Chapter Fifty: Gilderoy Lockhart's Spinster Aunt
Severus Snape knew something was wrong. The Order was getting taken out but the Death Eaters, who had previously been getting knocked out by sparkly high heels, a punching duo of Muggles, and a Muggle woman with a tea kettle. Not one hour later, however, they seemed to be immune to injury or death by any spell flung their way.
He didn't have time to contemplate what was happening, or how it could be stopped, because that stupid fool Lupin was biting people like a deranged rabid beast and this false Dumbledore was making irritating commentary on his fighting form and selection of spells, all while complimenting Lupin's savage brutality.
It seemed even this fake version of Dumbledore refused to be impressed with him, Severus, over one of the stupid Marauders. He tripped over something on the floor. It was the body of Millicent Bulstrode, and all rational thought left Severus Snape's head. He must get revenge. He flipped his hair, which instead of smacking him with oil instead bounced and smelled like flowers. He shuddered, looked at Millicent for strength, and pranced a little, flipping his hair again. A nearby Death Eater fell off his broom in a dead faint.
Severus Snape did something more terrifying than almost anything that had happened that day, and smiled again.
Lupin shrieked.
Snape smiled wider. Another Death Eater fell. Excellent. Plan D was incredibly stupid, so stupid he'd spent a fully day writing rhyming insults that he had every intention of using on Lupin when the opportunity presented itself, but plan D was currently all they had. It was going poorly so far, but the spells at least had activated. All of the students had fled inside, and all of the adults had been sure to do their jobs, to guard the outside to ensure that the protection spells activated. Now, all they had to do was stall until the foreign contingent of wizards and witches that comprised the International Confederation of Wizards arrived as reinforcements. Then, they would be saved.
Theodore Nott ran full pelt around the last corner on the first floor corridor, and skidded to a surprise halt when he saw the chaos happening in the Great Hall entryway; the Professors and Hogsmeade residents and Weasley's and Hagrid flying around on a hippogriff fighting Death Eaters darting around on brooms. He had a plan. He had an obligation. But how to go about doing it? Everyone thought he was Death Eater who had tried to commit murder and been thwarted. Well. Not everyone. The Death Eater's knew better. They knew what they'd done to him, and Pritchard, and—Theo saw a girl flying around, halfheartedly casting spells that hit no one, a look of misery on her face. What the Death Eaters had done to her as well. But the good guys didn't know. Nearest to him, he saw the Weasley twins fighting Narcissa Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, Aberfoth Dumbledore shoving them behind pillars to dodge spells, none of their spells doing any harm to the Death Eaters. In fact, none of the Order was doing damage to the Death Eaters. All they could do was preserve their own lives. It was far worse than Theo had thought. But how…? His eyes fell on the corpse of Millicent Bulstrode.
"Oh, fuck."
Someone gasped behind him, and he spun around, wandless and defenseless.
"I have a plan," Katie repeated firmly.
"What is it?" Sam said desperately, as they watched Yaxley caper around twenty feet away, laughing madly, asking where that pretty little Granger girl was, and he wanted to add her to his collection. Professor Trelawney dropped a crystal ball on his thick skull from fifty feet up, and nothing happened aside from the ball cracking into five pieces and sliding to the floor.
"Stop crying, Morag," Katie said firmly, and the girl in question looked at her in disbelief, tears streaming down her face." Stop. It." Katie said, harsher, "that isn't helping at all. We'll all cry later, when this is done and everyone's safe. That goes for you too, Sam."
And just like that, Sam felt the urge to sob leave him. "Tell me that's not the plan," he said.
"It was step one," Katie snapped at him, "step two…" and she wiggled a bit, and Sam saw that she had been rubbing her ropes on a chunk of statue that jutted sharply outwards, and with one last violent movement, she dropped free. Then she pulled out her wand.
"Good plan," Sam said.
Madam Maxime looked around at the gathering of wizards, witches, and Muggles that had shown up at her gates, crying and scared, some of them bloody.
"Welcome to Beauxbatons," she said warmly, her students holding out robes and food in their arms.
She cast a revealing spell and everyone gasped when the castle came into view, the ivory towers carved with delicate flowers and vines, the beautiful stained glass windows, the impeccable grounds, the gold flourishes everywhere. Everyone gasped, aside from two younger boys in odder robes than the rest of the Hogwarts students, who ran over to her, opened their mouths, and shocked her by shouting at her in impeccable French. Behind them was a grown man dressed like a Muggle who looked around vaguely.
"You have to help us!" the older boy yelped in French.
"Our friends!" the other boy yelled as well, "they are in danger."
"My dear boys," Madame Maxime responded calmly, as her ruby ring on her pinky finger glowed brightly, indicating plan D had indeed become necessary, "we are already on the way to help."
"Headmaster, the form in which you've bitten that man, I'm quite impressed," Dumbledore said mildly, "why, look at that gash, right under the arm—"
"For god's sake!" Snape shrieked, pulling at his beautiful hair, "even this strange impostor Dumbledore praises everything you do! Are you going to follow him into the privy and watch him wipe his arse and—?"
"Severus really," Lupin said, snickering, and he tore at Jugson, which for some reason didn't seem to stop the man physically at all. Yes, the bitten Death Eaters were screaming in horror, convinced he had turned them into werewolves, even when he had not, but they were still fighting.
"You've done so much with that—what was it? Desert shampoo?"
"Dry shampoo you half-wit," Snape snarled, the effect of which was ruined when one perfect lock caught the light, shone, and bounced energetically. The Death Eater next to Jugson covered his eyes and screamed.
"Another Order of Merlin," the impostor Dumbledore mumbled to himself, "first class. Just for listening to this idiocy."
Snape and Lupin turned to him, finally united in their outrage, because only they could insult the other's intelligence thankyouverymuch when Voldemort himself spotted Dumbledore, gave a mindless howl of anger, and ran straight at them.
Phobos had seen it happen, but he couldn't have stopped it, all he could do was hold Hermione as she made horrible noises, noises he had had no idea a human could even make, as she tore at her hair and tried to claw her own face and throat.
Phobos grabbed at her hands, she was surprisingly strong, and tried to hold her against him. Potter was laying face down, his glasses cracked on the ground half a foot from his head. He was sprawled in the awkward way that revealed that he was well and truly dead. Riddle was getting pummeled, despite his minions best attempts to stop it. There were too many other angry students, hundreds of them who all apparently loved Potter more than Phobos could comprehend. Granger's boyfriend was motionless, starting at Potter with his mouth slightly ajar. No one else was anywhere near Potter. All of the attention was either on beating Riddle to death or on Hermione's banshee yelling.
"Granger, stop it!" Phobos yelled as she tried to break free of him again, screaming like a woman gone mad, an animal dying in a trap, someone suffering under the Cruciatus. "Hermione!"
Estelle had come over, and Marion Hinsley who was still as white as if she'd seen Avery naked, and her other do gooder friends but no one could restrain Granger, and now she was wailing words.
"I'll kill him! I'll kill him!"
Her pretty boyfriend seemed to snap out of his daze at this, and stumbled towards them, tears in his eyes.
"Hermione…" he croaked.
A girl with dirty blonde hair pushed through the crowed. She seemed to be wearing miniature Cornish pixies as earrings. It was impossible to tell if they were made of false substances or actual preserved dead pixies. She had her wand pushed behind her ear, and one of her arms was painted in swirls of purple glitter for some unfathomable reason.
"What the f—?" Dougal started to say.
She approached Potter's body alone, and crouched down, picking up his glasses. She pulled the wand from behind her ear.
"Luna," a girl in a Ravenclaw tie with shiny black hair who was trying to get through the throng to calm Hermione down, "leave it."
"Don't touch him! Don't touch him!" Granger was now yelling hysterically. "Let go of me Phobos Malfoy! Let me go! I need to kill him! I need to!"
The girl, Luna, ignored everyone and repaired Potter's glasses, pocketing them. She looked at them like this was normal.
"He'll want them fixed," she said simply, and Hermione howled like she'd witnessed Potter's death afresh.
"He won't need them," Lestrange said sensibly as he tried to pry a boy off of Riddle, "he's de—"
"Shut up!" Granger screamed, "shut up or I'll kill you, Rutherford Lestrange!"
"Lestrange?" A boy with a round face, the one who had reacted so strongly when the older version of Marion Hinsley—Augusta Longbottom—died. "Lestrange, did you say, Hermione?"
"Oh no," Igneus said, comprehending something enormous no one else seemed to, "no Hermione, don't—"
"Yes!" Hermione screamed, "Lestrange! And there's Mulcibur!" she pointed to where the Slytherin was half bled out on the ground, and in his delirium, Marvin waved weakly at the people starting at them. "And that's Logan Parkinson!" she pointed viciously again.
"Hermione, stop it!" Igneus said sharply.
"And Sergon Avery and – and – the Malfoys!" she shouted.
Dougal groaned, for once in his life understanding something before his brother did.
"They're future Death Eaters!' Granger bellowed. "Death Eaters!"
And with one brilliant moment of shock, Phobos let go of Granger, as the eyes of her peers, who far outnumbered the past students, turned hostile.
"Who are you?" Hortense Lockhart shouted in unison with the mousy brown haired boy in front of her. His hair was messy and in his face, and something about his eyes reminded her strongly of someone else she knew but could not place.
"I asked first," they said again in unison.
Hortense heard the shouting nearby, saw a wizard on a broom laughing and shooting curses, and made up her mind to be the bigger witch.
"I'm Hortense Lockhart," she said, "and you are?"
"Hortense Lockhart?" the boy said, his eyes bulging, "The Hortense Lockhart?" Hortense felt pleasantly warm that this older boy seemed to find her impressive until he added: "the spinster aunt?"
"Pardon me?" Hortense said, trying to remain polite, but really, was there any cause for this boy to be so rude?
Really, it made a lot of sense that Hermione spoke the way she did if she had to put up with boys like this.
"You're the one who discovered the Libere Loqui spell?" the boy said eagerly, not apologizing at all for his rudeness.
"Well, I…discovered," Hortense said, trying to remain indignant and not flattered at his obvious admiration. "I wouldn't say discovered, I just saw it in a very old book in the library and I-"
"But you figured out," the boy interrupted, "that it would reverse curses that caused the recipient to not be able to speak the truth about certain things?"
"Well, yes," Hortense said, fingering the ring in her pocket. As bizarre yet rewarding this strange boy's excitement was, she had a job to do.
The boy yelped, actually yelped with delight, and grabbed her hand. Hortense blushed tomato at a boy—an older boy at that!—touching her.
"I don't even care why Professor Lockhart said you were old and you're clearly about ten," the boy said with trembling emotion, and Hortense grew outraged again. Ten! Ten! "I'll assume it was the Obliviation spell that made him confused. But there is no other person I'd rather see in the world right now," he finished, and Hortense blushed furiously again.
She was so confused that she wondered if this was what the girls in her dorm were talking about at night when they giggled over boys.
"I need you," the boy continued, still holding her hand, and if this boy with shaggy hair had asked Hortense to jump over the railing with him at that very moment, she might have done it.
Brigitte was confused and terrified.
"Death Eaters! Death Eaters!" Hermione was still screaming hysterically, and Phobos had let her go, his face gray, his grip slack, and someone had to do something, or else this entire room was going to descend into the murder of innocents.
No one from her group seemed to know what to do. The all stared helplessly at each other, not understanding why Riddle's friends now seemed in imminent danger, or why the Malfoys were also under threat, when they didn't even particularly like Riddle.
"Hermione," her boyfriend that should be dead but wasn't said, stumbling over like he had been hit in the head or downed six shots of firewhiskey. "Hermione, sweetheart…"
"Death Eaters!" one of the boys in a Slytherin tie bellowed. "Death Eaters killed our friends!"
"Oh, no," Estelle said, and still, no one did anything.
Outside, they could hear bangs and screams, and nearby a large boy was shouting "let me get at him! He killed my cousin! I need to give him the old one-two!"
"Death Eaters!" Hermione screamed again, and Brigitte knew it was now or never.
She stepped forward and cracked her best friend on the face as hard as she could.
Hermione shut up, looking wonderingly at Brigitte, her locket that matched Brigitte's gleaming around her neck.
"Hey!" her boyfriend bellowed, and now the attention had shifted to her and perhaps that was OK if Brigitte had stopped these other boys getting beaten to death alongside Riddle.
In the background, a boy sat up, and put on a pair of glasses that the girl with purple glitter swirls on her arm offered him, unnoticed by everyone.
"What's all this, then?" Harry Potter asked.
Yaxley was close. Very close. They were unarmed, and the Order's spells were doing nothing against the Death Eaters but there was nothing for it. They had no choice.
Across the room, the man who looked like a much younger Dumbledore was fighting with Voldemort, presumably about to save the day but to the three desperate students crouching behind a half blasted statue, there was nothing but the huge, deadly Death Eater in front of them.
Yaxley stumbled their way, laughing, made a crude remark about Katie, before his expression dropped at what had happened while he had been off trying to kill members of the Order. There was a moment where they could've easily overpowered Yaxley, where they could've attacked him three on one and subdued him, but Katie chose the worst possible moment to spot Oliver and Percy and Krum under siege, about to be hit with the green light of the Avada Kedavra.
"Watch out!" she screamed, standing up, casting what she logically knew was a useless deflection spell.
Yaxley recoiled, and when Morag lunged forward, her ropes in her hands, she tripped over a stone on the ground and missed.
Yaxley laughed again, his wand rising.
"Yeaaaaghhh!" Sam screamed, and the tormented teenage boy who weighed maybe a third of what the Death Eater in front of him weighed leapt forward, his rope between his hands like a noose, and looped it around Yaxley's neck, falling down, using all of his weight on the rope.
"Look," Theodore Nott said to the little girl in front of him who was gazing at him as soppily as his classmates had gazed at Gilderoy Lockhart in second year, "I need you to help me cast your spell on some people. Can you do that?"
"Of course!" Hortense Lockhart said, and his logical brain wanted to wonder why a woman who had been described as an ancient spinster was standing in front of him one step away from pigtails, but he couldn't think on it now.
"But first," Nott said grimly, staring at Millicent again, realizing what her death implicated, "we need to find someone."
"Who?" Hortense asked.
"The most important person in the world," Nott said, "Vincent Crabbe."
Crabbe ate the last bite of his strawberry and hazelnut crepe, sighing.
"Another slice of bacon, Master Vince?" Kreegan asked him happily, pouring him a cup of pumpkin juice in one goblet and filling up his mug of hot cocoa in turn.
"Maybe two," Crabbe said agreeably, "or three."
The house elf looked at him and beamed.
"Who is missing?" Rodolphus bellowed at Narcissa as he attempted to kill a boy who was obviously a Weasley for the twelfth time or so. Across the room, their master was dueling what looked like a man wearing an Albus Dumbledore costume from fifty years or so ago.
Narcissa was halfheartedly throwing spells at no one. "Crabbe's son," she shrugged, "he's the last."
"What's his name?" Rodolphus demanded, ducking again. Damn Weasley's! Kill five of them, do worse to one more, and there will still somehow three left.
It had all been going so well too. For the most part. Mordecai Bulstrode had killed his blood traitor daughter, and that meant the only one left was Crabbe's son.
"Vincent Crabbe," Narcissa said, and his latest curse missed the Weasley boy again. How in Salazar's name were the do-gooding fools left fighting so adept at ducking deadly spells?
Rodolphus paused. "Isn't that the father's name?" he asked.
"Yes," Narcissa said, examining a nail on her left hand.
"Do you think it's possible that the man only knows one name?" Rodolphus asked.
"That man was Lucius's top lackey for thirty years," Narcissa said. "I was forced to endure his company at endless functions. I'd say it was more than possible."
Rodolphus threw a dismembering curse at the Weasley's and snarled in frustration when it missed again.
"It's not fully working because we don't have the boy," Narcissa said languidly.
"You don't say," Rodolphus barked.
Narcissa yawned.
"You could help you know!" he snapped. If Bellatrix could see this she might actually kill her own sister.
"I could," Narcissa said, "and the Dark Lord also could have spared my son."
Rodolphus felt an ominous chill go down his spine. He half turned to the woman.
"What—?"
Narcissa pounced.
Outside the castle grounds the confederation of international wizards trickled in, looking at the castle in the far distance, where strange lights were visible in the glass windows.
Madame Maxime stepped forward through the gates, and the others attempted to follow. They ran into an invisible barrier and bounced to the ground.
"Wait," one of the two small French boys said, "'ave the rest of 'oo not been screwed—"
"Keyed, Philippe," the other boy corrected.
"Keyed into the castle secure?"
"Security," Madame Maxime corrected absently, in her fluent English. Her father had insisted on her practicing it every day, no matter how strange and ugly the sounds felt in her mouth. "And…it seems…we 'ave forgotten that part when we made theez plan."
"Oh balls," the American Minister groaned.
"Quite," Madam Maxime agreed.
Harry Potter squinted against the rising sunlight streaming in through the Great Hall's windows. He wanted to, but he couldn't quite explain away what was happening in front of him as merely an errant glare of the sun.
Tom Riddle was getting pummeled by a gang of students. Hermione was being restrained by a trio of Malfoys and a blonde girl, a slap mark visibly red on her cheek. Blaise Zabini was crying. Dudley was holding his fists up and trying to get to Riddle. And Luna Lovegood was wearing petrified Cornish pixies as earrings.
Harry rubbed his face. He had just spent time in a weird alternate King's Cross with his Dumbledore and a baby that looked like it had been soaked in marina sauce talking about the way to defeat Voldemort. That was trippy enough. But there was only really one thing right now that needed addressing.
"Where'd you get the pixies from?" Harry asked Luna, gesturing at her earrings.
"HARRY!" Dudley shouted, as Hermione gaped at him in the background, and before he knew it, his enormous cousin had tackled him in the twelfth most violent hug of his life (the first through eleventh most violent spots were, of course, reserved for Hagrid)
"Ooof! Dudley, get—Zabini don't-gahhh!" for Zabini had jumped on top of Dudley to try to hug Harry as well and he could no longer breathe.
"STOP HITTING HIM!" Logan Parkinson bellowed, "Your stupid Potter is alive!"
While he choked Harry could see that Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably as she threw of the people holding onto her, got to her feet, and fell over from her shaking legs.
"Daddy brought them back for me from Newquay," Luna said serenely. "We used a permanent freezing charm after they died from old age and I painted their fingernails."
Harry peered closer, and saw that each of the Cornish Pixie's nails were a different color. Dudley's hug squeezed tighter.
"Cool," Harry choked.
He shouldn't be winning, but somehow, Sam knew he was. Yaxley had fallen with him, twisting, trying to get away, but Sam held tight to the ropes and the Death Eater was kicking feebly. Katie and Morgan rushed over, both stammering apologies, and were trying to tie up Yaxley. Morag got kicked in the face, and Sam tightened the rope more.
"So you did some spell," Percy Weasley said, next to him stood Oliver Wood and Viktor Krum; "you all did some dark magick to make yourselves invincible. But it didn't work, did it? It almost worked. Magic doesn't work against you." Yaxley tried to spit some insult at Percy but couldn't, and Sam kept pulling. "But you're missing one piece," Percy said, "you missed one of your kids. And so you're not invincible. And you forgot one thing. Magic might not kill you right now. But Muggle violence can."
Yaxley gave one last attempt at air, kicked hard again and died. Sam kept pulling on the rope.
"We need to make a plan," Theodore Nott said, because he hadn't thought past "cast Libere Loqui and save everyone" and frankly, based on the disaster going on below that seemed impossible.
Also, he didn't have a wand. He watched as The Dark Lord fought an auburn haired wizard who somehow was doing no damage to The Dark Lord but was also not dying despite The Dark Lord's best efforts. "We need to reverse the curse somehow. But…"
Hortense Lockhart grinned and pulled something out of her robe pocket and held it out to him.
"This should do nicely as a distraction, I think," she said, just a hint smugly.
"A…ring?" Nott said skeptically.
"Not a ring," Hortense said triumphantly, her voice shaking, "the resurrection stone."
It was typical of her best friend that he had just returned from the dead for the second time in his life and he was discussing Luna's choice of earrings with her while everyone else lost their minds around him.
Brigitte helped her to her feet and Hermione wobbled over to Harry, crying so hard she could barely see. She couldn't do it without Harry too. She collapsed onto the pile on top of him.
"Hermio—aughhh!" Harry said, and Zabini hugged her with one of his arms as well as the mass that was a crying Dudley.
"Geroff," Harry choked out, "everyone get off!"
Gently, Hermione felt herself being moved off of Zabini, Dudley, and Harry by Igneus Malfoy, who really had no right to be nice to her at all after what she had just tried to do in her grief.
Harry sat up when he was finally free, sweating.
"Listen," he said, as everyone tried to shout a thousand questions and hug him.
"We don't have time for all this."
"You were the one just talking about earrings," Estelle Black pointed out loftily.
Harry frowned at her and Hermione thought the rage monster was going to come out, but instead she realized he was noticing her resemblance to Sirius.
"Point taken," Harry said, "but look, I know how to defeat Voldemort" (half the crowd screamed) "and we need to hurry up before all of the adults die protecting us."
There was a yelp when Riddle was hit again
"And stop that!" Harry snapped, "stop it! He just saved us all, you arseholes!"
Everyone stopped.
"He…he did?" Hermione said weakly, turning to Riddle whose head popped up out of the crowd, still somehow pretty, even with the bruise forming on his jaw and eye, the bloody lip, the trickle of blood from his hairline. His eyes bored into hers like a python about to swallow a small animal whole.
"Yes," Harry said firmly, standing up and pushing his glasses up his nose, pulling out one of the sets of robes Hermione had given him and putting them on. "Although he could've mentioned what he was doing first, stupid dramatic bastard."
Riddle shook off his attackers who were being pushed away without protest by his minions. He looked Harry in the eye, and pulled on his own matching set of robes.
"No I couldn't have," Riddle said, dusting off the old fashioned embroidery. "You had to think I was killing you."
"What are you two doing?" Ethelinda Higgs drawled, "starting a gang comprised of badly dressed wizards?"
"Get yours on, Hermione," Riddle said, swiping at the blood now on his chin. It should've not been sexy. It shouldn't have.
"What about the other set?" Hermione asked, trying not to feel the crushing shame that was threatening to swallow her when it hit her how she'd tried to get a bunch of relatively innocent teenage boys killed in her rage.
"Oh," Harry shrugged, "um…you. You seem pretty cool," he handed Hermione's matching robe to Brigitte, who blinked.
"You're not supposed to pick someone cool," Riddle said, exasperated, drawing out the word cool since it was rather an absurd term to a person from the 1940's. "You're supposed to pick someone powerful to share magic with."
"Brigitte is powerful," Wyatt Corsington said, crossing his arms stubbornly.
"And hot?" Blaise muttered quietly under his breath to Harry.
"Whatever," Harry waved a hand. "I think she'll help."
"Good choice," Hermione said firmly when Riddle opened his mouth in outrage to protest again. He glared at her, and wiped more blood from his face. Blood was not sexy. Boys who had just been beaten up were not sexy. And yet here Hermione was, finding it sexy.
"Look can someone explain what you're all going on about?" Neville Longbottom demanded. "Now?"
"We don't have time," Riddle said.
"Potter was just killed and came back to life and now everyone's putting on matching robes and acting like that's normal," Edith Lodgeman snapped, "We need something."
Harry sighed, than took a deep breath, "Voldemort is using Horcruxes to keep himself alive. Dumbledore told me, just now."
"Dumbledore-?!"
"Anyway," Harry said, louder, "you lot," he pointed out the students from the alternate reality, "have already destroyed most of them. There were only three left. Voldemort Nagini, his snake, and…"
He paused, and if it were anyone else Hermione would've suspected the pause was for dramatic effect. But as this was Harry, she assumed he was trying to figure out how to say this without upsetting people.
"…me."
"What?!"
"Riddle here," Harry said over the outcry, "er…knew that, with erm…a spell," he shot a furtive look at Hermione, "and so he killed it. It didn't harm me at all. It just sent me to erm…a different plane. I could talk to Dumbledore. Anyway I can explain this all later, but—"
There was a loud bang and rattle from the Great Hall, and the doors buckled.
"Right," Riddle said, "let's get going." He pulled out his wand, gestured to his minions, and strode towards the doors.
"What the—" Blaise said in unison with Phobos, and then they glared at each other.
"Hang on," Harry said loudly, "is that my wand, Riddle?"
Fred and George Weasley had had some wretched things happen in the last year or so of their lives. They had a gift for bringing laughter to any situation, but it was hard to laugh about the death of almost every member of your family. And the utter betrayal of another family member.
"Where is she?" Fred asked as she danced away from yet another hex, jumping behind an overturned suit of armor. Aberforth was dueling with another Death Eater some meters away.
"Where is who, Freddy?" George called back, throwing a jelly legs jinx just for the hell of it, "Our evil sister? Probably stealing money from an orphanage somewhere."
"Kicking puppies," Fred agreed, nodding, darting a glance around for Percy and not seeing him, "extra fluffy ones too."
"Destroying priceless pieces of art," George said, now really warming up, "cutting them to shreds with those…whaddya call 'em. Skiss-orz."
"Refusing to rescue kittens from trees," Fred said ducking as Narcissa Malfoy continued to throw rather pathetic curses at them, "and then like…laughing at them when they meow."
"Telling Harry Potter his hair is gorgeous and inspirational," George said, lowering his wand halfway and looking quizzically at Narcissa Malfoy, who had just cast a charm that caused hydrangeas to shoot out of her wand at them.
"Telling someone they're a good singer when they're really awful, encouraging them to apply for a talent show, and then laughing when they are publicly humiliated," Fred said, also cocking his head when Narcissa made a rainbow in the air and trailed one of her hands elegantly through the rainbow, admiring the sparkle her many diamond rings.
"Too far," George said, shaking his head at Fred. "She's not that bad. She'll just kill them or something or assaulting her ears."
Narcissa moved on to making bubbles in the shape of pink hearts.
"Say, are you going to try to kill us at all, or are you entertaining yourself?" Fred said, peering out from behind their statue.
"Entertaining myself," Narcissa said shortly, "you two aren't doing the job, I'm afraid."
"How dare you," George said, also peering out, "I'll have you know lots of people find us entertaining."
"Who, twelve year old girls?" Narcissa said.
"Our demographics skew from five to thirty-eight," Fred said indignantly, "we're so sorry you've missed that by fifteen years or so."
"Twenty," George said, a wicked grin flashing on his face.
Narcissa arched a perfectly maintained eyebrow.
"Your attempts to anger me are feeble at best," she said, looking about her. "Also, perhaps you should be more focused on the fact that I clearly have no interest in killing you."
"Oh no, that doesn't surprise us," Fred said, also grinning wickedly, "anyone who knows us can't resist our charm. It's not possible for you to want to kill anyone so lovable."
"Delightful scamps, we are," George nodded in agreement.
Narcissa rolled her eyes upwards.
"Well," she said, perhaps you should ask yourselves why I did that." She pointed to the prone figure of Rodolphus Lestrange.
"That doesn't surprise us either," George said.
"The real surprise is that you tolerated his presence that long," Fred agreed.
Narcissa laughed and when she smiled, her entire face transformed into something beautiful.
Fred and George both blinked.
"Alright, we'll bite," George said after a moment, "why'd you knock out old Lord Wossface's third in command?"
"I thought you'd never ask," Narcissa said, now grinning with all her perfect teeth on display.
"The – what now?" Theodore Nott asked, glancing over the banister again, and then back to the girl in front of him who appeared to be wearing bobby socks, of all things.
"The resurrection stone," she said again. When he continued to look blank she sighed impatiently. "It brings back the dead?"
"It does what now?" Nott asked, sure he had misheard.
"I see why you're not in Ravenclaw," the girl said seriously, and he felt indignant. His marks were in the top ten in their year! He wasn't stupid! He opened his mouth to tell her this when she plowed on.
"I just turn it," she said, shaking the stone a bit, "and then an imprint of the dead come back to life."
"Ah," Nott said, "like in the Lord of the Rings and the army of the dead."
"The—what now?" Hortense echoed.
"Nothing," Nott said hastily, cursing himself. It's not like he wanted to be advertising his knowledge of a Muggle book series. Or did it even matter? "Anyway, perhaps we should hold off? Until we know for sure such a drastic—"
There was a scream so loud their ears rang, and Theo and Hortense looked over the railing again with trepidation.
"I most certainly do not have your wand," Riddle said, turning with a frown, rubbing at the stream of blood on his chin again as it flowed fresh, and something flopped in Hermione's stupid stomach. His strange robes looked horrendous on Harry, and the female equivalent on Hermione and Brigitte looked even worse. Riddle, of course, looked like he was ready for a photo shoot of Hottest Wizards of 1943.
Harry reached into his pocket, yanked out his wand, stared at a moment with a frown, and held it out for Riddle to inspect.
"Oh," Logan Parkinson said as Riddle and Harry both stared at their identical wands, "so that's why you asked me about his wand, Granger."
"How did you have such a stupid granddaughter?" Hermione had finally snapped, and a feeling of relief washed over her. Godric she'd been holding that one in for a long while. "You're so clever!"
"I…what?" Logan said, his smile dropping.
"I wouldn't have a stupid granddaughter!" Estelle said, "You take that back, Granger."
"She was hideous too," Hermione said with relish.
"Well," Riddle cut in, "this is strange, but it's not-"
"No, you don't understand," Harry said urgently, pushing his glasses up his nose, "our wands don't work against him. Voldemort. That's why I've got to use this one," he pulled out a second wand, identical to Albus Dumbledore's.
"Isn't that Dumbledore's wand?" Riddle frowned.
"Yes," Harry said.
There was a pause.
"Are you suggesting I get my Dumbledore's wand from him?" Riddle asked with a hint of sarcasm.
"Control your murderous urges, Tom," Hermione said, "just avoid dueling with You-Know-Who, OK?"
"But of course," Riddle said with a smile, but it was Everyone's Favorite Humble Perfect Orphan smile, so Hermione knew that it was a lie.
Everyone congregated by the doors, ready to fight again. Harry looked at her, and nodded. It was time.
Yaxley had died, and Sam had ten whole seconds of primal, murderous triumph before a trio of nearby Death Eaters bellowed in rage and attacked their group.
We can' get in!" the French minister wailed, and when Philippe and Christoph attempted to sneak onto the grounds alone he grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and yanked backwards.
"Madame," he bellowed at the Beauxbatons headmistress who was tapping her wand frantically on the gates, muttering spells, "do something!" another bang rocked the castle, and the American minister kicked the gate in frustration.
Narcissa Malfoy had just finished explaining her complicated, diabolically genius plan to them with relish. Fred and George were stunned into silent submission. Well, briefly, anyway.
"Impressively evil," Fred said, looking at his twin.
"Shockingly vindictive," George nodded. "Really, quite…"
He trailed off, staring at a witch in the distance.
"Glad you approve," Narcissa said, "now the key, boys, is for you to do exactly what I say."
"Yeah," Fred said, his gaze drifting to his twin, and then following what his brother was staring at.
"First you must hide," she said firmly, "hide behind that—"
Fred and George took a step away from her.
"Boys I told you to hide," Narcissa said impatiently, "hide behind that—BOYS!"
But it was too late.
"Ginny?" George breathed.
"Tom you've really let yourself go," Dumbledore said, as he effortlessly conjured a gleaming gold shield, a lion roaring on the front.
"I killed you, Dumbledore!' Voldemort bellowed, trying to kill the headmaster yet again. "Are you some fool from the Order who drank Polyjuice potion with a hair of yours from fifty years ago?"
"Yes, that's a reasonable explanation," Dumbledore said mildly, "someone has been holding onto my hair for fifty years. Top marks, Tom."
"Don't mock me, old man!" Voldemort spat, and when the man in front of him raised his auburn brows, clearly around the same age as the snake creature in front of him, he would have blushed, if he hadn't removed that ability roughly forty-five years previously.
"Your face and mind have deteriorated rapidly, Tom," Dumbledore said, "perhaps you should have kept the original of both?"
"I have more power than you could ever imagine!" Voldemort said, throwing yet another deadly hex.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to make another comment designed to make his opponent lost his last shred of sanity when he did the most foolish thing Albus Dumbledore of any dimension had ever done. He tripped over Mrs. Norris, who Filch had set upon the Death Eaters a few minutes before, and fell, his shield clattering out of his hands.
Voldemort screamed in triumph.
They were not doing well. It was possible Remus Lupin, last of the Marauders, was about to die fighting side by side with Snivellus Snape. The thought of the look on Sirius and James's face if they could see him fighting back to back with Snape, sweating, frantically trying to do damage to the seemingly invincible Death Eaters in front of them and barely managing not to die, made him laugh a little.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trelawney fall over, screaming, and the Death Eaters who had surrounded her joined the group fighting Snape and Lupin.
"Well, werewolf," Snape said, as they fought twice as hard, ducking and weaving. They were doing better than could be expected, but it was twelve against two now, and it was inevitable that they would die.
"I can't say it's been a pleasure to know you."
Remus smiled a little, and he could only hope the students were safe, and the foreign wizard would arrive soon to spirit them away. Why the rest of the students had not left on brooms earlier was a mystery, but yet, he was proud of them all the same for staying and fighting.
"Same, Severus," Remus said, as they were baked into a corner and Snape received a stinging hex to his wand hand and hissed in pain.
They had a minute maybe before they were finished. He saw Dumbledore trip and fall, Voldemort scream in triumph, and his heart sank further. If he had to die, he had to die. He had done all he could. There was just one niggling thought that would haunt him if he did not find out the truth.
"Answer me this, though. Before we die."
"What, hairy beast?" Snape tried to say with his usual tone of condescension, but it was hard, because they were exhausted and about to be murdered by a bunch of fools in Halloween masks.
"I need to know," Remus said, "why you have refused your entire life to wash your hair, when it could've looked like this," he gestured to the glorious shiny mane bouncing around Snape's head, "all along?"
Seconds. They had seconds now.
"I suppose," Snape sneered, "if you really want to learn, you can't die, flea bitten fool."
A green jet flew at them both, from a direction neither of their wands were pointing.
There was only one thing Vincent Crabbe had to do. Just one. He had to spend the next hour eating more in the kitchens, safely away from the battle, from his father, and the other wizards and witches who desperately needed his blood, and his blood alone, to complete their power sharing ritual and attain an invulnerability from harm, a kind of near immortality. Instead, Vincent Crabbe pushed back his plate and stood up.
"Well Kreegan," he sighed, patting his stomach. "I've got to go back to my room and let Blaise know I'm okay. I've been gone for awhile now, and he'll be worried."
"Take some cookies with you, Master Vince!" the elderly house elf said, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes. He was such a delightful boy.
"Gladly," Crabbe said, placing them inside his robes, and making a mental note to share with his roommates. He thanked the elves one more time, walked out of the portrait hole, and ambled in the direction of the Great Hall.
Ginny Weasley turned when two streaks of green light barely missed her, and heard Ginevra shriek a greeting.
"Well if it isn't you two! I was wondering when you would drag yourselves out of your hovel to say hello."
In front of Ginny were Fred and George, both of whom were grimly pointing their wands at her.
No! Ginny screamed in her head, no, it's me! It's me! Help me!
"What are you going to do, kill me?" Ginevra cackled.
"Yes," her brothers said in unison, and Ginny screamed.
No one heard her.
Rubeus Hagrid flew Buckbeak around the Great Hall, swooping on occasion, picking up a Death Eater, flinging them to the ground after Buckbeak soared to a great height, and watching them fall to the ground and bounce back up again, laughing madly, completely unharmed.
"Beaky," he shouted, "something's wrong, "we've go ter tell someone that we need to evacuate the kids! We've got to—"
Buckbeak turned to look at Hagrid, and they made eye contact right when a jet of green light hit the hippogriff straight on. Hagrid was able to see the light in his eyes dim and fade, gone forever.
"BEAKY!" Hagrid screamed, and then they were plummeting from fifty feet up.
"Right" Hortense said, as she looked over the railing with the older boy next to her, their jaws agape at the carnage in front of them. "time for us to save the day." She flipped the stone over three times.
Author Note:
