Chapter Seventeen: Battle Joined
Harry watched the dragon approach with trepidation. He knew he had to do something. Relying on his years of training, he rolled into a crouch and evaded the jet of fire the dragon sent at him, and raised his wand while doing so, shouting out the first spell that came to mind. "Expelliarmus!"
His force of the spell sent the dragon catering into the stands, but he felt exhausted after performing the spell. He had put everything into the spell and now, gasping, drained of energy, he could barely stand on his rubbery feet. He looked toward Albus Dumbledore, who gracefully rose to his feet from the stands.
Dumbledore did not even break a sweat as he raised his wand and twirled it in a circular motion, sending a ring of fire toward the dragon. The dragon dodged the fire, and moved back in toward Harry.
Harry knew he wouldn't be able to dodge this next jet of fire. His clothes were already singed and he had burns on his arms. He tried to move out of the way, but couldn't and could only watch helplessly as the dragon came at him, eyes glowing with hate and teeth jagged, mouth an opening of a volcano.
He tried to move but he just couldn't, he was frozen still in both fear and weakness. He had never faced a dragon before, a wizard yes he could handle but a full grown dragon with a bloodlust just for him? How could anyone handle that?
He looked at Dumbledore but what he saw shocked him, the old man was just watching him, watching what Harry would do in this situation. Did Dumbledore want Harry dead? Harry felt a stirring of anger fill his gut and at that moment he would have avada kedavra'd Dumbledore if a dragon wasn't in the way.
Instead as the jet of fire came, he raised his wand and cast, "Protego!" while curling into a small ball. A jet of blue flame hit his shield and for a moment his shield seemed to hold out against dragon fire. Then the shield shuddered and broke apart, and some of the flame leapt out to lick Harry's body with scalding burns. Harry screamed in pain, and cast an anguished look at the stunned witches and wizards who simply watched this affair like it was a quidditch game.
Well they wanted a show didn't they? He had Merlin's Wand with him in his back pocket and he knew he could probably save his life if he used it. But if he did use it everyone would know he had such a powerful artefact and it might get taken away from him.
The dragon moved in an upward spiral and then leapt down like a hawk hunting a mouse. Harry panicked and decided his life was worth more than a measly wand. He raised Merlin's Wand in the air, the crystal glow of it reflected the sun. He felt a shiver run down his spine and on his skull as he felt the power of Merlin's magic infuse his very being, all his cells in his body became saturated with power. He felt light headed almost like he was floating in the air, weightless and totally strengthened and rejuvinated.
He cast another wry glance at Dumbledore and saw that the old man had a raised eyebrow of surprise on his face, and a gleam of recognition in twinkling blue eyes.
So Dumbledore wanted to see what he could do with the wand, well he would show him. He would cast some spells, evade the dragon and get out of here. Hogwarts was too dangerous a place for him, too much work to keep a student disguise and to mask his true power, his true ambitions. What had he wanted from this god forsaken castle anyways? Some friends? A power base?
To kill Albus?
Well he still wanted that but he decided he would have to find a better way to do it, being here in Hogwarts made him a target as the dragon so dangerously proved.
He jabbed the wand in the air toward the dragon and called out a hissing spell, "Ageoso!" The spell launched a stream of liquid silver, sizzling hot, toward the dragon in an arc.
The dragon evaded the stream of silver, and shot his fire at it, melting it into a thick smoke that made many people in the stands start to cough and puke.
Good they aren't watching me, he thought, less chance of them recognizing this artefact. Though Dumbledore already knows.
He cast another glance at Dumbledore while running toward the center of the quidditch pitch where he had left his broom. Dumbledore had cast the bubble head charm and was drawing runes in the air with his wand. Harry wondered what spell Dumbledore would attempt and decided, he didn't want to be here to find out.
Obviously Renaud the Assassin was still after him. He didn't even know who Renaud worked for and how he had gotten control of a dragon. But Renaud was a formidable opponent, one Harry would have to fight with all his skill so he couldn't be distracted by the doings of the Hogwarts population, Dumbledore included.
Harry used Merlin's Wand to send spell after spell in an effortless show of power as he raced to the broom. The dragon was temporarily distracted by the sheer number of spells Harry sent toward the creature, and so allowed Harry to get on his broom. He raised the broom toward the air, pointing it at the sky and flew into the blue velvet, into the clouds, far above until Hogwarts was only a speck on the ground.
He turned to look at the castle he was leaving behind and saw only a dragon following him. Perhaps he could lead the dragon toward the students, then Dumbledore would be forced to deal with the creature.
He raced back in a long jagged arc and came at full speed on his broom toward the Gryffindor house. That was Dumbledore's old house. He smirked at his cunning, and decided the hat was right in sorting him to Slytherin. Dumbledore would feel an obligation to protect his former house students and thus Harry would be left alone to continue on his way, perhaps travel the world.
Already he was thinking of his future travel plans while a gigantic dragon followed him dogged on his heels, thinking only to kill him! He had to grin at his audacity.
Merlin's Wand was making him arrogant and full of himself he decided. He had never drew on the power so fully as right now, so much so that he felt loaded with power and had to turn toward the dragon to let some of it out in the form of a spell.
"Avada Kedavra!" He cast, channelling his hatred for Dumbledore into the spell. The green killing curse went straight for the Dragon.
At the same time Dumbledore struck, casting his own spell. A blue mist filled the stadium and suddenly the dragon was surrounded by a pale golden light just as Harry's killing curse fired toward the dragon.
The killing curse reflected off the dragon's shield and hit Harry straight in the chest. Everything went black. He let go of Merlin's Wand while falling, and suddenly felt empty and bereft of all his power. He felt like he was going to die, and his heart stopped beating for a few seconds as a sheer ache filled his chest, drifting to his scar.
He fell to the ground with a thud and heard only screaming. Opening his eyes he saw the dragon charge down at him with blinding speed, claws sheared toward Harry's body ready to rip him apart.
He just looked on at the danger, and knew he was spent, knew he would die. He couldn't even remember any spell to perform even though he had his original wand in his left hand. He tried to recall his animagus transformation but the killing curse must have addled his brains or something.
So he closed his eyes and tried to feel as if everything was alright. Death is only a long sleep, he told himself as the dragon struck his body.
It was pain beyond pain, such a dull pain and at the same time a sharp pain. It did not even compare to his killing curse as he felt the dragon's claws sinking into his gut, as he felt more than saw the wave of fire the dragon sent toward his face.
Burning face, burning flesh, burning hair. He screamed and knew no more, knew that he had to survive, had to live, the prophecy demanded it.
He was suddenly enfused with a glowing energy, a leathery feeling of vitality and power that was both the same and different from Merlin's Wand. Where was he drawing this power from? He realized it instantly, because it seemed that by sucking on Voldemort's strength from his scar he was also leeching on the Dark Lord's intelligence and talents.
He started to whisper fiercely in parseltongue, whispering and barely knowing what he was saying except it had to do with an exotic ritualistic spell he had read about in Slytherin's diaries fifty years ago, or perhaps Tom Riddle had.
He couldn't tell. Then he stopped the whispering and the flame dissapeared. He opened his eyes to see the dragon fall back and then drop dead on the ground, a thousand wounds across the dragon's body. They looked like slashes made by swords.
Harry rose to his feet, and when the danger had passed - or when he felt it so perhaps - the energy dissapered and he once again felt weak, hurt, wounded. He couldn't leave Hogwarts in this condition. His face was burnt and he had a hole - or perhaps a dozen claw holes and claw slashes - in his body.
He had to go the hospital wing. Through singed eyelids he looked at the world around him and marvelled at the fact that he could still see. The audience, once so vividly watching him battle a dragon, were lying on the ground, or puking their guts or coughing up blood. That silvery smoke must have really damaged their lungs. It was a good thing he hadn't breathed any of it. Dumbledore was helping everyone around him, casting healing spells. When Harry looked at the old man, the old man caught his eye and he was instantly transported in his mind where he felt Dumbledore digging around, trying to discern the source of Harry's knowledge.
Harry tried to push him out but they held eye contact and Dumbledore was a far better, far more superior legilimens than Harry. Memories flashed before Harry's eyes, of Mr. White training him to be an assassin, him learning potions and spells and spending torturous seconds under the cruciatus curse when he was too slow, too weak to learn to Mr. White's satisfaction. He felt his memories bleed out of him to the forefronts of his mind, for the plucking by Dumbledore... and someone else.
He caught sight of Snape from the peripheral, helping Dumbledore gain access to his mind. They were both looking at him, Snape opening his mental walls while Dumbledore peered through, roughly taking in information with no delicacy, no softness, only a cold efficiency that made Harry feel violated.
He wanted to fight back but he couldn't, he didn't know how and he was too weak to do so anyways. All the fighting and the magic had drained Harry of his energy and the wounds on his body made it hard for him to stay awake. Yet Dumbledore and Snape were forcing him to stay awake, forcing him to reveal each and every mission he had ever done under Mr. White's command, ending with the order to...
To kill Albus Dumbledore.
Albus's eyes widened, and the connection wavered. Harry struck back, enraged and angry beyond all belief and hit the two legilimens with all the force of a hammer. They reeled at the blow but held on to the connection, holding his mind open to be read like a book.
He tried to hit them again mentally but found that he couldn't. He was trapped in box, a metal box, and he was shrouded in darkness. The box was closing in on him and he couldn't breathe.
It dissapeared when he felt danger arising out of him again, danger and the fear that he was going to die, just like with the dragon.
He drew energy from the scar once again, and started to whisper in parseltongue, whispering furiously and fast. He felt his burns heal, and his body heal itself from the grevious wounds. But his mind was still open. They were watching him, watching him draw strength from Voldemort.
They were watching him like a cat watches a mouse. He wanted to hurt them, but the energy dissapeared, the connection with the scar was broken -- by force. Dumbledore did it, just after Harry healed himself and was about to strike back... seconds seemed to be hours and in a few minutes Dumbledore and Snape had seen everything, all his secrets, even Merlin's Wand. He knew he would have to kill them both, and soon, if he wanted to maintain his privacy and whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, if he wanted to live.
There was a war coming, he knew that, he knew Voldemort was not yet gone. But he had weakened Voldemort by drawing on his strength.
And he was sure the blow he had dealt to Snape and Dumbledore would hurt like a nasty hangover. But it wasn't enough! He wanted rip them apart, cast the crucio on them and watch them scream beneath his feet.
But he couldn't, he could only be still and watch in agony as they rifled through his mind like kids in a candy store, watching each and every memory that pertained to Harry's childhood with a painful intensity.
He wanted to scream, but he was denied that release as well, held into a box and trapped like prey.
His time would come he knew, he would only have to bide his time until he could strike back...
Until he could return to his original mission... to kill Albus Dumbledore.