Unforgivably Cursed

Chapter Three: Defeat

"Stern discipline awaits anyone who leaves the path; the one who hates correction will die." - Proverbs 15:10

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Before Remus could refocus his wand's aim unnoticed, Bellatrix Lestrange turned in immediate face of him. Her eyes hawked right upon him, face lit up feverishly, and then, crying out in loud, purposefully exaggerated laughter, the more infamous of Death Eaters pretentiously declared in one unhesitating scream, "Petrificus Totalus!" Immediately the particularly compassionless, very deadly spell of Lestrange's choice summoned forth: a dash of blue sparks emitted from her wand straight for Remus, who scarcely dodged the spell. But before he could recoil a hex back at her, Bellatrix speedily darted west unexpectedly, diving far off into the horizon at an unprecedented light speed, it amazingly almost seemed, until she was long-gone from radar.

Feeling a rush of brisk relief run through him, slightly humored Remus thought to himself, 'It seems dear Bellatrix was a wee bit too sure of herself; ha, reckon Lestrange didn't second the thought of me avoiding her pathetic little attempt at cleverness, did she?' Caught up in all the momentum, unbelievably Remus only now spontaneously acknowledged the Ministry's absence. This would pose a serious, unpredictable twist to the peril of things tonight, this he instinctively knew for sure. After all, he and the others had been prepared to fight two opposing parties, not one, and though it made things relatively easier for them, the mysterious missing link -- the fleet of Ministry henchmen obviously expected to come attempt to arrest Harry -- was absolutely a most disquieting, alarming thing. But nonetheless, before he could give the pressing matter more thought, a big, beyond deafening Boom! sounded as an enormous, thrusting implosion of all-encompassing fire blasted from within the Dursley home! Then, in less than a heartbeat the consequential force of pressure emitted from the massive blast and nearly sent Remus swinging off his broomstick, yelling out in total shock as he was in one surreal instant thrown off balance across midair about thirty feet east.

Holding on barely by his one fist's grip onto the edge of his Nimbus, other hand dangling uselessly below, Remus held his breath for dear life. Then, in a blinding flash of a second, somehow he managed to pull himself significantly up, enduring, bettering his one-handed grip on his broomstick while slowly reaching to wrap a firm hold on its firm twigs with his other hand, too. Totally out of breath and feeling at the brink of death in his plight of utmost weakness, Remus unbelievably in one huge summon for strength pulled himself all the way up successfully back into proper position on top his broomstick. It took a second to really accept that his either leg was wrapped comfortably around his Nimbus' weight, that he was still alive, before adrenaline mixed in with a directionless impulse sent him soaring off.

And then the all-daunting reality of things crashed through him, immediately threatening to kill his whole fighting spirit at once. That was it, everything was over. They had failed, failed miserably, all their good work leading up to this very abrupt, suspenseful revelation for nothing. Number Four, Privet Drive had somehow been blown off the map, had exploded from the inside in giant waves of fire long before he and the others could manage to escort Harry from the home. All of it was for nothing, everything they'd done to make the night a success thus far officially a total waste, now as the Dursleys' destroyed home continued burning down to an ash of smithereens.

It was all over.

Remus turned away from the spectacle of horror, unable to resist a painful twitch of his mouth as unbearable acceptance of his total and complete failure tonight packed a serious punch through his mind, enfeebling him temporarily senseless. 'Harry's dead, Harry's dead, oh God, I've failed him, I've failed everyone!' Terrified, this pitch-black, consuming thought poured through him, leaving him pervaded by an absolutely freezing, disorienting mist. Gasping throatily breath-to-breath, Remus reluctantly slowed down a bit once he'd navigated a considerable distance from the blood-hurtling centerpiece of the battlefront. Letting himself heave a few deep, life-filled breaths, mildly recuperated he did not waste a spare moment in time before making a full sharp turnaround, returning to face with utter amazement the shocking, surreal scene unfolding: the Dursley home was now for all practical purposes completely demolished, fallen-apart in huge, burnt pieces as still ever-growing flames riveted, catapulted everywhere throughout the home from the inside, and inevitably all that was left was a portrait of a destroyed home disintegrated to smithereens. The heat, even from Remus' fair distance, felt molten-hot, like a burning coal wire slashing into his skin.

Still failing to fathom the utterly shell-shocking sight of true devastation before his wide, haunted eyes, Remus gulped painfully at the thought of Harry's family, too. Unsuspecting, probably sleeping in their own beds, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were absolutely oblivious in that one second prior to their instantaneous deaths. All things considered of course, worst of all, what about Harry? Was he, too, in that house when it exploded? Surely he had been...Where else would he have been? The subsequent thought of them all in their very last helpless moment, in which they recognized complete terror and insufferable pain upon meeting instantaneous, pitiful death, struck a hard chord with Remus, who momentarily felt a rise of nausea engulf him. For a slight moment he could not help but close his weary eyes in solemn acknowledgment of the abomination that had just taken place--

But it was a slight moment too long, for unexpected sparks from a nearby unidentified Death Eater's wand brushed dangerously alongside him, once on his left, then again on his right, and both times missing by mere centimeters. Shaking off all distracting thoughts, Remus did a double-take on his Nimbus and swerved erratically every which way, uncoordinated in his reflexive response; the ambushed werewolf, filled with an embarrassing fear all throughout himself, nearly walked right into his own suicide as he flew straight up, far down, to his distant left, and then halted after a careless soar to his sharp right. Now half-dizzied, Remus breathtakingly proceeded in this dysfunctional coordination across the black sky in a moment-to-moment, improvised evasion tactic.

Finally regaining some grace as he steered his broomstick half-uncertainly, Remus seized a rare chance to take a good look back to the peril which centrally disrupted the cloudless black skies about twenty yards away: dozens of shiny, multicolored sparks shot from each dueler's wand toward his or her opponent, back-and-forth in a seemingly endless sequence of battle; in reality, though, they inevitably found themselves silently just praying that their every consecutive spell would allow them the luxury of living another moment longer. By sheer luck Remus was able to lock his gaze right on Tonks, only to witness a flash of green light suddenly expel upon her, then through her, veracious as ever and deadly as can be...

And then Nymphadora Tonks -- perhaps screaming, perhaps not, as Remus himself was a bit too far off to really hear anything -- flung hopelessly off her broomstick, seeming to hang suspended in midair before falling downward, down all the way until reaching a hardhearted death in vain.

Remus felt his stomach fall back into his chest, suffocating his lungs and shattering his heart to pieces all at once. "NO!" he cried out in disbelief, not caring that he was foolishly attracting attention to himself now. No, in this overtaking moment Remus totally felt himself lose focus with reality, the images and sounds around him fading fuzzily away...

But then he forced himself back to senses, pulling forth on sheer animal instinct alone. There were still the others to be reckoned with, his remaining comrades whom loyally continued to duel opponents midair, and Remus couldn't let them die in vain too. Thinking fast, he gripped his wand and confidently pronounced, "Sonorus!" Now his voice would elevate high enough that the others could hear him when he shouted their preassigned code signal to flee. Feeling ready and unready at the same time, Remus bellowed with every ounce of strength left in him, "...DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY, GO -- NOW!!!!!" Nonetheless, more and more he was still feeling his heart sink, rapidly die into nothingness. Harry was gone and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do about it. No matter what, even in the hypothetical case that they all (minus Tonks, obviously) survived, the entire point of the mission was altogether a complete failure: they'd failed to rescue Harry.

End of story. Plain and simple.

And to really, really seal the deal, even in the remotest chance that Harry HADN'T been at the Dursleys' when the home exploded and was miraculously still alive, he, Remus, and the rest of the Order regardless were without the faintest idea of where to go looking for him now. Yes, all their manpower and resources had essentially been for nothing at all. All their fullest efforts were for nothing but pitiful defeat now, for a shameful concession in which his precious Nymphadora had been forever taken from him.

Without any doubt whatsoever, it all became too much to swallow as the worst night of Remus' entire life grew more and more destructive, with every consecutive moment engulfing him even further into its seize of control over him.

Shutting his eyes for a brief irresolute moment, feeling rather solemn Remus could only pray that every remaining brave Order member who had selflessly signed up for this would, too, somehow survive NOT scathed in vain. Then, throwing in the towel at last once and for all, the now quite grievous Remus Lupin, who guiltily hoped he had somehow still yet to completely fail as captain of this Order mission, held his breath and vanished without a trace.

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The Daily Prophet

August 1st, 1997

"Harry Potter Arrested for use of Cruciatus Curse on Hogwarts Professor; also named Suspect in the Mysterious Murder of Albus Dumbledore!"

By Jane Witherspoon

BREAKING. Harry Potter, the very boy famous for surviving the Killing Curse of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as an infant and, until very recently, the sensationalized "Chosen One" supposedly destined to end the relentlessly ongoing warfare and bloodletting rage of the present wizarding day, was arrested by the Ministry's top Aurors at midnight on July the thirty-first, the precise date of his seventeenth birthday!

The totally unforeseen arrest comes as a great shock to many, most even, as the famous "Boy-Who-Lived" never seemed the type to commit such unspeakable crimes (rather the stark opposite as a matter of fact!). Especially baffling this matter is indeed when weighed against the widespread rumor of recent months which, previously noted above, claims Potter is predestined to once again vanquish the insurgent Dark Lord and the unending horror his heinous acts derail upon us. And yet according to the official report, during the recent blitz attack on Hogwarts at the hands of several notorious Death Eaters -- in which as a noteworthy result the great Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts' long-glorious Headmaster, was tragically murdered -- Potter, who may or may not have been in cahoots with said Death Eaters, at some point inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on his Potions professor, Severus Snape. According to partially revealed contents of a semi-confidential report written by the investigating Aurors, Mr. Snape had been attempting to stop You-Know-Who's henchmen from escaping, and had it not been for Potter's seemingly unmotivated attack, the Potions Master himself assures, "...The Death Eaters would have been stopped."

All too revealing, perhaps, seem these glaring details which Prophet insiders were exclusively made privy to. All the same, however, are these same details not also all too unrevealing just as well, at least as far as the larger scheme of things is concerned? Equations like these remain unsolved. Only adding to the countless unanswered questions, Potter's trial date, say elite Ministry officials, is not set to be announced for at least the next seventy-two hours. Nevertheless, a lead spokesperson for Rufus Scrimgeour, the present-day Minister of Magic, briefly suggested to Prophet insiders that it is the Minister's will to ensure Mr. Potter receives a speedy trial date. Accordingly, "Minister Scrimgeour wishes to prevent any unnecessary delay which would hinder proceedings pertained to Potter's right to due process. It is his deepest fear that these late troubled times have perhaps resulted in a frightening shortage of delivered justice at the higher levels of heinous crime." The fascinating insight from Sir Minister himself, hardly shining light on anything but the utter and complete obvious.

Story still to ever-unfold -- stay tuned to the Prophet for up-to-date coverage!!!!!

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