Harry Potter and the Blood of Triumph

Chapter 3

Hate and Love

Moody's wooden leg clicked on the street as he stumped along at the head of the group. His wand was out and his head turned from side to side constantly, peering into every bush and shadow. Aunt Petunia, apparently still under the effects of the potion Moody had given her, strode along beside Harry, back straight, head up, eyes staring fixedly ahead. Professor Lupin and Harry moved as a single being. Lupin had thrown his arm over the shoulder of his former student once again and allowed him to take his weight. He noticed Harry shaking underneath him, not realizing it was the remains of the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"I can manage by myself for a little while if I'm getting too heavy, Harry," Lupin lied weakly.

"No, it's okay. I'm fine, Professor," Harry answered, his voice hollow. He was focusing all his attention on Moody; trying not to think about what had happened. The screams of Dudley, Uncle Vernon and Snape still rang in his ears.

"Shhhhhh!" Moody admonished the two of them. As he looked at the grizzled Auror's face silhouetted in profile against the glow of the streetlamps, Harry couldn't help but think of Barty Crouch Junior, an agent of Voldemort who had disguised himself as Moody and taught a year's worth of Defense against the Dark Arts classes at Hogwarts and almost killed Harry before being uncovered. With his free hand Harry grabbed his wand from his pocket. If this was not the real Moody, he wanted to be ready.

"No need for that, boy. I'm as real as you and Remus," Moody growled without looking back. "But at least you're thinking right," he added. Harry could picture Moody's magic eye rolled backwards, peering through his skull. He allowed himself a small smile. It didn't last long, however. As they passed unhindered through the night, Harry's thoughts turned back to Professor Snape. In his mind's eye, he watched again as Snape's shadow contorted and he screamed with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse--for him, for no other reason. Snape was tortured for protecting Harry. Voldemort, of course, didn't know that; he had just assumed Snape had failed and Petunia and Harry had escaped before he could catch them.

Looking back on it, even as Snape had instructed him on his escape, Harry had seen the look of terror briefly flicker over the Potions Master's face. The man had known the punishment he was going to receive, and had aided Harry regardless. Harry shuddered at the realization of what that meant, and how much it said about his most hated--well next to Dolores Umbridge--professor. He hadn't felt this bad about his feelings towards Snape since seeing his father and Sirius make a fool of him in Dumbledore's pensieve. Professor Lupin must have once again mistaken Harry's shudder for tiredness. He interrupted Harry's thoughts.

"S'okay Harry. We're there now." Harry looked up and realized they were in front of Mrs. Figg's front gate. Moody held it open as the group passed through and up the path to the front door. It was unlocked. Moody swung it inwards, took a quick scan with his magic eye up and down the street, and followed the other three into the dark hall.

After helping Lupin to a bench Harry groped along the walls for a light switch. As he stepped into the hallway proper, he heard a sudden hiss, what he could only later describe as a yowl, and felt the searing pain of claws sinking into the flesh of his right leg. He yelped in pain and looked down to see two yellow, lantern eyes looking up at him.

"Lumos!" Professor Moody shed some light on the situation. "Gerrofit, Mephisto, ya bugger!" He growled and swiped at the cat wrapped around Harry's calf with his wooden leg. The fat, black cat detached itself and scuttled under a near sideboard, where it continued to eye Harry menacingly.

"Sorry, lad," Moody sounded anything but apologetic, Harry thought. "Most of these cats are trained to keep watch while Arabella's away. Mephisto must be going soft in his old age." Harry heard another hiss from under the sideboard.

Moody stumped his way past Harry and into Mrs. Figg's living room; Aunt Petunia followed. Harry wondered where the old lady could be as he helped his professor get back to his feet.

"Thank you, Prongs, old man," Lupin wheezed. His remaining unwounded eye was half closed and he was struggling to stay upright even with Harry supporting a majority of his weight. Harry was surprised at how much stronger he'd become in the not quite two months since he'd last seen his magical friends. He heard Moody giving a last instruction to Aunt Petunia as he and Professor Lupin shuffled into Mrs. Figg's living room. Mad-Eye threw some Floo powder into the flames he had conjured, and Harry goggled at the bizarre sight of Aunt Petunia stepping into the fireplace and calling out, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

"Errm, Professor?" Harry addressed Moody. "Shouldn't we take Professor Lup- eh, Remus to St. Mungo's?" The Auror turned, his swirling magical eye halting on Harry.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Potter? Lupin's affliction? Once the healers discover that, they have to turn him over to the Ministry. And then the poor sod would be in trouble, I can tell you. No, we won't be taking him to St. Mungo's." Moody shone his wand light into Remus' eye and pulled up the lid. "No. He's hurt, hurt badly. But he's a tough one this one, inside and out, believe me. I've watched him since he was your age. He'll pull through." Moody's weathered face cracked into what Harry could only assume was a smile, or an attempt at a smile, as he turned back to the fire and threw in some more Floo powder. Harry surmised that Moody hadn't had a lot of practice at smiling, therefore he wasn't very good at it, and the twisted, pained expression he wore now was the end result. Harry put on his best face, nodded back at Moody and stepped into the fire with Lupin, almost limp, hanging on his shoulder.

"Twelve, Grimmauld Place!" He called and felt the world around him start to spin. Harry had grown accustomed to traveling via Floo, and had little trouble maintaining his balance once they had reached their destination even with his professor hanging around his neck. It wasn't the sensation of Flooing that made Harry's stomach drop, it was the rush of memories that flooded him once he stepped out of the fireplace back into his godfather's house. He managed to maintain control long enough to get Professor Lupin to the nearest couch, but after that he dropped to his knees. He looked around at the room, past the seemingly petrified Aunt Petunia. The last time he had seen it was when he had used Umbridge's fireplace to check if Sirius was safe. Instead, he had seen, and been lied to by Kreacher, that horrible, miserable, traitorous house elf. A murderous rage rose in Harry's chest. Moody stepped from the fireplace just in time to see Harry stand from his knees, raise his wand and his eyes to the ceiling and scream the elf's name.

" KREACHER!" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs. The walls and windows shook with his voice. Sparks shot from the end of his wand as if it were siphoning off the power Harry's anger was generating. Without hesitation Harry stormed from the room. Moody followed.

"Filth! Blood scum! Traitors to my father's name!" Mrs. Black's portrait had been awoken. Harry stalked up the stairs. "Here comes Potter now. The worst of them," Mrs. Black's portrait continued as Harry drew nearer. "The precious darling of my forgotten son. Oh Sirius," She mock sobbed, "Sirius, why did you turn your back on us, why did you betray your family? Didn't you know you would get ..." her voice returned to its usual cackle, "exactly what you deserved!" Harry stopped in front of the picture. His eyes were almost glowing.

"That's enough from you, witch," he said in a voice neither loud nor soft. It was calm and full of power. He closed his eyes and pointed his wand at the laughing image. Mrs. Black's screech turned from laughter to pain. The lights lining the hallway and staircase dimmed and black flames leapt from Harry's wand to the picture. Harry turned and continued up the stairs as the paint and canvas burned, leaving nothing more than an empty, charred frame hanging on the wall.

"Kreacher, where are you," Harry yelled again. "When I find you, you diseased, murderous, rotten sack of filth, I'm going ... to kill you." Harry grinned at the thought. He remembered Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Sirius's cousin, telling him in the Ministry of Magic that to really cast an Unforgivable Curse you had to mean it. Evil intent was necessary. There was little doubt in Harry's mind that he had the ability to do it to Kreacher. He would take pleasure in it. He would revel in the act.

His search continued up the next flight of stairs. Harry knew where Kreacher would be; in his airing cupboard cuddled up with some ancient piece of cloth or heirloom. He saw the cupboard door on the landing, and his vision narrowed, just as it had in his Aunt and Uncle's backyard an hour ago. This time it wasn't from pain in his scar though. This was hatred; pure, dark, black hatred. As he approached the door, he could hear the elf's wheezing snores. The pathetic animal was sleeping. No, Harry thought, he's going to be awake for this. He opened the door. Lying before him, at his feet, Kreacher was huddled on a pile of rags. His skin had turned a pale, pale gray and was splotchy, like a dog with mange. His chest heaved with each strangled breath. Harry kicked him in the nose.

"Wake up, you bastard. It's time to die." Kreacher opened his eyes, and Harry could see they too had grown gray and clouded. The house elf blinked blindly upwards and sniffed.

"Ahhhh, new master is here. And what is it new master would have Kreacher do? Does the filthy traitor want Kreacher to wash the nasty mudblood wench's feet?" It appeared even impending death hadn't mellowed Kreacher's hatred. Harry spat in the elf's face.

"I want nothing from you, but the pleasure of watching you twitch," he hissed as he reached back with his wand and summoned all his anger, sadness, and hatred. He felt the strength, the raw power of the spell coarse through is body, down his arm and into his wand. This wasn't the Ministry; it was going to work this time. He called forth the magic and formed it into words.

"Avarda Kedav--"

"No, Harry, you mustn't!" Someone was blocking him. Harry's tunnel vision saw only the top of a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt between him and the soon-to-be-dead house elf. Whoever was interceding was going to move or Harry was going to move them. He raised his eyes to the person's face. It was a girl-- someone he recognized. The Dark Magic clouded his vision; he couldn't think straight, almost like during those awful Occlumency sessions with Snape. The magic was trying to control him. All he could think of was casting the Killing Curse on Kreacher. He tried to clear his mind. He did know this girl. She was someone he didn't want to hurt.

"Who are . . . I know . . . I know you . . . Hermione?" Harry looked quizzically into the tear-filled brown eyes. The girl nodded. Yes. It was Hermione, one of his two best friends. Harry's wand fell to his side, and his shoulders sagged. He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and suddenly he couldn't look her in the eye. He heard shuffling behind him and turned to see his other best friend, Ron, standing at the top of the stairs with a stunned look on his face.

"Alright, mate?" Ron was trying to sound as normal as possible. He failed. Harry didn't know what to say. This wasn't the reunion he had hoped for, his two friends having to stop him from going on a homicidal rampage. He looked down at his feet again. He felt ashamed of himself. Moments ago he had been a monster; he hadn't even been able to recognize his best friend. He'd even thought, briefly, about attacking her because she was obstructing his path to his prey. Fear and shame started to overwhelm Harry again. He felt his face flush hot, and a lump rose in his throat. His mind flashed through images of the evening: Lupin on the brink of death, Aunt Petunia crying out at Voldemort's arrival, Uncle Vernon and Dudley dead, pinned to the wall like insects in a collector's case, the Death Eaters chanting, Voldemort torturing Snape, Kreacher cowering on his rags, and his own return to Sirius' house. Sirius.

His shoulders began to shake, and Ron and Hermione realized he was crying; he just stood in the middle of the hall, silently sobbing. All hope and joy had left him. There was nothing but pain. Although neither was aware of the events of the rest of the evening, they knew something was extremely wrong, and each went to his side. The three embraced in a triangle in the middle of the hall. Both Hermione and Ron wordlessly helped Harry down the stairs and into the room he had slept in last summer. They put him, still sobbing, into bed. Finally, he settled into fitful sleep, constantly stirring throughout the night. It was these times that both Ron and Hermione were able to comfort and aid their friend. Just outside the door, Mad-Eye Moody smiled to himself.

When Harry awoke the next morning, the first thing he saw was his two friends asleep in the armchair. Hermione was sitting across Ron's lap with her arms around his neck. Ron had his arms around her waist and his head on one side, leaning up against hers. Harry smiled. They reminded him of two jigsaw pieces that were shaped to fit together. The smile didn't last however. He realized where he was, and the events of the previous night flooded his memory. He placed his head in his hands, ran them through his hair, and reached to the side table for his glasses.

Once he had them on, he quietly got out of bed and padded to the door so as not to wake Ron and Hermione. Silently he opened it and realized there was noise outside the room. Someone must have placed a silencing charm on the door. Cautiously, he looked over his shoulder, to check if the disturbance had awoken his friends; it hadn't. He walked down the stairs, past the charred picture frame and into the front room. It was empty save for a mass, huddled and snoring, on the couch. It snorted as Harry entered the room.

"I wuz never even near the place!" Mundungus Fletcher popped up. "Oh, 'Arry, it's just you."

"Morning, Dung," Harry sighed, sitting next to him on the couch. "Were you around last night, can you tell me what happened?"

"Not so sure I can, my son," Mundungus replied, wiping his eyes with his grubby hands. "I could give you an account, I s'pose, but me memory's a bit 'azy. Got 'it wiv a Confusion Curse, didn't I? Addled me brain a bit. Nah, you're better off talkin' to Dumbledore about it. 'E's in the kitchen wiv de others. I just 'opped out 'ere for forty winks whilst waitin' for you. But now you're 'ere, I s'pose we should be gettin' in. C'mon." Mundungus rose from his seat and limped noticeably toward the kitchen. Harry thought that perhaps there was more to this wizard than just pilfering cauldrons and toads.

Harry let out a gasp as he followed Mundungus into the kitchen. Seated around the table were members of the Order, but not many. Dumbledore was at the head; he looked unscathed. Remus was there, although not looking much different than he had appeared the night before. The others: Mrs. Weasley, George who looked nothing like his usual, jovial self and conspicuously single without Fred at his side, Moody and Mundungus, were all in various states of injury, some looking more severe than others.

Where're Bill, Charlie, Fred, and Mr. Weasley? Harry thought. He didn't need to look any further than Mrs. Weasley for his answer. Her eyes were puffy and red and her face was as white as Dumbledore's beard. Harry looked to the Headmaster. He looked back with sad eyes. Their usual twinkle had disappeared.

"Won't you please join us, Harry?" Dumbledore gestured towards the seat next to Remus. Harry took his place at the table, across from Mrs. Weasley, trying not to look at her. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Before beginning, I just want to inform everyone that Severus is out of immediate danger. He has safely returned to Hogwarts where Madam Pomfrey is tending to him. He suffered greatly at Voldemort's hand, but he was invaluable in aiding Harry and Petunia's escape, and for that we all owe him yet another great debt," Dumbledore spoke gravely as he looked at each of them in succession. "Unfortunately, Harry's uncle and cousin were not as fortunate." Mrs. Weasley bit her lower lip and nodded, her eyes cast down at the table. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He still was unsure of his feelings about Uncle Vernon and Dudley's murder. Professor Lupin placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. Dumbledore continued.

"Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Fred are--" Mrs. Weasley let out a great, sobbing wail. Dumbledore allowed her a second before going on softly. "They are at St. Mungo's where, I assure you Molly, the finest healers are doing everything in their power." He placed his hand over Mrs. Weasley's as she pulled at her handkerchief. "The same goes for the Aurors injured at Azkaban," he spoke to Moody over George's bowed head.

"Ex--excuse me, Professor," Harry said sounding afraid, "but what happened last night?"

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore was almost whispering, "that is what we are here to discuss. But this much I can tell you already," his eyes dropped, "I, once again, have made a grave error." Harry felt Lupin stiffen next to him. Dumbledore's eyes moved, almost imperceptibly, to the werewolf then back to Harry. "In my foolish arrogance and pride, I thought my spells and wards would protect you at your aunt's house. I didn't think there was any possible way Voldemort could get passed them, but he discovered one. He used the very power that had held him at bay to break through. Having your blood was not merely enough, he needed an object that was imbued with the same power, the same love, that your mother bequeathed you. He found it last night in Godric's Hollow."

"What was it, sir?" Harry asked.

"Something from your childhood, Harry; an item that you cherished, a gift from your godfather on the day you were born; your teddy bear." Dumbledore's voice cracked on the final words. Mrs. Weasley sniffled and placed her handkerchief over her face.

"I remember it I think," Harry said in a distant voice, "did it ... did it dance?" Next to Harry, his cheeks glistening with tears, Remus nodded slowly.

"I was with Sirius the day he bought it. He was so excited. He had wanted to get you a Muggle gift, for Lily," he smiled at the memory, "and she charmed it to dance when you tickled its ear. You loved that bear, Harry."

"Which is exactly why Voldemort used it," Dumbledore added, not bothering to hide his own tears, "it was imbued with the power and the love of your mother." Lupin growled like a wolf and balled up his fists.

"Wormtai--No, never again! Pettigrew, the rat," Lupin corrected himself," must have told him."

"We knew nothing about this until it was too late," Moody explained by way of interruption. Dumbledore picked up the story.

"Professor Snape told us that a big offensive was coming, so when Alastor Flooed me at Hogwarts that Azkaban was under attack and Voldemort himself was leading it, I assumed that was it and went immediately. After all, most of his top echelon is in there. But he split his force. Those Death Eaters that were to go to Godric's Hollow, of which Severus was one, didn't even know until he told them. Professor Snape, putting himself in great, great danger, tried to contact me at Hogwarts, but I was already involved at Azkaban, so he contacted the Weasleys, Remus and Mundungus here at Headquarters. They went to Godric's Hollow and fought the twelve that were there while we continued the defense of the prison, unaware of the dual-pronged attack.

As Alastor, the Aurors and I began to turn the tide at Azkaban in our favor, Voldemort Disapparated, just as he had at the Ministry. I remained behind to aid in the rounding up of the other Death Eaters. In actuality, Voldemort Apparated to Godric's Hollow and turned the tide of the battle there. During the back and forth, Severus was able to tell Remus what Voldemort's intentions were, and he left for Privet Drive to get you. The Weasleys and Mundungus fought bravely, and yes, did sustain injuries while holding off Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but they held their ground long enough for Remus to get you. For that we are eternally grateful." He nodded at Molly and George.

"Voldemort found what he was looking for in the remaining rubble of the house, then Apparated back to Azkaban to ensure that I was still there. Once assured I was busy, he went on to Privet Drive to perform the spell, with your teddy bear, that would transfer the power from it to him and allow him to enter the house." Harry thought back to the chanting.

"When Alastor and I returned here, after settling Azkaban, Ron, Hermione and Ginny told us what had happened and we left immediately, I to Godric's Hollow where I found the Weasleys, who were in obvious need of my help." Mrs. Weasley blanched; George shuddered, his gaze still blank.

"And I came and got you, your aunt, and Lupin. The rest, you know," Moody said in his typical gruff manner, finishing the tale.

"I-I don't know what to say," Harry stammered, obviously overwhelmed. He looked at Mrs. Weasley and George. "I'm sorry ... The rest of the family will be okay right, Professor?" he looked back to Dumbledore, pleading.

"They are getting the best care possible." Harry could see Dumbledore was trying to put the best face possible on it, but it didn't look good. Mrs. Weasley started crying openly and got up from the table.

"I'm sorry," she wept, "I have to go."

"By all means, Molly." Dumbledore tried to sound comforting. George didn't move; however, Mundungus rose from his chair.

"I'll come wiv ya, Mol. Bit o' company, eh?" Mrs. Weasley tried to wave him off, but he put his arms around her in a big embrace and she acquiesced. The kitchen door opened.

"Mum, what's going on?" Ron asked with utmost concern in his voice. Harry looked at Hermione and him standing in the doorway. All of a sudden, the two of them looked so young, or maybe he just felt older.