Ch. 27 Blitzkrieg
'So let me get this straight,' Kingsley said yet again. 'First, he sent you all over England on a wild goose chase. Then, when you finally got to where he was, he stuck you to a chair and tried to order you around?'
'More or less,' Harry replied.
'Well, which is it? More or less?' Bashir said sternly.
'More, I suppose. He was very arrogant, which I can usually deal with, until he started talking to me like I was some ignorant school boy.'
'Harry, sometimes you just need to…'
'He basically told me that I wouldn't be allowed to leave until he deemed it necessary. When I asked him nicely to let me up, he told me I had no right to make demands.'
'Well, fair enough, but still… Sometimes you just have to deal with arrogance.'
'Understood.'
'So, was his information legitimate?'
Harry took a deep breath and considered the implications before telling them everything that was said, including what Harry suspected about the Elder Wand.
'So this wand, the Elder Wand, was the wand that Dumbledore used for decades?'
'Yes. It has been passed through history because it has been coveted by nearly every dark wizard who has ever gained any power.'
'How did Carrow find out about it if no one else knew about it for so long?'
Harry thought for a moment. How could he tell Kingsley the truth without revealing what he knew about the Resurrection Stone? He supposed he could just say he didn't know, but Kingsley would know he wasn't telling the truth. In the end, Harry decided he would have to trust Kingsley. But only Kingsley.
'Can we talk in private, Kingsley?'
Bashir and Kingsley looked at each other for a moment, having an obvious silent conversation. Proudfoot and Bashir then left the office, looking none too comfortable to do so. When they did, Harry called his wand and cast every privacy and silencing charm he could think of.
'My word, Harry. This must be something big.'
'Huge, actually.'
'Well, let's have it then.'
Harry sat back in his chair and breathed evenly for a moment, trying to collect all his scattered thoughts. 'Ok, as far as I know, only three people alive know this full story. Dumbledore knew, of course, but even his portrait in McGonagall's office was adamant about protecting this secret.'
'Ok, well… What is it?'
'I need your word, Kingsley. I'm sorry. I know that I'm basically telling my boss that I'm not sure if he should be told a piece of highly important information. I contemplated asking you for the Unbreakable Vow, to be honest.'
'If you did, I'd probably take it. I'm not sure what this is about, but if it was between you and Albus, I trust you both more than anyone.'
Kingsley's voice couldn't help but calm and reassure him. Harry thought that it was undoubtedly what made him such a good interrogator. Harry thanked him and continued.
'Myself, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron are the only ones who I know for sure are aware of this information, and I need your word as Minister, Auror, member of the Order, and my friend that you will never share this information.'
'You have it,' he replied at once. 'I trusted Albus before he died when he told me that you were our only, best hope, and I was certainly not disappointed.'
Harry smiled, embarrassed once more at how sure Dumbledore had been about him.
'You already know that the Elder Wand is real. And when you asked if the Tale of the Three Brothers was true, Dumbledore told you that he believed it was based on truth rather than being a true story. Well, that in itself is only partially true.'
'Ok…' Kingsley said slowly.
'Here is what I've learned. The tale is true to the point that three powerfully magical items were created centuries ago, and were once owned by the three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Ignotus, and Cadmus. Whether they met Death on a lonely road or not is up to you to believe. In any case, the stone and the cloak exist as well.'
'You're sure about this?' Kingsley said quietly. Apparently he was still trying to take it all in. Finding out that a child's fairy tale that he'd heard all his life was literally true was probably not a simple thing to process.
'Well where are they? Those things can't be out in the public, they'd be too dangerous. Imagine if someone could call back the dead and never be seen doing it. It would be chaos. We have to find them before…'
'Kingsley!' Harry said, stopping the Minister, who seemed to be on the verge of declaring a state of emergency. 'Just wait a minute, please. These items aren't out in the public.'
'They're… They're not? Then where are they? Do you… You have them, don't you?' Harry just nodded gravely, scratching the back of his head.
'Where are they?'
'I have the cloak with me at all times. I've had it for years. It was passed to me the same way it's been passed for hundreds of years, from father to son or mother to daughter.'
'Your Dad's cloak? Of course, that's why your cloak still works so well after so long. Well, what about the stone? Where did you find that?'
'Voldemort had it, actually. It was passed through down his family as well. Whether it's always been a stone or not I don't know, but it's been set into a ring now.'
'And does it really… Does it really-'
'Yes, but not in the way you think. The people you call back are only visible to the one holding the stone.'
'Oh, ok. That actually makes me feel a little better. So, how do you know that Carrow is after the Elder Wand?'
Harry recounted his foray into the forest that night, explaining that he had used the ring and dropped it in the forest, and that he and Dumbledore had assumed nobody would ever find it. Next, he told him about recovering the ring and the eerie conversation with the recalled Tom Riddle on his roof.
'Ok, well… I would have to agree with you that Carrow is after the wand, but it's inconceivable that he'll be able to get it. Hogwarts has finished repairs and the security is better than it has ever been.'
'Ok,' Harry said, nodding. 'Well, in any case, you know now and we at least have a place to start searching for Carrow or Greyback.'
'That's true. Let's bring Bashir back in here and tell him we know what Carrow's after and we will draw up a task force to catch them. It's odd we have to form another task force so close to the end of the war,' Kingsley finished errantly.
Bashir came back in and took the story that Kingsley gave him, telling him that a lot of information would have to be strictly need-to-know. Bashir looked slightly perturbed, but didn't say anything. Instead, he jumped headlong into drawing up plans for the task force. Whatever curiosity he felt had quickly abated, and he was just as eager as Harry to get the man that had killed Savage.
Several hours later, Harry was on his way to his flat to get ready for Quidditch practice. He hadn't been back there in days. He did not have a good practice, and the other players commented that he was noticeably distracted.
'Harry!' Provisi called. 'Get your head screwed on straight. We have a match in a few days against actual opponents.'
Harry was able to focus enough to salvage the practice and keep from angering the others, but that was about it. He caught the snitch every time it was released, but he had several more bruises than usual due to his wandering mind. At the end of the practice, Cal held him back in the locker room.
'Alright Harry, spill it. What's going on? That was the worst you've ever flown.'
'It's nothing,' Harry assured him. 'Just some stuff going on at the Ministry that's on my mind.'
'Well, you'll have to do your best to just forget about it.'
'I'm trying, but for years whenever something big was going on, I was either a part of it or the cause of it. I guess being on the sidelines feels unnatural to me.'
Cal nodded and tossed him a cold bottle of butterbeer. 'Well, think about this then. On Saturday you are going out in public as a professional Quidditch Seeker, and every reporter in England will be itching to get a quote from you. And they will hound you for days afterwards asking you if you're going to pursue a career in Quidditch.'
'Thanks, Cal.'
However, this fact most certainly did distract Harry. So much, in fact, that he had to have another similar, conversation with Bashir on Friday afternoon, the day before the match. After explaining the issue, Bashir confronted him about choosing his path and setting his priorities.
'Harry, I know you like Quidditch but there is no way you'll be able to do that and be a career Auror. You'll have to choose at some point.'
'Oh, I'll choose to be an Auror. No contest. Quidditch is too stressful.'
'So it would seem,' Bashir said evenly.
Harry managed to finish work on Friday with minimal issues. This was made easier by the fact the he was supposed to doing case studies of old, unsolved cases to see where the investigators had gone wrong. Normally, Harry thought, it would have been counterproductive to actively second-guess trained and experienced Aurors in such an open manner. But as it turned out, old was a gross understatement when it came to these cases. Some were over 200 years old.
'This guy was useless!' Harry said, as he finished examining a case along with a second year trainee named Patrick Ployhar. 'He didn't properly follow leads, he questioned the suspects long before they should have even been made aware they were suspects, his interrogations were sloppy, according to the transcripts, and these confidential tip letters were never even opened.'
'How was this man ever an Auror?' Ployhar asked.
'Look at the date,' Bashir said, smiling and eating his peach, which Harry had noticed Bashir had started doing every day around 4:30. Harry obliged and saw immediately why it had been allowed. The investigation had taken place in 1814.
'The war with Napoleon,' Ployhar said. 'Was it really that bad?'
'Apparently,' Bashir replied. 'Throughout history, when England has become involved in any kind of war, the quality of people in these types of positions, and several others, decline rapidly.'
'How bad was it during the Second World War?' Harry asked, remembering that it was particularly bad for Muggle London and for Muggles everywhere else too.
'Awful!' Bashir said significantly. 'So bad in fact, that wizards were involved from nearly every country. There was a witch from the USA that was honored by the Muggle and Wizarding governments for her actions in covert ops in Berlin. Thousands of wizards joined the fight when Berlin started bombing London. Most of the city was destroyed, so it was either join the fight or be killed.'
'There are virtually no records that survived from that time. This building was actually decimated by bombs. Luckily, Minister Albert Winnemaker had the wherewithal to get nearly everything of value safely relocated, or we would have lost a thousand years of history.'
'That's right around the time Grindelwald was active,' Harry added.
'You're right. Part of the reason that was possible in Europe was because everyone was so focused on the war. And by January of '41, London was already being bombed and we had almost zero manpower to stop him. If Dumbledore hadn't been here, it's likely Grindelwald would have never been stopped.'
They all sat in silence for a moment, contemplating just how fragile the wizarding world was. Living in secrecy for hundreds of years had its advantages, but not without some serious shortcomings.
'Well guys, I think I'll call it a day. Good work today. I know this isn't the most exciting training, but knowing how and why we do things the way we do is just as important as actually doing them.'
With that, Harry left and headed to his flat to change and eat a quick dinner. Practice that night was very light and mostly verbal. They slowly ran through everything in their playbook and reviewed their defensive strategies for the next day's match. The Bigonville Bombers were not known for their Quidditch prowess, but the rumor mill was saying that their newest chaser and beater were making short work of some of the European teams.
Cal had them run through everything mentally before subjecting them to a pep talk that would have even made Wood look short-winded. Dinner that night was a quiet affair on Harry's part, which worked out because Ron was talkative enough for the both of them. Ginny kept a close eye on him, but Harry was starting to let his nerves get the best of him.
'Are you sure you're ok?' Ginny asked him after a long stretch of silence.
'I'm positive. Just thinking about tomorrow,' he said.
'Harry, c'mon. I know you. I can tell when your mind is occupied.'
Harry looked at her and couldn't help but smile a little. It was so wonderful to be getting to the point in their relationship that she knew him so well. It made him feel peaceful and at home. For so much of his life he had felt that no one really knew anything about him at all, nor did anyone want to. Now all that had changed. Nearly the entire wizarding world wanted to know him, but only a few really did.
'Yeah, I guess you're right,' Harry said.
'You guess?'
'I'm just worried.'
Ginny gave him a confused look. 'Worried? What do you have to worry about? You're ruddy brilliant and Bigonville has been awful for years.'
'It's not just that,' Harry said. 'Cal said something Tuesday that I hadn't thought about and now I'm worried about playing tomorrow.'
'What did he say?'
'He talked about the fact that since the press don't know who's playing for Puddlemere this weekend, they are going to go absolutely insane when they find out it's me.'
'Well of course they are!' Ginny said, like this information shouldn't be bothering anyone. 'We already knew that, or at least I did.'
'But what about your family? They don't want reporters crawling all over the Burrow, do they? Won't this be an incredible…'
'Harry?' she interrupted. 'Do you think that after more than seven years, we don't know very well what being associated with you means for us?'
'Well yes, but…'
'You worry too much, Harry. The press will go crazy for a while and then they will move on like they always do. Don't sweat it.'
Harry nodded, grasped both her hands in his and kissed them. Ginny smiled and snuggled into his chest, getting comfortable in her spot under his neck.
The next morning Harry woke three hours earlier than he had intended. He was never quite able to go fully back to sleep, but eventually some sleep did find him. At 8 a.m., he woke again, but this time because an owl was tapping on the window of his bedroom. He got up and let him in. The large tawny owl immediately dropped a letter in his lap and launched himself back out the window.
Harry,
Press camped out early today. If you arrive at exactly 10:30, I'll meet you there and we will try to sneak you in somehow. Don't worry about the reporters. This was inevitable.
Oliver
Harry wasn't sure he liked the "inevitable" part, but he knew just how to get in anyway. So he set his invisibility cloak on top of his Quidditch gear so he wouldn't forget it when he left for Bristol. Unable to sleep any longer, he got out of bed and made himself breakfast. Several minutes and two dropped eggs later, he was sitting in an armchair, staring out his window at muggle London while eating his scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.
At 9 o'clock, he changed clothes and went up to the roof that had become his haven from the occasionally lonely flat. Since he had been staying at the Burrow occasionally, the flat had become a much more solitary place than Harry was able to stand. He'd never lived alone, so the prospect had seemed appealing. The advantages for him were still present, but the silence of the empty rooms would press down upon him sometimes, making him retreat to the roof where he was able to relax and clear his mind.
On the roof, the sounds of the city reverberated all around him, which Harry found oddly comforting. Over the years, experience had told him that silence was what preceded danger. Harry stayed there long enough to see a family of four go into the nearby market and come out laden with grocery bags.
He descended the stairs and checked the clock on his way in, only to discover that it was already a quarter after 10. So Harry grabbed his gear and headed for the apparition point in Bristol. Moments later, he arrived in a small deserted alleyway, per instructions, between two busy streets. He walked to the end of the alley and peered around the corner.
No one seemed to be near, but Harry didn't take the chance. He retrieved his invisibility from his bag and draped it over himself. When Harry walked around a corner, the stadium they would be playing at came into view, as well as the dozen or so reporters camped by the front gate where he was supposed to enter.
Harry didn't think that even Crookshanks could have squeezed through the reporters. Harry continued down the street, but soon was soon held up by the gathering of the "Privacy Invader's Support Group". After a few minutes of trying to form a plan, he was saved by Oliver, who had arrived with Fox and several of the security staff that Harry recognized. Oliver stopped 50 feet away and started talking to Fox.
Harry crossed the parking lot to him. He was trying to come up with a viable cover story. It was lucky that Harry had brought his invisibility cloak, because neither of the stories he heard them working on sounded even close to usable.
'Do you think they'd buy that he is a VIP watching the match today?'
'No,' Harry said. 'They'll never eat that story.'
Oliver and Fox both nearly jumped out of their skins. 'Harry?'
'Yeah?'
'Where… what… Are you invisible?'
'Yes, I am actually.'
'Well that simplifies things,' Fox said. 'I'll just clear the reporters out and we can just walk right in.'
Fox set off at a confident pace towards the gate. Oliver, Harry, and the other security personnel followed and a few moments later, after Oliver was bombarded with questions about the mystery seeker, they were inside the stadium. They started making their way to the locker room while the security guards began setting up their stations.
Harry stayed in the hallway outside the locker room until the corridor was clear, and he pulled his invisibility cloak off. When he walked inside the room, Wood was standing in front of a locker with his name above it, talking about a match he'd played in.
'Oliver?'
He turned quickly to see Harry and said, 'Oh there you are.'
'What were you talking about?'
'A match from last year. Weren't you listening?'
Harry shook his head. 'I was out in the hall, actually.'
'What… In the hall? I've been talking to you for a couple minutes or so. I thought you were in here.'
Harry shook his head again, this time smiling.
'Don't do that anymore.'
Harry laughed and found his own locker. Inside it was a small box with a sandwich, bag of potato chips, and a nutrient bar. Harry arranged everything into his locker to extreme detail for the sole purpose of wasting time. When the clock rung 11, the other players started to arrive and arrange their belongings as well.
Harry felt nervousness slowly settle over him, so he started to eat his provided lunch to give his shaking hands something to do. Afterwards, he got up and paced around the room, focusing on anything that caught his attention. He ventured into the nearby laundry room and looked at some pictures that were pinned on a notice board. Some of them were of Quidditch players flying through the air, others were of seekers holding a snitch or of beaters bashing a bludger.
'Trying to focus on something else?' Cal had come to stand beside him.
'Just keeping my nerves in check,' Harry replied.
'Did I ever tell you what happened at my first professional match?' Harry shook his head.
'I was picked up by Kenmare as a back-up. One of their chasers was hurt so I was put in to play. We were playing Ireland, and this was before they picked up Lynch, so they weren't has good as they are now but they were still more than a match for us.'
'We lined up and kicked off. I got the quaffle right off the whistle and froze in midair without any idea of what to do. My captain, Dorian, yelled at me to do something. Seconds later, I got hit by a bludger and was knocked off my broom.'
Harry found that the more Cal told of his story, the worse he felt. He hoped that this anecdote had a happier ending than it did a beginning.
'I feel much better,' Harry said, sarcastically. 'Then what happened?'
'After that, Dorian flew to the ground and told me to pull my head out of my arse and get back in the air.'
Harry snorted with laughter and turned to look at him. 'How did the match go?'
Cal smiled and turned back to the pictures. 'Between me and Dorian, we scored twenty goals and nearly beat Ireland as a 2 to 1 underdog.'
Harry nodded appreciatively, glad that Cal's story ended well. Harry examined a few more of the pictures, but soon he needed to start getting dressed. About now, people would be starting to pour into the stadium. Harry went ahead and put on his gear, including the extra protection he'd taken to wearing. Pretty soon he found himself standing in the middle of the locker room, wearing his royal blue robes with crossed gold brushes across the chest.
'All right, guys,' Cal started. 'I know this hasn't been the most ideal couple of weeks, but I must say that we have taken the hand we were dealt and made it work for us. Harry has come a long way since his first practice and I believe that we should stomp Bigonville just like the last time we played them.'
They all nodded gravely. Harry felt the thrill of competition start to make him very excited. That, coupled with his nerves, made Harry miss the last part of Cal's speech. Before he knew it, he was standing in a tunnel, hovering on his broom, and listening to the announcer call out the names of the Bigonville Bombers. Then, slowly, he heard the names of his teammates and they too, one by one, flew out onto the pitch. When the last one left, leaving Harry alone in the tunnel, he thought his head might explode from nerves.
'Now, ladies and gentlemen, for the player that Quidditch Today has called the best kept secret since the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the man standing in for Alex 'Link' Linkston as Seeker for your Puddlemere United; I give you… the one and only…'
Harry heard a collective intake from the crowd, all waiting to see who it would be and why it was so well hidden. As the silence stretched, Harry had another flashback to the Quidditch World Cup and he felt all the tension, the apprehension, the nerves, the trepidation; all of it just disappeared. Suddenly he was ready to play. In fact, he couldn't wait to hear his name so he could show the world that he was more than just an unfortunate orphan.
'THE SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! HARRY POTTER!'
Harry rocketed out of the tunnel to virtual silence. The crowd was completely stunned, but Harry tore down the pitch to join his teammates like nothing was amiss. About halfway down, like a jet engine opening up the throttle, the crowd began exploding with cheers.
The referee instructed the captains to shake hands. They did so amicably, and both teams set themselves for the whistle. Harry found that he soon fell into a pattern he had formed at Hogwarts and had refined over the last two weeks. Soon the crowd seemed to fade away, and the announcer's voice grew softer and softer. As the whistle blew and he kicked off the ground as hard and as fast as he could, the only things present to him were the wind whistling in his ears and his heart beating at phenomenal speed.
Harry immediately began circling the pitch searching for the flash of gold, all the while trying to make sure he wasn't brained by a bludger. The beaters on both sides were staying near the seekers, trying in turn to protect and unseat each other's seeker.
Bigonville's seeker, Kjell Mertens, took to following Harry rather than looking for the snitch himself. This was a curse as Harry would not be able to chase it without Mertens knowing, but an advantage if Harry could shake him during a dive.
Harry very slightly picked up on his broom. He continued to circle the pitch, rising higher and higher. Harry watched Cal score his third goal, when Harry dove straight for the goal posts at the Bigonville end of the pitch. As expected, Mertens followed him as Harry headed for ground at top speed. Harry leveled ever so slightly with an idea that was either insane or genius.
He looked over his shoulder to see Mertens right behind him. When he reached the goal posts, rather than pulling up out of the dive, he secured the broom with both legs and wrapped both hands around a goal post and used it to slingshot himself in the opposite direction. Mertens, who'd been completely taken off guard, tried to swerve, clipped another goal post and was knocked off his broom.
Harry wasted no time for celebration and looked for the snitch instead. No gold stood out to him anywhere as he circled. Eventually the match resumed as Mertens mounted his broom and took off back into the air. He continued to follow Harry, but from a much larger distance and he was clearly trying to search on his own as well. The result was that his eyes weren't as focused on what was in front of him.
Harry was surprised at how comfortable he felt in this atmosphere. He knew that he would be, more or less, attacked by reporters when he tried to leave, but at the moment he didn't care. He really enjoyed Quidditch and while on a broom, his tension and nerves just seemed to melt away.
A flash of gold caught Harry's eye near the opposite end of the pitch. He turned to look at it, but a person in the nearby crowd made Harry hesitate. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a wizard in all black with a mask on. In that moment, he was sure a Death Eater was in the crowd. But when he turned back, all he saw was a large and confused crowd staring back at him.
Remembering that the snitch had been nearby, he whipped his head back around. In his moment of hesitation, the snitch had disappeared. Mertens was looking around eagerly as well. He too had apparently lost it. Harry took off into the air and rounded the pitch, trying to relocate it. Harry unconsciously continued to look at the crowd, trying to see if what he thought he saw earlier was still there.
A sudden silence in the crowd made Harry's hair stand on end. Harry turned on his broom and saw Mertens shooting for the ground, where a small glint of gold shimmered. Harry's heart jolted and he lay flat on the broom. Harry felt gravity pull him backwards as he accelerated faster than he ever had before.
'C'mon! Go! Go! GO!' The broom seemed to respond to him because he kept accelerating to the point the crowd was blurring around him. He had nearly caught up with Mertens when they were still 50 feet from the snitch. But, sensing their approach, the snitch shot upwards into the air and making Harry and Mertens change course and shoot after it.
Harry had soon caught up with and passed Mertens, who had been easily outstripped on his new Nimbus 2001. Harry felt elation come over him as he got closer and closer to the snitch. As he reached his hand out, a violent hit to his ribs told him that a bludger had found him and he was fairly sure that several of his ribs had just been snapped.
Harry's eyes watered and his right arm folded with the pain. Harry refocused and shot his much less reliable left arm out. The broom started to swerve without a hand to guide it, and Harry swiped his arm through the air one final time. He felt his hand close around the tiny, struggling, golden ball just as Mertens caught up with him. For a few seconds, Mertens tried shoving Harry in the ribs where the bludger had hit him to make him drop the snitch.
Blinding pain shot through his torso as Harry tried to get away from Mertens. He turned back towards the ground to try and get out of his reach when Harry saw a sight that made every cell in his body tense and his heart stop altogether.
Ten large jets of green light were hurtling towards Harry and Mertens. It looked like one had come from every major seating section in the stadium and all of them had been aimed at him. Mertens was still trying to get the snitch and had no idea. Harry whipped around and, ignoring the mind-shattering pain, grabbed Mertens collar and launched towards the ground. Harry's only chance was to get beneath the path of the Killing curses before they converged and left Harry no room for escape.
Harry felt Mertens struggling but kept an iron vice-like grip on him as he shot straight down at incredible speed. Harry watched images from his life flash before his eyes as he tempted death by flying straight through ten Killing Curses. Harry felt the wind of every curse as he passed them just in time to prevent both him and Mertens from being murdered in midair.
Harry yanked up on the broom handle and prepared his mind for Mertens entire body to yank on Harry's arm. Harry leveled out just in time to keep Mertens from being smeared on the ground, but Harry lost his balance when he let go of Mertens.
Harry toppled over and crashed into the ground, rolling over a dozen times before he came to a dirty and bruised stop in the grass. Harry opened his eyes and tried to focus through his shattered glasses. He managed to find a workable spot on his glasses just in time to see another bludger flying straight towards him.
He called his wand and tried to raise his wand arm but the pain redoubled and he yelled. The bludger continued towards him. If he didn't move it would snap his femur in half. Luckily, at the last second, a Beater's bat came from nowhere and clobbered the ball away from Harry. Harry had just enough time to recognize one of the beaters from Bigonville before his vision faded and he passed out.
…
…
'Yes, miss. Every bone was reset and repaired and he will leave here at the end of the day once I'm satisfied that he will recover adequately. At that time, you may take him to wherever you want.'
Harry's head felt heavy and his eyes were so tired he wasn't able to open them yet. Images of what had happened rushed into his mind. Was Mertens ok? Did anyone else get injured, or worse?
'Ok,' another familiar voice said. 'I can't believe he flew at them like that. What was he thinking?'
'You're really surprised by that?'
'No, I suppose not.'
Harry slowly sat up and opened his eyes. As he expected, his glasses weren't on, but what did surprise him was that he didn't seem to be in a hospital wing. As odd as it was, he was happier about it than he was concerned.
'Harry!' Ginny said, as he put his glasses and the Burrow sitting room came into focus. He tried to get up, but she stopped him. 'No, don't get up. The trainer said not to be over-exerting yourself.'
'Yeah, I've heard that before,' he said. 'What happened?'
They all looked at each other with furtive expressions.
'What? Did someone…'
'No!' Ron blurted quickly. 'No, no one was killed but a couple people were hurt as they tried to escape.'
'Who?' Harry asked.
'Death Eaters, Harry. About a dozen of them,' Hermione said softly.
'Is Mertens…?'
'He's fine,' Ginny said, placing his hand in hers. 'He was very thankful too but their team representative demanded they all return to Luxembourg immediately.'
Harry nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but a sharp pain in his side radiated across his torso.
'He said you'd be sore,' Ginny said, placing a soft hand on his side where it was hurting.
'Sore is a gross understatement,' Harry said, grimacing.
'I'm not surprised,' Ron said. 'You broke three ribs clean in half. I still can't believe you caught the snitch with your left hand.'
Harry stared at him for a moment in utter shock. He had completely forgotten about the match that he'd played in. When it all came back to him, he remembered that he'd played a professional Quidditch match and won.
'I'd almost forgotten,' Harry said. 'What did Cal and Wood say?'
'They tried to talk the trainer into waking you so they could make you down a few shots of firewhiskey.'
Harry laughed, and quickly winced. His side wasn't ready for laughing yet. 'Ron, they don't care about that,' Hermione said. All three of them turned and gave her a look of incredulity.
'Well… wait, what? You just got attacked and that's what you care about?'
'I take my good news where I can get it,' Harry said, making all of them laugh. 'What happened after I… passed out?'
'The Ministry showed up pretty quick. By the time Kingsley got there, you and Mertens were with the trainer.'
'I thought you said he was ok,' Harry interjected.
'He is now. When you two hit the ground he broke his wrist, but he was fine,' Ginny assured him.
'But after the insanity of the stadium emptying and the Ministry showing up, all of them escaped.'
Harry swore, making Hermione shoot him a nasty glare. 'Where are Kingsley and Bashir now?'
'They said,' Ron started, standing up straighter, 'that they will be at the Ministry but that they didn't want to see you until tomorrow. You're no good to anyone if you can't raise your wand anyway.'
'No,' Harry said immediately. 'I need to go. I'm not getting sidelined.' He stood up slowly and took one step before the three of them made sounds varying somewhere between disgust and exasperation.
'Harry,' Ginny said angrily. 'They said to stay home. Are you going to ignore…'
'Yes,' Harry said stonily. He was so angry that he had to do something. He had been attacked in broad daylight and he was not going to sit on a sofa and let a little pain stop him.
'Harry you don't need to go,' Ginny said, frustrated.
'Yes, yes I do. It's my fault– '
'Don't give me that,' Ginny spat. 'This is not your fault.'
Harry paced quickly, making pain radiate through his chest. 'But I feel like it is. I can't just sit here doing nothing.'
He made for the kitchen as Ginny yelled at him that he was a bloody, pig-headed, prat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry thought he would probably come to regret this move, but he had to go. He simply had to.
He was soon apparating his way to the Atrium. When he arrived, complete bedlam assaulted his senses. Teams of people were assembling nearly everywhere and leaving through the fireplaces at top speed. Harry noticed several people he recognized, but the people he wanted he saw in near the lifts directing a group of witches and wizards. As Harry got closer, he noticed that the group Kingsley and Bashir were addressing were Aurors.
'Report back in with any pertinent information, and if you find anybody suspicious, don't take them on alone. Send for assistance and someone will come meet you,' Bashir said loudly over the noise of the Atrium.
'OK, people. Let's get to it.'
With that, the crowd parted, revealing Harry to the two men. Neither of them looked surprised to see him. They looked at each other, and then Kingsley waved him over. Neither of them looked pleased, but Harry didn't care. This fight was too big for him to be on the sideline, and he wouldn't be left out of his own battles any longer. Kingsley and Bashir, however, were not on the same brainwave.
'I told them to tell you to stay home,' Kingsley said angrily. 'I even threatened Ron with a credit evaluation of his diploma that Minerva gave him.'
'Don't blame them. I'll probably be in hot water when I get back,' Harry said just as angrily. 'Dumbledore did that to me for years, not letting me take get involved in my own battles, and it only got both of us hurt.'
'This is different,' Bashir said, trying to placate Harry.
'How the hell is this different? Voldemort basically told the whole world he was after me and half of the world was on his side. How could this be different?'
'Because we knew how he fought and what to do to protect you when you were underage,' Kingsley said standing up to his full, intimidating height. 'Now that you are over age, you have to allow us to place you under any protective charm and I know you well enough to know you won't let us.'
Kingsley's voice grew edgy and harsh in a way Harry had never heard it. He seemed just as effective at making Harry feel ashamed as Dumbledore had been with his quiet chastising.
'So we can't just send you to your Aunt and Uncle's house in Little Whinging to hide you. Carrow and whoever else is with him can just walk up to your flat and blast the door down. So, on top of that and your hot-headed desire to prove that you are man enough to do this job, you're going to get yourself and your co-workers killed.'
Harry stood in stunned silence for several seconds, waiting for his crushing retort to occur to him. He waited in vain. 'Now do you have a firm hold of your wits and temper, or am I going to have to get an escort take you home by force?'
Harry simply nodded. Bashir handed him a letter folded several times and sealed in blood. It was stamped with the Dark Mark. Harry's hands shook, with trepidation or fear he wasn't sure.
The fall of Lord Voldemort has not deterred us from our goals.
Harry Potter has died today in the skies by the very wands he escaped.
With his death, the greatest weapon of all time has passed into our control.
You will not deter us.
You will not deny us.
You will not defeat us.
Harry folded the letter and laid it on a table, where it started to smoke. Bashir grabbed it before the fire of Harry's fury destroyed it. 'Where did you find it?'
'In the middle of the pitch after you left with the trainers.' Bashir said, waving at a wizard coming off the lift. He handed Bashir an envelope without even slowing down.
'But that's not all,' Kingsley added. 'You weren't the only attack today. Death Eaters attacked a dozen locations today including your Aunt and Uncle's home. They weren't home and luckily no one else was injured or killed. Whether by design or because of their lack of a leader, all they managed to do is scare a lot of people and to spread the Aurors thinner than parchment.'
A sudden, daunting and bone-chilling realization came to Harry. 'They wrote this knowing that they would succeed.' Harry finished, pointing at the letter.
'Well, they obviously didn't.' Kingsley said.
'But do they know that?'
Kingsley and Bashir looked at each other. 'There is no way to be sure. But from what I was told, the people who cast the curses were gone immediately after.'
'They had more faith in themselves than they should.' Bashir said sarcastically.
'Then they think the wand is theirs,' Harry said urgently. 'That's where they are going. We have to get there first. We have to stop them!'
'Anybody want to fill me in?'
This time, Harry and Kingsley looked at each other in silent conversation. Harry wasn't sure of what to do. He trusted Bashir as a boss and as an Auror, but he was not Kingsley or any of his friends who had been with him in the beginning. Luckily, Kingsley either had the same thoughts or sensed Harry's trepidation, because he saved Harry from having to decide.
'Before Albus died, he made steps to ensure that the control of his wand was left to Harry. His wand was… is immensely powerful, and he tried to make sure it did not fall to Voldemort's whims.'
Bashir looked surprised, but not unbelieving. 'So they think you died and that his wand is controlled by one of them?'
'Yes,' Harry said anxiously. 'And now they plan to steal it.'
'What do you mean, steal it?'
'I mean, enter the Hogwarts grounds and take the wand from Dumbledore's tomb just like Riddle did.'
All three of them stood in silence, realizing the gravity of what was being said.
'How sure of this are you?' Bashir said quietly.
'It's written right here. The greatest weapon of all time has now passed into our control.'
'How many people know about this?' Bashir said, as he handed the paper back to Kingsley.
'My friends Hermione, Ginny, and Ron know everything, as does Kingsley. But that's it. And it was Dumbledore's wish for it to remain that way.'
Bashir nodded as Kingsley read the words again, folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.
'I don't like the idea any better than you Allen, but I'm afraid Harry might be right. And we need to move. Now.'
'Right now!' Harry added imploringly.
'Back up?' Bashir asked quickly. Kingsley nodded, which Bashir mirrored. Bashir waved across the room calling Proudfoot and Linder over to them. They soon joined them and were updated with a brief description of the mission before setting off. Harry appreciated Kingsley's trust in him. Harry felt sure that he was right, but it meant something to him that the Minister of Magic trusted him so implicitly.
Kingsley found Dawlish and instructed him on what to do for the next few hours, and they set off at nearly a jog through the Ministry. When they reached a suitable apparition point, they all disappeared into the familiar crushing darkness and reappeared in the middle of the street in Hogsmeade.
Harry wasted no time and immediately set off for the grounds. He reached the closed gate and tried to pull it open. It wouldn't budge. The Hogwarts crest was formed by the meeting of the two gates. Kingsley once again came to their rescue (though any of them could have done it with the simple knowledge) and merely knocked three times. After several seconds, a familiar squeaky voice started emanating from the gate.
'Yes? Who is it?' Professor Flitwick said.
'Filius, it is Kingsley. I am here with Allen Bashir and Harry Potter.'
'Oh my,' he said squeakily. 'Do what do we owe this pleasure?'
'We must talk immediately,' Kingsley said gravely. 'Please fetch Minerva and meet us on the grounds.'
'Of course.' With that the gate opened and admitted them onto the grounds. Seconds after they entered, the gate snapped shut behind them. Harry felt better seeing it close so securely. Surely the bumbling Amycus Carrow couldn't get past such a barrier. But he knew deep down that when someone was determined, they would find a way to accomplish their goals.
They walked across the sloping lawns of the grounds towards the castle where they met Flitwick and McGonagall, who both looked flustered and confused.
'What is it Kingsley?' McGonagall said once they were in earshot. Kingsley just looked to Harry.
'Pro… Minerva, Amycus Carrow is going to try and steal Dumbledore's wand.'
McGonagall gave them an appalled looked. 'How do you know this?'
Harry recounted the day's events, culminating in the catch of the snitch and the curses that came at him. That led him back to the ministry where he read the letter that McGonagall was now reading for herself. Once she finished it, she handed it back to Kingsley and placed her hand on her brow.
'I believe you, but I fell sure they aren't able to get into the grounds. Every magical seal has been replaced since he took them down in May. There is no way to enter any longer, including the passage over the Shrieking Shack. That house has been brought down and its passage sealed.
'Are you sure?' Bashir asked. Nothing about today has seemed out of place or amiss?'
'No, not at all.'
'Harry!' came a voice from behind them. Harry spun around to see Hagrid walking towards them. 'Wha are yeh doing here. Thought you was bit-time Auror or summat now.'
'No, not yet, Hagrid. How are you?'
'Ah, I'm doin' jus' fine. Jus finished rebuildin' the dock out at the lake for the– '
But at that moment, McGonagall and Flitwick looked at each other in horror. Flitwick nearly fell over, he squaked so loud.
'The lake!' McGonagall exclaimed angrily. 'I can't believe I forgot.'
'What?' Bashir asked. 'What about the lake?'
'The crew that has been repairing the castle travels from Nova Scotia. They use the same passage that Karkaroff used with his ship for the Tri-Wizard tournament. A few days ago, Hagrid went to the lake to find the dock destroyed. So we postponed the ships' return until today. I opened the passageway this morning to let them through.'
'Is it open now?' Harry asked urgently.
'It has been open for hours.'
Needing no further words, the five of them took off to the lake shore where Dumbledore's tomb stood, leaving a confused Hagrid behind. Despite their age, McGonagall and Flitwick both kept pace with the younger wizards with ease. When they rounded a bend of trees, the lake came into view. They had at least another 50 yards before the tomb came into view. Harry started running, glad of the training that he'd received.
If he could get there in time, the fight against Carrow would end here today.
When they rounded the final corner, the white marble tomb came into view. Around it stood several figures in dark clothes that were plainly soaked. Harry called his wand and readied his reflex to jump at the first sign of unfriendly spells. They got close enough to them for Harry to recognize Carrow and Greyback, but the identities of the others were a mystery to him.
Nearly at the same time, Greyback saw the five people streaking towards them and shouted something. At once, a fierce battle broke out. Harry barely had time to dodge the first spell that came at him. The five of them immediately made for the tree line nearby to use as cover. Once there, Harry was able to safely avoid curses flying at him and get a good look at what was going on. The tomb had nearly been opened when Harry and his companions surprised them.
All at once, somebody shouted something and the curses stopped flying. Harry looked around to see McGonagall and Bashir both hiding behind a large tree, Kingsley behind, another a few yards away, and Flitwick had levitated himself into the canopy of a tree for a better vantage point.
'Greetings Minister,' Harry heard Carrow sneer. 'Proud of what we accomplished today?'
'You've accomplished nothing,' Kingsley shot back at once.
'Nothing?' Carrow yelled, while his companions grumbled. 'Nothing! I, the … oh what was it you said McGonagall… ah yes, the too-arrogant-and-cruel-to-ever-accomplish-anything-because-you'll-never-learn-work-with-others Amycus Carrow, has done what the Dark Lord could not.'
'Oh yeah?' Bashir said. 'And what is that exactly?'
'Do not play dumb with us,' Greyback snarled, and flung another curse at the tree Bashir was behind.
'We, the last remaining Death Eaters, have slain the might Harry Potter. I arranged for Andrew Linkston to be dosed and I watched as ten killing curses flew directly at him.'
They all looked at Harry, who shook his head. Harry didn't know what else to do, but lulling Carrow into any sense of false security was certainly a good start.
'I take you silence as stunned disbelief that the Chosen One is dead. Potter was nothing but a sniveling, talentless, worm who lived only because better and more talented wizards stood in front of him.'
Harry began shaking with anger. He wanted to jump out and strangle the life from Carrow, but resisted barely.
'And now that he is dead, I will slay all those who stood behind him. The first to go will be that mudblood, know-it-all bitch, and the entire Weasley family. They are blood traitors, the lot of them. Maybe Harry will be pleased to see his beloved, blood traitor whore in the after-life with him.
Harry felt his hair moving and his body shaking. He was not far from bursting around his tree and cursing every one of them until they were nothing but a pinch of dust in the wind. Before he could, Kingsley seemed to appear at his side as a curse went flying between the trees.
'Harry, they don't know you're here obviously. It's a gamble, but if you talk and then jump out of here at them, they will be distracted enough to– '
Harry understood and was grateful that Kingsley had asked first, because that had been Harry's plan regardless of whether it had Kingsley's seal-of-approval or not.
'Your lot obviously doesn't have as good aim as you think you do.' Harry called, cutting off Kingsley's sentence. Kingsley immediately nodded and turned to ready himself.
'Who is this newcomer to the group? Someone else wishing to die as a blood traitor or mudblood?' said a voice Harry didn't recognize.
'Hardly,' Harry called, as he took out his invisibility cloak and threw it over himself.
'Hardly? Why, don't we sound a touch over-confident? Who might you be?'
'You tell me?' Harry called, as he started walking as quickly and quietly as he could.
'If I knew, I would name you before I watched the life leave your eyes.'
'Well, that wouldn't happen because you have terrible aim,' Harry said from a tree nearly twenty-five yards from where he had been. Every head in the group snapped to his voice with confused expressions.
'What game is this?' Greyback growled.
'No game. Just a realization that you aren't as powerful as you think,' Harry said, before bolting to another tree.
'Come out of the trees so that we may face each other like men. I do not like a coward who hides to avoid a fight.'
Harry thought that this was a great idea, so he jumped out of the trees and quickly made his way around the group to stand between them and the lake. It didn't take long, but it was long enough to anger the hostile werewolf.
'Come out, you gutless rat!'
'I did,' Harry said from behind them. They all whipped around with their wands at the ready but they only found empty air. Carrow was coming close to losing his temper.
'Quit toying with me!'
Harry nearly took of the cloak then, but deciding the safety of the trees was better, he made his way around them again. They were looking in every direction trying to find the source of his voice, but were failing miserably.
'I think,' Harry said from behind them again, making them all whip around, 'that I will end this little game. After all, you did call me "mighty". I don't need to be invisible to take you down.'
'I TELL YOU, QUIT THIS INFERNAL TOYING OR I WILL DISEMBOWEL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!'
Harry laughed out loud at these words, making Carrow even more enraged. 'Well, I'm convinced now. If I don't show you where I am, you won't disembowel me. What a reward.'
'RAAAHHHHH!' Carrow threw a blasting curse at a tree nearly twenty yards away from him. After the dust settled, it was clear that all he had managed to do was cover everyone in dust.
'Now, Harry,' Kingsley whispered from behind him. Harry took a few more steps out of Carrow's line of sight and removed the cloak.
'See, Carrow. You aim needs work.' Carrow looked at him in confusion for a second. A second that felt more like a year.
'You! You're dead. I watched you die. Twice!'
Harry looked quickly at his hand holding his wand. 'Obviously not,' he said arrogantly. At that moment, four stunners flew out of the trees at them. Carrow and Greyback barely got out of the way in time. One of their companions wasn't so lucky.
Harry threw as many stunners at Carrow and Greyback as he could but his aim while running at full speed was mediocre at best. The three death eaters took refuge behind Dumbledore's tomb as Harry reached the trees. He looked back in horror as the tomb resumed its slow opening. Harry and Bashir tried to run out to the tomb, but were prevented by spells.
'Harry!' McGonagall said urgently. 'They cannot be allowed to obtain that wand.'
Harry nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating with all his might. He pointed his wand at the lake. At nearly the same time, Harry felt a deep pain in his head and heard a rush of water coming towards them fast. He heard one scream from them before the water hit him in the legs.
In front of him, the Elder wand fell on the ground, not four feet from him. Harry rushed forward trying to grab it before Carrow regained his wits. He had just switched his wand to his left hand and placed his right on the Elder wand, when a spell flew so close to him he took a quick step back and tripped over a tree root. He felt his glasses leave his face and his own wand fly from his hand as his head hit something very hard and unforgiving.
Somewhere near him he heard people yelling at each other. 'You're finished, Carrow.'
'Grab it! Grab it, now!'
'I've got it!'
'Oh no, you don't.'
'Calder! Calder, get up!'
'Allen, get the wand!'
'I have it! I have it!'
Then an explosion drove all sound from his ears. His vision told him that his glasses had flown off yet again. After a few moments search, he located them. When his vision came back, he looked around to find Flitwick floating slowly from an upper branch of a tree, Kingsley helping McGonagall to her feet and Bashir retrieving the man that was lying silently nearby.
'Harry! Are you ok?' Kingsley asked when he laid eyes on him. 'Your neck is bleeding. Harry felt his neck to find it slick with blood. McGonagall came over and immediately started mopping him up. Kingsley, however, asked the question that made Harry face what he desperately hoped wasn't true.
'Where is the wand? Did they get it?'
Harry looked down first at his empty hand where his own wand was supposed to be and then at the ancient Elder Wand in his other hand. Harry felt an unusual, cold feeling under his fingers that felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
'No.'
