A/N: Longer author's note at the bottom. Contains spoilers for Book 5. But
it's something that I need to explain. Oh, and this chapter is likely to
make you very mad. If you thought the last one was not good to read right
after eating, I warn you not to consume anything while reading this one.
"Aliens" gives me too much inspiration. This is going to be getting darker
for a while, just like the real series. I like flames, so if you feel like
sending one along, feel free. Extra points for those who recognize what the
title means and what I'm referring to.
Side note: Book 5 is roughly 121,000 words, while this monstrosity is currently around 140,000 (unfinished). I'm completely nuts. If you've made it this far, keep going. Please stick with me.
Disclaimer: Quote is not mine. HP is not mine. Belongs to the incomparable JK Rowling,, who some people think I am and others think copied parts of my story. Both are untrue (to my knowledge! *winks*). I still like the real ones better. Tori Black was mine, but I killed her off and now her inspiration has disowned me as a friend and human being and is plotting my death. Bring it on.
Chapter 27
Harry stood at the window watching the sun rise, the rays casting his face a ghastly blood red. *Blood has been spilled this night,* he thought wearily, then turned back to the room and the matter at hand. Wraith was pacing opposite him, and what was left of the Order watched them both somnolently.
"Were you deliberately trying to reach me?" Harry asked bluntly, and Wraith nodded with a sidelong glance. "I take it you didn't receive well." Harry snorted. "I could barely feel it, even when you had that bloody sword stuck in you. When I was right next to you I could barely hear anything."
Wraith continued pacing agitatedly. "Damn it," he fumed, "it's not enough that Voldemort basically stampeded over us this time. This should be impossible." Flitwick shook his head in confusion. "I'm lost. What's going on, and what's impossible?"
Wraith sighed. "I'm the real Harry Potter. He," here he gestured at Harry across the room, "is my clone, a magical extension of me. Basically I'm in two places at once; two bodies sharing one soul. He can sense what is happening to me, and vice versa, and when we rejoin I retain both sets of memories. But now," he shook his head with a little growl, "now we are having problems sensing each other. We're not communicating as we should, which is technically impossible since everything passes through a soul bond."
Harry watched him closely as Wraith stalked around the room, speaking in a quieter voice. "That's not the worst of it though. Harry here sometimes forgets he's the clone, and I forget I'm Harry at times."
Ron gaped at him. "How can you forget who you really are?" Wraith shrugged. "I've caught myself subconsciously referring to myself as Wraith, not Harry. Even when it was just one of me. Nearly signed the last Transfiguration test that way." McGonagall raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.
Hermione spoke up quietly. "You did mention on the train that whenever you are Wraith, it's like a whole other personality." She shifted her gaze between the two with some hesitancy in her eyes, then sighed. "You've developed two dominant and separate personalities. Harry," she pointed at the corresponding person," is the student, the prankster, the Quidditch player, and a fairly normal guy. Or as normal as he ever gets," she added with a quirky smile as Ron snorted.
"Wraith, on the other hand, is the warrior and the loner, the War Mage and Phoenix Lord with all the power behind those titles and the courage and control to use it." Hermione dropped her hand to her lap and regarded them seriously with concern radiating from her entire posture. "You used to be both these people integrated, but now . . ." she paused, then glanced warily at Wraith. "For example, why do you keep up the disguise when it's no longer needed?"
"Thank you for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Granger," Wraith said sarcastically, and she looked vaguely hurt. Before anyone else could react, Ron shot him a glare. "Shut up. She's our friend." He shook his head. "I didn't expect you to be this nasty this morning." Wraith favored him with a challenging glare. "Oh really? How did you expect me to be after last night's workout?"
Ron met his challenge. "What was that you said over the summer? Exercise releases endorphins, endorphins make you happy, and happy people don't kill people. Was that it?" Wraith stared right back at him as he said flatly, "I wasn't happy."
"And this is exactly what Hermione's talking about." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. "I mean, look at last night. I've never killed a human being before, on purpose at least, but last night you were setting them on fire and slicing them to shreds. I can handle the demons, but Death Eaters . . . they may be scum, but they're still human. Last night . . .frankly, it sickened me, and even more that you seemed to enjoy it."
He continued to pace the room, running a hand absentmindedly over his face repeatedly. His voice was unusually quiet. "I see this and I have to wonder . . . which of us is the real one?" he gestured jerkily, agitation fairly shouting from his body language. "Harry would never do that, kill a living being and enjoy it. But . . . really, you're not Harry . . . and neither am I." He paused. "At first we thought I was the one changing, but I think . . . maybe it's you."
Dead silence enveloped the room as Wraith and Harry stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Snape broke the tension with an uncomplimentary snort. "So we have two of you running around with personality disorders and mental problems. That explains so much." Quickly he became the target for twin icy glares, but he retained his sneer unfazed. Wraith snapped back, "Do not interrupt me when I'm talking to myself."
Dumbledore decided that intervention was necessary. "Harry, both of you, what happens when you rejoin? Do the personalities remain separate?" Harry glanced at his double. "Well, we haven't had any troubles with that so far, but the problem is escalating, so I don't know if that will remain so." Dumbledore suggested gently, "Maybe you should try it."
Wraith sighed as he dropped his disguise so he became Harry again, then they stepped toward each other and with a little magical interference blurring the two forms, they became one Harry again. He stood there perfectly still with his eyes closed for several long moments, then exhaled heavily as he glanced around at the slightly worried faces. "It took me a bit longer than normal to reconcile the two memories, but I don't have any extra voices hovering around in the back of my consciousness," he assured them.
Shaking his head, he brushed some hair out of his eyes and said, "I'm not going to conjure up the clone again unless I really need to. It's just getting way too complicated." As Harry flopped down in his seat, he muttered, "I wish I could talk to Eva." Ginny overheard him and glanced over curiously. "Why can't you?" Harry frowned, "Yet another problem. Our link is blocked, and I can't reach her. It's like getting the busy signal on the telephone."
He yawned widely, hiding it unsuccessfully behind his hand. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get some sleep." Dumbledore waved him off and the informal meeting came to an end.
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Hermione found Ron later that day in the greenhouse, tending to their thriving and happy rhys plant. He let the plant cuddle his finger, leaves glowing brightly as he watered the soil around the base. She smiled. "It really does like you. I think we'll receive full marks for this." Her boyfriend just nodded distractedly, mind clearly elsewhere at the moment, and she sighed a little bit.
"How's your family doing? I haven't seen any of them since this morning." Ron huffed as he hoisted the bag of manure up on the table. "Well, we're intact as least. Charlie's going to have a limp for the rest of his life from that curse." Hermione nodded. "I helped treat him in the Hospital Wing. He actually pinched off his own femoral artery to keep from bleeding to death."
Ron gave a little snort. "He's absolutely insane, but I love him anyways. The twins, well . . . Tori was their trainer, and I think George had something going with her. They're taking it pretty hard, especially since she was Kissed before she died. George went back to the store this morning and is throwing himself into his work more than ever."
He watered the plant carefully as he spoke. "Bill was hit by the Cruciatus briefly and picked up a few new scars, but he's fine. Mum and Dad have several new gray hairs each, and she's still a bit mad at me for sending Ginny in." Hermione frowned at that. "Why? Ginny performed wonderfully Took out her three targets, then six more as I understand."
Ron wrinkled his nose, but whether it was from his mum or the occasional whiff of perfumes from the storeroom was uncertain. "Yeah, but she came back injured. Some hex marks and a big slash on her shoulder from a graze by a Severing charm. Mum was having kittens over my shoulder the entire time, then she turned and yelled at me for putting Ginny, 'her precious baby girl,' in danger."
He shook his head wearily. "She puts herself in danger with no help from me, and if she had heard Mum calling her a baby she'd . . . well, you could sell tickets to that." Hermione nodded. "I know, and you did what needed to be done. Ginny's the best at what she does, and even Snape's been giving her a few pointers, wrapped in insults of course."
As if speaking of her conjured her like a genie, Ginny suddenly dashed into the greenhouse full tilt, nearly colliding with Hermione as she skidded to a halt. "Ron," she panted, "does Sprout have any prepared rhys on hand?" Frowning, her brother nodded. "Yeah. She demonstrated it for us in class. Why?"
Ginny regained her breath and explained, talking as fast as Hermione when excited and losing her breath again. "I've been using the new security devices that the twins gave me, so I overheard that some of them had received letters from theirs parents that were kind of strange, and they kept talking in whispers but I heard them planning a meeting tomorrow in one of the dungeons."
She paused to heave in much needed air to continue speaking. "Most are Death Eaters or leaning that way, so I need to get in there to see what they're planning, but they've got their own Security charms in place that detect most spying methods including Invisibility charms or cloaks, but they aren't calibrated for rhys because it's rare, and that's the most effective, so I need some now and I need your help to get it."
Ron took a moment to assimilate her rapid babble then glanced at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, earning a shrug in return. "Dumbledore did say any means possible." He gestured at his girlfriend." She's better at breaking and entering than I am."
Hermione quirked a little smile, then led Ginny over to Professor Sprout's office in the next greenhouse with wand drawn to start undoing the Locking charms on it. Ron smiled and went back to work, ignoring them so that if questioned later, he could honestly say he never saw a thing.
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Safely concealed by the magical properties of the rhys, Ginny crept quietly through the dungeons following a pair of sixth year Slytherin Death Eaters. They had called a meeting together, and she was determined to hear exactly what they were planning. Twisting their way through stone labyrinths, they stopped at a moldy section of blank wall and muttered a password, and with a muted groan the wall slid aside.
The Slytherins entered, Ginny tailing right on their heels unnoticed. The well-adorned room was already mostly full, and she busied herself for the next few minutes finding a free corner to stand in without being bumped into and discovered. Soon enough, one seventh year she tentatively identified as Steve Foloth called for everyone's attention.
"Listen up. I know most of you heard from your parents about last night's attack. This afternoon I received official orders for us." A low hum of speculative conversation grew until he scowled and tapped his foot sharply on the stone floor.
"The Aurors have been carrying new weapons for a while, and the search in the aftermath of the destruction of DMLE Headquarters revealed their supplier." He drew in a deep breath, relishing the suspense the pause built. "Fred and George Weasley."
Ginny stifled a gasp as a loud buzz of comments sprang from that pronouncement. Foloth seemed pleased at being the one to cause such a ruckus. "Our orders: A few of us know the secret passages out to Hogsmeade. Our Master recovered some unused munitions from the field and sent them to us. We are to plant them around the joke shop and conceal them, then wait for the signal to set them off. We have one week, and then the Weasley twins are in bloody bits along with their inventions."
A ragged cheer answered his enthusiasm, but Ginny simply felt sick. She had to warn the twins and the Order. She began to carefully make her way towards the door when Foloth suddenly asked, "Who here has the most powerful control over the Imperius?" Perhaps half a dozen hands went up including Malfoy's, and Foloth examined them critically with a slight sneer on his face. Ginny decided it would be prudent to stick around for a while longer.
"You," he pointed at a fellow seventh year, a girl with short-cropped auburn hair, "have a special assignment. Put the Imperius on a house elf and have it deposit this poison," he held up a small vial of clear liquid, "into Dumbledore's candy dish. The old fool won't know what hit him."
Several Slytherins smirked venomously, and if anything Ginny felt even worse. It was like a dark aura enveloped the room to make her physically sick; she wanted, no, needed to leave immediately.
Not as careful as before with her need to get out of that room, Ginny stumbled towards the door around the milling Slytherins. Unfortunately she had to wait until another decided to leave, because the door opening unexpectedly would be a dead giveaway that someone was not supposed to be there. Standing there trying to control nervous fidgets, by the time two girls decided it was time to head back Ginny was literally itching to run out of there.
Once out in the corridor she bolted, glad she had the foresight to wear only socks on her feet so that she was nearly soundless. Ron on the other hand probably wouldn't be too happy with her, since his freshly laundered socks were now covered with dirt and muck from the dungeons. Only when she was several floors up and on the opposite side of the castle did she stop, panting as she leaned against the frame of portrait.
The horrifying information she had learned burned in her brain, and she knew that she had to tell Dumbldore immediately if they were going to stop anything. Having a fixed course of action let her prioritize. Using her handkerchief, she rubbed off the small patch of rhys that kept her invisible, straightened her appearance and settled her breathing.
Ginny turned to head down the corridor, but a pair of strong arms grabbed her and spun her back into the wall. Startled, she looked up into the dark brown eyes of Steve Foloth leering back at her. "Pretty little thing like yourself shouldn't wander the castle so late at night by yourself. You never know what evil lurks in these corridors."
"I bet you're well acquainted with many of them," she retorted, nearly spitting fire. "Now get your hands off me." His smirk only grew and he leaned in closer, letting his breath waft over her cheeks. "Oh, but it's my duty as a Prefect to teach the younger students the rules. Right now you need a lesson."
His hands shifted on her arms, obviously heading elsewhere, but Ginny wrenched free, reared back and punched as hard as she could. Her fist impacted his jaw, and she distinctly heard a crack as the bone broke under the force of the blow. As his head whipped backwards, she growled, "No. Now it's my turn to teach. Rule number one: don't touch me."
She balled her other fist and delivered a quick one-two to his solar plexus. "Rule number two: don't piss me off." Foloth had doubled over winded with both arms wrapped around his middle, so Ginny brought her knee up to click his teeth together with a sharp blow to the chin. With a muffled cry of pain he dropped to the floor. "Rule number three: don't mess with my family."
Vindictively she delivered a kick to his ribs hard enough to crack a couple, and he moaned pitifully, curling up in a fetal position protectively. Ginny let a wicked grin cross her lips as she watched him, then casually said, "and rule number four: do obey all other rules."
Blowing out a breath, she cast a quick Memory charm on him so that he wouldn't remember the incident, but as she walked away she made sure to stomp one foot down on his crotch. His eyes crossed and began watering fiercely as a strangled sound rasped from his throat, and he rolled into a very tight ball with hands trying to protect and comfort the damaged goods.
Smirking to herself, Ginny walked quickly down the corridor and headed straight for the Headmaster's office. Two corridors away, she heard running feet behind her, and instinctively she drew her wand and quickly flattened herself into the shadows by a statue. Two younger girls from Hufflepuff ran past and she watched as they disappeared around the far corner.
Peeking out to se if the coast was clear, she pocketed her wand again and came out from her hiding place, reflecting that she really was getting paranoid, if understandably so. Shaking her head, Ginny started once again down the corridor, but a rasp of cloth on wood made her spin back around, hand scrabbling for her wand. It was yanked out of her grasp, and she looked up at her attacker.
Malfoy stood there, wand trained on her as he clucked disapprovingly. "Now now little Weasel, you don't think we'd let you get away with that?" Ginny glared at him as she asked, "Get away with what? And give me back my wand. Now." He smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Or are you playing?" He raked his eyes over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "I can see why Foloth wanted to teach you a lesson."
She scowled and retorted, "And that's why I had to teach him one. Now give me back my wand and bugger off, ferret boy." He shook his head. "I don't think so. You know a little too much for me to just let you walk away."
He raised both wands, but as she was preparing to spring at him they both heard echoing footsteps coming their direction, as well as a "meow." Filch and Mrs. Norris. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and whispered harshly, "We'll finish this later, but for now . . . Obliviate!"
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After the rest of the school learned about the attack via the Daily Prophet, more and more students were expressing concern that if the Dark forces could destroy one of the most heavily guarded departments in the Ministry, what chance did Hogwarts have? More than one Common Room fire burned late into the night as the occupants discussed and theorized and worried themselves.
Finally Dumbledore felt the need to address the issues one night after dinner and answered as many questions as he could about their safety. His comforting presence seemed to calm the rising panic that stifled many, even though his answers were not always what they wanted to hear.
In the end he simply said, "There is no place truly safe any more as long as Voldemort is allowed to run free. However, Hogwarts is safer than most, not because of her many wards and defenses, but simply because I know that for many of you this is your home. We will not let our home be overtaken and destroyed without a fight. Voldemort may inspire fear, but he also feels it when he thinks of who is here, ready to oppose him."
Several people gazed significantly at the headmaster and at Harry, who was picking at his napkin with his fork and not saying a word or meeting any eyes.
The next two weeks passes almost without incident in Hogwarts, although outside both forces were gearing up for the next major assault. Unfortunately, demons are much easier to replace than Aurors, and harder to kill to boot.
But the spies reported only routine movements at the Ministry and so forth, and Ginny hadn't found anything on the Slytherin Death Eaters to report besides the fact that they were looking particularly smug lately, and Foloth was in the Hospital Wing for two days. Still, Harry went through the motions of his routine unable to shake the feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
That feeling culminated one Wednesday morning when a third year girl ran into the Great Hall at breakfast shrieking with terror. Professor McGonagall shot up from her seat and hustled over to her, trying to calm her enough to be coherent. Finally the girl sobbed out, "Dead . . . she's dead . . .up on the second floor loo . . . she's dead!!"
McGonagall shushed her a bit. "Do you mean Moaning Myrtle? She's been dead for fifty years." The third year stamped her foot furiously, tears spilling down her front. "No! Not the ghost! There's a dead body up there right now! She's been murdered!" McGonagall paled, and Harry threw a quick glance across the table to Ron and Hermione, then all three followed their Head of House to the infamous corridor.
Ron was the first to spot it. Just like that Halloween in second year, foot high letters in blood scrawled across the wall. "ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." The sight of those words filled Harry with foreboding, and he strode over to the lavatory door and threw it open. The sight immediately made him sick. Behind him he vaguely registered Ron's anguished groans through the roaring in his ears.
Ginny lay sprawled on the wet floor, blank eyes staring at the ceiling with mouth open and features slack. Her school uniform was shredded, hanging off her in ragged pieces and mattered with her blood. Red streaks splashed over the walls and floor testified to the unimaginable torture they much have inflicted on her.
Harry swallowed hard as he approached slowly, aware of the gathered professors and students stunned into silence behind him at the door. He knelt down by her side and gently touched her hair, spread over the floor in tangled knots but still Weasley red and silky. He passed a hand over her face, closing her eyes and mouth to give her a semblance of peace.
Glancing away, he saw the messages scribbled on a couple of the mirrors. "Little Weasel stuck her nose where it didn't belong." "But who will notice if they lose one of their brood? They have extras." The next one over was more personal. "Was she saving herself for you, Potter? Too bad. She was good."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden hot tears, rage building dangerously high within him and aching for violent release. She didn't deserve this. No one did. And when he found out exactly who did this (and he had a pretty good idea who), he swore that he would rip them apart slowly and painfully.
Ron knelt on the floor just inside the doorway, face covered by his hands but tears leaking through as he suppressed sobs. Hermione knelt by Ron and wrapped her arms around him, cradling him to her as he shook violently. Harry's heart wrenched for his friend's pain, for the whole family. He knew what it was like to lose Sirius, but a sister in such a gruesome fashion?
Somebody had to pay, and instinctively he looked for Dumbledore, expecting to see him standing beside McGonagall with fury radiating from him. But he wasn't there. Harry got to his feet and rushed to the door, scanning the corridor before whirling on McGonagall. "Where's Dumbledore?" he demanded, and her eyes grew wide as she realized the Headmaster was not present.
Dread coiling in his stomach, he pushed past the professors and sprinted down the corridor at full speed for Dumbledore's office. Pounding footsteps behind him let him know that at least two other people were following him. Snape and Remus were right behind him as Harry fairly threw himself up the spiraling stairs and burst into the large office, where he skidded to a halt. Snape winced, not from colliding with Remus as the lycanthrope also drew up short, and muttered almost despairingly, "Oh God, Albus."
Albus Dumbledore sat upright at his desk, but the twinkling blue eyes were glazed over in death and fixed on the trio staring back at the body. His ancient face was pale as marble, and wrinkled hands were clenched into withered claws atop the desk. From his gaping mouth dripped a thick black ichor that ran down his silver beard in long dark streaks.
In front of his desk lay a crumpled figure in a pool of dark blood and lemon drops. Harry recognized one mustard yellow sock and groaned, "Dobby!" The house elf's eyes were wide and filled with tears of shame to mix with the blood. He clutched the knife he had used to cut his own throat in one scrawny hand, a house elf's ultimate penance.
Harry buried his face in his hands and staggered back out to sit heavily on one of the stairs. Remus placed a hand on his head as if to lend them both strength, and Snape stood perfectly still with fists clenched furiously, face an impassive mask with strangely glittering eyes.
The day was about to get worse.
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Fred Weasley whistled a bit as he opened up Weasley Wizard Wheezes at number 93 in Diagon Alley for the day. While the joke business suffered with the economy, it was their weapons work with the Ministry and the Order that really kept the bills paid and shops opened. They had talked about closing the Hogsmeade store temporarily, but the extra lab space was needed and besides, it felt like giving in. Weasleys never give in, not while their hair is still red and they have a fighting chance.
He wandered back to the cash register to make sure it was set and stocked, ran a practiced eye over the shelves in an inventory check, then headed for their lab. Another prank was brewing, right alongside two experimental contraptions that may turn out to be deadly if only they could perfect the spell. So far it wasn't going so well, as the purple-scorched walls testified to.
Right now it could only give you orange boils in some pretty interesting places, as well as make your nose hair grow long and purple. How that happened, Fred had no idea, but thought that if the war ended before he could work it out, he could make a different sort of killing with it in the store.
Fred checked the security measures just in case anyone had been nosey overnight, but he had only caught a couple of cockroaches in the Stun Trap. Satisfied, he glanced at the clock and walked back out front to officially open the store for business.
Just as he was turning the little sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN, he caught a glimpse of movement outside. Instinctively Fred looked up to see a man across the street aiming a tube right at him, fingering a button. His first thought was, "Hey, that looks like one of mine." Then his mind caught up, and with wide horrified eyes he watched the man punch the button twice.
Statistically "oh shit" are the most popular last words spoken by people about to die very violent deaths, and Fred Weasley joined this numerical calculation just before his entire world blew up in an explosion that rocked Diagon Alley to its foundations.
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George Weasley sat in the back of their Hogsmeade store sipping a butterbeer as he tested a new weapon, inspiration courtesy of Harry the human arsenal. He smiled as a Bludger shook under the restraints, then he backed away as he released the bindings and placed a Shield charm in front of him. The Bludger flew up then pelted forward across the room before it exploded, flinging shrapnel in all directions.
The shield protected George until it settled, and then he examined the remains with a critically appraising eye. The pieces were sharp and jagged, and the blast radius promised to exceed that of their testing room. Tori would have been pleased.
Suddenly the good cheer at the success of the Ballistic Bludgers fell short as melancholy enveloped him. He missed Tori horribly; her sense of humor, dedication, fiery spirit, and passion for life, not to mention her enthusiastic kisses.
He smiled sadly at the memories, willing thoughts of other Kisses out of his head, as he wandered back to the front to open the store carrying his butterbeer, drinking deeply and almost hoping it was something stronger, like firewhiskey.
Just as he was turning the little sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN, he felt something, as if his world and his soul had just been violently torn in half. He staggered, incomplete for the first time in his entire life, instantly knowing the truth that brought tears to his eyes. Half of him was missing. Fred was gone.
He didn't have long to mourn before a familiar rushing sound filled his ears, one he recognized from many hours working with it in the lab. Sighing, George closed his eyes as fire erupted and enveloped the whole shop in an instant. The air superheated and imploded, bringing the whole store down in flaming ruins with a crash that echoed up to Hogwarts.
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Percy glanced up from his filing deep in the offices of the Ministry as he felt a slight shudder run through the floor, and an ink bottle rattled a bit before it fell and splattered. Frowning, he waved his wand to clean it up then straightened his parchments before rising to investigate. The Ministry was supposed to be the safest place in the wizarding world, next to Hogwarts, but unless the Department of Experimental Charms managed to blow up their whole floor a la Fred and George, something was seriously wrong.
He peeked out into the corridor and noticed most of the other occupants of the floor doing the same with confusion. One man who Percy only knew as Brisby noticed him, shrugged and popped back into his office. Percy considered doing the same, but a definite unease led him to leave his office and head toward the lift.
He punched the button and entered the rattling gold cage to ascend to the main floor. Security there would know more about whatever that was than other floors. Suddenly over the racket of the lift Percy heard a sound like the doors opening several floors up, so he glanced towards the ceiling curiously.
He froze, and then with a roaring rushing noise the pure green fireball enveloped the lift and vaporized it in an instant. Undeterred, it continued its destructive path downwards, blasting open the doors on each floor and incinerating the first 10 feet in each corridor.
Meanwhile on the main floor, the security personnel lay dead around their station as the first dozen demons cavorted past and headed for the offices. Right behind them were two dozen Death Eaters with wands drawn. One, before he sealed the main entrance to the Ministry, glanced back and could just make out the smoke rising from Diagon Alley three blocks away.
Smiling wickedly, Lucius Malfoy ducked inside and stalked towards the remaining operational lift, fingering his wand as he headed for the deepest level, the Minister's office.
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Harry barely heard the distant explosion from Hogsmeade, intent as he was on his destination and the rage boiling black inside him. Ron stalked next to him, face a furious red with glaring blue eyes as he twirled his wand purposefully. They had a job to do.
The professors had watched them go without comment, pain reflected in their own eyes, and Hermione had simply brushed Ron's shoulder and whispered, "Don't do anything you might regret," but hadn't stopped either of them. The teens were fairly running towards the dungeons, feet recalling the path to the Slytherin Common Room from Christmas second year.
Stopping outside the blank section of wall, Harry hissed, "Open," in Parseltongue and the door obligingly slid open. Bursting in, Ron trained his wand at the confused pack of younger students in the Common Room, demanding harshly, "Where are they?" They looked startled to see a lone Gryffindor invading their sanctuary, but it quickly turned to terror when Harry followed him in, nearly glowing with rage.
"W-where's w-who?" a plucky third year stammered, cowering back as Ron's wand pointed in his direction. "The Death Eaters. We know the older students are. Now where are they?" he snarled.
A first year girl burst into tears. "T-they t-told us not to t-tell!" she wailed. "T-they left!" she was promptly subject to a dozen hands clamping over her mouth as her classmates shushed her.
Harry drew his wand. "Tell us, or I will put you under the Imperius and make you tell." This was said in a perfectly flat monotone that crawled with sinister malice. A small brown-haired second year boy caved. "They just left," he muttered. "They were heading for the old Potions classroom two floors down. They have Portkeys down there to leave Hogwarts."
Ron turned without a word and sprinted out the door, but Harry glared at them all for several long seconds. "I'll have you know," he said coldly, "that your classmates have just murdered three people. You have been aiding them, and are therefore partially responsible." He held their pale-faced attention as he paused, fingers flexing on his wand. "Someone else will determine punishment."
Satisfied that they were sufficiently scared witless, he turned and followed Ron at top speed, hoping to catch at least a couple of the murdering scum. He literally saw red as he caught up with his friend as they flew down the stairs, fury burning brightly in their hearts. Seeing a corner of a robe disappear into one of the deep abandoned classrooms, they doubled their speed and burst through the door.
Already most of them were gone, for only ten people were left in the room clutching their Portkeys and counting down. Harry fired off a flurry of spells that destroyed their Portkeys, and cursing the Death Eaters dropped the melting bits of bits of junk from their burned hands. Scanning quickly, Ron cursed under his breath when he realized Draco Malfoy and his goons had already made good their escape.
Then he fired off a Disarming spell as the remainder all dove for their wands. Harry went for a more direct approach and froze them all in their places, then stalked forward and glared into their eyes in turn. "Listen up you filth," Ron growled as Harry continued stalking around the room. "You've crossed the line and managed to piss off not only me, but also Harry here."
Harry snarled, "You picked the wrong people to mess with." He shot a Severing charm at a seventh year's hand, and if he hadn't been frozen in place her would have screamed in agony as his fingers all fell off, lopped off cleanly and spurting blood. "The professors know we're here and don't care." He glanced around, then commented, "You picked a perfect place."
He bared his teeth in a hideous grin. "Down here, no one will hear you scream." Pointing his wand at another Death Eater, he incanted venomously, "Crucio!"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: On the night on June 20th, 2003, I was not among the masses gathered outside the major bookstores eagerly awaiting the release of the much- anticipated Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Instead, after work I drove by one such gathered hoard with a contemptuous sneer worthy of Snape and drove to my writing spot, where I proceeded to scribble out this chapter even though I was already planning on sitting on it for at least a week or two for rewrites and to let everything settle after such a momentous night.
The next day, in a completely unexpected twist of fate, I picked up a copy of Book 5 and, in a cataclysmic failure of self-control, spent 20 hours reading it, stopping many times for real life intrusions and to release fits of anger. That book made me so mad!! Anyway, then I had to digest it, let settle, then pick it apart by rereading it four more times over the next week.
So now that that's settled, I must say I never thought that Book 5 would help my story any. But I was pleasantly surprised, not only for what I already have posted but also for what I have in the works. I never thought I would be happy about killing Sirius off, but now I find I was only about 2 months off on my timing. Although I did scar some people irrevocably, since their comfort from my fic was the fact that it wasn't real and their belief that JKR would never go that route. Nope, she took a different one, but same destination. Maybe that accidental inspiration wasn't so accidental. I am a Legilimens! Or at least a psycho with acutely accurate ESP.
Since it is A/U and I'm up to sixth year, I will continue this story as I initially planned it before OoTP was released, which, among the concepts proven obviously wrong (which I'm actually happy about), happens to contain some parallels to Book 5 but is the product of my imagination. I have the dated outlines to prove it. Hopefully many things will continue to surprise you; I am working hard to keep this fairly original despite the fact that it is fanfiction. Thank you. Oh, and if I had a choice, I'd go back and rewrite the beginning few chapters, because they were written over a year ago now and I think they suck big time. But hopefully I've improved as much as I'd like to think I have. I endeavor for a quality story, and that's why the chapters are farther apart than the original two-three days postings.
Who else thinks Harry needs some anger management classes? Or a Prozac? Okay, now I'm rambling. I like to talk. I'll shut up and go write.
Side note: Book 5 is roughly 121,000 words, while this monstrosity is currently around 140,000 (unfinished). I'm completely nuts. If you've made it this far, keep going. Please stick with me.
Disclaimer: Quote is not mine. HP is not mine. Belongs to the incomparable JK Rowling,, who some people think I am and others think copied parts of my story. Both are untrue (to my knowledge! *winks*). I still like the real ones better. Tori Black was mine, but I killed her off and now her inspiration has disowned me as a friend and human being and is plotting my death. Bring it on.
Chapter 27
Harry stood at the window watching the sun rise, the rays casting his face a ghastly blood red. *Blood has been spilled this night,* he thought wearily, then turned back to the room and the matter at hand. Wraith was pacing opposite him, and what was left of the Order watched them both somnolently.
"Were you deliberately trying to reach me?" Harry asked bluntly, and Wraith nodded with a sidelong glance. "I take it you didn't receive well." Harry snorted. "I could barely feel it, even when you had that bloody sword stuck in you. When I was right next to you I could barely hear anything."
Wraith continued pacing agitatedly. "Damn it," he fumed, "it's not enough that Voldemort basically stampeded over us this time. This should be impossible." Flitwick shook his head in confusion. "I'm lost. What's going on, and what's impossible?"
Wraith sighed. "I'm the real Harry Potter. He," here he gestured at Harry across the room, "is my clone, a magical extension of me. Basically I'm in two places at once; two bodies sharing one soul. He can sense what is happening to me, and vice versa, and when we rejoin I retain both sets of memories. But now," he shook his head with a little growl, "now we are having problems sensing each other. We're not communicating as we should, which is technically impossible since everything passes through a soul bond."
Harry watched him closely as Wraith stalked around the room, speaking in a quieter voice. "That's not the worst of it though. Harry here sometimes forgets he's the clone, and I forget I'm Harry at times."
Ron gaped at him. "How can you forget who you really are?" Wraith shrugged. "I've caught myself subconsciously referring to myself as Wraith, not Harry. Even when it was just one of me. Nearly signed the last Transfiguration test that way." McGonagall raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.
Hermione spoke up quietly. "You did mention on the train that whenever you are Wraith, it's like a whole other personality." She shifted her gaze between the two with some hesitancy in her eyes, then sighed. "You've developed two dominant and separate personalities. Harry," she pointed at the corresponding person," is the student, the prankster, the Quidditch player, and a fairly normal guy. Or as normal as he ever gets," she added with a quirky smile as Ron snorted.
"Wraith, on the other hand, is the warrior and the loner, the War Mage and Phoenix Lord with all the power behind those titles and the courage and control to use it." Hermione dropped her hand to her lap and regarded them seriously with concern radiating from her entire posture. "You used to be both these people integrated, but now . . ." she paused, then glanced warily at Wraith. "For example, why do you keep up the disguise when it's no longer needed?"
"Thank you for the psychoanalysis, Dr. Granger," Wraith said sarcastically, and she looked vaguely hurt. Before anyone else could react, Ron shot him a glare. "Shut up. She's our friend." He shook his head. "I didn't expect you to be this nasty this morning." Wraith favored him with a challenging glare. "Oh really? How did you expect me to be after last night's workout?"
Ron met his challenge. "What was that you said over the summer? Exercise releases endorphins, endorphins make you happy, and happy people don't kill people. Was that it?" Wraith stared right back at him as he said flatly, "I wasn't happy."
"And this is exactly what Hermione's talking about." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off a headache. "I mean, look at last night. I've never killed a human being before, on purpose at least, but last night you were setting them on fire and slicing them to shreds. I can handle the demons, but Death Eaters . . . they may be scum, but they're still human. Last night . . .frankly, it sickened me, and even more that you seemed to enjoy it."
He continued to pace the room, running a hand absentmindedly over his face repeatedly. His voice was unusually quiet. "I see this and I have to wonder . . . which of us is the real one?" he gestured jerkily, agitation fairly shouting from his body language. "Harry would never do that, kill a living being and enjoy it. But . . . really, you're not Harry . . . and neither am I." He paused. "At first we thought I was the one changing, but I think . . . maybe it's you."
Dead silence enveloped the room as Wraith and Harry stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. Snape broke the tension with an uncomplimentary snort. "So we have two of you running around with personality disorders and mental problems. That explains so much." Quickly he became the target for twin icy glares, but he retained his sneer unfazed. Wraith snapped back, "Do not interrupt me when I'm talking to myself."
Dumbledore decided that intervention was necessary. "Harry, both of you, what happens when you rejoin? Do the personalities remain separate?" Harry glanced at his double. "Well, we haven't had any troubles with that so far, but the problem is escalating, so I don't know if that will remain so." Dumbledore suggested gently, "Maybe you should try it."
Wraith sighed as he dropped his disguise so he became Harry again, then they stepped toward each other and with a little magical interference blurring the two forms, they became one Harry again. He stood there perfectly still with his eyes closed for several long moments, then exhaled heavily as he glanced around at the slightly worried faces. "It took me a bit longer than normal to reconcile the two memories, but I don't have any extra voices hovering around in the back of my consciousness," he assured them.
Shaking his head, he brushed some hair out of his eyes and said, "I'm not going to conjure up the clone again unless I really need to. It's just getting way too complicated." As Harry flopped down in his seat, he muttered, "I wish I could talk to Eva." Ginny overheard him and glanced over curiously. "Why can't you?" Harry frowned, "Yet another problem. Our link is blocked, and I can't reach her. It's like getting the busy signal on the telephone."
He yawned widely, hiding it unsuccessfully behind his hand. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get some sleep." Dumbledore waved him off and the informal meeting came to an end.
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Hermione found Ron later that day in the greenhouse, tending to their thriving and happy rhys plant. He let the plant cuddle his finger, leaves glowing brightly as he watered the soil around the base. She smiled. "It really does like you. I think we'll receive full marks for this." Her boyfriend just nodded distractedly, mind clearly elsewhere at the moment, and she sighed a little bit.
"How's your family doing? I haven't seen any of them since this morning." Ron huffed as he hoisted the bag of manure up on the table. "Well, we're intact as least. Charlie's going to have a limp for the rest of his life from that curse." Hermione nodded. "I helped treat him in the Hospital Wing. He actually pinched off his own femoral artery to keep from bleeding to death."
Ron gave a little snort. "He's absolutely insane, but I love him anyways. The twins, well . . . Tori was their trainer, and I think George had something going with her. They're taking it pretty hard, especially since she was Kissed before she died. George went back to the store this morning and is throwing himself into his work more than ever."
He watered the plant carefully as he spoke. "Bill was hit by the Cruciatus briefly and picked up a few new scars, but he's fine. Mum and Dad have several new gray hairs each, and she's still a bit mad at me for sending Ginny in." Hermione frowned at that. "Why? Ginny performed wonderfully Took out her three targets, then six more as I understand."
Ron wrinkled his nose, but whether it was from his mum or the occasional whiff of perfumes from the storeroom was uncertain. "Yeah, but she came back injured. Some hex marks and a big slash on her shoulder from a graze by a Severing charm. Mum was having kittens over my shoulder the entire time, then she turned and yelled at me for putting Ginny, 'her precious baby girl,' in danger."
He shook his head wearily. "She puts herself in danger with no help from me, and if she had heard Mum calling her a baby she'd . . . well, you could sell tickets to that." Hermione nodded. "I know, and you did what needed to be done. Ginny's the best at what she does, and even Snape's been giving her a few pointers, wrapped in insults of course."
As if speaking of her conjured her like a genie, Ginny suddenly dashed into the greenhouse full tilt, nearly colliding with Hermione as she skidded to a halt. "Ron," she panted, "does Sprout have any prepared rhys on hand?" Frowning, her brother nodded. "Yeah. She demonstrated it for us in class. Why?"
Ginny regained her breath and explained, talking as fast as Hermione when excited and losing her breath again. "I've been using the new security devices that the twins gave me, so I overheard that some of them had received letters from theirs parents that were kind of strange, and they kept talking in whispers but I heard them planning a meeting tomorrow in one of the dungeons."
She paused to heave in much needed air to continue speaking. "Most are Death Eaters or leaning that way, so I need to get in there to see what they're planning, but they've got their own Security charms in place that detect most spying methods including Invisibility charms or cloaks, but they aren't calibrated for rhys because it's rare, and that's the most effective, so I need some now and I need your help to get it."
Ron took a moment to assimilate her rapid babble then glanced at Hermione with a raised eyebrow, earning a shrug in return. "Dumbledore did say any means possible." He gestured at his girlfriend." She's better at breaking and entering than I am."
Hermione quirked a little smile, then led Ginny over to Professor Sprout's office in the next greenhouse with wand drawn to start undoing the Locking charms on it. Ron smiled and went back to work, ignoring them so that if questioned later, he could honestly say he never saw a thing.
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Safely concealed by the magical properties of the rhys, Ginny crept quietly through the dungeons following a pair of sixth year Slytherin Death Eaters. They had called a meeting together, and she was determined to hear exactly what they were planning. Twisting their way through stone labyrinths, they stopped at a moldy section of blank wall and muttered a password, and with a muted groan the wall slid aside.
The Slytherins entered, Ginny tailing right on their heels unnoticed. The well-adorned room was already mostly full, and she busied herself for the next few minutes finding a free corner to stand in without being bumped into and discovered. Soon enough, one seventh year she tentatively identified as Steve Foloth called for everyone's attention.
"Listen up. I know most of you heard from your parents about last night's attack. This afternoon I received official orders for us." A low hum of speculative conversation grew until he scowled and tapped his foot sharply on the stone floor.
"The Aurors have been carrying new weapons for a while, and the search in the aftermath of the destruction of DMLE Headquarters revealed their supplier." He drew in a deep breath, relishing the suspense the pause built. "Fred and George Weasley."
Ginny stifled a gasp as a loud buzz of comments sprang from that pronouncement. Foloth seemed pleased at being the one to cause such a ruckus. "Our orders: A few of us know the secret passages out to Hogsmeade. Our Master recovered some unused munitions from the field and sent them to us. We are to plant them around the joke shop and conceal them, then wait for the signal to set them off. We have one week, and then the Weasley twins are in bloody bits along with their inventions."
A ragged cheer answered his enthusiasm, but Ginny simply felt sick. She had to warn the twins and the Order. She began to carefully make her way towards the door when Foloth suddenly asked, "Who here has the most powerful control over the Imperius?" Perhaps half a dozen hands went up including Malfoy's, and Foloth examined them critically with a slight sneer on his face. Ginny decided it would be prudent to stick around for a while longer.
"You," he pointed at a fellow seventh year, a girl with short-cropped auburn hair, "have a special assignment. Put the Imperius on a house elf and have it deposit this poison," he held up a small vial of clear liquid, "into Dumbledore's candy dish. The old fool won't know what hit him."
Several Slytherins smirked venomously, and if anything Ginny felt even worse. It was like a dark aura enveloped the room to make her physically sick; she wanted, no, needed to leave immediately.
Not as careful as before with her need to get out of that room, Ginny stumbled towards the door around the milling Slytherins. Unfortunately she had to wait until another decided to leave, because the door opening unexpectedly would be a dead giveaway that someone was not supposed to be there. Standing there trying to control nervous fidgets, by the time two girls decided it was time to head back Ginny was literally itching to run out of there.
Once out in the corridor she bolted, glad she had the foresight to wear only socks on her feet so that she was nearly soundless. Ron on the other hand probably wouldn't be too happy with her, since his freshly laundered socks were now covered with dirt and muck from the dungeons. Only when she was several floors up and on the opposite side of the castle did she stop, panting as she leaned against the frame of portrait.
The horrifying information she had learned burned in her brain, and she knew that she had to tell Dumbldore immediately if they were going to stop anything. Having a fixed course of action let her prioritize. Using her handkerchief, she rubbed off the small patch of rhys that kept her invisible, straightened her appearance and settled her breathing.
Ginny turned to head down the corridor, but a pair of strong arms grabbed her and spun her back into the wall. Startled, she looked up into the dark brown eyes of Steve Foloth leering back at her. "Pretty little thing like yourself shouldn't wander the castle so late at night by yourself. You never know what evil lurks in these corridors."
"I bet you're well acquainted with many of them," she retorted, nearly spitting fire. "Now get your hands off me." His smirk only grew and he leaned in closer, letting his breath waft over her cheeks. "Oh, but it's my duty as a Prefect to teach the younger students the rules. Right now you need a lesson."
His hands shifted on her arms, obviously heading elsewhere, but Ginny wrenched free, reared back and punched as hard as she could. Her fist impacted his jaw, and she distinctly heard a crack as the bone broke under the force of the blow. As his head whipped backwards, she growled, "No. Now it's my turn to teach. Rule number one: don't touch me."
She balled her other fist and delivered a quick one-two to his solar plexus. "Rule number two: don't piss me off." Foloth had doubled over winded with both arms wrapped around his middle, so Ginny brought her knee up to click his teeth together with a sharp blow to the chin. With a muffled cry of pain he dropped to the floor. "Rule number three: don't mess with my family."
Vindictively she delivered a kick to his ribs hard enough to crack a couple, and he moaned pitifully, curling up in a fetal position protectively. Ginny let a wicked grin cross her lips as she watched him, then casually said, "and rule number four: do obey all other rules."
Blowing out a breath, she cast a quick Memory charm on him so that he wouldn't remember the incident, but as she walked away she made sure to stomp one foot down on his crotch. His eyes crossed and began watering fiercely as a strangled sound rasped from his throat, and he rolled into a very tight ball with hands trying to protect and comfort the damaged goods.
Smirking to herself, Ginny walked quickly down the corridor and headed straight for the Headmaster's office. Two corridors away, she heard running feet behind her, and instinctively she drew her wand and quickly flattened herself into the shadows by a statue. Two younger girls from Hufflepuff ran past and she watched as they disappeared around the far corner.
Peeking out to se if the coast was clear, she pocketed her wand again and came out from her hiding place, reflecting that she really was getting paranoid, if understandably so. Shaking her head, Ginny started once again down the corridor, but a rasp of cloth on wood made her spin back around, hand scrabbling for her wand. It was yanked out of her grasp, and she looked up at her attacker.
Malfoy stood there, wand trained on her as he clucked disapprovingly. "Now now little Weasel, you don't think we'd let you get away with that?" Ginny glared at him as she asked, "Get away with what? And give me back my wand. Now." He smirked. "Don't play dumb with me. Or are you playing?" He raked his eyes over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "I can see why Foloth wanted to teach you a lesson."
She scowled and retorted, "And that's why I had to teach him one. Now give me back my wand and bugger off, ferret boy." He shook his head. "I don't think so. You know a little too much for me to just let you walk away."
He raised both wands, but as she was preparing to spring at him they both heard echoing footsteps coming their direction, as well as a "meow." Filch and Mrs. Norris. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and whispered harshly, "We'll finish this later, but for now . . . Obliviate!"
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After the rest of the school learned about the attack via the Daily Prophet, more and more students were expressing concern that if the Dark forces could destroy one of the most heavily guarded departments in the Ministry, what chance did Hogwarts have? More than one Common Room fire burned late into the night as the occupants discussed and theorized and worried themselves.
Finally Dumbledore felt the need to address the issues one night after dinner and answered as many questions as he could about their safety. His comforting presence seemed to calm the rising panic that stifled many, even though his answers were not always what they wanted to hear.
In the end he simply said, "There is no place truly safe any more as long as Voldemort is allowed to run free. However, Hogwarts is safer than most, not because of her many wards and defenses, but simply because I know that for many of you this is your home. We will not let our home be overtaken and destroyed without a fight. Voldemort may inspire fear, but he also feels it when he thinks of who is here, ready to oppose him."
Several people gazed significantly at the headmaster and at Harry, who was picking at his napkin with his fork and not saying a word or meeting any eyes.
The next two weeks passes almost without incident in Hogwarts, although outside both forces were gearing up for the next major assault. Unfortunately, demons are much easier to replace than Aurors, and harder to kill to boot.
But the spies reported only routine movements at the Ministry and so forth, and Ginny hadn't found anything on the Slytherin Death Eaters to report besides the fact that they were looking particularly smug lately, and Foloth was in the Hospital Wing for two days. Still, Harry went through the motions of his routine unable to shake the feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
That feeling culminated one Wednesday morning when a third year girl ran into the Great Hall at breakfast shrieking with terror. Professor McGonagall shot up from her seat and hustled over to her, trying to calm her enough to be coherent. Finally the girl sobbed out, "Dead . . . she's dead . . .up on the second floor loo . . . she's dead!!"
McGonagall shushed her a bit. "Do you mean Moaning Myrtle? She's been dead for fifty years." The third year stamped her foot furiously, tears spilling down her front. "No! Not the ghost! There's a dead body up there right now! She's been murdered!" McGonagall paled, and Harry threw a quick glance across the table to Ron and Hermione, then all three followed their Head of House to the infamous corridor.
Ron was the first to spot it. Just like that Halloween in second year, foot high letters in blood scrawled across the wall. "ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." The sight of those words filled Harry with foreboding, and he strode over to the lavatory door and threw it open. The sight immediately made him sick. Behind him he vaguely registered Ron's anguished groans through the roaring in his ears.
Ginny lay sprawled on the wet floor, blank eyes staring at the ceiling with mouth open and features slack. Her school uniform was shredded, hanging off her in ragged pieces and mattered with her blood. Red streaks splashed over the walls and floor testified to the unimaginable torture they much have inflicted on her.
Harry swallowed hard as he approached slowly, aware of the gathered professors and students stunned into silence behind him at the door. He knelt down by her side and gently touched her hair, spread over the floor in tangled knots but still Weasley red and silky. He passed a hand over her face, closing her eyes and mouth to give her a semblance of peace.
Glancing away, he saw the messages scribbled on a couple of the mirrors. "Little Weasel stuck her nose where it didn't belong." "But who will notice if they lose one of their brood? They have extras." The next one over was more personal. "Was she saving herself for you, Potter? Too bad. She was good."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden hot tears, rage building dangerously high within him and aching for violent release. She didn't deserve this. No one did. And when he found out exactly who did this (and he had a pretty good idea who), he swore that he would rip them apart slowly and painfully.
Ron knelt on the floor just inside the doorway, face covered by his hands but tears leaking through as he suppressed sobs. Hermione knelt by Ron and wrapped her arms around him, cradling him to her as he shook violently. Harry's heart wrenched for his friend's pain, for the whole family. He knew what it was like to lose Sirius, but a sister in such a gruesome fashion?
Somebody had to pay, and instinctively he looked for Dumbledore, expecting to see him standing beside McGonagall with fury radiating from him. But he wasn't there. Harry got to his feet and rushed to the door, scanning the corridor before whirling on McGonagall. "Where's Dumbledore?" he demanded, and her eyes grew wide as she realized the Headmaster was not present.
Dread coiling in his stomach, he pushed past the professors and sprinted down the corridor at full speed for Dumbledore's office. Pounding footsteps behind him let him know that at least two other people were following him. Snape and Remus were right behind him as Harry fairly threw himself up the spiraling stairs and burst into the large office, where he skidded to a halt. Snape winced, not from colliding with Remus as the lycanthrope also drew up short, and muttered almost despairingly, "Oh God, Albus."
Albus Dumbledore sat upright at his desk, but the twinkling blue eyes were glazed over in death and fixed on the trio staring back at the body. His ancient face was pale as marble, and wrinkled hands were clenched into withered claws atop the desk. From his gaping mouth dripped a thick black ichor that ran down his silver beard in long dark streaks.
In front of his desk lay a crumpled figure in a pool of dark blood and lemon drops. Harry recognized one mustard yellow sock and groaned, "Dobby!" The house elf's eyes were wide and filled with tears of shame to mix with the blood. He clutched the knife he had used to cut his own throat in one scrawny hand, a house elf's ultimate penance.
Harry buried his face in his hands and staggered back out to sit heavily on one of the stairs. Remus placed a hand on his head as if to lend them both strength, and Snape stood perfectly still with fists clenched furiously, face an impassive mask with strangely glittering eyes.
The day was about to get worse.
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Fred Weasley whistled a bit as he opened up Weasley Wizard Wheezes at number 93 in Diagon Alley for the day. While the joke business suffered with the economy, it was their weapons work with the Ministry and the Order that really kept the bills paid and shops opened. They had talked about closing the Hogsmeade store temporarily, but the extra lab space was needed and besides, it felt like giving in. Weasleys never give in, not while their hair is still red and they have a fighting chance.
He wandered back to the cash register to make sure it was set and stocked, ran a practiced eye over the shelves in an inventory check, then headed for their lab. Another prank was brewing, right alongside two experimental contraptions that may turn out to be deadly if only they could perfect the spell. So far it wasn't going so well, as the purple-scorched walls testified to.
Right now it could only give you orange boils in some pretty interesting places, as well as make your nose hair grow long and purple. How that happened, Fred had no idea, but thought that if the war ended before he could work it out, he could make a different sort of killing with it in the store.
Fred checked the security measures just in case anyone had been nosey overnight, but he had only caught a couple of cockroaches in the Stun Trap. Satisfied, he glanced at the clock and walked back out front to officially open the store for business.
Just as he was turning the little sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN, he caught a glimpse of movement outside. Instinctively Fred looked up to see a man across the street aiming a tube right at him, fingering a button. His first thought was, "Hey, that looks like one of mine." Then his mind caught up, and with wide horrified eyes he watched the man punch the button twice.
Statistically "oh shit" are the most popular last words spoken by people about to die very violent deaths, and Fred Weasley joined this numerical calculation just before his entire world blew up in an explosion that rocked Diagon Alley to its foundations.
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George Weasley sat in the back of their Hogsmeade store sipping a butterbeer as he tested a new weapon, inspiration courtesy of Harry the human arsenal. He smiled as a Bludger shook under the restraints, then he backed away as he released the bindings and placed a Shield charm in front of him. The Bludger flew up then pelted forward across the room before it exploded, flinging shrapnel in all directions.
The shield protected George until it settled, and then he examined the remains with a critically appraising eye. The pieces were sharp and jagged, and the blast radius promised to exceed that of their testing room. Tori would have been pleased.
Suddenly the good cheer at the success of the Ballistic Bludgers fell short as melancholy enveloped him. He missed Tori horribly; her sense of humor, dedication, fiery spirit, and passion for life, not to mention her enthusiastic kisses.
He smiled sadly at the memories, willing thoughts of other Kisses out of his head, as he wandered back to the front to open the store carrying his butterbeer, drinking deeply and almost hoping it was something stronger, like firewhiskey.
Just as he was turning the little sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN, he felt something, as if his world and his soul had just been violently torn in half. He staggered, incomplete for the first time in his entire life, instantly knowing the truth that brought tears to his eyes. Half of him was missing. Fred was gone.
He didn't have long to mourn before a familiar rushing sound filled his ears, one he recognized from many hours working with it in the lab. Sighing, George closed his eyes as fire erupted and enveloped the whole shop in an instant. The air superheated and imploded, bringing the whole store down in flaming ruins with a crash that echoed up to Hogwarts.
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Percy glanced up from his filing deep in the offices of the Ministry as he felt a slight shudder run through the floor, and an ink bottle rattled a bit before it fell and splattered. Frowning, he waved his wand to clean it up then straightened his parchments before rising to investigate. The Ministry was supposed to be the safest place in the wizarding world, next to Hogwarts, but unless the Department of Experimental Charms managed to blow up their whole floor a la Fred and George, something was seriously wrong.
He peeked out into the corridor and noticed most of the other occupants of the floor doing the same with confusion. One man who Percy only knew as Brisby noticed him, shrugged and popped back into his office. Percy considered doing the same, but a definite unease led him to leave his office and head toward the lift.
He punched the button and entered the rattling gold cage to ascend to the main floor. Security there would know more about whatever that was than other floors. Suddenly over the racket of the lift Percy heard a sound like the doors opening several floors up, so he glanced towards the ceiling curiously.
He froze, and then with a roaring rushing noise the pure green fireball enveloped the lift and vaporized it in an instant. Undeterred, it continued its destructive path downwards, blasting open the doors on each floor and incinerating the first 10 feet in each corridor.
Meanwhile on the main floor, the security personnel lay dead around their station as the first dozen demons cavorted past and headed for the offices. Right behind them were two dozen Death Eaters with wands drawn. One, before he sealed the main entrance to the Ministry, glanced back and could just make out the smoke rising from Diagon Alley three blocks away.
Smiling wickedly, Lucius Malfoy ducked inside and stalked towards the remaining operational lift, fingering his wand as he headed for the deepest level, the Minister's office.
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Harry barely heard the distant explosion from Hogsmeade, intent as he was on his destination and the rage boiling black inside him. Ron stalked next to him, face a furious red with glaring blue eyes as he twirled his wand purposefully. They had a job to do.
The professors had watched them go without comment, pain reflected in their own eyes, and Hermione had simply brushed Ron's shoulder and whispered, "Don't do anything you might regret," but hadn't stopped either of them. The teens were fairly running towards the dungeons, feet recalling the path to the Slytherin Common Room from Christmas second year.
Stopping outside the blank section of wall, Harry hissed, "Open," in Parseltongue and the door obligingly slid open. Bursting in, Ron trained his wand at the confused pack of younger students in the Common Room, demanding harshly, "Where are they?" They looked startled to see a lone Gryffindor invading their sanctuary, but it quickly turned to terror when Harry followed him in, nearly glowing with rage.
"W-where's w-who?" a plucky third year stammered, cowering back as Ron's wand pointed in his direction. "The Death Eaters. We know the older students are. Now where are they?" he snarled.
A first year girl burst into tears. "T-they t-told us not to t-tell!" she wailed. "T-they left!" she was promptly subject to a dozen hands clamping over her mouth as her classmates shushed her.
Harry drew his wand. "Tell us, or I will put you under the Imperius and make you tell." This was said in a perfectly flat monotone that crawled with sinister malice. A small brown-haired second year boy caved. "They just left," he muttered. "They were heading for the old Potions classroom two floors down. They have Portkeys down there to leave Hogwarts."
Ron turned without a word and sprinted out the door, but Harry glared at them all for several long seconds. "I'll have you know," he said coldly, "that your classmates have just murdered three people. You have been aiding them, and are therefore partially responsible." He held their pale-faced attention as he paused, fingers flexing on his wand. "Someone else will determine punishment."
Satisfied that they were sufficiently scared witless, he turned and followed Ron at top speed, hoping to catch at least a couple of the murdering scum. He literally saw red as he caught up with his friend as they flew down the stairs, fury burning brightly in their hearts. Seeing a corner of a robe disappear into one of the deep abandoned classrooms, they doubled their speed and burst through the door.
Already most of them were gone, for only ten people were left in the room clutching their Portkeys and counting down. Harry fired off a flurry of spells that destroyed their Portkeys, and cursing the Death Eaters dropped the melting bits of bits of junk from their burned hands. Scanning quickly, Ron cursed under his breath when he realized Draco Malfoy and his goons had already made good their escape.
Then he fired off a Disarming spell as the remainder all dove for their wands. Harry went for a more direct approach and froze them all in their places, then stalked forward and glared into their eyes in turn. "Listen up you filth," Ron growled as Harry continued stalking around the room. "You've crossed the line and managed to piss off not only me, but also Harry here."
Harry snarled, "You picked the wrong people to mess with." He shot a Severing charm at a seventh year's hand, and if he hadn't been frozen in place her would have screamed in agony as his fingers all fell off, lopped off cleanly and spurting blood. "The professors know we're here and don't care." He glanced around, then commented, "You picked a perfect place."
He bared his teeth in a hideous grin. "Down here, no one will hear you scream." Pointing his wand at another Death Eater, he incanted venomously, "Crucio!"
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A/N: On the night on June 20th, 2003, I was not among the masses gathered outside the major bookstores eagerly awaiting the release of the much- anticipated Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Instead, after work I drove by one such gathered hoard with a contemptuous sneer worthy of Snape and drove to my writing spot, where I proceeded to scribble out this chapter even though I was already planning on sitting on it for at least a week or two for rewrites and to let everything settle after such a momentous night.
The next day, in a completely unexpected twist of fate, I picked up a copy of Book 5 and, in a cataclysmic failure of self-control, spent 20 hours reading it, stopping many times for real life intrusions and to release fits of anger. That book made me so mad!! Anyway, then I had to digest it, let settle, then pick it apart by rereading it four more times over the next week.
So now that that's settled, I must say I never thought that Book 5 would help my story any. But I was pleasantly surprised, not only for what I already have posted but also for what I have in the works. I never thought I would be happy about killing Sirius off, but now I find I was only about 2 months off on my timing. Although I did scar some people irrevocably, since their comfort from my fic was the fact that it wasn't real and their belief that JKR would never go that route. Nope, she took a different one, but same destination. Maybe that accidental inspiration wasn't so accidental. I am a Legilimens! Or at least a psycho with acutely accurate ESP.
Since it is A/U and I'm up to sixth year, I will continue this story as I initially planned it before OoTP was released, which, among the concepts proven obviously wrong (which I'm actually happy about), happens to contain some parallels to Book 5 but is the product of my imagination. I have the dated outlines to prove it. Hopefully many things will continue to surprise you; I am working hard to keep this fairly original despite the fact that it is fanfiction. Thank you. Oh, and if I had a choice, I'd go back and rewrite the beginning few chapters, because they were written over a year ago now and I think they suck big time. But hopefully I've improved as much as I'd like to think I have. I endeavor for a quality story, and that's why the chapters are farther apart than the original two-three days postings.
Who else thinks Harry needs some anger management classes? Or a Prozac? Okay, now I'm rambling. I like to talk. I'll shut up and go write.