Apprentice Potter
The Return of the Dark Lord
By Draco664
The Return of the Dark Lord
The next fortnight passed quietly. Quietly enough that Zab's eyes and ears in the wizarding world didn't report anything earth shattering, including speculation that Zab had returned from the dead. My punishments were simple -- and painful. First, I simply couldn't visit my friends on Hogsmeade weekends until Zab deemed my punishment done. This was in itself no great hardship, though my friends and I were more than a little upset when I was forbidden from speaking to them in the evenings through the mirror.
It had taken a fair while, but Zab eventually calmed down when it appeared that his secret was safe. He didn't really make my life hell, not being the kind of person whose professionalism is affected by personal difficulties. He did think hard about teaching me other things though, and I'd guess there were at least a couple of things he didn't show me over the next few weeks that he would have under different circumstances.
Not that my freedom was restricted in any other way. I was permitted to visit Diagon Alley, occasionally to purchase something for Zab, sometimes just for me to go shopping for myself. Despite being unhappy with my indiscretion, Zab had been impressed with the level of security measures I undertook myself, allowing me to pretty much step out into the wizarding world every second weekend unsupervised.
I picked up a pensieve, initially balking at the cost, but I wanted to be able to review a lot of my memories from a third party perspective. I didn't want to make the same mistakes I had in the past.
The memories I put in were benign to start with. Snape's expression the last time we met, Malfoy, the bouncing ferret, winning the Quidditch cup in my third year. In the spirit of enquiry, I put in every single memory I had of doing magic as a child.
Though it took some courage to face, I put the memory of what happened before, during and after the third task of the Tournament, all the way through to Fudge refusing to acknowledge Voldemort's return.
In an effort to rebuild the trust between us, I showed that memory to Zab. He sat through it, watching the rebirth of the Dark Lord with stony silence. He watched in surprise as the two phoenix-feather-cored wands joined, protecting me from the other Death Eaters. In the chaos of the final seconds, the details became sketchy, but Zab nodded with approval at how I escaped so quickly.
As we emerged from the pensieve, still looking ludicrously unfilled compared to Dumbledore's, Zab regarded me with an intense expression.
"Please tell me you can understand why Fudge was initially disinclined to believe you. The fact that your wands are brothers explains why they reacted to each other in that rather unexpected way, but the whole scene was unbelievable, bordering on farcical. No, I think the only reason Dumbledore believed you immediately was that he has knowledge of a prophecy regarding the two of you."
I hadn't thought of it in that way. "But if Fudge had listened to Crouch, he would have confirmed my story!"
Zab waved away my indignation. "Again, I'm not suggesting in the least that Fudge acted correctly. The fact that his personal dementor guard kissed a man who was supposed to be dead instead of ordering an investigation implies that at best, he didn't want to hear the truth, and at worst, that he was involved himself. But remember, as a politician, Fudge exists, excuse me, existed in a realm where personal standing and integrity were paramount, and that any hint of-"
"So he was kicked out!" I blurted, before immediately giving Zab a contrite look. "Sorry. I just couldn't stand that prick."
Zab's lips twitched through his goatee. "Understandable. He was barely adequate as Minister during times of peace, squandering time and public resources building a circle of friends and acquaintances he hoped would keep him in A-list society once he had resigned from politics. The vote of no-confidence was held Friday last, and, as expected, Fudge was expelled from his role. In a statement to the press, he claimed that he was being made a scapegoat for errors made by other government personnel, but as of that moment, he was no longer a power."
Though the news thrilled me, I couldn't help but think that Fudge had got away with little punishment, if being publicly ridiculed and recorded in history as a self-serving weasel could be called 'little'. Zab's next words stunned me.
"Weasley appears to be making a fair impact so far. One of the best things he has put forward is Defense against the Dark Arts lessons to adults in the general public."
I blinked. "Arthur Weasley?"
Zab rolled his eyes. It had probably been a fortnight since I'd accidentally asked a question. "Do you know of any other Weasleys in politics?"
At least I had an answer for this one. "Besides his son Percy, you mean?"
Zab's look was one of pure disgust. "You actually believe that idiot has a chance at becoming Minister at any point in his lifetime?"
I shook my head. "Of course not. But Mr. Weasley has three brothers, and six sons. I don't really know anything about his extended family. His daughter Ginny was the first female Weasley to be born in generations. For all I know, there could well be dozens of Weasleys in the government."
Zab scowled briefly, but it was an expression of humour. "Point taken. Yes, Arthur Weasley was appointed interim Minister. Initially, he had minor, but visible backing. Smart money was on Madam Bones, since historically, when going to war, someone with experience in law enforcement has been chosen to lead. But Bones refused the post, and threw her backing behind Arthur at the last moment. As someone who spoke up against Fudge before the midden hit the windmill, his recent reputation was one of integrity. Throw in the fact that Dumbledore and several of ex-Minister Fudge's lower-level personal staff were backing him, and he had just enough support to pip the other contenders."
As I absorbed this, an unbidden memory surfaced, and I burst into laughter. To Zab's enquiring expression, I said, "I think Ron's Divination skills may be more substantial than he thinks. Last year, when it didn't look like Gryffindor had a chance at winning the Quidditch cup, he said that his Dad had just as much chance of becoming Minister as we had of winning the cup. Well, we won. So did his Dad."
Zab's smile grew slowly, but broadly. "I don't suppose this young man would mind making a few vague statements regarding some upcoming horse races, would he?"
My apparition lessons also progressed quickly, considering I was only being instructed in that for an hour every other day. Zab's manor had anti-apparition wards around it, similar to Hogwarts, though nowhere near as extensive. Also, oddly enough, they didn't extend underground. Where the dungeons of Hogwarts were protected by the wards, generations of Zabinis had been taught to magically hurl their constituent atoms across vast distances in a cavern somewhere beneath the manor.
Zab's apparition lessons were conducted in a chamber lit with glowing globes. One globe acted as a portkey, taking us up to the manor, and then down to the chamber again. Without an accurate idea where the chamber was located, apparating directly to it would be impossible, or at least stupid in a very terminal way. The chamber itself was about half the size of a football pitch, with a high, stalactite-encrusted ceiling. The uneven floor added an unwelcome complexity to practising apparition, though the cool, silent environs almost made up for this by being conducive to relax and concentrate in.
Despite being unlicensed, the knowledge that I could now escape from a great many traps gave me a sense of security. The fact that I'd not have to rely on portkeys again for most things helped considerably.
At my suggestion, once I was proficient, we even had a dozen or so mock duels down there. The idea was to use apparition to pop around the chamber, firing off marking hexes to spatter on contact. I admit, I shamelessly stole the idea of a paint gun for this, but Zab actually took to it like a professional.
Though we both started cautiously, apparating so that our backs were always to the wall, soon we were laughing as we popped around the cavern, hiding behind bumps on the ground and in little valleys in the rock. After almost an hour of this, we both took the portkey back, I thoroughly stained, Zab with a few secondary splatter spots here and there. The old guy could apparate and disapparate in less than a third of a second, giving him a rather useful advantage over me. Quickly running through the checklist of what I needed to do to disapparate took me almost a full two seconds. Despite my competitive streak, this was not something I wanted to rush, given the consequences of splinching myself.
Even so, the humour in the situation filled us both, and my faux pas of a while ago seemed to be forgiven.
Once Zab was satisfied with my apparition work, we busied ourselves in his research. Occasionally, we dipped into his family pensieve, searching for clues, with no real luck. He did ask if I was willing to add my memories of Voldemort to the enormous memory store, to which I hesitatingly agreed. I wasn't sure I was happy with the idea that my memories would be viewable by any Zabini in the future, but the fact was that if I was to die in the upcoming war, there needed to be some record of what happened.
Besides Voldemort's resurrection, I put in the battle with a young Tom Riddle and the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, my fight with Quirrell, and the recent battle in the Department of Mysteries. Zab examined all in minute detail, coming to the conclusion that while I had good instincts during a battle, I needed some work in ignoring my emotions in such intense times, as well as serious lessons in identifying and avoiding battle in the first place.
Though the family pensieve was no help with the potion, we had managed to rebuild a great deal of the fractured recipe, but two full steps were illegible. Once more, we branched out into other potions and drafts, trying to determine exactly how this one fitted together.
The breakthrough came when Zab noticed a similarity between a potion for increasing the muscle strength of the drinker had an identical step as the unknown potion. Unfortunately, the ingredients were out of proportion in the two recipes. While it was possible to do calculations to determine the amount of the potion was necessary for an imbiber, Zab's skills didn't extend that far. At least, not so far that he'd risk his life on the results.
"No, we will test the volume of potion necessary to increase strength, and also the duration," he said, meticulously noting down in his journal what the forthcoming experiments would require. "It would probably not be a good idea to experiment on you, Harry. With your body going through a growth period, it may affect you in unexpected ways."
I sure as hell wasn't going to add anything to that. I knew that there were some potions that could be used with impunity on adults, but were poisonous to those going through puberty.
"Well, instead of experimenting on you, why don't I try and get Grawp to help?" I asked. " I can measure him, and it will take far more of the potion to poison him than it will us, so it'll be safer while experimenting."
Zab gave me that blank look, making my heart soar. "Intriguing. We shall have to use a ratio between his body mass and our own, and you will need a baseline from which to test his gain in strength, but that is... not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. Assuming, of course, he agrees," Zab finished, looking at me over his working glasses.
I winced. "Yes, there is that."
I popped into existence on the edge of Grawp's clearing as quietly as I could, pleased that my long-distance apparating was just as good as short distance. Even though I'd only been here a couple of times, I found it surprisingly easy to push myself to a remote location with magic. I suppose having done it before as a child (when I apparated onto the roof of my primary school to escape Dudley and his gang) I sort of subconsciously knew that I could do it again. Despite Zab's instruction however, I was still nervous about apparating without a licence to a controlled area. The Ministry may be overwhelmed enough to overlook the odd trip, but I still thought it would be better to avoid calling attention to myself unless absolutely necessary.
The first thing that caught my eye was a massive fire-pit, live with glowing coals in the middle of the clearing, with a thick, wooden post at either end. Across the two posts sat a long metal shaft, acting as a skewer for a massive carcass. The scent of roasting meat filled the area, and I was at first surprised that the smell wasn't attracting other predators. Though, I suppose even the stupidest predator soon learns that a giant's home is off limits. At least to those who wish to continue to donate the species gene pool.
The roasting pit was not the only new addition. A massive lean-to had been set up against where part of the mound had been. Grawp had obviously excavated the mound into a vague 'U' shape, producing a fairly snug sleeping area, one where he would always be protected from the wind. The changes had transformed the scene, making the clearing seem more like a semi-permanent campsite rather than a temporary dwelling. Despite all this, Grawp was not in attendance.
"Bugger," I said softly, drawing my wand. The fact that it was a giant-sized meal told me that Grawp was still around, and that Bane hadn't managed to make good his threat yet. But I was still worried about how Grawp would react to my presence. While I helped save him from the centaurs the last time I was here, things may have changed. If he was eating, he may not appreciate even friends as company. Hell, for all I knew, he might not even recognise me.
I sat down on a sun-warmed patch of grass at the edge of the clearing, putting my backpack next to me and leaned back against the surprisingly smooth bark on the tree trunk behind me. Zab hadn't let up with his experiments at remote casting; at least, not since he noticed that my range was increasing. At the rate he was going, I'd be able to cast spells from the other side of the house by the time I was Dumbledore's age.
My weariness gently overtook me, and in the unseasonably warm, late autumn sun, I dozed off.
My eyes flickered open at sounds of eating. Either Grawp was moving a lot quieter when moving around than usual, or I was far more tired than I thought. I straitened my glasses and looked over at Hagrid's brother.
Grawp was sitting on what was left of his mound, tearing at the freshly roasted carcass with his teeth. He was holding the skewer bearing the carcass in one hand, with a grubby sheet wrapped around that end to prevent him burning himself. Obviously, the now-unidentifiable blob had been cooking on the pit for some time. After all, it must take several hours for a slab of meat twice the size of a bison to even get to medium-rare.
"Hello, Grawp," I said loudly as I rose, trying not to startle the giant.
He grunted in surprise as he over his shoulder towards me, tendrils of uncooked intestines hanging down from his teeth. My stomach lurched at the sight, and I decided at that point that I would never make jokes about seeing spinach stuck between Hermione's teeth ever again. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, flicking the offal onto the ground, and rose to his feet.
"Haree with big voice?"
Relief ran though my like a reverse cold shiver. He recognised me. Not only that, he remembered something about me that awed him. I nodded, struggling not to smile. "Yes, Grawp. How are you?"
"Grawp good," he said with a big smile. "Not hungry. Not cold. Good food." He held out the metal skewer towards me. Whatever creature was unfortunate enough to have been cooked, its remains were still larger than I was, despite the fact that a giant had been tearing at it for a while. "Haree want some? Meat good," Grawp offered.
"Ah, no thank you, Grawp." I smiled at the giant, wondering if I should approach. "Haree already ate." While he was rather nervous around me the last time we met, I had just blown his tree-sized club from his hand and shouted down a herd of centaurs into submission. I decided to risk taking a few steps. "Has Hagrid been to see you recently?"
A frown appeared on the massive humanoid's face, one I recognised as him not understanding the question. "I mean, has Hagrid been here?"
Grawp nodded slowly. "Hagger come two sleeps ago." Grawp put the skewer back on the roasting pit, rose to his feet and stretched. "Hagger say-," he started, before dropping the sheet held in his hand. His eyes were focused on something over the tops of the trees behind me, and his docile expression slid off his face. "No," he grunted, looking scared. No, looking petrified.
"What is it?" I blurted, looking over my shoulder in vain. Like I could see anything behind me more than a few metres through the thick wood.
"Others," was all he said, in almost a whisper.
I frowned. "Other what?"
"Other big ones!" he almost shrieked, looking terrified. I almost jumped at the sudden change in volume. He stood up on his mound on tiptoe. "There, other big ones," he said, pointing at something distant. I had no idea what direction he was pointing, and without my broom, no way of knowing what was going on there. I looked around for a tree to climb, noting that around the clearing, most had been stripped of foliage and lower branches. I grit my teeth, knowing that there was only one way to find out what was going on."
"Um, Grawp? Can you show me?"
The idea of touching someone with a voice that could be as big as mine seemed to shock him into something resembling normality. He swallowed, but held out a hand. As cautiously as I'd ever been, I knelt on his palm, and grabbed his wrist for support.
Hagrid's brother lifted me up easily, only to show me a nightmare.
A half dozen giants were slowly crashing through the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Even as far away as I was, I could see the press of bodies as they ran in terror from the sight. But there was something odd about the way they were acting. From what I'd thought, these giants would be bloodthirsty, howling for a kill. But they were not actively trying to injure anyone.
An icy shiver ran through me as realisation struck. The giants were not attacking. As relieving as that sounded, the reality was far worse.
They were herding. Herding the Hogsmeade residents and students into a trap.
I looked up at Grawp's face, and I could see that he was terrified. "Grawp!" I shouted, with no response. I swore, drew my wand and cast, Sonorus. "GRAWP!" I said in a normal tone of voice, which still shook the trees at the edge of the clearing.
The giant's head snapped around to face me, looking suddenly more afraid of me than of his kin. "GRAWP! I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU. SOMETHING THAT WILL MAKE YOU STRONGER THAN ANY OTHER GIANT!"
He frowned, not understanding my long sentence, and I rolled my eyes at my idiocy. "HAREE HAS DRINK! MAKE GRAWP STRONG! MAKE GRAWP STRONGER THAN OTHER BIG ONES!"
I scrabbled through my backpack, and drew out the ten-litre bottle of strength potion. I tore the lid off and held the entire container out to him, hoping both that he would trust me, and praying that he could take the lot without poisoning him with a strength overdose.
Tentatively, Grawp reached out and took the container from me, holding it like a shot glass. "Make Grawp strong?"
I nodded. "STRONGEST!"
Grawp swallowed nervously, but tilted his massive head back and tossed the entire container down in one gulp. He blinked for a couple of seconds, then a frown crossed his face. I almost lost my balance when he belched like a thunderclap and started trembling like an earthquake. Almost absently, he lifted me up even further and gently placed me on his shoulder. It was like sitting on a table, albeit an unstable table covered with a greasy tablecloth twenty feet in the air.
Grawp silenced and stood still, looking down at his hands. With sudden determination, he took two steps and snatched the biggest tree he could see from the ground without apparent effort, even slightly losing his balance as the tree provided no apparent resistance.
"Grawp strong!" he shouted in wonder. His massive head turned back towards the encroaching giant force. "Grawp stronger!" He shouted, almost deafening me. With massive strides, he charged towards them, still over a kilometre distant.
Watching a magically strengthened giant run through a densely forested area was a sight no one would ever forget, no matter how much they tried. With each loping stride, I had a sensation of weightlessness, before a shuddering crash as Grawp's foot hit the ground. An instant of crushing weight as he pushed forward and up, and then the weightlessness again.
Throughout it all, the noise of deforestation was almost deafening. Trees that would have towered over even Hagrid simply tumbled and cracked as they struck Grawp's chest, leaving a trail of uprooted trees behind that any wood chipping company would be proud of. It was like he was running through tall grass, for all it slowed him down.
The tree in his grip was being de-branched quite effectively by our rush through the forest. Doing my best to adjust for the I aimed my wand down at it, despite the jostling, and cast an unbreakable charm down at it. Instantly, it started shredding the trees it struck, instead of the other way around.
Though it felt like only seconds, it was probably half a minute before Grawp reached the edge of the forest. The part of the fleeing crowds that were running towards us halted and broke in another direction in terror. Grawp ignored them.
One of the other giants noticed our approach, and my eyes widened as I realised just why Grawp was called the runt of the family. Hagrid's brother hardly came up to their chests.
Not that Grawp slowed. He drew back the unbreakable tree-club in a double-handed grip, and with a battle cry of, "GRAWP NOT RUNT!" he swung the club with all his enhanced strength at the body of the closest giant.
The noise of the connection nearly blew me off Grawp's shoulder. I only just managed to grab more tightly to a secure enough handful of his greasy, hide tunic to prevent me from falling to my death twenty feet below. Once safely tethered, I looked up to see one of the most majestic, terrifying, yet awesome sights of my life.
A thirty foot humanoid flying backward through the air in a beautiful parabolic arc, doubled over from the blow to the stomach.
Grawp gave a roar of pure power, staking his claim of ownership of this area. I was thankful that he was screaming straight up in the air, or my poor eardrums wouldn't have survived intact. As it was, they rang from the war cry. The other five giants stopped their terrorising, and turned to face Grawp.
The nearest one raised his club and closed the distance between us with two hulking steps. The massive club in his hand arced down, and would have driven Grawp's skull into his chest, strength potion or no, had I not cast "REDUCTO", noting that I was becoming rather proficient at the curse. The club turned into a shower of wooden shards, which only attracted Grawp's attention.
With a grunt of effort, Grawp swotted the second giant under the chin on his back swing. The massive creature's head snapped back and his feet left the ground, but his body landed at the same time as Grawp's club slammed down into him with a double-handed blow, powered by all of Hagrid's brother's rage. The strike was hard enough to lift Grawp's own feet off the ground. The stricken giant's ribs splintered audibly and caved easily under the blow, delivered with another shout that Grawp wasn't a runt.
My left-handed grip on Grawp's tunic failed me at that point, and I fell down from Grawp's shoulder without making a single noise, since I was holding my breath in panic. I thudded down on the edge of the fallen giant's stomach, losing my own breath and winding myself at the impact. While it wasn't exactly a bouncy castle, it broke my fall enough that I didn't injure myself in the initial landing, and I rolled over for another six foot fall onto the soft, damp grass. Grawp stood and held his tree above his head and bellowed another challenge.
I got unsteadily to my feet, using my left hand on the recently expired giant to keep my balance. I took a couple of quick gulps of air to get my lungs working properly. Now that I was no longer in danger of falling to my death or being swotted out of the sky by a rogue club, I shouted my approval, the sonorus charm still in place. "GET THEM, GRAWP! GO GRAWP! YEAH!" I shouted.
Grawp gave another bellow and charged the closest pair of giants. With his enhanced strength, rage and weapon, he proved no less controllable to the second pair than the first.
Figuring I could safely leave the remaining giants to my enraged friend, I removed the sonorous charm, and scrabbled underneath my shirt for the talisman Zab gave me. Holding it in my left hand, I said, "Assistance required." Not waiting for said assistance to appear, I turned and sprinted towards the main part of town. If the residents and students were being herded towards a specific point, I'd bet quite a number of internal organs that it was the worst place for them to be.
"Harry! Harry! Over here, mate!" came a familiar voice.
Panting, I glanced over to see almost a hundred younger students huddled together along one side of a stone building, with a handful of older students were keeping them calm and together. Dean Thomas was desperately waving me over. I skidded on the dusty road, turned and jogged over to the group. With a deep breath, I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my wind and slow my heart.
"Harry! There's bloody giants out there mate!" he said, rather unnecessarily in my opinion. I cannot think of any situation where that statement would convey unknown information.
I nodded, clutching my side where a stitch was starting. "Yeah, but there's at least two less than there were a couple of minutes ago before I got here with a friend," I said, just before a muffled crash flattened a building a few doors along. The ground trembled at the impact enough that the stone wall protecting the students began cracking and flaking, threatening to collapse on us. "Oh, shit! Into the street! Everyone!" I shouted, running out there myself.
Two doors down, the giant lying on the collapsed building had one end of Grawp's club held tightly in his hands, the other end stabbed through his chest. While fatal, the blow had obviously wrenched the mighty weapon from my friend's grasp. The three remaining giants had attacked the now unarmed Grawp from different sides, one snatching the tiny giant from behind in a massive bear hug.
Grawp wasn't in the mood to fight fair though. With his arms pinned to his sides, he shifted one hand slightly and took a giant handful of the front of his captor's loin cloth. From the determined bunching of muscles in Grawp's forearm, I'd say he was squeezing hard enough to turn the giant's stones into sand.
The hideous squeal erupting from the throat of the suddenly sterile giant holding Grawp sent shivers of shared pain down the spine of every single male present, to the confusion of the females. The witches seriously had no idea why every pair of wizard's knees pressed together at the sound.
The poor giant let go, and went to clutch at his groin; Grawp took the opportunity and tore his hand away, deciding not to follow suit. Blood from the stricken giant sprayed out with great force from the now opened artery, and I found myself vaguely wondering if I could find a container to collect it. I shook my head to clear it; I needed to think clearly right now.
With the remains of one giant's reproductive organs in his fist, Grawp slugged another in the jaw, nearly tearing the bone from the giant's face. The blow was hard enough to spin the creature around in a circle. Once the full three-sixty was complete, the struck giant gave Grawp an odd look, accentuated by the fact that his jaw was all but hanging from one side of its face, and fell over backwards. The shock travelled through the ground, and we all jumped as a group.
I gestured towards the terrifying fight. "Hagrid's brother is a bit of a handful, isn't he?" I said with a massive grin.
Dean's eyes bulged quite impressively. "That's Hagrid's brother?"
I nodded happily. Grawp was grabbed around the throat and throttled, and we watched with fascination as the smaller giant planted his foot hard into the groin of the last uninjured giant with enough force to lift the two and a half-tonne behemoth off his feet. Another wince ran through the male portion of the group as the giant let go of Grawp's throat and collapsed into a groaning heap.
"Yep. Name's Grawp. Nice guy when you get to know him, a real party pooper when he's pissed. Come on, he's having fun. Let's leave him to it."
"Um, Mr. Potter?"
I frowned at the oddly formal address and looked down at the uncertain face of a young Hufflepuff witch, probably a third year. "Yes?"
She pointed away from where Grawp was explaining the finer points of fisticuffs as it pertained to a small group weighing in at almost ten tonnes between them. The muffled cracks of metre-thick bones breaking were becoming irritating. The fact that the sounds were getting echoes set my teeth on edge. Grawp's repeated claims that he wasn't a runt were becoming tedious too. Given he was delivering a punch or kick with every denial, either the other giants were slow learners or he was working off some considerable stress.
I turned to see a half dozen or so Dark Marks floating up at the far end of the village. "Oh, bugger," I said. I reached out and grabbed the front of Dean's robes. "Right, Dean, take everyone here to the Shrieking Shack over there," I said quickly, pointing to the decrepit building with my wand. "In the main room, you'll find an entrance to a tunnel. Get all the kids into it and follow it to the end. Once you're there, you'll hear creaking and thuds. You'll be under the Whomping Willow. You'll be safe there. Stay there. I'll organise someone to come and get you when it's safe. Got that?"
Dean opened his mouth. "But the shack! It's haunted!"
I growled softly. "So is Hogwarts, and you live there."
He nodded dumbly, then signalled to the rest of the group.
I nodded back, and gave him a shove in the right direction. "Good. GO!"
All but one student ran for the shack. A very familiar witch. "Cho?" I said as the group left me behind.
The tiny Asian witch nodded. "I'm not leaving you this time, Harry," she said with the determination of a Gryffindor, twirling her wand in her fingers.
I gave her a tight nod. "Fine. But you obey anything I say immediately, understand?"
She nodded again. "Yes."
Without another word, I began jogging towards the marks. I counted eight floating at various points. As we ran towards them, I asked, "Your best subject is charms, isn't it?"
She nodded. "I'm top of the class," she panted.
"Do you know how to dissipate one of those? How to dispel it?"
Cho shook her head. "No, it's not covered in any of the Charms' text books. If I knew the incantation I might be able to do something, but I don't think I'm powerful enough to dispel it."
"Morsmordre," I puffed.
"What?" she asked, startled.
"That's the incantation. Morsmordre."
Her pretty features were a mess of emotions, confusion and fear amongst them. "H-How do you know that?"
I realised what she was thinking. In an instant, my expression screwed up into one of intense impatience. "Oh for fucks sake. Look, I was almost standing next to the person who cast it at the World Cup. That sort of thing tends to stick in your memory."
She had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Harry. I promised after last year that I'd always believe in you."
I snorted, slowing to a jog as we neared the first one. "Yeah well, you wouldn't be the first to break such a promise."
Before we could reply we heard a Cruciatus curse being cast from behind a Gladrags, followed by a high pitched scream. I quickly cast a disillusionment charm over Cho and sent her around the far corner, with franticly whispered instructions to stun the Death Eater once I distracted him.
I watched her footprints in the grass disappear behind the far corner of the building. With a deep breath, I cast Imago on myself, silently thanking Blaise for introducing me to that one. Cautiously, I crept down the length of the tight alley between buildings, and stepped out into the rear courtyard to find two figures in black torturing a group of bound students.
One Death Eater, obviously the lookout for the pair, shouted a warning as I stepped around the corner. The other, obviously in charge, spun around ready to curse me, only to hesitate for half a second, trying to decide which of the three of me to curse.
Cho made up his mind for him, casting Stupefy from her cover. The lookout Death Eater slumped to the ground with a sigh, causing the remaining Death Eater to spin and hurl a killing curse in Cho's direction.
The curse crashed against the edge of the building, blowing a fist-sized hole in the corner of the building, setting the edges on fire. Thankfully, the vague outline of Cho I could make out ducked back behind the corner and underneath where the curse struck. My own Expelliarmus picked the remaining Death Eater up bodily and hurled him over his group of prisoners, head first into the trunk of an elderly tree while his wand flew easily to my free hand.
An unexpected and exceedingly unwelcome killing curse was thrown my way, passing through one of my images.
I threw myself flat, feeling another curse zip over my head. Grunting slightly at the impact with the ground, I rolled up into a crouch and cast, "Protego," knowing that it wouldn't stop a killing curse, but might give Cho or I enough time to take out the hidden Death Eater.
Two more hexes sparked off my shield from the unseen assailant before Cho captured his attention with a professionally executed spread of curses. I threw a curse at a compost heap near where the invisible Death Eater stood, showering the area with soft, damp dirt, vegetation and mud.
Even under an invisibility cloak, you can't hide from a short, sharp shower of shit. From behind the partially ruined wall, Cho kept the Death Eater's attention divided, enough that he fell victim to a quick Tarantallegra, which caused him to get tangled in and trip over the edge of the cloak.
A stunner from both Cho and I hit him at the same time. The tableau held for a few seconds before the group of people bound in front of me burst into tears, laughter tinged with hysteria, or pleading for help.
I glanced over to the bound group, feeling like crying myself with relief that no one was hurt. "Any others?"
One wizard shook his head, panting through his gag as though he'd been in the duel too. I recognised him as one of the adults who occasionally worked at the Quidditch shop, and I released him from his bonds first.
"Here," I started, handing him the Death Eater's wand. "Snap it, find the other two bastards' wands and snap them too." I turned to Cho, still only just able to discern her outline. "Cho, let a handful of these people go, get them to bind the three morons, then hit them with enough stunners to have them sleeping for a fortnight, then get them to untie the rest of the group." Orders given, I turned to leave snatching up the invisibility cloak. I hadn't thought to bring mine. It was rather accommodating of the Dark Idiots to supply me with one.
On a whim, I nudged the mask off the Death Eater whose cloak I had just purloined. I rolled my eyes as I recognised Marcus Flint. No wonder he only threw two killing curses at me, he'd have been exhausted after that effort.
One of the freed villagers flicked off the masks of the other two. Goyle Senior and a young kid I didn't recognise. Looks like there's been a jail break.
"Harry, wait!" Cho exclaimed as I threw the cloak on and started to leave. "What about that?" she asked, pointing to the sky.
"Can you dispel it?"
Though I couldn't make out her expression due to the disillusionment charm, I could almost feel her anxiety. She raised her wand and chanted softly for a few seconds, but eventually said, "No, I don't think I can. It's too strong."
I thought for a second, and what crossed my mind split my face into a massive grin.
"Do you think you can modify it?"
A pause. "Probably. What do you have in mind?"
I crept slowly, under Flint's invisibility cloak, towards the next floating Dark Mark, close enough to pick up the hideous laughter coming from the Death Eaters beneath it. I snarled to myself, feeling my anger build. These bastards were so cocky and incompetent that two students had taken down three of them, yet grown men and women ran from them like they were invincible or something.
The laughter came from behind a particularly impressive house. The building was separated from its less impressive, but far tidier neighbour next door with a thick hedge. Thick enough to provide serious cover, but still contained a few gaps to look through. I crept along behind the hedge, getting myself into a position from where I could launch a surprise attack against the two visible Death Eaters, without giving my position away to the probable remaining third.
I didn't get a chance to ambush them however. From my cover, I saw one Death Eater gasp in shock and point to the sky behind me, reaching out vaguely to try and get the other's attention. The other, busy cursing open wounds on his bound captive, was finally distracted from his task turned to see what the problem was.
I turned to look myself, wondering how Cho had managed. It took all of my discipline not to cough with repressed laughter and give away my location. I made a mental note to case a silencing charm on me as soon as possible.
The massive skull's eyes had been slightly enlarged, while it's mouth and jaw had been likewise reduced, giving the overall feeling of a caricature. Cho had replaced the serpent in the mouth with the Sherlock Holmes style pipe that billowed pink bubbles instead of smoke. The fluffy ear-muffs, spectacles and handlebar moustache I suggested had been added to perfection.
All in all, it looked like a child's drawing; about as threatening as a member of a boy band.
The flashing, lightning-bolt on the forehead was an unexpected, yet most welcome, touch. It meant that Voldemort would be quick to blame me, and not the other students for such a sin.
With me hidden, and the Death Eater pair standing still and gawking at Cho's work, I took the opportunity to examine my surroundings to get an advantage.
The building behind me was made of stone, and the well maintained lawn shouted louder than words that the perfect hedge I was hiding behind belonged to the owner of this house. With a grin, I knew just how to take care of these bastards.
I stood, still invisible, and cast, "Accio Death Eaters," over the top of the hedge.
Once I was sure the magic had worked, I ducked and leapt to one side (not an easy move in an invisibility cloak), allowing the two visible threats to slam hard into the unyielding stonework, one flying over the foliage, one through it.
As I half expected, a third shriek accompanied the two muffled shouts, and a third, black-robed body became visible half-way through their short flight, and hit the wall in time with the others. I managed to get off two Stupefy spells before having to dodge a killing curse from one of the recuperating Death Eaters.
Unfortunately, two of the three rose, one very groggy. I cursed at my bad aim. With no thought for the pain involved, I cast "Incindio," in an attempt to ignite the dark robes on all three Death Eaters. With my attention not exactly focused, only one set of robes did anything other than smoulder, but the wearer panicked and tried rolling to put the flames out.
The third witch aimed her wand towards me and cast, "Accio invisibility cloak!" In an instant, I cast a banishing spell, accelerating the cloak so that it struck and tangled the witch instead of being caught cleanly.
I managed to stun the Death Eater still rolling on the ground, his robes still on fire. The witch was still trying to extract herself from the invisibility cloak, so I began chanting Aqueous in an effort to dispel the flames.
Before I finished, the witch finally tore the cloak away, raised her wand and began the killing curse.
Time slowed while my heart-rate skyrocketed. Panicking, and unable to change my mind in the heat of the moment, I finished the Aqueous spell in almost a shriek. Instead of a stream of water like you'd expect from a garden hose, a shocking jet of water like you'd get from a water cannon shot out from the end of my wand and struck the witch in the face, knocking her backwards. The sickening sound of her head hitting the stone wall as she fell indicated she was no longer a threat.
I swallowed nervously, looking down at my trembling hands. No matter how often I'm in a life threatening situation, I'll never get used to the panic. Once more, I took a deep, calming breath. My efforts had left me with three slightly charred, soaking wet, unconscious Death Eaters.
I clutched my heart too, in an effort to try and slow it down, realising that I was breathing hard. Throughout the ten seconds the fight took, my heart probably beat about a hundred times.
I summoned both of the invisibility cloaks, suddenly feeling a little exposed. A few gasps of relief came from the smaller group the Death Eaters had been tormenting, but I just couldn't do anything at that moment but try and compose myself.
An unwelcome noise from behind the pile of Death Eaters startled me, and I was moving before I realised. I dove to one side, cursing that I no longer had the invisibility cloak on, rolled across my shoulder and rose into a crouch. At least that was the plan. I used a fair bit more effort than was required, promptly overbalanced and fell over into the hedge.
I guess my agility on the ground isn't anywhere near as good as it is in the air.
A familiar laugh welcomed my reaction. "Harry, it's just me. And you might need some more practise before trying that."
I grumbled as I rose to my feet, brushing my backside off. "Cho, you've still got my disillusionment charm on you. And I have been practising, thank you very much. I just used a bit more effort than was strictly necessary."
She probably looked down to see for herself, but I was buggered if I could tell. "Sorry," she offered, her voice still tinged with humour. "How did you like my changes?"
I grinned, still a little embarrassed at my clumsiness. "Perfect. Stun those buggers again will you, then help me untie them," I said, pointing over the hedge towards the group of hostages.
Cho set about her task with fervour, hitting the slumbering Death Eaters with a couple of stunners each. If any of them had a heart condition, then they probably didn't any more.
Once the babbling group was freed, I turned back to Cho. "You up to change another one? I think something different this time. We wouldn't want Voldemort to think we were boring now, would we?"
Instead of answering, she cast a stream of chanting charms, and the remains of the group and I watched as the hideous illusion slowly morphed into an oversized skull painted with clown's makeup, a bulbous red nose in the middle, the snake changed to a drooling, slobbering tongue that looked like it had come from a St. Bernard. Or possibly Snuffles. An orange wig topped the changes, and Cho added the flashing lightning bolt on the forehead again to finish. Within two minutes, everyone in the group was free and the change was complete.
Madam Rosemerta, who had been in the captured group looked up. "If that doesn't annoy the Dark Lord, I can't think of anything else that will."
This pronouncement seemingly incurred a detonation overhead, causing everyone in the courtyard to duck involuntarily, with more than a few people screaming. I looked up to see one of the remaining Dark Marks disappearing into a cloud of smoke. I laughed with delight, others were fighting back!
A few seconds later, another Mark began morphing. I simply clapped my hands together and shouted with laughter as I recognised the abused features of Butt appear on the illusion. Instead of a flashing lightning bolt, the three letter W's appeared on the forehead. "Well, it looks like Fred and George are here," I said to no one in particular. "Only they would dare to try to use a Dark Mark as an advertising medium."
A terrified witch who was sitting alone under a tree and hugging her knees looked up at me. "Why are they changing?"
I glanced down at her. "People are fighting back. Now that the giants aren't herding people anymore, the Death Eaters won't be able to spring their traps."
She gibbered to herself, rocking backwards and forwards. "We'll all be killed! We shouldn't fight back! It just makes them worse! I remember!"
One student witch, who I sort of recognised from my last, impromptu DA lesson, grabbed the older witch by her upper arms, jerked her to her feet, and gave her a resounding slap across the face. The sound of palm on cheek echoed around the small courtyard.
"No! We fight! If you want to hide under a tree and piss yourself with fear, go ahead, but I'm with Harry, we're fighting."
I probably looked just as surprised as the slapped witch. "Um, I can get someone to take you to a safe place if you want," I said to the crowd.
"Sod that!" shouted Padma Patil, who I just recognised under the thin veneer of mud and untamed hair.
"Piss off!"
"No bloody way!"
Cho placed a hand on my shoulder, still covered by the charm. "Harry? Don't make us leave this time. You've fought for all of us by yourself enough. Now, it's well past our turn to help."
In the end, nearly fifteen people from the group stayed, while the rest, including a pair of vocally disapproving Gryffindor third-years, made their way to the Shrieking Shack.
It soon became obvious that the while Voldemort and his Death Eaters had put up anti-apparition wards over Hogsmeade, so had someone else. We passed one splinched Death Eater, and couldn't resist giving what remained of him in town a few gentle nudges. And a lot of not so gentle nudges.
"So, they not only trapped us, they've been trapped themselves?" asked Padma.
I shrugged. "Sort of looks like it. I can't tell until we work out who put the other wards up. If the Ministry set them up to keep anyone from escaping until they got here then there could be a problem. But I'd have to guess that either the town council or Dumbledore set them up."
"But why would they do that?" asked an adult we picked up hiding in his devastated home.
I shrugged. "If it was the Ministry, it would be so they could catch whoever it was who killed you all after the fact," I said flatly to a few gasps. "If it was the council, it was because they thought that they had a chance to overpower and catch Voldemort and his idiotic followers."
Cho, whose disillusionment charm had evaporated, frowned and glanced at me. "And if it was the Headmaster?"
I snorted. "I wouldn't even try to assign a motive to him."
Further discussion was halted as we carefully eased around a corner. About thirty metres down the main street, spells were being traded between the Three Broomsticks and the home opposite. Whenever a spell broke through the wall or a window, spells from within would repair and shore up the hole.
It rather reminded me of a muggle science fiction movie, with different coloured lasers being shot from each side of the street. Reds, greens, blues, yellows and every colour in between. Any poor bugger caught in the middle wouldn't need to be buried in a coffin, they could just scoop up the rainbow-coloured remains and bury them in a bucket.
The battle in front of us looked to be a stalemate. Even with one side hurling killing curses, the balance didn't seem to be tipping in their favour.
I turned to the group behind. "Who can cast Serpensortia?"
Twelve out of fifteen hands rose.
"Excellent. Let's add a distraction. Those who can, cast it now."
Thirteen snakes of various size appeared on the road in front of us. I pointed at the building in which the Death Eaters had barricaded themselves and hissed at them, "Go into that house there from the back. Scare and restrain anyone in black robes you find. But do not bite."
Instantly, the snakes slithered away, and at least half the group behind let out a collective breath they had been holding. "Merlin, I've never heard anyone speak Parseltongue!" said one homeowner.
Padma snickered. "Remember when Malfoy cast that spell at you in Lockhart's class? He was expecting you to be terrified, and everyone else to be in awe of his spell casting, but you just told it to sit down."
A couple of other students chuckled at the memory, though it had probably been modified in their minds. I don't recall anyone but Hermione being anything by suspicious at the fact that I could talk to snakes.
After a few minutes, startled yelps and screams began to erupt from the Death Eater's hideout, causing much mirth amongst the group behind me. Such an simple victory did wonders for the spine of the unseasoned wizards and witches. Watching men and women who they were brought up to fear run around shrieking with terror gave their morale an extra boost.
I leaned against the wall of one building nonchalantly. "I could never figure out why people were so afraid of these idiots. Gang up on them, cast a couple of unexpected spells, and they go all to pieces."
A few of the Gryffindors in the group were itching to get into the battle. It took me pointing out that since they were covered in dark mud, charging into battle with people who are casting spells at every dark robed figure they see wasn't the best way to ensure longevity. Friendly fire is not a nice concept.
In any event, the battle, such as it was, soon faded from a raging spell fest into an almost disappointing one-sided triumph, with a variety of hexes and jinxes hitting serpent-fleeing Death Eaters from every direction. The sheer number of spells indicated that there was an enormous body of people in the pub, all of whom would be annoyed at being attacked. Not even Butt looked as bad as some of the Death Eaters lying in the street.
A group burst from the pub, led by two people in auror robes, and flooded the house opposite. More spells were cast, lighting up the windows at the front quite prettily. At least four of Voldemort's followers were caught in the building itself, either wrapped by a boa or on a chair to escape a hissing cobra. All were dragged out into the street and hexed into oblivion.
The members of the home team were surprised initially on discovering that it had been a brace of serpents who had assisted them to victory, but that mystery was solved once I was spotted. Though the greeting shouts were initially so enthusiastic that some of my group weren't sure we would be safe from the battle-drunk mob, their sheer joy proved that we were not going to be attacked on sight. As one, we strolled down the street and met the victors.
It became apparent, to my absolute delight, that the majority of the DA had been eating a late lunch in the Three Broomsticks. Eight Death Eaters had attacked the building, only to be driven into the house opposite for cover. Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Susan had assumed command (despite and over the objections of the two off duty aurors in the pub), and effectively won the battle by driving the Death Eaters away.
Padma found and embraced her sister with a cry of pure relief, and it occurred to me that I'd never realised just how close they were. As I watched them amongst the cheering chaos, Parvati noticed my attention and blushed a deep scarlet. Despite the congratulations and the pervasive joyous feeling of victory, I managed to keep a knowing smile from forming on my face. From what Hermione had told me, Parvati had been teased mercilessly among the Gryffindor girls about the mirror incident. I didn't want to ruin her relief at discovering her sister was alive and well.
There would be plenty of time for teasing once the day was over.
I waved Cho and Hermione over to began discussions on what to do about the Death Mark over us, though I soon had to excuse myself from their conversation. The pair were just talking about illusion theory on a different level than I could follow.
Eventually, they came to an agreement, and joined forces to turn the Dark Mark above the Three Broomsticks into what looked like a magical mini-movie. In a loop, a Monty Python-esque foot would stamp down on the skull, leaving it looking like a two-dimensional skull-shaped road-kill pancake which would slowly fade to be replaced by another Mark, ready to be squashed again. No matter what direction you looked at it from, you got the same perspective. It was a brilliant piece of magical engineering.
Looking up, there was only one Dark Mark left that had not been dispelled or modified.
No prizes for guessing where Voldemort was holding court then.
I blinked my aching eyes open, absently wondering why my shoulder joints felt like they were alight with fire. I tried shifting my arms to relieve the pain, only to have them forcibly wrenched the opposite way. Once the stars cleared from my vision, I craned my neck to see what was happening. Two Death Eaters were holding me by my arms, twisting them cruelly behind my back, not too far from dislocation. My scar was hot, on the verge of burning. With some mental discipline, I forced my Occlumency shields up, and the sensation faded. Once free of the oddly familiar pain, I tried to remember just what the hell happened.
Had I been hit with a memory charm? No, wait. I remembered being in a pretty big battle. I remember diving to the ground as spells zipped by overhead. I remembered driving my thumb into Lucius Malfoy's eye and smashing his head on the ground like I was holding a bowling ball.
Yeah, that's one for the pensieve.
Hell, I even remembered seeing Grawp wade into the fray, sending wizards from both sides fleeing.
I forced myself to think, using every mental discipline I possessed to focus. I had led the main group, not as a general, but as a figurehead. The two aurors from the Three Broomsticks had been directing the mob.
It was on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, on the path to Hogwarts, that Voldemort had set up his flag. Spurred on by the sporadic successes throughout the town, the group of students and townsfolk had broken lines and charged. Despite the efforts of the aurors to keep them back, they just ran forward, flinging hexes in every direction. I imagine it would have been like wolves being charged by sheep.
The main battle had been chaotic, loud and frightening. No matter what I did, I hadn't been able to restore order, and a great many people were being hurt. But for a while, it looked as though the Death Eaters were going to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Then Voldemort had driven a staff into the ground and summoned...
Oh, damn, no. I didn't want to remember that.
The dementors.
Hundreds of the demonic bastards had flooded the scene through some sort of rift. Surrounded by fighting, filled with fear, listening to people scream, I hadn't been able to come up with a happy memory to cast a patronus. Especially not with a dozen dementors closing in on me.
Well, that explained why I fainted.
My scar started itching wildly, and a scaly hand grabbed my chin and lifted my head up sharply.
And here he is, Ladies and Gentlemen. The lord high dickhead himself.
"Well, Potter, I was beginning to think that you were avoiding me. This is the third Hogsmeade weekend that we've been waiting for you to appear to spring my trap."
I took in the scene in an instant. We were on the top of a small hill, the base protected by a ring of floating dementors. Maybe four or five Death Eaters were in my line of sight, staying behind the dementor line. On the other side, I'd guess nearly three hundred people were milling about. I blinked in the sudden light. "Oh dear, who'd have thought that being grounded would increase my life expectancy," I replied absently.
My jaw was sharply pushed to the side, wrenching a muscle in my neck. "Just how are you planning to escape me this time?" he said, his scaly voice filled with confidence and ease.
I snarled up at him, ignoring the pain in my neck, confident that I wasn't going to be escaping this time. "You think I've had plans in the past? Ha!"
He leaned down, and put his face so close to mine that I could smell his breath. "Oh, I know. You've had nothing but luck on your side. Well, it has run out today." A slow, languorous smile spread over his features as he straightened. "Yes, I have. That idiot Dumbledore was forced to show the other members of his so called 'Order' that very prophecy. Most of whom well known, visible, and not trained in Occlumency. I know exactly what the prophecy says." He gestured towards the crowd of people. "As for your friends, they stopped attacking the moment you were captured. So easily distracted, wouldn't you say?"
"They'll fight again," I stated, surprised at how steady my voice was.
Voldemort snatched a handful of my hair, and tilted my head backwards, making my neck muscles scream in protest. "No, they won't. Once you are dead, your 'power the Dark Lord knows not' dies with you. The loyalty you inspire in others is indeed something I do not understand. Why do people follow you when all they have to look forward to is death? Fear is what drives people; it is what makes them follow. When they see that you can die so very easily, they will realise that they can die too, just as easily. Once my dementors gather the crowd, I'll kill you in front of them."
"Fuck, you're an idiot," I said with feeling. "Get yourself a bloody dictionary and look up the word 'martyr'," I spat.
I grunted as something hard slammed into the side of my face, and my glasses tilted, almost falling off. Once the stinging pain and disorientation passed, I looked up, seeing him massage his fist. "Resorting to muggle methods of inflicting pain is crass, yet so very, very satisfying. As for your impending martyrdom, I have something to tell you."
He waved a short Death Eater over, and my stomach turned as I recognised Wormtail, even behind the mask. The silver-handed prick withdrew a scroll from his robes and handed it and a vial to his master, who jerked his head in my direction.
Pettigrew sidled over to me cautiously, apparently trying to stay out of reach and avoiding my gaze. I spat at him anyway. "I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered, ignoring the spittle running down his mask, and he reached out with his silver hand. Not in the mood to be cooperative, I waved my head around, trying to keep my scalp away from him. After a few seconds, he managed to get a grip on my hair, despite my thrashing head. He tore the lock from my scalp without another word. Through the tears of pain that gathered in my eyes, I saw him sprinkle the stolen hairs into the vial for his Master.
Voldemort accepted the addition to the vial from Wormtail silently. Once the rat had finished, the Dark Lord turned to face me and spoke up, waving the scroll in front of my face. "This is a spell that is now charmed especially to you, Potter. Your death will fuel a Dark Mark which will hover over this very spot and will not fade. The cold you feel as the dementors devour your memories will be tied to this place. The despair you feel will flood the heart of everyone who comes near. Your own power will maintain the curse here until the end of days, a permanent reminder of what happens to those who defy me."
I looked around, noting that the small hill we were on gave everyone below a fantastic view of my execution. He slowly drew out his yew wand, and with a smirk of pure pleasure, he began chanting.
I struggled briefly, but the two goons holding my arms were too strong. I tried gathering my magical strength fuelled by my anger, using my fear to amplify it. As drained as I was, it was taking far too long.
Not sure what else to say, I blurted, "What, aren't you even going to use my own wand to kill me, you coward?"
The snarl on my face should have been a clue, but Voldemort's pride was at stake here. With a massive crowd, held at bay by the dementors below, he had to respond to my challenge.
But not as I had expected. Voldemort sneered back. He drew my wand from a pocket, twirled it in his fingers, them pocketed it again, all the while keeping his out. "No Potter, whatever trick you have will remain unsprung." Once more, he drew breath and began to chant. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my soul. Panic filled me, my heart beating wildly. Voldemort's casting caused another tug that felt like something was about to tear me apart. Like something was trying to eat my soul.
The End?