Summary: All is seemingly well in Wizarding Britain as the last aftershocks of the War against the Dark Lord fade away, but a series of murders lead ace Auror Daphne Greengrass to a threat that may throw her world yet again into imbalance.
Chapter 25: Fireworks
Daphne checked her watch. It had been six minutes since the Wardmaster had begun his work and the attack had started. Harry was pacing behind her and the Wardmaster was hissing furiously at his assistant as the younger man frantically searched through rolls and rolls of parchment.
"Any progress?" asked Harry. He was gripping his wand, glancing warily around the forest. The sun was gone, and the only light they had was the Muggle torch that Harry had provided, under which the Wardmaster was working. In the distance, over the canopy, Daphne thought she saw a dull, orange haze that must have been the fiendfyre.
"If Trevor here was half as competent as he claimed to be," said the Wardmaster furiously, "the wards would already be down. Trevor, there is one ward book you know I constantly refer to and you forget to bring it …"
"Wardmaster," interrupted Daphne, "I have ten men who are risking their lives right now so you can do your job. Do try and hurry up."
She doubted very much that poor Trevor was to blame for the situation. She knew wizards like the Wardmaster - they liked to promise big, and when they failed to deliver, they were quick to blame others. Her own nerves started to creep up on her and she checked her watch again. Seven minutes. Mentally she berated herself for getting talked into taking this particular Wardmaster.
A wave of magical energy passed through them. Harry almost jumped out of his skin. Daphne felt goosebumps, and even the Wardmaster and Trevor looked up.
"What was that?" asked Daphne, unable to hide the alarm from her voice.
Trevor pulled out his wand and cast a few diagnostic spells.
"Anti-portkey wards, Madam Greengrass. They're old-fashioned, but definitely anti-portkey wards," he said.
The Wardmaster slapped Trevor's wand out of his hand.
"You let me tell them what wards are here, and focus on finding the Ward Recognition sequence," he said, raising his voice above what Daphne thought necessary. Trevor shrank back into himself and returned to looking through the Wardmaster's papers. Harry gave Daphne a look but she was distracted by what the Wardmaster had said.
"Hold on," she said. "Ward Recognition sequence? Don't you know that by heart?"
The Ward Recognition sequence was a set of basic runes that could be used to decipher simple wards. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to understand and learn, but you had to know it by heart to do well on the Ancient Runes NEWT.
The Wardmaster spluttered. "Well, you see, this is a customization of the regular Ward Recognition sequence. We developed it specially for Ynys Mon. Hurry up Trevor!"
Daphne's eyes narrowed as she took in the Wardmaster's appearance. He was wearing rich, silk robes with an insignia of some Ancient House or the other. Sweat poured down his face as he continued blathering at Trevor to hurry up, and she realized what the Wardmaster was - a rich Pureblood who had used his connections to move his way up the ranks without much merit. She doubted very much that there was any custom version of the Ward Recognition sequence, and she suspected, quite frankly, that the Wardmaster was just stumped.
"Daphne," said Harry in a low voice. He was pointing in the sky, and she looked up just in time to see a shower of red sparks from a firework. One of their Aurors was in trouble. "The anti-portkey ward is up - the only way they can escape is on foot, and with the fires raging."
She ground her teeth. The plan had been to set off the fire, wreck mayhem, and then Portkey out if things got too hot. When the Wardmaster succeeded, the Aurors were supposed to Portkey to where Daphne and Harry now stood, and storm the clearing. With the Portkey ward up, no one would be able to move in or out.
Quickly, she made a decision. "Trevor, can you bring the anti-portkey ward down?"
Trevor was so shocked that he fumbled the parchment he was holding, spilling it on the forest floor. The Wardmaster screeched. "Madam Greengrass, I must insist that you not distract my assistant! We are losing precious time …"
"Answer the question, Trevor," she interrupted, ignoring the Wardmaster.
Trevor wiped his brow. He was wearing Muggle clothes, Daphne noted, so he was either a Halfblood or a Muggleborn. She guessed that he was actually more capable than the Wardmaster, and that he had been held back because of his blood status. Trevor looked nervously between the Wardmaster, who was rapidly turning purple, and Daphne, and came to a decision.
"Yes, Madam Greengrass, I … I think I can," he said.
"Trevor, you insolent …" began the Wardmaster, but Daphne had lost patience with him.
"Stun him, Potter," she ordered. Harry didn't waste a second. There was a flash of red light and the Wardmaster crumpled on the floor. "All right Potter, go and see who you can save. I'll watch over Trevor. Once we bring the anti-portkey ward down, make your way back here and we'll see if we can still get in."
He looked at her in concern and opened his mouth to protest.
"Now, Potter."
He nodded and slunk away into the darkness. As she left, another firework went up in the air, showering down purple sparks in the sky. Eight left out of ten.
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It was hard to see in the darkness that night. As he moved, the trees got thicker and thicker. The Magic of Ynys Mon, panicking as it felt the pain of the forest burning, was only nominally responsive to him. He reached out to it with his own magic, soothing it, attempting to calm it down.
The first Auror he came across was alone. He was shepherding the fire away from where Daphne and Trevor were attempting to break down the wards. With hushed directions and not much explanation, Harry sent him out of the forest to where the bus driver was waiting.
"What about the fire, Sir?" the Auror had asked, to which Harry shrugged in response. In the worst case, he supposed Daphne and Trevor could cross the wards if the fire got too close, and let themselves be imprisoned by Ynys Mon. Daphne was resourceful enough that she would figure something out.
Another firework went up. It was close by, and Harry hurried to the source to find an Auror trapped by the Fiendfyre and screaming for help. He took a deep breath and moved the earth from the forest to create a path for her to escape. She stumbled out, coughing hoarsely. Tears ran down her soot-stained face, streaking her cheeks, and she fell on the floor, panting.
"Thank you," she said to Harry. She could barely walk, so he put her arm over his shoulders and helped her to the edge of the forest. "I don't know how I got trapped - I guess I got overconfident thinking the Portkey would help me escape. I'm so glad you came along, otherwise ..."
She couldn't finish her sentence. As they passed the edge of the forest, Harry felt what must have been the ward line of the anti-portkey wards.
"Your portkey should work now," he said. She thanked him once again and disappeared.
The next two Aurors, he was also able to rescue easily, but when he found the fifth, he ran into some trouble. The man was fine and his Fiendfyre was under control, but as Harry was talking to him, he lunged at Harry, pulling him to the ground. A giant rock whizzed overhead where they had been standing.
Harry cast a blind stunner in the direction the rock had come from and heard a muffled swear followed by a thump. He waited. There was no more sound. Cautiously, he stuck his head up, and another large rock whizzed by him. Growling, he stuck out his wand and cast Incendio.
Bright, orange flames flew out of his wand in the direction of the attackers. He saw them - there were three in all, including the man he had downed. They shrieked in terror - presumably thinking the fire he had just created was Fiendfyre - and fled, leaving their companion.
"What should we do about him?" asked the Auror, staring at the stunned man dubiously. Harry glanced up at the Fiendfyre that was getting out of control as the Auror had shifted his attention.
"I suppose we should get him out," he said. "Can't leave him here to burn to death."
He levitated the man in front of them, and they walked out of the forest. As they reached the edge, another two fireworks went up, one green, one yellow. Harry let out a despairing sigh and trudged in the direction of the fireworks. He was starting to feel exhausted.
He was blocked from going any further by a large wall of fiendfyre. It was raging heavily in that part of the forest. He came across a few figures who were fighting the fire. They saw him and called out to him, but he didn't respond, choosing instead to slink away into the forest. Mentally, he counted down the number of fireworks he had seen. There had been five, of which one he had rescued. Another four had been safe when he directed them away, so there was at least one more Auror who was safe and in the forest. Another four were in some kind of danger. He didn't know what, and he didn't know if they were alive.
He was wondering whether he should go back to Daphne or keep searching for the last Auror when, all of a sudden, the anti-portkey ward fell. He shot up a white firework in the sky - hopefully the last Auror would see it and know to retreat - and pulled out a green stone, portkeying himself to where Daphne and Trevor were working on the wards.
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Daphne was not pleased to see him.
"Really, Potter? Fiendfyre raging all over the forest and you choose to Portkey here?" she asked sarcastically. "What if you had landed smack in the middle of Fiendfyre?"
He hadn't thought of that, tired as he was. Daphne seemed to notice and took pity on him.
"Here." She handed him a vial. He took a chug out of it and instantly felt more alert. Gentle steam issued from his ears as the Pepper-up Potion took effect.
"Good job on the Portkey ward, Trevor," he said. "Can you do anything about the rest of them and get us in?"
Trevor poked and prodded the wards with his wand for a few minutes, mumbling under his breath. "I could disable the Perimeter Ward," he said at last. "And a couple of the other nastier ones, if I had the time. But the fire is getting close, and there are a few that I don't recognize."
The Fiendfyre was indeed getting close. Harry could already feel the heat from it and soot was starting to blow in their faces.
Daphne swore profusely and kicked the Wardmaster's prone body.
"That's more than this idiot could have done," she said bitterly. "We lost, and it's on his head. And mine, I suppose. I should have vetted him more thoroughly. Merlin knows how many Aurors I lost for nothing. I don't suppose you are strong enough to overpower these wards the way you did those on Weasley's prison?"
He opened his mouth to tell her that the clearing was too big, and he didn't think he could, when he remembered something Bill Weasley had told him.
"Shortcut," he said.
"Excuse me?" asked Daphne, confused.
"Shortcut," he said excitedly, turning to face Trevor. "There's a ward, something shortcut. Can you do that ward?"
"Do you mean Set's Shortcut?" asked Trevor warily. "That's not a ward, that's a ward breaking tool, and it's dangerous. There are no shortcuts in ward breaking, Auror Potter ..."
But Harry was not to be dissuaded.
"Bill Weasley said that he thought Set's Shortcut was similar to what Turpin used to get into the Notts'," he told Daphne. "I have a feeling it might work here, Bill said it needed blood and with a blood sacrifice ..."
Daphne's face lit up. "Can you do it?" she asked Trevor.
"Madam Greengrass, I don't recommend ..." He saw her face and sighed. "Yes, yes I can," he said. "But it will take me several minutes, and I'll need a vial of blood from both of you."
"From the three of us." A third voice spoke up from the woods. It was McCullum. Harry let out a mental cheer. "Where's everyone else?"
"Retreated," answered Harry. "Did you send up sparks?"
"I did not," McCullum answered, looking confused.
Trevor cleared his throat. "May I get the blood, please?" he asked. Daphne stepped forward while Harry filled McCullum in, letting Trevor draw a vial of blood from her. He repeated the steps with Harry and McCullum. "The fire is getting close," he said nervously, pulling a cauldron out of his bag. "I'll need about ten minutes."
Harry and McCullum stepped back to fight the fire. It was good that they did, for it was rapidly heading in their direction. They fought it as best they could, but the fire was incredibly strong and it forced them to retreat over and over again, until they were within a dozen or so feet of where Trevor was muttering something over a tiny cauldron.
"Any time now, Trevor," Harry called, shooting a jet of water from his wand to keep some of the more aggressive flames away. Sweat poured down his face and back in rivulets. It was getting hard to breathe.
"I'm done," said Trevor triumphantly. He took out a silver knife and dipped it into his potion. Then, stepping towards the wards, he sliced at them, once, twice, and then thrice again. "Quickly."
They dashed in, McCullum first, followed by Daphne and then Harry. Behind them the fire closed in with a roar, and they could only hope that Trevor had managed to portkey out.
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Set's Shortcut must have succeeded, because they made it through successfully and unnoticed, to the Village of Ynys Mon. They could no longer feel the heat, except through the three slices that Trevor had made in the wards, and it was no longer overwhelming. Harry breathed the cool, evening, sootless air deeply, coughing as quietly as he could to empty his lungs of the ash he had breathed in. Besides him, Daphne dabbed her face clean with a handkerchief and McCullum did the same with the sleeve of his robes.
"What now?" asked McCullum, when they had managed to catch their breath. The original plan had been to storm the Village with all thirteen Aurors along with a fresh, well-armed contingent that had been waiting at the Department. Now, they were just three Aurors and their only way out was to walk into that inferno of Fiendfyre.
"Maybe we should have portkeyed out, when we had a chance" said Harry.
With the adrenaline fading, he was starting to feel tired and his throat was parched. He stuck his arm into his pocket - it had an extension charm on it - and pulled out a bottle of water. He drank deeply and splashed some water on his face before passing it to Daphne and McCullum.
"No," said Daphne suddenly. Harry looked at her in askance. "No. If we portkeyed out, they would've beefed up their defenses and we wouldn't have had this chance again. And Merlin knows how many innocents they would have killed. We have a golden opportunity right now - they don't know we're inside. As far as they're concerned, we tried to beat their wards, lost, and beat a hasty retreat. We can still finish this war today."
"How?" asked McCullum, but Harry couldn't help but look at Daphne in admiration. He knew she was as tired and exhausted as she was, but she wasn't letting any of it show. Determination lined her face and there was a spark in her eyes that showed utter conviction in her words. She was blossoming into a true leader, he marvelled.
Daphne gave McCullum a small smile. "I have with me one of the oldest serving Aurors in the Ministry and one of the strongest Wizards in Magical Britain. I'm sure we can figure something out. What do we have to work with?"
They emptied out their pockets. Between them, they had their wands, Harry's Invisibility Cloak, a silver knife, two vials of Fiendfyre, and three vials of an exploding potion that Harry thought was essentially a portable Confringo, and a dozen or so fireworks.
"That's not a lot to work with," observed McCullum.
"We'll make it work," said Daphne grimly, and quickly, they devised a plan.
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Daniel Bedlam woke with a start. He was still lying on the couch where his wife had left him. Every muscle in his body ached. The ritual he had used to protect the house was incredibly tiring, and the Villagers were warned not to use it often. He checked his watch. It was 9:15PM and dark outside. Stretching, he wandered over to the kitchen where Sandra was cleaning up for the night.
"Feeling better?" she asked, giving him a peck on the cheek and offering him a cup of tea which he accepted gratefully.
"A little," he answered. "Do we have news from the Council?"
She nodded, gesturing towards a set of papers. Daniel picked them up and started reading them. He let out a low whistle.
"So they burned down the forest, did they?" he said. "I think we need to leave Ynys Mon, Sandra, we can't raise a child in a warzone."
"But they didn't manage to break through the wards," she countered. "We're still safe here."
It was an old habit of Sandra's, that whenever he advocated a course of action, she advocated the opposite. It had frustrated him early in their marriage, but over the years he had come to understand that it was her way of playing devil's advocate. For all he knew, she agreed with him - she just wanted to sound out the available options.
"We're safe for now," he said. "The forest provided a lot of protection and its gone. We still don't know enough about this Celtic Magic or the wards that protect the Village. For all we know, they may fade without the forest there."
"Or they may not," she answered.
"Justin is too aggressive," he said. "This is his fault - he should have listened to Hermione and backed down when he had a chance. Although of course, now he's blaming her. He's always blaming her. The Ministry has resources far greater than ours. The Council told us they would never be able to attack Ynys Mon, and yet this was an attack. Look here." He flipped over another paper. "One of the folks saw the attackers. There were at least two of them he saw alive. And another fellow came across a burnt carcass that they don't think is one of ours."
"They could be terrorists, and not from the Ministry," she argued.
"Or they could be from the Ministry," he shot back. "Or even if they are terrorists, they could attack again, and this time manage to get through the wards. Do you want Emily to be home when they come?"
She conceded that she did not.
"Britain is large," continued Daniel, "and Ynys Mon is small. We can lose ourselves in Britain, but we can't lose ourselves on Ynys Mon. Maybe we can go back to the Muggle world, now that we have our GCSE's."
"We won't have a home," said Sandra. "It's not like we can sell this cottage ... the Council gave it to us for free."
"We could go see if your sister will keep us while we get on our feet," he suggested, but Sandra didn't look too pleased at the idea. Her sister was a Muggle and had never gotten over her jealousy of Sandra for having magic. For Sandra, going to her sister and begging for help would be like admitting defeat. Daniel sighed. "Or I could take a Ministry job. One of the low level ones Draco Malfoy opened up to entice people to come back ... maybe my contact can help."
"That job won't last forever," said Sandra. "If the Ministry wins, they'll be back to their old ways."
"It doesn't need to last forever," said Daniel grimly. "It just needs to last long enough for us to get a house and jobs in the Muggle world."
Sandra sighed and looked out the kitchen window. They had a small backyard in which Daniel had installed a small swing for Emily. It was swaying loosely in the breeze outside.
"Very well then," she said at last, with a troubled look on her face. "We'll go back to mainland Britain."
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Daphne knew the Village square was somewhere in the center of the Village, but she didn't know exactly where. When she had followed Turpin to meet the Council, Turpin had taken the backroads and alleyways, in order to avoid having Daphne be recognized. Now, she hoped she could remember the way there.
She was under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Harry was following her, and she felt the gentle tingle of his magic as it stayed connected to hers - a rudimentary tracking charm that worked on raw magic and would fail if she got too far. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him skulking behind her, walking quickly and carefully, staying in the shadows. They had decided that she should be under the Invisibility Cloak, since he was the only one who could use any kind of magic on Ynys Mon. Her fingers brushed over the vials of Exploding Potion and Fiendfyre in her pocket.
Their plan was amazingly brash. Daphne felt certain she was part Gryffindor, for her to have agreed to this. McCullum had split off from them, intent on finding some Muggleborns he knew and enlisting their help.
"How do you intend to convince them?" Daphne had asked him before he left. He had given her a gruff smile and a wink, and told her it was better for her to not know. A few months ago, she might have been offended by his lack of answer, but she knew now that he was watching out for her - making sure she had plausible deniability just in case. She sighed. Her role as Department Head had made her more and more of a politician.
They reached the edge of the village. The streets and narrow alleys were deserted - some kind of alarm must have sounded, sending people to their houses. She wondered how the Council communicated with the villagers - she knew they didn't have Owl Post here. She stayed in the center of the street, avoiding getting close to the houses, in case she set off any alarms. Behind her, Harry did the opposite, staying close to shadows and walls. She let him - she knew he was better at sensing the ambient magic than she was. The Mediaeval-style narrow streets were their allies here, with little to no moonlight lighting them. Every once in a while, Harry ducked under a window to avoid casting a shadow on the street.
The alleyways seemed familiar at first, but very quickly she lost track of where she was. The walls closed in on her and she sped up. Behind her, Harry's footsteps became faster. The streets became narrower and narrower, and for one wild moment, someone flung the door open and looked outside suspiciously. She froze, and behind her Harry melted into the shadows. The man sniffed the air outside and surveyed the street. It was lit eerily in the light coming from his house. The light was so bright that Daphne could see only his silhouette. At last, long last, the man turned around and closed the door behind him. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and began to walk again.
She hadn't taken more than a few steps when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around with her potion vial in hand ... only to see that it was Harry. He had his finger to his lips. He took a few steps ahead of her and turned around, beckoning for her to follow him. She raised her eyebrow, not that he could see her, and began to follow him. Could he know where he was going?
He led them through several small streets and alleyways, until at last they emerged in what passed for a major thoroughfare in Ynys Mon. Daphne had certainly never seen this road before, but Harry was walking with a purposeful stride, so she followed him without hesitation. He was staying close to the walls still. This street was lit, unlike the smaller alleyways, so he made an extra effort to stay in the sharp shadows generated by the streetlamps.
The road they were on opened up into the Village Square. The altar - Daphne remembered it well - shone in the night with an unethereal beauty, and she couldn't help but stare at it. She was filled with an immense longing, wanting dearly to touch it. All else seemed to fade. She took a few tentative steps towards it and almost took off her Invisibility Cloak, when suddenly, Harry stepped between it and her and the pull faded. He groped in the air blindly until he grabbed her arm and she touched his foreram to indicate that she was okay and in control. She didn't look at the altar again.
"Go hide," he whispered, and she hurried to the edge of the square, peering from behind a tree that grew outside a shop that had been boarded up.
Harry stood near the center of the square, not far from the altar, and faced the Inn where the Council was held. He pulled out his silver knife and cut his palm open again. He held his hand out to let the blood drop on the floor, when suddenly it was jerked away. Daphne saw him start as it attached itself to the altar, and his eyes closed. The altar glowed brightly, lighting up the entire square. Daphne ducked, waiting for someone to notice the light and come out, but no one did.
He drew his hand away and the light faded. When he opened his eyes, even from the distance, Daphne could see them glowing an eerie, incandescent green. The night was still and not a leaf moved in the tree she was hiding behind, but Harry's hair moved as if a steady breeze was blowing. The very air around him seemed to crackle with energy.
He raised his wand in the air and pointed it upwards, never taking his eyes off the Inn, and BOOM! The loud blast almost deafened Daphne, and the windows in the shop behind her rattled precariously. Cries of alarm came from the various shops and houses around them, and the door of the Inn flung open. The Village Square lit up and a company of three wizards marched outside. One of them stood a step ahead of the other two. It was clear that he was their leader.
"Potter," he hissed. Harry was wearing no disguise and clearly recognizable in the bright light. "How did you get in the village? Did Granger let you in? We saw that she fled, the traitorous ..."
He wasn't able to finish his sentence. Harry raised his wand and the man was picked up into the air. He screamed, shouting obscenities, kicking helplessly in the air. His companions took a step back, fear evident on their faces. Harry flicked his wand and the man flew backwards into the inn. A dull thud emanated from within, and Daphne had the feeling that the man would have trouble getting up again.
Harry addressed the other two men. "Go get your Council out here, right now," he said, "if they don't want their precious village burning to the ground."
The men fled inside as if Dementors were after them. Daphne was impressed by Harry's performance. He would have made a good Dark Lord, she thought.
The Council came out - or what remained of it. Daphne recognized a few faces - Mrs Klein, Count Conner's housekeeper was there, and so were another two men whom she remembered by face but not by name. Finch-Fletchley was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he?" asked Harry, his voice laced with threat.
"Relax, Potter."
The voice came from Harry's side and Harry whirled to meet it. It was Finch-Fletchley.
"I'm surprised you made it in," he continued. His voice sounded pleasant, but he was no Slytherin. Hatred and derision lined his face. "But then the rules never applied to you, did they Potter? Pity you weren't one of us. You could have been, you know, but I saw through you. You're one of them, you always have been. You betrayed us."
How Harry betrayed them when he was never even part of them, Daphne didn't know. Justin walked into the light of the square slowly, deliberately. He was putting on a show, she realized, for his followers. Besides the council members, a few others had began to line the square. Faces peered through the windows and shops that surrounded the square, and a small crowd was beginning to gather.
"How dare you," continued Finch-Fletchley. His voice carried through the square, echoing slightly. "How dare you betray our hospitality? How dare you show your face here again? How ..."
"Enough ..." thundered Harry, his eyes flashing. Finch-Fletchley shut up. He seemed to realize only then that Harry was wielding magic from the Island, and he took a step back in shock.
"Granger," hissed Finch-Fletchley. "That stupid bint, she ..."
And then he could speak no more. He rose several feet in the air and clutched at his throat, pulling desperately at an imaginary something that wasn't there. Harry was choking him, Daphne realized. He held him for a few seconds before dropping him. Finch-Fletchley fell to the floor, panting.
"It's over," hissed Harry. Finch-Fletchley stood up, massaging his neck. Harry pointed his wand at him, again. "It was over when you threatened to blow up the Hogwarts Express." The crowd tittered. "You threatened children, Justin. You are under arrest, in the name of the Ministry of Magic, acting under the command of Her Highness, Queen Elizabeth of Britain."
Justin let out a peal of laughter.
"You're going to arrest me, eh?" he said, not bothering to hide the amusement on his face. "You and what army, Potter?" He gestured at the three dozen or so individuals who had gathered around the square. "This is my army."
Not everyone in the crowd seemed to be keen to be part of Justin's army, Daphne observed. Several took a step back, but others still took a few steps forward. There were enough that she thought Harry might be overpowered, even with the magic he had imbibed from the Island.
Harry let out a smirk. "I don't need an army," he said. "All I need is a few wizards and Fiendfyre."
Soft gasps emanated from the crowd.
"Oh yes," he said softly. "It's not so fun when the other side can use magic too, is it? Your protections are useless, our Aurors can come back on the Island. This is your last chance, come quietly, or this Village will burn."
He pointed his wand upwards, and a firework shot out of it. It was a bright, golden colour, the colour of the altar Harry was standing next to. It shot up in the air and exploded in a shower of golden sparks.
Daphne held her breath. She hoped McCullum had had enough time, that he would come through. Finch-Fletchley looked unimpressed.
"Is that all?" he asked. "I expected Granger to have taught you more than that."
And then they came. Answering fireworks, one after the other. Some blue, some green, some red. There were more than a dozen, all going up in the air near simultaneously, lighting the sky on fire. Finch-Fletchley's face contorted.
"Your island is taken, Justin," said Harry coolly. "It's over."
Here was the bluff. Would he call the bluff, Daphne wondered. Her heart thudded in her chest as she gripped the vial of Fiendfyre she had, just in case.
"Call your dogs off, Potter," said Finch-Fletchley. He stepped into the middle of the square, facing Harry. "Call them off, if you value your life."
He raised his hand, but Harry pointed his wand upwards.
"Don't you dare," said Harry. "All I need to do is fire a silver firework, and this village will be ablaze within ten seconds."
They stared at each other. Justin's hand was outstretched, palm facing Harry, and Harry's wand was pointed at the sky. Tense seconds passed. To Daphne, it felt like an eternity.
"Very well then," said Justin, lowering his hand. "I'll make you a deal that you'll like. Let's finish this, mano a mano, wizard to wizard. We'll duel - if you beat me, Ynys Mon will surrender."
"Fine," said Harry.
"But," continued Finch-Fletchley, "if I win, you'll call of your dogs. You'll submit to my judgement, and," he smiled viciously, "you'll ensure Granger submits to my judgement as well."
Harry's wand shook. Daphne's breath hitched. This wasn't an outcome they had anticipated. They had hoped Finch-Fletchley would be pressured by the rest of the Council into surrendering. Would Harry be able to beat him? On Britain, she had no doubts that Harry was much stronger than Finch-Fletchley. Here on Ynys Mon though, Finch-Fletchley might actually have the advantage. Why else would he suggest the duel?
"Well Potter?" he asked. "I'm waiting."
Harry lowered his wand.
"All right then," he said, his voice echoing through the square. "Let's duel."
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AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys! It's really good to see that people are reading this still. The duel to decide the fate of Ynys Mon is up next! Who are you rooting for?