Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Harry's Muggle friends belong to me (they probably aren't going to make any more appearances, though they may be mentioned). As always, Mr. Hering is not mine, I'm just borrowing him from Rapunzel. I'm making absolutely no money off of this, so please don't sue me.
Warnings: AU, spoilers for SS/PS through OtoP, OOC Malfoy. M.E.'s mediocre attempts at fight scenes! Run away! Run away!
/.../ denotes thoughts
Chapter 9: They Are Dead
My hopes are like embers lying
Around inside a firebed,
And your mind is a firewalker.
It steps on them like they are dead.
– "Firewalker," Liz Phair
A bag in each hand and a library book tucked under his right arm, Harry exited the grocer's. He started across the street, and had nearly reached the other side, when the curse hit. When Harry later considered what happened, he decided that he had really been quite lucky, as his attacker could have had much better aim. Instead, the entire length of his left arm went limp, the fingers of his left hand releasing their grip on the bag that they had held. Harry had no time to lament the loss of his groceries – that bag had held a carton of eggs, everything was sure to be ruined – he was too busy scuttling the rest of the way across the street. As soon as he reached the other side, he dove into the bushes that stood along the sidewalk.
Crouching on damp earth behind the bushes, Harry carefully set down both his book and his remaining bag. He pushed a branch to the side with his good hand and leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of his attacker. Before he could get a good look around, there was another flash of magic from down the street, and he flung himself backwards, barely avoiding the spell, which hit a tree that was standing behind him.
Leaning back on his right elbow (his left arm refused to bend), Harry panted, his eyes wide. Yes, someone was definitely trying to attack him, and that someone was most definitely magical in nature. /But... I'm just a Muggle,/ thought Harry. /Who in the world would want to– Oh./ He blinked as he remembered the original reason for why he had come to live in Remus' house. /Voldemort. Well, that or Malfoy's finally dropped the act and decided to take me out, but for some strange reason, I find that hard to belie–/
Harry broke off this train of thought as the sounds of rustling leaves and soft cursing alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone behind the bushes. Though he hadn't thought it was possible, his heartbeat accelerated even more. He tried to move his legs, but found it impossible, and for one brief moment he thought that they had been hit by the same curse that had hit his left arm.
"Are you all right?" a whispered voice asked. Harry started in surprise as he recognized the voice, and slowly turned his head to confirm the other's identity.
"Ron?" he squeaked.
"Evans? Man, I didn't know it was you. You're not going to yell at me again, are you? Because right now really wouldn't be a good time." Ron Weasley crawled forward until he was kneeling next to Harry.
"I think I have bigger things to worry about right now," said Harry. He struggled to sit up, a task he found difficult with the use of only one hand. "What are you doing here? That wasn't you cursing me, was it?" Harry sincerely hoped it hadn't been. Despite his proclaimed disgust with Ron a few weeks before, he didn't think he would be able to handle it if Ron – any Ron, in any world – felt the need to take him out.
"No, of course not. Tonks – my superior officer – has had me tailing this guy as a suspected Death Eater for the past week. I was probably just as surprised as you when he just started cursing you in broad daylight," said Ron. He sighed and ran a hand through is bright red hair.
"Wait– Tonks is your superior officer? You're an Auror?" asked Harry, slightly surprised.
Ron opened his mouth to reply to Harry's question, but he instead ended up saying something completely different. "Shit! Get down!" Ron threw himself at Harry, pushing him flat against the ground as a curse whizzed past above them, right at the height their heads had been at moments before. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Ron rolled off of Harry and onto his stomach. "How about we leave the chit-chat for later, Evans. Since it appears that my suspected Death Eater is indeed what he seems, and he is also attacking at least one of us, I have a job to do."
"Fine by me," Harry mumbled. He tried to turn over as well, as he couldn't see anything, lying on his back as he was, only to be reminded once again that he was handicapped. He struggled a bit before finally rolled over successfully. Using his right elbow to help him inch forward, he joined Ron in peering through the bushes. "Do you know where he is?"
"Somewhere over there, between the grocery store and the dry-cleaning place," Ron waved vaguely in the direction of the mentioned storefronts. "Damn it, I know he's over there, but the only time I get any sort of shot at him is when he pokes an arm out in order to fling another curse over here. If he would just come out into the open... Ah! There we go."
Harry watched with surprise as the Death Eater, resplendent in dark, well-cut robes – he'd obviously hadn't taken the precautions that Ron had to blend into his Muggle surroundings – stepped out of his well-concealed surroundings and into the middle of the street.
Ron was about to do the same and abandon the bushes, when Harry grabbed the hem of the other man's jumper. "Don't be an idiot," Harry hissed, "if you get out there you'll be just as exposed as he is. If you stay here, he'll at least not know exactly where you are. You should know better!"
Scowling at Harry, Ron nodded and sank back down to a kneeling position. He obviously didn't appreciate being told what to do by squib. One eye on the foolish Death Eater, Ron proceeded to cast a minor protective spell on Harry. It wouldn't really do anything other than give him a slight warning if a curse was traveling in his direction, but it was better than nothing. "He seems to mainly be using spells that will handicap but not hurt," Ron muttered, frowning. "Doesn't make sense... Why would a Death Eater purposefully try not to hurt someone?"
"Because his aim is to capture, not to kill," said Harry. "They think I'm someone special, because Remus came to visit me in the bookstore, and then when they started watching the store, Dumbledore asked him to take take me in."
"Really? But you don't know anything... well, not really. Well, then let's try something simple... Stupefy!" Ron cursed as the Death Eater managed to dodge the spell cast at him.
Harry frowned. "He's going to be expecting 'stupefy' and similar spells. Try something simpler..." He wracked his brain for a moment, trying to remember the curses and hexes that he had used in school, but hadn't hadn't had any need to – or way to – use since. "Like furnunculus. It'll throw him off, and then you can follow it up with something slightly more complicated, maybe a binding charm or petrificus totalus."
Ron stared skeptically at Harry, then sighed. "I can't believe I'm taking advice on wizard's dueling from a squib. Oh, all right." He obviously had to follow Harry's suggestion, moving a few feet down the bushes before flinging out a bat-bogie hex, and then following it up with petrificus totalus without so much as missing a beat.
They both watched in awe as the Death Eater fell over stiff in the middle of the street. They were even more surprised when, from no more than five feet behind them, came the sound of applause. Ron whirled around, and Harry turned as well, though it he was a bit slower, still encumbered by his limp arm as he was. "Damn, Muggle witness. I hate having to do memory charms," Ron said as he stood, raising his wand.
Harry struggled to sit up, catching Ron's arm. "Wait! You may not have to, let me talk to him first." With Ron's help, Harry was able to regain his feet, and he walked over to the Muggle standing there.
"Ah, Evans! I thought it was you there, but I wasn't sure. Care to tell me what was going on?" The old man smiled brightly at both Harry and Ron.
"Sure, Mr. Hering. First, let me introduce you to my friend Ron Weasley, a fellow fighter for the cause." Pushing Ron forward, Harry couldn't but grin at Ron's awkward handshake with Mr. Hering.
"The cause? Ah! I might have known. Then that man in the street is indeed a spy, hm? I suspected as much, but I couldn't be sure," Mr. Hering nodded in understanding as he vigorously shook Ron's hand.
"Yes, sir. It is a sad day when a man will sink so low as to sell out his own species," Harry sighed and shook his head sadly.
Mr. Hering nodded, and said "It is indeed, it is indeed. Well. Good work, Weasley. A pleasure to have you on our side. Good day to you both, and don't forget!" His eyes acquired a manic gleam and stood up straighter, "They only look stupid!" He saluted to them both, which Harry returned, and walked away.
Ron stared at Mr. Hering's retreating back, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what, exactly had just happened. "The cause?" he squeaked.
"Mr. Hering thinks that the sheep are going to take over the world. Other than that, he's perfectly sane, but you can blame just about anything on the sheep and he'll accept it," Harry explained. As he knelt to pick up his library book and what was left of his groceries, he glanced at the road. "Shouldn't you take care of the Death Eater before more people stumble across him?"
Ron's eyes widened, he'd obviously forgotten about the petrified man in the road. "Shit!" he exclaimed, and he dashed off into the road, vaulting over the bushes.
It wasn't until after Harry had heard the loud "pop" of displaced air that accompanied Ron's Disapparation with the Death Eater that it occurred to him that he should have asked the auror to fix his arm. It was hard to get a good grip on both his book and bag with only one working hand.
Unable to either open the door or ring the doorbell, Harry resorted to kicking the door with his foot when he arrived back at Remus' house. It was, he decided, a good thing that the screen door had been propped open when he got there, or else he would have ended up kicking a hole through it. Something told him that Remus would not be happy about that. As it was, Malfoy opened the door so quickly that Harry nearly kicked him in the shins.
Malfoy glared at him. "Don't you have a key, Evans? Or is this just an excuse to try and kick me?"
Harry glared at him. "Ha, ha. Sorry, my hand's full, and I can't use my left arm. I forgot to ask Ron to perform the counter-curse before he left." He smirked at the look of surprise he saw on Malfoy's face as he brushed past him and into the house.
"Ron? Counter-curse? What in the world are you talking about, Evans?" Malfoy asked as he followed Harry into the kitchen, relieving him of his book.
Awkwardly putting his bag of groceries down on the counter, Harry proceeded to relate all that had happened to him after leaving the grocery store. By the time he was done, Malfoy had his wand in hand and was studying Harry's left arm with interest. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Evans, I don't think Ron could have fixed your arm for you. It looks like that curse went and took out all the bones in your arm and hand. There's no cure for that except regrowing them."
Harry did not appreciate hearing this. "Good lord, not again."
Letting go of Harry's arm, Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Again? Don't tell me that you loose bones on a regular basis, Evans."
"I've only had it happen once before, Malfoy, so it doesn't happen to me all the time. Stupid Lockhart accidentally went and removed all the bones in my arm in second year when he tried to mend a broken bone," said Harry, looking forlornly down at his useless arm.
"You are insane then, letting that idiot Lockhart try to fix a broken bone," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "My opinion of you has just hit an all-time low, Evans."
"I didn't 'let' him try, Malfoy. He just did it before I could stop him – I kept on insisting that he leave it to Madam Pomfrey."
"Yes, he was rather forceful, wasn't he," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "Anyway, we should probably see about you regrowing those arm bones. You're lucky enough as it is though, you were only hit by one curse."
"I'm not an idiot, Malfoy," Harry growled. "I know what to do when someone starts attacking me. Don't know what I would've done if Ron hadn't been there, though. I'm in no situation to fight a duel with a Death Eater." Harry gave up on trying to put the groceries away, and leaned against the counter.
"I can't believe the two of you took out a Death Eater with a couple of elementary level spells," Malfoy said.
Harry grinned, "It's like you said, Malfoy. Elementary. No one expects to be hit with simple spells from first year when they're fighting an experienced wizard. Since they don't expect them, they also don't think to protect against them." He tried to move his arm, and was once again rewarded with no response. "What are we going to do about this?" he asked, gesturing to the arm.
Letting out a tired sigh, Malfoy rubbed his forehead. "Well, you could go to St. Mungo's, but then you'd have to deal with the whole thing of your being totally unknown in the wizarding world and looking almost exactly like James Potter... Or you could go to Hogwarts and have Madam Pomfrey look you over. I was going to leave in a couple of days in order to go there anyway. And after your having been attacked, Remus and Dumbledore aren't going to be happy with me if I just leave you here alone. But if you go to Hogwarts, you'll be there in the middle of the battle. Your choice," Malfoy spread out his arms.
/I'd rather go to Hogwarts,/ Harry realized as he thought back to when he had visited St. Mungo's during his fifth year. /But if I'm there for the battle, I won't be able to do anything. I'll have to just sit there while everyone else helps out. I don't know if I could stand that.../ Harry was about to cast his vote for St. Mungo's, when he suddenly remembered the fight that had occurred earlier that day, and how, even without magic, he had been able to help Ron take down the Death Eater. He gave a faint smile. "Well, if I'm going to Hogwarts, you have to help me pack. I can't very well do it with only one hand."
Two Gryffindor girls, both carrying bookbags, raced down the corridor, their robes whipping out behind them as they ran. Harry took a step backwards through the entrance, and just missing colliding with a third student. Standing next to Malfoy and framed by the large double doors that formed the entrance of Hogwarts, Harry watched the retreating form of the Hufflepuff boy he had narrowly missed walking into, and smiled. The last time he had been at Hogwarts, the summer holidays had been in session, and the school had been nearly empty. Now it was full of life, as evidenced by the students running past him, most likely late for class.
"What are you so happy about, Evans?" Malfoy snapped. Harry supposed that Malfoy was ticked off because he had to carry both of their bags, since Harry had only one working arm.
"Nothing," Harry replied with a grin. He wasn't going to try to explain why he was so glad to be back at Hogwarts. Chances were that Malfoy wouldn't be able to understand at all.
"Come on," Malfoy huffed, "let's get you to Madam Pomfrey so she can do something about that arm of yours."
"Can't wait to get rid of me, can you, Malfoy?"
"Believe it or not, it's in your best interests to get those bones regrown as soon as possible," Malfoy said matter of factly. "If you wait to long, it might not work, and you'll be stuck with a limp noodle for an arm for the rest of your life." Malfoy started up the stairs, and Harry hastened to follow him. For several minutes they remained silent, navigating the numerous changing staircases of Hogwarts taking most of their concentration.
At last they reached the entrance to the hospital wing. Panting slightly from keeping up Malfoy, Harry followed the other man through the doors.
"Malfoy, what are you doing here? I thought I told I specifically didn't want to see you in this room again," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed in a warm voice.
Setting down the suitcases he had been carrying, Malfoy smirked slightly at the witch, "I haven't done anything this time, so you can get off my back right now. This was all Evans fault."
Frowning, Madam Pomfrey glanced around, obviously trying to figure out who Malfoy was talking about. Sighing, Harry stepped forward, and out from behind Malfoy. Madam Pomfrey's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Oh, my... You must be Harry, James Potter's boy. Remus has told me so much about you, dear. You look just like your father."
For some reason he couldn't understand, Harry felt himself flushing with embarrassment. He mumbled proper greetings to the mediwitch with the same confusion that always seemed to overtake him when he met someone in this world who he knew, but who didn't know him.
Madam Pomfrey gave him a severe look. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"
"Um, well... I just walking along, when someone hit me with a curse, and now I can't use my left arm," Harry explained, gesturing to the useless limb with his good hand. "Malfoy says the bones are all gone."
"Oh, my!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. She immediately took hold of Harry's shoulders and ushered him over to an empty bed. "You poor thing... You just lie down and let me have a look at you."
A bit overwhelmed, Harry nodded and, after slipping off his trainers, lay down on the bed. "It's not that bad," he insisted, a bit embarrassed by her fussing,.
Her wand in hand, Madam Pomfrey frowned as she passed it above his body, murmuring to herself. "Nonsense, my dear. It appears that Mr. Malfoy was indeed correct, and regrowing bones is never something to take lightly, however easy it may be to remedy." Tucking her wand away, she straightened and turned to Malfoy, "And speaking of you, young man, I do believe that Professor Lupin would very much like to know that you are here, so you get along now." She fluttered her hands at Malfoy, making shooing motions, then started towards the infirmary storage room, "I'm going to get the bottle of Skele-Gro for Mr. Evans, here."
Malfoy moved towards the door, then turned back to Harry, "I'll leave your suitcase here in case you want anything from it, Evans. See you later." Grabbing his own case, he stepped out the door.
Harry was about call out a goodbye to Malfoy – he wasn't sure why, but it seemed appropriate – when a steaming beaker was shoved under his nose. "Drink. Then, if you have any pajamas in that suitcase, you might want to change into them. You'll be here all night," Madam Pomfrey said with authority. Harry grimaced, but swallowed the liquid. It definitely had not improved in taste since his second year.
"...no, Harry!"
Harry awoke with a start, and glanced around, startled. Not recognizing his surroundings at first, he was momentarily stumped as to where he could be. Flowered curtains hung around him, blocking his view of the rest of what appeared to be a large room. The room was lit with the pale light of early morning. His memory eventually caught up with him, as he remembered that he was lying in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. This established, he tried to remember what had awakened him. /I thought I heard my name.../
Sitting up, he tested his left arm. To his relief, he was able to move it around, bend it, and wiggle his fingers as well. Having confirmed this, he leaned forward and pulled aside one of the curtains, peeking out. The rest of the hospital wing was empty, with the exception of a girl in a bed across the room from his own. Dressed in clean robes, the girl was sitting on the bed, apparently playing with a stuffed bear, a handful of chocolate biscuits, and a plastic cocktail sword.
"Yaaah! So, Evil Villain, you think you can terrorize small, innocent cookies?! You are no match for me, the wondrous Harry! As long as there is evil, I will rise up to smack it down! With this almighty Toothpick of Doom, Harry the Wonder Bear shall smite you! RAAH!" the student continued, this time using a much deeper voice. She walked the bear across the bed, holding the plastic sword to the bear's paw with one hand, while snitching biscuits with the other.
As Harry watched, Madam Pomfrey entered the room, and came over to stand in front of the girl. The mediwitch pointedly cleared her throat, and the student quickly put down her toys – not before popping another biscuit into her mouth, however. "Well. It appears that your toes have been successfully reattached to your feet, and your eyebrows are none the worse for wear. I do hope you'll be more careful in the future. It would probably help if you stopped experimenting with spells you don't understand..."
Swallowing her mouthful of biscuit, the girl adopted a look of absolute innocence. "But I was just trying to transfigure my yo-yo into an owl, Madam Pomfrey..."
"I suppose I should just be thankful that you didn't charm someone else's toes onto your eyebrows," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Now, off to the breakfast with you. I don't want to see you back here for at least another week," she chastised.
"Yes, ma'am." Madam Pomfrey watched as the girl grabbed her things and scurried out of the room, then turned to face Harry.
"I see you're up and about, Mr. Evans. Have a nice sleep?" Not waiting for his reply, she pulled aside the curtains hiding Harry's bed from the rest of the room. She waved at him to lie down, and proceeded to run her wand along above him as she had the day before. "Ah, I see your arm is all healed. Well, just to be sure, I want you to stay here under my observation for the rest of the morning, if that's all right with you, dear?"
"Oh, um. I mean, yes, that's perfectly fine with me," Harry replied, a bit at a loss for words.
"Good, now, I'll just be in my office if you need anything. The house elves should be along with some breakfast for you in a little while, I'm sure." With a parting smile, she whirled away and through a door at the far side of the room.
Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Harry leaned over the side of the bed and pulled his suitcase closer, intending to take out the book he was currently reading. It was just as well that he was staying in the hospital wing. While he knew his way about the castle, he had no idea where, exactly, he was expected to be.
There was a knocking on the open door, and Harry looked up from where he was sitting to see Hermione standing in the doorway. Closing his book, Harry tried to muster up a smile for the woman who was not, no matter how much he wanted it, his friend. Harry had been aware of the fact that both Hermione and Ron were at Hogwarts, though he had attempted to either ignore or forget about it. Malfoy had, in fact, told him the day before. It was not that Harry was exactly trying to ignore either Ron or Hermione, it was more like he was unintentionally avoiding them. At least, that was what he told himself.
Now, as he made eye contact with Hermione, he felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. Somehow, he and Ron had reached a sort of unspoken truce as a result of their efforts in subduing the Death Eater nearly a month before. "Yes?" he asked Hermione, trying hard to keep his uncertainty out of his voice.
Rubbing her forehead, Hermione stepped into the room. It was actually the sitting room for Remus' apartments here at Hogwarts, but while Harry and Malfoy were there, it was serving as the boys' bedroom. "Can we talk? I just feel like we really got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to remedy that," Hermione explained. Observing the exhaustion in her actions, Harry indicated that she should sit down, and she gratefully collapsed into an armchair across from Harry.
"Sure, I don't mind. It's not like I have anything I should be doing." Harry winced as his words came out a bit more venomous than he'd intended. Though he knew it shouldn't, it somehow irked him that he was just sitting around, while Voldemort was out there hurting and killing people. At Remus' house, he had been able to forget about Voldemort entirely, but here at Hogwarts it was entirely different. The students he had seen running through the hall on the day that he arrived were the exception more than the rule. The atmosphere about the school was tense, and with the exception of some of the very youngest students, everyone moved about the castle with a dark cloud hanging about them, almost as if they were waiting for the axe to fall.
Hermione laughed at his words, "I know exactly how you feel. When I was back in school, so much of the time I felt helpless. Draco and Ron were always the ones to take the initiative. Ron was the strategist, Draco was the one who would implement the plan... all I could ever do was research whatever they were up against. They did the heroics, I was always left behind with the books." She sighed and shook her head.
Staring at her, Harry was surprised. It had never occurred to him that Hermione might feel useless in her unnamed position as the researcher. Whenever Harry or Ron had had a question, they would just turn to Hermione, and she would have the answer for them, if not then, then in a couple of days. He had never wondered about what she must have gone through to learn all of that knowledge.
Putting his book on the end table, Harry leaned forward to put a hand on her lap. "You weren't just a researcher, Hermione. You did all types of different things! You stopped Quirrell from cursing my broom in first year, figured out that it was a basilisk in the Chamber in second... In fourth you not only were able to deduce that Rita Skeeter was an illegal Animagus, you also managed to capture her and prevent her from writing more of those awful stories! You were the one who came up with the idea for the DA, and I'm not even sure I could have made it through sixth year without you. I don't know about here, but where I come from, I don't think Ron and I would be able to do anything without you. Ron may be good at strategy, and I occasionally stumble across a really stupid idea, but you're the backbone, the support. No one can win anything if they don't have someone to support them." It felt so strange, comforting this woman who didn't even know him – but at the same time, it felt so right.
"Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Hermione sniffed a couple of times, then looked up at him with a brilliant smile. "Thank you, I really needed that. Sometimes... I guess sometimes I just forget." She wiped away her tears and tried to compose herself. "I wanted to ask you about your world. I really am curious as to what the difference are between what happened to you and what happened to us. Some things I dying to find out how you were able to make do without some of the things that we had... like how you got into the Chamber of Secrets. I mean, we had this ancient English-Parseltongue dictionary that Draco found shoved away on a bookshelf in the Slytherin common room. From what I understand, you aren't friends with Draco at all in your world, so you wouldn't have had access to that."
Harry laughed. "Strangely enough, that's one of the many things I couldn't figure out about this world. So you had a dictionary, eh? I didn't know something like that even existed. No, I didn't have anything that fancy. I just did it the old fashioned way –ÊI'm a Parselmouth, see." He tried to think of a way to explain how he had ended up being something so rare, without having to explain the whole story of Voldemort and Professor Trelawney's prophecy, but finally decided to give the simplest explanation. "It's because of an accident that happened when I was still just a baby."
"A Parselmouth, imagine that. Now, the other thing I can't understand is how both you and Cedric Diggory became Hogwarts' champions in the Tri Wizard Tournament. Draco tried to explain it to me, but I'm afraid that it all just went over–"
There was a sudden shout followed by a piercing scream from outside, and both of them froze. After a couple of moments, the scream cut off suddenly, leaving only silence. It took Hermione no time at all to rush to the window, fling it open, and look out at the lawn below. Harry was right behind her, and as his eyes focused upon what was occurring below him, he felt a sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his uneasiness around Hermione.
Outside, a student lay still and unmoving upon the grass. Standing above the still form was a line of figures clad in black, and behind them another row, and another and another. And behind all the rows, a single figure, this one wearing white, ironically enough.
It was what they had been waiting for, what they feared though they knew it must come.
Voldermort.
It did not take long for Hermione to process what she saw and begin breathing again. "I– I'm sorry, Evans, but– I have to go– I have to... I have to..." Her hands clenched tightly at the windowsill, almost turning white. Harry sighed and stepped away from her.
"I know, go on. Don't worry about me, I'll be perfectly fine up here. Good luck."
"Thanks, I have this awful feeling that I might need it," she said with a feeble grin before she rushed out the door. Staring after her, Harry stood in silence for a minute before turning back to the open window.
He knew that he should close the window, or at least step away from it. As it was, he was placing himself in a position possibly be cursed, but he couldn't help it. He had to see what happened, how it would turn out. Harry had never known the outcome of the battle that was the equivalent of this one in his own world, and it was his constant fear that Voldemort had won it.
Looking down, he watched as professors ran out from the doors of the school, their wands at the ready. They were joined by members of the Order of the Phoenix and all of the others who had been slowly trickling into Hogwarts over the past month. Harry spotted Ron, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Sirius in his Animagus form. There were even a few uniformly black robed figures who Harry assumed could be nothing other than seventh year students. As he watched, the initial clash quickly developed into a full-fledge battle, within which there were several smaller skirmishes.
Fred and George were attacking Dementors, their identical Patronuses charging forward. Hermione rushed out of the castle and immediately engaged the first Death Eater she came too. Professor Sprout was conducting the decorative plants planted around the entrance in a uniformed attack – the rose bushes appeared to be particularly vicious. His eyes traveling across the lawn, Harry spotted a familiar figure brilliantly fighting a Death Eater, but for some reason he could not place a name on the man. Suddenly his heart lurched and his mouth went dry. The man was none other than Cedric Diggory.
And there, in the midst of it all, Harry saw Malfoy slowly working his way through the churning mass towards where Dumbledore was engaged with Voldemort.
Right then, a curse that had been cast too wide came hurtling towards Harry's window, barely missing him as he tumbled out of the way. Obviously, it was getting a bit too dangerous to be watching from his rather exposed place at the window. Harry began to crawl towards the window, intent on closing it, when another curse came through, blasting the chair he had been sitting in earlier to pieces. Harry decided to take this as a sign that it would be a lot safer for him to leave the window and simply make for the door.
Another curse hit the door right as he was slamming it behind him, and Harry rushed down the corridor. The interior of the school was eerily silent, as one of the first actions of the Hogwarts' staff had been to herd all of the students to the safer location of the lower levels of the school. It would be, Harry thought, a good place for him as well. Running down the corridor, he again had the guilty feeling that he was running in the wrong direction. Much as he wanted to go out and help the fighters, he knew that he would be next to useless.
As he ran down the steps and onto another floor, Harry found himself having to navigate a number of different objects which had students had been forced to abandon in the mad rush to basements. Harry leapt over fallen stack of books, only to land on something on the other side, losing his balance. Tumbling to the side, Harry rose to his feet and turned back to glare at the cause of his fall.
A stuffed bear sat innocently in the middle of the corridor, just past the fallen books. Harry stared at it for a moment, and slowly grinned as something occurred to him. It was a wild idea, he knew, but it might just work. Feeling better than he had since Hermione had rushed out of the room, Harry took off down the hall again, but this time he was not headed for the next descending staircase. He had a much better idea than hiding.
It took him a while to get in. Harry went through every wizard sweet he could think of, as well as a few Muggle ones. Finally he simply sighed in exasperation, and leaned against the wall. "I suppose," he said conversationally to the gargoyle, "that it would be too simple for it to be sherbet lemon again."
To his surprise, the gargoyle jumped to the side, and the wall broke apart. "He would go back to old passwords just to confuse me," Harry grumbled as he rose up to the door that led to the headmaster's office. Fawkes trilled at him as he entered the office, and Harry regretted that he didn't have any time to visit with the phoenix. He turned away from the phoenix and searched for the shelf where he remembered the Sorting Hat being kept.
"Who're you?" growled the voice of the hat as soon as Harry had it settled on his head. Harry let out a relieved sigh. That had been one of the largest holes in this plan – he hadn't been sure as to whether the hat would acknowledge squibs.
"Harry Potter," he replied, without thinking. He bit his lip, suddenly nervous. /This has to work,/ he thought desperately. /Please– help me–/ He opened his mouth to ask his question, when something beaned him on the head. "Ow!"
"Where did that come from?" the hat wondered, true confusion in its voice. "Didn't know I had it in me."
"Well," Harry said with a grin, "I knew, if it's any consolation. Thanks for the loan!" He pulled off the hat, careful to return it to its spot on the shelf, extracting the sword from inside it. Grasping it in his hand, he dashed out of the room. Behind him, he heard the hat chastising him not to run with sharp objects.
It didn't take Harry nearly as long as he thought it would to make it out to the lawn. Once there, he sprinted across the grass, headed to where he had last seen Voldemort and Dumbledore fighting. Curses and hexes whizzed past him, though none of them seemed to hit him, to his surprise. It was beyond comprehension, though Harry supposed that the sword might be turning them away from him. If that was indeed the reason, he was more than grateful for the helping hand.
He pushed his way through the fighters, and came out in a clear spot. Wiping the nervous sweat from his eyes, he was surprised to see that he was on the Quidditch pitch, though he hadn't thought he'd run that far already. Bodies lay on the ground around Harry, and up ahead he saw a single figure staring dispassionately down at a body lying next to it. The standing figure was, as Harry had somehow known it would be, Voldemort. He had not expected to see the body on the ground, however, and as he recognized the long white beard that trailed across the grass, something inside of him broke.
Placing the sword of Godric Gryffindor in front of him, Harry charged forward. His surroundings blurred into nothingness, and he took no notice of the words of a the spell that someone nearby was calling out. He did not see Malfoy's shocked face as Voldemort stepped out of the path of the killing curse that the young wizard had just flung, placing Harry in the direct path of the curse. Harry did not notice as the green light hit the sword straight on, crackling twisting around the blade.
For Harry, only Voldemort existed. He plunged forward, and the sword bearing the killing curse passed through the white robes, hitting home. Then Voldemort was falling backwards and away from Harry, the sword still embedded in his chest.
Dimly, Harry was aware of a unearthly song somewhere as he sank to the ground. But he somehow couldn't make himself open his eyes to see where it was coming from, couldn't make himself care. The song faded away, and for Harry there was only blackness.
Another longer-than-normal chapter. The muse bit, causing this to sort of... ran away from me. To make up for this one, the next one will probably be shorter than most.
Next chapter: Return of the flowered curtains; Neville makes an astute observation; Harry and Malfoy have A Talk.