|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: Delfino Story: The Invasion Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 3 Words: 40,666
"Ginny, are you alright?" Fred Weasley looked at his little sister in concern. Her eyes were placid and distant, and she constantly frowned at the glowing pumpkins lining the streets of Diagon Alley. Within the Weasley brothers' shop was an extreme party for exclusive guests only. Ginny, however, was sitting outside on an upturned bucket. Worry creases displayed themselves across her forehead and her usually lively hair was pulled back in a dreadful-looking ponytail. Below her distracted eyes were dark shadows—causing Ginny to have quite a resemblance to a raccoon. At the sound of her brother's voice, she jumped out of her hypnotic state. "Oh, Fred. Hello." She rubbed her eyes. "I didn't see you." "Of course you didn't," Fred said kindly. "You were distracted by that blank wall, I understand completely." Ginny sent him a half-hearted glare, although it was slightly mellowed by the small smile shining through her eyes. She sighed and fingered her ponytail. "I haven't got much sleep lately—the party just didn't work well with me." "Nightmares?" Fred asked sympathetically, taking a seat next to her. Ginny frowned. "Why? Going to lock me up in St. Mungo's if I say yes?" Fred waggled a finger at her. "Now, now, Miss Weasley. I don't take kindly to insults. I'd sooner lock up that Umbridge troll than you." Ginny gave a small laugh. "Besides, I know something else is bothering you. Nightmares didn't stop you from playing Quidditch after your first year." Ginny tugged on her hair, letting it fall loosely on her shoulders. Licking her chapped lips, she dared to glance at her brother. "Fred…you've got a twin." "How very observant of you." "Could you just…shut up for a moment? Let me try to get this out. You and George are obviously really close. I mean, I swear, sometimes it's like you can read each other's minds—" Fred smirked. Little did she know. "—You always finish each other's sentences and know what the other person is thinking…like magic, although Dad's told me that Muggle twins can do it too." Intrigued, Fred studied his sister's nervous expression. "Mum told me that sometimes, it's the same way with her and Dad. That because they love each other so much, they can sometimes tell what the other person is feeling or thinking." A small blossom of comprehension bubbled in the back of Fred's mind, but he kept his mouth firmly shut in fear of loss of limb if he tried to interrupt. Ginny looked sheepishly down at her feet for a moment, but then raised her head with an almost defiant stare—as if she were daring Fred to make fun of her. "Lately, in dreams…and at random parts of the day…I keep getting these weird feelings. Feelings that have absolutely nothing to do with what's happening to me at that time. Like I can understand what's happening. And I think that—" "You can feel Harry?" Fred whispered in awe. Ginny nodded. "Wicked! That is, I-I mean," he quickly amended at Ginny's glare. "That's amazing, Ginny! Do you think he can feel your emotions too?" Ginny shook her head. "I doubt it. Here, I don't have a particularly strong array of feelings. The emotions I keep getting from Harry are either hatred, relief, or fear." They fell silent. Both were thinking of the situation their friends and family were in to cause such feelings. "Well, at least we know he's alive," Fred said, his voice hardly above a whisper. Ginny made a face and opened her mouth to say something else when a huge crash shattered from inside the Weasleys' shop, the crowd within laughing loudly as the music continued to screech through the night. "OY!" roared a certain George Weasley. "I TOLD THE LOT OF YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT!" His head appeared from the doorway. "Fred, Ginny, mates—what're you doing? The party was just getting good! Not tired already, are we?" There was now an awkward silence between Fred and Ginny and Fred silently cursed his brother for disrupting his conversation with their sister. "Ah, no, George. We'll be right in." Fred forced his twin a smile. George winked and disappeared back into the throb of flashing lights and loud music. Fred turned to Ginny, standing up, and offered his hand. "C'mon, Gin, it's Halloween. Don't you deserve a bit of fun?" Ginny stared at his hand for a long moment, and then grinned and took it. She followed Fred into the party. "I suppose so." ~*~ Left. Right. Down. The walls seemed to be spinning with each turn. Every creak seemed to be a Death Eater, ready to pounce. But there was nothing. The castle, this part of it anyway, was silent. Harry measured his steps, keeping them even, working his body just as much as felt safe. There was a rawness clawing at his throat as he raked in each breath. He desperately tried to control his energy—he needed as much of it if he had to make a quick escape. He breathed in and out. Calm down, said a voice in the back of his head. No one's here. Panic fought to control his mind, but he pushed it away, focusing on running as quickly and efficiently as possible. In the months before he had defeated Voldemort, Harry had trained almost day and night to build up his resistance. By now, he knew exactly how hard he could push himself. If he breathed too quickly, he would become giddy and faint. Breathe too slowly and he would become sluggish. If he pounded his feet too hard on the marble floor, he would become tired and also make a great deal of noise. If he went too lightly, he would slip and fall. So many variables to consider. So many possibilities. So many dangers. Still, that silence pounded in on Harry's ears. He felt deaf. There was no noise save his own faint footsteps and the eccentric pounding of his heart. It unnerved him to not have seen anyone since Gryffindor tower. Something bad was bound to have happened by now. He whipped around another corner, rushed up five more steps, and found himself in front of the infirmary doors. Locked and crossed off with a long chain across the door's handle…the image was not very encouraging for any would-be lock-pickers. But with a swift click of a hairpin and a kick to the chain, the door opened itself willingly for Harry. In a frenzied state, Harry rushed into the room, gently shutting the doors behind him. The doors, unfortunately, clanged loudly and Harry winced, praying that no one had heard. Taking in his surroundings, and a few deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down and look around the room. The hospital wing had been abandoned ever since the Death Eaters had taken over Hogwarts. Their philosophy was that if you were injured, you either died or you lived. Many of the students had been forced to shoulder that philosophy, for nearly a quarter of the original Hogwarts hostages had died the first year from injuries and illnesses. Hermione, of course, had attempted to cure them, but she had no training and could not do much to help. All they could do was wait and watch—one of the most painful and frustrating trials Harry had ever endured. The bodies were taken by the Death Eaters and thrown outside where they slowly…decayed. Harry shuddered and pushed the thoughts away. The room was nearly empty besides the old beds and curtains, a few broken medicine cabinets, and a shattered window blowing in the cool breeze. Harry quickly passed the cots as unwanted memories flickered before his eyes. Finding his way through many broken shards of glass, Harry kept one eye on where he was headed and one eye on the door. If the Death Eaters found him here… Madam Pomfrey's office had been ransacked for anything of value, leaving it empty and barren. For a moment, Harry's heart nearly stopped with fear. What if they had destroyed the potions he was searching for? What if everything in the hospital wing had been taken? What if he had gone all this way for nothing? Risked his life to see an empty room? Anger billowing up inside of him, Harry kicked the destroyed filing cabinet beside him—efficiently breaking his toe. While he hopped on one foot, trying to dull the pain, he leaned against the filing cabinet and sent it crashing sideways. The metal collided with the marble floor loudly and Harry winced again. It had been a long time since he had been forced to be cautious of where he walked. He looked down at the filing cabinet and suddenly, something silver caught his eye. Kneeling on the grimy floor, Harry peered at the space at the bottom of the wall, an area once hidden by the cabinet. Fused into the wall was a small box, one that probably was about the size of Harry's head. Frowning slightly, Harry twisted the handle and pulled the door open, revealing his discovery in what seemed to him a shimmering light. Grinning, he began to load his bag. "Point me," Draco whispered to his wand. It automatically spun in his hand, choosing the direction its owner would soon be traveling. There was a mad gleam in Draco's eyes as he listened eagerly for the resounding footsteps of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, there were none. Pushing that thought aside, Draco continued to run up the staircases, attempting to think like a Muggle-loving, weak-hearted fool. Where would he go? To supply his friends with resources? Perhaps to acquire food? Draco himself would have gone to the armory where they kept all the Hogwarts students' wands and other weapons hidden about the school. What better place could Potter go? Frowning, Draco hardly realized a crowd of his fellow Death Eaters following closely behind him. Only when Goyle the younger tripped and fell at Draco's feet was when he recognized their presence. Scowling, Draco kicked Goyle soundly in the stomach, snatching away the idiot's weapon. Grey eyes roved up and down the burning, hot iron poker. Not bad. He cast a superior look at the blubbering crowd behind him and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the task at hand, but found it hard to concentrate. Their breathing was a dull hum in the background as he paused, eyes flickering to every corner. A loud crash farther along the corridor alerted him to movement of some sort. Draco looked around his surroundings and grinned. The hospital wWing corridor. The perfect place for a Muggle-loving, weak-hearted fool to go. Gleeful with his success, Harry finished loading the last of the potions into his large, leather sack. Grabbing a few random rolls of bandages and cloths, he jumped up and swung open the office door. The bandages fell from his fingers in shock. Frozen with fear, Harry found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. ~*~ In the middle of the dance floor, Ginny froze. Her heart was pounding at an unnaturally quick pace and fear and dread rushed through every pore of her body. A small trickle of sweat traveled down her neck and she shuddered, her breathing short and irregular. Ginny frowned and glanced out the widow. "Harry," she whispered, clutching her heart. "Oh Merlin, Harry, where are you?" ~*~ Harry did not move. His very life depended on it. His eyes flashed around the room, taking in every shadow, every window, and every possible escape route. The only problem? Nearly ten Death Eaters stood in the doorway. "Potter," Malfoy said in a pleasant voice. "Fancy meeting you here." A few Death Eaters chuckled behind him. Harry gritted his teeth. "Malfoy. Having fun?" "Very much, thank you." The boy's eyes glittered. "It seems your school has taken the liberty of hiding themselves from us." Harry noticed the long, iron poker in Malfoy's hand. He saw its tip, burning hot like a fiery devil. He had to keep Malfoy talking. He had to distract him so he could… So he could what? There was nothing he could do—he was trapped. Harry looked defiantly at the group of Death Eaters. "So this is all you give me?" He laughed, pretending not to be horribly frightened. Why had he not listened to Hermione for once? "A few baboons in cloaks and Halloween masks? This is pathetic, Malfoy." The Death Eaters shifted angrily. "I'm guessing your mummy is under there too?" "If she was, you would no longer be alive, Potter," Malfoy growled, obviously irritated. Harry inched back a few steps. His mind raced until finally it hit an idea. A dangerous idea, but an idea nonetheless. "Then where is she?" Harry goaded, summoning his energy. "Baking biscuits downstairs?" Malfoy brandished the poker. As the Death Eaters' tempers grew, Harry tried to recall everything Hermione had told him about wandless magic. "It's extremely dangerous," Hermione frowned at Harry. "And I don't think you should even consider using it." "C'mon, Hermione," Harry urged and she sighed. "Wandless magic depends on the user's ability, strength, and concentration. It is usually done unintentionally at young ages, like when you blew up your aunt." Ron snickered. "You don't exactly use worded spells in wandless magic. It's more of a willpower type of thing. Some wizards in Egypt were known to have been able to kill someone just by looking at them when using it. It's extremely dangerous." "You've mentioned that," Harry grinned. "It's the truth," said Hermione simply. "If you wish to use it against Voldemort, you'd better be prepared to burn a couple years off your life. To use wandless magic in that kind of duel could kill you. Don't do it, Harry." But he had used it. He had used it and won. And besides, he wasn't going to kill all of the Death Eaters. Just…distract them. "The games are over," Malfoy snapped, advancing on Harry. "You were caught outside of your little hidey hole. Now you must suffer the consequences." Harry closed his eyes momentarily. Darkness, he thought. Clouds of darkness, obliterating the little light left in this room. He felt the magic inside of him boiling and twisting like a storm, clawing at him furiously. It raged within his chest, pulling more and more energy out of his body. With a shout, Harry released the magic, and the entire room was plunged into darkness. "I don't like this," Ron paced the boy's dormitory nervously. "He should have been back by now." Hermione and Neville looked at each other helplessly and sighed. Since Lavender and Parvati had refused to let Hermione into their dorm out of fright, she currently inhabited the boys'. Ron looked over at them. "Shouldn't he have been back by now?" he demanded. Hermione let out a moan and rubbed her eyes. "We should have hit him over the head and dragged him upstairs," she muttered. "Then we would lock the door and he would wake up in the morning. But no. We let him run amok in a castle full of lunatic murders." "He'll be fine," Neville said confidently. "He always is." "He's been pushing his luck one too many times," Hermione frowned. "Pretty soon he'll get caught." Ron closed his eyes and leaned against a bedpost. "Let's just hope it's not tonight." The one thing Harry had forgotten about wandless magic was how literal it was. He had assumed that if he caused the whole room to be pitch black, the magic would allow its caster to see through the obscurity so that he could escape. Unfortunately, he had not specified that while casting the spell. He was now as blind as the Death Eaters. He crawled on the floor, trying to avoid contact with anyone and reaching out with his hands to feel his way to the door. Furious shouts and yelps of pain rang through the darkness occasionally, yet Harry kept silent. Breaking glass shattered on the floor somewhere to the left of Harry and he hastily kept crawling, shards of the glass embedding themselves into his skin. Grimacing against the pain, and hoping that nothing in that particular glass vial had been poisonous, he felt his way to the door. "Can't anyone get this bloody cloud out of the way?" bellowed a voice. Harry scrambled towards the door. He could feel a cool draft coming from that way; he knew that must be the door. Stumbling, he hurriedly ran out the entrance. The darkness slowly began to evaporate as he made his way down the hallway at a sprint. He sneaked past a group of drunken Death Eaters singing loudly while bouncing house-elves on the ceiling and into the Main Hall, hoping to make it to the Gryffindor common room… He froze. Standing wide open in the crisp, October air, were the two oak doors to the front gate of the castle. No guards stood in front of it. No Dementors waited behind it. They were completely open. The moon sparkled out onto the front lawns, as if beckoning him towards the freedom. Harry grinned. Filled with sudden determination, he quickly turned and ran towards the doors, his breathing hard and heavy. His feet pounded on the floor, echoing in the silent hall, but Harry did not care. Freedom was waiting. Freedom was so close. He could almost taste it. And then suddenly, he was falling…falling down towards the ground. He had tripped on midair and his eyes widened in surprise as he crashed to the floor. Trip Jinx said a small voice in the back of his head. That could only mean… Rough fingers gripped his shoulder and spun him around. Harry looked up into the furious face of Draco Malfoy, who held his Hand of Glory, giving light only to its beholder. Malfoy's eyes gleamed in the darkness as he raised the fiery, hot iron poker in his other hand. "Nice blackout trick, Potter," he sneered. The poker was thrust straight into Harry, tearing through his skin with blazing metal. Harry screamed in agony, writhing on the floor. The poker seared into his flesh, burning his muscles. His only thought was why his cloud had not stopped Malfoy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his teeth chattered in his skull… And then real darkness began to envelop Harry and he knew no more. ~*~ Ginny felt the flaming pain as she was pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice. It felt as if liquid fire had just been poured beneath her own skin, crawling up her right arm with a fierce intensity that Ginny had never experienced. With a cry of pain, she dropped her goblet, allowing it to shatter on the floor. She fell to her knees with a scream, clutching her arm. The music stopped. People crowded around the young Weasley, not knowing what to do. They whispered, staring at her obvious agony. There was a loud shout and two Weasley twins pushed through the crowd, kneeling before their sister. "Oh, Gin," Fred whispered in apprehension. He lifted Ginny to her feet and he and George carefully led her to the steps to their apartment above their shop, resting her on the couch. George, pale-faced and shaking, glanced at Fred. "I'll get some water," he rasped and ran out towards the kitchen. Fred nodded and kneeled before his sister. Ginny looked up at him, still gripping her arm. Her face was paler than George's and droplets of sweat leaked down her cheeks. Her teeth rattled in her head as she took in deep, raking breaths. Fred could see now that blood was seeping from the sleeve of her shirt, scarlet and foreboding. For a moment, Ginny's brown eyes flashed green and Fred drew back in shock. But then she released one more gasp and fell unconscious. ~*~
|