Everything I Do, I Do It For You

Ch 39:- Empathy

“Accio wand,” Tolmie said the spell calmly although he felt the rays of confusion radiating from the room.

Two wands flew into Tolmie’s outstretched left hand. The first was the one that had been visible, lying next to the assassin. The other had been tucked up into the assassin’s right boot.

’Tricky,’ Tolmie thought to himself; he had to smile at the red-robed foe’s ingenuity.

The assassin was now flaying around on the ground. He had blood coming from his eyes, which looked like tears, except they were the wrong colour. His ears, too, had blood slowly trickling from them; Tolmie doubted very much whether he would be able to hear or see ever again.

Tolmie’s attention was diverted for a second as he heard the minor movement on the settee to his left. Looking over, he noticed that a bulky-looking man had moved very slightly, but still sat rather rigidly on the settee.

Tolmie assessed the man who was sitting there and calculated him not to be a threat, for now, so he turned his attention back to the assassin.

The brown-haired Hit Wizard was starting to claw at his eyes and ears as he thrashed about in agony. As Tolmie took a step closer, he was hit with the feeling of pure and venomous evil radiating off the wizard lying at his feet.

If Tolmie hadn’t honed his skills as an empath to the fine art that he knew he now possessed, he would have no doubt been left as helpless as the wizard at his feet. Instead he felt only a slight nauseated feeling, which he quickly put into check by breathing in deeply through his nose.

Straightening himself up, he placed both of the assassin’s wands in his robe pocket as he took another step towards the pitiful wizard.

The assassin was now making gurgling sounds, and it appeared as though he was also spitting up blood.

Tolmie felt, once more, the malevolent force radiating from this man, and at once he knew what he had to do. He knelt down in front of the wizard and concentrated.

Tolmie projected all of the hurt, pain and aguish that he felt from the wizard’s previous victims back onto the assassin who had taken those lives.

The brown-haired wizard gave out a piecing cry of pain, not realising what was happening to him. He felt pain, despair and blind panic. He couldn’t take it. He started to convulse and rolled up into a tight ball trying to protect himself. It didn’t help, and he cried out in pain once more.

Then his voice deserted him and all that was left were the growls and whimpering of a wild animal.

Robert Finn sat motionless on the settee, witnessing the whole ordeal. He heard the wizard’s cries of pain and then the animalistic noises that he made. He placed both hands over his ears and closed his eyes tightly. ‘This is not happening,’ was the mantra that replayed itself over and over in his mind.

Tolmie focussed all of his empathic powers on the wizard. As he held onto his wand, his knuckles turned white from the pressure, although he had no need for his wand now. He was centring his mind force on the completely blood-red wizard curling into a tight ball on the floor.

Tolmie ventured to reach out his hand and place it on the wizard’s shoulder, thus completing the transaction between them.

The assassin gasped out. His body went rigid as he flipped onto his back, his arms held out beside his body and his legs out in a straight line. He took one last lungful of air before expelling it, and then his body fell limp.

Tolmie stood up and looked down at the dead wizard before him. He hung his head and closed his eyes. He wished that he hadn’t had to do that, but he knew that it wasn’t entirely his fault that the assassin had died.

The way that his empathic powers worked was when the transaction was completed by a hand placed on the affected person’s body, if they were generally a good person, they would feel nothing but a slight headache, disorientation and perhaps some nausea. However, if they were a person of lower moral fibre, they would get all of the feelings that they had caused to the men, women, children, witches and wizards they had harmed. Tolmie knew he had to be focusing his powers upon that person. He could, of course, pick up stray emotions here or there when he entered a room full of people, or if someone entered the room he was in. Obviously this assassin had done some pretty hefty things in his life, and that, combined with Miss Hermione Granger’s powers, had been enough to push him over the edge and into the abyss of the next life.

Tolmie slowly raised his head to look over to the settee that housed Head Orderly Robert Finn. Robert was staring at the dead wizard with a look of dread on his face. His hands came down from his ears to rest in his lap. His eyes were wide as if in disbelief of what was happening in the room.

Tolmie started to advance on Robert, wand held out at the ready. Robert scrambled over the settee in the direction of the door. The older wizard just wanted to Obliviate the younger man, as he thought him to be a Muggle.

As Robert approached the door, he knew he was no match for the wizard who had just killed one of the Minister’s Hit Wizards, so he froze and spun around on his heel facing Tolmie. He looked like a caged animal; his eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way to escape. His breathing was shallow and he looked ghostly pale.

Tolmie raised his wand and was about to speak the spell when Robert spoke.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Robert said as he broke down into sobs. “I just really wanted a position in the Ministry and Mr. Fudge has been promising me it for years now. He said that if I kept Miss Hermione Granger on the potions and then delivered her to him, that I would finally get out of this hell-hole.” He dropped his face into his hands and sobbed loudly.

Tolmie lowered his wand a fraction. What was this man saying? Did he know Cornelius Fudge personally? What did Cornelius have to do with Hermione’s incarceration?

“I have been responsible for more than that,” Robert continued, looking up into Tolmie’s eyes. “I have successfully enslaved more than fifteen witches and wizards over my seven-year stay here at Calan Park; all at the Minister’s bidding. He promised me that he would get me out of here, he promised.” Robert broke down once more, sliding to the floor where he continued to sob into his hands.

Tolmie stepped towards the broken man until he could almost touch him. A thousand questions were running through his mind, but he blurted out the first and most important one.

“How do you know Cornelius Fudge?” he asked, truly interested now.

“Who doesn’t know Cornelius Fudge?” Robert spat out, forgetting his place for a moment. His eyes were glaring steadily at Tolmie’s. “I may be just a lowly Squib, but doesn’t that give me the right to know him too?” he asked. Suddenly remembering whom he was talking to, his face contorted back into the misery that he felt. He really didn’t want to die. He had seen how the wizard in the blood-red robes had left this life, and it looked quite painful.

“Why does Cornelius want Miss Granger?” Tolmie asked, still holding his wand on the hapless Squib.

“He said something about harnessing her power,” Robert replied, looking up at the wizard. If this were to be his day of reckoning, he would be sure to take down the Minister with him. He watched as a thoughtful look passed over the older wizard’s face, as he was towering over him. He suddenly felt very insignificant and scrubbed at the tear tracks that were upon his face with his hands. He slowly got to his feet, making sure that his back was still up against the wall.

Tolmie watched the Squib with some interest. He had gone from a snivelling, wrecked human being to one with some authority as he stood before Tolmie with his head held high.

Tolmie reached out his hand and placed it on the man’s shoulder. As he made contact, he felt all the vile acts that Robert had done in the past and was continuing to do. He was haunted and disgusted by the images he saw in his mind’s eye, and he realized that looks could definitely be deceiving.

Tolmie had felt some menacing qualities in the room through his empathic powers, but had thought them to be the residual effects left over by the assassin.
However, he now realized he was totally wrong.

Robert had gone into some sort of shock. His eyes glazed over and he stood stock-still, looking with dread into Tolmie’s eyes. He was feeling hopelessness, isolation, doubt and scepticism. He had never felt anything like it before in his life.

As the visions and feelings flooded into Robert, he felt his knees give way and he collapsed to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins, rocking back and forth.

The link broken by the Squib’s sudden disintegrated state, Tolmie took a couple of stumbling steps backwards and stared at the man on the ground.

’What just happened?’ the elderly empath thought as he shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t meant for his empathic powers to work at that precise moment in time. However, this just told him that he wasn’t as in control of his powers as he would have liked to believe. It didn’t really matter anyway, as he had gotten the answers to the main questions he had wanted to ask.

Quickly gathering his wits, he turned from the Squib and went over to the assassin. Transfiguring the now lifeless body into a quill, he picked it up and placed it into his robe pocket.

Tolmie gave the Squib, rocking near the only exit of the room, one more look before he Apparated away.

Head Orderly Robert Finn was found about two hours later in the staff room. No one was able to get him to tell them what had happened, as it seemed that his ability for speech had been plucked from him. He reacted quite violently when a colleague placed a hand on his shoulder to see whether he was all right or not, and therefore he had to be restrained. He spent the rest of his days in Calan Park - where he once had been in charge, he was now a resident.

***

Severus was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of someone crying quietly in the bed next to him.

He took a couple of seconds to recollect how he had managed to wind up in a bed, of all places, and then it hit him. The assassin, Tolmie and Miss Granger. His hands went instinctively to his eyes, and he felt cotton patches that had been stuck there with a Sticking Charm. He had no choice but to leave them in place. He felt around his bed and to the tiny bedside table for his wand. No luck.

“Miss Granger?” he inquired, trying desperately to keep his voice low.

He heard sniffling as the crying abruptly stopped.

“Is that you, Miss Granger?” he asked once more, his voice an octave higher than he would have liked.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, still sniffling.

“What is wrong with you?” Severus asked as he pulled the sheets off himself and threw his legs over the side of the bed towards Miss Granger.

She didn’t answer him straight away and Severus was concerned that she might have left, although there was no proof of that theory.

“They’re all dead,” Hermione replied, after what seemed like forever to Severus, breaking down now into wretched sobbing.

If Severus could have rolled his eyes, he would have. Instead, he stood up painstakingly and felt his way over to Miss Granger’s bedside.

His years as a spy helped him in his plight and he didn’t stumble once. There was no one around to see him; however, he liked to maintain his dignity.

Finally making his way over to Miss Granger’s bed, Severus asked, “Who?” His treacherous voice wavered slightly.

“Everyone,” Hermione replied, burying her face into her hands as she sobbed louder. “Harry, Ron, my parents, the Weasleys. I thought you to be dead too, but obviously not.” She sniffed a little as she tried to control the inner turmoil that was fighting its way to the surface once more.

Severus straightened up a little at the last comment. Had she truly thought him to be deceased? If so, who else did she believe to be dead? He was broken from his musings as she continued.

“Who else made it?” Hermione asked.

Severus didn’t even have time to answer her before she rushed onwards.

“All I remember was waking up and seeing the grounds of Hogwarts literally covered with bodies. I remember Hagrid fell and …” Hermione broke down once more, her body almost convulsing with her grief.

“We will have a word with the Headmaster tomorrow,” Severus said as he reached out his arm and placed his hand somewhat awkwardly on her shoulder.

She tensed up for a brief second before relaxing. Years later, she would blame her next move on her grief, but all the same she reached out for him, pulling him closer to her and wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her unruly hair and face into his white hospital gown and positively wailed.

Severus tensed up; he wasn’t used to having young women throw themselves at him, hugging him for comfort. It felt strange, but oddly familiar. He reached up his right hand, placed it on top of her head and patted it. This just seemed to make her howl even more, so he decided to stroke her hair instead. It seemed to work as her howls turned into gentle sobs.

Severus inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. He would never understand witches.

***

A/N:- So do you think Robert Finn got what he deserved? Sorry, but I couldn’t kill him off as I created him. I kind of feel sorry for the Squib.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far. Now that I have your attention, I would like to request 20 reviews for this chapter. So, if you are not thinking of leaving me a review, think again. The next chapter won’t be up until I have 20 reviews, you have been warned. LOL!

In the next chapter, see how the Final Battle went down from Dumbledore’s perspective.

Cheers, LariLee, for betaing this for me and sticking with the story.

Disclaimer:- As if J.K. would be as horrid a writer as I am… She wouldn’t sell a thing!