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Armistice by Phoenix_Flames
Chapter 8 : Dead and Gone
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 18


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Chapter Graphic by Jeanie at The Dark Arts

Be sure to thank Tinkerbell01, my lovely beta!

*****


Sirius and Arthur stood in the kitchen. Sirius, with his hands braced against a pane of glass, gazed out at Harry and Moody in the midst of training. Sirius smiled. "He's really coming along."

Arthur nodded. After three months the boy had become a natural with magic. "He's got quite the talent."

"Does Molly know what Mad Eye is teaching him today?" Sirius snickered.

Arthur pursed his lips and shrugged. "No, what is it? Why hasn't James been training him the past few weeks? He was so dead set on being the one to train him?"

"He's going back to Claire. Spending more time with her. He is determined not to lose her. Mad Eye's teaching him the Unforgiveables."

"What?" Arthur whispered. "But he's only seventeen."

"Moody says it doesn't matter his age. The battle could be coming at any day. As soon as Voldemort makes his move on Neville, we will throw Harry in there. Harry is our secret weapon. I'm glad James is showing up around here less often. He's teaching him pure defensive spells. How does he expect to confront Voldemort in combat if he only knows the defensive spells?"

"I guess you're right," sighed Arthur. "Best not tell Molly, though."




"I've had it!" Harry shouted. He threw down his wand and stomped off from the field in which they were training. Harry spat, "I'm tired of this! I want to go home! I don't want to do this anymore."

"It doesn't matter what you want, Potter. You do what we tell you now," Moody growled in his low, threatening voice. "I haven't even began our lesson for today. I was just warming you up, Potter."

"Urgh," Harry groaned, kicking a pebble. "I don't want to."

"It doesn't matter." Moody snickered. From the very beginning, Harry had been giving into every opportunity for Moody's lesson. Harry was falling into his trap, making Moody's task much easier. Moody taunted him. "All right, Harry. I know you're angry. You've been cooped up here for three months. You haven't talked to anyone but us and Mary. We don't let you go out. We baby you. Yes, we do."

"Will you talk about something else, please?" Harry hissed. "You're not helping."

I'm not helping you, but I'm sure helping myself, his thoughts sneered. He urged Harry forward, tossing him his wand. "I know I'm not helping. So, why don't we get some practicing in? I'll be your punching bag. Come on, let's duel."

"My dad doesn't want me dueling with anyone," Harry murmured like the goody-good he was.

"Well, your dad isn't here right now, is he?"

Harry rolled his eyes and raised his wand. "Stupefy!"

Moody deflected it and sent Harry flying off his feet. He groaned and limped back to a standing position, rubbing his bum. "That hurt!"

"No one will spare you in battle. Come on, Potter. Try this one. Crucio, say it."

Harry lowered his wand. "What will it do?"

"It's just a dueling spell," Mad Eye lied. "Come on, Harry. Say it, but be angry. You have to feel that anger inside of you. Use it! You're trapped here under house arrest, you can't do anything about it."

"I don't trust you. I won't say it."

Mad Eye ran forward and sent his fist flying across Harry's face. He yelped and cowered backwards, holding his bloodied nose. He shouted, "What the fuck was that for?!"

"You're angry. Good." Moody punched him again. "It's just some bruises. I'll fix you up after we're done here. Now say it!"

"No!" Harry roared. Another punch. Furious and with blood spurting from his mouth and nose, he raised his wand and howled. "Crucio!"

Writhing and thrashing, Moody dropped to the ground. Silent, his body yanked about violently. His eyes fixated with fury on Alastor, Harry had to blink twice before he realized what he was doing. His eyes went wide and, ashamed of himself, Harry rushed forward and helped the man to his feet. "Mad Eye, I'm sorry! I didn't know what that would do to you!"

"No, it's good, Potter. It's good. And that was very nicely done," Moody sighed, wiping the dirt from his coat.

"Why did you make me do that?"

"Because dueling is more than just creating pixie dust and fairy tale princesses. Things get violent, Potter. What you just did is called the Cruciatus Curse. It's called one of the three Unforgivables. Any use of them will land you without trial in Azkaban for a lifetime," Catching his face, Moody reassured him, "but in this case, you are in training, and soon enough you will have to use these curses free of charge."

Curious, Harry pried. "What are the other two?"

"The other is the Imperius curse. Interested?"

Interested, Harry thought on it. He nodded, "I guess."

"Now resist as best you can. I won't hurt you with it, but just resist," and with that, Moody shouted, "Imperio!"

At first Harry felt nothing, and he wondered what was supposed to happen. Then he felt a push inside his head, and he wanted to groan, but found himself unable to. Instead, his feet began to dance around like a talented tap dancer. His mind raced, wanting to stop. As he resisted, a battle raged on inside his head. He could hear a voice commanding him to dance, to sing. But Harry protested. No, I don't want to.

Moody's voice responded, "Good, Potter! You're resisting! Jump!"

No! He felt his knees buckle, and Moody lifted the curse. "Impressive, Potter. This curse can make you do anything to the caster's will. You must learn to refuse it. You did well. We won't continue with that right now, for there is one more I would like to show you."

Harry had to admit, he preferred Moody teaching him to his father. His father was careful of what he showed Harry and barely let him practice them in return. Moody was teaching him all he could, using Harry as the guinea pig. Harry was intrigued. He urged Moody forward. "What is it? I want to learn!"

Moody whipped out his wand, searched for any living thing, and found a bird in the sky. He pointed it at the bird's small body and growled. "Avada Kedavra!" Dead, the bird dropped to the ground.

"Y-You...You killed that bird!"

"It's only a bird, Potter."

"So, a killing curse..." Harry murmured.

"That's right. A killing curse. Beware it. It is inescapable, unlike another spell. No one has ever survived, and surely, no one ever will," said Moody.

"But why do I need to learn it?"

"You really have no idea what you're doing here, don't you?" Moody snickered.

Harry sat down in the grass, his happiness fading. He had, once again, been reminded of his annoying curiosity and impatience with his stay at the Burrow. "Not really. At first, I thought I was just being introduced to this world, but now I think it's something so much more. But no one will tell me."

Moody knelt down in front of Potter and said quietly in his etchy growl. "I know it, Potter, and I'm going to tell you. You're not here to conjure fluffy bunny rabbits and enjoy yourself. We wouldn't have dragged you into this world if there wasn't a good enough reason. We wouldn't have destroyed all your father's work for nothing."

"Mad Eye, don't tell me riddles. Tell me what's going on," hissed Harry. He finally took in that he was the ploy in their plan.

Mad Eye looked Harry in his emerald eyes, his glass eye seeming to take in every last bit of Harry and his confusion. "Has anyone told you about Voldemort or Neville Longbottom?" Harry nodded. "Well, Voldemort is the darkest wizard there's ever been. When you were a child, there was a prophecy - "

"My father's told me about this," Harry ushered. "There was a prophecy about either me or Neville Longbottom. To protect me, my parents divorced, and my father took me into safety. I know what happened in my world, but not in this one. That's what I need to know."

"Okay, so, with you off the map, Voldemort had no choice but to go for the Longbottom child. Neville's parents went insane from the Cruciatus cursed placed on them by a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers. Her name is Bellatrix Lestrange, an unyieldingly cruel woman. She was locked up in Azkaban for a while with her husband, but she broke out a year or two ago. But Neville. After his parents went insane, Neville went to live with his grandmother. During his childhood years, he was safe. The Order kept a close eye on him, but when Neville entered Hogwarts a series of obstacles set up by Voldemort were awaiting him. Ever year, he's gone through some sort of trauma. He's had such a sad life. The thing is - the poor boy lacks nearly all magical talent. We have reason to believe that Voldemort does not feel the draw he needs to feel between himself and Neville. Neville does not give him any threat. So, Neville has been ruled out as the "Chosen One," and he is now on the move for you. The prophecy clearly states 'neither can live while the other survives.' If Neville is not the one he's after, this makes you the one he's trying to kill. We have Order members stationed everywhere. We have eyes and ears everywhere. We know the Second War is coming soon, and we won't allow a third one to come. We need this to be over once and for all. Voldemort cannot live any longer."

"So..." Harry sighed heavily, feeling his heart throttle in his chest. He groaned. "So, I'm being trained...I'm being trained to go into battle. I'm being trained to kill someone..."

Harry rose to his feet and stormed off. Moody chased after him, hobbling on his wooden leg and staff. "Harry Potter, come back here. We need you to do this. The safety of the entire wizarding world is in your hands. We need you to do this."

"You're just using me! All of your are just tricking me into being the king in your little chess game! No! I won't do it. What if I don't kill him? What if he kills me first?" Harry sighed heavily. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. It stood on end, highlighting his distress.

"He won't kill you, Harry." Moody, the most unlikely guy to be reassuring, grasped Harry by the shoulder and squeezed them tightly. "We aren't going to let that happen. We are going to train you with every tactic we know. We will not let you fail."

"I don't..." sighed Harry. "I can't...I...How can I? I can't kill someone."

Moody let his voice rumble. "Voldemort isn't a someone, Potter. He's a horrible soul that should never have been born, and you're going to send him right back to hell where he came from."




Mary ran her fingers through his hair as he groaned, tossed, and turned in her lap. He groaned, biting his fist to muffle his complaints. "I'm sick of this fucking place! I want out! No one is letting us do anything, and now I find out that they are only training me for my death."

"That's not true," Mary argued as Harry jumped to his feet stormed about the tiny room. "That's not true, Harry. You're going to save all of them. They're making a hero out of you."

"But what if I don't want to be a hero?" Harry hissed, spitting into her face as he came within inches from her panic stricken eyes. Harry retreated, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mary. I didn't mean to scare you. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm getting the fuck out of here. I need - a drink - or something! Are you coming with me?"

"Yes," Mary rose to her feet, smoothing out her skirt. "But how will we get out of here without being seen? This place is like a prison. They can see and hear everything we do."

"Don't worry. I've got that settled," and he reached for her hand. He entwined their fingers and remembered what Moody had taught him three days previous, and then they were gone with nothing but a crack.

They plummeted quite ungracefully into the ground at a bar in London. Mary's eyes went wide and she squealed, opening her arms up to the warm, night air. "Finally! We're back in the city! I was getting tired of hearing nothing but crickets at night."

"Of course you were," Harry teased. Mary was quite the city girl, a girl who went shopping every weekend and chatted with her friends in a Starbucks on evenings. The sound of taxis, cars, pedestrians, and other noises sent them into peace. The contrast of the lights and the night sky made everything sparkle like stars. Mary sighed. "Thank God."

Harry dragged her into the bar. "I always heard that Matt Bueno kid talking about this place. They serve to minors, thank God."

Mary put on her most seductive smile, sliding into one of the stools at the bar, lit up with neon lights beneath the counter. The bar was crowded and thriving with minors and adults. There were numbers of people on the dance floor, dancing in quite raunchy ways. "I didn't know you drank, Harry."

Harry cast her an awry glance. "I don't actually. I'm just stressed, and for one moment I need to forget this war."

As the bartender appeared on the other side of the counter, Mary batted her eye lashes and grinned. "Tequila, please." The bartender turned to Harry, and he waved an absent hand around. "I'll have whatever she's having."

"All right," the bartender grinned. He began preparing their drinks. He winked and clicked his tongue at Mary. "This first round's on the house, love."

Mary nodded in thanks and turned to Harry. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry. Relax."

"I will," Harry moaned, "Once I get that tequila in my system."

"Well, here you go, man. Get it in your system." The bartender slid his drink across the counter to Harry. The alcohol was in a tiny shot glass. Harry looked at it curiously before he grabbed it and chugged it down. He hissed and made a sour face. "That's gross. More."

In another second, his second round slipping its way down Harry's throat. Mary laughed and swallowed her first. "It's bad at first, but then it gets better, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry winced. His face turned up as if he had been sucking on a lemon. He waved his hand around. Already, he could feel the alcohol kicking in. "Another, pwease."

Mary looked around the loud bar. The lights had dimmed, and they were flashing everywhere. On the dance floor, a heated group of teenagers were dancing about. Mary beamed and bounced. "Oh my gosh! It's Felicity from school! And Tracy! And Jedidiah! Harry, come on!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Harry, at the beginning stages of being drunk, groaned and waved lazily. "Jedidiah!"

The three teenagers looked up and beamed, bounding forward. Jed, tall and blond with a dazzling smile, grinned with his arm around Tracy Jones. "Mary! Harry! Where have you two been? Everyone's been wondering about you! Sorry about Ethan, guys. That was really horrible."

Mary smiled sadly. "Yeah, it was. We're staying with some friends a fair ways outside the city. It's been miserable, keeping us on a leash. We were able to sneak out tonight."

Felicity danced up to them, sweat gracing her beautiful forehead from dancing. "Mary!" She hugged her friend excitedly and then laughed at Harry, leaning on Mary dependently. "Well, what a surprise! Harry Potter too! Harry, the goody boy. Already drunk."

"Ehe," Harry giggled. He slapped a hand on Felicity's shoulder. He gurgled, "Felicity! You look like - a cheetah in that dress! TEQUILIA!"

"All right, Harry," Felicity laughed. Jedidiah took Mary's place from under Harry's arm and led him to the floor. Jed yelled over the blaring music. "Can you stand?"

"Shut up, Jeddy! I ain't deaf or retarded!" Harry slurred. He shoved Jed off, and Harry began dancing on the floor. His fellow peers watching him in hilarious outbursts of laughter. Jed took Mary's hand and led her next to Harry. "Well, if this is your one night out, you better make it worth it!"

Mary grinned and began dancing closely with Jed. Felicity and Tracy resumed themselves as well.

For hours, the two of them drank and danced until they were completely wasted. Mary hung all over Jed and Harry. One of her hands grazed Jed's hip as her other went up and distorted her board straight, blond hair. Jed whispered huskily into her ear. "I see you've forgotten all about, Ethan."

"And I see you've had about seven too many shots of alcohol," Mary hissed back. Jed's hands grazed Mary's hips as the other girls and Harry ran over to the bar. Mary drew herself in closer as his hands went down and searched new places. They cupped around her bum and went up her back, around to her breasts. She pressed her lips against his, hot and hungry. Jed groaned and drew out of the sweaty mix of people, pulling Mary into a dark corner.

Harry laughed hysterically at the counter and slapped Tracy's back. "Tha's...Tat's funny, Tracy!"

"Harry, you've had enough," Tracy eyed him.

"Noooo," Harry giggled. "Just one more! Eh, waiter dude! One more!"

"All right," the bartender groaned, sliding it over to Harry, "but that's your last one. I'm cutting you off after that. You do realized that that is your eighteenth?"

"Whatever," Harry slurred as he chugged it. Harry rose and took two steps before crashing into the ground. He laughed and then looked to Felicity and Tracy, staring at him in confusion. Harry asked, "Woah, woah. You okay?"

"Are you?" Felicity pushed. "We're not the ones who just fell, Harry!"

"Oh, I thought that was you..."

They helped him to his feet and the girls set out to look for Mary. Harry stumbled into the corner and found them wrapped around each other. He laughed and pulled Mary off of Jed. "Ehe, hey. D'er you are, Maaaary."

"Oh God, Harry," Mary sighed. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, glad that Harry seemed completely oblivious to what she was just doing. Jed straightened his shirt as Harry peeled into him. Mary straightened him up and asked, "Harry! How many have you had?"

"Those t-ings are delll-shoush! I've had eighty-one! No one can beat me!"

"Eighty-one?" Mary asked in horror. "I doubt you've had eighty-one, Harry. Do you mean eighteen?"

"Oh," Harry stopped. He held one finger up on each hand and waved his hands back and forth, acting to switch the numbers. "Eighteen, yes. Eighteen. That's the one!"

"Fuck, Harry. How do you expect us to get home now?" Mary cursed. She twirled an end of her blond hair. Harry waved his hands around in an excited motion and spluttered out, "Why, just the way we got here, Mary dear! It's magic!"

Jed laughed, thinking Harry was just drunk out of his mind. Mary, however, panicked. She turned to Jed. "I'll take him home. Bye." And she ran out of the club and into the street. She rounded on him, furious. "Harry, apparate us out of here."

"Alllllllll righttttttt," chuckled Harry, and they left with a crack.

They landed in a heap in the middle of a field, Harry sprawled out on top of her. The night sky was a black blanket over them, the star twinkling from above. He grunted into her chest, "Big boobies, you have."

Mary chuckled and grabbed Harry's neck, prying his face off of her front. His drunken, lazy eyes met hers, and he kissed her hard. Mary squealed under him, taken aback, but she didn't stop him. She licked his alcohol marinated lips. When he pulled away with a laugh, Mary asked, "Why did you do that?"

"Well, it looked like a good idea," Harry slurred once again. Mary was quiet for a moment, allowing Harry to remain firmly planted on top of her, and then she asked, "And was it?"

"Mmmmm," he murmured. Mary, unable to make out an answer, snuck her hands up his shirt, ripping it above his head. Harry, the alcohol dizzying his mind, was able to grunt out. "N-No, never mind!"

"Too late," Mary groaned in a husky, turned on voice. She pulled Harry onto his knees, her hands up his back, and kissed him hard on the mouth once more. Her teeth sunk into his lip, her tongue roaming inside. Harry gasped against her, "No, no! Ethan."

"Ethan's not here. You are. I want you, Harry," she moaned against him. She went to his neck, inhaling his sweet smell, so much sweeter than Ethan had ever smelt. Harry fell back, but Mary climbed on top before he could scramble away. "You won't remember it tomorrow anyways."

"Hmphhh," Harry groaned, ignoring Mary's hand as they found the buckle of his belt.

"I want you," sighed Mary against his ear. That was all she had to say before Harry caved, before he gladly let her undo his belt. Drunk on too many shots to count, Harry cursed himself inwardly. His mind ranted over and over You traitor, you traitor.

But it was all the little bitch of a whore had to say before Harry gave in. That was the last time he said no.





















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