Hello again, constant readers. We're on the final stretch, here. I know I've said that before, but I honestly can't do too much more before this story wraps itself up. Just how long this final stretch will be, I have no idea, but the end is coming. And just in case I forget before I'm done, I'd like to thank everyone who has been with me since the beginning. This in itself is a true testament of staying strength considering that I began this story well over a year ago. Not that there haven't been stops along the way (Basic Training was a complete halt.).
To those who complained about Ginny not have a more pro-active role in the battle to come: Don't worry! True heroes are born in the worst of conditions.
TARYN: I want to give a special thanks to you. Though I haven't seen a review from you in a few chapters, I want you to know that I would have given up on this project long before now if it weren't for you. I went to Basic Training thinking that I wasn't going to continue writing, but when I checked my e-mail that first time afterward I was blown away by your passion for something that I had written. I want to dedicate this story to you. I'm not such a pompous ass that I would think that this is such a mighty gift, but I hope it shows my appreciation. You're the best person I've never met.
Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stared down at the huge maps laid out in front of him. They were laid out on long table that Hermione had conjured out of thin air. There were several chairs around the table. The table sat in the room at the top of the ancient tower. This room had once been the quarters of the Headmaster of Hogwarts long before Dumbledore's time.
Immediately on Harry's right sat Draco. Draco had been a constant companion in the week since the brawl with the Slytherins in the Great Hall. Under the strains of being one of the main strategists for the battle to come, Draco had aged visibly. Huge bags stood out plainly under his blood-shot eyes and his once beautiful hair, fell limply onto his shoulders. Line of exhaustion etched his face, but Draco wouldn't stop. He sat for hours in front of the maps, sometimes taking them back with him to his room, staying up until the wee hours of the night studying them.
No one knew how to better defend the castle than Dumbledore, but after a week of hour long discussions with the old wizard, Draco probably ran a close second. Draco knew everything about the castle and Harry was impressed by his determination. It was obvious that Draco was trying to make up for the years when he had terrorized the school. Harry often commended him for his hard work, but hoped that he wouldn't buckle under the stress. As it was, Draco looked like he was on his last legs.
Next to Draco sat Neville Longbottom. This in itself was a miracle. Harry would never have guessed that the pudgy boy would ever have sat next to Draco willfully. Everything changes, Harry told himself silently.
Next to Neville sat Headmaster Gabriel of the Stillwater Academy. A week past, Gabriel had doubted Harry capability as a leader. But during the hours of planning in this once majestic room, the aging man had seen Harry for what he truly was. He now knew that Harry was a compassionate but determined young man that people followed with ease. Gabriel now fully supported all of Harry's decisions.
The next chair was occupied by Quentin Boyd. Harry had requested that Quentin be present at the meetings. Harry knew Quentin was a deceivingly smart boy. Behind his linebacker-like appearance was Quentin was an intelligent and unfailingly optimistic person. Harry knew that optimism would be important in the days to come. By all reports, Voldemort was at full strength and would be moving against the castle shortly.
Ron sat next to Quentin at the far side of the table, Hermione on his right. Of all the people in the room, only Ron and Hermione showed no signs of fatigue. Their bond magic was in full swing and Harry knew they could probably go a week without sleep before they began to tire.
Ron stood suddenly, staring intently at one of the large maps. His eyes danced, like when they did when he solved a problem that had been bothering him for a long time. A problem had been bothering him, but no one besides Hermione, perhaps, had known it. His hand moving faster than Harry could follow, Ron brought a finger down onto the map. His finger came to a stop on a depiction of one of the older towers, on the outer edge of the foundation. He looked up at Dumbledore, who sat next to Hermione. Ron's crooked smile was lighting up his honest face. Ron's face had been very serious lately and it was good to see plain emotion there again. "What's in this tower?" he asked.
Though the question had been directed towards Dumbledore, it was Draco who answered after a quick glance at the Headmaster. "Nothing. It's been abandoned since…1955, I think it was. It used to be overflow dormitories during the student influx in the thirties. They closed it off when attendance dropped back to normal. Why? What do you see?"
Ron stared at the map a moment before answering. "I know we've been talking about closing off the outer towers during the battle, but I think my Sentinels could use this tower fairly well. We could launch counterattacks from there and seeing as the bulk of Voldie's army will be trying to pound down the front gate, we'd be able to flank him from there."
"How?" Professor McGonagall asked, her expression dubious. "You can't launch an attack from a tower. That's the point. It's tall so it can be defended from above. How can you attack from a hundreds of feet in the air? We could launch spells from there, but it seems that magic is not the Sentinels strong point- Don't give me that look, Weasley. It's the truth. Sentinels are ground troops. That's where they are their best."
Ron's smile widened. "How long do you think it would take for someone to jump off of it, Professor?"
McGonagall snorted. "Jump, Weasley?"
"Yes, Professor." Ron said, looking back at the map. "We've been thinking about this for awhile." Ron was the only one who didn't notice that he had said 'We'. When he got excited, he often used the term 'we', referring to himself and Hermione as a single unit. Harry was starting to get used to it. "We've been trying to find out how to best deploy my unit. It's been established that the Sentinels will be the castle's only ground defenses. From this tower, I'll have a full view of the field and be able to send my soldiers where they're needed most. We could leap from the tower and land in the thick of it."
McGonagall shook her head with a sigh. "Sometimes I forget how 'extraordinary' the Sentinels are. They could make the leap without being injured?"
Ron nodded. "Without a doubt. If the Sentinels stay with their bond-mates, they'll make the jump without a problem."
This brought up a subject that no one really wanted to talk about. If a Sentinel or the Sentinel's bond-mate was killed, that left them with a angry and perhaps suicidal wizard or witch. Things could get out of hand fairly quickly if that happened.
Ginny, sitting on Harry's immediate right broke the silence. "I still think the Disabling Charm is our best bet."
Earlier that week, Ginny had tried to solve the problem by suggesting that a Disabling Charm be used on the Sentinels. The charm only worked when a Sentinel or the Sentinel's bond-mate was killed. In that occurrence, the spell would disable the living half of the bond, rendering the person unconscious. This would prevent the living half from causing mass destruction when their loved on died. Ron had strongly disagreed with his sisters idea.
"My Sentinels will never agree to it. They want to be fully conscious if their bond-mates die. They'll want revenge."
Gabriel shook his head. "I still think the Sentinels are far too dangerous to be used." He said, bringing Ron's ice cold stare. In the Headmaster's credit, he withstood that powerful gaze fairly well, his voice only wavering slightly. "All of our plans might go to hell if a powerful Sentinel should disrupt the battle. He or she is just as likely to attack one of its allies as they would an enemy. It's too risky."
Ron, disregarding what respect the position of Headmaster demanded, said, "This battle will be over much sooner if my Sentinels are left out of it."
Harry, sensing an explosive argument (one that had been made several times over the last week), broke in. "Enough." He said quietly, halting the fight. "We've been over this. The Sentinels will fight." He looked up at Ron. "Take the tower. Use it as you like."
Ron nodded, sitting back down, a satisfied expression on his face. Over the last week, Ron and Gabriel had been at each other's throats, fighting about the appropriate use of the Sentinels. Gabriel firmly believed that using them would be a mistake. Harry was certain that the only thing that had kept Ron from throttling the old man had been his position as a Headmaster. It had been a very fine line the two had been walking and Harry was at the center, trying to keep them as under control as possible.
Under the table, Ginny's hand tightened slightly around Harry's. Over the duration of the meetings, Harry had found that hidden hand to be the most comforting thing in his life. Whenever Harry felt he might explode, Ginny would give him her tiny squeeze and he would feel the tension fly out of him.
He looked over at her, sitting next to him, her red hair cascading over her slender shoulders. Harry suddenly felt horrible, realizing how little attention he had been showing her. She deserved for more than he had given her lately. But she had been steadfast in her support for him, never leaving his side.
Maybe she's only staying around to get the occasional glance from you, you asshole, Harry scolded himself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like a carry-on. Harry promised himself that he would make it up to her.
Ginny flashed an uncertain smile at him, nervous under his blank stare. Harry smiled back and pushed a ginger lock of her long hair out her eyes. Ginny's smile widened and she blushed deep enough for her face to match her hair. Her grip tightened under the table.
She loves you, Harry told himself. That's good. At least it's not one sided, he thought wryly. I love her so much that it feels like my heart is going to explode every time I see her.
Which makes what you have to do so much harder, the more logical side of his brain said.
Shut up.
((()))
After Harry had sent letters to all of the parents of Hogwarts students, informing them what was to come, nearly every student had gone home. Now only forty or so remained from the whole school, most of them sixth and seven years, who had decided to stay and fight.
Ron's cousin, Kathryn, had stayed; one of the only first years to remain. She had claimed that she would rather try and help than go home and hope for the best. Harry had to admit she belonged in Gryffindor.
Neville's medical unit was in full swing. Consisting of members mainly from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the group was fully supplied with potions, ointments and medical scrolls. They had all sewn on large red crosses across the back of their robes so they could be easily distinguishable on the battle field. Neville had worked hard with the group of students. With pointers from Madam Pomphrey, Neville had taught them everything that he had thought them ready for and little bit more. They now followed him with a fervor that made Neville blush. He wasn't used to inspiring confidence in others.
Classes had come to a complete halt. Everyone remaining at the school helped in preparation for the coming siege.
Harry was walking down on of the deserted halls, Draco and Ginny at his side, when a voice called out.
"Master Potter! Master Potter! Stop!"
Harry came to a halt and looked in the direction of the voice. On the wall, a painting of an ancient looking woman was suddenly overcrowded. The Fat Lady had pushed the crone out of her chair and was panting in her seat.
Harry was pleased to see that the Fat Lady was doing her job. Harry had decided that using the portraits would be a quick way to relay messages once the fighting started. He had chosen the Fat Lady as the messenger. She was overweight and very lazy, but she knew that passages of Hogwarts as well as Dumbledore did.
Harry forced himself not to laugh when he asked, "What is it m'Lady?"
The Fat Lady took two gasping breaths. "Owl...brought…Dumbledore…a letter. Sentinel scouts…say that…the Dark Wizard…is marching on Hogwarts!"
Harry immediately broke into a sprint. He heard calls from Draco and Ginny behind him, but he presses on until he was standing in the tower, in front of a troubled looking Dumbledore, holding a letter in his hand.
"When will they arrive?" Harry growled.
Dumbledore handed Harry the letter. Harry read it. It was written in a large, messy script that Harry had a hard time reading.
Grand Master Weasley,
We're camped out two days away from Hogwarts. Me and my men have been scouting the area looking for Voldemort's fore-runners, as you commanded. We have found them. We ran into a group of mountain trolls. Needless to say, Voldemort has a few less mountain trolls to worry about. Joseph Dent followed their tracks back to their base camp. He estimates that the bulk of Voldemort's army will be in view of Hogwarts tomorrow morning.
Faithfully Yours,
Mikel TreeHammer.
"So soon?" Harry gasped.
Ron, leaning against the tower's ancient windowsill, nodded grimly. "Sooner than we had expected. But my men will be ready."
Harry nodded. "We're ready. All preparations that we can make have already been made."
Draco and Ginny ran through the open doorway. "When is he coming?" Draco demanded.
"Tomorrow morning." Harry muttered.
Draco's eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Harry took a deep breath and looked around at his friends. "Take the night off. I want you all ready for tomorrow."
Everyone nodded, glad he hadn't added that tonight might be their last night ever.
((()))
Draco sat in his luxurious quarters, staring down at the letters he had written, thinking of his life, thus far. Tomorrow could very well be the last day of his life and he was wondering if his life had been good. The early years of his life had been disgraceful, terrorizing others to make himself look the part. He knew he had a lot to make up for, but he knew he was on the right path.
One of the letters was to his mother. Since his fall from grace amongst Voldemort's ranks, Draco hadn't talked to anyone in his family. As far as his father was concerned, Draco was already dead. Their relationship was beyond repair and Draco knew he would feel little hesitation if he and his father crossed each others' paths during the upcoming battle.
Draco had written his mother because he still felt a small shred of love for the brittle woman. For the first part of his life, Draco had little interaction with his parents. He had been raised by dozens of nannies, seeing his mother's face only rarely. When Draco had turned ten, his mother took over. She taught him things that she thought every boy should know. His days were filled with studies. He wizarding education began early, his mother ignored the restrictions on underage education. While his mother introduced him into the world of a scholar, Lucius Malfoy introduced his son into the world of murderers.
Draco's mother had never had much power in the Malfoy household. So, it wasn't surprising when she didn't object to her husband's more colorful lessons. But Draco could remember the looks of disgust on his mother's face during his lessons.
Not that she was perfect, mind you. Raised in a very wealthy family, she had a very low opinion of the poorer wizarding families. She didn't hold her husband's hatred for Muggles, she merely ignored them, considering them too far below her.
Now, Draco knew his mother wasn't the best person in the world. In fact, when compared with most mothers, she was downright horrible. But she was his mother; his only mother. Draco couldn't ignore that fact.
His letter had simply stated that the path that he had chosen led in a different direction than hers. He knew that he and his mother would no longer have any interaction with each other. And while that made him sad, he did not regret his decision to become one of the 'good guys'. He ended his letter telling his mother that he had fallen in love with a Muggle. He knew that this would sever his mother's love more than anything.
The second letter he had written was to Emily Combs, the girl he had fallen in love with.. Emily worked in the gardens for Hermione's parents. He had fallen in love with her with eerie speed.
Their relationship hadn't started out in the best manner. She had thought he was stalking her (which in a way, he had been) and had attacked him. After a short scuffle, Draco had calmed her down and they had talked. Over the course of one night, Emily had begun to return his feelings. Risking retribution from the Ministry of Magic, Draco had taken Emily on a broomstick ride. It had been the most wonderful night of his life. Draco had never hated Muggles as much as he was forced to pretend to, but he had never thought to fall in love with one.
The letter was short. He told her about the upcoming confrontation (sparing her the more dismal details), and promised to visit her soon. He said that he loved her and someday he would take her from her life of labor and bring her into his.
He looked up from the letters and stared out his small window. Night had fallen and he couldn't see much more than his candlelit reflection. Still, he was proud of what he saw there. Lack of sleep had turned him into a walking zombie, but the shine in his eye was new.
Look at yourself, he said silently. Look at how much you have changed! How did you ever become willing to give your life for a 'just' cause?
Draco couldn't help but smile. The answer was simple. Harry Potter. Draco hadn't known how much acceptance would mean to him. Potter and his friends had accepted Draco, even after the years of torment.
For that, this kindness, Draco would gladly give his life.
When Draco had sent his letters and laid down in his bed, his dreams were untroubled for the first time in years.
((()))
Quentin walked across the grassy courtyards of Hogwarts castle, thinking about events that would occur on the morrow. He couldn't help but look forward with trepidation. Tomorrow, he would probably have to kill. A shudder ran though his massive frame. It wasn't something he would like to do, but he would do it anyway. He had to do it.
Quentin stared in wonder at the tall spires and its networks of bridges of stone. Hogwarts was easily the most wondrous place Quentin had ever seen. And tomorrow, blood will be here.
Even if it weren't for Voldemort, Quentin still would have fought this battle. The reason was simple: Harry wanted him to. Though he hadn't known Harry for more than a couple of months, Quentin knew him to be a noble person. Harry could walk into a room and dominate it merely with his presence. People were drawn to him and followed him willingly.
You're one of those people, aren't you?, he asked himself. He laughed out loud.
"I guess I am." He said. Quentin shrugged his large shoulders and continued down the cobble path.
((()))
Ron saw Quentin stroll across one of Hogwarts' courtyards and smiled. Quentin was quite a young man. Ron knew that Quentin would fight with them until the end.
Ron could see almost the entirety of Hogwarts from his position. He and Hermione had climbed up the ancient tower and climbed out onto the step roof. They now sat, hand in hand, looking down Hogwarts, which for the moment was peaceful. Quentin strolled out of view, whistling a merry tune.
(We should invite him to our wedding.) Hermione's voice echoed in Ron's heart and mind.
Ron smiled and tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. He had to be careful, he was strong enough to snap every bone in her hand. Ron's control over his massive strength had improved since the first time he had used the bond. He remembered the first time he had used the bond magic; when Hermione had been assaulted by Kyle. Ron had broken the door and Kyle's pretty face, but there had been consequences. Ron remembered how he had passed out when the backlash of the bond had rebounded. It had been horrible. But as his strength grew, so did his control. Ron rarely ever let the backlash reach him, usually keeping it in the back of his mind until it weakened.
He looked over at Hermione. (Yes, we should. He's a good man.)
Hermione ran her thumb along his callused palm. He felt the bond-magic responding to her touch and couldn't help but smile. It just felt so good to touch her! When they were together, he could hardly concentrate on anything else. Which, for tonight, was exactly what he wanted. He didn't want to think about anything.
(Harry will be my best man. No doubt about-) his thought was derailed when Hermione leaned over and kissed him. It was a long, deep kiss and Ron was trembling when they pulled apart.
Ron ran a hand through his hair and panted until his breath returned. "What was that about?" he asked, smiling.
Hermione shrugged. "Do I need a reason for kissing you, Ron?"
"Certainly not. Feel free whenever the urge takes hold. I'm always willing."
Hermione smiled, but Ron could tell something was wrong. "What is it?", he asked.
"I'm worried about Harry." She said miserably. "He's the key behind everything. How the hell is Harry, a sixteen year old kid supposed to kill Voldemort?"
Ron put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "He almost killed Old Voldie in New Orleans, remember?"
"But that's just because Susan distracted him."
Ron shrugged. "It never said he had to do by himself. We'll be there, helping him out."
Hermione was quiet for a few moments. "Yeah, but Susan…she died."
The thought of Harry dying made Ron feel sick. The thought of Hermione dying nearly brought tears to his eyes. He knew he couldn't survive without her. If she died, he wouldn't be too far behind her. "No one's going to die, this time.", he said but knew the lie as soon as it came out of his mouth. People were going to die tomorrow, a lot of people.
Maybe Hermione could see his thoughts, because she leaned in and kissed him again. There was comfort in her touch, as well as love. He knew he could live forever in her eyes. What he didn't know was that tomorrow would be the saddest day of his life.
A huge explosion ripped through the air. Ron looked south and saw huge plumes of smoke lifting and mixing with the light breeze.
"Oh God!" Hermione gasped. "That's Hogsmeade!"
Ron gritted his teeth. The bastard had come a day early. Voldemort had finally come to Hogwarts.
To those who complained about Ginny not have a more pro-active role in the battle to come: Don't worry! True heroes are born in the worst of conditions.
TARYN: I want to give a special thanks to you. Though I haven't seen a review from you in a few chapters, I want you to know that I would have given up on this project long before now if it weren't for you. I went to Basic Training thinking that I wasn't going to continue writing, but when I checked my e-mail that first time afterward I was blown away by your passion for something that I had written. I want to dedicate this story to you. I'm not such a pompous ass that I would think that this is such a mighty gift, but I hope it shows my appreciation. You're the best person I've never met.
Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he stared down at the huge maps laid out in front of him. They were laid out on long table that Hermione had conjured out of thin air. There were several chairs around the table. The table sat in the room at the top of the ancient tower. This room had once been the quarters of the Headmaster of Hogwarts long before Dumbledore's time.
Immediately on Harry's right sat Draco. Draco had been a constant companion in the week since the brawl with the Slytherins in the Great Hall. Under the strains of being one of the main strategists for the battle to come, Draco had aged visibly. Huge bags stood out plainly under his blood-shot eyes and his once beautiful hair, fell limply onto his shoulders. Line of exhaustion etched his face, but Draco wouldn't stop. He sat for hours in front of the maps, sometimes taking them back with him to his room, staying up until the wee hours of the night studying them.
No one knew how to better defend the castle than Dumbledore, but after a week of hour long discussions with the old wizard, Draco probably ran a close second. Draco knew everything about the castle and Harry was impressed by his determination. It was obvious that Draco was trying to make up for the years when he had terrorized the school. Harry often commended him for his hard work, but hoped that he wouldn't buckle under the stress. As it was, Draco looked like he was on his last legs.
Next to Draco sat Neville Longbottom. This in itself was a miracle. Harry would never have guessed that the pudgy boy would ever have sat next to Draco willfully. Everything changes, Harry told himself silently.
Next to Neville sat Headmaster Gabriel of the Stillwater Academy. A week past, Gabriel had doubted Harry capability as a leader. But during the hours of planning in this once majestic room, the aging man had seen Harry for what he truly was. He now knew that Harry was a compassionate but determined young man that people followed with ease. Gabriel now fully supported all of Harry's decisions.
The next chair was occupied by Quentin Boyd. Harry had requested that Quentin be present at the meetings. Harry knew Quentin was a deceivingly smart boy. Behind his linebacker-like appearance was Quentin was an intelligent and unfailingly optimistic person. Harry knew that optimism would be important in the days to come. By all reports, Voldemort was at full strength and would be moving against the castle shortly.
Ron sat next to Quentin at the far side of the table, Hermione on his right. Of all the people in the room, only Ron and Hermione showed no signs of fatigue. Their bond magic was in full swing and Harry knew they could probably go a week without sleep before they began to tire.
Ron stood suddenly, staring intently at one of the large maps. His eyes danced, like when they did when he solved a problem that had been bothering him for a long time. A problem had been bothering him, but no one besides Hermione, perhaps, had known it. His hand moving faster than Harry could follow, Ron brought a finger down onto the map. His finger came to a stop on a depiction of one of the older towers, on the outer edge of the foundation. He looked up at Dumbledore, who sat next to Hermione. Ron's crooked smile was lighting up his honest face. Ron's face had been very serious lately and it was good to see plain emotion there again. "What's in this tower?" he asked.
Though the question had been directed towards Dumbledore, it was Draco who answered after a quick glance at the Headmaster. "Nothing. It's been abandoned since…1955, I think it was. It used to be overflow dormitories during the student influx in the thirties. They closed it off when attendance dropped back to normal. Why? What do you see?"
Ron stared at the map a moment before answering. "I know we've been talking about closing off the outer towers during the battle, but I think my Sentinels could use this tower fairly well. We could launch counterattacks from there and seeing as the bulk of Voldie's army will be trying to pound down the front gate, we'd be able to flank him from there."
"How?" Professor McGonagall asked, her expression dubious. "You can't launch an attack from a tower. That's the point. It's tall so it can be defended from above. How can you attack from a hundreds of feet in the air? We could launch spells from there, but it seems that magic is not the Sentinels strong point- Don't give me that look, Weasley. It's the truth. Sentinels are ground troops. That's where they are their best."
Ron's smile widened. "How long do you think it would take for someone to jump off of it, Professor?"
McGonagall snorted. "Jump, Weasley?"
"Yes, Professor." Ron said, looking back at the map. "We've been thinking about this for awhile." Ron was the only one who didn't notice that he had said 'We'. When he got excited, he often used the term 'we', referring to himself and Hermione as a single unit. Harry was starting to get used to it. "We've been trying to find out how to best deploy my unit. It's been established that the Sentinels will be the castle's only ground defenses. From this tower, I'll have a full view of the field and be able to send my soldiers where they're needed most. We could leap from the tower and land in the thick of it."
McGonagall shook her head with a sigh. "Sometimes I forget how 'extraordinary' the Sentinels are. They could make the leap without being injured?"
Ron nodded. "Without a doubt. If the Sentinels stay with their bond-mates, they'll make the jump without a problem."
This brought up a subject that no one really wanted to talk about. If a Sentinel or the Sentinel's bond-mate was killed, that left them with a angry and perhaps suicidal wizard or witch. Things could get out of hand fairly quickly if that happened.
Ginny, sitting on Harry's immediate right broke the silence. "I still think the Disabling Charm is our best bet."
Earlier that week, Ginny had tried to solve the problem by suggesting that a Disabling Charm be used on the Sentinels. The charm only worked when a Sentinel or the Sentinel's bond-mate was killed. In that occurrence, the spell would disable the living half of the bond, rendering the person unconscious. This would prevent the living half from causing mass destruction when their loved on died. Ron had strongly disagreed with his sisters idea.
"My Sentinels will never agree to it. They want to be fully conscious if their bond-mates die. They'll want revenge."
Gabriel shook his head. "I still think the Sentinels are far too dangerous to be used." He said, bringing Ron's ice cold stare. In the Headmaster's credit, he withstood that powerful gaze fairly well, his voice only wavering slightly. "All of our plans might go to hell if a powerful Sentinel should disrupt the battle. He or she is just as likely to attack one of its allies as they would an enemy. It's too risky."
Ron, disregarding what respect the position of Headmaster demanded, said, "This battle will be over much sooner if my Sentinels are left out of it."
Harry, sensing an explosive argument (one that had been made several times over the last week), broke in. "Enough." He said quietly, halting the fight. "We've been over this. The Sentinels will fight." He looked up at Ron. "Take the tower. Use it as you like."
Ron nodded, sitting back down, a satisfied expression on his face. Over the last week, Ron and Gabriel had been at each other's throats, fighting about the appropriate use of the Sentinels. Gabriel firmly believed that using them would be a mistake. Harry was certain that the only thing that had kept Ron from throttling the old man had been his position as a Headmaster. It had been a very fine line the two had been walking and Harry was at the center, trying to keep them as under control as possible.
Under the table, Ginny's hand tightened slightly around Harry's. Over the duration of the meetings, Harry had found that hidden hand to be the most comforting thing in his life. Whenever Harry felt he might explode, Ginny would give him her tiny squeeze and he would feel the tension fly out of him.
He looked over at her, sitting next to him, her red hair cascading over her slender shoulders. Harry suddenly felt horrible, realizing how little attention he had been showing her. She deserved for more than he had given her lately. But she had been steadfast in her support for him, never leaving his side.
Maybe she's only staying around to get the occasional glance from you, you asshole, Harry scolded himself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like a carry-on. Harry promised himself that he would make it up to her.
Ginny flashed an uncertain smile at him, nervous under his blank stare. Harry smiled back and pushed a ginger lock of her long hair out her eyes. Ginny's smile widened and she blushed deep enough for her face to match her hair. Her grip tightened under the table.
She loves you, Harry told himself. That's good. At least it's not one sided, he thought wryly. I love her so much that it feels like my heart is going to explode every time I see her.
Which makes what you have to do so much harder, the more logical side of his brain said.
Shut up.
((()))
After Harry had sent letters to all of the parents of Hogwarts students, informing them what was to come, nearly every student had gone home. Now only forty or so remained from the whole school, most of them sixth and seven years, who had decided to stay and fight.
Ron's cousin, Kathryn, had stayed; one of the only first years to remain. She had claimed that she would rather try and help than go home and hope for the best. Harry had to admit she belonged in Gryffindor.
Neville's medical unit was in full swing. Consisting of members mainly from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the group was fully supplied with potions, ointments and medical scrolls. They had all sewn on large red crosses across the back of their robes so they could be easily distinguishable on the battle field. Neville had worked hard with the group of students. With pointers from Madam Pomphrey, Neville had taught them everything that he had thought them ready for and little bit more. They now followed him with a fervor that made Neville blush. He wasn't used to inspiring confidence in others.
Classes had come to a complete halt. Everyone remaining at the school helped in preparation for the coming siege.
Harry was walking down on of the deserted halls, Draco and Ginny at his side, when a voice called out.
"Master Potter! Master Potter! Stop!"
Harry came to a halt and looked in the direction of the voice. On the wall, a painting of an ancient looking woman was suddenly overcrowded. The Fat Lady had pushed the crone out of her chair and was panting in her seat.
Harry was pleased to see that the Fat Lady was doing her job. Harry had decided that using the portraits would be a quick way to relay messages once the fighting started. He had chosen the Fat Lady as the messenger. She was overweight and very lazy, but she knew that passages of Hogwarts as well as Dumbledore did.
Harry forced himself not to laugh when he asked, "What is it m'Lady?"
The Fat Lady took two gasping breaths. "Owl...brought…Dumbledore…a letter. Sentinel scouts…say that…the Dark Wizard…is marching on Hogwarts!"
Harry immediately broke into a sprint. He heard calls from Draco and Ginny behind him, but he presses on until he was standing in the tower, in front of a troubled looking Dumbledore, holding a letter in his hand.
"When will they arrive?" Harry growled.
Dumbledore handed Harry the letter. Harry read it. It was written in a large, messy script that Harry had a hard time reading.
Grand Master Weasley,
We're camped out two days away from Hogwarts. Me and my men have been scouting the area looking for Voldemort's fore-runners, as you commanded. We have found them. We ran into a group of mountain trolls. Needless to say, Voldemort has a few less mountain trolls to worry about. Joseph Dent followed their tracks back to their base camp. He estimates that the bulk of Voldemort's army will be in view of Hogwarts tomorrow morning.
Faithfully Yours,
Mikel TreeHammer.
"So soon?" Harry gasped.
Ron, leaning against the tower's ancient windowsill, nodded grimly. "Sooner than we had expected. But my men will be ready."
Harry nodded. "We're ready. All preparations that we can make have already been made."
Draco and Ginny ran through the open doorway. "When is he coming?" Draco demanded.
"Tomorrow morning." Harry muttered.
Draco's eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Harry took a deep breath and looked around at his friends. "Take the night off. I want you all ready for tomorrow."
Everyone nodded, glad he hadn't added that tonight might be their last night ever.
((()))
Draco sat in his luxurious quarters, staring down at the letters he had written, thinking of his life, thus far. Tomorrow could very well be the last day of his life and he was wondering if his life had been good. The early years of his life had been disgraceful, terrorizing others to make himself look the part. He knew he had a lot to make up for, but he knew he was on the right path.
One of the letters was to his mother. Since his fall from grace amongst Voldemort's ranks, Draco hadn't talked to anyone in his family. As far as his father was concerned, Draco was already dead. Their relationship was beyond repair and Draco knew he would feel little hesitation if he and his father crossed each others' paths during the upcoming battle.
Draco had written his mother because he still felt a small shred of love for the brittle woman. For the first part of his life, Draco had little interaction with his parents. He had been raised by dozens of nannies, seeing his mother's face only rarely. When Draco had turned ten, his mother took over. She taught him things that she thought every boy should know. His days were filled with studies. He wizarding education began early, his mother ignored the restrictions on underage education. While his mother introduced him into the world of a scholar, Lucius Malfoy introduced his son into the world of murderers.
Draco's mother had never had much power in the Malfoy household. So, it wasn't surprising when she didn't object to her husband's more colorful lessons. But Draco could remember the looks of disgust on his mother's face during his lessons.
Not that she was perfect, mind you. Raised in a very wealthy family, she had a very low opinion of the poorer wizarding families. She didn't hold her husband's hatred for Muggles, she merely ignored them, considering them too far below her.
Now, Draco knew his mother wasn't the best person in the world. In fact, when compared with most mothers, she was downright horrible. But she was his mother; his only mother. Draco couldn't ignore that fact.
His letter had simply stated that the path that he had chosen led in a different direction than hers. He knew that he and his mother would no longer have any interaction with each other. And while that made him sad, he did not regret his decision to become one of the 'good guys'. He ended his letter telling his mother that he had fallen in love with a Muggle. He knew that this would sever his mother's love more than anything.
The second letter he had written was to Emily Combs, the girl he had fallen in love with.. Emily worked in the gardens for Hermione's parents. He had fallen in love with her with eerie speed.
Their relationship hadn't started out in the best manner. She had thought he was stalking her (which in a way, he had been) and had attacked him. After a short scuffle, Draco had calmed her down and they had talked. Over the course of one night, Emily had begun to return his feelings. Risking retribution from the Ministry of Magic, Draco had taken Emily on a broomstick ride. It had been the most wonderful night of his life. Draco had never hated Muggles as much as he was forced to pretend to, but he had never thought to fall in love with one.
The letter was short. He told her about the upcoming confrontation (sparing her the more dismal details), and promised to visit her soon. He said that he loved her and someday he would take her from her life of labor and bring her into his.
He looked up from the letters and stared out his small window. Night had fallen and he couldn't see much more than his candlelit reflection. Still, he was proud of what he saw there. Lack of sleep had turned him into a walking zombie, but the shine in his eye was new.
Look at yourself, he said silently. Look at how much you have changed! How did you ever become willing to give your life for a 'just' cause?
Draco couldn't help but smile. The answer was simple. Harry Potter. Draco hadn't known how much acceptance would mean to him. Potter and his friends had accepted Draco, even after the years of torment.
For that, this kindness, Draco would gladly give his life.
When Draco had sent his letters and laid down in his bed, his dreams were untroubled for the first time in years.
((()))
Quentin walked across the grassy courtyards of Hogwarts castle, thinking about events that would occur on the morrow. He couldn't help but look forward with trepidation. Tomorrow, he would probably have to kill. A shudder ran though his massive frame. It wasn't something he would like to do, but he would do it anyway. He had to do it.
Quentin stared in wonder at the tall spires and its networks of bridges of stone. Hogwarts was easily the most wondrous place Quentin had ever seen. And tomorrow, blood will be here.
Even if it weren't for Voldemort, Quentin still would have fought this battle. The reason was simple: Harry wanted him to. Though he hadn't known Harry for more than a couple of months, Quentin knew him to be a noble person. Harry could walk into a room and dominate it merely with his presence. People were drawn to him and followed him willingly.
You're one of those people, aren't you?, he asked himself. He laughed out loud.
"I guess I am." He said. Quentin shrugged his large shoulders and continued down the cobble path.
((()))
Ron saw Quentin stroll across one of Hogwarts' courtyards and smiled. Quentin was quite a young man. Ron knew that Quentin would fight with them until the end.
Ron could see almost the entirety of Hogwarts from his position. He and Hermione had climbed up the ancient tower and climbed out onto the step roof. They now sat, hand in hand, looking down Hogwarts, which for the moment was peaceful. Quentin strolled out of view, whistling a merry tune.
(We should invite him to our wedding.) Hermione's voice echoed in Ron's heart and mind.
Ron smiled and tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. He had to be careful, he was strong enough to snap every bone in her hand. Ron's control over his massive strength had improved since the first time he had used the bond. He remembered the first time he had used the bond magic; when Hermione had been assaulted by Kyle. Ron had broken the door and Kyle's pretty face, but there had been consequences. Ron remembered how he had passed out when the backlash of the bond had rebounded. It had been horrible. But as his strength grew, so did his control. Ron rarely ever let the backlash reach him, usually keeping it in the back of his mind until it weakened.
He looked over at Hermione. (Yes, we should. He's a good man.)
Hermione ran her thumb along his callused palm. He felt the bond-magic responding to her touch and couldn't help but smile. It just felt so good to touch her! When they were together, he could hardly concentrate on anything else. Which, for tonight, was exactly what he wanted. He didn't want to think about anything.
(Harry will be my best man. No doubt about-) his thought was derailed when Hermione leaned over and kissed him. It was a long, deep kiss and Ron was trembling when they pulled apart.
Ron ran a hand through his hair and panted until his breath returned. "What was that about?" he asked, smiling.
Hermione shrugged. "Do I need a reason for kissing you, Ron?"
"Certainly not. Feel free whenever the urge takes hold. I'm always willing."
Hermione smiled, but Ron could tell something was wrong. "What is it?", he asked.
"I'm worried about Harry." She said miserably. "He's the key behind everything. How the hell is Harry, a sixteen year old kid supposed to kill Voldemort?"
Ron put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "He almost killed Old Voldie in New Orleans, remember?"
"But that's just because Susan distracted him."
Ron shrugged. "It never said he had to do by himself. We'll be there, helping him out."
Hermione was quiet for a few moments. "Yeah, but Susan…she died."
The thought of Harry dying made Ron feel sick. The thought of Hermione dying nearly brought tears to his eyes. He knew he couldn't survive without her. If she died, he wouldn't be too far behind her. "No one's going to die, this time.", he said but knew the lie as soon as it came out of his mouth. People were going to die tomorrow, a lot of people.
Maybe Hermione could see his thoughts, because she leaned in and kissed him again. There was comfort in her touch, as well as love. He knew he could live forever in her eyes. What he didn't know was that tomorrow would be the saddest day of his life.
A huge explosion ripped through the air. Ron looked south and saw huge plumes of smoke lifting and mixing with the light breeze.
"Oh God!" Hermione gasped. "That's Hogsmeade!"
Ron gritted his teeth. The bastard had come a day early. Voldemort had finally come to Hogwarts.