27. Into the Storm
The next day did not dawn.
Surely the sun rose, but the sky was so filled with inky clouds that it was impossible to tell. Thunder growled in the distance but no rain fell. Students made their way nervously through the shifting gloom and teachers glanced around to keep fast tally of their students and surroundings. No students had been told about the defense plans but they all seemed to catch the mood of the teachers and confine themselves to their houses and years.
Harry caught an early breakfast and a very edgy Ryan Argano escorted him to the Quidditch locker room. Harry changed into his robes as the rest of the team arrived. Angelina looked as if she hadn't slept a wink and even Fred and George were a bit more sedate than usual.
Angelina surveyed the assembled team. "This is going to be bad, do your best."
Fred sighed, "Oh that's encouraging."
Angelina nodded gravely, "Harry, glad to have you. The rest of you, you're a good team. Oliver would be proud. That's all I've got to say."
They stood and filed into the tunnel. Thunder grumbled restlessly far overhead. A hand landed on Harry's shoulder and he glanced back to meet Fred's surprisingly intense gaze. "Fly safe Harry."
George nodded, "Careful out there."
Harry quirked a smile, "Thanks guys."
"Any time."
The doors opened then and the crowd roared in the stand. The cheers were dimly echoed by another rumble of thunder. Blue-white energy arced between clouds, but still the rain held. The Gryffindor team marched out with brooms in hand to meet Madame Hooch and the Slytherins on the center of the pitch.
Lee Jordan's commentary rang out through the still air. "Here we are at the final match for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup! There is certainly no love lost between these two teams and now there are only two questions on the mind of everyone here; Will the whether hold, and which of these teams will emerge victorious?" His remarks were underscored by yet another rumble of thunder. The harsh neon glow of lightning strobed again, harshly shading the faces around Harry.
Madame Hooch nodded to both teams, "Let's get started, shall we?" She gave the ball box her customary kick, sending both bludgers and the snitch sailing into the air. The Quaffle was tossed up in their wake and both teams rose up in pursuit.
Harry rose above the fray and his eyes darted around the pitch. He barely followed the close rapid scoring match. Malfoy was circling in frustration closer to the pitch.
Lightning inverted light and shadow. A man appeared in the center of the pitch, his features shrouded by a heavy black cowl. He thrust his right hand upward and flourished a wand in his other. The snitch darted out of nowhere and circled his head a few times before settling on his hand.
Lightning strobed twice more and now men in identical black robes were scattered throughout the stands. Students drew away with surprised gasps as attention focused on the man standing in the center of the pitch.
His upraised hand flexed, tendons on each claw-like finger snapping, then crushed the delicate snitch in a vice-like grip. Rain began to pour from the sky in sledgehammer torrents. The brightest flash of lightning yet blasted onto Harry's retinas and when it faded, all of the robed figures were standing in a ring around the first to appear. Wands appeared as one and a magically amplified voice rang out, "Kill them all, bring Potter's body to me."
Professor McGonagall snatched the magical megaphone from Lee Jordan and bellowed into it, "Professors, take your charges!"
Green curse blasts exploded outwards from the ring of Death Eaters and students began a panicked descent from the stands. Some professors went with them while others pulled out their own wands to launch a counter attack.
Harry heard an incoherent scream of rage and spun his broom in time to see Ryan Argano hurl himself over the edge of the Ravenclaw stand, guns blazing. His eyes closed he spun, hovering in the air, raining down catastrophic charges into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Madame Hooch hung back out of his range of fire and used her wand to try and pick off Death Eaters as they apparated out from under the barrage.
Ryan spun to track them and two fell under the slamming salvo of blue energy. He was traversing to find his next target when a high crack pierced the morning. Blood burst from Ryan's chest and his eyes shocked open with a gasp. His arms flew outward and both beautifully crafted Loranciados sailed away from him. Then, all of his innate airborne grace gone, he plummeted to the pitch below. Even if Harry had not become the focus of a tightening ring of green curse blasts, Ryan was too far and falling too fast for any hope of recovery. Harry dodged upward and spun away.
As he wove in and out of the flying curses, Harry caught a glimpse of a brown-haired boy grinning triumphantly as he positioned a Muggle rifle against his shoulder for a second shot. Harry rolled as another crack split the air and narrowly avoided the bullet. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, Martin Diggory?
Martin quickly loaded another shell and took aim again, but a figure hovered into view behind him. A blue blast tore through him and catapulted him forward to drop limply to the Quidditch pitch. The figure danced forward and opened up on the Death Eaters who remained below. Lightning highlighted red hair and closed eyes.
Harry watched the figure descend, "Oh God, Ron!"
Professor McGonagall soared up to meet him, "Harry, the Death Eaters are headed into the castle! Help us get them out!"
"Right!" He turned towards the front entrance but then his eyes widened in surprised realization. The winds surrounding it are too strong. His mind flashed back to the first week of school and his interrupted flight over the grounds. The North Tower!
He veered off towards it and Professor McGonagall followed shouting, "Where are you going?"
"To get the staff!'
She veered forward to cut him off, "No! I forbid it"
Harry grimly tightened his grip on the Firebolt, "Maybe, but you can't stop me."
The Firebolt burst forward and Harry pushed for all of its magnificent speed as he bolted forward through the whipping rain. A pillar of lightning slammed towards the ground and Harry narrowly avoided it. He felt his hair stand up as he passed too close to the charge. Another bolt slashed down in front of him and Harry narrowly avoided it and the next one.
The north tower was drawing nearer and the wind was fast developing into gale force gusts. Another blast of lightning cut him off from his goal. Harry spared a glance down at the center of the field and grimaced. Voldemort stood with hands upraised, chanting into the maelstrom. Three more arcs of lightning nearly fried Harry and he suddenly realized that this was no ordinary foul weather, but a magically controlled storm like the one that had damaged the staff in the first place.
Harry turned his face into the wind and cut towards the North tower. The grounds disappeared from beneath him to be replaced by a rising slate roof. The gusts of wind began to home in on them and Harry did his best to ride in their wakes as he began to circle the tower looking for an opening.
He realized he could see the staff, it was affixed to the north tower weather vane, canted at a bad angle. He had no time to consider it though as he dropped below another razor blast of wind, then darted above the next. Harry frantically searched for a way to break the pattern, then gasped in pain.
Fire burned in his shoulder and the spell mark began to glow with ember heat. Skin split away from the mark and it burned even hotter. Knowing he had little time, Harry pushed closer to the tower still. Flesh tore and blood splashed outward, Harry cried in pain. The searing spell mark burned a hole into his robes and starring at it Harry could actually see the malevolent bit of silver stuck near his bone.
With a grimace, Harry whipped out his wand and jammed it into his shoulder. "Locaticus Voldemort!" He bellowed and prodded the bit of silver as many times as he could before it burst straining from his shoulder and, still fighting towards him, slashed back towards the Quidditch pitch.
Blood poured from the gaping wound but Harry ignored it for the moment. Instead, he focused his attention even more on the peak of the North Tower. His eyes were half shut as he darted into the storm, flying by pure instinct. He detected slight changes of pressure and was able to dodge into the narrow gaps between bursts of wind which only grew more forceful as he circled closer and closer to his goal.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was most likely only a few minutes Harry burst into a column of still air surrounded by curtains of keening air. The staff was a beautiful piece of wood and metal. A long, polished mahogany pole with a glittering golden dragon's head affixed to the top. Strange marks were etched in a spiral pattern that traced a double helix up the staff. It's base was set in a faceted stone and Harry could see that it had been blasted a few degrees off center. He stepped towards it and wrapped his hands around it.
A pop sounded behind him. "Hello, Potter." Harry threw a glance over his shoulder and there was Voldemort, a nasty slash across his face. He held forward a tightly clenched fist and a buzzing whine emanated from it. Blood leaked between his white-knuckled fingers. "You sent me a present and I've brought it back."
Harry tightened his grip on the staff and jammed it down into its base. A blue glow pulsed through the amplification stone and Voldemort cried out in agony. He stumbled backwards and his hand opened in a spasm of pain. With a pop that was almost a tearing sound, Voldemort was gone.
But the deadly sliver remained. It flashed towards Harry and, seeing no other option he mounted his broom and hurled himself into the lethal currents. There was no chance to ride them or try and find a wake, the brutal gusts tossed his body around like a rag doll before spitting him out high above the north lawn. Metal hissed through the air behind him as he plummeted out of control towards the castle grounds.
Harry fought desperately for control and managed to level off his flight as he was nearing the ground. He was still going too fast and the world whipped by beneath him in a green and brown blur. The broom began to angle down as Harry desperately tried to shed some speed but it was no good. Suddenly something sharp sliced into his back and pitched him from his speeding broom.
The rushing ground leapt to meet him and all was darkness.
