1

2

3 Chapter 14

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

R. Kipling

The hall reverberated with silence for ten minutes after Harry Potter had shut the door to the order of phoenix, and to most of the people that he cared about in the world. The people in the room felt as though a tidal wave had just washed over them, and they weren't quite sure yet as to whether or not they had actually survived it.

After the shock had worn off, and the storm that was an angry Harry had long since passed, the room erupted into noise and movement, almost as if the after effects of Harry's magic had had to run their course before anyone could take any sort of action.

When everyone felt ready to move however, it was with frantic abandon, and quickly led to chaos in the hall. Sirius was beside himself, wringing his hands and shouting desperately to Albus Dumbledore 'How could we let him face this alone?' as if he had finally found a target that he could blame for this dire situation.

Dumbledore looked like he was ready to break, and in a moment of pure frustration, he snapped right back at Sirius, saying 'I really don't think he gave us that much choice in the matter!'

The words seemed to have the desired effect on the hall, even if it was unintentional. Everyone had suddenly stopped what they were doing to hear the rest of the exchange between the two men.

For his part, Dumbledore now looked calmer than anybody else in the entire hall, having apparently forgotten his outburst of the previous moment. He seemed to work best when everyone else was looking to him for instruction of reassurance, as if their faith was what he needed to keep him going. Raising his eyebrow at Sirius. 'In the mood Harry is in Sirius, I would pity any death eater that happens to cross his path.'

He turned to face the rest of the people present. Ginny and Hermione were silent drained of emotion and now facing the prospect of waiting for god knows how long, and with no control over what was to become of the people they loved. Albus fell back on the words that Snape had spoken not too long ago, and determined to again be that rock that everyone could lean on. Every man needed to accept and live with what he was, and he was the person people looked to to lead them, to be there for them. And he wasn't going to try and run away from his position again. He cleared his throat, and drew focus back to himself.

'Everyone, we must focus all our efforts on finding out just where Draco Malfoy is being held. Any information that we find can be passed on directly to Harry to aid him in his quest.' He held up a hand for them to be quiet, knowing already what their protests would be. 'No we will not be going to help him. This is a task that Harry must face alone. The situation, as you have all witnessed, has allowed for Harry's power to fully materialise. You must believe him when he says he is capable of bringing Draco back, he simply will not allow for him to die.' He looked grave for a moment, before revealing to the order just how inadequate they suddenly were. 'I am afraid, that other than searching out positions and things that might help Harry, there is nothing we can do in this battle.'

Whispers broke out over the hall, and Sirius put a hand to his forehead, feeling the extent of his helplessness, and wishing with all his heart for the safety of the two boys who were about to face up to Voldemort and his forces. Apparently, there was bugger all they could do to help them.



Harry had left the castle immediately after shutting the doors behind him, calling his broomstick to him, and apparating off the Hogwarts grounds. He appeared on the edge of Hogwarts, remembering briefly when he, Hermione and Ron had all gone there the year earlier to see Sirius in the mountainside. He spat on the ground, the mere thought of Ron being enough to send bile up into his throat, making him want to get rid of every memory he shared with the person who had betrayed him, who had betrayed them all. Yet somewhere inside of him, deeper than he cared to go at that moment in time, was shocked at the violence of his reaction. Harry wasn't sure that, if he saw Ron just then, he wouldn't just rush forward and kill him. While he felt that Ron would be getting just what he deserved, what he should have done to Pettigrew, some other part of him knew that this was very wrong, and that it wasn't him.

He shrugged the thought off, and headed off into the skies on his broom. He needed to focus his mind entirely on the task at hand. He read the piece of parchment in his hands one more time, not even fighting the fury that flooded his features as he read what was on the parchment. He folded it up carefully and put it into his pocket, before flying up into the clouds, heading for a place that only he really knew of. He made no effort to hide from the view of Muggles, but something about him made you wonder whether you'd see him even if you were looking directly at him.



Draco had experienced his fair share of torture over the past few hours (had it only been hours?), and he had to say, it was pretty much as unpleasant as people often claimed. This made him send out silent apologies to all the poor unfortunates he'd found in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, whom he'd laughed at and called weaklings.

But then, the hot pokers and stuff, that was just the physical part of it. Then there were also the awful things that Ron would say to him. Things that Draco could never bring to repeat, even to himself, because to do so would mean embracing the very things that scared him most in the world, would mean looking into the face of darkness and just accepting that it was a part of who he was, and Draco couldn't do that, he couldn't live up to who he was meant to be, he wouldn't do it. Still, the taunts about who he was, what he had become, and what he would never be, rang hollow in his head and echoed right down to his soul.

But if he was the one being tortured, it was nothing to the way that Ron felt. The Weasley child, so often sidelined, had found a perfect target for his long harboured feelings of rage and anguish, building up inside him like a sickness in his chest, and now exploding from him with the force of cannonballs. Before him was somebody who had come along and taken his place as Harry's ('Potter's', he scolded himself) best friend, somebody who had been able to become good just like that, and somebody who was just as gifted, just as special as Potter was, therefore fulfilling the one ambition that Ron had ever really held when he had been the greatest friend of Harry Potter. To become his equal. To be more than just The-Boy-Who- Played-Chess.

He did sometimes wonder, in his moments of hesitation, how he had turned to the dark lord. His master had promised him something that Ron craved for, a status that was all his own. When he was a fully-fledged death eater, he was going to get the power and respect that Harry had always seemed to get just for being him. it just wasn't fair. Potter got the glory, got the admiration just because his bloody mother loved him, and Ron had to turn to the forces of darkness to become anything more than a sidekick. He longed to see to look on his old friends face when he read his note, to see just how much damage he could actually have done. He longed for Harry to come and find them, so he could tell him just how this situation was his entire fault. To let out his anger and frustration and his lack of confidence on the person who had stood for everything he wanted to be. But right now, he supposed that Draco would make a decent substitute.

The other boy, his hair now dirty and far from the shade of silvery blond it usually was, still refused to give in to the torment. Ron laughed at his defiant face, caked in blood. He wanted to be one of the good guys so much it was going to kill him. He almost pitied him. Almost.

Draco leaned his head forward, and choked out 'I still don't get it. The man killed your father..' he stopped as Ron rushed towards him and kicked him in the gut, and then doubled over with the fresh wave of pain that coursed through him.

Ron held Draco's pointed face in his hands, using hand and fist contact for the first time since the torture session had begun. The reason, as he had informed Draco, was that he didn't want to get his hands dirty by touching him. Draco had winced, reminded of an incident when he said something of that nature to Hermione, and Ron had gone absolutely berserk at him. God how things had changed.

'You think this is pain?' Ron whispered, mistaking Draco's look for one of physical torture. 'You have no idea. You don't know what it is to see your best friend walk away from you with your worst enemy, and then for your family and girlfriend to follow suit. You have no idea what it is to know that your father died, just because you were friends with someone at school. And then it turns out that that person really doesn't care about you that much really, so it was all wasted. Everything was a waste.'

He looked down, as if it would stop Draco from seeing the angry tear that coursed down his cheek, when really it only drew tear streaked lines down his drawn, freckled face. 'You have absolutely no idea, but my master, he does. He knows what it is to suffer, and he has taught me to rise above it all, to make those who wronged me suffer in return.'

When he looked up, the sadness in his face had gone, replaced by an insane, yet almost childlike grin. 'It started with you Malfoy. That thing that was thrown at you in the quidditch game. It gave me such satisfaction to throw that big ole rock at you, to watch the looks on all your faces as you fell. You were all so dramatic about it, with Harry doing that thing to the Slytherins, and Hermione crying. Over you.' He spat out the words. 'And now I get to see the look on Harry's face when he finds you like this.'

Draco was confused, and still wondering at the fact that Ron had yet to answer his initial question. 'What are you talking about?' he asked softly, not wanting the red haired death eater to see just how scared his comment had made him.'

Ron saw through the charade anyway, and his childish smile grew. 'I wrote him a note, inviting him to join us. He should be here soon, as will my Lord. Then you will both know the agony that I have felt, and it will be the last thing that you will know.'

Draco wanted to argue back, to do something to boost his own morale, and to show Weasley that he wasn't giving up. He didn't get a chance however, because Ron promptly wheeled around and broke his jaw.



Harry was, at that point in time, perfectly aware that he could be walking into the sort of trap that Ron had been talking about. He didn't really give a damn about it. He felt like he could face a thousand death eaters at the same time, such was the magic that was coursing through his veins. In his lessons out of classes, he had learnt that every wizard drew their full power from the feelings that a certain emotion brought to them. He found it pretty fitting that his full powers should erupt from a sort of protective anger, yet somewhere, something still puzzled him at how his anger was the fuel for the magic. It still just didn't seem to fit.

The clouds seemed to shift for Harry; such was the aura around him at that time. Below him, he could see the building he was looking for. And old castle, derelict on the outside, but with inner buildings and dungeons that Harry had every intention of exploring if it were to lead him to Draco. He didn't even question as to whether the map on the parchment had been genuine or not. The death eater's plan wasn't to lead him on a wild goose chase; it was to lead him into a trap. He was slightly heartened to find, as he touched ground, that the connection between him and Draco that had been dormant over the past few days had suddenly sprang to life, and Harry quickened his stride as he realised the pain that the other boy was feeling. Nothing was going to stop him from bringing back Draco.

There was a death eater standing outside of the doors, leaning against a pillar and keeping a 'watchful gaze' on the surroundings, as he had been instructed to do. He never really stood a chance, and Harry didn't even have to lift a finger. He swept past the cloaked figure, and the buzzing magic that was around him sent him flying to ground. The death eater didn't get up, and the doors to the castle flew open to let Harry Potter inside.



'Albus' Sirius implored, 'surely there is something we can do.' He was standing in Dumbledores now rather cramped office, along with Remus, Hermione, Ginny, Professor Mcgonagall, Hagrid and Snape. Everyone seemed to want to be pacing up and down, but nobody really had the room to do it in. Remus supported his friend, not yet willing to let go of the idea of helping Harry.

'Yes, there must be some way in which we communicate with Harry, to help him in any way we can.' He said, hoping to find solution through reasoning, as he had always done in the past. In truth, when he had been in school, it had been Remus and James who had solved more problems, finding answers through strokes of brilliance rather than carefully reasoned logic. Oh how he wished James was here now.

Dumbledore looked across at the two girls, huddled together and silent. They looked absolutely shattered, and far older than their years. They had known so much more pain than most. Dumbledore didn't even have the time to be saddened by this.

'Are you able to talk to Harry?' he asked them. Hermione started as though, for the first time in her life, she hadn't been paying attention to a teacher. She and Ginny shook their heads slowly, their line of thinking fuzzy and blurred, obscured by painful thoughts and speculations. 'He stopped the connection just after he left the Hogwarts grounds, he must've known we'd try to contact him.' she went back to staring in silence at the floor.

'But Albus' Mcgonagall pleaded, almost as worried about Harry as Sirius and Remus were. Over the years, she had become fond of Harry, and felt more protective of him than she'd felt of any other student. Maybe it was his past; maybe it was just something about him that drew people to him that had them lining up in acts of self-sacrifice. But the Harry she had seen a moment ago certainly had no need of anyone else's protection. 'There must be another way in which we can send help to him.'

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. 'As I said before, we must simply wait for news of the boys whereabouts. I have full confidence in Harry, as should you.' He wanted desperately for that remark to be the end of the conversation, so he could get back to the silent wait which he had prepared himself for when Harry had walked out the door. But he knew, with a heavy sigh, that that was not going to be the last word on this subject, and that the pleadings to do something weren't likely to end until the battle was over, whichever way the outcome went.



Snape exited the office, a sneer firmly back in place on his slimy face. Those fools, wishing to throw themselves into the line fire for someone who neither wanted or needed their help. Potter had finally evolved into something slightly more than the less than average pretty boy he'd always been, and his little 'family' just were not prepared to let him change. It was sickening really, all those people saying just how much they loved the boy. Very selfish of them, not to let him be what he was clearly meant to be. Snape had grown to accept that Potter was not a normal boy, why couldn't they face it too, and let him get on with things. Yet even in his head, the words sounded hollow and fake. Snape wasn't just in that office to laugh inwardly at the other people around him. loathed as he was to admit it, he was curious to see just what happened to Potter. And, if it came down to it, he'd probably throw himself in front of danger to protect him, just like the others would. And it wasn't just him repaying his debt to James anymore; it was almost like he cared what happened to the Potter boy. And he hated it.

'Aww Snapey, it's so good to know you care.' Even as the first word came out, Snape felt himself cringe inwardly. He knew who that voice belonged to, even as he looked up.

'Black' he said, injecting venom into his voice, and hoping to scare the other man away with the violence of his hatred. Black took no notice. There was a smile on his face, but it couldn't be described as a smirk. More an expression of understandning, though this didn't go down any better with Snape.

'What do you want?' he snapped, wondering even as he spoke just how easy he had become to read. It seemed that Sirius knew what he was thinking, just by looking at his expression. And this was a man who hated him. he would have to work a lot harder to hide his feelings where Harry was concerned, there were examples all around him of those who had become too obsessed with the boys safety. One of them was standing in front of him.

'I'll leave the subject of your protecting my godson for another time Snape. What I really wanted to say, and this kills me, is thank you.' Sirius finished, as though he were coughing up something nasty.

This really did catch Snape off guard. There was a genuine expression of puzzlement on the mans face, and he stammered out 'why?'

Sirius launched into an explanation of why it was he had forced himself to thank his oldest enemy for something. 'I heard your conversation with Dumbledore, and I heard how you brought him back. We couldn't function without Dumbledore being there to guide us, and we almost lost him. but you persuaded him to carry on going, and I am thankful to you for doing that.'

Snape let the words sink in, the tiniest flicker of gratitude in his eyes, before he responded in the only way he knew how to as regards to Sirius; with malice. 'Still eavesdropping I see. How very schoolboy.' He said, narrowing his eyes in the other mans direction.

'You just can't let it go, can you?' Sirius retorted, in danger of succumbing to his famous temper.

'Neither can you, it would seem.' Snape replied coldly, his anger being shown by the ice in his voice. The two men faced off, each staring at the other with mutual hatred. Sirius calmed himself, breathing deeply.

'All right.' He said. 'We're on the same side now, we can't keep holding this grudge.'

'Honestly Black, you should know as well as I do that we are never going to put aside our differences and "be best friends".' Snape said, with scorn in his voice.

'But we do have to work together. And that means being civil. Now I don't like it as much as you do, but I'm going to try. Are you Snape, or are you going to give up?' Sirius finished; drawing on the one thing that he knew would win the argument for him, Snape's pride. All through school, the greasy haired Slytherin went to any lengths possible to compete with him and James and Remus, the boys who were so good, so popular and clever. And if Sirius said now that he was going to try and be civil, there was no doubt in his mind that Snape too would rise to the challenge.

He was answered with a curt nod, before the potions master swept off down the corridor, looking for a dungeon to crawl into in all likelihood. From behind him, Sirius heard the office door open, and he turned to see Minerva and Remus looking out into the passage to see just where the two of them had gotten to.

'Everything okay Sirius?' Remus asked, his face betraying his worry that Sirius had once again gotten himself into an out and out brawl with his enemy.

Sirius looked once more down the dark corridor into which Sirius had retreated, and the answered his friend.

'Fine' he said.





The count of death eaters lying unconscious on the castle floor was steadily mounting, and if Harry was actually keeping score, even he would be impressed with himself. He had searched all the upper floors of the castle, and was now beginning to descend into the dungeons, the angry power never once fading from his veins. Doors broke off their hinges as he stormed through, and if a death eater ever caught him in the eye, he would be likely to run away in fear. The sheer power that radiated from the boy was enough to knock out a crowd of the men who had turned dark, sweeping them to the side like they were nothing.

The connection between him and Draco was growing stronger, to the point of pain for Harry as he let the last door in the corridor he was searching fling itself open. In the room beyond, he took in the scene. Ron was there, an insane grin on his face, and a large black cloak draped over his shoulders. Even looking as evil as he did, there was something about the whole image that did not sit well on him. Behind him was a battered and bloody mess that Harry could only assume was Draco. He fought back the primal fury in him, though not before the table near the door had shaken for a moment then broken apart by the waves of power coming off him.

Ron looked scared for a second; as though this was not the way he had planned this confrontation to go, before regaining his composer, and meeting Harry in the eye. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, as Ron prepared to gloat over Harry, to revel in his old friends betrayal, and to say what he had been holding back for so many years.

He opened his smiling mouth to speak. Harry raised his hand, and Ron went soaring across the room, hitting the hard stonewall, and sinking to the floor unconscious, without even having uttered a word. That was it, there was nothing more. No big scene, no big confrontation. All Ron's dreams of hurting Harry crumbled into dust as his body crumpled to the floor.

Harry didn't even look at him, he rushed forward to let Draco go, and to get him out of the place. He smashed the restraints with magic and caught the other boy before he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Harry looked into Draco's face, willing him to stay awake. He wasn't sure if Draco would wake up should he fall asleep.

Behind him, he felt several noises in the room. He could guess what it was even before he turned to face them. In the room, around ten death eaters were now standing, each one smirking at the two boys as if the outcome of the inevitable battle was already decided. Harry sighed and raised his hand, still feeling the power flowing through his veins. He leant Draco's head down on the floor, placing a slight healing charm on him before standing to fight away the intruders.

He sent two of the death eaters careering into one another, and fired off a bright shot of light at another. The confidence of the death eaters seemed rather misplaced. That was until the final figure apparated into the room.

Harry was bending over the body of a death eater. He pulled off his mask to reveal Mcnair, the man who had nearly executed Buckbeak, and he felt a stab of satisfaction when he realised that he would now be brought to justice. He was taking the wizards wand, when a cold voice behind him spoke out.

'So nice to see you again Harry.' It was chilled at the edges with lifeless ice, and struck fear into the hearts of even those who followed it. And Harry was still scared a little, but he wouldn't give in. he wouldn't let the man know that he was afraid. He would keep this up until he died.

He faced him, and looked him dead in his hellish eyes. 'So nice of you to finally arrive Voldemort.'

4 Disclaimer- This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Nothing is mine, the poem is Kipling's, the characters are Rowlings', and the idea is probably someone else's.

5