Chapter Text
“I’ve always known I was different, a bit odd. I could make my hair regrow when it was cut out of spite; I could simply disappear and then reappear on top of a roof to avoid bullies chasing me around the play park; I could talk to snakes…” He licked his lips. “Even freed one from a zoo, once.”
There was a smattering of half-hearted chuckles.
“But I never imagined the reason I was odd was because I’m a wizard – even less, a celebrity amongst wizards. All because I survived a Killing Curse when I was a baby. Only later did I really understand that significance.
“I was on the run these last months, trying to fulfill a mission Professor Dumbledore left to me. You see, Voldemort – Tom Riddle - thirsted for power and domination. He found a way to ensure his life would go on, even if his physical body did not exist… Essentially, he became immortal. It was this perversion of nature that twisted him into what he was: heartless, more monster than man. Then some years later, a prophecy revealed that he could not have true, great power if the ‘child born as the seventh month dies’ were to live – and I knew then that I, too, had to die.”
Potter paused, his throat thick, then sniffed his nose and looked into the crowd. “I didn’t want anyone to die for me. I didn’t want any of this to happen. This was my burden to bear, one that I fully accepted, even welcomed. I gladly sacrificed my life because it meant everyone could live in this world free from tyranny… It seems unfair that I stand here today when so many others can’t.”
He sucked in a shaky breath, then cleared his throat, and continued, “A wise woman told me that no one died for me; they died for a cause they wholeheartedly believed in. Fourteen days ago, fifty-four of our own gave their lives. Fifty-four sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, cousins-“ he inhaled again, trying to compose himself, “-mothers and fathers fought for what they believed was right and today, we gather here to honor their sacrifices. Today, we honor those who fought for freedom, for light, for love. Today, we honor:
-Lavender Brown-“
Parvati Patil released a harrowed cry. A curly-haired blonde woman gathered Patil in her arms, her own shoulders quaking as she quietly sobbed.
“-Colin Creevey-“
A mousy haired woman freed a strangled cry two rows in front of him, falling against the shoulder of a blonde man. A familiar boy - proudly wearing his Gryffindor robes - placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“-Anthony Goldstein-“
More sniffling from a row three rows back.
“-Daphne Greengrass-“
He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes closed.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered thickly, lacing her fingers through his. “Daphne found me, pulled me aside right outside the Room of Requirement. It was chaos; I told her I didn’t have time to talk, but she urged me to listen, said it was important. She told me what happened with you, and Malfoy, and- and Zabini… That you three have been-“ she inhaled, “-giving yourselves to Carrow in lieu of the tortures… She told me Malfoy looked injured, to check the Hospital Wing for you… That was the last time I saw her.”
“She was brave,” a choked voice pulled him from his memory. Fred Weasley stood from his chair in the front row, turning to face a crying Evangeline Greengrass, his eyes red, the tear tracks prominent against his peaches and cream skin. “She pulled me to safety when that wall began to crack, she-“ Fred’s face crumpled and a sob tore from his lips, “-she dueled like the bloody brilliant witch she was. I’m s- so sorry. It should have been me!”
Evangeline stood with all her pureblood grace and wrapped her arms around Fred’s wracking body.
Potter sucked in an unsteady breath and continued, “Megan Jones.”
Another wild sob erupted from somewhere in the crowd.
Potter’s voice cracked. "Neville Longbottom."
Theo’s chin fell to his chest, bowing his head in sorrow… in gratitude.
He blinked his eyes open, quickly closing them again when bright light assaulted his vision.
“Oh my god, Theo! He’s- Madam Pomfrey!”
Theo winced at the sound, but somewhere deep inside, relief swarmed in his belly. That was Pansy’s voice. She was safe. But…
His brow creased.
Why would she need to be safe? He saw her last nig-
He inhaled sharply, his eyes popping open.
He was dizzy, that much he knew since his vision blurred and then swam, but he sat up anyway, hurried and- and-
His heart was thumping wildly, his blood whooshing in his ears.
A sizzling streak of green light.
“Fuck…”
Blaise, lying ashen, blood pooling around his head.
“Pansy!” Theo shrieked, covering his ears with his hands. Oh, god, his chest hurt. His… bloody fuck, his head.
“Theo.” Another voice. A warm voice. A voice that made his heart clench and a sob burst from his mouth.
“Hermione?” he whispered.
“It’s me,” she said, her fingers thread through his.
Theo closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose.
“What happened? Where’s Blaise? Is he okay?”
“Blaise is recovering…” Hermione said softly, sadly.
His heart stopped, stomach dropping. “What’s wrong?”
He heard her sharp inhale cut off by a flurry of footsteps, and the bed rose where Hermione had been sitting.
“How do you feel, Mr. Nott?” came Madam Pomfrey’s voice as the bed dipped again, another bright light flashing in his eyes. He twisted his chin away from her, squeezing his eyes closed.
“Like I was run over by stampeding centaurs. What’s wrong with my vision?”
He heard her sigh, and she stood again. “You have a concussion. You’ll likely have sensitivity to light and double vision for a week or so.”
“But…” A sizzling streak of green light flashed beneath his eyelids again, and he sucked in a breath. “I’m supposed to be dead.”
He heard Hermione let out a soft cry before it was silent for a long, agonizing moment. Tendrils of dread began dance through him, a rush of anxiety flooding his stomach.
“Longbottom…” Theo heard Draco finally say, “He- he stepped in front of the curse. It happened so fast, but… Longbottom just stepped in front of you, then you kind of… collapsed. Hit your head.”
Theo was… confused. He opened his eyes, ignoring the way his head swam, and looked toward Draco, his brow dipping low. Longbottom stepped in front of the Killing Curse? It was so nonsensical, Theo let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s absurd. He… I saw him with Professor Sprout. There was no way he just stepped into some obscure back room on the fourth floor and…” He shook his head, ignoring the pain that erupted behind his eyes - and his heart as it began to hammer in his chest. “No, that’s fucking stupid, mate.”
“Theo-“
“No,” he stated firmly, pulling his hand from Hermione’s, his limbs growing cold. “That’s the fucking stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He passed his eyes from Draco, over Pansy, who stood just behind his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey’s back was turned, giving them some semblance of privacy, though the witch’s shoulders were tense, the glimmer of a tear on her cheek.
Then to Hermione, who sat again on the edge of Theo’s bed, her hands wringing in her lap. She was biting her lip, and it was immediately obvious she was doing so to keep herself from wailing in sorrow. Her features were warped in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Silence.
Theo shook his head again.
No. Longbottom – Neville – didn’t just step in front of a Killing Curse. That was utterly ridiculous, preposterous. And- and why would he even do such a thing? Which he didn’t because it was preposterous and utterly ridiculous.
He didn’t know he’d begun to cry until he felt Hermione scoot closer to him and cup his face with shaky hands, her thumbs wiping tears away.
“I’m so sorry,” she croaked, unable to keep a stuttering cry from passing between her lips. “He was my friend, but he was your family.”
“-Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin-“ Harry whispered, yanking Theo from another flashback. He watched Potter bow his head, his lips wobbling. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Andromeda Tonks’ chin lift proudly – firm and unshakable - at the mention of her son-in-law and daughter, and propped a sleeping infant on her shoulder, his startling turquoise hair standing out against the sea of black.
A movement from just beyond Theo’s shoulder drew his eye, and Draco stood, buttoning the top button of his black suit coat. He gripped Astoria’s hand before letting it fall, quietly squeezing between mourners, briefly meeting Theo’s gaze. With a single, swift nod of his head, he walked along the outskirts of the innumerable chairs until he disappeared from view. Blaise stood then, chin tilted defiantly upwards, a thickly corded, five-inch-long scar prominent against his dark skin. He, too, buttoned his suit jacket, squeezing Pansy’s shoulder as he excused himself. He didn’t meet Theo’s eye, but his body language spoke to him, telling him it was Theo’s turn.
That it was their time.
He turned his head, his eyes sweeping over Hermione’s stunning profile, taking in her amber eyes swimming with tears, the slope of her nose, her plump lips that were turned down in a frown. He didn’t even have to say anything when she met his gaze, she just knew and gave him a small nod. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to her lips, then stood, buttoning his suit jacket. He purposefully chose a seat at the end of a long row of mourners so he could quietly, but quickly, steal away to meet the other Slytherin boys.
“Ready?” Blaise asked as Theo walked by them, each of his friends flanking him as they made large, determined strides through the Hogwarts grounds.
Theo’s brow creased, a swirl of anticipation erupting in his gut, and he nodded, leading them to an overgrown path by Hagrid’s hut. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
They tread hurriedly, stepping over forest litter, passing through densely compacted trees. It didn’t take long to reach a small, condemned cabin sitting forgotten and partially hidden by overgrown grasses and low hanging vines. They didn’t know its history, nor did they care as they pushed open the well-worn door and stalked inside.
A thrill rushed through Theo’s veins when his eyes instantly found Alecto hunched over in a chair, her ankles bound to the legs and her wrists tied behind the seatback. She was still wearing the robes from all those nights ago, though they’d long ago removed the blood-red stilettos from her feet; her hair was matted with mud and blood; her face stained a dark crimson. Theo cocked his head, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he studied her. He would have thought she’d finally succumb to their more recent bouts of… vengeance, if it weren’t for the subtle lift in her shoulders indicating she was still breathing.
He unbuttoned his jacket and, before taking it off, reached into one of the pockets, wrapping his hand around a tear drop-shaped vial. Theo folded his suit jacket in half, lying it across the back of a dilapidated armchair, then paced the few steps to Alecto, crouching down to stare into her face. Her eyes were closed, short bursts of air, indeed, coming from her slightly parted lips. Lifting his wand, he pressed it to the soft part beneath her jaw.
Her eyes flew open.
Theo smirked, then lifted the vial into her line of sight.
She paled.
“It puzzled us,” Theo began, standing and twirling around to face Blaise and Draco. They had also discarded their suit jackets, their wands gripped firmly in their hands, but they both smirked, wicked little things curling the edges of their lips. They each met Theo’s eye and he winked, twirling back around on the toe of his Italian leather loafer to face Alecto again. “That night, when you seemed to do things you’ve never been able to do before – side step curses, fly out of windows, nearly kill Blaise – we wondered how on earth you managed that, what with you as naturally dimwitted as you are.”
His smirk grew when her lip curled at the insult, but he continued with a click of his heels. “Imagine my surprise when Draco found a vial of this on your person,“ he wiggled the potion at her. “Felix Felicis. Did you know that excessive consumption of this can lead to extreme recklessness?”
The look on her face told Theo she didn’t.
“This is the only explanation for what you’ve managed to achieve this year. A position at Hogwarts. The way you’ve managed to get away with so-” he took a step towards her, “-very many things. The way-“ Theo’s eyes flashed, “-you managed to get us in your bed-“
Alecto spluttered then, a weak, yet shrill, laugh bubbling from her lips, a dribble of blood flowing down her chin. “Oh, stop. You lot liked it. Rutting into me like a fucking werewolf in heat, all three of you-” then she met Theo’s gaze, “-even the poof here.”
Theo’s lips thinned, a flare of fury igniting in his gut. He was fucking tired of her blatant homophobia.
“You’re sick,” came Draco’s voice. He sounded calm, but there was a vibrating undercurrent of rage lacing his words. He stepped beside Theo, his eyes latched onto Alecto. “We didn’t enjoy ourselves. We fucking Occluded through each and every instance.”
In a deep, deadly calm voice, Blaise added, “You coerced us - with other people’s lives!”
Theo turned to his friend when he, like Draco, stepped next to him, studying his stubbornly set features, the anger burning in his eyes… Days after Theo woke up in the Hospital Wing, Blaise finally regained consciousness. Madam Pomfrey had easily mended the laceration on his forehead, but the swelling in his brain was too much – and it nearly killed him. She’d put him into a magically induced coma so his brain could heal, and the first thing that came out of his mouth when his eyes opened was, “Let’s kill the bitch,” followed by, “No, Madam Pomfrey, I don’t want the Scar Removal Paste, thank you.”
It still made Theo huff a laugh when he thought about it.
Alecto scoffed, more blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. “You lot didn’t have to do anything. Those twats earned what they had coming to th- Ahhhh!”
Theo looked to his right, watching with something akin to pride when Draco’s eyes lit up with glee. He twisted his wand just a little more, and when Alecto’s screams rang high in the small cabin, all three Slytherin boys shuddered as a ripple of pleasure ran up their spines.
“What about Hermione Granger?” Theo asked when Draco ended the curse, taking a step towards her as her body fell limply against her restraints.
“What-“ Alecto gasped, “-about-“ she spat a wad of blood-tinged spittle to the floor, “-the Mudblood?”
He breathed in heavily through his nose, trying to temper his anger at the use that slur.
He couldn’t kill her.
Not yet.
“Easter hols. Scabior caught Hermione-“
“And?” Alecto clipped, lifting her head to look at him.
“I love her,” he said simply with a tilt of his head.
Her features twisted, nose wrinkling, lips curling in disgust – but also confusion. “Wha-“
“And you were on Scabior’s team during Easter hols…” he closed his eyes.
He sat on his bed in the seventh year Slytherin boy dorms and snapped his fingers, watching a flame burst into life at his fingertips. Bringing the yellow, flickering flame to his mouth, he lit his fag, taking a deep, satisfying draw of the nicotine into his lungs, allowing his eyes to fall shut in bliss.
Because if he didn’t do that, if he didn’t fall back on his one vice Hermione hated, he would curl up in a ball and sob.
Or jump off the Astronomy Tower early.
It was the day after Hogwarts resumed from Easter hols, the day after Alecto gloated – in confidence, mind, because it wouldn’t do to admit out loud that they then lost the Boy Wonder - that she captured Potter, Granger, and Weasley, that they were taken to Malfoy Manor for the express purpose of calling the Dark Lord. Alecto peacocked around, earning Theo’s increasing rage as she described the glee she felt when she punched Hermione in the gut; how she yanked on that uncontrollable mound of hair and felt good doing it; how she shoved Hermione to the ground and stepped on her fingers as she walked, surely breaking at least two; how delighted she was when they entered Malfoy Manor, only to find it empty because that meant Alecto had time with the prisoners; then she described her maddening fury when that horrid little house elf stole her prisoners away, and then vehemently proclaimed that if she ever saw it again, she’d kill it and make it into a pair of shoes.
“You love a Mudblood?!” Alecto screeched, indignant, drawing Theo from his memory. He opened his eyes and though his lips thinned in increasing anger, he couldn’t help another huffed laugh when understanding dawned on him.
The cunt was jealous.
“I do. And have for a long time-“
“Surely you told her you were whoring yourself to me the whole year, if you love her so much?” Alecto interrupted, a twisted smirk lifting her lips.
“She knows,” Theo snapped, eyes flaring. “She also knows every-“ he emphasized each word with a hard, crisp end, “-single detail.” He held up the vial of Liquid Luck again, turning his gaze to it, and, almost as an afterthought, remarked, “In large quantities, this is highly toxic.”
Alecto’s jaw clicked shut, the sound of the action echoing in the small cabin, drawing his eye. Another little thrill ran up his spine when fear flashed across her features.
“I’m not sure why,” he continued, uncorking the vial. “Zygmunt Budge never explained. I’m curious to find out, though.”
“Please… No-“
“’No’?” Theo mocked, his lips warped in a smile of disbelief. “’Please’? Did you grant mercy to first and second years when they were unable to correctly perform a Blasting Curse? What about those third years who were forced to use a Blood Quill when they merely uttered Harry Potter’s name?”
His heart began to race, his mouth filling with saliva the angrier he became.
“Did you even think about the repercussions of subjecting Seamus Finnigan to the Cruciatus as often as you did?”
“Blood traitors! And filth! All of them! Unworthy of-“
Theo leapt forward, pinching her cheeks between his fingers until her lips pursed - effectively silencing her – then yanked her chin upwards, making her meet his eyes. “You are unworthy. You are filth. You are a monster who rapes, maims, and tortures - for fun! Those little Crucio sessions over the last few days?” he waved a dismissive hand, “Vengeance for those who could not defend themselves. This-“ he dripped a third of the potion into her mouth, “-is for me.”
Her murky eyes widened as she spluttered, gasping for breath as the potion worked its way down her throat. When he was sure she swallowed it all, he released her chin and straightened, turning his back to her. Draco caught Theo’s eye, nodding at Blaise, indicating it was his turn. Theo held the vial out to his friend, a vindictive grin curling Blaise’s lips when he palmed it.
Theo turned just as Blaise knelt in front of Alecto, palming her chin, and snaked two fingers between her teeth, prying her mouth open. She tried to bite down, but it was a weak attempt. “This is for me,” he hissed, pouring another third of the potion into her mouth.
Draco didn’t wait for Blaise to stand before he paced the few steps to Alecto, taking the proffered vial from Blaise’s hand. He didn’t kneel; instead, he grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to look at him. “This is for me,” Draco intoned, tipping the vial upside down, his eyes studiously watching every single drop drip into her mouth.
When the vial was empty, both Draco and Blaise stepped back to stand with Theo, the trio of Slytherin boys just standing and waiting, observing almost with bated breath. Theo truly didn’t know what made Liquid Luck toxic in high doses; he didn’t even know if it would kill her, that maybe they’d have to resort to an Avada after all. He internally sighed after a long moment of nothingness and made to reach for his wand when Alecto released an abrupt, blood curdling scream.
They watched, wide-eyed, as she spasmed in her chair, her body stiffening then bowing off the furniture, her wrists and ankles straining against their bonds. She went still just as quickly as she’d begun to jerk, the soft drip drip drip of something wet meeting their ears. Alecto let out a feeble, pained hiss from between her teeth, the drip drip drip ongoing until a puddle of blood began to pool behind the chair’s legs. Theo looked at Draco, who swallowed and shrugged, then to Blaise, who didn’t even look at him. In lieu, he gave Alecto a wide berth as he walked behind her, his eyes widening minutely, then looked at them and lifted a hand, pointing to the back of it. Theo raised a brow.
Interesting.
Suddenly, the chair rose high into the air, causing the trio to jolt backwards in surprise. Alecto released a shocked bellow as she flew backwards, hitting the wall of the cabin with a forceful crash, the chair splintering into pieces before she fell heavily to the floor with a resounding thud. It was almost immediate, the blood that pooled around her head and the stomach-churning cracking of bones that followed. Her legs creaked and snapped into unnatural angles, her ribcage expanded and broke, her neck then twisting until it fractured.
She was still.
They were silent.
It took less than three minutes for Liquid Luck to turn unlucky for Alecto Carrow, for when taken in large quantities, Felix Felicis turns every prior instance of luck into the opposite. Crucio for those she Crucioed. Bloody welts on the backs of her hands, comeuppance for the pain she cruelly and uncaringly inflicted upon others. A head injury from a silent, invisible Ascendio. Finally, the fatal injuries she would have sustained after jumping from the highest tower of Hogwarts.
Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.
All at once, Theo felt free.