore are gone,” she explained in between breaths. “Lila is here to help. We were downstairs and she said she heard something and now we have to meet up with Ron and the rest.” Good enough, she decided. Now she wanted some answers of her own. “Why are you here?” “Dumbledore told us to watch the school,” Remus informed her. “Harry shouldn’t have endangered you—” Ginny tuned him out at that point, increasing her pace as best as her aching legs would allow. She was glad that Remus was there to help but she didn’t care to hear whatever he had to say about her right to be part of the team. Until whatever was happening had ended, Ginny was sticking to Lila like glue. Or at least, like very loose glue. The blonde woman had again picked up her speed to the point that Ginny was unable to follow closely. She didn’t bother asking Lila to slow down this time. Instead, she did as best she could and hoped Lila wouldn’t move so fast that Ginny would lose track of her. Just up ahead, Ginny could hear Lila talking again, voice hard. Ginny hadn’t thought anything could make her go faster, but somehow she found the strength for another short burst, afraid of what she would find. The sight that greeted her when she ran out of the stairwell and into the second floor was only slightly less horrifying than a cadre of Death Eaters — Lila was pointing her weapon at McGonagall. “Put down the wand,” Lila was in the process of ordering. “Now.” McGonagall’s face couldn’t have held any more outrage. “I think not,” she said in a voice like a sharp iceberg. “Who are you? Why are you threatening me?” “Don’t shoot her!” Ginny gasped out, skidding to a halt. “She’s one of us!” Lila lowered her weapon and slid it back into its holster. “I see. My mistake.” “And quite a large one. I don’t know how you got in here, but this, of all nights, is not the time for surprises. And you, Ms. Weasley—” McGonagall turned her hard stare in Ginny’s direction. “What do you think you’re doing outside of your common room? Who is this woman?” Lila was busily scanning the hallway, obviously ignoring McGonagall. She seemed to come to some sort of decision and gestured towards Ginny. “There’s nothing here. Let’s keep moving.” McGonagall was not amused. “Neither of you are going anywhere until—” She was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Tonks and Lupin, both of whom appeared to be out of breath. “Crikey!” Tonks wheezed, one hand pressed to her side. “I’d forgotten how many bloody stairs there were in this place.” “Nymphadora! Are they with you?” McGonagall asked, indicating Lila and Ginny. Or she would have indicated Lila, had the blonde woman not already left the group. “Move it, Ginny,” she called back, apparently unconcerned whether the other adults followed or not. Deciding that she was already in enough trouble that a little more wouldn’t really matter, Ginny sidestepped the thunderstruck McGonagall and ran after the Kharadjai. “Ginny! Wait!” Tonks yelled plaintively, but Ginny was already starting up the next staircase, chasing the ever elusive posterior of Lila. Surprisingly, she almost ran right into said posterior. Lila had halted for reasons unknown. “What is it?” Ginny asked. “Ginny, I said wait,” Tonks scolded, catching up to them. “What in bloody hell are you do—” “Shush!” Lila commanded in a harsh whisper. “Someone’s coming.” Sure enough, when Ginny concentrated, she could hear the clatter of footsteps echoing down the stairs. Lila pointed to the wall right of the staircase and Ginny understood, readying her wand and pressing herself against the cold stone. Lila did the same on the opposite side, her face blank and her eyes sharp. Ginny reckoned the woman would probably kill any Death Eaters who emerged. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to witness that, but she also refused to hide. A pair of shadows appeared in the entryway. Ginny held her breath. The next thing she heard was not the clamour of Lila’s weapon but a short shout followed by a heavy thud. Shortly after, a set of worn trainers slid into view, bringing with them the body and pained visage of Neville Longbottom. “Are you all right, Neville?” Tangled blonde tresses shone in the candlelight as Luna stepped down to help him up. “Luna! Neville!” Ginny gasped. “What are you doing? What happened upstairs?” “Death Eaters!” Neville yelped, struggling back up to his feet. “They came out of the Room of Requirement!” Ginny’s stomach dropped like a stone. She reached forward and grasped Neville’s arms frantically. “Neville, where are the others?” “We all ran,” Neville told her haltingly, clearly short on breath, “they were all right last I saw them, Bill found us. He sent Luna and me to get help.” That was scant comfort. Ginny whirled toward Lila, who was standing infuriatingly still yet again. All that talk about moving faster, and then when the danger begins to happen, she doesn’t do anything? “What are you waiting for, they need help!” “Neville, where are the Death Eaters going?” Lila asked, sounding entirely too unruffled for the situation at hand. “I don’t know,” Neville said helplessly. “We split up on the fifth floor, been running since then…” “Okay. Everybody group up. That means you too, Professor, Tonks, Lupin,” Lila said, gesturing to the other adults. “We’ve got confirmed hostiles in the building and they could be anywhere, so stay on my ass… Arse? Just follow me close. ” Lila didn’t wait for any possible protestations from McGonagall. She set off again, though this time at a more reasonable pace. Ginny was able to stay with the Kharadjai without too much effort, but that did nothing to allay the faint tingling of panic that was beginning to set in. She fought the feeling down, clenching her wand tightly. If Neville and Luna had managed to get away, then there was no reason the others couldn’t as well. God, why had she volunteered to go to the dungeons with Lila? Her help was finally required and she had been at the other end of the school. Ginny was startled out of her inner turmoil when a hand clamped firmly onto her shoulder. She looked up to meet Lila’s serious gaze. “No time to freak out, girlie. I’m counting on you,” the older woman informed her. Ginny wasn’t sure that made her feel any better, but she nodded sharply in reply and resumed the upward climb. The hallway into which they emerged was blessedly empty of Death Eaters, though it was unfortunately also barren of Ginny’s friends. Lila looked towards her for guidance. “Which way to the fourth floor?” Fourth floor, fourth floor… There was the adjoining hallway and then the staircase by the Charms classroom, but it would be faster to take the narrower staircase towards the Trophy Room just to the— “Right! To the right, this way!” Ginny started to run forwards, but Lila caught her by the sleeve and roughly hauled her back. “Incoming, down the hall,” the woman said softly. She shoved Ginny to the opposite wall and crouched down. “Don’t hug the wall, stay low.” Hopefully, everyone behind was following Lila’s example. Ginny gripped her wand and tried to hide herself as best she could behind a suit of armour. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making some sort of attempt to ease her furious heart rate. It didn’t work, and she was sure if Death Eaters were to come down the hall they would hear the thumping in her chest. Across the short space between them, Lila began to issue a rapid and hushed set of instructions. “Left doorway, three or four. Staircase is FP. Fire on my lead.” Ginny had understood maybe half of that. “What?” “Don’t shoot until I do. Here they come.” Who ‘they’ were became clear a moment later when Ron, Hermione and Bill came shooting around the corner at full tilt. “Don’t shoot them!” Ginny gasped, whirling towards Lila, but she needn’t have worried. The woman’s Muggle weapon was already lowered as she stood up. “Ginny!” Bill said loudly, skidding to a halt in front of her. His voice was an odd mixture of relief and disbelief. “What are you doing here?” “It’ll save,” Lila informed him as she stepped forward to retake command of the situation. “What’s happening upstairs?” Bill gave her a strange look, but answered even though Ginny didn’t think he recognised the Kharadjai. “Death Eaters. Ron says they came out of the Room of Requirement, but I don’t know how. I ran into him and Hermione and we tried to hold them back, but there’s just too many. We delayed them, maybe. Perhaps not even that.” “Do you know where they’re going?” “Down, I know that much. A few split off to follow us but we lost them by the library.” Bill glanced back over his shoulder, his face creased in thought. “If we came through the west end of the castle, we would have been about over the Great Hall when we went back towards the library. So if they had started straight down from there they’d end up—” “The Astronomy Tower corridor!” Ron blurted out, coming to the same conclusion as his older sibling. “There’s the other side hallway there with the staircase if they’re going for the Entrance Hall!” “Ginny, take us there,” Lila immediately ordered, putting a halt to any further discussion. Bill fell into step next to Ginny in front of the group as they hurried towards the Astronomy Tower. He leaned down next to ear and said in a low voice, “So who is this woman, exactly?” “Scott’s sister,” Ginny informed him, quickening her step. She had to agree with Lila, there would be time for questions later. Right now, they had to stop this invasion. She rushed up the short set of stairs and into the Astronomy Tower corridor, wand at the ready. She peered nervously ahead, but there was no one else in sight. The corridor was empty. “This is it?” Lila asked, moving up to stand beside Ginny. “Yeah, there’re the stairs to the tower,” Ginny said, pointing them out. “Okay. Everybody spread out!” Lila commanded, gesturing with one arm behind her to the rest of the group. “Keep your eyes open.” “Right,” Remus agreed. He nodded his head towards the hallway to their immediate right. “Nymphadora?” “We’ll go this way and check the Entrance Hall stairs,” Tonks said. She and Remus moved cautiously away from the group. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat slightly. “I want all students to stay put for the time being. Do not wander off.” She gave one last hard look in Lila’s direction, and then moved to follow Tonks and Remus down the other hall. Bill did the same, pausing to reach over and give Ginny’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “She’s right. If they’re at the staircase, stay here and let us handle it.” Lila watched them walk off with an unreadable expression on her face. As soon as they disappeared around the corner, she turned back to Ginny. “Let’s move out.” Ginny blinked. “But Professor McGonagall said—” she began to protest. However, Lila was already several steps ahead by the time Ginny cut herself off, and, deciding the older woman obviously wasn’t going to wait for her, she hurried forward. “This is it?” Lila pointed to the Astronomy Tower stairs. Ginny nodded. “Yes, but I don’t see any—” Three hooded and cloaked men emerged from around the nearby corner. They froze when they saw the approaching group. Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to do. Should she run? Should she attack? She was staring a Death Eater in the face, and all she could think was that she wished she’d had a bit more time to prepare. Beside her, Lila made no movements. The seconds of stunned silence ended when one of the Death Eaters stepped forward threateningly. “What’s this? Some students out for a walkabout with their pretty little professor?” he said. His voice was muffled by his mask, but the menace in it was clear. He seemed more amused by their presence than anything else, and in a distant, rational corner of her mind Ginny supposed a bunch of students and a blonde woman weren’t the most threatening sight. The Death Eater focused his gaze on Lila as his compatriots drew up closer behind him. “’Ello, luv,” he leered at her. “Hello,” Lila mildly replied, and then shot him through the head. The other two Death Eaters recoiled. Ginny’s wand slipped from her startled grasp and she clapped her hands over her ears, wincing at the sudden pain. She looked on numbly as Lila killed the men in front of her with speed and efficiency. She found herself not feeling much of anything as she witnessed her first deaths. The shattering crack of the pistol broke against her skin, the force like a slight slap to the face. The Death Eaters tumbled backwards, twisting as the bullets tore into them. Lila had no expression on her face as she took aim at the last man still standing. He was clutching his chest, reeling from his initial wound. Lila shot him two more times in the chest, and as soon as he hit the floor, she leaned forward and placed a final bullet in his temple with a clinical precision. That same dull, distant corner of Ginny’s mind informed her that there didn’t appear to be any blood, at least not now, and she shouldn’t have any problem seeing the Thestrals from this point forward. It helped her one last time when it told her to duck into the storage cupboard doorway nearby, as there were Death Eaters pouring out of the stairwell straight ahead. ***---~**~---*** ---------- 21:25 ---------- The gun jammed. With a click, the hammer failed to close and the weapon sat still and silent in his hand. That made a number of things clear. Scott recognised that he had about a second and a half to decide on his reaction. Given the new information he had just received, it was not as simple a choice as it would first appear. Scott knew his weapons well, and he took great care to keep them in immaculate condition. The chances of them jamming were minute. That it should happen just at the moment he was about to shoot two of the major figures involved in a UO put those chances in the realm of the infinitesimal. The message was obvious. Either Snape or Malfoy was not intended to die — possibly both, for all Scott knew. The universe had forced upon him an unsubtle reminder of just how little of the shape he had been able to map. For the moment, he had to accept. Harry was safe enough where he was, invisible under the Cloak and frozen by some last spell of Dumbledore’s, so there was nothing to be done there. He could try his luck by attempting to kill the other Death Eaters, but Snape might delay his flight to safety in order to fight. Since Snape appeared to be untouchable for the present, it was dangerous to have him around any longer. No one would be able to harm him if he should attack the students. It was better to let him leave, and try to kill him again some other day. Scott allowed himself a small smile as the Killing Cursel sped towards him. The Death Eater’s move had been well played. He appreciated the strike of an opponent who — while still not worthy in Scott’s eyes — had managed to carry a battle. He’d fold this round. ***---~**~---*** ---------- 9:27 ---------- Harry had never been so angry in his life. It made the rage he had felt towards his aunt seem like nothing more than a pinprick of annoyance, a passing fit of irritation. His storming, screaming reunion with Ron and Hermione during the summer before fifth year was a mild bout of pique. Even the raw, sorrowful wrath he had been enveloped with as he had sought revenge upon Bellatrix for the death of Sirius paled in comparison. Perhaps that was because Bellatrix Lestrange would be expected to do something like that. Snape, however, was a cowardly, snivelling, backstabbing traitor. Oh, how Harry had hated the man even before this, but he still hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t even enough that Snape had snuffed out the life of Harry’s mentor, Dumbledore. No, apparently Snape had to also kill Harry’s friend. It didn’t matter that it was one of his hooded compatriots who had cast the lethal spell at Scott, and not Snape himself. If not for Snape, none of it would have happened. He might as well have been holding the wand himself. The anger that Dumbledore’s death had kindled in Harry had already been clawing and ripping at his insides, but for all that it was still a bit numb. Death was difficult to comprehend, hard to come to terms with. Harry knew Dumbledore was dead, but he didn’t necessarily feel it yet. What he felt instead was a rage that was stained with a sickening horror, diluted and confusing. That changed when Harry witnessed Scott absorb the Killing Curse and fall limply out of sight, the gun clattering to the stone floor. How much was he expected to take in a single night? Dumbledore. Scott. God only knew who else lay dead down below. The sheer fury that enveloped Harry at that point was mindless. It stripped every other emotion from his body with a white hot clarity. It was an animal instinct, an inhuman compulsion. Whereas always before the anger had been a part of Harry, this fury consumed him. Though he was still unable to move, his jaw clenched so hard that it creaked, and acid tears coursed their way down his reddened face. He was going to kill Snape. When the spell finally broke, Harry was on his feet and sprinting for the stairwell with the speed of a predator loosed from a cage, taking the stairs two at a time. The walls flashed by him and at the bottom he leapt over a still form that might have been Scott. He didn’t stop to look. He slipped when he landed, sliding on something hard that skittered across the floor and made him land painfully on his elbows. It proved to be a stroke of luck — he realised that the air above him was thick with spells. In the eerie light of the battle, the object he had fallen on was illuminated in soft reds and whites. It was one of Scott’s pistols, abandoned on corridor stones. Without wondering why or how, he reached forward and grasped it. It was cold in his hand, and heavy. A spell crashed into the rocks next to him, and the daze was broken. He surged up and forward, running with all his might. The fighting continued unabated, spells ricocheting about. Out of the corner of his eye, in the half second before he sped out of the intersection, Harry saw the Death Eaters fleeing towards the stairwell to their backs, abandoning their positions. He could hear the sharp staccato beat of Lila’s weapon as it spewed torrents of lead, and he felt a brief surge of dark satisfaction at the thought of her mowing down their ranks. Several people called his name as he charged through, but he didn’t pause. He couldn’t. Another staircase, this one cloaked in darkness. Deep rumbles echoed through the stone, a sign of the battle above. The only other thing audible was Harry’s own harsh breathing and the pounding of his feet on the steps. The Entrance Hall doors were thrown open, the night air permeating the room as Harry rushed into it. Just as he was about to reach the doors to the grounds outside, a hulking figure stepped out in front of him, wand raised. The black hooded robes of a Death Eater were unmistakable. Without even thinking, Harry raised the gun and, still running full tilt, pointed it at the wizard and fired. The ungodly shriek of energy that blasted from the gun both deafened and blinded Harry. With incredible force the weapon kicked itself right out of his hand and smashed into his face. He barely felt it. Still retaining his forward momentum, he fell onto his back and skidded on the cold stone. Before he had even slid to a halt, he was struggling to get back on his feet. Stumbling towards the door, Harry’s vision returned enough that he could see a massive hole gouged out of the stone in the left hand wall. A flurry of glowing blue ash was stirred up by his clumsy footfalls as his equilibrium began to return and he picked up speed. He didn’t know where the gun had gone and didn’t stop to find it. It wasn’t until he was outside and racing across the grass that he spotted the still form of the Death Eater lying not too far from the double doors. The wizard was still intact, and Harry realised that he had missed. He felt a brief flash of something, disappointment or relief, he wasn’t sure, but that was all. He had to keep running. And then he saw them. Across the grounds, not too far ahead, Harry could see Snape’s back, robes flapping as he ran. Draco was in front, his bright hair clearly visible in the dark. Running from the rape of Hogwarts. The sight lit Harry’s brain on fire. Red-tinged images, in rapid succession, some real, some imagined: Dumbledore, crumpled in the grass, his legs bent at awkward angles. Scott, prone on the staircase, his sharp grey eyes blank and glazed. Neville and Luna, cut down in the corridor, staining red on black. Ron and Hermione, slumped together in an embrace, frozen from the Killing Curse. Ginny, limp on the common room couch, her undergarments torn and a Death Eater’s fingerprints pressed purple on her neck… Harry didn’t know what would be waiting for him when, or if, he returned to the castle. But he did know that someone had to pay for it. Rage had granted him a gift of celerity. Harry was no more than twenty feet from Snape when he snarled out the first attack. “Stupefy!” Snape whirled around and blocked the spell with a rapid motion. “Don’t stop!” he shouted to Draco. “Impedimenta!” Harry sent the curse towards Draco, but Snape blocked it as well. “Not tonight, Potter!” Snape jeered at Harry across from the short space between them. Harry spat out every curse, jinx and hex he could think of. They spilled from his mouth in a torrent, lighting the grass, sparking and snapping through the air. Harmless annoyances, painful afflictions, deadly Unforgivables, it didn’t matter. He said them all, one after another. Incarcerous. Reducio. Confringo. Petrificus Totalus. Crucio. Snape stopped them all, blocking and dodging, parrying with counter-spells that rocked Harry back on his feet and sent him tumbling into the grass. And Harry didn’t care. He took the hits, hard and bruising, and kept moving forward, never faltering in his litany of curses. Surely one of them would get through. He was no more than five feet away when Snape gestured forcefully, dispelling another attempted Crucio. The counter-spell was powerful; Harry’s feet left the ground and he came down hard. His wand spun out of his hand, landing just within reach. Frantically, he rolled over and grabbed for it, but Snape was too fast. A Banishing Charm sent Harry’s wand flying out into the dark. “That is enough!” Snape snarled, his wand raised as Harry clambered back to his feet. “You’re done.” The red that suffused his vision and the tears that scorched the undersides of his eyes were evidence enough that Harry was far from done. Maybe the wordless scream that ripped its way free from Harry’s throat startled Snape into inaction, or maybe he simply hadn’t expected such an insane manoeuvre; completely heedless of the wand that Snape still had pointed at him, Harry rushed his former teacher like a madman. Harry slammed into Snape, knocking him backwards in a tangle of flailing limbs. In the first few seconds Harry took full advantage of Snape’s unpreparedness and pummelled the older man, landing several hard punches on his head and neck and kneeing him in the stomach. The hits were satisfying to an overwhelming degree, the only answer to his rage that it would accept. The anger was too personal for wands. Harry savoured the sensation of Snape’s body bending beneath the blows, even as his knuckles split and his fingers ached. But it wasn’t long before Snape recovered himself and kicked out, catching Harry in the left knee. Harry hardly registered the pain, but it slowed him down enough that Snape was able to follow up with a vicious second kick to Harry’s chest. The blow knocked the wind out of the boy, and he bent over double on the grass, digging his fingers into the earth. For the first time, the agony of his injuries, both magically and physically inflicted, came surging through the rage. He choked and took a torturous breath, gasping in the cool night air which burned his lungs like sulphur. “I might have guessed you’d fight like a Muggle, Potter,” Snape spat, breathing hard. He stomped on Harry’s left hand, breaking two of the fingers with an audible snap. Harry yelped and pulled the appendage inward, cradling it. “You’ve never been much of a wizard.” Harry looked up at his tormentor, feeling no fear at all. The fury that held him in its twisting grip didn’t allow it. “Why don’ you, you kill me, then,” he slurred. For some reason, his mouth was full of blood. Defiantly, he spat it out over Snape’s robes, causing the traitor to step back in disgust. “Coward.” Snape’s face contorted in fury. “What did you call me?” he snarled. Harry bared his teeth in an aggressive sneer, unaware of how frenzied he appeared with his broken glasses, wild eyes and red-stained mouth. “Scott was right about you,” he told Snape. Right about what? Scott had said many things about the professor, but the content of them didn’t matter. The words were designed to inflict pain. “You’re a coward.” And then Snape exploded, completely lost it in a way that Harry had never seen him do before. His face twisted into features that expressed something uncontrollable and frightening, something akin to what Harry was feeling. “DON’T—” he roared, his wand arm snapping back over his head, “—CALL ME COWARD!” Harry felt the spell slam into the side of his head; he saw sparks and then the sky as he flipped over limply onto the turf. A jolt of pain rang up his arm when his broken fingers hit something hard and metallic amongst the grass, and his gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. For a moment he lay there, breathing hard and blinded, until the pain began to subside. When his eyes cleared, Snape was standing over him. The wand in Snape’s hand trembled, and Harry wondered whether he was about to be finished off. He took a deep breath and ran his tongue around his bloody mouth for one final act of defiance. He wasn’t going to die lying on his back. With a faint groan, he pushed himself up onto his knees and met Snape’s eyes fearlessly. With a distant pang, a thought of Ginny wormed its way up through the anger and hatred. Once again, and perhaps for the last time, he regretted not having said goodbye. After what seemed like forever, but could have been no more than a handful of seconds, Snape finally turned away with a contemptuous sneer. “Scott is dead,” he said in a voice dripping with scorn. “His opinion means little.” Without a sound, Harry withdrew the knife Scott had given him, snapped it open, and lunged for Snape’s back. It was an attack without finesse, powered by sheer fury. It was also unexpected. For the second time, Snape was caught off guard by Harry’s suicidal lunge. He had only pivoted halfway to meet the strike when the knife plunged into his side. Snape screamed. It was a high-pitched, pain-filled scream that sounded out of place, an animal noise. He stumbled backwards, dragging Harry with him. Harry didn’t pause for a second. Without thought, he stabbed again. Then again. His arm thrust furiously forward into the yielding flesh. At the most basic level, he wasn’t even really trying to kill Snape. He didn’t know how. He just wanted, needed, to hurt Snape. Hurt him the way he had hurt Harry. Somehow Snape managed to block or divert the next assault and then Harry was yet again slammed violently to the ground as another bludgeoning spell rocked him. Dazedly, he figured this time Snape would kill him for sure. Instead, he heard the sound of retreating footsteps. Snape was fleeing. Harry put one hand down on the grass to try and lift himself up, and encountered something cold and hard. He realised that it probably was the same thing he had hit his hand on earlier. Turning his head made him want to pass out, but with an effort, he looked over and saw with astonishment that the unfamiliar object was Scott’s automatic gun, discarded on the ground. He couldn’t imagine what it was doing outside, but it didn’t matter. With feeble motions, he pulled it into his lap and rested it in the palm of his left hand, wincing as it jarred his broken fingers. He uncurled his stiff right hand and let go of his knife, which he had still been clenching tightly. Watching Snape’s staggering back grow more distant, he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to use Scott’s weapon. But he still had to try. Exerting all of his remaining strength, he began to raise the weapon to his shoulder. It was heavy, too heavy for his trembling arms. His broken fingers refused to cooperate, and even as he tried to find Snape through the small aiming sight, he knew it was too late. He let his arms go limp, allowing the weapon to drop into his lap. When he raised his eyes towards the gate, Snape and Draco were gone. A long silence followed. Dimly, Harry began to register the crackling of fire in the distance and the other noises of chaos. As his adrenaline faded and the hate waned with it, the pain took over, and soon the sorrow would follow. In the meantime, a pleasant emotional lassitude had fallen over him, a vacuum over his heart. He wished the same could be said for his body. The agony every movement sent through him made him wonder why he hadn’t fallen unconscious already. “HARRY!” a voice roared out. Harry dazedly turned his head towards the sound. It was Hagrid, lumbering quickly across the fire-lit grounds. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing emerged save thick strings of blood and mucus. He choked on it, and spat a crimson glob onto the grass. “Harry… Oh, Merlin… Harry, what’d they do ter ya…” Hagrid’s voice was hoarse and shot through with terror. What did they do to him? Harry began to realise how unbelievably sticky he felt. He glanced down and calmly noted that the bottom half of his shirt, most of his trousers and his right arm were covered in blood. His right hand was a clotted red mass, his fingers glued together by the rapidly drying fluid. He felt like he was covered in a stinking, watery syrup. He dimly wondered what the rest of him looked like. He looked up at Hagrid’s worried face and tried again to speak, to tell him that Dumbledore was dead, and it didn’t matter what had happened to Harry. But this time the blackness tugging at the edge of his vision was no longer held back by adrenaline, and, in the absence of rage, the pain stepped in to fill the void. Harry felt Hagrid’s arms encircle him just before everything went black. ***---~**~---***
An author’s note was omitted from the last chapter out of a desire to preserve the momentum. It was such a dark note to end on that, upon finishing, I didn’t want your last thoughts to revolve around the author’s note instead of the end of the chapter. Reflect on my work, not on me trying to sell you what you just read. I was also tactfully told by a friend of mine to, ‘stop whining about reviews’. Therefore, I decided it was something I wouldn’t touch on this time, which is hard for me, since I like touching things. Obviously, I need to apologize for the delay with this chapter. Like all failed artists, I am a ball of rage, resentment, loathing (self-directed and otherwise) and aching regret. Sometimes this interferes with my writing, and by sometimes I, of course, mean all the time. Al Sharpton once said in a VH1 retrospective concerning Marvin Gaye, that ‘the pain which makes you a great artist also makes you your own worst enemy’. I used to take comfort from that, until I eventually realized that I was not great and only marginally an ‘artist’, in the same way that Al Sharpton is only marginally a reverend. As usual, please feel free to direct any and all questions concerning this chapter to me in your reviews, so that in reply I may expound at length long after you’ve tired of the answer.
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