Disclaimer: Harry et alia belong to JK Rowling and briefcase-bearing associates. I'm not profiting from this in any financial way – I doubt a Warm Glow of Satisfaction can be counted as financial reward. (Or taxable – but the IR Department can be counted on to find a way, so let's pretend I'm getting absolutely no profit from this at all, la la la.)
A/N: Didn't we leave someone behind at the bridge?
ooOOoo
Chapter 95
Harry remembered holding onto the reins with the casual strength of Atlas as Simon fought, the horse blind with panic and pain, but he didn't remember dropping them. Now, the horse stood, as if reassured by Harry's presence. Tremors ran under the dark hide and juddered down long legs. Harry felt the same. He'd been floating – a part of something great – he'd had purpose and an assured place. He hadn't needed to think, only to act, because everything he had done had been correct.
Now that it was gone he felt as if he'd not only been stripped of his clothes but the outer layers of his skin, leaving him raw and puny and vulnerable to the myriad hurts of the world. Now he was expected to think again. Now he had to feel and evaluate and be open mentally, physically and morally to other people's judgements. Now he was expected to do the correct thing, and now he didn't know what that was anymore. It hurt. And it would hurt more, he knew.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against Simon's, trying to recapture that surety. Simon sighed. His breath was warm on Harry's hands. It was real in a way that did not hurt.
A sheep, glowing primrose, darted under the horse and broke the moment. Another, its fleece Ravenclaw blue, blundered into Harry, knocking him away from his horse. He cursed, gave the sheep a harder kick than the animal deserved, and it skittered away. Simon twitched his ears and pranced, dancing with less than his usual grace at the end of the reins with his hooves squelching in Who-Knew-What, but he didn't pull back hard enough to break free of Harry. Now that the pain was gone he seemed pleased to have Harry with him. When he settled again Harry moved forward to stroke the lathered neck. Under his hand and the slick sweat, the horse was shaking like a tree in a hurricane. Something tickled Harry's lip. When he rubbed at it, the back of his hand came away bloody. Nosebleed. Argh. Oh well. Considering what he was oh-so-carefully not looking at under his feet, Harry'd come away lightly. But his throat rasped as he said, "Steady there, old boy. It's going to be all right now."
He reached up and touched his forehead. The scar wasn't gone, but there was something inert about it. It wasn't just the pain that had disappeared: something that had always been there had also vanished. Voldemort was dead. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was Harry Potter and he felt his heart swell in his chest at the unexpected relief of it.
"Every thing is going to be all right," he said again in that rusty voice, enunciating each syllable carefully to feel it on his tongue. It tasted like truth. Was that the musty tang of figs? The idea made Harry smile. It was a small smile, a mere ghost, but it alleviated that terrible emptiness the power of the Forest had left behind it, brightening his spirits like the sky above was brightening now that Voldemort's war against the light was over.
Mercifully Simon quietened, because if Harry thought truth tasted like figs then his brain wasn't up to dealing with the complexities of horse muttering. He lowered his nose to Harry's shoulder, resting it there until Harry could feel his teeth through the wool of his cloak, then took a huge, rib-creaking breath and sighed it out, warming Harry's shoulder.
As it was the horse way of ensuring the world was coming back to order, Simon snorted.
"Hey," Harry husked, finding a small amount of humour left to him. "Don't blow your nose on me."
Simon sighed again, then put his ears back, glaring over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned to see one of the Death Eaters moving. It was Mulciber – Mulciber who would have AK'd Harry if not for the irony of Voldemort sucking him dry of magic. Good old Voldie – always making sure I don't die. Odd, but he couldn't quite muster any emotion when it came to Voldemort other than a vague relief it was over – much like handing in a particularly long and bothersome History assignment. The relief also had a taste: the bitter tannin of autumn leaves crackling on the tongue. Harry waved his wand. "Petrificus totalis," he muttered with a sigh. Over? It seemed things would never be over.
He stood there for a bit, ears open for any attackers Apparating into the neighbourhood but trusting to Simon's superior hearing to alert him, incapacitating any Death Eaters who looked like they might want to get up and pester him. Which was pretty much all of them: with Simon's implicit permission for the wandwork (as Harry wasn't being bitten, it could be assumed that while Simon would trample Dark Lords and Death Eaters for their presumption Harry was, by the horse's grace, in a separate category of immunity), Harry Stunned, Bound and Immobilised (and occasionally kicked if the mood took him) the lot of them on general principle. He wasn't in the mood for another fight, but they'd get it if they did anything stupid. Like move. Harry should probably move. He should probably get on Simon and move out of the area, but he felt so lovely and floaty he couldn't be bothered.
Speaking of movement…
Over near the bend of the lane and away from the main body of Death Eaters the hunched figure that could only belong to Draco, flickering in and out of sight as his latest dose of the potion wore off, was bent over one of the few supine forms Harry hadn't got around to tying up yet. Draco took off the mask to reveal the pale face and red, swollen nose of Lucius Malfoy who had, Harry remembered now, backed away from the mob when they'd been firing spells into the sky at Draco. It looked like that nose had definitely been broken – it was slightly crooked and the healing charm someone had cast hadn't done much to help it.
Harry, half his attention spent on ensuring he wasn't standing in bits of the late Dark Lord, could hear Draco murmur, and craned his neck to see what was going on, leading Simon closer.
"… And when you get home you will apologise to Mother for being such an absolute cauldronwipe of a husband. And if you ever disgrace the Malfoy name again by bowing to another, I'll personally see to it that your throat is accidentally cut while you're shaving."
From the small glimpse Harry had of Lucius' face the man looked not only stunned, but proud of his son.
Crazy. Crazy family.
"Sign this," Draco said softly but crisply, producing a miniature piece of parchment and quill from his sleeve. The parchment and quill expanded to full size. Draco scribbled something down on it. Not looking up, he called out quietly in a voice that was disguised by the same harsh rasp Harry's currently had, "Potter, I need you to act as witness."
Harry decided reality could wait a little longer and led Simon over to the Malfoys. Simon moved with reluctance, that bare hoof the only one making sound on the road, and his own feet moved oddly. They seemed to think they were meant to be sending tendrils through the road and probing their way home into the earth.
Harry did his best to ignore this by re-Stunning a couple of Death Eaters who were twitching in their bindings. The everyday magic helped remind him of who and what he was: a part of the Fores- … Harry shook his head … a student of Hogwarts School of Woodcraf- … of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He led Simon up behind Draco. Lucius didn't look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on his son's, who stared back at him with the total lack of expression of a champion poker player. Then he nodded slightly and signed with a shaky hand. The quill in the long, elegant fingers might have looked enough like a wand to make a certain cluster of neurons fire in Simon's brain, because Harry had to put his hand on Simon's nose to still the horse. But then Simon hadn't been fond of Lucius even before he was hit with two Stuns; Harry wasn't really sure what was going on under those flattened ears and – after all that had happened he'd seen Simon wasn't covered by any chapter of the Horse Mutterer book – he wasn't up to the challenge of working it out beyond the generalisation of how much Draco would be annoyed if his father was trampled. It would probably be a lot, although intra-Malfoy dynamics were convoluted enough to merit their own book somewhere in the Arithmancy section of the library and Draco might even be thankful to be the sole male Malfoy.
"Do you witness that Lucius Malfoy, of his own free will, signed this paper?" Draco asked, speaking just above a whisper.
"I do," said Harry, wondering vaguely why they were whispering. When Draco passed the parchment back to him he gave it a quick look-over. The shiny wet ink showed Draco had only changed a few minor details, but the softness around the edge of the parchment suggested he'd been carrying it around in his pocket for some time. He signed where it said 'witness', hoping he hadn't just managed to damn himself, but they'd studied Wizarding Contracts in History and this one had the general look of a Magical Covenant Contract, which should bind Lucius' powers to his agreement and turn him into a Squib if he broke whatever agreement he'd signed on to, although it was impossible to read the fine print in the poor light and the parchment took on a sea-sick tint thanks to the lime green light cast by one of the sheep left behind, now gazing up curiously at Simon.
There was no blood involved (not where he signed, anyway – he wouldn't vouch for the rest), so he was probably safe.
Probably.
Harry didn't really care. If Draco did anything dastardly, Simon would sort him out on Harry's behalf. A wave of exhaustion picked him up. It wasn't the same as the mindless power he'd channelled, but it mimicked the brain-bypassing effect. Floaty, floaty, floaty…
With a pop, Lucius Disapparated, making Simon lift his head and frightening the sheep into cantering off down the lane after the rest of the flock, skipping over a prone Death Eater on the way.
"Hey!" shouted Harry after the moment it took for a. the injustice, and b. the unwiseness, and c. the bloody, flagrant injustice (injustice again, because it was a big issue) of having Lucius Malfoy on the loose sunk into his foggy brain and brought him back to reality. Simon gave a small snort, but in the main looked relieved to have Lucius gone. The ears unflattened.
"Oh, bugger off, ewe," Draco hissed as a last sheep, bold and frantic at the prospect of being alone, pushed past him in shades of magenta and charged off after the green. He straightened. Keeping his cloak covering his face (shielding his features from the sight of any Death Eaters who might be conscious enough to see him, which explained the whispering, Harry realised finally), he turned to Harry. Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him through the nearest gate where they could talk without the Death Eaters overhearing them.
"Are you crazy?" he hissed, stepping back through the gate to make sure he had a good view of the prone bodies in case one of them moved. "He's a" – Harry had to cough to clear his throat, which was still hoarse – "he's a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake."
Draco straightened. "He's my father," he replied coldly. "And I won't let him go to Azkaban."
"But he's –"
"Look," Draco whispered harshly. "I don't care what you think. But I've played a part in knocking off the Dark Lord and I probably won't be able to get any of the glory because my father was stupid enough to get mixed up in all this idiocy. You'll get that, which should satisfy your Gryffindor soul no end." Harry was offended, but before he could object to this injustice Draco continued with: "I'm taking my payment here and now – amnesty for my father. Yes, he's done some terrible things. And no, he's not going to repeat them. He's my father and I love him – I don't care what he's done. I simply have no choice in the matter."
Harry wished he wasn't so tired and that Draco hadn't chosen this moment of all moments to shock him by being candid. Maybe then he could get his argument together. "Father or not, he's been a servant of Voldemort and –"
Draco looked very tired. "Look, Potter. If someone bullied and tortured children and convinced them that the only way they could progress in the world was by joining the Dark Lord, would you hate them?"
"Yes!"
"Then you must hate your father very much."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" But Harry knew, and his back stiffened. So long as Draco didn't say anything like –
"I'm talking about James Potter and Severus Snape. Your father wasn't the main cause of him becoming a Death Eater but he was a contributing factor."
There was a brief, red-misted moment in which Harry Potter nearly punched out Draco Malfoy. Then he came back to his senses, in that moment hating Draco for understanding the truth of the matter so well. (And hating the fact that he himself could still be hurt by the horrible things James had done.) "It's not the same."
Draco sneered at him. "It differs by degree. Truth hurts, doesn't it, Potter?"
Hermione had said once that it was doubtful Draco knew what truth was, let alone value it. She'd missed her mark on that one: Draco, like all good Slytherins, knew that truth was a tool. A weapon.
Harry especially hated it when Draco was right. Or superficially correct enough to stump Harry, who didn't have a counter-argument ready – he knew in his bones that between James Potter and Lucius Malfoy lay a deep chasm which couldn't be bridged by 'it differs by degree'. But now wasn't the time to point that out. Draco loved his father. Harry could understand that. After all that had happened, he still loved James. And Sirius, who had behaved just as badly as James, if not more so. Even when he hated them, he loved them. Harry, like Draco, had no choice in the matter. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, getting most of the numbers in correct sequence, which suggested his brain might be coming back to something that might pass as normal with a good tail wind. "Perhaps. But it doesn't stop us doing what's right."
Draco snorted. "Right and wrong – you think it's so easy. I'll tell you what right is: right is having done some monumentally stupid things and then being able to make up for them. I don't need a crystal ball to tell you that my father is about to spend a great deal of his time fundraising for charities – you can help me pick them out, if it makes you happier. And he'll probably spend the rest of his life working on behalf of a safer, happier Wizarding world where all people – Mudbloods included – can frolic in the sunshine and all that rot. It won't make him happy. But it'll be more appropriate than Azkaban or…" Draco swallowed "… or the Dementor's kiss. That won't achieve anything except to make some stupid people happy in the short term, compared to grudgingly satisfied in the long term if Lucius Malfoy rebuilds their houses and hospitals and all the other little things the poor seem to need. Weigh it up, Potter: short-term euphoria over the long-term necessities of life. But before you decide, think on this – you've got me, Draco Malfoy, ready to let you have all the fame your little ego can handle. Because I don't need it yet. I've got more important things to do with my life."
And when he did decide he was ready to use fame, he was going to be Minister of Magic, Harry knew with a combination of dread, hope and – not that he'd ever tell Draco – amusement. Merlin help them all.
Harry rubbed a hand through his hair. It was sticky with dirt and sweat as well as whatever he'd hit his head against under the bridge. "All right. But you're going to take credit for killing Voldemort if I have to drag you into the Order of Merlin ceremony myse- ow!"
There was a crack of someone Apparating into the paddock. Simon startled, jumping forward and knocking Harry and Draco off balance. Harry recovered his balance just in time for the curse smacking into him from behind. Harry fell to his knees, Draco landing next to him on his side, swearing and retching.
"Traitor…" hissed a ruined voice.
The boys twisted around as best as they could. Harry's body felt like it was stuck to a giant strip of flypaper; Draco looked like he wasn't doing any better. Unfocussed Impediment jinx? Effective enough – Harry's numb hand had dropped his wand. Harry's blood ran cold as, with the last dregs of willpower he owned, he forced his neck to turn and he looked past the twitching tail of Simon. There, staggering forward, ruined hand dangling but whole hand dangerous with a wand, was Bellatrix LeStrange.
She couldn't have been appealing to horses, that or Simon remembered being hit by her Stunning spell by the bridge: Simon sidled and twitched his tail again at the sight of her, flicking away the last of the spell which must have skimmed him, but he couldn't run because Harry had the reins wrapped around his wrist. Glittering dark eyes fixed on the wand, and the horse began to champ at the bit. The black tail swished like satin curtains blowing in the breeze in the silence of the morning.
"Blood traitor." Bellatrix spat onto the ground. With a groan of effort, she limped forward, ignoring the horse. Dark hair whirled in a cloud around her face, her hollow eyes shimmering like stars with pain and grief and madness, and for the first time the resemblance between her and Sirius was remarkable.
"Um, he – he's got me under the Imperius," Draco stuttered. "I'm –"
"Traitor!" She drew back her lips, baring her teeth. Her eyes gleamed with the same mad light that had been in them when she'd tried to kill Sirius in the Ministry. Tears left silvery paths down her cheeks. Her voice rose to a shriek: "You killed everything that matters in the world, you filthy misbegot… Crucio!"
Draco screamed as the spell hit him.
Simon lashed out. The kick caught Bellatrix in the thigh. Harry thought he heard the bone snap, but it must have been his imagination. The muffling spell on the shoes –
Bellatrix screamed as she lifted her wand, collapsing in on herself as her leg buckled. Perhaps she meant to Disapparate rather than kill the horse, but Simon could only interpret her wand in one way.
He kicked out again.
There were a few silver sparks and a definite noise this time: it sounded like a melon being dropped. Bellatrix crumpled to the ground in a heap of black robes, the side of her head caved in. She spasmed, her left arm curling up to her chest, made a few last breathy wheezes, and died.
Simon stamped his feet nervously, ready to let fly with his hooves again.
"Si-" Harry stopped and swallowed. His throat was dry. Which was odd, as his stomach felt like it had just crawled up out of it. "Simon." His voice rasped and scraped. "Good boy, Simon." He stood, using the reins to pull himself up. A bit of bloodied froth fell on his wrist. He ignored it. Hopefully the blood was Voldemort's rather than Simon's. "Draco. Draco."
Draco was lying with his arms curled around him. Harry could relate. Cruciatus left you wanting to hide yourself. Simon was standing with his eyes and nostrils wide. There were brief but furious bursts of chewing at the bit, and more frothy saliva dropped to the ground as the horse glared around into the shadows. The whites of his eyes blazed and yellow lines ran across his body, seemingly probing the black hide for a way inside. Harry patted Simon's neck and the lines calmed and dimmed. "Good boy, Simon." Simon's neck was slick, with the faintest tremor running through the muscle. He'd need to be walked around, a stray thought suggested; if the horse stood around all sweaty like this it could catch a chill. But first things first:
Harry's wand hadn't gone far, neither had Draco's. He knelt and picked them up, careful not to let go of the reins.
It was far too much effort to stand up again. He stayed down on his knees. "Draco. I've got your wand for you. Can you sit up?"
"Back off…"
It didn't sound angry. Harry rocked back onto his heels just in time.
Draco threw up.
Harry concentrated, trying to remember the spell that was good at times like these. "Aquacalix." The goblet that appeared was misshapen but functional. Harry poured some of the water onto the end of his sleeve and held the cup under Draco's face. "Here."
His hands were shaking, but Draco took the cup and sipped. He swilled the water in his mouth and spat, then drank. "Thanks. But isn't a cold cloth for nosebleeds?"
Harry was pressing the wet sleeve against the back of Draco's neck. "I always forget these things."
Still kneeling, Draco sat back. He took his wand from Harry. "Thanks. And as you've just defeated a Dark Lord I think a bit of absent-mindedness can be forgiven. I mean, Dumbledore got made Headmaster of Hogwarts despite the fact he's as dotty as an adolescent leopard. I always thought that was because he snuffed Grindelwald."
"He's going to snuff us out like candles for what we've done…"
"What 'we'? I was under the Imperius, remember?"
Harry managed a dry laugh. He patted Draco on the shoulder. "Come on."
They helped each other to their feet. They made it after a few tries (avoiding the puddle of vomit and was an incentive not to fall). Harry had his arm over Simon's neck, although the horse didn't appreciate the way this hindered its ability to look around unhindered. Draco was hanging on to a stirrup iron and he was even paler after the Cruciatus, with his lips faintly blue.
"D'you think he'd mind if I Summoned my broom?"
"Who? Simon? I think you could Avada Kedavra someone and he wouldn't mind."
"So long as it wasn't you."
"Well… doing me in would hardly get you elected Comrade President. I'm more popular with the Slytherins than Gryffindors these days."
Draco laughed. There was a staccato, reckless edge to it. "That's funny 'cos it's true. Accio broom."
Simon only gave the broom a tired glare as it sailed through the air towards them. He didn't even put his ears back when Harry Stunned a Death Eater who'd made the mistake of twitching.
"Is that Mulciber?" Draco said conversationally.
"Yeah." But Harry wasn't sure. The power of the unicorn blood seemed to have reached the end of its lifetime – apart from a faint shifting of cheekbones and noses, he couldn't see through the masks, and the homogeneous robes blended identities. But he thought that fallen figure was about where Mulciber had fallen.
"So what now?" Draco sounded lost. And peeved about being lost.
Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about matters – it wasn't like he had a road map. Harry unslung the leadrope from around Simon's neck in case the horse wanted to pick at the grass and sank down against the gate post. It was nice and solid and only shook a little bit. Come to think of it, it was probably Harry who was doing the shaking.
"You took quite a fall there," Draco was saying. "You might have a concussion."
Harry rubbed his head. His scar had stopped hurting. Shame about the rest of him, which felt like Beaters had been using him for practice instead of a Bludger. "Maybe. You're not looking too good yourself. That Cruciatus hit you in the chest."
"Yeah." Draco bit his lip. He stared around at the fallen Death Eaters. "How long do you think it'll take those morons in Hogsmeade to get here?"
"Should be soon, I hope."
"Huh. That's what you said under the bridge."
"The clouds have let up." Harry squinted up at the sky. "Big circle of light right above us – that's a hint to even the stupidest."
"Hmm. Could be how Bellatrix found us… hope no more of the stupidest come to investigate." Draco flopped down and would have leaned against Simon's forelegs except the horse stepped away and Draco ended up lying on his back staring up at the circle of sky above, the low clouds moving across the expanding ring of light like they were being viewed through a telescope, speckles of rain falling into his face. This didn't seem to faze him. "Lying down. An unprecedented good move. Let me know if anyone tries to attack us again." He unpinned the cameo and tossed it to Harry. "Here. It's probably spelled to come to the rescue of a Gryffindor."
Harry took the brooch and examined it briefly. "I think it got broken. The eye isn't moving now."
"Huh? Oh. You're right. Wonder when that happened?"
"Barrier storm?"
"Probably." Draco rubbed at his eyes. "God, I'm tired."
"I'm hungry. Can you believe it?"
Draco chuckled wryly. "My stomach's still a bit queasy."
"Yeah. Cruciatus does that to you."
"I must tell Pansy. She's always trying to keep her weight down." Draco smirked. He sat up and leaned forward to survey the road. He plucked at the hood of his cloak nervously, just in case any Death Eaters were looking (they weren't). The sheep were all gone now, but a faint light further down the lane suggested they hadn't wandered far. Simon came closer and nibbled at the hood of his cloak. Draco fiddled with Simon's reins, which had slid sideways into a big loop that was just asking to be stepped on. "Simon will get a chill if we stay out here too long."
"Yeah. But we can't just leave this lot lying around. Someone might come along and set them free. Or a Muggle might drive over them in his car."
"Hmm. Gotta love the irony of that."
Harry considered their options. He wanted to get going. If a sudden influx of fresh Death Eaters showed up he'd leave. He was done with fighting for the day. Week. Year. Rest of his life. Harry yawned. "Any of that Invisibility Potion left?"
"Only a few drops."
Harry paused. Had a Death Eater twitched? He stood and Stunned the figure just in case. The spell left him weak at the knees, and not in a good Luna-just-kissed-me way. He was drained magically as well as everything else. And he couldn't stay around here flicking spells at Death Eaters. Sooner or later one would wake up and play dead just long enough to – "Stupefy!" – damn, that was close… "Accio wand!" … to get the better of him. Harry sighed and wondered if snapping a Death Eater's wand was considered acceptable in polite society. He snapped it anyway, ignoring Draco's quickly quelled appalled stare. "Enough to last me and Simon until we get back to Hogwarts?"
"Simon and I," Draco countered, and at first Harry thought his grammar was being corrected. "I'll take him back. Wouldn't want you handing him over to the Aurors just because they ask nicely. I'll lurk around in the background until I know you're okay, then sneak off. It's a Slytherin thing," he added proudly when Harry gave him a look like Harry was wondering if Draco had hit his head.
Harry tried to get his mental processes back to work. "Do you really want to wait here? You don't have to be invisible for the Aurors. And I could just as easily take Simon back as you."
"No. Any Auror other than Tonks or maybe Moody who comes along will hex me along with everyone else."
"You've got a point." Harry hadn't been overly impressed with Auror intelligence in the past. A lot of them might take the chance to take out old grievances on a Malfoy if Harry wasn't around. But more to the point: "…And you're worried someone will see Simon, aren't you?"
"Well, if they think he's a killer they'll put him down."
Harry snorted, then flicked another Stunner at a Death Eater who'd twitched. "They'll give him a medal when they find out he helped kill Voldemort … and killed Bellatrix LeStrange all by himself."
"… Yeah, maybe…"
Harry hadn't had such a blow to the head he couldn't see where Malfoy was heading. "You're worried his owner will show up."
"No, I'm – yeah. Well, if a wizard owns him and Simon gets famous, he'll be gone before you can say 'Expelliarmus'."
"Hmm." It wasn't quite theft if they accidentally kept Simon in a quiet, out-of-the-way place, Harry told himself. Simon needed some time to relax after tonight. "True." He rested his arm across the saddle and scratched Simon's mane. The horse sighed appreciatively and turned his head to sniff at Harry's hand.
"Remember what that painting told us: if we go through the barrier we'll lose Simon."
"She might have been mistaken." Although she'd been spot-on about trusting the unicorns.
"With all due respect to her, that's what I'm hoping to make happen."
Harry nodded. "I'm not keen on waiting here with a bunch of Death Eaters all by myself. Maybe if you left as soon as the Aurors got here…"
"They'll want to take Simon into custody and study him. It's not every Muggle creature that defeats a Dark Lord. The Death Eaters will probably tell the Aurors about him, but if he's not here then you can say he was some sort of ultra-spell you created from the, um, backlash of magic you got through your scar plus the, uh, potion, and then we can work out a deal that allows us to keep Simon. How'd that be?"
"That could work," Harry said, his mind reeling at the lengths Draco was prepared to go to keep a horse. Work out a deal? What the hell sort of a deal did he think he was going to work out with Aurors when it was going to be a chancy thing just keeping his own father out of Azkaban? Best not to argue with Malfoy when he had that mildly deranged look in his eyes and his pale hair was standing up in tufts around his dirt-encrusted face. Besides, Draco had said 'allows us', and Harry wasn't going to give up Simon without a fight, so they were flying on the same team for this. "What about the kicked-in head?"
They stared at Bellatrix's corpse.
Draco swallowed and looked away first. "It's… I didn't know heads could do that…" he said in a thin voice.
Harry regarded him. She'd been his aunt. There must be some sort of feeling other than hatred there, on Draco's side if there hadn't been on Bellatrix's. "Dark magic I didn't quite understand hit her."
"Yeah. I guess it did." Draco patted Simon's shoulder. "The dark magic you don't quite understand is getting cold."
"We can't let him stand around much longer. But you look a bit peaky. Maybe I should take him back… Tonks must have told the Aurors you're on our side…"
"I look a bit peaky? Check your mirror. You're just this side of being charged for necromancy." Draco snorted. "And yeah, like Tonks telling the Aurors anything is going to help me. Two words, Potter. Ingrained. Prejudice. No. I'll manage. I can sit on a broom." He looked nervous. "What if they come and see him and don't listen to you? They might take Simon just for being with me." He ran the back of his hand across his eyes. "I should leave now… but then Death Eaters might… Oh, for Merlin's sake – I can't think…"
"Yeah, me neither." Harry didn't want to give up Simon any more than Draco did. If someone was really upset about losing him then they'd hear about it. If not, well… Harry, Draco and Luna could work something out. Maybe Stephanie had it wrong: they were outside the barrier and they hadn't lost Simon yet. Maybe if they were sneaky they could work out a way of keeping the horse. "How about if you wait, um, kind of in the shadows with the Invisibility Potion ready, like? That way you can sneak off when they're busy arresting everyone."
"Sounds good. As soon as anyone Apparates in I can put the potion on me and Simon." He tugged at his lower lip and frowned worriedly at the Death Eaters. "I don't want this lot running around making trouble for me – best if they're locked up. And if you're visible you can take any hexes they dish out while I hex them from behind."
"I think that stupidity is wearing off."
Draco smirked. "It is, isn't it? Another reason why I should stay – it never made much of a difference to you."
"Thanks."
"Any time. Well, there we go. It's best I don't leave you until we're sure you're going to be safe." Draco grimaced.
Harry totally agreed with that. He also thought Draco was being rather brave by his standards, risking Simon this way. He wasn't quite stupid enough to say so, in case Draco thought Harry was implying he was a Gryffindor and stormed off in a temper. He shook the brooch and sighed. "How can we get the Aurors here sooner? They must be looking for us, but in all this darkness…"
The darkness might be dissipating now that Voldemort was dead, but too slowly for his liking. If anyone was up on a broom looking for them, they wouldn't be able to make them out in the murk.
Draco bent over Simon's foot. "Damn. That shoe took some hoof with it when it got lost." He waved his wand and the remaining silver shoes glimmered softly then faded. "Sod it. The muffling spell is shot to hell. Might last back to Hogwarts, but not beyond today. And that bare hoof is going to be trouble."
"Will he be okay to get back?"
"I'll take shortcuts through the fields as far as Hogsmeade, then the road is pretty smooth."
"Are you seriously going to walk all that way?"
"I'll lead him off my broom. I'd let you hang onto it, but you having my broom would be a dead giveaway that I'm here somewhere. Come on, old fellow," he said to Simon. He pulled his hood up and led the horse through the gate – the gate, Harry noticed at last, was set into the slate wall Harry had jumped Simon over with arguable success. It had lovely low wooden rails on either side of it, and if he'd been able to steer Simon just a little they'd have jumped it instead. Oh well, Harry thought – maybe if he hadn't fallen off Simon, Voldemort wouldn't have died. No use second guessing these things, not when one's brain wasn't fit enough to make a reasonable first guess. He followed Draco and Simon down the narrow lane, a little way past a few Death Eaters and towards another gate set into a lower version of the slate wall.
The paddock on the other side of it, he remembered, was on the way to Hogsmeade. "Didn't you say it was a sheep paddock?" he asked softly, mindful of the potential open ears of the Death Eaters.
He couldn't see Draco's expression but suspected a smirk was involved. Draco answered in an artificially hoarse voice (a hoarse voice which was unfortunately easy to hear his identity behind – but if all the Death Eaters were as stunned as they appeared it wouldn't be an issue): "It was. I found another gate a little further on towards the farmhouse. Wasn't hard to get the sheep through."
The unshod hoof made an oddly organic clopping noise against the road, somewhere between wood and hollow rubber, while the other three which still had the silver shoes were silent. Harry stayed close and they spoke in whispers as they passed the Death Eaters, keeping their wands at the ready.
"Mind you keep an eye out for any alpacas."
Draco managed a small smile. "I will. As soon as I've put the potion on me and Simon I'll give the bottle to you and if it's Death Eaters you can put the last of it on and meet me and Simon by the gate."
"Sounds like a plan. Where the hell are they?" Harry grumbled, tired and a long way past fed up. Professionalism in the Wizarding world had a long way to go.
"Let's see if we can hurry them up…" Draco lifted his wand, keeping a careful eye on Simon, who had been severely provoked this morning. The horse gave him a doubtful look, but didn't attack. "Right. Attention. Something to bring the Aurors. Get ready in case they're Death Eaters. I've been wanting to try this one… Argenhippus Ramp!"
The spell flew into the sky over their heads and exploded.
A gigantic silver horse reared against the dawn, lighting up the clouds. It shook out its mane and Harry could almost hear its triumphant neigh. For a moment it danced on its hind legs, then it flew apart in a galaxy of twinkling magical sparks.
"Cool," Harry breathed.
Draco beamed proudly, his teeth very white against the rest of his grubby face. "That went better than expected."
"Well, it's going to have the Authorities down on us. Either that, or a Ferrari club wondering where the rally's being held."
"What?"
"Later. Go." The first pop of Apparition had just come from the other side of the wall. Simon raised his head with the weary resignation of a horse who'd done its dash and was not looking forward to dealing with more wand-wielding idiots.
"We'll be just down the lane, okay? By the gate. Just in case…" Draco tilted his head at the assortment of pole-axed Death Eaters and lifted his eyebrows in a meaningful way. "… You know. Trouble."
He jumped on his broom and sprinkled the Invisibility Potion on himself and the horse. The spell transferred itself to his broom, although the charred ends of the bristles were still visible. Harry made a mental note to tell Elmsworthy the potion didn't work on burnt material.
"That stuff's only good on Simon for a few minutes," Harry warned.
"Tell me about it. But that's all we need. Right, Simon?"
Harry couldn't see Simon, but it wasn't too far-fetched to suppose the tired horse ignored that last comment.
"Here's the bottle."
Harry held out his hand and felt the invisible bottle pressed into his palm. "I'll fetch him some peppermints on the way back. Promise."
"Just so long as you get those Chocolate Frogs you owe me."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake… all right. Now bugger off."
There was no sound other than that fading clop of the unshod hoof, but an eddy in a drift of misty rain and a large hoofprint suddenly appearing in the cloak of one of the Death Eaters showed that Draco and Simon were leaving in the arranged direction. More pops and cracks – it sounded like a bowl of rice bubbles – started up in the surrounding fields. There was cursing as someone Apparated into the branches of a tree. The voice sounded a lot like Fred or George's. Harry turned to see if anyone had Apparated behind him.
Another pop as the air opened up right behind Harry made him jump and spin back, swearing, a curse on his tongue if this person was idiotic enough to be wearing black robes –
"Wotcher, Harry," said a grinning Tonks.
Another soft pop, and Moody was on Harry's left. His unmagical eye widened at the sight of all the downed Death Eaters. The magical one spun briefly before fixing on a point in the lane. He scowled at the gate, then gave a small, grim smile and a nod, and turned back to Harry. "Well done, lad."
Weariness hit Harry like a plank. He tucked the bottle of Invisibility Potion into his robes before it could reappear and become a conversation point – Elmsworthy wouldn't thank him for having his pre-patented invention confiscated by the Ministry. He barely noticed the gate Moody had been interested in opening and closing, or the scorched bristles speeding up to the speed of Simon's trot, which suggested Draco and Simon were taking the opportunity to make a quiet but rapid exit before they were blocked from sight by the wall.
Babble of voices as the Aurors (and Fred and George) took in the spectacle of all the downed Death Eaters and wondered about the bloody mess smeared across the road. Moody was running his wand over Harry. Harry wondered if he was meant to object to this, but then Moody gestured to someone behind him.
Someone put an arm across his shoulders and turned him away from the hubbub. "Come on, Harry," said Tonks in a soft voice. "You need an industrial strength cup of tea."
"Would it help?"
"It'd help me." Tonks smiled reassuringly, but Harry caught the worried look she shot over his head at Moody. "Let's give the busy Auror team space for a bit, let them think they're doing their jobs."
"Don't I need to stay here?"
Another quick wordless exchange with Moody. "No, mate," she said. "Come away now."
"Okay."
It was over.
His life had a long-term now.
ooOOoo