Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Things Change: cruor est lucus quam unda ❯ Chapter One: Blood ( Chapter 1 )

Things Change:

cruor est lucus quam unda

Chapter One:

Blood

She had left again.

Lupin walked into the kitchen, across to the counter and put the kettle on. He glanced at the old Victorian clock perched precariously on the mantelpiece. It rang out 3 `o clock, chiming melodically as he sat down at the table. Resting his elbows down, he cupped his head in his hands. Lupin had never asked Tonks where she went or who she was with, he needed to be alone sometimes and assumed it was the same for her. But recently she had been going more and more often even several times a day. It worried him. Tonks had become a shell of her former self over the last few weeks; her hair had turned a mousey brown colour and her appearance was well, ordinary, so ordinary she blended into the background so one almost forgot she was even in the room. She had bitten her nails so bad they had begun to bleed and worst of all she couldn't look at his face anymore. He had no idea what the hell was going on, he had tried talking to her about it but she just brushed him off with a half hearted excuse. His eyes closed and silence filled the tiny room.

A loud thud brought Lupin back to himself, opening his eyes he realised he must have fallen asleep. Tonks brushed the soot from her clothes and took a step out of the fireplace then she faltered. Standing rooted to the spot, swaying slightly, eyes wide and unseeing.

“Oh my god, what's happened?!” his voice a fear filled whisper. “God, it's Harry, isn't it?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. All of the colour had drained from her face, she looked like a ghost, scaring Lupin beyond belief compelling him to rush over and comfort her. Flinching, she shrank away from him as if he was about to hurt her.

“What then? One of the Weasleys?!”

Another shake of her head.

“Then what's going on?!”

Tonks shook her head again in disbelief, tears were threatening to spill and she wrung her hands absent mindedly.

“It... can't have happened... no...but I saw... she...she's...dead...” Her voice trailed off almost inaudible. She began to shake violently, tears flowing freely in silent sobs. He couldn't bare this, the pain in Tonks' voice was like a knife stabbing at his heart. He walked the remaining few steps over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. Lupin held her shaking figure in the silence of the small shabby kitchen, trying to comfort her without knowing what he should be doing. She buckled and they fell together clinging onto each other, falling to their knees. The stone flagged floor was cold and hard against their limbs but neither could move, Tonks face was pressed against Lupin's chest, holding onto him as if afraid that when she let go he would disappear, this surprising feeling made Lupin uncomfortable. He loved her so much, he couldn't live without her, but how could he reassure her of this, what had happened to her. She was an auror, she had dealt with all manner of dark and disturbing things, this must be bad...

“Who?” His tentative whisper cut through the air. Tonks tried to gulp down a few of the sobs wracking her body, but she couldn't calm down no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't stop herself from replaying what had happened.

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

 

The blood.

Her best friend's blood.

Dripping from the walls,

Stains on the carpet,

The bloody handprint on the glass of the window,

Blood everywhere.

She couldn't tear her eyes away; she couldn't get the vision out of her head.

Make it stop! Oh please make it stop! This has got to be a dream, it can't be real, I won't let it be real! Oh my god. Please don't let it be real!

But it was.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lupin's arms tightened against her body, bringing Tonks back to the present. They knelt together in silence, watching the sun rise, casting sinister shadows across the walls, drenching them in blood red light. As the birds began to stir in their nests, the spell-like trance had broken. Lupin pulled his beloved wife up from the ground, trying to shake off the aches and pains that the stone floor had brought on. He couldn't handle this alone, he needed some help, he needed to find out what was going on, he needed to get help for Tonks.

He gently manoeuvring her fragile figure to the fireplace, Lupin grabbed a handful of green power from an unremarkable pot on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire.

“We're going to the Burrow, they will help, go on darling, I'll follow.”

Ushering her into the fireplace she whispered her destination and was gone. Lupin took a deep breath and followed, apprehensive of what he would discover when he arrived. He hoped beyond hope they were all O.K, that they were all alive...

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Harry had just re-entered the room holding a tray of tea and biscuits, he sat down on the lumpy sofa and passed a mug to both Ron and Hermione. They had arrived back at Grimmauld Place late last night. Having woken, they had met each other in the living room and had been discussing recent events and possible plans for the past hour. It was the 31st August already; they had achieved almost nothing since leaving Hogwarts last year...since Dumbledore's death. They knew they had to find Voldemort's horcruxes, to defeat him. Harry had tried so hard to persuade his two best friends that he must go it alone, but they just wouldn't listen, finally he had given in but only because of something Hermione had voiced.

Harry, now listen to me, no seriously. You know we want to go with, to help you, and you won't be able to stop us anyway, but here's the thing. There's a reason why Dumbledore told you to confide in us about your lessons last year. It's the same reason why Dumbledore always went on about love being the most powerful thing, the one thing that can defeat Voldemort. Don't look at me like that, just think logically. Harry we love you, you're our friend and part of our families, we would all die for each other- not that we plan to... The three of us together are more powerful than just Voldemort because we love; we love each other and want something more, more than just power or fame. We want to protect the ones we love and because of that we are more powerful than he will ever be, because he's only out for himself and because he's incapable of loving.

That speech had finally got to him, had finally defeated his strong resolve because deep down he knew it to be true, and although it pained him to put his friends in danger, he knew it couldn't be any other way, to help him save the ones he cared about and that included the two of them. A stubborn voice penetrated his thoughts;

“What do you think Harry?”

“Err...sorry I missed that, what did you say?”

“Hmph. We were brainstorming, trying to work out what the other horcruxes are... and where they could be.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, we know that there are seven of them- from the lessons. Obviously one is Voldemort himself, and Dumbledore said his snake was one as well. Those will have to be the last ones we get. The ring and the diary are already destroyed and we have yet to find the locket...” Harry paused trying to gather his thoughts, pained by the memory of Dumbledore's death, and then after all that, to find the locket was a fake...

“Um, and the cup- Hufflepuff's cup, that's probably one, and the diadem- Ravenclaw's diadem, that was rumoured to be one...”

“But the diadem, how? It's been lost for centuries. I suppose Voldemort could have had the power to get it but still, oh I don't know.” Hermione finished lamely, wracking her brain for an unreachable answer to the problem.

It made sense these items- something from Slytherin-the locket (1) and the ring (2), something from Hufflepuff-the cup (3), something from Ravenclaw-the diadem(the only thing Ravenclaw ever felt was worth her trouble) (4), and he failed to get anything from Gryffindor as Dumbledore wouldn't let him come back to the school, he never got the sword. So the diary was a record of his own importance, the snake was a last ditch attempt, and signified his strength of parseltongue and himself. They all were objects of importance- somehow significant to himself. But how to find the remaining ones...that was definitely the problem...

“And once we find them, how do we know what kind of traps there will be, there obviously will be some. I just feel so unprepared.” Hermione spoke apprehensively.

“Before, with Dumbledore...” Another long silence took hold before Harry carried on, “the wall, needed blood, then the inferi, and the potion to cause pain, Dumbledore said Voldemort fears death and pain more than anything else-so that's probably the sorts of stuff we'll encounter.”

“Blood magic...that's what worries me the most...” Hermione's voice was almost a whisper.

“Why? Dumbledore told me it was just crude...” Harry replied thoughtfully.

“Well, yes it is... but still it is very old magic- it has the potential to be very powerful, almost as powerful as the magic your mum used to save you Harry, that's why...it worries me.”

Ron fidgeted in his seat, his stomach started to churn. He hated it when there was no next step, no plan, it made him uncomfortable, made him feel as though they had become a sitting target. They had to have a next step, they needed help to work out where to look next.

“We should go back to the Burrow, Bill may be able to help...I know we shouldn't involve others but we don't have to tell him exactly what's going on do we?”

“Ron you're right, we need some help on this, these discussions are getting us nowhere.” Hermione replied, defeat washing over her.

“That's decided then, we'll leave once it's properly morning, anyone for an early breakfast?” Harry's comment seemed to ease the mood; they traipsed into the kitchen and set about making a full breakfast fit for a king.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He couldn't stop the blood, it was pouring out of the wounds relentlessly no matter how hard he tried to close the gashes in the skin. He tried every incantation, spell, everything he knew it just wouldn't stop.

You can't die now, not now, you just can't.

Then it came to him, the one thing he hadn't tried yet. He took a deep breath, praying that this was the answer; if it wasn't then death would surely win the battle. Slowly he raised his wand, and with deep concentration, more than he had ever exerted before he began to sing the wound healing spell.