Chapter 77: T-Minus Twenty HoursSummary:The hour is at hand...
Chapter TextThat night, she dared to enter Voldemort's mind…
A dark room… pale fingers gripping an armrest… cloaked figures kneeling…
"You have the potion prepared, Severus?"
The foremost cloaked figure answered swiftly, as usual… "Yes, my Lord."
"Explain to us again how it works~"
"I adapted a basic Wideye Potion and enhanced its effects, my Lord."
"And the side effects?"
"Minimal, my Lord, so long as we act quickly."
The smallest cloaked figure stirred… "My Lord, let us act in your stead! We can overwhelm the old man, we can claim the wand and bring it back to you!"
"No, Wormtail, all you will accomplish is surrendering yourself back to the Aurors on a silver platter. We- I will do this personally. It is obviously a trap, but Dumbledore will not risk his precious heroine in any way, sentimental old fool that he is."
The largest figure lifted his head… "You will not go alone, my Lord? Dumbledore is sure to have many allies."
"We know, Thorfinn. All of you are invited. Amuse yourselves however you wish with his pawns, but leave the old man to us- to me."
"As you command, my Lord."
Another cloaked figure spoke, the hood doing little to hide his nervousness… "My Lord, may I ask why we must risk this attack? We all know it's a trap, especially when it's at the Ministry!"
The pale fingers tightened briefly… "A fair question, Lucius, one we have asked ourselves many times. Why, indeed, are we risking ourselves by walking into an obvious trap?" The pale fingers flexed and unflexed… "The chance to claim the Elder Wand is too much to pass up. The chance to destroy Dumbledore is too much to pass up. The Ministry is already in our grasp; Fudge's hired warlocks will fight for our side. Once we take the Ministry, we shall march upon Hogwarts, capture Hazel Potter, and England shall be ours."
"Only England, my Lord?"
A slow, murky chuckle… "Do not be greedy, Lucius. The rest of the world will fall to us in time~"
Hazel retreated from his mind, having learned all she needed. Voldemort felt the need to drug himself for the battle to come, did he? She wondered if it had anything to do with his daylight inactivity. Had he really become part vampire or some damn thing?
In the morning, Hazel woke up and did her morning things, then dug out the enchanted robes she had worn during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. The charms had dimmed slightly, but she could get Kreacher to renew them. She wore them today, not only for the enchantments, but because she could wear her revolver under them, in a holster at her back, and because it had pockets she could stash her speedloaders in.
When the rest of the castle was gathering for the Hogsmeade trip after breakfast, Hazel stood by to keep order in the queue, but she wasn't going. She was going to finish her homework, then gather everyone in the Room of Requirement for some last-minute warm-ups and drills before they left for the Ministry that afternoon.
That was her plan, anyway. It got shot to hell when Ismelda came up behind her. "You're wanted in the Headmistress' office~"
"P-Professor! Don't sneak up on me like that!" She'd been so quiet Hazel didn't hear her, and nearly drew her wand.
Ismelda just laughed. "Get over yourself, Potter. Hurry upstairs like a good little rat~"
Still fuming, Hazel went upstairs, wondering if they were leaving early. She had her wand, her gun, her spare ammo, her enchanted robes, all her rings and pendants, the Cloak and the Stone. Did she need anything else? Less responsibility, perhaps.
She arrived at the office to find the gargoyle already standing aside, and thus proceeded up the stairs. The door was open as well, and McGonagall was waiting at her desk. Tonks was lounging against one wall, and Maya was fidgeting next to the fireplace. Hazel leaned against the wall too, using her shoulder so the gun wouldn't dig into her back.
One by one, the others came up as well, teachers and students alike; Grindelwald was the last to step inside, resplendent in a black suit with gold trim. Once everyone was present, McGonagall stood. "I won't waste time with gruesome reminders, I'll just remind you all to be safe, fight hard, and come back alive. Follow the orders of Professor Dumbledore, of Mad-Eye Moody, of Miss Tonks, and Miss Potter, in that order. Be aware that your foes will attempt to kill you regardless of your age, and respond accordingly."
There was a chorus of "Yes ma'ams" from the assembled war party.
"Very good. All of you gather in the center, the portkey is about to leave." A tattered length of rope uncurled from her desk and floated in midair in the center of the room, and everyone swarmed it to grab hold; Hazel found herself sandwiched between Fred and Neville, which wasn't her first choice.
Neville noticed the gun in her back. "Hazel, what's th-"
"I'll tell you later, Neville."
"But-"
"Later."
"O-Okay…"
McGonagall had one eye on the clock on the wall. "Brace yourselves. Three, two, one-"
Yoink! That feeling of being yanked along by the belly button slammed into them all, and Hazel closed her eyes to keep from getting sick. They all jostled back and forth until the ground slammed into their feet, and Hazel barely remembered to brace herself to keep from falling over.
They had arrived in the foyer of 12 Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore, Sirius, the whole Order were in attendance, along with Madam Bones and several Aurors. Hazel shook herself free of the scrum and approached the old man. "Sir, I learned last night that Voldemort intends to use a special potion before the fight."
"What manner of potion, Miss Potter?"
"An altered Wideye Potion."
"Brewed by Severus, no doubt."
"Yes sir."
"Very well. My thanks, Miss Potter." He bowed over her hand, then motioned her aside so he could address the entire gathering. "You all know why you are here. Tonight, we ambush Lord Voldemort and put an end to decades of war, terror, hatred and bigotry. We have the Order of the Phoenix, as well as Madam Bones and her finest Aurors, and a hand-picked selection of the fiercest young students and professors from Hogwarts. Last and least, myself and my old friend, Gellert Grindelwald."
There was a rousing cheer, and it spread throughout the ranks. Dumbledore let them cheer, then raised his hands for silence. "Now, we have confirmed that Voldemort has eyes and ears within the Ministry, likely among the ranks of the miscreants Minister Fudge has hired to supplant the Aurors. Our arrival will not go unnoticed, and we expect the attack to begin shortly thereafter. You students, I encourage you not to stand and fight in the open; I do not question your skill or the level of training Miss Potter has put you through, instead I urge you to consider a tactical approach to the coming battle."
Fred laughed. "Don't you worry none, sir. Bro and I arranged a bit of a shipment into the Atrium a few days back, so get us up to the security desk and we can unleash hell!"
"Right you are, Mr Weasley. Any other points of order?"
There were none, and the old man nodded. "Very good. Rest up, all of you. We make our move at sundown."
Instead of resting, Hazel made her way downstairs to the gun range for some target practice. She set the moving targets to their fastest and most difficult setting, and worked on accuracy and reload speed for a few hours; once satisfied with that, she cleaned her hands and her gun, refilled her speedloaders, put everything away and went up to the library, where she found Hermione practicing spells out of a nasty-looking old spellbook. "You alright?"
"Not really. I was all fired up earlier about getting to fight, but now-" she paused to cast; the training dummy melted into a puddle of glowing sludge- "-now I'm nervous, and I don't like being nervous."
Hazel nodded. "I'm a bit nervous too, if I'm being honest. You'd have to be inhuman not to be at least a little scared before a big fight." She paused, then reached out and took her hand. "You're not getting second thoughts, are you?"
Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I just keep thinking about what Ron said, about his bad dream. Do you think it could come true?"
Hazel made sure they were alone before answering. "I do think that, yes. It wouldn't be the first time, remember in fourth year? That weird dream he had?"
"Oh yeah, you're right." Now her eyes were full of wonder. "Does Ron really have the Sight?"
"You'd have to ask Professor Grindelwald. He seems to have some way of testing for the gift of prophecy; he checked me for it, and I don't, but he called me a child of prophecy anyway."
"That's weird."
Hermione wasn't in the mood for fooling around, so Hazel gave her a kiss and moved on. The others were putting in some last-minute practice in the ballroom; Luna and Neville were conspicuous by their absence. Hazel watched for a minute, and seeing nothing to criticize, she kept going.
She hadn't heard or seen anything by the time she reached her bedroom, but that didn't mean anything; Luna probably knew all the privacy spells she did. Hazel undressed and lay down for a nap, even though she wasn't remotely tired; at the least, she could relax until it was time to leave.
On the ceiling, the portrait Luna had painted was asleep, which for some reason helped her relax too. That portrait was a sassy little thing when it was awake. She amused herself by imagining what it might say if it was awake and could speak. Eventually she nodded off doing this.
A while later, she woke up to the feeling of Luna sliding in next to her. The Hazel in the portrait was awake too, and it grinned sappily at Luna. Real Hazel frowned at how sweaty Luna was. "I'm not going down on you, you know."
"That's fine, Neville was very vigorous as usual."
Hazel gagged. "I'm guessing you didn't rinse out, either?"
"Of course not, why would I? I knew you wouldn't be in the mood." Luna hummed to herself and idly traced her fingers up and down Hazel's body. "I like to imagine it'll stick one day~"
"Dammit Luna, I'm trying to rest up here."
Luna heaved a very put-upon sigh. "You're so close-minded, Hazel. But I love you anyway." She kissed her and went back to tracing patterns, and Hazel grumbled to herself but tried to lie back down. Her portrait was blowing raspberries; she mentally flipped it off and shut her eyes.
Despite the distractions on offer, she nodded off once more.
Chapter 78: Zero Dark ThirtySummary:Hazel goes all in.
Notes:Canon typical violence to be found in this chapter.
Chapter TextIn no time flat, Winky was shaking them awake. "Mistress Hazel and Miss Luna must be awaking!"
"We're up, Winky, we're up." Hazel stretched, yawned, crawled out of bed, did some quick warmups and got dressed with a flick of her wand; next to her, Luna did the same things, along with some scouring charms to get rid of all sweat and evidence left over from her time with Neville.
Downstairs, it was nearly time. Molly had a table of snacks and drinks and she was anxiously pushing everyone to eat something to keep up their strength. She saw Hazel and Luna walking in and pounced. "Hazel, Luna! Eat something before you leave, can't have you fighting on an empty stomach!"
Hazel wasn't remotely hungry, but she took an apple and some juice anyway, just to keep the peace.
There was no pep talk, no rallying speech. Just men and women, boys and girls, waiting for the final order to move out. Dumbledore stood in conference with Mad-Eye, one eye on his pocket watch. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Finally, the old man snapped his watch closed and put it away. "It's time. We'll be apparating into the Ministry; if you're too young or not confident in your apparition skills, find someone who can."
Hazel went straight for Remus, whom she remembered had a knack for transporting luggage via apparition; he gave her a small smile and held his arm up for her. Ron and Ginny went for Fred and George, while Draco and Pansy approached Narcissa; Susan and Hannah went for Madam Bones, Neville took Kingsley, Luna went for Grindelwald, and Hermione and Cho kept to themselves.
"Everybody ready? Right then, in three, two, one-"
Hazel shut her eyes as the squeezing sensation of side-along apparition engulfed her.
When the squeezing and sucking stopped, they were standing at the far end of the Atrium. The few Ministry wizards still working were just now heading home, if the lines at the Floos were any indication; they all froze at the sight of the war party, and Dumbledore blocked the fireplaces with a sweep of his wand. Apparently he wanted witnesses.
"Students, hide." Hazel pulled the Cloak out and swung it over her shoulders, and the rest cast Disillusionment Charms over themselves. Except Fred and George, who crossed the hall to the security desk; the patrolling warlocks, weirdly few in number tonight, were unsure what to make of the crowd, of the grizzled fighters advancing with wands out.
Dumbledore was calm as he waited for everyone to get into position. Fred and George ducked behind the security desk, and threw thumbs-ups over the top, which meant their shipment of goodies had arrived. The Aurors and Order members took up positions in the shadows of the Atrium, and the students hid by the fountain. Madam Bones, Mad-Eye, and Grindelwald stood behind Dumbledore; Hazel, invisible beneath the Cloak, lingered near the old man too.
Minutes later, dark shapes began apparating into view at the far end. Voldemort and his forces! No hoods or masks tonight; everyone was done hiding. Hazel could see Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rowle, Lucius, Wormtail, Dolohov, Crabbe Sr and Goyle Sr, a hulking and feral man she assumed was Fenrir Greyback, and others she didn't recognize. They were joined by the grubby warlocks from around the Ministry, and among them was Minister Fudge!
Hazel wondered if he was subject to the Imperius Curse.
Lurking apart from the rest, off to the left, was Patricia Rakepick, who wore a form-fitting set of red robes beneath a black cloak. She was a far cry from the emaciated figure in the papers; whatever regimen Snape had subjected them to had worked, she and the others were back in fighting trim.
Speaking of Snape, where was he?
Hazel had no time to look, however. The grownups were speaking. Madam Bones went first. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, you and your associates are hereby under arrest! Minister Fudge, kindly remove yourself from this rabble if you don't wish to catch a curse in the face!"
Fudge showed no reaction to the threat, which confirmed Hazel's suspicion. Voldemort laughed, and the sound echoed all around. "On what charges, Madam? We are simply visiting our seat of government, that is no crime~"
Bella was panting, bosom heaving distractingly beneath her black corset, her gaze flicking from Sirius to Tonks to Neville as if she couldn't decide who had to die first. "My Lord, my Lord, let us not waste time, let us begin the killing~"
"Not yet, Bella dear. It is not weakness to allow your enemies a chance to grovel for their lives."
"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom." Dumbledore spoke calmly, the Elder Wand held casually in one hand; Voldemort's eyes found it immediately, and gleamed with greed. "You always were arrogant and greedy, I'm afraid."
"What you call arrogance, I call ambition! What you call greed, I call merely claiming what is already mine!"
While the adults argued, Hazel got an idea. She drew her revolver, cast silencing charms on her shoes, and sneaked around the edge of the encounter, moving toward Rakepick. She was no expert on human anatomy but she knew the liver and kidneys were somewhere in the gut, with the liver mostly on the right side of the body. She jabbed the barrel of her gun against Rakepick's right side, and used Legilimency to communicate silently: That's a Smith & Wesson Model 625 pressed against your liver.
Rakepick's composure remained outwardly solid, but Hazel saw her tense up slightly. Potter, I assume? That noseless bastard was certain you wouldn't show up.
Well, he was wrong. How much are they paying you to be here?
One hundred thousand galleons.
I'll pay you twice that if you betray them and fight for us when the time is right, and twice that again to drop your wand and surrender when the fighting is over.
Assuming I survive, you mean.
That's up to you, isn't it? Have you even been paid yet?
I have, actually. I'm guessing you haven't got half a million galleons on you tonight? Sorry kiddo, I always get paid in advance.
Hazel pressed the gun in tighter. Fair enough. I'll throw in a pardon for all your crimes, and I won't blow a hole in you right here and now.
You have neither the influence to secure a pardon for anyone, nor the guts to shoot a fellow human being in cold blood.
You really wanna bet on that? Hazel cocked the hammer and pressed in harder.
Rakepick's expression tightened again. No, I suppose not. Fine, bring me a quarter million galleons within the next twenty minutes, and I'm on your side.
You'll have it within ten. She uncocked the gun and withdrew, slinking deeper into the shadows. Voldemort was shouting something, Madam Bones was responding, Dumbledore looked bored. Everyone's attention was in the middle of the Atrium.
Hazel knelt behind a pillar, lowered the hood of her Cloak, and summoned Kreacher. "Kreacher, quietly." The old elf appeared, gobsmacked at the scene before him. "Kreacher, focus!" She removed her Black heir ring and pushed it at him. "Take this to Gringotts and withdraw half a million galleons in my name. Do it quickly; if they refuse, remind them why it's a bad idea to snub the House of Black. You have five minutes."
"As Mistress commands." He took the ring, bowed, and disappeared with a faint hiss. Hazel stayed where she was, anxiously counting down the time; why wasn't anyone acting? Why were they all standing there, listening to Dumbledore and Voldemort argue like an old married couple?
Five minutes on the dot later, Kreacher reappeared, clutching her ring and a bulging sack of gold. She took both, and found the sack to be much lighter than a sack holding that much gold had any right to be. It was no bigger than a purse. "Thank you, Kreacher." He disappeared again; she put the ring back on and raised the Cloak's hood again, approaching Rakepick from behind. Put your hand behind your back.
Rakepick did so, under the guise of shifting her stance; Hazel put the purse in her hand, and watched her weigh it, twitch a finger on her other hand to cast some kind of analysis spell. Well well, the full fee. Smart girl.
I have my moments. Now, keep playing your part until I give the signal, understand? You'll know it when you see it.
Can you be more specific, brat?
It'll be when I appear in the open, hag.
A corner of Rakepick's mouth twitched. Fine. Don't keep me waiting. The purse disappeared, and Hazel went back to her own side of the hall.
The talking, it seemed, was coming to an end. Voldemort was coming unhinged. "There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!"
"You are, as always, wrong." The old man was still infuriatingly calm, though he had tightened his grip on the Wand. "There are numerous fates worse than death, like the sad shadow of existence your followers inflicted on Frank and Alice Longbottom."
Bella cackled. "Liked that, did you? I see little Neville's here tonight, maybe I'll do the same to him~!"
Neville was quick to retort. "Over my dead body, you bitch!"
Voldemort's wand was suddenly in his hand. "Enough of this! AVADA KEDAVRA!" A jet of green light spat forth toward Dumbledore, who calmly deflected it with a chunk of marble from the floor.
Instantly the room descended into chaos! Fighters on all sides surged forward, picking their foes! Bellatrix cackled as Sirius, Tonks and Neville all fought her at once, and she pranced and capered, dodging their spells and responding with curses of her own. Hagrid came out of nowhere and delivered a series of punishing blows, taking Rowle, Crabbe Sr and Goyle Sr out of the fight before it even began. Then his pink umbrella came out and he started casting, and though the spells he used were school-rank, he cast them so powerfully it didn't matter anyway; the warlocks guarding Fudge were quickly overwhelmed. Dolohov was blasting his way through the scrum to reach Hermione and the students, a sick look on his face, but was intercepted by Viktor Krum and a whole contingent of Durmstrang graduates!
On the other side of the hall, Fred and George were setting off fireworks and pockets of shadow, and using flashy, fiery spells to draw attention and decimate their foes. Most of the Ministry warlocks and mercenaries were getting sucked into their chaos. Draco and Narcissa were attempting to pierce the chaos to reach Lucius.
Hazel wasn't sure which way to turn, which fight to focus on. Dumbledore and Voldemort were in the center, making the entire Ministry shudder with the force and violence of their duel; Grindelwald was toying with his many opponents, ducking and weaving with the agility of a man far younger; Madam Bones was a force of nature unto herself, though she restrained herself to binding, non-lethal spells in keeping with her oath as a law enforcer; Fudge, ever the bureaucrat, was an ineffective duelist, mostly screeching for his men to protect him while he fought against whatever compulsion bound him to this fight.
Hazel wondered who was controlling him. If she could knock them out, she could free him and get them out of here. She looked around for Rakepick, who was taking on Talbott, Penny, Ismelda, Charlie, Barnaby, and Maya all by herself. Rakepick! Who's got Fudge under the Imperius?!
Rakepick didn't pause her fight, and she didn't waste time questioning her either. That tall warlock with the scars on his face! I don't know his name!
Thanks! Hazel turned, found the scarred man locked in combat with Moody and the others, and threw Slytherin's dagger at his back; he crumpled without a sound, and his opponents wasted time looking for whoever had finished him. But Hazel was still under the Cloak, so the dagger disappeared back into her control and they never had a chance.
Glancing back, she was gratified to see Fudge suddenly falling to one side like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and cast a silent Incarcerous to take him out of the fight altogether.
A sudden explosion from the center drew everyone's attention, and all other duels paused. Dumbledore had fallen to one knee, and Voldemort had the Elder Wand! "Too slow, old man!"
Shit! Hazel hurried forward, but time was suddenly moving at a snail's pace. She'd gotten distracted trying to save everyone! Her feet felt like boulders, the air felt like molasses, Voldemort wasn't wasting nearly enough time gloating!
She couldn't hear a damn thing through the rushing in her ears, but she saw him raise the wand, start to say those two deadly words. And in the split second between finishing them and the Elder Wand lighting up, she desperately reached out with her magic, attempting to redirect the spell.
Amazingly, it worked. The Elder Wand twisted in Voldemort's hand, and the green light shot toward Hazel instead. She kept her eyes open, watching that lethal green light streak her way, ignoring every instinct that screamed for her to move, to react, to do anything but-
The green light slammed into her forehead, and everything went dark.
Chapter 79: PurgatorySummary:It all comes down to this.
Notes:See the new tags. Notice the new tags. Study the new tags. Be at one with the new tags. You shan't be warned again.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextFor a long, painful moment, that darkness was absolute. Then the pain faded, and Hazel slowly regained awareness. Awareness of what, though? Everything was very quiet. No sound at all except her own pulse. Why wasn't she panicking? She should be panicking.
What the fuck happened just now?
She opened her eyes, and found… more darkness. Well, it was more like fog, but such thick, dark fog that it may as well be darkness. What was she lying on? She pushed herself up and realized two things. One, she was naked, but that didn't bother her due to the fog. And two, the floor seemed to be marble.
The fog was neither hot nor cold, but a neutral temperature that seemed quite comfortable. Hazel wished it wasn't so-
Oh. There, it was receding, just as she thought that.
"Am I in the Room of Requirement?" How the hell had she gotten here?
The floor beneath her feet was definitely marble, dark with streaks of gold. The fog receded further as she took a few steps forward, and suddenly she became aware of a sound. A gasping, whimpering, pitiful sound, furtive and shameful, like an infant that couldn't catch its breath.
Realizing she wasn't alone, and that she might be with children, Hazel wished for clothing. A simple black dress appeared on the floor, and she scooped it up and put it on; it was warm and clean and soft, and its slight weight was reassuring in its own way. Thus armored, she approached the source of the shameful sounds.
It was indeed a child, an infant. Skin flayed raw and red, it lurked beneath a chair, struggling for breath, beating the floor with its tiny, impotent fists and feet. She didn't dare get too close, but she didn't trust it not to do anything indecent if she turned her back or got too far away. So she hovered and looked around instead.
The more she looked, the more she felt like she was on docks of some kind. And just as she realized that, sound and smell rushed in; the lazy slosh of water, the smell of brine and salt. She stood on a stone quay, and as the fog receded further, a single black ship came into view, its sails tattered, its hull aged and withered. But where were the sailors? Where were the other passengers? Why couldn't she remember what had happened to send her here?
"There you are!"
She gasped and spun about, and saw two people approaching from the darkness. One, a grown man with messy black hair and a devil-may-care grin, and the other, a woman with long red hair and lurid green eyes. Very familiar green eyes.
"Mum? Dad?"
"Still a bit shaken up, I see." The woman smiled, and her eyes sparkled, and Hazel felt a sudden profound sadness. "Try to remember, dear."
"I… I remember a fight. A bunch of old geezers." As she spoke, the memories came back to her; plotting and training, and being yelled at, and yelling. Spells, guns, wands, violence. Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort.
Fucking Voldemort.
"I guess I fucked it up then, didn't I? The spell hit me, and now I'm dead."
"You sure about that, Hazey?" He was still smirking like an asshole. "That thing back there is dead and dusted, but you? Nah, you got some fight left in you."
"You don't have to stay, Hazel." Lily smiled, and hugged her. "You can come with us, and be assured they'll finish the job. Or you can go back, wrap it all up yourself, live a life free of his influence."
Either one sounded nice enough to her. The urgency of the fight, of all her plots and schemes, was gone. "Come with you, where?"
"To the afterlife, of course."
"But Dad, I'm the Mistress of Death. I should be able to come and go as I please."
He shrugged. "Maybe you can, maybe you can't. This isn't the time for experimenting."
Hazel turned and looked out over the water. The fog had only receded so far, and resisted all her efforts at making it brush aside. The ship was huge, a massive three-masted galleon. Gold letters at the stern said, Morrigan.Why was her ship named after an Irish fairy queen?
"So my plan worked. I'm not really dead, Riddle's soul is gone, I'm intact and he's mortal, and I can go back any time I wish."
"Yes, dear. Why do you suppose it worked?"
"I dunno." That was a lie. The answer came to her even as she spoke the words. "Wait, I do know. When he brought himself back, when he used my blood."
"That's right, Hazey. You didn't let him take it, you gave it up. And that fucked up his little ritual, made him weak and mad and stupid. But more importantly, it preserved your mother's sacrifice."
"And our bloodline, the Gaunts. Sacrificial magic is fine and well, but it helps when it's backed up by ancient family power: Death is final, even when it isn't."
Death is final, even when it isn't.
Hazel stood there, in the darkness, watching the sea slosh about, breathing in salt air and brine and freedom. Freedom to die, freedom to live, freedom to decide for her own damn self.
"Shouldn't Death be here? I am his Mistress, after all."
No sooner had she said those words than a presenceappeared behind her, and her parents' eyes widened. She turned and beheld a familiar, skeletal, cloaked figure.
"You called for me."
"Am I really free to go back?"
"Of course. Your enemy's curse struck that-" it pointed at the struggling, indecent thing beneath the chair "-not you."
"But I'm also free to go on."
"Of course. That is a choice all living beings may make, mortal and immortal alike, any time they wish."
Death's voice did not stir the air, but it was heard nonetheless. Lily and James were silent, holding onto one another, as Hazel faced her servant. Or was she the servant?
"You know I'm going back. I have to finish the job. I'm only fifteen fucking years old, I can't even apparate yet!"
Death bowed its head, and for a split second, Hazel thought she could see its face; the curve of a bony jaw, bare teeth forever grinning. Then the hood fell back into place. "Even were you not my Mistress, that is a choice you are free to make. Go back, Hazel Jade Potter."
"Give 'em hell, Hazey!" "Go, darling, live the life we never could."
Hazel turned and hugged them both, and this time she felt their arms, holding on tight around her shoulders. "I love you both. I'll see you in time." She gave them each a kiss, then turned and walked away, up the dock, without looking back.
The black fog rushed back in, the smell of the sea receded, her ears were full of rushing again…
When she opened her eyes once more, she was back in the Ministry. Everything hurt, especially her head. The Cloak was all tangled up from when she had fallen; she pushed it aside with a groan and forced herself to her feet.
"Potter!" "She's alive!" "Hazel!"
Across from her, Voldemort was likewise struggling to his feet, assisted by Bellatrix as always. Hazel quickly stuffed the Cloak out of sight before he could fully recover his senses; he didn't need to know exactly what happened.
"You…" He raised the Wand again, but a snap of her fingers ripped it from his grasp.
"Too late, Tom. You walked right into our trap, didn't you?" The rush of power from grasping the Elder Wand once more drove out the lingering aches from her temporary trip to the border, and she twirled it absently. "You're mortal once again, baldy. You wanna keep going, or quit while you're ahead?"
"Surrender? To you?" He laughed at that and pushed Bellatrix away so he could duel once more, whipping his old wand out again. "I may be mortal, Potter, but you won't kill me tonight!"
"Oh, I disagree." She started slinging spells, her power surging within her, the Elder Wand singing in her grasp. Around her the battle resumed, but she wasn't alone; Dumbledore and Grindelwald were attacking as well, keeping Voldemort pinned down. Bella and Lucius were there too, doing their best to help their Lord, but their power was nothing compared to the three surrounding them.
Hazel quickly remembered something Grindelwald once told her: Old age and treachery will always triumph over youth and exuberance. And she saw the truth of those words now; she was strong, true, she had a breadth of skill, but she didn't have the depth of knowledge the three old men before her had, nor the experience.
Dumbledore was a behemoth in battle, slow-moving, purposeful, deflecting curses with casual flicks of his wand, apparating in and out of existence to avoid unblockable spells. He moved as little as possible, yet his spells made the ground tremble and the air burn. Grindelwald and Bellatrix shared a dueling style, capering and full of movement and mockery, yet his power far outstripped hers, and she was quickly rendered irrelevant.
And Voldemort, with his sinuous, snake-like dueling movements, swaying back and forth, reading her movements almost before she made them. Even on his last legs, he fought as hard as ever, and she was hard pressed to keep up. If she had been alone, she would have lost, easily, even with all the power at her fingertips.
But she wasn't alone, and that was Voldemort's undoing. One by one, his forces fell, killed or subdued. Rakepick had revealed her turncoat nature and was attacking the Death Eaters and warlocks in the back, and Hagrid was on a goddamn rampage of magic and brute power. Draco and Narcissa had finally broken through the scrum and were dueling Lucius two on one, and Lucius was obviously conflicted to be facing his only son, if not his ex-wife.
Even while fighting for her life, she saw the moment when Lucius gave up, when he stopped fighting. His lord and master was looking on, but he would not harm his son. Voldemort snarled, but he could not turn away to reprimand his lieutenant. Draco sensed it too, and before Narcissa could do anything lethal he bound his father in cords to remove him from the battle.
Soon, Voldemort was alone. Bellatrix had been taken down by Neville, Sirius and Tonks, the other Death Eaters were subdued or killed, the survivors trussed up and hauled aside to be arrested later. Fudge was being guarded by Madam Bones herself. The grubby warlocks had long since surrendered.
Voldemort screamed in fury and unleashed a blast of raw magic that knocked everyone away from him. "I am Lord Voldemort! I am immortal! I will not die here!" He aimed his wand at Hazel-
-and that was when Snape's potion wore out. His knees gave way and he fell to the floor, wand clattering away. "No!"
"Yes!" Hazel was quick to Accio that wand to her hand, where she put it away. "You're done, Riddle!" At last she drew her revolver, advancing to stand before her foe. She had no intention of simply blowing his brains out; she would give him a choice, a choice he had never given any of his victims.
"Alright Riddle, this is it. You're gonna die in a minute or so, there's no getting around that, but how you die is up to you." She twirled the Elder Wand. "Be a man for once in your wasted life, feel some remorse and regret, and you get to die like a man. Like a wizard. But!" She brandished the revolver. "If you can't be a man, then I'll have to put you down like the broken creature you are. I've seen the fate that awaits you if you don't, you don't wanna spend eternity that way. It's up to you!"
She had rehearsed those words countless times since coming up with them months ago, in her bedroom at Privet Drive. And she thought they still sounded badass, at least to her.
Voldemort stared up at her, unable to believe his ears. "Remorse? Are you trying to heal me before you kill me, Potter?"
She shrugged. "Sure, why not? Remorse is the only way to heal your soul, right? I figure you'd want the option, that's all."
Hazel wondered what she would do, if she were in his shoes, if some upstart with tits too big for her shirt had a gun in her face, mouthing off about remorse and regret as if they meant something. She didn't have to wonder long, she knew exactly what she would do; throw their choice back in their face, tell them to go fuck themselves. Hell, she might even snatch the gun out of their hands and save them the trouble.
To his credit, Voldemort really did seem to be trying. She wondered what was going through his mind as he tried to summon up a scrap of regret and remorse, whether his fear of an ignominious death was stronger than a genuine desire to restore his soul at last.
He was afraid of the gun, she realized. And that meant he recognized it.
But in the end, he was too broken and proud to admit guilt and regret. "What was it you said to me, that night in the graveyard? Oh, yes: Take your mercy and fuck yourself with it, then!" He was defiant, as if he didn't truly believe she would give him an animal's death.
"I guess that's your final answer." She raised the gun, took careful aim, cocked the hammer. Hesitated. Once she pulled that trigger, there was no going back. She would be a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, with a hundred witnesses. No take-backsies.
She had given her word. What was worse? To be a murderer, or an oath-breaker?
"Step back and guard your face, Potter. Unless you want his blood and brains all over you." That was Moody, breaking the tension in his own way; a ripple of uneasy laughter swept over the Atrium.
Voldemort didn't seem to have heard. Hazel, figuring Moody knew what he was talking about, cast an Impervius Charm around her face instead of backing away. "Any last words, Riddle?"
"Get it over with!"
"If you say so." She pulled the trigger.
The crack of the gunshot echoed throughout the atrium, and several of the witnesses flinched. The gun jerked in her hand as the hollow-point bullet sped from the chamber. It struck him in the face, just below his eyebrow, between the eyes. The result was not remotely pretty; his eyes turned to jelly, blood and bits of cartilage flew everywhere, the deformed bullet punched through the back of the skull and caused a wide swath of gore across the floor. More blood and brain matter erupted from his ears and his eye sockets. His body jerked, then slumped backwards, and even more blood and brains pooled below it.
Someone screamed, but it sounded dim and distant. Hazel looked up, saw Bellatrix Lestrange break free of her bindings, snatch her wand from Neville and strike him down with it, and aim it at her. She saw that pretty mouth, contorted with rage so it wasn't so pretty, forming those fatal words.
She brought her gun up, but she was afraid she wouldn't get it there in time-
Curse and bullet went off at the same time-
Someone jumped in between, taking both, their body slumping over instantly-
Hazel fired again on autopilot, and this time no one stopped that bullet from striking Bella in the shoulder and nearly taking her arm off-
Hazel looked down. The body was Ron. His final expression wasn't panic or fear, but peace. His dream had come true, and he had died without regret.
Sound was restarting. People were screaming, running forward, restraining Bellatrix again, throwing themselves on Ron's body. Hazel tried to say something, but the words choked up in her throat. She passed out instead, as adrenaline faded and a wave of grief, pain, and exhaustion swept over her. The gun clattered to the floor before she did.
Notes:Apologies for the delay in updating, I rather agonized over this chapter.
Chapter 80: Much to Atone ForSummary:Hazel wakes up, and the world will never be the same.
Chapter TextHazel's dreams were not kind. Years of emotional repression, of Occlumency and sociopathic compartmentalization, had failed at last. Every bad decision, every death that was on her hands, was replayed. Quirrell, Lockhart, Rookwood, Lestrange, Voldemort. She was back in those horrible places, in that chamber beneath the school, in the Chamber of Secrets facing down a giant snake with lethal eyes, dealing with the totality of the Dark Arts-infested bullshit that was her third year, in the graveyard where so many people died. She was in the Department of Mysteries, she was in Voldemort's head, she was in the Atrium, she was standing over Ron's body, Voldemort's body, all the bodies.
This repeated a lot.
An indeterminate amount of time later she woke up with a start in a hospital bed, and Snape was standing over her, inscrutable as always. "Potter."
Her head was still groggy, and she could only stare at him for a few moments as she reassembled her emotional barriers. "Sir. You're alive."
"As are you."
"I didn't see you during the battle."
"I should hope not, as I was not present." At her confusion, he huffed a sigh and went to sit down. "The Dark Lord fully expected to walk away from that battle, Miss Potter, and he did not care to risk my life. My skills were all that kept his life bearable at that point."
"He seemed to think claiming the Elder Wand and capturing me would be the keys to restoring his life and his mind."
"I encouraged him to believe such things. It was useful to keep him from going too far off the rails." He handed her a vial of something purple. "Drink this."
She drank it. It tasted bitter, but it helped to clear her head. "Thank you sir. Who, um, who all died?"
Snape leaned back and crossed his arms. "On our side, Madam Bones lost a number of Aurors, Remus Lupin is in critical condition at St Mungo's, Bellatrix killed Mr Longbottom, and Mr Weasley of course gave up his life for yours. On the other side, Fenrir Greyback was put down by Lupin, while Dolohov, Crabbe Sr and Goyle Sr were taken out by Hagrid, Longbottom killed Bellatrix in his final moments, and several lesser servants of the Dark Lord also lost their lives. Not to mention the Dark Lord himself."
"What about Wormtail?"
"All evidence suggests he chose the path of the coward, shifting into his rat form and escaping for his life once the battle began to unfold. Your godfather is currently leading a nationwide manhunt for him."
Hazel closed her eyes and sighed. "Too bad about Neville and Ron and the Aurors. At least Ron knew what he was doing." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at that, and she elaborated. "At one of our final meetings, he told us all about a prophetic dream he had where he died to keep someone safe during the battle. The person he saved had dark hair."
Snape shook his head. "Such a waste of potential, but as you say, he seemed to have foresaw his own passing. I expect the experience of real battle will disillusion many of your surviving Gryffindor acquaintances of the futility of glory in combat."
"Good, they'll fucking need it." It hurt to move on from Ron's and Neville's deaths, but she knew if she let herself dwell on it, she'd never get anything else done. "And what about you?"
He arched an eyebrow. "What about me?"
"Don't be that way, sir. You've led a triple life all these years, and now you're free. Dumbledore will surely testify to your service, right?"
"He is, at this moment, working to purge the Ministry of Fudge's influence; Fudge himself has been detained in Azkaban pending a full criminal trial. Rebuilding the Ministry will be a long and tedious process, and rebuilding public trust in the institution will take longer yet. Madam Umbridge is still being detained at Hogwarts, where her influence can be minimized."
"Please stop dodging the question, sir. What will you do now that you're free of the war?"
Snape was silent for several moments. "I have… much to atone for, Miss Potter. But I also feel I have much to pass on. Headmistress McGonagall has heard my story, and Dumbledore's assurances, and has agreed to allow me to remain at Hogwarts until the Ministry is straightened out, but then I must face trial for my actions."
Hazel couldn't contain her relief, and she leaned forward to pull him into a hug. "I'm so glad to have you back, sir. The castle was boring without you!"
He froze up for a moment, then awkwardly hugged her back. "I- I'm sure many of your fellows would disagree on that account."
She let him go and grinned. "I never did get to study those memories you gave me, sir."
"No?"
"No sir, I wound up talking to my parents' shades instead, with the Resurrection Stone." She realized how that would sound, and grimaced. "I meant to see them, I really did! But I wanted to get a sense of what was in there first, and I got to talking to them both, and it got real late, and…"
He held up a hand to cut off her anxious rambling. "I understand completely, Miss Potter. It was indiscreet of me to foist those memories on you at that time, anyway. The danger has passed, however, so you may choose to peruse them or not.
"Now it is time for me to ask the questions." He leaned forward, hands clasped beneath his chin. "How do you feel?"
Hazel snorted. "That's a loaded goddamn question, and you know it."
He merely shrugged, eyes boring into hers, waiting for her to answer.
"I… I don't know how I feel, okay? I've killed five men and I'm not even out of school. I watched one of my best friends die, hell, my bullet might have helped him along! And before that I fucking executed another man in cold fucking blood! I'm feeling a lot of shit right now, Severus Snape, and I don't have the words to let it out!"
Unable to sit still, she pushed out of bed so she could pace back and forth and wave her arms, dimly realizing she was in a strange infirmary but too busy venting to really absorb any details. "I've been killing since before my tits started growing, since before I began bleeding every month! My soul is probably as fucked as Voldemort's was! And I've spent every night since I learned Occlumency- at your instruction, might I add! -bottling all my feelings up and shoving them to the back of my head! And now I can't keep them bottled up anymore and it fucking sucks!"
Snape didn't say a word, but she knew he was listening, and that just drove her higher. "I'm a fucking child soldier and I don't even have my OWLs yet! I've got half a mind to drop out and lose myself in the criminal underworld, because down there I won't have to pretend to be something I'm not! I can fucking be myself! A killer, a fighter, a girl with a death wish and a fuck-off big gun!"
"You are considering no such thing, Miss Potter."
"HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW?!"
"Because I know you. I know what face you make when you're lying or when you're being dramatic."
What face I make? That realization was sufficient to derail her tantrum, as she paused to try and make sense of that statement. And that was enough for Snape to get a word in edgewise. "That being said, I do understand the desire not to pretend any longer. In fact, I daresay I know this desire better than you do."
"Yeah… well… that's- that's just because you've lived longer than I have!" Her tantrum energy was flagging, and now she just wanted to sulk. "Where am I, anyway?"
"We are in the Ministry's infirmary, where you have been out cold for three days."
Three days?! The disbelief must have been clear on her face, because he scoffed quietly. "Miss Granger is saving up all your assignments, fret not."
"That wasn't what I- doesn't she have better things to do? Her best friends are dead because of me. Because of me!"
"You couldn't have predicted he would jump in front of your gun or Lestrange's curse, Miss Potter."
"Maybe not, but a person with a gun is always supposed to be aware of their surroundings, Professor. They must always be in control of where their weapon is pointing!"
"Regardless, Potter, what's done is done, and you do no service by dwelling on imaginary mistakes. Weasley made his choice, he saved your life, and I consider it the height of disrespect to a fallen ally's memory to let their fall go to waste." He stood up abruptly, cutting off further debate or spiraling. "The nurses have been instructed to release you back to Hogwarts as soon as you show improvement. Do not make their task more challenging than it must be, or else I will come back here, and I will not be in such a good mood as I am now."
He swept out without another word, leaving Hazel to self-destruct on her own.
Unwilling to sit still with her own rampaging thoughts, she shed her loose hospital gown and started working out, pushing her body to its limits. While doing so she tried to get her thoughts under control, with middling success at best. She was angry at Snape, and wondered what his purpose for lurking over her had been. She was angry at Ron for throwing his life away, angry at Bellatrix for killing Neville. She was angry at Voldemort for getting suckered by a bullshit prophecy he never even fully heard. She was angry at Dumbledore for treating her like a pawn all these years.
And she was angry at herself for thinking herself so clever yet falling for all these schemes anyway!
By the time a nurse poked her head in, Hazel was too winded to make a fuss, and after a brief physical and magical exam (she passed both, but the results of the second exam scared the nurse briefly), she was declared fit to return to Hogwarts. Her robes, wand, gun, and other things were returned to her, and she geared back up before taking the golden lift up to the Atrium.
All trace of the battle had been scrubbed away. Aurors were patrolling the hall once again, and she saw Dumbledore in conference with Kingsley and Madam Bones. He saw her as well, and hurried to her side. "Miss Potter!"
Leery of physical contact, Hazel drew back, but he made no move to reach out. "Professor."
"My dear, I owe you a thousand apologies, and all of England owes you a debt that can never be repaid." He peered solemnly at her over his spectacles. "You seem hale and hearty."
She glared up at him, pure venom in her eyes. "Appearances can be deceiving, old man."
"Of course. Let me wrap things up here, then we shall retire to Grimmauld Place where you may rage at me in privacy."
That sounded like a fucking fantastic use of her time, so she nodded and smiled and went for the Floos while he finished his brief conference with the other two adults. Thankfully it only took him a few moments, and he hurried in her direction as the others also went their separate ways. "After you, my dear."
She threw a pinch of powder down, called Sirius' address, and stepped through, to be spat out moments later into the kitchen. Dobby was tidying up, and he brightened as she appeared. "Mistress Hazel! What can Dobby get for you?"
"Tea, Dobby, and make it quick. Dumbledore's on his way too."
"Right away!" He bustled off and Hazel sat down, and the fireplace flared to eject the old man in turn.
He sat across from her as Dobby was bringing a tea service in, and Hazel noticed he had included a bottle of firewhiskey. "Thanks, Dobby. Make sure we're not overheard, got that?"
"Yes, Mistress." He bowed and disappeared, and Dumbledore prepared a cup of tea for himself. Hazel sat and waited for him.
"You will not partake?"
"No sir, tea calms me down and I don't want to be calm right now."
"Of course, my apologies again." He put the tea aside and gave her his full attention. "We have much to discuss, I'm sure."
"You're damn right we do. First off, how closely have you been controlling my life?"
"Not closely enough." He heaved a deep sigh. "I had not expected you to be so willful upon arriving at Hogwarts. I had expected you to cheerfully follow your parents into Gryffindor, where you would absorb the qualities that house holds most dear; that is, bravery, daring, and especially, self-sacrifice."
"Self-sacrifice!? Fuck you, old man!"
He must have seen the look in her eye, because he held up his hand. "Please, Miss Potter, let us exhaust all topics of conversation before we descend to antagonism. I wish to have thoroughly earned whatever violence you desire to inflict upon me."
"Oh, you already have, you old bastard. But sure, let's hear it. What else have you done that's earned another broken nose?" She couldn't believe the force of the anger consuming her right then. Ron and Neville were dead, Remus was possibly dying, her godfather was out chasing after an asshole of the highest fucking order.
"Many things, Miss Potter. I admit, I had to improvise from the day you were sorted, but I quickly discovered you were determined to make your own way, so my manipulations had to be more subtle. In your first year, for example, the trail of breadcrumbs I placed in your path nearly led to ruin when you followed it too early; Professor Snape had to play a very dangerous game to keep the others safe and get you inside that chamber, for example."
In hindsight, she had always wondered why Snape had insisted she take on the final challenge of that stupid gauntlet, even after he had short-circuited the previous ones for the sake of reaching Draco in time. "What if I had been too selfish to use the Mirror like you had expected?"
"Then you would have distracted Quirrell and his guest until I could arrive on the scene. Instead you destroyed him and drove Voldemort away, and though I attempted to assuage your conscience at the time, I fear that began a dangerous descent into darkness that only accelerated as the years went by."
She scoffed. "Of course it did. All the bullshit of my second and third years, are you honestly surprised? And it was Snape who showed me the three Unforgivable Curses!"
"I know. He discussed it with me at length when he learned of your desire to master them. I was against it, but he convinced me it was best if you learned them from a trusted, knowledgeable source such as himself, rather than piecemeal from less scrupulous mentors. In that, I fear we were both wrong."
"You fucked up hard the whole second year, didn't you? The basilisk, the diary, Lockhart, everything! Don't tell me you didn't know what was going on!"
He bowed his head, acknowledging the accusation. "Again, I had to improvise. I was fully aware of Gilderoy's true nature as a gloryhound, and I had hoped to turn his lusts against him to expose and discredit him. I promise you, I had no idea he was a predator as well, and by the time accusations began to surface I had no choice; he was too good at covering his tracks, and without victims willing to come forward, such accusations gain very little traction."
"Right. Well, you're lucky us students were able to unmask him with his trousers down."
"As were we all. As for the basilisk-"
"Her name is Regina!"
"-Regina, then, Lucius' scheme caught us all off guard, and I admit I was too concerned with Gilderoy and with preserving Hogwarts' reputation as a place of safety to properly assess the situation. Thankfully, you proved capable of taming the beast and sorting out Riddle and the diary, and we learned much before destroying the foul thing. You saved Miss Weasley in fine fashion as well."
"You mean I did your job for you?"
Again he bowed his head. "Forgive me, Miss Potter, but I must insist we take a break from this palaver. The tea is getting cold, and all this recrimination is thirsty work."
"Whatever."
Chapter 81: More of the TruthSummary:Hazel and Dumbledore continue their little chat.
Notes:There is a brief scene of violence in this chapter, you have been warned.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextAfter a quick tea break, they moved onto third year. "My third year wasn't completely your fault, old man. I did a lot of fucking up on my own."
"Quite so, your self-destructive spiral was marvelous to behold. I regret that I had no greater schemes to keep you busy at the time, though Professor Lupin did his best to mitigate your worst impulses and pass along some knowledge of your parents."
"Hey, on that note, why did you make Sirius stay away before that summer?"
The old man could only shrug. "Truthfully, Miss Potter, I feared he would disrupt the normal upbringing I wanted for you, though in retrospect keeping him away may have been a bad idea; he could have been a positive influence on you from the start."
That brought a snicker. "Yeah maybe, if you wanted me to turn out like Fred and George."
His eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Entrepreneurial, adventurous, fearless, and welcoming of criticism?"
She glowered and tried not to laugh. "Hey, I'm already all those things! And don't change the subject, we're talking about all the ways you fucked up my life!"
"Of course." He quickly grew somber again. "So. Your fourth year."
"Yeah, my fourth year. I think we both fucked that one up."
"Indeed. You rose to the occasion a little too eagerly, perhaps. And I let caution and the demands of international politics get in the way of keeping you and the other students safe, and of properly prosecuting the hunt for Lord Voldemort."
"Even though I kept warning you all year!"
"Yes. And Crouch Jr had us all fooled. Even you, until the end."
"Yeah, even me. We were lucky we got rid of him, if he'd still been there to serve his master, he would have been more dangerous than all of them. But Voldemort still came back!"
"He did, though his return didn't quite go as planned. I was still able to make some preparations behind the scenes thanks to your warnings, such as organizing the Order of the Phoenix and attempting to identify and locate several of his Horcruxes, but the Tournament and the other schools took up far too much of my attention."
"And I was able to fuck up the resurrection itself, let's not forget that."
"Heaven forbid, my dear. You stymied his return to true power, and plucked numerous pawns off the board in the process. So it wasn't a total wash, after all."
All of this was just putting off the inevitable, though, and Hazel felt it boiling up inside her once again. "We're dodging the point, sir, which is that I've directly or indirectly killed five men before I even graduated Hogwarts. Two of them were questionable, but three were definitely in cold blood. And I have to live with it for the rest of my life!"
"Five?"
That earned him an impatient eye roll. "Yes sir, I took control of Voldemort's body with Grindelwald's help, and while I was there I murdered Rabastan Lestrange with the Killing Curse. I also Crucio'd his brother."
"Ah." He finished his tea and stood up. "Very well, my dear, this is the part where you may inflict violence upon my person. I will offer no defense. I ask only that you do not either kill me, or break my nose again."
"Fucking finally." She cracked her knuckles and stood up, letting the rage and resentment take over completely. All the blood on her hands, the bodies on her soul, all of it was due to this old man, to his adherence to a prophecy that would have carried no weight had everyone involved simply ignored it.
She drew her wand; he didn't react at all. So she put it down and drew her gun; that earned a raised eyebrow. "Really, Miss Potter?"
"Yeah, really. This is the gun that killed Voldemort, it's only fitting that you experience a fraction of what he went through."
"Oh, very well."
She took aim and fired through his right knee; he grunted in pain and fell to the floor, twitching uselessly. "Not gonna scream, old man?!" She brought her foot up and stomped down on that knee, and that earned her a pained gasp. "Drop the Occlumency! I want you to feelthis!"
She stomped his knee again, and that got her the scream she wanted, hoarse and drawn-out. She kicked him in the balls next, and the screaming cut off as he gasped and wheezed. The rage in her heart liked that sound a lot, and demanded more, so she stomped on his hand next. "I really should kill you, old man! Then I'd use the Stone to bring you back so I could kill you again! And again! And again!"
Each shout was punctuated with another stomp, though she avoided his nose as he had asked. When her fury ran dry he was quite bruised, and bleeding from several places; she picked up her wand and used the healing spells Snape had taught her to repair the damage, though she left his knee for a specialist to attend to.
"Do you… feel better… Miss Potter…?"
"You know what? Yeah, I kinda do." She helped him roughly to his feet. "Can you make it to St Mungo's on your own?"
"I daresay I-" He put weight on his ruined knee and nearly fell over again. "Ah, unfortunately I cannot…"
"Alright, hang on. Kreacher, Dobby, Winky!" The three elves appeared and bowed. "Do any of you know how to reconstruct knees and heal gunshot wounds?"
"Kreacher is being able to reconstruct knees."
"And Winky is healing gunshots! Is Dumbly-dorr needing fixed?"
"Yeah, he is." She stood back as the three elves attended to him, with Kreacher and Winky focusing on his knee while Dobby healed his other injuries beyond what Hazel had done. "There. None of you tell anyone what you saw or heard, understand? Not even Sirius."
The three elves bowed and disappeared. Dumbledore looked up at her, then stood up again, and this time he didn't fall over. "I realize a few moments of rage will never make up for a lifetime of loss, but rest assured, England will never forget what you have done for us. I will also ensure your actions are fully pardoned."
"Make sure Snape and Rakepick are pardoned as well. Both of them have suffered enough."
He gave her an inquisitive look. "May I ask what your interest is in Madam Rakepick?"
"I promised her I'd get her a full pardon in exchange for betraying the Death Eaters during the battle, and then surrendering peacefully afterwards."
"Ah." His confusion cleared. "She did indeed surrender after the battle, and is currently being held at Hogwarts. I regret that I cannot release her, but I assure you, those three pardons will be my highest priority."
Hogwarts. She heaved a sigh of her own and reached for the firewhiskey, drinking straight from the bottle. "Do I have to go back, sir? After everything I've been through, it seems so… pedestrian now."
"I assure you, Miss Potter, routine and normalcy are one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself at this moment. Go back to your friends, your classes and your habits, lose yourself in the intricacies of learning magic. When summer comes and you have completed your OWLs, we can reconsider your desire to drop out."
He held up a hand to forestall argument. "And before you ask, this was what Sirius commanded as well, and as he is your legal guardian and you need his permission to leave early, the matter is unfortunately settled, regardless of your wishes."
She bit down on the mutiny that threatened, and nodded reluctantly. "Fine, but if I need time to myself I'm gonna take it, no matter who says what."
"Of course, no one would deny you that. At the same time, I entreat you to consider that your elders really do have your best interests at heart, and some of them will know what you've been through. Sirius, especially. So take our advice into consideration, at the very least."
"Fine, fine." It wasn't fine. She knew everyone would treat her like some fragile thing that might explode at any second, and frankly she thought they might not be wrong. But what could she do? She couldn't go rogue, she was still underage and subject to the Trace, she didn't know how to apparate.
It wasn't fine, and it wasn't fair. But on the bright side, Dumbledore had let her kick his ass? Which was a win in any case. Well, whatever.
But she still wasn't ready to face Hogwarts again, so she took the Floo to St Mungo's instead to check on Remus. She emerged into the sterile waiting room, which had the same signs and the same buxom witch at the desk, but a different assortment of clowns and morons. One literal clown, surrounded by a stench of flatulence that didn't go away; other patients in his vicinity were wearing bubble-head charms, and Hazel did the same as she passed by his seat.
The welcome witch recognized her, and the brief moment of shock let her get a word in edgeways. "I'm here to see Remus Lupin. Is he awake?"
"Uh… I'm not sure, Miss Potter. But he's in the creature-induced injuries ward, so-"
"Thanks! Stay beautiful~" She blew the witch a kiss and breezed on by, heading up the familiar stairs and heading into the same room Arthur had been in.
Remus was indeed awake, and being attended by heavily-warded nurses. They saw her walking in and started to panic, but Remus quelled them. "Stand down, that's my boyfriend's goddaughter."
"We know who she is, Mr Lupin, just- oh, whatever, on your head be it." The nurses got out of the way, and Hazel sat down, peering at Remus.
"You look like shit."
"So do you, so I guess it takes one to know one. Shouldn't you be back at school?"
Hazel scowled. "Not you too! I'm still processing everything that happened, and I'm afraid I might flip out if I'm around too many people!"
Remus winced from one of his injuries. "Well, I won't disrespect you by treating you like a child, since you so despise such treatment-"
"Gee, thanks."
"-so I'll just ask you if you think you're handling this with the kind of maturity you want the rest of us to believe you possess."
Smug fucker, turning his backhanded compliment into more proselytizing. Awkwardly, he was also correct. "Probably not, but I don't know how to handle it maturely. I've spent so long keeping everything bottled up, keeping myself primed to fight, that…"
He smiled gently. "You've been living under stress, Hazel, more stress than any girl your age should ever have to live with. Your friends have been worrying about boys, about makeup, about fashion magazines and who got caught snogging whom. You think they're all just silly bitches now, don't you?"
"Sure, but they're-" -still just kids, she almost said. As if she wasn't still just a kid herself. "Ugh, fuck me…"
"Feeling old?"
"Fuck off, Remus~"
He chuckled at the look on her face. "No, but seriously kid, you'll do fine. Ten of them went through the same shit you did, they saw what you did, they've been by your side for all of this shit. Don't throw them away now."
"And they lost two friends." Neville's body and Ron's face, the latter peaceful in death, swam before her eyes again, and she shook them away before she could lose her shit.
"Exactly. Don't go thinking you've got the monopoly on loss, either."
Ugh, she hated it when adults were rational and she had no easy comeback. "Alright, enough about me. How are you holding up?"
"Bah, I'll be fine. Only reason I'm here at all is because Dolohov threw something nasty at me that interfered with the wounds Greyback inflicted."
"Really? I heard you were in critical condition?"
"Well, I was, but once they figured out the countercurse to Dolohov's spell, everything cleared up. They're just worried because I was attacked by a werewolf, even though I am one myself."
"Damn. You still look like shit, though." She grinned and hugged him before he could take offense. "I guess I'll head back to Hogwarts…"
"It's for the best, kiddo, you'll see."
She wasn't sure she believed it, but she got up and went back to the Floo anyway, where she threw the green powder down. "Hogwarts!" Into the whirling green flames she went…
Notes:I FORGOT TO UPD8 OVER THE WEEKEND! I hope no one was worried.