Chapter Eleven
A small, bat-eared house elf sat curled on the floor of a vacant upstairs bedroom in the Potter house, rocking back and forth and quietly sobbing. A man stood over her, gazing down without pity, and as her sobbing increased he delivered a swift kick to her shins, eliciting a high-pitched squeal of pain.
–Shut it,†the man grunted, and he began to pace back and forth impatiently, throwing the elf a dark look each time he changed direction.
–Winky is a good elf,†the sobbing creature squealed. –Winky will not betray her Mistress. Winky is wanting to leave. Please sir, please let Winky leave!â€
–I said shut it!†the man roared, descending upon her looking thunderous.
The bedroom door burst open and a second man, much taller with a scarred face and filthy, pointed teeth, stalked in.
–What the hell are you yelling about, Scabior?†he growled, stepping towards the first man and causing him to retreat several steps. –You’ll have half the house come running in a minute. Not even casting a bloody silencing charm...â€
–The bleedin’ elf’s driving me barmy, Greyback.â€
–Then go help Carrow with the other prisoner. Go on, out!â€
When the first man scuttled out of the room, Greyback turned his malevolent gaze upon Winky.
–Didn’t think anyone’d find your old Master, did you, elf?†he said, crouching down next to her and leering.
The elf’s eyes filled with fresh tears. –Winky is thinking that you is very wicked for stealing Master Barty from Saint Mungo’s. Very wicked!â€
–I reckon you’re right, elf, and it’ll serve me well. Learned a few tricks from the Dark Lord before he passed, see. It’s not only dead bodies what can be turned to Inferi, did you know that? Those who’ve suffered the Demetor’s Kiss, they can be turned too. That’s where you come in.â€
–Winky is bound by magic to still obey the orders of her old Master while Barty Crouch Junior lives,†said the elf. –But Winky will never betray her Mistress.â€
–QUIET!†Greyback shouted, suddenly rancorous, and he struck Winky across the face, sending her into renewed bursts of tears. –You’ll do as you’re told, elf, and you’ll do it quietly, or I might be deciding to use your bones to pit my teeth. I could do with an appetizer. Oh, there you are, Corner.â€
A ghost had just floated in through the wall. Even with the pearly sheen of his complexion one could tell that he had died sallow-skinned and gaunt. His eyes had a faraway look as though he was not really sure where he was, or even who he was, and his hands twisted together convulsively every few seconds. He seemed terrified both of Greyback and of the wailing elf on the floor.
–I expect the Carrows were happy to see you again?†Greyback inquired, an evil note in his voice.
The ghost of Michael Corner jumped at the sound of his voice, and cowered a little against the wall.
"Well," Greyback told Winky impatiently. "Get on with it."
Shaking from head to toe, Winky approached the ghost, stretched her hands out in front of her, and began to whisper under her breath. A ripple like a heat haze emanated from her palms and flowed onto Michael Corner, enveloping him in a sheen that seemed to solidify him slightly, make him more present.
Greyback gave a triumphant smile, more like a leer. "How long will it last?"
"A-An hour," stuttered the elf.
"An hour?" exclaimed Greyback, outraged.
"Ghosts is not supposed to be coming into contact with people and things," Winky squeaked, wiping her dripping nose on her sleeve. "Winky is using powerful magic to make Mister Corner stronger, but it cannot last l-longer than that."
–It had better last at least that." Turning to address the ghost, Greyback went on, "I’ll go look after the sword, and I’ll send Crouch in here after me. He’ll be bewitched to follow orders, so you just tell him not to let the elf get away. We needed her to get in past security and we’ll need her to get out. After that you can point out your pretty little girlfriend. I’m feeling peckish.â€
With a lunatic laugh Greyback exited, leaving the tormented ghost and the terrified elf behind to gaze at one another in despair. Deep in the heart of the ghost’s eyes, something flickered.
***
Dudley was still lying on the road near Harry’s house with his cheek pressed against the gravel when he regained consciousness. He experienced the momentary vertigo that always accompanied waking in an unfamiliar place, then groaned as he remembered why he was there and why his head felt as if it was about to split open.
A cackle behind him caused Dudley to sit up and take in the ugly sight of his two short, stout captors standing side by side like a pair of malicious manatees.
–You don’t look so good, ugly,†said the woman on the left. On the right, the man who was undoubtedly her brother danced a little with glee. –’Spect you’ll look even worse when we’re finished with you, eh?â€
–Go to hell,†Dudley grunted, clutching at his throbbing head.
The woman struck out at him with a small knife, suddenly, unexpectedly, leaving a shallow but painful cut against his cheek.
–What’s that? Eh, dirt-veins?†the man jeered. –Not so high and mighty now, are yeh? Filthy Muggle.â€
–Why are you wasting time here? You’d better take me inside to your leader, don’t you think?†Dudley was bluffing, but he had to try something. –Where’s Greyback?â€
–You think so, do you?†the woman said angrily. –We’ll see if you’re laughing when you meet ‘im. Oh, he’ll like you, Greyback will. Lots of meat on your bones, eh?â€
Dudley’s stomach turned over as the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and half-dragged him down the road towards the house. He was trying furiously to think of an escape plan, his head screaming in pain and protest, when they reached the front gate. The Aurors who had been stationed on either side of the gate to check every guest who entered the premises were now absent, having retreated under the marquee to patrol the reception, and the front yard was deserted. Yelling for help might cause more problems than it would solve, Dudley reflected, as it might bring guests into harm’s way. Yet he had to do something.
–Where is ‘e?†the stout woman asked, her piggy eyes squinting in the direction of the house.
–Getting the sword ready, stupid,†her brother retorted.
–What, does it need sharpening, then?â€
Dudley frowned. –Are you saying your leader didn’t even tell you lot what his plan was?â€
–Shut it!†the man shouted, giving Dudley’s head a little shake that sent darts of pain straight to the center of his brain. And just when Dudley had had enough, just when he thought that he would attempt an attack despite his lack of magical abilities, his captor screamed and let go of his hair.
His sister swiveled around, looking for an attacker, but the yard still appeared deserted. Then Dudley saw it, impossibly faint in the sunlight: the same translucent shape that had appeared in the street before he was knocked out. Could it possibly be a real, honest to goodness ghost?
The stout little man had fallen to the ground, apparently knocked out, while his sister waved her wand wildly through the air like a whip. She shrieked and cursed and aimed spells at the ghost, but it swooped through the brightly lit yard and danced in and out of sight and avoided every beam of light she sent at it. Under cover of the excitement Dudley managed to stumble closer to the woman, unnoticed, and stuck out his foot. As she tripped the ghost descended upon her and knocked her out.
Dudley would have felt relieved, except that the ghost appeared as riled up as ever even now that the Carrows were subdued. He had a sallow face and eyes that darted to and fro, stopping occasionally to roll back into his head.
–T- thanks,†Dudley said cautiously.
–You’re him?†the ghost asked, approaching Dudley by several feet and then jumping back again many times.
–Who?†Dudley gaped, but taking in the ghost’s distress he experienced yet another unexpected burst of clarity, and it came to him. –You’re Michael Corner, aren’t you?â€
–You’re him! You’re him!†the ghost chanted again. –And you want to take her from me. See, she won’t leave me, no. You wait. No, no, no.â€
Dudley felt a great surge of pity for the lost and confused ghost of Michael Corner in front of him. He thought that his now unconscious attackers must have gone to cruel lengths to convince Corner that such drastic measures were needed to get Parvati back. And what was more, he would not even get to be with her in the end.
–Listen, what Parvati does is her business,†Dudley said hurriedly, edging away from Corner towards the gate. –All I want to do is to make sure my cousin is safe from the werewolf in that house. That’s all.â€
–The wolf came in the night,†Corner said, ignoring Dudley. –Hungry, always hungry. You wait and see, I said, she loves me. The wolf howled. No, no, no. She doesn’t love me. Not unless I take her back. I have to take her back, see? I helped the wolf, watched my love day and night, hid in corners. You’re him! She was with you, and the wolf understood. You’re him, the sheep who stole my love, and you will be the one to draw out Potter. The Chosen one must be drawn out.â€
As Corner talked he hovered nearer and nearer to the gate, and Dudley kept a wary eye on him but stood his ground. Much of what he said went over Dudley’s head, but he thought he understood the general idea, unpleasant as it was.
–So let me get this straight,†Dudley said slowly. –This Greyback character found out about Parvati and me somehow... maybe he read about or mishap in Diagon Alley in the newspaper? Yes! These two dumpy gits were the ones who attacked us that day, I remember. And Greyback used you to spy on us by telling you you’d get Parvati back, because, what... he needed to use me as bait to get to Harry?â€
–I fought alongside Potter, once,†Corner said cryptically, his head giving a sad lilt. His eyes were growing brighter, now, and he seemed a little more aware of his surroundings with each passing second.
–But why go through all that trouble? Surely there are other people Harry would be more interested in saving. Greyback could have kidnapped anyone, at any time, if he wanted to lure Harry into a trap. Why now, and why me?â€
–If you really want to know, Muggle, the plan was to wait until the Chosen One’s wedding so as we’d have an audience.â€
The voice that chilled Dudley’s blood in his veins came from behind the hedge that lined the front walk, and a tall, savage looking man emerged carrying a heavy, gleaming sword. There was no doubt in Dudley’s mind that this was the werewolf, Greyback.
–Of course,†Greyback went on, –I was partial to kidnapping the Mudblood Granger, at first. But the little bitch would have been bound to put up a fight. We decided on you, pathetic, wandless Muggle, because we knew you were the one guest what we could get away with taking in quiet. And we would’ve taken you earlier except Corner here had told us the Mudblood was keeping a ruddy close eye on you.â€
Dudley could feel his teeth chattering in sheer terror at this man’s pointed teeth, his claw-like fingernails caked in what looked like a mix of dirt and blood. Yet, amazingly, he found the strength to push open the gate and stride up the walk so that he was standing right in front of the werewolf, his shoulders squared, his fists clenched. And when he raised his eyes a little and caught sight of the window to the upstairs study, he saw something that raised his spirits so completely that he almost gave himself away by smiling. Mastering himself, Dudley summoned up his most petulant five year old self and scoffed in Greyback’s face.
–Think this is funny, do you, filth?†Greyback snarled.
–A little, yes,†Dudley replied. He never would have had the nerve to say it, had Hermione Granger’s face not just peered out the window at him with wide eyes. –I was vile to Harry Potter our whole lives. Never missed a chance to pummel him, and make his life miserable. Just this morning I tarred his wedding day by telling tales about him to Rita Skeeter. He won’t come for me, and you’ve wasted your time.â€
Greyback’s eyes narrowed. –We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? We’ll have to see if I can make you scream loud enough for Potter to come running. I’m betting I can.â€
Dudley’s whole body tensed up in anticipation of what was coming, but it still hurt like hell when Greyback drew his wand and slashed at the air, creating a deep gash in Dudley’s shoulder. Out of sheer spite Dudley clamped his mouth shut and made not a sound, which seemed to anger his aggressor greatly. The werewolf gave a feral growl low in his throat and pointed his wand at Dudley, and suddenly the world was on fire. Every inch of Dudley’s skin was being lacerated, torn at by poisoned claws, and seared by hot pokers. He was not aware that he was on the ground, howling in agony, begging for it to end, please, anything but this pain that was too great for his mind to contain it, until all at once the pain was lifted and his breath was coming in great, shallow gasps that tore at his lungs and throat.
Please let it be over, he thought, please let me die before going through that again.
Using every ounce of strength he had left, Dudley rolled onto his side in time to witness a sight that, even in his weakened state, sent the blood flooding to his brain in a rush of awe and excitement. Grunting, he managed to prop himself up on his knees as Harry, Hermione, and their red-haired friend-Rob? Rolf? No, Ron, that was it, Ron-advanced on Greyback. Without consulting one another, as though they shared one collective mind, the three of them drew their wands in seamless unison. Though they did not speak their spells aloud, beams of light began shooting across the yard at once. Hermione’s hit Dudley and sent a warm balm of comfort rushing from his head to his toes, heartening him so that he was able to get shakily to his feet. The man named Ron conjured ropes which wrapped themselves around the feebly stirring Carrows across the road. And Harry, his eyes filled with a calm disappointment far more frightening than cold fury would have been, disarmed Greyback in a movement so swift that it was barely visible.
–Been a long time, Greyback,†Harry said casually, as though they were merely old acquaintances catching up. –The pleasure is all yours, I daresay. Thank Merlin Ginny’s still at the Burrow getting ready, at least.â€
Ron nodded fervently, but Hermione’s eyes were fixed upon the sword in Greyback’s hand, as though she were trying to work something out.
–Always playing the hero, Potter,†said Greyback. –Always Dumbledore’s stooge. But you’ve fallen right into my trap, haven’t you?â€
–That,†Harry replied, –is a matter of opinion.â€
–And we’ll take that,†Ron added, striding forward and snatching up the werewolf’s wand from the ground. Turning back to Hermione he said, –You were right, this must be something to do with Winky going missing. How else would they have gotten in? Couldn’t have Apparated normally.â€
–Yes, that’s what I thought, but it doesn’t really add up,†Hermione replied. More guests were beginning to arrive and crowd into the backyard, gasping and whispering to one another, but she ignored them and turned to Dudley, speaking directly to him. –Why bother breaking into the house if they meant to lure Harry out here? Did the Carrows say anything?â€
–Not sure. Something to do with the sword,†Dudley told her, avoiding his cousin’s gaze for fear of finding censure there. There was a great deal of muttering coming from the crowd, now. And something was stirring in Dudley’s memory, something crucial that was dancing just beyond his reach.
Greyback began to laugh a mad, raucous laugh that made Dudley feel ill.
–What’s funny?†Ron asked aggressively.
–I had to change my plan,†Greyback chuckled. –Crouch was meant to secure the elf’s assistance in breaking into the house and giving the ghost temporary corporeal ability to assault his victims. But the ghost let him go and took out Scabior, so I had to improvise-â€
–That’s enough,†Harry interrupted. His voice was mild, but the entire crowd behind him fell silent as well as Greyback. Dudley looked up at them and saw, with mingled shock and delight, that Parvati had returned among their number. She was standing near the front, her eyes never leaving Dudley, but she did not smile at him nor meet his gaze.
Breaking the silence, Harry went on, –This business about Barty Crouch and a ghost... I want to know how you did it so we can be sure it won’t happen again. Start at the beginning.â€
They had forgotten something, Dudley realized. The ghost. Where was Corner?
The moment he remembered, as if in answer to his thoughts, there was a disturbance in the air and Corner came speeding towards the ground like a bullet, screaming in a demented voice, –Are you him? You’re him!â€
The ghost collided with Harry, and in the fraction of a second it took the latter to react Greyback seized his chance. He leapt at Dudley and trapped him in a stranglehold, pressing the sword against his throat. Parvati gave a little gasp of dismay and Dudley felt the cold steel of the blade bite into his skin, a trickle of blood running down his neck.
–Get Potter! Get Potter!†Greyback was screaming at the ghost, and Corner looked around, clearly conflicted. –Get him!â€
But another voice rose up, frightened but strong, and the ghost’s eyes were drawn to it with a snap.
–Michael,†said Parvati. She took a faltering step forward, extending her hand. –Michael, come back to yourself. This isn’t you.â€
Corner gave a wail of despair.
–Leave these people be, Michael,†Parvati insisted. –Please.â€
With a final longing look at his lost love, the ghost of Michael Corner jumped into the air and soared away almost too quickly to be seen. When he reached the house he collided with the chimney and sent a dozen bricks tumbling to the ground with a crash.
Bellowing like a wounded bull, Greyback pressed the sword further into Dudley’s throat, sending another rivulet of blood streaming down his neck. There was a gasp from Hermione and Dudley looked up to see her exchange a meaningful glance with Harry, who, incredibly, sighed at Greyback and rolled his eyes. Dudley, who could not see how Harry would get him out of this for all his bravado, reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and felt the small box purchased at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes many weeks ago to offer to Harry as a wedding gift.
–Anyone so much as thinks of cursing me, and we’ll see how filthy his blood runs!†Greyback shouted, as Ron made a move towards Dudley.
–It’s always the same with you people, isn’t it?†Harry said, sounding almost exasperated. –Think you can cut corners, skip all the hard work Riddle put into becoming powerful by going straight for me. It’s a little tiring, to be honest.â€
–Lazy gits,†Ron added, smirking, and Greyback looked simply furious. Dudley worked at the box in his pocket with the tips of his fingers, slowly prying it open.
–You think we didn’t know that the sword of Gryffindor contained the last known supply of basilisk venom in Great Britain?†Hermione chimed in, and her words from the morning at the coffee shop when he had shown her Rita Skeeter’s letter echoed back to Dudley even through his fear.
After the war ended two years ago... The Ministry of Magic spent a lot of time shutting down all the black market trade on basilisk venom. You can't get the stuff anywhere on Earth now.
–Found a way to extract the venom from the sword, did you? Thought you’d spike Harry’s wedding toast with a little of it, maybe?†Ron finished, his tone making it clear how little he thought of Greyback’s plan.
–No,†said Greyback smugly, and for the first time Harry’s look of cool assurance flickered. Greyback pulled a small glass vial of clear liquid from his pocket. –You, Potter, are going to drink this of your own accord, or the Muggle snuffs it.â€
He held out the vial of poison to Harry, who advanced towards it automatically. Ron and Hermione were telegraphing unbridled panic to one another through widened eyes, and Dudley knew that it was now or never.
In one swift motion he pulled Harry’s wedding present from his pocket and threw it in Greyback’s face. For a moment the werewolf was so startled that he stumbled back and slackened his grip on Dudley. As a result Dudley was able to break free and face Greyback, who was now covered in lemon meringue pie. There were mingled guffaws and cries of horror from the crowd. Harry was looking at Dudley as though he were a banana slug that had suddenly learned to fly.
–Bloody filth!†Greyback shouted, spitting out whipped cream, and Dudley waited, waited.
There was a moment of unreality in which Dudley knew what was happening and no one else had any idea. Then, mercifully, the promise on the box came true and a flock of tiny, spherical golden birds materialized out of thin air, circling Gryeback’s head and pecking at him. To Dudley’s immense satisfaction, the werewolf roared in pain and clawed at his face, bright red pustules appearing all over his face. The blond man at the pub had been right, then: Greyback was allergic to snidgets.
Harry burst into laughter. It was this hearty, earnest sound that broke all the tension, and though Greyback was still growling and waving the sword frantically through the air, the crowd surged forward in excitement, ready to assist in any way they could.
Greyback was choking and spluttering, his face turning purple. He dropped the sword.
–Ron, would you go in the house and see if you can find Crouch?†said Harry. It was a request rather than a command, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. –They’ll be missing him on the closed ward at Saint Mungo’s. And Hermione-â€
–Winky, I know,†said Hermione, and she and Ron departed without another word.
–I think we can call the Ministry in now,†said Harry, throwing Greyback a look of disgust.
But Dudley was not finished. All the oddly dressed, powerful folks around him had magic wands and untold abilities. But he, Dudley, had been junior Heavyweight Champion. Dudley drew his fist back, and for the last time, gathering all the worldly strength he possessed, punched with all his might.
Greyback fell to the ground, knocked out cold. And the crowd, incredibly, burst into applause.
Dudley could not help taking a deep, mocking bow, his lips stretching into a smile in spite of him. If his mother or father could see him now... Even as Dudley bowed Greyback’s arm flopped limply to the ground, the vial slipping from his fingers and smashing against the ground. The venom splashed in every direction, and a single drop flew upwards, colliding with the cut on Dudley’s neck.
–Argh!†Dudley hissed. The venom burned at him; he could feel it slithering into his bloodstream, tearing at his insides. Harry was no longer laughing.
–Dudley?†a voice called- the prettiest voice he had ever heard, by a mile. Somehow he was sitting slumped on the ground and Parvati was standing next to him, repeating, –Dudley? Dudley, talk to me!â€
–Am I dying?†Dudley asked. His vision was dimming, little by little
.
–Yes,†Harry replied, crouching next to Parvati and examining him. –But don’t worry, it won’t be permanent if I can help it. Neville, Luna!†he called over his shoulder. –I need Phoenix tears, now.â€
But Dudley had eyes only for Parvati. His voice was failing him, but he wanted her to know how sorry he was. Please let her know, he thought. Let her know how sorry I am.
I know, Parvati mouthed at him, taking his hand, and Dudley closed his eyes.
The Phoenix Or The Flame by GinnyRULES
Chapter Notes: You guys, I'm really so, so sorry about the delay with this chapter! It was written weeks ago, as was chapter twelve, but I wasn't able to get it through the queue (my failure to be clear and not the fault of our awesome mods, just fyi!). Point is, I will be posting the final chapter and epilogue much more quickly. So... Enjoy!