"Beneath the gore and smoke and loam, this book is about the evanescence of life, and why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow. In the end it is a story of the ineluctable conflict between good and evil, daylight and darkness, the White City and the Black." - The Devil in the White City, Erik Larson
{~~~~}
"Of course the bloody Ministry fell," Harry muttered crossly under his breath, shoving his chair back so he could get away from the table, "it's run by the Minister of Magic and why on earth would we ever have one with a grain of common sense." Hotchner kind of had a look like he was going to tackle Harry to the floor if he moved anymore so he paused for a moment once he was free from the table. Hermione and Neville stayed right where they were at, having not moved once to explain everything that had happened. "So we've got all the unit leaders here?"
Hermione nodded.
"Damn."
"I know."
"The ones left home are a smart group - they'll be fine without official command." He paused. "Did you warn this world's Ministry that they might have an invasion coming for them in a little bit?"
"Tried. They didn't listen."
If they left matters where they were at now, Riddle would have more time to effectively take over Britain, particularly since he now had not one but two of the strongholds they had fought so hard to keep him from getting. But if they struck back now, they might not be able to organize quickly enough, and they were running straight into the lion's den the moment they struck. And yet...that was going to happen no matter when they decided to make their move. Furthermore, Harry himself only had a short time span in which he could act, before something tried killing him again.
"Who all is injured?"
"Scrapes and bruises for everyone. Draco got hit by Dolohov's curse, but Angelina fixed it."
"Excuse me-" Strauss interrupted, more as an interjection than actual manners.
"You're thinking we need to go back now," Neville said wearily, but with a small smile. "I thought so too."
"Before everyone else gets too far away," Harry nodded in agreement. "Sorry, guys, but I don't think there's time for you to rest. Meet you outside?"
Hermione tossed his wand at him in reply and he caught it, then apparated out as he saw Hotchner suddenly jerk towards him, arm outstretched to grab him before he could leave. He landed in the parking lot, and the other two arrived across the lot from him a moment later. At least they'd ended up somewhere in the right lot, considering how much potential space there was in Quantico. He made another jump to appear next to them.
"Where's everyone else?" he asked.
"Outskirts of Hogwarts."
The two Draco Malfoys meeting could only go badly. That was enough of a reason to get them back home if nothing else was. "Right. Got a portkey?"
Hermione shook her head, and he pulled out his own illegally made one that he had created upon arriving at Hogwarts the last time. She activated the portkey after they all put their hands on it, and they were whisked away to the outskirts of Hogwarts.
Hotch began to feel the tuggings again, and he succumbed immediately, vanishing from the imaginary Room of Requirement of Umbridge's time to the real world. Unfortunately, the transition from Harry's mental creations were becoming easier and easier the more often he was forced over by the blood wards that dragged him along.
He landed next to Harry in something that felt more painful than side-along apparition. Instead of the pull on his navel, invisible hooks dug into his palms and his chest, yanking at old injuries, mortem or postmortem, caused from his defense of his son. If he ever tried to leave early, the hooks would sink back in again, holding him in place - he'd learned that when he'd wanted to avoid seeing Harry sell himself, but he was mercifully whisked away as soon as the deal was made.
In a sense, he had hoped on feeling the first striking pains of the hook from this trip that he would be arriving in something similar, where Harry was only in danger if he made an unfortunate choice. He knew there was no chance, not when this world's Aaron Hotchner had finally discovered what the source of Harry's antipathy towards him was. Harry didn't have a chance of slipping away now, back into the painful life he'd been living. Hotchner had most assuredly taken Jack to keep Harry nearby, stopping the boy from running off without a second thought with his brother. Whatever this was, it didn't have anything to do with that.
"-choice," Harry finished, eyeing the unit leaders and their seconds in front of him. Most of the communications liaisons were present, too, on the outskirts of Hogwarts. Hotchner frowned for a moment, wondering why he'd gone back, then realized that this couldn't have been his world's Hogwarts. They couldn't have repaired it that quickly. For some reason, everyone had come over here instead.
He glanced around, looking for an obvious source of danger, but they were alone in the evening light. By Hogsmeade, there was very little that could attack them without hiding in the village, and the distance between them was too great for someone to approach and not reveal themselves to Hotch. That was something that was nice about being dead - he'd discovered that he could sense everyone around his son, whether they were under something like a disillusionment charm or not. He turned back to the group, apprehension beginning to creep up.
"Why the fuck did you just waste my time with that question?" Daphne snapped. "Of course we're all going, you dimwitted asshole-"
Harry held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay! I just wanted to make sure!"
Where were they going? If there was a fight here, the group would have already been there without a second thought. What was so different about this that Harry had apparently asked if anyone wanted to stay behind?
"Can you make it?" Padma asked nervously. "And while we're on that topic, what happened to you?"
Harry grimaced, his emaciation making the gesture sharper than it normally would have been. "I'm going to try," he said, giving no illusions about the effort necessary. "I'll be honest when I say I don't know if I'm can make it the whole way with you guys, but," he pressed as a few made to interrupt him, "you're kidding yourselves if you don't think you need everyone you can get, and that includes Atlas and I."
There were more than a couple of exchanged glances at the mention of the patronus, who Hotch hadn't seen ever since he'd started haunting Harry, which had been from the moment he'd died. The explanation for its disappearance was obvious enough - and quite agonizing to think about - but he hadn't heard of it returning.
For that matter, he hadn't heard of Harry getting better either. The last time he had seen him had been in Rossi's backyard with Jack, Elle, Morgan, and his other self sitting around, waiting for him to give out. That he was standing and talking with any energy was a shock, though he'd known Harry must have made it or he would have felt something.
"What's the plan?" Roger asked, ever the tactician.
"Do you know what happened to everyone else?" Harry's question did everything to increase Hotch's concern for the group, particularly those he couldn't see. The injuries those in front of him were bearing were not at all reassuring either.
Hermione shook her head quickly. "We didn't have time, but they knew what was happening before us."
"Because they were attacked or because they worked it out?"
"We don't know. They just said to get out and that was it." Get out of where?
"If anyone was caught," Harry said slowly, "this could be our closest chance to get them out. If not, we'd be wasting our time and putting ourselves at risk."
"Where's the invisibility cloak?" Neville asked. "Someone could use that to slip into some of the more protected areas."
"The other world," Harry sighed, then paused and turned to Hogwarts. "Mine is, anyway..."
"Have you met yourself here?" Draco asked.
Harry nodded, saying, "I've met quite a few of our alternate selves. Off topic, I think this is just the arsehole version of our world. Everyone's been so bitchy."
"Probably because they're around you," Angelina innocently said and he rolled his eyes.
"But I bet I can get my other self to loan it to me, so give me a minute and I'll get that, and then we can go storm the Ministry."
The group moved away, closer to the Forbidden Forest to hide on its outskirts, while Harry started approaching the castle. Hotch faded through the wards easily, and he only had to make sure he was going slowly enough to keep up with Harry.
He didn't know what he'd do if he could actually see Harry. There was no way he could condemn Harry for trying to fight again, not when he knew he would do the same in an instant after everything they had fought for to get some sort of lead in this war or to at least hold their ground, but Harry couldn't honestly believe he was going to survive a single fight in this state. Even if he did miraculously keep up, the strain on his body could cause damage that would kill him after the battle. And yet, if he didn't fight, it was still likely that he was going to die within a couple of months if he couldn't find a solution.
A solution was possible, too, and Hotch had to believe that. He couldn't tell if Harry did or not, especially since he couldn't actually see Harry if he had ever gone out to search for a cure, but this charge into a fight was doing nothing to ease his concerns. If he hadn't found a cure already, and it looked like he hadn't, then this was going to cut down on any time he had left to look.
He shifted in the direction the hooks always pulled him, changing to stand nearer to Harry without actually moving. Doing so ground against his very self, like a hot desert wind blowing abrading flecks against him in a sandstorm, but he forced himself to stay. However painful, it felt like he was getting closer to Harry, though he could almost feel himself being worn away into nothing. Grimly, he noted that if Harry died and thereby released him with the end of the blood wards, it wasn't going to matter much longer.
"Harry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."
It was the only way he could get near him again. Harry never seemed to hear him, though his alternate self and Morgan had on the occasion he had tried to help Harry's breathing, and he couldn't hold it for nearly as long as he wanted to before he had to let go and return to the other state.
Halfway to the castle, Harry was starting to shake with the effort of forcing himself to move so far after so long in bed. His breathing began to get labored, and his cheeks were reddening. Still, he pressed on, until he'd gotten inside the castle walls and paused to lean against the stone for a moment, out of sight of the unit leaders and seconds. His head fell back onto the wall as one hand moved up to fist itself against his chest, rubbing some sort of pain away.
Tentatively, Hotch reached out until his fingers ghosted over Harry's cheek. Harry jerked slightly, as if jolting a fly off him, and Hotch paused. A moment later, he touched the same spot, and Harry didn't react, just pressing harder on his chest. "I'll stay with you," Hotch said quietly. "I won't leave until I have to." Harry's eyes slipped closed, but he made no sign that he'd actually heard him. Hotch put one hand on Harry's shoulder, making no indication in a rustle of clothing that he was doing so even though he could feel the fabric beneath his palm. "I am so, so proud of you."
Harry's hand suddenly shot up, as if to grab onto the wrist of the hand on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open while his hand passed through open air. Hotch jumped back in surprise, letting him go. For one shocked moment, Harry just stood there, breathing quickly and eyes darting for something in front of him, and then he slumped back against the wall, hiding his face with one hand.
If he tried hard enough, he could probably get a message to Harry. This was proof he could somewhat communicate. That should have given him a sense of elation, at the least. Instead, he stepped quietly away, putting even more distance between them as Harry started to rub his head, shaking.
He couldn't be any more than a distant, vague presence, even if Harry could eventually understand him, and only in times of danger. It would be more distracting for Harry to try to decipher what he was trying to say than it would be helpful. His life was past, and Harry needed to be able to completely move on, without him. Whatever he was doing, this strange state where he was almost there but wasn't... It hurt Harry more than it helped either of them, bringing Hotch near enough that Harry could sense him but not enough to let him converse.
Harry looked up as he drew away, and Hotch realized, pained, that Harry had indeed sensed him. "Dad?" Harry whispered and Hotch stayed back before he did any more damage. Harry looked just as he had when it had fully sunk in that his father was gone. "Dad, please..."
The begging almost undid him, but he held his ground, closing his eyes from the sight and turning away as he let himself slip back into the more natural state, where he could still be present without any contact. As soon as he'd made the adjustment, he heard Harry suck in a ragged breath.
A minute passed, and then he heard Harry start to shift, pushing himself up off from the wall. He reluctantly opened his eyes as Harry started towards the castle and, after a couple of seconds, he followed. Ahead of him, Harry took a couple of deep breaths and regained his earlier posture, making it hard to imagine he'd been so near collapse not too long ago.
He cast a disillusionment charm over himself with his wand then made his way to the library. That, it turned out, was a big mistake.
"...What are they doing here?" Zacharias asked, pointing.
"Helping, apparently," Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Behind him, a significant portion of this world's DA was trailing behind. "Where's everyone else?"
"Popped over to the Ministry to figure out how we can break in. Explaining the whole stupid situation is going to take too long," Ron replied. Among those gone were the Slytherins, Seamus, and the twins. Harry had high confidence in them to come up with a pretty good distraction to get them all in.
Harry nodded, then glanced to the side at Potter. "This really isn't a good idea."
"You're doing it. It's a fight against Voldemort, so you can hardly expect us to back out," Potter said, annoyed.
"Just because we're doing it doesn't make it a great plan. We're just running low on options."
"And we're running low on time and people, too," Hermione pointed out, frowning slightly as she scanned the group. "We'll have to take them." To the group, she said, "You guys know you're going to have to follow our world's Harry and not yours, right?"
"Won't be a problem," Weasley replied. "Just don't expect the same shit out of us that he pulls."
"Uh, no one expects the shit out of Harry that Harry pulls," Angelina said, causing a few laughs from the ones who weren't still looking over all the injuries Harry's people had with discrete, worried glances.
"I briefed them on the way over," Harry said. "Let's apparate over to the Ministry in small groups. Everyone, grab a couple of people - most of this lot is underage for apparition."
They arrived at the Ministry not longer after, and they were down to the Department of Mysteries an embarrassingly short time later due to some fireworks from the twins and some pyrotechnics from Seamus. There was a short pause while they waited for the other seven to get back, and they lounged around the Veil for a little bit.
Unsurprisingly, the DA was more than slightly curious about what was going on in the other world, and Harry's bunch answered their questions as well as they could. Harry had given them a good rundown, but he was aware there were details he just hadn't thought to mention. He left the others to it, instead focusing internally. There didn't seem to be a strain on his core and wards yet, but it would start coming once he got into the fight. He might be able to force himself to go on longer, however dangerous that would be, though he doubted anyone else would see it as necessary.
One of the entry doors opened and shut quietly, and then an instant later half the DA was on their feet and pointing wands at the ones who had entered. Harry's group just stared in bewilderment as the seven they'd been waiting for pointed their wands right back at the DA.
"Something the matter?" Harry finally asked when no one lowered their wands.
"That's Malfoy!"
"Ah! Right. In our world, Voldemort pissed everyone off, including the Slytherins. A good portion of them are on our side, including Draco, Daphne, Blaise, Adrian, and Theodore. That's our original group, but we've got at least another twenty more now." He paused at their constipated expressions. "Seriously. It's okay."
Draco sighed dramatically, stuffed his wand away, then pushed Seamus down ahead of him as a shield. "I approach the dias," he announced loudly, "so I ask you do not fire during my peaceful jaunt."
"I don't trust him," Potter said bluntly.
"He probably doesn't trust you either, but you both trust me so it's good. Draco, if Seamus trips and falls, you're taking care of his brain-damaged self for the rest of the battle." Draco let Seamus go, who swatted him immediately. The rest of the group started down the steps.
When everyone was up on the dias, Harry briefed them on how to get through according to what Voldemort and Elle had managed. "If you don't cast these spells on yourself before you go through, you'll die," he said, after explaining them. There were three - one to point them towards the other Veil, one to shove them along, and a third to keep anyone from clinging on to them as they went. "And it's really going to suck. So don't do it."
"Is this how you got through originally?" Lovegood asked curiously.
"Sort of. Voldemort opened up the path by creating a route to himself because he was in need of help to survive. I got pulled through instead." Which he suspected was from the Horcrux in Potter, but he really didn't feel like explaining that at the moment so he kept quiet about it.
Harry went through third, and the experience was as miserable as it was the first time. Ahead of him, Draco had landed with Seamus, then cast their patronuses for reconnaissance to find out if any of their DA was being held in the Ministry. Moments after Harry stepped away from the Veil, they both came with a negative.
"Small mercies," Harry muttered as Draco continued typing on his phone, sending out texts to everyone to let them know they were about to raid the Ministry. "What's everyone saying?"
"All the groups are accounted for. They answered fast - I'm guessing they were waiting for us." He hit a button and held the phone out in front of him at the level of his nose. Harry stepped closer again as he heard more people coming through behind him. There was an audible click. "Hey, Lavender?"
"Here."
"Hang on, I'm going to merge calls with you and everyone else." The rest of Potter's DA continued falling out of the Veil one by one, and Draco and Harry moved away with the phone so they could hear better. After a minute, just when the last call merged, Hermione came to stand between the two.
"This should be everyone," Draco said.
"What happened?" Ginny demanded immediately.
"We went through the Veil to the other world," Hermione replied. "We just picked up Harry, and the other world's DA wanted to help so they're with us too."
"Are you thinking we should take back the Ministry now?" Dean asked. "We can all probably get there within ten minutes or so, then enter as a group."
"Are you all mostly divided up by units?" Harry glanced behind him as he heard confused shuffling and saw that most of the DA was staring at them in confusion, though he couldn't fathom why. "If so, could you all arrive that way instead?"
"Yes," a couple replied at the same time.
"Okay, Firin, meet up with me," Lee said. "We're at Trafalgar Square, west rooftops."
"Give us a minute," Justin replied. "We went to Blackwolf to tell him what's going on." He paused. "By the way, Elle's here, and she's giving me that look so I guess she's going to be coming with us. And Remus, she just said."
"More the merrier," Harry said. "Huther?"
"At 221B Baker Street," Katie said shamelessly. "Before anyone says anything, we decided it'd be a good idea to pretend to be tourists, okay?"
"We weren't going to say anything, we were just going to think it very loudly," Hannah said, snickering. "Pucla to me, by the Eye."
Many of the calls were rapidly disconnecting as groups apparated away for a rendezvous. The last unit, Gryven, gathered around Michael, and then they were all just waiting for the word. "Everyone take a different entrance," Harry said. "Huther, floo in. Firin, apparate."
He glanced at Hermione, unsure how else one would get in. She, in turn, looked at Draco, who said, "Pucla, do you guys know how to take the toilets?"
"I do," Theodore said.
"That, then. And Gryven, take the portkey."
"Aero, stick with your normal units for now," Harry directed. He checked the time on the phone. "Okay, it's 6:12 now. In thirty-five minutes, is everyone going to be ready?" He got a round of affirmatives. "Then at 6:47, start coming in. Surprise with patronuses, then push your way through until you get to the statue in the entrance. We're going to take back the Auror offices before you arrive." He muttered a question about where the toilets dropped people off to Draco, then said louder, "Firin and Gryven, meet up once you're in the entrance and push through together. Huther and Pucla, you do the same. But all of you, keep pressing forward while you do it. Don't worry too much about getting hit from flanks, though you should keep an eye on it. I'll bet they're going to be caught off guard, especially with the patronuses, and I'll send Atlas up to help."
"Atlas is back?" Terry blurted.
"Yeah. All right, everyone got it?" Another chorus of acknowledgement, and then Draco ended the call. The trio turned to the DA, which Ron had been organizing with Angelina while they waited. "So?"
"Four corresponding groups to help our units," Ron said. "When are they showing up?"
"Thirty-five minutes. We need to take the Auror department, and then-" He paused. "I'll bet they've been arresting people." Beside him, Draco started to grin. "All right. Here's what we're going to do. If you're the original or new Huther and Pucla, go with Hermione and take the Auror department back. Everyone else, come with me, and we're going to check out the cells. Now, let's get real friendly with disillusionment charms."
Draco's phone rang and he quickly answered it and put it on speakerphone. "Hey, so Moody just showed up with the Order and he wants to know what you want him to do." There was angry muttering behind Lee. "Okay, maybe that's not exactly how he phrased it-"
"I'm not asking Hotchner what he wants us to do, I want to know what he's doing so we can-"
"Did you give him a rundown?" Harry asked, amused.
"I tried."
"Moody, get the Order to apparate in with Firin. Hide under disillusionment charms or any invisibility cloaks, if you've got any, and then move ahead of Firin to take out people before them."
Moody have a long-suffering sigh.
"All right, thanks." Draco hung up.
"Did you just order Mad-Eye Moody around?" Granger demanded.
"Yep. Okay, everyone, let's get going."
Harry made it to the end without dying or anything similarly unfortunate. By the time the Death Eaters had all been driven out, with help from both DAs, the Order, and the very pissed off aurors and prisoners who had been collected before the fight truly began, he was starting to feel the struggle between his two power sources and stopped using spells except when necessary. Luckily, he was mostly needed just for direction by that point and no one really needed him in a fight anyway. He kept Atlas wandering around to help until Elle came by in her wolf form and sat on him until he relented and vanished the Patronus.
At about the same time, he tracked down Rufus Scrimgeour and had a rather pleasingly long rant at the man, which basically summed up to him insulting the Minister in every way possible for his inability to maintain basic defense around the seat of the magical government in Britain.
Moody came in soon just as Harry started to leave. "This is going to happen again," Moody said immediately.
"That's just what I was saying," Harry replied, still frustrated.
"The building is far too easy to get into, but that has to be possible for accessibility in peacetime," Moody continued. "The Ministry just isn't a solid defense during war. The government has to be moved somewhere else."
"And what, leave the Ministry here for You-Know-Who to take when he wants?" Scrimgeour demanded.
"No, we'll seal off the regular entrances and create one that only we know about and can get through. When this is all over, we'll come through that entrance and open everything back up," Moody explained, and although this was the first he'd heard of that plan, Harry had to agree with it. They couldn't come take back the Ministry every time the Death Eaters took it over, and the government still had to operate somehow.
"Fine," Scrimgeour said. "Shouldn't you two be out fighting?"
"It's over," Harry replied.
Scrimgeous stared at him for a long moment. "You entered two and a half hours ago."
"There's a good reason why Hogwarts only fell when no one was there to defend it. Now, the public. How much damage did Riddle do to them?"
"A lot of families have vanished, but it's unclear if they were killed or have fled," Moody told him. "Also unclear if any of them are going to reappear if the tides turn. Again."
"I wouldn't be surprised if they don't," Harry muttered. "Not really the thing someone wants to get involved in."
"They started taking everything they could get their hands on as quickly as they could, and no one was ready for it," Moody said, grimacing. "No one listened to us when we said to keep defenses high until Voldemort had been completely taken down. Everyone just wanted it to be over, so when the Death Eaters came back, there was almost no resistance available. Last time, they at least had a warning."
"How much have the Death Eaters taken since I've been gone?"
"Most of the south up to London and Ireland. Some of the Order stated around Hogwarts and have kept the fight going up there."
That much was gone, just within a couple of days? "How...?"
"He was planning this for a while," Moody said grimly. "We just weren't watching closely enough. We were too focused on Hogwarts."
"...Shit." Because there was nothing else that could really sum up his thoughts. "Okay, before I leave, we need to talk about something else, so remind me." Scrimgeour was looking at him curiously now, but this wasn't something Harry trusted everyone with so he ignored the gaze. He ran a hand over his face, trying to focus. "Okay, we've got government records under our feet. Let's haul out all the files we have on all the Death Eaters we know of, and let's try to figure out how exactly the group was formed."
"Why is that important?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Because then we can get as much embarrassing information as we can on the group and the individuals and publish it. People are going to be much more reluctant to join the Death Eaters if they know about that kind of thing." Scrimgeour nodded in understanding, impressed, and Harry continued, "Get the newspapers to work with you on this. I'm sure the sensational reels would be more than happy to help. Anything else you two need before I head out?"
"We need to figure out where we're going to put everyone once we catch them again," Moody said, emphasizing the last word. Harry sympathized. Doing this all over was hardly satisfying when they'd already done it once only to have all their work undone in a day.
"Are there other wizarding communities with more effective prisons?" he asked, and both adults paused. "Contact allies of the Ministry and see if they wouldn't be willing to take in some Death Eaters once we catch them. Then, even if Riddle's still on the loose, he'll have trouble releasing them all at the same time again, and it will give us some time to fix the prison situation. We can disperse them out over several prisons so we don't overburden one."
"What about getting more people to fight?" Scrimgeour asked, a strange, desperate look starting to grow in his eyes. It reminded Harry of someone looking for a way out. "Where could we get them from?"
"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang graduates helped us last time. We could probably get some help from them again, but that wouldn't get us more than a thirty people and probably not for very long. Start asking for help from the populace through newspapers and word of mouth, and make it easy for people to give aid. It could just be supplies, or they could also sign up to help fight. Target people with family members already involved in the fight, but don't contact them specifically. This is serious, but we're not in danger of losing yet and we don't want to give that impression." He glanced at Moody. "Could you tell if most of the Death Eaters were here or not?"
Moody frowned deeper. "No, not most of them. This was just a small portion controlling the government, plus the useless back up. There were more at the beginning, but we don't know where they went. I guess a significant portion turned tail and fled."
"Hm. That would be, what, a couple hundred total?"
"More like eight or nine hundred."
Harry grimaced. Riddle had been busy while Harry was gone. "And we've captured...?"
"A little over one hundred. Several hundred vanished in the middle of the fight. The rest managed to get out once it was obvious we were winning."
"Okay. At least most of his forces aren't dedicated to the cause, then."
"When are you going to take back Hogwarts?" Scrimgeour asked.
"I hate to say this, but Hogwarts is going to have to wait, at least for the DA. We're better mobile, and if we have to stay in one place again, this is just going to drag out for much longer than necessary. We'll lose fewer people if we just go after him now."
He didn't say it out loud, but he was still planning to break into Hogwarts soon. Hopefully, since he'd taken the school, Riddle hadn't thought it important to move Ravenclaw's diadem out of the Room of Requirement. Even so, Harry would have to get to it before Riddle realized he was in danger of losing and decided to hide the blasted thing elsewhere.
"Po-" Scrimgeour cut himself off, then hesitantly tried, "Hotchner." Harry tilted his head to show he was listening and, encouraged, Scrimgeour continued. "I'm very grateful for what you've done. A lot of people are."
"...Okay," Harry said, and glanced at Moody, who didn't even bother that with any sort of acknowledgment. "Anyway. I need to get a certain portion of my students home - it's past their bedtime." The other-world Snape was going to throw a fit if Harry brought those students back after curfew.
Moody walked out with him and silently led him down a few halls until he pulled Harry into the head auror office, located close to the minister's for convenience's sake.
Harry silently and wandlessly cast a muffling charm, partly just to see if he could, then said, "We have to deal with the other world too."
"You need to talk to Albus," Moody immediately said.
"Yeah, I know." He was dying to know where the damn headmaster had been this whole time. Shouldn't he have been doing something more productive than letting all of this fall?
Moody gave him a look. "No, you need to talk to him about the other worlds. He noticed a problem."
"A problem. I'm not familiar with one of those," Harry dryly said.
"Hotchner, go listen to him. You're not going to like it, and you're going to have to open your mind a bit, but he's right." His mouth twisted into a grimace as he turned to the door. "Just remember that fate is not as escapable to us as it is to muggles."
"What does the other world have to do with fate?" Harry demanded.
Moody left without answering and Harry groaned at the dramatic exit.
He walked to the door and stuck his head out into the hall. "Hey, where's he at anyway?"
"Where do you think?" Moody called back at him, not even turning around.
Harry sighed and shook his head, then summoned his patronus as he walked back into the muffled zone. "Hermione. Moody says Dumbledore knows something about the alternate world situation, so I'm going to check up on that. Let me know if you need me."
He still had one of the portkeys in his pocket that led to Hogwarts, and although it had been made for the other world's Hogwarts, it still pulled him straight to where he needed to go. That left him smug, but he quickly suppressed the feeling. There wasn't time for that now.
Dumbledore was up in his office. It wasn't really his office anymore, not when it had been used as a conference room more than an individual's workspace, but that was still what Harry thought of it as, even if it still resembled a war room and not a headmaster's alcove. The gray-haired man looked up as he entered, but for once there was no smile.
"This can't be good," Harry muttered under his breath as he let the door close. He almost jumped when he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. "Blackwolf?"
Blackwolf nodded at him. "Harry."
"What's going on?"
"The news is more neutral than bad. What happened with the Ministry?"
"We took it back."
"Do you have a couple minutes or do you need to be somewhere else?" Blackwolf said. "This is important, but not an immediate concern if there's another crisis."
"The others have it handled. Alastor said this had to do with the other world."
Dumbledore nodded, and dread started to seep into Harry's stomach like cold water. "Harry... Have you ever considered how odd the prospect of another world seems?"
"A little. Why?"
"Doesn't it seem odd that there is another world out there?"
"Obviously. Why?" He glanced at Blackwolf, who was standing there with a grimace on his face.
"Doesn't it seem even stranger that there would only be one world out there?"
Harry stared at him. "You're not saying..."
"There are seven worlds total," Blackwolf interrupted. "Five more, besides the two you already know about. There are gates between all of them that allow passage, but they're hard to find. You located one of them already."
Harry's eyes started to widen. "Wait, does... Does Riddle know that? Is he looking for the rest?"
"Yes," Blackwolf said. "I'm one of the people charged with protecting the gates. There have been reports from the other gatekeepers that he has been spotted trying to find the locations of the remaining five."
"Great," Harry sighed.
"There's more," Dumbledore said.
Harry closed his eyes and grimaced. "Of course there is."
"According to legend, you're going to have to find the rest."
"What legend?"
"The tale of Merlin."
Harry gave him a look. "There's no such mention of seven worlds."
"Much of that legend has been lost, my dear boy. Just think of everything the world has already misinterpreted of your own tale in such a short span of time, and then consider all that Merlin's story had to lose. The seven worlds are there, when you listen closely."
This wasn't what he needed. Two worlds were bad enough to handle. "Okay, just...please get to it. I need to head back and figure out what to do with the situation we've got now, before I even get to...whatever this is."
"The tale of Merlin states that he told the lord that his castle's tremors were caused by the battling of two dragons, a white and a red. Three times, Merlin said, the white would overcome the red. But three times, he added, the red would push back and win."
"And the white dragon represented the old order and the white the new, that of Arthur's Camelot. I've heard this before."
"There is something the legend leaves out. Each battle was fought in a different world. For every world the Dark lost, Merlin's Light lost one too."
"You think we lost this world, because we lost serious ground here," Harry said slowly.
"For now. But if you win the war of the worlds, you can regain any territory you lost without opposition from the dark."
"Okay, stop. Why is there any reason to believe this is even true?"
"Because there are fractures between the gates," Blackwolf said. "Some of them are damaged from the war centuries ago and we can track the magical signature. It lends credence to the legend. Not only that, but Dumbledore has access to many of the ancient documents that have survived from that time period. They aren't completely lucid, but they also support the idea."
"Who all knows about the gates?"
"The gatekeepers, and some individuals in the governments that have land jurisdiction over where the gates are."
Harry paused. "Fudge would have had to know about the one in the Department of Mysteries. He told Umbridge, didn't he? That's how Riddle found out. She told him."
"Probably."
Harry rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Okay," he said wearily. "Okay, whatever. We've already got one world. What does all this mean?"
"Supposedly," Blackwolf said before Dumbledore could give a more dramatic version, "you will win three and he will win three. The seventh battle decides the war. Whoever wins that one wins them all."
"You don't sound like you're using a general 'you,'" Harry said suspiciously.
"It is a battle of lords. The Dark Lord against the Light. You are the Light."
"I've heard that," Harry said dryly, "but not with so much gloom and doom."
Dumbledore gave him a slight smile, hardly more than an uprising of his beard. "There is no gloom in this statement. I think you will win."
"We will," Harry said. "I doubt the Dark Lord has a posse as awesome as mine." Which he was going to be relying on for a while until he got back up to full strength, because he was nowhere near that point right then. Blackwolf smirked slightly. "I'll head back to the other world I've been staying in to make sure it's secured. Do you know how to get to the others?"
"Yes," Blackwolf said.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "My dear boy, how quickly do you think you can win a war in one world? This one took the better part of a year to be decided."
"Well, if the Light Curse is correct... It better be a few weeks at the most." He waved it off. "I'm going to tell a couple of the QDA. Tell Hermione if you find out anything else, and she'll let me know. One everything is sorted out here, I'm going back. Do you think the Order can hold what ground they have until we can return?"
"I believe we will lose the government again," Dumbledore replied frankly. "It will be fragmented, and it may be exceedingly difficult. I warn you – this world will not be the same when you return."
"But," Blackwolf agreed, almost through gritted teeth, "you don't have time to push it into shape to win."
Harry nodded reluctantly. "I believe you."
With nothing else to discuss, he made his way back to the Ministry. More worlds or not, he had other things to worry about for the immediate future, before everything got even messier.
He didn't send out messages when he landed in the entrance, giving Potter's DA a little more time to recuperate. They'd handled themselves about as well as expected, since they hadn't had the Blackwolf and BAU Summer Camp for the Traumatized experience. It was going to be quite the explanation when he got them back, though, as there was no way that their disappearance had gone entirely unnoticed after almost three hours.
Overall, there had been no fatalities between the two DAs, though he'd heard they had lost two aurors and an Order member. If there was some way to join all the groups together, the whole business would probably be much more effective, since they weren't under one single leadership, but there just wasn't the time to stop and get that all sorted out right now. Besides, with multiple worlds, it wasn't a bad idea to have one group operate solely as a home defense and another as a foreign offense. Until he had a moment, the groups were just going to have to act independently, no matter how disjointed it meant they had to operate. In a way, it was almost good that the BAU was no longer with them since it took out one more head they needed to cooperate with.
He came to a stop in the hall suddenly. His thoughts hadn't drifted to the current activities of the BAU in months. Even Elle had been focused with the war, so what news she had brought him hadn't had anything to do with the profiler team. There had been no statement about whether they were going to go back to their usual cases, or if they were going to start working magical cases as well, or what. Maybe if he had a spare moment, he'd try to find out. At the very least, he hoped to know they were all recovering from their period of wartime.
No one was in the hall with him, and he took the chance to lean against the stone for a couple of moments. His body was starting to ache, from moving around so much while his body was still recovering and from the damage it had taken because of his illness. If he went back to see the BAU, it would undoubtedly be the last time, and he knew he was going to have to make a decision about whether he wanted them to know or not. To keep his failing condition a secret would require him never seeing a one of them again, but he didn't know if he wanted to do that, no matter how agonizing it would be to see their reactions when they discovered what was wrong with him. He just knew the team would try and look for a solution, as they had done for him for years, even when this wasn't something they could fight; they'd also try to keep him in one place to avoid hastening the toll on his body, when he'd be better off trying to end the war instead.
He was jolted out of his reverie before he became too entrenched in it. Ron's dog phased out of a wall and skidded to a halt in front of him. "Get to the Veil," it said, and he took off running, pushing past the growing pain.
By the time he got there, half of his DA had been gathered, but from everyone's tense faces something had gone wrong. "What happened?" he demanded. Potter's group wasn't there, so it must be serious if they didn't trust the other group.
"Bellatrix was taunting Draco during the fight," Hermione said quickly, shakily, "and she kept saying it was all his and your fault for everything that had happened, because he had convinced others to turn against Riddle and you were leading the fight." He gestured for her to hurry it up. His stomach was rolling, but he couldn't tell if it was from anxiety or his failing health. "She said she was going to take away what was most important to you two."
His eyes flickered as he tried to work it out. "Quantico?"
"That's what Draco thought so he sent a message to Blackwolf, and then Ron noticed that the group of Death Eaters had vanished and he happened to mention it to Draco, and Draco realized they'd been down in these levels-"
"They went through the other world," Harry whispered. "There's another Quantico and Hogwarts there. They knew they weren't going to beat us without more help, so they went to get it."
"Draco thought the same, but he thinks Bellatrix was going to split off from everyone else. He saw Riddle talking to her, and he noticed she disappeared far before the others."
"Where does he think she went?"
"After what we all care for. Jack."
Draco found his alternate self rather easily. Just as he thought, there were several differences in how they had developed over the last couple of years that he took note of from under a disillusionment charm. He left Hogwarts minutes later, hurrying to Virginia with apparitions and floo jumps that were a little too hastily done to be accurate. On the way, he adjusted his appearance, slicking back his hair and gathering arrogance and distress to him until he had mimicked the other world about as well as he could.
The DA half that he had brought with him were already on their way to Quantico to start throwing up wards. They wouldn't hold for long if put under a heavy assault, but they would last until American support could come. It was neglectful to just go after Jack when the alternate thing Lestrange could have meant was the building they had all come to cherish, so although it had killed them to leave him and Jack, he had forced the rest of the DA to forget about them for the time being.
He apparated to the Hotchner home, and immediately knew he'd gotten the wrong location. There was a gaudy yellow Mustang in the driveway. He vanished, arriving in the conference room of the BAU and interrupting an explanation between Hotchner - his heart wrung itself -, Rossi, Strauss, and the twins, who for once in their lives were dead serious. The group turned to him sharply, the twins' eyes widening in hope.
"I need to know where Jack is," he said firmly.
"Why?" Hotchner replied sharply. Too sharply.
"Monopoly," Fred said and Draco instinctively winced. "Sorry, needed to make sure it was you. You look weird."
"It's intentional; I'm pretending to be myself," he told Fred, and then to Hotchner, "We think someone might be going after him because of Harry. I need an address so I can get him somewhere else."
"Who's after him?"
"The same person who killed you in our time," Draco quietly said. "She's Riddle's second in command, and she's absolutely insane."
"They said Lestrange is coming here," Strauss said, pointing at the twins.
"We think it's likely she's going to send her forces here," George corrected. "But we're not sure. And she doesn't need a small army to go after one boy."
"Not until I know more of what this is about," Hotchner said, and Draco really couldn't fault him for that.
He turned to the twins, said, "Keep trying," and then apparated into Garcia's office. She wasn't in there, which was a small miracle because he didn't know if he could have done this if she had been. He took the chair and quickly typed in her password, thankfully the same one as in the other world, and then he started searching.
It took him an unfortunate amount of time, though relatively short in comparison to what it would have been if he had gone about this another way, and he apparated out the moment he had the location. From there, he took it in short jumps to get within a small range of the address, and then he used Point Me spells to get even closer after casting a levitation charm on himself. The experience was extremely nauseating and he couldn't imagine why Riddle would ever choose this form of flight over the normal broomstick way.
Finally, he found himself outside a suburban house. Along with fifteen Death Eaters.
He sneered as a couple looked his way in surprise. "Oh, what did you expect?" he demanded, surreptitiously looking at faces. "That I wouldn't get involved when this would hurt Potter?" Lestrange wasn't here. Avery and Goyle, however, were. These people weren't from his world.
Avery smirked at him. "I suppose not. The Dark Lord just wants us to pick him up and take him back. We'll deal with him there." With a scoff, he added, "The other Bellatrix seems to think that someone should be arriving shortly to stop us."
Under his breath, Draco muttered, "Is that because she doubts her own competence? Glad we've got our Death Eaters instead."
That got a few raised eyebrows and smiles, a bit pleasantly surprised. Perhaps his other self wasn't that much of an asshole, even if he was working with the dark willingly, if his attitude was anything to go by.
"Go in with Goyle," Avery told him, and Draco moved to stand by the living version of Goyle. "Move in."
Goyle kept an eye on him for about five seconds, then they were raiding the house and he didn't care anymore about the teenager. A small group went inside, and shrieks and howls echoed out, artificially made from spells. Even so, Draco worried someone nearby would hear how loudly his heart was beating. The rest of the group just waited for the occupants to flee in fear. A minute later, the front door flew open, and a woman stumbled out, pushing two nearly identical kids out in front of her.
This was Harry's mother, Draco realized, horrified. Jack wasn't the only one at risk.
The trio looked around, wide-eyed and scared, and the woman glanced between the cluster of people in front of them and the howling house behind them. Then she turned to the group and demanded, "What do you want?"
They laughed. "What do we want, she asks," Avery snorted, and then Draco apparated to put himself next to one of the Jacks, grabbed onto all three of them, and apparated away.
Harry left the DA behind him, hurrying to the safe house as quickly as he could. The others were going to go support Quantico, and they didn't need him for that. No, there was a group that needed him much more.
The house was empty when he got there. It was more terrifying than it would have been to find blood or even a body. Those would have made it more likely that they had fought and gotten away; with such a head start, this only meant someone had taken them, and that could give Riddle all the time he wanted to torture any of them. Despite his overall exhaustion, a new wave of adrenaline was starting to course through him, and he hurried inside.
That didn't mean someone hadn't left hints about who or where specifically they had been taken. Harry slipped quietly to the upstairs of the safe house, where he could get a better view of the yard as well. The first two rooms he checked didn't give him much to look at, and the third had a nice span of the front yard but there weren't any places for someone to easily hide and there wasn't anything suspicious. The search was painstakingly slow and, so far, extremely uninformative, but while this was costing them time, the alternative could cost them blood. Anything at all had the potential to tell him what had happened.
He stepped into the fourth room and briefly noticed that it gave him a good look at the backyard. His attention was quickly diverted to the knife buried in the table in front of him, particularly the handle and the shape of the blade. It was his own, that he'd lost in the tussle with Foyet, the one he'd gotten from Blackwolf.
He threw up his hand to the height of his head as he whirled around, instinctively blocking a strike or a choker, and slid his feet to the side to avoid any jabs to the midsection. Nothing went near his head, but a knife sliced right under his arm and centimeters from his ribs, and Harry shot out with the hand that was already up to hit Foyet's chest, right where he'd already damaged him. Foyet turned, deflecting the blow to his pectoral instead, and he grabbed Harry's wrist as he belatedly realized his attack had been too obvious right off the bat.
With his wrist, he threw Harry off-balance enough to swipe his leg out from underneath him. Harry threw his elbow back and he felt cartilage shatter, but Foyet twisted and grabbed him from behind, making it harder for Harry to reel back for a hit. He struggled, legs kicking and arms smacking, as Foyet ducked his head into Harry's back to protect it and tightened his grip with one arm so he could release the other. Using the brief moment, Harry moved more strongly, aware he wasn't going to get another chance-
Then something was pushing into his diaphragm, slicing away muscles and organ, and Harry gasped in pain as Foyet twisted the blade. Before he could get oriented, Foyet dragged the knife to the side, eliciting a moan. Foyet pulled his knife out of tissue and blood and tucked it away as Harry's legs slowly buckled underneath him.
"I'm not taking a chance with you again," Foyet murmured as Harry's head fell back against his shoulder and he started slipping towards the ground. "Not even if you're weaker." He lowered Harry to the floor nonchalantly, face first, then got down and straddled Harry's waist. "It's funny, in a way. Your dad did the same thing. No screaming. Just kinda pissed."
He struggled but couldn't get himself into a good position to strike out. The fight earlier that day had drained him too much to get any real power behind what little he could do.
"Got to wonder how you knew I was coming. Nice job getting Haley and the kids out, I have to say. But you shouldn't have come back here on your own, no matter what magic you have."
"How long have you been here?" Harry demanded, hoping it came out furious.
"Never mind that."
That didn't do anything to tell him how long his brother had been gone for. He managed to throw an elbow back and collected solidly with Foyet's hip, causing him to flinch to the side for an instant before he grabbed onto Harry's arm and stopped him from lashing out again.
"Brave, aren't you?" Foyet muttered as Harry felt rope around his wrists. He tried to pull his wrists apart; Foyet let him, tying one wrist and then yanking the other up to secure it to the first. Harry thrashed even as the knots were tied, attempting to keep panic down and remember his training, but instinctively he felt that so much relied on his hands that binding them was the end of his resistance. "Fighting the big bad man all by yourself. Wouldn't Daddy be proud if he knew?"
Harry strained with his legs, managing to kick Foyet in the back even if it was only a glancing blow, but he just adjusted to pin down Harry's thighs as well. Damn his sickness and bed rest - he'd lost too much muscle in those weeks to have a hope of throwing Foyet off when all his weight was on him, especially not when he was so injured and so exhausted now. "Yes, I know about that. So what are you, a bastard son? 'Cause Haley, she doesn't know, does she, and I'm pretty sure that mothers usually know when their babies are born." With a smirk in his voice, he added, "Does Hotchner even know, or did he not keep in touch after the fling?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry demanded. He could feel his front getting wet, and his vision was starting to get hazy. It would have been all right if Foyet hadn't moved the knife once it was in him. There was too much blood coming out. Foyet had meant for this to be fatal, damn him. Under his breath, he started to murmur, "Hista-" then broke off as wrenching pain shot through him.
"Oh, Harry, you couldn't be anybody's son but Hotchner's. Anyone could tell, watching you two stand side by side. So, what is it - bastard spawn? Wouldn't have taken him for that kind of person, but sometimes work takes people places, things happen, and then nine months later a little surprise comes along."
The pain resonated through his body in time with his heartbeat, clawing at his very being. It felt like everything that connected him together - tissues, muscles, bones, ligaments, all of it - was being yanked at, like someone was trying to pull him apart piece by piece. He rested his forehead against the floor, gritting his teeth against the pain. Something else was fighting him, trying to alleviate the strain, but it just felt like it was building pressure.
"Histania," he hissed under his breath, and the skin around the injury numbed as it froze in place.
The tension was starting to get worse, and now he could feel something else pulling at him. No, pulling at something within him, like his magical core was being tugged at. With a horrible tearing feeling, he felt strands of the blood magic starting to detach from his core, an octopus being dragged from its victim. He'd been so worried about the Light Curse that he had entirely forgotten the state of the blood wards – and those didn't have to be as powerful to be just as deadly.
His eyes tightened closed. If possible, he was going to have to burn out his magic to survive the day, and to survive Foyet. It might not buy him much time, only until someone else came after him, but the Hotchners wouldn't be in danger from this man any longer at least. Not that that would help the ones who'd already been taken by Death Eaters.
"Are we just going to sit here and wait?" Harry muttered. "My legs are starting to go numb from your fat arse." Or blood loss.
Foyet leaned down on him, forearms resting on Harry's shoulder blades, so he could get his mouth closer to Harry's ear. "No, I'm going to give you the itinerary for tonight. Do you know what your father profiled me as?"
"You're going to tell me anyway with dramatic flair, so I'll let you take the spotlight." The weight shift was putting more pressure on his wound, and it took everything he had to force his words out as calmly as he could. Change to the wound was going to cause more injury, no matter what stasis spell he put on it, and would increase the number of torn blood vessels and tissues. He was trying not to focus on any of that, frantically wondering how to burn out his core, though he acknowledged that without magic he wasn't going to be able to stop himself from bleeding to death.
"He profiled me as a lot of things. Technically I count as a serial killer and a spree killer since I kill by waiting for my type and when I get angry. Isn't that fun?" His fingers danced over the nape of Harry's neck. "He also profiled me as impotent."
The lines of Foyet's body against his made him want to scrub himself clean, and the possessive hand near his head was a dangerous warning against resistance. It felt nothing like he'd experienced before, not in war when he had the strength of an army and his magic, or the hopelessness of standing on a street making a decision about theft when he was still capable of controlling his actions. Not even when he'd put himself in between Perotta and Jack, choosing to make his own stand.
This was someone claiming his body as an item for them to handle, stating that his arms were in the way, the strength in his legs was inconsequential, his wit and intelligence were useless, and everything was just a toy to play with.
He had magical power that wizards twice his age never possessed. According to all logic, he never should have found himself in this situation.
He was sixteen and scared. His blood was leaking out of him, he was permanently crippled from his father's murder, and the one person he had left to protect was now missing. His skin felt raw and exposed, and the longer Foyet sat there on him, the closer he came to feeling less like a human being and more like a tool for someone's pleasure.
Fear was power. If his strength lay in magic, then Foyet's was in control. He couldn't gather his magic quickly enough, but he could pretend he wasn't scared. He could go down without panicking, and even if Foyet went ahead and did what he'd come to do, he would never know how helpless Harry had felt with his magic depleted and his hands bound. There was a chance that he could take Foyet out; he had to focus on that.
Harry groaned and rested his head against the floor. "Oh, for the love of- I swear, if you try to threaten me with rape-"
"You'll what? Scream?"
"I'm going to be seriously pissed. You're the second mass murderer and the third person in general to try this and I'm starting to get concerned. Do I have a 'Screw me' vibe or something?" If he could throw this off the normal script, Foyet would have to waste time getting this back to where he wanted it to go so he could fulfill his fantasies. He just had to keep his head long enough to figure out how to make this work.
It was possible he could burn it out if he threw everything he had at Foyet at the same time. It would utterly destroy the man, but he could live with the murder if it meant Jack was safe.
No, he wouldn't. Between the force of all that magic leaving his body and his injury, he would assuredly die.
He wished he could've gone home one last time after the war.
"I was hoping to play with all three of you before killing you and make Haley watch and tell her dear ex what happened, but I guess that's not going to happen when most of the party's left early." He shifted his weight and Harry grimaced as something rubbed against him. "You know just as well as I do that we don't have much time, but people do speed dating with less, and I think I can get to know you pretty well, inside and out, in the next few minutes." He moved closer, breath tickling the side of Harry's neck. Harry turned his head to glare at him as he started gathering his magic together. Then he stopped, staring over Foyet's shoulder. "Can't you just imagine your father's face when he finds out what I've done?"
"Probably a lot like that," Harry breathed, eyes widening.
Foyet sat up sharply just as Hotch - permanently bruised and bloodied, fresh from war with the scars to match - grabbed Foyet by the front of his shirt and dragged him back and away from Harry. Foyet scrabbled against him for a moment, but then his gaze fell on the open wound that had split Hotch's trachea and the critical veins and arteries in his neck, and, like what any person with a hint of self-preservation would do, he froze.
His hands were still burning, the only part of him that was warm, from dragging himself back.
Balled into fists, they slammed into Foyet over and over again, and maybe Hotch should care that his son was seeing this, watching his father brutally pound away at any part of Foyet's body that he could reach, but he was too far gone to even give it a second thought. The moment Foyet had stabbed Harry, he'd known what Foyet's endgame was, and the instant he'd gotten on top of Harry, he'd known how he planned to get there.
He would have murdered Haley, too cowardly to take out the kids before her, and Hotch would have seen her die and witnessed his own self clutching at her corpse like he had years ago. Then Foyet would have taken out one of the Jacks, followed by the other - one who had already seen psychopathy and been changed by it, and one who could have gone the rest of his life without being touched by it. Doomed to die from it because their fathers didn't get there fast enough to help.
But before that, he planned to cut open Harry, make him bleed like Foyet had through his torture and Hotch had through his departure, because Harry had dared to challenge him, just as prideful, just as arrogant as Hotch had been when he'd refused to back down from the hunt. Kill his oldest son, the one who'd been taken from him before, the one who had gone through so much with a raised head and a firm stance because he was done being a victim, was done suffering mind games, was done being hurt offhandedly. The one who handled such terrible loss by ensuring it would never happen again, lashing out at the world only when it threatened what he had left.
There was so much Hotch should have protected him from, that Harry never should have been forced to endure. And yet, in spite of that, Harry had never hated him for it, instead greeting him each time with a smile suggesting Harry was just content to have someone who came back to him. He'd taken so little for so much, and he'd never complained. No, he'd just become wiser and stronger, but he had never understood that he shouldn't have been put in that position because Hotch should have been there to stop it from ever happening. And still, Harry had put all his faith and all his trust into Hotch, leaving himself all the more vulnerable when Hotch had cruelly snatched it away, wiped from the earth by a curse he took for Harry.
Foyet's face streamed with blood, and his hands shakily came up, no longer bothering trying to protect himself. "Okay, okay, I-" Hotch punched him in the mouth. "I surrender."
He hit him again and again and again.
Foyet might have stood a chance if he'd tried this years ago. Maybe. If family hadn't tried to take Hotch from Harry before, claiming he wasn't suited to raise the magical child. If others hadn't tried to separate them through wards at the school or by wanting to send Harry to live with someone from the magical world. If a few more hadn't tried killing one or both of them, coming back for revenge or just for the fun of it.
If the Dursleys hadn't taunted Harry by telling him his father touched his kids. If Hotch's own father hadn't showed up and made the same insinuation to try to put doubt in Harry's mind. If Perotta hadn't taken Harry and abused his position to threaten him with implications and caresses. If Harry hadn't felt like he'd had to offer himself up to that to protect his brother. If Hotch had been there to keep his kids fed and taken care of so Harry hadn't been forced to let someone else touch him and touch someone else. If Harry hadn't been so distraught by it afterwards, not because of what had happened, but because he feared he'd disappointed his father.
So no matter how badly it had hurt, even though all his logic told him it was a horrible idea, Hotch had grabbed onto that fragile link between him and his son, formed by the same blood magic that was killing Harry. And he pulled himself closer and closer, fully aware that this could very well destroy his fragile remaining self, and dragged himself from one plane of existence to the next until he saw Harry react. He knew he was finally, finally visible, and then he stepped forward once more, feeling the link quiver and shake under his pressure, and then it was all different. The world snapped back into view, and he felt life around him once more even though his body felt empty and cold.
Foyet tried to fight back, but the blow barely registered and he went back to trying to shield himself. Movement caught Hotch's eye, and he turned to Harry by the table, shaking off the rest of his bonds. He must have used the knife, which he now tucked away after wrenching it from the wood with a trembling hand.
And Foyet had tied up his son, the one with the absolute fear of restraints from when he'd been forced to watch the violent murders of his classmates while killers drained his blood from him.
Hotch turned back and punched Foyet again for good measure, then looked at Harry, who was leaning against the table heavily and clutching his wound. It had stopped bleeding under a renewed stasis charm for now, but it could easily tear in his state. Hotch pointed at the floor and said, "Stay," though no sound came out of his mouth. Harry frowned at the peculiarity, and Hotch's expression softened slightly as he more insistently gestured to the floor with his finger.
"Oh, when have I ever?" Harry pointed out, even as he was clutching at his wound, and Hotch grimaced in acknowledgement.
Using his distraction, Foyet managed to tear himself free from Hotch and get to the door, oblivious to the steady stream of swears in Hotch's mind. The bastard was not getting away from him, not after what he'd tried to do. Hotch ran after him as the killer tumbled out into the hallway, stupidly hoping that Harry would have the good sense to stay where he was at. He heard Harry moving behind him a half second later, throwing that thought to the wind.
Foyet was going to the stairs, and from there it was unclear where he was going to go but he still had his knife. Hotch tried to grab at him at the top of the staircase, but between Foyet's disorientation over the punching and the snatch on his clothing, the serial killer lost his balance and went down to the first floor the fast way. He managed to catch the bannister at the bottom and used it to stagger to his feet, glancing fearfully back to Hotch and Harry.
And then a velociraptor came flying out of the living room, claws extended, and sailed into Foyet so hard that they both went tumbling into the dining room. Hotch blinked.
"Okay, I didn't see that coming," Harry admitted as they heard Foyet's shriek of pain. He was leaning against the bannister, bloodied hand staining the white paint while the other arm was wrapped around his midsection.
Hotch shrugged slightly, then shifted over to pull Harry against him to help his son keep standing. Blue had the matter well in hand in the other room, surely. Harry made an appreciative noise.
"Blue," Harry called, and there was a short pause, followed by the sounds of Foyet scrambling to his feet and sprinting towards the back door. "Nevermind."
The back door banged open, and a moment later they heard Blue go screeching after him, eager to be on the hunt once more.
"Should we, I don't know, help him?" Harry asked, leaning his head against Hotch's chest. There was an odd note to his voice, one of reluctance, but it wasn't aimed at Foyet. No, it was towards Hotch, and after a moment, he realized why. It must have been killing Harry to rely on Hotch, even for a little bit, when he knew he wasn't going to have that support for much longer.
Hotch shook his head, not caring what the dinosaur did to the murderer in the slightest. He tightened his grip on Harry.
"Good, 'cause we don't have time. Dad, do you know what happened to Jack and the others?"
Hotch grimaced and shook his head again. With everything he'd seen of Harry the last couple of months, he had seen almost nothing of Jack. "Portkey," he said, still soundlessly, but Harry saw his lips moving and his hand drifted to the object in his pocket. "I can get them. You need to get treated first."
"I'll go, Dad, just-" Hotch grabbed Harry's hand and forced it into his pocket with his own. "Porti," Harry reluctantly said, and they were gone.
[-]
Author's Note: Sooo, who thinks they know what just happened with Hotch?
