Diamond In The Rough

"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
and things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

"Lyca!"

Lyca did not respond to the pounding on her door. Nor to the frantic voice on the other side. It was debatable if she even heard them properly. The pounding did not stop.

"Lyca!"

Ever pounding. Like the blood in her head and her heart. Ever pounding. Driving her mad with fear and worry.

Eventually the person outside gave up, and opened the door. Hermione looked at the girl, and looked about to tell her something of importance. Lyca turned her head to look at her, the tears glistening in her eyes, her face white as the sheets she lay upon.

"You know don’t you." Hermione said slowly

Lyca nodded

Walking to the younger woman’s side, Hermione hugged her tight. Whether she hugged to comfort Lyca or herself, she didn’t know. After a few moments, she let go. The tears had started to pour down Lyca’s face now, yet the determined side had returned to her face.

"They left too long ago for us to catch them. What can we do?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Let’s go get the others. And then to the pensieve. I still have some questions left unanswered, and thats the only source we have left to us now." Pulling Lyca to her feet, both of them left the room at a brisk walk.

* * * * *

It was bitterly cold. Harry was chilled through his cloak, the wind making him shiver involuntarily. Draco, on the other hand, showed no sign of cold. He did not look back at Harry, too busy concentrating on the scene before them.

It had taken a long time to get here. Harry knew that if there was a meeting that night like Hermione had said there would be, then it would be staged at the Riddle house, therefore setting them two obstacles. Hogwarts was obvious, that was a non-Apparition point. But, so was the Riddle house. Something about the spell says that if too many people all Apparate somewhere at one exact point in time, then the whole air clogs there, preventing anyone Apparate in or out of it again. And everyone sensed Voldemort die that time, and Apparated almost by impulse. That meant a lot of walking.

The Forbidden Forest held the nearest Apparition point, as that boundary was just that little bit nearer to the castle than the Hogsmeade one. All the same, Harry almost felt that he’d have preferred going the other way. Walking through the trees in the light of the ¾ moon had inspired a sense of doom within him; the sounds of the night playing in his head and making him shudder. Draco had made no response, striding forward in the blue moonlight, unaffected by the eerie shapes that it carved on the trees and shrubbery.

They’d found themselves standing just outside the grounds of the Riddle house after Apparition. It had not taken long to get to where they were now. All the same, Harry was already quite tired. Shifting behind the brambles the two of them were grouped behind, he looked out at what was in front of them again.

A circle of Death Eaters, at least 50, all waiting warily, fidgeting.

He glanced at Draco. "What do you suggest we do."

Draco did not look down; his eyes never left the group some 100 metres away, down the hill.

"Nothing. Nothing until he appears. And then........" he paused, before shrugging, "There’s only one thing we can do."

* * * * *

"Hermione, what exactly do you think we’ll find."

The woman looked up at Lyca as she heaved the Pensieve only the table. "I know exactly what I’m looking for. It won’t take long to find."

"But how do you plan to find the right scene? That thing is totally random..."

Remus shook his head. "A Pensieve isn’t a random object Lyca. Otherwise it’d be useless to us all, including the owner. The owner of the Pensieve is able to pick and choose the memories they wish."

Lyca frowned. "But...we aren’t the owners of this Pensieve. And we can hardly ask things of the dead can we."

Hermione looked up from the Pensieve’s fluctuating silver surface, the shadows it made playing across her face. She smiled a little. "One of the main ingredients of a Pensieve is four phoenix feathers, all from the same phoenix. That makes the Pensieve as much that phoenix’s as it is the human user’s. The reason Harry and I were able to travel so easily to bits that were useful to us before was because Fawkes was with us. He needed only our thoughts to know what we wanted, even though we didn’t know that at the time. I only found out all this with my research. But I know what I want to look at...here we are."

At that moment, Minerva had walked in, the beautiful flaming plumage of Fawkes resting on her shoulder where the bird perched, as it molten gold dripped from it. Upon seeing Hermione by the Pensieve, the phoenix spread his wings gracefully, and flew to her outstretched arm. He looked the witch in the eyes unwaveringly for a second, before whistling a little chord of song. Hermione turned to the others.

"Remus, you come with me. Minerva, Lyca could you remain here? Just whilst we are gone, we shouldn’t be long."

At their nods, Hermione placed her hand above the bowl. Remus followed suit. Taking a deep breath, she plunged it in, and felt herself be suck inwards.

* * * * *

They’d not had long to wait.

Even as Draco had spoken, Voldemort had appeared at the edge of one group, where there was a space between two Death Eaters. Yet Harry and Draco did not move. In reality, they could not. For with him came the rushing return of fear, a fear neither had faced since their seventh year. And a fear which neither wished to face ever again. And though the thought of duty kept them from fleeing, it could not push them down the hill.

He didn’t know how long they sat there watching. He seemed to have little conscious thought right now. The memories were rushing round his head. His first memories, the ones of going through the trapdoor and seeing Quirrel instead of Snape. The later ones, of the Chamber of Secrets, the Third Task...and the final meeting...

Harry wasn’t the only one going over it in his mind. Next to him, Draco’s eyes were glazed over, staring not at what was in front of him, but to the past...

"Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Malfoy spawn."

Draco didn’t know quite how to take being called spawn. But he was far too in awe of the Dark Lord to do anything but kneel like a faithful servant, despite the fact he had no Dark Mark upon his forearm.

"I come to serve you my Lord."

Voldemort laughed. The cold, high sound chilled Draco to the bones, yet still he did not move. He wasn’t sure if he was now frozen by conscious decision or fear. Eventually, the cloaked man before him stopped laughing. He bent down above Draco, so that the boy could now feel his warm breath upon his neck, making the hairs stand on end. Voldemort whispered so that only Draco could hear.

"I want only one service of you...."

Draco did not speak

"Your death...Crucio!"

"Draco?"

Draco’s eyes sprang open, and fell on Harry, who had hold of his arm.

"There’s no way we’re going to get out of this alive Potter."

"You can say that again Malfoy," came a harsh voice from behind them. Both wizards jumped, before rolling onto their backs to see.

Four Death Eaters stood behind them, their hoods up. The light from Draco’s staff lit up their faces, but all that gave light to was their black masks. All of them had their wands drawn, aimed between their eyes at their foreheads. Draco gulped quietly beside him. The one in the middle spoke again.

"You’re coming with us. The Dark Lord wishes to see you."

Draco’s voice snapped back at him. "Still afraid to say the name Goyle? Such a wonderful Death Eater you are. I knew it couldn’t be just an Inner Circle meeting. You’re further proof. Even Voldemort’s not so stupid to place a Goyle their twice."

Goyle launched himself at the wizard on the ground, but was pulled back by another. Without speaking further, the other wizards pulled them to their feet, and lead them down the hill, taking their wands away from them first.

* * * * *

Hermione and Remus landed in the classroom with a quiet thump as their feet hit upon the stone floor. Hermione felt quite at home here. It was her second visit after all. Remus, on the other hand, was new to the place. He looked around him with interest as the students piled in through the door, before looking back at her.

"So, why are we here?"

Hermione pointed at the teacher. "His book is what I want to look at. Now, as we’re not actually ‘here’ we just have to wait ‘til he opens it. But when it does, I’m sure it has some information on the curse. I saw the title when I came here before with Harry. I couldn’t find it in the Library. And it’s the only thing we have left."

They waited for ages. Then, finally, as the enchanted chalk scrawled the words on the board, just as they had the time before, the Professor opened his book lazily, and flicked it to the right page.

Diving to the desk, Hermione looked over onto the page.

* * * * *

"How touching that you should remember to come visit."

Harry and Draco had been hauled into the middle of the circle. Not one of the members had moved, bar the four that had brought them who returned to their places in the circle, after placing their wands before Voldemort’s feet. Harry had to admit that, wherever Snape hid in this group, he was doing it well. Though that wasn’t the primary thing on his mind right now. They’d actually, by no plan at all, got themselves where they needed to be positioned. But, there was the slight problem of their wands.

At their lack of reply, Voldemort spoke again. "Tell me Potter, why did you come back?"

Harry looked him dead in the eye, refusing to let himself quail visibly. "To finish you off again."

The cold high laugh he had heard so many times echoed around them, as if from a time past. "Is that so. Don’t you think that the odds are rather against you? 50 Death Eaters, all armed, and myself. And what do you have? The spawn of a traitor and a sword. No creation of Gryffindor frightens me."

"Nor does that of Slytherin obviously." Said Draco, his voice cold.

Harry looked at Draco uncertainly. They were getting no where. Talking could only take them so far. Draco indicated with his eyes to Voldemort’s feet.

A rat. Wormtail no doubt. Yes, there was a finger missing. Yet...Harry blinked. It was impossible. He had to be seeing things.

Yet there was no doubt about it. The rat was pulling the wands away from Voldemort. Away from Voldemort, and towards them. But Voldemort’s reply brought him back to his sense.

"Slytherin was no better wizard than me. I may only be his heir, but I am also his superior. His serpent couldn’t kill you Potter. But I can."

Have to buy time, I have to buy time. "Is it not a little easy to show you can? Wouldn’t it be more impressive to prove that your servants and underlings can do the same? Or couldn’t they stand the test?"

The rat was almost by their feet, and still un-noticed, as Voldemort spoke. "I have waited far to long for your death to let others deprive me of it. And to kill the traitorous scum that you took from my grasp last time would be oh so very pleasant."

Harry was not even registering the grim circle round them anymore, though Draco still looked round them nervously. The Death Eaters couldn’t hurt them. They were level with any of them. Flicking Draco a glance, he caught his ally’s attention. Keeping his hand by his side, he counted down the fingers. Five. Four. Three. Two.

One.

Both of them dived down to their wands, grabbing them consecutively. The rat was already gone. That didn’t surprise Harry. Pettigrew had taken his time in repaying his debt from the Shrieking Shack. Now it was repaid, he wasn’t going to hang around.

Harry and Draco stood back to back, so every Death Eater was covered. They didn’t draw their wands in response. Harry realised that they’d obviously been ordered otherwise. After all, the good guys never cast the killing cures. And Voldemort would want no chance of losing out on Harry’s death. Harry was on the side that faced him, and talked at him now.

"You’ve got a surprise coming."

Voldemort laughed. "You never surprise Potter. Small, predictable little Gryffindor. You are no more surprising now as you were in your first year. Why don’t you just put the wand down and let me cast it."

Harry did not wait. His mind floating back to the two words written upon the parchment in the Chamber, the words flew to his mouth.

"Expecto...."

Suddenly, he felt Draco grabbing his hand, forcing him down, as a green shot went over his head, hitting a Death Eater next to Voldemort. But Harry was still in full flow...

"...Animus!"

* * * * *

Hermione’s face went white. Remus looked at her with a worried expression.

"What is it?"

She looked at him, her mouth open in shock. It took her a couple of moments to be able to speak.

"It doesn’t just take the soul of the victim."

"What?!?!"

"It...Its takes the soul of the caster too...."

* * * * *

Nothing happened for a moment. Everything reached an absolute silence.

Then, Harry’s world tumbled upside down.

It was like a dagger in his heart. A dagger that was being wrenched out, but wouldn’t come loose. He cried out in agony, almost at the same time as Draco, who moaned in pain. Falling down to his knees, he looked up in front of him.

The sight was spectacular. Three creatures did battle in front of him. First there was, on Voldemort’s side, a huge basilisk, a solid rotting green, silver fangs bared and scales glittering with a light Harry couldn’t see, one far brighter than the moonlight shining above them. Then, opposite that, stood two other creatures. One Harry recognised well. It was his patronus, a silver stag, its antlers locked against the basilisk’s side. It was far fainter than he was used to though. Then, fainter still at its side, stood a black stallion. Its head was held high and proud, a silent whinny of fury leaving it before it reared, kicking out with its forelegs.

With each hit that was laid upon the creatures, either he, Draco or Voldemort cried out. Voldemort’s screams were disturbing, a cold scream that echoed through his brain, bringing back memories of times he never wanted to think of. He curled up on the floor, trying to block out the cries. He’d never felt so much pain in all his life.

Draco was slightly better than Harry was, and definitely more so than Voldemort. He didn’t know what was happening. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. Looking around through eyes blurred with tears, he realised that most of the Death Eaters had run. In fact, only one remained. Not caring anymore, he watched the battle. Slowly, the battling creatures slowed. Each slowly fell closer to the floor, the two four-legged animals losing their strength as quickly as the basilisk. Then slowly, slowly, they all laid their heads down, wounded beyond return. Finally, they all disappeared.

No more screams could be heard. Draco could barely feel anything. He felt like something was missing from him, though what he could not place. Harry looked half-dead, though he still sobbed in his curled ball. Voldemort was still upon the ground, lying unmoving. Draco just knelt there, until a hand lay upon his shoulder. He looked up, not caring that the robe upon the person was black, and that he may well be looking into the hands of his death.

No such luck. Snape.

"You shouldn’t have come here tonight. You fools."

"Thanks Severus, that just made the situation feel all the much better."

"Voldemort may be gone. But there again, so might he," Draco followed the man’s hand to watch Harry. The other wizard had stopped moving, "Look at him. And keep him in his senses whilst I get help. The Death Eaters won’t come back. That little display was enough for their appetite."

With that he left. Leaving Draco with Harry. Voldemort was now no more than a breathing vegetable. Crawling over to his companion, Draco rolled him to his back. Harry looked through him, his eyes glazed. But he did speak.

"Leave me here."

Draco pulled at his arm. "Not likely Potter. You’re coming with me."

"I said leave me. I’m not needed anymore. I’m dying as it is."

"You are not dying. If you are, then I am too. Now get up. There’s no such thing as not being needed anymore."

"It was good enough for Dumbledore. It’s good enough for me too."

"Dumbledore is not always right Harry. He was wrong about this spell being plausible. And he’s wrong about that too. We’re only mortals Harry. We don’t get to pick and choose our time. We aren’t born here for a purpose. You weren’t born to be the boy who lived, and your destiny is not written in the stars. You are what you make yourselves, and what others make you. And right now, I’m going to make you get up. There is no WAY you are going to get away with dying in front of me a second time."

The full meaning of Draco’s last words to him didn’t sink into Harry then. He wouldn’t think about it for quite a while. But he did at that point let Draco pull him up and support him. Together, they walked in the direction of the house, leaving behind Voldemort’s body.

From the brambles a rat watched them go, eyes glistening as the sky started to lighten, and the sun rise over the trees above.

Snape saw them approach, and walked down to meet them. Taking over the support of Harry, he looked at Draco. The younger wizard had something on his mind. He didn’t have to persuade him into airing it.

"A long time ago, after Voldemort’s fall, I found myself delving a lot into Muggle works. To try and see if I really hated them, or just the idea of them. One poem stuck particularly in my mind. The last four lines especially."

Snape looked at him. "Which would those be?"

Draco recited them by rote.

"Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul."

After pausing a moment he looked back at Snape, "I guess that the Muggles had no chance of knowing how wrong that was."

Snape looked back at him, no emotion showing in his dark eyes. "The unspoken isn’t impossible."

Draco did not reply. Slowly, they made their way up to the house