Chapter 7
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They'd been walking in silence for roughly a half an hour now, aided by an assortment of silencing and disillusionment charms. There had been much ohhing and ahhing from the non magical folk until the (metaphoric) glamour wore off and everyone fell into a comfortable rhythm of steady, attentive movement. Harry was sure to emphasize that they weren't perfectly invisible nor perfectly silent which helped keep an edge of caution to everyone's movements.
Harry knew that Dolohov was taking notes. The genius lurking behind those mad eyes didn't miss a bloody thing. Part of Harry wanted to cuff himself over the head for giving away all his secrets. And all to protect a group of strangers and a pretty Slytherin that he'd said all of five words to until today. He really had gone mental.
Then again many, many people had mentioned that he had a thing about saving people. And if Harry was perfectly honest with himself, he'd rather be a fool that does the right thing rather than someone that only looked out for themselves. He'd seen that kind of selfishness in people enough in his life.
So fine, he was a fool. That didn't mean he had to be dumb. Harry knew that once he set foot in that church Dolohov would kill every person that tried to stand between them. Harry couldn't let that happen. So what were his options then?
His first thought was to try and slip away quietly. He had his Cloak, not to mention his broom, hidden in a small, moleskin pouch Hagrid had gifted as an early birthday gift as a "just in case". If he caused a distraction or more of those creatures showed up then it was entirely possible he could slip away right under Dolohov's nose. Then it would just be a matter of getting outside the range of the Anti-Apparation wards and hiding out until the Trace lifted. Maybe Grimmauld Place?
Certainly a good option, but there were a few rather large holes in that plan. For one, without Harry around who was to stop Dolohov from harming the muggles? If they were lucky he'd simply kill them and move on, but Harry knew Dolohov was the kind to play with his food. Then there was the Daphne of things. She'd been seen with him, even worked with him to take down Dolohov once. Harry knew she was clever, but Harry seriously doubted she could find a way to talk herself out of whatever Dolohov would have planned for her.
Even if he hadn't developed a small fondness for her he wouldn't wish Dolohov's wand on anyone. So, that plan went out the window.
Option two: deal with Dolohov. But what did deal with Dolohov even mean? A pair of lifeless, brown eyes flashed through Harry's mind. Could he kill Dolohov the same way he did Jenny?
Harry hated the man, true, and wanted him dead as much as anyone, but he didn't think he was ready to be the one to do the killing. He'd wanted Jenny to die to give her the mercy of a quick death. He didn't think he could just kill someone because he wanted them to die. Even someone as deserving as Dolohov. Voldemort could keep those shoes, thank you very much.
Incapacitate though? Harry was just fine with that. Incapacitate next to a creature? Well, wouldn't that be such a tragedy? Naturally it was the hardest of all his options. Dolohov would be expecting an attack, and anything less than a Killing Curse he was sure to either block or parry. There was also the Crabbe of things. His classmate had been mostly listless since witnessing the gruesome death of his father, not that Harry could blame him. He'd notice Daphne trying to offer her support through it, but she hadn't been able to make much progress. Crabbe mostly stuck to Dolohov which left Harry worried about what words might be exchanged between them while he wasn't looking.
Harry was sure that it wouldn't take too much convincing on Dolohov's part to pin Crabbe Sr.'s death on Harry. They, or rather, Daphne, had Crabbe's wand so he didn't have to worry about getting a curse in the back, but Crabbe was still a big boy. If Harry were Dolohov he'd send Crabbe barreling toward him from one direction while attacking from the other side. Against an experienced duelist like Dolohov, Harry wouldn't have a chance to turn his back. He would only have seconds to disarm Dolohov until Crabbe reached him, at which point things would be over for Harry.
Which brought him back to the Daphne of things.
To be quite honest, Harry didn't know what to make of her. Dumbledore's last lesson had been heard loud and clear: be very careful about who you trust. Daphne's story had sounded good, and she certainly wasn't faking her knowledge of muggle sports, but there just something about the convenience of it all. In all the supermarkets in all of Britain it just so happened she was working at the one a few blocks from his home? No, Harry wasn't about to be lead on quite so easily, no matter what the lonely optimist in him wanted to believe.
Except he'd given her his wand and she'd used it take down Dolohov, save his life, and most importantly of all, she had given it back. Unless she was playing the long con to try and gain his trust before turning on him at a more opportune moment-
Merlin, was this what it felt like to be Mad Eye? Would every person he met from now on be a spy for Voldemort? Would he always interpret every action a stranger took as a means towards attacking him? Harry had many enemies because of Voldemort, but that also made him many allies as well. Constant vigilance was great until you were left to watch alone.
So, when it came to the Dolohov of things, he'd just have to trust that the Daphne of things turned out in his favor and handled the Crabbe of things. Of course, they could all be ripped apart and eaten before then so maybe some good old pragmatism would win out in the end?
Not bloody likely…
"Harry? I think I can see some smokestacks ahead." Daphne said, her voice floating over from somewhere to his right.
Harry got out of his mind and looked ahead, and yeah, there they were. Those tall brick layered cylinders matched the ones from his memory from the few times the Dursley's had dragged him to Sunday Service.
Harry let out a short whistle signaling everyone to stop.
"Alright everyone, you've all done great so far. Remember we're not invisible, just obscured, so keep calm and move slowly. With luck those creatures won't notice us." Harry did a quick sweep of the area and except for a murder of crows in the distance there was nothing that caught his eye.
"And if we're not lucky?" Asked Johnny Good Omens. His voice was filled with doubt, and Harry knew that if he let that doubt linger it would poison the rest of the group. Harry dropped the glamour in order to look John in the eye.
"Same plan. Stay close. Don't panic. I've gotten us this far, trust in me to get you, to get all of you, the rest of the way." Harry made sure to meet every member of the group in the eye before settling back on John. He couldn't hold Harry's gaze for long.
"Jesus kid, I believe you. What are you, magical special forces or something?"
"Uh… no, not really." Harry said, trying not to blush.
"Oh, don't be humble Harry! Tell them about the time you outflew a dragon!" Daphne said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Wait, dragons are real?! Wicked!" Abby gawked, her imagination running wild with images of the scaly beasts.
"These mudbloods are going to get us all killed with their prattling, Potter. Shut them up." Dolohov growled.
"You know, the way the tall guy says mudblood makes me think it's a bit of a derogatory term." Adam drawled, giving Dolohov an irritated look.
"Spotted that, did you? Turns out that there are a bunch of arses in the wizarding world too…" Harry trailed off as he began to feel… something. An old, dreadful feeling.
"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. People will be people anywhere…" Adam groused.
"Yeah… too bad they're not the worst thing in the world… hey, Daphne, do you feel that?" Daphne paused, frowned, then slowly nodded her head.
"Yeah… but why would they be here?" She asked, crossing her arms as a shiver overtook her.
"They feed off misery don't they? This must be like a buffet to them. Dolohov, can you do anything about them?" Harry asked, glancing at the pale Death Eater.
"No," the man said with a slight tremble, "only my Lord has any kind of power over those damnable things, but not even He can truly command them. All they care about is their next meal. Everything else is a means to that end."
"What kind of things are you guys talking about?" Adam asked. Harry looked over in his general direction before casting his eyes around the area again. As he watched, he explained.
"There's more to magic than casting spells. There's a whole world filled with things you couldn't imagine. Some of those things you don't want to imagine. Many you can't, simply because they appear invisible to you."
"Okay… that's pretty fucking horrifying. So, uh, what are those things exactly?"
"Those things are the foulest of them all. They're called dementors. They suck all warmth and happiness out of the air around them. They take every good feeling and happy memory you've ever had and leave you with nothing but the worst experiences of your life." Faintly, in the back of Harry's mind, he was starting to hear the screams of his mother's last moments.
"That… sounds terrible. But, uh, you can kill them, right?" Adam asked, worriedly. Dolohov scoffed.
"No, fraid not. As far as anyone knows nothing can kill a dementor. But I can drive them off. A whole lot of them too, but that would also draw every creature in all of Britain right to us. It was spell I used to distract those creatures earlier actually, that one that created a stag made of light." Adam nodded his head.
"Okay so they're monsters that make you feel angsty and depressed. I think if I can survive having this one at fourteen I can last a few moments around the sadness monster." Kate said, flicking her thumb back at Abby who responded with a pout.
"Its easy enough to say, but until you're face to face with them you don't understand how bad it can get. Its not like those quiet moments when your thoughts wonder too far. All your worst moments are brought to the surface and you're stuck in them, feeling all those things you tried to put behind you while the creature that put there is getting closer, waiting until you're too weak to fight back so they can feast." Kate for her part looked unimpressed. Abby however…
"What, um… what exactly do those dementor things eat? Exactly?" The young woman asked.
"Souls." Daphne replied grimly.
"Oh. Wait, souls are real?" Abby squeaked.
"Yeah, I know, its big stuff, but for right now—" the temperature dropped another ten degrees as the screaming in Harry's head became unbearable. A long, ragged shadow glided out from behind the trees, its hooded face turned towards Harry and the group.
"Everyone get behind me. Now," Harry said tersely as he stepped forward and brandished his wand. Adam and the others moved without question. Dolohov, Crabbe and Daphne did the same.
The dementor lingered roughly five meters opposite of the group. Slowly, it began to glide forward, the ground underneath it turning withered and cold. The shade let out a shuddering rasp, a wolf licking its chops.
Harry readied himself. The playful glimmer in Ginny's eye as he pulled her into an empty broom closet. The snap crackle of a fire as he, Ron, and Hermione revised an essay. The uproarious laughter from Remus as he turns a prank back on Fred and George. The tip of Harry's wand began to glow.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry called, a brilliant ethereal stag bursting from Harry's wand. It charged; antlers ready to gore the foul creature. The dementor let out a shriek, and instead of facing the patronus directly it instead took to the sky, fleeing off into the distance. The dementor's aura lifted quickly. Prongs turned, doing a quick sweep of the area before turning back to Harry, giving his summoner a nod.
"Thanks Prongs," Harry returned the nod before he released the spell, letting Prongs dissipate into the wind. Harry glanced back at the group, everyone looking emboldened by the brief presence of his patronus. "Everyone alright?"
"That spell? That's a good spell. You should do that spell more often," Kate said, slightly breathless. Harry blushed slightly at the praise.
"She's right on that one, Harry. You need to teach me that one sometime soon." Daphne said eagerly.
"Yeah, of course. As soon as we reach the church…" Harry's eyes tracked the dementor as it flew off. It was making a beeline towards the large, dark mass hovering in the distance. What Harry had thought was a murder of crows.
"And I think we need to pick up the pace." Daphne and Dolohov followed Harry's eyes towards what he was seeing, resulting a very pale pair of Slytherin's.
"Merlin…" Daphne gasped, "there's so many of them." Dolohov stared numbly at the cloud before turning to face Harry, all traces of madness gone from his features.
"How much further, Potter?" The man asked, a shake in his voice.
"Once we get to that factory," Harry said, pointing at the smoking towers, "we just have to cross the street. Then we pass along the outside of the college. From there its about a hundred meters until we reach the church." Dolohov nodded, before glancing back at the muggles.
"And there's no chance that you'll leave them, or use them for bait?" He asked cynically.
"None," Harry replied flatly. Dolohov considered the muggles again, before glancing back at the black mass. Dolohov struggled with something in himself before he let out a curse.
"Very well then, Potter. Until we get to that church I'll make sure nothing happens to you or those filthy mudbloods. You just make sure to have that charm ready. We're bound to run into some more of those things before we get there."
Harry nodded his head, glad to have one less thing to worry about. He might have let out a small, internal whoop.
"Alright then, let's get moving. Everyone ready?" There was a round of assent from the group. Harry was quick to reapply the stealth charms before they took off at more brisk pace than before. It was a risk they'd have to take. Harry wasn't sure how much time they had, but as the dementor flies he'd guess that they'd be cutting it real close. There was a storm gathering and Harry had no intention of being caught in it.
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They reached the parking lot of the old factory in good time. The pavement was cracked and there was a disarray of cigarette butts, newspapers, and empty cans. There was also a scattering of cars around the lot as well, though not as many as Harry might have expected for the middle of the workday. Harry rationed that people either left once they heard what was going on or never made it to work in the first place. He hoped it was the former.
"Harry, do you see that?" Daphne whispered beside him.
"What?" Harry asked, quickly scanning for threats.
"Over there—oh bollocks you can't see where I'm pointing—um, right of the green… sedan? I think? It looks like a person…"
Harry searched the position Daphne had indicated and, yeah, there was a whole bloody person there that he'd missed. One of the workers maybe? They were dressed simply in frayed blue jeans and a plaid shirt, were a little frumpy around the middle, and from the receding hairline Harry guessed he was edging middle aged.
At a glance Harry hadn't made him out to be a threat, in fact if it wasn't for them shifting their weight every few seconds Harry would have guessed them as a statue. The person stood as still as a stone, staring off into the distance without a care in the world.
Which was bloody odd given the state of things.
Then Harry noticed something else. They weren't the only one.
"Do you see them, Daphne?" Harry asked. There was a pause, then a grumble from Daphne before she spoke. "He still can't see you dummy… right, yes, I can see them. What are they doing?"
"I'm… not sure. They're just standing there. Maybe they're in shock?"
"They're not in shock," Dolohov growled behind him.
"What do you mean?" Asked Harry.
"Where do you think that dementor came from?" It hit Harry what made these people so unsettling. Looking closer Harry could see that the house was empty. No one was home.
"Is there anything we can do for them?" Daphne asked, agonized.
"They're just puppets without a master now. The best we can do is cut the strings. With your permission, Potter?"
"What?" Harry asked, taken aback.
"I'm bound by our deal. Those are still, technically, muggles. Thus, I need your permission to…" Dolohov let the implication linger.
Bloody hell, what kind of choice was that. Let Dolohov 'cut the strings', or leave a bunch of defenseless people to some unspeakable fate? Were they even people anymore? Harry glanced back at the dark mass, growing ever larger as the storm around it grew stronger.
There was nothing Harry could do for these people. All he could do now was try and save the ones that were counting on him to do so.
"Let's keep moving." Harry said, letting out a low whistle to signal the others to move.
From behind him Harry heard Dolohov heave a disappointed sign, "As you wish, Potter."
They maintained their pace through the lot, Harry keeping his eyes peeled for anything hiding in his shadow, but there was nothing except for the dark mass growing ever closer.
When they reached the road Harry had them all stop for a moment to take a look. There was the aftermath of the chaos, but nothing else to show for it. No creatures. No people. Just quiet. The hairs on his neck began to rise. Quiet was never a good thing.
"Not that I'm complaining, but where are all the freaks?" Adam asked. Harry was glad the disillusionment hid his flinch.
"Not sure. Moved on I reckon, after they picked the place clean." Harry muttered, grimly.
They kept moving through the quiet streets, Harry keeping his wand at the ready. The silent mess was almost worse than the wild chaos of before. He knew how quickly things could change, but the further they went, the more it seemed like all the creatures had gone with the wind. Harry had expected there to be a lot of fighting and a lot of running, but the quiet walk was an unnerving surprise.
Nonetheless, they had to keep moving. Along the way Harry saw the last sentences in many people's stories.
"The door was shut tight, but we had forgotten about the windows."
"We cheered as the car pulled away when we should have kept our eyes on the road."
"I thought I could fight them off, but one man with a knife didn't stand a chance." Those and so many more.
Harry was starting to grow numb to them. He'd seen so much death today, so much more than he thought possible in a lifetime. He knew those people's stories. His had almost ended the same way a few times. The weight of that thought laid heavy on his shoulders. It was too heavy to carry, even for someone as stupidly noble as he tried to be at times. The best he could do was give them each a small acknowledgement before letting it slip from his mind. He had to focus on his task, on getting this group to safety. It was the best he could do for now.
Harry shivered. His best hadn't gotten him all that far in the past. Maybe he'd give it Hermione's best. They'd all have a much better chance then.
God, he missed her. And Ron. And Ginny. And what he wouldn't do to have the twins humor right about now. Harry wondered how they were doing. Were they safe? The Weasley's probably were. Ron and Ginny would have been locked down at the Burrow, with Molly ever watchful of them. Fred and George would be in their shop in the Alley no doubt, still fighting against Voldemort in their own way. Or had they been forced to flee by now?
Hermione had probably been at home with her parents, or someplace near where she lived. She was likeliest to have encountered the same creatures as Harry, but unlike him she was at her majority. She could use magic however she saw fit without the threat of Ministry intervention. Not that it mattered after all the training Harry had given her in rule breaking all these years. The three of them still had a chuckle at the thought of a first year Hermione proclaiming explusion to be worse than death.
If Harry knew her like he thought she had probably taken her parents and fled to the Burrow at the first sign of trouble. She was too smart to have done anything else. And even if somehow the Death Eaters had been following her Harry knew—hoped—that she was clever enough to outwit them.
Harry shivered again. It was the not knowing that really made Harry grind his teeth. Everything he could use to contact his friends was back at Privet Drive, and that seemed further away than ever now. He kept some of his most prized possessions in the moleskin bag, but he didn't see how the Maurader's Map or Sirius' mirror could help him now. And Hedwig, that bloody bird, was well into her late afternoon nap. She wouldn't be awake until sundown, but that was still hours away.
It felt like fifth year all over again. Well, at least this time there were much more pleasant creatures than Umbridge waiting to sink their claws in him. Overall, a marked improvement. Harry snorted, his breath coming out in a puff.
"Oh, I think I see the dorms over there! I have a few friends that attend Uni there. Bloody expensive too." Abby said, her excitement palpable.
"You could have gone there if you wanted love. Your father and I would have figured something out." Kate said kindly.
"Oh please. You two would have just made yourselves even more miserable while I squandered my time there getting pissed. Why not just skip to the disappointment, yeah?" Abby replied dryly.
"Seeing as you don't have a child to watch over, I'd say you're doing a fair bit better than I was at your age. Unless you have something you want to tell me?" Kate replied cheerily.
"Mum. I can't stand those bloody creatures. They're so… sticky. I don't understand why you didn't just toss me out with the bathwater."
"Oh I would never! Although I had thought I'd have been done cleaning up your puke some time ago." Kate said in an all too serious tone.
"Oh my God. Mum." The group let out a chuckle at the pair, a half dozen little puffs of fog appearing out from the illusion. Wait, that wasn't right. It was the middle of summer… oh dear.
Harry glanced behind him, but the dark mass was still a fair ways away. Too far to be having such a strong effect. Right? Or did such a large gathering amplify the effects of a dementors aura? No, no that couldn't be it. So if it wasn't the mass behind them then…
Harry got his answer in a few more meters. Ragged hands and bloodied heads bashed away at crudely barricaded doors and windows while hooded specters darted to and fro, scabbed hands testing each opening, looking for the any flaw to exploit. Every now and again a window opened and bowling balls, bricks, and an assortment of other heavy objects fell upon the heads of the creatures. After the barrage came the next assault. Hockey sticks and table legs with knives tapped to the end and so, so many broom sticks sharpened to a point.
The flurry of improvised spears struck the savage hordes. Some hit their mark. Many didn't. Barely any of them hit the sweet spot to take the creatures down. And then they were gone, disappeared back into the folds of the building. The hordes were not deterred, and they struck again with renewed barbarity against the hallowed halls of learning.
Harry stood, transfixed, at the sight before him. The college was under siege, attacked on all sides by monsters both seen and unseen, and yet those inside still fought tooth and nail. The pressure on them must be enormous, yet their will to live overpowered whatever terrors the dementors and creatures were putting on them.
But Harry knew that such will wouldn't last them forever. Not with the dementors there. Not without help.
"I know what you're thinking Potter and Don't. You. Dare. There's not a bloody thing we can do for those muggles that won't end up buggering us. They're putting up a good fight, let them keep fighting. We need to worry about our own." Dolohov warned. "Now come on, the church is right there."
In the distance Harry could see it, the church that they'd been striving towards. It was a lot bigger than Harry remembered. Closer to a cathedral then the moderate chapel he had remembered, though it was nowhere near the scale of Hogwarts. A wide, manicured lawn stretched out before Harry, all one hundred and fifty meters of it.
It would have been a ten, maybe fifteen minute walk on a normal day. Maybe even longer as there was as also a tremendous variety of trees to admire. Harry was a novice when compared to Neville, but Harry knew his classmate would appreciate the effort to try and identify some of the many different species present. Of course, today Harry wasn't so concerned with identifying trees as he was with what could be behind them.
Further up the lawn Harry could see clusters of the creatures. Some were in motionless groups trying to imitate the trees they stood among while others made like a breeze and glided between the groves ahead of them. It was impossible to tell just how many there were or how many could be hiding.
"Daphne, what do you think our odds are of getting through that grove?" Harry asked.
"Um… I'm not sure? I mean, the disillusionment charm was build for sneaking through woods like this… but with so many of us…"
"Daphne. Honestly please." Harry goaded, gently. Daphne let out a breath.
"We're not making it through there. Not without some heavy losses."
"Not without a distraction." Harry mused aloud.
"What do you have in mind, Potter?" Dolohov asked.
"I'll draw them away. At my signal, you all run like hell to the church." Harry took a deep breathe. It was going to be tough, sure, but when has anything been easy?
"An excellent idea, Potter," Dolohov praised, "Remember, every second you can buy us increases the chances of the muggles making it to the church, so hold your ground. If you think those things are getting too close then you better straighten that spine and hold out for a few seconds more."
"Thanks, Dolohov," Harry said with faux enthusiasm, "I'll keep that in mind."
"Harry! Are you mad?!" Daphne sputtered.
"Yes," Harry replied bluntly.
"Right… I'm speaking to Dumbledore's freaking prodigy," Harry grinned at the comparison, "but he leveraged that madness with brilliance! And let's face it Harry, you're not even half the student he was at Hogwarts."
"Perhaps I'm more of a lazy genius?" Harry posited.
"Harry, I'm serious. If those creatures don't get you then the dementors will. How are you going to outrun both of them?" Daphne asked.
"Who said anything about outrunning them?" Harry waved his wand, and his Firebolt went from the size of a toothpick to the fastest broom in the wizarding world. In a quick motion he was mounted then off into the wind, a wild rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he blasted off into the skies.
Up Harry flew, far above the trees and buildings to get a Seekers view of the area. Harry had never seen so many fires before. They were everywhere he looked and far into the skyline. All of them were surrounded by the same chaos and destruction that Harry had seen on his way here. Harry, in his vanity, had hoped the creatures had been a personal attack on him, but seeing the scale of their attack from the air shattered that illusion.
Voldemort could be behind this. Somehow. Maybe. No, he had to be! If he could stop Tom, he could stop the creatures. He had to believe that.
But first things first. He had some new friends to save. Harry took a breath and dug deep into his memories. Christmas night with Sirius and Remus, a bottle of firewhiskey and all the stories of the times when the Mauraders were in their prime. Hogsmeade weekend with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the DA packed into the tavern eating, drinking, and laughing through the night. The final days at Hogwarts, lakeside with Ginny, her hands running through his hair as he dozed in early summer heat. The bittersweet taste of coffee accompanied by fierce conversation with a new friend.
Harry gathered all these memories and more before swooping down, racing towards the earth with great speed. His heart beat wildly, but it felt light with all the joys both big and small that he'd felt in life. He brought all that light and love to bear upon the monsters that stood between his group and the church, upon the dementors attacking the college, and as a giant middle finger to the darkness in the distance.
Harry pulled up, stopping just short of the roof of the college several meters away, and with a roar Harry shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Prongs stepped forth, an undisputed Lord of all he surveyed. He took in the sight before him with distain. So much darkness and death. So many people without hope. It would not stand. With a great bellow Prongs sent forth a powerful wave of light. It blasted against the dementors sending them skittering away from the college, flying off in the direction of the storm.
That same light was a beacon to the creatures. They flocked to it like ants to an apple, erupting out from behind every tree and bush, all eyes transfixed on the great stag in the sky. In moments all the creatures in the area had gathered in a huge, writhing mass of teeth beneath him, a thousand brackish claws reaching up towards Prongs.
Harry felt the first patters of rain on his head. He turned to glance at the storm of dementors and, of course, they had changed direction and were heading his way. As much faith as Harry had in his patronus he didn't think there was any light that could fight against that darkness. He could feel the beginnings of the depressive miasma eating at the edges of his mind, but Prongs didn't waver. Yet.
Creatures were still filtering out the woods, and the dementors were picking up speed. Harry took a breath, focusing hard on the happy memories. He could hold on a little longer. Daphne would send out a signal when they got far enough away.
Some dementors had broken from the storm and were making a pass at his defenses. Prongs snorted in before releasing another burst of light. The dementors scattered, Prongs still holding strong, but the depressive pull of the dementors was getting stronger. Or were the creatures beneath him getting louder? Harry looked down. How many teeth were down there? A million? A billion? Harry wondered how many of them would manage to sink into him if he fell.
How quickly would he be devoured by all those teeth? Minutes? Seconds? Harry imagined it would be like falling into a blender. A quick, brutal moment of pain, then… slush.
Another group of dementors attacked. Prongs managed to drive them off, but Harry was starting to sweat. He could hear the faint scream of his mother in that back of head, growing louder as the storm of dementors grew closer. The sky grew darker as the rain fell harder. It was starting to remind Harry dangerously of his third year and that cursed Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.
Then, in the distance, Harry noticed flashes of light. Greens, and reds and blues that shot out in irregular patterns. Spellfire. It had to be. As brilliant as Harry's distraction may be it wasn't enough to draw all the creatures. Something had caught up to his group.
Damn it all. Should he stay and hold a bit longer? Or were Daphne and the others surrounded? It was too hard to tell from his position.
Harry thought furiously about what he should do. He might be able to hold on a bit longer, but if he pushed his luck too far then the dementors would blast through his defenses and turn him into one of those poor blokes in the parking lot. Or maybe he would just pass out and fall into the ravenous horde below.
Harry glanced down and really took in the sight of the horde of creatures. It was the purest form of death that Harry had ever seen. The only thing that could even come close was the basilisk had been close, but even that had been only one thing—a thing killed by a child no less. There was no one thing that could stop something like that.
But Harry would try. The storm that had gathered around the dementors shuddered with power. It was the kind of power that witches and wizards had dreamed of wielding for centuries. The pure, indomitable might of nature. What magical child hadn't dreamed of waving their wand and causing waves to crash or the earth to quake?
Magic didn't quite work like that, unfortunately. Not for most people anyway. Harry had seen Voldemort and Dumbledore do things that only proved how exceptional they are. Harry couldn't conjure a firestorm or send an arc of lightning from his wand, but then again he didn't need to.
Lightning danced above Harry, hopping from cloud to cloud. The chill of the dementors mixing with the summer heat was creating one wild, powerful looking storm. Anyone who hadn't yet gone to ground would need to find it soon. Anyone caught outside would surely regret it.
Harry raised his wand to the sky. Harry didn't really do big, explosive magic. He preferred to be a knife, quick and precise. So much could go wrong when one tried to flashy, and Harry much preferred for things to be over and done with before things got nasty. Sometimes, however, one just had to blow things up.
Harry thanked Prongs before sending him off towards the dementor storm to sow some chaos- a task Prongs was glad to accept- before he started gathering power at the tip of his wand. Harry had noticed through the years that most magic tended to be, well, magical. From jelly leg jinxes to fiendfyre, most witches and wizards shaped spells purely using magic rather than- for a lack of better term- natural forces, and for good reason. Any witch or wizard worth their salt could turn down the heat in any fire, push back the tide like a carriage, or simply banish any old rock or tree headed their way.
Harry's wand began to tremble as bolts of lightning began jumping above him, gathering in power as great rumbles of thunder roared high above. Here's the thing though. Some things can't be stopped, no matter how strong or well-intentioned one may be. And as much as wizards tried to bully nature, nature always had something far more powerful hiding in its bag of tricks to throw back at them.
Harry respected the hell out of nature. How could he not, after his a-hem, 'conversations', with the Whomping Willow? He respected it so much, in fact, that he was happy to use it to gain just that little bit of edge against his enemies.
The lightning gathered overhead, coalescing into the spot where Harry pointed his wand. It was time. Harry went into a dive, straight down towards the horde. He was wet. He was cold. He was tired. But he'd been all those things before. Maybe it was something his parents left him. Maybe it was something the Dursley's forced into him. Maybe he was just too damn stubborn, but damnit all, he wanted to live. Whether it be dementors, or Voldemort, or a bloody horde of ravenous, undead craetures, Harry would every bloody thing he could to run, fight, and live to see another day.
The ground came fast, and just as Harry began to make out the bloody faces of the dead he turned his wand from the sky to the ground and thundered, "PERCUTIO!"
Then all Harry saw was white.
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Author Note: Still here. Still trying. Whether its 10 words or 500 I get a little more done each day. Sorry for the wait and thanks for your patience. Till next time.