Twilight

Twilight

L.S. Song

Chapter Twenty-Three - Black Plague

It was two weeks after the victorious battle had been fought, and Harry was sitting in the Marauder's room with Hermione, munching on a cauldron cake and some orange soda Dobby had brought up for them.

The week and a half following the end of the war resulted in Hermione and Ginny lying in the hospital wing, both suffering from blood loss, and in Ginny's case, a punctured kidney. It could be seen by Harry that Hermione's implant of Veela blood in Ginny did not nearly have the effect on Ginny as it did on Hermione - luckily for Ginny, Hermione's Veela blood had just enough power to warm up her body at an lightning fast speed, but not enough to totally change Ginny into a veela herself - at least no effects were showing as of yet, besides maybe a slight change to the shininess of her hair. Hermione, however, had looked pretty pale and sickly during her time in the hospital wing, the draining of her own blood surely bringing back unwanted memories. Physically, she was now recovered.

Things had gone over pretty smoothly in the repair of Hogwarts, people all over the place coming to help out at the news of Voldemort losing Hogwarts, many people thought the war was over - nothing had been heard of from Voldemort for the past two weeks.

The muggles, although content for the moment now that no attacks were being made on them, were slightly suspicious about Harry actually destroying Voldemort, until he admitted to them that he indeed had not.

That was the last straw for the General - half his men down and the objective wasn't even achieved - despite the massive win at Hogwarts. It was the last Harry heard of him, as he pulled away his support once again, fuming at the failure to remove the roots of the problems, despite Harry's promises that he would indeed try to defeat Voldemort in the near future.

However, as the wizarding world rejoiced at the apparent defeat of the Death Eaters with the battle of Hogwarts, many were not convinced.

Harry, for one, saw this as bad news, as did Snape and the Order. Voldemort didn't just lay down and let himself get defeated.

Snape now had all of the Order on finding out any of Voldemort's plans.

They had been spending the last hour or so like this, sitting comfortably, Hermione pouring her insecurities about the Veela transformation, her newly gained fright about blood loss, and her horrible experience of abuse by Draco Malfoy, all to a passively still Harry.

He had all the while, sat there patiently, occasionally assuring Hermione, occasionally sipping on his soda. His mind, however, was still on the horrified look in Macnair's eyes as he blasted him off the Astronomy Tower and the loud crack of bone snapping on impact with the ground.

He had heard from tiny Professor Flitwick that Macnair's neck had landed straight on a jagged rock - an image Harry did not care to envision.

The scene constantly replayed itself, and Harry had to focus very hard on Hermione to block it out.

However, he thought to himself, it was Macnair's fault for being a Death Eater scum... he had shot Ginny.

"It hurts, Harry."

His heart broke in two again just at the memory of it.

Bastard.

He deserved it, Harry thought cold-heartedly, turning his attention back to Hermione, who had stopped talking and was looking at Harry with interest.

For the next ten minutes, they had sat in a comfortable silence, until Hermione finally spoke up again.

"Remember when we were in here during the battle and you wouldn't leave?" she said lazily, picking up a pumpkin pasty and munching on it.

Harry frowned.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I used my powers on you then," she said, yawning.

"What I'm wondering is how it managed to work! I'm immune to the imperius, shouldn't the Veela spells be similar?"

"No... you see the imperius plays on your mind, the Veela spells however..."

Harry once again found himself under the Veela sensation, this time much stronger than before, it had taken almost all of his strength not to move at all, let alone try to jerk his eyes away.

"...play on your emotions, your instincts, your desires..."

"Hermione! Why did you just..."

She giggled.

"All right, all right, let's get back before they notice we're missing and send out a search party or something," said Harry.

"You never were this considerate on your little midnight expeditions with Ginny," said Hermione crossly, but then giggled again.

"That's because with those, I was too occupied," grinned Harry.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Hermione teasingly.

"Don't ask."

Harry swung the invisibility cloak over himself and Hermione - they didn't want to give away the location of the Marauder's Room just yet - it was like their own secret world - belonging just to the four of them.

As Harry made his way through the corridors, approaching the Head Boy and Head Girl dorms, he couldn't help but smile despite all that had happened.

The truth had taken a long time to sink in through all the repairs, and the busy, bustling days around Hogwarts.

Home, as they said, was where the heart was.

For Harry, it would always be Hogwarts.

And he could happily say that he was home.

***

Two weeks later, news finally came. However, it wasn't good news, and Harry wished that he had never heard it.

Black Plague Spreads!

One such plague, spread by persons unknown, has swept across the nation in a matter of days. Twenty-six people have already died as of this point, and thousands are suffering.

The symptoms of the Black Plague, as is rightfully entitled by the W.A.R.T. (Wizarding Association for Remedying Trouble), are a high fever, paleness, shortage of breath, and within days, death.

No cure or treatment has been found as of yet.

It is rumored that the plague originated...

Harry put down the paper.

He knew exactly where the plague was originated.

Voldemort.

He immediately jumped out from his seat in the Great Hall, abandoning a plate of mashed potatoes and ham, and heading for the Headmistress' office.

"Animagus," he said at the gargoyle, who was missing a head and an arm.

However, it jumped away, as nimbly as ever, and Harry proceded to the office.

It still took a lot of getting used to, seeing the office without Dumbledore's items and without Fawkes there. However, Harry was pleased to see Dumbledore's portrait hung on the most prominent place on the wall, his eyes twinkling down on Harry.

"Professor McGonagall," he said. Formalities went up again now that they had returned to Hogwarts - it was just natural. No longer were they Minerva and Harry.

"I know, Potter, I know," she said wearily. "It is indeed Lord Voldemort who has spread the plague amongst Great Britain."

"Is really no cure?"

"Not yet."

"What can I do?"

"You can stay here, safe at Hogwarts and save us from having to deal with your foolishness by getting yourself caught," said McGonagall in a brisk tone.

"But!" Harry exclaimed.

"But nothing, Potter. Enjoy your days of peace here, I have work to do... Hogwarts and what's left of Hogsmeade need protective charms against the plague, and in order to provide them, we must find out what the plague is... so excuse me Potter, I am VERY busy!"

Next thing Harry knew, his feet were carrying him out of McGonagall's office, his features disgusted and downtrodden.

Suddenly, the warm halls of Hogwarts disgusted Harry. He wished there was something he could do. No one understood.

This was his fight.

His responsibility.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he ran straight into Ginny, who sprawled over and hit the floor.

Harry swore.

"Sorry Gin, I didn't..."

"You were thinking, most likely upset about Voldemort and the plague, am I right?" sighed Ginny from the floor.

Harry bent over and pulled Ginny to her feet.

The war had done so much damage to everyone, he thought, as he observed Ginny. She looked tired, despite the vitality shining in her eyes.

"Yeah," he said, now slinging his arm around Ginny, as they walked along the practically empty Hogwarts halls.

"You know, it doesn't seem right without the students here," said Ginny, looking around.

"Yeah... its like someone sucked all the magic out of it," replied Harry sadly.

"You know what I want to do?"

"What, Ginny?"

"Fly."

It was a word that Harry had come to associate with better times - he had not flown since Hogwarts had fallen and they were driven out. If they didn't let him help with the plague, he mind as well go enjoy himself in the time he had.

He smiled.

"Right behind you, Gin."

Twenty minutes later, Harry kicked off on his Firebolt, which had been locked safely away in his trunk, which had been strangely untouched during Voldemort's possession of the castle.

As he zipped straight up into the clear blue skies, he remembered why he had always loved flying. Whirling around on his broomstick, he saw Ginny zooming up right after him.

"C'mon Ginny!" he cried joyfully, and zipped away from her.

"Bet you a butterbeer you can't catch me!" he yelled, hovering in mid-air.

He laughed.

Immediately upon his words, a black and red blur streaked towards him, and he barely managed to avoid her, pulling into a steep dive.

For an hour they played around, diving and Ginny chasing furiously at Harry.

When Harry decided to go down to the changing rooms for a drink of water, Ginny dived straight at Harry, jumping off her broom at the last second, and flew straight towards Harry, tackling him.

Harry was steamrollered, and pulling Ginny down with him, they started rolling on the grass, until they were both sprawled on the field, breathless, exhausted, and giddy.

"Caught you! A butterbeer to me!" she said happily.

"More like I caught you," he retorted. "It should be me winning a butterbeer..."

"Oh, technicalities, who needs them? All that matters is I won!"

Harry smiled.

"No I did," he whispered, his mind not on the game at all.

"It was a tie," said Ginny, also smiling.

"Sure was," said Ron, who had snuck up behind them unnoticed. "Care to explain why you're frolicking around with my sister, Harry?"

"Ron, you need a dictionary I think your..." started Ginny, but was cut off by Harry.

"It's a game, I'm sure you and Hermione have played it before..."

"Excuse me?" spluttered Hermione, who had been standing behind Ron.

Harry and Ginny sat up.

"Up for a game of Quidditch, you two?" asked Ginny, changing the topic.

"Up for it? That's why I came down here in the first place!"

Grinning, Ron kicked off on his Cleensweep.

Two blurs followed right after him, and one wobbled slowly upwards.

Some things never change, veela blood or not.

The fact that Hermione Granger couldn't play Quidditch for her life was one of them.

***

Plague Strikes Hard

As of 9:36 AM, 1^st of May, an estimate of 57000 people, including 300 wizards and witches, all identified as to being muggle-born, have fallen victim, and have died a tragic death, all because of this growing menace.

It is apparent that the Black Plague is only targeting muggle blood, be it a muggle-born wizard or witch or a flat out muggle.

The source of the plague has not yet been determined, but this reporter has heard rumors that You-Know-Who is behind this horrible, disgusting plague.

Currently, the W.A.R.T. are focusing all of their research on developing a cure for this epidemic, but no cure has been found as of yet. Rumors are, however, the W.A.R.T. have had a small breakthrough in the terms of the project involving MQ, or Magical Quotient. It is also rumored that the plague works by destroying all of the non-magical cells in one's body - hence muggle-born and muggles are more prone to this disease than a 'pure-blood'.

As this disease is apparently magically transmitted, it is advised that any citizen, be they of muggle descent or not, create a bubble charm around themselves when entering a public area...

Harry placed the newspaper down again and sighed.

Looking up at the enchanted ceiling, he saw it was yet another rainy day. Ever since the last time they had gone out and played Quidditch, it rained every single day - daytime could no longer be identified from night time, so dark were the clouds that gathered everywhere.

In addition to the spreading plague, now many villages had been drowned. Those optimists who thought the war was over now were bitterly resigned to yet another long hard slog against the Dark Lord.

It was obvious the rain was magic induced - it would've been impossible to rain almost three weeks in a row like this - crops must've been flooded all over Great Britain - it was a gift that food could be magically conjured up for the wizards, but Harry pitied the muggles that must've suffered losses from the floods.

Recently, kind-hearted wizards visited drowned cities by night and conjured up food and dry clothing for those muggles, and leaving before they could receive any recognition.

The muggles thought the food and clothes a gift from God, or so Harry had heard.

A day ago, the General of the British Armed Forces had called again, asking if there was another target - and if the rains were magically induced.

Harry had been at a loss.

A week ago, a group of Aurors had tried to break into Riddle Mansion, but even given the precise co-ordinates, it could no longer be seen or touched.

Apparently Voldemort had either increased security, or moved away.

They had no target, and they told the General so.

It was not looking good. Neither the floods nor the plague had been stopped as of yet, and Great Britain had been quarantined by the muggle world.

As of this moment, Harry and Ginny were playing chess.

It infuriated him, that he could do nothing at all to help the situation, and that people were dying whilst he was locked up in Hogwarts with his friends, their families, and those left orphaned by the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Checkmate."

It was the fourth time in a row Ginny had beat Harry, and he sighed.

"You weren't concentrating were you," sighed Ginny.

"I can't... thousands of people... out there... dying... Hermione's parents, Mrs. Figg, the Dursleys... any of them could be dying out there now..."

"Harry, we've been through this..."

"You don't understand. This is my responsibility."

"No!" Ginny cried out in exasperation. "A seventeen-year-old has responsibilities of heading a Quidditch team, or revising for NEWTs, or..."

"I'm not a normal seventeen-year-old, Ginny."

She sighed again. "Harry, you aren't just the Boy-who-Lived. You're Harry Potter also, you're a seventeen-year-old that is brilliant at Quidditch, Head Boy of Hogwarts, and my boyfriend."

"It doesn't change anything. If I had never been born things would be so different..."

"Things would've been a hell lot worse," muttered Ginny.

"But..."

"But nothing, Harry. C'mon, Hermione's told us to come to the library for research again."

A week ago, Hermione had started to badger Harry, Ron, and Ginny to start revising for NEWTs, or in Ginny's case, sixth year exams.

As Ginny smiled and cuddled up to Harry, they walked slowly to the library, in comfortable companionship.

Harry, his mind finally blissfully free of images, concentrated on the freckled little red-head next to him.

"Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Did I... did I ever tell you that I loved you?"

"Yes," she smiled. "But its always nice to hear it again."

"I love you, Ginny... I don't really know how to say it, so I'll just say it the only way I can think of..."

Ginny stopped in her tracks and looked at Harry with concern.

"I... well... just thank you, Ginny. I've never really ever had anyone in my life to ever love me, or for me to love... I just..."

Harry broke into silence.

Ginny blushed.

Oh, how sweet it was to see the blush that had been so absent for so long. The blush that lit up her face, that left a rosy color present long after the blush should've subsided.

"Oh Harry..."

As she tip-toed up and kissed him on the cheek, a loud voice jolted them out of their thoughts.

"Well are you two going to come in, or are you going to keep us waiting all day?"

It was Ron, with Hermione at his side.

Judging by the fact that Ron's ears were red, it didn't seem as if he had been doing much work either.

Smiling, Harry and Ginny followed Ron and Hermione to their usual table in the corner, where a small pile of books had already been piled up.

Harry grabbed the top book from the pile and read.

Veela Charms - A World Full of Passion by R.E. Travis.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Hermione.

She blushed.

"No comment," she said, and grabbed the book from Harry's hands. "Okay, let's look at DADA today... after all it's the subject we need most in recent times..."

***

Lord Voldemort was pacing around Riddle Mansion, alone.

His followers had all been allowed a few weeks of freedom in Riddle Mansion to do whatever they pleased - Lord Voldemort was a generous man to those who followed him.

After the punishment of course.

The idiots had lost Hogwarts, their biggest fortress. With Hogwarts' fall, other fortresses had fallen like dominoes.

But he, the great Lord Voldemort had thought of a plan within weeks.

He had brewed one of the most complex potions of all time - the Draught of the Mummies, a potion that contained the deadliest plagues known ever to the world of humans, taken from the corpse of the Mummy King.

He had fed it to a prisoner mudblood and commanded him, with the aid of the imperius curse, to run amuck in muggle London, coughing and spreading the disease to those disgusting muggles.

So very much like my father, Voldemort had thought to himself. They deserved no less.

However, within weeks, the mudblood died.

Thankfully, the plague had been spread already, and tens of people were infected, in hospitals.

Within days, it had turned to hundreds.

Then he decided to launch his second storm against the world who opposed him. And by storm, he meant it literally.

Gathering around Stonehenge with his Death Eaters, they had created such a downpour that the foundations of Riddle Mansion itself had been hard put against.

However, with a few more spells, they were safe and dry - probably the only ones in the whole of Britain that could say that - besides for maybe the pests in Hogwarts.

But it was not enough.

He wanted revenge.

He wanted revenge on the stupid child who had put him through such humiliation, such defeat.

He wanted the death of the only person that had managed to stand up against him multiple times, now that Dumbledore had been wiped out, he was the last one standing.

That boy... he seemed untouchable.

More times than he could count on one hand he had him exactly where he wanted, and every one of those times he had managed to wiggle himself out of trouble.

It was strange, this boy's ability to survive.

But no more.

Too many days and nights have those green eyes haunted his dreams.

Too many days and nights had that boy stood strong against him, a symbol to the world of Light that he indeed was not undefeatable.

But the boy had finally gone too far.

Taking back Hogwarts infuriated Lord Voldemort.

Shook every cell with rage.

That boy was like a dam, blocking the power of his almighty river.

Slowly, the dam would crack and break.

Victory would be mine.

Voldemort apparated to the High Tower of his mansion.

He lifted his arm.

The raven perching there, carrying his letter to Potter flew away into the sunlight.

His final plan to kill the boy had been set into motion.

He smiled a sickly smile.

This time, his plan was infallible.

By the dying days of the month, Potter would be dead.

Well, not necessarily. Potter, or all of the muggles and mudbloods in Britain.

Much depended on the boy's idiotic nobility.

However, either way it would be a victory.

Potter gone mad with regret and guilt, or Potter dead.

Lord Voldemort laughed aloud, but his voice was drowned out by a clap of thunder.

Without Potter, there would be none in the world to defeat him, none in the world to humiliate him so.

And he, Lord Voldemort, after removing Potter's presence would stand unopposed.

The world would be his to command and conquer.