By the way, I don't remember who asked me not to make this a H/H, H/G or slash fic, but I wanted to let you know that I have no intention whatsoever in making this into a romance story. THIS STORY IS NOT A ROMANCE! (There are implied H/G and R/H moments certainly, but nothing for any heavy shipper to worry about.)
Disclaimer: JK Rowling rocks.
Chapter Six -
The First Battle of Voldemort's Second Rise
He opened his eyes to look into those of his headmaster.
"We need to have a meeting. Right away." Harry said, standing up, and the headmaster and student practically ran down the stairs to the kitchen. The Weasleys began to collect as many Order members they could find, and told them all to make their way to the kitchen.
"Voldemort has gathered his army and is at this very moment, marching on Azkaban." Harry said clearly, once he was certain that all the members who had shown up, were all that were going to show up.
"This does complicate matters." Dumbledore said, folding his hands into a point beneath his nose. "Thank you, Harry, for telling us this." He said the words in a way that said he had not forgotten Harry's words about not becoming a human radar for the Order.
All the members present began to murmur, and most were looking at Harry and Dumbledore as if they might have lost their minds.
"How did you see this, Harry?" he asked.
Harry looked around nervously. " I felt Voldemort's happiness and a pain in my scar, and I began to meditate. I thought it would get rid of the pain, but instead I saw Voldemort and Bellatrix with about thirty other Death-Eaters at a tall black gate. There were people on the ground at his feet. Either dead, or stunned, I'm not sure. They were performing a spell, and the gate was opening for them. Voldemort was saying something about the stupidity of the Azkaban guards." Harry didn't dare say that he had been in Voldemort's mind, and it felt as though he was the one who had done all of those things. He had seen the entire attack, all from Voldemort's perspective. He hadn't been able to take control, like he had with Percy's attack, But he still had that strange sensation that Voldemort still hadn't known he had been witness.
"We knew he was intending to do so, but the when was another issue. Do we have the required resources to mount a rescue?"
"We do." Said the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody, and his large magical blue eye revolved around the room and came to rest on Harry. "But only just. I'm not sure we have enough people to deal with it. I've had a plan in mind for awhile now. We're going to have to get a move on, and I'll need to call up some of the Aurors from the ministry for help."
"Do so, Alastor. Would you like my assistance?" Dumbledore asked.
"We could do with any help we can. We need to be sure that Azkaban doesn't lose any more guards. Since the Dementors have left..."
Harry was nearly twitching in his chair. He almost wished he could go, just to make sure Voldemort didn't hurt anyone. But he knew almost as soon as the thought entered his head, that Dumbledore wouldn't allow it.
Harry knew without question that he wasn't ready to fight Voldemort yet, and if he went now, he would lose, and the whole Wizarding world would lose hope. No way. He wouldn't let that be on his conscience. On the other hand, Harry could nearly feel each life being tossed down the drain as it was taken. It made both his scar and his heart ache.
"Right." Said Mad-Eye. "We'll get to it now. Tonks, Shacklebolt, Jones, you all know what to do."
Four chairs were pushed back and the three Aurors and Mad-Eye left the room in a run.
"Anyone else who feels they have something to contribute, please see me." Dumbledore said. He stood up, and walked over to Harry. Harry stood as well, and they looked each other eye to eye. "Harry are you certain that what you saw was fact?"
"Yes." Harry didn't know why he knew this, but he did. He wasn't so consumed by fear for the life of a loved one as he had been the last two times that he couldn't think properly. He was certain Voldemort hadn't been trying to trick him.
"I'm sorry." Said Dumbledore, and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder again. "I don't want you to have to go through all this." He said. "If I had the power to stop it, I would."
Harry turned away from his headmaster's touch, and stomped up the stairs to his room. He wasn't angry with Dumbledore at all, but just angry at everything. Dumbledore seemed to understand. Either that or he was just too busy now to care.
Either way, Harry was left with only Hedwig for company in the locked drawing room for the remainder of the afternoon. He often stroked Hedwig's white feathers, and sporadically fed her rat shaped Owl treats.
Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna were quite obviously made aware of what was going on. Each of them had attempted to knock on the door to see if he was all right. Harry repeatedly told them he was busy, and they left.
He read through a book of Dark Arts Defence that sat on the small bookshelf by the window, where Sirius had collected a few interesting tomes over the past year to replace the old ones. When she was alive, Sirius' mother had amassed a collection of books with titles such as 'The Human Anatomy and its Weakest Points' and 'A Compendium of Torture Potions'. They had all been in regards to Dark Arts and how to use them. All of Sirius' selections were about how to use light magic and defend yourself. Harry had noticed a few other books, mostly wizarding fiction, and he ignored them. What he was really interested in was defense. It allowed him to feel as though he was doing something important. Something that could help him win the fight against Voldemort.
It also helped to keep his mind from straying out the street to where Witches and Wizards were disapparating to join the fight at Azkaban Prison.
He had seen many people leave the house, as he peered nervously through the front window. Among those leaving the house, Remus, Hagrid, Emmeline Vance, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself. Harry prayed to whatever gods might listen, that he would see them all again.
While he waited alone for what he instinctively knew was going to be bad news, Harry composed a sort of critique about himself in his head, pacing back and forth, wearing the tread out of the forest green carpet.
He was tired of hearing people say that he was moody and unpredictable. He was tired of watching people flinch and eye him whenever Sirius' name was mentioned.
When he had first come to Hogwarts, Harry had been naïve. He had been basically locked in a cupboard for eleven years for crying out loud. How could anyone expect him to be otherwise?
He knew he didn't want to be a bad person, so thinking that all bad people went to Slytherin, he had been sorted into Gryffindor because he requested it. After a while, Harry came to believe that he was a person of all houses, no matter what the sorting hat said to him.
Harry had felt a little proud at first that he seemed to embody the best of the four houses.
He was as cunning as a Slytherin. He would not have survived so long without that. It was necessary for someone with his dreary past to be somewhat upwardly mobile.
He did have a thirst for new knowledge, as a Ravenclaw might, although he wasn't totally obsessive about it.
He made friends easily like the Hufflepuffs, and accepted people along with their faults as long as they were kind to him to begin with.
He was emotionally strong despite being mentally abused by his aunt and uncle. He was brave, willing to face up to his darkest fears. This was what made him such a good Gryffindor.
All this was five years ago.
Now, being a student of all four houses painted a different picture for him.
His Slytherin sense of self-absorbtion was getting him into trouble. He needed to tone it down, and remember that he was not the only one fighting this war, and he was not the only one losing friends and loved ones.
The Ravenclaw in him was making him think he needed to be all knowing to be powerful enough. That someone around him had all the answers he needed and they were somehow being spiteful in keeping information from him. He was acting paranoid that everyone was against him. He reminded himself to think about the danger and difficulties that went along with knowledge, and he needed to remember that answers would not always be forthcoming.
The Hufflepuff in him was letting other people take advantage of his trusting nature. That was only proved when he had run after Sirius in the Department of Mysteries in the spring. Voldemort knew exactly how to push his buttons, and Harry promised he would never allow it again.
The saddest thing of all was that his Gryffindor sense of pride and bravery seemed to have gone slightly dormant since Sirius' death. He had nothing to be brave about, and death wasn't any strong fear to be overcome anymore. The old Harry would have found a way to follow the others out to Azkaban. He would have done everything in his power to make certain that people were not being hurt or killed.
He wasn't afraid of battle, exactly. It was more that he knew that his death would mark the end of all hope for the wizarding world. He was the only one with the power to vanquish Voldemort, and if he were to run off now, before he was ready, and get himself killed, then there would be no final battle. No way of conquering evil for good.
By the feel of the sporadic twinges in his scar and the momentary glimpses of a giddy Voldemort surveying the massive destruction spread out before him, Harry knew it was hopeless now. It was too late for heroics, and in this case it may not have helped anyhow.
000000
When people began to return from the apparent battle at Azkaban, Harry came back downstairs, and stood near the door to make sure he would see everyone he knew come back, but he did not.
He and his friends stayed with Molly, Arthur, Bill, and professor McGonagall helping those in pain get the attention they needed. The group of teenagers ran a cloth and bandage squad, and though Harry was silent, he heard many things about what had happened at the Azkaban fortress.
People had either been hurt or had died in this fight, and once again, it was his fault. This was all from what a very bruised-looking Tonks had told him. The battle had been a loss in that they had not been able to keep Azkaban from being breached, and they had not been able to protect the fighting Witches and Wizards of the Order adequately. The ministry's Auror squads were late arriving, and disorganized to a deadly fault.
Voldemort had carried as many wands as he could with him, and every time another prisoner was released, he would hand them a wand and they would swell their ranks. By the time the aurors had arrived from the ministry, Voldemort already had an army of eighty people following him, and attacking as they went. Those prisoners who did not wish to help the dark side were immediately killed.
Hestia Jones was dead. She had been caught in the back with an Avada Kedavra curse when she turned her back on what she had thought was an unconscious Lucius Malfoy. Harry fumed when he heard this. Lucius Malfoy was a long time adversary to Harry and his friends. Draco Malfoy, his son, was nearly as shady and underhanded as his father, and Harry often had a difficult time seeing them as two separate people. Draco Malfoy may as well have been a Death-Eater in training.
Harry was mostly angry at Lucius Malfoy on Ginny's behalf. She had spent most of her first year in fear of being possessed because of him. She hadn't said anything to him about it, but he knew she must still have nightmares about it. At one point, he had even heard her call him Tom Riddle, his old name before he had decided that his muggle father's name was inappropriate for someone who allegedly hated muggles. The innocent sounding name was what Ginny had known him as, making her easier prey for posession.
Mad-Eye Moody was joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt in St. Mungo's. Both had minor injuries, and were told they would be released the next day.
Three Aurors Harry didn't know were dead, as were two of Azkaban's regular guards. He recognized a few last names, however. And knew that many of his schoolmates had lost either parents or relations of some kind. Fellow sixth-year Gryffindor, Dean Thomas had lost his father who was a guard, and Harry nearly cried at the thought that someone else in the world would be missing a parent.
"Do they think we're stupid?" Harry asked Ron while they sat at lunch the next day, reading the prophet aloud with Hermione and Ginny.
"I don't think people really know what's going on." Ron answered sullenly.
Hemione scoffed. "Well, they certainly don't know anything now. They're making it sound as though Hestia died through some stupid accident!"
The authors of the articles regarding the attack at Azkaban had indeed kept quite a few things out of their stories. It seemed that Hestia Jones had been present on business for the Aurors, and had been killed by one of the attacking Death-Eaters.
"Listen to this." Harry grumbled loudly. "Minister Fudge said in a brief interview just hours after the breach, 'There is no way of knowing how the Death-Eaters obtained entrance to the Azkaban grounds. The gates are normally kept under constant surveillance by both regular Azkaban guards and Aurors. It is most likely the Death-Eaters were taking advantage of the changeover from us using the Dementors as guards.' The wizarding community may remember Minister Fudge's comments regarding his distaste for the idea of letting the Dementors leave the ministry's employ." Harry couldn't believe the writers here were so ignorant as to believe anything that Fudge said. Using the soul-sucking dementors had been an incredibly foolish idea by some twit in the Ministry. It had made Sirius' life in Azkaban hell, and Sirius had been an innocent victim.
Ginny snorted. "They make it sound as though the Ministry were the ones who let the Dementor's leave, and not the other way around!"
"Are there any Death-Eaters who are still locked up?" Hermione asked quietly.
"No." Harry said, scanning the article. "It looks as if the prisioners who didn't agree with Voldemort's intentions, or went insane from the effect of the Dementors have all been killed. Voldemort couldn't allow them to be free during his reign."
"Weren't there other people like Sirius there?" Ginny said quietly. "Inoocent people? They must all be dead then." And she started to cry.
Ron moved over to her side, and put his arm around her. There wasn't really all that much they could say to comfort her. Harry felt the same way she did. Those people hadn't deserved the life they had had. Nor did they deserve that sort of death. It was gut wrenching to think about it.
"They make it sound as if all of those people got what they deserved." Harry muttered. "And they still haven't admitted that Sirius is gone. They say here that he must have been involved, what with him being You-know-who's right hand man." Harry crumpled up the paper in disgust, and threw it as hard as he could into the corner. "I can't read anymore of that rubbish."
"Think of it this way." Hermione said thoughtfully. "Although the battle had been in all respects, a loss, there have been some casualties on Voldemort's side as well. You said that three Death-Eaters were killed under a collapsed wall?"
"No one I recognize." Harry said with a disgusted look on his face. "Unfortunately." He put his hands on his hips, and faced the wall. "They must have been newly integrated into Voldemort's service."
"I'm beginning to wonder what the hell all these people think they're fighting for." Ron mumbled under his breath." Do they realize that Voldemort wouldn't dare spare them? He'll kill anyone who stands in his way, whether it be us, or some nameless Death-Eater. Better to be on the losing side than to lose yourself." He gave his sister a tight squeeze.
Hermione was looking closely at Ron as though she couldn't believe something so prophetic had left his lips.
"Are you all going to join in at the memorial tonight?" Harry asked.
"I thought I might." Hermione said conversationally. "I didn't know Hestia very well, but she was always kind to me."
Ginny and Ron nodded. "We'll be there too." Ron mumbled.
"Do you guys know where Luna and Neville are?" Harry asked just before he left the room. "They should know about everything that's happened."
"I think they were studying in our room when I left this morning. I'm not sure they've even heard about the memorial at all." Hermione said.
Harry nodded, and went to tell them.
