"A Most Ingenious Paradox"
[A Harry Potter Fanfiction by Penpusher]
Chapter Eight - "The Thin Red Line"
The next few hours were filled with the nervous buzz of anticipation as each member of the gang alternately wished for the power to slow the clocks, and yet seethed with impatience for the fateful evening to be over and done with. This would be the most serious test of their lives, and whether they would all come through it, or if one or more of them would be found wanting, was very far from certain.
Hermione spent the rest of the working day at her chambers re-routing urgent work, then she returned home, as she pronounced loftily to Ron, "to put her affairs in order" before 8 o'clock: the hour Harry had requested they all assemble in the West Room.
"Honestly, Hermione, what's that supposed to mean?" Ron was aghast. "You sound as though you're writing a Will or something."
"You can never be too careful, Ron. As an Auror, you ought to know that."
"How many times do I have to say it - I'm not an Auror!"
"Yeah, yeah. Now say it again, this time with conviction!"
Lee had not bothered going into the Ministry or even back to the flat.
"My in-tray will be overflowing and they'll be queuing outside my office door," he told George placidly. "Best not to bother moving really."
Lee closeted himself in Hermione's study with his laptop, until she threw him out on her return later that afternoon. He then stalked into the kitchen to join Ron, who was occupying his time usefully by drinking endless cups of coffee, chewing his nails and worrying. Ginny had provided lunch for the gang, made a few phone calls and commandeered the piano in the library to put in some practice. Harry was nowhere to be seen. The twins showed a remarkable grasp of the priorities and between them cooked a large cauldron of soup, importing half the local baker's shop to accompany it. Ron gaped in amazement.
"George, it's high summer!" he protested. Both his brothers glared at him darkly,
"It may be high summer at the moment," Fred replied, grimly, "but we're going to be up all night, mark my words, and we'll need it come 3.00am when you-know-who comes calling."
"What on earth is going on here?" Harry appeared suddenly in the doorway, staring at the lake of soup. He burst out laughing. "That's enough for an army!" George looked rather annoyed.
"Well, an army marches on its stomach, doesn't it?" George responded, testily. "Anyway, Harry, if we're going to ensure you-know-who doesn't make off with Fred tonight, we're going to need some sustenance. Apart from anything else, it might keep us awake!"
"Well, yes - I can see your point," Harry began, scratching his head, "except that I don't think we're going to be able to get out into the kitchen much. If at all, actually."
All heads turned towards him.
"Drink that, Harry." Ron said, pushing a cup of coffee into his hand, "and you might like to reassess your priorities. I for one am never going to stay awake later than 1.00am without coffee."
"I've been looking into the various ways we can protect ourselves against attack," Harry told them, automatically taking a gulp of the strong, aromatic brew. "I've been researching into it all morning. I managed to get through to Professor Radcliffe in Florence, and I've been talking to various dark arts experts I've worked with before. We're all agreed that the surest form of protection is a Wall of Force."
"But surely that leaves us vulnerable from above and beneath," Ron protested with a frown. "I can't see Voldemort falling for that one!"
"I know," replied Harry, "but a Wall of Force can be modified into a vaguely three-dimensional shape. With the right spells, naturally."
"Of course!" exclaimed Hermione, her frown lifting. "I remember Alastor Moody giving a court room a detailed description of one. I called him as an expert witness for the Defence once, about a year ago."
"Did you win?" Harry asked, with interest. Hermione nodded vigorously.
"Too right, we did! He had the whole courtroom on the edge of their seats. I'd use him again anytime." Hermione paused, and the frown returned.
"But Harry," she protested, "the - Glass Bubble, I believe he called it. It's not perfect by any means, and it's not proof against a whole host of hexes."
"Yes, Hermione, I realise that." Harry nodded.
"Hey, get real you two!" Lee entered into the conversation. "I work with machines most of the time, and my magic only gets a workout once or twice a week. Have a heart and explain, will you?"
Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry and giggled.
"Hey, that's not fair!" Ginny glared at them from the kitchen door, coming quickly to join them. "Just because you two know what you're talking about, doesn't mean the rest of us do! I'm with Lee on this."
Harry took her hand in his and patted it gently.
"The Glass Bubble is a variation on the Wall of Force which moulds the protection into a bubble-shape," Harry explained. "This means that any one enclosed within the bubble will be safe from a number of external attacks, notably the three Unforgiveable Curses." Ginny's eyes widened.
"But I thought the Avada curse was unblockable!" Ginny exclaimed. Harry and Fred exchanged glances.
"Well, we thought so too." Harry began at length. "It's a long story involving Fred, George, myself, and a multiple manifestation of griffins. I'll tell you about it sometime - not now, please! - but the upshot is that although the Avada curse can't be blocked, it can be avoided."
"Well, we know that," Ginny protested, impatiently. "All you have to do is move out of the way, same as any other curse."
Harry nodded as though she had said something extremely sensible.
"That's right, and that's the principle involved in the Glass Bubble," Harry went on. "Don't ask me exactly how it works, I didn't design it, but it incorporates a General Evasion charm. It literally avoids being hit by the more powerful and dangerous curses."
"Now that sounds more like it!" Lee jumped out of his chair. "With one of those around the house, we could sleep soundly until the middle of next week, and there'd be nothing You-Know-Who could do about it!"
Harry looked at Lee and shook his head slowly. Hermione's face took on a serious expression. She began to speak.
"It isn't that simple, I'm afraid, Lee," she explained. "It's not so much a bubble as a net made out of fine mesh. Powerful, dangerous curses are deflected, but smaller, less harmful ones can get through. Also, anti- hexes or confusion charms, that sort of thing, well, they can penetrate the barrier as well." There was a small pause as the gang absorbed this information.
"So," continued Lee, slowly, "although You-Know-Who can't kill or hurt us badly while we're in the bubble, he can torment us with any number of small hexes - furnunculus, morbum incido, dolorus, confusium perplexa - you name it. That's not good, Harry."
The other man shrugged.
"I'm sorry, Lee, it's really the best I can do. And that's not all, I'm afraid." Harry paused to rake a hand through his untidy dark hair before continuing.
"When you talk about throwing a Glass Bubble around the whole house, well, it's simply not possible, not even for me," he admitted. "The Glass Bubble is only effective in small spaces, the size of a normal room, no larger."
"So the upshot is that in order to keep me safe, we are going to have to spend the entire night all together in one room, yes?" It was Fred speaking. Harry nodded.
"That's about the size of it, yes."
~ooOoo~
By 8.00pm they had all assembled in the West Room as Harry had requested.
"Now," he began. "Firstly, I think this is the best place for us to spend the night. It's large and has good visibility into the garden. If anything should approach us from there, we'll have plenty of warning. It's also self-contained, having only one door into the house, and it's far enough from the road to avoid any disturbance to the neighbourhood, should there be any."
There was a murmur in reply, largely on the subject of there being only two sofas. Harry shook his head.
"The very first thing we must do is to move all the furniture out into the hall."
"Why?"
"How on earth will we fit it all in?"
"Do you mean we're going to have to sit on the floor all night?"
Harry held up a hand against the flood of protests.
"Please, I'm serious. We can't run the risk of any remnants of magic clinging to anything in this room, not to mention the fact that, as we've discussed at length, minor hexes can get through. Imagine being stuck in a room where every item of furniture was behaving like a Quidditch bludger! It could happen. Everything that can be removed, sofas, chairs, bookcases - you name it, we've got to get rid of it. Even the pictures on the walls are a potential hazard!"
The next hour was spent in preparing the room as Harry instructed. He was absolutely tireless: nothing was left, not even the carpet.
"Now," he continued, "I want everyone to bring down enough bedding to be comfortable. Mats and inflatable mattresses are okay, together with your usual bedclothes and pillows, and a pile of extra blankets. Nothing magical, whatever else you bring, and nothing rigid, heavy or dangerous. We must keep as little in this room as possible."
The others dutifully went upstairs. Hermione panicked slightly over whether they could find enough blankets and quilts for three extra people, but by raiding all the bedrooms they managed to garner sufficient for the purpose. Soon the resulting pile was spread carefully around the room so that everyone had sufficient space to stretch out.
While the others were occupied in this task, Harry moved around the room, examining the windows and doors, muttering over the frames, noting the absence of a fireplace. He also lit the central heating boiler, making certain that the two radiators in the West Room were fully operational.
"Okay," Harry said, as the others completed their preparations. "Now I think we'd all better go and eat some of that vast quantity of soup the twins have cooked for us; we really need a good meal before we go into this. After that, I think it may be as well if we all change into some less formal clothes: tracksuits, jogging pants, teeshirts, pyjamas, you know the type of thing. Things we can sleep in if necessary, although I doubt we'll be able to. And we'd better make sure we'll be warm enough. I've checked that the central heating is working, but one blast of the Frigesco charm and we'll be extremely uncomfortable whether it's working or not. Ditto for Excandesco, so make sure you put on layers of clothes that you can take off if you get too hot!"
Harry and Fred practically emptied their wardrobes trying to find sweats for Lee, George and Ron. Harry, having eaten lightly and finished first, then filled plastic drinks bottles with water and carried them into the West Room. He also packed a wicker basket with all the fruit he could find in the house. Ginny set to in the kitchen and made enough sandwiches to feed a family of four for a year. The rest of the gang stood around rather aimlessly, waiting for the next move. Ron simply stared at Hermione who was looking ravishing in a scarlet tracksuit with her long brown hair down. She smiled gently at him then moved over to where Harry was still pacing the room.
"Want some help with that?" Hermione enquired, softly. Harry looked up at her and she felt her heart twist at the lines of strain around his mouth, the worry etched plainly in his eyes. He sighed and nodded.
"Thanks, Hermione: standard Repel All Boarders wards, extended to cover the whole of each window and door frame, also any cracks in the walls."
Hermione nodded then looked back towards the others.
"Hey, Ron, come and help with this, please," she ordered. With an air of jumping to attention, Ron sprang into action and had soon taken over from Harry, assisting Hermione to seal the cracks in the door and walls with magical protection. Harry paused in thought for a while then walked over to Fred.
"How much do you remember about the Manhattan Island situation?" he asked, obliquely. Fred looked puzzled for a moment then understanding spread over his face.
"You, me and an army of hags?" Fred replied. "Plenty, I can assure you. They frequently haunt my dreams." He smiled grimly. "I take it you want me to help you cast the Glass Bubble in tandem? Like we did then?" Harry nodded firmly.
"Frankly, what you produced there was the most sure-fire defence I've seen in a long time," Harry remarked. Fred bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment.
"More of the same, then?"
"Too right! Let's get to it."
For a while, there was no sound save for mutterings from Ron and Hermione as they continued to place wards around the room, punctuated by muted discussion between Harry and Fred. The wards were up and running while their creators sat patiently on their piles of bedding before preparations for the Glass Bubble were complete.
Finally, Harry and Fred stood facing each other in the centre of the room, almost as though preparing for a wizard duel. They drew their wands together. Working in mirror image, each described a slow, graceful arc, leaving faint silver lines hanging motionless in the air. Back they both swung, in perfect unison, leaving further silvery threads, then more and more as they worked, establishing a rhythm for their magic.
The sight of them was almost hypnotic; Hermione's eyes started to glaze over. She shook her head impatiently. This was a charm she had never worked, although she had heard a great deal about it, and she wanted to remember as much as possible for further study. On and on the two wizards strove in a complex ballet, drawing their wands gracefully through the air, adding more and more lines to the pattern. A shape was gradually emerging, a mesh sphere totally enclosing its creators.
The pattern appeared to be complete. Precisely in time, Fred and Harry lowered their wands to rest for a moment. Their eyes met. With studied synchronisation, they raised their wands again. Once word rang out from two throats:
"Extendor!"
and the mesh seemed to catch fire. Brilliantly, it flamed with a silver- grey light then rapidly expanded until it touched the boundaries of the room. There it stayed, the legendary Glass Bubble, glimmering and revolving before fading into invisibility.
"That was beautiful!" Ginny sighed in regret at the disappearance of the exquisite structure.
"And extremely strong," Hermione was impressed. "Well done, you two. That was a stunning piece of work!"
"We don't have to worry about breaking through the protection as long as we stay in the room," explained Harry, nodding his head in recognition of the accolade. "The bubble's flexible enough to accommodate any movement, but once we open the door, or even a window, we shatter it and thereby lose our only defence."
Wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, Harry turned to Fred. Crouched low on the floor, the other wizard flexed tense shoulders, grimacing at the ache. He looked up at Harry and grasped the hand proffered to help him stand. Instead of releasing Fred once he was on his feet, Harry gripped the hand he held tighter and spoke in a voice meant only for Fred's ears.
"Thank you," he said, simply but with a warm smile. "Your reputation both inside and out of the Ministry of Magic is fully justified!"
"I won't say quite any time, but - you're welcome," Fred replied, returning the smile somewhat wearily. Releasing Fred's hand, Harry turned to the others.
"Can I just remind you that we're really not sure what we're up against here?" he began. "Technically we know we can survive merely by sitting tight, but I doubt it'll be that simple. Please try not to use magic if you can possibly help it: the chances of Voldemort hexing us so that any spell will backfire are very strong. Also anything more powerful than a minor hex will shatter the bubble from the inside."
"Harry, have you any idea what we can expect by way of attacks tonight?" Hermione was calm but obviously perturbed by the idea of being in the dark.
"Not really," he replied, flatly. "But I can make some guesses which might hold water."
"Go on then," said George, when Harry paused for thought. Harry took off his spectacles and began to polish them absent-mindedly on his jogging top.
"We've already discussed the small hexes which can get through - feeling cold, hot, sick, in pain, thirsty, hungry." he said, putting his glasses back on. "We have a remedy of sorts for some of them - the water, the fruit, Ginny's sandwiches. The others we'll just have to sit out. We may be under attack in other, more subtle ways. Any one of us may suddenly feel irrationally angry, fed up, irritable, sad, frightened - many other emotional responses. It's up to the rest of us to try to spot these attacks and defuse them."
"What do we do?" Lee asked with a somewhat bewildered look.
"Talk to each other," Harry replied. "Look out for unusual signals, tension, anything odd or out of character and see if you can't head it off at the pass. Logical argument and reasoning tends to shift anyone who is being unduly influenced back on to the right track, but be prepared to use force if necessary. No one must leave the room, that is imperative."
Lee nodded seriously, then sat down on his bedding, deep in thought.
"I guess we ought to try to get some sleep," Harry continued. "I know that's probably the last thing any of us wants to do at the moment, but I don't suppose we'll get much chance later."
Harry stretched himself out full length, his hands behind his head. Nodding, Fred followed suit. Slowly, the others settled themselves into their own piles of bedding. Ron, who had taken care to place himself near to Hermione, was the last to turn in, standing with his hands on his hips, frowning out of the West Room windows.
"Anything wrong?" asked Hermione, turning on to her back. He shook his head still with his back to her then turned to scramble into his makeshift bed. He lay on his side against the pillows, leaning on one elbow to regard her with sombre eyes.
"I'm just, well." he broke off with a humourless laugh. "I was going to say I'm a bit worried, but it's just too weird. I'm a bit worried like the sky is a bit above the grass at present." Hermione smiled.
"It's all come on us rather suddenly, hasn't it?" she replied. "You know: one day Lee and I are discussing the correlations between the crime patterns in Britain, the next we're head to head with an invasion of the Dark Side, heralded by You-Know-Who's return." Ron nodded.
"Seems that way," he agreed. "But all your painstaking work paid off in the end then, didn't it? I mean, it's the final proof that he's trying to return, isn't it? Organising the criminal element, all those thefts and infiltrations, the disappearances. And the strategies for keeping the public eye off his activities! You've got to hand it to him, it's a masterly piece of work."
"Yes," Hermione pressed her lips together primly. "I suppose You-Know-Who does have quite a flair for murder and mayhem. Such a pity it couldn't have been re-directed when he was young. It would have saved us such a lot of trouble."
Ron widened his eyes in surprise at her scalding sarcasm then sighed as he caught a glint of tears before she turned her head away impatiently. He reached across between them and caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers. In control again, she turned back to him. She didn't smile, but neither did she relinquish her grip on his hand.
Ginny, who had positioned her bedding closest to Harry, turned to him now, her expression serious.
"So we just sit here and wait for Voldemort to attack us?" she demanded. Harry nodded heavily.
"Unfortunately, Ginny, yes," he replied. "I don't believe he can afford to let this opportunity pass. He must get Fred back, and he must get him back before tomorrow night."
"And there's nothing we can do to pre-empt him? You know, get in first? Force him to fight the battle on our terms?" Ginny was twitching with frustration.
"I wish there were," Harry replied regretfully, "but we've already done all we can to turn the situation to our advantage. And that's precious little, I grant you." There was a short silence.
"Harry," Ginny began again, "there's something I'm still not terribly clear about." Harry smiled and took her hand gently.
"Fire away," he said. "After all, we've got all night!" Ginny squeezed his hand and frowned slightly.
"It's about the temple," she began. "I understand that it's one of the few places in the world that You-Know-Who can use to cross over into our dimension, but where did it come from? I mean, who built it and for what purpose? Did he build it himself when he was still in human form? Did someone else build it on his instructions?"
"Now that's something I was curious about myself," Harry replied, aware that the others had fallen silent and were listening. "While Ron was researching the witch who sold this house to me, I was doing a little investigation of my own, at the Land Registry amongst other places. It turns out that there have only been three owners of this property: the original builder of the house, who was also the architect and lived here until his death; a Senior Officer in the British Army who served in India during the Raj; and, after his death, his eldest son." Harry paused to gather his thoughts.
"It was the British Officer who interested me," he continued. "This man spent most of his active life in India, together with his family, and came home only when he retired. I made a few enquiries about him. He was, I think, a genuinely good man. During his time in India, he developed a deep sympathy with the Hindu faith, a sentiment which was shared by his family, in particular his eldest son. There are no planning records relevant to the temple, nothing official whatsoever, but together with the deeds of the house are purchase orders for building materials and letters of contract with local artisans. There are no plans or drawings, unfortunately. The eldest son must have assisted him in the building and design, and also by visiting India on at least one occasion to bring back the wonderful decorations, the paintings, wall hangings, statues, etc. Once the old man died, the eldest son sold up and went back to India, taking his family with him. In fact, there is some evidence to suggest that he had married a native woman, although I have my doubts on that issue."
"Why?" Ginny was puzzled. "Surely that would make sense, I mean, they had to get their knowledge of the religion from somewhere."
"Muggles are funny," Harry replied, to a murmur of agreement. "When the British were in India, they were the overlords, the conquerors. Even though it wasn't their country, they ruled it, and they looked on the Indians as inferior. For an Englishman of status to marry an Indian woman would have been anathema; it would have caused social uproar. He and his family would have become outcasts: neither the English nor the Indians would have accepted them." The gang stared at each other in amazement.
"So marrying Parvati or Padma would have meant that none of our friends would have anything more to do with us?" It was Lee talking. George laughed.
"Just don't tell Seamus then." There was a general chuckle.
"After the eldest son took his family back to India," Harry continued, "the house was left empty for a while. It was then that my vendor took it on - she must be very old now, even for a witch."
"Harry," asked Hermione, "you mentioned the Hindu religion. I've heard of it, having had a Muggle upbringing, but I suspect the others haven't. Do you know anything about it?"
"Yes," acknowledged Harry. "Enough to provide some background anyway. Hinduism began as a sort of primitive village cult in Eastern societies, but it rapidly spread all over the world. It has many, many different gods, some more important than others, and new gods are being added to their number all the time. The three major deities, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer, form a kind of unit, but unlike Christianity, they are totally separate entities. They do not unite to form a Trinity, a three-in-one; they exist independently of each other, representing the three states of nature.
"I think the fact that it was built along intersecting lines of power is no accident. Wizards exist in all walks of life, and if they are not caught and trained early, their magic will surface only haphazardly. Albus Dumbledore once confided to me that although the wizard world is aware of every single wizard from the moment of their birth, for many and various reasons, a large number of them live out their lives totally ignorant of their provenance. There are many religious leaders in Muggle history who are quite obviously sensitives, if not fully-fledged wizards, acting on instinct rather than training. I think our ex-army officer was one of those sensitives. He must have had talent in order to situate his temple in precisely the spot he chose, but I don't believe he had any evil intentions. No, I think Voldemort corrupted this temple, just as he corrupts every other worthwhile thing he touches. He was just lucky to find this place, all ready and waiting for him. Just incredibly lucky." Harry's face became bleak and bitter and he fell silent.
The next couple of hours were spent in desultory conversation as the gang individually tried to get some rest. They all knew that sleep would be very difficult to attain, but it could do no harm to try, surely.
Suddenly, without warning, they leaped to their feet, galvanized into action by an abrupt onslaught of thunder. The room seemed full of green fire, shooting into corners, bouncing off windows, filling the space with noise and light. Ginny shrieked in shock, but stayed put in the midst of her bedclothes. Hermione, most uncharacteristically, flung her arms around Ron and buried her head in his chest. George drew his wand, only to have it slapped away by Fred.
"No magic, George!" he shouted. "Besides, I think if we wait a short time, we'll find it's not really necessary."
Fred was right. As suddenly as it had begun, the green fire ceased, leaving the room in total silence.
"What the hell was that?" spluttered Lee. Harry picked himself up off the floor, straightening his clothes.
"If I read it correctly, Lee," he began, "it was the Avada curse, sent many, many times. It was meant to wipe us out completely." Harry smiled, grimly. "Voldemort is about to discover his mistake."
But if Harry expected the Dark Wizard himself to come to inspect the damage, or at least to send a lieutenant, he was disappointed. Nothing happened, and as the minutes turned into hours, the gang began to settle themselves again.
Harry had advised them to at least lie on their bedding, to give their bodies a chance to relax. He himself appeared, at first sight, to be sleeping: he was stretched on top of his bedding with his hands under his head, calm and relaxed, breathing deeply and evenly. Only his eyes gave him away. They were wide open and staring at nothing. Harry was in fact meditating using a technique taught to him by an elderly Buddhist during his travels in China. The method achieved a state of total muscular repose and lifted the consciousness to a level approaching sleep, but left the practitioner supernaturally sensitive to any disturbance, however small.
"I'm thirsty," said Lee, hoarsely. "I wish we had a drink."
Harry's early warning system had, in fact, started to react several minutes before and he sat up. Voldemort has realised that his attacks have achieved nothing, he thought. He's backtracked and he's starting small.
"You're forgetting the water, Lee," he replied, gesturing to the bottles. "Sorry it's nothing stronger, I suspect we could all do with it."
There was a murmur of agreement, and Lee, grabbing one of the bottles, gratefully sunk half of it in one go.
Round one to us, thought Harry grimly, but he knew that this was only a practice run. There would be many more attempts to be thwarted before the night was over.
The next attack came without warning a few minutes later. Fred suddenly gave a cry of distress and rolled over into the foetal position on the floor, hugging his knees and shaking.
"C-cold," he muttered, between chattering teeth. "F-freezing cold."
"Quickly!" snapped Harry. "Ron, the blankets. Cover him. I should have suspected this would happen fairly early on."
He helped wrap all the spare blankets they had over the shaking Fred in the hope of easing the fever.
"Fred is the weakest of all of us because of his prolonged exposure to Voldemort during his capture," he murmured worriedly. "And as the ultimate target of these attacks, he's bound to be the worst affected."
At that moment, Fred gave a convulsive shudder and collapsed into total immobility. George made a wordless exclamation and turned him over, looking up to find Ginny by his side. Together, they manoeuvred Fred into coma position, then Ginny checked his pulse and respiration and tucked the blankets back around him, sitting back on her heels.
"He's unconscious," she told them. "I suspect the strength of the attack was too much for his weakened state. It's the best thing really. If he stays out of it for the rest of the night, he'll be beyond Voldemort's reach." Harry nodded at her.
"George?" he said. The redhead looked towards him. "Can I ask you to babysit? Someone needs to be responsible for Fred and to alert the rest of us if and when he wakes."
George nodded seriously and turned to where Fred was lying.
"I think we had better get back to our places," said Harry to the others. "As you can see, Voldemort has already begun his onslaught and, according to my watch, it's only 11.00pm. There's a lot of night still to come, and he may not even stop with the dawn." If we last out that long! he added silently.
There was a long period of inactivity after Fred's collapse. Ginny, curled up next to Harry, seemed to fall into a light doze. George, kneeling next to Fred, kept careful watch on his brother, checking his pulse, breathing and temperature regularly. Lee lay stretched out on his back staring at the ceiling, his lips moving faintly. Working through some computer calculation, probably, thought Harry. Hermione and Ron talked for a while in low tones, but now merely sat together in companionable silence. Ron appeared to be debating something. Abruptly, with an air of finality, he rose to his feet and walked deliberately over to Harry.
"That's it," Ron said, belligerently. "I've had enough of this. I'm tired, hungry, chilly and uncomfortable. I'm fed up with lying here on a cold hard floor making a fool of myself for no reason at all. I'm going out of that door into the study to make myself a drink, then I'm going to Apparate home to my bed. And I suggest the rest of you do likewise."
Harry looked up at Ron calmly enough, but his insides were churning with anxiety: this was a different kind of attack.
"Ron," he began, "are you still not convinced that we are, even now, under attack by Voldemort? That your brother is in great danger? You saw what happened to Fred."
Ron shook his head stubbornly.
"I think it's all a load of bull," he returned bluntly. "Fred just had - some sort of fit, that's all. If You-Know-Who was going to attack us, he'd do it in broad daylight with curses and hexes and goodness-knows-what. He must be laughing himself sick at the thought of us spending the night lying here on the floor. Well, I've had enough - I'm off!"
Harry pushed his bedclothes aside and rose to his feet.
"Ron," he said again, putting hands on the taller man's shoulders, "we've been friends for a very long time, yes?" Ron nodded, unwillingly. "And you may very well be wiser than me. You may know in your heart that Voldemort will not attack us tonight, that all these preparations are so much nonsense. However, I, as your friend, will freely admit to being very frightened that Voldemort will indeed attack us tonight. So, for the sake of our friendship, I ask you to put up with the discomfort and stay with me here, for as long as it takes. Will you do that for me?"
Ron scowled, then shrugged off Harry's hands.
"Well, since you put it that way, I can't really do anything else, can I?" Ron muttered ill temperedly, stomping back to his bedding. Harry lay down again, suppressing a small smile: Voldemort really didn't understand such things as friendship and loyalty, even though he seemed to make much of the latter quality. Defeating that particular assault had been really very simple. But Harry was not given further time to gloat, for the next attack was already on them. There was a sudden sharp tapping on the window, startling Hermione into a small scream.
"George?" came a familiar voice, "George, are you in there?" Ron stared at George and Ginny, his mouth open.
"It's Mum!" he hissed, "What in Merlin's name is she doing here?"
"George!" continued the voice. " George, are you there? I need your help. It's your father; he's had an accident. Hurry up and open the door. Come on, let me in!"
Automatically, George swung towards the patio doors, preparing to open them when Harry caught hold of his arm.
"George, no!" he said forcefully. "That's not your mother!"
"What are you talking about Harry?" George began indignantly, trying to shake him off. "Do you think I don't know my own mother's voice?" Harry refused to let go.
"I tell you that is not your mother!" he insisted, "And if you open the door to look, you will find something very different waiting for you to let it in - and it will be the last thing you ever see!"
The Weasleys froze in horror, listening to the uncannily accurate imitation of Molly Weasley while the voice pleaded, cajoled and finally ceased in a trailing wail that set the hairs on the backs of their necks bristling.
"Get into a circle around Fred!" barked Harry, urgently. "Backs to the middle, facing outwards. I think Voldemort is about to take off his kid gloves. Whatever you do, don't leave the room!"
The gang huddled together, frightened eyes darting around the room.
"What's that?" hissed Hermione, pointing to a corner of the room where the shadows seemed somehow distorted, as if through a lens. The gang watched in horrified fascination as the very air seemed to coalesce and thicken into a dark shape, which rapidly developed into a human figure.
"Wormtail!" spat Harry, in disgust. "How many times do I have to kill him before he lies down? Hermione - NO!" Hermione had instinctively pulled out her wand and was about to hex the Deatheater. Harry grabbed her arm before she could release the curse.
"Sorry, Hermione, but no magic - please!" he begged. "If just one of your curses should hit the barrier, we're finished." Hermione nodded, white- faced and trembling.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot." Harry patted her arm.
"Perfectly natural reaction." he replied, turning to face the Deatheater with a determined expression. He spread his arms wide.
"Your move, Wormtail," Harry said simply, and waited.
Wormtail seemed to take his time. He walked all around the room checking the doors and windows, examined the small closet in the corner, peered at their bedding and supplies of food and water. Suddenly he gave a low hiss.
"You seem to have thought of most things," he said with grudging respect. Harry shrugged.
"We aim to please," he responded lightly. Suddenly Wormtail raised his wand.
"Incendium deflagro!" he shouted, sending bolts of searing orange light at the gang. Reflexively, Harry dropped to the floor like a stone, dragging Ginny with him. The others followed suit, stifling yells of surprise. The attack hit the invisible barrier and burst into a shower of sparks, momentarily defining the limits of the bubble as it did so. It bounced back towards the hapless Wormtail who shrieked, ducking the various magical fragments.
"Did you see that?" shouted Lee getting to his feet. "He can't get his Inferno curse past our bubble - he's powerless!"
It certainly appeared that way. But Wormtail had decided that enough was enough: he sheathed his wand and began to dematerialise.
"He's given up!" crowed Lee. "One up to us!"
Privately, Harry thought that might be putting their achievement rather too high, but he had no time to ponder as the next onslaught was already upon them.
"Ginny? Ginny, what on earth are you doing here with these weirdos? Come on, let's get out of here and go home."
Ginny's face drained of all colour and she clamped a hand firmly over her mouth to stifle a scream.
"David?" she choked quietly, incredulously. There was a movement in the shadows, and suddenly the figure of David Markland was standing in the room, Armani suit, Gucci shoes, immaculately groomed as always.
"I've come to take you home, Ginny," it said, holding out a hand to the terrified girl. She shook her head, slowly then more insistently.
"No, no," she whispered. "We split up, David. You dumped me when you found out I was a witch. This is my home now." The figure smiled gently.
"It was a big shock, Ginny, you must admit that," it said. "Was it surprising that I needed time to digest what you'd told me? Time to work it all out? Come home, Ginny: let's start again." He extended his hand towards the redhead and, to the gang's horror, Ginny actually started to move towards him.
"No!" whispered Harry, his mouth suddenly dry. The shade of David Markland smiled more broadly, beckoning to Ginny, reaching to grasp her hand, when suddenly it stretched too far and touched the invisible barrier. The facial features contorted with pain and rage, flowing away like melting candle wax. For a fleeting moment, the figure became something totally inhuman before dissolving quickly away into nothing. Ginny turned away, burying her face in Harry's shoulder.
"It was a manifestation," Harry explained calmly, holding her tightly. "It wasn't real, Ginny. Voldemort can delve into the surface of our minds, but we instinctively prevent him from reading us any more deeply. He made that construct out of your memories of David. You saw how quickly it was destroyed by our Bubble."
Suddenly, a choking sound alerted the gang to another assault, swiftly on the heels of this last one. Lee lay on the floor, his hands to his throat, his face rapidly changing colour from his normal healthy lustre to a greyish tinge. Hermione gave a cry and dropped to her knees. She looked up.
"It's magic now, Harry, or he dies." she said grimly, "I have to do it."
Harry nodded tensely. Hermione produced her wand for the second time that night and steadied herself to perform the counter curse. At the last moment, she made a slight alteration to the incantation, making the spell specific to Lee, and launched it at him. Abruptly, Lee gave a violent lurch, then collapsed, drawing in gulps of air in great whooping gasps. Ron and Harry propped him into a sitting position.
"That was well thought of, Hermione." said Harry, patting Lee's back gently. "In a crisis like that, I don't think I would have had the presence of mind to personalise my spell." She shrugged.
"It just seemed like a good idea at the ." Hermione glanced over his shoulder and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my wand! Harry - look!" The entire gang swung round and were completely struck dumb. There in front of them, fragile and vulnerable, stood Cho Chang.
It was as though they had been frozen into statues, all of them. Ron, his arms wrapped protectively around Hermione, stared dumbly in amazement; Lee still lay prone on the floor, breathing harshly and raspingly; Ginny drew back from the manifestation into George's reassuring bulk, her small fists clenched. Slowly, Harry stood up and surveyed the small figure before him.
"What do you want?" he said, tonelessly. Cho Chang smiled at him and her lovely face lit up.
"Harry! Oh, Harry, I've missed you so much!" she cried, holding out her arms. Harry didn't move, nor did he smile. She hasn't changed at all, he thought. Cho Chang was still nineteen, slim and extremely pretty in an active, athletic sort of way, just as she had been when he saw her alive for the last time.
"You're dead," Harry said, tonelessly. "I saw your body on a mortuary slab. It was you alright, I should know." Cho's face assumed a solemn, sorrowful expression.
"Harry, I know you thought you saw me in the mortuary," she began. "But it wasn't me, truly. You-Know-Who kidnapped me. He stole me away and put a Glamour on someone else to make it look like I had died." Harry was shaking his head.
"I put an Out of Harms Way charm on you," he told the figure. "It was unbroken when I identified you. That's how I knew you hadn't died by accident."
"Harry," Cho's voice was urgent, "he knew about the charm, don't you see? He duplicated it on my stand-in and fooled you."
"It was a particular variant I designed myself," Harry insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "It had my hallmarks all over it like fingerprints, even the bits I had to rework slightly were there. It was my charm, Cho; you died that day." Cho was shaking her head vehemently.
"No, no, Harry!" she protested. "I swear to you that he duplicated your charm. I'm real, Harry, as real as you are. Come, touch me, prove it to yourself."
Cho held out a hand and Harry, feeling his muscles react in reflex, dragged himself back just in time. Cho's face was disappointed.
"You don't trust me," she said sorrowfully.
"Too right I don't!" Harry raked a despairing hand through his hair. "Okay, Cho, or whatever you are. What do you want from me?" The delicate figure drew itself upright.
"Okay, Harry, if you want to play it that way." Cho's expression was sad. "You-Know-Who wants a trade. He's prepared to make an exchange for the life of Fred Weasley."
"Oh?" replied Harry, warily. "And what exactly do I get for handing over one of my oldest friends to an enemy not exactly known for his justice or mercy?"
"You get me," Cho said, standing tall but with her voice quavering. "You get me back in full physical health with all my memories intact. Think of it, Harry!" Her eyes lit up.
"You've pined for me for years - now you could have me back! After all, you were the one responsible for my death in the first place, weren't you?" Cho's voice took on a persuasive, wheedling quality. "And Cedric's too, don't forget. After all, if you hadn't got Cedric killed in that stupid Triwizard Tournament, I'd probably never have agreed to get involved with you at all. But you persuaded me into it eventually - and then you got me killed too. Don't you think you owe me something after all that?"
Harry didn't answer. Ginny looked towards him and her heart froze. Harry's face was distorted with pain and grief, but underneath all that anguish, she could just catch a glimmer of hope, a tiny ray of longing that had never quite been extinguished over the long intervening years. Harry hung his head in agony, unable to speak.
"No," Ginny whispered, grappling for her wand. "No, you can't do this!" The thin piece of wood slid from its sleeve pocket into her hand, her lips framed a curse, she pointed her wand straight at the figure of Cho Chang.
But she wasn't quick enough. Another wand had been drawn, an incantation shouted in anger, a curse launched straight at the figure of Cho Chang, breaking the protective bubble, their one defence against the Dark Lord!
Instantly, Cho ducked, easily evading the curse, and her face broke into an evil, triumphant grin as she swept her wand from her sleeve with a flourish.
"Come forth, servants of the Dark Lord: I summon you to destroy those who would stand in our way!" she shrieked in a changed voice, holding her wand aloft and throwing lightning flashes around the room.
Abruptly, the room seemed to be full of people; cloaked and hooded people who exuded a horrible triumphant menace. As Harry spun around, breathing heavily, looking this way and that, he realised that a ring of Deatheaters surrounded them. Their protection was gone, and there was no escape.
Ginny screamed in horror as David took shape once more, still suave and sophisticated, but his face etched with delighted malice. As the noise and thunder from Cho's wand increased, Harry and the others found their attention held by something much larger and scarier beginning to appear.
Just as they had seen it in the temple, a tall figure was gradually forming before their eyes, firstly as floating red lines of power, quickly joined and covered by an opaque surface, giving the illusion of solidity. The figure then began to gain certain characteristics - long, bony hands, skeletal features, black robes and flaming red eyes in a cruel, twisted face, which was at this moment alight with triumph. However, the figure seemed unable to achieve any real presence or stability; the image flickered like an uncertain lightbulb, or a very old newsreel. Meanwhile as the Deatheaters bowed their heads to the apparition, 'Cho' and 'David' flung themselves to the floor before the half-formed figure's feet.
"Master!" 'Cho' cried, exultantly, gleefully, "Watch what I shall do in your name!"
And while Voldemort was still taking shape, she pointed her wand at the cowering group of friends and crowed in exultation.
"Thank you very much." she said silkily. "One of you has been remarkably foolish and has made my task a good deal easier than I expected. Now that one shall reap her reward - a swift and immediate death. Avada Kedavra!" Green fire jetted from Cho's wand, directly towards a petrified Hermione.
And at that moment Harry Potter stood, his face grey with fatigue, pointed his wand towards Cho, and snapped in a clear, incisive voice eleven words that bore no relation to any language known to anyone present. There was a soundless explosion that briefly turned everything into a black and white negative. The figures of Cho, David, the Deatheaters and the not-yet-quite manifested Voldemort wailed in unbearable agony and seemed to collapse in on themselves, sucked into a rushing vortex of white winds. The others were knocked senseless to the floor by the impact.
Then there was total silence, broken only by the distant sound of birdsong: dawn had come at last.
Author's Notes
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author. Disclaimer: this is a non-profit enterprise. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, except the plot and David Markland, both of which belong to Penpusher. Tribute to: Susan Cooper's incomparable "The Dark is Rising" sequence for use of the "High Magic"; Dennis Wheatley for a plot device; and many, many other fanfiction writers whose works of all kinds and in very differing genres have been an immense inspiration to me. The quotations used as chapter titles are too numerous to credit here. Full details available on request, but Shakespeare and The Bible should yield most of them.
And all the thanks in the world to Becky (aka williara) for being a superb beta.
Chapter Eight - "The Thin Red Line"
The next few hours were filled with the nervous buzz of anticipation as each member of the gang alternately wished for the power to slow the clocks, and yet seethed with impatience for the fateful evening to be over and done with. This would be the most serious test of their lives, and whether they would all come through it, or if one or more of them would be found wanting, was very far from certain.
Hermione spent the rest of the working day at her chambers re-routing urgent work, then she returned home, as she pronounced loftily to Ron, "to put her affairs in order" before 8 o'clock: the hour Harry had requested they all assemble in the West Room.
"Honestly, Hermione, what's that supposed to mean?" Ron was aghast. "You sound as though you're writing a Will or something."
"You can never be too careful, Ron. As an Auror, you ought to know that."
"How many times do I have to say it - I'm not an Auror!"
"Yeah, yeah. Now say it again, this time with conviction!"
Lee had not bothered going into the Ministry or even back to the flat.
"My in-tray will be overflowing and they'll be queuing outside my office door," he told George placidly. "Best not to bother moving really."
Lee closeted himself in Hermione's study with his laptop, until she threw him out on her return later that afternoon. He then stalked into the kitchen to join Ron, who was occupying his time usefully by drinking endless cups of coffee, chewing his nails and worrying. Ginny had provided lunch for the gang, made a few phone calls and commandeered the piano in the library to put in some practice. Harry was nowhere to be seen. The twins showed a remarkable grasp of the priorities and between them cooked a large cauldron of soup, importing half the local baker's shop to accompany it. Ron gaped in amazement.
"George, it's high summer!" he protested. Both his brothers glared at him darkly,
"It may be high summer at the moment," Fred replied, grimly, "but we're going to be up all night, mark my words, and we'll need it come 3.00am when you-know-who comes calling."
"What on earth is going on here?" Harry appeared suddenly in the doorway, staring at the lake of soup. He burst out laughing. "That's enough for an army!" George looked rather annoyed.
"Well, an army marches on its stomach, doesn't it?" George responded, testily. "Anyway, Harry, if we're going to ensure you-know-who doesn't make off with Fred tonight, we're going to need some sustenance. Apart from anything else, it might keep us awake!"
"Well, yes - I can see your point," Harry began, scratching his head, "except that I don't think we're going to be able to get out into the kitchen much. If at all, actually."
All heads turned towards him.
"Drink that, Harry." Ron said, pushing a cup of coffee into his hand, "and you might like to reassess your priorities. I for one am never going to stay awake later than 1.00am without coffee."
"I've been looking into the various ways we can protect ourselves against attack," Harry told them, automatically taking a gulp of the strong, aromatic brew. "I've been researching into it all morning. I managed to get through to Professor Radcliffe in Florence, and I've been talking to various dark arts experts I've worked with before. We're all agreed that the surest form of protection is a Wall of Force."
"But surely that leaves us vulnerable from above and beneath," Ron protested with a frown. "I can't see Voldemort falling for that one!"
"I know," replied Harry, "but a Wall of Force can be modified into a vaguely three-dimensional shape. With the right spells, naturally."
"Of course!" exclaimed Hermione, her frown lifting. "I remember Alastor Moody giving a court room a detailed description of one. I called him as an expert witness for the Defence once, about a year ago."
"Did you win?" Harry asked, with interest. Hermione nodded vigorously.
"Too right, we did! He had the whole courtroom on the edge of their seats. I'd use him again anytime." Hermione paused, and the frown returned.
"But Harry," she protested, "the - Glass Bubble, I believe he called it. It's not perfect by any means, and it's not proof against a whole host of hexes."
"Yes, Hermione, I realise that." Harry nodded.
"Hey, get real you two!" Lee entered into the conversation. "I work with machines most of the time, and my magic only gets a workout once or twice a week. Have a heart and explain, will you?"
Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry and giggled.
"Hey, that's not fair!" Ginny glared at them from the kitchen door, coming quickly to join them. "Just because you two know what you're talking about, doesn't mean the rest of us do! I'm with Lee on this."
Harry took her hand in his and patted it gently.
"The Glass Bubble is a variation on the Wall of Force which moulds the protection into a bubble-shape," Harry explained. "This means that any one enclosed within the bubble will be safe from a number of external attacks, notably the three Unforgiveable Curses." Ginny's eyes widened.
"But I thought the Avada curse was unblockable!" Ginny exclaimed. Harry and Fred exchanged glances.
"Well, we thought so too." Harry began at length. "It's a long story involving Fred, George, myself, and a multiple manifestation of griffins. I'll tell you about it sometime - not now, please! - but the upshot is that although the Avada curse can't be blocked, it can be avoided."
"Well, we know that," Ginny protested, impatiently. "All you have to do is move out of the way, same as any other curse."
Harry nodded as though she had said something extremely sensible.
"That's right, and that's the principle involved in the Glass Bubble," Harry went on. "Don't ask me exactly how it works, I didn't design it, but it incorporates a General Evasion charm. It literally avoids being hit by the more powerful and dangerous curses."
"Now that sounds more like it!" Lee jumped out of his chair. "With one of those around the house, we could sleep soundly until the middle of next week, and there'd be nothing You-Know-Who could do about it!"
Harry looked at Lee and shook his head slowly. Hermione's face took on a serious expression. She began to speak.
"It isn't that simple, I'm afraid, Lee," she explained. "It's not so much a bubble as a net made out of fine mesh. Powerful, dangerous curses are deflected, but smaller, less harmful ones can get through. Also, anti- hexes or confusion charms, that sort of thing, well, they can penetrate the barrier as well." There was a small pause as the gang absorbed this information.
"So," continued Lee, slowly, "although You-Know-Who can't kill or hurt us badly while we're in the bubble, he can torment us with any number of small hexes - furnunculus, morbum incido, dolorus, confusium perplexa - you name it. That's not good, Harry."
The other man shrugged.
"I'm sorry, Lee, it's really the best I can do. And that's not all, I'm afraid." Harry paused to rake a hand through his untidy dark hair before continuing.
"When you talk about throwing a Glass Bubble around the whole house, well, it's simply not possible, not even for me," he admitted. "The Glass Bubble is only effective in small spaces, the size of a normal room, no larger."
"So the upshot is that in order to keep me safe, we are going to have to spend the entire night all together in one room, yes?" It was Fred speaking. Harry nodded.
"That's about the size of it, yes."
~ooOoo~
By 8.00pm they had all assembled in the West Room as Harry had requested.
"Now," he began. "Firstly, I think this is the best place for us to spend the night. It's large and has good visibility into the garden. If anything should approach us from there, we'll have plenty of warning. It's also self-contained, having only one door into the house, and it's far enough from the road to avoid any disturbance to the neighbourhood, should there be any."
There was a murmur in reply, largely on the subject of there being only two sofas. Harry shook his head.
"The very first thing we must do is to move all the furniture out into the hall."
"Why?"
"How on earth will we fit it all in?"
"Do you mean we're going to have to sit on the floor all night?"
Harry held up a hand against the flood of protests.
"Please, I'm serious. We can't run the risk of any remnants of magic clinging to anything in this room, not to mention the fact that, as we've discussed at length, minor hexes can get through. Imagine being stuck in a room where every item of furniture was behaving like a Quidditch bludger! It could happen. Everything that can be removed, sofas, chairs, bookcases - you name it, we've got to get rid of it. Even the pictures on the walls are a potential hazard!"
The next hour was spent in preparing the room as Harry instructed. He was absolutely tireless: nothing was left, not even the carpet.
"Now," he continued, "I want everyone to bring down enough bedding to be comfortable. Mats and inflatable mattresses are okay, together with your usual bedclothes and pillows, and a pile of extra blankets. Nothing magical, whatever else you bring, and nothing rigid, heavy or dangerous. We must keep as little in this room as possible."
The others dutifully went upstairs. Hermione panicked slightly over whether they could find enough blankets and quilts for three extra people, but by raiding all the bedrooms they managed to garner sufficient for the purpose. Soon the resulting pile was spread carefully around the room so that everyone had sufficient space to stretch out.
While the others were occupied in this task, Harry moved around the room, examining the windows and doors, muttering over the frames, noting the absence of a fireplace. He also lit the central heating boiler, making certain that the two radiators in the West Room were fully operational.
"Okay," Harry said, as the others completed their preparations. "Now I think we'd all better go and eat some of that vast quantity of soup the twins have cooked for us; we really need a good meal before we go into this. After that, I think it may be as well if we all change into some less formal clothes: tracksuits, jogging pants, teeshirts, pyjamas, you know the type of thing. Things we can sleep in if necessary, although I doubt we'll be able to. And we'd better make sure we'll be warm enough. I've checked that the central heating is working, but one blast of the Frigesco charm and we'll be extremely uncomfortable whether it's working or not. Ditto for Excandesco, so make sure you put on layers of clothes that you can take off if you get too hot!"
Harry and Fred practically emptied their wardrobes trying to find sweats for Lee, George and Ron. Harry, having eaten lightly and finished first, then filled plastic drinks bottles with water and carried them into the West Room. He also packed a wicker basket with all the fruit he could find in the house. Ginny set to in the kitchen and made enough sandwiches to feed a family of four for a year. The rest of the gang stood around rather aimlessly, waiting for the next move. Ron simply stared at Hermione who was looking ravishing in a scarlet tracksuit with her long brown hair down. She smiled gently at him then moved over to where Harry was still pacing the room.
"Want some help with that?" Hermione enquired, softly. Harry looked up at her and she felt her heart twist at the lines of strain around his mouth, the worry etched plainly in his eyes. He sighed and nodded.
"Thanks, Hermione: standard Repel All Boarders wards, extended to cover the whole of each window and door frame, also any cracks in the walls."
Hermione nodded then looked back towards the others.
"Hey, Ron, come and help with this, please," she ordered. With an air of jumping to attention, Ron sprang into action and had soon taken over from Harry, assisting Hermione to seal the cracks in the door and walls with magical protection. Harry paused in thought for a while then walked over to Fred.
"How much do you remember about the Manhattan Island situation?" he asked, obliquely. Fred looked puzzled for a moment then understanding spread over his face.
"You, me and an army of hags?" Fred replied. "Plenty, I can assure you. They frequently haunt my dreams." He smiled grimly. "I take it you want me to help you cast the Glass Bubble in tandem? Like we did then?" Harry nodded firmly.
"Frankly, what you produced there was the most sure-fire defence I've seen in a long time," Harry remarked. Fred bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment.
"More of the same, then?"
"Too right! Let's get to it."
For a while, there was no sound save for mutterings from Ron and Hermione as they continued to place wards around the room, punctuated by muted discussion between Harry and Fred. The wards were up and running while their creators sat patiently on their piles of bedding before preparations for the Glass Bubble were complete.
Finally, Harry and Fred stood facing each other in the centre of the room, almost as though preparing for a wizard duel. They drew their wands together. Working in mirror image, each described a slow, graceful arc, leaving faint silver lines hanging motionless in the air. Back they both swung, in perfect unison, leaving further silvery threads, then more and more as they worked, establishing a rhythm for their magic.
The sight of them was almost hypnotic; Hermione's eyes started to glaze over. She shook her head impatiently. This was a charm she had never worked, although she had heard a great deal about it, and she wanted to remember as much as possible for further study. On and on the two wizards strove in a complex ballet, drawing their wands gracefully through the air, adding more and more lines to the pattern. A shape was gradually emerging, a mesh sphere totally enclosing its creators.
The pattern appeared to be complete. Precisely in time, Fred and Harry lowered their wands to rest for a moment. Their eyes met. With studied synchronisation, they raised their wands again. Once word rang out from two throats:
"Extendor!"
and the mesh seemed to catch fire. Brilliantly, it flamed with a silver- grey light then rapidly expanded until it touched the boundaries of the room. There it stayed, the legendary Glass Bubble, glimmering and revolving before fading into invisibility.
"That was beautiful!" Ginny sighed in regret at the disappearance of the exquisite structure.
"And extremely strong," Hermione was impressed. "Well done, you two. That was a stunning piece of work!"
"We don't have to worry about breaking through the protection as long as we stay in the room," explained Harry, nodding his head in recognition of the accolade. "The bubble's flexible enough to accommodate any movement, but once we open the door, or even a window, we shatter it and thereby lose our only defence."
Wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, Harry turned to Fred. Crouched low on the floor, the other wizard flexed tense shoulders, grimacing at the ache. He looked up at Harry and grasped the hand proffered to help him stand. Instead of releasing Fred once he was on his feet, Harry gripped the hand he held tighter and spoke in a voice meant only for Fred's ears.
"Thank you," he said, simply but with a warm smile. "Your reputation both inside and out of the Ministry of Magic is fully justified!"
"I won't say quite any time, but - you're welcome," Fred replied, returning the smile somewhat wearily. Releasing Fred's hand, Harry turned to the others.
"Can I just remind you that we're really not sure what we're up against here?" he began. "Technically we know we can survive merely by sitting tight, but I doubt it'll be that simple. Please try not to use magic if you can possibly help it: the chances of Voldemort hexing us so that any spell will backfire are very strong. Also anything more powerful than a minor hex will shatter the bubble from the inside."
"Harry, have you any idea what we can expect by way of attacks tonight?" Hermione was calm but obviously perturbed by the idea of being in the dark.
"Not really," he replied, flatly. "But I can make some guesses which might hold water."
"Go on then," said George, when Harry paused for thought. Harry took off his spectacles and began to polish them absent-mindedly on his jogging top.
"We've already discussed the small hexes which can get through - feeling cold, hot, sick, in pain, thirsty, hungry." he said, putting his glasses back on. "We have a remedy of sorts for some of them - the water, the fruit, Ginny's sandwiches. The others we'll just have to sit out. We may be under attack in other, more subtle ways. Any one of us may suddenly feel irrationally angry, fed up, irritable, sad, frightened - many other emotional responses. It's up to the rest of us to try to spot these attacks and defuse them."
"What do we do?" Lee asked with a somewhat bewildered look.
"Talk to each other," Harry replied. "Look out for unusual signals, tension, anything odd or out of character and see if you can't head it off at the pass. Logical argument and reasoning tends to shift anyone who is being unduly influenced back on to the right track, but be prepared to use force if necessary. No one must leave the room, that is imperative."
Lee nodded seriously, then sat down on his bedding, deep in thought.
"I guess we ought to try to get some sleep," Harry continued. "I know that's probably the last thing any of us wants to do at the moment, but I don't suppose we'll get much chance later."
Harry stretched himself out full length, his hands behind his head. Nodding, Fred followed suit. Slowly, the others settled themselves into their own piles of bedding. Ron, who had taken care to place himself near to Hermione, was the last to turn in, standing with his hands on his hips, frowning out of the West Room windows.
"Anything wrong?" asked Hermione, turning on to her back. He shook his head still with his back to her then turned to scramble into his makeshift bed. He lay on his side against the pillows, leaning on one elbow to regard her with sombre eyes.
"I'm just, well." he broke off with a humourless laugh. "I was going to say I'm a bit worried, but it's just too weird. I'm a bit worried like the sky is a bit above the grass at present." Hermione smiled.
"It's all come on us rather suddenly, hasn't it?" she replied. "You know: one day Lee and I are discussing the correlations between the crime patterns in Britain, the next we're head to head with an invasion of the Dark Side, heralded by You-Know-Who's return." Ron nodded.
"Seems that way," he agreed. "But all your painstaking work paid off in the end then, didn't it? I mean, it's the final proof that he's trying to return, isn't it? Organising the criminal element, all those thefts and infiltrations, the disappearances. And the strategies for keeping the public eye off his activities! You've got to hand it to him, it's a masterly piece of work."
"Yes," Hermione pressed her lips together primly. "I suppose You-Know-Who does have quite a flair for murder and mayhem. Such a pity it couldn't have been re-directed when he was young. It would have saved us such a lot of trouble."
Ron widened his eyes in surprise at her scalding sarcasm then sighed as he caught a glint of tears before she turned her head away impatiently. He reached across between them and caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers. In control again, she turned back to him. She didn't smile, but neither did she relinquish her grip on his hand.
Ginny, who had positioned her bedding closest to Harry, turned to him now, her expression serious.
"So we just sit here and wait for Voldemort to attack us?" she demanded. Harry nodded heavily.
"Unfortunately, Ginny, yes," he replied. "I don't believe he can afford to let this opportunity pass. He must get Fred back, and he must get him back before tomorrow night."
"And there's nothing we can do to pre-empt him? You know, get in first? Force him to fight the battle on our terms?" Ginny was twitching with frustration.
"I wish there were," Harry replied regretfully, "but we've already done all we can to turn the situation to our advantage. And that's precious little, I grant you." There was a short silence.
"Harry," Ginny began again, "there's something I'm still not terribly clear about." Harry smiled and took her hand gently.
"Fire away," he said. "After all, we've got all night!" Ginny squeezed his hand and frowned slightly.
"It's about the temple," she began. "I understand that it's one of the few places in the world that You-Know-Who can use to cross over into our dimension, but where did it come from? I mean, who built it and for what purpose? Did he build it himself when he was still in human form? Did someone else build it on his instructions?"
"Now that's something I was curious about myself," Harry replied, aware that the others had fallen silent and were listening. "While Ron was researching the witch who sold this house to me, I was doing a little investigation of my own, at the Land Registry amongst other places. It turns out that there have only been three owners of this property: the original builder of the house, who was also the architect and lived here until his death; a Senior Officer in the British Army who served in India during the Raj; and, after his death, his eldest son." Harry paused to gather his thoughts.
"It was the British Officer who interested me," he continued. "This man spent most of his active life in India, together with his family, and came home only when he retired. I made a few enquiries about him. He was, I think, a genuinely good man. During his time in India, he developed a deep sympathy with the Hindu faith, a sentiment which was shared by his family, in particular his eldest son. There are no planning records relevant to the temple, nothing official whatsoever, but together with the deeds of the house are purchase orders for building materials and letters of contract with local artisans. There are no plans or drawings, unfortunately. The eldest son must have assisted him in the building and design, and also by visiting India on at least one occasion to bring back the wonderful decorations, the paintings, wall hangings, statues, etc. Once the old man died, the eldest son sold up and went back to India, taking his family with him. In fact, there is some evidence to suggest that he had married a native woman, although I have my doubts on that issue."
"Why?" Ginny was puzzled. "Surely that would make sense, I mean, they had to get their knowledge of the religion from somewhere."
"Muggles are funny," Harry replied, to a murmur of agreement. "When the British were in India, they were the overlords, the conquerors. Even though it wasn't their country, they ruled it, and they looked on the Indians as inferior. For an Englishman of status to marry an Indian woman would have been anathema; it would have caused social uproar. He and his family would have become outcasts: neither the English nor the Indians would have accepted them." The gang stared at each other in amazement.
"So marrying Parvati or Padma would have meant that none of our friends would have anything more to do with us?" It was Lee talking. George laughed.
"Just don't tell Seamus then." There was a general chuckle.
"After the eldest son took his family back to India," Harry continued, "the house was left empty for a while. It was then that my vendor took it on - she must be very old now, even for a witch."
"Harry," asked Hermione, "you mentioned the Hindu religion. I've heard of it, having had a Muggle upbringing, but I suspect the others haven't. Do you know anything about it?"
"Yes," acknowledged Harry. "Enough to provide some background anyway. Hinduism began as a sort of primitive village cult in Eastern societies, but it rapidly spread all over the world. It has many, many different gods, some more important than others, and new gods are being added to their number all the time. The three major deities, Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer, form a kind of unit, but unlike Christianity, they are totally separate entities. They do not unite to form a Trinity, a three-in-one; they exist independently of each other, representing the three states of nature.
"I think the fact that it was built along intersecting lines of power is no accident. Wizards exist in all walks of life, and if they are not caught and trained early, their magic will surface only haphazardly. Albus Dumbledore once confided to me that although the wizard world is aware of every single wizard from the moment of their birth, for many and various reasons, a large number of them live out their lives totally ignorant of their provenance. There are many religious leaders in Muggle history who are quite obviously sensitives, if not fully-fledged wizards, acting on instinct rather than training. I think our ex-army officer was one of those sensitives. He must have had talent in order to situate his temple in precisely the spot he chose, but I don't believe he had any evil intentions. No, I think Voldemort corrupted this temple, just as he corrupts every other worthwhile thing he touches. He was just lucky to find this place, all ready and waiting for him. Just incredibly lucky." Harry's face became bleak and bitter and he fell silent.
The next couple of hours were spent in desultory conversation as the gang individually tried to get some rest. They all knew that sleep would be very difficult to attain, but it could do no harm to try, surely.
Suddenly, without warning, they leaped to their feet, galvanized into action by an abrupt onslaught of thunder. The room seemed full of green fire, shooting into corners, bouncing off windows, filling the space with noise and light. Ginny shrieked in shock, but stayed put in the midst of her bedclothes. Hermione, most uncharacteristically, flung her arms around Ron and buried her head in his chest. George drew his wand, only to have it slapped away by Fred.
"No magic, George!" he shouted. "Besides, I think if we wait a short time, we'll find it's not really necessary."
Fred was right. As suddenly as it had begun, the green fire ceased, leaving the room in total silence.
"What the hell was that?" spluttered Lee. Harry picked himself up off the floor, straightening his clothes.
"If I read it correctly, Lee," he began, "it was the Avada curse, sent many, many times. It was meant to wipe us out completely." Harry smiled, grimly. "Voldemort is about to discover his mistake."
But if Harry expected the Dark Wizard himself to come to inspect the damage, or at least to send a lieutenant, he was disappointed. Nothing happened, and as the minutes turned into hours, the gang began to settle themselves again.
Harry had advised them to at least lie on their bedding, to give their bodies a chance to relax. He himself appeared, at first sight, to be sleeping: he was stretched on top of his bedding with his hands under his head, calm and relaxed, breathing deeply and evenly. Only his eyes gave him away. They were wide open and staring at nothing. Harry was in fact meditating using a technique taught to him by an elderly Buddhist during his travels in China. The method achieved a state of total muscular repose and lifted the consciousness to a level approaching sleep, but left the practitioner supernaturally sensitive to any disturbance, however small.
"I'm thirsty," said Lee, hoarsely. "I wish we had a drink."
Harry's early warning system had, in fact, started to react several minutes before and he sat up. Voldemort has realised that his attacks have achieved nothing, he thought. He's backtracked and he's starting small.
"You're forgetting the water, Lee," he replied, gesturing to the bottles. "Sorry it's nothing stronger, I suspect we could all do with it."
There was a murmur of agreement, and Lee, grabbing one of the bottles, gratefully sunk half of it in one go.
Round one to us, thought Harry grimly, but he knew that this was only a practice run. There would be many more attempts to be thwarted before the night was over.
The next attack came without warning a few minutes later. Fred suddenly gave a cry of distress and rolled over into the foetal position on the floor, hugging his knees and shaking.
"C-cold," he muttered, between chattering teeth. "F-freezing cold."
"Quickly!" snapped Harry. "Ron, the blankets. Cover him. I should have suspected this would happen fairly early on."
He helped wrap all the spare blankets they had over the shaking Fred in the hope of easing the fever.
"Fred is the weakest of all of us because of his prolonged exposure to Voldemort during his capture," he murmured worriedly. "And as the ultimate target of these attacks, he's bound to be the worst affected."
At that moment, Fred gave a convulsive shudder and collapsed into total immobility. George made a wordless exclamation and turned him over, looking up to find Ginny by his side. Together, they manoeuvred Fred into coma position, then Ginny checked his pulse and respiration and tucked the blankets back around him, sitting back on her heels.
"He's unconscious," she told them. "I suspect the strength of the attack was too much for his weakened state. It's the best thing really. If he stays out of it for the rest of the night, he'll be beyond Voldemort's reach." Harry nodded at her.
"George?" he said. The redhead looked towards him. "Can I ask you to babysit? Someone needs to be responsible for Fred and to alert the rest of us if and when he wakes."
George nodded seriously and turned to where Fred was lying.
"I think we had better get back to our places," said Harry to the others. "As you can see, Voldemort has already begun his onslaught and, according to my watch, it's only 11.00pm. There's a lot of night still to come, and he may not even stop with the dawn." If we last out that long! he added silently.
There was a long period of inactivity after Fred's collapse. Ginny, curled up next to Harry, seemed to fall into a light doze. George, kneeling next to Fred, kept careful watch on his brother, checking his pulse, breathing and temperature regularly. Lee lay stretched out on his back staring at the ceiling, his lips moving faintly. Working through some computer calculation, probably, thought Harry. Hermione and Ron talked for a while in low tones, but now merely sat together in companionable silence. Ron appeared to be debating something. Abruptly, with an air of finality, he rose to his feet and walked deliberately over to Harry.
"That's it," Ron said, belligerently. "I've had enough of this. I'm tired, hungry, chilly and uncomfortable. I'm fed up with lying here on a cold hard floor making a fool of myself for no reason at all. I'm going out of that door into the study to make myself a drink, then I'm going to Apparate home to my bed. And I suggest the rest of you do likewise."
Harry looked up at Ron calmly enough, but his insides were churning with anxiety: this was a different kind of attack.
"Ron," he began, "are you still not convinced that we are, even now, under attack by Voldemort? That your brother is in great danger? You saw what happened to Fred."
Ron shook his head stubbornly.
"I think it's all a load of bull," he returned bluntly. "Fred just had - some sort of fit, that's all. If You-Know-Who was going to attack us, he'd do it in broad daylight with curses and hexes and goodness-knows-what. He must be laughing himself sick at the thought of us spending the night lying here on the floor. Well, I've had enough - I'm off!"
Harry pushed his bedclothes aside and rose to his feet.
"Ron," he said again, putting hands on the taller man's shoulders, "we've been friends for a very long time, yes?" Ron nodded, unwillingly. "And you may very well be wiser than me. You may know in your heart that Voldemort will not attack us tonight, that all these preparations are so much nonsense. However, I, as your friend, will freely admit to being very frightened that Voldemort will indeed attack us tonight. So, for the sake of our friendship, I ask you to put up with the discomfort and stay with me here, for as long as it takes. Will you do that for me?"
Ron scowled, then shrugged off Harry's hands.
"Well, since you put it that way, I can't really do anything else, can I?" Ron muttered ill temperedly, stomping back to his bedding. Harry lay down again, suppressing a small smile: Voldemort really didn't understand such things as friendship and loyalty, even though he seemed to make much of the latter quality. Defeating that particular assault had been really very simple. But Harry was not given further time to gloat, for the next attack was already on them. There was a sudden sharp tapping on the window, startling Hermione into a small scream.
"George?" came a familiar voice, "George, are you in there?" Ron stared at George and Ginny, his mouth open.
"It's Mum!" he hissed, "What in Merlin's name is she doing here?"
"George!" continued the voice. " George, are you there? I need your help. It's your father; he's had an accident. Hurry up and open the door. Come on, let me in!"
Automatically, George swung towards the patio doors, preparing to open them when Harry caught hold of his arm.
"George, no!" he said forcefully. "That's not your mother!"
"What are you talking about Harry?" George began indignantly, trying to shake him off. "Do you think I don't know my own mother's voice?" Harry refused to let go.
"I tell you that is not your mother!" he insisted, "And if you open the door to look, you will find something very different waiting for you to let it in - and it will be the last thing you ever see!"
The Weasleys froze in horror, listening to the uncannily accurate imitation of Molly Weasley while the voice pleaded, cajoled and finally ceased in a trailing wail that set the hairs on the backs of their necks bristling.
"Get into a circle around Fred!" barked Harry, urgently. "Backs to the middle, facing outwards. I think Voldemort is about to take off his kid gloves. Whatever you do, don't leave the room!"
The gang huddled together, frightened eyes darting around the room.
"What's that?" hissed Hermione, pointing to a corner of the room where the shadows seemed somehow distorted, as if through a lens. The gang watched in horrified fascination as the very air seemed to coalesce and thicken into a dark shape, which rapidly developed into a human figure.
"Wormtail!" spat Harry, in disgust. "How many times do I have to kill him before he lies down? Hermione - NO!" Hermione had instinctively pulled out her wand and was about to hex the Deatheater. Harry grabbed her arm before she could release the curse.
"Sorry, Hermione, but no magic - please!" he begged. "If just one of your curses should hit the barrier, we're finished." Hermione nodded, white- faced and trembling.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot." Harry patted her arm.
"Perfectly natural reaction." he replied, turning to face the Deatheater with a determined expression. He spread his arms wide.
"Your move, Wormtail," Harry said simply, and waited.
Wormtail seemed to take his time. He walked all around the room checking the doors and windows, examined the small closet in the corner, peered at their bedding and supplies of food and water. Suddenly he gave a low hiss.
"You seem to have thought of most things," he said with grudging respect. Harry shrugged.
"We aim to please," he responded lightly. Suddenly Wormtail raised his wand.
"Incendium deflagro!" he shouted, sending bolts of searing orange light at the gang. Reflexively, Harry dropped to the floor like a stone, dragging Ginny with him. The others followed suit, stifling yells of surprise. The attack hit the invisible barrier and burst into a shower of sparks, momentarily defining the limits of the bubble as it did so. It bounced back towards the hapless Wormtail who shrieked, ducking the various magical fragments.
"Did you see that?" shouted Lee getting to his feet. "He can't get his Inferno curse past our bubble - he's powerless!"
It certainly appeared that way. But Wormtail had decided that enough was enough: he sheathed his wand and began to dematerialise.
"He's given up!" crowed Lee. "One up to us!"
Privately, Harry thought that might be putting their achievement rather too high, but he had no time to ponder as the next onslaught was already upon them.
"Ginny? Ginny, what on earth are you doing here with these weirdos? Come on, let's get out of here and go home."
Ginny's face drained of all colour and she clamped a hand firmly over her mouth to stifle a scream.
"David?" she choked quietly, incredulously. There was a movement in the shadows, and suddenly the figure of David Markland was standing in the room, Armani suit, Gucci shoes, immaculately groomed as always.
"I've come to take you home, Ginny," it said, holding out a hand to the terrified girl. She shook her head, slowly then more insistently.
"No, no," she whispered. "We split up, David. You dumped me when you found out I was a witch. This is my home now." The figure smiled gently.
"It was a big shock, Ginny, you must admit that," it said. "Was it surprising that I needed time to digest what you'd told me? Time to work it all out? Come home, Ginny: let's start again." He extended his hand towards the redhead and, to the gang's horror, Ginny actually started to move towards him.
"No!" whispered Harry, his mouth suddenly dry. The shade of David Markland smiled more broadly, beckoning to Ginny, reaching to grasp her hand, when suddenly it stretched too far and touched the invisible barrier. The facial features contorted with pain and rage, flowing away like melting candle wax. For a fleeting moment, the figure became something totally inhuman before dissolving quickly away into nothing. Ginny turned away, burying her face in Harry's shoulder.
"It was a manifestation," Harry explained calmly, holding her tightly. "It wasn't real, Ginny. Voldemort can delve into the surface of our minds, but we instinctively prevent him from reading us any more deeply. He made that construct out of your memories of David. You saw how quickly it was destroyed by our Bubble."
Suddenly, a choking sound alerted the gang to another assault, swiftly on the heels of this last one. Lee lay on the floor, his hands to his throat, his face rapidly changing colour from his normal healthy lustre to a greyish tinge. Hermione gave a cry and dropped to her knees. She looked up.
"It's magic now, Harry, or he dies." she said grimly, "I have to do it."
Harry nodded tensely. Hermione produced her wand for the second time that night and steadied herself to perform the counter curse. At the last moment, she made a slight alteration to the incantation, making the spell specific to Lee, and launched it at him. Abruptly, Lee gave a violent lurch, then collapsed, drawing in gulps of air in great whooping gasps. Ron and Harry propped him into a sitting position.
"That was well thought of, Hermione." said Harry, patting Lee's back gently. "In a crisis like that, I don't think I would have had the presence of mind to personalise my spell." She shrugged.
"It just seemed like a good idea at the ." Hermione glanced over his shoulder and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my wand! Harry - look!" The entire gang swung round and were completely struck dumb. There in front of them, fragile and vulnerable, stood Cho Chang.
It was as though they had been frozen into statues, all of them. Ron, his arms wrapped protectively around Hermione, stared dumbly in amazement; Lee still lay prone on the floor, breathing harshly and raspingly; Ginny drew back from the manifestation into George's reassuring bulk, her small fists clenched. Slowly, Harry stood up and surveyed the small figure before him.
"What do you want?" he said, tonelessly. Cho Chang smiled at him and her lovely face lit up.
"Harry! Oh, Harry, I've missed you so much!" she cried, holding out her arms. Harry didn't move, nor did he smile. She hasn't changed at all, he thought. Cho Chang was still nineteen, slim and extremely pretty in an active, athletic sort of way, just as she had been when he saw her alive for the last time.
"You're dead," Harry said, tonelessly. "I saw your body on a mortuary slab. It was you alright, I should know." Cho's face assumed a solemn, sorrowful expression.
"Harry, I know you thought you saw me in the mortuary," she began. "But it wasn't me, truly. You-Know-Who kidnapped me. He stole me away and put a Glamour on someone else to make it look like I had died." Harry was shaking his head.
"I put an Out of Harms Way charm on you," he told the figure. "It was unbroken when I identified you. That's how I knew you hadn't died by accident."
"Harry," Cho's voice was urgent, "he knew about the charm, don't you see? He duplicated it on my stand-in and fooled you."
"It was a particular variant I designed myself," Harry insisted, his voice rising in pitch. "It had my hallmarks all over it like fingerprints, even the bits I had to rework slightly were there. It was my charm, Cho; you died that day." Cho was shaking her head vehemently.
"No, no, Harry!" she protested. "I swear to you that he duplicated your charm. I'm real, Harry, as real as you are. Come, touch me, prove it to yourself."
Cho held out a hand and Harry, feeling his muscles react in reflex, dragged himself back just in time. Cho's face was disappointed.
"You don't trust me," she said sorrowfully.
"Too right I don't!" Harry raked a despairing hand through his hair. "Okay, Cho, or whatever you are. What do you want from me?" The delicate figure drew itself upright.
"Okay, Harry, if you want to play it that way." Cho's expression was sad. "You-Know-Who wants a trade. He's prepared to make an exchange for the life of Fred Weasley."
"Oh?" replied Harry, warily. "And what exactly do I get for handing over one of my oldest friends to an enemy not exactly known for his justice or mercy?"
"You get me," Cho said, standing tall but with her voice quavering. "You get me back in full physical health with all my memories intact. Think of it, Harry!" Her eyes lit up.
"You've pined for me for years - now you could have me back! After all, you were the one responsible for my death in the first place, weren't you?" Cho's voice took on a persuasive, wheedling quality. "And Cedric's too, don't forget. After all, if you hadn't got Cedric killed in that stupid Triwizard Tournament, I'd probably never have agreed to get involved with you at all. But you persuaded me into it eventually - and then you got me killed too. Don't you think you owe me something after all that?"
Harry didn't answer. Ginny looked towards him and her heart froze. Harry's face was distorted with pain and grief, but underneath all that anguish, she could just catch a glimmer of hope, a tiny ray of longing that had never quite been extinguished over the long intervening years. Harry hung his head in agony, unable to speak.
"No," Ginny whispered, grappling for her wand. "No, you can't do this!" The thin piece of wood slid from its sleeve pocket into her hand, her lips framed a curse, she pointed her wand straight at the figure of Cho Chang.
But she wasn't quick enough. Another wand had been drawn, an incantation shouted in anger, a curse launched straight at the figure of Cho Chang, breaking the protective bubble, their one defence against the Dark Lord!
Instantly, Cho ducked, easily evading the curse, and her face broke into an evil, triumphant grin as she swept her wand from her sleeve with a flourish.
"Come forth, servants of the Dark Lord: I summon you to destroy those who would stand in our way!" she shrieked in a changed voice, holding her wand aloft and throwing lightning flashes around the room.
Abruptly, the room seemed to be full of people; cloaked and hooded people who exuded a horrible triumphant menace. As Harry spun around, breathing heavily, looking this way and that, he realised that a ring of Deatheaters surrounded them. Their protection was gone, and there was no escape.
Ginny screamed in horror as David took shape once more, still suave and sophisticated, but his face etched with delighted malice. As the noise and thunder from Cho's wand increased, Harry and the others found their attention held by something much larger and scarier beginning to appear.
Just as they had seen it in the temple, a tall figure was gradually forming before their eyes, firstly as floating red lines of power, quickly joined and covered by an opaque surface, giving the illusion of solidity. The figure then began to gain certain characteristics - long, bony hands, skeletal features, black robes and flaming red eyes in a cruel, twisted face, which was at this moment alight with triumph. However, the figure seemed unable to achieve any real presence or stability; the image flickered like an uncertain lightbulb, or a very old newsreel. Meanwhile as the Deatheaters bowed their heads to the apparition, 'Cho' and 'David' flung themselves to the floor before the half-formed figure's feet.
"Master!" 'Cho' cried, exultantly, gleefully, "Watch what I shall do in your name!"
And while Voldemort was still taking shape, she pointed her wand at the cowering group of friends and crowed in exultation.
"Thank you very much." she said silkily. "One of you has been remarkably foolish and has made my task a good deal easier than I expected. Now that one shall reap her reward - a swift and immediate death. Avada Kedavra!" Green fire jetted from Cho's wand, directly towards a petrified Hermione.
And at that moment Harry Potter stood, his face grey with fatigue, pointed his wand towards Cho, and snapped in a clear, incisive voice eleven words that bore no relation to any language known to anyone present. There was a soundless explosion that briefly turned everything into a black and white negative. The figures of Cho, David, the Deatheaters and the not-yet-quite manifested Voldemort wailed in unbearable agony and seemed to collapse in on themselves, sucked into a rushing vortex of white winds. The others were knocked senseless to the floor by the impact.
Then there was total silence, broken only by the distant sound of birdsong: dawn had come at last.
Author's Notes
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author. Disclaimer: this is a non-profit enterprise. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, except the plot and David Markland, both of which belong to Penpusher. Tribute to: Susan Cooper's incomparable "The Dark is Rising" sequence for use of the "High Magic"; Dennis Wheatley for a plot device; and many, many other fanfiction writers whose works of all kinds and in very differing genres have been an immense inspiration to me. The quotations used as chapter titles are too numerous to credit here. Full details available on request, but Shakespeare and The Bible should yield most of them.
And all the thanks in the world to Becky (aka williara) for being a superb beta.