CHAPTER FORTY

IT SEEMED THAT MY HANDS were ready to bleed, when we apparated to the castle ruin in the dense night, only to have an iron arrow pierce clean through the muscle in the palm of my right hand before I could even comprehend that my feet had touched the solid ground.

The chaos shattered my senses then, making the pain and the sight of my own blood no longer a travesty.

My eyes saw it plain and simple, Flora Fischer had apparated us into an ambush. The dwarf witch shrieked in her own shock, grabbing her wand out of her dress as Harry Potter whipped out his own.

Though my limbs felt heavy suddenly, my brain felt quicker than ever, as it directed my eyes to the daunting dark mark on the displayed wrist of one of the male attackers.

Death eaters.

I saw the Durmstrangs first then, Viktor, Zubair and Yordanka were firing repeatedly—the girl sparking jabs from the tip of her wand at a unruly haired witch while Viktor bore a sharp glistening sword as he dragged it across the neck of a wizard, the man's head sliding clean off as it rolled to the ground, the rest of his body following in the head's wake.

Zubair Dimitrova was the one firing arrows, and it were his eyes that met mine—appalled at his shot piercing my hand instead of where he had directed it.

He had directed it behind us as we had appeared, and before that fact had registered, Harry Potter grabbed my elbow and yanked me away, the aim of his wand directed behind us.

"Sectumsempra!"

Harry's voice was loud, unrelenting as the witch he had targeted, crumpled in place—her scream reverberating in my ears. The skin on her burst at some places, her flesh wounding itself as blood spurted out of her form, the stench of hard iron slick in the humid air around us. I glanced at Potter as he pulled me to a safe side, for somebody who had just been taught the danger of the element of surprise, he was a startlingly fast learner.

Quickly, my eyes searched for Bridgette, Elias and Gabriel, and I found them just in the distance, with Gabriel tackling two death eaters as Elias and Bridgette fought with the largest one of them all—a tall, muscular, fleshy death eater who's movements were slow yet harsh.

He didn't wield a wand, and merely thrashed around with his giant form, crushing the standing walls of the castle ruin in an attempt to crush Bridgette and Elias. The death eater was a human, his being a mix between one of les dorés and a human wizard. Those kinds of mixes were not common, but they weren't entirely unheard of. They only occurred when a male wizard mated with a female from les dorés. These mixes gave the resulting offspring the size, and the strength, instead of the natural affinity of being enslaved, overpowered by wizard kind, or even the ability to transform themselves into mists. The resulting offspring could then be untethered with its connection to its mother, because no such laws existed in her favor against a wizard.

These mixes never occurred between a female witch and a male les dorés, that, was entirely unheard of.

I did a head count of the other death eaters, including the three my friends were tackling, there were three others that were attacking the Durmstrangs.

Six of them against nine of us. I didn't know if more of them were standing by somewhere, waiting. I couldn't be sure of that fact, what I could control was how the fight went on with the present opponents.

"Fischer," I looked at the dwarf witch, who's large shallow green eyes were fixated on my bleeding hand.

I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but there was an apparent discomfort in her manner at my wound, as though she wasn't at all pleased that after abusing her own mark repeatedly, she got to watch my hand bleed for once. I couldn't tell whether to be grateful for the lack of animosity, or irritated at the fact that my unfortunate wound had been spotted at all.

"Guard Harry with your life," I seethed at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down to the hidden corner of the ruin where Harry and I were crouched after he had dragged me away.

"What—no," Harry pressed, her features molding into dissatisfaction and alarm. "I'll help—"

"There's six of them now Harry," I interrupted him, my words hard. "Thanks to you for that too. Stay here, I'll take care of the rest."

"Should I summon the acolytes for you, my lady?" Fischer's tone was hesitant, as though she expected to be reprimanded for assuming I would need the help at all.

"No," I swallowed.

I could handle this, these weren't enough death eaters to warrant acolyte aid, besides, Voldemort must not know that I have the aid at all. He didn't know that I led the acolytes now, even if he knew they roamed around. He didn't know what Grindelwald had been to me, and it must remain that way.

"But you're hurt," The boy blurted, his eyes falling to my bleeding hand.

My right hand was stiff now, my muscles burned when I tried to move my fingers. Thankfully, Zubair's arrow had sliced clean through, and had not stuck in my flesh. But I had no way of telling if he had laced it with something fatal, and I could, at my present stage, only hope that he hadn't.

I glanced at Harry, drawing my runes would be torture, but I had no time at present for consideration.

"I'm fine," Was the only reply I could muster before I brought myself to my feet and rushed towards Elias and Bridgette, aiming to rid them of their heavy burden first.

The rune at my side was a left hand job, and even though it had never mattered with which hand I had drawn my runes, this particular attempt felt weaker than my previous ones. But I soon realized that it was only the throbbing pain in my right hand that had made me believe so, for the giant death eater I had aimed at froze in his spot, his eyes turning black as the eye balls burst inside his head, streams of blood coming out from both his sockets with pressure as his thick hands went up to cover his face.

He would drain out entirely if I let him bleed. My rune would not rest until it had sucked him dry of blood and his flesh, leaving him only a mess of skin and bones. And all that would happen through his eyes, but nobody present had time enough to wait for that.

Another rune was quick at my side then, and under the instruction of my left hand, the giant death eater froze in spot, his body breaking apart from the inside as he crumpled to his knees. His bones could be heard shattering, a dull series of thuds and loud cracks from under his skin as his lips parted under the streams from his bloody eye sockets, only to let out a groan.

"Dom!" Bridgette was instantly at my side, once the threat of the giant was diminished, her wand still held high in defense as Elias followed her.

"Mon Dieu, you were nowhere to be found!" She cried out, risking a one armed hug in our present situation while her wand was still held high in our blind spots. "J'avais si peur, I thought—I thought something bad happened or they took you!"

"Where were you? Are you alright?" Elias pressed, his facial features and tone alike tethering on the decision on whether to be entirely angry or entirely concerned.

"I'm fine!" I let out, my frustration at their anger and equal parts concern, evident in my tone.

I was frustrated with myself. I had left for only a brief hour, and I had endangered them all in the process.

"Tell me what happened—,"

"Dominique!" Viktor Krum's loud shout erupted in my senses, cutting my sentence off.

I glanced in his direction, only to watch him march over to me with Zubair and Yordanka on his heels, and four bloody death eater forms littering the ground behind them.

"Where were you?" He shouted as he approached, fury and anguish marring his face.

He held his bloody sword at his side, sharpness facing down, his knuckles pale as he clutched the hilt of it tightly.

"For fuck's sake!" The Bulgarian seeker fumed. "I thought they fucking killed you!"

"No, I'm fine," I fought to argue, when Viktor grabbed my elbow and pulled me to him. My hands pressed against his chest and a bolt of pain from my right hand butchered my senses and sharpened tears in my eyes.

"Where were you?" Viktor yelled, the veins in his neck jutting out as he ground his teeth, ebony eyes bearing harshly into mine, his voice was loud in my ears.

"I—," I started, words not co-operating with my senses.

"I wake up to this and you're gone? Why do you do this? Why the fuck do you keep leaving when I tell you not to?"

"What the fuck is any of this without you? We're all just bullshitting here without you!"

"Viktor!" I cried out, my torn hand grabbing hold of the back of his head as I ignored the pain of it and forced our proximity, trying to calm him. My damaged hand shook violently at the back of his head.

"Dominique," His tone dropped levels, his eyes shut as he gave in and pressed his forehead against mine with force.

I wanted to use words then, but my resolve shook with the pain that centered in my palm and shot missiles up the length of my entire arm.

Just then, a wild yell broke through our senses as Gabriel Chevrolet—his resolve in a frenzy as he sweated through his shirt after his ordeal with the two death eaters he had tackled—pointed his wand at the edge of the castle ruin, from where new dark figures could be seen emerging.

Viktor took hold of my elbow, immediately removing me from his front and pulling me to his side. Yordanka murmured a curse in thick Bulgarian before taking her stance, her broad shoulders tense. Bridgette and Elias firmed up beside me, both their wands held high as Elias rolled his neck. Zubair raised his bow and arrow high, his aim set at the approaching death eaters as he elbowed Elias aside and placed himself at Bridgette's right, in between the both of them.

I bit back the urge to glance at the spot where Harry and Flora Fischer sat crouched against the wall. They were dangerously closer to the death eaters as the latter moved slow in a clique nearing westwards and stopping right outside the broken walls, like heavy dark fog calculating its every step.

I could count at least twelve heads amidst the darks of their clothing, and my heart thrummed wildly in my chest. How had our hideout been exposed this fast?

Could we have been tracked? Was I being tracked? Elias and I had come face to face with Voldemort in London, had he somehow found a way to track us?

No, I swallowed the terrifying thought down. I would've felt something were that the case. I had blood heuristics in my veins, surely, Mon Dieu, I would've felt something.

Then as the death eaters stopped, a stark platinum haired death eater was the only one to move as the man stepped on the rubble and hoisted himself into our shelter.

He was broad and slender, possibly in his early fifties with sleek straight silver corn hair that flowed down his back. His skin was plain white, and carried a walking stick—the kind that caught the light of the moon with how shiny it was.

"Father," A voice reverberated in the silence then as Draco Malfoy trudged on over to approach the man.

I pressed my lips together. Somebody had freed the boy from Flora Fischer's binds, and unlike the rest of us, he was entirely unhurt after the recent chaos. The resemblance was evident in between the elder death eater and this younger boy. Indeed, the boy had been from a death eater family all along.

"Glad you could make it."

I stilled, my heart stopping briefly with this new found information. Viktor let out a furious grunt, his jaw tight as he glared at the Malfoy boy, his limbs aching to rebel. We had been tracked all along, but it was through Draco Malfoy. And of course, that boy wouldn't have minded any sensation that was to come as a result at all.

But how? How was anyone to know that I would have Fischer tie up the boy and bring him along?

My questions were soon answered as the platinum haired boy turned to face us with a smug expression plastered on his face, a sinister hate and superiority reveling in his eyes. Then he brought his wrist to his chest and pointed his wand to it.

Voldemort's dark mark etched on his skin was revealed instantly then. My hands fisted at my sides. A death eater had simply summoned the others. That is only what had happened, there had been no need of tracking. A simple act had rained boulders on us, risking all our lives and everything I had set out for. Inwardly, I cursed Fischer for not spotting the dark mark hidden on the boy's body and for hiding his wand in such a careless way that he had retrieved it back. She had been stupid enough to miss it, when it had been her primarily dealing with him. Her carelessness had cost us.

But it was my fault first, was it not? I had been the one who had decided to haul him along, with no apparent use for his presence in sight or mind.

"The dark mark," I let out, interrupting the Malfoy's smug moment, my voice steady as my eyes met the father's.

I shouldn't be talking to them, but we were heavily outnumbered, and I needed time to think.

"What a cruel thing to do to a boy. He is only fourteen."

Draco Malfoy's face twisted in anger as his father's grin fell.

"I am old enough!" He shouted, and the phrase was a clear remnant of all the numerous times he must've spoken it before, to his family, to his friends.

My mind reverted back to my own self getting my great uncle's mark. I had been a mere baby then. And that was crueler, but you didn't go about comparing your cruelty and hurt with other people's. It accomplished nothing.

"Not if you have to say it," I answered, keeping my voice leveled.

The elder Malfoy snickered, glancing briefly at his son in distaste before his eyes met mine and the crease of distaste smoothened.

"What is it exactly that you kids are doing here?" The man spoke, an amused lilt to his voice as he pretended to curiously observe the Schalun castle ruin around him, before his beady eyes sized the each of us up.

He spoke as though he was giving a performance, and the genre was anything he felt like in the moment. And I knew then, that this was the kind of man who played at edges, pretending to know less than he did just for the game of letting the fear catch up. My great uncle had been similar in his techniques, though he hadn't the unsurmountable patience that this death eater seemed to have. This kind of patience came with being a slave to an evil wizard, it did not come from being the evil wizard.

"They have Potter," Draco Malfoy blurted out, rolling out Harry's name in disgust. "They fucking kidnapped me and brought me here."

I exhaled slowly against the wild beating of my heart. How much had I been careless enough to let the Malfoy boy overhear? He knew about Harry, but how much did he know about me? My questions were swiftly answered then, and I could do nothing but watch them unfold.

"Shut it," The father sneered then at his boy, his mind on a thirst for information that obviously did not concern sympathy for Draco.

"You have the heuristic witch here," The death eater spoke then, after a deliberate pause as he eyed us all, his pair of dark beads stopping a little while longer on Yordanka, Bridgette and me in turn.

I had done heuristics just now, and I hadn't masked the scent. In the chaos, my mind hadn't warned me of the immediate consequence, and now fury at myself jabbed at me like a dagger in my back.

"The stench of her is blinding in here."

Voldemort must've told all his death eaters by now, that the heuristic wizard he was seeking was indeed only a witch. They must all be aware by now, except they had no image of me to refer to.

"I will be taking her and Potter," The death eater mused when nobody had spoken. I could feel Viktor tense up at my side, his forehead damp with perspiration and eyes hard on the death eater.

"Respectfully, if both of them volunteer without the fuss."

The man neared us, his shiny black shoes sounding odd footsteps against the stone floors of the falling Schalun castle. His eyes settled on Yordanka with scrutiny first because it was she who was the first of us as we stood in a defensive line.

"Durmstrang, no doubt," The man snickered. "I suppose if a heuristic witch ought to emerge after four centuries, she must be a Durmstrang."

Yordanka Hristova sneered, her teeth bared as she glared unflinchingly at the death eater.

"Durmstrangs," The man raised a brow again as his eyes fell on Viktor Krum and Zubair Dimitrova. "Aren't you kids a long way from school? Now, why would you abandon the Huntlock and perch yourselves here instead of going back to your school?"

"Hoping to run into the likes of you," Dimitrova snarled, his bow and arrow pointed at the platinum haired man's chest. "My arrows have been thirsty."

"And you," The death eater ignored Zubair's quip, his eyes falling onto me next. "You cannot be a Durmstrang."

His small eyes sized me up, as conclusions flashed through their surface. "You are too.. discerning and elegant to be one."

His irises moved on from me to Bridgette. "Oh, and so are you. Petite and naïve."

"And this boy," The man observed Elias, mimicking a certain glee. "Beauxbatons boys really do have that sophistication that I so hear about."

Then, his eyes found Gabriel Chevrolet, who held his wand high aimed towards the death eater, his eyes fixated in a glare. The man's face fell as he raised a brow plainly.

"And where the fuck are you from?"

"Your mother's place, you fucker," Gabriel let out, before shout escaped his lips. "Stupefy!"

With precision, the man dodged the spell and it missed him narrowly. The death eater's expression hardened.

"I have been polite, and this is how you show your gratitude? Didn't you learn manners at one of your Beauxbatons' tea parties, boy?"

Elias Dupont flinched at the assumption, the boy clearly was not one for letting stereotypical quips like these pass him by.

"Take your son and leave," Bridgette spoke up next, her free hand contorted into a fist at her side. "If we have a heuristic witch with us, you are more outnumbered than you believe."

"I might be," The man shrugged, raising his brows. "Considering that she defeated Albus Dumbledore and has The Elder Wand as well."

The man glanced back at Yordanka, considering. "We had to offer up one of our thriving death eaters to turn the narrative. That was an inconvenience."

"But I am not leaving without Potter and the heuristic witch," The death eater straightened himself, tapping his shiny walking stick to the ground. "Give both of them up, or we will have ourselves a battle that you do not want to undertake in this state."

I swallowed, my eyes observing the lot of us discreetly. Gabriel was still in a frenzy, and Viktor was breathing hard from his fight earlier. Bridgette was panicked, so much so that her raised wand shook slightly in her hand.

But still, I couldn't give Harry potter up, and neither could I give myself. Both would mean the death of the wizarding world. Voldemort would not have my heuristics, it was not meant for him, and neither was The Elder Wand and the life of a fourteen year old boy.

"If a battle is what you want," Viktor Krum took a step forwards, his ebony eyes glaring at the death eater, "That is what you will get."

"No," I let out then, as all eyes turned to me, including Krum's own startled ones.

Caution reverberated through his gaze, but I broke away from his eyes and bore mine into the death eaters.

"How about a duel with the heuristic witch?" I challenged him, my voice leveled. "She dueled and defeated Dumbledore, did she not? If you win, you can have her and Harry Potter. But if you lose, you die."

"No," Viktor was quick to speak. His fingers wrapping around my elbow. "No duel Dominique, we fight these fuckers together."

"Viktor," I pressed, my eyes meeting him as I urged him to back away.

Meanwhile the death eater merely considered, his darkly gloved hand touching his chin in a pretense, before he grinned and answered a simple, "Accepted."

"Don't!" A voice interrupted us, as Harry potter came running out from where I had had him stay, with a bewildered Flora Fischer trudging hot and hesitant on his heels.

"Dominique, he will cheat," Harry's cry was desperate. "Lucius Malfoy will cheat. He's a Malfoy, don't trust him."

"Potter," The death eater—Lucius Malfoy—grinned. "Now, now. You must have faith."

"I'll be careful, Harry," Was all I could manage.

"Oh," The man's features contorted into surprise as he looked at me. "Are you the heuristic witch? My, what a surprise."

"You're terribly slow for a death eater," I observed, keeping my tone light enough to result in the jab. "Else you would've seen how I am the only one not brandishing a wand or weapon of any sort. I prefer to give my wands some respite, from time to time."

The platinum haired man's jaw twitched at the insult, but he whipped his wand out and gave us a wide berth, preparing the stage for the duel. I started to join, but I was grabbed from behind as soon as I had taken a step forward.

Viktor Krum's scent infiltrated my senses as he pulled me to his chest, his warmth grounding me instantly. I winced when through the receding numbness I felt the pain of him accidentally grabbing my torn hand.

"Fuck," Viktor glanced at my hand, panic slicing through the hardness of his features as he loosened his hold. "Fuck, Dominique your hand is butchered."

"I know—," I started, "It'll be fine, I just—"

"If you say fine one more time I swear to Merlin, I'll kill you and then myself," Krum snarled, his tone vicious in his anger.

"Potter is right," The Bulgarian seeker pulled himself together, his jaw tight. "This bastard won't stick to it. You should not be dueling him right now with his fucking army right behind him."

"Then I don't have to stick to it either," I managed, a challenge in my voice.

Viktor paused, before his eyes flashed a certain intrigue and he quelled it. He lowered his head slightly, his lips meeting my ear.

"If you get a scratch more on your body, I'm burning all of them."

With that he stepped away, still air rushing in where his form had been. Zubair, Yordanka, Bridgette, Elias and Gabriel distanced themselves too, their weapons held high in caution and their stances maintained. Harry Potter had rushed over to Bridgette's side, as she ushered the boy closer to her form. He wore a desperate expression, his eyes flashing all his worry and fear.

I broke my eyes away from him, focusing on the man in front of me.

"Argh," Lucius Malfoy uttered in disgust as his gaze wandered away, landing on Flora Fischer. "What the fuck is that? Merlin, it's wretched looking."

"She's a dwarf witch from Germany," I offered, taking my stance a distance away from him. "I wouldn't be so quick to form my opinions, despite the flaws, she can cut if I ask her to."

"Ask her to cut out a shroud then," The Malfoy smirked. "She will need it to wrap you in after I'm done with you."

"I admire the confidence," I stretched out the fingers of my left hand, "I hope you stick to it longer."

With that, I whipped out my own silver green wand. If I wanted to win this, I needed to play by the duel's rules first.

"Not The Elder Wand?" My opponent raised a brow, clearly attempting to throw me off. 

My wand hadn't let me down when I had dueled Dumbledore with it, it was only when he had asked me to use heuristics, that I had cheated and overtook him. Perhaps it was his permission that had still garnered me the Elder Wand. Perhaps if I had cheated without his permission, that wand wouldn't have come to me.

I couldn't risk The Elder Wand at present. I was going to use my heuristics to turn the duel, I had no need of the wand at present.

Lucius Malfoy was quick to reciprocate then, as a streak of startling green light emerged from his wand after he had spoken the spell, and it clashed against the silver being spewed by my own wand. The force of it was heavier than it had been when I had dueled Dumbledore, and with a sudden surprise, I realized then that Albus Dumbledore's heart and strength had not been in the duel with me at all. He had wanted me to win from the start.

And this death eater—Lucius Malfoy—was no Albus Dumbledore.

The man grunted loudly as he pushed on his force with all his might, the green overtaking the silver as it covered the distance quicker than I could stop it. My wand shook violently in my left hand, my feet struggling to keep me steady under the pressure of the incoming force. As comfortable I was with drawing runes with either of my hands, dueling with a wand was something I had not learned without limiting it. I ached to switch the wand over to my right hand, but I knew that would be signing my own death warrant, for I wasn't even sure if my right hand worked now.

"Where's that shroud?" Lucius Malfoy yelled out the question, a maniacal grin plastered on his face as he watched his green creep closer to me, swallowing all the silver in its way.

I watched the green grow bigger and prominent in my view. I watched it come closer.

I knew what I needed to do then, wait until it was close enough, and then turn the tables. My resolve ached for runes at my side, for the liberation of managing to kill someone with only the flick of my fingers. If Lucius Malfoy thought now that he wouldn't have to cheat in order to defeat me, I would make him wish that he had.

As I counted the seconds, my eyes trained on the overtaking green as it crept closer and I held my ground, a shout broke out in my periphery. Lucius Malfoy, his eyes having wandered in face of his eminent victory, saw the disturbance and broke off the force of his wand's wrath. I stumbled backwards slightly with the sudden withdrawal, only to push myself to focus and see Draco Malfoy turn on Harry Potter with his wand.

"He tried to hit you! I saw him!" Harry caught my eyes briefly, keeping his wand raised towards Draco. "This bastard tried to help his father. Fucking cheaters."

I glanced at Lucius Malfoy, fury burning in my eyes, but the man merely grinned and offered me a nonchalant shrug, his prideful eyes fixating on his son.

"Harry don't," I let out, "This is between his father and me."

"Back off Draco," I sneered at the boy.

He looked at me, disgust marring his features before he turned back to Harry, and before I could place the intention on his face, the boy let out a spell.

"Crucio!"

The Cruciatus curse. Harry's wand broke away from his grip as he let out a shrill scream in pain, his body contorting in his agony as he rolled on the ground.

"No," I shouted, my chest burning as my wand dropped from my hand, toppling to the ground.

My fury clouded my vision then, bursts of red erupting in my senses as I traced a rune at my side, clearly aware of it being drawn this time. Was I finally controlling my fury or had it found a new way to control me?

Draco Malfoy was then lifted from the ground, his limbs stretched out as he constricted his face, trying to let out a shout but no sound came out. Harry's screams seemed never ending in my periphery as Bridgette and Elias rushed over to him, trying to undo the curse set upon him.

I pulled tighter on Draco Malfoy, my ears conscious of Harry's agonized screams, my anger a hot fire that burned me as I stood. I wouldn't stop until the Malfoy boy's limbs were torn apart from his body—I knew I wouldn't stop until he was drawn and entirely quartered in the air, all his four limbs scattered in the ruins of the Schalun castle.

Viktor Krum and Zubair Dimitrova attacked Lucius Malfoy as the man—bewildered and terrified at his son's current state, had raised his wand to me.

I didn't want to look anywhere else but at Draco Malfoy's tearing form, and I wanted Harry's screams to stop. I wanted his pain to stop.

"Dominique," An unexpected shout sounded right beside my ear as my shoulder was grabbed roughly.

Furious at the interruption I whipped my head to look at Yordanka Hristova, my eyes no doubt a picture of hot madness in face of the searing anger throbbing in my being. The Durmstrang girl's face twisted in horrified concern. The expression was so out of place on her, so something that had never been meant for me, that I faltered in confusion.

"Let him go," She urged, bearing her dark brown eyes into mine, sweat glistening on her brown forehead as some pieces of small curls from her afro fell into her eyes.

"He's just a boy," She pressed, her thick voice hoarse. "You're no better than all those fucking death eaters if you kill him."

"He's Harry Potter's age," She urged again, her tone harder. "Let him go right now."

I blinked, my fury taking a hit as it broke off at the edges with the realization of Hristova's words. Draco Malfoy was a boy who didn't know any better. He didn't deserve to die at my hands for the rage and ignorance his father had instilled in him.

I let him go, and the boy dropped to the ground like a rag doll. He moaned and stirred in the rubble, pained groans escaping from between his lips. I had seen no limbs of his tear and fly off, but I knew I had—in my incessant fury—caused irreparable damage.

Lucius Malfoy broke away from his battle with Krum and Dimitrova, rushing to his son's battered form.

I looked towards Harry, my heart clenching as the sound of his screams raged against my ear drums again. My fury had seemingly dulled the boy's agony out, drowning it in my senses.

"Can you lift the curse?" Yordanka pressed anxiously, "Because Merlin it doesn't look like any of the rest of can."

I stumbled towards Harry's form, forcing my legs to co-operate as gusts of wind hit my face sparking ice on my skin. It was then I realized that I was crying, tears falling out of my eyes at their own accord regardless of the incoherent and undecipherable anguish I was feeling.

I had a new rune drawn then, as I dropped to my knees beside Harry's contorting form. I grabbed him by his elbow and pulled him towards me, holding him tight as he twisted unnaturally against my chest and screamed himself hoarse in my ears. Focusing all of my strength, I battled against the curse that was torturing him, holding him so tight I was afraid I'd strangle him before I could lift the curse.

I hadn't ever lifted the Cruciatus curse before, and I could only hope that what I was attempting at present would work.

It did work then, as Harry slowly stilled inside my hold, his body no longer bending at odd angles, and limbs no longer rebelling against their natural joints. His screams settled, only leaving a dull groan escaping from his lips. His eyes were closed as his body went into an unresponsive mode. I quickly drew another rune, and took the boy's consciousness away from him as he slipped into complete darkness, slumped against my chest.

"You're alright," I whispered against his ear, my voice breaking, knowing he wouldn't hear me. "I'll bring you back soon, Harry."

Bridgette put a hand on Harry's head, exhaling a sigh of relief as her eyes met mine.

"You bitch!" A thunderous shout erupted in my senses then, as those of us with Harry turned to look at Lucius Malfoy.

The death eater looked ravenous for blood, as he held his limp son up by use of the boy's collar.

"You broke his arms!" The man's eyes were red veined as he looked at me. "He's fucking useless!"

He dropped Draco Malfoy, as his son fell right on top of the rubble he had been immersed in previously.

"You fucking bitch," The man spat then as he whipped out his wand in a fraction of a second and directed it at me before either Krum or Dimitrova—the two presently active defenders—could make a move to stop him.

"Avada kedavra."

The flash of blinding green light raced towards me with the unmistakable rushing sound and daunting rusting metal scent of the killing curse, and it didn't occur to me that I should push Harry Potter away. The boy was presently limp in my hold, and my arms refused to part with him for a single second yet alone when faced with incoming evident death. For some peculiar reason that I couldn't name, I held him tighter, his warmth a solace to me as my previously hot fury clad brain—now cold and still—refused to direct an act.

The sounds around me played in a painfully slow motion. I saw Viktor's eyes widen with pure terror, I heard shouts all around me adorned in familiar voices.

But then, as the green of death approached me and Harry, it was blocked out by a form. Death's journey to me was altered, as someone else jumped in between its path, efficiently throwing its meticulously planned plans astray. A sound of a spark clashing sounded, and instantaneously the body of the person who had intervened, rolled over. Unmistakably, undoubtedly, horrifyingly, dead. 

***

A/N: 
gosh, my heart is beating so fast </3 I'm so sorry that someone of the group is now dead. They were such a brilliant character and I know they could've done so much more had I kept them in the story. But I just—gosh. </3