THE ANGEL OF WOE | RON WEASLEY [BOOK THREE]

18. THE WEAK ONE

Gene could feel her chest compressing, an unimaginable weight on it as she tried to catch her breath, doing her best to process what she was seeing before her, or rather– what she couldn't.

"Let go of me," Gene breathed out.

She began to claw at Aurelia, prying her hands from around her as she tried to run forward, still waiting for Sirius, though deep down she knew he wasn't coming back.

"Let go!" she cried.

"No, Gene." Aurelia said. "He's gone! He's gone, Gene. He's not coming back. I'm sorry."

She held her tighter, her hands finding Gene's shoulders as she shook her back to reality. Aurelia held her face in both hands, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks with her thumbs, forcing her to her look in the eyes.

Gene couldn't, though. Her eyes were fixated on the veil, still waving absently, choosing to avoid Harry's eyes out of guilt, before settling on Bellatrix's own.

And in that second, Gene felt nothing but pure, unadulterated rage, burning in the pit of her stomach and rising-– fast. Her blood was hot, running through her veins with vengeful passion. The anger that she had tried her hardest to suppress for months had been building up slowly, and Gene was just about ready to burst.

She broke free from her aunts hold with ease, chasing Bellatrix out and into the atrium, her voice taunting her as she sprinted, the tears hot on her cheeks.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!" she sang, skipping across the tiles. "Are you coming to get me?"

"Crucio!" Gene hissed, red sparks shooting across and striking Bellatrix, though it wasn't enough. She wanted to kill Bellatrix, so why wasn't it enough?

She held her wand out, aimed at her chest, with a particular spell on the tip of her tongue. Hatred and murder in Gene's eyes, clear as day. Gene wanted her to pay. She had to. But it was unforgivable.

The whispers returned, Gene's head twitching as they overwhelmed her senses. She heard footsteps now, spinning on her heel with her wand held high until she saw Harry. Then, her eyes widened at a particular voice which became the clearest of them all, and Harry heard it too.

"Do it. You've got to mean it, Genevieve. She killed him. She killed your father. She deserves it. You know the spell, Gene. Do it!"

Voldemort's voice rang in her ears, gentle, sympathetic, though she knew he was the opposite of those things. He was trying hard to invade her mind, and Gene's eyes screwed shut as she did her best to help it. She was distracted by the sudden searing pain in her scar, her hand going to her neck as her eyes shot open, stumbling backwards with Harry as they watched Voldemort emerge from the dark, swimming towards them.

"You're weak." he sneered at them, knocking the wands from their hands with a wave of his hand.

Gene held his stare, Harry firmly at her side when a sudden flash of green went beside them, all eyes on Dumbledore as he emerged from the fireplace, slowly approaching the scene.

"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom. The Aurors are on their way." Dumbledore took a step closer.

"By which time, I shall be gone and you-" Voldemort grinned maliciously, "shall be dead."

Dumbledore's arm shot out and sent Gene and Harry to the ground, rolling off to the side as they began to duel. Flashes of fiery red and a cool blue battle, as the two great wizards fought. Gene squinted at the dazzling light that flashed across her face as they attempted to get to safety.