Chapter 11. A Monster 'Returns'
There was a nail in his lung. There had to be, because each breath scraped him raw from the inside.
Harry stood over the twitching body of his sister, a white noise swelling deep inside his skull. He was a statue, unmoving and unreachable, other voices unable to puncture the cloud of haze. Even when Alice doused his tainted hands with clean water, even as he mechanically rubbed off the blood and disgusting bits of meat, his gaze remained stuck on Rose, his ears ringing, deafening him to Alice's reassurance.
Rose was going to be fine; he had already heard it a hundred times. Then why was there blood dripping from her nose? Why was her mouth smeared crimson? Why did she erratically twitch every now and then?
"Harry!" barked Hermione, snapping her fingers before his eyes. Finally, the ringing subsided. "Rose wants you. She needs you."
Right.
He nodded dumbly and knelt before his sister, gently taking her from Daphne, who was quiet and teary-eyed as she wiped off the blood. On any other day, he'd fuss over her too.
Not today. Today, only Rose mattered.
His sister hissed as his arms closed around her, twitching again like she'd been shocked. She must be in excruciating pain because she was forcing herself to be silent. Usually, she'd whine over the smallest cuts and scrapes. But not now. Now, she clenched her jaw and pretended her body wasn't afire.
As she twitched again, his eyes stung. As she smothered a whimper, the nail in his chest twisted deeper.
He lifted her onto his back, her loose arms looping around his neck. Rising slowly, he caught her thighs as they slid to his sides. "You're heavy. Lose some weight next time."
Even to his own ears, his tone was watery, his joke a sad mumble rather than a playful quip.
She managed the faintest chuckle, burrowing her chin over his shoulder, pressing her cheek against his. Her skin was hot and feverish. "Sure."
Not even a retort. That was so unlike her.
The nail in his chest carved its way up his ribcage, lodging into his throat and choking off any words he tried to summon. The thread of banter snapped with it, ruining his plan to distract her. He abandoned it and said nothing further.
He started for the treeline, listening absently as Hermione explained what had happened, with Daphne adding quiet, shaking details.
His brow furrowed when the truth came out.
Of course it was Lily's fault. The Death Eaters had targeted them because of her, to get their revenge. Since they couldn't defeat her, they went for the easy prey. He was unsurprised and resentful.
And where the hell was Lily? If Alice could cross an entire campsite to rescue them, Sirius' tent was just right there? Why did she not run to them the moment she heard about the Death Eaters? What was she even doing!?
His brain supplied the answer. She must be finally letting loose, relishing the opportunity to fight and kill again.
Harry loved Lily Potter more than words could ever convey. But he… despised her just as much. He had from the moment she manipulated him into killing Severus Snape.
There was no doubt that she loved them, that the entire killing exercise was for his own benefit. But it was also clear that she had done it for herself as well, to escape the worry that he would be weak and hesitant, that she'd be bothered to feel sorrow and regret if he died. Her primary goal was always herself, to make him so powerful that she'd never have to dread again. She was so self-absorbed that her own feelings, her own peace of mind were more important than anything else.
Rose twitched violently on his back, her hand jerking up and clipping his chin.
…
…
It was the final straw.
"Sorry!" Her breath hitched, her voice small and humiliated, and he could feel hot tears soak into his neck, angry and helpless.
"It would be a sad day when I start getting hurt by such a girly hit." He squeezed her thighs, but she was already burying her face into his neck, her hiccupping sobs resonating with the nail in his throat, tearing him from the inside.
"Hey." He changed his grip, sliding her to the front, so they were now chest to chest, face to face, his voice soft and gentle. "Stop crying. You know that's gay, right?"
She snorted so hard it was like the quack of a duck. The others let out stunned, disbelieving giggles. And it spurred her on. Her silent sobs warped into hysterical laughter, her chest heaving, her entire body shaking from mirth. She could not stop laughing. He held her tight, kissed her cheek, and stroked her hair as she shoved her unstoppable laughter into his chest.
Such a terrible attempt at humour would've earned him an exasperated punch typically. But this wasn't a typical day. She clung to him as if her life depended on it.
The word love was too small to describe the bottomless affection he held for her. Rose was his soulmate in the purest form. Sometimes, he could swear she was torn apart from him in the womb, that they were always meant to be one being. In a different world, where humans were whole only with four arms, four legs, and two heads, she would be his perfect half.
They passed the giant, house-sized boulder that had won him the battle. It lay atop crushed and mashed bodies, in a lake of blood and flesh.
Their laughter died like a moth in flame. They averted their gazes from the weapon of mass murder and hurried along.
They were finally near the treeline. They were finally saf—
A lone figure stepped out and barred their path. The moon shone, highlighting him alone. He wore sweeping black robes and an intricate silver mask. Even through the robes, it was easy to make out the shape of his body. Tall and broad with a powerful frame. But the most striking feature was not his sturdy physical form but his icy blue eyes visible through the holes in the mask. They overflowed with contempt.
The man seemed oddly familiar to him as Harry knelt and let go of Rose, into the waiting arms of Daphne and Hermione, who dragged her to the back.
A sigh built up in the back of his throat. One more man to kill. One more skull to explode.
He frowned when Alice stumbled back, her eyes filled with unbridled terror.
"You're dead. You can't be alive. You can't."
Why was she panicking? It was a single man.
Daphne and Hermione had their wands aimed forward as they returned to his side, their exhaustion replaced by dread and anger. He felt them. Wasn't the day already too eventful? Why couldn't it just end?
But even he didn't understand the stakes until Alice blurted out a name. A terrible name. A ridiculous name.
"Children… It's Voldemort. I know this magical signature." She whispered in a trembling voice and pushed them back, taking a last stand, just like she must have on the day the Longbottoms were attacked. "Run and don't look back. No matter what happens, do not stop and look back. Run, now!"
~xXxXx~
Pride's day had collapsed into disaster. Not only did Lily Potter kill the Minister of Weep under his watch, marring his perfect mission record, the campsite had also been attacked and ravaged by Death Eaters. Death Eaters of all things, pawns of his own progenitor, had caused this havoc. If it had happened to anyone else, the irony would've amused him. But Pride was not the sort who could laugh at himself.
The ICW had sent him and Wrath here for only one thing: to keep peace, to secure the World Cup. It should've been simple. It should've been his easiest mission. But he had failed. He'd failed spectacularly. This would be the first time he'd return to the headquarters in disgrace. It prickled his sense of pride, this stain on his name and honour. And he could do nothing to wipe it.
But there was one thing he could do to salvage this. A seed of desire had taken root in his mind the moment Lily Potter had embarrassed him in front of everyone. It was a desire for complete and utter domination. He would break Lily Potter if nothing else. He'd grind her spirit until nothing remained but the knowledge that she had brought this ruin upon herself.
And the easiest way to shatter a parent was through their children. And she had two. Two perfect little weaknesses. What would her despair taste like when she received their decapitated heads as presents, still warm, still bleeding? How volatile would her anger be when she realised that her daughter had been so thoroughly violated that she was nothing but a vessel for others' pleasure? Oh, his heart grew warm at the mere thought of her miserable face, the thrill lovingly coiling around his spine like a spiteful snake.
So, as everyone fled, as the poor aurors attempted to bring sense to this chaos, he slipped away for the 3rd quarter.
The campsite was too large to be administered as a single zone. Thus, it was divided into four quarters. The British Ministry oversaw the 1st quarter, the ICW garrison the 2nd, the Weep delegation the 3rd, and the French Ministry the 4th.
Usually, only one nation managed the site. But this World Cup had drawn the biggest crowd. And Britain's closest neighbours had stepped in to give aid.
Of course, since Lily Potter had killed all the men of Weep, the 3rd quarter was practically defenceless, most vulnerable to the Death Eater attack. And as he flew high without broom or wings, invisible to the naked eye, his hunch proved true. The 3rd quarter already showed numerous dead bodies with the agitated crowd trampling each other on their way out.
A little distance away, he noticed a ring of high wall within which Lily Potter had created a swamp, taking her time killing the begging Death Eaters.
He ignored that, his attention turning towards another dramatic conflict, unable to help but stare as a boy tossed a gigantic boulder in an arc, which crashed on the ground with a loud boom and took out nearly all the Death Eaters in that particular group.
…
…
Lily Potter's son was an enigma; there was no doubt about it. The sheer strength he possessed was ridiculous. And why did he have such unnatural strength anyway? And why didn't he use a wand? It was unbecoming of such a great wizard to brawl and throw boulders when they could conjure lightning and fire.
Tonight, he'd force the boy to use a wand, to see if he was just as exceptional with it as he was with his bare hands.
As the exhausted group of five lumbered to the edge of the wards, to 'safety', he dropped behind a tree and made himself visible, changing his ICW uniform into the Death Eater regalia. He couldn't give up his alias; Emily would have his head if he were the reason they were outed. For that reason, a mysterious Death Eater would introduce the Potters to despair, not Victor Trickett.
Or so was the plan until Alice Longbottom mistook him for his progenitor.
She had the mage sight, he recalled, and he was unaware his magical signature was similar to Voldemort's.
He smiled under the mask. This was even better.
Tonight, the Dark Lord would be 'reborn'.
~xXxXx~
Harry was tired of it all. Fight after fight, kill after kill—he was worn thin, weary and exhausted, sick of the world that wouldn't let him breathe. If his mind had been fresh, if wrath hadn't fogged his senses, he would've been more terrified of the boogeyman from the past. Even now, people were afraid to utter his name, referring to him as You-Who-Know instead. The dead Dark Lord returning to life should've stopped him in his steps and dunked him into the well of panic.
But he was too tired to panic. He just wanted to go home with his sister.
Instead of heeding Alice's warning, he did what he knew best. He dashed forward to punch the skull off Voldemort's neck.
"Harry, no!"
He ignored Alice's scream, charging at the great monster. Voldemort, Death Eater, Weepians. He couldn't care less. Anyone who stepped into his path, anyone who stopped him from tending to his sister, deserved to die. For all of Lily's faults, for all his resentment, he agreed with his mother on one thing.
No hesitation, only kill.
Irritated blue eyes found him—icy, unimpressed—and the world snapped tight around his body like a straitjacket.
He stumbled mid-stride, falling to his knees.
Suddenly, he couldn't move.
"Take out your wand, boy." Voldemort's voice felt like the edge of a scythe, sharp and deadly, poised at his neck. "I shall allow you the first spell. Show me what you can do."
Harry tried to stand up; he pushed his palms on the ground and attempted to rise. But there was a weight over his shoulders, pressing him down, a hundred times heavier than the immense rock he'd just thrown earlier at the Death Eaters.
Before Voldemort could do anything else, Alice flicked her wand and shot a bone-breaker.
Voldemort batted it away with a scoff, engaging in a duel with her. "Avada Kedavra!"
"Go!" She managed a hiss at Harry, raising an earth wall. "Protect your sister! Protect your friends!"
The earth wall exploded as it came in contact with the jet of green light, but she deftly transfigured the fragments into spikes and sent them back with an enraged scream.
Harry watched them in awe, his heart thundering as an uncomfortable realisation set in. This wasn't the fight he could win. No, he couldn't even participate. Voldemort hadn't moved an inch, hadn't aimed his wand at him, yet a mere glance had brought him down to his knees, stripping his body of will.
They had to run. He had to save Rose.
He began cycling and absorbing the ambient mana. His head cleared instantly, the familiar placid smile returning to his face. Voldemort's aura of intimidation shattered against his shielded mind. And Harry attacked. He kicked the ground hard enough to upheave it.
But even as the earth shook, even as the ground fractured and fissures formed, the Dark Lord simply took to the air, hovering a foot above.
It was Alice who was caught by it. The sudden earthquake had imbalanced her, and she barely managed to jerk away from a cutter.
The stray cutter whizzed by Rose, slashing her cheek open.
"NO!" Harry screamed as his sister clutched her bloodied face. Daphne and Hermione were already hauling Rose to her feet and dragging her away.
Harry didn't attempt a second attack, aware he'd only make it worse. Instead, he spun and threw Rose over one shoulder and her friends over the other. He ignored their squawks and dashed back the way they came.
He hoped Alice would hold Voldemort off for a few more moments.
He hoped she wouldn't die.
His blood sang with adrenaline as he zigzagged in case there were spells coming at him. There were none. His heart lurched when Alice screamed, when Voldemort's 'Crucio' struck her.
A part of him noticed how dissimilar her scream was from Rose's. A part of him begged to go back.
Harry had always secretly thought himself noble, that he'd do the right thing without a second thought, even if it cost him his life. But that was the thing; if it were only his life at stake, he'd take the last stand with Alice, but it was not. He wasn't going to gamble Rose away. Not after what she'd been through.
It was the right decision. Then why did it feel so wrong?
It was fine. His feelings didn't matter. Tonight, he would be a coward. Tonight, he'd lose a kind mother he always craved.
He'd grown close to Alice over the years and considered her a gentle aunt/second mother he'd have loved having during his childhood. She'd been with him from the moment he revealed the cultivation aspect of his training. And her help had been vital, her mage sight even more so. Every time he thought of a new experiment, he'd floo to her house without hesitation. And she always dropped whatever she was doing to greet him with a hug and a kind word, listening to his plans and praising him for them.
There was a nail inside his throat, sharp and rusty, clogging his oesophagus, cutting off the supply of air. His chest ached, moisture stung his eyes as Rose yelled at him to go back, struggling to get off him. His heart raced faster than his feet, his very soul repulsed by his decision. But he tightened his hold on them and sprinted as fast as he could, away from Alice.
There came a moment in your life that defined you. A difficult decision that bared your soul to yourself, a point where you had to choose between two evils and be irrevocably changed.
As he abandoned Alice to her doom, as he picked up speed, Harry saw his soul laid bare. And what an ugly thing it was—a power-hungry little critter bursting with selfishness.
He understood, then, that he wasn't different from Lily Potter after all. That he was his mother's son in the end. That he, too, was a self-absorbed bastard whose primary concern was always his own feelings. Right now, the only one irreplaceable was Rose. He wouldn't survive her death. And he wanted to survive, to thrive, to be so powerful that he never had to run again, that he never had to abandon someone like Alice Longbottom, who came for them when their own mother hadn't, who so readily sacrificed herself as if they were her own children.
'I will never run again,' he promised himself with a clenched jaw and bloody mouth; he'd bitten his lip.
"Harry, this is not you!" Rose screamed in his ear, strangling him from behind. "Don't run! Don't you fucking run! I will hate you! I will hate you all my life! Let's go back and die with her!"
And Harry, at last, understood his mother on the deepest level.
Lily Potter was right. She always was, it seemed. And he parroted her words. "I'd rather you live on to hate me than die."
~xXxXx~
The fight had ended. And Lily was victorious.
The battlefield had become a large swamp with the living Death Eaters buried to their necks in it. Half had died trying to kill her, trying to escape, but she'd been able to save the rest for more… thorough fun.
It was time for that now.
She hardened the ground, and they approached the nearest Death Eater.
"That's Yaxley." Sirius chortled after yanking off his mask. "It's been a while, mate."
"Please, please, I beg yo—"
"Crucio!" Sirius jabbed his wand with glee, his grey eyes dark with rage and madness.
She rolled her eyes and allowed him his fun, walking around and vanishing silver masks, greeting old familiar faces with warm smiles and the new ones with a welcoming nod.
Then she hit the jackpot.
Platinum-blonde hair and a pair of frightened blue eyes. The handsome face was slightly familiar.
"Sirius, come here!" She yelled over her shoulder as she kneeled and caressed the young boy's hair.
He was real. This was actually happening. They really had Lucius' get.
Her cheeks flushed pink with pleasure, her eyes turning hazy as she imagined what she could do with him. She had missed having a man in her dungeon. Snape's death had left her frustrated and wanting.
Now she had this. The son of her enemy. Oh, she salivated at the mere thought of sending Draco back to Lucius in bits and pieces. First a lock of hair, then a nail, then a cock, then an eyeball.
She shuddered, squeezing her thighs.
"Is that him?" Sirius squatted beside her, his tone matching hers, awed and greedy.
The boy flinched as she traced his high cheekbones, his delicate jaw. Such a beautiful face. She'd take her time ruining it.
"Yes, Sirius. We have him. You're not seeing things."
Before they could decide what to do with their golden loot, the earth shook under them. Lily lost her balance and fell back. The Death Eaters screamed in panic, inhaling dust.
THUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
The sound nearly deafened her. When she rose to her feet and pulled down the high walls around the battlefield, her eyes narrowed at the spot from where the dust was rising. Then her eyes widened when she realised it was in the direction of her own tent.
"What are they doing there?" Sirius frowned.
She knew whatever it was, her children were involved in it.
But they were alright, weren't they? She had made them powerful for this very day, so they wouldn't distract her from her revenge. Harry alone should trump anyone. Still, something must've gone wrong; she could feel it in her very bones. This level of escalation meant Harry and Rose weren't able to safely portkey back home; that they were still here.
Sirius was already focused again, having kicked Draco and dislocated his jaw.
The boy burst into helpless tears, unable to do anything but beg for mercy. What else could he do when he was buried neck-deep in the earth?
His pathetic cries should have lit her up with delight. But instead of pleasure, anxiety and disgust crawled up her spine. The image of her own precious boy suffering such a fate robbed her of the vindictive joy.
"Sirius, kill them all. I'll go and check if the kids are fine." She holstered back her wand, ignoring the blend of complex feelings.
"What about him?" He pointed at the snivelling blonde. "I assume you don't want to give him a quick death."
He was right. She wanted to torment the boy in her dungeon, to shackle him to the wall where Snape was tied against, to carve on his body and mind, to send bits of him to Lucius for the next decade. But whenever she pictured the glorious image, her mind kept replacing his face with Harry's, instilling nausea and guilt.
"I meant what I said. Kill them all. We'll kill him for being foolish enough to join the Death Eaters. But we won't punish him for his father's sins. Give him a quick death."
Sirius blinked at her, as if she'd gone bonkers. Maybe she had. But she didn't have time to argue with him.
Taking off in the direction of the terrible explosion, she changed into her eagle animagus form mid-run and flew as quickly as she could.
She prayed Harry and Rose were safe.
In a minute, she reached them.
From high in the air, she saw everything.
Near a giant boulder, which must've been the reason for the earthquake and the explosive noise, Alice was fighting a lone Death Eater. What was curious was Harry running away with Rose and her friends over his shoulders.
Why would Harry run from a single Death Eater? He was too powerful for such cowardice.
But she didn't have time to solve the mystery as Alice went down screaming, as the Cruciatus Curse connected.
She glided down and changed back into her human form, cursing herself for wearing such a tight dress. It was bloody restrictive.
Three cutters left her wand in a second. And the mysterious Death Eater backed off, his movements confident and graceful.
"Why don't you try me, darling?" She strolled forward, unafraid and curious, wondering who could be under that mask.
Alice staggered back to her feet, glaring forward. Of course her friend could get up after being tortured. She probably had the most experience with the Cruciatus Curse among them because of that Halloween sixteen years before.
Could you form a resistance to the torture curse? If someone could, Alice would be it.
"Lily, careful. He feels like Voldemort. His magic signature matches his," Alice mumbled, clutching her wand even as her arm trembled, even as blood trickled down her nose.
…
…
Now it made sense. Harry wouldn't have run otherwise. He did the right thing.
"Feels like?" She stared at the man, alert and ready, excitement bubbling up in her belly. "You mean he's not the Dark Lord?"
"I don't-t-t-t-t know," Alice slapped herself as a tic twisted her face.
Even as they talked, Lily wordlessly wove a spell, the same one she had used earlier to kill the aurors of Weep. It was basically bleeding out her magic in the earth until she controlled a patch of the area. It took effort and consumed her reserves, but it was effective. Or it would be if Not-Voldemort didn't laugh and shatter her web.
"Such cheap tricks wouldn't work, Lily Potter. Come, let's dance."
Lily grinned, eager and full of trepidation. She knew her worth. She knew she could take out most wizards and witches. But there were exceptions. There were savants like Dumbledore, like Voldemort. She wouldn't win against them. And if this man was really Voldemort, today she'd meet her demise.
It was fine; she'd meet it with her head held high.
She prepared for the last stand, burying any regret that her mind could conjure. This was how she wanted to go anyway, in an unwinnable fight.
But of course the world wouldn't hand her what she wanted.
From behind her, zipping on brooms, came the ICW aurors, wands at their sides, spells on their tongues. Leading them was a tall, powerful woman, her black hair billowing behind her.
Velora Trickett was her name, Lily remembered.
Not-Voldemort dipped his head at her and apparated through the wards, cracking them open like an eggshell. They all shivered as the torn magic buzzed angrily, as the broken wards shimmered for a moment, turning visible, before dissipating.
Lily wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.