Violet still wasn't speaking to him.
At least, not since she found out that Harry had written to their parents, informing them about her potion abuse. Apparently, she hadn't taken too kindly to him "tattling" on her "like a rat".
Harry couldn't be blamed for getting a little angry at this remark, could he?
Well, perhaps his choice of words could be debated; he could have been a little bit more sensitive. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken at all.
Yeah. Probably.
Now, as they stood in line waiting to be scanned by Filch's Dark Detector, Violet refused to meet her brother's eyes, but glared viciously at him when she thought he wasn't looking. Harry cringed, remembering vividly the accusing betrayal in her eyes when Madame Pomfrey had told her that Harry had written to her parents. It was strange; though he'd only known her for a few months, he couldn't help but feel an odd sort of withdrawal – almost like the feeling he got every summer, when he was forced to go back to Privet Drive, away from Hermione, Ron, Hogwarts, and magic.
He'd really gotten attached to the people here in a short amount of time.
She had almost been unable to attend today's Halloween Hogsmeade visit, not because she was still recovering, but because Madame Pomfrey didn't want to give Violet an opportunity to stock up on Dreamless Sleep Potion. However, she said that it would be alright if she went as long as she was supervised by someone trustworthy.
Neville became that somebody, and needless to say that neither Violet nor Neville were very happy about this arrangement.
Harry highly suspected that Tonks had something to do with this.
At least the two of them could always talk about how much of a prick Harry was. Personally, Harry thought they were both being stupid; Violet was going down the road of self-destruction, and Neville was in no way prepared for the Final Battle, not when he wasn't even willing to swallow his pride, take some criticism, and learn the necessary skills.
Frankly, it kind of pissed him off. A lot.
So, instead of enjoying what would potentially be a very nice date with Ginny, he found himself worrying as he would before, when the weight of the world was on his shoulders –what would he do? After everything he's gone through, Harry didn't believe he could sit around and do nothing, despite the seductive option this place offered –a life with his parents, without the prophecy, everything he's ever dreamed of . . . it was tempting, especially when he knew that right now, he could go out with his beautiful, fiery girlfriend and shop without worrying about Death Eaters lurking in the shadows, waiting for him.
"Wake up boy! Turn around!" Filch barked at him grumpily.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, mechanically doing as he said.
"You're clean," Filch said rather resentfully, as if he'd been deprived of a treat.
Harry smirked, knowing Filch's penchant for getting students in trouble. But this time, it didn't really bother him; it was nice to know that something –even that smallest detail –was the same. Filch didn't suddenly get a personality transplant and become a nice, sweets-distributing care keeper who loved kids.
Now that would have been disturbing.
After Ginny had been scanned as well, the redhead slipped her arm around Harry's. "Shall we?" she asked in mock seriousness, as if they were going to a ball.
"Of course," Harry responded playfully, "Can't let the third-years hog all the candy, can we? Otherwise we'll have a Grawp-sized case of obesity on our hands."
"Grawp?" Ginny asked, confused.
"Er –Muggle term I picked up." Harry said quickly, inwardly cursing at his mistake.
"From your mum?"
"Yeah."
An awkward silence followed this, almost as if Ginny could sense that her boyfriend wasn't being entirely truthful. This made Harry extremely uncomfortable; if Ginny –or anyone else, for that matter –were to discover his secret, he'd rather it'd be on his terms. Otherwise, he may have a lot of misunderstandings on his hands.
"What's up with you, Violet, and Neville?" Ginny asked suddenly, catching Harry off guard.
"Er –nothing. Why?"
"They've been glaring at us ever since we got in line. Doesn't look like nothing to me."
"Got in a little spat, is all."
"Bollocks, Harry. I've known the three of you for a long time –and that is not a little spat."
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry snapped, wishing Ginny would just let this go and enjoy the Hogsmede weekend with him.
Ginny frowned, but didn't press the matter any further. Their windswept faces red, the couple made their way to Honeydukes, and once they left, they were both in a considerably better mood. Ginny was smiling now as she acted as if she were about to eat her Cockroach Cluster.
"Reckon we should give this to Ron?" she suggested, eyes dancing mischievously.
Harry nodded in response, his stomach doing a flip as he recognized something of his Ginny in this one.
Ginny regarded him with a strange look on her face. "Harry? You okay?"
"Er –yeah. Just fine. Let's go to Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer, shall we?"
"Okay,"
As usual, the Three Broomsticks was crowded with both students and teachers alike, laughing, talking, and drinking, temporarily free of worries concerning the war that was raging on outside of their little haven. As Harry and Ginny joined their ranks, Harry wasn't surprised to find Ron and Lavender there as well, snogging. However, Ron apparently had some sort of Harry radar, because he looked up the moment they stepped in and glared fiercely at their held hands.
"Oh honestly," Ginny said, clearly exasperated with her brother's consistent immaturity. "I'll grab us a table."
Apparently Harry always did the paying. "Two butterbeers, please," he said to Madame Rosmerta.
"Coming right up, hon," she said, rapidly exchanging two bottles for Harry's galleon. "Enjoy, it's a lovely day."
Harry looked out the window. It was a nice day, actually. Earlier it'd been windy and slightly overcast, but now the sun was shining merrily, and this made Harry smile. The last time there'd been this good of weather had been at Professor Dumbledore's funeral.
"Thanks, Harry," Ginny said, sipping her butterbeer and smiling at him. Then, she did something Harry didn't expect –she leaned in and pecked Harry on the mouth with her sticky –and delicious –lips.
Blushing profusely but trying hard to act nonchalant about it, Harry wasn't sure what to make of this. Well, she was his girlfriend, but it was just so oddly normal. He wanted to tell Ginny how beautiful she was, how amazing and brave she had been during that night in the Department of Mysteries, though she shouldn't have gone with him in the first place . . .
But then he remembered that this Ginny hadn't gone with him. This Ginny wasn't the same –she was close, but not a copy. Harry felt disgusted with the idea of ever making a copy of the Ginny he knew. Suddenly he felt very fake, snogging this Other Ginny. He felt unfaithful, disloyal, even if they had broken up in his world.
"W –what was that for?" he asked instead.
"For being a prat about the Violet thing," she responded, sitting back in her seat. "I'm sorry –it's just that she's been clearly bothered by something all year, and I –I can't do anything to help her. She won't talk to me. It's frustrating. You know she's my friend just as much your sister . . . I'm worried about her."
She sounded so much like Ginny in that moment that Harry almost forgot his doubts, leaning forward and taking her hand. "She's having a hard time," he said, "I don't know exactly what all of it is, but what I do know –it's not up to me to tell you. If Violet wants you to know, she'll tell you."
Ginny sighed and looked out the window. "I know. I was probably pushing her too hard." She looked at Harry with grave eyes. "You Potters have had to go through a lot of shit in your lives."
She doesn't know how right she is, Harry mused ironically.
Suddenly, screams filled Harry's ears as he felt a rapid change in the atmosphere. Looking out the window, he realized that the sun had become hidden in clouds, that people were fleeing in the streets as ice and fog began to descend upon them. Without thinking, Harry leaped to his feet and rushed outside, where he got a good view of what was going on. He felt his body freeze, his muscles recognizing the familiar sensation of ice in his veins, of horrors replaying themselves in his mind: his mother and father's now familiar voices, pleading, fighting; Wormtail, saying Kill the spare; Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore –all falling, dead . . .
Hundreds of Dementors descended upon Hogsmeade village, intent on leaving a ghost town of soulless shells littered upon the ground.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! Lily cursed, realizing the implications of this. She had to notify the Aurors, the Ministry –most importantly, the Order. Harry and Violet were probably there, shopping and having fun now, not realizing what was about to happen.
She turned on her heel and began running back to the elevator, cursing the anti-Apparation spell that prohibited her from popping up to Moody's office.
"Wait!"
Lily turned, realizing that she'd completely forgotten about Draco Malfoy –and almost left a convicted criminal alone to run amok in the Ministry. But with one look at his desperate expression, she knew that running away or wrecking havoc wasn't on his mind at all.
"You're going to get Dumbledore's people, the Order's help, right?" he asked.
Lily nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with this.
"Can I go with you?"
She opened her mouth, the words absolutely not on the tip of her tongue, but she retracted them, thinking about this. He looked sincere enough, and he had given her the information. Perhaps he truly wanted to help. Perhaps she was going soft, feeling particularly maternal because of her pregnancy. But no time for musings; they were running out of time.
Sighing heavily, she waved her wand, binding him by magic to her. He couldn't go anywhere by himself now; he was now magically bound to follow her everywhere she went until she released the spell.
"Come on," she said, and began to run, Malfoy trailing behind her. Thinking quickly, Lily also used Wandless magic to make him blend in to his surroundings. There, she thought, now we can get there quickly.
Lily hit the elevator switch impatiently, worry and panic rising up inside her. What if they were too late? What if Harry and Violet were dead because the damn elevator was being sluggishly slow! Stupid contraption.
Though she felt exhausted, both from her pregnancy and her rapid use of her magic, she summoned enough strength to use the connection spell, which put her literally inside James's head –ironically, this was the spell they used when her husband had been interrogating the blonde boy beside her.
James?
Lily? I just spoke to Minerva. What's wrong?
James, you need to tell her that there's going to be a Dementor attack on Hogsmeade today.
What? An attack? How do you know?
Draco Malfoy told me –I trust him, James, he told me willingly; I think he really wants to help. Williamson and Proudfoot had been torturing him for information but –
On whose orders? James demanded, sounding angry.
Scrimgeour's.
Damn. I'll contact Sirius –he'll tell Remus, and they'll spread the word. Hopefully Minerva will still be in her office . . . I think she said something about going to the Three Broomsticks for a drink.
I'll tell Moody –I'm still waiting for the damn elevator, but what should I do with Malfoy?
Leave him with Moody.
Are you serious? Moody will rip him apart.
Mad-Eye can take care of him –Malfoy's only a kid, Lils, and I don't think he'll –
All Mad-Eye will see is a Death Eater.
Then he'll make sure he won't escape then, won't he? Actually, you could stay in Mad-Eye's office while he goes to fight . . .
We're wasting time arguing, James, and I refuse to leave my kids in danger.
There was a pause on the other end. Fine, Lily, but be careful –we don't know if Malfoy's really sincere. Meet at the Shrieking Shack. From there we'll figure out the perimeter, protect it as best as we can. We'll deploy some Aurors and Order members to clear the area, get the students to safety.
All right.
And the connection ended. However, as the elevator opened its wide mouth to greet them at last, Lily couldn't shake the sinking feeling in her stomach, the feeling that her children were in trouble now, that they may already be too late.
But they won't be, not if she could help it.
Harry's mind raced as memories and instinct overloaded his mind. There were hundreds. If there had been one –even five or six, maybe –he could have taken them. Hell, if there had been thirty, he was sure the threat would be squashed when the teachers pitched in. But there were so many . . . there definitely weren't enough teachers, and as far as he knew, Harry was the only student who knew how to perform a Patronus.
Shit.
Violet. He needed to find his sister, get her, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, everyone, to safety. To hell with her stupid cold shoulder –he was getting her to safety even if it meant dragging her by the hair all the way to Hogwarts.
"Harry!" Ginny was beside him now. "What's going –bollocks." She's noticed the Dementors, and was now standing stiffly beside her boyfriend, eyes wide in fear.
"Ginny –grab your brother and Lavender. D'you have any idea where Violet and Neville would be?" Harry asked, thinking quickly.
"Wh –what?" Ginny asked, blinking fiercely.
"Ginny! Focus!" Harry snapped. They needed to take action now. "Get Ron, where's Violet?"
Ginny shook her head, trying shake off the shock. "Er –I dunno. Vi likes Honeydukes, Zonko's –everything, really."
"Damn it. All right, get your brother."
Ginny nodded and immediately tried to push through the throng of people running hysterically out of Three Broomsticks. Screams filled the air as the ice neared them, yet Harry was the only one that remained standing still. He could just get them to Hogwarts, and pray that Violet and Neville had found their way out as well but –oh sod it. He really did have a hero complex.
Harry just couldn't risk the chance that his sister and friend weren't okay. If they got the Kiss, and he had just left them to fate, he didn't know what he'd do with himself.
"Harry! We've got to get to Hogwarts," Ginny called urgently, already beginning to shiver.
"You go on," he replied, knowing they'd be okay as long as they stuck together and stayed within the crowd, "I'm going to find Violet and Neville."
"Are you mad?" Ron exclaimed, and for the first time, Harry detected concern in his best friend's voice, "You'll be killed!"
Harry shook his head. They needed to get out of here now; no time for arguing. "She's my sister, Ron –I can't abandon family."
Something strange passed Ron's face, a fleeting expression that Harry could have sworn was respect. "She can find her way back to Hogwarts."
"But what if she can't!" Harry snapped impatiently. The longer Ron and Ginny stayed, the greater their chance of being Kissed increased. "I'm going after her."
Ginny grabbed his arm, eyes determined. "I'm coming with you."
"No," Harry said quickly, "You're going with Ron, to safety."
Such fire blazed in Ginny's eyes that Harry was convinced that she was one and the same with his Ginny. He recognized that determination, that drive –it was the same that Ginny held that night, when they went to the Department of Mysteries.
"Okay," Harry said, before he really thought about it.
"No!" Ron protested, "If Ginny's coming, then so am I. You need the backup."
"Neither of you can perform a Patronus," Harry argued.
"But it's better than you having to face them alone," Ginny pointed out.
Harry gritted his teeth, seriously disliking this idea. But if he knew them like he thought he did, they wouldn't relent until Harry finally accepted, and the longer they argued, the less chance they had of finding Violet and Neville.
"All right, fine," he said reluctantly, "But Lavender –you get back to the school."
Lavender hesitated, feeling obligated to stay with Ron, but afraid to risk her life for people she barely knew.
"It's alright," he reassured her, "Go. You can't help here."
It may have been a little harsh, but it worked, and Lavender didn't seem to mind. After a "good luck" and one last worried glance at the group, she joined the throng of fleeing students, eventually disappearing into the crowd.
After making sure she was safely under the cover of the crowd, Harry beckoned to Ron and Ginny to follow him. Together, they snuck towards danger, checking shops as they went, but didn't find anyone still inside until almost a block down, where a small group of third years were huddled together in the corner of Zonko's, white faced and scared to go outside into the ice. Through the shop window, they could see the owner ushering the kids into the back room, all the while taking nervous glances behind him.
They weren't too far from the crowd; maybe they could help them. Harry entered the shop and found the jumpy shopkeeper's wand pointed at his face, but lowered it once he realized that they were just more students.
"Get in the back room, quick," he said urgently, opening the door wide for them.
"Listen, there's a big crowd heading back to Hogwarts now a block from here –if you hurry, you can catch up with them."
But the shopkeeper shook his head. "Not enough time until those Dementors get here. Better hide than run in the open."
He had a point. But Harry knew a quicker way to get back to Hogwarts. "There's a secret passage in Honeydukes's cellar that goes straight to Hogwarts –take that, it's close to here."
The shopkeeper looked surprised. "How d'you know that?"
Harry waved that aside. "I just do. Look, it'll save all of you, so just take it."
"But I don't know where to go –or what to do when I get there."
"Ron knows the way –he'll show you."
The redhead turned around, an incredulous expression on his face. "How did you know I knew that secret passage?"
Oops. "My dad was Prongs. Look, I just know, and you're going to have to trust me on this. Take Ginny and get them all to Hogwarts safely."
Harry willed Ron with all his might to just go; he didn't want to risk Ron's life any more than he had to, even if he was a right bastard in this world. However, at his words, Ginny had opened her mouth, about to protest, but Harry cut her off.
"There are some things I have to do myself, Ginny! You can't come any further."
Ginny, that same determined fire in her eyes, met Harry's eyes, but relented, knowing that further arguing would only hinder their chances of survival. Soon they gathered the third years and employees out and they headed to Honeydukes, while Harry crept the opposite way, his senses on high alert for the tell-tale coldness.
And he did feel it –on his back.
Turning around, he saw that four Dementors had swooped down on the group, bitter ice freezing them. The shopkeeper called out a Patronus that got rid of one, but the others easily squashed the weak silvery figure, encasing them in darkness once more.
Suddenly, a flash of red broke away from the group. Ginny dodged the Dementors and began running down, calling wildly and sending random spells at them, trying to divert their attention towards her.
"G –Ginny, no!" Ron called out, but he was smothered by the eerie breathing of the Dementors, now swooping down upon Ginny, who continued to send out spells towards them in vain. As she stumbled to the ground, helpless, Ron ran around the Dementors and stood in front of her with his arms out.
"Get away!" he growled at the Dementors with chattering teeth, despite knowing that it would do no good. "Stupefy! Impedimenta! STUPEFY!"
It was no use; he had fallen. But as his friend fell, Harry was running towards them, dark voices and images ringing in his head. However, his determination to save his friends overrode all of his nightmares as he thought nothing but that beautiful June day, he, Ron, and Hermione sitting beneath the old tree, carefree and without fear –"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Prongs galloped out of Harry's wand, his silvery antlers bowed regally as he charged at the three Dementors, purity emulating off of him, and drove them away, relieving the darkness that had been cast over the group.
The stag galloped back to Harry, allowing its warmth to wipe away the nightmares better than any bar of chocolate could. Prongs seemed to be much more of a comfort now that Harry had met his human counterpart. Slowly, with Harry's hand on Prong's long, arching neck, he faded away, and Harry could have sworn that there was a triumphant smirk on the Patronus's lips.
"What were you thinking?"
Harry turned around at Ron's voice, directed towards Ginny. However, he didn't sound particularly –more relieved.
"It was going to get us –I had to do something," Ginny responded, sounding shaken. Harry walked over to the siblings and gently helped them up from the ground.
"You're probably safe for a few minutes –hurry." Harry said urgently. That incident just now scared him –he didn't want to be too far to be able to help them if they got attacked again. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen any of the hundreds of Dementors in the area since walking into Zonko's. However, this didn't reassure his nerves –Harry wanted to know where his enemies were.
"Potter?"
Harry turned back around to face Ron. "Yeah?"
"Thanks, mate –for saving us." Ron said sincerely.
"No problem," Harry responded, "But you've got to hurry."
Nodding, Ron gently prodded his sister and rejoined the group of shaking third years. Harry watched them go a ways, until they were only a shop or two before Honeydukes before making his way down the other road.
Despite knowing that this day could very well turn out to be a tragic one, Harry's heart filled with hope –at least today, he had made some progress.
Violet shivered, knowing they were only going towards the bastards. But where else could they go? Every single damn turn they took, that chill remained, and with every step she took, the echoes in her head grew louder. She glanced over at Neville, her reluctant babysitter, who spent the majority of their Hogsmede trip sulking –she didn't see what he really had to sulk about, not since he began pushing his friends away.
He didn't seem to be sulking now –instead, his face was scrunched up in an effort to do something –most likely thoughts of his parents' voices, screams, Voldemort's chilling words, all of which he only remembers near the Dementors, invading his mind.
They had tried to reach Honeydukes, to take that secret passage her Dad told her about, but found the only way there heavily surrounded by Dementors, though Violet noticed that they seemed to be migrating towards a certain area now . . . still, they hadn't cleared enough and Violet didn't like the idea of walking out in the open back to Hogwarts, in full view of any Death Eaters or Dementors around.
Violet winced, involuntarily shivering as a Dementor glided by above them. She found her arm being grabbed roughly as Neville pulled her into the shadows of a shop. He hasn't spoken a word to her the entire time, not even when the Dementors had first come in. Neville had just assumed that she would follow him, and that pissed her off royally. Arrogant bastard.
Biting her lip, Violet struggled to counter the nightmarish images in her head with happy thoughts about the upcoming birth of her much younger sibling, but once again found her thoughts primarily on her nightly nightmares, which had been occurring much more frequently than they had in past years for some reason. That, and Harry's peculiar attitude ever since his birthday.
Violet walked down the grounds, ignoring any waves or greetings that came her way. People would look at her oddly, as they had known the eleven-year-old since she was young, having played together in their pre-Hogwarts years because their parents knew each other.
Except the girl walking towards Hagrid's house wasn't Violet.
At least, it was her body, but she wasn't in control –she would have no recollection of it afterward, but the memory, the feeling of her mind being violated and perverted would stay deeply inscribed in her subconscious years after it happened, years after Neville Longbottom had saved her, with her brother figuring out the mystery, and Aurors and teachers in tow to help slay the snake.
But she didn't know that now –all she knew was that something had invaded her, making it so that she had no choice but to approach the chicken pen and strangle them with her bare hands, blankly ignoring the bleeding cuts on her hands from the roosters' desperate pecks.
She heard that seductive voice in her head, commanding her hands to muffle the rooster's choked cries against her school robes. Violet didn't like violence; she didn't like watching things die –she couldn't even watch when her daddy was forced to put down their pet cat, who'd grown sick with an illness that not even magic could cure, to put it out of its misery.
Yet she did it, without feeling remorse, because she didn't even have the ability to feel anymore. She felt numb; she liked feeling numb. It made it better –that what she was doing didn't seem so atrocious.
Her fingernails dug deeper into the rooster's throat, and it gave one more strangled cry before it expired.
Violet shook her head fiercely to get rid of the memory, but she could still hear the echoes of the rooster's last cry. Glancing over at Neville, she realized that his eyes were squeezed shut. He didn't make a sound, but she could tell by his expression that it was something horrible.
Instinctively, with a comfort gained from their years of friendship, Violet put her hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. Neville's eyes snapped open at her touch, but he didn't flinch, nor did he shake her hand off. His shoulders sagged into her hand, showing a neediness that was usually hidden beneath his arrogance.
Seeing her friend so broken and tired almost evaporated all of her anger with him, but she reminded herself that he was tired because he allowed the Ministry to control his life and walk all over him. The people who slandered him were now using him to their advantage.
"C'mon, the Dementor's gone," Violet whispered, the first words spoken between them the entire trip.
Neville nodded silently, squaring his shoulders back into his normally confident stance. And so they crept in the shadows, occasionally having to stop or slip behind cover whenever they saw the shadows under their eyelids, the ghosts that would appear hazily in the real world.
As they continued walking, Violet realized that they must be heading for a higher concentration of Dementors, because she kept on having flashes of memories, nightmares that seemed to come and go randomly.
She felt weak, very, very weak as she lay on the cold, wet ground, water gently splashing onto her drenched ankles. Blinking, Violet tried to make out the figure that stood above her, the dark-haired figure . . .
"H –Harry?" she called hoarsely, desperate for her big brother to come and save her. Maybe it was him –it looked so much like Harry.
"Shhh," the figure said, in a voice meant to be comforting, "It'll all be over soon." That chilling, eager voice wasn't her brother's; she tried to get up, but couldn't.
"Don't bother –it's useless. You'll be dead soon anyway."
Violet tore that memory out of her head, thinking about happy things, about Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup last year, how elated she felt as she touched the cool metal, as she passed it to their Seeker and Captain.
Didn't work.
"Your Mudblood mummy is dead." Draco Malfoy sneered at her and Harry.
"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded fiercely, grasping Violet's hand tightly as he did so.
"D'you really think that anyone could survive the Dark Lord's wrath? Especially Mudbloods, tonight?"
"What the bloody hell would you know about what was going on tonight?" Harry sneered, his disgusted expression tainted with fear in his eyes.
Malfoy smirked. "I have my . . . resources."
Violet gasped, suddenly remembering Neville mentioning something, some dream about him walking down dark corridors. "The Department of Mysteries," she whispered.
Malfoy glanced at her sharply, shocked. "How –dunno what you're talking about," he recovered quickly, sticking his nose up in the air arrogantly.
"Mum isn't dead!" Violet shouted, releasing Harry's hand and advancing towards Malfoy dangerously, feeling such anger as she'd never felt before, a need to destroy that she hasn't felt since second year, when Tom Riddle's memory was influencing her. "Where's your mummy, you bloody wanker? Baking cookies for the Death Eater Humane Society? Maybe my Mummy's killed yours. Maybe your dogshit father is locked up in Azkaban now, going nutters. Maybe the noble bloody house of Malfoy is crumbling around your ears –and you're next."
Pushing him hard, the surprised Malfoy stumbled over a desk, causing him to flip over onto the other side.
Harry grabbed Violet's arm to stop her from hurting the blonde further, looking angry, proud, and a little scared. Violet shook off his arm, shaking slightly from her rampant emotions, that anger. Harry was looking at her in alarm, wondering what had gotten into his little sister, who had always been so quiet and subdued, except occasionally when she pulled pranks or was having a good enough time that she could forget her problems. Violet had never been particularly violent; even her pranks were fairly harmless.
As Violet's shock at what she had done subsided, self-disgust began to set in, and for the first time in nearly three years, she felt like she had been possessed all over again. Thus, she did the only thing she could have in that moment.
She ran.
Their pace changed as they came closer to the Shrieking Shack, their current destination. Both Violet and Neville wanted to get their as quickly as possible, to get to safety as quickly as possible. Violet only hoped that Harry was okay –but he knew the secret passages as well, he must have made it there on time.
He had to.
But as another chill racked at her body, Neville's hand suddenly came hard across her chest, stopping her quick pace. Violet frowned, shoving his arm away from her, only to have him pull her roughly behind a lucky charm stand.
Violet hit him on the back of the head, her flashing eyes demanding an explanation for their sudden halt. Neville shook his head to silence her before pointing through a crack in the stand. Peering into it, Violet's eyes widened as ice cracked, spreading across the ground. But what horrified her was what she saw.
A sole student –a Slytherin third year, by the looks of her –stood, trembling in terror as a Dementor circled around her, slowly draining her of all of her hopes, her dreams for the future, her soul. The girl appeared to have resigned to her fate, because she didn't even try to run. Instead, she curled into herself, attempting to hang on to everything she could before it was taken away.
Violet watched this eerily quiet ritual with increasing horror. This was a Slytherin, a potential future Death Eater –yet the Dementor appeared to have no bounds, had no distinction between ally and foe. She felt sick just watching this, and as her own demons crept back into the shadows of her mind, Violet knew that she, as a human being, couldn't just sit there and do nothing.
But Neville held her down, apparently sensing her unease. She glared fiercely at him, unable to believe "the Chosen One's" cowardliness. However, he too looked rather ill, and as resigned as that Slytherin girl.
"We can't help her," he whispered tiredly, looking extremely guilty that he had never learned the Patronus Charm from Harry, thus, in his own way, condemning this girl.
"Yes, we can!" Violet hissed, "Better try than do nothing!"
"Would you like to die in vain?" Neville snapped angrily, "Then be my guest."
Violet was taken aback by this sharp comment, but knew inside that he was right. Slowly sinking back down to the ground, defeated, Violet forced herself to watch the Dementor suck the life out of the little girl, knowing that somebody had to be a witness to what had happened to her, so she wouldn't just disappear, just another casualty in a cruel war.
So, desperately fighting the darkness within her own mind, Violet also bore another's.
Harry had to send Prongs after several Dementors during the course of his search for his sister, but he considered himself lucky that they were as scattered as they were, although it did make him suspicious.
Much to his horror, he soon found where all the Dementors had gone.
A huge group of the fleeing people he had seen before sending Ginny and Ron to Honeydukes was cornered into a circle, flanked by most of the Dementors he had seen in the beginning. No Death Eaters in sight.
They circled the terrified group, and Harry felt a sudden spike of fear. There were so many . . . he knew he'd done this before, but even then, it'd only been about a hundred or so, with him completely confident because he knew he had technically already done it. But this was different. There were far more, and he felt that familiar weight settle back down on his shoulders. These people's lives were in his hands now; he doubted enough people escaped to tell the Aurors. Hopefully Ron and Ginny had made it back to Hogwarts in time to alert someone.
So he sat there, torn about what action to take. He couldn't just leave them there; that urge, what Hermione called his "hero-complex", wouldn't allow him to. But if he did, would he just fall, would it even be worth it? If he was going to do something, he didn't want to just go out in a blind charge; he needed to think about this.
He needed Hermione.
But Hermione wasn't here, and the Hermione here probably wouldn't be of very much help. Harry really was on his own now; he thought this was what he'd wanted, but in reality, he just felt incredibly alone. Squatting in his hiding place, trying to make up his damn mind, Harry tried to weigh the loss of life if he did do something versus if he didn't.
Sod it. There was no way he could live with himself if he allowed someone to be hurt. Peaking through at the group, his eyes widened as a Dementor descended upon one of the store clerks, ready to give him the Kiss . . .
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry bellowed, Prongs leaping out of his wand and driving many surrounding Dementors away.
"Expecto Patronum!"
What?
Harry risked standing up in order to see where the chorus of Patroni came from. Never before had he felt so relieved.
Aurors flanked the group on all sides, silvery light encompassing the Dementors on all sides. Though Harry had to cover his eyes to prevent the brightness from blinding him, he thought it was rather beautiful to watch as the light conquered the dark.
The light faded, and Harry saw a few spare Dementors fleeing the area; however, it seemed that the combination of so many Patroni completely eradicated most of the Dementors. Letting out a breath Harry didn't know he'd be holding, Harry made his way over to the group, helping the lucky store clerk up from the ground.
"You okay?" he asked.
The clerk still seemed to be shaking –he knew how close he'd come. "Y –yes," he stuttered, but he didn't sound fine to Harry.
Harry dug into his pockets and handed him a chocolate frog he had bought in Honeydukes. "Eat–it'll help."
Taking the chocolate gratefully from Harry, the clerk was about to thank him when a Harry's slightly hysterical mum viciously grabbed Harry's shoulder and turned him around, making sure that it was indeed her son.
"Harry!" she cried out in relief, completely smothering him in a hug, "I can't –you're okay –was that your Patronus?"
Quite frankly, Harry had no idea what she was trying to say, so he merely nodded to answer her last question. Usually Harry wouldn't like people invading his personal space, but he didn't mind his mum squashing him. It was like Mrs. Weasley's hugs . . . just somehow better.
After managing to wriggle himself out of his mum's grasp, Harry asked, "Did Ron and Ginny tell you about the attack? Or Violet and Neville?"
Lily smiled. "Neither. Draco Malfoy did."
"Malfoy?" Harry asked, shocked, "Malfoy told you?"
But Harry's mother merely laughed at this, her warm, ringing tone a nice contrast to the iciness of the Dementors. Warmth and happiness spread throughout Harry's body better than any piece of chocolate could.
"How'd you get it out of him?" Harry asked, still surprised that the greasy little git would actually help them save lives. There must have been something in it for him; he struck a deal, or something.
But Lily's expression suddenly darkened, and she was no longer smiling. Instead, she looked as if she had just remembered something foul, something she still needed to do. "He wanted to prevent loss of life," she said finally, anger edged in her tone, "He –I dunno, he wanted to save himself, perhaps, but I honestly think he felt a genuine need to help us. I know you don't like him, Harry, and that you have history with him, but you didn't see him. Scrimgeour ordered two Aurors to torture him –brutally. I hope you'll never have to see the shape he was in, the poor boy."
This was probably the first time anybody from the Light side has ever referred to Draco Malfoy in such a sympathetic light. It surprised Harry even more that it came from his mother, who has already been hurt so much by the Death Eaters and what they stand for. No doubt she'd lost many friends in the first war; the only friends of his parents that Harry has ever met were the three surviving Marauders, and even then . . . Harry quickly stopped his train of thought. He didn't want to think about Sirius falling through the veil again, or seeing Wormtail's pathetic face as he begged for mercy at Harry's feet. He should never have let him go.
The rush of anger Harry felt about Wormtail seemed to be reflected in Lily's face, except apparently towards the Minister.
"Lily, Harry!"
Mother and son turned around to see James Potter running towards them, looking immensely relieved. "Good, you've found him then," he noted, inclining his head towards Harry. "Where's Violet?"
"Aren't they here?" Harry asked, panicking slightly. "I –I thought they might have been here or at Hogwarts."
James shook his head. "Moody said that a group of Hogwarts students and some storekeepers made it through a secret passage in Honeydukes, with the help of a certain Harry Potter, who opted not to go back to safety with them, but go back and play the hero."
"Was not trying to play the hero!" Harry said resentfully, "I was trying to find Violet and Neville! I couldn't just leave them here."
But his dad merely smiled, proud of Harry's actions as well as worried for his safety. "Did you find her?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Are you sure she wasn't in the Hogwarts group?"
James nodded. "Minerva did a head count of everyone who came back, and Violet and Neville weren't there. Seems that very few made it back to Hogwarts in time –most were rounded up by the Dementors while they were fleeing. We still have to access the damage, but it could have been much worse if we hadn't had the warning –even as late as it was –and if you hadn't helped them find that passage."
Looking between both of his parents, Harry felt an odd sort of feeling in his stomach as both of his parents beamed at him, pride clearly presented in their faces. His parents have never looked at him in that way before –they never had the chance.
"We really should go look for Violet and Neville," Harry muttered quietly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with this intense attachment he felt in that moment. He liked that they were proud of his actions today, what many others would call stupid, brash, Gryffindor behavior typical of James Potter's son. Usually Harry would brush that criticism off as a compliment, but it meant so much more when it was reflected in his dead parents' faces.
Your parents would be proud of you, Harry. People have said this a lot, but Harry had never really known what it meant, what it felt like to be proud of, to be loved unconditionally and wholeheartedly. He'd come close before, and he considered Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys as family, but . . . never quite like this. Not by people who could be gone tomorrow, as cold and dead as they are warm and alive now.
Harry still didn't know where he was, or how they could be alive; all he knew was that they were, and he was not going to allow them to die again.
Neville felt cold. He didn't know how long he and Vi had been squatting there, waiting for the darkness to pass. A few minutes ago, he could have sworn he felt the Dementor's negative aura disappear, but he couldn't risk it. Neville refused to open his eyes, because if he did, he was sure he'd see his dead mother, crumpled on the ground, her beautiful, blank eyes staring at him.
It was his fault. He had to be the stupid Boy-Who-Lived, but even now, Neville couldn't understand why. He was weak; even he himself knew that. Neville just couldn't imagine whyYou-Know-Who would target him, mark him as his equal. To be honest, Neville secretly thought Harry should have this "honor", especially in light of the recent changes his personality had apparently gone through. Not that he was a bad guy before; he was nice, always trying to be friends with everyone.
Actually, Harry seemed to be a lot colder now; more distant. Neville didn't know what had happened to him to cause this change, but judging from his knowledge of spells, his leadership, and his pretty damn amazing Patronus, Harry should have been the one stuck with this Prophecy.
Neville felt a little bad for thinking it.
What would life have been like if Harry had been marked, instead of Neville? Would Neville have the perfect life Harry has, with both parents? Would Neville, too, have a sister like Violet?
No, he wouldn't want Harry to have his destiny. Not only was that an extremely selfish thought, but then Violet would never have existed, because Lily and James Potter would be dead.
He couldn't imagine a world where Violet didn't exist. She had been his good friend for such a long time –they were practically brother and sister. Harry too was almost like a brother, except that Neville has been pushing him away. He knew that it had confused Harry, and they eventually lost the closeness they once shared, but Neville had to protect him. There was no point in there being two eligible boys to be marked if the other was killed because of his association with the Chosen One.
Still, where does Harry get off accusing Neville of getting on with Violet? What about him and Ginny? Ron's been on his case ever since they started seeing each other, what sort of a hypocrite was Harry anyway? It's as if he'd never known the relationship the three of them had when they were little. Neville couldn't see how he could have forgotten, but he must have; Neville wouldn't do anything to hurt Violet, and despite his anger about her current attitude towards him, her rejection hurt.
Bloody Dementors. Neville felt so bitter right now; it could only be their work. Finally, Neville gathered his courage and opened his eyes, only to wish he hadn't.
The Dementor was gone, but the girl remained. She was on her back, staring up blankly at the clear sky while Slytherin's scarf flopped around endlessly with the wind; the scarf had more life in it than she did.
Then Neville caught sight of Violet. She was staring at the girl with empty, unblinking eyes. For a brief, terrifying moment, Neville wondered if the Dementor had taken her soul as well as the girl's, but was rewarded with her flinch at his touch when he put his hand on her shoulder.
He wanted to tell her that there was nothing they could have done, that if they tried to battle that Dementor, they too would become shells. But he couldn't find the words, which seems to be happening much more often nowadays. It's as if he'd forgotten how to communicate with people. Perhaps he'd gotten too good at pushing them away.
"Helena," Violet whispered.
"What?"
"Helena Chambers. That's her name."
"Don't you mean that was her name?"
Violet turned towards him, and Neville was relieved to see life sparked back in her eyes, despite the angry fire being directed towards him. "She's not dead –not yet," she snapped, looking as if she dearly wanted to hit him.
"Might as well be."
But his companion stood up suddenly, kicking a nearby cardboard box fiercely. "Because you wouldn't do anything about it!" she screamed at him.
"What the fuck was I supposed to do?" Neville yelled back, wondering where both Potters got the audacity to speak to him like this, "I don't know the damn Charm!"
Violet shook her head, angrily refusing to meet Neville's eyes. "You should have. You would've known it, if you hadn't walked out on Harry's tutoring lessons. Yeah, I know about them; pretty damn angry that Harry was willing to teach a wimp like you, but you should've stayed. You shouldn't have been so bloody selfish for once in your life. Look at her! Look at her, Neville! You've ruined that girl."
"Bollocks. Do I look like a Dementor to you, Violet?"
"You killed her by not doing anything."
"Neither did you!"
"You're older than me; Harry was going to teach you it."
Neville felt that scowl twisting his face, but he couldn't stop the words from spitting out of his mouth. "Well, hooray for Harry. Let's cheer for the real hero; doesn't matter if his life's perfect, if he's never suffered . . . you should know suffering better than anyone else, Violet. You're still fucked up –always will be."
Fury kindled in Violet's eyes as she stepped forward, each step deliberately dangerous. "At least I'm not the Ministry's pathetic little hound. How does it feel prancing about on their errands like a house-elf? 'Oh, Master Minister, I is happy to do things for thee!' I can imagine it now –groveling before him, shining his shoes . . . the possibilities are endless."
Why is it about Potters that makes Neville furiously want to punch them? Violet's a girl, she's a girl, I can't hit girls, Neville thought to himself repeatedly, cringing at the thought of what Mr. and Mrs. Potter would do if they found out he'd hit their daughter –or worse, what Gran would say if she knew he'd hit a girl.
But he couldn't keep the bitter words from tumbling out of his mouth. "Maybe I'm the Minister's dog –but you may as well be a Death Eater. Don't think I don't remember those books you were using for 'school research'. Absolute bollocks. Or your unusual liking of Dreamless Sleep Potions –junkie," he hissed.
Though these nasty words were the only things Neville allowed himself to retaliate with, Violet apparently had no qualms with hitting a boy, for her stinging slap onto Neville's face hit his left eye instead of his cheek. He recoiled from the force of the strong attack, but judging from the look on her face, she had been aiming for his eye.
However, instead of the anger he was expecting, he saw desolation in her eyes, blinking tears of betrayal away fiercely as she tried to hide how much that comment had hurt her. Neville immediately regretted his comment. Actually, he regretted speaking at all.
But before he could so much as apologize, Violet had pushed roughly past him and stood above the soulless little girl –Helena. After staring at her silently, as if imprinting the image of complete helplessness into her mind, Violet grabbed both of Helena's arms and pulled her up. Mechanically, the girl's feet synchronized with Violet's, allowing herself to be reluctantly led away.
He knew what he should do. He should go up on Helena's other side, silently help her back. But he didn't. All Neville did was watch Violet walk away from him, as many people have over the years. He should have helped, but he didn't, because he –he didn't even know what he was anymore, and he was sick of trying to be someone other than Neville. But he had to be –because it's his destiny, because the prophecy says he has to.
Neville remembered, more than a year ago, when Dumbledore had told him that the prophecy doesn't decide for him, that Neville had to decide for himself. Sorry Professor, Neville thought. He wasn't strong enough; destiny chose him, and all he can do is fulfill it.
Nevertheless, as he watched her go, Neville couldn't remember ever feeling as lonely as he did in that moment.