FicWad

I got this feeling of something terribly gone wrong when I engaged in duel with three students. Two of them I recognized in an instant; Potter's blood traitor girlfriend and the Mudblood Granger, but the name of the third one I couldn't recall. She might have been there, in the Department of Mysteries, two years ago, yet another one of Potter's trustful lapdogs.

Under normal circumstances, I would have crushed these three seventh-years as a walnut; they were no match to me. Mediocre at best, they were absolutely inexperienced duellers, relying on a handful of simple spells to save their lives. Tonight, however, they were different. Their lips pressed together into thin lines, they picked up the deadly rhythm of duelling in three-quarters: dodge-block-curse, dodge-block-curse, dodge-block-curse, as if they were waltzing through the Great Hall with their partners at the Yule Ball. Something was driving them, something had given them the strength to fight me, no matter the difference in strength and experience, no matter my reputation of being an insane and reckless murderer.

They kept attacking and attacking and, while they weren't quick enough, weren't unpredictable enough to cause me any harm, I really had to make sure I wouldn't lower my guard for a second. The three launched another well-coordinated attack and I barely managed to raise a shield to deflect their curses. I'd never have expected them to last that long against me and wanted to finish this now as soon as possible. Sending three powerful Reductors at them in quick succession, I forced them to break their rhythm, gaining myself some valuable seconds and catch my breath. Casting a quick glance around the Great Hall, I swiftly assessed the situation.

There was only sporadic fighting left by now. The lifeless bodies of many of the castle defenders and most of our own lay scattered, among the pieces of broken tables and other furniture, huge boulders blown out of the walls. A redhead – probably one of the Weasley brat – had just blasted a gaping hole into Greyback's chest. Another redhead sent a whizzing green ray into Rookwood, killing him in an instant. Only the Dark Lord - duelling three of the staff alone - and myself were standing now, The rest - killed, wounded, captured or fled as rats, abandoning the sinking ship.

We started hurling curses at each other again and suddenly I understood I was not to win this fight. Getting desperate, I launched a Killing Curse at Potter's girlfriend, missing here with an inch only. Suddenly, an almost animalistic cry broke through the rumble of the fight. A lioness defending her cubs, the Weasley matriarch, disrobing on the move, drew her wand in a swift, smooth movement and sent an unexpected curse at me which I barely managed to block. Engaging into fight with an unexpected vehemence, she commanded the children to keep out and hurled a series of attacks at me, and soon I understood. This was it.

Suddenly, I felt weightless. My feet floated above the ground and a thick mist started to form around me. I rose higher and higher, for a moment observing the Great Hall from above, when I felt another presence around me.

The handsome, black-haired man, in his fifties, cast a warm smile upon me and reached out towards me, calling my name in his soft bariton. An ethereal joy filled my heart as I smiled back at him and intertwined my fingers with his.

He did love me, after all.