The sight of seven red-robed wizards emerging from the trees sent Harry's senses into overdrive - molecules of air against his right hand moved with agonizing slowness as he let go of Draco and reached for his wand. Harry bent his knees, automatically getting into a fighting stance, though his mind already knew they were hopelessly outnumbered. Sweat slid down his forehead; Harry was aware of every drop, reminding him of how pathetic the situation had become. So close to home, yet the chance to return had been snatched from Harry and his team once again.
Harry realized that this was the confrontation he'd been dreading for months. He recalled the kitchen in Cambridge, where he'd spun to protect Draco from an unknown, imagined threat.
This is it, Potter, he told himself, Do your job. Not only as an Auror - but as a partner.
Harry yelled, wand in hand, slamming a spell towards the ground, feeling the incantation rather than thinking it. An invisible force pushed him, Draco, and Joey to the forest floor, just as identical red jets shot over their heads. He rolled towards Draco, shielding him, and whipped his head around, feverishly counting the fallen - one, two - as the Following's spells hit their own. There, Harry thought triumphantly, five against three now. He'd handled worse.
"Back!" Joey screamed, rotating her left fist in the Auror signal of retreat, and in the next moment, shouted, "Sectumsempra!" But the rabbit-faced wizard was already moving, ducking to avoid the curse, sweeping their arms, and crying out something in Thai to their comrades. A ring of blue fire erupted around, flames licking harmlessly against the trees, crackling menacingly as Harry, Draco, and Joey backed up.
Joey cursed - her vengeance would be hard to attain. "Harry, left two, Draco, on my right!" She commanded. Her jaw clenched as she growled, "The rabbit is mine."
Part of Harry wanted to ignore her completely - to take Draco's hand, swipe away the flames, and run - but years of training spurred him forward, raising his wand against two opponents whose masks were a blur.
This fight, Harry quickly realized, would be markedly different from two-on-one sparring in a classroom - the enemies' wandless casting was slower, but the gusts and crackles of magic without knowing what came next were hard to block. Harry found himself using one Shield Charm after another, managing only to get a few spells in edgewise, but the two wizards blocked for each other. The hiss and pops of magic ground loudly against Harry's ears. He gritted his teeth and swiftly dropped to his knees as another Stunning Spell whistled inches over his head and shot a thunderbolt at one wizard - it hit him square in the chest, and he collapsed to the dirt.
Out of the corner of his eye, a flurry of motion caught Harry's attention. Joey's Disarmed wand spun into the air, and she swore loudly, ducking and rolling to the side while reaching into her bag. Then - Harry's remaining opponent slowed to watch, too, both hardly believing their eyes - Joey retrieved her gun, cocked it, and wildly fired two earsplittingly loud shots in the rabbit wizard's direction.
A Muggle weapon in a magical fight. Harry wasn't sure if Joey was either very brave or a complete idiot.
It was clear what her rival thought - they laughed gaily as the wildly shot bullets flew into the trees behind them, and they knocked the gun out of Joey's hand with another spell.
Harry just barely noticed a jet of red light leaving his opponent's hands, and he threw up a charm just in time to block it. Harry returned the Stunning Spell before the other wizard could react, and he fell over, stiff as a board.
Before Harry could check on his teammates, iciness suddenly washed over him, as if he'd been dunked in the wintry Black Lake. Tears pricked his eyes. It didn't matter that he'd downed two opponents - more enemies were to come. They would always come, in crippling numbers, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fred, his parents, Dumbledore, Moody…Their sacrifices had all been in vain.
Harry's heart raged against the overwhelming wave of sadness, as it had been trained to. He flung a cry upwards, "Expecto Patronum!"
The dementors - Merlin, there must be at least twenty - pulled back above the trees as a silvery stag leaped around them. Next to Harry, he heard Joey cast the same spell with her retrieved wand, and a spotted canine animal with spoonlike ears bounded to join the stag, nipping playfully at its heels. A gorgeous, moon-colored tiger joined the mix. Harry's heart soared; had Draco finally unlocked his Patronus? Then he remembered who had a tiger Patronus.
Dahlia Balengchit.
Another figure, dressed in red, slowly approached from behind the rabbit wizard. Her mask was carved intricately in the shape of a tiger, but Harry quickly realized it couldn't have been his old professor. The way this witch carried herself, haughty and regal, the way her dark hands rose with the Patronus Charm, was completely different.
Still, the tiger. Harry's pulse thrummed nervously; what was going on? He felt increasingly as if he was missing a bigger picture.
Before he could give it more thought, the witch flicked her wrist, and Draco cried out in pain. Harry whirled around to watch the love of his life fall, smoke rising from an ominous, signed stripe across the shoulders of his uniform.
"Draco!"
"Stop." The command came from the tiger-faced witch with the sound of a hundred voices speaking in unison, and Harry felt his limbs freeze. Nearby, Joey was trapped in a similar spell, arms trembling to fight against it.
Harry did the same, confident that he'd break it as he once did Voldemort's, but this time, it felt as if dozens upon dozens of hands held him down. He strained and strained, managing to point his wand towards the tiger-faced witch.
"Ah-ah," The witch tutted and curled both her fists. All three Aurors' wands flew into her hands. "No time for resistance."
"Who…are you?" Joey croaked, veins bulging against her neck with effort. "What do you want from us?"
"From you, little boy," The witch said disdainfully, "Nothing."
Joey let loose a sharp, derisive laugh. "You'll have to try…harder than that." She groaned, arms jerking against the spell. "Heard that…a million times."
Harry decided he could dissect the meaning of that exchange later. With the witch distracted, he summoned forth a surge of strength and got to his feet, pushing against her constraints, determined to fight back.
"Rabbit, subdue him," The witch instructed sharply, and her comrade obliged, raising their hands, and the air around Harry seemed to turn to molasses. He decided it was best to stall.
"Tell us what you want or let us fight you," Harry demanded.
"Tell you?" The witch tilted her head, her multiple voices rising in question. "No. Better to show you." She sauntered forward, bare footsteps hushed on the grass, and before Harry could say or do anything else, she touched his forehead.
A dark-haired girl kneels in the ashes of what used to be her home. The embers sting, but the pain breaking in her chest is far greater. Behind her, her best friend, Dahlia, lays a hand on her shoulder.
"There are people who can help us, Dao," She reassures her. "Look. They're coming now."
"Too late," Dao whispers, but she watches anyway as red-robed wizards in carved wooden masks appear at the edge of the ravaged village. Their animal faces are haloed in the sunrise.
Then, a new home. Safety by a fire. The kind, violet eyes of a grandmotherly warrior. Years pass by, and with each new day, the hunger for power grows in Dao's core. Kayala, her mentor, is beloved but weak. She cannot create the better future they both envision. It is time for someone to take her place.
Dahlia leaves, but it's easy to find her in a letter. Dao seals the scarlet envelope without an ounce of regret. She gathers those who believe in her and slaughter the rest. She grew up around murder; the ease of it has settled into her bones. Blood won't show up on these clothes, anyway.
The plan comes to life in her mind. Dao completes their traditional ritual, passing Kayala's soul and the souls of the leaders before her into her own body. But without Kayala's consent, the ceremony nearly goes awry. Rabbit nurses Dao to health over two years, leaving plenty of time to plan and wait.
The best revenge comes from the highest power. Dao seeks advice from a prophet on the top of a mountain and learns what she must acquire. It is time to hunt: two souls, one pure, the other broken beyond repair. What other candidates could be more perfect than…
"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."
The haziness of the forest came back into focus. Harry took a deep breath, lungs aching with how much he needed it. He heard Draco's breath shuddering with pain, and his heart broke for him.
"You're just as bad as them," Draco muttered; Harry could hardly hear him. Dao's head swiftly turned to him. "The people who raided your village. We're not…our souls are not yours to take."
"And who are you to lecture me, Death Eater?" Dao hissed, but Draco didn't flinch, Harry noted with satisfaction. He only wearily bowed his head, body trembling in pain.
"Let us go!" Joey shouted. "Powerful wizards are expecting us back. What could possibly be worth the trouble?"
Harry knew she was bluffing; they hadn't been able to contact England in months, but he played along. "Whoever you are, do you seriously think you could take a hundred Aurors?"
Dao did not reply, her head tilting in Joey's direction. "I tire of this one," She said blithely, and her tone reminded Harry of another wizard, red eyes gleaming from the past.
Kill the spare.
From the far side of the clearing, Harry saw Draco's eyes widen. He met his gaze, and in a split second, they understood each other and moved in unison, breaking through the magical constraints. Harry, closer to Joey, dove for her - a cold, steely force tried to tug her away, but he thrust out his hand, weakening Rabbit's spell. Simultaneously, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a rosy, orange-colored vial. He dropped it and crushed the glass beneath his heel.
Smoke and a wave of heat billowed through the trees, yet to Harry, it seemed to fade just as quickly. He saw Rabbit and Dao crumble to their knees, masks looking about wildly.
"Draco's specialty potion," Joey said, awed. "I've never seen it used before."
"Now's our chance!" Harry cried, and he tugged her back in the direction of the path. The tiger Patronus had disappeared, and already he heard the hollow, brittle sounds of the dementors, swooping down on their prey. "Expecto Patronum!" He yelled desperately, but not a wisp of silver emerged from his hands.
Sorrow began to sink into Harry's skin; he tried to shake it off, pulling Joey ahead, straining to hear the sound of Draco's following footsteps.
There were none.
Harry slowed, shivering in the sudden cold, turning to look behind him, but the tangle of trees was too thick. It was Joey's turn to yank him, her words garbled in a cold, hopeless haze. Where was Draco? Why wasn't he with them? Tears threatened to spill from Harry's eyes; the dementors were closing in.
"Amica Legilimens." Draco's whisper, next to his ear. Harry saw him in his mind's eye, hand outstretched, tears pouring down his face. He'd managed a wand from Dao, who'd dropped them in the explosion, but Harry felt energy sapping from Draco as if their bodies were one. A wand wouldn't help him keep the dementors away. Even after all this time, he couldn't do it, couldn't cast a Patronus; the sound of shattering glass, ricocheting spells, his father's knuckles bruising his face was too much to bear. In his desperation, Draco had reached out to pass along a final message.
Run.
"No!" Sobs tore from Harry's throat as Draco slumped and the spell broke. The dementors, eager for easy prey, retreated to the heart of the forest. "We need to go back," Harry insisted, struggling to pull his arm from Joey's iron grip, but even as he spoke, he saw silhouettes moving through the leaves, red shadows quickly making their way through the leftover smoke.
"We need to move," Joey contradicted, "We'll go back later. Later, Harry, now move."
I can't. I can't. But the instinct to survive thrust Harry forward against his will, and he sprinted after Joey, chest numb with shock.
"We'll be sitting ducks in the open," Joey realized aloud, and she turned, pushing deeper into the tangled thicket, tearing through vines as fast as she could. Harry began to follow along in a daze, but Joey grabbed the scruff of his uniform, shaking him into focus. "Help me!"
Together they stumbled through the forest, pushing aside branches, half-tripping on exposed roots and rocks. Above the treetops, thunder rumbled louder than it had before, the whistling wind carrying the scent of ozone. Harry didn't dare look behind him, afraid of how close their enemies were. He wanted to stop and face them, but the fact remained that they were armed, and he was not. He and his partner were powerless and desperate.
The forest floor began to slope upwards, and a cliff rose, suddenly cutting them off. Beige-colored, craggy stone towered at least twenty meters above them before melting again into soft earth and trees. Harry frantically scanned the surface, hands scrabbling for any useable holds, but they were trapped. He turned, breathing heavily, but no one had followed.
"They'll find us soon enough," Joey warned. Plumes of smoke rose above the trees, hardly a kilometer off. "There!" She pointed to a narrow opening in the stone, just big enough for them to squeeze into. Joey ran over and poked her head inside. "It's bigger than it looks," she said, and Harry spotted a flit of ruby in the trees. He held out his hands and concentrated, trying to use whatever raw magic he had left.
"Confundo morari!"
A weak, pale blue haze bloomed in a semi-circle beyond Harry. He hoped it would be enough to throw the masked wizards off their trail. Before he could spur himself to fight instead of run, Harry ignored his instincts in favor of his training and followed his partner to hide.