Chapter 16

It was supposed to be an easy task. They were supposed to save Harry's godfather Sirius and England – or Angleterre by the perverted French nation who unfortunately fulfilled any stereotype the Ron had of the French and started to really wonder if he liked Fleur – and Alice, their fellow Gryffindor. Where had it gone all wrong? Ron had suddenly been separated from Harry and Hermione and the other nations, and found himself with Emyr, Ginny, and Luna. Thank Merlin we don't have America with us. The redhead had the unfortunate situation of having to ride a threstral with the American nation, who talked so loud that Ron thought he had gone deaf by the time they arrived in the Ministry of Magic. Ron's stomach had plummeted when the group had realized that Sirius was not here, nor England and Alice. Harry's indignant cries became deaf to Ron's ears when they were suddenly surrounded by Death Eaters.

He had no idea how it had happened so quickly. The fifth year Gryffindor turned his head to hear Harry scream Hermione's name, fear growing inside him at the sound of the desperation and horror in his best mate's voice, starting to run towards them, when Ron suddenly found himself flying backwards and colliding with Ginny. Ron blearily looked up, seeing Emry's black hair and hissing at the Death Eater who stood in front of her. Ron couldn't move. His hand was constricted around his wand, and Ginny lay with blood leaking from her forehead. He saw Ginny get up, hissing at her broken ankle, and attempted an aim at the Death Eater before getting hit by a stray stunning spell. It was a battle. There were flashes of light and spells uttered that Ron knew were beyond his year – and yet Emyr shouted them, her dark eyes more alive than Ron had seen them in the months he had gotten to grudgingly know her, and for a moment, it was almost like she was dancing…and more beautiful than Ron had ever thought her to be.

Imagine that, the youngest male Weasley thought to himself, me admiring a Slytherin. He watched Emyr as she blocked a spell, a familiar smirk on her face despite the grave expression she had. She really is… Ron inwardly gasped and felt his heart stop when he heard Emyr scream, her body seizing and coming to a stop, landing hard on the floor.

"I thought…" she rasped, her gray eyes meeting Ron's, boring into his brown as he was eerily still, "I thought…I could dodge that. What a bloody fool…I am." Her pale face started to ashen, and her grip on her wand tightened, hard enough to make it break.

"Emyr!" Ron was shocked by the desperation and cursed himself when he could still not move. His desperate eyes glued onto her face, as the Death Eater looked on with a laugh. "Emyr!" Why is it… Ron thought as his heart clenched as Emyr's breathing slowed, that I can only say her name? "Emyr, don't die," he suddenly pleaded. His face paled at the sudden smile that appeared on her face.

"Too late for that, Weasley." The slightly mocking tone he had come to know did not soothe him. "Shit…" she whispered as her hand suddenly laxed and her wand rolled away, looking at him with her eyes never leaving him. "My sister…she's going to bloody kill me." A rasp of laughter came from her before the young witch fell silent for a moment. Her breathing shallower by the moment.

"Why the bloody hell?!" Ron suddenly screamed, desperate to free himself from the prison. "Why'd you save us? You know well how I thought about you!" The Death Eater suddenly moved forward, his mask hiding the glee he held inside. "So why?!" Ron's strangled cry, with barely concealed raw pain, was met with a faint smile from Emyr.

"I'm glad I placed the binding spell on your arse…otherwise…I would never hear the end of it, would I?" Ron's heart froze in his throat at the sight of Emyr closing her eyes. "It's because…I'm a Slytherin, dumbass…" Her dark hair framed her face as her body lied prone on the floor, her face as pale as Ron's own as he desperately tried to move.

"And to think I was starting to like you…"

He couldn't understand where it had gone wrong. They were supposed to be enemies, just like they had been – in his eyes at least – for the past four and-a-half years they had been at Hogwarts. They were supposed to annoy each other and hate each other, as Emyr and Ron did during their first meeting early this year. Ron was supposed to dislike every Slytherin. And yet, here he was, feeling as if his air had been cut off from him as he continued to numbly stare at Emyr's still body. How was it that he felt more despair, more agony than he had felt when his father had been attacked? How? A ghastly cry escaped from him, unintelligible words tearing from his mouth as tears – tears! – seeped from his eyes as the redhead stared at the body of Arya Emyr before him.

I…was liking you too, Ron thought numbly as he stared at the dark-haired beauty. And I think I probably could have… He didn't see the wand being raised, or the fact that now that…she was dead, he was able to move. Ron stood, his breathing erratic as he shook. Liked you even more than that. A dauntless scream emerged from him as he started to run, running towards the murderer as he thought of the girl who had meant a lot to him. For a moment, it seemed that he didn't hear anything, only seeing the bright green light.

"Avada Kedava!"

He could only feel himself floating…floating…

"Sirius!" Harry screamed. "Sirius!" He desperately tried to move forward, his mind numb as he looked at the veil where Sirius had fallen into, desperation falling into his entire mind as he was held by Professor Lupin. "Sirius!"

"Harry…he's gone," Lupin whispered. The words didn't reach Harry's ears. The young teenage boy found himself screaming, the name of his godfather never leaving his lips, finally wrenching himself free from Lupin and running towards the veil. He stopped and stared – not noticing the battles around him, from the order or the nations battling the Death Eaters, or the still form of Hermione guarded by some ancient magic that one of the nations had erected. His scarred emerald eyes could only see the faint wisps of the veil, hearing the whispers, his hand trembling and deaf to Lupin's cries as a sob suddenly choked from him.

"Is the baby Potter all upset?" Harry turned, his stunned gazing turning to rage as he stared at the tall witch before him. "Is he upset that I killed someone important to him?" she continued to ask in a babyish tone, laughter abruptly erupting from her in waves as he suddenly found himself chasing her.

He was aware of running, his wand pointing at her back, hearing her laughter in his ears. The plan walls and the door on the left was all that he could see as Harry stood, panting as Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him. She pointed her wand at him, and the young wizard dodged, barely missing a Crucio when a sudden inflammatory rage and grief rose inside him.

"CRUCIO!" he roared. Harry found the curse to fail, with the dark witch laughing at him.

"You have to better than that, baby boy." She smiled, and her tone became serious as she looked at him. "You have to actually want to hurt a person, to make the scream and beg for mercy." She cackled, raising her wand. "Not that you actually could, boy."

"Really?" Harry rasped. He was aware of the sudden itch in his hands as he held his hand, the rage and despair rising inside him as he thought of Sirius – the two of them laughing, their embrace that they had during the terrible summer, and Sirius telling him about his family. Sirius…all the memories suddenly piled in his memory, and Harry felt the urge to scream. He felt the urge to…to…

"CRUCIO!"

He saw only red as he heard Lestrange's screams. He felt only the blood boil inside him, and Harry breathed as anger and grief continued to rise, causing him to scream. What…? Harry thought dully as he saw Lestrange on the floor, screaming with her back arching. What am I doing…? The spell suddenly ended, and Harry found himself pouring sweat and gasping for breath as Lestrange slowly stood.

Her body was slightly shaking. "Good," she whispered. "Good. Very good." She appeared to look at him with a newfound respect as he the teenage wizard stood panting before her. "Did you know, boy, that the Dark Lord first preformed that same curse when he was around your age?" She sickenly smiled, and Harry found horror race through him at the realization of what he had done come through to him. "Although…the Dark Lord's reason was far –"

"Potter."

Harry froze and Lestrange looked back, her face stunned as both of them recognized the person standing in front of her.

"You…" she whispered. Harry's mind shuddered to a halt when she backed away. "You…the Dark Lord said –"

"Voldemort is battling Dumbledore at the moment," England drawled. Harry found himself staring at the nation, seeing his gaze never reach his own and the grave expression on his face. His emerald eyes flashed, and Harry's heart started to thud when he saw the professor raise his hand. "Would you like to know what it is like to fight a nation, Bellatrix Lestrange?" His voice was measured but the disgust and hatred in his voice was discreetly heard. Harry saw Lestrange pale, back away for a moment with her eyes wide with barely constrained fear before she suddenly raised her wand and smiled.

"ALICE!" England screamed, and both watched with horror as the girl – her wand raised and wearing her Gryffindor uniform – was hit with Lestrange's spell. The screams were high enough that Harry was compelled to cover his ears. Her eyes were impossibly wide, her hands clenched and the screams sounding bone-deep as Lestrange continued to laugh even as the spell ended shortly after. Harry found that Alice was miraculously standing, although barely conscious and her eyes dull and her face pale as she stumbled with her mouth gaping open as she –

Harry suddenly felt himself change. Pain. He clutched his head, inwardly trying to stop having the pain drilling through his skull. He didn't see Lestrange's body fall, England raising his hand without murmuring a spell before the witch collapsed with her eyes open and a smile on her face, as Harry's vision suddenly faded. The young wizard shouted, images appearing in his mind. A young boy, with dark raven hair and a handsome face alone as the other children played around him…the same boy, screaming with rage as he started punching his tormentor…laughing at the sound of the screams…

Kill her… a voice suddenly whispered.

Kill her…

Harry wanted to scream for himself to stop, but his body wouldn't listen. His hand found Alice's throat, her shocked eyes burning into his own as he squeezed. His mind screamed, telling him it was wrong, it was wrong, it needed to stop as spittle started to gather against Alice's lips, her face pale and gasping. Harry felt his hands tighten. Emerald eyes bored into his own. Why…? they seemed to be asking. Stop! The wizard screamed. Suddenly Harry felt his body collide with the wall, hard. His back hurt, spasms of pain running through him as the voice faded from his mind and the pain receded. His dull eyes found Alice in England's arms, exhaustion and aguish the only reality as the blond nation crouched down to him.

"England…" Harry whispered thickly. Sharp and painful tears were appearing in his eyes. "England…" I… the boy thought as he stared at the deep sadness in the nation's eyes as he held his daughter in his arms. I…

Before he could say another word, Harry Potter collapsed into unconsciousness.

Ron was dead. The words refused to find meaning. Ron was dead, as with Emyr. As Harry sat on Hermione's bed as she read The Dailey Prophet, the numbness creating a hole inside him as the survivors refused to meet his gaze. Dead… The emerald-eyed boy thought. Dead… His breath hitched, and Harry vaguely felt Hermione drop the newspaper and hold his hand. Ron had been found beside the body of Emyr, the wand Ron had been so proud of in his hand, killed by the Killing Curse. The Order had apparently stood in silence, shock and stunned by the very young dead. Harry had come around when he suddenly heard Ginny's screams and sorrow.

The redhead girl had turned to him, rage and hatred in her eyes as she told Harry that she would never forgive him. She would never forgive him for doing this to her. When Luna had attempted to calm her down, there was disappointment in her eyes that Harry hadn't thought possible. Harry hadn't flinched, numb that he was, as Ginny turned her gaze towards him and told him that it was his fault that Ron had died. Hermione had tried to rise, her expression burning with fury before Luna had softly replied that she should be grateful that she was alive, and Ron had sacrificed himself to protect her. Ginny had stared at her former best friend, and had stomped away. Harry hadn't heard from her since, and Luna's mournful eyes echoed in his mind.

Alice had not been seen. The Order had been dumbfounded when they had found the first year Gryffindor lying unconscious beside Harry, wondering why she had been kidnapped. They had dismissed the fact that three nations had arrived in the Ministry of Magic and had battled Death Eaters while attempting to save their own. There were no nations to be seen when the Order arrived, and the wizards assumed that it had been Harry who had killed Bellatrix Lestrange, not England, and Harry had found that only the people in this room – including Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall when confronted with the fact that one of her students had apparently killed a Death Eater – believed him. As such, Harry was found to be shunned and feared by his classmates when he sullenly walked the halls as a week past. No one could meet his eyes, and Harry found that even his professors – who had known him since he was a first year – talked to him as if he was diseased, and Professor Snape had snidely replied that the only reason why he wasn't in Azkaban was because he was a great celebrity and supposedly the downfall of the Dark Lord.

Harry's mind focused also on the fact of the conversation he had with Dumbledore. There was a prophecy made before he was born about him. That he would defeat Voldemort and that, the reason why the old headmaster hadn't told him this before when he was eleven years old, was that he wanted to protect him. "I loved you too much, Harry." He didn't want me to suffer, Harry thought as he walked along the lake, his eyes barely registering the scenery and several students celebrating the end of exams. It reminds me of Alice and of her relationship with England.

There were times when Harry thought that perhaps the meeting of England was a dream. He had not seen Alice since he had almost killed her, and wouldn't blame her if she never spoke to him again. But he found her watching him by the lake, and turned when she called for him.

"Harry!" Alice hesitantly removed herself from the tree she was hiding behind, and allowed herself to look at the teen. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes glassy with grief and sorrow. Harry… she thought. I'm such a coward, Alice thought as her hands lied limply at her sides. The first year had not woken until a day had passed since the battle in the Ministry of Magic. She had been told that Harry had been meeting with Dumbledore, and the girl had nodded. Inwardly, fear spread through Alice as she heard Harry's name. She remembered of how he had tried to kill her, spittle forming on her mouth as she tried desperately to breathe. Her lungs were aching, and her body screamed from whatever curse the Death Eater had aimed at her. She could see nothing recognizable in his eyes. Then, she heard something crack and fell unconscious into someone's arms.

Mum had explained that Harry had been overtaken by Voldemort when that had happened. The nation had appeared on her bed shortly after she had awoken and left the Hospital Wing. He tried to explain to her, gently, but the irrational fear plagued her mind. It had plagued her mind even as her mother tried to tell her that Voldemort would not take over him again, and that she was safe. When England noted of Alice's eyes blurring and the whimpers escaping from her throat, he had held her. The nation had held her until she had cried until she couldn't cry no more and stopped shaking.

"As a nation," the Englishman had whispered into her ear as he combed her hair with his thin hands, "you will have to experience hardships, Alice. This…is one of your first tastes of fear, and although you were born in an age not at war, there will be wars. Hurt and pain and grief will follow you, more than humans." She had looked into his eyes and saw the firmness and the solemn expression. "That is why…you must not let fear stop you, for it will be insignificant to the future fears you will face. Go to Harry, and talk to him…and moment by moment, the fear will not appear again."

"Harry…" Alice whispered. "I'm sorry that I didn't talk to you before." She hung her head shamefully. '"I was afraid," she whispered as she wearily looked into his dull eyes. "Even though, I know that you didn't do it, I was still afraid that you would hurt me again."

"You don't hate me?" Harry asked incredulously. He almost sounded desperate, pleading as he stared at her with a raw expression.

"No," Alice answered honestly. "I also know that you didn't kill that Death Eater, no matter what people say. I –"

"Are you mental?" Harry asked with dismay. "Everyone is going to outcast you if you stay by my side!" She smiled at him, and she could see the guilt flicker across his expression.

"I'm used to it," she whispered, briefly thinking about her days in primary school. "The only friends I had were you and Emyr…" A choke escaped from her, tears starting to appear from her eyes at the young witch's name, the wound far too fresh. Emyr…

"She died like a Gryffindor," Harry whispered as grief shook in his voice. Alice wouldn't respond. "How is…her sister?" he asked hesitantly.

"Evangeline doesn't hate me," Alice whispered as she stared at the broken gaze that matched her own. "Unlike…Ginny does to you," she rasped quietly as Harry visibly winced. "Their parents…are proud of their daughter, even if their grief numbs them."

There was a heavy silence.

"So will you come back?"

Alice looked at Harry in surprise. Her emerald eyes glanced at him, and could see that he genuinely questioning her.

"Of course I will," she stated. "Mum will murder me if I don't come back." A small smirk appeared on her face at the thought.

"So the nations were there," Harry said with a gasp. "I thought I perhaps had imagined it."

"The nations cannot not allow anyone to know their secret," Alice stated, hoping that Harry would understand. "They took a chance with me, but exposing it more would be dangerous."

The teenage wizard nodded. He began to turn away before Alice stopped him.

"I wanted to give you this," she stated as she placed the small cloth in his palm. "I originally wanted to give this to Mum before the Christmas holidays, but…I think you need it more."

Alice could see Harry look at it closely. It was barely bigger than his palm, with a white background with a rose in the center. It had three shapes of leaves colored green with red petals with another two green leaves. Above was the white and the yellow center. Seeing his emerald green eyes bewildered, Alice explained.

"This rose was used by the Tudor royal family in the fourteenths and fifteenth centuries, and was a nation symbol of our country. The rose was combined from the symbols of two noble families that were at war with one another during the War of the Roses."

"And…?" Harry asked.

Alice smiled, her eyes crinkling as she stared at the young man who meant so much to the world he was in. "It symbolizes unity and togetherness, Harry."

Suddenly, the young man smiled back. It was a weak smile, barely there, but it appeared in her sight nonetheless. "Thank you," he whispered. He stared the item in his hands with awe before looking again at her. "It gives me hope that…the darkness will soon end."

Yours or the upcoming war? Alice thought. But she only whispered, "It will, Harry. It will."

To be continued in The Girl With Burning Emerald Eyes...