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Category: Alternate Universe, Asylum Challenge (2013-3), Asylum Challenge (2013-3) Characters:Albus Dumbledore, All, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Lily Potter, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 105 Summary: *** Winner of Best Overall, Best Drama and the People’s Choice Award in the Asylum Challenge *** *Nominated for 2014 April/May and November/December DSTA for Best Romance and Best Drama* *Nominated for 2016 January/February DSTA for Best Drama and Best Completed* Ginny's plans for the weekend were just perfect: a day out in Hogsmeade with her girlfriends. Spend the morning window shopping and wishing, then lunch at the Three Broomsticks, and then to the local theater for a production of the Scottish Play (Macbeth). Unfortunately, the bad luck of the Scottish Play strikes before it even starts. The village is invaded by Death Eaters, Dementors, and a man she had hoped to never see again in her life. And in the middle of the battle, Ginny sees something she'd never thought she'd see. Voldemort and one of her greatest friends dueling; Harry Potter and Voldemort fighting so fiercely, she lost focus on her own battle. Harry Potter, crying out, falling, and hitting the ground. Dead. And then, someone she never expected to help her saves her from Voldemort’s wrath. Hitcount: Story Total: 169247; Chapter Total: 4506 |
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Decline of Sanity Harry’s knees trembled beneath the weight of his headmaster. Dumbledore stumbled blearily along the path from the Forbidden Forest to the gates of the school. Harry’s hand shook as it brandished his wand at every shadow and breeze. The recovery of this new Horcrux had gone horribly wrong. Dumbledore had insisted on drinking the potion, and now he was incapacitated beyond Harry’s help. The rusted locket sat innocently in his pocket, unaware of the pain it had caused. Harry was filled with dread for the moment the old professor examined the locket; he somehow knew that little bit of metal wasn’t what they had been expecting. How could an enchanted dark object rust? The gates loomed before him in the mist. Harry pulled Dumbledore father. Twenty feet, and they’d be inside the gates. “Professor Dumbledore,” a low voice said behind him. Harry froze, his heart stopping at the sound. “We’ve been expecting you.” “Come on, Professor,” Harry hissed. “Do something.” The old man raised his head wearily. He shuffled forward, his hand reached into his pocket. Harry felt Dumbledore’s weight shift back onto his own two feet, but he left his arm hanging on Harry’s shoulders. Hooded men circled them. A slight figure draped all in black stepped between Harry and the wrought iron. “A poor choice of help, Professor,” said the wizard. A silver mask over his face warped his voice into something mechanical and impossibly deep. “A mere boy.” Mere boy? Harry thought indignantly. Didn’t Voldemort spend fifteen years trying to kill me? Dumbledore locked eyes with him; Harry quickly understood. Dumbledore had placed a glamor charm on him before they left, it must have been still working. They did not recognize him. “Is there something specific you want?” Harry said in an altered voice, the words flowing desperately as he stalled for time. “Oh, not much, just the old man’s head on a silver platter,” replied the hooded wizard. “Step aside boy, and we’ll let you return to the castle to herald Dumbledore’s death.” “And if I refuse?” The wizard snickered. “Why, we kill you of course. What else would we do with you?” “Well, I suppose you could do that,” Harry said. He glanced back at the professor. Dumbledore heaved in a deep breath. “Or, you could run in fear.” The entire circle fell silent for exactly three seconds. Then, they all burst into laughter, some slapping their knees and others clutching a stitch in their side. “Run?” laughed the wizard. “From an old man who can’t even stand on his own and a little boy?” Harry clenched his fist around his wand. The Death Eaters were still laughing. He identified those who were bent double, laughing the loudest. He sucked in a breath. Dumbledore gingerly drew his wand, covering the movement with a hacking cough. Those around them laughed even harder. The two met eyes. Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. Harry brought his wand up sharply and jabbed it at the wizard before him, thinking ‘Levicorpus!’ He turned his wand on a portly man on his right before the wizard’s ankle jerked out from beneath him. "Stupefy!” he shouted. “Stupefy! Stupefy!” Three men fell. Dumbledore pointed his wand to the left, and another crumpled. A fifth clutched his mouth, then retched all over the man next to him. Harry spun around and rapidly threw up a shield charm before the jet of purple light aimed at Dumbledore’s head could reach him. He ducked around it and disarmed the man before shooting ropes at him. The ropes wrapped around him and cinched down like a boa constrictor as Harry shot another stunning spell. The wizard he had hit first nearly stabbed the air above his ankle, shouting out obscenities and counter-curses. Five men remained. Harry put his back to Dumbledore’s, and cast another shield charm. The element of surprise had brought down seven of their attackers; four unconscious, one bound, another retching himself into a stupor, and one suspended in the air. Harry blocked a blue curse and countered with a disarming charm followed instantly by a stunning spell. Eight down. The leader finally found the right spell to release him from the air. He crashed to the ground but flipped in the air and landed on his feet. His hood had fallen loose; a manic grin light up his face. Harry clenched his jaw. Draco Malfoy advanced on him. “Good try,” he panted, “but I’ve got you now.” “Not quite, Malfoy,” Harry growled. Malfoy’s smile twitched. A burly man stepped before Harry, the other two faced Dumbledore. Harry felt a brush at the back of his mind. He threw at it a mental disarming charm. The intrusion backed out, then returned. Harry scowled at Malfoy, wondering where he had learned Legilimency, when the brush revealed an image in his mind. Dumbledore’s point of view; the two men before him. One was favoring his right leg, the other held his wand free arm limply. Then the image shifted and showed Malfoy and his companion. Malfoy moved his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting from Harry to Dumbledore to the man beside him. Dumbledore’s mental image drew a circle over Malfoy’s feet, then another over the man’s head. His mask had been knocked askew and the man was trying to fix it without calling attention to himself. Harry expressed his understanding and Dumbledore retreated. Harry quickly assessed the situation; Dumbledore was going to attack the two behind him at their weak points. Harry should take advantage of the taller man’s distraction and then Malfoy’s twitching feet. A smirk curled Harry’s lip. “You sure are a twitchy ferret,” Harry quipped. Malfoy’s grin switched instantly to rage. “You little —” As Malfoy swore at him, Harry threw a Stinging hex right into the face of the man by his side, following with a Stunning spell. Malfoy tensed and Harry disarmed him. Malfoy’s wand spun through the air, and Harry caught it with ease. The thud of bodies behind him told Harry that Dumbledore had Stunned the other two. Harry held a wand in each hand; he advanced on his nemesis and jabbed him under the chin with each. “Nice try,” Harry hissed. Malfoy’s wide eyes took on another tone of surprise. “It — it worked,” he said almost silently. Harry frowned. “What worked?” “I didn’t think Father could actually do it,” Malfoy said, almost in awe. “But he did. You were dead…” Harry nearly swore. His glamor charm must have worn off. How many of them had recognized him? He backed up, his wand and Malfoy’s still held on him. “Stupefy,” Harry said calmly. Red light shot from both wands, and Malfoy crumpled. He glanced around, and moved about the limp bodies of their attackers, collecting wands. The taller wizard he had stunned before Malfoy mask had been knocked off completely. Harry felt a keen sense of both anger and depression when he saw it was only a kid. In fact, upon removing the masks of those around him, he saw that none of them were much older than he was. “What do we do with them, Professor?” Harry asked as he stood. Harry waited for an answer, but none came. He glanced over his shoulder. The professor had sunk to the ground, clutching a stitch in his side. “Professor?” Harry repeated. Dumbledore’s face was white. Harry took a step towards him, then his heart skipped a beat. Dark red substance was soaking Dumbledore’s cloak. Harry dropped the wands he had collected and darted to his mentor’s side. Dumbledore shook his head. “I was hasty,” he rasped. “I did not see the curse coming.” “What do I do?” Harry demanded. Dumbledore held out his wand to him with a shaking hand. “I give you my wand, its allegiance is now devoted to you and you only.” “What? Professor —” “Take it, Harry.” Harry looked down at the thin wooden rod, vibrating as Dumbledore’s strength seeped out his side. He took it, not knowing what else to do. Dumbledore nodded absently. He lay back on the ground. “Professor, no, don’t —” “I am a tired old man, Harry. I have finished my race. Let me go in peace.” Harry clenched his jaw. “What do I do, Professor?” Dumbledore closed his eyes. He sighed, and a tear leaked from his eye. Harry looked down at it, startled. He had never seen someone so great cry. “Take it, Harry,” Dumbledore whispered. Another tear seeped out. Harry frowned; looking on the tears. “Take them.” Harry hastily conjured a small jar and held it to Dumbledore’s face. The silver tears dripped into it slowly, then more rapidly. “I hope you understand, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “I only wanted you to be as normal as possible.” Harry said nothing, he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to respond to this with. Dumbledore inhaled, and became still. Harry looked down at the jar in his hands. They weren’t real tears, he guessed. These were memories. He sealed the jar with a flick of his wand and shoved it in his pocket. Then he looked down at Dumbledore’s wand. What was he to do? There were twelve wizards unconscious or incapacitated around him plus his dead professor. He couldn’t leave any of the attackers behind; he didn’t want Voldemort to punish them for getting defeated. He couldn’t leave Dumbledore behind. But he had to be quick unless anyone else came to attack. He grabbed the last of the wands and pushed them into his cloak pocket. He conjured ropes and bound the last of the men. He cast away the masks and conjured stretchers. Harry put all twelve of them onto the stretchers and Levitated them into the air. They floated there, waiting for him to direct them. Finally, he turned to Dumbledore’s body. Harry conjured a shroud and draped the body with it. He Levitated the shrouded body onto another stretcher and put it directly in front of him. He flicked his wand at the others, and then took out Dumbledore’s wand. He touched it to the chains on the gates, and they slinked open. The wrought iron swung open and Harry Levitated the stretchers inside. He heard shouts and running footsteps somewhere behind him. Sudden anger welled in him; he turned and cast a Blasting curse at the ground. The dirt path exploded. He cast another, and another, double wielding his wand and Dumbledore’s. Masked wizards and witches skidded to halts on the path before a trench much deeper than Harry had intended. He stepped inside the gates, still blasting the ground and carving trenches. Death Eaters started casting spells, but Harry blocked them with Dumbledore’s wand and kept carving trenches. From where he stood, he could see most of Hogwarts’ perimeters. Harry kept blasting until every inch of fencing he could see was blocked by trenches miles deep and at least twenty yards wide. When he finished, he pointed both wands before him, and foul-smelling green liquid spurted from each end into the trenches. Rapidly they pressurized like fire hoses and the trenches began filling up. Harry released his wand from making more and began multiplying what was already in the carved trenches. Soon, they were filled with bubbling, hissing acid. Harry closed the gates and tapped them with Dumbledore’s wand. The chains that locked them locked again. Harry, as an after-thought, pointed both wands at the ground. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he pushed all his focus into growing vines. A small green sprout pushed from the ground. It wormed its way up the gate, thickening and growing thorns as it grew. More burst from the ground, and he moved the wands in opposite directions along the fence. The ground split open and spewed out thorns, brambles, and vines the size of pythons. Harry stared out at the Death Eaters’ shocked faces until the plants choked them out. They rose above the gates as Harry backed away, growing into the sky and creating a barrier of thorns. He looked around and lowered his wands, as the plants were now growing on their own. Now the Death Eaters would have to scale a wall of thorns; that is if they got across the acid-filled trenches. Harry turned back to the stretchers. One of the teenage wanna-be Death Eaters was staring at him in wide-eyed horror. Harry flicked Dumbledore’s wand and the stretchers started to move towards the castle. As he walked, his tense shoulders began to ache and his head grew heavy. His knuckles were white as they gripped each wand. The walk to the castle seemed to go on forever. Harry reached the castle steps and stopped the stretchers. He mounted them slowly and moved to the oak doors. He gripped a knocker, and banged it once, twice, three times. The door opened slowly, and a weary face looked out. “Harry,” Professor Sprout said, then her eyes moved to the stretchers, then past them to the still growing wall of thorns. Her mouth fell open as she stepped out. “How —” she whispered. “I just thought,” he said. His throat was dry. “Can you help me bring these people to the Hospital Wing?” Professor Sprout glanced at them then nodded. She drew her wand and began guiding the stretchers inside. “Where’s Dumbledore?” Harry pointed with his wand at the third stretcher to go in. Professor Sprout stopping guiding them and clapped a hand to her mouth. “No,” she whispered. “No, that — no it can’t be — he can’t be —” “Dead,” Harry whispered. Professor Sprout inhaled a shuddering breath. She whispered something under her breath that Harry didn’t catch, and resumed guiding the stretchers. Harry pushed Dumbledore’s wand into his sleeve and pointed his wand at a stretcher. Professor Sprout guided the last of the stretchers inside and put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come along,” she whispered. “Let’s get you warm.” He nodded vaguely. He had forgotten until this moment that his clothes were soaked with sea-water from the cave. Harry glanced down at himself and saw that there was blood on his shirt as well. Professor Sprout led him inside and up the stairs, navigating the stretchers up to the Hospital Wing. At the doors to the ward, a group of people were gathered. Harry readjusted his glasses and focused on them. Madam Pomfrey was speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, with Fred, George, and some members of Dumbledore’s Army at their shoulders. “Let us through,” Professor Sprout called. The students parted, Madam Pomfrey pushed open the doors and took control of some of the stretchers. Mrs Weasley rushed to Harry’s side and wrapped an arm around him. Harry’s gaze sank to the ground, his feet felt like lead as he shuffled forward, much like Dumbledore had done before the attack. “What happened?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a hushed voice. “Got attacked,” Harry mumbled. “Bunch of kids waited for us and ambushed us at the gates. We fought ‘em off, but Dumbledore… Dumbledore…” “Come sit down, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey commanded. Mrs. Weasley steered him onto a bed. “We’ll take you to the Room of Requirement when I’ve settled your friends.” Harry frowned. “Room of Requirement? Why?” Mrs. Weasley bit her lip. Her eyes were glistening. “Something happened while you were gone…” “What?” Harry asked. He looked around again and panic seized his chest. “Where’s Ginny?” “She’s waiting for you,” Mrs. Weasley said hastily. “She’s just… a bit upset.” “What happened?” Harry demanded. “What’s wrong with her?” His question wasn’t answered, as Madam Pomfrey had removed the shroud covering Dumbledore’s body and she had screamed. Mrs. Weasley caught sight of the body and gasped. Harry looked away from the old man’s bloodless face. “One of them cast a Severing charm or something,” Harry said in a shaky voice. “He didn’t see it coming.” Madam Pomfrey replaced the shroud with trembling hands. She guided the stretcher to the back of the ward, her jaw clenched. “Brighton,” the matron called to a seventh year standing near her office, “please remove the bonds of these boys and put them in beds. Give them a Sleeping Draught before you do though.” The seventh year boy nodded and set to work. Madam Pomfrey knelt before Harry and ran her wand down him. “No broken bones,” she muttered, “no severe abrasions or cuts. You seem to be unharmed.” She pressed the point of her wand to Harry’s chest, whispered a spell and frowned. “You did a great deal of magic,” she said. “You need sleep, and plenty of it. Molly, will you take him and some Dreamless Sleep potions to the Room of Requirement? I imagine Miss Weasley will be needing another dosing soon.” “What?” Harry said, glancing between the two women. “Why?” Mrs. Weasley averted her eyes. She nodded and moved to the matron’s office. A moment later, she emerged with two large bottles of lavender colored liquid. “Come on, Harry,” she said softly. “Ginny needs you.” Harry shot to his feet and pushed past her to the doors. Mr. Weasley and the other Weasleys looked at him as he passed. George touched his shoulder and Mr. Weasley fell into step beside him. “Ginny got worse,” Mr. Weasley said. “She saw something that made her run out of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. Bill had to Stun her to get her back inside. And then she was fighting him in her sleep, so Madam Pomfrey tied her down in the Hospital Wing.” “But she’s not there now,” Harry said, glancing over his shoulder. Mr. Weasley shook his head. “She woke up and began screaming that the ceiling was falling. She didn’t recognize any of us. Ginny said that Ron had been crushed and the sky wanted to kill her.” Harry clenched his jaw. “She did all of this for me,” he muttered. “None of that would have happened if she had just left me dead.” Mr. Weasley touched Harry’s shoulder. “She knew that long before she brought you back,” Mr. Weasley said. “She did it because she loves you.” Harry looked up at him sharply. Mr. Weasley smiled at him. “Did you think we didn’t know? It was obvious from the moment you woke up.” Harry felt a flush heat his neck. He focused on the ground, but a small smile curled his lip. They stopped before a thick iron bound door. A wooden slab kept the door from opening. Mr. Weasley lifted a panel and looked inside, then unbarred the door. He opened it, and led Harry inside. The room was small and there was a single curtained bed in the middle of the room. “We understand she sleeps better with you nearby,” Mr. Weasley said, and a second bed appeared by the first. Mrs. Weasley set the two bottles onto a table near the door. She poured a small amount into a cup that appeared from nowhere and handed it to him. “She’ll probably wake up before you do,” Mrs. Weasley said. “If she’s upset when she does, she’ll try to wake you up, so I’m only giving you a little. Calm her down and give her three fingers worth of this.” Harry nodded and Mrs. Weasley hugged him. Mr. Weasley held the door for her, and they closed it softly behind them. Harry moved over to the two beds and set down his glass on a small table between the two. He glanced back at the door, then pulled back the curtain. Ginny was lying on her back, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. Her brow was knitted together, her eyelids flickered and she whimpered softly in her sleep. Harry frowned. Hadn’t they given her Dreamless Sleep potion? His eyes moved to her body. A blanket was pulled up to her chest, but he could see her arms crossed over her chest under it. He pulled it aside, and saw the white jacket with extra-long sleeves. Her arms were fixed in place and the sleeves were probably tied together behind her. Harry glanced at the two beds, then closed his eyes and thought a moment. When he opened them, the bed Ginny lay in had widened and the other had vanished. He brushed a strand of hair out of Ginny’s face, and she relaxed slightly. The room was warm, but Harry’s salt-water soaked hair and clothes still felt cold. He glanced around, and saw a door behind him. Harry went inside and found a shower stall, a sink, and a toilet with a stack of clean clothes on the closed lid. He quickly stripped and showered, then dried himself with his wand and donned the clothes provided by the room. He still had all the wands of the boys who had attacked him and Dumbledore’s tears. Harry set them on the table by the door to deal with later. Ginny was still sleeping. He sat down on the bed beside her and untied the sleeves with his wand. She moved her arms immediately, flung them out in front of her as if to block something. Harry dropped the wands on the night-table and grasped her hands. She dropped her arms; relaxing. Harry tugged the straight-jacket off and tossed it aside. Ginny gripped his hands tightly in her sleep. He lay down beside her, slipping an arm under her and drawing her close to him. She buried her face in his shoulder, and her breathing slowed to a deep rhythm. Harry kissed her temple, then picked up the glass and down the contents. His head fell back onto the pillows and sleep stole over him. |
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