"What, you thought I had morals, did you? Idiot. How many times must I tell you to get over yourself? You, who forced your way into mine and Harry's life. You abandoned him to Dumbledore's care. You as good as left him with those filthy fucking muggles! You dare assert yourself as his father?"
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged his face down to hers. Her unnatural eyes glittered brightly against the dark room, flashes of flame and shadow promising untold power and destruction. She whispered, low and gravelly. "The second ritual he had to do? Heal himself of their abuse. He was malnourished, he was beaten. Their torture lives in that ring, that is the part of his soul he gave up. I rescued him, I saved him. I forced him to do nothing! Do not demand your false morals on us." She shook him roughly, her voice rising with each shake, with each word. "Do not presume I give a fuck about your opinion or that it matters! You abandoned him! I am his mother, and I alone have done what I have had to do -"
Sirius closed his eyes and bowed his head, freeing himself from her grasp. Forcing his sudden urge for physical violence down, his hands clenched at his sides before they returned to their halted dancing.
"He is a child!" He whispered, spitting out each word. "There is nothing you can say to justify your actions and you know it."
"He is a necromancer!" She growled. "And you are being naive! He has not been a proper child since the day Voldemort split open his head and murdered his parents!"
Sirius laughed, mirthless and hollow. "And to think I thought you loved him."
They spun again, convenient timing for Sirius to miss the flash of shock and hurt that crossed her face. She ripped herself from his hold. They turned away from each other, refusing to show their matching expressions. Sirius let out a very shaky breath and forced himself to calm down, digging his nails into his palms. Scouting over the sea of bodies, he muttered in a forcibly calm voice, "I still don't see Harry, do you?"
"No." Her voice was as deadpan and emotionless as usual.
Alabasandria felt along the tendrils of her magic, but did not feel the familiar cloud of energy that signaled her son. She reached out with her shadows to scour the corners of the room.
"He's not here," she said.
"I don't see the other kids either…"
The shadows rolled across the partygoer's feet, searching each and every one of them for any sign of the children. Then she increased their search outward. Panic settled in her chest, and without thinking, she grabbed a fistful of his dress robes to steady herself. Along the edge of the castle grounds, there was a faint patch of wandlight glistening through the trees creating a great mass of shadow.
"They aren't in the castle! He's heading into the forest?!" Both of them were burdened with a wave of confusion and concern. They'd warned Harry… he wouldn't just wander off like that, would he? What was happening to their son?
At that moment, Minerva and Remus came over, followed by Viktor Krum. The pale nervousness racking their features left a pit of terror to burrow in the parent's stomachs.
"Harry is not feeling well. His friends believe he may have been poisoned!"
.....
Neville changed his mind, it wasn't poison. Harry was delirious, hallucinating, but he did not appear to be physically hurt. He retained all his strength as he marched toward the forest, oblivious to their attempts to drag him away. It was like he was drawn to it like a siren or a talking broomstick or a sentient slice of treacle tart was calling to him - to entice him.
"He won't snap out of it. Before we walk into a trap, let's stun him and get back to the castle!" Luna said, her voice high and worried. They were near Hagrid's hut, the edge of the wood looming ominously beyond that. It was dark and nobody knew they were out there. Neville shuddered.
"Now now, girlie. I wouldn't do that if I were you. Wands where I can see them, all of you!"
Peaking out of the trees before them appeared a Death Eater, their bone mask visible bright against the night sky. Neville looked towards the others in guidance, and they all exchanged terrified glances. Unconcerned, Harry continued his walk into the forest.
"Wand's up, or Potter will suffer! The Dark Lord wants him alive but he didn't say nothing about him missin' a few fingers."
Harry stopped walking, bouncing on his heels, eyes blank and unfocused. Right within the line of fire.
The children held up their hands in surrender. The Death Eater stepped closer, slow and leisurely, twirling their wand in a playful spiral. "Very good. Now, unfortunately, the Dark Lord said nothing about Potter's little pets, so I'd better dispose of you -"
Before Neville could blink, Ron countered against a spell fired toward the group, encasing them in a shield that rattled against the weight of the spell. Another silent blast came from the Death Eater, and Nevile flinched, but it was not aimed at their group, rather it was Harry. He fell to the earth in a gasping scream, shaking and twitching. Spit bubbled from his mouth and his fingers curled into claws, digging helplessly into the ground.
A chill ran up Neville's spine. The Cruciatus. It was so much worse seeing it done to a person rather than a spider. Spiders didn't whimper. The Death Eater cackled, their focus on Harry. As Neville panicked, he noticed that the chills were not leaving, it hadn't been just been shock. The temperature dropped significantly lower, and then a sudden sharp blast of freezing air clung to his lungs and made it feel like he was breathing shards of ice. The shadows crawled away from their homes under the trees and shifted their way toward them.
That's when Professor Adams appeared out of nowhere and punched the Death Eater in the face.
She looked wrong. Her limbs elongated beyond proportion; long gloves of shadow stretched out from her arms. The freezing cold was emanating from her; the ground beneath her hardened into frost.
Neville was one of the few students who was not terrified of Professor Adams. She was strict and blunt but she'd never instilled in him the same fear that Professor Snape had. Her disapproval was always followed by an exasperated explanation of where mistakes were made, followed, for a select number of students that included Neville, a curt pat on the head. It should have felt condescending, but he'd always thought it was a conciliatory good try. Although that could be Neville being touch starved and desperate for approval.
The point was, he hadn't flinched away from her gaze in ages. The whisper and rumor of his classmates had been chalked up to tall tales by poor potioneers who were intimidated by her harsh grading.
Professor Adams raised her wand and a geyser of blood flooded from the Death Eater's mouth, spilling out the hole in their mask like a waterfall. They collapsed in a heap.
The disappointed look she reserved for her students had nothing on the look she gave the terrorist who'd tortured her child. Neville understood his classmates' terror even less now. They hadn't seen her even close to her worst, to her angriest. It was inhuman, the entire forest and the elements bent to her will. Frozen and dark. Ripples of magic danced across her body.
"You picked the wrong day to piss me off, dumb motherfucker. I am not - in the mood - for - this - shit!" Her voice growled in a deep register, each phrase punctuated by a blast of her wand. Neville looked away, clinging onto Luna as the ground became painted with blood.
The bone mask fell from the Death Eater's mangled face. Their flesh was bruised and puffy like they'd been stung by a swarm of bees and all that was discernible of the Death Eater's features was a long, dirty-blond beard and bald head. She grabbed him by his beard and stuck her wand under his chin.
Her laugh trembled through the air, low and manic and crackling as she gave him a wide grin.
The man trembled in her grasp, soft whimpers for mercy fell from his lips as she eyed him coldly. Yeah… Professor Adams was terrifying, actually. Neville understood that now.
She muttered a spell too quiet for the children to hear. The man went lax in her grip and began to whisper fervently, his eyes glazed over. Having seen it performed in Professor Moody's class an uncomfortable number of times, Neville was certain this was the Imperius. Horror would be an appropriate emotion, but he looked over towards Harry's prone form, faint twitchings from his fingers the only sign his friend was alive. Instead, he thought good. He deserves it.
Neville released his aching fingers from their grip on Luna's dress and shook the tension from his limbs. Luna, Ron, and Hermione looked profoundly relieved rather than surprised at Professor Adams' actions, as though this was a normal occurrence. A normal weekend it must be like for them, to witness their professor beat the crap out of a terrorist. Minion-ing was turning out to be bizarre. Terrifying, dangerous.
He supposed the whole Dark Arts bit had not been fully processed until now. Neville had been more thrilled about the making friends part, with a nebulous yearning for revenge. One with no real basis in reality - he had set those thoughts aside to be future, adult Neville's moral quandary. The murder of Death Eaters was great, the circumstances of how they were killed were unimportant. Until now, watching blood drain into thirsty soil. Yet, despite watching all of this, there was no question in Neville's mind. Missus Adams was terrifying and a necromancer and was willing to perform a number of illegal deeds - but, his eyes were focused on Harry.
The Death Eaters orphaned children.
The Death Eaters deserved this.
Hermione bolted from the group and ran over to Harry's side. Neville felt rooted to the ground, entirely overwhelmed and unable to move his legs.
....
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