Death's Windmill

A Story by Kristopher

A Harry Potter fan fiction I'm submitting for the Harry Potter for Life Writing Contest.

DEATH’S WINDMILL

The windmill stopped rotating, gradually slowing, until the fans grounded to a complete halt. The temperature dropped into the low forties and the sky turned storm gray as a thick fog rolled across the fields and crops.

Our crops were probably dying, I noted as I dismounted the thestral. The skeleton horse snorted and pawed the grass with a hoof. I was the only first year student at Hogwarts who could see the creatures, since one must see death to see thestrals.

I wondered why everything on the farm looked bleak. Papa had told me he could manage the farm fine without me, but the placed looked as though a twister had blown through it. Surely there couldn’t have been an attack while I was away at school; the headmaster said he had wizards looking after Papa.

I huffed exasperatedly and saw my breath chill the air in front of me. That’s when the pieces of the puzzle clicked together in my head. The attacks were magical, but the strange decline in temperature; the fog that appeared from nowhere; the deathly silence that permeated the farm; the attackers were Dementors! But why the hell would Dementors be so far from Azkaban?

Fortunately I knew the Patronus Charm but as I reached into the folds of my silver-and-green Slytherin cloak, I realized my wand was not there. Great. So not only were Dementors floating wraithlike around my home, but I was defenseless to top it all off. Freaking perfect.

I raced away from the skeletal mount and burst through the screen door which already had a gaping hole in it. Obviously a battle had taken place; I could tell from the scorch marks on the kitchen walls. Patronuses didn’t leave scorch marks, so there had been renegade wizards and witches running amok. And the Aurors had driven them out, or they had all been killed by the Dementors. I could imagine the green flash of the Killing Curse as I cautiously picked my way through debris caused by the Wizarding duel.

Had Papa tried to intervene, tried to use Mother’s wand? Would the magical instrument even work in Muggle hands?

I made my way into the living room, whimpering at the coffee table (it had been neatly sliced in half). A blue robed wizard was sprawled against the wall and another wizard (this one in black), hung upside down in the air by one foot—it was a comical sight and I would have laughed out loud if not for the duress and the cruelty of the whole situation.

More witches and wizards were sprawled against the banister and the foot of the stairs as I sprinted up the steps. All these witches and wizards had invaded my home, and the remnants of spells hours’ old proved that, but I found no wands upon their person.

I decided that the barn might have a weapon (Mother’s wand was kept there in an old batter box).

When I reached the barn I felt a freezing cold that numbed by skin and I shuddered considerably. But I was here to rescue my father, not cower behind my cloak. I saw the wand—7 inches, ivory, dragon’s scale—lying on the floor.

Mother’s wand! I ducked down and moved to retrieve the magical instrument. Quickly I pressed myself flat against a bale of hay and peeked around it.

Papa was lying on the floor, eyes closed, but what worried me the most was the black cloaked creature floating above my father’s prone form.

“Expecto Patronum!” I screamed and a silver crab burst from the wandtip and soared toward the wraithlike creature. The Dementor looked up from its prey and wailed as the silver animal crashed into it. The Dementor wailed again and fled, flying over me and left the barn.

I went to Papa’s side and the Patronus crab flew over to me and circled around my father and me protectively like a spectral bodyguard.

I kept my wand raised as I dropped to my knees beside my father. It was still cold (the Dementor had not yet left), so I pointed Mother’s wand at the barn door and it slammed shut.

“Flagrate,” I whispered and a fiery X appeared on the wood, marking it. I wouldn’t go that way…at least until I was sure the Dementor had gone for good.

“Eliza?” Papa said softly. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered in reply. I dismissed the Patronus, which was hovering close to my father’s face.

“What in the blazes was that thing?” Papa asked me.

“A Dementor,” I said. “Be lucky it didn’t try to Kiss you.” Papa glanced at me curiously but did not question me any further.

“Your robes are silver and green,” he croaked.

I looked at him, surprised. “Yeah.”

“Your mother said if you were in Slytherin that I disown you,” Papa said. “But I’ll keep you around,” he joked.

“What happened here, Papa? Why were those others here?”

“A-Aurors,” he muttered. “Said they were here to guard me; Ministry’s orders.”

The Ministry of Magic was the government for witches and wizards. They decided who went to Azkaban and who didn’t; they kept watch over magical affairs; and they were the ones who ran the courts, as well as what went in or out of the Daily Prophet.

“Then what happened?” I pressed. I had a feeling that the renegades showed up and a battle ensued, but why the Dementor showed up was beyond me.

“Those black-robed wizards appeared and there were flashes of light. I went to get your mother’s wand, thought I could be of some use, but I dropped it and then that thing showed up.” He shuddered. I could see that he was visibly shaken.

I helped him to his feet and half-dragged him to the other side of the barn.

“The exit’s that way!” Papa said, pointing behind us.

“I know,” I said exasperatedly (I couldn’t blame him for being a Muggle, but his lack of knowledge annoyed me to some extent), and went on: “but the Dementor might still be out there and I doubt I have the willpower to cast another Patronus.”

My father nodded in understanding. I pointed Mother’s wand at the section of the wall and muttered a charm: “Reducto!” and the section of wood was blasted away.

Papa gawked at me. “You’re fixing that!” he muttered.

When we climbed through the newly made hole in the wall I responded with a flourish of Mother’s wand and a cry of “Reparo!” and the hole closed up instantly.
“Stupefy!” a jet of red light struck my father broadside and he collapsed. Due to the Dementor’s attempt to snatch Papa’s soul, the weakest of spells affected him greatly. “Who’s there?” the unknown spell caster called out.

I stepped out into the open, pointed my wand in front of me, and faced the wizard. Messy black hair hung down to his forehead (where a lightning shaped scar marked his skin), and his green eyes were bright behind his glasses. I recognized the man instantly; his image appeared in the Prophet nearly every day.

“Harry Potter?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m an Auror. We were sent here to stop a group of renegades and those Dementors showed up.”

“I just scared one off,” I said to him.

The Auror looked at me, shocked by my feat. “Impressive,” he mumbled. “I was pursuing a wizard that went through here, but I lost him in the swarm of Dementors.”

“Can’t you just find him with a location spell?”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

I looked at Mother’s wand and whispered, “Show me!” the wandtip glowed for a few brief moments and then, of its own accord, pointed north…into the woods.

“Why the ruddy hell would is he there?” Harry asked. I shrugged in response.

Beside me, Papa groaned, the effects of the Stunning Spell were ebbing away. “I have to get him to the house. Can you help me?”

Harry pointed his wand at Papa and spoke two charms. Papa’s eyes rolled into his head and his head hit the ground softly. Then the Auror turned to me and said, “Well, come on then. I dunno how long my protection spell will hold and I reckon you’d be a great help with dueling this Dark wizard. Are you a fifth year student?”

“First year,” I said bluntly.

Harry glanced at me surprised. “That’s a first. You’re also the first decent Slytherin student I’ve me.”

I didn’t know whether or not to take that as a compliment, so I took the lead and went ahead. Harry followed close behind and when we entered the forest I tried the location spell again.

“Where is he?” Harry questioned.

“I dunno,” I answered.

“Split up,” the Auror suggested. “I go left and you go right; send a flare up if you see him.”

“Can’t I just Stun him first?”

“Fine,” said the Auror. “Then send the flare up.” I nodded and he walked deeper into the woods, becoming lost in the foliage. I watched him leave and then went my own way.

Traces that the Dark wizard had been through here were all around. There were scorch marks on the trees—evidence of recent battle; a black cloak hung, tattered and roughly patched, from tree limb; and once I even smacked into an invisible barrier.

I walked around the barrier’s perimeter, but found that there were no weak spots or openings in the Dark wizard’s defense. Grudgingly I shot a red flare into the sky.

Harry was beside me in an instant, wand at the ready. “Where’s the wizard?” he asked, exhilarated. He had just appeared out of thin air!

“Not here,” I told the Auror. “Behind this barrier; I can’t break through it.”

The Auror grabbed my hand and suddenly I was flying through the air. A moment later my feet touched solid ground.

“What the hell did you just do?” I snarled.

“Side-along Apparation,” he answered quickly. I didn’t answer (I was too busy hurling).

“Well next time warn me before you go casting strange magic!” I hissed at him. (Later, I learned that Apparating and Disapparating were common along sixth and seventh years).

Harry went on without me so I huffed, indignant, and followed obediently.

“Have you fought a Dark wizard before?” the Auror questioned.

“No, but Mother taught me a lot about dueling,” I said. “She was an Auror,” I added quietly.

“Was?”

“Mother was killed in a duel.”

Harry halted and I nearly smacked into his back. “What are you doing?” I asked irritably.

“Your mother worked with me,” Harry said. “Brianna Harper…” he trailed off. “I wonder—”

“Protego!” I screamed as the green flash of a Killing Curse flew at us. Harry swore and responded with a Disarming Spell and I aimed Mother’s wand at a nearby tree, speaking an animation charm: one of the branches swung in the Dark wizard’s direction, which he easily deflected.

“Crucio!” Harry shrieked and the wizard crumpled, using a nearby tree to support himself. Then, Harry said, “Stupefy!” the Stunning Spell hit our adversary in the chest.

“Are you going to throw me in Azkaban, Potter/” the Dark wizard asked. “I’ve already faced the Dementors once, I’ve already escaped. I’ll do it again!” Harry stared at the other wizard for a moment before coming to a decision.

“You won’t be going to Azkaban—I’m going to kill you.”

For the first time the wizard looked up. I saw his face. Shaggy brown hair, beady eyes, defined jaw, and pockmarked skin. All those characteristics described him. But I knew at once that this man was the same man that haunted my nightmares for a year, the man that had caused me to live in fear, the man who killed my mother. This man was a murderer.

“Let me do it,” I said before Harry could even flick his wand.

“Are you sure, Harper?” the Auror questioned.

“Move out of the way,” I said through gritted teeth. Harry shrugged and yielded to my command.

I stared at my Mother’s murderer with a look of hatred and said, “Avada Kedavra!” a flash of green light erupted from the wandtip and engulfed the Dark wizard.

When we returned to the barn I noticed that the Dementors had fled. Papa greeted us when we Apparated in front of him.

Harry glanced at me and said, “You’d made a great Auror one day. We’ll see if I can’t squeeze you into my department when the time comes. Of course, I’ll have to convince the Ministry of Magic.” He gave us a gesture of farewell and Disapparated.

I hugged Papa when the Auror disappeared, knowing that Mother’s killer was dead, and that I had a future career in her mind. I pocketed Mother’s wand, silently wishing that she was watching over Papa and I.

The windmill was spinning again.