A chilly wind breathed through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, making me shiver. The trees loomed over the heads of the Death Eaters, standing in a semi-circle around the Dark Lord, who appeared to be alive but was unconscious.
The Dark Lord stirred, and I heard everyone around me gasp, Lucius squeezing my hand. Of course, my sister was falling all over herself, positively frantic.Â
*–My lord ... my lord…†Bella was practically beside herself as Voldemort sat up. *–My lord...â€
–That will do!†Voldemort got to his feet, brushing down his robes. Bellatrix alone remained beside him.Â
* –My lord, let me -â€
*–I do not require assistance,†Voldemort said in a tone you could have chipped ice off of. *–The boy … is he dead?â€Â
We all fell completely silent, a heavy kind you could feel, as though many people all wanted to say something but weren’t. Nobody stepped forward. The silence lingered in the air, frosty and merciless, until finally Voldemort lost his patience.Â
*–You.†A bang echoed through the still air, and a jolt of intense pain coursed through me, as though for a split second all my nerves were on fire. Half a shriek of pain escaped my lips, try as I might to keep silent, and I felt Lucius pull me a little more towards him, squeezing my hand reassuringly. *–Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.â€Â
I was terrified, and I didn’t know why. I felt the colour drain from my face, and I almost stepped backwards, when Lucius squeezed my hand again. –Just go.†He whispered. Then he dropped my hand, edging me slightly forwards. On legs that didn’t feel like my own, I moved slowly towards the corpse of Harry Potter.Â
I hated dead bodies. I had seen my fair share of them over the years and I wouldn’t go within thirty feet of them, let alone touch them. They always felt frightening to me, a shell of something that had once been alive, had walked, had spoken, had loved and been loved. I always felt like their soul was hovering around me, making my blood run cold. Being around this one was equally sickening to me, if not worse. I had seen him alive. I had seen Harry Potter’s act of inexplicable bravery, one I knew that I could never be brave enough to replicate if I lived a thousand lives. I knelt down carefully, not quite sure what to do. I touched the face, pulled back an eyelid, and finally, chills crawling up my spine, I slipped my hand under its shirt and felt the chest for a heartbeat.Â
My own just about stopped.Â
Harry Potter was very much alive.
How? How could it be? He’d died, I’d seen the curse hit him, I’d watched him fall! But there it was, his heart pounding against my hand, pumping life through his body. He was alive.
I opened my mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Why couldn’t I speak? It would be so easy. Just a few words, the Dark Lord would cast another curse, and Potter would be gone. I would most certainly be honoured beyond belief, I knew that. Lucius would be forgiven completely. I would be safe. We could return to our luxurious existence.
But was that what I wanted?Â
Again, I tried to speak, and my throat seemed to have closed. What did I want? What should I say? I want to see my son, I thought, I want to see Draco.Â
My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath shallow. I didn’t know if I could manage words.Â
I leaned down towards him on the pretext of listening for his breathing. One, two, three...Â
* –Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?†I said this as quietly as I possibly could, and for a heartbeat I thought he might not have heard me. But then, barely audibly, he replied.
* –Yes.â€Â
Relief flooded through me, warming the icy water that was currently running through my veins for a split-second. Illogical, fiery bravery was coursing through me, bravery like I had never felt in my life.
This was the part that was going to be difficult.Â
I straightened up. My bones felt like twigs, I was in a cold sweat, my fingers felt strangely numb, and my blood had quite unceremoniously turned back to ice again. Now was really when I had to make a decision. I could still betray him. I could. I’d still get to see Draco again, I’d still get to leave in safety. It would be simple.
Or I could lie.
I could betray the Dark Lord. If he found out I lied I would be killed, I knew. But would he find out? Could Harry Potter, a boy the age of my own son with nothing special about him except a scar on his head, defeat the Dark Lord himself? Which was worse, betraying the one my family had nearly given their lives for, or giving away a the position of someone who had just done the most courageous thing I could possibly imagine, giving his live for someone he loved?
Giving his life for someone he loved … hadn’t that been what the others had been doing too, all the ones that died? They had been protecting people themselves. My niece, who I knew was dead by my own sister’s hand, hadn’t she just had a son?
Maybe I had more in common with them than I thought.
I knew what I was doing. The ultimate act of bravery, possibly sacrificing myself to find my son… my precious son, who had no idea what he’d been getting himself into, he was just a boy…
And so was the figure lying motionless in front of me.
* –He is dead!â€
Black and White by Eleanor Lupin
Story Notes:
Thanks a ton to Alex (welshdevondragon) for her fantabulous beta work!
Chapter Notes: Lines with * were taken from pages 580-581 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. (UK edition I'm pretty sure...)