Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: La Vie Eternelle

Harry sat up straighter and tried to wipe all traces of fear from his face as the door creaked open. Phillipe met Harry's eyes for a moment before standing back and allowing his companion to enter the room.

A tall man in exquisite black robes stepped into the room. He was wearing the hood of his cloak up, and the shadow of it hid the top portion of his face. A snarl of a smile curled his pale, thin lips.

"Very good," the man drawled, stepping forward into the little room. "Oh, very good indeed, Phillipe. You will be well rewarded for this."

The man strode forward a few more paces, reaching up with long, elegant fingers to grasp his hood and pull it back.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

Lucius Malfoy sneered down at him, his wide blue eyes glinting in the pale light.

"You're working for him?" Harry demanded, shooting a disgusted look at Phillipe. "You're working with the people who killed your parents?"

Phillipe's eyes went wide. "'Ow did you--"

"The Fontaines threw their lives away foolishly," Lucius interrupted, "and they would have thrown their son's life away as well -- and all for a set of misguided ideals."

"They were fighting against the Death Eaters," Harry countered. "There's nothing misguided or foolish about that!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. "I dare say you would know," he said smoothly.

"Leave him alone, you coward!" Gwyn cried suddenly rushing up to Harry's side. "He hasn't done anything to you."

Lucius glanced at her with distaste. "Was it absolutely necessary to bring the girl?" he asked, directing the question at Phillipe.

Phillipe hunched his shoulders in his distinctive shrug. "I could not leave a witness," he said plainly. "And it would 'ave taken too long to Obliviate 'er there."

Lucius sighed. "Very well. You will listen to me, Miss Griffiths." His hand slashed out and grabbed her roughly by the chin. Harry struggled angrily, momentarily forgetting that he was tightly bound.

"If you want to survive this night and return to your life mostly intact, you will keep your mouth shut and keep out of the way." He released her with a shove and Gwyn stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet and landing hard on the floor. "Any ridiculous heroics, any attempts to escape," he paused and smiled his thin lipped smile, "and Mr. Potter will have company for his fate."

Lucius turned back to Harry with a sudden gesture and Harry braced for the worst.

"Leviosa," Lucius said. Harry felt his chair begin to lift off the ground and float towards the door. Straining his neck, he turned to see Gwyn. Tears were running down her face as she watched him float through the door.

As soon as they were out of the room, the door slammed shut behind them. Phillipe muttered a locking charm as Lucius set the chair down in the middle of the room. Harry thought the boy looked troubled. He paced across the length of the larger room several times before pausing to look out through the chinks in the wood boarded over one of the windows.

"I have alerted the others," Lucius said in his oily slick voice. "They are already gathering, awaiting my signal. We will all be present for your final downfall at the hands of the Dark Lord."

"Why don't you just kill me and get it done with?" Harry demanded more bravely than he felt.

"Quite the little martyr, aren't you?" Lucius said with amusement. "But I would not presume to take away my Lord's greatest triumph." He smiled repugnantly. "Your death will be the jewel in his crown as he ascends to rule."

"Death?" Phillipe said sharply, turning to stare at Lucius. "They said they want 'im alive."

Lucius' smile grew. "Oh yes," he said softly. "We want him alive... for now."

Phillipe strode forward suddenly. "You are not with the Sect." Harry's head shot up at the mention of the Sect. "You are un Mangemort...

Lucius inclined his head graciously. "I am both." With a flourish, Lucius pushed up the sleeve of his robe and revealed a hideous tattoo on his inner forearm. It was the Dark Mark. Phillipe and Harry watched in horrified fascination as Lucius pressed the tip of his wand against the tattoo. The lines etched in his skin suddenly began to glow red, and then white hot. Lucius' normally placid face contorted in anguish, and he was panting by the time he drew the wand away.

"It is done," he said breathlessly. "The others will come to this place..." he turned to stare at Harry. "And they will clear the way for the Dark Lord to take his revenge."

"But..." Phillipe suddenly drew himself up to his full height and looked Lucius directly in the eye. "I was to give 'im to the Sect. I was promised--" He broke off suddenly, glancing at Harry.

Lucius laughed a short laugh. "Go on. Tell him your price."

Phillipe drew himself up taller. "La vie Eternelle... The eternal life."

Lucius laughed again, this time more sincerely. "Yes, that's what you were all promised, though why you want it I'm sure I don't know." He turned to smile at Harry coldly. "Eternal life in exchange for the life of Harry Potter. Not a bad deal."

Harry glanced at Phillipe who looked mildly stunned, and then back at Lucius. "It was a lie," Harry said without emotion. "It was all a lie."

"Not entirely," Lucius corrected him. "My Master is a man of his word, and if anyone could achieve eternal life, it would be he."

"But he hasn't yet," Harry said fiercely.

Lucius shrugged. "Show me anyone who has come closer."

Phillipe suddenly sunk down onto the floor with a heavy thud. "Vous etes un Mangemort..." he said, his head falling forward into his hands.

Lucius tutted his tongue and shook his head at Phillipe. "Hardly the time or the place to reconsider, my boy," he said condescendingly. "The deed is done. Stop crying about it like an old woman."

Suddenly, Phillipe was up like a shot. Again, Harry was surprised by how quickly the otherwise indolent-seeming boy could move. He drew his wand and pointed it at Lucius. "You killed my parents. You and your lord," he said furiously.

"They killed both of our parents!" Harry cried, desperately hoping to win Phillipe back to his side. Together they could overcome Voldemort's right hand man; alone, Harry doubted if Phillipe would get even a single spell off.

"You lied to me," Phillipe continued, his voice strangely steady, "and now you think to kill us both."

Lucius snorted. "Don't be absurd. You have done my Lord a great service. You have accomplished that which his own ranks of assassins could not."

"I was your lord's assassins," Phillipe growled. "You should know this. They killed the Muggle man in London. They tended my wounds after 'Ogsmeade."

Harry stared. "That was you?" he said. Phillipe glanced at him, but his wand never wavered. "But how...?" Comprehension washed over Harry suddenly. "You're a metamorphmagus..."

"I am what I am," Phillipe replied. "I am not a killer. But I think to make an exception."

Lucius shook his head. He was clearly unimpressed by Phillipe's threats. "It doesn't matter what you think. Your deed is done. If you play your hand cagily and convince Him that you are still useful, you will receive rewards beyond even your wildest dreams. If not, on your own head be it." He turned away from Phillipe deliberately. "But for now, sit down and hold your tongue."

With that, Lucius waved his hand in Phillipe's direction and Phillipe stumbled slightly as though he had been hit by something invisible. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.

A loud crack echoed through the suddenly quiet building, and Harry flinched until he realized that it was the sound of someone Apparating. The door flew open, and a man Harry did not recognize rushed into the room with his wand drawn.

"Is it done?" he demanded of Lucius, but before Malfoy could answer, the other man spotted Harry. "No? Let me do it, Lucius -- I'll make him pay. Crucio!"

In a blinding flash of pain, Harry's world exploded. He shrieked wordlessly as his body writhed against the pain he could not escape.

When the pain finally subsided, Harry's head fell forward, his body limp. His glasses slipped off the end of his nose and clattered to the floor. His head was throbbing, his ears ringing. It was several moments before he could identify what was going on around him once again.

"...be absurd. Do you want to explain to the Dark Lord that you took away his moment of triumph because you wanted to share in his glory?"

"A little pain isn't going to kill him."

"Probably not, but we do not want to drive him mad, either. He may have questions to put to the boy."

Harry tried to focus on what was being said around him, but the memory of the pain in his limbs fought for his concentration.

"Where is my pretty?" a horrifying voice crooned. Harry managed to raise his head and blinked blearily at the source of the sound. He was, for once, quite happy to be as blind as he was without his glasses, but there could be no mistaking the terrifying face of Bellatrix Lestrange bending down before him -- he had seen her in his nightmares too often to mistake her now.

"There's the poppet," Bellatrix continued, reaching out with talon-tipped fingers to catch his chin in her claw. "There's the duck."

Harry scowled at her, mastered his strength, and spat spectacularly in her face.

Bellatrix recoiled, howling with rage.

"Crucio!" she shrieked, and Harry heard his own voice screaming even as he blacked out.

~

There was no way to know how long he had been unconscious. Harry did not bother to open his eyes. He wasn't even sure if he could. His brain seemed to have turned into a vat of glue, forcing his thoughts to swim ineffectually through it to get from one point to another.

There were noises around him. Voices. Sounds. Footsteps. Laughter. There were people near him -- lots of people -- but somehow it no longer mattered.

Nothing matters, he thought groggily, his thoughts muddled and slow to form. Nothing matters. Nobody knows. No one to find me. No one to help me. No one to save...

The sound of a door slamming jolted Harry a little more awake. The Death Eaters were talking quietly around him, grumbling about having to wait, reveling in his inevitable death, worried that an outsider had finally succeeded where they had all failed. Harry couldn't even find strength to care.

His stomach felt like it was filled with lead, and his arms and legs ached. A darkness had begun to seep in around the corners of his consciousness, and it whispered black things into his brain. This is how it ends. They're finally going to figure out that you weren't anything special, that it was all just luck. He inhaled a deep, ragged breath as he heard the creak of the door opening yet again and felt a strange sort of calmness, of relief as he thought It's finally going to be over...

"Stupify!"

The voice cut through the fog in Harry's brain, driving back the darkness. He blinked, staring at the floor. He knew that voice.

All around him, the voices of the Death Eaters raised in protest. People were shouting, screaming spells all around him. Harry tried to raise his head.

"Immobulus!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Crucio!"

"Harry!"

Harry fought against the spell that was still clouding his thoughts. He blinked at the bleary shapes tumbling about before him. "Hermione?" he said, barely able to form the words.

"Fight it, Harry! Throw off the spell. Come on now, wake UP!"

Things began to clear. He could see the edges of the blackness in his mind, and it reminded him of the swirling storm in his Centre. Instead of gathering it in, all he had to do was push it out...

Suddenly, the spell broke and Harry felt his control snap painfully back to him like a broken rubber band. He looked around frantically, but the world was still all a blur. It took him a moment to fight down the panic and realize that he still wasn't wearing his glasses.

Around him, the world was in turmoil. People were fighting. People he recognized. "Hermione?" he called, uncertain if he had dreamed her presence.

"Here Harry -- just one more -- there!"

He heard the triumph in her voice as the ropes around his arms and legs snapped and he fell forward slightly in his chair. She rushed around in front of him, grabbing his wrists, pulling him stumbling to his feet. He looked around; everywhere he could see, members of the DA -- his friends -- were battling Death Eaters. Ginny, Luna, and Padma were cursing Dolohov into submission in the corner. Justin and Neville had stunned Goyle and were hiding behind a shield spell as Crabbe threw curses at them in rapid succession. Tonks had appeared out of the mouth of the tunnel and was dueling madly with Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix hit her with a Crucacius curse, and the young Auror crumpled, screaming.

"You came," he said blearily.

"We have to get you out of here," Hermione said fiercely. "We have to--"

Harry stared at Hermione as her expression changed. Her eyes went wide, and her face went slack. With a little "Oh!" she tumbled forward into him in slow motion.

Grabbing her, trying to support her on legs still tingling from the sudden rush of returning blood, Harry stared in horror at the pale, pointed face sneering at him. Lucius Malfoy watched with obvious pleasure as Harry stumbled to the ground, unable to support Hermione's limp frame.

"Harry..." she whimpered.

Lucius took another step towards them, his wand drawn, his eyes burning with cold hatred. "You have out lived your welcome," he drawled, pale lips curling into a gruesome smile.

"STUPEFY!" a deep voice bellowed.

Lucius did not even have time to turn his head before a bolt of red light caught him squarely in the side. The force of it threw him across the room, smashing him into the opposite wall.

"Lie still," Harry cautioned as Hermione's eyes fluttered open. He sat back on his heels, laying her head gently in his lap. "Don't move. I'll get you out of here."

Hermione shook her head wearily. "Harry," she protested, "I have to tell you..."

"Shh!" he admonished, eyes straining to focus on the chaos going on around him.

"No you 'shhhh!'" Hermione retorted. Harry looked down at her, surprised. "Harry -- I figured it out..." Her eyelids fluttered again, and Harry thought she looked like she was fighting to remain conscious. He put a hand on her shoulder, worriedly.

"I figured... it out..." she repeated, frowning. "It's love..."

"What's love?" he asked, in spite of himself. "Hermione, don't--"

"Listen to me!" She reached up and gripped his hand tightly, grimacing slightly, "I love you, Harry!"

Something flashed in Harry's mind as he thought of Hermione and of all the other people in his life that he loved: Ron, Remus, Ginny, Hagrid, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, Tonks, Neville, Justin, Padma... the list stretched out like a film strip in his mind, each face flashing momentarily behind his eyes. His eyes began to sting as he realized how close he had come to giving up before Hermione had brought him back.

Hermione.

Harry looked back down at her as her grip relaxed, her eyes closed, and she passed out. A warm sensation pulsed against his breastbone and he gasped for the breath driven out of his lungs by shock. Dismayed, he looked up, trying to pick a familiar face out of the insanity raging on around him. It wasn't hard.

Ron was standing a few feet away, his wand still pointing at Lucius Malfoy's inert form, but his eyes, round as saucers, were staring at Harry and Hermione. Harry met his gaze, uncertain what to say. For a moment, the world between them stood completely still, before the shouts of fighting all around them intruded.

Ron kicked Malfoy unceremoniously, ensuring that he was truly down for the count, before rushing to Harry's side.

"She's hurt," Harry said, the warm sensation growing in his chest. "She was hit with something--"

"I know," Ron said quickly, dropping to his knees beside Hermione. "I saw the bastard..." He glanced over his shoulder at Malfoy.

"Stay with her," Harry said, laying Hermione's head gently on the floor. "Get her out if you can." He slowly leaned forward and took her wand from her limp fingers.

"Harry," Ron began slowly. Harry met his eyes for the first time.

"Take care of her, Ron," Harry pleaded.

Ron nodded, mutely, and something dangling from his neck caught Harry's eye.

"Stupefy!" Neville shouted. Harry quickly found his feet and moved away from Ron and Hermione to help him. Only then did he realize whom Neville was fighting.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix Lestrange hissed in her otherworldly voice, and Neville screamed. "You should know better, pretty poppet," she crooned, advancing on Neville as he fell to his knees. "Didn't your mummy and daddy teach you it's not wise to try to hex those bigger and stronger than you?"

"Neville!" Harry yelled, rushing towards them. Bellatrix barely glanced at him. "I think perhaps," she said, advancing on Neville, "that it's time you learned that particular lesson. I am a master teacher. Cruc--"

"Stupify," Neville said firmly, pointing his wand at her. The spell erupted from him, slamming into her at point blank range. Harry watched, fascinated as she was thrown across the room and into the far wall with such force that the room shook.

Rushing forward, he held out a hand to help Neville to his feet. Neville hung his head for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and Harry noticed the heavy gold amulet swinging from a chain about his neck.

"I've got to get to Gwyn!" Harry shouted as soon as Neville had recovered himself a bit. "Get everyone out."

"We're right behind you, Harry," Neville said breathlessly. Their eyes met, and Harry nodded once, turning and hurrying back to the little room where Gwyn was still imprisoned.

"Alohamora!" Harry shouted and the door exploded off of its hinges. He glanced down at Hermione's wand in his hand with shock.

Gwyn was cowering in the far corner of the room. "What's going on?" she cried when she saw Harry rushing towards her.

"We're getting out of here," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.

In the main room, Harry saw a flash of red hair as Ron carried Hermione towards the tunnel while Ginny and Luna ran interference for him, firing spells at the remaining Death Eaters. Justin was limping, leaning on Padma as they ducked into the tunnel as well. Harry fought down panic as he saw the blood on Ginny's face, the pallor of Neville's skin, the crumpled form of his secret bodyguard lying on the dusty floor. But the Death Eaters' ranks had thinned as well; two of their number lay sprawled against the far wall, and four more lay scattered around the main room -- proof of what Harry's little army could do when provoked, and even more seemed to be missing.

They're running, Harry thought with grim triumph.

"Come ON!" Ginny shouted, throwing a final curse over her shoulder as Neville and Luna ducked past her into the tunnel.

"Go," Harry said, shoving Gwyn in Ginny's direction. "I have to get Tonks."

"Harry!" Gwyn protested, but he was already running towards his fallen mentor.

"Please don't be dead," Harry whispered, dropping to his knees on the floor next to her.

"She isn't," a horribly familiar voice said, "but you soon will be."

Slowly, Harry raised his head until he was staring up the length of Phillipe Fontaine's wand.