And Justice Be Done
Wendy plugged her nose and downed the frothing substance just as Griselda shut the cupboard door and Wendy found herself writhing in the mass of Slytherin moth-eaten coats and shawls.
Yet again, her face was lengthening, her body’s proportions were changing, and she took quick shallow breaths as she heard someone fast approaching the door.
The light seared her eyes, and she screwed them shut.
“Potter,” said Lucifer Malfoy with as much malevolence as he could muster in that single syllable.
He wrenched her head back, and heaved her up and over his shoulder roughly, though strongly for a boy his size. The last thing Wendy remembered was the solid thunk her head made as it hit the doorframe.
* * *
Millie dreamt of Wendy, half conscious of the people around her. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She saw a broken, dusty attic and two shadowy figures in the corner, one struggling against the other powerful being.
“There you go, you little slut,” the Death eater spat to Wendy who was lying broken in heap on the floor. Somewhere, a man’s high pitch laugher was swallowing Millie whole, totally and completely emaciating her until she fell back into the welcome darkness.
“Move.”
It was a command Wendy’s legs would not obey. She was a prisoner of her own body, unable to lift even a finger.
“Move, I said MOVE!” commanded the voice, now directly above her head.
She cringed, but her shrinking away could not help her escape the horribly tight grip he had on her hair, and the foulness of his breath. She choked on his scent, the only odor that hung in the air; thick and full. It was like clotted cream hanging from a spoon, unable to fall, but nevertheless, there, fat, full and dense.
Draco Malfoy’s eyes glittered maliciously, his teeth bared in a sneer, he wrenched her head upwards. Her upper body followed, but her legs were cramped horribly underneath her, physically making it impossible for her to escape. Or on a smaller scale, she thought, move.
Draco took advantage of this, and dragged her smaller, frail, bruised and battered body out into the middle of the room.
“Lucifer, come closer. It’s nearly your time.”
Wendy’s eyes opened wide. She tried to scream, but the silencing spell to muffle her cries had been placed on the attic long ago, before she had lost consciousness and woken up unable to move.
Lucifer stepped into the room, his grey eyes identical to his father’s, the same arrogant lope gracing them both. He settled down astride of her, and she squirmed beneath his touch as he stroked the side of her face dangerously. He muttered and lifted the spell with a flick of his wand.
“Now, Wendolin. You do know what you did was oh so very wrong, don’t you? Making Lucifer Malfoy, the son of a great line of Death Eaters look foolish in his master’s eyes? Tut, tut, little girl. Not acceptable at all. Do you think you deserve a punishment of sorts? I would be more than happy to execute it.”
She shook her head desperately, tears leaking from the corners of her deadened eyes. He nodded his head yes, before covering her parched mouth with his hand and stifling her scream of pain.
The only excruciating screams Wendy heard were inside her own head, and the pain of the last few hours caught up with her and she willed herself into blackness. She willed herself to let go, and die.
Harry could feel the tension in the air; it was positively wriggling with it, struggling to break free from its captivity and wreak havoc.
He walked his way cautiously up a familiar drive to the alarmingly large door, pushing pebbles off the path. He heard them skittering down the hillside, down to the black cast iron gates he had just quickly scaled, and stopped, wincing as the sound echoed through the crisp cool night.
He experimentally pushed the heavy redwood door, and was surprised and shocked to find it open easily, giving a small creeeaak as he surpassed it into the large foyer.
Portraits of family members leered down at him from the walls, shadows across cobwebs made his eyes dart from side to side, and he jumped clear into the air when a piercing scream broke the dusty silence, cutting swiftly through it like a sharpened knife through warm cheese.
The chandelier hanging precariously above Harry jolted violently as something was thrown bodily across the room on the above level.
He hurried across the floor and deftly clambered up the missing few steps. He heard yet another muffled scream, as though someone had put a hand over someone’s mouth and they were yelling in frustration and desperation.
As he crossed the landing, little puffs of dust floated up as he swiftly accelerated up the stairs, both eager and cautious, to find out the origin of the squeal.
A door was swinging perilously on its hinges at the top of the landing, and a loud slap was followed by yet another scream of pain.
He rushed across the empty corridor and blasted through the door. He assumed a fighting stance and brandished his wand. As soon as he saw Lucifer on top of his niece, his blood ran thick with cold fury.
“Levicorpus! ” he thundered, the old hex coming to mind in the time of need. Lucifer swore as his weak shield was shattered and he was propelled off an unmoving Wendy before finding himself revolving in the air held up by his ankle.
Harry was breathing heavily with anger and monstrous fury. The monster inside of him had attacked again, and he was urgently trying to suppress his demon. He hurtled himself down beside Wendy, and felt puffs of air escape her bruised mouth.
He was just siphoning the dried blood of Wendy’s little face when he heard a deliberate step thud down beside his hip. He felt a wand being pushed into the soft part of his neck. He twisted and caught Draco Malfoy by the wrist.
“You,” he spat in Harry’s face.
Harry wiped the spittle from his face and lunged at Malfoy. Malfoy’s eyes widened in surprise and Harry’s upper cut hit him clean across the jaw and sent him backwards.
He reached for his wand, only to find Harry twiddling it in his fingers. Draco lunged at it, a strangled cry in his throat. An expression of etched madness crossed Harry’s face and he snapped it in half and chucked the pieces in Draco’s face.
Draco’s face took on an ashen tone, and he slumped down on the floor next to some cardboard boxes, leaning on them for support.
“Get up,” said Harry. “Get up,” he said again, motioning to the floor in front of him.
“I’m finished, Potter, don’t you see?”
“What?” said Harry stupidly, waving his wand around angrily.
“I said I’m finished, Potter. The Dark Lord is coming and the Dark Mark burns black, see for yourself.”
Despite Harry’s best interests, he could not help but crane his neck to see that indeed the twisted and vicious scar on Draco’s arm was a burnt jet black.
“So, if it wasn’t me who was finishing you off, it was the Dark Lord, Draco. Are you happy that your Master is fed up with you? Are you happy that he’s finally decided the Malfoy name is worth nothing but dirt? Do you think he’s finally realised that you lot are scum and not worth living? I think so, Malfoy. So now, I wipe the scum from my boots.”
Harry rose his wand, his face set. Malfoy raised his chin to meet Harry’s glance, his grey eyes glinting in the wandlight.
Harry’s voice shuddered with hatred.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Hermione sat in bed, a hand on her belly, another lying near a plate that had once contained a cheese and tomato sandwich.
She felt a slightly kick, and smiled. Ron saw her smiling and snuggled closer.
“The baby must like cheese and tomato, eh?” he said fondly, patting her stomach.
Hermione raised her lips to his cheek and kissed him softly. She was positively glowing, and Ron couldn’t have felt prouder of his wife at the moment.
She laughed again as the baby kicked again. She grabbed Ron’s hands, and he grinned in delight as they shared the special moment of their baby.
“Hermione! He’s a kicker! He’s fantastic, he’ll be born with muscle!” Ron said excitedly.
“Who says it’ll be a boy?” she teased. “It could very well be another girl.”
Ron groaned. “I suppose, but then I’d be outnumbered again.” He gazed fondly down at the bulging stomach. His smile faltered when the kicking became more insistent, and Hermione drew in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” he asked quickly. Hermione’s eyes were squinted shut in pain, and she gasped again.
“Ron, I think my water just broke,” she said slowly. Ron’s face changed as he felt the bed sheets around him. His blue eyes snapped up to Hermione’s. Her brown eyes were clouded in pain, and she looked as though she were far away.
“Ron, I think we might have to go to Mungo’s,” she said through gritted teeth. “The baby’s coming.”
Draco’s head rolled back, and Harry spun around to stare into the blood red, merciless eyes of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort’s eyes rested lazily on Lucifer, before he sneered at Harry, his lip curling back to reveal moonlight shining on porcelain teeth.
“Thank you, Potter.” Lord Voldemort inclined his head. Harry seethed with hatred, his shoulders rising, falling, rising, and falling with each forceful breath.
“Tom,” said Harry. Voldemort’s steady gazed faltered for a moment, and then regained position. “Where have you been all these years?”
Voldemort’s eyes flashed with fury. “Careful, Potter. Manners,” he said delicately. “We wouldn’t something to-” his eyes landed on Wendy, “-happen, now do we?”
“Stop stalling,” said Harry, raising his wand. Voldemort’s face changed. “You know very well I want to know how you, Lord Voldemort, rose from the seeming dead once again.”
Voldemort considered. It suddenly occurred to Harry it was very odd to be discussing such things in an attic with his niece lying “ dying “ a few feet away.
“It seems, Potter, after you vanquished all of my Horcruxes, I was still more man than you could ever be. You see, Harry, you and I are similar. Oh, yes, very, very similar. For a while, it seemed you could not succumb to death by my hand. I, it seems can thwart you, Harry Potter. You tried to kill me, many, many years ago. And, for a while, to my friends it seemed you had succeeded.
“However, that was not the case. The fact that I stand here, breathing in front of you, doesn’t that say you failed? You, Harry Potter, the youth who had never let a thought touch an Unforgivable Curse, let alone perform one, try to kill Lord Voldemort? Laughable, at the least, Potter.
“You see, you never were strong. All you had was your mother’s protection all those years. Pitiful, disgusting protection and luck. Luck, Harry. That is what saved you from my Inferi, from my flames, from my storms. Luck. Love. Bah. That foolish old man Dumbledore, he met his fate at my hand too.”
“It wasn’t your hand, you coward. You didn’t dare infiltrate the castle yourself. You sent your spies, your weaklings.” He motioned to a lifeless Malfoy at their feet. “You sent Malfoy. And where did that get you? Nowhere. You didn’t gain anything but a death of someone who never challenged you openly, someone who never provoked you. You were the underdog, Tom. You always feared Dumbledore. He was the only one you ever feared. And what did you do? You cowardly got someone else to dispose of him. Coward,” Harry snarled.
Voldemort’s face contorted. Both breathed heavily. Not now, they couldn’t attack now. There was an air of a mutual agreement floating, and Harry knew that he, too, must restrain himself from any outburst like that again. It was part of the Statute of Secrecy that no wizard may attack another in a Muggle inhabitance. Of course, Voldemort had never minded the rules, thought Harry.
Voldemort took a deep breath and closed his fingers together. Harry stared at the merciless eyes as he began to speak.
“Of course, Potter, you are intelligent. A fool could surmise as much. However, you do not use that intelligence. You are a fool. You play the hero, and ultimately end up needing to be saved yourself. You are the incompetent one,” he hissed softly.
“And you are an old man, Tom,” said Harry. Voldemort’s eyes flashed.
“Never. I am immortal. I, standing here in front of you, as youthful as I was that day I rose once more in the graveyard, my re-birthday, am proof of that. You will wither and age like a common Muggle, Potter. I shall stay everlasting.” He tilted his head proudly.
“Enough with this pointlessness,” said Harry evenly. “You know I am awaiting your tale.”
Again, Voldemort inclined his head. “Of course, I won’t keep you waiting any longer, Harry. Not while age sinks into your skin.
“You destroyed my Horcrux. It was mine, and you damaged it. Needless to say, I was furious. And when you turned up in my manor to finish me off, as you proposed, you had overlooked one small detail.”
Harry’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What, Tom?”
Voldemort’s eyes flashed in triumph. “While destroying my final Horcrux, my hat, you could not bare to destroy the mindless poet that lived inside. That pathetic spirit that inhabited my Horcrux. You were weak, Harry Potter. You knew what would happen. And you chose to ignore it, and it resulted in you unconscious. When you awoke, you did not know that my soul had flitted free into another empty vessel. A soul cannot live on its own without a vessel, Harry Potter.
“My soul took refuge in your owl. Your first friend, your servant. She flew to me, and when she had served her purpose, I disposed of her. You keep your friends close, Harry, and you keep your enemies closer.”
Harry’s eyes sparked in anger, and he felt an overwhelming sadness. He had awoken and found the hat, frayed and lifeless, and assumedly void of soul. He had thought, no, he had hoped that the fragment was gone, and that his job was done. Surely, the spell that had rendered him unconscious had destroyed a seventh of a soul? The hat seemed empty enough, and he left it.
“You never had any friends,” Harry spat. “They were just followers, leeches of your power. Now they’ve all but abandoned you.”
“Not all have abandoned me, Harry. We are still connected, and they still fear me. They all do.”
Lord Voldemort had used Harry’s own owl for his own purposes. The information cut him up inside. Lord Voldemort would pay. His hand twitched towards his wand, and Voldemort’s slit of eyes followed every movement of Harry’s eyes.
“So, you see, Harry. Once again, you helped me achieve my goal of immortality. Fool,” finished Voldemort.
Emerald eyes roared, and a beam of ruby red light soared towards Voldemort. The beam of light exploded a foot in front of Voldemort, and dissipated into thousands of little light sparks that danced like dust motes in the air before disappearing.
Voldemort sneered. “Weak, Potter,” he spat. Harry resumed a fighting stance, his wand gripped tightly within his hand.
Voldemort motioned out the window, down to the graveyard. His red eyes glinted before he Disapparated.
“Catch me if you can, Harry.”
Malicious Intentions by Lurid
Chapter Notes: Thanks to Lori, my wonderful beta who gives up her time to beta my beautiful disasters.