The Guardian of Slytherin

Okay. Bonus chapter.

READ AND REVIEW!!

***

Chapter Nineteen


Regulus was reading as Rabastan was absently levitating twelve different objects at one time when Harry charged into the room. It was a tie on which one was louder—the crashing of the doors into the room or the twelve mostly glass objects smashing to the stone floor. It was with a resigned, yet aggravated sigh that Rabastan began to repair what had broken.


“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.


“Tell you what exactly,” Regulus asked him. “I haven’t told you much of anything other than what a sexy bastard you are.”


Glaring at him Harry snapped, “About Hermione.”


Both the other men went still. “What do you mean?”


“She’s killing death eaters!”


Rabastan let out a snort even as Regulus said, “She isn’t the one killing them and I have to point out at least three that I know of weren’t death eaters.”


“That’s not the point!”


Regulus went over to him. “Harry, she isn’t the one judging, nor is she the one pulling the trigger as it were.”


“She’s responsible…”


“Were you?” Rabastan cut him off. “Were you the one responsible when you were marked as the dark lord’s equal? Were you the one that killed your parents and Sirius? Did you start the war?”


“No,” Harry whispered. “I-I….”


“But you were there, weren’t you?” Regulus inquired. “You had a piece of Voldemort’s soul within you so you must be slightly…”


“No!” he yelled.


“Then why blame Hermione?” Rabastan asked him quietly. “She has no more control over what happens to the people that are and were judged than you did with the dark lord’s soul.”


“The trouble with our boy here is that he was raised to find someone to blame in any and all situations,” Regulus said casually, making Harry look him in the eyes. “What I have to say will be somewhat cold and perhaps heartless, but it will be said. The individuals are being tried fairly…”


“Honestly, it leans very much in favor of the person being judged,” Rabastan interrupted to which Regulus nodded and continued.


“It may not appear to be so to your soft heart, but it’s the truth. Their histories are looked over with what can only be called a fine-toothed comb and if there’s even a speck of something within them that can show that they are worthy of redemption, they are spared.” He stood all the straighter as he went on. “Those who failed do so not because they are merely mean, but because they have a seed of evil within them that will not die. These individuals are heartless, cold blooded killers who will not stop just because they say they have redeemed themselves.”


“Why the vile deaths?” Harry asked them.


“Horrid deaths for the horrid,” Rabastan whispered. “Let me ask you something. Do you have any notion how many people Bellatrix killed?”


“I don’t know...hundreds?” he guessed.


“Fifty,” Rabastan answered quietly. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth. The rest she cursed and tortured until they were mad with pain, some begging for death, and then when she thought they had enough she handed them a knife. More times than not, they cut their own throats. Those that could, that is, because let us not forget those she cursed with her all too favored crucio so badly that they were from that moment on catatonic.”


“There were at least ten muggles that I know of that were buried alive after being hexed by Bellatrix,” Regulus said, sounding sick. “All because the health authorities or families thought them dead, but didn’t have the power or the knowledge to do the counter-curse.”


“Why are you justifying it?” Harry asked. “It’s still murder!”


“Perhaps,” Rabastan answered. “But tell me, would you have rather have had Bella live and Molly Weasley die?”


Startled the younger wizard looked to both of them. “What?”


“Because allow me to be the first to tell you that’s exactly what would have happened if that duel had gone on. And let me assure you that my far from dear sister-in-law wouldn’t have stopped at the Weasley matriarch,” Rabastan told him, seeing the horror of what could have been in the younger man’s eyes. “Your black and white views don’t seem as clear anymore, do they?”


***


Ginny didn’t know how Marcus and she would spend their day, but this, she thought, wasn’t it.


She watched as Marcus played with his little nephew. How could it be that a child that cute should come from a family that ugly she’d never know, the youngest Weasley thought as she watched Marcus putting the boy on his toy broom. Absently she took a taste of the food in front of her, wondering not for the first time why little Harold’s mother didn’t come with them.


Marcus came trotting over, grabbing his water. “How are you doing over here?”


“Why am I here?”


“You, fair maid, are here for the sun, the meal, and the attention I will be giving exclusively to you the moment I hand my nephew back to his mother.”


She made a humming noise before saying, “You better get him then, least your sister kills you before you can give me said attention.” He spun around just in time to see Harold fly straight into a flock of geese. “And you best be quick about it too. Those birds look mean.” Ginny yanked her wand out and hexed one that was about to nip at the boy. “Don’t just stand there. Go get him!”


Marcus rushed off and nabbed him, not bothering to hide his anger of the birds that had tried to hurt his nephew. Harold was crying by the time they got back. Ginny took the boy from him, rubbing his back and cooing to him what a brave little boy he was.


“You did so well!”


“I did?” Harold asked, sniffling into Ginny’s neck.


“Yes, you did,” she murmured. “But next time you have to remember to lean to the left or right so you turn.”


“I’m just learning to turn now,” he told her, looking very serious as he did so.


“It’s an important thing to learn,” she said to him. “Another thing you have to remember when you’re first learning to fly is landing. If you go flying again and it looks like you’re going to hit something, but you can’t remember to turn, you…?”


“Land?”


“Right!” she told him. “Well, I don’t know about you, little man, but I do believe it’s time for lunch.”


Frowning Harold asked, “How do you know that? You didn’t look at your timepiece.”


“Easy! There’s a drumstick sticking out of your uncle’s mouth.” They both looked over to Marcus, who in deed had a mouthful of chicken.


“What?” he asked around the half masticated food. “I was hungry!”


Rolling her eyes Ginny said, “Let’s serve proper plates, shall we, Harold?”


Marcus was laughing to himself as he watched the two of them serving up the three plates of food. He had to admit that bringing the witch with them to the park had been a good idea. Reaching out he combed her hair out of her face, putting it behind her ear. She looked over to him startled at the intimacy of having him caress her earlobe.


“You obviously need a bite to eat as well,” Marcus murmured, holding out the chicken drumstick to her. “Go on and take a bite, love. We won’t tell a soul that you eat with your fingers like the rest of us.”


She looked over to Harold, who was eating a chicken wing with gusto and motioning for her to do so too. With a wry laugh, she took a bite.


***

Leria--I don't even know where to begin. I find you to be close minded, unfair, and insulting to the extreme. Not only to me, but to everyone who writes fiction. Do you think that every author who has penned a mystery with let's say a serial killer in it secretly wishes to be one themselves but just don't have the backbone to do so? If that is the case according to you best selling authors such as Nora Roberts, Lawerence Sanders, and Thomas Harris, just to name a few, are writing out their dreams of being full time killers. Of all the nonsense! There is a difference between fiction and reality. It's clear to me that you are a petty individual looking for a soapbox of sorts. If you don't like my story, don't read it. From this moment forward, I shall be deleting any and all reviews you send in. Goodbye.

And to everyone else, thanks for your continual support. Your words have been a balm to my soul. Thank you again and have a nice day.