Reaching Maturity

Disclaimer: guess what? I have news for you – I don't own them. Oh – can I claim Lupin's sister, to whom there is a passing reference? After all, JKR has never mentioned any siblings for him!

Author comments from chapter 25:

I know the final battle appears very quickly and that they have very little time to "stew" (to quote riob), but that wasn't the way this story was going. I wanted them to feel somewhat unprepared – because in a real battle you don't know when you're going to have to suddenly drop everything and get out there. This was one with very little "stewing" time. I could probably write a decent "stewing" scene; I just didn't particularly want to.

There's some upcoming Draco-angst in relation to his feelings towards his father (and how he feels about others' feelings towards the man). And no, Sirius and Severus still haven't grown up!

As for the business with Flint, I'm not commenting on whether the house simply collapsed on him (he's not exactly bright so could quite easily have not thought about getting out until it was too late) or whether there's something more in it. As for the close proximity to Lupin's house and whether it's a coincidence or not, that's for you readers to make up your minds about. Bear in mind who the author is! Regarding the comment from CloudofDreams about the possibility of Narcissa being at the farmhouse, that would have been a particularly unpleasant twist – but one that never crossed my mind. I shed no tears over bumping off Flint, I must confess!

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Chapter 26: On the Battlefield

The atmosphere at the battle site was like nothing Harry had ever experienced before. He could sense the Dark magic, even without any Perceptivity Potion. It was almost impossibly tense, and electric to the point where Harry could feel the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck prickle. The hostility in the air caused every last molecule of his being to be alert, tense, watchful. The very air seemed to be suffocating.

The moment they stepped out from the trees, the Dark witches and wizards were upon them. Harry found himself fighting at a level he had never had to fight at before; he was fighting not just for his life, but for the future of the whole wizarding world. They all were. He was even unaware of a slight burning in his scar, so focused on the task in front of him was he. He hit Death Eaters with Stunning Spells and Body Binds, not being willing to take anyone's life unless he had no other choice.

He was suddenly aware of someone behind him, and he spun round to come face-to-face with a woman cloaked in black and sword in hand. A broken wand stuck out from her pocket. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Harry Potter," she said mockingly. "Priscilla Nott. Honoured to meet the pathetic halfblood child that brought about the downfall of my master." She raised her sword, and Harry suddenly found Godric Gryffindor's sword in his hand.

Priscilla laughed scornfully. "I can't imagine you've ever laid hands on a sword before today. Did Auntie and Uncle never teach you? Poor, deprived boy." Her face, devoid of any mask, darkened into a scowl of pure hatred. "Not that their wretched nephew would ever have a chance of success, even with all the training in the world." She lunged at him suddenly, but Harry was prepared, and he calmly stepped aside. As he focused on the looming fight, everything around him seemed to fall silent and fade into shades of grey, hazy and unclear. It was just him and Priscilla, fighting, the only sounds penetrating his ears being the clash of metal on metal and the woman's taunts.

He braced himself as she pulled free of their locked swords and aimed for him, wondering why she did not use her wand. He could feel the power of Gryffindor himself flowing through the sword and into him, the rubies glowing with magical energy, even though the sky above was dreary and overcast, beginning to darken. Harry was filled with a feeling that he would never tire, as though he could fight Priscilla Nott for eternity and never grow weary.

Priscilla suddenly fell forward, sword still locked in Harry's. Harry wrenched his free as she landed, face down onto the damp ground, sword still gripped tightly in her hands. Hermione stood behind her, wand out and a grim, satisfied expression on her face.

"What did you do?" asked Harry, beginning to breathe hard and rapidly as the effects of the exertion caught up with him.

"Body Bind and Stunning," answered Hermione briefly. "I'll dump her by the hedge where the Aurors can pick her up. Mobilicorpus!" She skilfully directed the woman's still form over to said hedge and let her drop to the ground, not particularly gently.

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully.

"No problem." She gave him a quick, tight hug. "Come on; we need to get back out there. We should save hugs and kisses for when the battle's won."

"You're confident."

"We have to be; we won't have a hope in hell of winning otherwise."

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Hermione raced over to where she had seen a Ministry wizard battling a huge, hulking Death Eater. All thoughts of Harry were swiftly put to the back of her mind; he was somewhere else now.

The Death Eater's mask, Hermione noticed as she drew closer, was not well-placed, and after one spell the Ministry wizard flung at him, the mask slipped, revealing an older version of Gregory Goyle. Goyle Senior, Hermione thought to herself, shuddering at the thought. He looked as dim and gormless as his son. From the shadows, she levelled her wand at Goyle senior, muttering, "Incendio". Goyle immediately let out a yell as his wand burst into violent flames and he dropped it. Dumbly, he watched it burn.

Hermione used that opportunity to Stun him before turning to the Ministry wizard. "Are you OK?" she asked him. He nodded and they parted. There was no time to linger; that was when injuries and fatalities happened. As she ran across the field, she had to dodge badly-aimed curses to avoid being hit. Somewhere, her friends and teachers were out there, fighting for their lives. Some could even have fallen by now –

No, Hermione! she scolded herself. Focus, focus, focus!

And then she found herself forced into a duel with another Death Eater. After dodging and ducking a few curses, she remembered her shield. She knew hers would be strong. Concentrating hard, she muttered the spell and created her shield. A curse hit her shield and was dispersed, confirming that said shield was indeed in place, and was strong.

Her opponent looked suitably startled as they (Hermione couldn't be sure of the person's sex) found their curses were bouncing off Hermione and not harming her at all, instead deflecting back in their own direction. Confused and scared, the Death Eater turned and fled, directly towards a waiting Auror. Hermione suspected that the Death Eater was young and inexperienced in hand-to-hand combat.

There wasn't time to stop and revel in that victory, though. Hermione plunged herself straight back into battle.

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Hannah wasn't in her human form. Together, she and McGonagall were working as a team in their respective cat forms. They had their method down perfectly by now, launching themselves, claws outstretched, at any Death Eater attacking one of the Light side. It certainly surprised the Death Eaters, one cat on their shoulders, the other on their back, dragging them down to the damp ground. It was beginning to rain lightly. Once the Death Eater was down, McGonagall would transform and Stun them.

Hannah managed to pull back the hood of one Death Eater, revealing Pansy Parkinson's father, who was assaulting Mundungus Fletcher. Mr. Parkinson frantically attempted to fight off the two cats, but they only dug their claws in further. McGonagall took the lead, and the two communicated in catspeak. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were just two cats that had strayed onto the battlefield. Hannah forced herself to remain focused and alert.

She was startled when a huge black dog suddenly appeared in front of her. Her feline instincts told her to run, but then she recognised the dog for who it really was – Sirius. He motioned for her and McGonagall to follow him into the woods, where they transformed back into their human forms. "Our trackers have indicated that Lucius Malfoy, Wormtail and Lenoir are all here," he informed them in a low voice.

"Trackers?" asked Hannah, confused.

"Devices that track who's on the battlefield at any one time. Quite a few of us have got them. I thought you'd want to know about those three."

"We do," said McGonagall briskly. "Thank you, Black."

"We ought to get back. Good work, by the way."

They silently transformed once again, Sirius going one way, and Hannah and McGonagall another.

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"Where's your gear?"

"What?"

"Your gear. You know – mask, cloak, all that stuff?"

Draco, who had been silently observing the battle from the edges of the battlefield in his fox form until a few minutes previously, had felt someone grab his arm and haul him round. The tall figure was in Death Eater robes, mask covering his face. Draco recognised the voice and his eyes widened. "Zabini!" he hissed, partly in anger, partly in shock. "You were the Death Eater in amongst the students!"

Zabini pulled his mask off, revealing a twisted smirk. "Oh yes. I think it's now…oh, just over two years ago since my initiation. My father's sixteenth birthday present to me. Definitely the best one I've ever had." His eyes glittered maniacally as he regarded Draco mockingly, pitifully. "You don't seem to be with us, though. I must say I'm surprised. Why, Draco?"

"Because I don't believe in all that purebloods-only insanity any more," replied Draco coolly. "And neither should you. I honestly thought you had enough brains in your head to see through all the lies. Clearly, I was mistaken. You're all masochistic sheep! I refuse to have any part in it. And if I learned nothing else in my final year at Hogwarts, Zabini, I learned who my true friends are – and they sure as hell aren't any of Voldemort's followers."

"You've picked the wrong side to fight for, Malfoy," sneered Zabini. "There's a price on your head since your defection. A big price. Every single Death Eater is out hunting you down, desperate to bring you in to face justice in front of our Lord – Greg, Millicent, Vince, myself…even your own father. Face it, Malfoy – you're screwed. Completely and utterly. I can't wait to bring you in…The praise and glory I'll get as my reward…" His face took on a dreamy look.

Draco shrugged easily. "You think my father hunting me down – anyone from your side hunting me down, come to think of it – is news to me? Of course my father's after me! Do you really think I'm stupid enough to not realise it! My father was probably the first one to sign up to my murder. He was probably the one who suggested it. Backed by my batty Aunt Bella, naturally. It doesn't really worry me, to tell you the truth. Of course, you're probably going to try to kill me first, before anyone else gets a chance to take all the glory and whatever else Voldemort has promised the successful one – and who could blame them? I wouldn't."

He calmly, detachedly, watched Zabini's dark eyes flicker with annoyance. He knew the other boy too well, and Zabini hardly knew him at all. Not the best of situations to be in from Zabini's perspective, thought Draco idly. He watched impassively as the Death Eater reached for his wand. Draco, naturally, knew where Zabini kept his wand. There was very little Draco did not know about his fellow students – and particularly the Slytherins – and what he didn't know was, quite frankly, not worth knowing. He had spent six and a half years (this last year didn't really count, due to illness) discreetly observing everyone. Know thy enemy and all that. Knowledge, Lucius had constantly told him throughout his eighteen years of existence, was power. It had come in useful countless times.

Draco felt his left hand on Salazar Slytherin's sword and he drew it out swiftly, neatly slicing Zabini's wand in two in one clean stroke, smiling calmly as the end dropped onto the grass underfoot. His own wand in his right hand now, Draco nonchalantly Stunned his former classmate. "Bad move, Zabini," he murmured softly, slipping the sword back into its scabbard before transforming back into his fox form and returning to his observing. He was aching to be out there in the thick of the battle – there were few things Draco Malfoy loved more than being right at the heart of a conflict – but he knew better than to risk it in his condition. Ten minutes of fighting and he'd collapse and then be murdered. He loved being in a conflict, but he loved his life rather more.

As he watched, he caught an occasional glimpse of his friends and Hannah engrossed in their own personal battles, which they were winning. It was not, however, looking quite as good for everyone. He saw many fall – Aurors, students, Death Eaters and others – but was unable to determine whether the battle was faring good or ill. He desperately hoped it was the former. Mediwizards and mediwitches were in amongst the fighting, treating the wounded and for the most part being left unharmed, except for when a spell went astray. He thought he saw Madam Pomfrey a few times, but was too far away to be sure. He hoped she would survive this war; during his lengthy stay in the hospital wing, he had come to see her as a substitute mother (and one far better than his own had ever been).

His thoughts turned back to Blaise Zabini, hopefully collected by Aurors by now and taken to Azkaban. He did not want to encounter his father here tonight, if at all possible. Despite what he had said to Zabini, it had been bravado and nothing more. He was scared, more than he had ever been scared before.

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"What's this – an Abbott fighting?" inquired a sneering voice from behind Hannah. It was growing late and the night had fallen. "I thought you and all your pathetic Hufflepuff friends all ran away from confrontation. Too cowardly."

"Then you thought wrong, Narcissa," replied Hannah coldly as she turned to face the owner of the voice. Helga Hufflepuff's sword was gripped tightly in her hands, and the look in Narcissa's eyes told her that this would be a fight to the death. Two would not come away from this alive. At the same time, Hannah knew in her heart that if any harm were to come to her, especially death, the woman in front of her would be hunted down by her son. This was a battle Hannah had to win. There would be no margin for error. One slip and she would pay with her life.

Moonlight gleamed off the sword in Narcissa's hands. Suddenly, she swung it in a graceful arc, aiming to bring it down upon Hannah's head and cleave it in two.

Hannah blocked it. She was expecting Narcissa to fight dirty. Lupin's voice rang clearly in her mind – "Expect the unexpected". She twisted out of Narcissa's hold, forcing the woman's sword upwards. Narcissa threw her a look of pure hatred and swung at Hannah's side.

Hannah twisted away just in time, bringing her sword around to meet Narcissa's. This time Narcissa pulled away and pointed the tip of her sword at Hannah's chest, lunging at the girl. Hannah brought her sword across her chest and with a sudden surge of power that she later put down to Helga Hufflepuff's power, somehow (she could never remember) blocking the sword's progress into her chest and forcing the blade down, to embed itself into the soft, muddy ground.

"You are aware that I am the one that will prevail, I hope?" inquired Narcissa patronisingly. "You have read the script?" She sliced abruptly at Hannah's waist.

Hannah ducked a split second before the sword was due to hit. She heard it whistle over her head. "Sorry to inform you, but there is no script. I'm writing it as I go along. Oh, and I wouldn't do that again if I were you." She got to her feet again.

Narcissa swiftly produced her wand from her pocket and smirked triumphantly, pointing it directly at Hannah's heart. "Crucio," she whispered, cold eyes glittering cruelly.

As the words passed Narcissa's lips, Hannah felt something lift her sword and bring it down in front of her, deflecting the Unforgivable harmlessly onto a tree, before bringing it up underneath the outstretched wand and slicing it in two. It was now useless.

Narcissa let out a howl of anguish. "You wicked girl!" she shrieked, swinging the sword around wildly now, as though she was possessed by a demon. Hannah had to dodge and deflect some of the strokes, but many were nowhere near her.

It happened in a flash.

Narcissa swung the sword, uncontrolled, at Hannah. The blow clashed with Hannah's sword as she struggled to deflect it.

Narcissa's sword was ripped from her hands and spun wildly in the air. It fell back towards Narcissa.

She froze as it somehow cut into her side, coming to rest, embedded, in her middle, near her spine at the back with the blade pointing behind her, to her navel at the front. Hannah stared in horror as the blood immediately began pouring out of her and onto the grass. Several bits of internal organs were protruding from the wound and hanging out. The sight of this made Hannah feel sick to her stomach.

Narcissa coughed and spluttered, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, a dazed expression of disbelief on her face. She choked as she stumbled forwards, reaching out an arm imploringly to the horrified girl in front of her and inadvertently exposing her Dark Mark, and fell to the ground. Hannah took several steps backwards, not really knowing what was happening, before she turned and fled from the scene. She ran past other battles taking place but paid them no heed; she simply had to get out of there, get away from the gruesome sight, not really aware of anything.

She fell to her knees by the hedge, gasping and choking, tears streaming from her eyes as she fought to control the wave of nausea that was welling up inside her. She had never seen anyone die before, and certainly not in such a gruesome way.

Eventually the nausea subsided, but she couldn't hold back the tears. She cried for several minutes before becoming aware of the presence of something beside her. She looked up to see a fox nuzzling against her, its unusual steel-grey eyes regarding her questioningly.

Moments later it had disappeared, replaced by Draco, who put his arms around her and drew her close, stroking her hair soothingly as she wept. "You've done this to me often enough in the last five months; it's about time I returned the favour," he whispered teasingly.

A strange noise escaped Hannah – a cross between a laugh, a hiccup and a sob. "Your – your mother…" she choked out. "I – I deflected her sword…She was attacking me…She had a Dark Mark on her arm…I'd already cut her wand so it was useless…She tried to hit me with Cruciatus…Her sword just sort of…spun…It – it sliced right through – right through her middle…I – I don't think she's still alive…" She buried her head in Draco's chest again, her entire body shaking violently. "I – I'm so sorry, Draco. It – it wasn't my fault! Please believe me!"

"Shhh. Don't be sorry. Of course I believe you. She wasn't exactly a wonderful mother, anyway. You wouldn't have got on with her at all. And she was a Death Eater."

They remained just so for several minutes, until Hannah pulled away, wiping away the final tears. "Th-thanks, Draco."

He shrugged awkwardly. " 'S OK. Anyway, it's true. Come on; calm down and we'll get back into that battle and help win it. Her own sword killed her; you were defending yourself. Remember that."

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"Lenoir."

"You know my work?" inquired the woman pleasantly, in a strong French accent.

"I know you're a Death Eater," returned Hermione coldly. Her right hand was wrapped firmly around Rowena Ravenclaw's sword, though it remained in its sheath at her waist. Nonetheless, Hermione felt a sudden surge in power emanating from it as the levels of adrenaline in her body climbed.

"We 'ave done our 'omework, zen," observed Lenoir dispassionately.

Hermione chose not to answer, but Lenoir raised her wand. "It shall be short and sweet, zen, ma petite." She paused and then her mouth opened again, but before she could utter a single syllable – Hermione was guessing Avada Kedavra, knowing that Lenoir was an (admittedly unproven) ruthless killer – the former Hogwarts Head Girl had pointed her own wand, currently in her left hand, at Lenoir's and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Lenoir's wand flew into Hermione's outstretched right hand and she swiftly snapped it in two, letting it fall to the grass at Lenoir's feet. "Incendio," Hermione ordered, pointing her wand at Lenoir's. The now useless wooden tool burst into large flames, which quickly lapped at Lenoir's Death Eater robes. Within seconds most of the garment was aflame and Lenoir was shrieking in agony. Hermione forced herself to walk away as though nothing was happening, though inside she was horrified. She had indirectly caused the death of this woman, evil though she might have been, and she had read enough psychology books to know that this would haunt her in the future.

As she walked to the edge of the battlefield, she saw Lupin, and made her way over to him.

"It was the best thing," he said. "She deserved no less than to die in an agonising way. It's only a small taste of all the pain she caused to others, and this way we won't be wasting time and money on a trial."

Hermione stared at him in amazement; this was not the sort of thing one often heard from Remus Lupin.

He smiled sadly, bitterly, at her. "War does this to you, Hermione – and remember I've lived through two. I've seen, first hand, the sort of suffering that woman brought on people. My sister died at her hands."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. You should know also that Narcissa Malfoy is dead."

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TBC

Translation:

Ma petite (French) – my little one