AUTHOR: Lord_Mhoram

AUTHOR EMAIL: Khel71@yahoo.com

CATEGORY: SLASH, WAR, ROMANCE, ANGST

KEYWORDS: HARRY, DRACO, SLASH

SPOILERS: ALL BOOKS

RATING: R

SUMMARY: As the Light continues its mobilization, Harry and Draco are caught in the machinations of war.

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.

The Fires of Night

Draco sat under a tree, pulling the twilight in with him. The rain was heavier now, but a skillful drying spell coupled with a cooperative overhanging branch was keeping him safe from the wet weather. Failing to find Harry, he had plopped down in deep frustration. The deepening gloom suited Draco's mood, as the unseasonably cold rain also satiated a need for weeping he felt he could no longer afford. The wind had come up, penetrating the light cloak he wore and making him shiver. Still, Draco didn't look forward to going back into the castle and chancing another run-in with Sirius Black. He felt too edgy, too near exhaustion for another fight. He barely looked up when Harry stepped out of the shadows and approached him.

"Where've you been?" asked Draco, his voice low.

"Nearby. I wanted to give you some time to calm down."

Draco made no reply.

Harry sat, making sure he was within the umbrella spell's reach.

"So why are we sitting out here in the rain?"

"It makes me happy. It's more pleasant than in there," said Draco, gesturing sharply toward the castle.

"I heard you making friends with Sirius."

"Yes, I'm giving you the boot, Harry. Sirius is mad for me."

"Gonna shag him?"

"Shag him rotten."

"I could tell you fancied each other. He practically held your hand."

"It was my neck he wanted to hold- in a death grip. He thinks I'm an arrogant, ungrateful prick. I'm sure he wonders what you see in me."

"I wonder that myself."

Draco speared Harry with a brutal sidelong glance. "Don't push me, Potter. I'm nigh ready to let you all go fuck yourselves on your little crusade."

"What are you on about? Why are you still so angry?"

"I just am. Why don't you sod off? I don't feel like an interrogation from you and your godfather," shot Draco petulantly, his relief at Harry's appearance irrationally and abruptly evaporating.

"Nope, won't work. You're going to have to tell me why you're so mad."

The wind moaned loudly in the trees as Harry waited for Draco to answer. The loneliness of the forest lent Draco a preternatural aura that was increasingly disturbing to Harry. A sense of sorrow and anger radiated from his lover that was nearly unbearable.

Draco's voice was soft under the night.

"I lived all my life-until you came-for my father. I was a tool, but it didn't matter. I didn't have anything better to do. But I always knew I was a device, Harry. I was just a moving piece for my father to play for his purposes. Do you know that's what you are to them? That's what you are to those fine people in that castle, Harry. You're the piece of the puzzle they won't do without. Do you ask yourself why? Why can't they fight this war without one nineteen year old? Why the fuck can't they do it without you?"

Harry was oddly moved by the passion in Draco's voice.

"This isn't about being used, is it? You're afraid I'm going to die."

"Too bloody right I am. Where will I be then, you blinking fool?"

"I don't know, Drake. It's always been like this for me. When Voldemort killed my parents and gave me my scar I quit being normal, and the only way I can ever have a half-way normal life is to outlive all this Boy-Who-Lived crap. But I'd prefer not to die, and if you're with me-" Harry took a deep breath and plunged on, "I know I won't. But the war's got to end."

"Harry, it's going to end for sure. There are things coming our former professors don't have the guts to have nightmares about. Those things are going to fall on this place, and it will be over!"

"Drake, it's my choice to fight. I need you. No one at Hogwarts is going to abandon me--well, Snape is questionable, I suppose, but I need you more than anyone or anything else."

"It's not about abandonment, Harry. I'm not leaving you. I just want you to understand how serious this is."

Harry pushed his boyfriend's hair back and kissed his forehead. "You're complicated, aren't you?"

"You get what you deserve, Potter."

"That sounds like an invitation. Let's go in."

Their apartment was chilly. Draco started a fire while Harry rummaged in a closet, finally pulling a huge, fuzzy yellow blanket from it.

"What are you going to do with that?" asked Draco quizzically.

"I had planned to wrap myself up in it; do you mind?"

"I suppose I don't. I'd like to join you."

'Then join me."

Draco stepped into Harry's embrace, kissing him.

"You're trembling," Harry murmured as he broke the kiss.

"Noticed that, did you? I'm cold."

Wordlessly, Harry pulled Draco's shirt free of his pants, then up and over his head. Draco's pallid skin showed the marks of Harry's fingers at each touch. Harry continued undressing his lover until he was shorn of clothing and safely wrapped in the blanket.

Draco repeated Harry's gesture, stripping him bare. Clinging to each other, they reaffirmed the tenderness that strengthened and healed them. Harry pulled Draco down to the bed as the firelight danced across the stony permanence of the walls. Night wheeled outside the castle; the stars peeped through the scudding clouds; wind sang through the trees, but inside the room there was only the sound of soft moans, cries of encouragement and love.

The next morning they went to see Dumbledore. Taking the crystal in his left hand, Draco spoke a series of fluid, open syllables that reminded Harry of nothing human at all. He transferred it to his right hand and repeated the sonorous phrase, then returned the See-All to the desk.

"Why both hands?" asked Harry.

"If you use one hand only, you trip the protective charm. It would have blown a hole twice the size of this office through the castle. You have to use both hands to unlock the contents without dying."

"Oh."

"Lucius and Narcissa were very efficient with keeping secrets," said Dumbledore quietly.

"I suggest you squint," Draco said. "These things usually end up looking like Guy Fawkes' Night. Here it comes."

A glare broke from the crystal, making a fireworks-like display. Hovering in the air before them a pattern emerged. Colored dots connected by silver lines traced over and over again until they converged on one golden speckle, which twirled in the air in front of Draco. He reached out and touched the dot, which immediately expanded into a staggering show of scintillating light. Loopy script whirled past their faces, moving faster and faster until finally disappearing.

"Consummate artists, the Veela," said Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, I am unfamiliar with the dialect. It seems archaic. Draco?"

"No. I know a little, but that's not the Veela that's spoken today. It's too fast for one thing. There's too much there, too. And there's got to be a way to slow everything down."

"If there is, we will find it. With the See-All's protective spells removed, the entire Order can view it. We will begin immediately studying its contents. Draco, thank you for offering your assistance," said the Headmaster, rising to accompany them to the door.

Draco hesitated, then addressed Dumbledore. "Sir, last evening my comments and manner were execrable. I apologize for my behavior. My performance was greatly inferior to my upbringing--and education."

Dumbledore let a small smile flit across his face at the almost-compliment from the young man.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Malfoy. Times are extraordinarily stressful."

Draco made a brief bow in acknowledgment and gratitude.

They had barely stepped into the hall when Pell hurried up.

"Mr. Potter! The Teacher wants you and Mr. Malfoy in her office immediately."

"What exactly is she, do you think?" wondered Harry aloud as they followed Pell.

"I don't know, Harry. I've heard something of what she claims to be, but they're extinct. People like Dumbledore helped them to die out," replied Draco matter-of-factly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

It turned out Elise had borrowed an empty office down the hall from McGonagall. She was sitting at her desk, feeding treats to a pudgy hedgehog when Pell ushered them in. She was dressed casually in jeans and a cambric top, which made her look every inch the Muggle. Draco raised his eyebrows, but Harry merely shrugged.

"Come in, sit down! I've been over your files at some length. Highest honors at Hogwarts. Advanced studies at the London Master Classes. You're both excellent material for something important."

"Auror?" asked Harry.

"Lancer," replied Elise.

"Pardon?"

"Arch-Auror," said Draco, groaning. "And entirely mythical."

Elise crossed her legs and looked irritated. "Mythical! You disappoint me, Malfoy. I thought that your bloodline would have remembered us better."

"Oh, I heard stories about the Lancers. I also heard stories about King Arthur, but I don't think you're here to knight us. The Grail isn't at the Manor, either, so we can skip that part of the quest. Or are you really here from Avalon, instead, priestess?"

"My title is 'Disciple,' and sarcasm, Mr. Malfoy, is a thin and unnecessary defense for a person of your talents. So why don't you drop it and tell me your thoughts as to why I'm here?"

Draco's fury grew again, coming from some dark well that rose and fell according to some unknown, inexorable pull. "I have no idea why you're here, Teacher. Is that what I'm supposed to call you? Good luck with that. As far as I'm concerned, you're part of some typically inscrutable, very likely ineffectual plan. I hope to hell you've got something better to throw at the Dark Lord than fairy tales, or we're all dead."

"You really don't have an idea, do you? I could throw you a staff and you'd have no clue. The Lore is completely lost."

"Enlighten both of us, please," asked Harry, trying to intercede.

"Very well. The Lancers were a group of four mercenary wizards who fought for various kings and queens during the First Great Age of Magic, about one thousand years before Hogwarts was founded. The pureblood Great Houses were still ruling the Wizarding world at that time. Now these mercenaries were very skilled, but also profoundly far-sighted. It was their goal to bring about a world where violence and strife could be curbed by education and the instillation of virtue. For a thousand years the Traditions of the Lancers guarded that dream until the time came when a fortress of learning could be established. The Four Founders of Hogwarts were the last four Lancers."

"Then why, with such illustrious alumni, weren't the Lancers remembered?" asked Draco.

"The Lancers had already become secretive because they wanted a new world to be born. That world couldn't come about with the icons of the Lancers hanging over the head of every student. They wanted people to believe in Hogwarts, to trust that knowledge and wisdom would bring about a better outcome than force of arms. They abandoned most of the war magic, symbolized by the staff. All the passion of the Founders, the last four Lancers on earth, was poured into this school. The four Houses and their sigil animals are the only Traditions of the Lancers that remain. Magical lore eventually split into Light and Dark, and the Lore of the OverMagic was lost, apparently completely."

Harry leaned forward, intent on Elise's words. "OverMagic?" he asked.

"The Core magic, the source of your abilities, with no shading for light or dark, good or bad. The OverMagic simply exists as power that can be used as the wielder wills. It's capricious and difficult, existing without regard to human morality. The Lancers didn't create the Lore that describes the OverMagic, but studied it."

"Where did it come from? Is that what Voldemort is using now?" asked Harry.

"Where it came from is a long story and will only muddy the issues here, I think. In a way, it's quite mundane. And it's unlikely that Lord Voldemort is using the OverMagic. It requires persuasion and would not respond well to being the hand servant of a creature like Voldemort. "

A quiet moment passed. Draco sighed heavily and said, "I don't see how this helps. You said we have less than two months. I doubt we can get up to Super-Auror speed before we need it."

"And that, my sarcastic friend, is why I'm here."

"To be the unfair advantage?"

"All advantages are unfair. If you haven't realized that, you're more naïve than I imagined."

Draco said calmly, "Cryptic mumbling won't kill a single Death Eater."

Elise looked at both men carefully. "No, it won't. To kill Death Eaters means fighting, and fighters need leaders. No one can make you do what you don't want to. But the people here at Hogwarts have great faith in both of you. The Auror Corps has been savaged and there's not enough time to retrain all of them. I can only do so much, and I'd like to start with you two. Acceptable?"

"Yes," exclaimed Harry, prompting Draco to narrow his eyes and nod curtly.

"Let's go outside," Elise said, scooping up the hedgehog and placing him on her shoulder. "I think it's time you were Sorted."

She led the two outside to the field where Madame Hooch instructed flying during the school term. A pile of white wooden poles, each about a meter and a half long, was waiting for them there. She muttered to herself as she examined each pole. Raising to face them, she said, "Have you met my Sorting Hat? His name is Iskander." She held out the hedgehog and tapped him with her wand. Iskander seemed to melt and flow until in his place was her staff.

"He's very talented," remarked Draco.

She threw them each a pole.

"If you're familiar with any of the staff disciplines, forget them now. A Dementor knows nothing about human honor. An ensorcelled wizard won't care that you're executing your flourishes snappily. Your job is to fight and win, through your wits and through your wand. Now, a staff, armed with your wand, is called a Lance. The joining spell is complicated, so I won't teach you that today. I just want to see how you react to a few surprises. This is one of the few times you'll ever use an unarmed staff in combat. If you should find yourself in a situation where you're using a plain stick of wood to smack a Death Eater in the head, you're too sad to live. Now, you're both competent wizards. You're both star Quidditch players. You've been instructed in advanced dueling. Consequently, I won't feel too bad for beating the hell out of you. So I'll give you knights off the board. It's two against one, and by the way, boys--I don't fight fair."

Harry and Draco exchanged glances. Harry slowly stretched out his staff and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

She merely turned around, looking about her. "Eh, chaps, you can actually throw a blow you know, I won't tell-"

Finally tired of banter, Draco whirled his staff in a vicious uppercutting arc that would have decapitated Elise upon impact, had it actually arrived. Instead, she sprang into the air, and as if her staff were a broomstick, flew over Draco's head. Landing squarely, she kicked him lightly in the hindquarters while shoving Harry to the ground.

"One for me, zero for the gits! Try another?"

Draco was beginning to turn an angry purple-red when Harry cried "Tarantallegra!"

Elise began furiously dancing as Draco rotated his staff lazily. "You're very coordinated," he said. "I'm going to hit you now."

"Finite incantantem!" she shouted, countering Draco's attack and feinting. Draco didn't take the lure, but instead pressed his attack. Harry joined the fray, and all thoughts of more feints were lost in the furious melee that followed.

The blazing summer sun climbed overhead, but the three fought all morning. Fatigue rose and fell in their muscles, but the contest continued until Elise made good on an miniscule opening in Draco's defenses. Her staff made an ugly crunching noise against his chin, spraying blood and dropping him heavily to the ground.

Harry turned and started for Draco when a brutal rap in his right side reminded him of the combatant behind him. Clutching his injured ribs, he shouted, "He's hurt!"

"Of course he's hurt! That's what I've been trying to do. And never turn your back on the enemy again, Potter. A Death Eater would've blown your spine out through your chest."

Harry looked at the unmoving body of his lover. He threw his weapon down and glared at Elise. "I can't do this now," he said.

The impact of the staff in his stomach was so hard he was on his knees before the pain had even reached his brain. Coughing and retching bile, he was struggling to bring his wand up when the Teacher's staff cracked across his chest, hurling him backward. He landed in agony, tears pouring reflexively from the well of pain that overflowed his senses. His wand was nowhere near.

"Never disarm yourself in the presence of the foe," said Elise softly.

Harry felt a light tap on his chest, barely perceptible through the pain. Elise had placed her staff over his heart and was chanting softly, her eyes closed. Pale blue light coursed from the end of the staff into his body. The pain started to drain away through his aching chest, up into the auroral emanation. Suddenly the sound of a thousand irritable bees filled the air and Elise was slammed away as if she were as inconsequential as chaff.

Harry turned his head, flopping his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Draco was holding his staff under his left arm, hands on both knees, breathing heavily. He staggered over to where the Teacher lay. Her shoulder was smoking slightly. In a voice that was somewhere between calm and amazed she asked him, "You armed the staff? You made a Lance? I thought...thought you had lost the Lore."

Draco shook his head, his chest still heaving. "I still had my wand. When I got up…I tried. Guess I got it right." Blood poured from the gashes on his face and jaw, spattering onto her as he slammed his Lance down onto her chest, striking it hard against her sternum.

"Malfoy, don't. This is where you stop," she said, pain from her own wound beginning to thicken her voice.

Unable to speak further, he grinned like a ghoul and slammed the Lance into her chest again. Blue-black tendrils of light began to gather, writhing along the staff's length.

"Crucio!" screamed Elise, arcing her hand like a knife towards his chest.

Even then Draco refused to cry out, but buckled and fell atop her.

"It figures," she thought.

Harry awoke with a start. His head felt two sizes too large and breathing was difficult. Voices were raised in dispute nearby. He could make out McGonagall's precise but heated cadence. Dumbledore was in the mix as well, and….of course, the Teacher, Elise Kingfisher.

"I thought the idea was to teach them, not beat them to death! Headmaster, I appeal to you-"

"No, they won't get beaten to death, Voldemort will take those two and put them under Crucio for a few months, then pour the remainder out, is that what you'd like? Headmaster, I warrant they've been injured more playing Quidditch than in my training!" said Elise hotly.

"This topic can and will wait for tomorrow," replied Dumbledore, apparently addressing both women.

Harry heard one set of footsteps clatter off. Dumbledore and Elise remained within earshot and by the sound of it, were heading for Harry's location. He shut his eyes and continued to listen.

"They're extraordinary, Albus! Malfoy is smart, vicious, and Potter--yes, very brave, creative, though he has to stop his moral sense mucking up his instincts in battle. They held me off for three hours, though I will confess: I did cast a few regenerative spells to keep us all in the fight. But the important thing is that I have taken their measure and they are ideal. With fifty of them we could march on Voldemort tomorrow."

"You don't have fifty of them, Elise. Each student of this school, past and present, is unique. I cannot over-emphasize the importance of supporting Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy during this situation. Even taking into account Voldemort's special vulnerabilities where Harry is concerned, I will not have the outcome of this war placed on his shoulders without us doing our part."

"Yes, Headmaster," she said quietly, sounding chastised to Harry's ears. "Then you will let me train them in the Lore?"

"Yes, of course, Elise. But curb your energies a bit. We are all flesh and blood, in the end. How's the shoulder?"

"Sore. If Malfoy hadn't been so furious and had been more focused he would have vaporized me."

"I am very grateful that did not come to pass. Now let me tell you about a student we had. Excellent in Herbology. I have a few ideas, Elise. They're a little unconventional, but might suit our purposes."

The sounds trailed away. Harry got up on his elbow, wincing at the pain in his side. Draco lay nearby, apparently asleep. His bruises were vivid against his bloodless skin. A bandage lay across his chin. Golden light seeped out from the dressing. On impulse Harry raised his hospital shirt and looked at his own wound. The same odd poultice was across it, glowing. Seeing him awake, Madame Pomfrey bustled to give him a tiny sip of a sweet, thick liquid. Soon he fell back into deep, dreamless sleep as he felt his hand being taken gently by someone.

Draco ate his breakfast slowly, gingerly swallowing his food. He didn't quite trust the incredibly rapid healing the Teacher had provided. The ease of his recovery reminded him too strongly of Dark Magic. Harry had been called to the Headmaster's office, leaving Draco alone in the hospital ward. The empty bed beside his seemed to accuse him of sloth, so he sped his eating. He had barely finished when Madame Pomfrey caught his attention. "You're wanted in the Headmaster's office, Draco," she said while checking his mostly healed injuries. "Thank you," he replied, causing her to shake her head at his departing back. Courtesy coming from Draco Malfoy? Maybe the end of the world really was upon them.

Snape, McGonagall, Sirius Black, and Lupin were already present when he arrived, as were Tae and Harry. Tae's fat little laptops fluttered nervously around her head. The fireplace behind Dumbledore was filled with the image of a beautiful woman, but the setting was far from attractive. Explosions could be heard in the distance, as could the noise of a leathery, gurgling rasp that seemed to be increasing.

"Elena, you must concentrate. You must get your people past the border of your Apparation shield. Aurors will meet them there."

"We will try! Sergei and Alex will bring as many students as possible. This is no simple attack; we have been betrayed. We are going to fight our way out. I will join the other Dragoons and stay the blow as long as possible. Watch for us, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore said quietly, "That was Elena Katerina Mikailanova, the deputy Headmistress at Durmstrang. It seems the Headmaster there, Draskovich, attempted to turn the school over to Voldemort's forces. Elena is trying to get as many of her people--students and staff--to Hogwarts before they are killed."

Turning to Tae, he asked, "If we send scouts to open a TransApparation portal, can you bring them through?"

"I can bring them through, Headmaster, but I don't have the ability to keep such a large number of people in stasis while we ascertain their particulars. Even if I could, such a lengthy transit would surely kill any of the injured."

"Why lengthy?" asked Black.

"When people enter TransApparation in a group, they can't come out separately. They have to come out all at once."

Several blank stares greeted her.

"TransApparation is very new. It lies right in the lee between science and magic and tries to bridge the gap between Muggle technology and Wizarding technology. Normally, people Apparate from one location to another, instantaneously. TransApparation creates a series of hops that act much the same as Portkeys. To get to Hogwarts via TransApparation, the traveler must cast a specific spell, which traces through Rommie here," she said, fondly poking her laptop. "This enables me to cast a duet spell that releases the, ah, visitor, shall we say, to the grounds. It is still somewhat imprecise."

"It's heresy," muttered Snape. "I thought you were an expert on those things."

"Computers in general scare the purple daylights out of me, Professor Snape," retorted Tae. "Rommie and Sephone are more like people than machines."

Dumbledore said firmly, "Bring them to the Quidditch pitch, if you please. We will send scouts to the escape routes she disclosed. They will open the portal there."

Sirius and Snape burst into furious agreement, briefly startling one another.

Snape gestured impatiently. "You, go ahead!" he snapped.

"Spies, Headmaster, this entire situation could be nothing more than an insertion maneuver for spies, sabotage, anything!" exclaimed Sirius.

"I am forced to agree with Black. The circumstance would leave Hogwarts ripe for infiltration, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Nonetheless, we must take what action we can," replied Dumbledore. "Mr. Malfoy? Your father maintained a small dwelling relatively near Durmstrang, I believe?"

"Yes, Headmaster, but I think it would be very dangerous to lead those people there."

"Yes, certainly it would be, which is why we won't. Would you assist Lady Taemarantha in her preparations, please?"

Mystified, Draco nodded.

Harry had never seen so many Aurors of so many types in one place at one time. Their shielding charms shone brightly even in the afternoon sun. A phalanx of them stood guard around Harry, Draco, Dumbledore and Tae. Another formed a semicircle halfway around the pitch. Sweat dripped from Tae's face as she worked to bring through mass of students and instructors from Durmstrang. She typed feverishly on one of the floating laptops while the other whirred and clucked.

Sweat dripped down her face from the concentration of pulling two loops of reality together. The air grew taut and heavy, and as if incredible heat was being applied to an unknown surface, a towering oval shaped distortion at the far end of the field began to form. Brilliant shards of light began to pierce the area of molten air until the shimmering screen tore and fell away.

Harry gasped. He was plainly looking at another where. In that where, fire and darkness were consuming everything around, and the landscape was alive with the forms of people. A huge wave of those people moved towards the portal and began crossing it. Streaming across the pitch, they ran stumbling into the bright light of the afternoon. Brilliant green bolts of hateful energy shot towards them, causing Harry to shudder as he recognized the emerald violence of the Killing Curse. The ragged refugees had clearly been embattled since leaving Durmstrang.

The stream of people trickled and ceased, while an uneasy few minutes passed. Then, with inhuman speed, a figure in black hurtled from the gap and raced toward Dumbledore. The Aurors sprang into place and leveled their wands, only to be called back by the Headmaster. "She's ours," he said. She passed the exhausted Durmstrang group, many of who were collapsing in place, and passed through the Aurors. Gasping, her robe in tatters, Elise Kingfisher came to a broken halt before Dumbledore. Professor Snape seemed to materialize by her side.

"Close the gap now, they're coming through!" wheezed Elise.

"Don't worry, it's fine. I'm closing the--oh--oh my."

"Close the damned door, you idiot!" shouted Snape.

"I can't! Something's holding it open--coming this way. The system's frozen, I have to reboot."

But her time for preventing the breach of the Apparation portal had passed. There was a collective intake of breath as a man strolled casually, arrogantly out of the hole in space. The man halted and Harry saw his face. His heart took a jagged, painful beat, almost stopping. The man on the pitch could have been Draco's older brother. The hair was different, auburn instead of platinum; the eyes he couldn't discern, but the face was set in a cruel mien. He looked as if God had started to make Draco and lost His way.

The man raised his hand to the crowded pitch and boomed loudly, "Hear me! I, Marné Malfoy, the Servant of Lord Voldemort, bring you his sufferance. This day, in his beneficence, he will accept your surrender. Swear your allegiance and Lord Voldemort will spare you all."

"No, young man, that will never do."

"Who speaks to the Servant of Voldemort?"

There was a rustle as the Aurors parted to allow Dumbledore through.

Dumbledore drew himself up. Wind whipped around the old wizard's cloak, and his voice was clear as the radiant sun made his beard shine like mithrail.

"Tell your master that so long as one stone of Hogwarts remains on top of another, we will not surrender. Indeed, if he values any continuity of his own life in this world, it is he who should consider surrender."

The Servant of Voldemort laughed the bitter high laugh of his master.

Without warning Draco tore his way to the front of the massed lines of soldiers-wizards. "Marné! I'll see you in Hell!" he shouted.

"Already been, cousin! Lucius says hello!" said Marné contemptuously.

Pushed beyond all endurance Draco drew his wand and screamed "Avada Kedavra!" The viridian fury ravaged the air, vitrifying the light as it raced to the elder Malfoy. It struck him, enveloped him, and fell aside in tatters.

"Did I do that wrong?" asked Draco, with inhuman calmness as his rage subsumed into the mystery of his target's continued existence. "It was my first time and all, but I was certain-"

"No, you had the intent and the intonation entirely correct," replied Dumbledore dryly.

The laughter came in gales now, sickening shrieks of putrid mirth. Avada Kedavra had impossibly failed.

"As you see, as you all see, great power is mine. Power that will scour you from the earth unless you surrender," gloated Marné.

Dumbledore signaled Tae. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Headmaster. Plan 'B' is now in effect." She turned to the second laptop and tapped keys while twirling her wand around the skittish device.

Another portal opened behind the Aurors. This time it was high in the air and very wide. Three dragons the color of old blood shot through the tear in space and made for the figure of Marné Malfoy. He raised his wand, but the lead dragon had already hurled fire down to the earth, enveloping Malfoy in liquid flame. He screamed and staggered back towards the still open door. The dragons, each carrying a hooded, caped rider, pursued him through. With a loud incongruous clank both portals closed.

Taemarantha sat down heavily, her chest heaving from exertion.

As mediwizards and witches began to go to the aid of the Durmstrang refugees, Elise approached. She clasped Harry and Draco on the shoulder and said airily, "Chin up, men. There's your first win."

They could only stare after her.

End Chapter Five

Author's Note: Thanks to MOI for a faithful and outstanding job as beta reader; also thanks to JessicaCMalfoy for her work as "color and voice" beta. Finally, thanks to Beth for her continued enthusiasm about this fic and her many faithful duties as co-writer. Please review this chapter/fic! Input is welcome.