Draco's Gambit

Draco was growing more and more desperate, after the way he'd messed up his big chance at getting Snape to forgive him. His father had given him explicit instructions that he was going to mount another large assault upon the castle soon and he needed Draco to let them inside for it to succeed. Lucius had told him quite firmly that failure was not an option, that he was to have a way open for him, Greyback, Narcissa, a large number of Death Eaters, plus vampires and ghouls and revenants under the control of Dirk Wrackspur the Ghost Master. Those creatures were not patient when their blood was roused and Lucius knew that if they were not offered human prey to feed off of, they would turn on him. Therefore Draco must fulfill his part of the bargain and help them infiltrate Hogwarts.

"I'm depending on you, son. Now don't disappoint me. Remember who and what you are," were Lucius's parting instructions. "Your mother sends her love and says to do all in your power to aid us, like a true son of the House of Black." Narcissa's family name was Black, she came from an ancient pureblood wizard house and was justifiably proud of her origins.

Narcissa had thought her little deception would work with the Potions Master, whom she regarded as a bit soft where Draco was concerned. She had been completely wrong, for after Draco's outburst in the Great Hall, Severus no longer trusted him. There had been no softness about the man last night, Draco thought bitterly. He had shown Draco quite clearly that he had nothing but contempt for him, and for some reason that bothered the boy profoundly. He had always admired the Potions professor, admired his discipline and his control, since they were qualities he lacked, and also Severus' cleverness and magical prowess. It had been an utter shock to discover that Snape had betrayed his position as Lucius' spy, that the man was not at all what he'd pretended, that he—a mere half-blood—had played the most powerful purebloods in the world for fools.

Draco had always hoped that one day Snape would choose him as his special apprentice, to mentor him in the ways of the Dark Arts, only to find that dream could never be. For Snape was no dark sorcerer, but a craven wizard of the Order of the Phoenix, who detested everything Draco's family stood for, and was their sworn enemy.

Furious at the way Snape had betrayed him, Draco had unwisely challenged him that day, and was promptly humiliated for it. Just thinking about what Snape had done made his cheeks burn. Severus had made him look like a spoiled child, one in need of an adult's firm hand, he thought bitterly.

But I'm not a child, you snarky git! I'm sixteen, almost a man by wizard standards, and I deserve to be treated like one. I'm going to make you regret that you ever hit me, Severus Snape, what are you, after all but a half-Mudblood? Weak and cowardly, like all your half-breed kind. You're no true Slytherin, you're nothing but a bloody traitor and someday you'll get yours, this I swear by the Dark Lord himself!
He felt a little better after making that vow, for now he was placed squarely in opposition to his former Potions Master, and therefore had no need to respect the man or spare him any grief when his father came to Hogwarts and showed them all the true might of a Malfoy. See how Snape liked it when he was betrayed, Draco sneered.

The only problem was how he was going to fulfill the promise he'd made to his father. Convincing Snape of his innocence was out of the question, the man wouldn't believe anything Draco said, and Draco's charm and slick tongue wouldn't work on Snape either. Repeated attempts to convince the Defense Master of his sincerity would only rouse the professor's suspicions, so Draco had to think of another way to get out of the common room without Snape being any wiser.

He wished he had an Invisibility Cloak or could transfigure himself into an animal like McGonagall. But such spells were beyond him and he had no wand to cast with anyhow, since Snape had confiscated it. Draco's brow furrowed and he sat on the black couch staring up at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, the Founder of Slytherin House, pondering a way he could slip past Severus' warding and escape.

What would you do, Salazar? Something sneaky and cunning, no doubt. But what?

Suddenly he recalled the way Barty Crouch Junior, a former inmate of Azkaban and one of Voldemort's most fanatical followers, had managed to fool everyone at Hogwarts into thinking he was Mad-Eye Moody, a respected Auror. He'd used Polyjuice Potion to mask his outward appearance and then adopted Moody's mannerisms. The ruse had worked for a year, until the eve of the Triwizard tournament, Draco recalled.

All Draco needed was ten minutes to open the secret passage in the dungeon that led to the grounds and get his wand back. The Polyjuice Potion lasted an hour. Now who should he try and turn into? He'd love to get that goody-goody Lockwood in trouble, but he knew he had as good a chance of getting a piece of Lockwood's hair or fingernails as he did Snape's, which was to say none at all.

Just then Crabbe and Goyle entered the room, from the crumbs and stains on their shirts and robes Draco knew they'd been stuffing themselves again. One thing they couldn't complain about was the food, they were fed regularly and it was the same food as everyone else in the school ate.

"Where have you two been?" Draco demanded. "Wait, let me guess, pigging out again, right?"

"Yeah," Goyle answered, licking the last of a cherry tart from his lips. "You missed a great dinner."

"I'll eat later," Draco waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm too busy right now."

"Doing what?" Goyle asked.

"Figuring out a plan to get out of here," answered his friend, speaking so softly they had to strain to hear him.

"What plan, Draco?" Goyle cried, forgetting to be quiet.

"Shut up, you dumbass!" Draco snarled, glaring daggers at the other boy. "You want the whole school to know?"

Goyle shook his head. "Uh, no. Sorry. But what's the plan, Malfoy?"

"I don't know yet!" Draco snapped irritably.

Crabbe groaned softly.

"What's wrong with him?"

Goyle shrugged. "His stomach again. You know how easily it gets upset."

Draco rolled his eyes heavenward. "If he quit eating like two pigs at a trough, his stomach wouldn't bother him. God, but the two of you don't have the brains of an ant between you, I swear!"

"I couldn't help it," Crabbe groaned. "The pastry was so good and so were the cupcakes and the cookies . . .oww!"

"If you have to be sick, Crabbe, be quiet about it!" Draco said unsympathetically. "You're breaking my concentration."

"I can help you with the plan, Draco," Goyle offered.

"Oh, right. You're too stupid to plan your way out of a paper bag, Goyle. Now shut your fat face and let me think for a minute. Between him moaning and your stupid comments, it's a wonder I can string two sentences together." Draco sneered. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. "I've got it! Oh, this is perfect. No one will ever suspect anything. Now all I have to do is figure out who I can bribe to get me what I need." Draco's nose twitched eagerly, much like the ferret he'd been compared to. "Goyle, who's the poorest student in Slytherin?"

"Uh . . .that's easy! Jack Montague. He barely has two Knuts to rub together, gets all his stuff secondhand from all the shops."

"Good. Then I'm sure he won't mind making a few galleons," Draco said, smiling evilly. He rubbed his hands together. "Oh, I love it when a plan comes together."

"What plan?" Crabbe asked, still holding his stomach.

"I'm not going to tell you yet. You'd blurt it out first chance you got and then everything will be ruined. Now, where's Montague?"

Goyle thought for a moment. "Probably eating supper in the hall with everyone else."

"Oh, right. You did say it was suppertime," Draco muttered crossly. "All right. I might as well eat something before I offer Montague the chance to make an easy five Galleons." He rose to his feet. "You'd better not have eaten all the food, you pigs, or else!" he walked out of the sitting room to the small dining alcove where the house elves brought their food and laid it out for them. There was still plenty left, and he ate hungrily.

Now all he had to do was to wait for Montague to show up and see if the bait of five Galleons was enough to snare the other boy into running a little errand. Draco smiled, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Truly, this was a plan worthy of Salazar himself.

* * * * * *
The next night, Draco was ready to put his gambit into action. Montague had fallen into his hands like ripe fruit, doing all he asked in return for a six Galleon bribe. The other boy had snuck into Professor Slughorn's personal potions cupboard and appropriated three potions, two of Polyjuice and one Draught of Living Death. They were now hidden in the bottom of Draco's trunk, waiting for phase two of his little plot.

He'd contacted his father via the small two-way magic mirror Lucius had given him, telling Lucius that very shortly a passage into the school would be open, and he would give him more details later, when the deed was accomplished.

Lucius would create a diversion to draw away the dragons, so he and his undead force could slip onto the grounds to the secret entrance unnoticed. Draco would contact him again when the secret way was open.

Now it was time to let his ever-faithful twin dupes in on the plot. He summoned Crabbe and Goyle to him and outlined the plan that would end in hs escape and Lucius' infiltrating the school.

"Here's what we're going to do. You're going to give me one of your hairs, Crabbe and I'm going to add it to my bottle of Polyjuice Potion. Then I'll give you one of mine and you can drink the second draft, turning us into each other. Got it?"

"Yeah, I think so." Crabbe muttered.

"Pay attention! This is the important part. After you become me, Crabbe, you're going to get really sick. Or rather, I am."

"From what?"

"From this," Draco waved the vial with the Draught of Living Death under Crabbe's nose. "You take this and fall into a sleep that's nearly death. Then I'll run and fetch Snape, tell him something's wrong with you and you need Madam Pomfrey. He'll come over, see you almost dead and take you to the Hospital Wing."

"Then what? Will Madam Pomfrey cure me?"

"Probably, but that doesn't matter. I'm going to insist I accompany you, since you're my best friend, and then once we're out from under his eye, I can make a break for it. No one will ever suspect poor dumb Crabbe of doing anything so clever as trying to escape and that's why this is perfect. I can go and open the secret tunnel for my father and the rest of his army, then sneak into McGonagall's office and get my wand back. Snape will never suspect anything, the doddering old cripple. Until my father comes for him, that is!" Draco chuckled maliciously.

"What about me, Draco?" whined Goyle. "What do I get to do?"

"You act all sad and go and stuff your face same as always, Goyle. And don't talk to anyone, for Godsake!"

"Okay, Draco," agreed Goyle. "But how will I know when your father gets here?"

"You'll know, believe me," Draco laughed. "Now, do you both understand what to do?"

"Uh huh."

"Yeah."

"All right then. Let's do it."

He uncapped the first bottle of Polyjuice potion and held out his hand for Crabbe's hair.

"Professor Snape! Come here, sir! I think something's wrong with Malfoy," cried Crabbe, banging on the door of Snape's quarters loudly.

"Just a minute!" came the professor's voice from behind the door. He sounded cross and irritable. The door was jerked open and Professor Snape stood silhouetted in the doorway, scowling forbiddingly. "What's the matter now, Crabbe? Malfoy stub his toe or something?"

"No, sir. He said he was feeling sick and then he just fell on the ground," Crabbe explained haltingly. "Goyle touched him and said he wasn't breathing. Maybe it was something he ate?"

Snape swore softly. "Is he allergic to anything?"

Crabbe looked puzzled. "Uh . . .I don't know, sir."

"Figures," Snape shook his head. "Very well. Where is he?"

"In here, sir. He fell on the ground near the fireplace, but Goyle and me put him on the couch after." Crabbe said, leading the professor into the common room.

Draco was on the couch, with Goyle hovering over him. Snape moved swiftly over to examine the boy. He was very pale and his chest hardly seemed to move, though when Snape put his ear to the boy's mouth, he could just detect a breath. He put a finger on Malfoy's wrist, taking his pulse. It was slow . . .too slow.

Snape shook his head. "How long has he been like this?"

"Ten minutes," Goyle answered. "When we couldn't wake him up, Crabbe said we should tell you, sir. Is it serious? Is he gonna die?"

"His pulse isn't normal, that's for sure. It's almost as if he's in a coma. Or a deep sleep." Severus frowned. "Did he drink anything before he collapsed?"

"Uh, I don't think so," Goyle began uncertainly.

"Yesterday, he did mention a tonic he was going to take, to help him sleep, sir," Crabbe recalled. "He said his mother always used it when she got headaches."

"Did he tell you the name of it? Think!"

"No."

"Goyle, go and check around his bed, see if you find any bottle nearby. Madam Pomfrey will need to examine it. Whatever the little idiot took was too strong, he's in a death-like trance. " He snapped his fingers and a stretcher appeared in the room. Another twitch and Malfoy's unconscious form was levitated on it. "I'm going to the Hospital Wing and we'll see if Pomfrey can reverse the effects of whatever potion he took. I think it's the Draught of Living Death, but I'm not positive."

He glanced toward the boys' dormitory. "Goyle, have you found anything?"

"Yes, sir." Goyle came running back down the corridor, holding an empty glass bottle in one hand. "This was by his bed."

Snape took it and sniffed at the mouth of the bottle. "Yes, as I thought. Malfoy took the Draught of Living Death by mistake. Stupid imbecile! A first year knows to label his potions better than this. Well, I'm for the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey should be able to put him right in half a day." He waved his wand over Draco's still form. "Mobilicorpus!"

The stretcher hovered then followed behind him as he walked towards the door.

"Wait! Can I come with you, sir?" pleaded Crabbe.

"What for?"

"Because . . .I, uh, don't think he should be left alone . . ."stammered Crabbe. "I just want to watch him for awhile, sir."

Snape eyed the round boy sharply. But Crabbe was looking at Draco with concern and nothing more. "Humph! Your loyalty does you credit, though it's wasted on him, in my opinion. Very well, you may come along with me, Crabbe. But remember, you are to stay in the infirmary at all times. If I come back and find you've left, I'll hunt you down and drag you back here by the scruff of your neck, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape motioned for him to precede him out the door of the common room, muttering the word that would allow him to pass the ward.

He never noticed Crabbe's sly smirk and the gleam of triumph in the normally dull eyes.

It was over half-an-hour before Draco had a chance to slip out of the infirmary unnoticed. Once Severus had delivered Crabbe, masquerading as Draco, to Pomfrey and told her what had happened, he left, and Pomfrey had administered a counterdraft to the sleeping boy before bustling off to see to some of her other patients.

"He ought to be fine by morning, thanks to Professor Snape's quick timing in getting him here," she told Draco briskly. "Stay as long as you want, but don't cause a ruckus and don't get in the way, you hear?"

Draco just nodded and took a seat near the bed.

Soon Pomfrey and her assistant Healer, Arista, were occupied tending various injuries gained by students on patrol duty on the battlements. Some had been cut by flying shards of rock or hurt by spells cast by some necromancer as they attacked the walls. While they were busy, Draco quickly slipped from the infirmary, making his way as quickly as he could down the stairs to the dungeons, where his secret entrance was.

All of the usual secret entrances had been sealed by Snape once Voldemort's army had been sighted, but even the Defense Master didn't know about this one, it was one Lucius had told his son about, and it hadn't been used since his father had been a student. Until now, that is.

Draco glanced furtively about before he tapped the wall and the passageway slid silently open. He quickly went inside, took out the mirror he used to contact Lucius and rubbed it with his hand, summoning the elder Malfoy to tell him the way into Hogwarts was now open.

He never noticed the silent figure of the Bloody Baron watching with angry eyes his terrible treachery. Once he had done speaking to Lucius, he quickly looked about him again, but the Baron went invisible and thus Draco did not see him.

But the Baron saw Crabbe, or whom he thought was Crabbe, opening a secret way into the school, and flew off to find Mel, so he could raise the alarm.

Unfortunately, it took the ghost awhile before he located her, and by then the first of the Death Eaters and their ghastly allies had entered through the tunnel, slithering though the shadows with deadly purpose, searching for humans to eat and to slay. The betrayal of Hogwarts was complete, and with that single act Draco had shown himself to be a true Malfoy—deceitful and treacherous to the core.

* * * * * *
Professor Snape was heading back down to the dungeons, he had just come from a hasty conference with McGonagall, when he heard an odd muffled whimper and a thump as of something being dragged along the floor. It was coming from the study hall next to the library, and he wondered if some student was playing a prank on someone.

He went as swiftly as he could towards the doorway, which was open, hoping to catch whoever it was in the act. But what he found wasn't at all what he expected.

A seven-foot tall werewolf was holding third-year Mercy Hawkins in his terrible claws, baring his huge fangs and drooling all over her in anticipation of the feast soon to come.

Poor Mercy was petrified, barely able to move, he had one huge paw about her throat preventing her from doing little more than whimpering. Tears poured from her eyes, which were glazed in terror.

For an instant, the blood-red eyes of the werewolf met Snape's own, then it threw back its head and howled shrilly, warning the Defense Master to keep his distance.

Snape's wand was in his hand before the werewolf had finished howling. "Let her go, monster!" he yelled, while casting Sectumsempra nonverbally, which was how it was originally meant to be cast. "Duck, Hawkins!"

Mercy twisted hard against the werewolf's hold, just managing to get her head down before the silver light flashed from Snape's wand and struck the murderous lycanthrope in the chest.

Four gaping wounds appeared on the werewolf's chest and the beast released Mercy with a shriek, stumbling backwards clutching its chest, which was covered in blood.

The girl stumbled towards her teacher, sobbing, and Severus caught her in one arm, pulling her behind him and casting Inferio at the injured werewolf. The fireball took the werewolf in the midsection and it exploded into flame. In moments the only thing remaining was a faint grease spot upon the floor.

Severus held the stricken Mercy at arms length. "Did he bite you, Miss Hawkins? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"N-noo!" the child wailed, almost incoherent with terror.

"Are you positive?" the professor demanded, shaking the girl slightly.

Mercy nodded, gulping sharply. "I-I thought it was going to kill me! It came out of nowhere and grabbed me, Professor Snape! I w-was studying and it-it just grabbed me up!" she began to sob again. "H-how did it get here? I thought we were safe!"

So did I, Snape thought grimly, patting the distraught girl on the shoulder. "Something's gone very wrong here," he muttered half to himself. "Come along, child. You need to get back to Ravenclaw Tower. Professor Sinistra will protect you there." He began to lead the girl back towards her House.

Just then his spellophone ring chimed. He pressed the button on the right to receive the message. "Dad! Mel says the Baron saw Crabbe letting Lucius and his army into the school. Only afterwards he turned into Draco somehow."

Snape stiffened. Malfoy! I should have known. "Polyjuice Potion," he spat. "That's how they did it. Arista, tell Mel to summon up the ghosts, all in range of her call. We're going to need their help. I'm putting everyone on maximum alert now, and anyone who's not a member of a patrol squad needs to go back to their dormitory immediately. I'll meet you in the Great Hall after I'm done escorting Miss Hawkins back to her House."

"Be careful, Dad!" Arista warned. " Mel says there're vampires and ghouls about and dementors too."

"Werewolves also. Watch your back, Arista. Bye."

Mercy was staring at him with wide eyes. "They betrayed us, the damn traitors! Crabbe and Malfoy sold us out!"

"Yes, but you don't have time to worry about that now, Hawkins. Come on, we need to get you back to the Tower," Snape urged. He hoped that his patrols weren't encountering more than they could handle, but he couldn't spare the time to check on them using the Marauders map. His first priority was getting this student to safety.

Once he had dropped off Mercy and told Professor Sinistra the situation, who assured him that nothing would hurt the students on her watch, he hurried as quickly as he could to Minerva's office to inform of her of the situation.

She was already aware of it, however, having seen the arrival of Lucius, Wrackspur, and Narcissa in her Foe Glass. "Severus, we must get the younger students to safety!"

"I know, I've started doing that already. And I've instructed Melinda Seton to call up her ghosts, as many as she can summon. Her revenants just might make the difference between victory and defeat."

"I certainly hope so! Pomona didn't hide the last ghostwalker in Britain all these years only to have her fail now!" McGonagall said, and turned to Fawkes, who was chirruping agitatedly on his perch. "Fawkes, it's time to sound the alarm," she ordered, and the phoenix promptly flew out of the door, screeching loudly enough to wake the dead.

"I must see to the younger students first, Severus, then I shall meet you in the Great Hall," the Headmistress said, and Severus nodded. He pulled an oak wand from a pocket of his robe and handed it to Minerva.

"Give this to Sybill, she'll need it if she's going to guard the children in her Tower. It's a combat wand, it'll cast a certain amount of spells, ones that I know she'd never cast herself." He gave the Headmistress a short piece of parchment. "They're listed here, tell her to memorize them and then destroy the list."

Minerva eyed the wand with interest. "Very clever, Severus. I didn't know you knew how to make these."

"Any port in a storm, Minerva. This will make even a Seer into a fighter, for a time. Good luck," he said, then he half ran out the door, cursing his awkward leg.

The click of toenails on the stone made him whirl about, wand drawn. He sighed in relief when he saw Scout, who trotted up to him, a worried expression in his intelligent blue eyes.

"Hey, boy," he greeted the magehound. "There's no need for you to track down dark wizards today, because they've found you. Scout, guard!" he ordered, putting the great dog on full alert status as well.

Scout barked once, then fell in beside him, watchful and wary. If any enemy showed itself, the big dog would not hesitate to attack.

"Come on, Scout. Let's go find Colin, Cheyenne and Flick."

They walked up the stairs towards the second tier of rooms.

* * * * * *

Down in the Great Hall, Arista and Mel were gathered with the other students of Snape's little patrol group, including Ginny, Neville, Cho, and Hathaway. Drake, Kit, and Trish had just come off of duty outside and reported that all was quiet, save for a group of nightmares and wyverns that the bronzes were seeing to. They were astonished to find that the school's defenses had been penetrated.

"Damn Malfoy!" Drake snarled, his gray eyes glittering with fury. "I should've broken his jaw when I had the chance the slinking ferret. I always knew he wasn't to be trusted."

Murmurs of agreement came form the other students, until Arista hushed them, for Mel needed to concentrate.

The ghostwalker shifted into phantom form, becoming insubstantial as mist over the moors. "Wrackspur's here, I can feel him," she declared chillingly. Then she began to chant softly, "Come ghosts of Hogwarts, I call you to fight. Defend your school, defend your students."

All the ghosts in the castle appeared in the hall—the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar, the Gray Lady, Nearly Headless Nick, even Peeves. They in turn were joined by the members of the Headless Hunt, and Moaning Myrtle. One and all they saluted the last ghostwalker.

"We hear and obey, Ghostwalker!" they cried.

"Go and fight where you will," Mel ordered, sounding like a general marshalling her troops.

All of the ghosts suddenly became a little more substantial, for the power of a ghostwalker had now granted them the ability to do true harm to their enemies, much like a revenant. Peeves shot off with a howl, cackling gleefully, "A license for mayhem, oh my!"

The others vanished as well, going to where they were needed most, to engage the vampires and ghouls in combat.

Mel smiled. But she was not done yet. She sent her call out beyond the walls, for not far from the castle had been the site of an ancient battle and many soldiers of the Highlands and England had fallen there.

"Awake and hear my call! I, Melinda Ghostwalker, summon you to fight for me! Come to me, joined against a common enemy, and fight the Dark Lord!"

Her words were like the clarion call of a trumpet.

They echoed in the spirit realm, and none of the ghosts could resist her compulsion. One by one, Highland clansmen and British knights, rose and advanced towards the castle, each carrying the weapons they had fallen with, glowing with a silvery radiance, surrounded by the icy chill of death.

Over a thousand men had died on that bloody field long ago, and all of them awakened to Mel's command and came to fight for her, armed with claymore and halberd, lance, bow, axe, and long sword, mace and morningstar. They slipped into the castle, drifting through the walls like smoke, an army of the dead, silent as the grave.

They were led by a grizzled Highland chieftain, who appeared before Mel in a swirl of greenish vapor. "Lady, what is thy will?"

"Defend this castle, and protect all the students within it," Mel told him. "Fight the dark ones who have invaded Hogwarts."

"Thy will be done, Lady," the chieftain said, bowing to her. Then he bellowed, "You heard the ghostwalker, lads! Attack!"

Ghostly horns blew and the cries of the Highland ghosts filled the corridors as they charged through the castle, seeking foes to fight.

Mel reappeared, looking a bit drained, but she was smiling. "That ought to put a dent in your plans, Lucius!"

The other students cheered wildly.

Suddenly, one of the doors was blown off its hinges, and Wrackspur stepped through, followed by six or seven dementors and twenty revenants. His eyes were bright with the need to kill. They fastened upon Mel and he smirked and howled, "Get the dark-haired witch in the blue robes! Kill her!"

The revenants surged forward to do the Ghost Masters bidding . . .and froze when Mel held up a hand.

"Kill me, Wrackspur? I don't think so." she snorted, turning phantom again and hovering above the floor. "Get Wrackspur! Do it NOW!"

And the revenants obeyed.

They turned upon the Ghost Master, red eyes burning, chill fingers grasping, eager to suck the life out of him.

Wrackspur screamed, chanting Spirit Wrack frantically. But the spell could not deal with all the enraged revenants, and in moments, the Ghost Master had disappeared beneath a swarm of vengeful spirits, his life drained away to nothing.

Even the dementors hesitated at Mel's command, for they too were partially spirit and felt her compulsion.

Enough so the other students could attack, pointing their wands at the faceless specters and shouting, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silvery Patronuses exploded from their wands, slamming into the dementors and destroying them.

Soon the only things left alive in the hall were the students. Mel commanded Wrackspur's revenants to hunt down the Death Eaters.

"You stomped his arse good, Mel," said Kit, coming to stand beside his girlfriend's spirit form.

"Where's Professor Snape and McGonagall?" asked Ginny. "He always told us when the alert sounded to meet him here in the hall."

"Maybe they got killed by Malfoy's dad," blurted a student.

Arista shot a glare at the boy. "Stop that kind of talk right now!" she ordered. "My father's not dead, he went to gather the other Hunters and then he's coming here. I just spoke with him. Now why don't we all put up some multi-layered shields in case some more Death Eaters try and get in here?"

"Good idea," Ginny agreed, and began to cast the multi-layered Excelsior shield spell Snape had been drilling into them these past weeks.

Arista and the other SR's followed suit, creating an overlapping bubble of protection about themselves that could repel both physical and magical damage for a time. Some offensive spells could still penetrate the shield, but most of them would bounce away or be blunted. At the very least it would buy a student time so a teacher could come to the rescue.

Snape met Colin and Flick just as they were coming down the hall from their quarters, having been alerted by Fawkes' screeching. "What's going on? Are we under attack?" Colin asked, his sword was in his right hand. Flick was also armed.

"Yes. We were betrayed," Severus told them.

"By who?" Cheyenne asked, emerging from her room. "That little snot you placed under house arrest, Sev?"

"The same. He used Polyjuice Potion to switch places with a friend of his and played a clever trick on me so I would let them out of the Slytherin common room. I should have watched him more closely, the treacherous little maggot!" Severus said angrily.

"Tough break, but there's no sense in crying over spilled milk," Colin said practically. "What are we dealing with here?"

"Lucius himself, most likely, some of his top sorcerers, and a whole horde of revenants, dementors, vampires, and werewolves, by my best estimate."

"Sounds like fun," Flick remarked irreverently. "I haven't kicked a vampire's ass in a year or so."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get plenty of practice today, Bowen," said Cheyenne. She was armed with her pouch of shuriken and a belt of silver daggers. Severus knew she was an expert with them, he'd seen her take out a criminal with two shots back when they infiltrated the dragonslayers' base beneath St. Helens two summers ago.

"Let's go back to the hall, I'm to meet my students there." Severus said, starting back down the way he'd come.

"All of them?" Colin said in dismay.

"Of course not. Just the sixth and seventh years who were patrol volunteers," Snape clarified. "The rest of them are safe in their dormitories, with a teacher guarding them."

"Thank God," Colin breathed a sigh of relief. "Because for a minute there, buddy, I thought you were going to tell me we had to protect all of them at once, and we're stretched too thin as it is."

"I've had my ghostwalker summon up some revenants that might even the odds a bit, my friend."

"Right, I forgot about your ace in the hole," Cheyenne exclaimed. "I wonder how many will answer her call?"

"As many as can hear her, probably," Severus said.

Just then Scout snarled loudly, all the fur on his back standing up. An icy chill crept up the corridor, followed by a wave of bone-crushing despair.

"Dementors," Severus warned, and sure enough three of the faceless horrors appeared before them, skeletal hands reaching out to clutch them.

"Expecto Patronum!" the three Hunters and Snape shouted at practically the same moment.

Snape's silver phoenix Patronus shot right through a dementor, making it dwindle away to nothing. Once it had been a doe, symbolizing his love for Lily, but it had since altered to a phoenix, since his best memories were now all of Amelia. It was accompanied by Colin's gray striped tabby, which swiped and hissed at the advancing dementor, along with Flick's owl. Cheyenne's horse raced up and kicked one of the dark cloaked apparitions right in the face, and sent it wailing back to wherever hell it had come from.

But no sooner had they dealt with that threat, then five revenants popped up, hissing malevolently, accompanied by a vampire.

"Well, what do we have here, fellas?" crooned the vampire, its fangs bared. "A little midnight snack!"

The revenants laughed hollowly at the vampire's wit, and sprang at the four wizards and the magehound.

Severus summoned the Blackstaff with a snap of his fingers. One of the revenants charged him, and he swung the staff right at its head. Silver sparks flared as the Blackstaff struck the revenant squarely, and the ghost screamed and drew back, burned by the holy weapon.

Cheyenne sent four shuriken spinning into the air and all of them found a mark in the revenants before her, leaving smoking wounds in their insubstantial forms, for they too had been blessed and were of silver.

"Want to dance, Vamp?" challenged Flick, whipping out his bo stick and twirling it at the vampire.

"Meat with an attitude," sneered the vampire. "I like that. Makes the hunt twice as sweet." It lunged at Flick, moving with lightning speed.

But Flick was no longer there, having gauged the speed the vampire possessed correctly and dodging out of the way. He sprang up and over the bloodsucker, kicking out with his right leg as he did so.

The kick caught the vampire squarely in the back of the head, knocking the creature to its knees. Before it could get up, Flick was on it. He stepped on its back, bringing his bo stick around and jabbing it hard through the vampire's ribs, staking the creature.

"Nighty night Dracula," the young Hunter said, withdrawing his stick, then he set the corpse on fire with a softly spoken Inferio.

Behind him, Colin fenced with the last revenant, beheading the snarling ghost with a neatly timed slash. "Rest in peace," he intoned as the ghost faded away, freed from its unnatural bondage.

By then Cheyenne and Severus had dealt with the remaining revenants, sending them back to the spirit realm.

"Nice staff you got there, Sev," Colin remarked, eyeing the Blackstaff with interest. "It must have some powerful enchantments on it."

"It does. The Blackstaff has been in the Snape family for generations, it's a powerful holy weapon, carried by a Templar Knight long ago. But the Snapes quit believing in the legend of the staff generations ago, since no wizards had came from their line, and I found it buried in a trunk belonging to my grandfather after my father died. He never knew what he had, he probably thought it was just a nice walking stick. The Blackstaff doesn't need to be wielded by a wizard to be effective, however, but only a wizard would recognize it for what it truly was. It was created especially to fight undead."

"Which it does just fine, Snape old boy," said Cheyenne admiringly.

"So do you," Severus said, and then shot Flock a look of approval as well. "Nice job with the vampire, Bowen. That's the first time I've ever actually seen a man stake one before."

Flick looked embarrassed. "Shoot, Sev, I learned that move when I helped Colin clear out a nest of them a year ago in Seattle. Nothing to it really."

"If you happen to be a Hunter who knows martial arts and can move like the wind."

"Well, that's why they call me Flick. 'Cause I flicker in and out like a shadow."

"An apt name," Severus praised, then beckoned for them to follow him down the stairs.

They had just reached the bottom of the staircase when a whole horde of ghosts dressed in Highland kilts wielding claymores and a troupe of mounted knights raced past them, whooping and howling.

"Kill the dark ones, send 'em down to the devil. What dost thou say, lads?"
bellowed a red-bearded Highlander in a blue and green stripped plaid.

"Aye! As thy Lady Seton commands!"

"What the blazes?" Flick gaped at the army of ghosts, which seemed never ending, as they swooped and swirled through them and about them, eager to follow the commands of the ghostwalker who had summoned them.

"I'd say Mel has outdone herself this time," said Snape happily.

The deluge of ghosts slowed, scattering all over the castle as per Mel's instructions.

The three Hunters and Snape continued onward to the Great Hall, which had a door knocked askew. They arrived just in time to catch Lucius Malfoy fighting with Arista and the rest of the SR's.

The Dark Lord's lieutenant was accompanied by his wife Narcissa, Draco, Avery and a few other Death Eaters as well as some ghouls and a werewolf or two.

Flick, Colin, and Cheyenne leaped eagerly into the fray, attacking a dark wizard each. Thus far, the kids' shield spells seemed to be holding, and they had paired up to fight the Death Eaters, just the way Snape had trained them.

Scout went for a sorcerer that was trying to curse Severus, unnoticed by the Defense Master, who had eyes only for his old enemy, Lucius Malfoy. The magehound knocked the skinny necromancer flying and his jaws closed over the wizard's wand hand with a snap. The Death Eater screamed, for Scout's bite had broken all the bones in his hand as well as his wand, rendering him useless in the battle.

Lucius faced off against Arista, his blue eyes cold as arctic ice. "So you're the one I have to thank for the traitor surviving the Dark Lord's justice," he said, his mouth twisting into a contemptuous sneer.

"Justice? You mean torture!" Arista shouted, her own eyes blazing.

"Justice for one who willing betrayed the great Lord Voldemort and his cause, little Healer," Lucius snarled. "He deserved nothing less! But for your interference he would already be in hell, girl, and I'd be master of this school!"

"You wish, Malfoy!"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "Your defiance does you no good, girl! Give up now and save yourself a great deal of pain."

"Never! A Snape never gives up, especially not to scum like you Lucius Malfoy!" Arista yelled, and flicked two fingers at him. "Draco Inferio!"

Lucius threw up a hand, blocking the dragonfire spell just in the nick of time. It rolled over him, singing his hair and his robes, but the full force of the spell was muted. Still, her command of such powerful magic scared the Death Eater badly. "You'll pay for that, brat!" he roared, then cast a spell of his own making at her called the Hand of Voldemort.

A huge shadowy fist appeared in the air above Arista and swooped down and grabbed her, holding her fast, smothering the breath and the life from her. She was unable to draw a decent breath into her lungs, and black spots danced before her eyes.

Drake . . .I love you . . .was the last thought she sent before everything went dark.

"ARISTA!" Drake howled, the cry drawn from the depths of his soul. "Leave her alone you bastard!" he charged towards Lucius, hate twisting his features into a terrible mask, only to be intercepted by Draco.

"Get off my father, Lockwood!"

"Go to hell, Draco!" Drake screamed. "Stupefy!"

The Stunning spell blew the blond-haired wizard off his feet, sending him crashing into the opposite wall. He slid down to lie motionless on the floor. Then Drake whirled around to face his original opponent, only to find his way blocked by a tall figure in a black cloak holding a black staff, throwing off an aura reminiscent of the Angel of Death.