Thank you! Thank you, for the reviews!
Was a little bit tardy with this update, but it is long. Hopefully you'll like the ride it takes you on. The war starts to pick up and shit gets real...
Will be grammarized later!
Chapter 30
"Where is she? Train's gonna leave any second now."
Harry stretched up, eyes peeled and searching for Hermione's curly head among the throng of students loitering by the tracks. It was now 11:50, and in exactly ten minutes the train would be leaving the school grounds, whether Harry got to say his goodbyes or not. The Hogwarts Express waited for no one.
Hermione knew that. Had promised, even, that she would be down here extra early so they could have a proper goodbye. So where was she?
"Harry! Ron!"
A knot of tension released in his chest, as Hermione came running up to them. He found himself drifting closer, his subconscious reaching out to validate her continued existence, something that he found himself struggling with even weeks after her return. He hadn't been quite able to quash the fear of losing her again, that stab of panic that rose every time she was out of sight, the whispering thoughts that said this time just might be the last time he saw her. Ridiculous, yeah, but there it was.
"I'm so glad I caught you in time!" she panted.
Ron patted her back. "Wasn't sure you'd make it for a second there. What happened?"
"Luna 'lost' her shoes. I was helping her find them," she offered, sharing a significant look with Harry.
"Again?"
"Yeah."
"Wait, sorry, what's going on?" Ron interrupted them.
Harry shook his head. Luna's secrets weren't his to tell. And while he would love to help his friend, it was hard to do so when the airy witch refused to talk about it, insisting instead that it was always the Nargles. And he couldn't hex a Nargle. "It's nothing. I'm glad you could make it anyway, Hermione."
"This is going to be weird. You staying behind like this," Ron mumbled.
"Yeah, but we'll see each other before school starts again. We always do." She nudged the redhead's arm playfully.
"Hopefully, it'll be sooner than later," Harry responded, "I'm not sure how long I can take the Dursleys anymore."
"Cheer up, mate," Ron told him, "Give it a month and you'll be legal. Then you won't ever have to see them again."
"36 days," came his quick reply. 36 days, 12 hours and 53 minutes, but who was counting?
Behind them the train's whistle blew. The few students outside began to scurry towards it.
"Shoot!" Hermione snatched them into a hug. "I'll miss you guys!"
Ron squeezed her back. "You'll stop by the Burrow, right? Mum, would love to have you."
"I'll be there, first break I get."
"And I'll write you, I promise," Harry whispered into her hair.
"You better. And…"
"What's the matter?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing. I'll tell you later when I visit."
"You're still coming for my birthday?"
"Wouldn't miss it," she promised. "And Harry, be safe, please."
"I will—well I'll try. You know danger seems to follow me everywhere I go," he laughed.
It was a running joke between the friends…and the professors, and the students, and portraits, and probably the ghosts too. Honestly, it had almost become a bit of a Hogwarts tradition. Wherever trouble occurred, look to the left and you might see Harry Potter there, accidentally caught in the thick of it.
"Even more reason to be careful," she chuckled with him. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
"Don't forget!"
"I won't."
The goodbye was just as bad as he thought it would be. He didn't let her see it, but it still twisted his gut, watching her fade out of view through the train's window. Only this time, the panic was compounded with unease, a strange sense that the world was shifting into something unrecognizable and there was no way to stop it.
"It feels wrong, doesn't it?" Ron said beside him in their compartment. "Just leaving without her. She should be here with us."
"It's different," Luna spoke up from behind her book, "but sometimes different is good."
"I'm not entirely sure about that, Luna," Harry replied, still looking out of the window at the dreary scenery passing by. "Sometimes different just makes things worse."
Crusted over eyes gently pried open, and Severus "woke up". Though, waking up might not have been the correct term to use since it wrongfully implied some rest was had before hand, and that was certainly not the case for him. He did not feel rested, rejuvenated, or otherwise restored. His current state was more akin to a reanimation after death, to the gasp of life returning to a cold, stiff body, like the vampire his students so often portrayed him as.
His head dropped to the floor with a thunk and he didn't even have the energy to wince at the rattle of pain through his skull. He was dying, he was sure of it. So what did it matter if a migraine was trying to hammer through his brain while he lay there? Damn he was thirsty…He smacked his lips together, smoothing his tongue over the roof of his mouth and teeth to rid himself of the unpleasant 'fuzz' lingering there.
Where was he? The answer alluded him, racing away just out of his grasp. He felt around with the one arm that wasn't currently pinned under his stomach, his fingers skimming across the edge of a lush, black rug—his rug; he recognized it—and a hardwood floor.
It seemed he was on the ground, in his sitting room, to be exact, but the real question was how he had gotten there. Bracing himself with his hands, he tried to heave himself up, only to almost immediately topple back down, when a wave of dizziness set his eyes crossing. Nausea crept up his throat, but he willfully stamped it down. He was in no mood to throw up all over his expensive Persian rug, Dirt Resisting Charms or not.
His elbows flopped back down, and bumped into something. The soft clink of glass being knocked over had him sluggishly directing his head towards the noise, to discover a very empty wine bottle. A bottle of enchanted vintage Fae wine that he had been, until last night, saving for a special occasion. A special occasion in which he would desperately lose himself to oblivion.
Then again, if last night hadn't been the perfect time to try and scrub away his brain with alcohol, than what could have been. He groaned to himself, just remembering it all. So, so, many terrible choices made.
He should have taken the fucking Calming Draught from Poppy like she had said he damn well needed. Instead, he had to go running through the halls to chase down a random student and egg her into a fight. A fight which inevitably lead to her being hospitalized because of his cock up. And it hadn't been just any student had it? Oh no! Fate was entirely too much of a bitch to let him off easy, because of course it had to be Granger. When wasn't it ever Granger?!
"Shit." She would be in the castle now, knocked out in the infirmary and still healing because she had "trusted" him. Yeah, a lot of good that trust did her.
He should probably get out of there. Albus and Poppy were bound to find out what happened the moment the little chit woke up, and it would be best if he wasn't around for that. He didn't think an excuse like, 'I was feeling a little confrontational at the moment', would go over well with them.
A bell pinged and he looked around wildly, cursing to himself. Had he already been caught? It sounded like it had come from just out his door. Was Poppy out there now, rope in hand, ready to string him up? The rest of the staff were probably right behind her, pitch forks and torches in hand, prepared to drive off the beast that had harmed their darling, star student.
The bell pinged again.
But he didn't have a doorbell in his rooms. He was in Hogwarts, not Spinners End, so there couldn't be anyone there. In fact, the doorbell at his home didn't even sound like that, it sounded like…His head jerked towards his bedroom. He hurried to his room, stumbling on the way, and opened the drawer to his night stand.
He picked up the well worn journal inside and flipped open to the first page, reading the message that had just arrived. It was short and to the point, like most of Narcissa's messages but even still, it made his blood run cold.
Snapping the journal shut, he ran to his Floo, all thoughts of escaping forgotten, because if this message was right…
He tossed in a handful of Floo powder, shouting out, "Headmaster's office!" and let the green flames take him away.
"Oh! It's good to see you, Harry!"
Mrs. Weasley's arms tightened around him, and he gasped out a shaky laugh. He couldn't quite breathe, but he wouldn't tell her to stop. He had missed her famous, bone crushing hugs fiercely. It would most likely be the last bit of affection he would get for a while, so he was going to soak it all up while he could.
"Mom, give him a break, yeah? He can barely breathe," Ron said, exasperated. "You'll be all over the Prophet for suffocating the Boy-Who-Lived."
"Hush," Mrs. Weasley admonished her son. "Now, Harry, have you got everything?"
"Yes Ma'am. And thanks for the sweets," he said, indicating the basket of goodies she had given him. They would be the highlight of his holiday, a little piece of solace while he was with the Dursley. He was going to have to guard them viciously if he didn't want Dudley sticking his nose in it.
As if she knew what he was thinking, Mrs. Weasley whispered to him with a secretive smile, "Don't you worry about your cousin. I've put a couple of surprises on it, to warn off wandering fingers."
Harry smiled devilishly. "Thanks."
The Weasley matriarch cupped his cheek. "Of course, dear. If you need anything—anything at all, we can be there in a wink."
"I'll be fine," he told her, his grin only partially strained.
A gaggle of reporters flew by, their energetic bustling pushing the smaller group of four out of the way. Harry barely had time to catch Ginny before she was knocked to the ground.
"Bloody parasites," the young witch muttered, righting her robes as she glared after them. The reporters had all swarmed around Malfoy (who was visibly preening at the recognition) and his companion, who was a towering, imperious looking man, who seemed to have stepped right off the pages of Bram Stroker's Dracula. He was the very picture of a foreboding, aristocratic vampire lord.
Him and Snape would probably get along great, Harry snorted to himself.
Ron scoffed beside him. "Look at him. Puffing out his chest over there. So some wizard picked him up. What's the big deal?"
The crowd was growing, and more and more people were taking an interest in the mystery wizard.
"That's Potion Master Ives, idiot. Malfoy should be puffing out his chest," Ginny informed her brother.
"Ginerva, don't call your brother names," her mother chided her.
"Who's Master Ives?" Harry asked.
"Someone very important," Mrs. Weasley said, "Come on, lets move out the way." She hustled the three Gryffindors off to the side, taking them closer to Professor Burbage and the group of Muggle-borns she was taking across the wall. When the Muggle Studies professor saw Harry, she began waving at him to join them. The Gryffindor took that as his cue to leave.
"Well, it looks like Professor Burbage is rounding up our group. I better get going," he told the people who were for all intents and purposes his real family.
"Oh! Give us a hug then!" Mrs. Weasley pulled him in again, then passed him off to her children to give their own goodbyes. And then they were gone, and Harry was alone in the middle of an ever growing and overly eager crowd.
He waded through them as best he could, infinitely relieved when he finally reached the Muggle Studies professor, glasses and body in tact. The other students, a group of a little more than three dozen students, were already there. Most were Muggle-born, but there were a few Half-bloods like Harry, that either lived with Muggle relatives or whose family simply chose to live in the Muggle world. He saw Justin Finch-Fletchley towards the front and nodded at him.
The professor's quill flicked through the air, as she checked his name off the list. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. I believe that makes everyone. Now, before we cross over to your families, are there any last minute questions? No? Nothing?"
The group remained silent.
"Splendid! On we go!"
One by one, the students shuffled through the wall. Harry, ever reluctant to leave the Wizarding world behind, brought up the rear. Years of coming and going, through what appeared to be a solid object still disoriented him, and while he refrained from flinching or screeching like the first years, Harry's eyes still clenched shut as the magical doorway shifted around him.
"Absolutely horrid, innit?" A tall blonde Hufflepuff said, shivering. "It's cool, alright. In its own way, but down right weird."
"Yeah."
Most of the parents were already there, hovering around the wall and talking amongst themselves. It was as if a bubble had formed around them, separating them from the other Muggles rushing by, whose eyes never strayed towards the area for more than a split second.
As Harry suspected his Aunt was not among the waiting party. She would be the last to arrive, maybe even be an hour or two late much to his mortification. Professor Burbage was always a good sport about her tardiness, having learned over the course of Harry's six years that Petunia Dursley was as untimely (at least when it came to Harry) as she was unpleasant, and no amount of kindly delivered suggestions could change that.
"And there they go again." The Hufflepuff from earlier came to slouch against the wall by him. He nodded towards a couple who was enthusiastically conversing with the professor. "Once my dad gets going, there's no stopping him. Oh! Sorry, mate, I'm just gabbing on at ya like you know me. I'm Ted." He held out his hand.
"I'm—"
"Harry Potter. Course everyone knows that."
"Yeah, I guess so." Harry shifted uncomfortably.
Ted laughed at his expression. "I'm not about to go all dopey-eyed on you. Promise. I'll have you know, I come from a long line of heroes myself."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, feeling strangely comfortable around this guy. He had never noticed him before, but there was something about him, in the way he carried himself, that was welcoming and oddly familiar.
"Yup, my granddad was the head of Scotland Yard actually, and I have loads of cousins on the force too. Seems to be the family business."
"What about you?"
Ted gave him a secret smile. "I don't know. I think I'd do well as an Auror. Ever think about it yourself? I hear you're into saving the occasional damsel in distress."
Harry flushed at the praise. "I've thought about it, yeah. I mean, I do like helping people."
"And you're damn good at it, if rumors are to be believed."
"Uh thanks. It's just a thought for now though. I'll have to pass my NEWTs first before I can do anything."
"Well I think—GET DOWN!"
Ted dragged him down, his lanky frame covering him, as the wall behind them exploded. Destroyed brick fell on top of them, barely deflected in time by the older student's shield. Screams of panic filled the air, as the students and their families made way for cover. Some of the parents just grabbed their kids and started running for the exits, more than used to the unknown by now to know that whatever was happening definitely fell into the not good category.
Above them, a black cloud was forming on the ceiling, peals of lightening whipping out as if reaching for a fresh victim. The natural light in the station dimmed, the clear windows frosting over, as the chill emanating from the cloud swept over the entire building, bringing with it a heavy sense of dread.
What ever it was, it was too powerful to be concealed by the Muggle Repelling Charms around the platform, which cracked like an egg under the pressure. Muggle and Magic folk alike gaped at the looming sight, frozen in confused horror.
"Shit!" Ted rolled over, enough to give Harry space to breathe, and pulled out a small compact mirror that lit up when opened. "Mayberry, Toggs, report!"
"We're by the entrance, we have a group of students and their family with us. We tried to evacuate, but the wall isn't letting us through!"
"Fuck! Alright, as of right now, they are your personal responsibility, am I understood? Protect them until the reinforcements get here."
"Yes ma'am!"
"Ma'am," Harry mouthed, his ears ringing from the explosion. Had he just heard right?
Ted tapped on the screen with his thumb. "Rogers! We have a possible class nine situation. Where's my backup?"
"On their way, ma'am. Should be there in 6 minutes."
"Why the fuck aren't they apparating in?" Ted demanded.
"They didn't want to break the statute. Grimes wanted them to move in quietly."
"There's a giant goddamn cloud floating above us that's shooting lightening out of its arse! Tell Grimes, he can piss on his precious statute because we're already fucked! I need men, now!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Ted got up, grabbing onto Harry's robe and tugging the younger boy behind him. A strip of lightening flashed towards them, which the Hufflepuff deftly parried. "Stay close to me, Harry. What ever you do. DO NOT LEAVE MY SIDE. Do you understand?"
"What's going on? And who are you? The-the-they were calling you ma'am."
"Not important right now. Honestly, Harry. Priorities," Ted grunted, and deflected another flash of light. He dragged Harry over to a brick pillar, yanking him down to the floor, before peaking over the edge.
Seven columns of dark smoke snaked from the cloud, twirling through the air in frayed zigzags, before touching the ground. It had gone oddly quiet, confusion and utter disbelief preventing most of the Muggles from fleeing, because how could this be real? How could this not be some cheap parlor trick designed by some flaky reality show, that would show up any moment now, camera crew and cheesy host at hand?
A deep, rusty laugh pierced the quiet, and it was like a switch going off. Bursting through the smoke, A Death Eater in an intricately carved gold and white skull mask charged forward, six other Death Eaters right on his heel.
Chaos ensued.
Spells were carelessly flung through the air, catching innocent bystanders as they tried to flee. A stationmaster was struck in the back by a hex, blood sprayed like a faucet behind him as he fell to his knees. A couple that had been huddled behind a brick pillar for cover, was crushed under the debris, as it exploded above them. A teenage boy with a purple mohawk, tried to fight back, but before his skateboard could slam down on his attacker, he was struck with the Killing Curse and he fell to the ground dead. The Death Eater he had tried to strike, cackled with his comrade as they stood over his corpse.
Ted's father and mother were suddenly there, wands out and striking back. Their Muggle clothes had transformed into the crisp blue robes of the Auror Department.
They moved as one, dueling both Death Eaters. Their superior skills clearly outmatching their opponents. But just as they seemed to have victory close at hand, knocking one of the Death Eaters unconscious and critically wounding the other, four other Death Eaters jumped in, picking up the slack of their brethren, and the Aurors faltered. Because five against even two highly skilled duelists were not favorable odds and soon the Aurors were moving on the defensive, retreating while they struggled to hold them off.
Surprisingly, Professor Burbage moved forward, stepping in between the Death Eaters and the children, her normally perky smile was replaced with a fierce scowl, the likes of which Harry had never seen on the witch. In her absence, the older students, headed by Justin, moved to the front of the group ready to protect the younger years and their loved ones should the adults fall. The DA member began shouting orders to the large group, instructing those who were skilled enough in making a Protego Charm to protect the area. Those that couldn't add to the shield were told to start firing randomly at their opponent.
"I don't care if you can only conjure a bubble. Do it anyway and try to send it over there," Justin yelled above the chaos to one first year, and she nodded in determination. Harry slumped in relief, proud of his fellow DA member and the way he had taken charge to protect the other students.
But he needed to be over there. He needed to help them, because even with Justin and the professor lending a hand, the odds were not stacked in their favor. They wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and he would never forgive himself if he just let them die.
"Potter!" The leader of the group bellowed from the center of the platform. He prowled the space, his shoulders hunched as if he were about to shift into a Bloodhound and sniff out his prey. "Where are you boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
He looped his wand in the air, sending any object in his path flying away. One unfortunate woman was not able to move away fast enough and was magically snatched up, her terrified body lifted into the air, and flung aside like a used toy that had gotten in the way. Her body hit a wall with a sickening crack, and she crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood gathering around her.
A streak of pink was all Harry saw in his peripherals, and the world seemed to slow as a little girl, no more than four years old, ran out from behind a turned over cart, and towards the woman. The desperate cry of, "mommy," spurred Harry into action and before he could think he was running out from his hiding spot and towards her. He dived for the girl, twisting his body as he landed so that he was covering her, and braced for the spell that had been flying her way.
It never came.
Ted stood in front of him, a crackling green shield raised, protecting them. "Hey do me a favor, Yaxley, and fuck off, will ya?"
Far from impressed, Yaxley took off his mask, it disappearing like smoke, and smiled at him. "Am I supposed to be frightened, little boy? Look around you, Mudblood. You are far outnumbered and outclassed," he chuckled.
Ted gritted his teeth. "I am far from a little boy."
"Is that right?" Yaxley responded mockingly.
Ted's body began shifting. His blonde hair became pinker as it suddenly grew, his skin became paler, his face, more graceful and feminine. His body shrunk, losing a bit of height, while his hips stretched and he grew…boobs?
"Yeah," Tonks answered him, her eyes flashing, "And just for the record, the only thing you could ever outclass is a Flobberworm, and even that is a stretch."
"Ah, little Auror Tonks. I thought I had smelled something foul," Yaxley sneered.
Tonks arched an eyebrow. "Forget to shower again?"
Yaxley's smile disappeared. "When the Dark Lord is finished with you, you and every last filthy creature in your family will learn your place."
He snapped his wand towards her and an arc of hot flame whipped out. Tonks used her shield to deflect it, sending a Blinding Hex back, then doubled it with an Aqua Eructo. A jet of water streamed out from her wand that sent Yaxley and one of his cronies stumbling back. While he was distracted she cast a Disillusionment Spell on Harry and the girl.
"Go," she whispered to Harry, stopping him before he could protest, "You need to get her to safety. Take her to your professor. She should be safe with the other students."
"But what about you?" Harry asked, because leaving her behind like this just felt so wrong.
"I can take care of myself. At least until the Order gets here. Now move before you get her killed!" She shoved him away, and Harry picked up the still sobbing girl, and for once did what he was told. He ran, ducking through the fighting, and dodging stray spells.
He was ushered inside of the students shield circle, and immediately, one of the mothers came forward, gently relieving Harry of his burden.
"Poor thing," the woman whispered, and made shushing noises to the distraught child in an attempt to soothe her. It worked, even only marginally and the girl's sobs were reduced to slow hiccups.
"We can't keep this up for much longer," Justin told him, his face had become drawn out and pale.
Harry feared that the Hufflepuff was right. Their group, while faring better than would be expected of just students and their Muggle parents, was holding on by a thread. A few of the first and second years were red-eyed, tears streaking down their face. They had only just dipped their toes into the magical world, had only confronted the wonder and beauty of it, and were horrified by the ugliness they were seeing now.
There had wounded too, far too many for them all to be helped. They had been pushed to the center of the dome, and laid out on make-shift cots. Their moans of pain commingled with the wales of despair coming from the truly unfortunate families that had lost loved ones during the initial ambush, creating a heavy blanket of doom in the atmosphere.
The few that were uninjured (or as the case was for so many of them; less injured), were moving from person to person, making sure everyone was alright, helping those wounded as best they could, and were trying to calm down the Muggles stragglers that had scurried into their safe haven.
Those that could fight, and the number was laughably small, were looking just as depleted at Justin, from either firing at the Death Eaters or from keeping the shield up. The lot of them were about to drop.
A hex bashed against the shield, and everyone inside flinched away from it. Justin scrambled to reseal the crack that had just appeared.
"The shield won't hold out much longer!" Justin told him. "We're toast!"
"Stand back," Harry instructed him and raised his wand. "Protego Totalum!" His arms moved in the intricate circle motion that Hermione had drilled into his head. It wasn't as elegant as the brunette's movements, and the shield would probably be clunky and awkwardly shaped, but where Harry lacked in finesse and skill, he made up for in power. If nothing else, he had learned that he was a deft hand at pouring power into a spell, so that's what he did.
The shield dome above them lost its watery appearance and solidified into a hard glass. As he'd expected, it was woefully misshapen, and the glass itself was murky, nothing at all like the invisible, perfectly shaped cup Hermione had conjured, but the spells that were fired at them bounced off of it harmlessly and no cracks were in sight. It was doing its job, and that's all that mattered to Harry.
Those on the front lines, slumped in relief, letting their wand arms finally drop, and a cheer went up through the dome. Several hands clapped him on the back. There was hope, it was tentative and weak, but it was there.
"That was amazing!" Justin marveled, his hand touched the surface of the glass. "Please tell me we're learning this in the DA next."
"Hermione will teach you, if you want." Harry shook his head. "It won't hold for that long. Maybe only a few minutes, but it should hold out until back up arrives."
"Someone's coming?" Justin breathed of in relief. "I thought the Ministry was gonna leave us for dead."
Harry frowned, but said nothing, because he agreed with him. His dealings with the Ministry of Magic always left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't trust the Magical government to have his back and probably never would, not as long as those bigoted Pure-bloods were running the show. But it wasn't the Ministry Harry was expecting, it was the Order, which he knew, without a doubt, would show up to rescue them. Dumbledore, at least, wouldn't let them down like the Ministry would.
"Not the Ministry, but I can guarantee you that someone is on their way now. We'll be fine," Harry asserted. He grabbed Justin's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "I need you to watch over them, until help arrives. Can you do that?"
"What are you on about, Harry? Where are you going?"
"I need to go back for Tonks. I can't leave her out there alone."
"Are you insane?!" Justin grabbed his robe. "You'll get killed if you go out there."
Harry shrugged him off. "And she'll get killed if I don't." He stepped through the shield, ignoring the Hufflepuff's shouts of protest. His voice was cut off as the shield moved back in place, the glass becoming whole and smooth again.
A spell greeted him, and he barely ducked in time to avoid having his head chopped off. His cheek stung, blood trickling down from the cut now there and he cursed. He would have to be more careful. He couldn't help anyone if he were dead.
He shot off a stunner towards the Death Eater that had shot at him, hitting the man in the chest. He fell back, like a pile of logs, and Harry quickly bound him up in a body bind. The Death Eater would be easy pickings for the Order when they got here.
"Nice shot, Mr. Potter!" Professor Burbage yelled to him, as she whipped up a net of tangled vines and threw it at one of the Death Eaters. He wasn't able to dodge it completely and it caught him on the ankle, sending him flying to the ground. Harry watched the professor with new eyes. She was bloody, and panting, and her left arm was hanging uselessly by her side, but she was still fighting, standing protectively in front of the dome.
He raced by her, sending another stunner to the Death Eater she had felled, so the bastard would stay down. She smiled in thanks quickly, before turning back to the fight, already squaring away with the next opponent.
He jumped over a fallen cart as he ran, dashing towards a pillar to use as cover against a stray Bombarda. Or maybe it wasn't a stray spell. In the chaos of it all, he couldn't tell who was actively trying to kill him and who wasn't. He sent a jinx blindly back towards the general area the Bombarda had come from, and prayed that it hit something.
He caught sight of Tonks dueling against Yaxley and another Death Eater in the center of the next platform. Her movements were jerky and her reflexes were slowing down. She was expending a lot of energy fighting against two wizards, especially one of Yaxely's caliber, and she wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. She needed help.
Taking a deep breath to sooth the burning in his lungs, Harry gripped his wand and charged into battle. Yaxley, was unfortunately too skilled for him to handle. The liquid grace, and power the man yielded in battle was something that even Harry had to bitterly acknowledge was too much for him. So he aimed for the other flunky. Throwing a Jelly Leg jinx at him to distract him from Tonks.
It wasn't enough to actually catch the man, who jumped out of the way and sent back a counter attack. The Death Eater pointed his wand to the ground and a crack erupted through the cement, snaking towards Harry. The ground shook and Harry lost his footing. He fell back, his wand slipping out of his hand from the impact and he scrambled for it.
"Accio—"
"Expelliarmus!" The Death Eater yelled before he summoned the wand. It flew into the other man's hand, and he tucked it into the front of his belt. "The Dark Lord has been looking for you, Potter. He'll be very pleased when I bring you to him," he informed the Gryffindor smugly as he moved to stand over him.
With magic out of the equation, Harry took a page out of Hermione's book and resorted to a more hands on approach. He struck out with his foot, his heel colliding painfully with the wizard's knee. The physical assault shocked the man so much that he fell to the side, dropping his wand, and clutching at his leg, while he howled in pain.
Harry grabbed at his wand while the Death Eater was down. He was just about to scoot away with his prize when the wizard grabbed at him, his hand clamping down on Harry's wrist painfully.
"You fucking brat!" he spat, shoving Harry back to the ground. His wand was knocked out of his hand again, and he nearly screamed in frustration.
Harry kicked at the wizard's wand, sending it rattling away of the side of the platform and below onto the tracks. At least the playing ground would be even. Snarling in rage, the Death Eater punched him in the face so hard his glasses were knocked off, and Harry saw stars. A hand clamped around his throat, and the young wizard clawed at it, bringing his knee up roughly to hit the wizard in the stomach.
With a grunt, the Death Eater loosened his grip. It was enough for Harry to break free, and twisting around he began crawling towards his wand. A weight fell on top of his back and Harry dropped to the ground. He didn't even look up, he just blindly reached for his wand. He was so close!
Almost there. Almost there! ALMOST THERE!
"I'll take great pleasure in watching the Dark Lord rip you a part!" The Death Eater growled, pressing down further on the young wizard's back. A flash of silver whipped though the air, and a cold blade embedded itself through the back of Harry's outstretched hand, and into the floor.
Harry cried out in pain, his mind reeling against the burning heat in his appendage. And then, all of a sudden the weight on top of him was gone, and the blade was being pulled out of his hand. He cradled his hand in his chest and sluggishly turned around, his bleary eyes trying to focus on the figure now standing above him.
"You're alright now, boy. We've got you," a raspy voice said to him. He knew that voice, but between the ringing in his head, the pain in his hand and the sheer exhaustion that was now catching up with him, he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt himself being lifted into the air.
"Harry?!" A concerned voice shouted. He knew that voice too…weird. A shadowy face hovered over him. "We need to get him to a healer."
"Let Albus know I'm taking him to Headquarters."
The shadow man moved closer and whispered in Harry's ear. "You'll be just fine, Harry. Hang in there."
Harry's eyes drooped closed, his head lolled back and he finally lost himself to unconsciousness.
A/N: Voldemort's first attack! And so the war officially begins. I gotta tell you, this was supposed to end waaaay different, but I wanted to make Harry fighting as realistic as possible. So no easy wins for him, but he'll survive. And I like the way this ended much more.
Up next: Healing, an Order meeting and Hermione confronts Severus about the other night. (hehehehe)
~As always, Review!