Chapter Eleven: Scylla Revealed

Dusk had fallen in Hogsmeade; the shadows had lengthened to cloak the town in night. There was nothing more than a subtle shift when, in the darkest alleys, these shadows took on a corporeal form, and detached themselves from the darkness. They slowly walked towards the main street of Hogsmeade, keeping to the edges of buildings where the shadows were the thickest. Several detached themselves from the alleys completely and headed for the nearest streetlamps. When these sputtered and died, they receded back into the dark crannies from which they had appeared to wait.

Rosmerta was cleaning the bar countertop when she noticed how dark it was outside. Yes, it was late, but there was always some illumination in the streets. Strange, she thought. There must be a problem with the streetlamps. It didn't really bother her too much; it was almost closing time anyway.

She looked up in surprise when the door chimed. Even the regulars had already gone home – who could possibly want to get a drink at this time of night?

The man that entered was dressed in a black cloak with a hood large enough to cast his face in shadow. He took a seat by the window but said nothing. No order for a drink; not even a look in her direction.

That was very odd.

"Sir?" The man's head shifted only slightly as a sign that he'd even heard her. "It's almost closing time."

"I don't want a drink." She'd heard that voice before, she knew, but she couldn't place who it was. Forcing herself to get back to work, she let him be. As long as he left at closing time, she didn't mind if he just sat there, looking out the window.

What he was looking for, she couldn't fathom. It was pitch black outside – what was wrong with those streetlamps? – and she couldn't understand how he could even expect to see anything. It was quiet in the bar, as the strange man sat silent and still, the only sounds coming from her own movements.

She finished cleaning and setting out what she'd need for the next day's crowd. Then she dimmed the lights, as she always did at this time, before looking up at the clock.

"It's closing time," she called over to the man apologetically.

He rose and turned to look at her for the first time since he'd come in. "Thank you for your assistance," he murmured, and her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of silver eyes, before hearing the low murmur and seeing the flash of green light.

Draco Malfoy pulled back the large hood and unclasped the bulky outer cloak, letting it fall to the bench he'd been sitting on. He wouldn't need it anymore. Heat lightning had been racing across the sky for a few minutes before she'd let her guard down; Harry was ready.

He left the door open as he left. Outside, a low drizzle had begun to fall, and he cast a small charm to repel the rainwater.

Shadows moved around him but he didn't bother to try and pick out the individual vampires that stood before him. "You know what Scylla wants. Raze the place."

Lightning flashed down, and the smell of burning wood smoldered upon the smell the night air. Draco's smile was arcane. "You'd better hurry up, too; it looks like Scylla and the Centaurs have already started."

When Ron had been shaken awake by a terrified Hermione, it had been as if he'd fallen asleep and found himself in a nightmare. His family had been gathered downstairs, all tense and trying not to appear too scared to one another – as if by not allowing their fear to show it would make the danger less than it really was.

"But there hasn't been a Vampire attack since the eighteen hundreds," his mother kept saying as his father explained that the Ministry had issued a formal evacuation order for Hogsmeade.

"Vampires aren't the whole of it," Charlie added. "Centaurs are there too. Most of Hogsmeade is already destroyed."

Ron looked across the table at Hermione as his father explained that the Ministry had explicitly said that no one but the elite Auror squads were to enter Hogsmeade and to try to help save as many lives as they could. Hermione read his look and nodded slightly.

Harry would go there, they knew. This might be reported as a Dark Creature attack now, but only one person would order Dark Creatures around like that. Harry would go, expecting to meet Voldemort there. And they would be right behind him.

Ron found the opening to get away first, slipping around the back of the house, wand clenched tightly in his hand. Closing his eyes, he focused on the Three Broomsticks, hoping that his determination to help Harry would be enough.

He apparated into a darkened room that, after a short inspection, proved to be the Three Broomsticks. And he, himself, had apparated in one piece. Now to find Harry.

As he headed for the door, he nearly tripped over something soft on the floor. His hand met something cold and clammy. He cast lumos, and stared in horror at the look of surprise on the face of Madam Rosmerta's corpse. But… she hadn't been killed by a Vampire. Or a Centaur. This was a Wizard's work.

He and Hermione had been right. Voldemort and his Death Eaters must be here. This was proof.

Everything was blazing along the streets. Ron kept to the shadows as much as he could, so as not to draw attention to himself. He remembered his father saying that the Ministry had first sent in Fire Protection Squads because they thought it was just a very bad fire. But they had all been killed, and the few who had lived long enough to try and put out a fire had reported that it wasn't regular fire – it didn't burn the way normal fires did. This fire seemed to liquefy wood, metal, anything, as it burned.

He edged back as far as he could into an alley as he heard footsteps heading his way. Peering out as far as he dared, he saw a figure walking out of one of the melting houses. It was a wizard! But he wasn't dressed like a Death Eater; he wore no mask. Just a very large hood which obscured his features. He turned and headed up the street as if he was strolling through the park.

Slowly, Ron followed him.

The figure was heading towards the Shrieking Shack, Ron realized. It must have been the only building left in Hogsmeade that wasn't burning, he thought with a grimace, as he watched the figure slow and wait for a moment once the Shack came into sight. Then he held out his arm.

Ron stared as a snowy white owl landed on the figure's arm. He knew that owl! That was Harry's owl! But what was Hedwig doing here?

"That was rather easy, Hedwig," the voice carried on the wind to Ron's ears. He knew that voice! "Almost a pity that they burn so quickly."

The owl hooted and the figure turned slowly to look at the spot where Ron was hiding. Slowly, his other arm reached up to remove the hood. "I see we have a visitor," Harry called in Ron's direction. "How are you, Ron?"

Ron gawked at Harry as he stepped out towards him. There was something very wrong with his friend. When had Harry learned to smile like that? That wasn't even a real smile – it sent chills up his spine. And there was something wrong with Harry's eyes; they looked like a green version of Hedwig's eyes!

"Enjoying the display, Ron? But you seem to have come without Hermione. A pity."

Something was very wrong. Harry didn't talk like that.

Hedwig hooted, and Harry cocked his head toward her as if he was listening. "Let the Ministry send as many Aurors as they want. I doubt that the Vampires are full, or that the Centaurs have satisfied their blood lust, yet."

"What's wrong with you, Harry?" Ron sputtered. Harry couldn't talk to owls! Surely, they would have known that if he could.

"Wrong, Ron? Nothing's wrong," Harry's smile was dark and predatory. "Whatever makes you ask that?"

Someone must be controlling Harry, Ron realized. That was the only explanation for it. Yeah, and that would explain the eyes. Someone had cursed Hedwig and was controlling Harry through her. That's why he thought he could hear what she was saying, and why his eyes looked exactly like hers.

Steeling himself, Ron raised his wand. He would only get one shot.

Harry frowned as Ron pointed his wand at him. What a very foolish move. Light erupted from the tip as Ron shouted, and Harry held up a hand to deflect the curse. But Ron wasn't aiming at him. The curse went wide and Hedwig fell off his arm in a flutter of feathers.

Rage boiled inside him, and rain began to fall – now a storm instead of a drizzle.

"Why did you do that?"

Harry's voice had changed now. It was still Harry's voice, yes, but it held a sinister, angry quality.

"Snap out of it, Harry! You can fight whoever's controlling you; I know you can!"

"Controlling? You really are a bloody moron."

Both Ron and Harry turned as Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows next to Harry.

Ron glared at Malfoy. "What have you done to Harry?"

Malfoy smiled. "Nothing at all."

Harry's smile matched Malfoy's in malice. "It isn't that hard a concept to grasp, Ron. You came here expecting to find Voldemort, didn't you? Expecting I'd want your help." The smile twisted into a smirk. "As you can see, I don't. I can burn a town to the ground all by myself."

Ron's eyes widened. What?

"Where did you think the fire came from? The Vampires? The Centaurs? Which of those two has the power to create a fire that burns everything in flames so hot that every material melts? You can't be so stupid as to think that anyone other than a very powerful Wizard could do that."

Harry's words were like a physical blow, and Ron could only gape at his friend as they sunk in. Harry had done all this? He couldn't believe it.

He watched in horror as Harry stepped close to Malfoy and draped an arm around his waist. "But, we're almost done here. Honestly, Ron, I thought you would get here sooner. Is the Order that slow to act now that Dumbledore is dead? Or are they not coming at all?"

But Ron wasn't listening to Harry's words anymore. They weren't Harry's words; they couldn't be. He was staring at Malfoy, and the triumphant smirk he wore.

A dark fury built up inside of him.

This was all Malfoy's fault. It had to be! Harry had been suspicious of Malfoy all year long, and both he and Hermione had ignored Harry. So Malfoy had done something to Harry, something that made him act this way? If only he and Hermione had listened to Harry, then they have been able to help him!

Because Ron knew Harry. Harry was his best friend, and Malfoy's enemy. That's how it had always been. Harry, who had started to date his sister, who wouldn't be draping himself over Malfoy like that. That was all Malfoy's doing.

Perhaps Ron had been distracted during the school year. But he was still Harry's best friend. He would make up for not figuring out what was wrong sooner. He would make up for brushing Harry's concerns about Malfoy off like he had.

Neither Malfoy nor Harry had their wands out, and Ron's had been pointed at them ever since he'd killed Hedwig.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione apparated into a hellish nightmare, she was sure of it. It was like molten fire, all around her. Screams wafted on the night air, and, though it was the dead of night, the flames of burning Hogsmeade were as bright as the noon sun. The rain, which was now steadily drenching everything it could, seemed to flow off the fires, and the fires only burned brighter – as if the rain was oil and not water.

She shivered despite the heat and headed up the road. She had to find Ron and Harry. She only hoped she was not too late.

Malfoy didn't even flinch as the green light stopped a meager distance from his chest. He just smiled at Ron as if to say, "You've really done it now, you know".

Harry glared at Ron, his fingers clasped around a ball of green light – all that was left of Ron's Killing Curse.

"Such anger, such intent," he snarled. "I should have known you would be able to cast such a thing."

Ron was still staring at Malfoy. Something was wrong. Malfoy hadn't looked scared in the slightest, even when he was facing down death itself. There was trust in those eyes. Trust that Harry would do... whatever it was Harry had done, and save him – even from the grip of death! One didn't trust someone that you were manipulating, Ron knew that much. There was something very wrong going on here.

Harry brought his hand away from where the curse would have hit Malfoy just above his heart. He tossed the ball of green light in the air and caught it again, as if he was throwing around a snitch that couldn't fly away.

"Love does very powerful things, Ron. A great pity you'll never understand that."

The ball of light shuttered and zapped forward, searing through Ron's wand at the hilt with perfect precision and then flying off to hit a tree just behind him. A crack filled the air as the tree split down the middle.

"I suppose I should tell you now, as a last gift to a former friend," Harry mused. "Everyone will know tomorrow anyway."

Harry held out a hand, and a peal of thunder rumbled across the sky. His fingers twitched, and lightning bolts raced together with a loud crash. When he lowered his hand, centered in the sky, glowed a bright blue Mark. It had to be, Ron thought, though it certainly wasn't the Dark Mark. This was no skull with a tongue of a snake. This was a crudely drawn zigzag that could have been a lightning bolt itself – or Harry's scar – framed with intricate wings.

"I am Lord Scylla, Voldemort's Heir. My followers are the Furies of Hades, and this is merely a small taste of what we could do to your precious wizarding world. I should kill you now," Harry told him bluntly. "But I need someone to deliver that message to the Order, to let them know that Harry is no more. You'll do that won't you? After all, it's what friends do for each other." Harry spat out the word "friends" as if spitting out poison.

Harry didn't bother to look at Ron as he and Malfoy disappeared with a loud pop, but Malfoy didn't bother to hide the smug look of victory that he cast in Ron's direction.

When Hermione arrived, Ron hadn't moved – merely fallen to the ground in a limp heap where he'd stood. She didn't ask him what happened, just apparated them both back to the Burrow and put him to sleep, sitting as a silent watch guard beside him.

He slept the entire next day, as owl after owl from different publications converged on the Burrow with an invitation for Ron to do an interview and talk about how it must feel to be betrayed by his best friend.

Ron never saw these as Hermione dutifully burned them all.

The courtroom was silent as Hermione abruptly stood from her seat and made her way out into the lobby. Many people had done the same thing as Scylla had been talking – describing in strictly accurate terms all he'd done to prepare for that first attack and how Hogsmeade had burned in front of his eyes. All those who could not stomach his descriptions had been allowed to leave to recover, but Hermione wasn't leaving for that reason.

As she sat on one of the chairs outside the courtroom, she cried, her own memories awhirl with how both she and Ron had changed so much after that day. After Ron had woken up, he was not the same. He was still her Ron, but something had been broken inside. He'd started training with a fury no one could comprehend, and he'd applied for Auror training. She remembered how he'd looked when he'd gotten accepted. And she remembered how he'd looked when he'd been about to leave.