When All is Lost One is Found

Chapter 8: ... And They Fall

When All is Lost One is Found

Author: Rinoaebastel

Chapter 8: . . . And They Fall

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice. Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.

AN: This story may contain scenes taken from the Harry Potter movies and books, but it's not exact dialogue, just rewording of dialogue or omission. It is not marked.

Note: This does not follow the book timeline exactly I changed the order for the sake of my fiction. Just wanted to let you know just in case confusion occurred. In this fic, Potter is not born at the time Snape goes to Dumbledore for help.

Warning: Small mention of suicide. May be triggering.

October 1981

The wretched day had come, and there was nothing he could do. The Dark Lord was on the move, and he'd ordered all of them to stay behind. He hadn't risked much in his new "position" so far. He learned from Malfoy that the Potter's location had been discovered, and he'd managed to send an owl to Dumbledore. There was a traitor on their side that had given Voldemort the information.

He looked at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed since he'd sent the information. Though he normally prided himself on patience, he couldn't stand summoning that virtue right now. Not when it involved her life. He'd done everything he could to ease the worry coursing through him, but nothing worked. So now he paced.

On his fiftieth pace, fire shot through his arm, and the mark burned as if he'd been shot there. He bit back a yell and fell to his knees. He grabbed his wrist, and squeezed, trying to concentrate on another less potent pain. His breathing was so erratic he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs with the brief inhales. His vision blurred. He needed air. Merlin, just one breath. This wasn't a normal call.

He clawed at his sleeve and fell face first onto the floor as the pain spread to his other limbs and his torso. His head pounded. What was this? It couldn't be revenge. As far as he knew, no one had noticed his betrayal. He moved to his side, curled into a fetal position, and let out a cry, hoping it would alleviate even a small percentage of his anguish.

Then the pain was gone.

The burning sensation changed into a warm caress. A few minutes passed until he could move his fingers. When he felt his strength returning, he looked at the dark mark. His eyes widened. It was red and disappearing.

His mind ran through the reasons this would be happening until it hit him. If the holder of the curse dies the mark disappears. That meant the prophecy had . . . The Dark Lord was . . . Lily!

He moved his body into a sitting position and barely managed to grasp his wand due to his numb fingers. He needed to find out what happened.

Summoning all the will he had within him, he managed to stand. One hand gripped his wand and the other held onto the edge of a chair so he could remain upright.

How he could find them? His lack of oxygen earlier had slowed his thinking.

He glanced at the dark mark once again and saw it was almost gone. If the Dark Lord was dead, that meant he'd found them. If he focused on the remnants of his power, he might be able to track where the Dark Lord was before his demise. He could go to him. Like many times he had needed to do so.