I hope you are continuing to enjoy this fanfic. I can say that I enjoyed writing it. This isn't the last chapter yet, but the story is beginning to draw to a close. Please don't forget to review, you know how I get when people forget. *evil laugh*
OPPORTUNITY
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:—
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle’s edge,
And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel—
That blue blade that the king’s son bears,—but this
Blunt thing!” he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore breasted,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
By Edward Rowland Sill
The very next day the Daily Prophet posted the notice of the first ever Wizengamot convention. Harry and Arthur were busy setting up the preparations. They decided the convention should be held in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic, amidst the trickling fountain of the wizard, witch, house-elf, centaur, and goblin.
Harry couldn’t help but think of the last battle that had been held in that hall, eight years ago. In those times, Voldemort had been living and powerful, but now, the present cause was very much the same.
Harry threw himself into his work. It helped dull the pain of Luna and Ron. If he was constantly working, he couldn’t have time to think of them. His only comfort was the looming opportunity for revenge on Wormtail. That chance brought fire to Harry’s veins and calm to his heart.
The Wizengamot of old and new had all been sent invitations for the convention, although Dumbledore himself secretly informed each and every one of them of the true purpose of the reunion. He, Harry, and Arthur were taking no chances. Wormtail would not have a shred of reason to suspect anything.
The convention was to be held two days after it was made public in the Daily Prophet, giving Wormtail enough time to formulate his own plan of action.
Harry slept fitfully those two nights. His sleep was riddled with dreams of Wormtail’s leering face and Luna’s eyes, begging him for help.
A mysterious girl with feathery white-blonde hair and bright green eyes walked toward him, stepping phantom-like among the stones of a graveyard, her face full of sorrow. She stopped at a particular grave, and a single diamond-like tear dripped from her long lashes and fell slowly to the brown grass at the bottom of the grave. The grass rippled away from the drop, turning a brilliant color of green, then rippling again, this time blood red. A scream echoed in the background as the girl’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed to the ground at the foot of the headstone, where dark yet luminous letters read: Luna Lovegood Potter...
Harry woke with a start. He had fallen off the couch in his living room. His breath was uneven and his face was damp with cold sweat. He glanced at his watch. The hands read 7:34. The first rays of sunshine were peaking through the living room windows. Harry realized with a jolt that today was the day of the convention.
Blearily he stumbled into his bedroom, taking a moment to gaze sorrowfully at the bed. He hadn’t had the courage or desire to sleep in it without Luna. It was too big for one person so used to company in sleep. Finally he opened the doors of the wardrobe and pulled on black pants and a dark blue skirt. Dark seemed an appropriate color.
Making sure his wand was in his pocket, Harry left the house without breakfast. He was too anxious to eat.
Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic by 7:45. He walked quickly to Arthur’s office and was mildly shocked to see Hermione seated in a chair opposite Arthur’s desk. She had recently developed the habit of holding a handkerchief in her trembling hands; her eyes always shinning with unshed tears. She was sniffling into the handkerchief, although she kept her head high. Her hair was slicked back in a bun, and she looked like she had worked hard on her appearance.
Hermione turned around when Harry entered the room, then looked away. Harry placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Arthur was standing behind his desk. He gestured towards Hermione.
“She would like to help,” he said softly. Harry nodded. He knew exactly what Hermione was going through. He knew.
Not long later, Harry strolled numbly among the round tables in the entrance hall. Shining crystal place settings had been arranged carefully by unsuspecting caterers. The hall looked formally appropriate for a convention. A small platform had been constructed in front of the fountain in the middle of the foyer.
Arthur strolled into the lobby, a solemn look on his face.
“I think it is time, Harry,” he said with a sigh. Harry nodded curtly, then glanced over at Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of the fountain. He walked over to her and sat down.
“We have to disguise ourselves so as not to be recognized,” Harry said quietly. “It would appear strange for us to be here, as we are not part of the Wizengamot.”
Hermione nodded slightly, swallowing, with look of determination.
“I’m ready for this,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I am so ready for this.”
“Okay, then,” Harry said. Then he lifted his wand, placed it lightly on the top of Hermione’s head and murmured, “Purdah.” Hermione’s soft features became sharper and her eyes smaller. When the spell was complete, a small serious looking woman sat in Hermione’s place, dressed in the clothes of the caterers. Harry was just about to perform the spell on himself when he heard several footsteps behind him.
“Harry!” cried a familiar voice. Harry turned to see Ginny waving as she raced across the foyer, followed closely by Neville, Bill, Fred and George Weasley, and Angelina. “Harry, we’re here to help too!”
Harry couldn’t help but grin. It was only for a moment, but it was the first smile he had given since Ron and Luna’s deaths.
The whole group disguised themselves. Within seconds the catering crew had more than doubled. Each of them took up different spots around the lobby, ready and alert as the first of the Wizengamot began to arrive.
Before long the foyer was full of mingling wizards and witches. Harry, from his position next to the punch bowl, saw Amelia Bones chatting animatedly with Kingsley Shackbolt, Mad-Eye Moody, and Remus Lupin. Percy Weasley was speaking in hushed tones in the corner with his newest girlfriend. Two elderly witches were frittering on about Dumbledore and the newest changes he had made in Hogwarts. A dumpy wizard with a dark mustache and frizzy-haired witch sulked near the entrance of the hall.
Harry glanced out of the corner of his eye the scarlet red robes of Rita Skeeter, her elbow cradling a magenta crocodile purse, and her nails matching her robes. Harry was glad that Rita wouldn’t recognize him. Rita had worked with Luna for the past three years, and talking to her would...would make him think of Luna.
Harry had to clear his throat. He shifted and looked up at the ceiling. He jumped slightly when he saw two glowing eyes blinking at him from the metal rafters of the ceiling. He saw Hedwig move slightly out of the shadows, blinking at him again. In her beak she carried a piece of parchment. She knew that it was him, regardless of his disguise.
Harry looked away; he didn’t want Hedwig to draw attention to him. She silently shifted along the rafter till she was right above, then she dropped the letter from her beak directly over Harry. The letter fell in front of Harry and he caught it. Turning slightly to the corner, he unfolded the parchment and read:
“Its all off. Wormtail’s been found dead.”
-A. Weasley
Harry stared dumbfounded at the note. Wormtail dead? Where? When? How? Harry looked up, and noticed the disguised face of Ginny giving him a questioning look. Harry motioned for her to come over. Ginny was by his side in moments. She quickly read the note as well.
“Somebody better check with Dumbledore,” she said quietly.
Harry agreed. “I’ll go,” he said. But before he could leave, Arthur Weasley himself strode into the foyer.
“Arthur! You made it!” a thin, tall witch asked excitedly.
Arthur smiled, inclining his head slightly.
“I must tell you all that this convention, although an ideal opportunity to reacquaint yourself with family and friends, was developed to no avail. Peter Petegeiw, otherwise referred to as Wormtail, was found dead but minutes ago. Thank you all for your cooperation, but this convention’s purpose has been served, and you are free to leave as you wish.”
Harry took his wand and tapped his own head, saying, “Denouement.” His disguise melted away. When the others saw Harry undisguise himself, they did the same. The room now had fewer caterers and in their place stood Ginny, Neville, Hermione, Bill, George, Fred, and Angelina. Some of the Wizengamot looked mildly surprised, but they soon realized why the group had been disguised.
“Where was he found?” Harry demanded. “When did he die...how did he die?”
“He was found—“
“How am I to get my revenge?” Harry shouted.
“Harry,” Arthur looked at him, a stressed expression on his face. “Control yourself.”
Harry looked crossly around at the Wizengamot. They were all staring at him.
“He was found outside the Riddle home,” Arthur said coolly.
A hush fell over the crowd.
“He did not appear sick, not injured. I...I suspect the Death Curse,” he finished quietly.
“But who?” Harry asked again.
Arthur shook his head. Suddenly there was a cold malicious laugh from the back of the crowd.
Harry’s stomach froze. He recognized that laugh. But whose was it?
The Wizengamot turned, revealing a cloaked figure with its wand out and pointing straight at Harry. Out of the shadows of the foyer stepped at least forty other cloaked figures, each with their wand pointed at a Wizengamot member.
Without hesitation, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Bill, George, Fred, and Angelina whipped out their own wands, as did each of the Wizengamot.
The head cloaked figure laughed again. Anger welled in Harry’s throat. They were sourly outnumbered.
“How—how did you get in here unnoticed?” Arthur stuttered.
The figure chuckled.
“You’re Aurors have ways of disguising themselves,” the figure gestured to Harry, “...as do we.”
“What do you want?” Arthur ordered.
“Simple. Vengeance. Family honor. Death.” the figure’s eyes gleamed under its hood.
Harry, with a jolt, realized who the figure was; the laugh, the eyes...
“Malfoy,” he spat, stepping towards the figure. “Draco Malfoy.”
The figure bowed mockingly, and took the hood off of his cloak, revealing his face. “Very good, Potter.”
“Go back to your flubberworms,” Harry said bitterly.
Anger flashed in Malfoy’s eyes. “Oh no,” he whispered. “I much prefer this job.”
Harry noticed that behind Malfoy’s back, each of the other figures where taking off their own hoods. He recognized Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, as well as Zela, the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. There was Blaine Dolohov, son of Antonin Dolohov, and Jerome Rosier, son of Evan Rosier. Harry recalled Hedda Travers, Barrett Macnair, Victoria Jugson, Alexander Nott, Keene Avery, Saxon and Zelos Rookwood, Ira Mulciber, and Adalia Rabastan. Still others, Harry didn’t recognize by name, but by face. Each and every cloaked figure was a direct descendent of a Death Eater. Each and every one of them had an evil glint in their eye, and a hateful expression on their face.
“For pure-bloods!” Malfoy shouted with vehemence.
“FOR PURE-BLOODS!” the cloaked figures shouted in reply.
“And for the blood of our fathers,” Malfoy almost whispered. With a mighty bellow, each of the cloaked figures flung out curses and spells into the crowd of Wizengamot members.
The Wizengamot also gave an almighty roar, muttering defenses and shields.
And the battle began.
Harry pushed his way through the mob. Flashes of red, green, and purple whizzed through the air, hitting here and there, others ricocheting off into space. His main goal was to get to Malfoy. And as a cloak moved from his path, be saw Malfoy, standing directly in front of him, but feet away. Malfoy had been set on him as well.
“How’s Luna?” Malfoy said sardonically. “Cold, I suspect. Underground can be very, very cold.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“No thanks to your pal, Wormtail,” he spat back.
Malfoy laughed again. His laughter rang in Harry’s ears. Malfoy’s easiness was causing Harry to become edgy. And mad. Exceedingly mad. They began to circle each other, wands held out in front.
“No, no...I believe you have it quite wrong, Potter.” Malfoy’s pale eyes gleamed. “See, I was the one who killed him.”
Harry felt chills run up and down his spine.
“Why?”
“Power. Leadership. Both things that my father failed to obtain. It’s a Crup eat Crup world out there, Harry. Every wizard for himself. So, naturally, I had to rid of the one person who was in the way of my aspiration for power. Wormtail has been dead for months. And I have, with the help of my loyal followers, been adamant on killing off every single one of the Wizengamot since. As children we swore they would pay for the death of our parents. We intend to keep our promise.”
Harry frowned. How could Wormtail have controlled Luna through the Imperius Curse if he had been dead for months? I couldn’t have been him. I had to have been...
Harry’s eyes shot Malfoy an icy glare.
“You,” he hissed, his voice unnaturally husky. “You were the one...all along. You—you killed Luna!”
Malfoy smiled slyly.
“No. If I remember quite right, you killed Luna.”
“Bete Noire!” Harry roared.
“Protego,” Malfoy muttered lazily. Harry’s spell reflected off of Malfoy’s shield. “She was actually quite helpful,” Malfoy continued. “Without her I really don’t know how I would have managed to kill Cornelius. And...” he paused. “With her I was able to get to you. And Ron.”
“Segosiller!” Harry snarled.
Again Malfoy blocked the curse.
“Harry, my followers and I may have been hunting down the Wizengamot, but I have always wanted to get you.”
“And so you have,” Harry scowled, ducking a rebounding curse from another wizard. The battle still raged powerfully around them.
Malfoy bowed slightly before crying, “Vendetta!”
Harry blocked it with a “Protego!” He lashed back roaring, “Marantha!”
“Prote—“ Malfoy couldn’t finish the shield spell. As red light erupted fro the tip of Harry’s wand, Malfoy was blown backwards, bowling through a mass of other battling wizards. Scrambling back to his feet and whipping back his robes, Malfoy shouted, “Crucio!”
Harry was ready. Although he was unable to block to Cruciatus Curse’s powerful blow, he quickly settled his mind and calmed his thoughts as the pain of the Unforgivable Curse hit him. He stumbled back, stiff as a board, enduring the throbbing, but fighting to remain on his feet. When the attack had ended, Harry blearily pointed his wand and muttered, “Aegrotat.”
Malfoy was thrown into the air, but he flipped gracefully to his feet, and bellowed, “Malum in se!”
Harry’s mind began to fill with voices. The room was swaying in front of him, and his ears began to ring as the voices became louder, and louder, and LOUDER...
“Harry...Harry...Harry... What was bothering you earlier? You’ve been looking so stressed...You can never be too careful, dearest... You can never be too careful...careful...careful... You’ve had a hard day... Baby...baby...baby...Everything will turn out fine...fine...fine... you’ll see... You’re the best Auror I’ve ever known... I bet Wormtail is shaking in his boots knowing that you’re on his trail...I love you...I love you...I love you...love...YOU...”
“NO!” Harry cried. “NO!!” Luna’s voice flooded his mind. He couldn’t think. He heard Malfoy’s voice in the distance and dimly felt his feet pulled up from under him. Pain exploded at the back of his head. He felt himself lifted from the ground. But he couldn’t fight. He couldn’t. Luna. Luna was there. She was in his head. He was whirled around, hit again and again by an invisible force, Malfoy’s words ringing like an echo in space. Harry tasted blood, but thought nothing of it. Luna...Luna...LUNA...
“LUNA!” Harry roared. He whipped around and opened his eyes. Although his vision was red, he saw the outline of Malfoy in the dim light. A renewing warmth flooded through his veins and a foreign feeling filled his heart as he hollered, “Affaire...de...Coeur!” He knew not what the words meant, nor had he ever heard them before. They seemed to come from his heart alone.
A blinding white light exploded from Harry’s wand. Malfoy’s eyes widened, his mouth opened, the action surrounding them froze...the curse seemed to fly in slow motion. Finally, without a sound, the white curse hit Malfoy and exploded. The white light detonated and billowed out around him, bursting amongst every witch and wizard in the foyer. The room was illuminated in a pure, pure white. Malfoy crumpled to the ground, followed simultaneously with each and every one of his followers. The Wizengamot remained standing, and not so much as a hair was moved. The white light retreated back into Harry’s wand, leaving everyone blinking in the sudden dimness.
Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed lifeless to the floor.
Reviewism of the Day:
Dolores Umbridge:
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth,"but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible REVIEWS in this class, very irresponsible indeed."