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Author: Myth & Legend Story: Eternity Lost Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 11 Words: 109,971
"A twisted love, they said to me, "Motives of a Death Eater" ~ Lestrange The summer had vanished. It had slipped away like so much sand between his fingers. Despite the hollow feeling of grief that still lingered in the Burrow, it had been one of the most enjoyable summers of all, simply because he was with people who were more of a family than he'd known. He and Ginny had spent endless hours talking, or simply remaining silent in one another's embrace. It had helped having the anchor of another at his side. Now Harry stood in the kitchen listening as the argument raged around him. The letters from Hogwarts had arrived a few days ago, the emerald ink curving into familiar, careful script. Harry had been informed that the papers he had done over the summer were of a respectable standard and that he should buy fourteen new course books. Hermione and Ron had similar book lists, but whilst Ron had been told to continue with his Prefectship, Hermione had been awarded Head Girl. The twins had taken a great delight in this fact, and Hermione hadn't seen her badge since the day she got it. She hadn't been too fussed by its disappearance though and had spent most of her time dividing her attention between Harry's new magic and Ron's affections. 'I don't think it's safe for us to go into a potentially dangerous, crowded area with Harry. Anything could happen to him,' Hermione pointed out. 'We won't be able to keep an eye on him; he could very well become lost amongst all the people, and we can't defend against the Cerebral's new spells.' 'So you'd rather leave him here on his own, would you?' Ron demanded. 'In a house like this, with no one else here? It could be just what You-Know-Who is waiting for.' 'I'd rather leave him here with goodness knows how many spells protecting him than drag him into Diagon Alley.' The crockery on the draining board gave a warning rattle as Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to tell himself that they were only concerned for his safety. Since he had become aware of it, the Soul Resonance had grown in strength, and when tensions were high he found himself responding like for like, his anger growing with that of those around him as their emotions worked their way into his mind. It had the often surprising side effect of random poltergeist activity. 'I need to get out of this house,' Harry growled, trying to keep his temper under control as Ron smirked and Hermione scowled. 'I will be careful, I will stay with you at all times, I won't wander off and I've got more chance of knowing if Voldemort's hanging around than you have. Chances are you'd walk right past a Death Eater in the street and wouldn't know it if they weren't wearing a mask.' 'We'll all be coming with you. Charlie's got to get back to Wales and Bill needs to go to the bank, so there's no way that he'll ever be on his own, Hermione,' Molly said soothingly. 'We ought to get going if it's decided, or we won't have time to get everything done.' It was half an hour later when they walked into the bustling, cobbled street of Diagon Alley, where everyone rushed from one shop to the next, caught in a constant battle for the next item on their shopping list. The summer air was wavering in the heat, and witches and wizards were all glossy-faced and harassed as they darted from one end of the Alley to the other. They dropped Charlie off first, waving goodbye as he made his way to the designated Apparation point for national departures to Wales. 'Be careful all right?' he told Ron as he hugged his little brother goodbye. 'You know where I am if you need me.' He scooped his mum into a hug as well, promising to keep in touch and to be back soon before he melted into the crowd, whistling quietly. Bill led the way towards Gringotts at a swift walk, dodging and weaving through the crowd. His hair was in a short ponytail, grown back after an accident in a tomb the previous year had required a hasty haircut, much to his mother's despair and his content. The fang earring gleamed in the sunlight, swaying gently as he took the steps two at a time and stepped into the cool shade of the bank. The interior was the same as always, with splendid rugs unrolled across the grey stone floors and massive pillars supporting the cathedral ceiling. Gigantic chandeliers dripped their light, the crystals sending shattered facets of it dancing across the walls. Hermione approached the counter to change some money, keeping Ginny, Fred and George in eyesight whilst Molly went with Ron and Harry into the subterranean levels of the bank to collect their gold. Harry's vault was looking emptier every time he saw it. The piles of gold had dwindled significantly over the years, his parents' last gift to him now almost gone. In contrast, probably for the first time in years, the Weasleys' vault shone. Admittedly, most of the money was silver, but Arthur's job as Acting Minister hadn't come without a large raise in salary. Molly counted out coins and bit her lip, as though debating something with herself. 'Come on, Mum!' 'I was just thinking, we could really do with some new things around the house. The beds in your room definitely need something done, and we could use a new sofa.' She shook her head ruefully. 'Never mind, there'll be a better time for it.' They found the others standing near one of the pillars and watching everyone suspiciously. Fred and George had crossed their arms across their chests, and in their dragon-hide jackets were doing a good job of looking ferocious. Ginny had been watching the way into the vaults, and a smile lit up her face as the rest of their group emerged, safe and sound. As Harry stepped out in the street he felt himself clear his mind automatically, the basic defence reflex of Occlumency kicking in. He had found out, almost by accident, that the simple method worked quite effectively when the Soul Resonance got too much for him to bear. There were no voices in his head, no mindless ramblings of general trains of thought, but when faced with a large number of people he had noticed an influx of knowledge and a confusion of emotion that were too much for even Occlumency to blot out completely. Even now, with his mind withdrawn, he could feel the mistrust of everyone around him. People were frightened to be in London. Families stayed together, the children staring around wide-eyed and clinging to their parents as they were dragged from one shop to another. There was no longer the friendliness of co-habitation, but the constant fear that everyone you jostled or everyone you met was a Death Eater, ready to strike you down without mercy. Madam Malkin's was almost deserted, and she measured the four Hogwarts attendees quickly. 'You have grown, haven't you, dear?' she said to Harry as the tape measure divided into two and measured his height. 'Still a bit thin, mind you. My mother would say a pint of Bitter and a Mars bar a day is what you need.' Harry thanked her as she handed him some robes to try on and left him to his own devices. They fitted perfectly; the sleeves were just the right length, the neck wasn't too tight and the length was just slightly too short for him to tread on the hem. Madam Malkin's measurements were rarely wrong. He was just putting his old clothes back on when the mirror trembled in its frame, the glass tinkling quietly. Scowling at it, he looked more closely at the silver surface. He wasn't feeling angry or stressed, and as far as he knew his magic was completely under his control – it wasn't he who had caused the disturbance. As he watched his reflection carefully, he felt a prickle of unease race down his back, and try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Reaching out a hesitant fingertip, he jumped as the silver surface leapt towards him, sucking at his skin lovingly. He pulled away in horror, watching the viscous stuff as it fell back to its vertical surface, sending ripples scattering outwards to break along the frame. 'Harry, are you all right in there?' Ginny asked from beyond the door to the changing room. 'Yeah, I'll be out in a minute.' He groped for the door handle, not taking his eyes off the mirror, before departing hurriedly and paying for his robes. 'What's wrong with you?' Ginny asked, clutching at his sleeve with her hand, her face a picture of concern. 'Nothing, I just had a bit of a weird feeling. Probably the heat.' 'If you don't feel safe, we can go back to the Burrow.' 'No, it's fine.' He smiled at her, resisting the urge to kiss her gently on the cheek. 'Come on, we don't have much left to do.' Flourish and Blotts was packed full of students, and several times Harry bumped into people he knew. Many were cheerful, at least outwardly, but a few held the haunted look of loss. A total of fourteen attacks, including that on the Ministry, had been accounted to Voldemort. The death toll rose each week, and with it, hope faded. The booksellers were giving out complimentary, heavy duty bags to all seventh years to carry their large purchases in, and on seeing the volume of tomes there were to take home, Fred and George excused themselves, promising to be careful and to be back by dinner, before making their way through the crowd towards their shop. Ron complained all the way to the Animal Emporium, where he finally sat on the steps and refused to move. 'It's hot in there. Besides, Pig doesn't have fleas, unlike some felines I know.' 'It's the sheep in the fields, and the chickens!' Ginny protested. 'It's not like Genie is dirty or anything.' 'I'll stay with Ron,' Harry said, 'you can see us through the window with no problem.' 'We'll only be two minutes. Be careful,' Molly ordered before leaving the bags with them and bustling the girls inside. Harry slumped onto the step beside Ron and turned his head to one side, giving a satisfied groan as his neck clicked. 'That's disgusting.' 'What? You crack your toes.' 'Yeah but your neck, that's just horrible.' Ron stayed silent for a moment before asking quietly, 'What's wrong, Harry?' he held up his hand to stop his friends excuses and frowned, 'don't pretend it's nothing. Ginny says you've been distant, and I can see for myself that something's wrong. What is it?' With a soft sigh, Harry let the barrier of Occlumency down and felt the sudden rush of facts and emotion in his head before they faded softly, becoming an unintelligible jumble. Wordlessly, he reached out his fingers to Ron's cheek. For a moment there was nothing, then a vivid purple spark leapt from his friend's skin to his, and with it came every emotion currently on Ron's mind. The flood of concern was almost blinding, and with it were the aggravation of shopping and the constant background emotion of his affection for Hermione. The feelings lingered for a moment before fading away, and Harry opened his eyes to look at Ron's dead white face. 'It's called transference. It happens if I'm not using the same techniques as I do for Occlumency. If I can clear my head, it's fine, but I can't always stay under tight control. It's exhausting.' Harry mumbled. 'Transference is a side effect of ill-controlled or rapidly growing magic. With physical contact or even proximity, a short burst of raw power exchanges all emotions between the two or multiple persons involved. I just got all your emotions, and you just got all mine.' 'You're bloody terrified,' Ron whispered, his face pale. 'Wouldn't you be?' His friend fell into silence and leant back against the door, his eyes scanning up and down the street as he thought about it. 'Well I suppose, I just never realised. You never let on or anything. Why didn't you talk to us about it?' 'It upsets people if they find out their last line of defence is scared. Would you want an Auror confessing to you that they're frightened of the people they've got to catch and would actually rather curl up in a dark corner and hide?' 'Well, no–' Ron shook his head. 'Look, everybody is scared, absolutely everyone. I mean, look around you, it's like You-Know-Who has already won. We're broken, all of us.' Ron gestured wildly to the street and jumped as Harry swore softly. Harry was bent over, his eyes screwed up tight as he gritted his teeth, willing the pain to go away. Blood was dripping from the fingertips of his left hand, and he pressed his right palm to the phantom stain of the Dark Mark. Voldemort was close; he had to be for the pain to be so intense. Either that, or he was desperate. 'Shall I get Mum?' Ron asked, his brown eyes not moving from the splatters of blood on the cobbles. 'No don't worry,' Harry groaned, 'it'll be all right.' 'Move your hand, let me see.' Ron pulled Harry's sleeve up and levered his friend's hand away from the wound. Harry felt a surge of something hot and looked at his arm. The skin was healed, markless and soft silver in the sunlight. There were a few dark brown stains of dried blood, but no evidence to suggest that it was he who had been bleeding. 'Did you do that?' he asked Ron, who shook his head fiercely. 'It must have been you, Harry. I don't know how to heal!' 'Something's not right.' Harry felt a surge of panic just seconds before the explosion made the ground shake. Windows rattled in their frames and doors creaked warningly. The screams and wails rose rapidly as people began to run, fighting against each other to get away. There was a flash of spells as a few of the more sensible ones Apparated away, but most were too swamped by fear to use their common sense. There, striding out of the crowds, were thirteen figures dressed all in black. Their faces were masked and their hands gloved. There was no way of telling them apart. Each was androgynous and non-human, a terrifying sight that spurred people into new levels of panic. There were already bodies lying on the street, killed by the magical explosion. Aurors were Apparating in, but they fell to their knees as a shockwave rolled outwards – a searing, blistering pain that went right into the head. Harry shut off his mind quickly as beside him, Ron dropped to the floor, clutching at his temples. The pain was still there in Harry's head, but it was muted and distant. Over the panic of the people, he could feel anger. There was one towering source of rage, and it was one of the Death Eaters. Concentrating on that feeling, Harry trod down from the step and stood on the edge of the crowd, trying to make sense from the chaos. Anger. They are filth, worthless filth. They serve no purpose to me. They deserve nothing. One Death Eater turned his head suddenly, and through the gaping eyeholes of the mask, Harry could see one black patch and one bright blue, arctic, Malfoy eye. The smile was unbidden, and it felt alien and sinister on his own lips – Percy had left a mark, something that Malfoy would never forget. He felt a sizzle of something deep in his mind and he ducked hurriedly, letting the spell scream overhead. Stone exploded from the wall behind him and he winced as a shard of shrapnel scored a line across his cheek. It had been enough. When the Death Eater had removed his concentration from the shockwave to attack him, it had collapsed, giving the Aurors time to cast defensive spells on themselves before entering into the fray. The curses were searing and bright, some hitting rushing bystanders, forcing them to the ground under the pain. Here and there the familiar bright green of the Killing Curse was a vivid, agonising reminder of Harry's helplessness. He'd promised Ron not to help, not to do anything without him. Looking around, he frowned at the empty step. Their bags were still strewn around, some upset by the rushing crowd, but there was no Ron. He felt his stomach plummet as fear struck. Not the lack lustre echo from a thousand minds, but his own terror for the safety of his friend. Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket, scanning the crowd feverishly, ignoring the potentially fatal magic that soared above his head, thrown from side to side in the battlefield the Alley had become. He saw a distant flash of ginger hair and heard a faint but familiar cry of alarm. Without thinking twice, Harry pushed his way into the crowd, fighting to get further up the road towards where he had seen his friend. The Death Eaters were too distracted by the growing number of Aurors on the scene to react in any way, and he quickly slipped past them. His back was pressed against the wall in an effort not to be seen as he hurried into the hollow emptiness of the blast zone. Whatever had set the explosion off had been massive. Glass had been knocked out of windows, and walls were covered in soot, some crumbling as their fight against time was finally lost. People lay dead and dying, spluttering weakly as Harry hurried past. He couldn't help them, couldn't try and save them when he knew that Ron was in trouble. He kept telling himself that it was all right, that he was doing the right thing, but as his shield of Occlumency fell away from the stress, he could feel their pain and their sorrow. They feared not seeing their family again, not seeing their homes or completing their life to its fullest. Desperately he ignored them and continued to run, half-jumping over debris until at last he rounded the corner and saw something lying on the ground. Approaching it carefully, Harry drew a few deep breaths. Ron's face was covered in blood, bruises were already spreading across his cheeks, and a sticky patch of hair showed where he'd been hit. Carefully, Harry knelt beside his friend, feeling at his neck for a pulse. The beat was heavy, solid and true, a constant throbbing against his fingertips. He felt the small shock of transference, but it was negligible, and he received nothing from Ron's unconscious mind. Someone had taken him, had dragged him away when the shockwave had been distracting everyone else, but how could he, Harry, have not noticed? He had been so intent on the Death Eaters, on Malfoy's cold, snake-like mind, that he'd been oblivious to everything around him. 'Ron, come on, wake up.' 'Aw, is the little boy scared for his fwiend?' a sinister voice whispered, her soft breath tickling his ear as she spoke. Arms grabbed him around the chest, and a hand pressed across his mouth and nose. He struggled feverishly, but despite her female form, Bellatrix Lestrange was strong and she held him easily, her wand jabbing into his side as she pressed against him. Sickly sweet fumes were filling his mouth and nose and he tried desperately not to breath in the chloroform fumes, but it was too late. The world blurred and started to dim, and the last things he felt were a pair of cold lips pressing a kiss to his forehead and the brief shock of Lestrange's emotions in his own mind. She had won.
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