A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this with such patience! The ending of this tale turned out to be incredibly long, and I had to divide it into two chapters just to keep things from getting ridiculous. But I wasn't going to post the chapters only one at a time, because that would just be mean to you lot. So I waited until I had them both complete. That took some sleepless nights, I can tell you. I've been obsessed with getting this right. Some parts have been re-written three or four times. I don't think you'll want to read just one chapter, so before you begin, make sure you've got lots of time—you've got almost 50 pages to get through!
Chapter Twenty Two
Harry was walking through the school in a pocket of silence, his steps measured and strong. He did not linger to look at the scenes around him, nor hesitate at what he walked toward. He saw students rushing through the halls, knocking one another over, milling about in a panic. He saw professors attempting to corral them into a semblance of order and get them out of the school. And he saw Ron Weasley and Michael Corner standing together at the top of a flight of stairs, flinging spells at the coming Death Eaters while the children behind them pressed themselves through the door that Hannah Abbot held open for them into the Room of Requirement. Harry never would have considered Hannah the last line of defense should Ron and Michael fall, but he saw the fire burning in her eyes as she herded the children through. She would fight for them like they were her own. The two male prefects were engaged in such a fierce battle that the magic and energy in the air had their hair standing up crackling.
No one saw Harry. He walked among them calmly and silently, and everyone was too panicked to see him. He was in a separate world. He would have helped the others, but he had given over his wand and he had a greater responsibility now. His help would come in another form.
He sang while he walked. "Secrets stretch like shadows . . . waving through light and through dark . . . down in the depths . . . join us in the depths . . . join us to linger . . . to hear what we know . . . join us in death . . . down in the depths . . ."
He wished it didn't have to be this way. But he remembered Dumbledore too well. How the first few weeks after the death were lost in a fog of pain and confusion. His soul had threatened to tear apart, and he'd waged war every moment to remember that love and respect had been the anchor point to that spell, and he'd felt no hate in his heart when he cast it. He'd volunteered for it without understanding how much it would change him. Even when he'd won through that terrible mist that obscured his view of his life, the set of his shoulders had to change to accept the weight that lay across them. He'd taken human life. What else was he capable of? It was always there, in his mind, when he slept and woke and laughed and made love . . . what had that action begun in him? he still wasn't sure he'd recovered from that.
So it had to be this way. It had to be Riddle. Because however much he would have wished to die in peace and safety, however he wished that the last thing he saw would be the face of his lover or his godfather . . . he would not ask it of them. He would not condemn them to what he had gone through. So the task of destroying the final broken piece of Tom Riddle could be none other than the man himself, whose soul would not even feel the weight.
Harry wouldn't have minded if it was any of his enemies, really. He wasn't choosy. But Riddle was, and his followers would not do anything fatal to Harry. He made no effort to hide himself as he walked, looking for the man who styled himself the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters would only be doing him a favour by capturing him. There were a few of his allies who noticed him walking, a few who tried to call out to him, but he ignored their shocked eyes and questions. He had moved beyond that point. He had already said goodbye. He had nothing more left for them.
Relief and regret walked with him, as though the three of them held hands to share strength for his final task. The balance was tipping heavily in favour of relief, even though it caused him shame to feel that way. All the struggles, all the fear, all the anxiety and sleepless nights and demands and clinging hearts and hands . . . it was too much for a boy who had wanted only to be left alone. And now he could lay it down. He could go to sleep after his very long day, and he understood now why a little pain in the end might not be so bad.
He felt his arms being grabbed. Heard shouts of disbelief that it was Potter, the Potter boy himself, and he was being pulled away. He followed, his stride still graceful, making it so they didn't have to hurt him to bring him along. It was Bellatrix Lestrange and her sadistic brother-in-law. Harry was forced to fall to his knees when Rabastan decided to take revenge for the graveyard.
"Crucio," Rabastan was saying, holding his wand steady, and Bellatrix was laughing with delight. Harry stayed on his knees, tucking the pain behind the barriers of Occlumency so that all his screaming stayed inside his head, feeling sweat rolling down his neck and feeling like he would tear in half in a moment. He locked eyes with his tormentor, willing the man to see that he wasn't afraid. Rabastan stopped after a moment, looking disgusted, and said they needed to get on with it.
"We must deliver him to the master in good condition," Bellatrix simpered, dancing along the corridor on light feet. "He wants to play with the boy first!"
She was saying other things, too, about what she hoped the master would let her do, but Harry wasn't listening now. He was thinking only about the end.
He had held all three of the Deathly Hallows in his possession, and he could have chosen to master death, to put a stop to it. The whole point in collecting those objects was to weave them together into immortality. There might have been a way for Harry to achieve it, and he might have become good enough with the Elder Wand to bring Riddle down without destroying the last Horcrux. But Harry had refused it, knowing what he would become, then. He would become a tyrant far, far worse than Grindelwald or the Dark Lord Voldemort, all the while thinking he was right. He would not walk down that path. This was the only other path he knew.
And that was what brought him comfort while the pair of gleeful enemies dragged him along. That he had chosen rightly. That he had not begun something much worse, ushered in an age of darkness while wrapping himself in feelings of righteousness. He was peaceful about this. It must be done, to save the others. And it was the others he cared about, not himself. What was he, compared to the world? And after what he'd done, what was he compared to anyone?
Feeling far too calm, he sang again. "Join us in death . . . down in the depths . . . whisper our secrets . . . to no ears but thine own . . ."
"That's a dark little tune," Rabastan sneered. "Where'd you learn that one?"
"My friend Reed," Harry replied. "Join us . . ."
They ignored him, though Bellatrix giggled when Rabastan muttered about how Potter had gone daft. They began to hear a horrible noise.
"Someone is screaming," Bellatrix laughed.
"Ravenclaw bitch, I'll bet," Rabastan replied.
They rounded a corner on the fifth floor and the bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach. Parvati and Padma Patil were shoving a group of young girls around the corner, shouting at them to run to the seventh floor. Luna Lovegood was not at the corner helping them. She was on the floor of the corridor, laying at the feet of Tom Riddle. Her face was red and wet, twisted in torment. Her blond hair was flung out across the floor, her back arched, her fingers clawed the stones until they bled.
"Tell me where he is," Riddle said, sounding like he was repeating himself. "Just tell me, and it will all be over."
"I don't know!" Luna was screaming, over and over, sobbing and breaking herself against the stone floor with the force of her convulsions of pain. "I don't know!"
"Silencio," Bellatrix hissed when Harry's mouth opened to announce his presence and end the girl's torment.
"You were seen with him!" Riddle snarled. "Crucio!"
Her scream could have shattered glass, had any been available. Harry's calm was all that was around, so it shattered that.
"Please," she moaned.
Parvati and Padma came storming back, shooting hexes with thunder in their eyes, looking like rampaging twin goddesses. But there were five Death Eaters surrounding their master, and they drove the girls back. It was too late for Luna. Far too late.
"Then you are of no use to me, little Ravenclaw," Riddle crooned.
Mad, Harry thought wildly, he's nothing but a madman.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Luna's twisted body collasped. Harry, locked in the grips of the Death Eaters who had found him, broke through the spell on his speech with the force of his grief.
"No! No! Nooooo!"
Riddle spun around to see Harry hanging limply by his arms, screaming while Rabastan and Bellatrix pulled him along. The five men at his sides looked hungry when they saw him, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"You see, Harry? You see how many you have killed by angering me?"
Harry did see. He saw the still white form of the girl he'd been fond of, the girl who was strange and beautiful and filled with light no matter what she did. And he knew that it could happen to them all, was happening to them all now.
"Enough talk," he said hoarsely. "Finish it, Riddle."
"Now, Harry," Riddle said, sounding amused even though Harry could see the anger flashing in his eyes at the use of his name. "You would not rob me of what little joy I look forward to? Draw your wand, Harry, and fight me."
"Can't," Harry smirked.
"Here I am," Riddle smiled, spreading his arms wide in invitation. "My dear Bella, let him go, so that he may have his chance."
"I don't have a wand," Harry explained, not afraid to meet the man's eyes, not in the least. Because he was ugly and horrible, but he was only a man, after all. "I didn't bring it with me."
Riddle's smile froze into a hideous rictus of a snarl. He seemed to be at a loss for words at that most unexpected confession. And Harry was weary of fighting, of verbal sparring, of trying to convince this man that he wasn't a threat. Because it was over, dammit, and there was nothing left to hide. He just wanted to end it now.
"I am tired of hiding, Riddle. I already knew that you would kill to find me, so I came to protect them. It seems I am too late for her," Harry said, touching his fingers to the spill of golden hair on the floor. "But I am here now. You have what you came for, and you can leave this school alone."
Riddle seemed certain to want to talk about this. He was probably also planning to make the classic mistake of explaining what a genius he was for far too long, to gloat about how he had forced Harry to the point of sacrifice. Harry didn't have the patience for a gleeful speech. He didn't want to wait anymore, so he did the only thing he could think of to speed up the process. He transformed.
One minute, Harry Potter knelt quietly beside the body of his friend, and the next a great owl rose from the floor and launched itself at Riddle. The talons went directly for his throat and his head, determined to claw out the red eyes and destroy the malformed face. Perhaps weaken him to make it easy for the next person to take him out. He flapped his wings madly to avoid letting them be grabbed by Riddle's flailing hands, and tore chunks out of the man's scalp. Satisifed that he'd had the last word, the bird began to fly away, aiming for the corner down which the two prefects had disappeared. He was certain he'd insulted Riddle enough.
He was right. Riddle was incensed. He didn't know that the owl was calm, collected, ready, didn't even notice that the bird was banking and turning back to present an easier target. He was furious as he spat the spell.
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light enveloped the great owl, and it plummeted to the stone floor. Blood-tipped talons curled limply, and the body lay still.
Draco arrived outside the doors of the Hog's Head with his bag of potions and stared in shock. He was already finding it hard to breathe, and the sights that met him were so spectacularly strange that he sort of forgot that he was trying. Children were pouring out of the pub, wide-eyed, some of them injured . . . and yet, Draco saw strange acceptance on their faces, even on the youngest ones. None of them had been insulated from the dangers during this school term, they'd come to believe that fear was normal—this was only the climactic chapter that they'd been waiting for all year.
Death Eaters inside the school. It was happening, just the way Draco had always imagined it . . . his aunt Bella shrieking with laughter, the werewolf Greyback tearing innocent flesh . . . He'd tried to run from it, tried to stay out of it, tried to ignore it. He'd gone so far as to place himself under the protection of Potter—the boy who was now inside the school believing his own life was not so important as the protection of these children . . .
Draco fell to his knees and vomited. He stayed on the ground on his hands and knees, the bag sitting heavy at his side, staring at his own sick. But somehow, he felt better. The dizziness had passed, the churning in his gut was gone. There was a girl somewhere nearby, sobbing.
"It hurts," she was whimpering.
Some of the school professors were here, and they were asking the children where they lived. If any of the professors knew the place, they grabbed the child and disappeared. If they didn't know the location, they shoved the student off into the ever-growing huddle of hysteria. Draco saw Percy Weasley moving up the street, pounding on the doors of Hogsmeade, demanding that the townspeople come to their assistance. Figured that one wouldn't get his hands dirty.
"It hurts," the girl kept crying. "It hurts."
Draco stood up, now feeling calm and steady. He found the girl who was the source of the noise. She was so young, maybe even a first year, and there was blood matting down her thick auburn hair. He didn't know what house she was in, couldn't tell. He just walked up to her, and smiled softly to reassure her when he saw the fear in her eyes.
"What's your name?"
"Darcy," she whispered.
"What happened?" he asked, touching his fingers to her sticky hair.
"We were escaping the dorm room, but there were Death Eaters. They thought we knew where Harry Potter was. They tried to cave in the doorway so we couldn't leave. A rock hit me on the head."
That would explain her glassy eyes. Concussion, most likely, which would explain her confusion as well. Draco rummaged into his bag, withdrew a potion for the pain, and also a Pepper-Up potion that would keep from from falling asleep until the danger from the injury was past. He knew a spell to relieve the swelling of the painful knot on her head, so he cast it before he pressed the potions into her hands and told her to drink them.
"Are you a Healer?" she asked him.
Draco shook his head. "I'm just trying to help."
She swallowed the potions, then Professor Sprout was there to take the little girl away. Her eyes fell on him with shock.
"Malfoy?" she said, incredulous.
Darcy touched her head, and grinned up at him. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Follow the professor," Draco told her gravely. "It's not safe here right now."
There was really no time for questions, so the professor just nodded at him, accepting his strange presence, and Disapparated with Darcy, who was lucky enough to live in Godric's Hollow, a place everyone knew how to get to.
Draco entered the pub, a scowl on his face.
"Why in Merlin's name don't you let the students Floo home?" he snapped at the old bartender. "The teachers don't know where a quarter of them live!"
The old man was grabbing children and pulling them through a gaping hole in his wall. Draco wondered when they'd built a tunnel from the school to the pub, and thought this explained several things about Fred and George Weasley. The man spun around with a growl.
"Bloody Death Eaters closed down the Floo network! Who are you to talk, anyway?"
Draco held up his bag and shrugged. "I just came to help."
"I'm Aberforth Dumbledore," the old man grunted. "What's your name?"
Draco was afraid to mention his last name, thinking that someone related to his old headmaster would not take kindly to having a Malfoy in his bar.
"Draco," he answered as simply as possible.
"Well, if you're going to help, then get to it!" the old man snapped.
So Draco sat down and set to work. There was more than one student who'd been injured trying to get away from an overly aggressive interrogator. There were several professors dashing in and out of the pub, and they all were utterly shocked to see him there. The ones who knew where he'd been hiding—Hagrid, McGonagall, the Order members—were at the school trying to stop the Death Eaters. He ignored them all. He treated a broken arm, another concussion, and a crushed foot. He wasn't a professional Healer, but he was what they had right now.
They seemed to respect that. Word somehow reached up the tunnel as the students spilled out of it, and those who had been injured came directly to the tall blond boy that waited at the end of their escape route. Aberforth cleared off a table with his cleanest rag and allowed Draco to line up his potions on it, to sit down and keep things organized.
A student came to him with a limp, dragging himself slightly, and Draco immediately recognized the Cruciatus Curse. He could do nothing but hand over a potion for pain and admonish the boy, no more than a fourth year, to get some rest once the professors had gotten him home.
"They're getting desperate," Aberforth growled, coming forward with a bowl of warm water and cleaning cloths so that Draco could clean away blood to get a good look at the wounds he was treating.
"They haven't found him yet," Draco said, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. Potter was still ahead of them, was he? Draco was startled to find that he was not only unsurprised, but pleased. He had told himself all along that he wasn't taking sides, that he was simply surviving, but he'd chosen to come here tonight. And when he thought about the struggle taking place inside the walls of the school, it wasn't such a stretch for him to be cheering for Harry's side. He didn't demand that anybody bow to him, and he didn't loose sadists and murderers on children. Whatever Draco believed about pure bloodlines and Muggles, he was far more able to support the side that hadn't lost its sanity yet.
And really, he'd always known, hadn't he? From the moment when Evan Rivers had flashed that confident grin as he sat at the Slytherin table, he'd known that this kid was different. It wasn't hard to imagine him winning, not even against impossible odds. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, after all. Perhaps even the most cunning and emotionless aspects of Draco's mind had gravitated toward this side of the fight, without his conscious realization.
He'd expected to be full of disgust with himself if he gave in to the tug to declare his allegiances. Instead, he felt a huge amount of relief. Finally, it wasn't about winning or losing or about preserving his power or even his life. It was just . . . having something to stand for, to believe in. At last, he had that. And he suddenly knew why everyone else had been so insistent on doing it. He felt a wave of confidence rear up and crash over him. It was decided, and he didn't have to worry about what he wanted or what he should do anymore. He just had to do it.
One minute later, while Draco was closing up the gash in the arm of a girl with black hair, the testing came. That night, Draco would be pushed to the brink, although he didn't know it yet. Still reveling in the strange sense of security that had nested in his chest, he heard a disruption outside. Too many of the cracks that accompanied travel, all at once. And then the children began to scream. The professors were shouting, and there were other people shouting back.
Draco ran for the window, stood alongside Aberforth, and gaped dumbly at the scene in the street. Wizards, laughing and wearing masks, were blocking off the streets, pressing forward and penning in the escaping students. Death Eaters. Attacking the students. Were they completely insane?
Aberforth seemed to think so. "Bunch of nutters," he growled. "What a waste of time."
Draco shook his head, feeling his stomach clench up again. "A distraction," he said with a shiver. "To lure all the adults here, away from the school. To make it easier to find Harry."
Then the first child died.
The street erupted.
Professors and citizens of Hogsmeade threw themselves between the attackers and the children, snarls of outrage filling the street along with the children's terrified shrieks. "Get back inside!" someone was screaming. "Get these kids out of here!"
The children were running back in, shoving at one another to get inside the pub, away from the Death Eaters. More students were still streaming out of the portrait hole, and Draco and Aberforth were staring at one another grimly. The pub was not large enough for the entire student population, not even reduced as it was this year.
Then McGonagall was there, shoving her head out of the tunnel and saying that the Lupins had volunteered to get the children home.
"They can all be Apparated to one location, and the Lupins will sort them out," she barked, taking in quickly the fight in the street outside. "Get them out of here! I'll send more people down to help protect the building!"
"Where are the Lupins?" Aberforth asked in bewilderment.
"Merlin blight it," McGonagall seethed. "I don't know who the Secret-Keeper is! I have to find Sirius!"
No more children could come through, the pub was packed with them. McGonagall was gone, presumably to find Sirius, and the battle in the street outside was raging fiercely. Both sides were taking losses. Tempted as Draco was to watch in shock and awe, he was aware that it wasn't very helpful. He took in the room full of pale faces, some of them streaked with tears, and took charge.
"All right!" he barked. "Any injured students, get to the table with the potions! Any students who have been in the DL or are prepared to fight, get your wands out. The adults won't be able to hold them back for long, and then they'll be inside. If you're not prepared to fight, get back into the school and try to find another way out."
Before the room could erupt into panicked confusion and chaos, another voice spoke up. Ron Weasley had ducked down the passage to make sure the students were getting to safety.
"My brothers have arrived, and they've located another passage out of the castle!" he shouted from the portrait hole. "If you're sixth year or under, get your adolescent arse back up there and follow Fred and George's directions! If you're in seventh year, make a choice, and make it now!"
Draco was already seating himself at his impromptu Healing station. Ron stared at him with curiosity.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"What's it look like?" he snapped irritably, dabbing blood from the forehead of a boy who'd been struck by a jagged chip of stone. Apparently, the wall had exploded in place of Ron Weasley's head, so the boy was submitting to the treatment with his awed gaze fixed on the prefect.
"Why?"
Draco shrugged, too anxious about the fighting outside and too busy with his responsibilities in here to answer a bunch of questions.
"You tell me, Weasley, you're on his side, too." He guessed the student in front of him to be a second-year, and pointed sternly at the portrait hole. "Get going. Next!"
Ron just shook his head in disbelief and grabbed the boy's arm to drag him up the passage.
Simon held his breath as he moved. Remus had followed Dora upstairs to see if Draco had left anything behind, just in case it was needed. Simon slipped down the stairs on silent feet, went to the study, and the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and stared at the fire with his breath caught in his throat. He trembled with nerves, but then he shook it off with irritation. He was going to help.
Remus and Dora would kill him for going. But if Sirius or Harry died, they'd be devastated. Simon had to admit, he was becoming a bit fond of those two as well. And he'd been learning to fight. They would need everyone they could get, wouldn't they? Besides, Fenrir Greyback was sure to be there. Simon was sick with the need to face him, to have his revenge at last, to finally be able to move on with his life.
He'd been listening, when Sirius left, so he'd know where to go. He tossed down his handful of powder, and the flames roared green as he stepped into them.
"Hogwarts, Defense office!"
Simon landed in the dark, empty office on unsteady legs, but he recovered quickly and set off into the castle at an easy loping pace. He was intent on his mission. He would find Sirius to help him protect Harry, unless he ran into Greyback first. You didn't live at Grimmauld Place without realizing that Harry was too important to lose, and Simon could no longer stand the idea of anything causing pain to the family that had taken him in. There was a man here who had killed his father, his beloved father who'd only just begun to heal after the loss of his mother. That man had harried at his new family, had hurt them, bled them, killed them. That man must be brought down tonight.
He jogged through corridors that were already deserted, passed by places that were already evacuated and searched and magically blocked off. The castle was eerily empty, and Simon didn't know where he was going. He'd never been here before. He ran past bodies. He was tempted to stop and stare at them, but instead ran faster. Not all of the dead people were adults.
He saw a thick-chested man with red hair, one he recognized from the Order, leading a trickle of young students through a hall, holding his finger to his lips to shush them and patting them on the shoulders for comfort. The man, one of the Weasley twins that Simon couldn't tell apart, gave him a sharp look and gestured him over.
"Come on, we've found a way out," he hissed.
Simon shook his head and slipped by them, deeper into the castle. He finally caught up with a group of fighters, and had to throw himself to the floor as he came around a corner so he didn't get hit by the spells sizzling through the air. Sirius was here, rallied together with Neil and Jeremy, fighting ferociously with a group of men who didn't appear to be speaking English. He wondered where Addison was, although he'd know if he'd come through the front entrance. Only a few of the Death Eaters had gotten inside before McGonagall had shut the doors, and now Addison was with a group of students who were flinging Professor Sprout's most dangerous plants at Death Eaters still trying to get in.
Simon's eyes were on his fighting friends. They were almost impossible to get to. Almost. The first things that Simon had learned from the combined teaching efforts of Remus, Sirius, and Harry had been magical Shielding techniques and physical dodging techniques. He had been working with his father's wand, and it was good for Defensive magic. Simon wrapped himself in layers of shields, then weaved, ducked, and rolled his way across the room. There were Killing Curses at work, and one flashed by so close that it ruffled his hair. Simon bit back a sharp cry of fear and rolled to his feet beside Neil.
"What are you doing here?" the older man roared at him.
"Fighting!" he shouted back.
Professor McGonagall came charging toward them, with an army of desks galloping before her and trying to sweep the enemy away. They were determined not to go, but were forced to turn their attention to dismantling the attacking desks. It amused Simon, almost. But McGonagall's face was sharp with intensity, and she was flinging spells around her with something approaching ferocity.
"Sirius!" she cried out.
Sirius ran forward to meet up with her.
"The Secret-Keeper, Sirius, I must know!"
"This is hardly the time, Minerva!"
"The Hog's Head is under attack! The Lupins are prepared to get the children home, but they must have the location of the house to get there!"
Sirius gritted his teeth. "It's Neville," he spat out. "I don't know where he is."
"I do," she said grimly, and hurried on.
Sirius finally noticed Simon. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Helping you!" Simon retorted, flinging out a Stunner at the wizard who'd cleared his area of rampaging desks, sending him into a defensive posture that Jeremy took advantage of.
"Remus will kill you! And me!"
"I'm going to fight," Simon snarled. "If you don't want me here, I'll go to the Hog's Head with Draco!"
Sirius stared at him. "Draco's here?"
"He brought medicine to help the students."
"Oh. Well."
Then they were under attack again, and they were forced to abandon the argument for the time being. Sirius was anxious to get away, to resume the search for his godson, so the three werewolves closed ranks in front of him to let him retreat behind them. Simon knew he was the weak link in their line, but he was determined not to break. And after another minute, the two foreign wizards who remained standing broke and ran. The three of them decided to make for the entrance to the school, where Addison was, and help with the effort to keep more enemies out.
There, Simon got his chance. They'd got the doors closed, but Fenrir Greyback was leading his loyal followers to try to break them down. A small group was standing at the shattered window above the thick doors, throwing spells and a few other things down on the invaders. Neil, Jeremy, and Simon climbed out through the jagged frame and dropped, Cushioning their landing. Dropped right in front of the feral pack they'd once belonged to.
Draco had patched up all the students that were able to fit into the pub, and was considering that he might need to go up the tunnel into the school to treat the students who were trapped in the Room of Requirement. Then McGonagall returned with a scrap of paper. Her eyes went around the room, and locked on Draco.
She rushed forward and thrust the paper into his hands. He looked down. Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, it said in a messy, hurried scrawl.
"Can you perform Side-Along Apparation?" she demanded.
"Yes," he answered, trying to sound calm despite the fact that he could really only do it in theory—he'd done it precisely once.
"Then show the adults the location, and all of you get to work on removing the students to this address. The Lupins are there, and they will get the students home once we have gotten them to safety."
Draco felt sick again.
"You are not, technically, a member of the Order," McGonagall said softly. "But I need your help. I'm counting on you."
She was gone again, and Draco had to hold the paper away from himself while he bent his head and threw up for the second time that night. He didn't want to be counted on. Something this big shouldn't belong to him. He was . . . . But these kids couldn't wait. So he went to the door, ducked outside, and grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be Mr. Honeyduke.
"We've got to get the children out of here," he said. "Get a few more people who can do Side-Along and get inside."
Honeyduke was a jovial man who liked to sample his own products. But today, his face was red and twisted with fear and anger as he fought to keep his own underage customers safe. He nodded and lurched forward, tapping the shoulder of Professor Sprout and Professor Vector, and another shopkeeper that Draco didn't recognize. They retreated into the pub, forcing the people still duelling to move in closer to cover their absence.
"Read this paper," Draco directed. "I'll take you there so you know where you're going. Then start taking the students there."
Draco took all three adults to the street outside the house, one at a time, let them look for a few seconds, then back to the Hog's Head. Once they had the address and the front of the building firmly fixed in their minds, they began grabbing students and taking them there. Draco joined in. After the three adults, he was already feeling queasy. Four students later, his head was spinning with dizziness and his new and rarely-used Apparation skills were feeling exhausted.
Yet again, he threw up, this time moaning as he realized his stomach was now empty and the dizziness was stubbornly lingering. Determined, he grabbed Aberforth and took him to headquarters, and gave him the job of taking more students. They would need more adults, none of them could keep this up for long.
As if to grant Draco's wishes, the door slammed open, and the adults began pouring in, exultant looks on their faces. But just like in the faery tales, one couldn't have what one wished for without giving something up. Draco had heard the tales all through childhood, and he should have known. Should have seen what it would cost them to win. He just hadn't let himself think about it until it was too late.
"I took down their leader, and they just crumbled after that! They can tell the kids are clearing out, said it's not worth it anymore, and ran for it!"
It was Charlie Weasley doing the exclaiming, having arrived when Percy did and having immediately joined the fight while his brother roused the town.
"Their leader?"
That was Professor Sprout, who was gripping a table while she took a quick break from Apparating, to fight off her exhaustion and spinning head.
"Lucius Malfoy," Charlie said cheerfully, though his lip curled.
Draco's knuckles tightened over the back of a chair.
"Did you kill him?" Sprout asked hesitantly.
"Don't think he's dead yet," Charlie shrugged. "Zonko's dragging him in."
And indeed, Zonko was.
Draco gasped for air. One moment he was leaning over the back of chair fighting off sickness, the next he was shoving past the triumphant duelers to get at the limp form that was being half-carried, half-dragged by the owner of Hogsmeade's joke shop.
"Father?" The word was a strangled yelp.
Charlie turned wide eyes on Professor Sprout. "You could have told me he was here!"
"He's been here the whole time!" she snapped. She shook her head, clearing it as best she could. "Well, come on, now that you're not fighting, help me get the students to Order headquarters! They're able to Floo home from there."
Charlie jumped to help.
Draco had grabbed his father's legs and helped get him onto the table beside the one where his remaining potions were lined up.
"What did you do?" he screamed at Charlie, but the man was already Disapparating with his arms around a sobbing little girl.
"There's people on our side that are injured as well!" one of the shopkeepers objected when they saw Lucius Malfoy being laid out. "The enemy can—"
"Is anyone in danger of dying?" Draco hissed, pointing his wand in the shopkeeper's face. "Well?"
"Don't think so," he mumbled.
"Then help yourself to what I've got, but get the fuck out of my way."
Lucius' face was untouched, but slack and lifeless. Blood was soaking his robes. Draco stood gaping for a moment, then reached down and with a snarl on his lips tore the robes off, exposing a silk button-down that was also soaked with blood. Draco ripped it open, sending a button or two flying, and stared in disbelief.
His father's entire torso was split in half, exposing everything that was supposedly so well-protected beneath skin and muscle.
Charlie was back to grab another student. Draco launched himself forward, swinging for the man's jaw, but Charlie just side-stepped.
"What have you done?" Draco screamed.
Charlie looked over and saw the ruin of Lucius' body, and went sheet-white. "I only deflected his own spell back at him," he whispered. "That's what he tried to do to me."
With a hoarse cry, Draco stumbled back and returned to his father. His hands waved uncertainly over the mess. He fell to his knees and tried to throw up for a fourth time, but there was nothing left to come up. He heaved, heedless of the tears dripping down his face. He stayed there for a moment, his head under the table as though it could protect him. His father's blood began to drip off the table and patter on the back of his bent neck. He shuddered.
"Okay," he panted. "Okay. Come on. You can do this. Do something."
He stood up, and began to cast spells to close the wound. They did little good, but Draco knew he had to slow the bleeding before a replenisher would work. He was desperate. Everything had changed in his life, but this was his father. He cast the only spell he knew, over and over, the one that was supposed to close up flesh wounds. This was too deep. Too many layers were broken underneath.
Panting to try to stave off the nausea that wouldn't go away, Draco grabbed a potion that helped knit together muscle tissue. He lifted his father's head, tipping the potion into his mouth, watched it dribble down his chin helplessly. He growled and shook Lucius.
"Wake up!" he shouted. "Wake up, you evil bastard, just drink this!"
Lucius moaned, muttered something. Draco's heart skipped a beat. He joggled his father's head again.
"Come on, come on . . ." he pleaded.
"Uhhhh."
Draco tipped the potion against his lips again, and Lucius swallowed.
"Yes!" He reached back for a Blood Replenisher, but Lucius tried to turn his head away. "Just drink it, you miserable old man!"
Lucius drank.
Draco coaxed another muscle regenerator into him, cast the spell to close up his skin again. Even while he was doing it, he knew it was hopeless. The internal damage was something he didn't know how to heal, and even if Lucius could survive a trip to St. Mungo's (highly doubtful), they would have other emergencies beginning to arrive, and Death Eaters would be at the bottom of their priority list. His movements slowed, stopped, as he realized he couldn't save him. He stared down at his father, grief-stricken, fighting the bile that was trying to rise in his throat again.
Lucius opened his eyes. Draco sucked in his breath.
"Draco?" he whispered.
"Fa— Father."
"You're alive?"
"Yes. Mother and I are both alive."
"How . . . Hostage? Why?" Lucius was obviously frustrated at his inability to talk, but it was just as obvious that each attempt was causing him enormous pain. His lungs were collapsing even now. "They brought . . . brought you here?"
Draco took one last, deep breath. The man had to know. There was no reason to deny him now.
"I took Mother and left by choice. And tonight, I came here on my own. I've been healing the students, and I've been helping evacuate them."
Lucius' eyes slid closed again. "Why?"
"This is the side I've chosen, Father."
Again, he rasped, "Why?"
"Because they're going to win," Draco said. "I've known all along that they would."
"So much more . . . intelligent . . . than me?"
"Better informed, perhaps. I've gotten to know their hero, you see. He's the reason I'm here instead of dead. And I believe in him, more than I believe in . . . in Voldemort."
Lucius tried to struggle his way upright. Draco could probably have answered the question in a way that wouldn't lead to his father getting upset and trying to get up to choke some sense into him, but he saw no point in not being as honest as possible. Not now. He laid his hands on his father's shoulders.
"Father, be still."
Lucius complied. He kept his eyes closed, gasping. Blood filled his mouth and he coughed, spilling it from his lips and making him cry out in pain. His face was gray, his lips were turning blue.
"Drink this, Father," Draco said softly, putting another bottle to his lips. It was only a simple pain potion, but Draco knew what would happen. If it eased his pain enough, he would fall unconscious, and he would never wake from it. But the alternative—to watch him suffocate while still aware, to see him try to ask more questions when every word was torment . . . Draco couldn't watch it.
Once he'd drunk the potion, Lucius lay still without needing the directive. His eyes were open, and he reached out his hand to grab his son's wrist, squeezing it with a strength Draco couldn't believe he still possessed.
"I have to live," he gasped. "I wrote you out of my will. To make you come back. I have to live. To change it back. I have to leave the estate to you."
Draco knew his father had only a few minutes left. He just shook his head. "It's not that important."
Lucius was incredulous. His grip loosened, but he didn't let go. "My son," he murmured. "Still my son."
Draco choked.
"Chose your side. Smart. Survivor. Don't need me."
"Father . . ."
"Make. Our. Name. Great."
"I will," Draco promised, going to his knees while grief overtook him.
"Good. My son."
Draco couldn't find any words, but Lucius lost consciousness at that point and he didn't have to. He leaned his head against the blood-soaked body, feeling it with despair when the chest stopped rising and falling. He stayed there with his hands and forehead barely touching the body for a moment, then there was a hand on his shoulder.
Charlie Weasley was there.
"Come on," he was saying. "He's dead."
"I know," he said dully.
"You have to get out of here. The Death Eaters are attacking again. The defenders at the school's doors are making it too hard for them, and they want this entrance. You're in no shape to fight right now."
Draco stood up, feeling shaky and weak. He could feel the blood drying on his hands and the back of his neck. Abruptly his stomach heaved again, but there was literally nothing inside. Charlie held him up while he gagged and bent nearly double, but when it subsided, there was only a thin string of drool on his lips. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand.
"Do you need someone to take you Side-Along?"
Draco shook his head. "I'm not leaving."
"What?"
"I'm going inside the school. I have to know what's happening."
"Merlin, boy, your father just died and you're sick as a—"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Draco hissed, jerking away from Charlie. "I've lost everything, you idiot, and I haven't exactly secured my position yet! I'm going to find Potter and I'm going to make sure he kills Voldemort, because there's nothing else I can do now! So shove off!"
He marched into the portrait hole and began the climb. It was almost empty of students. They had all gotten away, it seemed. But when Draco came out into the school, he heard the sounds of battle, and knew that evacuating the students had really only been a secondary measure. The real work was going on in here. Every moment was agony, now. He still felt dizzy, and weak. His stomach and throat were raw, his whole mind was flayed open and raw, his entire being . . . But he knew what must be done. If he wanted to survive this, so must Potter. He would make sure that happened.
The yheard the call in the study, and they froze. Dora gave a wordless cry and the two of them raced downstairs, but they were too late. Simon had gone through. With a stricken look, Dora grabbed her husband's hand, and knew she couldn't hold him here anymore. Simon was theirs now, and Remus must go to save him. She couldn't argue with that.
"I love you," she whispered.
One last kiss, and Remus followed Simon into the fire.
He didn't see Simon when he arrived, and he didn't stay to look at the abomination Carrow had made of his former office. He had a boy to find. Remus tore through the corridor, but didn't see Simon anywhere.
"I'll kill him if the Death Eaters don't," he panted. He had no idea which direction the boy had taken. He knew why Simon had come—the stupid child couldn't stop fighting, anything and everything! But Simon didn't know this school, and he'd probably lit out at random. Still, Remus thought it was more likely that he'd find Simon at a pocket of fighters. Where were they most likely to be? The Death Eaters would search the dormitories, certainly, so Remus tried those first. Most of them were already empty. The students were in the corridors, trying to get out of the school while Death Eaters were snatching at them and demanding Harry's location. Some of them were being harmed.
"Where is Potter? Tell me where he is!" a short man who looked like a monkey was snarling, shaking a teenaged girl so hard her teeth were rattling.
"I don't know," she gibbered. "He doesn't attend here anymore!"
Neville and a girl Remus seemed to remember as being Slytherin came up the corridor, shouting fiercely. They slung spells at the man holding the girl, and hit him immediately. He fell to the floor unconscious, but there were two other Death Eaters who fought back. Remus was lost for a moment, just staring as the four duelled.
Neville and the Slytherin girl were unstoppable. Neville was brute strength, powerful with a small repertoire of spells, pivoting through the onslaught with his wide shoulders and unkempt hair, his eyes burning with passion. The girl was tall and lean and her hair swung about her in a hundred thin braids like whipcords, like Medusa, as she flitted past one spell and danced around another and flung out her own with swishes of her elegant wrist. They moved like one creature, flowing from one another to cast their spells, and flowing together again to shield. If violence could be said to hold beauty, they had it. They were mesmerizing.
The Death Eaters fell to them, and Remus woke up from his trance.
"Get to the seventh floor!" Neville was bellowing. "Just get up there, and look for the prefects! They'll get you out of the school!"
"Up this passage, quickly!" the girl hollered.
The students scrambled to obey, and Remus decided to follow them. There was a good chance that Simon had decided to go to the seventh floor to help the prefects fight, especially if he'd run across these two issuing the orders.
Neville gave Remus a strange look as he rushed by him, but they were heading in opposite directions. Neville was moving further through the school, looking for more students to rescue. The beautiful girl—whom Remus now realized was a woman, no mistaking it—ran at his side. Suddenly Remus remembered who she was. Veronica Vanderlay, Head Girl, whose uncle Macnair was one of the enemies in the school and who had chosen to protect the students over the loyalties of her family.
He wished there had been a moment to encourage her, because this was in so many ways much harder for her than for the rest of them. But they were running on, and Remus was running the opposite way, determined to find his foster son and keep him alive tonight.
He made it to the seventh floor, although he was nearly hexed by Ron Weasley and a narrow-faced, dark-haired boy whose name escaped him.
"Stop, stop, it's me, Professor Lupin!" he shouted.
Ron knocked the other boy's wand away. "Michael, wait!"
Michael Corner, that was him— he stopped, panting, reaching up to wipe sweat from his face. "Professor," he greeted him grimly.
"What are you doing here?" Ron snapped. "I thought you and your wife were sorting the kids out."
"I hope to Merlin that's exactly what Dora's doing," Remus answered. "But our foster son decided to join the battle, and I have to find him. Do you know Simon? Have you seen him?"
The boys shook their heads. "We'll keep an eye out, sir. What's he look like?"
"He's thirteen. Crazy-looking blond hair, bad attitude. He thinks he can fight them," Remus said in despair. "You haven't seen him?"
They shook their heads again. Then a commotion at the door to the room the students were running to caught their attention. Remus remembered the girl holding the door open, a girl with a thick blond braid and a sweet-looking face. Miss Abbot, though he couldn't remember her first name just then.
"The Hog's Head is under attack, and we don't have the location of the house where the children are supposed to go!" the girl was shouting to her fellow prefects. "They're stuck here!"
"Professor Lupin . . .?"
He shook his head, his face going pale. "I'm not the Secret Keeper. I can't . . ."
"They're trapped in the school," the girl moaned.
"Not for long," Ron snarled, and a terrier dog shot from his wand, scurrying down the corridor. "My brothers will help. It's okay, professor, we can handle this. You go ahead and look for your kid."
Fred and George Weasley came barrelling up the stairs, their faces completely serious for once.
"There's a passage the Death Eater's haven't found."
"Get the kids to follow us."
"Hurry up."
The kids were directed to go with the Weasley boys, who were frowning ferociously.
"We'll have to do this in groups."
"Keep the rest of them inside the room while we take these ones."
"We'll be back for more."
They set off, with twenty kids. Remus took the same passage down that they did, anxious to find Simon but stuck behind them while they trooped down the stairs. It was only moments before three Death Eaters swooped down on them. Fred and George were quick to defend, but the children they were protecting were too young to know how to fight. Remus jumped in to help, and soon the three enemies were dispatched.
"Think they'll be able to get up anytime soon?" one of the twins drawled.
"Not without a trained Healer," the other one grinned.
"Thanks, professor," they chorused.
Remus nodded, and rushed onward.
It had quickly become obvious that they needed more fighters at the front doors than what they had. Neil and Jeremy were doing everything they could, while Simon stood behind them and did Shield work. He hadn't wanted to, but when they landed in the midst of ten brutes with wands, he'd known Neil was right. They had to play to their strengths to get through this. Simon was good with shields, so that was his responsibility.
A few of the men were showing signs of moving in to make it physical. There were too many of them. Luckily, Addison and her band of NEWT-level Herbology students were still standing above. They had run out of plants, two of which were strangling the attackers, but they still had pieces of glass from the broken window. Viciously, they levitated the jagged pieces and rained them down on the werewolves.
Harrison, who had mocked Simon for being an orphan and whom Simon hated, lost an eye and most of his nose. He fell with a cry of agony, and was quickly Petrified by one of the students above. One piece of glass was large enough to impale another man none of them recognized. Two down, eight to go. Neil and Jeremy worked frantically. Stunners didn't work that well on their kind, even in their human form. But they conjured nets of ropes, flinging them forward and ensnaring Reese and Lourdes, who was a filthy pervert. The nets were followed up by Petrification spells and disarmament. Simon, still maintaining their shield, managed to cast a desperate Confringo that knocked the closest of the attackers back while Neil and Jeremy put those two out of the fight. Four down, six to go.
Jeremy screamed hoarsely, a cutting hex breaking through Simon's shield and catching him across the back.
"Addison!" Simon shouted brokenly. "I can't hold it anymore!"
Addison knew her spellwork wasn't up to the task, but Simon's desperation and her lover's pain were too much to resist. She dropped down into the fray, snarling at the man who'd tried to rush forward to finish Jeremy off. Barrabas snarled back, and tried to bite her. Addison remembered this man, who had raped her twice with Greyback's blessing before Jeremy had taken her under his protection by putting his teeth to Barrabas' throat. She wasn't about to let him touch her again. Not for anything.
"Inflamare!" she snapped.
The man's clothes went up in a roar of flame, and he screamed, high and piercing. He fell to the ground and tried to put himself out. Another man she didn't know was trying to help Barrabas, but while he was distracted, Addison set him ablaze, too.
She fell back to help Simon with the shielding, knowing she wouldn't get an opening like that again, and not having the reflexes to create one. That was five down and five to go. Neil and Jeremy took down another. Four to go. Fenrir Greyback was panting with fury, snarling and snapping his teeth at them, frustrated because he was forced to continue spellwork. There were still a few students standing at the window, flinging down a few spells that were getting too weak to do what they were intended to do, but were doing a wonderful job of distracting the enemy so that they were forced to shield instead of attack.
They began to believe that they were going to win. They began to hope. Then reinforcements arrived, racing in from the direction of Hogsmeade.
"Bastards took down Malfoy!" one of them shouted. "It's no use at the pub!"
They joined the fray, and suddenly it was the four of them against sixteen attackers. They had lost this fight, and Simon fixed his eyes on Greyback. When he died, it would be with his teeth on that man's neck.
Greyback had finally realized that the two in the back were the ones he should have taken out first. He looked right at Simon, remembered him, and showed it in his gleaming eyes, his ghastly smile.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Simon ducked, but he already knew he wouldn't make it.
Neil was at the end of his strength. He knew it. He could feel one of his lingering convulsions about to come on, felt it in the trembling of his calf muscles and the pressure at his temples. He couldn't fight much longer, anyway, he was running out of steam. Then he saw Greyback's eyes light on Simon. He couldn't allow it, wouldn't allow it. If Simon was gone, Remus would be devastated, and Neil wouldn't allow that to happen to the man who'd saved them all. Saved them from being like these men they were fighting. Simon had to live.
Stumbling, he threw himself in the way, and the green light sucked itself into him and disappeared. He crumpled at Jeremy's feet.
Simon saw it happen, but he didn't believe it. For a moment, all he could hear was his own frantic heartbeat. Then Jeremy shouted, "No!" and Addison screamed heartbreakingly, and Simon snapped out of it.
Neil was dead. Laying dead right there. For him. Neil had saved him from Greyback. Greyback had taken yet another person from him.
Simon couldn't handle it. With a howl of pure pain, he launched himself forward, forgetting his wand that was so useless and forgetting that he was a human, and forgetting everything. He threw himself on Greyback, screaming wordlessly. Greyback was so startled that for a moment he did nothing. He reacted too late, because by then Simon had jumped onto his back and was choking him with a strength he hadn't realized Simon had. With his arms locked over Greyback's throat, he savagely bit into Greyback's neck and tore. Greyback howled, but it was with laughter.
"That's the way!" he rasped, out of breath now. "You're still an animal like me, aren't you?"
The words reached through to Simon, who had blocked out all the noise. He lifted his face, saw what he'd done, and gritted his teeth to keep from retching. He didn't let go of Greyback's neck, his arms quivered with the strain of trying to choke the man. Greyback was trying to knock Simon off his back, but Simon had wrapped his legs around the man and wasn't going away. Greyback fell to his knees, choking.
Then one of the other Death Eaters took pity and hit Simon with a Stunner. Simon slid limply off the werewolf, collapsing gracelessly. Greyback coughed, stumbled back to his feet. Turned around, his foot lifted to crush the boy's tender throat. And a spell hit him in the legs, causing him to fall with a thud. There were no bones in his legs, he realized, and he shoved his face out of the dirt with his arms, looking up to see who'd done it.
Remus Lupin's foot connected with his chin, sending him sprawling in the dirt. An injury to Remus' scalp had caused a trail of blood down his temple, and the red stood out in stark relief on his grim, white face. Greyback glared at him, but he was beginning to feel fear. Remus removed the bones from the man's arms for good measure, and conjured ropes to bind him. Greyback tried to talk, but he'd bitten through his tongue and could only spit out the blood pooling in his mouth.
It was a miracle that Remus hadn't been hit by the Death Eaters, but Jeremy and Addison were protecting him at their own expense while he retrieved Simon. Remus grabbed Simon's arms. "Ennervate," he said roughly, and Simon came back to consciousness with his body being dragged by the armpits away from the fighting. He stumbled, caught himself, stood upright and followed Remus back to the door of the school.
"You stupid, selfish child." Remus was just barely capable of speech, breathing the words out through clenched teeth.
Simon could still taste the blood in his mouth, and he began to cry. "He killed Neil," he whispered. "Remus, he killed Neil. And he killed my dad, and he tried to kill you, and— and— Neil's dead!"
The paralyzing worry was gone, now that he had found Simon. He wasn't angry, not really. It was hard to blame the boy. After the horrors he'd been through, facing Greyback was almost necessary. And from what he'd seen, Simon had been the difference in how long the others had been able to fight, so it wasn't as though he'd simply put himself in harm's way. Remus couldn't be angry when he watched Simon fall to his knees beside Neil's body and sob. He just grabbed Simon and pulled him away.
"You've worn yourself out," he muttered. "Get back to the house. Help Dora. Please."
Simon nodded, hiccuping, and humbly allowed Remus to levitate him back through the broken window into the school. Addison, Jeremy, and the students who had been helping them were all exhausted, Remus saw that immediately. They had to retreat. They had to leave the doors, let these Death Eaters inside. Their numbers had swelled to over twenty, and their little band couldn't keep them out. That was twenty more people who would be joining the search for Harry, Remus thought dully. And if they found him, Merlin help them all.
Then people began to leap through the opening, landing lightly on the ground and immediately engaging. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, the Patil twins. Minerva McGonagall, Melissa Sinistra, and Filius Flitwick. And coming from the forest, with a quiver in the earth to herald their coming, Hagrid and his brother Grawp. The Death Eaters cried out in shock and panic, and formed up in a circle, knowing they'd be hit from several directions at once.
After that, it was only a matter of time.
Teddy wouldn't stop crying. She'd made sure he was clean and warm and fed, but he wouldn't stop crying. Therefore, Dora couldn't stop crying. Or maybe it was her tears that were causing his. Either way, they were both near to hysterics as they waited for the return of their family.
Dora couldn't even let out her tension with pacing. She was too tired and sore. It was the middle of the bloody night now, her son was precisely one day old, and his father and brother were out there fighting and possibly getting themselves killed. She knew she ought to lay Teddy down to sleep, but she didn't want to let go of him. So she grabbed a sheet and looped it over one of her shoulders, crossing it under the opposite arm, and tied it tightly in the front. She tucked Teddy into the makeshift sling, his head against her shoulder, and she waited for something to happen.
It didn't take terribly long, although it had seemed like forever to the people on the other side who'd been fighting for every inch while they waited for a safe place to be made known to them. The first time someone knocked on the door, Dora had nearly panicked. But it was only Professor Sprout with one of the students, both of them looking at the squirming bundle in her arms but both in too much of a hurry to be able to exclaim over the infant.
"The Floo?" the curly-headed girl asked anxiously. Dora pointed, Professor Sprout wheeled around and Disapparated again, and Dora shut the door. No sooner had she done so than there was another knock. The hefty-red-faced Honeyduke was there with another student. Dora pointed the way, saw Vector arriving with another one, and decided to simply prop the door open.
She didn't have time to worry, soon enough, for she was far too busy. Although the sight of her cousin at her door with a few of the students did at least reassure her that the Death Eaters hadn't caught up with him yet. She was very afraid that he was going to be either killed or forced to join back up with them. But her husband was foremost in her mind, even though she had to let that all slide to the back as she dealt with what was in front of her.
"Don't push, we all want to get home!"
"I don't see my brother! I can't go without my brother!"
"I don't have a Floo connection to my house!"
"What about my things? I can't just leave them at school!"
Dora began barking out orders like a drill sergeant, which turned out to be exactly what the confused and fearful students needed.
"Get in a line, and stay that way! Shut up and quit crying, we don't have time for that! If you shove someone, you'll lose your hands, you hear me? If you absolutely must wait for someone, go wait in the dining room, and stay quiet! If you don't have a Floo connection, to wait in the kitchen until I can get you home! We don't have time for childishness, so you'd better just stay in order and get home immediately!"
Luckily, the crowd going to the kitchen was small, just one or two at a time. The group going to the dining room to wait for family members was a little bigger, but as time went on and the other group being Apparated in by the Weasleys arrived, their numbers dwindled. Dora could see that everyone who was doing the evacuation was becoming ill from the magical expenditure, and knew they couldn't last the night.
She sent a Patronus to Minerva, to remind her that the residents of Hogsmeade didn't have to fight to be useful.
Then, Simon arrived.
"Thank Merlin. Oh you stupid little—" She sputtered to a halt when she saw his red-rimmed eyes and the blood on his chin. Instead, she drew him into a one-armed hug, which roused the almost-sleeping baby in his sling and set him to crying again. "I'm glad you're back. Remus?"
"He's fighting," Simon said. "He got Greyback for me. I . . . Greyback was going to kill me, but Neil got in the way. Neil's dead. It's my fault. It's my fault, I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Inside, Dora was heartbroken. If Sirius didn't have the prior claim, Neil would have been her husband's best friend. And yet, he wasn't even able to grieve because he was out there fighting for his life. It didn't seem fair. But this was the emotional blow she'd been preparing herself for, and she had enough wits about her to put her hands on Simon's shoulders and shush him.
"It's not your fault, Little Cloud. Greyback did the killing, not you. You were brave to go there and fight, and I'm glad you've returned safely." The only thing that could be done right now was to distract him until they were all back together again and able to deal with grief. "I need your help right now. Can you help me?"
He nodded, his face and shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
"I have to feed Teddy. Can you make sure the students who are arriving know where to go? Anybody who doesn't have a Floo connection at home is to wait in the kitchen, okay? I'll be quick. Once I've fed Teddy, I have to lay him down to sleep. I really, really need someone to stay with him and watch him while I help these kids. Can you do that for me? I need you to be there with him in case he wakes, so you can come get me."
He nodded again. Dora hurried off and fed Teddy, letting tears slide down her cheeks as her emotions jerked her between joy at the child in her arms, and grief and fear for what was happening tonight. She laid Teddy down in Simon's bedroom and sent Simon up to him. It was all she could do for her boys, to put them together and let them rest. There were others who needed her right now, no matter how her body ached and cried out for sleep. This night wasn't over yet.
Hermione dragged herself down the hallway, away from the last straggle of escaping students. She knew what needed to be done now. The snake, then the man. The snake, then the man. That was all, and then it was over. Harry had given her the Elder Wand to help her complete the task.
"Harry," she whispered.
His last kiss was burned onto her lips, and she half-wondered if it had left a mark. He was gone. But he'd said he would love her forever, and she wanted his kiss to leave a mark. She was his, heart and soul, just as he was hers. How could that end? How could that stop, even now? She was supposed to think of him as dead, because he must be by now. But she couldn't. Couldn't think of Harry, her friend, her lover, that boy who burned with vitality and passion . . . he wasn't dead. He just couldn't be.
"I can't do this by myself," she whispered.
She could hear the sounds of battle raging inside the school, and she knew the Order of the Phoenix would have arrived in full force by now. That meant that Harry's family was here. She needed to look for Sirius. Sirius would understand what needed to be done, and he was a strong enough wizard that he might be able to do it. Afterward . . . after the battle, after it was over, then it would be time for her to deliver the messages Harry had given her.
She didn't want to deliver them, because that would mean admitting he was gone. But she had no choice now. Even though her throat was burning raw with the need to scream and wail and sob, she held it in check. Things were far from over. She kept herself under a Disillusionment spell as she stumbled through the school. She was tired, she'd been awake most of last night and she'd been running around all day, and now it was night again. But more than that, she was sick with grief, and it made her steps shuffle and her shoulders hang. She was in no shape to fight, and so she stayed out of the way. She just crept through the halls, intent on finding Harry's godfather.
At last, she caught up with him. He was in the entrance hall of the school. Arthur and Molly Weasley were there. Hermione saw Ginny as well, with Dean and Seamus on either side of her and a line of seventh-year students fanning out from them. She saw Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt and all the Aurors that had responded to their cry for help. They were in a desperately pitched battle to keep the Death Eaters away from the front door. There were more of the enemy outside, trying to get in, and these ones couldn't be allowed to open the door.
Hermione shouldn't take Sirius away from the fight, because he was doing an amazing job and they probably needed him. But she needed him, too. They'd known they would need help to bring Riddle down at last, and it was time for that. The snake would be with him. She felt certain she could find enough strength to kill the snake while Sirius faced down Riddle. They would need others, also. Riddle surely wouldn't be alone.
"Sirius!" she cried out, letting go of the invisibility charm. She Stunned the person Sirius was duelling before they noticed her there. "Sirius!"
Momentarily free, he was able to turn and see her. She beckoned him, and they ducked into one of the many alcoves in this part of the castle.
"Where's Harry?" Sirius demanded.
Looking up into his face, she couldn't figure out how to say it. She just released a strangled sob. He took her by the shoulders and shook her, which was probably the best thing he could have done. The rough treatment made her just angry enough to rouse herself. She had to be ready to fight, not cry!
"He's dead, Sirius," she said in a low, rough voice. "He's dead."
He blinked several times. "Of course he isn't, don't be ridiculous," he scolded her.
"Sirius, Harry was a Horcrux. Do you understand? He had to do it. He had to!"
Sirius shook her again, his eyes hard and unbelieving.
"I need your help, please. I have to find Riddle, and we've got to bring him down. Don't you see? It's possible, now. Harry made it possible to defeat him. I'll make sure his snake dies, and then Riddle is just a man. Just a horrible, selfish man," she whispered.
"Hermione, this isn't helping," Sirius said impatiently. "Wherever Harry is, he's got to—"
She couldn't stand it anymore. She lifted her hand and slapped him, hard. Sirius gaped at her.
"He's dead!" she hissed. "Harry just gave up his life for us, and I need you with me now or it will have been for nothing!"
Slowly, she watched his eyes fill with tears. "No," he whispered. "No, please, no."
"We can't cry now," she said, her own eyes welling up. "Sirius, please, stay with me. There's no time, now. Later. We have to fight, first."
A spell sizzled past them, they both slammed shields into place, and Sirius was with her. They had to survive if they wanted to grieve. But then they heard rich, bubbling laughter, and they saw Bellatrix Lestrange dancing into the entrance hall, her husband and a handful of the most trusted Death Eaters coming behind her.
"Bitty little Potter," she was singing with glee. "Nothing but a silly little bird! A dead bird!" she whooped.
Riddle came into view. He was marching in with a slick, proud smile. It looked grotesque on his shredded, bleeding face. He'd been fighting, and the complete absence of his pet snake could only mean one thing. One of his ears had been torn off and there were gouges taken out of his skull, but still he was smiling with that chilling smile. In one hand was his wand, and from the other swung —
It was an owl. A huge brown owl swung loosely in Riddle's grip, being carried by its feet. Riddle saw the two of them, walked straight over. The entire hall fell into hushed silence, too transfixed by the gruesome sight of Voldemort and the dead owl to keep fighting. Riddle sauntered up and tossed the twisted body at their feet.
"I believe this belongs to you," he said with a grin.
Hermione and Sirius both looked down at what lay before them. They looked at one another, eyes wide. A tentative smile played at the right corner of Hermione's mouth. Sirius grinned in return, a delighted promise of pain. They turned to Riddle, still smiling, and he looked back at them in disbelief. They ought to be wailing! Gnashing their teeth, falling to the ground, screaming! He'd taken away their saviour, their hero! Killed him and dropped the carcass at their feet—and they were smiling!
"Looks like we win," Hermione said, her eyes glinting.
"You have lost everything!" he howled, raising his wand.
"No, you have," she smiled. "All those tortured pieces of your soul—destroyed. We did the diadem just tonight. You're nothing, now. And we still have everything we need."
The shock of what she was saying slammed into him, and he actually took a step backward. "I killed Harry Potter!" Riddle shouted, blood-tinged flecks of spit flying from his lips.
"Have you, now?" Sirius smirked.
People were talking. Shouting. He heard rage, but also joy. He felt sluggish. Lost. Who was he? What was he?
Awareness slammed through him.
No . . .
He could feel his body rippling, growing outward, felt the awful itch of feathers sinking into skin and the painful creak of bones elongating and thickening. He was becoming human again, brought back by his awareness of the situation.
No, wait . . .
He blinked, opened his eyes, saw people standing above him.
"No!" he cried out. "No, take me back! I said I wanted to die, damn you!"
But it was too late. Those red eyes were fixed on him, glowing out of a face marred with oozing blood, and all of it looked entirely shocked.
"Honestly, Riddle, don't you read?" Hermione, standing above him, said lightly. "Animagi always return to their human form in death."
Harry knew it was too late, now. He'd been sent back, and he had no choice but to live now. He surged to his feet and snatched the wand out of Hermione's hand.
"Stupefy!"