"Where are you, Will?" Grey whispered. She would have heard the explosion and come running, but Hogwarts could be tough to navigate in a hurry. Especially if these bastards left any surprises in the hallways, he added mentally.
He needed help. The Death Eaters, uniformly ominous in their faceless dark robes, were drawing closer, inexorably tightening the ring around Grey, Jess, and Tara. Grey could confidently handle one, probably take two, and maybe even stop three Death Eaters if they were really dumb. But double digits?
Hang on.
Grey looked around frantically, then realized the voice was in his head. It sounded vaguely familiar, but…
The stairs went wonky and I had to go around. I'll be right there. I love you.
Willow.
I love you, too, he thought as hard as he could. He imagined he could feel the warmth of her smile. At the same time, an odd, icy chill crept up his spine. He shrugged it off.
Across the field, Wormtail turned to his master.
"My lord, may I have the honor?"
Voldemort smiled terribly as he nodded his assent. Wormtail produced his wand and stepped past the line of Death Eaters, motioning for four of them to follow him. They closed on Grey until ten yards separated them. Jess and Tara still lay dazed and unstirring behind him.
"Pettigrew," Grey spat distastefully.
"You've caused my master no end of trouble this year, squib," the Death Eater responded. "When I'm done with you, you'll be nothing but an empty bag of skin and a giant red stain. CRUCIATUS!"
The other four Death Eaters followed his lead. The five curses buzzed through the air. Grey's stomach clenched involuntarily against the coming pain. If they all hit …
Before he could finish the thought, he was moving. The sword whipped around, faster than it ever had; in his mind's eye, he envisioned the path of each curse carved invisibly in the air. He stepped backward, letting them get close enough to almost merge. With a carefully-timed slash, he caught them all on his blade at once.
Wormtail scowled.
"Spread out," he said to the others. "Don't …"
"Let his pissed off, powerful, Wicca girlfriend get ahold of you? Good plan, rat-boy," Willow said with a snarl as she floated through the ruined doorway. Her eyes were completely black and her red hair fanned out in all directions. "Little shaky on the execution, though."
She lifted a hand and Grey felt a cool breeze pass over him; it picked up quickly, accelerating to gale force and blowing Pettigrew and his four lackeys backwards. She moved it forward and soon all of the Death Eaters had fallen to the ground except Voldemort. She whispered a few latin words that he couldn't hear, and a wall of flame sprung up in front of the Death Eaters. Then Willow floated over to Grey and landed.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself." She seemed in control, but … He glanced at her neck. "No necklace?"
She shook her head, but didn't say why not. "Are Tara and Jess okay?"
"I-I'm alright," Tara said. She stood haltingly and put a hand on Willow's shoulder for support.
"Fine, Red," Jess said as she pulled herself to her feet. She felt hollowed out from the effort of maintaining the illusion of the crosses and of pumping up Tara on top of all the other spells she had cast today. "I don't think we'll be much for casting right yet."
Willow nodded, then looked at Grey. "It's okay. We got it."
"We do?" he asked skeptically.
"Uh huh. You with me, baldy?" The Death Eaters would be recovering from the wind, but with the flames between them, Grey couldn't see how fast.
He didn't answer. They should back away, find safer ground and let the Death Eaters give chase. Something in her voice told him not to suggest it, though; this was his Willow, but she seemed a little off.
"I'm fine," she said with a glare. "We'll take them now."
He glared right back.
"I don't think that's a good idea. And," he added, his anxiety rising a notch and stirring his anger, "don't read my thoughts."
Her cheeks flushed. "Don't tell me what to do."
"Hey!" Tara shouted, stepping between them. "We-we don't have time for this. What are we going to do?"
"We need to back off, fight them somewhere where they have to come at us piecemeal," Grey said, his eyes on Willow. He could feel her chafing at the suggestion. Something's wrong here, he suddenly realized.
"I think killing them now would be a lot more fun."
Tara and Grey looked at her in horror.
"We're not killing anyone, Will. Not now or later. Those are people," he said. His voice was dead calm, but he was slowly realizing how much of a hold the dark magic had on her. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. "Human beings. We can't just kill them."
"Don't listen to him, Red," Jess said. "If we don't take them out, they'll slice us to bits, sure as hell." She put her hand on the redhead's arm. "They'll slice him to bits."
"Jess, shut the fuck up." Grey grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away from Willow. "She's not a killer."
The 'like you' portion of the sentence hung in the air, unsaid but no less real.
Jess recoiled from his venomous tone as if she'd been slapped.
They stood there like that for almost a minute: Jess staring incredulously at Grey, Tara nervously shifting her eyes from Grey to Willow, and Grey and Willow glaring at each other angrily, all backlit by the roaring fire. Before they could resolve anything, another voice broke in.
"Well, isn't that interesting? Problems with your witches, Mister Grey?"
The wall of flames had come down, and Voldemort stood at the head of his Death Eaters with his wand extended and his eyes raking the foursome with a hungry look. The giants had been untied and the remaining vampires and hellhounds formed into a deadly line.
"Don't worry. They'll be over in a few seconds."
"Finneran, take Morley and Hilton and deliver these others to Snape," Malfoy ordered, gesturing to the captured Gryffindors. "He'll know where to dispose of them. Branyan, you and the rest of this lot come with me. We'll take no chances with our guest."
He sneered at Harry, hands on his shoulders. The young wizard stood stock still, not wanting to give them any excuse to hurt him. If he waited long enough, he might find a way out. He had a brief flicker of hope at the thought that they hadn't taken Dobby, but the house elf was frozen on the floor of the Gryffindor common room with Curly and wouldn't be any help. Neither would any of his friends.
Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ginny had been stripped of their wands after Malfoy had magically bound their hands. As the three Death Eaters shepherded them away, Ginny looked back, her pleading eyes huge and rimmed with tears.
"Harry!" She tried to run back to him, but Morley stuck out a gnarled hand and yanked her back.
"Don't worry, Gin," he said, putting on a brave face. "I'll be back for you."
"Harry," she whined softly, the tears dripping down her face. She wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words before Malfoy led him away.
Ron shook with rage at the sight of his sister crying and his best friend hauled off to Voldemort. Hermione touched his back with a knuckle in a brief gesture of support, knowing that any move he made would make the situation infinitely worse. Besides, as much as she loathed him, Snape was on their side. He would help them out of this and then they could retrieve Harry.
If he wasn't already dead.
Malfoy guided Harry down the hallway, trailing his two goons by several strides. The sharp knife pressed against Harry's throat was serrated on both sides and glimmered brightly in the torchlight. Before long, they came to an archway that opened into the stairwell, where four surprised faces greeted them.
The axe came off Spike's shoulder immediately; Giles leveled his crossbow and Sirius, back in dog form, growled menacingly as he saw the knife at Harry's throat. It was McGonagall who stated the obvious.
"Harry! My God!"
"No funny business, Professor," Branyan said, stepping forward because he knew Malfoy could not risk exposure. "Weapons on the ground right quick or the prodigy gets it." No one moved. Sirius growled again, but stayed still. "What're ya waitin' for? You think we won't kill the little bastard?"
Malfoy pressed the knife against the soft flesh of Harry's neck, drawing a drop of blood. The axe dinged as it hit the stone floor, followed rapidly by the thud of the wooden crossbow. McGonagall handed her wand over to Branyan, who smiled underneath his hood.
"There now, that was all sensible-like, wasn't it? Let's take a short stroll outside, then. The courtyard, and try not to dawdle." He motioned for the adults to go first. Spike, McGonagall and Giles stepped past Harry and Malfoy, but Sirius gave a sharp howl and took off in the other direction.
"Stupid mutt," Spike said to Branyan. "No loyalty, that one. I even feed his ugly arse from the table, and what do I get? Bollocks."
Branyan chuckled as the group started off, not turning to see that the dog had only gone far enough to hide in the shadows.
Snape was waiting when they reached the Slytherin common room. No one other than Ron had ever been inside, but they found the dismal décor appropriate.
At Snape's orders, which they knew not to question, the Slytherins were all locked away in their individual dorms. With one exception. Draco Malfoy crouched behind a marble planter, concealed by the shadows and watching carefully as the Gryffindors were given over to Snape's care. He couldn't see any of the proceedings directly, but the knew the Gryffindors had to be wetting themselves with fear.
"Malfoy said you should dispose of these here Gryf wretches," Draco heard a scratchy voice say. Snape must have nodded in response, because the Death Eater started talking again. "Where should we take 'em?"
"I'll deal with them here. You get back out and help our master kill the witches."
"But Malfoy said…"
"Malfoy is not here." Snape's voice was cold and officious, a tone Draco knew well from class. "I am, and I am telling you to go now. It is possible that these children know something vital. Once it has been extracted…" He paused, and his next words nearly made Draco vomit, "once it has been extracted, you can be assured I will feed them into that rather large fireplace."
Draco blanched as he fought down the nausea. He hated the Gryffindors in front of him. That was no secret. But torturing them and sticking them in the common room fireplace? The true insanity of Voldemort and the Death Eaters finally registered in Draco's mind. His father – his FATHER – had ordered them killed. He hated the man, loathed the beatings and the belittling and would swear up and down that the bastard was as evil as they came, but Draco had never thought him truly mad. Until now. Was this what they intended for the whole wizarding world? Feeding the opposition to the fire?
He couldn't allow that. If he did, he was almost as responsible for it as Snape. To hell with protecting himself.
Draco shifted slightly, drawing his wand from his sleeve with only a slight rasp of wood on wool.
Out of his sight, the Death Eater smiled. He clapped Snape on the arm. "You do have a way about you, Severus. I will grant you that."
"Give me their wands," Snape said.
"Why's that?" Finneran asked as he handed them over.
Snape said nothing, his beady eyes boring into the Death Eater. Suitably intimidated, Finneran backed away. "Let's be off," he said to his two partners, and the three Death Eaters left the room.
Draco waited until he heard the door latch closed, then he leapt from behind the planter. Snape was moving towards Granger, his wand out.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Draco shouted.
Surprised, Snape turned and barely blocked the spell in time.
"Malfoy, wait…" Ron said.
Draco interrupted him with another spell.
"INCENDO!" The fireball shot from his wand; Snape dove away from the Gryffindors as the flames sailed past, scorching the stone wall behind him.
"CONGELO!" A blue burst of light shot from Snape's wand and hit Draco square in the chest. He floated into the air, his wand hand still sticking out and completely unable to move or speak.
"That will be quite enough of that," Snape said. He crossed the room and snatched Draco's wand away. Using both of them, he quickly released the magical bonds on the Gryffindors.
"Resolvo," he cast, quietly releasing the blonde boy, who crashed to the floor with a grunt.
"But … you … why?" Draco asked, pointing at the freed Gryffindors, who were eagerly grabbing their wands.
"He's not a bad guy anymore, Malfoy," Ron said. "He's a double agent. Sound familiar?"
Snape's eyes narrowed as he processed Ron's words.
"You're no longer helping your father, Draco?"
"That bugger can kiss my arse, the flamin' pansy," Draco said defiantly.
"I see. And you feel he can be trusted, Granger?" Snape had always felt she was the cream of this particular crop.
"We didn't, Professor," she said honestly, drawing a scowl from Malfoy, "but I do now. We've kept his contributions carefully hidden." She explained briefly about the incident with Fred and George. "I think it's fair to say that he just risked his life for ours, since he had no idea about you. So yes," she said, crossing a large black line in her mind, "I trust him."
Now Ron scowled, but then reluctantly nodded as her logic sank in. Neville and Ginny followed suit, and Snape turned to look at his prized student. His voice came out laced with both pride and sorrow.
"Believe me, Draco, it's better that you learn this now. Far, far better."
"They'd really expect you to … to put them in the fireplace?"
Snape nodded. "And to do it before killing them. They respect that."
His complexion green, Draco swallowed hard. "Fucking madmen."
"Which is why," Snape agreed quietly, "they must be stopped."
"What now?" Neville asked.
"We have to help Harry," Ginny said. She hadn't spoken since Lucius Malfoy had hauled him away.
"Tell me," Snape said, and Hermione described briefly what had occurred.
Ron walked over to the main table and pulled out the slip of paper he had hidden in his robe.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said, tapping it with his wand. The magical ink resolved itself into an ugly picture. "Come look," he said to the others, who gathered around.
"What is that thing?" Snape asked. It seemed vaguely familiar.
Reluctant to reveal the truth, Ron muttered, "Map of the grounds."
The Marauder's Map showed Grey, Tara, Jess, and Willow surrounded by unfamiliar names. The name Tom Riddle stood out prominently on the page.
"Those are all Death Eaters," Snape said, moving his finger around the page. He decided, against the urgings of his heart, to ignore the existence of such a device. For the moment.
"These must be some other henchmen." Hermione indicated the rest of the names.
"Vampires, most likely," Snape said.
"Maybe some giants," Malfoy added. The Potions Master nodded.
"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide. "It's an army."
"Indeed it is, Weasley. Can we see anything else on this thing? Potter, perhaps?" Ron nodded, then shifted the map to the corridors he thought Harry might be in. To their surprise, they saw Giles, McGonagall, and Spike clustered around Harry, Malfoy, and the Death Eaters. Sirius seemed to be trailing behind.
"Branyan. He's an evil one," Draco said. Snape nodded. "I don't think we can bust him out."
"The hell we can't, Malfoy!" Blood rushed to Ron's face. "We aren't abandonin' him jus' cause you don't want to risk your worthless ass!"
For three full seconds, Malfoy gave him a hard stare.
"You're an idiot, Weasley. That's my father there. You really think I don't want to take his wand and wring his fucking neck with it? What I'm saying is that we don't have the forces to take all of them down before they can kill Potter. We need help."
"Not a lot of help to be had," Neville pointed out as Ron backed off.
Hermione, staring intently at the fireplace, looked back at Neville and smiled.
"Actually, there is. We just have to go get it."