- Chapter Twenty-Five -

The Cursed Lord

The Nameless' improbably large sword retreated swiftly into the wall, leaving only destruction in its wake. Debris rained down on Harry, Ron and Hermione, and they shook with fear.

'It's a nightmare...' moaned Hermione, holding on to Ron's clothes with all ten fingers.

Harry was waiting for the next attack, spinning around in his seat, alert despite his constantly blurring vision, but then a glassy glint caught his attention.

The glass orb was floating not far away, just as it had been a moment before, but Harry now understood its purpose. From the depths of the sphere, a blinking eye watched him, scanning their every move. There was no doubt who was watching them, slowly calculating his next strike - the Nameless still did not consider their duel over, and was resorting to ever more cunning means.

Harry blew a fuse, this time not from the werewolf curse flowing through his veins, but from his own immense rage.

'Damn you!' he snarled, waving his wand. The crystal ball shattered, Ron cried out in fright, and so did Harry - the pain was back; it was like a returning beast, tearing into his flesh every time. Harry slumped to the cold floor, his stomach churned and he vomited.

'Ron, help him!' he heard Hermione's desperate voice as she tried to hold back her tears.

His friend's arms wrapped around his shoulders, held him and pulled him up off the ground, but then they froze.

'Wait a minute...' said Ron. 'I think I hear voices...'

Indeed it was, someone was shouting Harry's name, and getting closer. Soon all three of them recognised the shouter:

'Harry! Harry, where are you?' came Aberforth's distant voice from somewhere on the stairs.

'We are here!' Hermione shouted back, but her voice was drowned out by another boom...

The great sword-blade returned, this time higher up, near the ceiling, and stabbed into the tower of the town hall, and again plaster rained down on the three good friends. Hermione screamed, Ron cursed and tried to cover Harry this time, but the thick dust stirred up and made him cough. Harry, too, had tears in his eyes - whether from the dust or the pain, he couldn't tell - but he snapped his head up at the metallic screeching sound, and then, horrified, saw hedgehog-like spikes protruding from the thick sword, thousands of them in all directions. The slender blades pierced the ceiling, the walls, and reached downward, drawing deadly menace upon the terrified trio. Crookshanks snorted angrily, but did not stagger away, only cowered in Hermione's lap.

'Get up quickly!' shouted Harry, and shutting out the hellish burning pain of his bleeding arm, he jumped up, dragged his two friends, and began to pull them towards the stairs as far as he could. The last few metres were covered in a rush, and just in time they leapt from the floor, which turned into a veritable forest of swords, onto the black marble stairs. They hit the steps painfully, rolled down, and crashed hard into the opposite wall.

'Harry!' came Aberforth's voice again, and Harry could now put a face to it. The old man ran up to them with a frightened look, and then his blue eyes opened wide in shock as soon as he saw the two freed prisoners. 'Ron... Hermione... Merlin's holy beard, what happened to you?!'

'Aberforth!' cried Hermione, relieved. 'Help! Harry's been bitten!'

The old man kneeled down to him, his eyes caught the bleeding wound on Harry's forearm.

'What bit you?' he asked, pale.

'A... a dog', Harry lied, not sure why himself. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, but Aberforth wasn't fooled.

'A dog does not do that! This...'

Harry however cut him off:

'We have no time, Aberforth!' he said and at the same time the emergency siren sounded again outside, for the first time since the Viking's destruction. Harry knew there was a good chance that the full Nurmengard guard was waiting for them in the square outside the main entrance.

For a moment, all four were silent at the alarm, but a sudden stab of pain brought Harry to his senses.

'Ow... Is Ginny back with the others yet?' he asked, gritting his teeth. Aberforth understood and nodded quickly, his grey hair pushed back from his forehead.

'She's brought almost everyone here. By the time we get down there we can go home... Ferula!' while he was talking, he hurriedly cast a quick bandage spell on Harry's wounded limb, but it did nothing to ease the throbbing pain. 'There you go, that should do until we get home. The phoenix will take us to St Mungo's from here...'

'The phoenix?' wondered Ron.

'I'll explain later...' murmured Harry, and together they started down the stairs.

Crookshanks ran ahead, they stumbled after him, Aberforth alone unharmed; Harry was tortured by his arm, and Ron and Hermione were injured during the fall, so badly that they could only limp.

'Can we get out of here?' Ron asked nervously.

'Yes, just trust me...' that was Harry's answer, as they arrived downstairs, where most of the DA had already gathered.

There was Mr and Mrs Weasley with Charlie and Percy; a haggard-faced George and Luna, who was fine; Neville, also limping, and his wife; Malfoy, who seemed to have thrown up all over his robes in the aftermath of the possession, and a good many others who hadn't even noticed Ron and Hermione.

Meanwhile, Hagrid had also recovered, though he was very groggy from the double knockout he had suffered, but he waved to the foursome approaching up the stairs with a toothy grin.

'Wow! Who am I seeing? Ha-ha-ha!'

At Hagrid's booming voice, those who had been otherwise occupied turned to them, and soon they were all gathered around the freed prisoners, patting their shoulders, hugging them and bombarding them with questions.

'Ron. Hermione!'

'Well, did you find them, Harry?'

'Are we sure it's them?'

'Yes, it's them,' Harry nodded. All his doubts had been dispelled by the sight of the Crookshanks rubbing against Hermione's leg, and that, despite all the terrible things that had happened that day, had brought some short term joy into his soul.

Mrs Weasley squeezed through the people in front of her like a tank, and threw herself tearfully at Ron and Hermione's twosome, to give them a good squeeze.

'Oh Merlin... Ron! Oh, Ron!' she lavished her motherly kisses on her son, who was now exceptionally tolerant of her excessive motherly love. 'Oh my dear son! And Hermione...' Mrs Weasley now pulled her into her bosom, and she tried something like a smile.

Mrs Weasley was followed by her husband, and then Percy and Charlie greeted the stricken pair, who still looked a little startled.

'So many... so many of you came?' Hermione wondered, wiping the tears from her face with the fingertips of her dirty robes, which had been largely brought there by Mrs Weasley.

'Of course we came!' said George, who then broke away from the crowd, pulling his brother to him like a frog would catch a fly. 'We wouldn't have missed the tour of Nurmengard for the world, would we, little brother?'

Ron finally gave his brother a grin.

'I missed you...' he murmured to him. George stared at him in surprise.

'Do you hear that? It seems my brother Ron has been severely traumatized by prison life!' he laughed jovially.

The people around them laughed at the remark, and Mrs Weasley burst out crying.

'Don't cry, Mum!' admonished George gently. 'What will Ginny say when she sees you crying your eyes out? But there she comes...'

A flame that flared up and then immediately died out signaled Kinkaku's return. Dennis Creevey, Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot and Ginny looked as if they had come out of a swamp, which their grim faces matched...

But as soon as Ginny saw Ron and Hermione, still towering slightly above the group, she squealed and ran across the room to them, up the stairs. Kinkaku had already disappeared in the meantime, not waiting for his master to go and fetch the last of the prisoner-releasers.

'Ginny!' cried Hermione joyfully, and the two girls fell on top of each other, and Ginny pulled Ron to her and kissed him on the forehead.

'Oh, Merlin, I'm so glad you're okay... but you're really okay, aren't you? Did everything go all right, Harry?' Ginny asked him, and gave him a quick hug, perhaps out of excitement, perhaps out of gratitude, perhaps out of sheer joy at finally finding her brother.

'Yes, of course...' Harry muttered, carefully hiding his injured arm behind him, his eyes meeting Ron's and Hermione's over her shoulder. Neither of them said anything, and Harry was immensely glad of that; he didn't want to drag this out any longer, so he quickly moved on to other things before Ginny could notice his sweating, icy brow, his greenish face, or the tremors he felt throughout his body.

'Is everyone okay?' he asked Charlie Weasley, after Charlie had finally released his brother, who was already suffocating under the bone-crushing embrace of his muscular brother.

'Hagrid is awake and feeling better. Dad was knocked out by a disarming spell once, and that tall guy - he pointed to Michael Corner - got some kind of hex that's been making him stutter ever since, and a couple of others have suffered minor injuries, bruises...'

As he talked about it, it became clear that he didn't even consider the gash on his arm to be an injury. Harry, however, noticed that Charlie's face had suddenly grown sombre, and he no longer looked him in the eye.

'There was a more serious matter...' he continued, and as he said it, he stepped aside, giving way to Harry, Ron and Hermione, and behind him, the few DA members who had been surrounding their companion on the ground.

Harry's stomach twisted at what he saw. At first he didn't even recognise the man, because his face was almost completely covered in blood, but then he realised it was Dean lying there between the Patil girls and Seamus. Parvati was holding the boy's head in her lap and all one could see were tears streaming down her bowed head.

Harry's head spun, he thought he was going to collapse, but Charlie's voice brought him to his senses.

'He is alive,' he said quietly, 'but he has lost both eyes. He was fighting with one of the Faceless... He saved that girl's life,' he added, pointing to the sobbing Parvati. 'It happened then.'

It's happening again, Harry thought in shock. He was back to the horrors they had experienced during Voldemort's reign of terror. Fallen, injured comrades, dead friends, relatives...

Charlie sighed heavily.

'We've done all we can, even the phoenix has cried for him, but we need to get him to a healer quickly,' he shook his head.

Ron, struggling with nausea, stood beside them, looking down pityingly at his former classmate.

'There must be something more we can do,' he said, so quietly that one could only read his lips. 'Maybe he could get one of those eyes like Mad-Eyes Moody had, or something...'

He looked at Hermione, as if to ask her for confirmation of his words, but she just stood there, shaking with tears. Ginny, on the other hand, stayed as far away from Dean as possible the whole time, unable to stay close to him, trying instead to clean the smudge on George's face.

There was a roaring sound from the street, as if a great gale had swept through Nurmengard, and for a moment they all fell silent. Then, somewhere on the other side of the crowd, a fiery burst signaled that Kinkaku was back again, bringing with her from the sewers Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnett, and Cho, who apparently had a broken wrist as it was so badly bloated and she was hissingly covering it.

'Are you all right?' asked Mrs Weasley, who immediately set to work on the girl's wound.

Now the thumping of feet could be heard outside, followed by shouting, shouts of orders in a foreign language, making it clear that it was no longer just the Nameless trying to get close to them, but the Faceless as well.

There was a moment of silence, only the DA members talking, and then...

BAMM!

The whole party cried out in fright at the loud bang, which was soon followed by more. A series of curses bombarded the entrance, causing the huge, massive-looking door to crackle and crunch, the crossed gold chain jingling on it - reminding Harry of the time the Death Stick had rubbed all the protective charms off an entrance with a single spell to open it. The Faceless seemed to be at work doing the same, but using many, many curses.

'We need to guard the door, buy time until we get everyone home!' said Mr Weasley, who took it upon himself to organise the defence with Mrs Weasley, Charlie and Percy.

The huddled Astoria screamed as a loud bang shook the room, causing the chandelier hanging from the ceiling to sway. Harry was standing between Ron and Hermione, clutching his sore arm, and he could see the blood trickling between his fingers, but he didn't care... He felt as if he had been transported back to the Battle of Hogwarts.

'Ginny!' he said to the girl hoarsely. 'We can't wait any longer, we have to go!'

'It takes time to get everyone...'

'Watch out!' interjected Mr Weasley, pushing Charlie away from the door.

Where his son had been standing a second before, the Nameless' sword slashed through the entrance, slicing through the thick wood again like knife through butter. Everyone jumped, screaming and frightened, out of the way of the blade, which crossed the room as far as the opposite wall, and there it struck the black marble staircase.

'Good Merlin...' gasped Mr Weasley, white as a sheet. 'What kind of a spell is this?!'

Harry immediately noticed that the people standing around the sword were nowhere near safe, and he and Ron and Hermione started shouting:

'Run!'

'Get away from it!'

'Get out of here, Luna!' Ron pulled the dreamy girl away from the blade.

However, the sword did not sprout any new edges this time, instead it retracted with a metallic screech, leaving a vertical hole in the door in its place.

Aberforth peered cautiously through the gap, but almost immediately snapped his head back.

'We have the whole regiment on our hands!' the old man snarled and spat on the floor in anger.

Mrs Weasley looked back and saw that the paralysed DA members were still standing still, staring at the door.

'Get going! What the hell are you waiting for?! Ginny, take as many as you can.'

'All right,' her daughter said. 'Kinkaku, come here...'

The bird obediently landed on Ginny's shoulder, who was hurriedly herding people towards her, starting with the wounded Dean and Hagrid, who was supported by three people, but that was all Harry could see, for then something else caught his attention: Hanging from the beautiful chandelier above their heads were many glass orbs, making the whole thing look like a giant bunch of grapes - and in the glass globes lurked those slyly squinting eyes again...

'What are you doing, Harry?' Hermione asked him.

He lifted his wand to smash the peeping orbs, but before he could, the door cracked again, and this time he really thought it had been blown out of its hinges.

'Look, here they come!' Mr Weasley was guiding the brave in the front, but they were all surprised by what was coming.

Through the crack in the door, tiny shapes that looked like puffs of smoke flowed in, like black beetles. As he looked closer, Harry saw that they were all evil-faced pixies, but unlike their flesh-and-blood counterparts, they were created by magic. Their bodies, made of billowing smoke, grew four tiny limbs and a pair of flapping wings, and they flew around the room at lightning speed, searching for their only target...

Kinkaku swooped up from Ginny's shoulders with a croak, and the stream of smoke-pixies followed with a laugh. The DA members hurled their curses at the tiny creatures, but they were too many and flying too fast. In moments they were all over the soaring phoenix bird.

'Kinkaku!' cried Ginny, helplessly watching the thousands of tiny hands gripping the beautiful bird, pulling at its wings and neck, twirling in the air.

'He-he-he-he-he-he!' giggled the tiny creatures stupidly.

Kinkaku croaked and whined frantically, but she couldn't shake them off, and the eyes watching from the glass globes hanging from the chandelier were waiting just for that...

'Avada Kedavra!'

The killing curse from outside cracked the crumbling wings of the front door with a crackling crash, the force of the blast throwing the defending Mr Weasley and Aberforth back. The lightning was not aimed at them, but burst straight for the ceiling, striking Kinkaku, fighting the smoke-pixies, on the wing.

'Nooo!' screamed Ginny, and with her almost everyone who saw what had happened in the commotion.

The phoenix went up in flames, the evil little pixies were gone, and ashes fell from above... By the time the last speck of dust had landed, a wrinkled little nestling was already chirping feebly on the floor.

'No, no, no, no!' Ernie Macmillan was tearing his hair frantically, and he and his terrified companions knew very well what this meant for them: the escape route was no more.

'Tell me there is a plan B!' Padma Patil lamented.

'Is there another way out? There is, right?' her twin sister shivered beside her like a leaf. Dean, lying in her arms, flinched and a pained grimace crossed his face.

'There is no other way! We are stuck here!' someone shouted.

Within moments, panic broke out among the DA. The more composed people like Mr and Mrs Weasley tried to calm the youngsters, without much success. The disintegration of the phoenix had broken through the barriers of courage and daring that had hitherto spurred the old Hogwarts comrades to such heroic defiance. One by one, the fear of despair and the terrifying overwhelming odds overcome the small group.

'Harry, was that Fawkes?' Hermione asked quietly. Harry didn't answer her, his head was still pounding, he couldn't think straight, and everyone around him was shouting, wailing, buzzing.

Suddenly an echoing command cut through the increasingly hysterical din:

'COME OUT OF THE BUILDING!'

They all fell silent and looked towards the door. They knew well who was waiting for them outside, yet one by one they turned to the barred entrance as if they were about to obey.

'Let's barricade ourselves in!' suggested Michael Corner. 'Just like at Hogwarts.'

'This is nonsense,' Terry Boot shook his head. 'We must surrender!'

His words provoked another argument, which was again extinguished by the booming voice of the Nameless:

'COME ON OUT! AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED.'

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. The little chick was in the girl's palm, and they both knew she wouldn't be able to get all these people out of Nurmengard for several days. Until then, they could not hold out against the besiegers.

She swallowed, but her expression radiated the eternal resilience that Harry loved and respected in her. Suddenly it crossed his mind that Ginny didn't know what had happened to him... Would she remain as resilient and firm when he told her he was a werewolf?

It doesn't matter now, he reminded himself. Nothing matters until this matter between him and the Nameless is settled. As always, it was up to him to make the first move.

Harry stood up and Ginny followed, tucking the little bird into the pocket of her robes, who was trying to sing some feeble song, perhaps to inspire courage. If she tried that, she failed, Harry thought.

'Harry, what are you doing?' said Mrs Weasley, but he did not answer her. He crept forward and was the first out of the town hall door. Ginny followed, followed by the unarmed Ron and Hermione, with Aberforth and an even grumpier than usual Malfoy in their wake. Crookshanks also rushed forward and settled at Hermione's feet when they stopped in the middle of the stairs.

In the sky there shone the bright full moon. Harry closed his eyes for a moment. How could he forget that the moon was full on this particular night, when he had been watching it from their shelter for almost half a year?

Harry turned his gaze away from the celestial body and looked down at the Faceless waiting at the bottom of the wide marble staircase. None of them wore masks, but instead wore elegant, distinguished robes, like their leader, who had assumed the image of the ICW Supreme Mugwump. The Nameless stood at the front, directly opposite Harry, with the Faceless lined up a step behind him. They hadn't even drawn their wands. The brief siege of the town hall seemed to have been fought by the Nameless alone, and the others were only spectators. Harry was not surprised.

'That's it...' said the sorcerer with a satisfied smile. His face still bore the long gash Ginny had made with his own sword, but it didn't seem to bother him, nor did the blood that dripped down and stained his expensive dress robes.

'I've only got something to deal with young Harry Potter,' he said, as the other DA members came out and stood behind Harry and his friends.

'We will have a word or two to say about that!' someone shouted from the back, perhaps Lee Jordan. A few people shushed him nervously.

The Nameless smiled at the words.

'You are brave. I appreciate that about you. A true Gryffindor spirit, worthy of Lord Voldemort's defeaters...' At this, the smile slowly melted from his face, and he looked ominously at the people gathered on the stairs. 'But there is no point in pugnacity anymore. You're too late with that. It is time to lay down your arms.'

Harry heard Neville snort mockingly behind him.

'I do not consider you my enemy. On the contrary, I invite you to join me.'

'We've heard that line before from Voldemort!' Neville shouted, causing Hannah, who was huddled next to him, to flinch and try to shush him.

Again, the Nameless smiled at him.

'I'm not like the late Lord Voldemort... He, for one, never managed to carry out his plans. He was never able rule the world the way he wanted to. Whereas I succeeded with that less than fifteen minutes ago!'

Harry heard astonished voices everywhere. His companions whispered, wondering what that sentence could've meant.

'You didn't realise that, did you? But it happened right under your noses... I think Harry must have seen it first hand,' he pointed to his opponent's injured arm.

Harry instinctively gripped the wound, and felt the blood soaking through the bandage and the robe. He felt dizzy from the loss of blood and didn't know how much longer he could stand.

'The summit meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards was just held today in Venice,' the Nameless explained with obvious delight, 'and after much talking, the dear ministers retired to the banqueting hall of the headquarters for a little snack. But what they didn't know was that my Faceless had painstakingly replaced the furnishings in the room and turned it into a unique vanishing room, which brought the ministers straight here... Into the clutches of a pack of starving werewolves!'

The Nameless' words provoked an unanimous outcry, shouting over each other that it wasn't true, it was a lie, but Harry knew it was true. He stared open-mouthed at the sorcerer before him. How could this dark sorcerer, who had emerged from the shadows of obscurity, have come so far in such a short time? He had the three towers, the ancient schools, and now, a year later, the ministries of every single country? It would have been too much even for Voldemort himself, but - the words of the Nameless echoed in Harry's mind - he is not like Voldemort...

'He's lying!' shouted Ernie Macmillan, and Angelina Johnson shook her fist at the sorcerer.

The Nameless laughed at them.

'You think I'm lying, my dear boy? Look at the new faces of my faithful Faceless!' he gestured broadly to the witches and wizards lined up. 'Aren't they somewhat familiar to you? Haven't you seen them in the papers?'

And indeed - Harry saw one of the Faceless in fancy robes, who looked exactly like Kingsley Shacklebolt. He doesn't know yet that he drank his potion pointlessly – Harry thought, thinking of Kingsley tied to a chair at the Leaky Cauldron.

'My Faceless will soon take the place of the ministers in the room, and when they leave the banquet hall to resume the summit, everything will be done my way,' the Nameless said with a satisfied smugness. 'I will have more power than all the lords and ladies of the Fourth Tower when all the Aurors of the world are under my command! We will cleanse the scum from Nurmengard and use it for what Master Grindelwald intended. Take a good look around you. You stand in the middle of our future capital. The capital from which we can build a true wizarding world, where wizards and Muggles are put in their proper place for the greater good. This city will be the centre of the world, and from here we will control the ministries and the wizarding schools. Grindelwald and Dumbledore's plan is coming true!'

When he stopped, there was no more grumbling, no more shouting. Everyone was stunned into silence, not daring to make a sound, just staring at the figure in front of them, not believing their ears. Harry would have liked to deny it, to find a way out of it, to see through some non-existent lie and make the Nameless look like the fool he had made of himself at the first three traps, but he knew well that the time for traps was over. The Nameless had said it himself: now only actions speak.

'But...' said the wizard again, panting a little, as if he had run out of breath in his long speech, 'one thing... is still left undone...'

He fixed his icy gaze on Harry, and he knew what was coming next.

'We have an unfinished duel.'

That's all he said, but that was enough.

'No...!' cried Hermione, but Harry just waved.

He stumbled obediently forward down the stairs, his legs barely carrying him, as if something else besides fatigue and exhaustion, his inner subconscious, his saner self, was trying to restrain him, to force him back, to hide behind his friends, to try to protect the damned treasure that was his. The wand that started it all...

But Harry was too exhausted to keep fighting, to keep running. He wanted to end it all, and he didn't care if he lost the wretched wand. He didn't care about the future, about Al's future, about what would happen if the Nameless had the most powerful weapon in the world, or the Resurrection Stone he so coveted so obsessively that he would be willing to take hundreds of them to their graves... He wanted to end it here and now.

He raised his wand-hand, his other, injured arm dangling limply at his side. He could feel the frightened looks on his back, the glances of his friends, his companions, who had accompanied him all this way because of Ron and Hermione. He knew what they were thinking. That what he was doing was madness, that there was no escape from this, unless they retreated back to the tower and fought as long as they could...

Kinkaku seemed to be the only one who supported Harry's move. The wrinkled little chick hiding in Ginny's pocket sang her beautiful song incessantly, but somehow Harry didn't feel as impressed as he had when he was being helped against the Basilisk or Voldemort by Dumbledore's phoenix. Of course... After all, Kinkaku was just a nestling. She couldn't even fly.

The Nameless stepped forward and raised his dueling arm.

'Nobody does anything!' His echoing command was as much for his men as for the anxious DA in front of him. 'Nobody dare to intervene with our duel. Whoever tries will die.'

His face was very serious and tense, and he was constantly watching Harry's eyes, as if waiting for another trick from his opponent.

Well, you'll be disappointed, Harry thought. He had no more tricks left up his sleeve, there was nothing he could do against this man. He'd lost, and the only thing he could now hope for was his luck that the Nameless wouldn't end up killing his friends after disarming him.

'Are you ready?' asked the sorcerer.

Harry didn't answer him, just listened to his own heart pounding wildly in his chest, like a prisoner locked in a dungeon, pounding on the door to get out... Bamm-bamm-bamm...

Kinkaku continued to hum her song, which still brought not a drop of calm or courage. Perhaps she is not even singing for him...

Bamm-bamm-bamm - Harry's heart was pounding.

The muscles in the Nameless' face tightened. He was not smiling, still waiting, not wanting to rush the attack.

Bamm-bamm-bamm...

He waits for me in vain – Harry mused. He couldn't move, he didn't want to end the fight for the Wand of Destiny. If the Nameless wanted it so badly, let him go first.

Bamm-bamm...

The sorcerer licked his lips and took a deep breath before attacking. His fingers tightened on the wand, the core of the move already at his fingertips, about to strike his opponent with an unstoppable force, when something unexpected happened.

All they saw at first was that the night had lightened, as if the blush of the still distant dawn had filled the sky above Nurmengard. Then one of the Faceless cried out.

'Nameless! Look! The sky...'

The interrupted movement unfinished, the sorcerer looked up at the sky, and with him all present, even the half-conscious Hagrid, held on his shoulders by the rickety Angelina, Alicia and George.

When Harry looked up, he saw something he had never seen before. Above their heads, hundreds and hundreds of metres up, phoenix birds were circling in the sky, but so many that it seemed as if all the birds that roamed the mountains had come here. Kinkaku's feeble song was joined by a majestic chorus, all singing and chanting to the same rhythm.

'The phoenixes!' whispered Ginny in amazement. 'Kinkaku summoned them!'

'What is going on?' grumbled one Faceless of the many who looked at each other, sneered in confusion and watched their master.

But they waited in vain for the Nameless' order...

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched the birds circling in the sky, singing to him alone. He paid no attention to Harry, nor to the other Nurmengard prisoner-liberators, nor to the crimson feathers falling from the sky in comical slow-motion, like some coloured snowflakes.

'What should we do, Nameless?' one of his men touched the finger of the Nameless' robe gently, who was dressed in the image of the Indian Minister of Magic.

The sorcerer did not answer this time either, his eyes reflecting an expression of deep sadness and grief, his face soaked with tears that mingled with the blood that oozed from the deep cut. Harry could not understand what had happened; Voldemort would never have been so overwhelmed by a phoenix's song. Voldemort had no conscience, he had eradicated it from his very roots as he tore his soul apart. But the Nameless was different from him in that respect as well...

He grabbed his hair with both hands, closed his eyes, and then an inarticulate howl erupted from his throat, like the whimper of a tortured animal.

'Nooooo...!'

'Harry...' whispered Ron suddenly, as if he was afraid that his voice would wake their enemy. 'Get away from him!'

He wasn't the only one trying to get Harry back among them, Mr and Mrs Weasley were also anxiously whispering and waving for him to withdraw.

'Come here, Harry!'

'Let's go back to the tower...'

But someone else's voice reached his ears clearer than the others:

'Kill him.'

Harry looked back. It was Malfoy; he still looked deathly pale from what had happened, yet his face was determined and resolute.

'Potter, you have to kill him!' he repeated.

Harry turned back to his enemy. The wizard in front of him in the form of the old Supreme Mugwump didn't even notice him, too preoccupied with his own tormenting thoughts, his inner demons, whatever they might be.

'No... no... no...' muttered the Nameless to himself, and his servants were so shocked that they drew back from him.

Kill him now, as he stands here defenceless? Harry's heart began to pound again, but this time it was for a different reason. He knew he would never have another chance like this, and as long as this man was alive, he would have no peace from him. He had no choice but to kill him, now, this very moment!

Still, lifting the wand was as difficult as if it had been made of lead rather than a light holly stick. The Faceless began to squirm restlessly, but they dared not disobey their master's forbidding command, which they knew well was not meant as a joke.

The feathers continued to fall from the flocks of birds, and Harry was sure that they were not falling for no reason. The song continued, but now it was as if it was meant for him as well, and he felt a little of the melody that had bewitched the Nameless. He heard it again as a racket, as on the mountaintop, and he knew that his own thoughts and doubts were surfacing as he tried to decide: what to do?

'What are you waiting for, Potter?!' Malfoy snapped at him impatiently.

'Harry...' said Hermione hesitantly, but she shook her head, her tangled curls dancing around her face. Harry looked back again. They all stood petrified, watching his and the Nameless' duo, waiting breathlessly to see what would happen, but meanwhile Kinkaku's chant was approaching its end when the phoenixes' help arrived...

The feathers that descended from the air fell only on the DA members, and the first to be hit on the shoulder or head by the red feathers were instantly obliterated in a fiery flash. Hannah Abott cried out in fright as Susan Bones, standing beside her, vanished into thin air, and then Hagrid disappeared, along with his supporters - the phoenixes had taken them from the city.

'My lord!' cried one of the Faceless, seeing what was happening. 'The prisoners are escaping!'

The Nameless ignored him, shook his head and muttered quietly to himself:

'Forgive me... I wanted to help you... I had no choice... Dumbledore... he cursed me... I'm cursed... cursed...'

Harry listened with his mouth agape, unable to decide.

'Kill him! You have to do it!' Malfoy shouted obsessively.

The noise of the phoenixes was slowly filling Harry's ears, yet he was able to move, to sense the reality around him, not to become a prisoner of it like the Nameless.

But what is the right decision? With a single move, he could save the lives of so many people, destroy the carefully constructed plan, avenge the murdered ministers...

'Potter, if you don't...'

But what would be the point? - Harry asked himself. The trouble was already done, and the death of the Nameless would change nothing; another Lord or Lady of the Fourth Tower would finish what they had started, take control of the Faceless, and they would have to fight an unknown enemy again.

'Do it, Harry!' suddenly Ron joined in.

Does everyone want me to kill? In cold blood, a defenseless man? - Harry asked himself.

But no: Hermione stood beside him, hand over her mouth, terrified, Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head silently.

The feathers fell one by one, and so did the exhausted members of the DA vanish. Gone was the blinded Dean Thomas, along with his friend Seamus and the Patil sisters; gone were Mr and Mrs Weasley, who had last called out Ron and Ginny's names; gone were Charlie and Percy, disapparating in each other's arms, and gone was Michael Corner, along with Ernie Macmillan and Cho Chang.

It won't be long now, Harry thought, and they will all be saved. You don't have to kill...

'If you don't do it, he'll chase us forever!' Aberforth was now also persuading.

'Nameless, wake up!' shouted the Faceless, more and more.

Harry now felt as if there was no one else around him, only himself and the Nameless, put forth in front of his wand as a victim, and the decision hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles.

He didn't want to kill, he didn't want to become a murderer, he was repulsed by the thought. Was this the spell that had taken his mother's life and his father's, the curse that had ruined his life, Harry's life, and now he should be its user? He had said those words twice today, but so far he had avoided getting blood on his hands.

'We must attack!' one of the Faceless cried out, but one of his companions, a witch in the image of the Hungarian Minister of Magic, grabbed him.

'No! Have you forgotten what the Nameless said?' she snapped, but the other was too nervous at the sight of his paralysed master. He tore his hand from her grasp and pointed a wand at his boss's head.

'Stimula!'

The Nameless then finally woke up from the spell, shook his head in confusion, and finally saw Harry pointing his wand at him.

'Nameless, I... excuse me, I...' the Faceless panted, but no one was listening to him now.

'POTTER!' roared Malfoy in warning, and Harry could wait no longer, it was time for action. Panic took over as he made a decision in a single moment, despite his long brooding:

'Avada Kedavra!' he shouted the incantation for the third time, with all his might, as he had done on the roof when he was sure of himself, and killing did not seem so difficult in the heat of a duel as it did now. This time, too, the green lightning shot out of the wand with a thunderous crack...

'Master!' the wizard who had awakened the Nameless screamed in terror. He cast his curse with Harry, but Aberforth and Ginny defused it with their combined strength. With it, the other Faceless finally took heart and, disregarding their master's orders, began to attack.

But each and every curse has been ineffective.

Like the spells of the Faceless, Harry's death curse hit a suddenly forming fireball instead of its victim. The thunder faded into an unearthly roar as a massive phoenix bird appeared between them, engulfing Harry's bolt and then turning to ash.

'NO!' shouted Malfoy at the top of his voice, in place of Harry, who stood frozen in stone on the stairs, horrified by the weight of his own actions.

Then another phoenix appeared, a slender, swan-like specimen, and flapped its wings. The flapping of the wings created a gale force wind that knocked the Faceless and Harry and his friends backwards, leaving the Nameless alone to stay on his feet, who summoned a shield around him that insulated him from the bird's magic.

'Get out, damn you!' he snarled at the bird. There was no trace of the initial confidence, the triumphant joy in his face - his sparkling eyes held a deep, long-buried pain.

The phoenix's screech was more horrible than ever, Harry had to cover his ears, but he could still hear the noise, the message of which was clear: there was immense disappointment and anger in the song. The songs of the other birds faded into the background, sending nothing but indifference to Harry, yet this phoenix seemed somehow more angry, its beak snapping menacingly.

Harry's wand spurted golden sparks and trembled in his hand, as it had in the cemetery at Little Hangleton, but now it filled him with fear, with dread, as the golden flames surged forth at the phoenix's command, cutting off the fugitives from the pursuers. How could this beast have power over his wand? But then he realized...

He could hardly believe his own intuition when a voice inside him whispered the answer: he knew this phoenix, and he knew it very well.

'Fawkes...' he gasped, and the bird flew straight at him, causing Harry to jump back in fright.

The Nameless, meanwhile, was stuck with his men on the other side of the firewall, trying with all his might to disperse the flaming barricade, but his attempts failed: the magic of his wand was no match for the Death Stick.

'You're not going anywhere, Potter!' his voice came from behind the flames. 'I'll take your wand even if you call an army of phoenixes!'

But his words have achieved nothing: he has already lost by allowing himself to be immersed in the birds' song.

Harry gazed into the black eyes of the bird hovering in front of the roaring fire, and in the depths of them he could almost see Dumbledore's disappointed blue eyes.

'HARRY!' suddenly Ron's voice cracked, breaking the mesmeric spell. 'Let's get out of here!'

In Harry's head, a switch seemed to click. He couldn't stall any longer, he couldn't beat himself up. He's here to escape with his friends, not to kill anyone. Already his actions had taken their toll: one by one the birds disappeared from the sky in a flash of flame, and the darkness of night returned, the light of the full moon, and the feathers that fluttered slowly faded. Fawkes croaked one last disdainful croak and joined the other departing phoenixes, leaving them to their fate.

Ignoring his aching arm, Harry leapt up the stairs and faced the Nameless one last time from across the sea of flame. The Nameless was furious, but his face still glistened with the tears that Harry knew he would never forget as long as he lived.

'Get out of there!' Ginny screamed at him, but Harry had one more thing to do...

'Accio Cloak!' he suddenly shouted, and his invisibility cloak slipped out of the Nameless' pocket before he could react.

'Take care of them!' the sorcerer shrieked the order, but by then it was too late.

Harry grabbed the corner of the cloak that was drifting over the firewall, then caught Ron's hand, who was clinging to Hermione and Ginny, who were grabbed by Aberforth, and Malfoy swiped at the last falling feather with his free hand.

'NOOOOOOOO...!' they heard the sorcerer's roar behind them before they all disappeared in a flash, the curses scattered behind them hitting the stairs and sending sparks flying everywhere.

The whirlwind of fire carried them away from Nurmengard, away from the fury of the Nameless, back home to safety, their weightless bodies flying through the void in the path of a phoenix's feather. Harry felt Ron's hand, and clung to it as if he would never let go, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Fawkes wouldn't let him do it... What was he thinking? After all, these birds aren't going to help a killer who strikes at a defenseless opponent, no matter how deserving of his fate. Again, he drifted further away from the idol Dumbledore had once exalted him to be, seemingly rightly so.

Why did Fawkes do this? And how did he suddenly get there? Perhaps, Harry thought, he had been with the other phoenixes all the time, watching them as they climbed the mountain, but he hadn't helped them. And even now, while the others were being liberated by the falling feathers, he was being tested to see if he was still the same man he had come to the aid of in the Chamber of Secrets. Well, he was no longer, Harry saw that clearly now.

He always wondered where Fawkes went after Dumbledore fell from the tower. Earlier, Harry thought he had joined another witch or wizard, but in those disappointed black eyes, there was something else. Fawkes was still Dumbledore's bird, he hadn't ceased to be with the old professor's death.

He didn't have to kill - he could now see it clearly. The right thing to do would have been to capture the Nameless, as an Auror would, as Dumbledore had tried to do with Voldemort. And Fawkes saw that alone as an example to follow.

'I'm sorry...' Harry muttered into the fiery whirlpool, but he didn't know whether his voice could reach Fawkes. He didn't even know whether it mattered anymore...

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, which was exactly as they had left it before setting off. Self-photosynthesising convolvuli hung flickering from the pillars, upturned chairs stood atop tables, the bar was wiped clean - everything seemed so peaceful and serene, it was almost unbelievable that only minutes ago they had been fighting a battle to the death in the most dangerous place on earth.

Neville and Hannah pulled chairs to their feet to provide seating for the tired team examining their wounds. A few, like George and Hagrid, didn't wait for chairs and sat on the floor, others leaned against a pillar or on the bar. Aberforth took out his ever-present pocket flask and took a big slug. Ginny finally went over to Dean and crouched down beside him, holding his shoulders - Harry, however, was no longer able to look and turned away from the blinded boy.

He found himself face to face with Ron and Hermione. His friends looked at him silently, with unspoken words in their eyes. The operation had succeeded, they had been freed from prison, and they were all alive - yet they stood before each other as they had after Dumbledore's funeral. Something inexplicable had seized them in grief.

They knew that a real disaster had happened in Nurmengard last night. The Ministers of Magic were all dead, and Faceless had taken their place. 'Perhaps Kingsley Shacklebolt is the only one left,' Harry thought.

'Let me see your wound...' Hermione muttered hoarsely.

Harry obediently held out his arm, and she gently took it. She rolled off the blood-stained bandage and examined the bite mark, while Harry hissed, his face twitching. Crookshanks was squirming between their legs, and he sniffed curiously at Harry's feet.

Ludo Bagman was left behind – Harry remembered. If all was true, he was already dead along with the other werewolves. The Nameless will leave no evidence of the murder of the ministers. He felt no anger towards Bagman, only pity, and his heart clenched at the sight of Astoria, who was crying and whom Luna was trying to comfort in vain. They couldn't free everyone...

'Can't that phoenix help you?' Ron suddenly asked. 'You know, Fawkes cured you of the basilisk poison...'

'Do you think this hasn't been tried before, Ron?' Hermione asked, blowing her nose. 'Even phoenix tear is ineffective - it's the only poison that it can't cure. But maybe we can try to do something...'

Ron stood beside her paralyzed with clenched lips, staring at the gaping wound.

'We can try to clean the wound with a little essence of Murtlap, then detoxify it with a mixture of mandrake oil and stinksap. It wouldn't work wonders, but with a Wolfsbane Potion...'

'I know something better,' Harry interrupted Hermione quietly.

She looked up at him in surprise, but Harry said nothing, just pointed his wand at the bite.

'Expecto Signum!' he cast the Half-Blood Prince's spell, squinting as he concentrated his magic into one point. The scorching sensation in his body indicated that the sealing charm was trying to pool the poison, just as it had done with Neville's leg. Harry doubted very much that Snape's little spell scrawled on the margin of his book would be effective against such a curse, but if it could help Dumbledore's hand temporarily, he might be able to achieve some partial results with it now.

'That's it... that's it...' hissed Harry, snarling.

He could see the darkening veins in his arm, as the bluish-green streak slowly receded into the wound, but here it seemed to stop. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force the poison out of him, it swirled inside him, burning his arm, making him hunch over, his forehead beaded with sweat and he thought he was going to faint.

'What are you doing, Harry?' said Ron hoarsely, who didn't understand anything, but caught him under the arm as he almost collapsed.

'In a second, in a second...' muttered Harry.

He stopped the spell when he couldn't get any more out of it. The curse remained inside him, but the sealing charm had sealed it in his arm, beneath the wound that Bagman's teeth had torn into his flesh. Invisible marks were carved into his skin, sealing the result of the spell, and Harry exhaled with satisfaction.

'A sealing charm won't keep it tamed, Harry,' Hermione shook her head sadly. 'It's already leaking, I can feel it. No sealing spell is strong enough for this. It will be worth nothing at full moon...'

She ran a trembling hand down Harry's arm, a tear falling from her cheek onto the pale back of his hand. Hermione withdrew her hand and turned away. Harry knew she was crying, but he couldn't think of anything he could say to make her feel better.

He himself had somehow already accepted the unchangeable. He became a werewolf. And then what? Lupin could live with it, and perhaps his godson would have to do the same. Or that girl from his dreams... Éloise, the werewolf girl...

Hermione staggered away from them, Ron was about to go after her, but let her when he saw that she was only going to the ladies' room.

'Are you OK?' Harry asked him. Ron looked at him in amazement.

'I should be asking you that!' he glanced at his arm. Harry shrugged, pocketing his wand.

'For me, the situation is clear. But I don't know what has happened to you in the last few months. What have they done to you?'

Now it was Ron's turn to shrug.

'They didn't torture us, if that's what you mean,' he replied. 'They just put us back in jail after they took our clothes and cut a strand of our hair. We knew right away they were trying to trap you...'

And so it happened. Harry just nodded gloomily, not in the mood to tell Ron everything that had happened to him since his escape, he felt too tired to. But Ron didn't start to question him either, instead he diverted the conversation to something else, something he was obviously more interested in:

'What do you think happened to the Nameless?' he asked. 'When you were about to duel, the phoenixes mesmerised him completely. How could he be so freaked out by them? Dumbledore's phoenix never did that to Voldemort.'

Harry shook his head again and swallowed as he remembered the look on Fawkes' face.

'I don't know...' he muttered. 'The man is hiding something. When we escaped from Nurmengard, I stole his memory vials from his room...' He glanced at his friend, who looked up at that. 'And earlier he said something like that I should go through all his memories, because then I'd feel differently about him.'

Ron frowned.

'What would you feel differently about?'

'I don't know...'

He really did not, but he was not unable to think clearly. The cryptic words kept repeating in his head, "I am cursed... cursed..."

Ron, however, was furious, punched a pillar with his fist, and then slumped down on a chair, burying his face in his hands. But soon he looked up at Harry.

'Why was he rescued?' he asked in an almost desperate voice. 'Why did they protect that bastard?'

Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

'They weren't protecting him... They were protecting me. They didn't want me to kill a person.'

'That's bullshit!' snarled Ron. Harry just shook his head sadly.

'No, it's not... They're not helping a murderer. I think Fawkes...'

His words were interrupted by a blood-freezing scream. Everyone in the room froze in fright, Aberforth dropped his flask, and Neville tripped over his own feet as he tried to help Hannah to a chair.

'What the hell is going again?' George growled frantically, who was previously almost overcome by sleep.

Ron and Harry had by then rushed to the toilet, where Hermione's cry came from. They tore open the door and burst in to see what had caused the girl's terror.

Lying on the tiled floor was a man Harry knew well from earlier in his life. It was Tom, the former barman of the Leaky Cauldron, from whom Hannah had inherited the place. Now he lay dead, his eyes glassy halfway between the toilet cubicle and the sink, his arms spread wide in a bulky puddle of water.

'Good heavens! Harry, isn't that...?' Ron said in astonishment, but Harry ignored him.

His body was already ahead of his thoughts: he ran out of the bathroom and headed for the stairs as his mind considered the possible causes and consequences of this bizarre situation. He knew the answer before he even asked himself the question. But how could it have happened? After all, they had locked the doors, imprisoned them with spells, and there was no way they could get out!

He was already on the second floor when he saw that there was no point in hurrying any further. There were only two open doors in the corridor, and he knew very well who was in those two rooms. Downstairs, there was Hannah's scream as she too discovered the body of her late uncle, and then the shouting, the bickering, the murmuring as everyone wondered what had happened.

Ginny followed Harry up the stairs, followed by Malfoy, with Neville trailing behind. They all paused outside the doors, staring in shock at the Selwyn siblings' empty places. The two Faceless had escaped, killing Tom as they fled.

'I don't believe it!' shouted Malfoy, who was starting to break down from all the shouting. 'How did you lock those damn doors, Potter?! What kind of a bunch of idiots are you, eh?'

'Shut up, Malfoy!' snapped Ginny, who was also irritated. 'Harry... The Minister!'

By the time she had said it, Neville, the last to arrive, had already opened the third door, where Kingsley was locked in, with the same charms as Moebius and Irony Selwyn. No sooner had his hand touched the handle than the door swung open obediently, revealing the inside of the room as if unguarded by any protective spell.

Kingsley Shacklebolt sat in the chair where he had been left, tied up.

Those who opened the door did not come to rescue him. The minister sat motionless in the middle of the dimly lit room, his head tilted to one side, the candlelight from the corridor shone upon his scorched chest, and the sight of him drove everything else from Harry's mind. He couldn't believe it had happened, that Kingsley was dead.

'No... No, don't...' muttered Neville in a trembling voice. 'Oh no...'

'Dear lord, Kingsley!'

'That's excellent!' said Malfoy again, kicking the door. 'Not only have they escaped, they've killed the Minister! I told you bringing him here was a stupid idea, Potter! Now we're finished... The Aurors will bury us alive!'

'I told you to shut your mouth!' Ginny snarled at him again, venting her anger on Malfoy.

'Shut up?! Don't you see what trouble we're in, you stupid goose?! Shacklebolt's smoking corpse is in this room, and we'll be the only suspects when they find it!'

The argument going on in the background only reached Harry's consciousness as a dull hiss. He felt as if he were in the depths of a huge pit, where only distant voices could reach down and from which he could not climb out. Whatever Ginny might say, Malfoy was right: they were in deep trouble.

A crack brought him out of his stupor. Neville, who had been staggering on his feet, fainted and fell to the carpet. Harry secretly wished he could leave for a little while the oppressive fog that now surrounded his mind. Let him escape for just a few fleeting hours into the world of dreams, where even the most terrifying nightmare would be a refreshing excursion to the one he and his friends were involved in...