Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. The image of the Devil is taken from the movie Bedazzled and Elizabeth Hurley.
Summary: End of 5th Year: Harry is fed up and tries to off himself – only, because it's Harry, nothing ever goes right. Harry makes a deal with God and the Devil, with the balance of the world resting on his success.
When Harry opened his eyes, they locked on a minuscule crack on the ceiling and traced the pattern slowly. The pattern was twisted, winding, and broke off in several different paths, but ultimately, it ended in a wide crack directly above Harry. A piece of the ceiling had fallen sometime ago and landed directly where Harry's head was.
It was slightly disturbing, but since Harry didn't have to worry about mortality at the moment, it wasn't nearly as urgent as most would consider it to be.
The teenager sat up slowly, taking note that the monitor charms that Madam Pomfrey usually put on her patients to alert her when they woke up did not chime. Now sitting upright, Harry looked around the Hospital Wing; he was at Hogwarts.
Around 'his' bed, the white privacy curtain had been drawn. On his bedside table were his glasses (not that he needed it, apparently the magical boost Fate gave him did more for his body than his magic had done previously), a glass and pitcher of water, and several mixed magazines. A bedside chair was beside the bed and a slumped, disheveled and sleeping Remus Lupin rested in it.
Smiling slightly, Harry looked down at his wrists and was surprised to see the white gauze they placed around the wrist was red from dried blood.
Well, he though, I don't need these anymore.
He began unwrapping his left hand first, watching in morbid fascination as each pass over the top of his hand caused more skin to be revealed until the gauze was unwrapped and lying in a puddle of bloody used cloth.
In disgustingly ironic symbolism, the two gash marks Harry had made were shaped in a parody of a cross. Quirking an eyebrow, Harry removed the gauze from the right hand and was not surprised to see the same symbol on that underside.
"Ah," he said softly, "So you've marked me, too, have you?"
Unfortunately, Harry did not say it quietly enough, and Remus stirred. As the amber eyes fluttered open first in surprise, then annoyance, and then in registered surprise, Harry had the time to look at Remus.
Really look at Remus.
There was more gray at his temples, and streaked through his brown hair. There were bluish bags under his eyes and he seemed to have lost weight as well. His clothes hung off him like current teenagers wore their baggy jeans and hoodies, and there was a slight tremble to his entire frame, which seemed to have shrunk.
"Harry?" asked Remus hesitantly, rising from his seat slowly, as though Harry was going to reach for the nearest sharp item and slit his wrists again.
"Hi Remus," said a resigned Harry. He now had to figure out how to leave Hogwarts and get to the Ministry to get Sirius. With or without Remus. And with or without Dumbledore's notice.
Oooh, Dumbledore. Harry made a slight face at the thought. He had been keeping some rather important information from Harry that he did not appreciate. He may only be a near sixteen-year-old, but he also had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. Dumbledore should not have been making decisions for him.
Remus paused in his scolding; Harry was clearly not listening.
"Harry?" he asked.
Harry blinked out of his thoughts and looked at his pseudo-uncle. "Yes, Remus?"
Remus sighed and felt his shoulders slump. He just didn't know how to get to Harry anymore – didn't know how to break down his defenses. "I… I'm sorry, cub."
"Pardon?" asked a bewildered Harry, looking fairly startled with his eyes wide and hair a mess. "What for?"
"For not being there when you needed someone," Remus answered, his voice scratchy and dry and caught on a sob.
Harry reached forward across the bed and took Remus's hand in his, and held it as the older man collected himself.
"I miss him," slipped out from the werewolf's mouth. Harry didn't need to ask who 'him' was.
"I do too," began Harry slowly, "But… um… I kind of need to get out of here."
"What?" To say that Remus was startled would be an understatement. He was working his mouth slowly, open and shut, until he finally found his voice. "Harry! You mustn't leave! You just tried to k—ki— uh, kill yourself! You need rest!"
"I'm actually feeling perfectly fine, Remus," argued Harry, sitting sideways on the bed now, and gently brushing Remus's hands away from his body. "I'm sure Pomfrey filled me to the brim with Blood Replenishing Potion and I've probably been here awhile, anyway. I need to get to Diagon Alley."
"But, but Death Eaters, Harry! And Voldemort!"
"Insignificant, tiny, itty-bitty details," dismissed Harry casually, looking under the bed. "Where are my jeans?"
"Insignificant!" yelped Remus, jumping to his feet. He also pointed at the foot of Harry's bed, where a table sat full of Get Well cards, chocolate frogs and underneath, were his bloody jeans and sweater he wore when he attempted suicide.
"Ah!" said a happy Harry, until he took in the sight of his ruined clothes. "Bugger, I really liked this pair too." He frowned thoughtfully, and then waved his hand at the jeans, haltingly saying, as though expecting it not to work, "Scourgify?"
Remus blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. "Did you just clean your jeans wandlessly?"
Harry blinked as well. "Apparently I did. Cool."
He then pulled the jeans on; ignoring the hospital gown, and ignored the fact he didn't have any boxers. He'd go commando.
Remus watched in amazement as Harry wandered around his bed, looking for his clothing and ignoring the cards and presents people left him. The Daily Prophet hadn't gotten wind of the attempted suicide, thank God, but Remus was feeling overly protective. Harry was all that he had left, and he wasn't going to lose him.
"Why do you need to go to Diagon Alley, Harry?" asked Remus, who sucked in a breath as Harry removed the hospital gown. Decorating Harry's back were numerous scratches and old, white scars that never healed properly.
Harry glanced over his shoulder at Remus's sudden silence, and then sighed. "Oh, those." He shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Remus. It's been a while since anything has happened, so… forget about it. They'll get theirs one day."
"Forget it, Remus. It doesn't matter now," Harry said forcefully. "All that matters is getting to Diagon Alley, and then the Ministry soon."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his dirty sweater, pulling it on and grimacing at its bloody state. He waved his had and this time, silently, the blood stains disappeared.
He pushed the sleeves up past his elbows and stretched. He found his wand next to his glasses, which he didn't need, and placed it in his back pocket. He turned and saw Remus looking at him strangely.
"Harry?" he asked slowly.
"Remus?" mimicked Harry, with a slight smile on his face.
"What happened to you?"
Harry smirked. "Come with me and find out!"
Remus moved to answer, when a burst of flame appeared between the two. Both felt a warm, tingly feeling spread throughout their bodies, and a red glow warmly encase the privacy area.
Once the glow disappeared, Harry opened his eyes to see a phoenix hovering in the air between him and Remus. The bird wasn't Fawkes, it didn't have the same red colour and fluff at the top of its head. Instead, this bird was larger than Fawkes, and suddenly Harry knew who it was.
"Hey, Suzaku," the teen said, stretching out an arm and the phoenix gratefully landed on it, near the shoulder. "How's it going, o Red One?"
The phoenix trilled a series of notes, some Harry took to be laughter and others scolding. Harry took the time to tell what the difference between the phoenixes were: Fawkes was smaller than Suzaku; Suzaku had a much longer plumage of tail feathers than Fawkes, and was a deeper, blood red with orange and yellow streaks around his tail.
"Right," said Harry firmly, "Well, I'm off to see the wizard…" he paused, waiting for someone to fill in the rest of the sentence, but when no one did, Harry sighed. "C'mon, Remus, give a teen a break here…"
Remus just shrugged, staring at the phoenix that Harry apparently knew.
Harry shrugged back, nearly dislodging Suzaku and getting a nip on his ear. "Hey, now, no need for that. Can you take me to the Ministry, Suzaku?"
"Me too!" Remus finally had broken out of his stupor.
The phoenix bobbed and flew from Harry's arm, hovering in front of the two men. Harry grabbed Suzaku's tail gently and so did Remus.
In a flash of fire, the two were gone and Madam Pomfrey's alarm finally went off.
The two wizards and phoenix appeared exactly where Harry wanted to be: in the Department of Mysteries, in front of the veil. Harry began to move towards it, until he was tackled from behind.
"No, Harry!" cried Remus. "I won't let you die like Sirius! He wouldn't have wanted this from you!"
Harry was a little shocked, but took it as grief from Remus; he hadn't seen Sirius like Harry had or known that the mutt was all right.
"Remus…" began Harry patiently, "Remus!"
"Harry?" sobbed Remus.
"I'm not going to kill myself."
"Then why are we here?"
The answer was taken from Harry as the veil came to life and a shadowy figure appeared behind it. A wind blew up violently, the veil fluttered, and in the next second, Sirius was stepping out of the archway calm and cool as you can be, hands in his pockets and whistling.
Remus stood shakily, and Harry copied him, stepping forward and calling, "Hey Sirius, how was the trip?"
"Nauseating," replied the animagus. "I never want to do that again. Ever. It was disorienting enough falling into the waiting room, but going back up…?" he shuddered.
"Padfoot?" gasped out Remus, staring between Harry and Sirius.
Sirius strode forward, grabbed his friend in a tight hug, and clapped him on the back, asking, "How's it going, you ol' wolf, you?"
Remus's eyes bulged and then rolled upward, just as his legs gave out. The werewolf had fainted.
Sirius and Harry shared an awkward look, until Harry stepped back and raised his hands. "Don't even think about it; he's your friend, you can lift him. I'm a scrawny sixteen-year-old!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning down and throwing one of Remus's arms across his shoulders. "Stop being a baby, and help me with him."
Harry sighed and copied Sirius; once Remus was hanging between them, did Suzaku – who looked terribly amused – swoop down from a shelf unit and grasp Harry's arm tightly. The quartet vanished from sight in a puff of scarlet flames.
When Remus came to, he was lying flat on his back on a comfy bed that smelled distinctly like mothballs. The room was dark and heavy with musk; there was a dresser, a chair by a desk, and a side table with Tiffany lamp.
When he heard the grumbling, he knew where he was.
"Master is back, the blood traitor. Mistress is most upset. Blood traitors and half-breed filth…"
Remus sighed and rolled onto his side, facing the door, and then closed his eyes tightly. It had been a dream. Sirius was not back from the dead, and Harry wasn't going insane. Harry hadn't tried to kill himself, he was sitting calmly and contently at Privet Drive, moping and generally brooding. Remus was happy to whisper silently that over and over again, wishing it to be true.
"Are you going to get up or what?" Harry's voice asked, and Remus opened his eyes.
Remus sighed, rubbing his temples, and began, "Harry, I had the strangest dream… one where you tried to off yourself, and then Sirius came back from the veil…"
"Cor, Moony, you need to get out more if you're having memory gaps that aren't alcohol-induced," came Sirius's voice.
The nauseating feeling in Remus's stomach told him it was real. This is so not happening, he thought morosely.
His eyes darted to his left and he saw, to his amazement, Sirius, standing at the side of his bed and leaning over him. Both he and Harry were nearly touching foreheads, and were barely a foot from his face, staring down at the werewolf. It was eerily, especially the similar grin the two had plastered on their faces.
In fact, Remus thought with a sinking feeling, it was a smile mostly seen on Fred and George Weasley while they were up to something…
Groaning, Remus turned on his side and pulled the covers over his head. "This is a nightmare, I'm going back to sleep…"
Under the covers, he couldn't see Sirius shrug or Harry make a face, but he did hear them leave the room without complaint.
That in itself was odd enough, and after a few moments, Remus felt that the two needed a voice of consciousness, and that he ought to put a stop to whatever they were coming up with before they blew up Grimmauld Place or something idiotically similar like that.
Remus found Harry and Sirius in the kitchen, having shared some ridiculous joke and were now laughing hilariously at; Sirius had sprayed butterbeer across the table.
"I don't want to know," moaned Remus, falling into a free seat. He paused; "actually, I do, so you don't do something stupid."
"Moony, no faith in us?" asked a wounded Sirius. "I'm hurt!" he pouted and covered his heart with a hand.
"I still don't think you're real; or not a Death Eater in disguise," shot back a distrustful Remus, narrowing his eyes and frowning at the man.
Sirius rolled his eyes and transformed into Padfoot, clearly shocking Remus. "And you know, smarty-pants, that polyjuiced people can't transform into that person's animagus form."
"B-But!" sputtered Remus, "You were dead! You went through the veil; both Harry and I saw you!"
Sirius shrugged. "The afterlife isn't all that it's cracked up to be, Moony –" here Sirius flashed a debonair smile "–too boring for ol' Padfoot and not enough hotties to keep me interested!" Sirius paused. "… well… there was one, that Harry introduced me to…"
Harry's face instantly paled and scrunched up in disgust. Remus was confused. When could Harry have introduced Sirius to a beautiful woman, one that Harry thought was wrong for him?
"Oh, gross, Sirius," the teenager moaned. "Please, she's… like… ancient!"
Sirius shot a glare at his godson. "And she's hot. Like I care, I haven't had any since"—
"Okay!" interrupted Remus quickly, slightly panicked. Harry was only sixteen, after all, and an innocent boy to boot. "Now, could someone please tell me what is going on?"
Sirius and Harry, playfully glaring at each other, turned their attention to Remus. Sirius got up, reached into a nearby cupboard and pulled out a bottle of half-full (or half-empty?) Firewhiskey. "My friend," he began seriously, "you are going to need this."
Harry brought three shot glasses to the table, opened his mouth, and said, "It all began when I decided to off myself…"
Remus wasn't sure if he was awake or not. Maybe he had fallen into an alcoholic-induced coma from too much Firewhiskey consumption, or maybe he finally knocked himself unconscious while wandering around his room in Grimmauld in a stupid manner. It would be fitting, after all.
But, no – he was sitting in a chair in Grimmauld Place's kitchen, staring at Harry and Sirius, who were looking back at him in a chilling expression of seriousness. The phoenix Harry had called – whom Remus had never heard of before or seen – was a significant proof to their story.
"This can't be real," Remus finally moaned, with his head in his hands and fisting them with a handful of hair.
Harry eyed him. "So you already said."
"But it can't be real!"
Sirius rolled his eyes. "You were the logical one, Moony, shut up and believe it already."
Harry rolled his eyes as well, and shrugged. "Whatever, Professor, if you don't believe us, that's fine and dandy and whatever." He stood, grabbed his shot glass of Firewhiskey and ignored Sirius's "Uh, Harry…", and knocked back the amber liquid.
The ebony-haired teen coughed and wheezed, and then rasped, "I've got a contract to uphold. I'm not going to sit back and drinking only to lose a life to liver failure!"
"Where are you going?" asked Remus, looking up in surprise. "You can't be serious, going out there and killing Death Eaters!"
Sirius looked at Remus funnily. "But that's what the contract says he needs to do," the dog animagus answered, perplexed.
Remus shot Sirius a glare.
"What?" the other man asked.
"You're not helping!" the once-professor hissed.
Sirius shrugged, standing as well. "Not my fault, eh? We're suppose to do it together, else I'd still be in that bloody waiting room."
Sirius disappeared from the kitchen, with Harry following him. Remus continued to sit, confused at the turn of events.
Fact: Sirius was alive, Harry was alive, and they were both well.
Fact: They both believed that they had numerous lives and were suppose to kill Death Eaters.
Fact: They could not concoct this before Sirius's 'death' because this was the first anyone had heard Harry speak of the war proactively.
Fact: People don't return from the dead. Not unless they were rotting, evil dead, zombies a la Inferi.
Fact: … Remus was starting to believe the two.
With a sigh, he rose from the table as well, and entered the foyer, stopping when he saw Harry standing by the door with an impatient expression on his face and Sirius on the last step of the staircase, wearing his patented leather jacket and counting out several bills of money.
"… Four hundred… five hundred… six hundred… seven hundred… eight hundred…" he looked up. "Harry, how much d'you think we'll need?"
Harry shrugged. "Dunno, I've never purchased something like that before. Maybe the goblins know?"
"I'd rather have these before going anywhere magical, yeah?" suggested Sirius. "Well, I think eight hundred thousand pounds ought to be enough. We could always come back."
"Are you holding eight hundred thousand points together with a money clip?!" nearly squeaked out Remus; he deliberately ignored the large sum of money to preserve his sanity.
"Yeah?" replied Sirius. "Is that wrong?"
Remus gapped like a fish for a bit, before finally shaking his head, browbeaten. "Never mind… just… never mind… let's go wherever you need to go…"
The trio left Grimmauld Place – with Remus muttering under his breath about Harry, Death Eaters, in trouble with Dumbledore, Sirius as a wanted murderer, and other things – and walked about London proper, until Sirius felt that they were where they needed to be.
Remus was less confident.
"We're in the slums," the werewolf blandly stated.
"Yes," agreed Sirius happily.
"Are you trying to get your godson killed, Sirius?" continued Remus, nastily. "Because you'll do a bang-good job of it, if you are."
"Doesn't matter," chirped Harry happily as well, "I can't die!"
Remus shot Harry a dark glare.
Sirius had spent the time ignoring Remus and had knocked on a door of a lower level flat where a servant's quarter's door used to be, and was talking in whispers to the seedy-looking man who opened it.
Finally, the man opened the door wider and Harry practically bounced into the room, following his godfather. Remus was left to bring up the rear, hustled in the room quickly.
"Fer eight hund'd thous'nd," the man was croaking, "I'll give yah twenty min'te's to pick what yah want."
Sirius and Harry gleefully agreed, and poor Remus wondered what the man meant. He found out when the Muggle light switch was flicked and the room was illuminated.
Numerous models and makes of several guns hung on the wall, as did rope, hunting knives, night vision goggles, and other weapons. Sirius and Harry were picking several automatic handguns, comparing weight and potential uses other than for firing bullets.
"What are you two thinking!?" Remus barked out in a whisper, more than a little concerned. "Muggle weapons?!"
Harry looked at Remus. "Professor, the prophecy says that I'll have the power the Dark Lord knows not – and well, it's not like he's keeping up with the Times, is he? You can dodge Avada Kedavra but you can't dodge a bullet that well!"
Sirius broke it: "The Death Eaters won't know what hit 'em! They'll be dead before they hit the floor. Panic, destruction, mayhem, wooo!"
Remus gingerly raised a hand and felt Sirius' forehead.
"Moony," began the annoyed animagus, his mood changing abruptly. "What are you doing?"
"Your temper is slightly elevated… I think you're sick. Feverish. Not right in the head – let's go home, yeah? Back to Grimmauld, things will be better with a nice, warm bowl of chicken noodle soup," soothed the werewolf, his tone patronizing.
Sirius frowned. "Moony, stop being such a pussy and get yourself a gun."
Harry laughed in the background.
Remus sighed. Poor, poor Remus; this was so not happening.
"So," began Sirius, as the three waited at a nearby bus depot. "You did finish the chewing gum piece, yeah?"
Harry nodded. "'Course I did, back in Fate's office. Why else would I have grabbed that cross bow?"
Remus sighed. He had a headache.
He also didn't want to think about the off chance of a police officer stopping the three of them; they were laden down with numerous guns, knives, and other illegal weapons. He didn't want to erase a poor bobby's memory, after all – because he might just turn his wand on himself and do the same thing.
"Are we going to Diagon Alley now?" Sirius asked.
Harry nodded. "Gotta talk to the Goblins."
"Why?" asked Remus, almost kicking himself for asking that. He didn't want to know why, he really didn't.
Harry glanced at Remus. The poor werewolf wasn't taking Harry or Sirius's contract that well. "Well," began Harry, "I'd like to get a wand holster, and maybe a second wand. And some pranks by the Twins. I need money for that."
"But Sirius is well known and a criminal, people will freak as soon as they see him," argued Remus.
The bus pulled up and the three clambered on, paying their fare. The gentlemen who gave them the guns was more than happy to break a 100 for smaller change.
Sitting together, Harry said, "I'm counting on that."
"I'm being used as bait?" asked a sad Sirius. He pouted.
"Now, now," came a familiar – but for Remus, unfamiliar – voice. "A pouty Black is an unattractive Black."
Harry glanced up and smiled. "Hey Devil," he said. The woman was sitting across from them, her legs crossed and wearing an expensive miniskirt and matching sweater, and knee-boots. She looked incredibly out of place in the slummy neighborhood they were leaving, looking more of the part of a Kensington or Notting Hill girl.
Remus's jaw had dropped open, while Sirius was now trying to schmooze the Devil, flirting with her.
"Please, stop – that's really gross," complained Harry, half-joking and half not. Remus couldn't believe that Harry and Sirius were telling the truth! She had just appeared out of thin air, and knew the two.
The Devil sighed. "Very well, but only because I like you, Harry," she agreed. "I'm here to give you some information."
Harry perked up. "Information?"
The Devil nodded. "I believe that several Death Eaters will be attacking Diagon Alley – and the Leaky Cauldron – by four this afternoon. Now, by the time this bus nears Charing Cross, it'll be three thirty-ish, so you might want to prepare yourself."
Sirius and Harry nodded, seriously, and began to whisper attacks and counterattacks.
Remus sighed, and when he looked back at the Devil, the seat was empty.
What had he gotten himself into?
The Devil had been right; Harry, Sirius and Remus arrived at the Leaky Cauldron at quarter to four, with Sirius complaining loudly about the weight of the duffle bag filled with his guns – but he wisely omitted the word 'gun' from his whine.
Sirius entered the Leaky Cauldron, completely ignoring the fact that most of the wizard population considered him a wanted felon; Harry went in after him, a big smile on his face and a glint in his eyes that made the werewolf in Remus want to turn around and run.
When Remus stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, it was silent.
"SIRIUS BLACK!" an old woman screamed, her long finger pointing at a grinning Sirius – Remus thought he looked quite maniacal.
Harry also was grinning, his wand out and waving from person to person, making all witches and wizards in the Leaky Cauldron pause in awkward positions; some were half-rising from their seats, others were protecting their children, and a few had their wands out.
"Eh?" came a familiar voice. Remus turned to see Tom, the bartender, beadily look at the two black-haired men. "What's all this 'bout, then?"
Harry made his way to the bar and said, "We've received special intelligence that Death Eaters will be attacking Diagon Alley and Leaky really, really, really soon."
Tom and Harry stared at each other for bit; the room held their breath. Then… Tom nodded. "All right. I believe, yeh, Harry – only 'cause yeh're a good boy."
"Thanks Tom," chirped back a happy Harry. "By the way, it's 4. You might want to evacuate."
"B-But, but," stuttered an off-duty Auror who had nursed a pint. "You're Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived! And he's Sirius Black, You-Know-Who's right hand man! You can't be working together!"
Harry sighed, and patted the Auror mournfully on the shoulder. "It's okay, that Fudge and Crouch led such incompetent governments, or else you'd realize that Sirius went to Azkaban without a trial. And that he's my godfather. Oh – and that if I'm here with him, warning all of you about a Death Eater attack, it's highly unlikely he's a Death Eater too, ain't it?"
The Auror was struck dumb – by whether or not he believed Harry or the long paragraph reply he received – but could not reply to the famous teenager because the entrance to Diagon Alley had been blown apart by a well-aimed Reducto. Large chunks of debris fell on nearby tables, and people ducked for cover.
It seemed Harry Potter was telling the truth.
Sirius and Harry immediately moved forward and once the dust settled, where they each pulled identical Glock 22's. Both had lights under the barrel, and with careful aim, they began to fire.
The loud noise caused most magical folk to cover their ears and fall to the ground, away from the noise and attention. Remus had dived behind the bar counter as soon as the barrier between Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron blew apart.
Idly, Remus wondered while looking over the bar top, and while dodging several green spells that flew from the barrier, how Sirius – and now Harry – got him in to these situations. It wasn't like it was particularly easy to place yourself in bodily harm, but both black-haired (fools) wizards managed to find trouble easily.
"Yippee Ki-Ay, motherfuckers!" Remus heard Harry laugh loudly, and sighed. He really needed to teach that boy some manners, else Lily would skin him.
Remus listened to several more shouts and the rapport from discharging guns, until he felt a hand hit the top of his head. His wand came up and the word, Stupefy, was on his lips before he recognized Harry's emerald green eyes.
Sharing a look with Tom, Remus asked, "What's up, Harry?"
The teen smiled brightly. "Me an' Sirius walloped the Death Eaters and we're going to rip their sleeves off to show that they had the Dark Mark. Although not particularly creative in our method of getting rid of them, we did figure out how many rounds were in the Glock."
"As if that was your only problem," muttered Remus, slowly standing. "So it's over then?"
"Yeah," replied Harry, waiting for the werewolf to slide over the bar top and then walk with him toward Sirius, who was toeing a dead Death Eater, in between the barrier of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. He was admirably ignoring the whispers and stares of the nearby magical folk, who now deemed it safe to come out of their hiding places.
"Twenty-four new recruits and Anton Dolohov," commented Sirius. "Pity. I was hoping for more Inner Circle."
"Patience!" chided Harry with a laugh. A dark look settled over his face as he knelt by Dolohov's side. "This guy almost killed Hermione."
Sirius and Remus shared a look, then looked back at Harry, who whispered to Dolohov (and didn't realize he was overheard by the two Marauders), "Enjoy Hell, Dolohov. I'm sure my friend will give you quite the reception when you get there. I can only hope she'll scare the crap out of you, so you can see that Voldemort isn't the scariest thing in the universe."
He stood, looking dispassionately down at the single bullet in his chest that took him out, and fired two more shots out of anger.
"Harry…" said Sirius quietly. He glanced around and cringed at the numerous people who were staring at the Dark Marks on the Death Eater's arms, and looking curiously and openly at Sirius, Harry and Remus. "Maybe we should go…"
"Yeah," agreed Harry, nodding. Sirius and Remus put their arms around Harry, shielding the slightly out of it teen from the public's gaze and disappeared with a loud pop!
Two seconds later, Alastor Moody and Albus Dumbledore, along with a significant portion of the Order of the Phoenix appeared in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron, wands out and their stances ready for defense. However, upon seeing the bodies, they paused.
"Tom?" questioned Albus quietly.
"Er…" the bartender stalled, not quite sure how to answer that.
A young boy in the crowd solved it for him. "Mummy," he said, his voice carrying to everyone in the room, "When I grow up, I want to be like Harry Potter and shoot people."
Molly Weasley's body hitting the ground as she fainted was the only other sound in the building.
Anton Dolohov didn't know where he was. The room was dark, and the black marble flooring was showing his extremely pale complexion and reflection back at him. The mirrored walls caused him confusion; there was no entrance and exit. Had Potter and Black manage to hit him with a Portkey to a prison?
"Hello, Anton," purred a feminine voice.
Invisible lights flared up in the room, lighting the gorgeous women who sat on the edge of her desk, her legs crossed and bare. Anton swallowed audibly.
"Hello," he croaked back. "Who're you?"
The brunette replied with a chilly smile, her eyes flashing a red similar to Dolohov's master. He felt unease settle in his stomach.
"I'm the Devil," she finally replied, and Anton suddenly knew that this would not end well…
… if it ever did.
AN: A bit of a shorter chapter, but something to tide the masses over until the next part comes out. Some action, not much described as it's from Remus's POV, but you'll see more of Harry's "crazy" powers, Suzaku, Sirius, Remus, and Hermione and the DA in the next chapter, I think. Let me know of any mistakes, and they'll be changed!! Kneazle ((Feb.21.07))
PS: In case anyone is wondering, when Sirius and Harry get their "merchandise", I took that from Boondock Saints.