Chapter 26:  The Third Holiday

            The next morning at breakfast, many of their professors were still missing.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged significant looks, and Harry was sure he saw Draco gazing at all of them shrewdly from the Slytherin table.  It wasn't until Ron had gone off with Parvati and Hermione was helping a first year he'd never seen before, however, that Draco came up to Harry, hissing, "You think there's been a battle, too, don't you?"

            "There's hardly another explanation," Harry said, almost instinctively.

            "Why didn't they take us?" Draco said, trying to yell and whisper at the same time.

            "What?"

            "You and me, we're the last Heirs left, and they didn't even tell us anything."

            Harry stared at him as though the thought had never passed through his mind.  "But…we're not ready, are we?"

            "I am ready.  They will never see us that way, though.  If only they would let us take things into our own hands—"

            "So others can die?!" Harry said, having trouble keeping his voice down.  "Look what happened the last time we took things into our own hands!"

            Draco was silenced for a few moments.  "They could have at least told us.  Why leave us in the dark?"

            "Because they knew you'd insist on going."

            Harry and Draco jumped, finding Hermione had joined in on their conversation.  Her brown eyes glittered and her jaw was set in firm mirror image of McGonagall.

            "They were right, weren't they?" she said quietly.  "And they were right to not want you to go.  You're not ready."

            "What would you know about it?" Draco said calmly, though the words couldn't hide the storm clouds in his eyes.

            "I know you, both of you," Hermione replied, just as calm.  "War is never to be taken lightly, and there is a big difference between wanting to fight and being forced to fight.  I don't know if you see that well enough yet."

            "I know the difference," Draco said, barely audible.

            Hermione's eyes flashed slightly.  "Then you should be able to accept the fact that you weren't asked to fight."

            "You don't understand."  Draco's teeth were clenched now.  "We are the last remaining Heirs.  It is up to us to finish this."

            "It doesn't have to be!" Hermione said a little loudly, quickly shushing herself.  "You're not bound by fate!"

            "No, but we're not going to ignore it either!" Draco hissed.  "We will fight, no matter what anyone says, that is certain."

            "I don't want you to die!"

            The conversations around them stopped abruptly as Hermione yelled this sentence, no one bothering to pretend not to stare.  Hermione's cheeks went a little red, but she continued to stare furiously at Draco; she abruptly stood and hurried out of the hall.  Slowly, the people surrounding them drifted back into their own lives, though a few ears remained perked.

            "We need to talk," Draco said pointedly to Harry, leaving the table.

            Harry followed, still trying to sort out the argument he'd been no part of.  Draco stopped the instant they were out of the Great Hall.

            "How much does she know?" he hissed.

            "What?"

            "Hermione.  Unless I'm very much mistaken, she knows about the prophecy.  She wasn't supposed to know about it last I knew."

            Harry shook his head.  "She's not supposed to."

            "Then how does she?"

            It didn't take long for Harry to answer.  "Azar."

            "What?"

            "Azar wrote me before Christmas…  She may have done the same in Hermione's case.  She could have told her about the prophecy."

            Draco tried to hide his anger.  "She knew better than that!  There was no reason—"

            "To protect us," Harry said firmly.

            Draco shot him a look.  "Azar?  Trying to protect us?  Rather hypocritical of her, don't you think?"

            Harry shook his head again.  "She blamed herself for James.  If she knew that she wouldn't be here to hold us back…then I'm sure she would have made sure someone was there.  Hermione."

            "Why is everyone trying to protect us?!" Draco cried.  "If we die, we die; if we live, we live.  Simple as that."

            Harry only heard this out of the corner of his mind; he'd remembered something.  "Draco…  Azar told me that when…on Halloween, Voldemort tried to kill you.  With Avada Kedavra.  But before it hit you, it split into two and ended up hitting some trees instead.  Why did that happen?"

            Draco stared at him, a little taken aback.  "Why are you bringing this up now?"

            "The prophecy said we were all going to die; you should have died that night."

            "Oh, thanks, I love you too, Potter."

            "You know what I mean."

            "The prophecy also said it would stop," Draco pointed out.  "That someone with good intentions would start a war or something."

            "But they didn't stop that night or Azar wouldn't have died.  Why did you live when she died?"

            Draco's eyes darkened instantly.  Harry felt guilt settle in his stomach like a stone.  "Draco, I…didn't mean it that—"

            "No, I understand," Draco said coolly.  "Why couldn't your girlfriend have lived and the Slytherin died instead.  Frankly, I don't know why the hell not."

            Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  He just stared at Draco, who was studying the wall.

            "I have a Transfiguration essay to do," Draco said suddenly, turning and walking away abruptly.

            Harry stared after him but, feeling eyes on his back, quickly closed his mouth and turned around.  Professor McGonagall was standing there; how much she'd heard, he didn't want to know.

            "We need to talk, Mr. Potter."

            There was a strain to her voice that instantly made Harry suspicious and afraid.  He looked at her urgently, but her expression was impassive, though her lips seemed a little thinner and her eyes mistier than usual.

            He didn't get a chance to say anything before she turned and said, "Follow me."

            Harry did so without a word, not noticing the stares they got from a few passing students as they headed for the professor's office.  With a slight jolt, Harry realized he could actually see over her head.  When had he grown so tall?  Or had McGonagall shrunk? 

            She ushered him through the door first, motioned for him to sit, and then took her own seat across from him.  Her expression was now a little more readable and only succeeded in adding more stones to Harry's stomach.

            "I'm not going to pretend nothing has been going on these past few days," she said heavily.  "I know by now to expect you to know more than I expect.  I'm sure you've noticed the absence of many teachers.  Do you know why?"

            Harry found it a bit hard to speak; his mouth had gone dry.  "There was a battle against Voldemort."

            Professor McGonagall nodded.  "The Ministry received some compelling information and decided the time to act had come.  Many professors here at Hogwarts found it was their duty to help in any way possible."

            She paused, her eyes darting to the side.  The stones in Harry's stomach turned into hopping toads.

            "They knew the risks," McGonagall said in one breath.  "War is never without grave risks, Mr. Potter, but all those who fought were willing to take the chance.  Each one was willing to give his or her life to the cause."

            The toads were now fighting violently, struggling and straining against the lining of Harry's stomach.  One seemed to have found its way into his throat.

            Professor McGonagall took a sharp breath.  "Harry…  Rubeus Hagrid fell."

            The toads were silent.  "Hagrid?" he breathed.

            McGonagall nodded.  "He fought bravely, even capturing two Death Eaters.  I…I'm afraid that his size left him…something of a target.  I know you were close to him, Harry."

            It was Harry's turn to nod, though he hardly felt himself do it.  His mind was elsewhere, in a shack in the middle of the ocean, with an unsteady door, a sagging couch, and his first ever birthday cake.

            "I'm afraid I have more to tell you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said tentatively, bringing Harry from his reverie.

            The toads seemed to wake up and were now all the more frantic to escape, also seeming to have doubled in number.

            "Sirius is missing."

            The toads died.

            "We do not know yet if he is dead," McGonagall said quickly, "however, we must be prepared for the worst."

            Harry hardly heard her.  He couldn't feel his feet, and even his eyes seemed miles away.

            "Promise me you'll never die, Sirius."

            "…I promise."

            "Harry?"

            He looked up but hardly took in his professor's face, long and tired.  "Harry, Professor Dumbledore will give this information to the school at large this evening.  I felt, however, that as you are so closely akin to two of those regarded…  You may stay in my office for as much time as you need."

            She stood up, gripping his shoulder gently, and then left the room.  Harry didn't move, didn't even notice anything but the voices and images spinning in his head.

            "He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.  Seven years there and he won't know himself…."

            "No, this was Godric's Hollow."

             "Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead…"

             "…I'm to blame, I know it…"

            "Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it.  'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead—anyway, got yeh this…"

            "But…well…think about it.  Once my name's cleared…if you wanted a…a different home…"

            "Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that…"

             "You are—truly your father's son, Harry…."

            "All righ' there, Harry?"

****

            It was dinnertime before Harry reappeared.  Ron was stirring his food and glaring at it as though it had just insulted him, the aftermath of another fight with Parvati; he'd forgotten it was Valentine's Day.  Draco's look nearly matched his, though it was directed toward a vague corner of the Hall as opposed to his pudding.  Hermione didn't appear to be broody, but then as her face was buried in a book, it was rather hard to tell.  In any case, Harry's addition did nothing to change the mood of the group.  No one seemed particularly interested in what was wrong with the others.

            Not long after Harry, Dumbledore entered the Great Hall.  He made no preamble about readying his food but went right to the middle of the staff table, standing with a straighter back than anyone would expect of someone his age.

            "I need your attention," he said, somehow managing to echo above the various chattering.

            There was a ring to Dumbledore's voice, a certain grimness to his eyes and severity of his mouth, that silenced the hall quicker than the most deadly of Snape's glares.

            "It would be an insult to pretend none of you have noticed the absence of many professors the past two days," he began.  "It would be even more of an insult to try and continue the charade as some professors will be missing for a few weeks, and some will never return."

            Harry felt as though someone had twisted his stomach and tied a knot in his esophagus.  He didn't want to look at Dumbledore; he didn't want to look anywhere else.

            Dumbledore's voice, though quiet, rang off the walls.  "You all have known for a long time the struggle that exists between the Ministry of Magic and an insurgent, Lord Voldemort.  Early morning Friday, a contingent of Ministry fighters went to battle with Lord Voldemort's supporters in an effort to end this.  Many Hogwarts professors found it was their duty to join in this endeavor."

            A wave washed over the crowd, whispers and turning heads flowing over the hall and then going still and silent once again.  All eyes, glowing orbs in the candlelight, turned once again toward Dumbledore.

            "As in all wars, the price paid to keep Voldemort at bay has been dear, and this battle was no exception.  And as past events can attest to, Hogwarts professors are not immortal or immune to suffering.  I am sorry to say that two professors were lost in the battle:  Professor Rubeus Hagrid of Care of Magical Creatures, and Professor Archimedes Vector of Arithmancy."

            Not a whisper of wind went through the Hall.  A few heads turned, some people cast sideways glances at each other, one suppressed sob came from the Hufflepuff table, but no one else had even taken their eyes from Dumbledore's face.  A few faces had frozen at the words, a few had teared up, a few refused to believe it.

            Harry kept his gaze on Dumbledore, hardly daring to breathe.  He couldn't face Ron and Hermione, not now.  If he even saw their faces, he was sure he would break.

            From the head table, Dumbledore picked up a goblet, holding it in front of him.  His blue eyes, somber and heavy, scanned the Hall.

            "I ask you to drink to their memory."

            A scraping of chairs, the slight clink of metal, "Professor Hagrid, Professor Vector," drink.

            Dumbledore wasn't finished.  "There are also some professors for whom the battle is not yet ended.  Professor Sirius Black of Preparing for the Future, Professor Alice Haight of Muggle Studies, and Professor Severus Snape of Potions are unaccounted for.  We can only hope for their safe return.  Keep them in your hearts."

            Dumbledore didn't sit down.  He gave the full Hall a nod, then turned and walked out the double doors.  Harry knew he didn't want to talk to Ron and Hermione, and simply followed Dumbledore's lead.

            Harry was alone in the common room for ages before people began to file in from dinner.  He didn't move from his seat; Ron and Hermione would want to talk.  And maybe he did, too.

            It wasn't long before they came in, sitting near him in silence.  None of them moved or spoke or even looked at each other.  They sat there, staring into the fire, as the common room filled and then quickly emptied.  It was late when finally Ron made the first move; he got up and stirred the dying fire.

            Hermione seemed to wake up.  "We'd better get started on Professor Sprout's essay," she said briskly, taking a book from her bag.

            Ron stared at her, poker in hand, a mixture of anger and betrayal in his eyes.  "How can you think of homework now?" he said, putting the poker back with an unnecessary amount of noise.

            "Well it has to get done, hasn't it?" she snapped.  Hermione started flipping through the book faster than she could possibly be scanning the pages.  "Life goes on, doesn't it?" she said quieter, her voice cracking slightly.  "We don't stop living just…just because they—he…"

            She stood up suddenly, the book falling unchecked to the floor, and walked a few paces away, turning her back to them.  Her hand huddled against her mouth, and by the way she hunched her shoulders it was clear she was crying.  Ron glanced quickly at Harry but he could only Hermione, wanting to join her in her tears but unable to.  With a deep breath, Ron walked over to Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder.  She turned around and, without even looking up, buried her head in his shoulder.  Gently, Ron put his arms around her.

            "It'll be okay, Hermione," he whispered.  "I'm here for you; it'll be okay."

            Slowly, Harry stood up, looking for a long time at his two friends lost in their shared pain.  Then he went straight for the staircase, up into the dormitory, and to bed.

****

            Harry heard Ron when he came up to the dormitory.  He heard the small shuffling as the boy shucked off his shoes and dropped into bed, the sound of slow, metered breathing filling Harry's ears.  He just sat against the headboard, staring at the folds of his bed curtains.  For some reason, he wasn't tired.  He hadn't even changed into his pajamas or taken off his shoes; there didn't seem to be any real reason for it.

            Looking at his photo book didn't help.  He couldn't help but keep wondering how these people could be so important in his life, but he didn't have many pictures.  It seemed now that it would have made far more sense to have taken photos of their every movement, and he'd never done that.  Hagrid had given him the album, and he didn't even have a picture of him in it.

            Harry slammed the book shut, rubbing a hand over his face and blinking away the heat in his eyes.  He got up quickly but silently, slipping the album into his trunk.  Then he just stood there; there was nothing left to do.  With a shake of his head, he turned around to give sleep another try. 

            The waxing moon outside the window pane glowed almost unnaturally bright.  A day or two, Harry reckoned, and Remus would be curled up in some corner room, trying to forget the long snout under his eyesight and tail that trailed his every step.  Had Remus fought, Harry wondered.  Had he charged in beside Sirius?  Had he lost him?

            Harry leaned his forehead against the cool glass pane and stared at the grounds, as he had so many nights before.  And as so many nights before, he watched the shadows of the forest wave along the grass with the sway of the wind.  And as so many nights before, he saw a shadow emerge from the rest that certainly didn't belong to a tree.  Harry straightened up, blinking several times.  Was it a runaway cat, perhaps?  Or maybe some wayward centaur?

            Harry squinted harder.  No, he wasn't imagining it; there was a figure struggling to make its way across the grounds.  It looked terribly hunched and was limping.  His heart leapt and he knew—without a doubt—that it was Sirius.  It had to be.

            "Survivors!" he yelled grabbing his wand.  "Wake up, Ron!  There's someone coming!"

            Deep groans emitted from the four other boys as they woke to the cries.

            "Harry, wha—"

            "Get Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled, and then he raced out of the dormitory, out of the common room.  He nearly smashed into Filch as he ran to the entrance hall, and answered his snarls only with, "Sirius!  Outside!  Hurt!"

            As Harry burst open the entrance doors, leaping down the stairs in one bound, he whipped out his wand and cried, "Lumos!"  The terribly hunched figure, he realized now, was two people, one supporting the other heavily.  When Harry's wandlight finally reached the men, he saw in an instant that Sirius was the one being held up.  One of his legs dragged along behind him at an odd angle; makeshift bandages wrapped around Sirius' abdomen were stained red; he clung tight to his companion, only half-heartedly trying to walk with his good leg.

            "Sirius!" Harry cried, running up and taking hold of him.  The man who had been dragging Sirius along gladly let go, Harry now his godfather's only support.

            Close up, Sirius looked even worse.  His face was paler than Harry had seen it since his third year and had a hollow look about it.  His eyes were searching and unfocused, pausing in question on Harry's face.

            "No…  No, you can't, Sirius!" Harry cried, holding onto his godfather.  "You promised you wouldn't die!"

            Sirius' eyes seemed to sharpen, and he gave a small smile.  "I haven't yet, Harry," Sirius said quietly, placing a heavy hand on the boy's head.  "And I don't intend to.  Not now; not ever."

            "They're alive!"

            Filch had apparently gone for Professor McGonagall who sprinted across the grounds, holding up her bathrobe slightly to keep from tripping and clutching to keep her nightcap on her head.  "I can't believe it!  I can not believe it!  You're alive!"

            "Sirius is hurt," Harry said quickly as she reached them.

            Professor McGonagall conjured a stretcher and Harry eased Sirius down onto it.  The man gladly lay back with a contented sigh.  "Oh yeah, this is much better than walking."

            McGonagall turned her attention to the other man.  "Are you all right?  Do you need any medical attention, Severus?"

            Until that moment, Harry hadn't even glanced at Sirius' companion, but he whirled around instantly at McGonagall's address.  It was Snape.

            "No, I'm fine."

            At these words, McGonagall turned back to Sirius, questioning him on his wounds.  Harry, however, just stared, unable to move or speak or even hardly to breathe.  Snape's piercing eyes met his for just a moment, filled with contempt.  Then a sudden cry brought Harry to his senses.  Whether the work of a somnolent Ron or frantic Filch, Harry never knew, but a becurlered Madam Pomfrey rushed to their sides.  She instantly went to work, hurriedly ushering Sirius' stretcher into the castle.  Harry and Professor McGonagall followed at a gait, leaving the Potions master alone.

~*~*~

A/N:  Sorry it's been so long, folks.  I'm in college now, and about to go through my first hurricane. *laughs*  Yeah, interesting stuff.  I plan on getting this ruddy fic done soon enough, but I make no promises because I rarely keep them. *sigh*

            OH!  And don't anyone tell me that it couldn't possibly have been Valentine's Day, because I did the math when reading, and did it again after my beta insisted I had it wrong, and believe me, it IS correct.  My beta scared me near a heart attack when she said that, so sorry if I seem to be harping on it.

            Thank you everyone who reviewed!  I adore you people, I really do!

Jona:  *cracks up*  "People, Professor?"  "Yes, I have rounded up some Muggle vict—volunteers…"  I will tell you this:  It's not Ron. *lol*

Elucreh:  *sigh*  I'm sorry, but I always take your suggestions as suggestions.  Normally they are very good and I quickly change the error, but sometimes I like my way better or feel too lazy to find a better way. ^_^  Oh, yeah, Percy…

Shrimpo/Jewels:  Thanks.

Mronimusha:  Bwa-ha-ha, you're foiled!  Thanks for the thought, though. *lol*

Colibi:  Ow.  Good a time as any to write, though, eh?  *giggles evilly*  I can't wait for the Killing Curse lessons…  Thanks!

Cloud514:  LOL  Thanks.

Yuri Prime:  Not working, dear; sorry. ^_^

Tanya:  *ROFL*  Okay, okay, I get the picture!  It really was a hard one to get out; they all seem to be getting harder. *sigh*  Thank you for all the reviews!

Boris:  Thanks!

Chrono Legionnaire:  No, no, I certainly don't have it all written.  I have it planned, but writing it down is a whole 'nother ballgame.  ^_^

Louise Luvgood:  Thank you for thanking me for thanking you in my A/N. *lol*   Wow, thank you so much.

Hermionedastar:  Thank you!  Sorry, don't have much time atm, but I'll try.

Starry:  *lol!*  I WISH!  To have her skill and fame and wow, yeah, not even close.  Thank you!

Yerbroham:  Thank you!  Yeah, Sirius is still alive at the moment.  It was the shock of my life when the possibility of Sirius' death first hit me (reading Christmas scenes in OotP).

Humvee:  I could have made the cliffhanger far worse… ^_^  Thanks.

Abbey:  ^_^  Thanks, Tabbey. *bwa-ha-ha*

Trisana1:  Thank you!  ^_^ lol

Slycat-blaze1:  Thanks!  I figure with all the magic going on at Hogwarts, and the boundaries set up, pinpointing a spell in there would be pretty hard.

Liliana-Suger:  LOL  Hopefully you remember this go around. ^_^  Thanks!

            *does happy "I finally got a chapter up!" dance*  Thank you everyone!  And here's hopin' the hurricane doesn't spoil my weekend! ^_^

            Be excellent to each other!

                        -Ady