September 1, 1997
Molly looked over her girls and boys as they stood on Platform 9 3/4. "Your last time taking this trip together," she sighed.
"Your fifth time making this speech," Ron muttered, but not low enough. Harry jumped in hastily. "Who knows, Mrs. Weasley," he said, "maybe we'll come back next year to guard Ginny for her last ride."
"Thanks for the thought, Harry," Ginny responded, "but first, I don't think you can speak for Ron and Hermione, and second, I don't need a guard--"
"Ginny, stop arguing with your brother," Molly said, deadpan.
"God, Mom, don't SAY that!" cried Ron, looking stricken to the core.
"What is it, Ron, aren't they siblings by adoption? do you know any special reason why I shouldn't mention that?" As she said this she looked not at Ron but at Harry, who surprised himself a little by looking at Mrs. Weasley without blushing or furtive shifting of eyes. He even ventured to project a well, maybe, at her with a bit of a shrug and a half-Dumbledore twinkle of the eyes. Molly broke into a bit of a smile at this.
"Mom, stop interrogating," said Ginny. Molly did not pursue the topic, though she did reserve a mother's meddling rights for the future.
"Nothing in the world," Mrs. Weasley turned serious, "is going to keep me from seeing you on Graduation Day. Harry, Hermione, you weren't brought up as wizard or witch, but that is a very beautiful ceremony. The entire graduating class joins in singing--"
"We've seen it, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "We all went to be there for Katie Bell and some other 7th-years we knew. It was very lovely."
"Oh, isn't it, dear. And you'll be taking part in a tradition that's been carried on since the first class graduated Hogwarts. Even though I was brought up in a pureblood family, that was when I really first felt myself a true part of our world, when I sang with the rest on Graduation Day."
Harry remembered back to that ceremony; after the events of sixth year he had not been in the best of moods to appreciate a musical tribute to the glories of the wizarding world. Even now, when he thought of the song's lyrics, Harry found himself put off by their pomposity: the eternity of magic, the blessing of being part of this world, the references to "Her gifts" and "Her lore" the call to "take up the calling devout." He wondered if he'd be able to deliver these words in nine months.
Hermione was talking to Molly about wizarding traditions when the latter suddenly interrupted to say she needed to be getting back to the Burrow, that she had some neglected business to take care of. Mrs. Weasley was reaching out with her arms as if to give them all a hug goodbye, and then she was gone, Disapparated. It seemed to Harry she was almost falling backwards and reaching out for help, wanting to be pulled back. He said nothing of this to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, but they looked a bit unsettled anyway by the odd departure.
Moments later he saw another two parents pull back from their children and vanish. Then another pair.
"What's going on?" Harry asked. "It isn't close to departure time yet, why's everybody in a hurry to leave?" As he spoke, another three sets of parents popped away, and worried murmuring was starting to spread. Harry could see some of the younger students who had been left behind starting to run around in a daze, looking either for their parents or for someone to assure them.
"We've got to find somebody from the Order," Hermione said. The quartet scanned the platform for some face they could recognize. They saw Shacklebolt and dashed up the platform towards him. When they were within a couple of meters the Auror declared, "Sorry, all: Order business just came up," and vanished. The quartet turned around and saw Tonks. They went running back down the platform towards her, and saw her wave and disappear.
Shouts and wails were starting to fill the air along with the 'pops' of Disapparation, but Ginny made out a familiar voice in the chaos and alerted the rest; Neville was shouting something to his grandmother, and being shouted at right back. The group started running again. Harry's legs were already starting to quiver with tension fatigue.
"Gran, there's nothing on the stove! We didn't cook this morning!" Neville was holding on to his grandmother's elbow.
"Neville, let me go! You're a seventh-year now, do you still need me to hold your hand to get on the train?"
At this, Neville's face went pale and he let his grandmother's arm drop. An instant later she was gone too, just as the quartet arrived. By now there were scarcely any adults left on the platform and some of the first-years were beginning to cry in earnest.
"I couldn't just... keep hanging on to her. You know it wasn't--"
"It's alright, Neville," Hermione said. "Do you know where Luna is?"
"She was going to get here about 10:30 -- you don't think anything's happened?
"No no, but we could use her now."
"Harry--" Ron shook his friend's shoulder. "We've got to decide what we're going to do."
Harry was jolted back to attention. We? He looked around again. There was not a single adult, just panicked students. Some of them had spotted Harry and company and were starting to gravitate that way.
"This is one of those situations," Ron continued, "one of the things we were training for."
"We've got procedures," Hermione added. "Let's stick to them."
Procedures. Right. Harry took a deep breath, gathered looks of encouragement from his friends, and cast the Sonorus on himself.
"Defense Association! All members of the Defense Association! Come here, come round!"
The gathering of the DA had at least the effect of calming some of the panic on the platform, as the younger students saw and heard that someone was taking charge. Within the circle, theories were proposed and suggestions made, but none won consensus approval. There certainly seemed to be some kind of "Go Home!" spell in operation, and some of the students confessed to feeling it grow on them themselves. It could be part of a Voldemort plot, or it could be...
"Bantings," Luna said confidently (she had just arrived). "They're attracted to transportation hubs, they cause homesickness."
A surprising number of DA members nodded at this. They must have a case of the Bantings themselves, Harry thought. For himself, he felt nothing of this homesickness effect; he just wanted very much to get on the train and get to Hogwarts. When Harry said this, several DA members, including Ron, Ginny and Hermione, began to protest. With a little reluctance, Captain Potter pulled rank for the first time.
"We're going to Hogwarts. That's my, that's, that's an order." Harry practically whispered the last word, and some voices of dissent started up again, but Harry cut them off. "Look, there are two possibilities; if this is some fluke thing and everything is really OK, then we go to Hogwarts and Professor Dumbledore will explain it all, no harm done, school starts on time. Or else -- something is really wrong, and that means we have to keep together." Harry looked at the students around him, not only the DA but all the students of Hogwarts, to see if he was getting through, and -- he looked again and his stomach turned over. It wasn't all the students of Hogwarts. How did we miss it?
"I think we can settle the Voldemort vs. Bantings questions now," Harry said. "Are there any students from Slytherin here?"
For a couple of seconds there was no sound except for the rustling of school uniforms, as dozens of students turned around to search for the invisible Slytherins. Then a mix of curses and moans filled the air. Harry called the crowd to order.
"So, we know. This is an attack. What we need to do is get ourselves in the best position to defend ourselves, and to fight back. Does anybody know any place better than Hogwarts for that?"
"What if they've already taken it?" someone asked from the crowd.
"They haven't," Harry answered with certainty. "They couldn't. They just... couldn't." Harry gathered himself. "It would be the last place they could take, it's too well warded. And that would make it the safest place for us. Not safe, there won't be anyplace safe now, but... safer. For the younger students, the ones who can't fight. And for the fighters, it's a fortress, that's a huge advantage. We can't throw that away," he pleaded. "But we've got to get in, or else the wards start to fail, and then the Death Eaters can waltz in and set them for themselves."
Another question came from one of the second or third-years in the crowd: "Do you think Dumbledore and the other teachers are there?"
"Maybe," Harry replied. "Maybe they can't get word to us, and they're counting on us to make it there." But probably not, he thought. I think it's just going to be us -- alone. And it's going to end there. It will all end at Hogwarts. There was a tingle of satisfaction at the thought, and Harry projected it with his next order:
"Now, everybody on the train."
----------
DA and prefects organized the students, who now seemed eager to be led. It was 10:40. All was proceeding smoothly until Hermione approached. "Harry," she whispered, obviously fighting back panic, "We haven't thought about the engineer." The six DA officers looked at one another; none had any idea how to get the train to Hogwarts. They set out at a trot towards the engine car, expecting to find it empty, the engineer called home by an overwhelming sense of emergency. But the engineer was there, where he had always been, chatting with the Trolley Lady and calmly eating a sandwich.
"'lo folks, ready for the journey?" he asked the group.
"Umm, yeah," Harry answered. "We're all aboard, pretty much. You haven't felt any, any odd feelings, like wanting to go anywhere?"
"Funny you ask," the engineer replied. "I've been running this express for almost fifty years now, and I've never felt more eager to be standing at the throttle here than I do right now." The Trolley Lady echoed the sentiment.
"That's just... great to hear," Harry said with a relieved grin. "Listen, would you be able to hold the train till some things got sorted?"
The engineer looked querulously at the six students. "I suppose I could, if I had authorization. Are there any professors there?" The students shook their heads. "Anyone from the Ministry?" More headshakes. "Well, bloody -- who the hell is in charge here?"
"Umm... me." Captain Potter raised his hand.
It took some time for the story to be told, but the engineer was persuaded to wait for Harry's authorization. Meanwhile, Hermione and the rest of the Muggle-borns dashed back into King's Cross Station to find payphones and call their parents. The plan in place called for them to portkey to the Ministry in case of an emergency, and this certainly seemed to qualify. A few minutes after eleven, the Muggleborns started coming back. Harry stopped Dean and Justin.
"Did you get through?"
Both nodded. "There's a phone-tree," Dean said. "Everybody should be covered, even the ones we couldn't get right away."
" 'Should' doesn't give much comfort now, does it?" Justin asked. "If everybody gets the message, and if the portkeys all work, and if the Ministry is still safe..."
There was nothing to be said about that.
At this point Harry noticed that each was carrying a bag. "You went shopping?" he asked incredulously. "What--" "Don't blame us, mate," Dean responded. "Hermione said to buy every radio we saw." Each bag was indeed filled with pocket-sized radios and maybe a hundred batteries. "Here she comes now," Justin pointed.
Harry trotted towards Hermione, who was fumbling with her Walkman, trying to insert batteries with shaking hands.
"Here, let me try." Harry managed to get the radio started. As he expected, there was nothing to be heard but static. "Hermione?"
"We don't hear anything because the magic in the wards intereferes with the electricity. So, we take all the radios to Hogwarts, leave one at a time running all day. When it stops playing static and starts playing news or music, that tells us the wards are failing. It's an early-alert system."
Harry, Dean and Justin (as well as Ron and Ginny, who had come back to check on Hermione) stared in awe at the bushy-haired girl. "Two of my grandparents worked at Bletchley Park," she explained. "They told us how much of an advantage it was to know when the German bombers were coming, when they weren't coming really, so the RAF pilots could get enough rest in between."
"Hermione, I'm sure I'm being stupid again," Ron said, "but... why would the Muggles put their war experts to work in parks?"
Luna came running back to the group. "Everybody's on board now except the DA," she announced. "Neville is calming the first-years. He's very good with children," Luna concluded, with a fond glance back towards the train.
It was about a quarter past eleven now. So far as Harry could see, there was nothing more to be done here, and the urge to get back to Hogwarts where he belonged was getting stronger. He called out the best flyers -- Ron, Ginny, Dean, Natalie, Demelza, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith, Ambrose Pritchard, Terry Boot, Su Li and Rose Zeller. "We're going to be flying guard above the train as it goes," he instructed. "Ron?" Ron considered a moment. "Three groups of four," he ordered. "Group One at the front, Group Two at the rear, Group Three on the train. One flyer in each group rides point, and when they get tired they drop back and let the next one in line fight the wind. No, never mind 'when they get tired,' make it every... five minutes. After an hour, group one takes a rest, group two takes front, group three takes rear. Keep rotating each hour."
"Alright," Harry said. "Everybody else in. Inside the train, Hermione, you're in charge. You and Luna and Neville -- I don't know, look for sabotage? Sing the kids a lullabye? I don't--" "We'll handle it, Harry," Hermione assured him. Then she took him aside and said (lowering her voice so as not to be overheard) "I talked to your Aunt."
He closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth. He didn't want to think about them, and when he did think about them he thought talking to them would do no good...
"Harry..."
The Captain of the Hogwarts Defence tried to compose himself. "Thanks, Hermione. That was really good of you. They didn't listen did they?"
"I don't know. At least they know where their portkeys are."
Harry gave a shrug and thanked his friend once more, then turned back to the rest of the Defense Association. "Time to be off." And so, twenty minutes late, the Hogwarts Express began carrying its 229 passengers to their destination.
-----------
Harry, Ginny, Su Li and Terry fell into a rhythm, like in team pursuit cycling. For the first two or three minutes the wind in his face at sixty miles per hour felt stimulating, and the beauty of the countryside made the war seem remote. Then it became harder and harder for his thin frame to hold up under the battering, and he could feel himself slipping back, even though most of the forward motion was being supplied by the train's own momentum. He was grateful to hear the whistle blast, signaling the five minutes were up and it was time to let somebody else take the lead. From the rear he could keep flying with relative ease and keep scanning for Death Eaters. Both Ginny and Su were fighting to keep up and keep on a straight course -- they were lighter than him and Terry, after all -- but they kept flying. The rotation went on, and the third time Harry returned to the back, he realized he wasn't needed as a windbreaker so he could explore a bit. (He also realized that Ginny had arranged the group order -- knowingly or not -- so that she got a good look at Harry's rear for three shifts, while he was stuck staring at Terry's.) First he checked in with the group at the rear, who were -- he realized -- having the difficult task of flying seated backwards so they kept facing to the back of the train. After exchanging smiles and shoulder-bumps with Ron, Demelza, Susan and Ambrose (without the aid of charms, they wouldn't be able to make themselves heard against the wind), he tried to release some tension with a few loops around the train, then headed straight up, finally leveling off about fifty meters above the train. Harry tried to imagine that from this height, Hogwarts was just past the horizon, waiting to rise up and greet them.
The whistle blew twice; it was time to come in for a break. Hot tea was good for the cold. Chocolate was always good. Sitting next to Ginny was...
Things just got complicated again.
There were no attacks on the way; nor when the train pulled in to the station, nor when the Thestral-led carriages took those without brooms to the gates of Hogwarts. But Hagrid was nowhere to be seen calling for the first years, nor McGonnagal leading them to the sorting hat, nor Dumbledore inviting them to sit and eat. The first-years, who had been herded inside the gates first while the DA stood guard, milled about, some crying and some pale with shock. The Great Hall was not empty, though; there to meet the rush of students were three ghosts, one healer, and one house-elf. Dobby reached Harry first, sobbing with relief that he had made it, Madame Pomfrey tried frantically to discern which of the students were crying from injury and which needed attention, and Sir Nicholas, the Fat Friar and the Grey Lady hovered over the scene.
Harry gathered from Dobby's tearful recitation that the Hogwarts elves were close to staging a walkout in protest at the lack of impositions they were living under. What can I order them-- he felt another brain freeze coming on, and was about to tell Dobby their orders were to run around the castle three times when Luna offered the more helpful suggestion that the students could use some food. Dobby went off gratefully, and soon the tables were full. But the students sat to eat in a pall of silence which was utterly unlike any feast Harry had ever attended, a silence which shocked his system more than any of the events of the day. For the first time, Harry could feel the fear of impending loss and destruction beginning to overcome him. He stared in frustration at the frightened faces, and when one of the students caught him looking she blanched and buried her face in her hands as if Harry were the enemy threat to be escaped... He had to force himself to remember the methods he had learned from Professor Bandhit to keep his personal hyenas at bay.
The DA officers left the rest of the students to their meal, except for Neville; he continued to circulate among the younger students, speaking calmly to them and placing his arms around shoulders wherever he went. The other five sought information from Madame Pomfrey and the ghosts. The Healer only knew that she had arrived as scheduled, and all seemed normal; just yesterday Dumbledore had assured her that he, McGonnagal, Snape, MacGregor and the other Order members would be back from their meeting well in time for the arrival of the Express. Then she had walked out of the Hospital wing at about noon to find herself alone.
There was nobody left to consult but the ghosts. No, they didn't know what had happened. Yes, so far as they knew, Hogwarts was still well-warded, and no Death Eaters had gotten near them. The Bloody Baron's location was unknown. He may have gone to be with the Slytherin students, wherever they were...
"You can leave Hogwarts, then?" asked Ginny.
"We strongly prefer to stay here" replied the Friar.
"But, if you needed to, if you were needed..." Ginny pressed.
"We strongly prefer to stay here" said the Grey Lady.
Harry turned to the Gryffindor ghost. "Sir Nicholas, you know where Order headquarters is--"
"No" -- the Grey Lady and the Friar had spoken simultaneously. Sir Nicholas looked down sheepishly.
"I was talking to Nick," Harry shot back angrily. "Why are you speaking for him?"
"Whether Sir Nicholas knows the location or not," the Grey Lady answered, "he cannot be used as a messenger for one side of a war among the living."
"It violates the laws of our existence," the Friar explained. "We can observe, we can counsel, but we cannot take any overt action which affects the destiny of the living world."
"I'm afraid that's true, Harry," acknowledged Sir Nicholas "It is for you, the living, to devote yourself to your cause."
"We are going to bloody well devote ourselves," Ron said, "and some of us aren't going to make it through. You're just going to hover above us and take notes?"
"There are rules we live under, Young Weasley" said Nick.
"That's not an answer!" Ron replied. "Look, are you saying you can't, or are you saying you won't, because you're afraid of being punished if you're caught?"
"This isn't a case of some schoolboy getting detention because he was out after curfew" the Friar admonished. "This is a high, holy matter."
"But it really comes down to the same thing," Harry insisted. "If you say 'I won't do it because The Law Says,' you're just... if it's important enough, you do it, and you take the consequences. I thought that was part of what it meant to be a Gryffindor."
There was a long moment's silence. Sir Nicholas seemed about to break it, but never got a chance because the Great Hall was shaken by the magnified crash of drums. Students whom Neville had just managed to make calm enough to sit and eat now looked up in shock and started shaking themselves off their chairs. The six officers gathered in the center of the hall to take up defensive positions, and then the vocal section entered:
'HOGWARTS STUDENTS... HOGWARTS STUDENTS! YOUR RIGHTFUL LORD... THE HEIR OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN... HAS ASSUMED HIS PLACE AT THE HEAD OF THE WIZARDING WORLD... HE HAS ENDED ALL OPPOSITION--'
"The F he has!" Ron screamed, and some of the defenders of Hogwarts came out of their stupor to cheer and whistle in approval. The thundering voice continued without any acknowledgment of the dissent.
"...THE MINISTRY IS IN THE HANDS OF OUR LORD'S LOYAL WIZARDS..."
Ron and Ginny blanched, as did many others who had family in the Ministry.
"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD..."
There were shouts of "No!" and "You wish!" and some even sounded genuine.
"... AND THE REST OF THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX HAS BEEN KILLED OR CAPTURED..."
A few students tried to set up a chorus of "bulls, bulls...".
"STUDENTS OF HOGWARTS, LISTEN TO THIS MESSAGE FROM YOUR RIGHTFUL LORD. YOUR LORD..."
"Not our Lord... Not our Lord..."
"...WISHES NO HARM TO YOU CHILDREN. YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR HOMES AND SEE YOUR MOTHERS AND FATHERS..."
A number of 7th-years scoffed and jeered at the description of them as "children"; Ron conspicuously stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked on it while squawling like a baby overdue for a diaper change...
"THESE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS. YOU WILL LEAVE ALL WANDS BEHIND YOU AND WALK OUT THE MAIN ENTRANCE SINGLE FILE. HARRY POTTER, YOU WILL BE THE FIRST IN THE LINE."
Two hundred heads and more swiveled towards Harry. A split-second later, many were calling out various expressions of solidarity. Harry did his best to smile and nod back at them, but his jaw and neck were getting tired...
"HARRY POTTER: DO NOT TRY TO ESCAPE. DO NOT MAKE ALL OF HOGWARTS PAY THE PRICE FOR YOUR FOLLY AND ARROGANCE. OUR LORD'S ANGER WILL FALL UPON THEM ALL"
...and once again, Harry felt himself almost crushed by a circle of friends -- brothers, sisters, he corrected himself -- shouting defiance at the invisible voices.
"OUR LORD'S PATIENCE IS NOT TO BE TESTED. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR."
Dumbledore isn't dead, I know what a bunch of liars they are, Harry thought. There were two hundred students who needed convincing, though, who would lose heart if they believed the lie, and the only one who could tell them for certain was a reluctant ghost. But even as Harry considered how to persuade Sir Nicholas, that spirit of the Renaissance seemed to be coming to the decision on his own. Nick floated down from the place where he was hovering with his two colleagues and began walking through the crowd towards Harry. The Grey Lady and the Friar hastily followed and began conversing and gesticulating towards Sir Nicholas. Nicholas stood and listened, then spoke a few words, pointed to the students and gave a shake of his wobbly head. The Friar and the Grey Lady redoubled their arguing. Nicholas shook his head a second time and hastily caught it before it slipped off. His two companions finally ceased their efforts and gave the Gryffindor ghost what seemed a farewell embrace. Sir Nicholas stepped forward.
"I'll go. I'll find the Headmaster, in this world or the next."
"We won't ever forget this, Sir Nicholas," Harry said.
"Thank you, thank you Nick," Ron added. "You're a prince."
"Just a humble knight, I'm afraid. But what I can do, I'll do." The Great Hall cheered, and Nicolas responded with a wave and a bow, then walked camly through the wall.
After a while, the drums and voices resumed their demand for surrender. Silencing charms cast by Anthony Goldstein and some other Ravenclaw Charms specialists proved ineffective, a fact noted with relish by the Death Eaters. "OUR LORD'S VOICE WILL BE HEARD" they declared. It was the first alteration in their message, and it was unsettling for the defenders of Hogwarts to find that their attackers were somehow conscious of what spells they were casting. Harry didn't want to try his own hand at silencing; didn't want to risk a public failure at this point, in these circumstances.
So they waited, with the threats of the Death Eaters rolling on in the background. Ron and Ginny organized a shout-back, with some creative synchronized cursing to cap each of the messengers' lines. Hermione visibly winced at some of it, but the rest of the school seemed to find some measure of relief in this neatly choreographed flow of obscenity, and even Hermione's gasps and cringes became part of the show, a source of giggles from the younger students.
The ritual repeated. For the fourth time, the magnified voice of doom proclaimed "ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD"... and the next sound the student body heard was neither the liturgical response prepared by Ron and Ginny, nor the continuation of the message from "Our Lord," but a firm ringing cry from Sir Nicholas Mimsy-Porpington, who had entered with suspiciously precise dramatic timing and was now striding towards Harry in the center of the hall:
"A MESSAGE" Sir Nicholas said, and held up a parchment filled with graceful handwriting. Many of those near to Nick knew that writing, and started to clap and shout.
"FROM HEADMASTER..." and now the Hall exploded with cheers and applause. Few noticed that with each word, Nick's stride was getting slower, his movements stiffer. Only those nearest the ghost, like Harry, could see with astonishment and horror that his body was growing more opaque, starting with his legs, which were now almost the gray of granite.
"ALBUS..." and now it was clear that Nicholas's legs were turning to stone.
"DUMBLEDORE..." and now Nicholas was stone from his chest down to his legs. With his arms rapidly graying and stiffening, Nick made one last motion and placed the parchment into Harry's outstretched hand.
A hush now came over the Hall as the students looked on the stricken ghost. Before petrification became complete, Nicholas raised his head and cried out, "GOD SAVE GOOD... QUEEN... BESS!"
In that attitude, Sir Nicholas froze. His last arm movement had resulted (probably deliberately) in a very impressive composition, left arm tucked into his chest, right arm thrust up and out to the right, head lifted proudly, like a nobleman waving to his peers. In the days to come the students would place a pedestal beneath him on which was written:
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington
Lived 1547 - 1624
Died 1624 - 1997
? 1997 - ?
A True Gryffindor
But many things had to be done before that, the first being the reading of Dumbledore's letter. Harry recited:
"Dear students: reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Cheers and laughter. "To all the Muggleborns now groaning at that cliche, I apologize, but an opportunity like this might not come again.
"I swear not to lie to you. Our situation is bad, but I have no difficulty sustaining hope. (It is a hard habit for me to break in any case.) Many members of the Order are now at Headquarters, alive and unharmed, but as of now unable to leave. We all entered under some psychological compulsion we did not recognize at the time, but which was clearly the result of a very powerful spell whose nature is still something of a mystery. I suspect the same to be true at the Ministry, that Aurors and others of Voldemort's opponents are in a kind of magical confinement. We are working to release ourselves, but do not know how long this will take or -- I must tell you truthfully -- if we can do it at all.
"It has fallen to you, therefore, to hold back the Dark. This seems a terrible and overwhelming responsibility. I counsel you therefore: do not take it too seriously." Gasps of shock and puzzlement. "I mean by this: fight hard, but never desperately; do not think for a moment that any loss or setback you suffer -- even, God forbid, a final loss -- is your fault, your failure. It is we adults (us adults? I always get that wrong) who have failed, at least for now, and every moment you can keep Voldemort's forces at bay is a glory and a wonder for which your mothers and fathers and the rest of us elderly witches and wizards will always glow with pride. Take strength from each other; care for each other; above all, live and keep living. There is no situation, not even war, in which true tears or true laughter are ever out of place or inappropriate.
"You are fortunate to have as your captain an extraordinary..." Harry was startled at having the third-person narration suddenly take this quasi-first-person turn, and stopped reading for a moment; the students immediately erupted in laughter and cries of "go on, Harry, what's he say" "ahem an extraordinary young man who has proven himself countless times under circumstances which would have crushed the great majority of wizards. I have the greatest faith in him, and in you: whatever you might be hearing (as Sir Nicholas has related it) from certain rude bellowers outside," Harry realized that this bellowing was still going on, as loud as ever "you are the true heirs of the Founders.
"The password to my office is 'warm socks'; you may find the former headmasters a source of advice and assistance.
"Bless you all,
"Albus Brian Percival Wulfric Dumbledore."
The students chanted out each name together in a sing-song tone -- "AL-bus BRI-an PER-ci-val WULF-ric DUM-ble-doorrre!!" -- a kind of mockery of the act of mockery, a double negative which ended as an expression of esteem.
The six officers quickly arrived at and entered the Headmaster's Office. The portraits were indeed full of advice, but were talking over one another to an extent which made it difficult to sort out. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen; presumably with Dumbledore. Hermione looked over the books on Dumbledore's desk but gave no indication she had discovered anything crucial. Ron and Neville scoured the room for anything that might look like a weapon. Luna seemed fascinated by the instruments which had escaped or recovered from Harry's fifth-year rampage...
"Guys... the Floo is still open."
Ginny's announcement brought activity to a halt. They gathered around the fireplace, and Harry thought he could still feel the heat, the residue of the dozen or more rapid firetrips that must have taken place in the morning.
"We have to close it" Ron said.
"Why?" Neville asked. "You heard Dumbledore, they're working to get out; it might be the only way back for the teachers."
"It also might be a way in for the Death Eaters," Hermione responded.
"But if they haven't come through yet..."
"Neville, we don't know how this spell worked, we don't know what's going to happen--"
"--and it's the only way for any of us to get out if things turn--"
Ginny interrupted: "None of us are going anywhere until this is settled one way or another!" Ron nodded in vigorous agreement.
Neville was not convinced, nor overawed by the double Weasley stare. "There are over a hundred kids here who aren't part of the DA. Over thirty of them are firsties--and they're only here because we took them here--"
"They're safer here, they know that--"
"Ron, half of them are still asking me if this is some sort of test to prove they're worthy of entering Hogwarts!"
Ron was silent for a moment.
"Well... in a way--"
Neville angrily rejected the suggestion. The two argued further. Harry finally intervened.
"We can't treat them as... like they were, like us, Ron. They didn't volunteer. We have to try to protect them. For now, we're... --"
"In loco parentis," suggested Hermione. "We're acting in the place of their parents."
Harry nodded. "But we still haven't decided what to do about the Floo."
"We could hold a Council" Luna suggested.
Neville backed this. Ron and Ginny were opposed, wanting to blow up the fireplace right now. Hermione was undecided. Harry finally sided with Neville and Luna, and the six raced back down to the Great Hall. The " 'Surrender!' chorus" which had been been mostly muffled within the Headmaster's office now assaulted their ears full force, and the faces at the tables showed that the students were feeling its effects. Hermione called for attention and started to explain the options.
Zacharias Smith was first to express his opinion.
"You want to blow up the Floo? That's mad."
"YOUR RIGHTFUL LORD... THE HEIR OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN..."
"That's only one option," Hermione replied.
"It's the best option, you don't give the enemy free entrance, that's basic strategy," Ron said.
"HAS ASSUMED HIS PLACE AT THE HEAD OF THE WIZARDING WORLD..."
"So we just lock ourselves in here and wait?"
"STUDENTS OF HOGWARTS, LISTEN TO THIS MESSAGE FROM YOUR RIGHTFUL LORD..."
"No, we use this Fortress as our base, and we fight."
"YOUR LORD WISHES NO HARM TO YOU CHILDREN."
"You mean we're all trapped here, under your little toy soldier regime..."
"YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR HOMES AND SEE YOUR MOTHERS AND FATHERS..."
"You want to go home, Smith? Do you know if you have a home to go back to?" There were gasps from many of the students, and some broke into tears. Hermione whispered something into Ron's ears, and he grimaced.
"THESE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS. YOU WILL LEAVE ALL WANDS BEHIND YOU..."
"So that's your encouraging advice, Weasley, just forget about about our families, give them up for dead?"
"AND WALK OUT THE MAIN ENTRANCE SINGLE FILE."
"And your advice Smith, you just want to fall in with what they," (Ron waved towards the Surrender Chorus) "tell you?"
"HARRY POTTER, YOU WILL BE THE FIRST IN THE LINE."
"Oh, we're just supposed to do what he tells us?" Smith pointed to Harry.
"HARRY POTTER: DO NOT TRY TO ESCAPE. DO NOT MAKE ALL OF HOGWARTS PAY THE PRICE FOR YOUR FOLLY AND ARROGANCE. OUR LORD'S ANGER WILL FALL UPON THEM ALL"
Harry felt the weight of more than two hundred stares hit him in the face. A sudden, certain conviction hit him at the same time: words aren't going to mean anything now. I've got to show them. He could hear his mother telling him not to try it, but after a brief argument she and his father gave him their reluctant assent.
As the argument between Ron and Zacharias resumed, Harry smiled, mounted his Firebolt and called "Be back soon!" to his astonished friends. Before they could get their limbs and wands unfrozen he had wound his way around the staircases, gotten up to the second story level, dodged a quick Impedimenta from Hermione and rocketed away through a window in one of the turrets. There was no difficulty locating the Surrender Chorus, whose chants burst even louder on Harry's ear. They must have gone into the mind-dead state of repetition, he thought, because none of the three of them even looked up at the figure bolting into the night sky a few hundred meters away.
Harry felt a tingle as he crossed the wards and circled behind the still-oblivious Death Eaters, climbing as he went. He hovered for just a moment to get the three fish lined up in his sight, and went into his dive. Harry could feel his toes itching to burst out of his shoes and turn into prey-clutching talons, but he had no need for them; he knew that at a hundred mile per hour dive he could easily drive the end of his broomstick through the middle torso and crush the others' skulls with his claws... hands. At the last moment, though, Harry was able to suppress the raptor and employ a more conventional solution. He conjured some magical netting and swept them up, whirling them around as they rose screaming into the air.
The shock of impact knocked their wands flying, and they were quickly stupefied and bound on the fly. Harry was already flying full-speed back towards Hogwarts as he made the catch so he had almost made it back to the nest before the last Incarcerus could be pronounced. Back he flew through the second story window, alighted and dropped his load in the middle of the Great Hall. The entire process had taken less than twenty seconds.
The thump of the Death Eaters' landing was like a gavel, silencing and stilling a hall which had been a chaos of noise and gesticulation a moment ago. Harry knew that everybody was looking for him to say something -- in fact some previous skeptics were now looking worshipfully up to him for guidance -- and he felt a spasm of panic. But he quickly realized that in the circumstances he didn't have to say anything specially eloquent, anything would get a positive response.
"One of us, thirty seconds, three of them down. Maybe the war won't last too long after all."
And that was enough to set off a roar of approval and a stamping of feet, which somehow mutated into a three-way food fight among the Houses which didn't die down for five solid minutes. While the turkey wings and soup and pudding were flying, Harry turned for the first time to his closest friends, with the realization that they wouldn't be as celebratory as the student body as a whole. They had apparently decided to defer the lectures and the smacks on the head till later, since Ginny came running to him with her arms opened and her face showing a smile of relief. Harry turned his body to avoid a face-to-face embrace and put one arm around her shoulder. He stretched out the other arm to gather in whoever else was close enough for a shoulder-to-shoulder hug, and it turned out to be Ron. He did not look to see Ginny's reaction.
The noise eventually died down, the food was cleaned up, and the decisions still hadn't made themselves: about the Floo, about the younger students... about what they were going to do with themselves. After some talk among the officers, Neville arose and called for attention.
"I seem to have been appointed interim Caretaker for now..." applause, especially from the first-years "so it's my, er, duty, to set out the rules. Umm... no trips to the Forbidden Forest" mock groans, throwing of bread. "OK, seriously. We are here for two reasons which are kind of contradictory: for safety, and to fight a war.
"We think this is the safest place in Great Britain, for the students who are too young and too unpracticed to fight. We think trying to floo out would be terribly risky. The enemy may gain control of the Ministry and therefore the Floo network. They could be working on that now. There may be time enough for those of you who want to, to go back to your homes. But we don't think it's a good idea. Whether your parents are free or prisoners, they want most of all for you to be safe. That's the best thing you can do for them.
"And also... if you stay, you can help us. You may not be out dueling Death Eaters, but any army needs support from people who aren't in combat. And we have an army here" cheers "an army made up -- you remember what Professor Dumbledore said, made up of the true heirs of the founders of all three houses" louder cheers, "and the army has a leader" even louder and longer cheers "and we won't stop until Moldy Voldy is moldering in the ground, and his soul ain't marching on." Furious cheers, lasting half a minute
"But we don't want anybody here who doesn't want to be here, who isn't... really, devotedly, going to be part of this. So here's what we're going to do. We're going to take everybody who is committed to this war, this cause... who is committed to Hogwarts -- and all of us will make a set of promises to each other. They are very serious, magically binding promises." Neville then recited, and elucidated, those oaths; by the end of his account there was an eager buzz through the hall. "And everybody else -- you're free to Floo out. In fact, we want you to Floo out. Because if you aren't going to part of this, we don't want you either at the victory parties or at the funerals.
"So... we're sorry, there just isn't time for any more debate, so, those who stay, on my ri-- excuse me, that's my left, your right, near Sir Cadogan. Those who are going to leave, to the staircase leading up the the Headmaster's office."
The Defense Association, making up almost a third of those present, immediately vaulted out of their seats and went to accept the congratulations of Sir Cadogan. "Oh, what an adventure... I would give an arm and a head to join you!" Some others followed rapidly, then the movement slowed to a trickle, with quite a few of the upper-years still undecided -- and then some of the first-years gave Neville a nod, a wave, or a clumsy salute, and made their way towards the Stay side, followed by the rest of the firsties. Their elders all followed, and soon it was unanimous.
It was time for the oath. The students of Hogwarts were asked to raise their wands and repeat:
"We swear, on our lives, never to let a comrade down; that whenever there is hope for them, we will never to fail to come to their aid or their rescue;
"We swear, on our magic, that if any of us dies, they will always be remembered, and their story will be told;
"And we swear, on our magic, that those of us who make it through this war will always continue to remember, to support and to rescue one another after the war, for as long as we live."
Once again Harry saw dozens of wands flare brightly in assent to a magical promise -- again it was a brilliant green. Hermione and Ron had crafted these oaths carefully; the first oath, and to some extent the second, made for an army which would fight as devotedly and fearlessly as humanly possible, for they would go into the battle confident that every one of their fellows was right behind to pluck them out of danger, and they knew that to shirk that duty themselves was to invite instant death. The last oath was meant as a powerful incentive to join this army and this cause. If we win this, thought Harry, not only will nobody want to deny us anything, nobody will be able to deny us anything, because they'd have to fight all two hundred twenty of us to do it. And Harry would be the lifelong leader of this irresistible band: what would that make him?
But there would be time to consider such questions when the war was over. It's all going to end here; at Hogwarts. That was a more satisfying thought.
Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ron solemnly brought down the fireplace and its Floo connection with a joint Reducto. The students of Hogwarts were alone. They were together.