Chapter Forty Eight - Avada Kedavra

This chapter gave me fits!  It took five rewrites before I was satisfied!

Chapter Forty Eight – Avada Kedavra

 

            Draco was aware of pain and nothing more. He’d never felt such excruciating agony in his life. He tried not to breathe because the very air hurt his lungs. Movement was out of the question. He tried to force his mind past the torment and find a rational thought. Was he dead and finally paying the ultimate price for his actions? Burning in hell? It certainly felt like it.

            That lovely idea pulled him slightly back to reality. What had happened? It came back to him with a crushing weight that nearly drowned the physical pain. This was an anguish that was purely emotional. Lucius had killed him! Draco could hardly wrap his tortured mind around the idea. He knew without question that his father loved him—would die for him. That knowledge brought him even closer to coherent thought. He became aware of an annoying buzzing that slowly sorted itself into words—voices.

            Voldemort? Unless Potter had finally sent the Dark Lord to a much-overdue demise and he now resided in hell with Draco… then he wasn’t dead. Draco focused on the voice. Voldemort was ranting at Wormtail. The pain began to recede, thankfully. Draco slit his eyes open, but the light burned into his skull with a new brand of torment and he quickly gave up that idea. He would lie here for a moment and think, he decided.

            Why hadn’t the Avada Kedavra killed him?

            That thought occupied him completely and the pain faded even more. He sent his mind back to everything he knew about Unforgivable Curses. His father… What had his father said? They had talked about it once, long ago…

 

            “The Killing Curse is only as effective as the will of the caster,” Lucius said.

            “What do you mean?” Draco asked. He had spent the day reading up on Unforgivable Curses in the library, mainly because Theo Nott had irritated Draco by nearly knocking him off his broom during an impromptu Quidditch game. Draco felt it prudent to learn the Cruciatus Curse and prevent that ever happening again. When Lucius arrived home, Draco had asked if he had ever used the Killing Curse. His father bypassed the question with a thoughtful look. Lucius sat heavily in his favorite chair and stared into the fire. He began to reminisce.

            “When I was a boy, my parents once went on holiday without me. They sent me to my uncle’s farm in Scotland for the summer. My uncle—the man was a right bastard. I was quite surprised when he gave me a puppy on the day I arrived. I was horrified at first—what did I want with a pet? But the bloody little thing followed me around day after day. It had these floppy, uneven ears…”

            Lucius grimaced. Draco was amazed at the story. He could not picture his father with any sort of pet, not even as a child.

            “I grew to love that damned dog, although I knew my parents would never let me keep it at home. I assumed it would stay at the farm where I could visit it from time to time.” He laughed harshly. “I should have known better. On the day I was to leave, my uncle informed me that they had no intention of keeping the dog and it would starve to death unless I killed it. My father concurred. It was a test, you see.”

            Lucius’s face was impassive, but his voice had an unusual timbre.

            “So, I cast Avada Kedavra on my dog.”

            Draco waited, sensing that wasn’t the end of the story.

            “The thing is… it didn’t die.” Lucius shook his head. “My uncle simply thought I cast the spell wrong. He corrected my ‘mistake’ himself, of course. But I’ve thought about it often since then. I know I cast it correctly. I simply did not want to kill the dog, so the spell was ineffective. You see, Draco, you have to want to kill. You have to want it, or it won’t work.”

            It won’t work.

 

            Lucius had known. God, Draco hoped his father had known the curse wouldn’t kill him. If not—if Draco was that delusional about his own family, he would have to change his name and move in with Potter. Oh God. Potter. Draco wondered if Harry was still alive and forced his eyes again.

            Wormtail was whimpering and… what? Choking Harry to death? Draco shut his eyes again and swiftly pondered his options. He needed to get his wand, get up, and save Potter. In that order. He only wished he could move. Draco tried to stretch his fingers and had to grit his teeth when the tiny motion sent pins and needles of pain through his hand. The Avada Kedavra hadn’t killed him, but it certainly hadn’t done him any good, either.

            Accio wand, he thought. Nothing happened. He tried to shove aside his awareness of the pain and concentrate. He’d done this hundreds of times. He could practically do it in his sleep. Come on!

            Wormtail released Harry suddenly and took a step back, nearly standing on Draco when he refused to kill Potter. Surprise at the turn of events made Draco pause—perhaps Wormtail would be useful and turn on the Dark Lord? Or at least take out Fenrir or Lars? That vague hope died when Wormtail was quickly killed by his own hand and hit the floor near Draco’s feet. Draco sighed and focused once more on retrieving his wand—the Dark Lord would not be distracted forever. Voldemort began ranting.

            Draco’s efforts were curtailed by Voldemort seating himself in the chair and snatching up the two wands he’d thrown carelessly on the seat: Harry’s and Draco’s. The Dark Lord dangled one before Harry for a moment.

            “Trying for this, Potter? Looks like you don’t quite have it in you to perform wandless magic, eh? Must be the Muggle-born taint.”

            Draco watched through nearly-closed eyes as Voldemort tucked the wands into his robe. He shut his eyes with a silent groan. Now what?

            A muted commotion made Draco slit his eyes open again. Voldemort made a quick gesture and command. Most of the Death Eaters hurried for the passage that led back to the first chamber. The reinforcements must have arrived. Snape remained in the room, as did Draco’s parents.

            “Apparently your protectors have arrived, Potter. A bit too late.” He snapped another directive and Draco felt more than saw the dementors fly after the Death Eaters. He heard Fenrir climb to his feet a distance away.

            “Where is the Malfoy brat?” the werewolf snarled. “I’ll kill him!”

            “Lucius took care of that for you. Go join the others,” Voldemort ordered.

            Greyback growled, but thankfully came no closer. It was possible he could see through Draco’s ruse. Fenrir chuckled ruefully. “What a bloody waste. I’ll have to settle for Potter’s little friends, then. I think I’ll start with that Mudblood girl…”

            Draco tried not to let the thought twist his insides.

            “Where’s the Animagus?”

            Draco smiled inwardly. The idiots had forgotten to watch Tonks. She must have transformed into a Death Eater and ran out with the others. Hopefully, she could figure out how to get the Order here posthaste.

            “Useless fools!” Voldemort bellowed. “Just go kill them!”

 

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Chapter Forty Eight - Avada Kedavra

This chapter gave me fits!  It took five rewrites before I was satisfied!

Chapter Forty Eight – Avada Kedavra

 

            Draco was aware of pain and nothing more. He’d never felt such excruciating agony in his life. He tried not to breathe because the very air hurt his lungs. Movement was out of the question. He tried to force his mind past the torment and find a rational thought. Was he dead and finally paying the ultimate price for his actions? Burning in hell? It certainly felt like it.

            That lovely idea pulled him slightly back to reality. What had happened? It came back to him with a crushing weight that nearly drowned the physical pain. This was an anguish that was purely emotional. Lucius had killed him! Draco could hardly wrap his tortured mind around the idea. He knew without question that his father loved him—would die for him. That knowledge brought him even closer to coherent thought. He became aware of an annoying buzzing that slowly sorted itself into words—voices.

            Voldemort? Unless Potter had finally sent the Dark Lord to a much-overdue demise and he now resided in hell with Draco… then he wasn’t dead. Draco focused on the voice. Voldemort was ranting at Wormtail. The pain began to recede, thankfully. Draco slit his eyes open, but the light burned into his skull with a new brand of torment and he quickly gave up that idea. He would lie here for a moment and think, he decided.

            Why hadn’t the Avada Kedavra killed him?

            That thought occupied him completely and the pain faded even more. He sent his mind back to everything he knew about Unforgivable Curses. His father… What had his father said? They had talked about it once, long ago…

 

            “The Killing Curse is only as effective as the will of the caster,” Lucius said.

            “What do you mean?” Draco asked. He had spent the day reading up on Unforgivable Curses in the library, mainly because Theo Nott had irritated Draco by nearly knocking him off his broom during an impromptu Quidditch game. Draco felt it prudent to learn the Cruciatus Curse and prevent that ever happening again. When Lucius arrived home, Draco had asked if he had ever used the Killing Curse. His father bypassed the question with a thoughtful look. Lucius sat heavily in his favorite chair and stared into the fire. He began to reminisce.

            “When I was a boy, my parents once went on holiday without me. They sent me to my uncle’s farm in Scotland for the summer. My uncle—the man was a right bastard. I was quite surprised when he gave me a puppy on the day I arrived. I was horrified at first—what did I want with a pet? But the bloody little thing followed me around day after day. It had these floppy, uneven ears…”

            Lucius grimaced. Draco was amazed at the story. He could not picture his father with any sort of pet, not even as a child.

            “I grew to love that damned dog, although I knew my parents would never let me keep it at home. I assumed it would stay at the farm where I could visit it from time to time.” He laughed harshly. “I should have known better. On the day I was to leave, my uncle informed me that they had no intention of keeping the dog and it would starve to death unless I killed it. My father concurred. It was a test, you see.”

            Lucius’s face was impassive, but his voice had an unusual timbre.

            “So, I cast Avada Kedavra on my dog.”

            Draco waited, sensing that wasn’t the end of the story.

            “The thing is… it didn’t die.” Lucius shook his head. “My uncle simply thought I cast the spell wrong. He corrected my ‘mistake’ himself, of course. But I’ve thought about it often since then. I know I cast it correctly. I simply did not want to kill the dog, so the spell was ineffective. You see, Draco, you have to want to kill. You have to want it, or it won’t work.”

            It won’t work.

 

            Lucius had known. God, Draco hoped his father had known the curse wouldn’t kill him. If not—if Draco was that delusional about his own family, he would have to change his name and move in with Potter. Oh God. Potter. Draco wondered if Harry was still alive and forced his eyes again.

            Wormtail was whimpering and… what? Choking Harry to death? Draco shut his eyes again and swiftly pondered his options. He needed to get his wand, get up, and save Potter. In that order. He only wished he could move. Draco tried to stretch his fingers and had to grit his teeth when the tiny motion sent pins and needles of pain through his hand. The Avada Kedavra hadn’t killed him, but it certainly hadn’t done him any good, either.

            Accio wand, he thought. Nothing happened. He tried to shove aside his awareness of the pain and concentrate. He’d done this hundreds of times. He could practically do it in his sleep. Come on!

            Wormtail released Harry suddenly and took a step back, nearly standing on Draco when he refused to kill Potter. Surprise at the turn of events made Draco pause—perhaps Wormtail would be useful and turn on the Dark Lord? Or at least take out Fenrir or Lars? That vague hope died when Wormtail was quickly killed by his own hand and hit the floor near Draco’s feet. Draco sighed and focused once more on retrieving his wand—the Dark Lord would not be distracted forever. Voldemort began ranting.

            Draco’s efforts were curtailed by Voldemort seating himself in the chair and snatching up the two wands he’d thrown carelessly on the seat: Harry’s and Draco’s. The Dark Lord dangled one before Harry for a moment.

            “Trying for this, Potter? Looks like you don’t quite have it in you to perform wandless magic, eh? Must be the Muggle-born taint.”

            Draco watched through nearly-closed eyes as Voldemort tucked the wands into his robe. He shut his eyes with a silent groan. Now what?

            A muted commotion made Draco slit his eyes open again. Voldemort made a quick gesture and command. Most of the Death Eaters hurried for the passage that led back to the first chamber. The reinforcements must have arrived. Snape remained in the room, as did Draco’s parents.

            “Apparently your protectors have arrived, Potter. A bit too late.” He snapped another directive and Draco felt more than saw the dementors fly after the Death Eaters. He heard Fenrir climb to his feet a distance away.

            “Where is the Malfoy brat?” the werewolf snarled. “I’ll kill him!”

            “Lucius took care of that for you. Go join the others,” Voldemort ordered.

            Greyback growled, but thankfully came no closer. It was possible he could see through Draco’s ruse. Fenrir chuckled ruefully. “What a bloody waste. I’ll have to settle for Potter’s little friends, then. I think I’ll start with that Mudblood girl…”

            Draco tried not to let the thought twist his insides.

            “Where’s the Animagus?”

            Draco smiled inwardly. The idiots had forgotten to watch Tonks. She must have transformed into a Death Eater and ran out with the others. Hopefully, she could figure out how to get the Order here posthaste.

            “Useless fools!” Voldemort bellowed. “Just go kill them!”

 

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