In Death, Standby by Sophisme

Chapter 2: Of All The Little Things

"Anything else?" the Dark Lord had asked and, recognizing the cold tone, Harry had quickly shook his head. He had picked up the dead gnome and had later buried it into the back of the garden, while hundreds of tiny eyes had stared on. Harry had felt quite sad then, knowing that some of those funeral quests would soon meet their end in the endless pit of Nagini's stomach.

About a week later it had become obvious that it didn't really matter how many gnomes Nagini ate or how many little necks the Dark Lord snapped, since the number of their uninvited house guests only seemed to increase. It had become impossible to exit or enter the house without at least a few gnomes slipping into the house through the crack of the door. Equally impossible it was to walk through the garden without a million eyes following each step and about three dozen little feet scurrying right behind.

Harry had watched how Nagini had become happier by day as she had hunted the creatures around the garden. He had seen how the Dark Lord's patience had slowly worn thin and how the red eyes had grown colder and harder by each gnome found in the house. Those had been interesting times for Harry and he had found himself ignoring his studies in order to observe the meaningless little lives of the new garden occupants. Harry had picked up a habit of pocking one of the gnomes down with a stick, just to watch with fascination how at least a dozen others would trip on their fallen companion, until the growing pile of wildly twitching tiny legs and hands had been as high as it was wide.

Then, he had started to find gnomes in his wardrobe in the morning when he dressed and in his bed when he went to sleep at night. One night he had stayed in the library until it was dark and on the way back to his room small bones had crunched beneath his feet, when he hadn't been able see where he was stepping. Harry had felt awful that night, but had felt a lot less sympathetic in the morning, when he had found his bathroom taken over by a small legion of gnomes.

It had been on the very same day when the Dark Lord had finally snapped after finding two gnomes bathing in their dinner soup. After a few moments of deafening silence and a few violent curses that followed, the Dark Lord had gotten up and stormed through the halls to the front door in a whirl of dark robes. Harry had run after him as fast as he could, but by the time he had reached the yard, first of the apple trees had already been licked by angry green flames. One elegant wave of the yew wand had sent the flames ravaging through the whole yard like a pack of wild wolves.

The crackle of fire hadn't quite been enough to drown out the muffled, horrified screams that had rung from underneath the flora. Hoards of little gnomes had run from the grass, trying to get away from the burning danger, but another flick of the wand had raised walls of fire in their way, stopping the desperate escape before it had properly begun. The stench of smoke and burning foliage and flesh had been thick in the air and it had brought tears to Harry's eyes.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he had asked—more like yelled—over the roar of the fire, trying to catch the Dark Lord's attention. The man had barely glanced at him.

"Get into the house. Now," had come the short order in return. Harry hadn't had much choice, so he had obeyed in silence. Instead, he had watched from the second floor windows how the fire had completely destroyed their once beautiful garden.

The fires had burned for three days straight. Harry had known that it was no ordinary fire, since the flames had been too hot and violent and had reeked of Dark magic, but even then he had been mildly impressed at how utterly devastating sight had greeted him when the Dark Lord had finally allowed the spell to fade and had given Harry a permission to step out of the house. There had been absolutely nothing left. The house had been unharmed but the garden... There had been no hint of green anywhere beneath the grey and white ashes, no flower or tree reaching for the sky. But neither had there been any gnomes wobbling around.