"She locked us in. I can't bloody believe it."
Ron yanked on the spelled door one more time for emphasis. The wooden planks refused to budge.
"This is very bad, Harry," Hermione said from in front of the fireplace. She was huddled over the Marauder's Map with Neville, Ginny, and Harry, who could still feel the low buzzing pain in his scar. No vision had accompanied it, but the evening's danger was plain to see. On the map, unfamiliar names swarmed like ants in the courtyard outside of the dining hall. "He must have brought his entire force."
"Should we maybe just stay here?" Neville offered.
"We can't," Ginny answered. Her tiny, freckled face screwed up in concentration. "They won't have enough firepower without Dumbledore or Snape."
"Even that oily bastard can see that they need all hands, Gin," Ron said.
"He can't," she countered. "How's he going to spy on Voldemort's side if he attacks them here? Don't you see? Same thing with Malfoy." Her brother pondered that for a few seconds, then nodded. "It's dangerous, but …"
"It's Voldemort," Harry finished, his face a portrait of anger. "We fight." The wraithlike forms of his parents' spirits floated in his mind's eye, along with the broken body of Cedric Diggory. "First, though, we have to get out of here. Any ideas?"
"We could try the alohamora spell on the door."
"Will it work, 'Mione?"
"No idea, Ron," she said. "Maybe if we all try it together?"
Heads nodded around the room. All five of them drew their wands.
"Count of three?" Harry asked. They nodded. "1…2…3…Alohamora!"
The spell shot from five wands at once, simultaneously hitting the locking mechanism in the center of the doorway. Nothing happened.
"Bugger!"
"Ron!"
"Sorry, 'Mione, but … Brooms!" Ron exclaimed. As quickly as the idea popped up, though, he shot it down with a frown. "Oh, no, we couldn't carry anyone else, I s'pose."
"You be needing a way out?" The shrill voice came from the window of the common room. Curly stood in the open window, a dark cloak flapping around his cherubic form. Cold air tickled their exposed skin as it filtered past him. "Bad people be here. Many bad peoples. Me can help you get down."
Five pairs of eyes skittered back and forth.
"Guess we don't have another choice," Harry said.
Ron looked at Harry nervously. "The imp express it is."
They hastened to the window, but just as Curly was about to take Harry's hand, the doors burst open and banged loudly against the wall.
"Harry Potter should not do that," Dobby said from the archway. Though bruises covered his face and one humongous eye had swollen shut, his voice squeaked out as angry as Harry and Ron had ever heard it. "Dobby will not let him hurt Harry Potter like he hurt Professor Dumbledore."
"That noise came from below us."
"The dining hall?"
Willow nodded. "I'll go down there. Do you think she …" Her voice trailed off, thinking of what Jess might have done to Grey to cause that sort of damage.
A mixture of pity and alarm crossed Giles' face. "You're in no shape to engage her."
The thought that she hadn't killed Jess when she had the chance angered her almost beyond the possibility of speech. "Giles, we don't have a choice. What, I'm gonna go all napping while the Big Bad is here? I don't think so."
She summoned what little magic hadn't already risen in anger. Her eyes went black and she reached up to grip her the pendant around her neck. It scorched her palm as she clasped it in a fist.
"That bitch dies this time." She ripped the pendant free and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans.
"Please, Willow, try to get ahold of yourself," he said nervously as he watched the magic and rage take control of her.
"Actually, Giles, I think now is the perfect time for angry Willow to come out and play." Her voice deepened with menace. "Don't get in my way."
"I'll go with you," he said, signalling his acquiescence.
"No," she ordered, placing a restraining hand on his chest. "Go get the other professors from the dorms. We'll need Spike and Sirius, too."
"Are you sure you'll be alright?"
With black eyes, her resolve face was frightening to behold.
"Giles, go. Now."
He nodded once and took off down the hallway. She inhaled deeply and headed in the other direction.
"Holy shit," Jess muttered.
The two giants lingered outside the crushed doors, the outlines of their massive forms dimly visible in the settling dust. Cool night air spilled from the ruptured hallway into the dining hall. The yipping and snarling of hellhounds punctuated the low growls and ominous chanting of Voldemort's followers.
She heard the snap-hiss as Grey brought out his lightsaber and felt the oily swirl of magic forming around Tara.
From behind the giants, a sinister voice bellowed forth.
"Come out now, Precious, and we'll make it quick. Linger, and it will be most unpleasant for you and the auror."
The three occupants of the dining hall traded a look. If Voldemort thought they would succumb that easily, he was in for a long night.
"Can I use my magic now?" Jess asked sarcastically.
Grey suddenly turned and flashed her a cocky grin. "We're paying you, aren't we?"
The smile came to her lips unbidden; they were outnumbered and outgunned, and he was quoting old muggle movies at her. Just like old times.
"You can keep the five bucks. I've had it."
She called forth a set of her energy knives, letting them float in the air in front of her.
"What spell is that, anyway?"
"Daggers of Diphthis. Damn nasty, as you know. I'm sorry for that, by the way." She was stunned to realize that she meant it.
"We'll discuss it later," he said, wondering how much of the evil she had already purged from her system. Well, I always knew she was special, he thought fleetingly.
A pair of hellhounds broke away from the rest, charging through the gaping hole at the trio. They were larger than normal dogs, each easily six feet long and weighing close to five hundred pounds of solid muscle. Their tan hides had a sparse, patchy covering of dark hair, most of it growing from their triangular faces.
"This one's me," Grey said before Jess or Tara could react. He stepped between the hounds and the women, casually twirling the lightsaber in his right hand. He felt the renewed magic of his sword course through him as the peaceful focus of battle came on. In the face of overwhelming odds and certain death, he felt strangely exulted; Willow loved him, he had Jess back by his side, and Voldemort, who had caused them so much pain in the last year, was finally within reach for a serious smackdown.
If not for the potential for violent death, life would have been good.
The first hellhound, six-inch fangs glistening in the moonlight, leapt effortlessly into the air, its jaws questing for his bald head. Grey, feeling the attack coming before the hellhound even left the ground, slid to his knees and ducked under it. As it flew over, the blue blade gutted it like a fish. The carcass crashed unmoving to the floor as the coppery smell of burning blood filled the air.
The second beast, seeing Grey drop to its level, stayed earthbound and barreled straight into him before he could bring the lightsaber back down. In an instant, it lay on top of him, dripping drool onto his blue sweatshirt.
Undeterred, he slammed the hilt of the lightsaber into the side of its head. The beast grunted and stumbled, easing the pressure on his chest. The fleeting respite wasn't enough; Grey couldn't wiggle free, and those saliva-coated teeth moved back in for the kill.
With a flick of his wrist, the blade severed the beast's spine. The triangular head lolled forward, then dropped to his chest. From the side, the black blades tore into it, freeing him of the dead weight with a pair of deep slashes. The pained howling erupting from its throat slowed to whimpering and finally ceased as the beast died. Grey shoved it off and scrambled to his feet.
"Thanks," he said, his eyes meeting her smirking gaze. "What, like you never plowed ahead without waiting for me?"
"Yeah, but I always won when I did." He frowned. "Just kiddin', hon."
"Umm … g-guys? Could we banter less and maybe fight more?" Tara said as four more hellhounds entered the room.
Giles rounded the corner at full speed, blundering directly into Spike's path. The Watcher bounced off, but the vampire caught him before he could topple over.
"'Ey hey, watch it, there, Rupes. Time to get the glasses checked again."
"What? Oh, er, right, thank you," Giles said as he regained his balance. He drew in breaths in rapid huffs. "Listen to me," he said after a brief pause, "we have no time for games right now."
"Reckon we don't," the vampire agreed. "What's all that racket? Sounded like one of the towers collapsed or somethin'."
"I don't know what it was. Willow went to investigate – it seemed to be coming from the dining hall, which is where we left Grey, Tara, and Miss O'Brien."
Hearing that, Sirius came around the corner and shed his dog guise.
"O'Brien's here?"
Giles nodded. "Yes. It appears that she split with Voldemort, and that she is here for our help. Or it did, at any rate."
"Unless that was the sound of her dukin' it out with her former honey," Spike added.
"Indeed," Giles said, "which is why I have come to get the two of you."
"You say Red's gone down there first?"
"Yes." Giles thought about the look on her face when she left. "She's rather out of control, as you might expect."
"No shit," Spike said. "Come on, we need to get up there." He strode into the hallway. "Not that we'll be able to do much except mop up the remains," he muttered under his breath.
"We need some weapons," Sirius said.
"Not a problem. Got 'em stashed everywhere, including behind a painting in the main stairwell, which," Spike glanced up and down the corridor, getting his bearings, "would be down this way."
He led them down the hall, past several sets of armor and a dozen closed doors. As they stepped through the archway that led to the main stairwell, a low growl echoed through the shaft.
"It's McGonagall," Spike said, his vampiric eyesight picking out the movement instantly. He pointed to the staircase two floors above them.
Professor McGonagall had her wand out as she retreated hastily backwards down the stairs. Looming above her was the something none of them had ever seen.
"M-my god," Giles stammered. "Is that a … minotaur? Are they real?"
"Looks like it, Watcher," Spike responded. "Thought they were extinct, though. She'll need help – Angelus tole me once that they were resistant to spells and the like."
Above them, McGonagall was finding that out for herself. Her stomach clenched in fear; she had already launched to fireballs at it without effect. The minotaur had wild eyes, like an enraged bull, and the way it kept snorting and tossing its head, she knew it was about to charge.
"CORUSCO FULGURIS!" The spell was the deadliest she knew; a bright flash erupted from the end of her wand, momentarily blinding the three men below. A bright stream of light followed it, twisting through the air like a white-hot corkscrew. When the light connected with the minotaur's chest, a brief sizzle gave her some hope. Then the blast winked out, and the minotaur let out a deep roar of triumph.
At the base of the stairs, a painting of an elderly wizard oof'ed as Spike pulled it aside. Sitting in a neatly organized cubbyhole were a pair of swords, a crossbow with two dozen bolts, and a giant double-bladed battle axe. The vampire grabbed the axe, gave it a short test swing, and started up the stairs for McGonagall.
The minotaur lowered its head. McGonagall knew she could never run away in time; the beast would easily gore her on its huge horns before she had gone ten feet. Feeling the sweat and fear trickle down the line of her spine, she reacted on instinct. Two backwards steps placed her on the platform for the floor below the minotaur.
"EXCURRERE!" More ropes of white light slid from her wand, but these went nowehre near the minotaur. Instead, they rapidly lengthened and entwined themselves around the railings of the stairwell. They spread swiftly, reaching both the top and bottom of the shaft in seconds; when they linked to the ceiling and the ground, a vast column of white light filled the shaft.
All of the stairwells suddenly moved of their own accord, each floor separating from the ones above and below and spinning through the air at varying speeds. The ancient defensive measure, known only to her and Dumbledore, worked perfectly. The minotaur charged after her as soon as she said the words, but had to grab ahold of the bannister to avoid falling into empty air.
"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted, catching McGonagall's attention for the first time as he stumbled and fell to his knees. Fortunately, he was in the middle of a flight of stairs when the spell went off, preventing a nasty fall.
Unfortunately, trapped on his own flight of stairs, Spike could do nothing but watch as the minotaur leapt from its own platform onto hers.