𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

XXX : Part B

Act XXX: Part B

Acta est fabula.

The drama has been acted out.

Harry gritted his teeth as he ran towards the dying yellow flare that was a few feet away from him. He readied his wand, dodged tree branches and hurtled over bushes, anxious to reach the clearing. He grimaced in pain as he felt his scar start to burn.

He surveyed the scene laid out before him. A cackling Voldemort was locked in fierce battle with a panting Moody and a bleeding Shacklebolt. Well, so much for not engaging in combat, then…

“Ah, Potter! How good of you to join us!” Voldemort grinned evilly as Harry hissed in pain and clutched his head.

“Potter, for gods’ sakes! Stop standing around like a bloody ninny and move! Get him while you can!” Moody growled as he fired off another stunning curse, but his chuckling opponent easily stopped it mid-way.

“Not so fast, boy!” Voldemort called after Harry as he ran, scrambling and dodging various hexes all the while.

Harry finally dove for cover behind an oak tree that soon splintered brutally at the force of Voldemort’s latest hex.

“We’ll keep him busy. Get to him, Potter!” Shacklebolt ordered as he sent a volley of hexes at the Dark Lord. Voldemort merely laughed, delighted at the challenge as he faced the two Aurors.

Inhaling deeply and ignoring the pulsing pain from his scar, Harry bolted from his precarious position and hastened to the tree that Snape was tied to. He gasped as he realized the extent of Voldemort’s cruelty and he winced when he noticed the very same curse scar that had plagued Draco carved on the man’s chest.

“Well, Potter, are you going to stand there all day, doing a terrible impersonation a fish, or are you actually going to release me?” a snide, raspy voice broke through Harry’s thoughts.

Harry couldn’t help but grit his teeth as his temper flared once more, but he forced himself to keep a lid on it. “You know, you don’t make for a good damsel in distress,” he mumbled with a shake of his head as he began the laborious effort of undoing the tight ropes.

“You will have to forgive me then if I don’t feel like falling to my knees and whimpering at your feet, Potter. Enduring endless torture by a murderous Dark Lord tends to put a damper on my manners,” Severus shot back scathingly. Then surveying the nightmare he’d woken up to, he asked, “Where the hell is the rest of your team? Why aren’t the Aurors swarming this place like a hive of angry bees?”

“My team’s already here,” Harry answered him pointedly as he valiantly tried to ignore the vitriol that came spewing from Snape’s mouth. “The rest are rescuing Professor Lupin, and don’t hold your breath for the Aurors; they’re not coming. That spineless worm of a Minister wouldn’t send them.”

“What? This is your team?” Severus gasped, stunned by the sheer stupidity of this harebrained rescue effort. “Why don’t you just kill us all now and be done with it? You’re mad if you think you can escape here with your lives, let alone mine as well! And call back your other members! There’s no sense in trying to rescue the dead!”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked urgently, fear and dread gripping his heart.

“Lupin is dead,” Snape answered him stoically, “and anyone else who accompanied you on this asinine goose chase will be as well if you don’t call them back this instant.”

“No.” Harry shook his head as he staggered a step backwards. “No! You’re lying! He’s not dead! He can’t be!” He grabbed Snape by the shoulders and shook him. “Tell me you’re lying! Tell me I’m not too late! Oh gods! Not again!” he cried out in torment.