Harry Potter and the Wrath of the Fallen

Chapter 3: The Road Already Traveled

Lucius Malfoy watched the people around him carefully. The Great Hall was filling up for a feast and he knew that sooner or later people were going to notice he was still here, and then they would remember that Azkaban was missing a prisoner.

His wife and son sat beside him, neither daring to make a sound, hoping that people would remember they had not raised a wand during the battle. But Lucius knew the reputation all three of them now had would make it near impossible for him to switch allegiances again. However, Lucius was a survivor, and he would attach himself to whichever side he felt was the most powerful. He would simply claim that he was acting under the Imperious curse; it was an excuse that had worked for him in the past.

Lucius wouldn't run. He knew he would be hunted if he tried to evade the Ministry officials, so he would wait until the right moment, and then he would bow to the new power, preserving his influence and wealth while others hid and cowered in fear.

Lucius started to map out his story in his mind as he waited for an opportunity to portray himself as the unwitting victim of Lord Voldemort's treacherous plot against the Ministry; the Ministry, he would remind everybody, which he had supported for years as well as making generous donations to many magical institutions including St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

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 Harry and Ginny had reappeared within the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had landed them next to Hagrid's hut in order to avoid being instantly recognised upon their arrival. Hagrid's hut was dark and deserted, with no sign of Hagrid's dog, Fang, or the Hippogriff, Buckbeak.

Harry rubbed Ginny's back as she bent over, her stomach flipping over from the effects of the apparation.

"Take a deep breath, Gin, you'll feel better in a minute' said Harry soothingly.

"Does it get any easier?" asked Ginny.

"Yes, but it always feels weird," replied Harry.

Harry looked up at the distant castle. He felt a wave of guilt as images of yesterday's battle flashed through his memory. Over fifty people were dead because they had fought here, and too many of them were young people, students of age who had stayed to fight without realising how dangerous the fight would be.

A shocking pain passed through Harry as a green light flashed before his eyes. Images of the dead assaulted his mind as he felt the bile rise in his throat. Without warning he vomited onto the ground. He was left feeling hollow and weak; his guilt magnified as he thought of Ginny and their love. He had found happiness after so many had died trying to fight his war. Harry felt dizzy and tired, exhaustion catching up with him.

Ginny was concerned about Harry and his well being. Besides the wound on his chest he was obviously having trouble coping with his emotions. She could sense the guilt and fear in him and knew that he was afraid of what people were going to think of him when he arrived at the castle. Would he be considered a saviour or a harbinger of death?

"Harry, can you walk?" asked Ginny, fear starting to creep into her own mind.

A flash of rage ran through Harry. Of course I can walk, he thought angrily to himself, fighting an urge to scream at Ginny. As quickly as it had come, the rage was gone and Harry shivered as he regained his composure. Where had that come from? Harry was worried. He straightened up and turned to Ginny.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this. I don't know if I can face everyone," said Harry.

Ginny pulled Harry into a tight embrace, comforting him as her own doubts started to nag at her. She suddenly had the desire to take Harry away from all this. Everything seemed to be happening too quickly, celebrating the victory before anybody had had time to bury their dead.