Fic: "Lindisfarne", for lethereality
Title: Lindisfarne
Author: by_starkiller
Recipient: lethereality
Rating: R
Characters: Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Voldemort
Warnings: Character death
Summary: It has been a long hunt, but finally, the quest for the Horcruxes is over.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta, rian219. If anyone is interested in what the kilns look like, here is a link to pictures of them.
Lindisfarne
Searching for the Horcruxes was more time consuming and frustrating than Harry had at first anticipated. He had expected - naively - to find clues that would lead him to each Horcrux, not unlike a detective novel. He had expected that the search would take a few months, six at the most, and that he, Ron and Hermione would be able to make a triumphant return to the Burrow before going back to Hogwarts in time for the second term, and lead happy and normal lives.
Two years after the death of Dumbledore, the truth was as far from his initial daydreams as he could ever have imagined. In the first six months, they had found a dozen leads which had taken them to dead ends. It was frustrating, but they had pressed on, and finally, after eight months, found one of the remaining Horcruxes. The power of the magical fire used in its destruction had caused an explosion that had rendered Ron blind. Hermione and Harry had been injured - cuts and bruises for the most part - but the magical signature of the explosion had brought the Aurors running. Led by Alastor Moody, they had assessed the scene and taken Ron to St. Mungo's.
That had been the first blow. That had also been the point that Harry had realised that Hermione's heart was no longer in the search for the remaining Horcruxes. When they had found another one some three months later, its destruction had once again unleashed a burst of magical energy and power that brought the Aurors, and when they left, Hermione left with them.
It had been hard at first, continuing the hunt by himself, but Harry found that he was better suited to hunting on his own. He missed his friends, but he grew harder, tougher. The naivety of youth was eroded, to be replaced with a hard edged cynicism, a willingness to do whatever he had to in order to finish his quest.
He had travelled for months, from one end of the United Kingdom to the other. He had crisscrossed the island several times, following every lead, no matter how slim or strange. Most of them had petered out and led to nothing; some of them had led him on strange tangents that he had not expected. He had found himself spending two months in Cumbria with Theodore Nott, the former Slytherin joining him on the hunt without explanation. It was at night, when Theodore woke screaming and drenched with sweat, that Harry began to understand that the hatred of Voldemort and the desire to never submit to his rule that drove him on also drove Theodore.
They were not friends - at least, not at first. Theodore was quiet by nature, but he was quick and intelligent, gifted with languages, including several dead ones. Harry developed a reluctant respect for him, and unlike Ron and Hermione, he found he never had to caution Theodore to be careful or to stay back. Together, they made a potent team - Harry and Theodore, one walking in daylight, the other, ever silent, possessed of Slytherin cunning, walking in shadows.
Theodore would go off for days on end following a lead, and he would send Harry notes via Owl Post that would report back on what he'd discovered. They had developed a code of sorts, a language that they both understood but that others would not. It was in winter of the second year since leaving Hogwarts that Harry, sitting in a dingy pub in the impossibly named village of Piddletrenthide in Dorset, received a letter from his comrade in arms, with one word scrawled on it.
Lindisfarne.
Harry left the village that night, Apparating to the village of Beal in Northumberland where the causeway to the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne was. The island was cut off from the mainland for several hours each day as the causeway was covered by the ocean following the laws of the tides. When the water receded, it could be reached by walking (or driving, if one was a Muggle) across the causeway to the island and Holy Island village. Harry, however, was not dependant on his feet or cars, and after he made sure that he had not been followed and there were no other wizards in Beal, he Apparated to the outside of the Holy Island village.
Theodore was waiting for him, the scent of his cigarettes wafting on the breeze, and Harry marched through the grass to join his companion. "What did you find?"
The former Slytherin inhaled deeply and shook his head. "I don't know why he came here, of all places. This is one of the most Christian parts of Britain. The Lindisfarne Gospels were inked here, Saint Cuthbert is the patron saint of the island and his monastery is a ruin, but they've a new one and a church."
"But he was definitely here?" Harry took the packet of cigarettes from Theodore's hand, removed one and lit it.
"Oh yeah." Theodore grinned. "He was definitely here. Up by the castle, there are lime kilns. In the kilns, there's magic residue. Dark magic. And quite a lot of runes with snakes on them."
"Show me."
They didn't talk any more, walking around the village and nodding politely whenever they passed one of the locals. The residents on Lindisfarne assumed that Harry and Theodore were hikers, young tourists enjoying the rocky walks that were so popular with visitors to the area. As they hiked up the steep hill that led to the Lindisfarne Castle, Theodore murmured, "The kilns are to the north of the castle."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement and the two of them slipped and slid on the steep, grassy hillside as they followed the walking track. At the base of the hill, with the castle looming above them, were the kilns, circular and disused, broken stone indicating that they had weathered hundreds of years since their last use.
Together, they entered the nearest kiln, and Harry cast a Lumos, looking around him carefully. Then he cast a series of spells designed to show residual dark magic and any traces of Voldemort. The interior of the kiln lit up green like Christmas tree lights and Harry frowned. "There's so much," he murmured.
Theodore sighed. "Yeah. And more, further in." He led the way towards an arched doorway which led deeper into the kiln and the hill itself.
After a Lumos Maximus, they walked carefully through the passageway they'd entered and found themselves in a large, circular chamber. This was obviously where the kiln oven had been; rusted ironworks sat in the centre, and around the edge of the room were more arched doorways leading who knew where. Harry cast another series of spells, trying to determine what - if anything - was here.
Theodore walked slowly around the edges of the room, checking for any sort of booby-traps, either magic or Muggle, and grunted with some slight surprise that there were none to be found. "I don't like this, Harry," he confessed, as he joined the Boy Who Lived. "There's nothing here set up as protection. No Inferi, no spells, no charms, nothing. Why would he do that if he'd left something here?"
"Perhaps he didn't leave anything here?" Harry absently took Theodore's cigarette packet from him and lit up another smoke. As he inhaled then slowly exhaled, he added, "Or perhaps the traps aren't on the room, but on the Horcrux."
Theodore grunted. "Logic suggests the Horcrux would be in the kiln oven."
"He's not really known for following our Earth logic," Harry replied dryly, but he walked over to the oven anyway, Theodore but a step behind.
They checked the oven, cast spell after spell, poked the rusting iron with cautious fingers then shook the structure as nothing happened. The iron rattled hollowly; it was old and the oven wasn't as secure as it once had been. They moved around it, shaking and poking, and then suddenly there was a sound, as if something were inside the kiln.
"Harry!" Theodore's excited whisper drew Harry to his side in moments. "Here, listen to this!" He shook the oven again and there was the sound of something metallic rattling against the iron.
"Careful," Harry hissed, casting more protection charms and defensive spells before casting the Accio. In response to the summoning charm, a silver goblet sailed to his hand from inside the oven.
Before either young man could say anything, there was a sound like thunder and grinding stone. "Shit!" Theodore grabbed Harry, pulling him towards the nearest archway. "Rock fall!"
Dust was everywhere, rock and stone and sand, and even though they were fast, the rock fall was faster. Before their horrified eyes, each archway was sealed off, closed up by rock and sand and dirt, and then, as they stared at each in other in disbelief, there was a shimmering of green light above the oven and the sound of hollow laughter.
"Well, well, well," said a voice, a voice that Harry knew so well he did not need to look at the face of the owner. "If I'd known such a simple little trick would get you out of my way, Potter, I would have done it years ago."
Harry glared. "What do you mean, Voldemort?"
"He's here?!" Theodore gaped.
"No," Harry sighed, "it's a spell, a projection. Triggered to appear when I Accio'd the goblet."
"Very good, Potter, very good. Dumbledore would be proud." Voldemort beamed at him, his jagged teeth gleaming yellowy. "However, time - your time - is short. There is no air, and soon, you and your friend here will suffocate. When that happens, after you've breathed your last and gone to join your dead, Muggle mother, then I will be able to rise unopposed and take control of the Wizarding World, as has been preordained." Voldemort chuckled. "I have rewarded my young Death Eater well for this idea. You might remember him. Draco Malfoy? It was he who suggested this little trick to reel you in. You have the goblet, yes, but you are unable to leave this place so it will do you no good. Goodbye, Harry Potter." The image flickered and disappeared.
Harry stared at the oven, then at the goblet. He looked at Theodore whose face was ashen. "That's what you think," he said softly, and dropped to the sandy floor. As Theodore watched him, Harry rooted through the backpack he always carried, and removed several small items, setting them beside the goblet.
"What are they?" Theodore's voice was rough, the voice of one who realises that panic is futile.
Harry grinned at him, and Theodore's eyebrows shot up.
"No," he breathed, starting to grin in return at the Boy Who Lived. "You didn't!"
"I did," Harry said, still grinning.
"How? Where? When?"
As Theodore joined him on the floor, Harry chuckled. "You did your hunting, I did mine. We made a good team, Theo." It was the first time he'd ever used the contraction of the Slytherin's name. "I found the last two Horcruxes in the Riddle House." He nodded at two of the items, "And the goblet, obviously. They are the last three. He thinks he's won."
"But he hasn't." Theodore nodded. "Good job, Harry."
"And good job to you too." Harry gazed at Theodore seriously. "I couldn't have got this far, done this much, without your help, you know. No, don't shrug it off, I mean it. But…when a Horcrux is destroyed, there's a lot of pent up energy that comes out. It…well, with three of them, in this place? We won't make it out alive anyway."
Theodore nodded slowly. "I thought as much. Well, then. Only one thing for it, isn't there?"
Harry quirked an eyebrow at his companion, realising at last that Theodore was one of the truest friends he'd ever had. "What's that then?"
Theodore grinned at him. "Horcruxes go boom."
Harry laughed, pointed his wand at the Horcruxes and nodded. "Horcruxes go boom," he agreed, and prepared to cast the spell that would utterly and completely destroy them - the Horcruxes, Voldemort, and Harry Potter and Theodore Nott trapped in the lime kilns beside Lindisfarne Castle. All in all, he thought, as he began to incant, it was a worthy sacrifice. And it wasn't made alone.
Author: by_starkiller
Recipient: lethereality
Rating: R
Characters: Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Voldemort
Warnings: Character death
Summary: It has been a long hunt, but finally, the quest for the Horcruxes is over.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta, rian219. If anyone is interested in what the kilns look like, here is a link to pictures of them.
Lindisfarne
Searching for the Horcruxes was more time consuming and frustrating than Harry had at first anticipated. He had expected - naively - to find clues that would lead him to each Horcrux, not unlike a detective novel. He had expected that the search would take a few months, six at the most, and that he, Ron and Hermione would be able to make a triumphant return to the Burrow before going back to Hogwarts in time for the second term, and lead happy and normal lives.
Two years after the death of Dumbledore, the truth was as far from his initial daydreams as he could ever have imagined. In the first six months, they had found a dozen leads which had taken them to dead ends. It was frustrating, but they had pressed on, and finally, after eight months, found one of the remaining Horcruxes. The power of the magical fire used in its destruction had caused an explosion that had rendered Ron blind. Hermione and Harry had been injured - cuts and bruises for the most part - but the magical signature of the explosion had brought the Aurors running. Led by Alastor Moody, they had assessed the scene and taken Ron to St. Mungo's.
That had been the first blow. That had also been the point that Harry had realised that Hermione's heart was no longer in the search for the remaining Horcruxes. When they had found another one some three months later, its destruction had once again unleashed a burst of magical energy and power that brought the Aurors, and when they left, Hermione left with them.
It had been hard at first, continuing the hunt by himself, but Harry found that he was better suited to hunting on his own. He missed his friends, but he grew harder, tougher. The naivety of youth was eroded, to be replaced with a hard edged cynicism, a willingness to do whatever he had to in order to finish his quest.
He had travelled for months, from one end of the United Kingdom to the other. He had crisscrossed the island several times, following every lead, no matter how slim or strange. Most of them had petered out and led to nothing; some of them had led him on strange tangents that he had not expected. He had found himself spending two months in Cumbria with Theodore Nott, the former Slytherin joining him on the hunt without explanation. It was at night, when Theodore woke screaming and drenched with sweat, that Harry began to understand that the hatred of Voldemort and the desire to never submit to his rule that drove him on also drove Theodore.
They were not friends - at least, not at first. Theodore was quiet by nature, but he was quick and intelligent, gifted with languages, including several dead ones. Harry developed a reluctant respect for him, and unlike Ron and Hermione, he found he never had to caution Theodore to be careful or to stay back. Together, they made a potent team - Harry and Theodore, one walking in daylight, the other, ever silent, possessed of Slytherin cunning, walking in shadows.
Theodore would go off for days on end following a lead, and he would send Harry notes via Owl Post that would report back on what he'd discovered. They had developed a code of sorts, a language that they both understood but that others would not. It was in winter of the second year since leaving Hogwarts that Harry, sitting in a dingy pub in the impossibly named village of Piddletrenthide in Dorset, received a letter from his comrade in arms, with one word scrawled on it.
Lindisfarne.
Harry left the village that night, Apparating to the village of Beal in Northumberland where the causeway to the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne was. The island was cut off from the mainland for several hours each day as the causeway was covered by the ocean following the laws of the tides. When the water receded, it could be reached by walking (or driving, if one was a Muggle) across the causeway to the island and Holy Island village. Harry, however, was not dependant on his feet or cars, and after he made sure that he had not been followed and there were no other wizards in Beal, he Apparated to the outside of the Holy Island village.
Theodore was waiting for him, the scent of his cigarettes wafting on the breeze, and Harry marched through the grass to join his companion. "What did you find?"
The former Slytherin inhaled deeply and shook his head. "I don't know why he came here, of all places. This is one of the most Christian parts of Britain. The Lindisfarne Gospels were inked here, Saint Cuthbert is the patron saint of the island and his monastery is a ruin, but they've a new one and a church."
"But he was definitely here?" Harry took the packet of cigarettes from Theodore's hand, removed one and lit it.
"Oh yeah." Theodore grinned. "He was definitely here. Up by the castle, there are lime kilns. In the kilns, there's magic residue. Dark magic. And quite a lot of runes with snakes on them."
"Show me."
They didn't talk any more, walking around the village and nodding politely whenever they passed one of the locals. The residents on Lindisfarne assumed that Harry and Theodore were hikers, young tourists enjoying the rocky walks that were so popular with visitors to the area. As they hiked up the steep hill that led to the Lindisfarne Castle, Theodore murmured, "The kilns are to the north of the castle."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement and the two of them slipped and slid on the steep, grassy hillside as they followed the walking track. At the base of the hill, with the castle looming above them, were the kilns, circular and disused, broken stone indicating that they had weathered hundreds of years since their last use.
Together, they entered the nearest kiln, and Harry cast a Lumos, looking around him carefully. Then he cast a series of spells designed to show residual dark magic and any traces of Voldemort. The interior of the kiln lit up green like Christmas tree lights and Harry frowned. "There's so much," he murmured.
Theodore sighed. "Yeah. And more, further in." He led the way towards an arched doorway which led deeper into the kiln and the hill itself.
After a Lumos Maximus, they walked carefully through the passageway they'd entered and found themselves in a large, circular chamber. This was obviously where the kiln oven had been; rusted ironworks sat in the centre, and around the edge of the room were more arched doorways leading who knew where. Harry cast another series of spells, trying to determine what - if anything - was here.
Theodore walked slowly around the edges of the room, checking for any sort of booby-traps, either magic or Muggle, and grunted with some slight surprise that there were none to be found. "I don't like this, Harry," he confessed, as he joined the Boy Who Lived. "There's nothing here set up as protection. No Inferi, no spells, no charms, nothing. Why would he do that if he'd left something here?"
"Perhaps he didn't leave anything here?" Harry absently took Theodore's cigarette packet from him and lit up another smoke. As he inhaled then slowly exhaled, he added, "Or perhaps the traps aren't on the room, but on the Horcrux."
Theodore grunted. "Logic suggests the Horcrux would be in the kiln oven."
"He's not really known for following our Earth logic," Harry replied dryly, but he walked over to the oven anyway, Theodore but a step behind.
They checked the oven, cast spell after spell, poked the rusting iron with cautious fingers then shook the structure as nothing happened. The iron rattled hollowly; it was old and the oven wasn't as secure as it once had been. They moved around it, shaking and poking, and then suddenly there was a sound, as if something were inside the kiln.
"Harry!" Theodore's excited whisper drew Harry to his side in moments. "Here, listen to this!" He shook the oven again and there was the sound of something metallic rattling against the iron.
"Careful," Harry hissed, casting more protection charms and defensive spells before casting the Accio. In response to the summoning charm, a silver goblet sailed to his hand from inside the oven.
Before either young man could say anything, there was a sound like thunder and grinding stone. "Shit!" Theodore grabbed Harry, pulling him towards the nearest archway. "Rock fall!"
Dust was everywhere, rock and stone and sand, and even though they were fast, the rock fall was faster. Before their horrified eyes, each archway was sealed off, closed up by rock and sand and dirt, and then, as they stared at each in other in disbelief, there was a shimmering of green light above the oven and the sound of hollow laughter.
"Well, well, well," said a voice, a voice that Harry knew so well he did not need to look at the face of the owner. "If I'd known such a simple little trick would get you out of my way, Potter, I would have done it years ago."
Harry glared. "What do you mean, Voldemort?"
"He's here?!" Theodore gaped.
"No," Harry sighed, "it's a spell, a projection. Triggered to appear when I Accio'd the goblet."
"Very good, Potter, very good. Dumbledore would be proud." Voldemort beamed at him, his jagged teeth gleaming yellowy. "However, time - your time - is short. There is no air, and soon, you and your friend here will suffocate. When that happens, after you've breathed your last and gone to join your dead, Muggle mother, then I will be able to rise unopposed and take control of the Wizarding World, as has been preordained." Voldemort chuckled. "I have rewarded my young Death Eater well for this idea. You might remember him. Draco Malfoy? It was he who suggested this little trick to reel you in. You have the goblet, yes, but you are unable to leave this place so it will do you no good. Goodbye, Harry Potter." The image flickered and disappeared.
Harry stared at the oven, then at the goblet. He looked at Theodore whose face was ashen. "That's what you think," he said softly, and dropped to the sandy floor. As Theodore watched him, Harry rooted through the backpack he always carried, and removed several small items, setting them beside the goblet.
"What are they?" Theodore's voice was rough, the voice of one who realises that panic is futile.
Harry grinned at him, and Theodore's eyebrows shot up.
"No," he breathed, starting to grin in return at the Boy Who Lived. "You didn't!"
"I did," Harry said, still grinning.
"How? Where? When?"
As Theodore joined him on the floor, Harry chuckled. "You did your hunting, I did mine. We made a good team, Theo." It was the first time he'd ever used the contraction of the Slytherin's name. "I found the last two Horcruxes in the Riddle House." He nodded at two of the items, "And the goblet, obviously. They are the last three. He thinks he's won."
"But he hasn't." Theodore nodded. "Good job, Harry."
"And good job to you too." Harry gazed at Theodore seriously. "I couldn't have got this far, done this much, without your help, you know. No, don't shrug it off, I mean it. But…when a Horcrux is destroyed, there's a lot of pent up energy that comes out. It…well, with three of them, in this place? We won't make it out alive anyway."
Theodore nodded slowly. "I thought as much. Well, then. Only one thing for it, isn't there?"
Harry quirked an eyebrow at his companion, realising at last that Theodore was one of the truest friends he'd ever had. "What's that then?"
Theodore grinned at him. "Horcruxes go boom."
Harry laughed, pointed his wand at the Horcruxes and nodded. "Horcruxes go boom," he agreed, and prepared to cast the spell that would utterly and completely destroy them - the Horcruxes, Voldemort, and Harry Potter and Theodore Nott trapped in the lime kilns beside Lindisfarne Castle. All in all, he thought, as he began to incant, it was a worthy sacrifice. And it wasn't made alone.