Birth of a Nightmare Man

Chapter Eleven

Losing a child could do a lot to a person, Arthur Weasley knew that. He had lost four. Ginny wasn't dead but she was gone, and probably forever remain gone, just a shell breathing in St Mungo's. He didn't know where George was buried, and he no longer knew where Fred's body was. Percy had been laid to rest next to his mother. Arthur kept Fred's gravestone, and added George's name to it. When they found where Potter lived, he'd find out where Potter had buried his sons and take them to Percy and Molly's graves, where they truly belonged.

Harry had been such a quiet boy, and now… now he had killed not only Arthur's children but also Ron's. It was heart-breaking to see those two tiny coffins being lowered into the ground. Hermione didn't cry. Her face was set in stone, and her eyes burned. Ron kept his head down, held Hermione's hand, lost in a way Arthur had never seen before.

Afterwards they gathered for a bit before once more spreading out, this time with a system to check up on one another. Harry Potter could not be given the chance to attack them like that ever again.

None of them were foolish enough to think that Hermione's attack had killed him. Not even Hermione herself believed that. There were those who would help Harry Potter even now, those who would make sure he didn't die. For example, the Azkaban prisoners he let loose.

Also, where were the Dementors? There had been little signs of them, but Albus was rather certain that they followed Harry now.

"They weren't with him when he came to us," Hermione said. "I didn't feel their cold."

"Neither did I," Ron said. "It was just… him. I shouldn't have opened the door. It's my fault."

"No," Hermione replied, "it wasn't. It's his fault. He killed them. You thought it was someone else."

"I should have been more careful, should've sensed for his magic. The trace was all over the place; he didn't try to hide it as he came to the village. I didn't bother looking for it."

How could they tell him it wasn't his fault? With no sign of Harry Potter since Percy's death, they had all grown lax with their control. No more.

"We will find him," Albus told the grieving parents, putting a hand each on their shoulders. "We will find him, and make him pay for those lives he has taken from us."

"It won't give them back to us."

"No, Hermione, it will not. However, it will prevent him from doing the same to someone else. We will stop a madman."

"I'll make him beg for mercy," Hermione snarled. "And I will never give it to him."

-o-

Next on his list, Charlie Weasley. Charlie never moved back to England, and so Harry spent weeks looking for him, the Dementors finally finding him. He refused to listen to a single word Harry said and focused on attacking, leading to him losing both arms and a leg, one arm due to Rabastan and the other limbs due to the Dementors.

Rabastan picked up Charlie's wand and threw it over to Harry.

"You're collecting wands, aren't you?" he said.

"Yes. You remembered."

"I remember weird hobbies. What shall we do with him now?"