The First Moon Child (Second Installment of the Marley Series)

34: The Boy Who Lived, and the Moonchild Who Died

Disclaimer: I do not own some of the stuff in this chapter, or the Harry POtter characters.

 

Chapter 34: The Boy Who Lived, and the Moonchild Who Died.

 

            Harry Potter's eyes opened slightly as he realized he was back, and that he was very much alive.  Every part of his body ached, and where the killing curse had struck him felt like an enormous bruise. He dare not move for fear of his discovery, he, however, looked ahead of him to see a body. Not just any body, Marley's body, she lay across from him, sprawled on the forest floor as well, her eyes were closed and she showed no sign of life. So he had survived.... But Marley didn't, he could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes, but he managed to stop himself, once he realized there was no cheering. Wouldn't there be cheers and triumph over his death?

"My Lord..... My Lord?" Harry heard Bellatrix's soft voice. Harry, however, had shut his eyes and kept them closed. He explored everything else with his other senses. He knew his wand was still tucked underneath his shirt as he could feel it press against his chest and the ground.  "My Lord..."

"That will do," Harry heard Voldemort's voice. There were more footsteps; several people were backing away from one spot. Harry opened his eyes by a millimeter, desperate to know what was going on. Voldemort seemed to be getting up on his feet. Harry closed his eyes again; Voldemort seemed to have fallen to the ground when he had hit Harry and Marley with the Killing Curse. Had he collapsed too? Harry wondered. Had all three of them fallen and fell unconscious, while Harry and Voldemort returned... his eyes wandered towards the lifeless body a few feet in front of him, except for her.

"My Lord let me-"

"I do not require assistance," Voldemort said coldly. "The boy.... Is he dead? And what about the girl?" Voldemort asked, showing no remorse for his daughters' lifeless body on the ground. "You," Voldemort said. "Examine the girl first and then Potter. Tell me whether or not they are dead."

Harry did not know who Voldemort had chosen to verify his death, but all he knew is once they came over to him his thumping heart pounding traitorously in his chest would none the less give him away. He heard footsteps approaching, as they had stopped at Marley first. "The girl.... She is dead..." he heard a familiar voice call out as his heart dropped, he would have liked the person to say Marley was not dead... How would her daughter and Fred take this?

"Well... a waste, but she chose her fate." Voldemort called out coolly, not even slightly effected that his daughter was dead, and that he was the one to kill her. "Check the boy now."

Hands, softer than Harry had expected touched Harry's face, pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath his shirt, down his chest and felt his heart. He knew she could feel his heart pounding of life against his ribs.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" the woman whispered, her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.

"Yes," Harry breathed back.

He felt her hand contract and then she had stood up. "He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers. And now he heard their shouts of triumph and stamped their feet, and through Harry's eyelids he could see burst of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration.

"You see?" Voldemort screeched. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"

Harry was expecting his body to convulse from the pain that would soon ripple through his body, like Marley's did a few moments ago. He was lifted into the air and it took all his determination to remain limp, yet the pain he was expecting did not come. Harry was thrown once, twice, three times into the air: His glasses had fallen off his face, but he kept himself floppy and lifeless and when he landed on the ground one last time, the clearing echoed with jeers and shrieks of laughter. "Now," Voldemort said, "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No, Wait."