Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Warning: Blood, Violence, Gore, Angst, and the whole lot of it

Chapter XXXIX: Any Burden, Any Price

Black shapes seemed to materialize all around them, coming out of the thin air. Black cloaks, masks, hoods, wands at the ready. Harry counted eleven of them, and really wasn't worried. What did bother him was the fact there was at least thirty more people, wearing an assortment of muggle rig and carrying muggle weaponry, though the biggest hardware he could see sported were bolt-action sporting rifles and hunting shotguns. These bastards were storming into the room via the opposite ends of the room, and Harry saw that they were vampires, the skin pale and looking not unlike cream cheese in the light. Harry heard the voices giving their commands in Slavic, and saw that one of the hooded figures (Harry presumed that they were wizards, as they were cloaked and masked whilst the vampires looked like a grunge-rock, Neo-Nazi crew of Romper-Stompers) wearing a double-eagle pendant on a chain around his neck. Harry had little doubts it was the Russian bastard from November who had blasted Doc's foot to pieces, killed the goblins, and damn near destroyed his source of mulled mead.

Harry heard the sound of a safety being clicked off, and then another. "HOLD FIRE!" He bawled out at the top of his lungs, hoping that Doc and the rest wouldn't open fire. Around him those with wands kept them at their sides, obviously trusting him to get them out of this mess. Either that or they were shocked at how fluid the situation was moving. Harry felt two things: a pain, a prayer that he would get them all out of the mess that he created, and a hope that Doc would decide today really wasn't a good day to die.

In short order they were surrounded, wands and weapons pointed at them. Ginny gasped behind them in horror. Harry had to agree with her, as this so far had to be the worst scrape he had ever gotten him, and worse yet his friends in…

"Hand it over, Mister Potter." The voice was the Slavic tones Harry remembered of the Death Eater Igachev. Igachev commanded, raising a palm and gesturing at Harry to go to him. Next to him was a tall Death Eater in the plain black garb of what Harry presumed was the British Death Eaters.

Harry could feel the despair in him as he guessed a figure of being outnumbered about five to one. Eyes darting hither and to, he saw that they were surrounded, all ways into and out of the room cut off. Doc was on one knee, weapon pointed at the enemy, his face utterly expressionless. Harry had a sudden thought …

"To me Potter." Now it was the man on Igachev's right that got to the front, and demanded from Harry. An old nemesis, one whom Harry had several debts to collect from: Lucius Malfoy.

"Where are Sirius and Alex?" Harry asked instead, his grip on the orb tighter. The inquiry was greeted with a gale of laughter. One of the voices was female, to Harry's left, who spoke in triumph, "The Dark Lord always knows."

"Always," Malfoy incanted softly before continuing, "Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Alex and Sirius are!"

"I want to know where Alex and Sirius are…" The woman to his left mimicked him, and Harry became painfully aware that he and his comrades were surrounded. Malfoy, the bitch to his left, and the other Death Eaters were moving in closer, their wands at the ready. His bowels were churning…

Harry blinked, and forced himself to speak in a calm voice. "You have them both. Here, now, so where are they?" More laughter greeted him, and the woman continued to mock him, saying the frightened little baby had woken and thought what it had dreamt was real. Was it? Harry thought to himself.

Next to him Harry saw Ron stirring and Harry spoke to him, "Don't do anything yet, Ron. Not yet." Another gust of laughter, though Harry noticed that while the woman laughed loudest of all, the Russian and Malfoy were very quiet.

"Do you hear him? You hear him? Giving orders to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" More laughter, but Malfoy spoke back in a very soft voice.

"You don't know Potter the way I do, Bellatrix. He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." The last was directed at Harry, who fired back, "I know they're here!" Harry knew he was flapping, that he could hear quite clearly the panic rising in his voice. Perhaps the other Death Eaters could hear it too, for the laughter was quite deafening it seemed to Harry.

"I know you've bloody got him and Alex, you fuck!" Harry's voice cracked, and he tightened his grip on the globe.

"Perhaps it is time you learned there is a difference between illusions and reality, Potter. Give me the prophecy, or we will take it by force."

Harry didn't even blink, as he let his left hold on to the orb as he brought his right hand up, clutching his carbine. As he did so he could hear angry muttering, the laughter dying out as hammers got cocked back, the Death Eaters raising their wands. Ron, Hermione, Katrina, Ginny, and Luna had their own wands drawn and raised as the Death Eaters did so. Harry heard the ominous noises of safeties being clicked off by Doc and Neville behind him. Inside he was horrified; as he knew that no matter what happened, he had lead his friends into death…

Yet…though they had Potter and his mates outnumbered and outgunned, they didn't make a move to use their wands, merely held them at the ready. Harry still had the safety on, and could feel his arm strain as he pointed his carbine with one hand, though by moving it up and down he could find the strain somewhat bearable.

Malfoy's voice sounded again, this time in a sneering tone, one which Harry could almost see his snide, arrogant smile. "No need for that, Potter. Just give us the prophecy, and we'll let you go on your way unharmed." Harry was about to fire back that he wasn't naïve enough to believe in that when Malfoy continued, "I would do as I said, Potter, before I take away the one thing in the world you care, no…" A pause, then a laugh, one of malice and contempt, "love isn't it? More then your own life?"

Harry was now somewhat confused, and Malfoy's voice became low, threatening. "The Dark Lord knows all about what you hold dear, Potter. And you know full well just what I'm capable of…" A pause, and before Harry could respond, Malfoy continued, "Alice was such an exquisite woman…I wonder if you're willing sacrifice your other whore the same way?"

Now his guts ran cold, but Harry was still playing like ice. "Which one? I've had more then my fair share in my time, and besides," he grinned feral, "I think you'll find them a bit too much to handle if they're willing, and have the means to fight back."

Malfoy's voice rang out in laughter, joining him shortly thereafter by the others in the cavern, once again sounding loud. This time Malfoy barked, "What a fool you are, Potter! The Dark Lord sees all, hears all, knows all…feels all…" Harry felt Malfoy's eyes pierce into him then, his voice cutting into him like a winter's wind. "Perhaps you should tell your friends of your romantic side, Potter? Of holding that that you hold so dear under the stars…." Malfoy stopped, letting it sink in and perhaps to savor the moment.

Indeed, Harry felt nauseous as the implications sank in, but he still wondered if he could bluff or fight his way out. Now, with the cat well and truly out of the bag, the despair he had had before was gone, as all he could think of was getting Ginny the hell out of here. If he had to die in the process…

More time, he thought to himself.

The Death Eater continued, "Oh, yes, Potter. We know all about your…"

"Regardless, answer me this though, what the hell have you done with A…"

"Accio Prophecy!" The female Death Eater waved her wand and Harry roared out, concentrating his mind, "Protego!" The ball slipped a few inches from Harry's fingers, he felt a momentary wave of nausea, but he still maintained his grip on it. His heart was starting to race, so all he could do was turn and stare at the woman, who looked at him for a moment.

"Wand less magic…so the little baby knows how to play? Very well, then…"

Malfoy was the one starting to flap now, "I SAID NO! If he smashes the prophecy…"

A plan began forming in Harry's mind, for if they wanted this piece of glass that badly, and all he gave the fuck about was getting those he loved out of here….

The woman moved close to Harry and his friends, and threw back her hood. Removing the porcelain mask, Harry recognized the harsh features of Bellatrix Lestrange, her face gaunt and skull-like from her time in Azkaban. Her eyes startled him, for while she looked like a corpse, the eyes were glowing and alight with a maniacal fire.

"So you need to encouraged, is that it? So be it, then-take the smallest one. Let him watch as we torture the little filth. I'll do it myself." This last was directed to the other Death Eaters, who began moving in on Ginny. Harry left nothing to chance, moving in front of her, his weapon dropped and hanging from his arm. Instead, he grasped the orb tighter and held it close to his chest.

"Make your play and you'll be smashing this in the process. I get the idea your boss won't be too pleased if you came back without it, now will he?" The bitch stared at him, and Harry took the opportunity to keep the talking going.

"So, what kind of prophecy are we talking about here?"

"What kind of prophecy? You jest, Potter."

"Only when I'm fucking your wife, Malfoy, now why does Voldemort want this?" Harry heard several of the Death Eaters hiss, but kept his eyes constantly flickering about, hoping to find a gap, a weakness they could exploit.

"You dare to speak his name." The bitch's voice was low, threatening, but to one whose only love and family were at risk, and who had been under the blade before, it didn't faze him in the least.

"Yeah, I've got no quibbles saying Vol…"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Lestrange shrieked, high-pitched and banshee-like. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips; you dare to besmirch it with your half-blood's…"

"You know he's a half-blood, too?" Harry was reckless, piss and vinegar and blood and salt now. Near him he could hear Hermione groan, but he pressed on savagely. Doc was separated from the rest of them, but he seemed to be watching, alert, ready for action… "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch who kept her legs open long enough for his Dad the muggle to shag without contraception ending up producing that sorry piece of filth-or has he been telling you lot he's a pureblood all along?"

"STUPE-"

"NO!"

Harry had memorized that it took about three pounds of pressure to squeeze a trigger, and he could feel just about every ounce on the triggers of Neville and Doc as Malfoy deflected the stunner. Not blinking, he listened instead as Malfoy yelled at Lestrange to not do anything until they had the prophecy. It was obvious that Malfoy was the main Rupert in charge. Mentally, Harry decided that if shit looked hopeless he was going to shoot him in the fucking guts and hopefully live long enough to watch the whoreson die.

Ghostly figures emerged from into, the detritus from the smashed orb on a shelf hit by Lestrange's stunner. Harry didn't look, instead moving his left foot so that it tapped Hermione's, who was behind him. In his mind he had the germ of an idea, that were it properly executed, could ensure that some of them got away. Not a perfect solution, but in a situation like this perfect was on the other side of the moon…

"You still haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy you want me to hand over." Harry played for more time.

"Do not toy with us, Potter." Malfoy had the situation under somewhat control by now. Next to him Harry watched the Russian toss his wand in the air and catch it with a single fluid motion. Not for long, Harry thought to himself as his foot press down on someone behind him. The voice as it breathed in air told him it was Hermione.

"I'm not fucking about here. Why?"

Beside him, Hermione asked him in a low whisper what. Malfoy sneered at Harry, "Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. He ignored Hermione and asked, "What about my scar?"

"Could this possibly be?" Malfoy laughed, and some of his minions laughed with him. As they did so, Harry whispered to Hermione, "Smash the shelves…"

"He never told you? This explains why you didn't come earlier. The Dark Lord wondered why..." Harry mouthed his directions to Hermione, who passed it on to those who surrounded them. The only person not involved was Doc, but Harry saw that he was aiming from the hip now, and wondered what he had in mind, as shooting from the hip was by and large a waste of ammo…

"You didn't come earlier when he showed you the place where it was hidden through your dreams. He thought your natural curiosity would make you want to hear it in its exact, original form for yourself…"

"Did he now? So he wanted me to come and get it then? Why?"

"Why?" Malfoy's voice, full of malicious delight, unnerved Harry slightly, straining his ability to keep his game face on. Just a few more minutes, he thought to himself." Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries are those about whom it was made, as Augustus Rookwood informed the Dark Lord."

"And why did he want a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you…have you not ever wondered why the Dark Lord attempted to kill you as a child, an infant at that?"

Now Harry stared at Malfoy, for the bloody man had hit upon something that he hadn't really thought of until now. Why had the evil son-of-a-bitch tried to kill him well before he was weaned? Why did he do so personally when he had had a stable of psychopaths and animals to do his dirty work for him? Was the answer to that question, and probably quite a few others, was in the glass orb he now clutched in his hands?

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me? And he's made me come and get it for him?" Harry was speaking quietly, his fingers tightening even more around the grit-covered glass.

"Why couldn't he come and get it by himself?"

Lestrange laughed, and launched into a spiel that Harry already knew about why the Dark bastard wouldn't bother giving up the game that that idiot Fudge was playing, and the only way that game would come to an end would be if he showed up in the ministry.

"So he's got you doing his dirty work for him? The way he sent in that snake that slotted Sturgis? He also tried to use Boderick Bode didn't he?" Harry was recalling the last briefing he had had, one in which it had been brought up Boderick Bode had died during activities for the Department of Mysteries.

"Very good, Potter. The Dark Lord knows you do not lack intel…" Whatever he was about say was lost as he stopped, for things degenerated right quick. Harry saw his eyes widen and dart to something to Harry's left. Doc had done something, for Harry had seen at the edge of his peripheral vision a movement; Doc turning and throwing something. That something went into the air before it detonated with a crack into a bright flash of white light and smoke. Harry saw a few candescent bits of white fly out, and coupled with the smoke knew that Doc had thrown a phosphorous grenade. The screams and smell of burnt hair and pork meant that Doc had lobbed it into the group of vampires behind them.

Harry seized the moment, seeing confusion within the ranks of the Death Eaters. "NOW!" he bellowed, and those with wands, as well as himself and Neville using wand-less, cast "REDUCTO!" Bits of wood and glass flew into the air as seven curses flew into the air. Harry once again pushed past the nausea, and bellowed out, "GO! GO! GO!" as he charged at Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. All around them chunks of glass and wood and prophecy orbs were raining around them. Malfoy's goons and the other vampires pretty concerned about not getting hit in the head by one of the glass objects, or chunks of wood. Harry was bellowing at the top of lungs the war cry he had learned during the summer that seemed so long ago as he slammed into their ranks, pushed aside Malfoy and Igachev and knocked the silly bitch Lestrange on her ass and kept going. The vampires in front of him and dispersed and broken for cover, knocking down bookcases to provide cover, and behind him he could hear the popping sound of Doc's CAR-15 as he fired through a magazine in quick order, quick two shot bursts using semi-auto.

Something or someone grabbed the back of his cloak, and Harry, clutching his carbine like a cricket paddle in his left hand, went with the momentum of being pulled and turned and swung. The metal butt hit the Death Eater in the stomach, and he went down with a grunt. Harry didn't bother to shoot, instead letting go and making another run towards the door. He was sprinting, almost like a rugby player with the glass orb tucked into his chest, the carbine trailing and hitting him as he ran. Both his lungs and sides were on fire, but he kept on going. A few bullets whizzed past him, but he could hear shouting in the distance, and it stopped as he slammed open the door and ran in. Twisting, he slammed the door shut and muttered, "Colloportus"

It wasn't much, just a simple locking curse, but maybe enough to buy him a few seconds. Harry paused, and letting his carbine dangle, drew his wand out of the sheath he had on his belt kit, pointed it at several of the cobblestones, and cast the lifting spell that caused some of the stones to rise and stack themselves, leaving the floor barren to a layer of dirt and gravel, and a small wall covering the door. Running forward, Harry saw that he was in another hallway with offices on either side. Like the room he had just bomb-burst out of, these were lit with white light. None of them had doors so instead of ducking into one of those he made a beeline straight to the end of the hallway. There was a solitary door, one Harry hoped was unlocked.

Reaching the doorknob, he turned and pushed, entering as he heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. Not bothering to look, he slammed the door shut and cast a locking spell. Knowing that he had to use his carbine, Harry opened up an ammo pouch and removed the three magazines, which he stuffed into his pocket. Replacing it with the orb, he took a brief moment to look around. Harry saw a bookcase and a metal filing cabinet next to the door, both of which Harry methodically turned over and pushed in front of the door. There was a coffee table, couch, a leather chair that was doubtless very comfortable and a huge oak desk in the room, all of which Harry made use of. Both the table and the chair were light enough he could grab them and toss them onto the stack of furniture he had set in front of the door.

Sweating, and breathing heavy, Harry heard the people slam against the door and knew he didn't have the time to waste. Going over to the desk, he untied his carbine and let it fall to the ground. That done he shoved his wand into a pocket, and used both hands to up end the desk, which crashed, along with the papers and office supplies on it, with a loud clatter. Harry took the grenades he had clipped to his belt kit and set them down on the ground. Straightening the pins on one of the WP grenades, Harry thought to himself, You're fucking mad. Nonetheless, the more time they spent attacking him, the more time his friends and Ginny could use to either get away, get help or something…

Harry heard a crash, and looked up to see that one of the vampire crew had brought out an ax and were methodically hacking their way into the room. Whatever the prophecy was, it was important enough that they were approaching his apprehension in the most difficult way possible, which meant they couldn't just go in wands and guns a blazing. Their priority was to get the prophecy, with killing Harry a second and their own lives a distant third priority. This he didn't mind, as this meant he could be flexible while his opponents couldn't, he could make them bend to his will, and if he could do that then he was going to win. Alex had taught him that…

In his view one the stone wall on his right opened, and as Harry swung his carbine over he heard the welcome Southern drawl of Doc yelling, "Thunder!"

Harry responded, "Flash!" They had decided upon a pass-code system that only the Harry and his group would know about before they went into action, one that they would be able to use to recognize each other with in case they got separated. Harry eased away from the trigger and turned his attention back to the door as Doc ran and knelt behind his makeshift firing position.

"What's happening, Harry?"

"Nothing much, how the hell you get here?"

Doc grinned, and reached into a pocket. Before he could answer, "Good trick by the way with the phosphorous. You saw the others?" Doc pulled out a small, circular, brass-looking tin, and starting shaking it between his thumb and middle fingers.

"Nah, they ran through the door we came through, and I took positions behind a desk against one of the walls, when I touched something, and it opened up. I went in and it turned out to be this passage. Call it about fifty meters, zigzagging." Doc stopped, twisted the tin, and opened it to reveal a mass of tightly packed smokeless tobacco. Something called Copenhagen Long-Cut. Pinching a bit the size of his thumbnail, he put it between his lip and gum, worked it with his tongue, and spat a stream of light brown next to Harry. Doc held the tin towards Harry, and said, "Want some?" Harry thought about it a moment, looked towards the door (which was still giving the vampires trouble) and shrugged. Aping Doc's motions, he took a bit of the tobacco, and stuffed it between his lip and gums.

To the accompaniment of the sound of the axes hammering into their door, Doc advised, "Now pack it in with your tongue and don't swallow or you'll be in a world of hurt." Harry pressed the tip of his tongue to push the tobacco into a compact mass in his mouth, and spat once he started salivating. While he preferred to smoke, the tobacco was smokeless, and nicotine did help him calm his nerves at times like this…

Spitting, Harry picked up his carbine, and turned his attention back to the barricade. By now he could see that there was enough of a hole to make out the dark shapes of the vampires coming through. Harry tightened his grip on the carbine, thumb making sure the safety was off and trigger finger outside the trigger well. Turning his head, he spat on the ground, and remarked, "You ever tell a girl you do shit like this with the mouth you kiss her with?" Doc sat with his back against the desk and replied, "Nah, I make sure I brush my teeth first, and try to do this when they ain't looking. Like now." He looked over at Harry, and grinned, specks of tobacco showing between his teeth, "I don't think Ginny will mind too much, though I wouldn't lock lips with her until you got your teeth cleaned."

Harry felt the inside of his guts go liquid on him again, but tried to play it off. "What do you mean, Doc?"

"I ain't stupid, Harry, and after watching the two of you, I know you're seeing each other." Harry looked at him again, and asked quietly. "What makes you say that?" Harry liked Doc, had shared a foxhole and a meal with, had shed blood and tears and sweat together, but he had heard of undercover operations that could, had, gone that far…

Doc must have sensed that Harry didn't trust him, and that Harry probably was starting to size him up for a coffin for he tossed over his carbine, and said to him, "You got the big guns now, and there ain't enough time for me to explain, but you got my piece and even if I had it you probably could put me on ice quicker then spit." Doc's hazel, almond eyes stared at him, glinting, "You either trust me, and are willing to let me watch your back the way we've been doing things since the year began, or you can go ahead and put a round in me. I don't blame you if you do, as I would go to the lengths to defend someone I love, too." He didn't break his gaze with Harry, his voice lowering, "All I ask is you make it quick, and take a few of those bastards coming through the door in front of us." Harry didn't know what to say, looking at the man he had grown to count as part of his circle of friends since that time in the Broomsticks, when Doc had shot the vampires through the table, and took all the fire so they could have time to maneuver. There was Doc, field rations opened before them as they shared an entrenchment out in the Forbidden Forrest, rifles at the ready for God knew what to burst through…

Harry made his mind up in a heartbeat. Tossing over Doc's carbine, Harry picked up his own and set it on the edge of the desk, facing the enemy. Putting his shoulder to the butt, he turned his head back to face Doc and told, "I trust you. Now let's take some of these bastards to hell." He spat for emphasis, and focused his attention on the barricade. Hands were coming through the door now, and if those had been human Harry would have started to open fire, that way he could be sure of wounding and perhaps killing a few. Vampires, though, would only be wounded, and Harry conserved his ammo.

Doc peered over the edge of the desk, and asked, "So whats the game plan, Harry? Rorkes Drift and cold steel?"

"No, we let the bastards burst in, slaughter them, and make our way back to the rally point."

Doc scratched the side of his head, and replied, his voice thoughtful, "Sounds good, but I got an idea…"

Harry, never one to dismiss something out of hand just because he hadn't thought of it, asked, "Let's hear it then…" Doc, mindful that time was short, outlined his plan. Harry quickly saw the merit in it and handed over the materials that Doc wanted to use before turning his attention back to the front where he watched and saw that the bastards were throwing aside the furniture. Part of him was tempted to tell Doc to take over watch while he did it, for if he fucked things up…

Harry kept to his post, as Alex's voice went through his head of trusting ones subordinates. The vampires threw aside the filing cabinets Harry had pushed over, and Harry quickly pushed the switch to full automatic, and squeezed the trigger. Pressing it into his shoulder, he fired off a five round burst that splattered the vampire's head like a ripe melon. The ones behind him backed away, and Harry, his eyes still focused on the doorway, worked his tongue and spat out the rest of the dip before he yelled backed to Doc, "C'mon!" Doc responded by throwing a smoke grenade, and then another. Within three seconds the room was so filled with green and purple smoke that Harry couldn't see shit. Behind him though someone grabbed him by the web gear and dragged. Harry went with it, and felt dirt beneath him. Then there was movement to the front and everything went black.

Only for a moment, though, as Doc, a chem-light strung on his web gear, cracked it and bathed the area in a dim glow. Slapping his shoulder, Doc motioned for Harry to move aside. Harry did so, and watched as Doc, using a trip wire, White Phosphorous grenade, and a plastic spoon wedged into the opposite stonewall's mortar. Doc finished his work, and backed away from the trap, which had been set at waist level.

Keeping silent, he motioned for Harry to follow, which he did, leading him down the tunnel. Tall enough for him to walk erect without having to bend, Harry followed Doc down the tunnel, noticing that it was stonewalls and ceiling, but dirt floor. Straight for about ten meters, it began to zigzag, and Harry found himself getting disoriented before Doc stopped, and began assembling a trap using the Claymore they had. Packing enough metal balls so that it would act like a giant shotgun when detonated, it was guaranteed to fuck anybody over who tripped the wire in the tight space. Doc made sure it would be an even worse time for vampires by attaching a spare blasting cap to a plastic squeeze bottle of kerosene and Styrofoam flakes. Tied in with the mine, a raging hell storm of flame and shrapnel would gust through the passage, tying down the hunters.

They continued onwards, until finally the zigzagging ended at a dead end. Doc held up a hand and motioned for Harry to come forward. Harry did so, and sat down as Doc did likewise. Doc leaned with his back to the wall, and spoke softly, "I don't think they found our way out, but let's be sure. 'Sides," Harry could tell Doc was smirking in the dark, "I'm willing to bet good money that they bastards are still looking for me out there." Harry nodded, and leaned his head back against the cold stonewall. The first question in his mind he asked.

"You still haven't told me how you figured out me and Ginny were an item." Harry kept his eyes closed, as the thought occurred to him that everything he had done, everything him and her gone through in order to ensure that their relationship be kept a secret had been for naught. Inwardly he shivered as he remembered the words of how Voldemort had felt everything he had felt. The idea that he had been present when the two of them had been…

Doc spat, and spoke, "Made a pass at her, got shot down, and wondered why. So I watched, saw how she acted around the others. Same-same with every other contender in the tower or year…" Harry opened his eyes and looked over at his friend. Even in the dimness of the chem.-light, Harry could see the flecks of tobacco staining Doc's teeth as he grinned. "That is until she was around you. I really couldn't put my finger on it, but there seemed to be a change in the way she acted. Just a hunch really…Then when that bastard started talking shit, well..." He shrugged, "One plus one equals two."

Harry sighed, and looked down at his feet. At that moment he felt like the biggest fool in the world, as apparently all he had done seemingly was not tell his friends what was going on, whilst the Dark Bastard knew, known since the beginning probably…

"Harry?" Doc again. He looked towards his friend, who leaned over and set his hand on his shoulder. Doc's eyes glimmered, his jaw set. "You did what anybody would do…"

"What, be too clever by half?"

"No, defend what you love using what you thought was the best method at the time." Harry wasn't convinced of that, and it must have shown on his face for Doc continued, "If you can't believe in that then believe this: you and her and Ron and Nev and Trina and Luna and Hermione are the best friends I have in the world. You're family, and I protect my family. Okay?"

Harry nodded, and Doc nodded in turn before going on, "Right, let's try and get out of this hellhole shall we?" Doc then outlined the new plan: go out into the office, make their way to the large office room, and rendezvous with the rest of the group. Nodding, Harry let Doc take point as he fingered a groove in the wall, and watched the bottom part slide away to create a small crawl space big enough for a fat man to go through. Doc got on his belly and began low crawling. Once his feet were out of the way, Harry got down and followed him. About ten exhausting meters later, covered in sweat and dirt, Harry saw Doc's feet get up and go away as the chem.-light they had been using was left behind at the entrance.

Following Doc, he made it out and saw that they were in the offices they had passed through right before the cathedral room with the prophecies. Only, the crawl space had been near enough desk not to be seen, and Harry kept low, not sure if there were others in the room.

Harry heard a tongue cluck to his right, and saw that Doc had moved to another desk, taking cover behind. Doc held up three fingers, and nodded in front of them. Harry nodded, and listened. Sure enough, he could hear footsteps, a few to his left. Someone coughed, and an English voice muttered for the person to shut it, and to keep a sharp one for the little brats. Harry grinned, feeling the adrenaline start to course through his veins, and held up three fingers to Doc. Slowly, he stared bring them down, and when the last one fell, he raised his head above the desk, aimed his weapon and fired. Doc joined him, and both fired through an entire magazine through their carbines.

The vampires screamed above the popping of the weapons, and Harry watched as they fell. Ducking behind his desk, he yelled "Stoppage" and changed the magazine. As he did so, he saw Doc fire a burst and run across from a desk to another. Harry rose, fired a burst at the head of one of the bodies, and took off. Sprinting towards the same desk as Doc had been at, Harry heard swearing, screaming as even though vampires were dead, they could still feel pain, and a few of the ones that him and Doc had shot at were still alive.

Jumping on and sliding across the top of a desk Harry heard a blast and felt a sting along the right side of his head. As he sat down, he rubbed his head and came away with blood. A shotgun pellet had probably nicked him as he leaned around the corner of his desk, saw the legs of a vampire, and fired a five round burst. The vampire went down, cursing and screaming as he dropped the sawed-off he had been using. Harry aimed, and fired another burst that splattered the vampire's skull across the floor. The screaming stopped, but the body continued to move, to flop in an obscene parody of a fish on land.

Harry heard firing, the desk behind him chipping, sawdust and bits of wood of showering around him as he tucked and rolled to another desk. Leaning up quickly, he fired a burst and ran. Objects on the desktops began to burst from the bullets firing around him. Harry felt the blood from his head leaking onto his neck, and changed the magazine, not sure how many rounds were in his last. Pushing it in, Harry swung it around the corner of the desk, randomly sprayed a burst, and rolled again. He knew he was being sloppy, yet now all he wanted to do was make it to the door, and…

Where the fuck is Doc!, the thought occurred to him as Harry rose to full height and began firing. One vampire, and then another went down. Another was hurriedly cracking open his shotgun as Harry emptied the rest of the magazine into his chest and face. Harry was breathing hard through his nose as he saw that he was alone. Changing a fresh magazine, Harry began to go around the room, weapon at the ready. Counting the fallen, Harry came up with three dead vampires, and three wounded…Wounded that soon died as he came up to them and fired short bursts that smeared their blood and brain and bone across the stone floor. Only one was too much in pain not to resist, to lay there as he aimed and fired.

The other two, the first two, made a move for their weapons, and Harry wound up emptying about a magazine a piece into them.

By now his heart rate and breathing were down to somewhat normal levels. Quickly he strode to the door. Harry didn't now where everyone else was at right now, but judging by how the place seemed deserted, he was willing to bet the rally point was the scene of some hot and heavy action. This meant he had better be…

A flash of movement was in the corner of his left eye, but as he turned, bringing his weapon to his shoulder, a loud voice cast, "Stupefy!" Harry mentally tried to cast the blocking spell, but found it too late as it him in the chest and sent him flying through the air. Landing on a desk, Harry felt the wind get knocked out of him as he skidded across the mercifully barren surface and land on the hard stone floor. A burst of pain went through his head, his eyes swimming as the back of his head hit first. Harry tried to focus, but all he could do was watch as a Death Eater slowly walked towards him. Harry saw that it was the Russian with his armband…

Wand drawn, Harry watched numbly as Igachev started to wave it. Harry saw an object fly through the air, hit the Russian in the elbow causing him to pause his spell. It was Doc, who jumped forward, and grabbed the Russian's wrist. The wand was pointed down, Doc and the Russian almost embracing, and then Harry saw a white light, and a rumble as the floor and desks around them exploded. Harry could only curl into a ball, and hope a splinter didn't fillet him.

The air was filled with dust, which caused Harry to cough as he slowly sat up, and dragged his weapon close to him. Palming the pistol grip, Harry got to a knee and took stock. He was bruised, sore, covered with dust and trash from the explosion that had turned the office into a shit heap, but he was still breathing, and he was still armed. Remembering the cause of the little firefight, Harry patted down the ammo pouch where he had kept after a quick pat-down, he still had the glass orb, intact and in his care. Licking a finger, he rubbed off a bit of the grime from his glasses, and wished he hadn't.

Igachev had tried to cast what looked like a detonation spell, only it had been pointed too close to him. The spell had ripped the vampire into pieces, very small pieces and scraps decorated much of the small crater where him and Doc had stood. Igachev's head, the face set in a permanent bewildered grimace, had in a grim bit of humor landed on to of a desk, facing him. Harry shook his head, the slaughterhouse smell of copper and shit and decayed meat deep in his nostrils. Getting up, Harry had one mission at the moment, he had to make it back to his friends, try and make sure that Doc's…

From his left he heard a wheeze or gurgle of some type. Looking over, Harry saw a pair of feet, black combat boots, and walked over to them.

It was Doc.

The explosion hadn't removed any limbs, but what it had done was horrible enough in it's own way. Stone and wooden splinters had peppered him with a thousand small cuts, though it looked like his eyes were all right. One large chuck had clipped his jaw, so that it hung by a tendril of flesh and muscle. Another large splinter had slit his stomach, so that his intestines were splayed over his torso like a thousand snakes. The odor from that wound smelled as though a septic tank had been opened.

Doc's intestines quivered and seemed to squirm, like a mound of worms just unearthed.

Harry turned his head and vomited.

It took him only a moment, for he hadn't had much to eat or drink since the testing earlier in, and as soon as he felt he was somewhat under control he jumped over to his buddy and knelt next to him. The gurgling and coughing that was starting wasn't good: something, probably fragments of his jaw, was caught in the windpipe. Harry took his right hand, and stuck the index and middle fingers down Doc's windpipe. Going into the bloody mess, he pawed out a few fragments, and soon Doc wasn't coughing. Harry looked at his friend, and saw that he was mercifully out of it. The breathing and a faint pulse were all that indicated Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux was still in the land of the living.

Carefully, Harry set Doc's jaw back where it would have been connected. Then he ripped open a dressing from Doc's web gear, and bound it around Doc's face. Snug, but not too tight, Harry finished tying the dressing before turning his attention to Doc's abdomen. For that, all Harry could do was gently pile the intestines and other detritus that was his friend, and use Doc's bandolier (after he had emptied it of rounds) and handkerchief spread out on it. That he soaked with a bit of water from his canteen, to keep the whole mess somewhat damp….

Harry leaned away from Doc, dry-heaved, and staggered up to his feet. Grabbing hold of Doc's web gear, Harry began dragging his friend with his left hand, his right holding his carbine. Harry didn't bothering looking for Doc's weapon, and moved towards the door. Slowly, painfully so to Harry as he realized that the probability of someone stumbling in to find them was getting more and more likely the more time they used to link up with everyone else….

In front of him he could hearing yelling, what had to be gunfire…Harry sighed, and decided it was all or nothing, as the only way out was through the front. Crouching, he gently pushed the door open. In front of him was a wizard, Harry wasn't sure who exactly, yet nonetheless had his wand raised and his back to Harry. Harry stitched him, a good burst that flung the Death Eater to the ground like a rag doll. A redoubt of desks and office furniture was in the right corner of the room, which was where Harry supposed everyone else was at. It was a good twenty paces, not much really…unless one was under fire. Harry gritted his teeth, knelt and picked up Doc. Cradling his friend next to his chest, ignoring the stench of him, hoping that he wouldn't drop a man weighing a good buck twenty as Doc would call it and ran. At the top of his lungs he bellowed "Thunder", hoping his friends would see that he was a friend, not a foe.

Harry couldn't really make sense of what was happening next, almost as though he had no control over his body. Running, dodging and evading desks and smashed furniture, Neville's voice over the din for cover fire, shotgun blasts, feeling rounds go past him. One thing he did realize was making it to the redoubt, hands taking Doc away from him, another pulling him over and down to the ground…

Katrina slapped him, and yelled at him, "Harry!" Harry blinked, the world coming into focus now. Neville kneeling over Doc, his med kit open as Luna held up an IV, Doc adding dressings, making sure Doc was breathing, not bleeding, and not in shock. Katrina, a cut marring her forehead, was in front of him, holding up one of his canteens. Harry took a sip, swished and spat, and drank a large gulp. Taking a look around, he saw Ron on the ground, giggling and acting drunk, and Hermione and Ginny throwing stunners.

"Are you all right?" Katrina.

Harry nodded, then moved over to Doc and Neville. "He gonna make it?" Neville was fixing his cloak around Doc, both to keep him warm and to hide the ghastly wounds, and he shrugged, "The odds are stacked, but since he's made it this far he's got a chance. Not much, but a chance still." Harry looked away from Doc to Ron, who was giggling like a madman. Neville saw that and explained about their running firefight from the room of the prophecies to one filled with a bunch of planets. One had exploded in Ron's face, and he had been bloody mental ever since. They had made their way to the office, and threw up a small redoubt, and waited for him and Doc. Harry leaned back and pulled out the orb from it's pouch, where it had remained undamaged. Staring at it, Harry asked, "Anybody else dinged?"

"Ginny got hit by a Stunner, and I think her ankles shot."

"I'M FINE!" Ginny yelled after firing a stunner. She moved towards them but as she did so she stumbled and fell. Harry went to her, and helped her up. She breathed out a thank you, but Harry could tell she was in pain. Harry sat her down, and sat next to her, tucking away the orb once more.

"You gonna be all right?" She nodded, and Harry looked around at his friends. All were looking at him, at least those that weren't trading shots with the bastards surrounding them. Neville, who had been fixing an IV to Doc, asked as he worked, "Any ideas?"

Truth be told, he didn't have an idea what to do now. All he did know was the variables: they were short on ammo, they had something which the other side was willing to play dirty and for keeps in order to get, they had a wounded, time was running out, they didn't have much pyrotechnics…

Harry paused, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. Looking over at Neville, he asked, "Could you rig something up for me, to help Doc?" Neville paused, and looked up. "Depends, what the plan?"

"You're bloody mad, Potter. I hope you realize that?" Neville was next to Harry, both of them listening as Hermione and the other girls fired off stunner after stunner. It had taken only three minutes to get the plan ready for action, but to Harry it had felt like a life-time. Harry looked over at his friend, and asked him, "Any brilliant alternates then?" Neville shrugged, "Bollocks, man. We don't have fuck else to do." Neville slowly got up and peered over the top of a desk. He duck back down and said, "They're all around the hallway. We'll be having one hell of a drama, mate." Harry nodded, and got ready. Doc did like wise, and began counting backwards from three.

"Two…One…Now!" With that they began tossing every grenade they had in their possession. White phosphorous plumed white together with the sharp explosions of fragmentation grenades. Harry heard screaming, the chemical odors of the smoke grenades, and the pork scent of burnt flesh. Harry barked, "Number Two section, number one section cover fire." Neville mimicked the orders, and then both opened fire. The two of them had quickly taken stock, and discovered that, pooled and split amongst themselves, they had about two magazines, one of which was pure tracer rounds, apiece. While Harry had conserved his ammo, Neville had been going through rounds like water.

Not that that was something against him. Outnumbered, the only chance the others had had in order to make it as far as they had had been to use every bit of firepower at their disposal. Now, Harry and Neville and the rest were about to do similar.

The exact terminology was called a Mad Minute, at least in the American military. It was where every available weapon was brought to bear, and here, Harry and Neville was doing just that, firing an entire magazine of tracers. The yelling and commands were deception, an attempt to psyche the enemy out through fire and smoke and light. Both changed magazines before Harry and Neville went over the top, firing their weapons into the smoke. Behind them were the girls, dragging Ron and helping Ginny. Doc had been hidden in the rubble of office furniture, an IV attached to him. Harry hoped that they would be able to make it to friendly hands in time for a rescue to be conducted…If not, then he was dead anyways…

Harry bellowed, feeling his guts ache from the stress as he used his diaphragm to sound off. In front of him was a vague shape; Harry moved his weapon to fire, but seeing as how he had kept his weapon on the trigger the moment they were moving forward all he heard was the click as he squeezed the trigger once more and nothing. Unfazed, Harry moved forward quickly; saw that it was a vampire with his pasty skin who was bringing his rifle to his shoulder. He didn't hesitate, striding forward he stepped and brought the butt of his carbine into the man's face. The vampire went down, and attempted to strike back, but Harry was faster. His foot went down to the vampire's head, kicking like a football to stun him. Harry quickly changed the magazine to his last one, and put three rounds into the vampire.

Neville ran up to him and yelled, "C'mon!" By now the smoke and confusion was reaching epic proportions. Harry watched as vampires stumbled past them and their group obviously thinking they were casualties from the fight. Obviously section commanders were using the smokescreen to try and move in. Harry was both glad, and anxious: glad because the less attention they drew the more likely they would get away in the confusion, but anxious because the vengeful blood suckers could find Doc.

The group moved quickly, ignored by the excited vampires. A few of the more alert ones spotted them, and him and Neville hosed them down. Harry mentally counted down to about fifteen rounds as their way to door. Just as they reached he heard a nasal voice yell and a purple beam of light went through the air. Hermione, who had been helping Ginny limp with them, was hit right in the chest. She went down, and Harry heard an animalistic scream. It took a moment for it to occur to him that it was his own voice.

Before that, he had spotted the son-of-a bitch and emptied the rest of the magazine into him. Harry only stopped when he realized that he was out of ammo, and before was nothing but a quivering pile of meat. Untying the bootlace, he ditched his carbine, and ran over to Hermione, who was being looked over by Neville. Nev, too, no longer had his carbine, as they had drawn the attention of two vampires who had to be dispatched by the eighteen or so high-velocity rounds he had had left.

He looked up at Harry as he came over and shook his head, "Not zapped. She's breathing, faint pulse. I'll carry her." Neville picked her up in a fireman's carry as Harry nodded and took point once more. Luna helped Ginny as Katrina took over babysitting Ron as they kept going, and made it through the door. Harry felt relieved as he cast a locking charm on the door as they shut it behind them once they were in the circular room that branched off into the others.

That relief didn't last as the door from the one they had left slammed open and a female Death Eater stood there. Harry recognized her as Bellatrix Lestrange the moment she opened her mouth and commanded, "There they are!" This time he didn't bother doing anything, just kicked open the door right next to they had exited and went in. Curses and hexes cracked the walls around them as they went in. Luna was dragging Hermione as Katrina helped Ginny, who sealed the door as Neville, and her brother slid in.

Harry saw that they were in the Brain Room now, surrounded once more by the human brains suspended in glass jars filled with green liquid. More importantly, they were surrounded by doors, multiple avenues of attack by the Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna began sealing the other doors as Katrina looked over Hermione. Neville calmed Ron down a bit and sat him next to Hermione and Katrina before making his way over to Harry. "Harry, you lose your short?" Nev was referring to his Browning, which he carried on his hip. Harry shook his head, and was about to ask Neville where his was when he remembered Nev had left his with Doc, in case he regained consciousness, and needed a piece.

The last door that Luna was about seal burst open, and in came Bellatrix and four other Death Eaters. What followed was pure wand work. Luna was about to cast the locking curse on the door when she got hit by a red beam, flew over a desk and landed on the other side and didn't move. Ginny cast a full-body bind that tripped one Death Eater, but Katrina got hit by two stunners that slammed her across the room into unconsciousness as she got up from examining Hermione.

Now it was Harry, Ginny and Neville against four Death Eaters. Ron giggled and everything stopped as he levitated one of the brains toward him. Everything stopped as all looked at him, and Harry found himself yelling a warning. It didn't matter, as the tentacles wrapped themselves around his best friend. Ginny screamed at Harry to do something, and Harry cast a hex that slowed them down. Ginny screamed that her brother was being suffocated. She couldn't move, her broken ankle holding her down. It was then a red beam hit her in the face. Ginny keeled over unconscious.

Harry saw red, his chest tight, but was quickly brought to his senses when, in one of the rare flukes of nature soldiers like to talk about, five curses aimed at him hit everything else around him but him. Craters were formed in the walls now as bits of the stones flew in a cloud around him. The nicks and cuts he got as a result brought him off of the panic cloud real quick. Neville went down, as one of the curses sent a black paperweight flying through the air that smacked into his face, his wand snapping in a burst of sparkles as it got caught with his fall. Harry saw a blur of blood and made a break for the door that the other Death Eaters had come through. Inside he prayed for help, for Neville to help Ron who was turning purple with a tentacle around his neck, for Ginny to still be alive, and that the mad dash he was doing now would buy them the time to get the hell out of here.

Harry kept his pistol holstered, but as he ran he yanked out the prophecy from his ammo pouch and held it high. Sure enough, the curses thrown at him stopped, and behind him he could hear them following close behind him. It was all Death Eaters now, the vampires obviously distracted still, and they ignored his friends as they sent furniture flying in order to catch up with him. Harry bomb-burst through the door…and started to fall down stairs, a lot of them. Downwards he fell until he came to a painful stop against a stone tier bench with a thud that socked the wind out of him. It was fortunate that he had twisted to his side so that his head hadn't been cracked on the way down. Harry noticed that he was in the room with the arch again. By some miracle he still had the orb clutched in his hand undamaged.

Dizzy, Harry focused his eyes above him, and saw that the bastards were going into the room, laughing at him. Shaking, he got up and jumped over the tier, and saw that the Death Eaters were slowly making their way towards him. By now all had abandoned their masks, and Harry could make out individual features. Slowly, as they drew closer, Harry backed away, climbing on to the dais with the arch. Panting, he watched as they appeared from doors surrounding the pit. A few limped; there was the Death Eater whom Ginny put in a full-body bind advancing on him grinning, his wand pointing at him. Harry recognized him as Dolohov, one of the fugitives from Azkaban. Ginny's hex had done some damage, as the Death Eater's nose looked crooked, blood pouring out of it in thin rivulets. Harry guessed that he had fallen on his face.

Malfoy, his hair mused and face sweating moved towards, him as the others stopped and began encircling him. Next to him was Bellatrix, her eyes sparkling with cruelty. Malfoy did the talking:

"Your race is run Potter… Now hand over the prophecy." Malfoy emphasized his point by aiming his wand with the rest at Harry.

Harry felt empty, and wondered if the men of the old 44th, surrounded and the last survivors of the Kabul column during the First Afghan War, had felt the same right before the end in that godforsaken pass in 1841.

"E's na a'one! E's got e!" Everyone turned, and saw Neville Longbottom, blood gushing from his nose like Dolohov's, someone's wand in hand. Neville was like a drunk, staggering and running down the steps. One of the Death Eaters, not thinking him a threat, got behind him and tried pinning his arms. Longbottom threw his head back, and Harry chalked another broken nose up for the night. The Death Eater swore, let him go, and Neville yelled "STUBEFY!"

Nothing, and this time one of the beefier Death Eaters disarmed him by slugging him in the stomach, and then yanking his wand arm behind him. Another came up, and did the same with his other arm while yelling for someone to stun him. Malfoy and Lestrange both recognized him, Malfoy sneering that his death wouldn't come as much of a shock to his grandmother, who was probably used to hearing about the death of family members to Voldemort's cause.

Lestrange cackled, and a smile that made Harry's blood run cold came upon her face. "Longbottom…" She murmured, and went over to Nev, who was struggling against the grip of two burly Death Eaters. Harry guessed it would have been Crabbe and Goyle senior. The two were holding on, barely, as Neville strained against the people holding on to him. Harry guessed he was so crazed he was forgetting about a lot of the little tricks they had learned, only wanting to get close and destroy Lestrange. Neville was cursing, cursing at her in terms that came out even more obscene because of Neville's broken nose.

She only smiled, and wondered how if Neville would last longer or shorter then his parents had. They were going to find out, she mused, unless Potter turned over the prophecy. Neville roared at his friend, "Don' give the slag shit, Ha…" That was as far as he got before the slag shrieked, "CRUCIO!" Neville, who had kicked back so that his feet were off the ground for a second, turned his curses and struggling into a scream of agony. His captors dropped him then, falling on to the stone ground, twitching, and his back jack-knifing. Lestrange raised her wand, and Neville stopped twitching, instead curling into a sobbing ball.

"That was just a taster," she snarled, "Hand over the prophecy, Potter, or you can watch your friend die the hard way!"

Harry shut his eyes and sighed. The orb felt like a billion kilos in his hand. It wasn't much of a choice, as there was no way he could willingly watch one of his friends die screaming and not do something.

It was then two of the doors above them slammed opened, and five people came in at a dead sprint: Kingsley, Moody, Tonks, Lupin, and Sirius. Malfoy and his goons turned to face the new threat, and Harry heard the shouts as Stunners and other hexes flew through the air. This he heard as he leaped off the dais on to the ground. Spotting Neville crawling away and up from the action to the cover of the benches, Harry clutched the orb and ran over to his friend. Dropping as a hex flew over his head to burst a bit of rock, he yelled at Neville, "You all right?" Neville nodded, and used his hand to straighten his nose with a sickening crack.

"Ron?" Harry had to ask.

"Think so, he got the tentacle off and was breathing last I…" Neville stopped as a spell cratered the ground beside him, spraying both with chips of stone. Quickly, the two began crawling on the ground, trying to keep behind benches. Out of nowhere an arm came out and encircled Harry by the neck. Before he could react, he found himself struggling to breath, held up before some masked bastard so close he could smell his rancid breath, and his toes scraping the ground. Whoever it was leaned close to his ear, and hissed, "Give it to me, give me the prophecy." The man flexed his fingers, Harry could feel the increased pressure digging into his windpipe. Desperately, Harry clawed his right hand down his side, touching his shoulder holster.

Neville came out of nowhere, his fighting knife drawn. He stumbled, but the blade he managed to slam into the Death Eater's calf. The Death Eater screamed, dropped Harry to turn and viciously kicked Neville in the side that sent him flying like a football. Harry, gasping for breath, tried to roll away, but the Death Eater leaped towards him, one hand around Harry's throat again while grabbed Harry's head and slammed it, hard, against the stone. Harry's vision blurred into a world of pain, but he forced himself to concentrate on drawing it from his holster. Feeling it get loose, but the bastard McNair (Harry recognized him from third year as the whoreson who had tried to zap Buckbeak) almost had his hands on the orb. Harry could feel his head getting lighter, but forced himself to use muscle memory.

Right thumb flicking down the safety to off, next the hammer cocked back. Harry wasn't sure if a round was in the chamber or not, or even if he had to do it, but everything now was dice rolling. Things seemed to go slow, though Harry would never be sure if it was mental or merely the fact he was close to being choked to death. His right hand, Browning in hand, jamming the muzzle underneath McNair's chin, no sound as he felt himself pull the trigger. McNair's eyes widened as a spray of blood and brain and bone shot out of the top of his head like a geyser. The aroma of human shit, and the copper stench of blood wafted assailed Harry's senses. McNair's hands loosened slightly, dampness on Harry's trousers.

Harry wasn't sure if it was because of McNair, or because of his rather close brush with death. Weakly, he pried loose himself and crawled over to Neville. Laying with his back against the bench, he was looking down at the fighting going on below them, his eyes dazed and confused. Harry reached him, and then threw himself flat across Neville, as a couple of hexes flew over them.

Raising his head, he saw that it was Dolohov, who started to mouth something and make a slashing movement with his wand. Harry mentally threw up the Shield Charm, but still felt something streak the side of his head. Dolohov looked like he was going to cast it again, but this time he got interrupted when Sirius slammed into from his side and sent him stumbling down the steps. The Death Eater wasn't fazed and Harry watched with morbid fascination as he recovered and the two of them dueled, using their wands almost like swords. Protego, stupefy, and all the others that Harry knew.

Harry dropped his pistol on to the bench, drew his wand, and screamed "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" It hit Dolohov in the back, and the man's legs and arms snapped together, almost cartoon-like. Dolohov fell on his back, and rolled like a log down the rest of the way to the bottom. Sirius roared with laughter, and yelled over at Harry, "Nice one Harry!" He bounded over to him and Neville and forced them to duck as a jet of green light went over their heads. Harry saw Tonks, swirl and get hit in the chest fall to the ground. Lestrange, her face in that grin of hers, ran towards the dais, where melee was still taking place. Sirius's eyes glinted, but he turned to Harry and yelled, "Get Nev and the prophecy and get the fuck out of here!" With that he got up and bounded back to the fight.

Harry stooped, picked up his pistol and jammed it into his holster. Then he turned, grabbed one of Nev's arms, and slung it over his shoulder. Nev groaned and muttered, "Fuck got me in the ribs."

"Can you walk?"

Nev grunted and slowly the two of them made their way to the door. Someone lunged at them out of the corner of his eye, and both of them fell to the ground. Harry desperately held the orb up high, and felt a weight on top of him, the point of a wand between his ribs. "The prophecy, give me the prophecy now, Potter!" Lucius Malfoy behind him, putting Harry in a headlock.

"Fuck you!" Harry snarled, and then barked, "Catch, Nev!" He brought his arm back and threw it. Neville laying against a bench, got his wits about and caught it close to his chest. Malfoy swung to point his wand at him, but Harry pointed his over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!" Malfoy flew off of him, damn near taking Harry's head with him. Harry swung around and watched Malfoy slam into the stone dais, yet still get up and point his wand at them again.

Harry rose, about to throw a detonation curse at the elder Malfoy and turn him into very small lumps of meat when Lupin jumped in front of Harry. "Harry, get the others and go!" Lupin turned and fired a curse at Malfoy, who had to roll out of the way to avoid being hit. Not needing a reminder, Harry grabbed Neville by the arm together they started climbing the steps again. Neville stuffed the prophecy into a robe pocket.

A stray spell hit the step they had just stepped on, causing it and parts of the benches to crumple and cave-in. What had been a sloping staircase got turned by the power of the spell into a good ten-meter vertical drop. Harry managed to scrabble forward, but Neville, weakened pretty good by his wounds, collapsed off of Harry's shoulder and was barely holding on. Harry grunted, dropped down to his knees and grabbed hold of Neville's left arm and robes. "C'mon, push, Neville." Neville grimaced, his face red as he by sheer willpower forced himself up. Harry helped by pulling, but as he did so Harry heard a rip, and saw the side of Neville's robes he had been pulling held the orb in it!

It opened Neville heard it too, and threw a hand to catch it, but all it did was bounce off of his grimy, bloody hand. Neville and Harry watched helplessly as it fell and smashed on the rubble below them. A ghostly figure with huge eyes arose out of the broken glass, but it was too far away for either to make out the words. Neville swore, and started to apologize, but Harry waved him off. "Let's just get the others and fuck off."

Neville nodded weakly, and tried to get up but stopped. His face lit up and he yelled, "Dubbledore!"

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!" Neville pointed over Harry's shoulder, to the door above and behind them.

Harry turned, and saw Dumbledore, his face pale and furious, wand raised and advancing. Over the summer, he had read a line that there came a moment in a battle or conflict when one knew, when the opponent turned tail and had his back to you, that you had the battle in hand and it was yours. Harry felt a surge of electricity go through his body, elation because the situation was well at hand, despite the wounds, despite the fact Alex was still missing…Dumbledore had arrived, and all was well…

For a man of his advanced age, the Headmaster moved quick, sprinting down the stares. He had reached the last step before the Death Eaters in the melee realized he was there. A cry of panic seemed to go through their ranks, as one of them tried to run away. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore brought the man down and dragged him back. The other Death Eaters didn't need any prompting, throwing down their wands raising their hands above their heads.

Still, there was still some combat, as Lestrange and her cousin Sirius Black were still eagerly clashing wands on the dais with the arch. Bellatrix fired a red jet of light. Sirius ducked it, rose laughing and yelling, "Come on, you can do better then that!"

He was still laughing as a second jet hit him in the chest. Then his eyes went wide as he fell, time going slow, totally and completely through the veil.

Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in triumph…

Author's Note: Before you get upset and go off skulking, keep reading as all will be explained in due course.