Hermione had been straining at the limitations of Pettigrew's spell for a quarter of an hour when, with no warning, her body was released.
She tottered to her feet with Narcissa beside her, knowing Wormtail must be close. Any moment he would burst through the door of the Headmaster's office, Bellatrix or Snape in tow. She lurched to the mantel, but there was no Floo Powder there, no chance for escape.
Hermione turned toward the door and braced herself.
But Pettigrew did not emerge. And if he was not within range to perform the counter-charm, there was only one reason the spell would have broken.
"He is dead, then," Narcissa said. Fear made her voice hoarse.
Hermione bit her lip. What was happening in the castle that Pettigrew had been killed? Had a fight broken out? None of the students would know that Draco was working with the Order. What if he'd been separated from Harry and Ron and discovered, the Dark Mark still burned upon his arm?
Worse, what if Pettigrew had led Snape and Bellatrix to the Chamber? A terrible image burst clear into Hermione's mind: Draco and Ron lying dead upon the floor beside the skeleton of a Basilisk, Harry dragged away to Voldemort.
Hermione hurried to the heavy oaken door to examine the lock. A quick check confirmed her suspicions: there was no manual control. It required magic to open, and they were wandless. "We need a key."
They spent long minutes ransacking Snape's desk and bookshelves but found nothing. Hermione was beginning to consider the merits of using the desk itself as a battering ram when Narcissa threw open a cabinet to reveal shelves of potions.
They sorted through the bottles for a while before Hermione's eyes lit on a phial filled with phosphorescent green fluid, whose bubbles were moving in the unique zigzags she'd read about in Advanced Potion Making. "Combustible Concoction," she said sharply, pointing.
Narcissa swept up the phial without question, and they both went for the door. Narcissa allowed a single drop to fall onto the doorknob before darting out of the way.
A sound like a small, muffled cannon, a shockwave reverberated through the air, and with a puff of billowing purple smoke, the door swung open, a pumpkin-sized hole where the handle had been.
"The Chamber," said Narcissa. "Where is it?"
"The entrance is in the girls' bathroom on the second floor," said Hermione, "but we have to find wands first. If Snape and Bellatrix—"
"My sister believes me loyal. That is all the advantage I need." Narcissa swept toward the door, the Combustible Concoction still clasped in her hand.
She paused for one moment to look back at Hermione. She hardly looked like Narcissa Malfoy anymore; the haughtiness had been siphoned out. She looked as though she were sleepwalking through a nightmare, eyes fixed but oddly vacant. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end managed no more than a nod. Then she was gone.
Hermione limped back to the cabinet to look through the potions bottles, her muscles still aching. All were unlabelled. Only some were recognisable to her, and of these, she couldn't think of a single one that might be any use against an armed Bellatrix or Snape. She swept up an Illumination Elixir, staring despairingly into the glowing fluid. I'm going to get myself killed, she thought. And she would be no help to Draco, Harry, or Ron if she threw herself into a combat situation without sufficient protection. She needed a wand, but where to find one?
Hardly had the question formed when the answer followed. She stuffed the bottle into her pocket and sprinted for the door. Surely the Room of Hidden Things would be packed with lost and forgotten wands.
"Wait," she called out halfway down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. "Wait, Narcissa! There's a place we can find—"
Her words caught in her chest. She gasped a single breath. The rest of her sentence died on her tongue.
He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, white-blond hair dishevelled and grey eyes bloodshot, the bottom of his robes soaked with grime. He had clearly sprinted here.
"Draco," she whispered.
She flew down the steps as he strode up to her. They collided in a crushing embrace. Draco was warm and solid and reassuring; he held to her as though she might disappear if he loosened his grip.
"You're all right?" he said, breath ragged. "You're not—she didn't—?"
Something in Hermione seemed to dissolve under his touch. She didn't realise she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She forced herself to nod, but she couldn't make herself voice a reassurance. She was alive. She knew that was something close to miraculous. Still, the feeling of Bellatrix's Cruciatus shredding her body, of her Imperius crawling into the deepest corners of her mind, lingered in her. They remained with Snape's cruel indifference, Pettigrew's disgust, every foul word she'd heard to describe herself. The wound in her neck, although clotted now, pulsed painfully.
"Your mother," Hermione whispered. "She's gone down to try and find you at the Chamber …"
"Doesn't matter. We've closed it."
"And Harry and Ron are—?"
"They're fine."
"Good. That's g-good." She buried her face deeper into Draco's shoulder. There was so much she wanted to say to him—that Narcissa had chosen to help her, that she'd seen Lucius's limp body carried away beneath a sheet of white cloth—but her throat was now too tight to allow speech. They bore each other's weight down to the steps, and when they pulled apart, Hermione saw that his face was streaked with tears, too.
Both wiped their faces. A shaky, unhappy laugh worked its way out of Hermione's throat. Draco's brows drew together as though the sound had pained him. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "I know," he said, voice strangled. "How it feels, after. But she's never going to touch you again." Sudden anger made his features contract. "I'll kill her before she does."
"Don't say that," she whispered. Draco had not proven himself a killer atop the Astronomy Tower, and Hermione didn't want him to become one. Never. Not after seeing him grapple with his past so painfully. Not even to rid the world of Bellatrix Lestrange would she wish that for him.
"We don't need to fight her by ourselves," Hermione went on. "We can find the teachers. I'm sure Sprout and Flitwick will hide us …"
"Hide us?" Draco's brows rose. "Granger, the Order are already in the castle. We're getting ready to evacuate the students."
"What? I thought you came here to get a Basilisk fang, to get rid of the Cup!"
"We did. We have. Why else would I let my robes get to this state?" he said, which wrung a less painful laugh out of her. But her smile faded as he recounted what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. The way Pettigrew lived had repulsed her, but the way he had died was still nightmarish. And Hermione had another worry.
"The wand. Pettigrew disarmed you. Does that mean he died the master of the Elder Wand?"
Draco drew it from his pocket, scrutinising it. "I don't think so. I took it back from him before he died. It still feels the same, using it, holding it. I think it's come back under my control."
"As for Snape …" Hermione frowned. "He read the Chamber of Secrets out of my mind with Legilimency. He had the element of surprise. It's a miracle you both survived."
But she didn't believe it was luck, and she could see that Draco didn't, either.
"Snape must have wanted something from us," said Draco.
"Yes, but what could he want that he couldn't have gotten with the Imperius Curse or Legilimency? If he'd wanted to send a message to the Order from Voldemort, he could have immobilised you to deliver it."
As they rose to their feet, Draco's eyes narrowed in thought. "He was starting to conjure something nonverbally when Potter hit him with Stupefy. A glowing mist. It reminded me of Pettigrew's hand—the way it looked after it dissolved."
"Maybe it was a Proxy Spell," Hermione said slowly. "It's enormously advanced magic, of course, but Snape could have been trying to channel Voldemort's magic. Maybe it had something to do with the Elder Wand?"
Draco nodded to the door. "Either way, Potter should get here soon with him."
Hermione hurried to the threshold and peeked down the hall. Severus Snape, bound and immobile, was floating toward them at Harry's wandtip.
"Hermione," Harry yelled out, picking up speed. Soon enough she was hugging him, too, Draco taking over the job of levitating Snape up into the Head's office.
Once they were upstairs and Hermione had reassured Harry that she was all right, they bound Snape to a chair. Hermione took his wand and tried a few simple spells. Satisfied that it would work well enough, she said, "What about Bellatrix? She knows the password to get into this tower. She was going to Gryffindor Tower to try and find you, Harry."
Harry shook his head. "She's not in the castle anymore. I've seen it. He summoned them, and apparently she didn't dare ignore a direct order. She's joined the rest of the Death Eaters at the edge of Flitwick's defensive enchantments. So have the Carrows."
Hermione moved to the window, Draco and Harry at her shoulders. They stood still for a moment, gazing out into the dark evening, watching an eerie sea of wandlight accumulate in the depths of the grounds. The lake, the boundaries of the forest, the greenhouses—all bristled with the enemy, more arriving each minute. The gathered forces of Voldemort had come, at last, to end the war.
"Come on," said Harry. "We need to join back up with the Order."
But before they could move, a voice rang throughout the room and the halls of the castle. Hermione had never heard it before, but she knew at once who spoke. The voice was high and cold, filling every crack in every stone of Hogwarts.
"I know you are preparing to fight." Distant, terrified screams echoed from far away. "Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."
Hermione had seized Draco's hand; their grip was painful. Voldemort's voice paused. He seemed to know the effect his speech must have. "Within the castle walls," he went on at last, "you harbour a fugitive who means to destroy the Wizarding World as we know it. I have striven for many long years to prevent this end and preserve our society. Now the chance to save Wizarding Britain lies with you. Give me Harry Potter and none shall lose their lives so senselessly. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have half an hour."
#
"The others should be in the Great Hall," Harry told Hermione as they hurried down a secret passage that would bring them to the Grand Staircase. "McGonagall was going to explain the evacuation for everyone who's underage, and how they could get their families into Hogwarts to fight, if they wanted to."
"How?" Hermione panted.
"We've opened a second passageway from the Room of Requirement into the Hog's Head. They can Apparate into Hogsmeade, then get in through there."
"Potter, slow down, would you?" Draco said sharply. Hermione was clutching at a stitch in her side, and she was trembling visibly.
"It's fine," Hermione insisted.
"It's not fine, you've just been—" Draco felt another sickening twist of anger in his stomach, knowing what Bellatrix had put her through. "Stop, both of you. We need to decide what to do about the snake, anyway."
They came to a halt near the exit to the Grand Staircase, which was concealed by a tapestry. "What is there to decide?" said Harry impatiently. "He's keeping Nagini by him all the time, now. And we can't get to either of them while he's got the Death Eaters and the Ministry and every other foul thing clustered around him like this. The only way is to put up a strong enough fight that all his forces are lured out to the castle. Then we can slip out and find him and the snake."
"Slip out and find him?" said Draco. "What advantage does it give us anymore to fight him in secret?"
"Dumbledore said—"
"Forget what Dumbledore said. We should tell everyone in the Order that the snake's got to be killed. You'd say no to hundreds of extra people trying to help us?"
Hermione looked deep in thought. "He's got a good point, Harry. Voldemort knows that we're hunting Horcruxes now. We were working in secret so that he wouldn't give them additional protections, but Nagini's the only one left."
"That's not the only reason to keep it a secret," Harry said. "What happens once everybody in the world knows what a Horcrux is? Who's to say there won't be a dozen more Voldemorts queueing up in the aisles to split their souls?"
Draco sighed. "Potter. After everything you three got up to in school, you can't stand there and pretend you don't know how to tell half the truth. We'll tell them Nagini's an important source of power to Voldemort. We say it's crucial that someone kill her. We don't have to say the word 'Horcrux' at all."
Harry's hand strayed to the mokeskin pouch. "I don't know. I still don't like it. Everyone who tries to attack Nagini is going to risk their lives, getting that close to Voldemort. And this"—he withdrew a wooden box from his pocket, rattling the Basilisk fangs inside—"might be the only way we have to kill the snake, anyway."
Draco bit his tongue. This was, unfortunately, a legitimate roadblock. If they'd had hoards of goblin-made weapons that could imbibe Basilisk venom, that would be one thing, but it was true that the Order flinging themselves at an unkillable Horcrux would be an idiotic move.
"Well, anyway, I'll keep hold of that," said Draco, plucking the box from Harry's grip and stowing it in his own robes. "You can always re-open the Chamber and get another fang, Potter. But if we get separated, nobody else knows Parseltongue."
Before Harry could answer, the sounds of hundreds of voices grew behind the tapestry. Draco peered out into the Grand Staircase and saw Professors Slughorn, Sinistra, and Trelawney leading groups of terrified-looking students toward the seventh floor. "The evacuation's started," said Draco.
"Then they'll already be forming groups to fight," said Harry. "Come on, hurry."
Harry slipped through the tapestry, but Draco found himself hesitating, his hand on the soft fringe of ancient cloth. After his year in hiding, the idea of walking out into Hogwarts as himself, not under the Cloak or Disillusioned or hidden by Polyjuice Potion, felt bizarre. Goyle, Blaise, Theo, and Millicent might be out there right now, filing up to evacuate.
Certainly his friends would soon learn that he was alive. So would the younger Slytherins who'd used to laugh at his jokes in the Slytherin Common Room, who'd cheered him on the Quidditch pitch. So would every single Gryffindor—and a fair number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs—who'd loathed the boy he'd used to be.
And? whispered a small voice in Draco's mind. Lingering in the shadow of the tapestry, he found his muscles relaxing, his posture straightening. What did he really have to prove to any of those people?
Draco felt something unexpected, something wonderful spreading throughout him. His old pride was returning. It smoothed his defensive edges. It made him lift his chin, feel the cool confidence of his childhood stirring in him like water in a spring melt.
He and Hermione had spoken about this all those months ago, the night he'd snatched the diadem from her head. He could never be made completely anew. He could never leave all of himself behind. And what was more, Draco realised, he no longer wanted to. He had made his apologies. He owed nothing more.
He felt the last of the guilt and regret falling away from him, shed like snakeskin.
Draco stepped out from the dim passageway into the bright light of the Grand Staircase. Standing beside Harry and Hermione, he saw the students on the moving stairwells stopping to point at the three of them, talk rising higher and higher.
Draco glanced to Hermione and slipped his hand into hers. All these people saw where he stood. They might as well know the reason.
A small smile appeared on her lips. Then, together, they strode down the steps toward the Great Hall.
#
They collided with most of the Order in the Entrance Hall. At the sight of Hermione, there were yells of relief. Half the Weasleys pelted toward her, and Draco darted back as she staggered under the weight of their hugs.
Draco scanned the Entrance Hall, hoping to see his mother, but there was no sign of Narcissa. Nor was she in the Great Hall, whose four long tables stood deserted.
"Looking for your mum?" said Tonks, sidling up to him.
He nodded. "Was she here?"
"Yeah. Not for long, though. She asked me where you were, and when I told her I'd no idea, she ran off upstairs looking for you again."
Draco nodded, fixing his eyes up the stairs. The castle was, for now, safe. At least she hadn't gone out onto the grounds.
"You lot." Kingsley's voice rang through the Order, who finally broke away from Hermione. She was flushed, her hair frizzing from the friction of so many embraces.
"Newcomers," said Kingsley, "we've divided our forces into four groups. One is holding the towers and battlements, aerial defence. Others are helping the house-elves prepare supplies, anything we can use inside the castle as weaponry. A third group have gone onto the grounds to set up an external guard, and a fourth have gone with Fred and George to close and fortify any passageways into the castle."
"The four of us," said Ron to Harry, Draco, and Hermione, "are supposed to go up to the Astronomy Tower. Remus has taken a group that way already. Come on."
They left the rest of the Order to divide themselves and dashed up through the halls. Harry filled Ron in on the state of the Horcruxes, but Draco wasn't listening. He was taking stock of everything they passed. The portraits were full of clamouring painted people rushing from one end of Hogwarts to another, delivering messages. Ghosts were swirling, chatting, speaking urgently about what they might do to assist the effort, and all around them, suits of armour were springing to life and marching down the halls, clanking out to defend their castle.
As they reached the upper floors, they nearly collided with an immense cauldron full of bubbling water. "Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked a gleeful voice from behind it, and Dobby poked his head out. The hallway was packed with Hogwarts house-elves, who had emptied the kitchens and supply closets of their contents. Vats of scouring and stripping potions were levitated above the elves' heads, cauldron after cauldron of boiling water hurried out onto the ramparts.
They climbed up into the Astronomy Tower. The air rang with footsteps and grim, fearful voices above; Draco felt an electric tension all around them.
Finally, they emerged onto the top of the tower. The night was cool, and a chill wind scythed through Draco's robes. Dozens of figures were stationed around the Astronomy Tower's circumference. Draco couldn't help looking back at the spot he'd cornered Dumbledore last year, the spot his Transfigured body had lain.
Then the robed figures were turning to see the new arrivals. Roughly half were students. A great shout rose from a contingent of Gryffindors—Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown—and Luna gave a cheerful wave from where she stood among a group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
But Draco's eyes had fixed near the tower's eastmost rampart, where Pansy stood. Beside her stood Gregory Goyle.
Draco stopped mid-step. He'd assumed that all of his friends would evacuate at once. Yet there Goyle stood. From the lack of surprise on his face, Draco knew that Pansy must have told him everything already.
Draco glanced over at Hermione, who looked as startled as he felt. But she made a little motion, urging him toward the other Slytherins.
Draco steeled himself and approached his friends. "Goyle," he said, extending a hand.
After a moment, Goyle smiled and shook. He had grown even taller and broader, looming half a head over Draco.
"What are you doing here?" Draco said quietly as he let go. "What if your father's out there?"
Goyle shook his head. "No. He's still in Mungo's. And I think he'd be happy if he got out and it was over. Me and Pansy, we were done with this by end of first term."
"Yeah?" Draco hesitated. "I saw Crabbe earlier."
Goyle let out a grunt and faced the battlement again. "He's off his head, after what happened to his dad at Azkaban. Won't talk to anyone except Millicent anymore. He started calling Blaise and Theo blood traitors, just because Blaise wouldn't tell his mum to take the Mark and Theo wouldn't curse a second-year in detention."
"Theo and Blaise have evacuated, I suppose?"
"They're in the Room of Requirement," said Pansy, who was leaning against the rampart, wand held so tightly in her hand that her knuckles seemed to glow in the starlight. "Blaise said he and his mum have been thinking about leaving the country. Apparently they've got houses in the States and Nigeria and Greece that nobody else knows about. Paid for in cash and Unplottable. So, if all this"—she waved out at the Hogwarts grounds—"looks like it'll collapse, he's said we can all go into hiding together. How's that for an offer?"
Draco couldn't help a smile, drawing the Elder Wand from his pocket. "Three secret houses ready for evacuation. I've never heard anything less surprising about the Zabini family."
Goyle and Pansy both laughed, and Draco settled against the rampart beside his friends. Their smiles couldn't last long. The sea of wandlight beyond Flitwick's enchantments had grown to an ocean, encircling the castle. Draco glanced over to see Hermione, Harry, and Ron filling in the gap to his left. Standing in a ring of students facing outward, their houses were indiscernible among their dark rank.
The last of the murmurs faded. Something was happening near the Hogwarts gates. The glow was intensifying, spreading, turning to a deep purple.
Then there was an almighty crack as if from a thunderhead. Flitwick's enchantments had broken open. The enemy spilled forward.
"Ready, everyone?" called Remus. "Aim your jinxes and hexes high! And—NOW!"
Dozens of wands aimed up into the night, and a firework of spells erupted from the top of the tower. All around the castle Draco could see the same happening, cued by their response. Flashes exploded down the ramparts like hundreds of cameras going off in sequence, and the noise of shuddering blasts echoed up from their sites of contact in the grounds.
At first Draco thought that the deep booms were all from spellwork. Then he saw the towering figures looming at the edge of the grounds. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Giants, a dozen or more, twenty-five feet tall, were moving slowly past the lake.
"Winky," said Tonks from somewhere behind Draco, "tell Kingsley we've got eyes on fourteen giants. They'll each need a dedicated team."
"Right away, miss," said Winky, and with a crack the elf had gone.
"Brooms!" yelled someone—Dean Thomas, Draco thought—and every head craned upward. Flyers were pouring out of the moon like black rain, spells cascading down from their wands.
A flurry of Shield Charms rose up, including two hazy barriers conjured by a pair of grizzled-looking witches Draco didn't recognise. Most of the attacks struck the shields and ricocheted backward, scattering the flyers, but several spells penetrated, causing everyone on the tower to dive behind the rampart for cover.
"Counter-attacks," came Tonks's voice, "now!"
They sprang back to their feet and volleyed back, taking aim into the night. Draco's spells issued out of the Elder Wand, as powerful as any spells he'd ever duelled with, but aiming was nearly impossible. Draco couldn't be sure what kinds of brooms the attackers were flying, but from the hairpin turns they were taking, these were no family brooms generations old. They had been hand-selected for aerial assault.
Another wave of attacks. As they all ducked behind the ramparts, Draco seized Hermione at the elbow. "Hermione! Potter, Weasley! We need to get back inside the castle."
"What?" said Ron, looking outraged. "But—"
Draco held up the Elder Wand. "We need to keep control of the wand, if Potter's going to use it against Voldemort. We can't risk losing ownership of it in a fly-by attack."
"And we need to get ready to attack Nagini," said Harry vaguely. "I can see him moving." He was staring into the distance, the glow of spells crisscrossing the lenses of his glasses. His eyes slipped shut for only a moment before he returned to himself. "He's crossing the grounds. He and Nagini—they're not following the rest of the troops."
Scanning the grounds, trying to think of how they would get through the melee, an idea struck Draco. "Potter. The Room of Requirement. When you see where he's settled, we can open up a passage just near the snake …"
"Then we pull the snake through!" Ron said. "Or just reach out with the fang and—" He slashed out with his wand, sending a Stunning spell into the night.
They had begun to dart for the exit when Remus yelled, "Students, fall back into the castle and cast through windows instead! And you four—" He ran toward them, deflecting a spell with an aerobic swipe as though wielding a Bludger's bat. "I need you to get a message to Kingsley, and not through the portraits. It could get lost. With this many flyers, it looks like they're trying to make their main breach through the aerial entrances. We need to triple the guard up here, and with experienced battalions, not students. Got that?"
They had barely nodded when the four of them were swept backward by the other students, piling through the entrance to the tower. The dozen older fighters closed in around the entrance, Transfiguring a blockade. Draco darted one look back as a piece of wood thudded into place, shutting out the stars.
#
Hermione glanced through every window they passed as they ran. It looked like one of the structures in the lower courtyards had caught fire, black smoke billowing like hundreds of feet of cloth. "Do we know where Kingsley's stationed?" she panted.
"Yeah," said Ron. "He set up a team of ex-Aurors in the Entrance Hall. They've been barricading all the windows on the ground floor."
Overall, the state of the halls reassured Hermione. In contrast to the chaos outside, the castle's interior was still tightly ordered. Each window had one or more fighters firing spells out onto the encroaching forces of Death Eaters and the Ministry. Tightly clustered groups could be seen running the halls toward areas sustaining heavier attacks from outside.
While they dashed back to the Grand Staircase, Hermione ran through the plan to entrap Nagini in her mind. It could work, if they could catch Voldemort unawares. But the risk of accidentally allowing Voldemort access to the Room of Requirement was a terrifying one. Could they organise a diversion? Distract Voldemort for a crucial moment while opening a passageway to steal Nagini from behind? She supposed it all depended on where Voldemort and the snake ended up …
They pelted down the first-floor corridor, passing Fred and George, who had gathered a small group around the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. The passageway behind it gaped open, glowing with dangerous-looking enchantments while others in the group conjured a physical blockade of brick and stone.
"Everything all right, you four?" said George as they rushed past.
"Need to find Kingsley," said Ron.
"He's still by the front doors, just saw him a minute ago," Fred called after them. Sounds of an explosion rang through the open windows, and everyone in the halls flinched for cover behind the walls before returning to their posts.
Hermione wheeled around the corner after the others, and they emerged at the top of the sweeping stairs to the Entrance Hall. Kingsley's imposing figure was stationed at the front door, flanked by a score of other hardened-looking witches and wizards. Behind them stood two dozen house-elves, hands outstretched, ready to perform wandless incantations. Immense bangs and thuds rang upon the door as the Death Eaters' forces tried to break through.
They pelted down the steps. "Kingsley!" Harry yelled when they had reached the bottom.
But when the Aurors and the elves turned away from the door, they did not look at Harry, Hermione, Draco, or Ron. Their horrified gazes fixed on the passageways flanking the stairs. Hermione whirled around with the others just in time to dive for safety. Scores of Death Eaters in robes and masks were pouring out of the passageways, sending spells toward the Auror guard at the front door. Hermione, covering her head as she ducked behind the marble banister, felt an exploding fragment of stone sear across the back of her wrist, leaving a bloody line in its wake.
"Breach!" Kingsley roared. A second contingent of Aurors and elves poured out of the Great Hall, and as spells began to volley in earnest, Hermione realised that she had been separated from Harry, Ron, and Draco, who had dived forward for cover into the Great Hall, while she had flung herself backward.
She shot a wild look up the broad stairway. It was still empty, and they needed reinforcements.
She flung herself up the steps, sprinting pell-mell out of the fray. Only when she'd safely reached the landing and cover of a statue did she spare a glance back, thinking, How? How had the Death Eaters gotten inside?
But the answer came to her at once as she saw one of the Death Eaters' robes dragging across the stones, leaving a wet, glistening trail of water behind. The attackers had come in through the lake and the Slytherin Common Room. It was the very way that they had escaped Hogwarts last summer.
Hermione gritted her teeth and shoved through the massive doors at the end of the landing, back into the first floor corridor. She lifted her wand to her throat, amplifying her voice, and yelled, "Everybody!"
All down the hall, the fighters at the windows looked up.
"There's a breach in the dungeons. They've come into the Entrance Hall!" Hermione stabbed her finger toward the landing. "We have to hold the front doors!"
The speed of the reaction was startling. Every single person in sight sprinted toward her. Hermione flattened herself against the walls as scores of fighters tore by, wands outstretched. Professor McGonagall burst out of the nearby Transfiguration classroom, a dozen fully-grown lions springing out into the hall at her wandtip. Hermione could tell they had once been desks; the talons of the last were made from graffitied oak.
"Coming, Hermione?" Fred said with a hungry grin as he passed, the light of battle in his eyes. "I can't promise I'll leave any Death Eaters for you."
"All yours," Hermione panted. "I need to get more reinforcements. The towers are being attacked, too."
"Don't go by the Defence room," George called, jogging backward. "There's been a cave-in near there. Take the hall near Filch's office instead."
Hermione nodded her thanks and sprinted through the castle, sending group after group toward the Entrance Hall or up toward the towers as Remus had asked. Beyond the windows, the sight was growing grimmer and grimmer. The top of Ravenclaw Tower was surrounded by a malevolent-looking yellow glow. One of the giants had reached the south face of the castle and was hurling boulders into the wall, each landing with a cataclysmic boom.
Triple the guard, triple the guard, she thought frantically. Had she sent enough people up to the towers? She had to get back to Draco, Harry, and Ron. Getting to the Room of Requirement would be no use without Harry's knowledge of where Voldemort might be, and she had no idea if they'd seen her leave the Entrance Hall. They might still be looking for her there.
She turned on her heel and ran. But halfway there, she stopped dead. A deep, splintering crash had come from ahead. Shouting had turned into screams.
Hermione knew instinctively that the front doors had fallen. Terror flooded her. They had to fall back at once, they had to get out of the Entrance Hall. All the Death Eaters' forces would be pouring through that single route.
Hermione wheeled around a bend. Up ahead was the landing to the Entrance Hall—but the door leading out to it was already barricaded. She searched the cluster of Order fighters and found them. Harry, Ron, and Draco in the middle of a heated debate with Fred and George.
"—might still be down there," Draco was saying as Hermione sprinted toward them.
"She's not," said Fred.
"How do you know?"
"Because she's right there," said George, pointing to Hermione.
Draco, Harry, and Ron spun and saw her. "They've broken through?" she gasped as she skidded to a stop.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Kingsley and the others are barricading the other side of the landing."
A great boom shook their barricade. Shards of wood went flying. Half a dozen voices yelled, "Reparo!" and the hole sealed over, but Hermione could hear spell after spell tearing into the door on the other side, chipping away enchantments as quickly as the Order could erect them.
"We need to regroup somewhere," Ron panted. "There's too many of them."
Fred and George traded a nod. "Passage behind the tapestry of Urg the Unclean," said George.
"It'll take us out on the sixth floor," said Fred. "Put some distance between us and them. All right?"
"Perfect," said Ron.
Fred nodded and gave Ron a clap on the shoulder. "Oi," Fred yelled, turning to the Order. "You lot!"
The Order members shoring up the barricade turned. "We're going to regroup on the sixth floor," Fred went on. "Follow my brother Ron, he'll—"
The barricade split down the middle in a blast of blinding light. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and felt herself become weightless, rising from the reverberating ground as a deafening roar filled the air. She clutched to her wand with one hand, the other moving toward the back of her neck, her body folding instinctively into a protective position, and she waited to feel heat and agony, waited for the explosion to devour her.
Then the sound ended, and she forced her eyes open, knowing there was no time to waste. She dragged herself out from a pile of rubble, hot liquid trickling down the side of her face. "Reparo!" she was croaking, her ears ringing; she was trying to move in a straight line and staggering sideways. "R-rep—"
Her voice failed. Nearer the landing, she could see Harry and Draco and three red-headed men grouped on the ground. It was as though a hand had seized her around the neck.
"No—no—no!" someone was shouting. "No! Fred! No!"
"We've got to go," Draco was insisting, "get up, we've got to run!" He and Harry had seized Ron and George's arms, trying to yank them down the hall despite their resistance, and Hermione finally reached them, but for a moment she could do nothing, neither think nor speak nor move. Fred lay sprawled before them, his face limp and expressionless as it had never been in life.
Another gut-shaking blast brought her to her senses. Behind them, the Order were conjuring planks and stones and magical shields, trying to cobble the barricade back together, even as the Death Eaters' spells thudded one after another into the obstruction. Hermione tore her eyes away from Fred and heaved at Ron's arm, and finally he was overpowered, dragged back, senseless sounds tearing out of him.
But George was struggling too forcefully. They had hardly made it five steps when he wrenched free, threw himself back to Fred, and huddled over his brother's body. "Go," he yelled, twisting around and pointing down the hall. "GO!"
A splintering sound as the last of the barricade began to wrench apart. The rest of their allies were retreating now, pelting down the corridor, clutching their injuries. Hermione was dimly aware of dragging Ron backward with Harry and Draco, although Ron was red in the face, trying to fight, trying to get back to his brothers. "Fred!" he howled, his voice breaking in a way that Hermione felt deep in her chest. "George!"
But George was beyond hearing. As the barricade exploded open before him, he shot spell after spell into the crush of Death Eaters, on his knees before Fred's body, one hand held over his brother's chest as though to protect him from harm. The last thing Hermione saw before they pulled Ron around the corner was George transfixed by a jet of green light, rigid for a moment, then falling beside Fred, not to be parted from him.
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if it's any consolation i also hate me