Last Mistake

Chapter eleven - Bloody Reception

Under the vague glow of the moon, terror struck the silent and unknowing home. Inside, a tall figure gracefully appeared through the fireplace. Moving aside, his companion followed him through the roaring flames into the quiet living room. The light of the fire subsided in a flash and both figures were plunged into the darkness of the house. Two wands lit up immediately, illuminating the area.

"I smell blood," a hushed voice whispered.

Lowering his wand, the tall wizard pointed at the spoken substance on the floor. Their boots were submerged in a foul pond of red that they had unknowingly landed in. Stepping further into the room, the amount of blood lessened to small droplets that seemingly lead toward the foot of the stairs and beyond.

The smell overwhelmed Remus' sensitive nose. There was too much...

"Mum!"

Terrified, Ron ran forward, where Molly Weasley lay motionless in what seems to be her own puddle of blood. He quickly felt for a pulse and panicked when he found none. She felt...wrong. Something was wrong. His wand already in his hands, his instincts as a former Auror told him that he needed it. However, before he was able to figure out what was wrong, her body disappeared, as did the blood he thought he saw.

"Stand up, Mr. Weasley and wand down please. I do not wish to hurt you before I'm supposed to."

Ron looked up at a masked face with long black robes, his wand pointed at him. Contemplating his options, he wondered if he was fast enough to stun this man.

"Wand down, Mr. Weasley. I wouldn't try anything if I were you. I doubt my partner will be as polite as I."

That is when he realized that this man was not alone. Another wand was pointed at him from behind. He was still on the ground, where moments ago his heart was breaking at the sight of his mum, who, thankfully, was only an illusion. His instincts told him that nothing could be worst than giving up his wand.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I thought I was pretty obvious, Mr. Weasley."

"You weren't," answered Ron, hoping to distract him.

"Ah, well, sorry about that. I think you'll be flattered to know that I am here for you."

"Why?" Ron asked, his hand gripping the wand tightly.

The man smiled at him ruefully under his mask. Ron saw his opportunity and flicked his wand behind him, stunning one of the men. But before he could turn his wand forward, he felt his body stiffen and froze, trapped by the spell of Petrificus Totalus. The masked man walked forward and took Ron's wand out of his hand.

"You'll find out shortly, Mr. Weasley," he said, pleasantly. With a wave of his wand, his partner woke up from Ron's stunner and with another wave in Ron's direction; he was able to move again.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that to happen again, Mr. Weasley. Since you won't come willingly, this'll have to do...Effrego Crur!"

With their wands in hand, they traced their cautious steps to the trail on the floor. Climbing the stairs, the two men focused their concentration on their surroundings with watchful eyes and attentive ears. Remus had no idea what was going through Dumbledore's mind, who had the uncanny ability to remain calm and clearheaded in troubling situations. Unfortunately, he lacked that ability. Remus didn't want speculate what had happened here, but he couldn't deny the sickening feeling in his gut nor the violent images playing in his mind.

They paused at the top of the stairs, where strangely, the trail of blood ceased to continue. Remus couldn't understand why the trail of blood would just stop, unless someone had managed to apparate right at that spot. That shouldn't be possible with the anti-apparition spell Molly had insisted on keeping the Burrow under.

"Remus, leave now and call the Aurors," Dumbledore commanded.

"Albus, but what about-" asked Remus.

"There is no one here. They have already left and had taken whomever they had hurt with them. Whoever they are also left a trace of magic behind, so we know where to find them. Call the Aurors, Remus. I will be back shortly and hopefully, with Mr. Weasley."

Dumbledore raised his wand to lift the spell over the Burrow.

"Be careful," said Remus, apparating out of the house.

Following his example, Dumbledore left the same way, only to a different location.

----------

His nonexistent muscles would be hurting right now if he had a body. Even then, he felt exhausted, which according to Eaven, was a good thing. And he supposed it was if he went from aiming at Eaven's transparent stomach and punching air in return, to managing to shove Eaven a few feet away. It was progress; at least that's what she keeps telling him.

But he was frustrated. From what he could guess, they had spent at least five hours, where the only thing he did was punch and concentrate. After so many hours, all he had to show for it was Eaven, who now stood about five feet away from where she stood previously.

For some reason, Harry knew that he didn't really have much time. Voldemort's followers were probably planning or gathering the ingredients they need at this very moment. And while that is happening, more people are going to get hurt, especially those close to him.

He had to focus. Whether he liked it or not, he was once again training to fight Voldemort. When he was alive, every waking moment he had was spent on training and conditioning. He placed that above anything else. Every drop of sweat, every breath he took, was for the fight. Nothing else was to occupy his mind but his impending battle with the monster that took so much away from him and the world. And he never stopped, not for one second, to rest, to spend time with his friends, or just to enjoy the one sport he loved, quidditch. Every second, he was learning and finding ways to destroy his nemesis and most of all, to survive.

As time wore on, he forgot what it was like to live. He forgot what joy meant and felt like. He only knew what he was fighting for. His friend. His parents. The wizarding world. Unfortunately, he also forgot the most important thing. He forgot that he was also fighting for himself, his right to a peaceful life, the one he dreamt of, but had never experienced.

That was her job.

It was true that Voldemort planned a grand return. It was true that the world will once again be in jeopardy. And it was true that it is all up to Harry to stop it.

While her duty is to aid him in that task, to give him the tool and to hone his many abilities, her most important task was to make him remember himself and realize the value of life, including his own.

Soon. Soon, he would realize that the hardest battle was not the one against Voldemort, but the one inside him.

----------

It had been a long day and the head investigator couldn't wait to get home to that bed of his. As of late, his office and the entire department had been swamped with an insane amount of cases and their superiors were requesting progress reports daily on these cases. The Ministry heads were no doubt hounding the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Brawry Hemmings, and in turn, he breathed down on those that worked below him, which included Dondres and himself, as they were the heads of Aurors and Investigators.

While Dondres had no trouble passing on the pressures to his team by yelling at them when something went wrong or nothing went on, Leward wasn't the type to blow off steam to his team just because he can. He knew they were all working hard and there was no reason to make things even more stressful.

Leward was also a little worried for his friend, whom he hadn't heard from since the night he helped him escape. With hardly anytime for himself, Sirius and his problems had been put on the backburner. The man...his obsession with finding the killer of his godson was haunting. Although, he had only known the man for a short time, no more than a year, they had once been very good friends. He knew Sirius was still in his period of grief, which was quite understandable. However, the extent to how this grief reign over his friend's behavior, demeanor, and actions...was no doubt devastating to watch.

Under his request, Leward had been working on Harry Potter's case in his free time, trying to uncover the so-called truth that Sirius believed existed. No matter how many times others have tried to tell him that it was just one of Voldemort's followers who had probably done it, Sirius refused to give it a rest till he knew who exactly it was. Although, Sirius had never voiced it, Leward knew that he expected to find more than just some Death Eater accomplishing what Voldemort had been trying to do for years, but couldn't achieve. Even he'd admit that Harry's death seemed a bit too easy. But there weren't any clues. Not a trace.

Leward jumped when he was tapped on the shoulder.

"I thought you'd be long gone by now," said Dondres.

Leward shook his head and grabbed all the papers he needed before following his friend out the doors.

"I got sidetracked," he replied tiredly. The he had a good look at the Head of Aurors, who had one of those rare smiles on his face. "I'm surprised you're still here."

"Had some last minute stuff to do. Of course, that's to be expected when working with a bunch of dimwitted people."

"Give them a break. These few days haven't been easy for any of us."

"Damn right, it hasn't. I'm being yelled at for not doing my part and meanwhile, I've been picking up everyone's slacks. Leward, you're too mild-mannered for you own good. People will take advantage of that. You have to keep those beneath you under control. They work for you, not the other way around."

"Ha, look who's talking. You're the one picking up everyone's slacks," Leward replied, repeating Dondres' words.

"Yeah well, it's not happening again," Dondres said, looking sour.

They reached the apparation site, which was emptier than usual.

"So, why do you seem so happy on such a bad day?"

"Happy? What the hell are you talking about?" Dondres said, disapparating before he could hear Leward's answer.

Leward smiled. Sometimes he wondered why he was friend with such a rude and inconsiderate jerk, but it was times like these that answered that question. Dondres may be rude, and yes, inconsiderate at times, but he was overall, a good guy. Dondres was a man who was tough on the outside, and more caring on the inside than he'd like to admit. Why else would he be an Auror and why would he have picked up after his team?

----------

"You've done everything according to my plan?"

"Of course." The masked man hands him a small bottom that contained something that looked to be white smoke.

"Don't be smug with me. If you did everything right, he should be arriving soon. Once I finish this beer, I'm gone."

"We'll take care of it."

"See to it that you do. Tonight, we kill two birds with one stone. Don't be a coward. The man is powerful, but now that our master is there, death is nothing to be afraid of. Just make sure he...sweats," he chuckled.

"I understand."

"Well, good. We need not worry about the body now. I'm sure the old man will take the red head with him. I've brought a lot of you here. Getting what we need from the wizard shouldn't be a problem. Remember, death is no longer a casualty for us. We win, either way."

-

Sometime ago, he passed out from the pain, his last thoughts were somewhere along the lines of wanting to die. As soon as he tried to move, he wanted to die again. He felt dirty and damp. His robe had tears in them. Underneath the material, he was soaked completely in sweat. And somewhere down his body, all he felt was extreme pain and agony. Other than pain, he felt weak and sore all over. His very bones seem to ache and burn, but they were nothing compare to the pain. They were nothing...

His eyes drooped and he was thankful for that. He had no intention of seeing what they had done to him. He knew it was bloody. He could vaguely feel the wetness if he think less of the pain.

He knew it was broken. That had been the first thing they'd done and it wasn't just one time. After they disapparated from the Burrow and to wherever he was now, they had done it a few more times with casual ease. These people were scary. They had commit these acts of violence in such a nonchalantly way, as if they did this sort of thing all the time.

Before he knew it, his leg was broken and torn in several more places and he lost count after the sixth time. Suffice it to say, he was extremely surprised he was able to remain conscious for as long as he did. Like anyone else in his situation, he wished he hadn't been conscious through it all. Especially, not after he thought they were finished torturing him. Oh no, they did not end there.

The searing pain burned through him when they cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. They were smart. As soon as they cast the spell, he knew their purpose was not to make him insane. For reasons unknown to him, they aimed for his leg again, the same one that they had broken. Even though all the pain was only from his left leg, the feeling was so intense; it felt as if it was everywhere.

He didn't want to think this way. But right now, he wished to be found and rescued or death could come, whichever came first. Either would be equally welcomed at this point. He knew if no one discovered him soon, the latter part of his wish would come true.

Ron Weasley was at his wit's end. He was losing too much blood and his time was running out. And yet, all he could think about was if Harry had been in this much pain before he died. He swore, if he didn't live through this, he would apologize to Harry's face for being the biggest git.

----------

Albus Dumbledore appeared before an obscure looking bar. He was as careful and as cautious as one would be when walking into a knowing trap. Sensing trouble ahead, the wise wizard prepared for a workout of wand waving and duels. Following a path of magical aura that was clearly left behind for him, he disapparated down the few levels below the bar and into what became the basement.

Even as he made his way over to the bloodied body of Ronald Weasley, he felt and anticipated the anti-apparation spell that fell over the building. His knowledge of healing spells, although not extensive, did enable him to temporarily stop the bleeding on Ron's badly damaged leg. Dumbledore could sense a great number of them heading this way. Quickly, and with more ease than a wizard his age should possess, he lift Ron into his arms as gently as possible, while maintaining a hold on his wand.

Ron seemed to regain a bit of his sense when he felt the presences of someone else. He vaguely saw the image of a tall man with a pointed hat.

"Pr-professor?"

Before Dumbledore could answer, the two heard loud footsteps that grew in volume the closer they got. Dumbledore waved opened the locked door and stepped into the narrow hallway. Turning in the opposite direction of the noise, he found an empty room and entered it. It appears that they entered the wine cellar. Many rows of shelves upheld a variety of wine bottles. Some looked to be centuries old and others looked brand new. Another row held wine bottles of liquid with unusual colors.

"They went in there! I saw them!" shouts erupted.

Dumbledore was not worried. While Ron expected the doors to burst open any moment, Dumbledore retrieved one of the wine bottles and tapped his wand to the tip of it. Just as the door did burst open, he handed the bottle to Ron's unexpected hands.

"Remus will attend to you once you land. I suggest you hold tight, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, giving Ron a reassuring nod.

With that, Ron felt a mighty tug on his navel and he was pulled away from the scene of about fifty men surrounding one bearded wizard.

----------

Remus did as he was told and a proof of that was the five Aurors that now swarmed the house. In addition to the new guests, the real hysterical Mrs. Weasley now stood near her bloody living room as Mr. Weasley held her in his arms. So far, Remus was able to figure out this much: the Molly that appeared in Dumbledore's fireplace had been a sham and indeed, he was right in thinking that the perpetrators apparated away because the Aurors confirmed to detecting it. Now they had to figure out how they accomplished that and what their intentions were. He was sure it had been a trap and surely, Dumbledore knew it.

"It'll be alright, Molly dear," Mr. Weasley tried to console her.

"He's right, Molly. I'm sure Dumbledore has already found him and is bringing him back this instant," Remus added.

And at the word 'instant', they heard a loud thump from the living room.

"Ron!" Molly cried, as soon as she saw him on their sofa. She was already by Ron's side before Remus could even blink his eyes.

One of the Aurors saw this and quickly called for a St. Mungo's staff from the floo.

"Oh, my poor baby! Look what they've done to you!" she exclaimed.

Seconds later, two men rushed out of the fireplace. As they conjured a stretcher, Arthur tried to pull Molly aside.

"Come dear, give them some space," he said, having to physically lead Molly far enough away for the St. Mungo's staff to work.

While they were lifting Ron onto the stretcher, Remus wondered where Dumbledore was. 'I hope he's not in danger.' As they placed Ron securely onboard, Remus finally noticed the wine bottle that Dumbledore no doubt used as a portkey. But why didn't he take it with Ron?

Rushing quickly over to the pale-faced Ron, Remus walked next to them as they threw the floo powder into the fire.

"Ron. Ron, where is Dumbledore?" Remus asked, urgently.

Ron seemed to be quite out of it, but he looks as if he'd heard him for a brief second. Then he turned his head to look groggily at Remus.

"He's still there...outnumbered..."

That was all he got before they took him away, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you, Remus," Mr. Weasley padded him on the back before he stepped into the fire after his wife.

After they left, Remus walked over to the sofa where the wine bottle lay. He wondered, would it allow a roundtrip...? There was only one way to find out. Bracing himself, Remus touched the bottle and disappeared at once.

----------

He was at the most unpleasant part of the castle, the hospital wing. He didn't know where Remus was and apparently, Dumbledore had also disappeared. That was fine. He didn't think he'd want Remus here for his first treatment session anyway. Something told him things were about to become much more unpleasant.

"Now Sirius, it's important that you do exactly as I say and I'd better not hear any complains. Even the minimal of mistakes can be damaging to your eyes. So, let's not make it any worst. Do you understand?"

Sirius sighed. "Yes. I understand perfectly."

"Good. Now tilt your head back. I will pour a certain liquid into your eyes to cleanse it first. Not to worry," she said, pouring two drops into each eye. "There we go. Keep your eyes close for a while."

Sirius felt a very cool sensation on his eyes and it was refreshing to say the least. Unfortunately, he knew this was only the calm before the storm. Before it got painful. Fortunately, he had a pretty good grip on withstanding pain.

After nearly three minutes, she told him to open his eyes. Then came the hard part.

"As I've told you before, this will be painful. The reason you can't see is because there are layers of excess tissue over your cornea. This next potion that I will pour onto your eyes will eat away the tissues, so that it will no longer block your vision. However, since the spell that was used on you isn't very common, I can't guarantee that there won't be any surprises."

Sirius didn't really care for her explanations. He just wanted to see again and have it over and done with. However, he was worried. She did warn him before that one session might not be enough, simply because it was a progressive spell. A progressive spell means that the spell has the power to evolve and adapt to any changes, this included possible cures. And most disastrously, it can learn in a certain amount of time, what needs to be done to ensure its survival.

When Madame Pomfrey explained this to him, Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was as if a this spell was not a spell, but something that was...alive. He had never before heard of progressive spells. Not even Remus, the more knowledgeable one of them both, knew or heard of progressive spells. To say that he was worried was an understatement.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius mentally braced himself for the potion. He was lying on one of the hospital beds and seconds later, he felt the restrains of Madame Pomfrey's spell on his wrists, arms, legs, and waist, holding him securely down to the bed.

"Is this alright?" she asked, making sure it wasn't too tight.

"It's fine. Just do it."

Madame Pomfrey placed a rolled up towel to his mouth and he bit down on it hard.

"Remember, whatever happens, try to remain conscious," she said, her voice strangely loud in his ears.

Sirius nodded. He gripped the side of the bed, just as he was informed to do.

With his breathing loudly ringing in his ears, he felt the first drop of the potion on his left eye and then his right. At first, the potion stung like salt. Then he felt a more painful prick to his eyes, like a needle.

'I can handle this,' he thought.

But it soon became more and more uncomfortable and painful. He shut his eyes tight and his hands began to tremble when it suddenly felt like bunches of shards of glass flew to his eyeball.

'It won't beat me,' he groaned.

Unable to control it, tears began to leak out of his eyes, a natural reactant in relieving the pain. But under the circumstances, it did nothing to lessen the sharp pain. Sirius' head started to swarm and pound in the form of a throbbing headache.

'Must stay awake...'

His eyes continued to water and his body shook more fiercely as if in shock. Then as if it couldn't get any worst, it did. He almost blacked out immediately when the pain reached the point where it felt as if he was being stabbed repeatedly in the eye by a sharp dagger.

'Damnit!'

Unconsciously, Sirius bit down on the towel harder, his teeth chattered along with the violent tremors of his body. He tried to keep reality in mind by griping the metal frame of the side of his bed as if it was his lifeline.

'I-I...it-AH...can't...win!'

Sirius managed to stay awake for a few more minutes and had barely heard Madame Pomfrey's shouts. By the time the metal had cut into his hand, causing blood, Sirius finally passed out.