Disclaimer: See Chapter I

A/N: A reviewer said the Gryffindors wouldn't have watched Harry get caned, that they would have done something about it…Hate to say it pal, but in cannon they accepted similar. Unless of course you would consider getting your hand carved with a sharp object a lesser punishment.

Oh, and when I call something an ammo can, I'm referring to the green metal cases in which small-arms ammunition and grenades are packed in.

Good news: There will be three chapters after this, and I have sequel planned describing the 6th year. As you all know my penchant of putting the real world (warts and all) in the Wizard universe, it will continue to be so after I read a fascinating book by Mark Bowden (he wrote Black Hawk Down) called Killing Pablo. Great book describing the joint Columbian US manhunt for a drug cartel leader who was terrorizing Columbia in the early 90s.

Finally, I'm going to admit I made an error, a big one that I'm afraid I won't be able to correct until the fall (my computer is in storage right now, and with it all the hard copies of each chapter from 34 onwards): it seems Ginny is for Ginevra, not Virginia like I thought. Hell, like pretty much everybody thought for that matter. Anyhow, on with the show, and pretend that you saw Ginevra as opposed to Virginia mentioned from here on out. At least for a couple of months…Though when I took a count of the number of times that error need be corrected I only found one instance, so thank heaven for small favors.

Chapter XXXVII: Balloons Rising

Harry shook his head, and stared down at his parchment. In his right hand he tapped his quill and stretched his neck. It was the last day of OWLS and Harry wanted nothing more then for the fucking things to be done. His head was starting to ache from the tests, and his eyes burned after not sleeping too well after the previous evening's Astronomy test. So far the OWLs hadn't been as hard as he thought they would be, but the years of damage done by a mediocre teacher in the history department were taking their toil.

Harry yawned, and tried to concentrate, but couldn't. The previous evening, Umbridge had decided it would be a good idea to try and get rid of Hagrid as apparently the initial dragnet thrown by Umbridge's goon squad had missed him back in February. Doubtless it had had something to do with him actually following the Ministry's guidelines on teaching Care of Magical Creatures, but nevertheless it wasn't enough for Umbridge to just let him be. A bit belated, and ill-timed perhaps, but Harry's studies of muggle history had shown even stupider things to have happened in history, and Umbridge's move was just one such play.

Regardless, Hagrid was now a wanted fugitive after beating the shit out of three Ministry wizards Umbridge had dug up, and Umbridge looked like a fool. Unfortunately, the foolish bit included Professor McGonagall, for a bit of fratricide had taken place when the snarling witch had taken four Stunners to the chest. Last Harry had heard, she was in the Infirmirary under intensive care…

Don't think of that, just finish the fucking test. Harry thought to himself as he started scribbling some rubbish onto his paper about some rather worthless and pointless treaty of magic sometime in the Middle Ages. All around him he could hear the scribble of quills upon parchment, all the other fifth years scratching away. Harry could see that Neville and Ron were hard at work, both frowning as they doubtless tried to put together a reasonable essay on whatever topic they had been given. Turning his head slightly, Harry could see Hermione was well into essay, and already seemed to be nearly complete…

Harry felt his eyes flutter, drowsy…A little nap won't kill me, he thought as he rested his eyes…

Darkness and a fog followed by a sensation that he was dropping…To his horror it was the scene of the crime, the same cavernous room with its bookcases, orbs glowing softly. This time though, there were two shapes crawling on the ground. Harry felt horror grow like a ball in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he walked over to the figures on the floor, and Harry recognized them…and fear mixed in with the horror.

One was dressed in the ragged filthy remains of a British Army uniform, dripping wet, as though somebody had dumped a bunch of water to clean the filth off of him. Somebody had also shaved him badly, for his face was a host of minor little nicks and cuts. Nonetheless, Harry could recognize the face, with the empty eye socket, and the grin still plastered on his face, even though it was obvious he was malnourished, thin as a rail, in pain from the broken teeth and countless other wounds. Alex…

The other figure Harry had last seen and spoken to before he had been captured. Face bleeding from a gash on his forehead, arms tied behind him the way Alex's were, his face creased with pain. The rank odor of urine and shit and copper were heavy in the air, and Harry heard himself speak. "So you have finally decided to join us, Black. I was wondering when you would find the mudblood here." Alex raised his head, and attempted to sit up but failed. Both Alex and Sirius were having trouble breathing, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to notice that they had been tortured rather bloody.

It also would have taken a blind man to notice that both men radiated a feeling of defiance; they may have been beaten bloody physically, yet mentally they were still fighting.

"Now, remove the orb…Black, Evans…" The voice sounded amused, and Harry felt fear course through his veins. It was the same it had been in his nightmares, his visions, and during that night the year before. The same voice that haunted his thoughts when he was unawares…

"Lord Voldemort is coming…" Harry approached the two prostrate bodies, laughing in his cold voice. The fear in his stomach was spreading, feeling as though someone was grabbing his stomach and squeezing from the inside-out, yet with it was excitement, anticipation…

Harry looked into the eyes of Sirius Black. Black's face was stretched taught with pain, pale as a sheet, and covered with running drops of blood, yet the eyes blazed with defiance.

"Do as I command, Black. Evans seems rather feeble at the moment."

"You'll have to kill me before…" Whatever else he was going to say went unsaid as he gasped and grimaced in pain.

"Indeed, I will more then likely do just that for you, but first I'll ensure you become rather familiar with the feeling of pain, pain that you have never felt before, and beyond any that you can possibly imagine." Voldemort laughed then, and Harry heard him yell Crucio. Sirius screamed and writhed in agony on the ground. The stench of urine assailed his nose as Sirius pissed himself. The dark lord was laughing, and Sirius's screaming was rising in volume…

Harry felt himself on a stone floor. Above him was one of the OWL proctors, a wizard named Tofty, who asked him anxiously, "Are you all right?" Harry felt himself covered in a cold sweat, and his eyes darted around. The classroom swam, and he shook his head, "Just a bit dizzy, had a bad dream when I dozed off for a bit…"

"It's all right, Mister Potter. Things like this happen. We'll get you a drink of water, and some chocolate and you can finish your…"

"Sir, I'm just about done. May I turn it in and just go lay down?"

Tofty took a look at his parchment, shrugged, and replied, "As you wish, young man." Harry got up from the stone floor and hurriedly signed his name on the scroll. Walking out of the classroom, his mind was churning: thinking, processing, analyzing, plotting…Once again, he had that feeling he was observing, as opposed to controlling, the information that was going through his brain. That around him more then a few of his classmates were looking at him with their usual curiosity, wondering what madness he was in now; then were those he counted as friends and Harry knew they weren't staring at him like a freak side-show.

Harry walked quickly out of the Great Hall, and sprinted up the stairs to the Infirmirary. Bursting in, he saw Madam Pomfrey and asked to see Professor McGonagall. That wasn't possible as she had been transferred to St.Mungo's for treatment. Harry nodded, and raced out down the stairs, his mind in overdrive. Part of him noticed Hermione and Ron, and his mind registered the fact one of them had spoken to him, yet he moved quickly, almost running. One thought and one thought was on his mind by this time. Ever since he had come to on the floor of the Great Hall, he had been considering a course of action that he was coming to realize was the final option. Indeed the only option…

Barking the password, the entrance to the Gryffindor tower opened, and Harry strode in rapidly. The common room was largely deserted save for Doc, who had undergone the WATs (Wizarding Aptitude Tests) the previous night, and hadn't come back until one in the morning. As a result, he had been given the day off since all the material the Hogwarts students were tested on in the OWLs was tested by the Americans in a brutal eighteen hour period. Needless to say, the effect was exhausting to the test-taker as theory and practice exams (writing and practice) were conducted.

Doc was kicked back in his favorite chair near the fireplace, his shoes off, and watching a scroll charmed to play a muggle movie. Feet propped up on the coffee table, Doc had a bottle of Butterbeer and a bag of crisps next to his chair.

"Out of order, I'll show you out of order!" Doc was watching a favorite of his: Scent of a Woman, and Al Pacino was raising hell as the blind Colonel Slade.

"Doc," Harry was making an effort to control his breathing, his guts and brains working overtime. "Where's the armory?" Despite himself, Harry knew that he was flapping big-time, and that it was showing in his face and body language. The body language was the fact Harry's hands were shaking, and he was pale as

Doc looked up, and tossed his scroll aside. He could tell Harry was pretty upset, which meant that if he was asking for the muggle weaponry they had stashed…Jumping up, he pushed aside the coffee table and the rug beneath it. Squatting, he took out his wand and tapped one of the stones that formed the floor of the common room. Harry watched as the stones rose and folded up like a sliding door, and peered into the cavity opened. Inside, taking up the entire chamber, appeared to be a large aluminum crate, the top of which was hinged to opened and locked with a built in lock. Doc removed a dog tag chain from his neck, on which hung a small brass key. Leaning over, he unlocked the top of the container, and flipped open the top. Harry looked over his shoulder and looked into it. Obviously, he had used the same technique Moody had used with his trunk to create a large room within the floor of the common room. Neatly organized, Harry saw eight CAR-15s (judging by the green tape on the butt, each was the personal weapon of him, Nev, Doc, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina), another eight pistols (including his own Browning), ammunition and explosives in cans, and other assorted material he had had stashed for the Muggle Self-Defense Club. Yet, this was only…

"Sorry, but the rest is scattered around the school grounds. The only reason this is here is in case…"

It was then Hermione and Ron burst into the common room, breathless as they had run after him. "Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione gasped. As quickly as he could, he informed them of his dream. "Look's like someone is going to have to go get them." Harry concluded, his mind trying to find solutions to the problems. Firepower? Check. Transportation? That would be a kicker, but doubtless…

It was then he noticed that his two oldest and closet friends were looking at him open-mouthed. Doc, too had stopped what he was doing and was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. "Right, any ideas on how we're going to get there?" Ron stuttered, "Get there?" Harry frowned, "Yeah, now think. No brooms, the gobos took the cars with them…"

"Harry, how did he, Voldemort, get into the Ministry?"

"What? How the fuck should I know, all I know is that they're there!"

"Harry, think of it this way: its five in the afternoon, the Ministry has to be full of workers getting ready to leave. Somebody would have noticed, Harry! Do you think Sirius and Voldemort and your uncle could get into a building crawling with Aurors and other wizards without being caught? The three most wanted wizards in all of England?"

Harry took a deep breath, held it, and stared Hermione in the face. Of all the things he hadn't expected this… "Listen, how do we not know that the Ministry is still in friendly hands? Have you thought of that?"

Now it was her turn to look confused as Harry continued. "For all we know, Voldemort may have made his move now. A roll of the dice, a gamble let's say." Harry got up, and started pacing, his head bent forward as he began visualizing the scenario. "True, Fudge has been pretty much giving the bastard what he wants anyway, but he nonetheless can't cross several boundaries. At the same time, those that back Fudge are either Death Eaters or sympathizers…" He stopped and looked up at his friend, "Power play, Hermione. The bastard is attempting to pull a coup."

"Harry…" His best friend looked torn nervous about something…Harry wasn't sure if he liked this or not.

"What, now!"

"Harry, you do realize that you have a…"

"A what?" Harry was starting to get frustrated, as every second they wasted meant pain, blood…and the increasing likely hood neither of the two would be alive if, once, he did something about it.

"A saving people's thing that could be used against you," Hermione got out. This puzzled him, and his confusion must have been evident on evident on his face as Hermione, her voice trembling, expounded her theory. During the Triwizard Tournament, during all the years past, he had always been…

"Playing the hero, Hermione?" Harry had heard Snape say it a few times, and it had stung. Now that one of his friends was saying it…

Ron joined in this time. "Well, you didn't really think Dumbledore would let us die last year during the second…"

Harry didn't let his best friend finish, as he replied back, "I don't recall you having a problem with this when it was Ginny that needed to be rescued."

Ron grimaced, "I never said I had a problem with it!"

"But you think it's a problem, though?" Ron realized what he said, and shut his mouth. Turning back to Hermione, Harry glared at her and opened his mouth. Just as he was about to say something, Luna and Ginny walked in. Ginny took a look at Doc with a rifle in his hand, the way her brother and his girlfriend appeared to be squared off against each, and asked what was going on. The moment she had appeared, Harry's already overworked mind and fears that he had been hiding in the back of his mind came forth when he turned and answered that it was none of her business. Ginny wasn't amused, and demanded to know what was going on.

Luna noted smiling that Harry was being rude.

Harry shut his eyes, and (in what was starting to become a habit of his), took several deep breaths, and was about to explain things when Nev and Katrina came in. Neville took one look at the weapons being brought out, and quickly demanded in. Harry quickly explained what had happened, what he saw, and what he thought was happening. Neville frowned in concentration, as Harry went over to the armory, and removed his carbine. "Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.

Harry paused as he made sure the chamber was clear, and looked over at his friends, "I'm going to bring back those I love."

"Harry, please listen to me…" Harry exploded when he heard that. Throwing his weapon like a basketball to Neville (who barely caught it and almost dropped it from the force) he spoke to his friends, "No, you listen to me. I count four reasons to risk my life and if need be lose it for. First, you, my friends, all of you." Harry waved his hand to encompass them all. "Second, my uncle. Third, my Godfather, and fourth, someone you don't need to know about quite yet." Staring at them, he spoke quietly, "Alex went through a lot to get me back, and even if it is a trap as you suggested, Hermione, then I got no choice but to spring it and hope for the best." His eyes hardened, "I will not, can not, abandon one of only two blood relations I have worth a damn right now

"Harry, I never called you to abandon him…" Hermione's eyes were shocked that he suggested it. She continued, "Let's try and contact Sirius through the Floo in Umbridge's office. We can confirm if that is real or not, and if need be call in backup." Doc added his two pence worth, "Harry, we're going to need a bit more timber if we have to launch a rescue. You do understand that, right?" Harry mulled over the decision, and nodded reluctantly.

"All right, but Neville and Doc," He pointed his fingers at them, "start loading ammo into the magazines and the magazines into the belt kits and bandoliers. The rest of you, any ideas?"

Harry quickly leaned around the corner, and leaned back. The coast was clear, and he could hear Ginny telling some people that a prank involving Garroting Gas had occurred near the stairs. Ron had gone off to report to the Headmistress that Peeves was raising hell, again. This coupled with Ginny and the other two girls telling the student body that a firework with a rather lethal chemical cargo had been detonated should give him all the chaos and distraction he needed.

Hermione nudged him, and he nodded. Sprinting, his robes flying, he didn't bother trying to see if the door was open, using his foot instead on the doorknob. The door shuddered and flew away from him as Harry, his foot aching where it had connected with brass through the thin leather of his shoes, ran to the fireplace and threw in the handful of blue Floo powder he used for secure communications. Ever since the bitch had taken power, he had had to keep his supply hidden and hadn't had much chance to use it. Indeed, the only fireplace still on the network (the others in the common rooms had long since been shut down) was located in Umbridge's class-room.

"Black residence," Harry all but yelled into the fire as he thrust his head in. Slowly, he felt a feeling of unease as he recognized the room he was in as that of the main hall of the Black house. It was dark, gloomy, few of the lamps were on, and the ones that were only cast a dim glow that really highlighted the elf heads mounted on the walls of the house. Quickly, he began calling out names, his stomach hurting as he bellowed out the names…Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, anybody…

"The head of the Potter-boy is in the fire. Kreacher wonders what he is doing here." Harry saw the bent, shambling figure of the aged house-elf Kreacher come into view. Not wasting a breath, Harry demanded, "Where's Sirius, Kreacher?"

Kreacher's eyes gleamed, "The master has gone out, Harry Potter."

"Where is he, Kreacher?"

Kreacher cackled, and Harry asked another question, hoping to get some sort of response out of him. "Is Mad-Eye there? Or Remus or Tonks or Dumbledore?"

"Kreacher is here all alone, Harry Potter." The elf was laughing now, his voice high-pitched, sing-song in tone. Harry felt his frustrations start to reach the boiling point. Asking the elf if his master had gone to the Department of Mysteries, the elf replied that his master never confided in him of his destinations.

"You know where he is, Kreacher? He's at the Department of Mysteries, isn't he Kreacher?" Harry knew he was starting to flap big time, that he was committing the worst sin anybody with the power of life-death decisions could make, but he couldn't help it. Panic had set in, and coupled with his rage and frustration God knew what was going to happen.

Kreacher gave a high-pitched cackle, and Harry heard him say, "The master shall never return from the Department of Mysteries. It will only be Kreacher and his mistress again." Harry's world went red, and he would have made an attempt at doing something, anything if it wasn't for the fact he felt as though his testicles had been knocked out of his scrotum and into his stomach. Curling into a ball, and moaning loudly, Harry felt a pair of hands drag him out of the fireplace and turn him over. Above him was the smug, grinning face of Draco Malfoy, his wand pointed right at Harry's face.

"Hello, Potter" Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of him, and both dragged him to his feet, his arms pinned to his sides. Umbridge, Parkinson, that masculine cow Bullstrode, and Theodore Nott were herding in Luna, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron into the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Umbridge was smiling the same smile he had last seen the day he had been forced to use the Black Quill. Harry grimaced, as his groin hurt, and hurt bad, and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it as the only goal in his life at the moment was to try and get past the stage of thinking past the pain in his crotch.

Umbridge came up to him, and demanded to know just whom he was contacting. Harry kept his mouth shut, and stared her down. For her part, Umbridge started yelling and screaming, that he was in collusion with Dumbledore and the half-breed who had attacked her last night. Harry almost laughed in her face, and would have if his friends weren't there, as Umbridge's ramblings had a drop of spittle hanging out of her mouth.

It was then everybody's favorite Potions instructor strode into the room, a dark, greasy, malevolent cloud that acted as though it owned the place. He gazed at the students being held against their will by the Headmistress, and asked just why he was being called in. Umbridge demanded that he give her a vial of Veritaserum, so that she could glean the truth from Harry. Snape had glared at her, informing her icily that she shouldn't have wasted it the previous month during her interrogation of Potter in the DADA classroom. Harry breathed a little easier, glad to know that his suspiciouns of the bitch trying to drug him were correct.

Umbridge, upset at this latest development, asked what options were available. Snape informed her of poison, and how it was going to take him a while to produce a viable poison that would act at a pace acceptable for their needs. The Headmistress found the situation unacceptable, and yelled at him that he was still under probation and investigation himself. Snape didn't deign to give an answer, only turn around and proceed towards the door. Harry saw his chance, and took it, yelling that Padfoot was captured in the place he had seen during the winter.

Snape knew what he was taking about, as Alex had told Harry that Snape was one of those in the know about Harry's visions during the winter break. Harry gambled that he was still in communication, somehow, with the Order, and even though he was in a world of shit right now would know what he was talking about. Snape had stopped, and looked at him, his face an expressionless mask. Harry hoped that he could read his mind, and the thoughts and images he had seen he remembered.

Umbridge interjected, demanding to know just what he was talking about. Snape acidly informed him that he didn't wish to hear his babbling and left. Harry didn't know if the bastard was merely putting on a show for Umbridge and company, or if he genuinely thought Harry was babbling. Once again, he started to panic, as he was unarmed, and surrounded by an enemy with no angles to work in his favor…

Umbridge simplified things for him. Pointing her wand at him, she haltingly spoke of emergency powers offered to her under an emergency decree from the Minister of Magic. Umbridge demanded that he talk, else she would be forced to the Cruciatus. Harry laughed in her face then and there. To a man who had spent half a week watching his flesh bleed and burn, and hear himself scream and piss and shit himself when the pain got so bad...Cruciatus did not bother him in the least. Moody said the pain was greater then that of the muggle torture he had endured. Only thing he had forgotten to mention was that the muggle torture stayed with you, aching afterwards for what seemed like a lifetime. The Cruciatus lingered for a few moments, but disappeared over time a lot quicker.

His insane cackling was what saved him. Umbridge hesitated, and Harry could feel every pair of eyes on him, thinking him insane. Hermione saved him, telling her that she was going to tell her everything. She told, in a teary voice with many pauses to the Headmistress, that Dumbledore had had them creating a weapon, a weapon to use against the Ministry. Umbridge kept her attentions on Hermione; here was the Holy Grail, the goal for which she had been striving so hard to find ever since Dumbledore had made Fudge and the rest of the Ministry look like a bunch of bumbling idiots in the Infirmirary when Harry had been brought back.

Hermione claimed they had been trying every method of contacting the Headmaster, to let him know that their project was complete, and ready to be used. Umbridge was frothing at the mouth when she heard this, and demanded that she be shown the weapon. Hermione agreed, but said she was only willing to show it to Umbridge alone. Malfoy fucked up by looking too greedy, too much like himself and not some simpering boot-licker during the interrogation, so Umbridge wound up ordering him and the Inquisitorial Squad to watch the others while she took had Hermione lead her to the weapon. To ensure her cooperation, Umbridge took Harry with her as well, both of their wands in her pocket, and her own wand trained on Harry's back. Ron looked pretty upset that people were threatening both his best friend and the girl he loved, and when he started yelling and making such a fuss that Malfoy slammed him into a full body bind. Ginny avoided Harry's eyes, and Harry did likewise. Deep inside, Harry had a sinking feeling in the base of his stomach, the same kind he had had before the Third Task last year, when he had gone into the Whomping Willow in his third year, when him and Ron had nabbed Lockheart during their second year, and when it looked like Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone back when he was a fresh-faced eleven-year old.

Hermione lead them out of the school and deep into the Forbidden Forrest. Umbridge demanded to know where the weapon was, to hurry up and get them there. Slowly Harry realized the game his friend was playing and stayed alert, ready to make a move when Hermione's play went into action. He was desperately for a weapon, anything, be it a twig, sharp stone, anything at this stage of the game.

Umbridge tripped over a branch, as they were going cross-country, well off the beaten paths within the forests. Harry had a vague idea that Hermione was leading them in circles, and it seemed the idea had also occurred to Umbridge as well. Getting up, she demanded that Hermione show here the weapon immediately or else she would have to…

Everything went by real fast after that. Harry was knocked down, and then felt a pair of strong hands lift him effortlessly into the air. Somehow, his glasses were still on his head, and he saw that he was held in the arms of a centaur. A centaur with a bow, and a quiver of arrows on his back, all around him were other centaurs. Harry felt his heart start to race, as all of them were armed, and he had heard that when Bladvak, Ironhammer and Moody had lead the dwarves and goblins in a ground search of the Forbidden Forrest the centaurs had been very, very hostile.

Harry spotted a crude, flint-like blade in the belt of the centaur carrying him. Keeping his eye on it, Harry knew he would have only one chance to get it, for the centaur was holding him close enough to feel his body heat, and close enough that Harry was willing to bet his life he could snatch the blade without being caught. Truth was, he was probably going to have do just that.

The centaurs unceremoniously dumped him, Hermione, and Umbridge to the ground once they reached the clearing. Harry grasped the blade as he fell, and when he hit the ground he rolled on to his stomach, moving the blade (point horizontal to the ground) into the voluminous sleeve of his black robe. Cupping his wrist, he got up on one knee and watched with detached emotions what happened next. Umbridge had to open her big mouth, and start ranting and raving of the authority of the Ministry of Magic. She had further exacerbated the situation by pointing her wand in what she thought was an intimidating manner at the Centaurs, and called them a bunch of beasts.

Harry could smell the fear on her, and knew that she both literally and figuratively lacked the balls to bluff them out of this situation. Hermione was pushed over to Harry, as the Centaurs knocked down Umbridge, and threw her into the air. She was screaming as they caught her, and passed her down a chain of hands further into the forest. A distant part of Harry could hear her screaming, but he blanked that part out, waiting, his nerves on end for the right moment to make his move. His fingers curled, gently but firmly, around the hemp covered handle of the stone blade. On the ground, in front of him and Hermione, were their wands, but they were blocked by two centaurs.

The two centaurs turned their attentions to Hermione and Harry. Harry recognized one of them from his first year at Hogwarts as Ronan, the other was given the name of Magorian, and he silently listened to them talk of dealing with them harshly, even though they were 'foals'. The younger one, Magorian, said Harry was almost a man grown, and should be treated in such manner. Hermione didn't help any either, as she said something to set them off. Magorian was yelling something about beasts, and the centaur race being treated unfairly by the wizard world. Hermione was getting flustered big-time, and Harry moved closer to the obnoxious centaur. Unable to spot an opportunity, Harry decided it was now or never.

Harry's eye grew cold, as he sneered out, "Don't waste your breath talking to them, Hermione. Apparently they don't realize that there are worse things then being called the beasts that they are." Magorian lost, as he threw himself over Harry, pinning him down on to the ground perpendicular to Magorian's torso. Magorian barked at Harry, "Before you pay the penalty for trespassing on our land, what is worse then how you treat us?" Harry smiled, a smile utterly devoid of mirth, and filled with cruelty. "Being a gelding for example…Horse."

With that Harry slid the blade he had kept hidden in his torso, and slammed it into the Magorian's horse-like genitalia. Harry heard a scream, but he pushed the blade deeper into the centaur's flesh, and then ripped it downwards. The flint must have been pretty sharp, for it felt like he was pushing a hot butter knife into a stick of margarine. An artery must have been hit, for blood started flowing out like a broken sprinkler as the centaur reared up and then fell to the ground. Harry could hear him sobbing, but the other centaurs were either in shock by the speed of his attack, or were too busy doing whatever they were doing to Umbridge.

Reeking of the copper stench of Magorian's blood, Harry rolled over to the wands, and tossed over Hermione's over to her. She was staring at Harry's blood-stained countenance, her mouth open and imitating Ron's. Harry ignored her for the moment, getting up and firing stunners left and right. One, two, three of the bastards were knocked down, but Harry knew that they were outnumbered. Harry knew he was fairly proficient, and so was Hermione, but weight of numbers would smash them down, and judging by the blood Magorian was spilling Harry didn't think they were going to show him much mercy for castrating one of their own.

His back to Hermione's, Harry grimaced and scowled at the enemy's surrounding him. They were still trying to digest the fact two very young wizards had maimed one of their own, and knocked down another three. Harry knew they were in shock, but it would only be a matter of minutes until…

A rumble, and a tremor in the ground, Harry looked around. The centaurs seemed to be wondering what was going on, and then the trees around them opened up as Hagrid's brother Grawp burst in, and started punching and throwing centaurs around left and right. Harry watched as a hole opened up, as the centaurs around them scattered to evade the adolescent giant's rage, which Harry supposed had something to do with finding Hagrid judging by the way he was yelling about Hagger.

Grabbing one of Hermione's arms, Harry dragged her through the churning, panicking mass of centaurs, and headed towards in what he hoped was the direction of the school. Hermione snapped out of it for a moment, and Harry started running, nimbly jumping over fallen logs and roots of the trees around them. In the distance, he could see that the sun was starting to set, and that it was going to be real dark, real soon. The only good sign was that he vaguely make out the outline of a tree line in the distance, through the scrub and trees around them. "C'mon, Hermione, we're almost there." He wasn't breathing hard, and it felt like he was on a major sugar rush. All it was the adrenaline, the fear and excitement starting to hit him after he had tried, and largely failed, to keep it contained within himself. He was worried, flapping big time as for all he knew they were operating against the clock, that every second they spent hunting through the woods for Hogwarts would mean another second in the captivity of Alex and Sirius.

This pushed him harder, doubling his pace, and behind him Harry could hear Hermione struggling to keep up. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hermione was red-faced but keeping up, and had enough breath in her to ask, "Harry, why did you," cough, "do that to the Centaur?" Another cough, and Harry shrugged, "Only option as the crazy fucks were about ready to top us and feed us to the goddamn worms." Just as he said it, the woods broke into a tree line, the grounds of Hogwarts before them. The ground was clear of debris, and Harry, the blade in one hand and his wand in the other, broke out in a dead sprint towards the school. His priorities were clear: break out his friends, deal with Malfoy, and get some wheels or a Floo to the Ministry of Magic.

"Harry!" It was Doc, to his eleven o'clock and making a 'form on him' arm signal. Harry ran over, and when he was two feet away Doc tossed him his CAR-15. Pulling the charging handle back, he pointed the weapon into the air, and peered into the chamber. Empty, and no magazine in the magazine. Before he could ask anything, Doc filled him in as he pointed to his web gear on the ground.

Harry had left the Marauder's map in the common room, and instead of filling magazines with ammunition, Doc had kept a close eye on the work of Harry and company. Watching the dots, he had seen the whole drama, and as soon as Umbridge had disappeared, Katrina, Neville, and himself had burst in wands blazing. Malfoy and company were tied up and stuffed into a broom closet, and they had beaten tracks to the Gryffindor common room. Neville had, like Harry, guessed the sort of move Hermione would make, had quickly taken the situation in hand. Katrina, Doc, and Neville had set down loading magazines with ammo and prepping the gear while Ron, Ginny, and Luna had set about ransacking the school for some Floo powder.

That had been about half an hour earlier, and despite the improbability of it, no Floo powder had been found. It seemed that Umbridge may not have been totally stupid after all, as their frustrated attempts to locate any Floo powder came to naught. Harry had pretty much used what was left of his Floo powder communicating with Grimmauld Place, and nobody in the school it seemed had any as one of Umbridge's decrees had been the confiscation of said powder from everybody, to include the faculty. Neville had had no doubts that Snape probably had some stashed away, but the Potions master had vanished, and Katrina had warned him that her father was a fanatic when it came to security.

At the moment, they had stopped the loading and were instead moving down the equipment they would need from the Gryffindor tower, to the front lawn. Neville and the rest of the gang had gone looking for either a car or one of the twins' magic carpets. Brooms were out of the question based on the kit they had with them, and they needed something with a flat bed, where they could finish loading the magazines. Neville had admitted that they had a better chance of seeing old lady Trewlawney burst in riding a tricycle and juggling pies then of finding either, but he was still willing to look for it.

"Harry!" He turned, and saw the rest of the party running at a fast towards them. Neville was the only one carrying a firearm, his CAR-15 tied to his forearm with a length of boot-laces. The belt kit he wore over his black robes. Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina had their wands out and at the ready. Neville saw the blood on his shirt, and asked him, "You all right?"

"Yeah, centaur and giant blood. Umbridge got snatched by the centaurs, and fuck knows where she's at now. No dice with the wheels?"

Neville shook his head. Harry swore, and wondered if he was going to have a make a choice between guns and ammo versus speed. That decision, though, didn't come to pass, as a small herd of thestrals trotted towards them. Neville saw them first, and wondered what the hell was attracting them. Ginny pointed to Harry's blood-stained shirt, and Ginny pointed out that the winged horses were attracted to blood. Harry remembered then from his lessons in Care of Magical Creatures, before Hagrid had had to leave, that the winged horses were visible to those who had seen death. In the case of himself and Nev, that had up close and as personal as one could get.

Watching one of them trot up and start licking his chest, he remembered just what they were used. He knew it would be a risky, as his knowledge of how to control them was about zilch, but what real options were available.

"You guys see the school's carriages anywhere around?" Holding his rifle in his left hand, Neville drew his wand and said, "Accio Carriage." Sure enough, one of the black Howarts carriages came rolling to a stop within moments in front of them. Quickly, he yanked open a door and looked in. Crammed in with two people on each bench, plus two sitting back to back on the floor would give them enough room, plus have some working space as he started stuffing in ammo and grenade cans, and told his mates his plan. Hermione asked him, a bit excitedly, "Harry, have you ever…"

"Something similar. You trust me?"

Hermione bit her lip, and even though she probably had misgivings (not that could blame her, as he had his own misgivings of what he was about to do), she nodded, and Harry pointed out how he wanted them to sit. A bit more space was created when Doc said he would ride footman, sitting in the back strapped to the boot (trunk) of the carriage. Harry privately thought he was nuts. Everybody got in then, and Neville sat on the floor, hurriedly loading magazines and stuffing the full magazines into the green cotton bandoliers. Harry kept himself working fast by gently fastening a bridle to the lead thestral, who (to his relief) had gone about getting into place as soon as the carriage came to a stop. That done Harry made sure everything was tight and fastened, not wanting the thestrals to break off and have a carriage accident at several thousand feet.

Before he got up on to the driver's seat, he took a moment, and asked them, "I don't think it would do much good to tell you all none of you have to do this, and it would probably be…"

"Harry" It was Ron, who was fumbling rounds into the magazines with Neville. Everyone was looking at Harry now, much to his discomfort.

"What, Ron?"

"Shut the fuck up and let's go." Harry sighed, and jumped up on to the driver's seat. Ginny nimbly climbed up next to him, riding shotgun, and said. "Let's go Harry." She put her hand on Harry's leg and looked at him, her brown eyes gazing deep into his. Harry wanted to tell her that he loved her, to let her know how much she meant to him, to hold her in his arms and stroke her hair that shone like red silk. For that matter, he wanted to give her a kiss, a kiss that for all he knew could be their last as he privately thought he was out of his fucking gourd for letting someone like her, for that matter, allowing any his friends to get involved in something like this. Yet he knew, deep down, that they would never, not in a million years, abandon him…

Eight kids with wands, three with small arms and rudimentary knowledge of infantry weapons and tactics, going up against a well-armed, capable foe who probably knew they were coming…

Still, Harry was a professional, so he smiled and flicked the reigns he held in his hand. Across his lap was his CAR-15, no magazine and no round in the chamber. The thestrals trotted and then started to canter, the wings on their back flapping so that they rose gently like an airplane. Gaining altitude, Harry felt them rise and looked around. Taking out the compass he carried with his belt kit, he steered the thestral team south, and prayed that his love and his friends be safe in the battle he knew they would be fighting, and that they made it in time to save the lives of those he held so dear.