Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any original plots, ideas, and characters are mine.
AN:
Thanks for all the reviews, they were a nice surprise and cheered me up! ;)
Hope you enjoy this chappie too!
Part I: Chapter 48
Everything around them burst into such pandemonium and chaos that Harry could hardly comprehend all that was happening.
The floor under their feet was shaking as if being wrecked by an earthquake, the walls and high-arched ceiling of the entrance hall was trembling again and again, as if the fists of some immense Giant was pounding against the building, each stroke debilitating the wards, whilst Harry understood that it had to be Grindelwald's magic slamming against the layers upon layers of shields of the Ministry, because the glowing wards were breaking like glass panes that were being punched, webs of cracks appearing where they were being hit, spreading and becoming wider and wider, running with lines of greyish magic.
Harry suddenly realized he was seeing the Dark Lord's magic, the color of tarnished silver, bright grey and glowing, whiplashing and pounding, until the wards crumbled like shards falling from the skies, turning to dust before hitting the trembling floors.
The masses of people inside were screaming, some in panic, hundreds of others, those who had decided to never yield, madly running all around, casting spells after spells, trying to fortify the wards, to prevent them from being utterly destroyed.
Harry abruptly cried out as he and Tom were swept in the frantic crowd, jounced to all sides, their hands breaking apart, until he could no longer see his brother who seemed to have been swallowed in the mass of people.
He desperately pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffing it in his satchel, so that his brother would be able to see and find him, as he wildly looked around for him as well, as Ulysses hissed like a kettle, as layers upon layers of wards finally fell, until the insides of the main hall glowed only with some sole ancient ward, powerful before his eyes but clearly not significant enough to halt the Dark Lord or make him bother with destroying it too, because just then, immense spheres, looking like gigantic cannonballs made of flames, blasted into the building as if being shot from outside, piercing the walls, leaving huge holes behind as they rolled into the main hall, crushing countless people as many others were burned alive by the flames - the smell of burning flesh, the sight of people ablaze, looking like human pyres, and the screams of agony were horrifying, so much so that at first Harry could do nothing but stare with wide, terrified eyes.
Terror which turned paralyzing the next second, as the immense spheres of flames cracked like eggs, monstrous creatures pouring out of each and every one of them, instantly leaping at the nearest witch or wizard, like mindless beasts with jagged, rotten teeth, ripping flesh and snarling, moving so quickly and with such unnatural speed and strength that they were blurs.
"HARRY!" bellowed Tom, who suddenly appeared out of nowhere from among the crowd of frantically battling people, reaching him, his expression wild. "INFERI!"
Of course they were, Harry knew well. They were Grindelwald's new breed of Inferi -the families of those who had ever fought against the Dark Lord in other conquered Ministries having been turned to such- not sluggish and weak as ordinary Inferi of old, but insanely savage and brutal.
He had already drawn out his gun, his heart beating so frenziedly inside his chest that felt as if it was about to jump out of his mouth, because with only a gun as weapon, they stood no chance against such creatures as he saw, so rabidly feasting on the victims that had already fallen, tearing throats, entrails, and flesh apart, moving so mind-boggling fast that they were flashes.
"Move!" Harry suddenly roared as one of those blurs leaped at Tom, as he rushed and plowed into his brother just in time to get him out of the way, making them land painfully on the floor, but he kept going, he rolled until he was crouching on his knees, until he wildly took aim and pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through the flaps of rotten flesh of the Inferius, making it stumble backwards for a moment, and it was just then, as Harry was able to get a glimpse of it, that he went completely pale.
He recognized it, from the pictures in the Daily Prophet of so long ago, from Felicity and Felix's grief-ridden descriptions, because this Inferius still had some clumps of red hair and a wide belly that was slit open, drooping loosely in torn, ravaged flaps of withered flesh, because it had once been withchild, and it was no more, and he didn't want to know what had become of the baby that should have been there, if none of it had ever happened.
"Nettie Prewett," Harry choked out, his eyes filling with tears at the horror of it, just as she instantly recovered and made a lunge at him, snarling fiercely and mindlessly, just as he dove to a side and kept firing the gun without thinking about it twice, piercing her again and again.
She staggered, and fell, fetid black blood oozing from her wounds, but was up to her feet instants later, again and again, no matter how many times Harry shot her, until his gun clicked and clicked and no more bullets came of it.
"Ulysses, help!" he yelled frantically, as Tom shouted and violently pulled him to a side to save him from another lunge, as they staggered and slipped on a pool of someone else's blood, as the screams around them heightened, the gruesome wet sounds of the creatures feasting, the cries of agony and horror meshed with the roars and bellows of curses and spells cast.
His Scorcrup had jumped out of Harry's clothes before Harry had even finished voicing his desperate plea, and was a black blur in the air as he transformed, as he struck Nettie Prewett in whichever part of her rotting body he could, his scorpion's stinger flashing.
Yet, as Harry and Tom regrouped, Tom breathing hard as he brusquely took Harry's gun and hastily reloaded it with the bullets from the ammunition box Harry had stolen from the Leader of the Norwegian Army deserters, as Harry crouched by his brother's side, panting loudly, he saw that his familiar's attacks were being ineffectual.
The Inferius that had once been Nettie Prewett didn't fall on the floor convulsing with froth burbling from her rotten lips, her veins didn't bulge with poison. Instead, she merely staggered a bit, before attacking Ulysses with long, sharp, jagged fingernails resembling claws.
"Petrify her!" urged Harry wildly, realizing that Ulysses' lethal venom could not kill something that was already dead, as his Scorcrup once more managed to jump away from her just in time before the Inferius could shred him to slices.
Ulysses did so, latching himself on her decaying neck and striking once, twice, thrice, as she snarled and savagely batted him away so hard and with such unnatural strength and swiftness that the Scorcrup was no match in that instance, being propelled through the air, harshly smashing against a wall, letting out a pained yelp and then feeble whine as he crumbled to the floor.
Harry cried out in utter horror and anguish, and darted through creatures and wizards as he rushed to his Scorcrup's side before Tom could halt him, his brother roaring angrily as he left him behind.
Little Ulysses was still breathing as Harry gently picked him up in his arms, but it was certain that he was badly injured, that some bones must have cracked and broken, because the Scorcrup could only let out soft yipping sounds of pain as Harry protectively tucked him inside his clothes as carefully as he could manage.
"Watch out, Harry, you fool!" yelled Tom's voice furiously, just as a series of booming gunshot sounds reverberated and Harry swirled around to see that his brother was attempting to take down Nettie Prewett once more, firing the gun again and again, with a rather bad aim, at the Inferius who seemed to not be even affected by Ulysses' other type of venom.
Nevertheless, it was enough to give Harry the chance to swiftly scuttle, dash, and dart until he managed to reach his brother, wheezing and panting so loudly that he felt he couldn't take another breath of air.
His despair only grew as he realized that the Ministry had turned into a massacre, a brutal carnage, a mass extermination, as Inferi slaughtered and fed, so many wizards and witches overwhelmed by the sheer numbers that as much as they fought back they had fallen as prey to the feasting creatures.
Which meant, Harry realized in the next second, that the Inferi that were done with some victims, were now looking for more, that there were three of them who had gotten a whiff of his and Tom's smell, who were now rabidly leaping and bounding towards them, added to Nettie Prewett who seemed outright immortal, the damned thing.
Tom was pale, fumbling and trying to reload the gun once more, and just when Harry felt utterly hopeless, just as he thought that Death was certain and inevitable as he gazed around with mind-numbed horror, a sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
It was so simple, so logical, that he didn't know how Tom or he hadn't discovered it before: that spells had been cast all around them, and yet no letter from the English Ministry of Magic had popped into existence. That long minutes before, witches and wizards had cast 'Accio Invisibility Cloaks' inches away from them, and nothing had happened either. That there was still an ancient ward shimmering before his eyes all around the main hall, discarded as inconsequential by the Dark Lord, certainly, but still functioning on some level.
"We can use magic!" Harry gasped out, snapping his head around to stare at his brother.
"What?" hissed out Tom harshly, glaring at him.
"Our Traces aren't working here!" Harry cried out joyfully, as he wildly gestured to the ward that glowed before his eyes. "Ancient magical wards interfere with the magic of the Trace Charm – like magic interfering with muggle electricity. Hogwarts isn't an exception to the Trace – the Trace wasn't made to be automatically disabled just in the case of Hogwarts, because there's no need for that! It's interfered with – it has always been blocked by Hogwarts' wards! The answer has always been ancient powerful wards!"
Tom stared at him, before his expression blazed with sudden understanding, then contorting with glee and triumph. "Brilliant, little brother!"
His brother's dark blue eyes were glowing with such contentment, and such show of appreciation for Harry, as Tom had never displayed before, that Harry felt himself swelling with pride and warm, fuzzy feelings.
He could count in one hand and a few fingers the scarce times Tom had ever showed any affection for him so openly, and his brother's expression just then was certainly a first.
Tom was smiling at him, and his brother had never smiled in his life. Granted, it was a tad twisty and curly, but still, it was more smile than smirk.
"We battle Dark with Dark – we battle Inferi with FIRE!" snarled Tom then, as Harry understood what his brother meant, as they both rose to his feet as if one, as Tom tossed the gun away like yesterday's rubbish, and they both whipped out their wands instantly.
Indeed, Harry understood everything, because his brother had been right all along, Magic was Might in such circumstances, Dark Arts could only be battled with Dark Arts in a war such as this, and Tom had been right to make them relentlessly pour over, study, and practice all those Dark Arts curses from Grindelwald's Durmstrang textbook till the one of Grade Four, until they dropped from exhaustion.
And if Tom implied that only fire-wielding curses would work against Inferi, Harry took his word for it, because it was his brother who always spent all his spare time secretively ensconced in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts' library, who constantly researched and taught himself such matters as all sorts of Dark Arts and about such creatures as Inferi.
And Harry knew how, because Tom had always been an excellent teacher, mercilessly strict and demanding, yet patient too, and thanks to his brother, he had mastered most curses that could be found in Grindelwald's textbooks.
It had all taken a split second, as they brandished their wands just as Nettie Prewett and the other three Inferi were upon them, as they both knew which curse was best to cast and deftly performed the wand movements and roared as if one, "Flamma Flagellium!"
Cords of fire erupted from their wands, as if transformed in a whip, as they struck and lashed against the incoming Inferi, again and again, as the beasts' rotten flesh sizzled and burned, as the creatures let out ear-splitting inhuman screeches that would surely haunt his nightmares, as he and Tom cast the curse time and again at one creature or the other, bit by bit burning every part of the Inferi as the creatures tried to escape in mindless fear.
They were both panting loudly and haggardly, as they kept lassoing and trapping the Inferi with the cords of fire shooting from their wands, lashing against the creatures, making them finally combust and turn to ashes. But it wouldn't be enough.
Harry blanched, as he saw more beasts taking notice, finishing with some corpse they had been feasting on and turning around to rush towards them like rabid blurs of jagged teeth and claws.
"Use your magic, brother!" Harry yelled desperately. "Your accidental magic – your wandless magic! Let it pour, let it free!"
Tom shot him a brief glance at that, yet seemed to understand as he turned to face the Inferi once again.
Harry felt it suddenly, his scar feeling as if it was splitting open with his brother's fury and murderous rage, with the vicious violence and enjoyment, as he glimpsed Tom's magic for the second time in his life, like in the cottage, a hazy mantle of dark, midnight blue magic throbbing and pulsing all around Tom. Only this time, apparently, his brother knew it was there even if Tom only felt and didn't see it, because this time, the magic seemed to be controlled, seemed to know what do to, as it lashed out, striking at Inferi.
Harry didn't know exactly what Tom was willing his magic to do, only that it appeared to work, as Inferi staggered backwards and let out pained shrieks. However, something else was happening too.
Something in his scar seemed to be burbling upwards in giddy enjoyment, rising and pulling, pulling at something within that seemed to answer back, to respond to Tom's show of magic. And Harry felt it, something swirling inside, and rushing through his veins, sizzling and hot, and caressing his skin.
Before his eyes, he seemed to be glowing in warm, red magic, and he became breathless and marveled at its beauty, at its existence and display, because he somehow knew that this was his magic, and he had never seen it before, never suspected or dared to hope that such thing was possible in him, like in Tom.
Yet, as much as he glorified in it, and as much as he tried, he didn't know what to do with it. It had been Tom who had been able to control his accidental magic when they had been children, who had made Dennis Bishop 'hurt', who had hanged Billy Stubbs' Puffy the Bunny from the rafters, but not Harry.
Harry had only apparated once, when fleeing from his childhood's tormentor and bully, and had only made the windows of Mrs. Sharpe's office explode, the shards piercing Mr. Jenkins' face when the brute had been savagely canning Tom. But he had no idea how he'd done those things, no idea how such wandless magic worked, and didn't have the time to figure it out either.
Thus, as Tom used not only his wand but magic too in whichever way he could, Harry limited himself to just using his wand, casting the same dark curse again and again.
Desist, surrender, or your lives will be crushed…
"Damn him!" choked out Harry, as the voice and thought wrecked through his mind with thundering, reverberating, incapacitating force, as it made him fall his to his hands and knees, losing grip and sight of his wand.
And just as another Inferius made a lunge at him, as he was only able to push against it with his feet, with his knees bent against his chest as he laid splayed on the floor, with the creature's maw of jagged teeth inches away from his face, snarling and spitting at him as it tried to rip out his face or throat, just as Harry's hand blindly fumbled on the floor, searching for his wand yet suddenly touching something else, steely and hard, just as he knew what it was and grasped the gun Tom had discarded and was able to blast a hole in the Inferius' head, being completely splattered with the creature's rotten bits of flesh, something happened.
A loud trill sounded, echoed and rose in a hope-bringing, beautiful song, as a burst of fire seemed to explode in the middle of the main hall, a group of wizards and witches suddenly appearing.
Harry gawked, as he recognized the magnificent bird, who had saved him once.
It was Fawkes who had appeared in a blaze of flames, with a bunch of wizards and witches hanging from his tail's feathers, before they dropped on the floor and immediately began to cast spells in perfect coordination, certainly knowing what they were doing by casting such as 'Igneo' and 'Flameo' against the Inferi, while Fawkes vanished and reappeared again, bringing more and more wizards and witches, all of them who began helping the Norwegian and French Aurors still alive, who roared in hope and gratitude, as they all turned to push the Inferi backwards, to herd and corner them with fire spells.
The newcomers were cloaked, and clearly wearing glamours, since Harry didn't recognize a single one of them yet knew that one had to be Aurora Bones. They were the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry's green eyes grew wide, with such relief that he was nearly breathless, and he glanced around, joy and hope rising in him.
Yet... such emotions were crushed as he realized that someone was missing.
Dumbledore was not amongst them.
Welcome, at long last…
Grindelwald's voice echoed in his head, sounding delighted and triumphant, as if it was this what he had been waiting for, as if he had known beforehand hand or counted on such people making an appearance, as if it had all been a ploy to ambush them.
However, the next words thundered through Harry's mind, enraged and spitting.
Hiding in your precious Hogwarts, Albus?
It was followed by an abrupt bout of crowing, amused laughter.
You disappoint me, Albus… Do you fear temptation?
"Accio wand!" wheezed Harry frantically, because he just knew nothing good was going to happen, because he knew everything was going to take a turn for the worse, if that was even possible given the carnage all around him.
Are you so weak, so scared of succumbing to what I'm willing to offer you?
Just as Harry's wand slapped into his hand, Tom appeared, pulling him up to his feet, before urgently tearing out the Invisibility Cloak from Harry's satchel, pulling it over them.
"We must hide!" hissed out Tom, apparently the same alarmed thoughts having crossed his mind as in Harry's. "We must make our escape now, and hide!"
You want it and I know where it is… With it, you could have her back. Don't you want her back, Albus?
"Yes!" panted out Harry, as he tucked the gun under his belt, just as Tom took a hold of his hand and they made a mad dash towards the corridor they had tried to reach before, away from the main hall, leading to the depths of the Ministry, both with wands firmly gripped in their hands.
As the Order of the Phoenix and the remaining Aurors kept battling the Inferi, destroying one after the other, Fawkes' beautiful trill echoed loudly all around.
Are you hearing me, through the bond with your phoenix, Dumbledore? Will you see through your phoenix's eyes, how my armies will destroy them all? And do nothing?
Harry and Tom ran for all their worth, staggering and jumping over the ravaged corpses littering the floors, the Invisibility Cloak flapping, Ulysses' strained meow coming muffled from within Harry's jersey at the jolting motions.
Come face me, Albus… or your followers will pay for your cowardice…
"Hurry!" spat Tom in agitation, as he harshly pulled Harry along when Harry slid and slipped on some blood and nearly lost his balance and fell on the floor.
No? Very well, let it be on your conscience, Albus. I will give no quarter. I will show no mercy.
They were finally in the corridor, when everything seemed to freeze over, when the temperature dropped drastically, as if the walls were being covered with frost, when their pants of breath came out as white puffs, when all hope seemed to vanish from Harry and he was only filled with utter despair.
They both turned around exactly at the same time, as black hooded creatures poured into the main hall from the immense holes in the walls, flowing towards the Aurors and the members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Dementors," whispered Tom in a shaky voice, his dark blue eyes wide, and Harry saw true terror and fear in his brother's expression, for the first time in their lives.
Harry had known what the creatures were too, from descriptions, yet he was utterly stunned because there hadn't been a single rumor about the Dark Lord having obtained the allegiance of such things, not a single gossip from their housemates, not even a hint of it in alarmist articles of the Daily Prophet.
Tom instantly snapped his head around to stare wildly at him. "Do you know how to-"
"No," said Harry haggardly, panic gripping him, because he really didn't.
His chest constricted at the recollection, because it had been Tilly Toke who had mentioned the only spell that could be used against such creatures, who had described how it worked, promising to teach them the charm in Seventh Year, yet neither of them knew the wands movements required for casting it, not even the incantation.
Harry stared at him, in utter misery, as he stuttered, "Maybe the Invisibility Cloak-"
"It can't hide us from such things!" bit out Tom frenziedly, his face losing all its color. "They'll sense us regardless! Dementors sense souls, you imbecile!"
"Then we keep running!" bellowed Harry desperately, as he took hold of his brother's hand, as he glimpsed that so many more things were happening, because just as the Dementors swooped and Order members and Aurors cried out "Expecto Patronum!", astonishing figures of animals of all sorts flying around, looking to be made of beautiful silvery white magic, there were black blurs falling as if raining down from the ceiling with whooshing sounds, which were revealed to be hundred upon hundreds of grey cloaked wizards and witches, their faces hidden and shadowed by hoods.
Grey cloaks… Grey, the color of Grindelwald's magic, Harry remembered, and thus realized that those wizards and witches were the Dark Lord's followers.
It all exploded into a fierce battle, with Dementors swooping in from all sides and Grindelwald's minions roaring, snarling, and spitting Dark Curses left, right, and center, the vast main hall being illuminated in countless flashes of colors and beams of magic.
Harry had never seen something like it before, yet it became evident to him that the Order and Aurors didn't stand a chance. The Dementors were too many, as were Grindelwald's minions – they would all soon overwhelm the others.
"Move, you idiot!" shrieked Tom in a high-pitch, as he began to shove Harry ahead along their corridor, clearly wanting to leave all the rest behind.
Harry began to ran, as they both pelted forwards, side by side, under the Invisibility Cloak, but suddenly they were encompassed by a freezing chill of air, some horrible sensation crawling down his spine as Harry saw two shadowy figures flying and whooshing by their sides and suddenly appearing before them, as all breath left his lungs in utter horror and mindless fear, misery, hopelessness, and mind-crushing despair.
"NO!" roared Tom wretchedly as he clutched his head and his eyes rolled upwards, as he became white as paper as he fell to the floor, as one of the Dementors swooped down on him as Tom began to writhe on the floor, screaming hoarsely.
Harry didn't know what happened next, when he felt his body going limp and crashing to the floor, when his sight suddenly seemed to narrow in a tunnel and everything around him seemed to vanish.
The images came to him as if they were a hazy dream, the sounds and voices as if from far away.
A woman of incredible beauty had him wrapped in her arms, her lips trembling, tears slowly rolling down her oval face, eyes like his, almond-shaped and of a lovely shade of green were gazing down at him, her hair such a glossy, wavy sheet of red-hair that was also so soft, that Harry liked to touch so much, that he was suddenly lifting a tiny, chubby hand, grabbing a lock of hair and pulling down, gurgling a joyful giggle.
"My lovely boy," whispered the woman, her green eyes crinkling, a strained smile stretching over her face, before she flinched at the sounds coming from the distance.
A man roaring, a shout, and then a loud thud.
"James," she sobbed out, her expression crumbling in heart-wrenching sorrow and misery, before she seemed to straighten her shoulders, a look of both utter defeat and yet firm determination settling on her beautiful face as she gently lowered Harry to a cradle.
Yet Harry didn't understand, as he felt wretchedness encompassing him, because Tom wasn't with him and he knew he had shared a cradle with his twin in the orphanage's nursery. He didn't understand either because the woman felt so familiar and yet alien to him. He didn't remember such a woman being a caretaker, a woman that inexplicably resembled him so much, at that. Where was Alice?
And the room looked utterly foreign to him, incomprehensibly so because there were indications of magic all around: in the wallpaper that depicted lion cubs, playing with each other, prancing around roaring, or coiled up, snoring; and an open trunk filled with toys such as he had never seen, a small flying broomstick, a golden snitch with fluttering wings that were wrapping around the ball as if it was going to sleep, a teddy bear that was closing its eyes shut and letting out a yawn, and tin soldiers that were hopping and helping each other jump into the trunk.
Through the bars of the cradle, he saw the woman turning around, just as the room's door was flung open and something came inside.
Harry felt he choked. It was some tall, thin being draped in a black cloak, a spindly hand with wand in hand, the face beneath the hood horrific, as if features had melted and faded away, with no recognizable trace of humanity left behind, a flat nose composed of two slits, a mouth with such thin lips they were almost nonexistent, the skin so thin and pale that small veins could be seen through it, but it was the eyes, with snake-like slits for pupils and blood red, that filled Harry with terror and incomprehension.
Because he knew those eyes, the red eyes of his nightmares.
"Not Harry," the woman was pleading desperately, her voice distraught, as if she had known all along what would happen, as if she had readied herself as best she could and would do anything, as if she wasn't even surprised by the monstrous being that had entered the room. "Not Harry, please, not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl," said the creature, briskly waving a hand as if highly irritated and impatient, its voice high-pitched. "Stand aside now!"
"Not Harry, please!" yelled the woman wretchedly, as she suddenly took a step forward, hiding the cradle, stepping between cradle and monster as she flung her arms at either side of her, the offering clear. "Take ME instead!"
The monstrous creature's shrill voice was laughing.
"Please, have mercy! Have mercy!"
"As you wish," said the hideous thing, as the red eyes flashed, as its spindly hand raised the wand, before its voice spat with annoyance, "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry's mind swirled and churned dizzily, because such a familiar beam of bright green light shot from the wand, the exact same he always saw in his nightmares, and it struck the woman.
And for some reason, as she crumbled to the floor, her beautiful dead eyes unseeingly staring up the ceiling with expanding pupils, Harry felt he was screaming in utter horror, devastation and sorrow, and he didn't know why, but he felt as though he had just seen Alice Jones being murdered before his eyes, such wrecking grief encompassing him that for a moment he felt to be sinking into mindlessness.
Then the creature was advancing towards him, its red eyes gleaming with glee and triumph –such familiar gleams because Tom's eyes sometimes sparkled that way- and Harry wanted to scream himself hoarse and roar and shout, but he seemed to be stuck in a small, plump body, sitting on a nappy-covered bum in the cradle, as he found himself peering up with utter puzzlement, curiosity, and incomprehension at the monster that stared down at him.
Indeed, Harry himself felt dizzy with confusion once again, as the wand was aimed at him, as the Killing Curse was cast again, as another beam of green light flashed and this time struck him.
He felt he couldn't breathe, that he was drowning in cold; there was a rushing in his ears as though of water, he was being pulled downwards, the roaring growing louder, as he felt as if his body was writhing.
A thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him, freezing him, inside his very heart it seemed, until it parted slowly, until he found himself in some vast, lavish bedroom, as he realized he was indeed convulsing, that his limbs seemed to be bound with tethers of magic in some wide, four-poster canopied bed, that his mouth was parted open, letting out a constant stream of screams that he couldn't hear.
There was a woman seated by his bedside, her fair, beautiful, breathtaking features swamped with deep worry, as she tenderly and soothingly caressed his locks of drenched hair with a shaky hand.
Harry could only stare at her, speechless, even though he knew his body was screaming in silence, in confusion and terror, because he knew her too. The blonde woman of his dreams, who always sang Alice's lullaby to him.
"Where have you been?" she suddenly demanded sharply, turning her face around.
And it was Santi who suddenly appeared there, standing by her side, glowing in golden light, his face deeply grim.
"Why didn't you pay heed to my warning?" said Santi angrily, as Harry had never heard him before, his milky eyes flashing with fury as he glared at the woman. "I told you this would come to happen. I told you you had to-"
"You explained nothing!" the woman hissed, as she fluidly rose to her feet, displaying a lovely gown of silver satin. "Antares' screams woke the whole Manor, I came here instantly and had to send a house-elf to tell Lucius our son was just having a nightmare." She turned to gaze down at Harry with a hint of frantic apprehension showing on her face, as she murmured quietly, "I tried everything, yet I do not know what is happening to him. I had to cast a Silencing Charm since he would not stop screaming, I had to bind him-"
"You should have written to your mother-in-law," interjected Santi, narrowing his eyes at her, "as I told you to do, Mrs. Malfoy."
The beautiful woman, a Malfoy apparently, as mind-boggling and utterly ludicrous as that was, swirled around to stare at Santi, her expression icy as she whispered sharply, "I will never ask Kasimira Von Krauss for aid-"
"Kasimira Malfoy!" bit out Santi impatiently. "She hasn't been a Von Krauss for decades. She married into the Malfoy family just as you did." His lips twisted with anger. "I would have thought you would be able to put aside any petty struggles for power and social position, between you and her, and be able to swallow your pride for the sake of your son!"
"What have you told her?" demanded Mrs. Malfoy, her pale blue eyes flashing.
"Nothing much –yet," retorted Santi crisply. "However, Kasimira has always been quite a perceptive, clever woman. She will put the pieces together. Already she wants to meet her grandson-"
"She forfeited any rights-"
"She's one of the few that can help him!" roared Santi angrily, glowering at her. "That can teach him some of the things he'll need to know-"
"Poisons and Blood Arts," said Mrs. Malfoy, her voice wintry, "is all Kasimira Von Krauss has ever been knowledgeable in."
"Precisely," retorted Santi flatly, "and he'll need those."
"My sister is already-"
"Bellatrix is only useful in teaching him the Dark Arts," interrupted Santi in a hard tone of voice, giving her a disparaging look, "and do you really believe you'll be able to control her for much longer? Already she's trying to break him, in order to shape him after her own image-"
"I am perfectly able of handling my own sister, you unnatural creature," hissed Mrs. Malfoy in a low, incisive tone of voice. "I observe their lessons. She sees the Black in him. She loves him as the son she does not have-"
"As much as someone like Bellatrix Lestrange can love," interjected Santi harshly. "She's deranged, Mrs. Malfoy, the Black insanity slowly wrecking her mind. It's a fate she seems destined for no matter the times-"
"Enough!" said Mrs. Malfoy, her voice a whiplash, her tone chilly. "Tell me what is happening to my son. Tell me why the silly lullaby is no longer working. Tell me why you said I would only need to sing it for the first months of Antares' life, yet it is now over six years later and still-"
"The lullaby served its purpose, he's completely anchored now," interjected Santi crisply, his milky eyes darting to gaze at Harry, his expression crumbling. "This is something different. This is his soul remembering, this is a connection he's experiencing, past with present, this is caused by Dementors affecting his soul-"
"Dementors?" said Mrs. Malfoy snidely. "Do not be ridiculous, Dementors cannot enter Malfoy Manor. The wards-"
"Dementors in the past, you foolish woman!" snapped Santi with exasperation, before he shot her a seething glower. "If you allowed me to tell you about who he was, about the things he experienced, you would understand-"
"He is my son, you abominable creature!" hissed Mrs. Malfoy sharply, her beautiful features remaining composed except her lips which thinned with fury. "No one else!"
"He's a thousand things beyond just your son," spat Santi impatiently, pinning her with intense, piercing milky eyes, "and you will not be able to protect him until you know all about him. He's about to turn seven years of age, he's about to be used for such devastation as you cannot comprehend, and the only way we can prepare him for the aftermath is if you do as I say. You will write to Kasimira Malfoy and take Antares to see her. You will convince Abraxas to teach the boy-"
"I have already tried," interjected Mrs. Malfoy stiffly. "And he refused."
"Of course he did, he cannot bear the sight of him!" bit out Santi with annoyance. "He does not see him as a grandson, he knows what you don't, he knows the past. He knows what he did to the boy, and shies from facing him. But you must convince him, because your son inherited his traits, and it's only a half-Veela who can guide and teach another with the same characteristics – characteristic stronger in Antares than in Abraxas, at that. But it's Abraxas who we have on hand, thus you must convince him to teach the boy!"
"The Dark Lord will not allow it," murmured Mrs. Malfoy quietly, a glint of distress in her eyes.
"Oh, I bet he won't like it one bit," retorted Santi, a chortle escaping from his lips, "to have Abraxas alone with Antares, giving private lessons. Oh no, Lord Slytherin won't like it, but he's no fool. He will see the benefits."
He shot the witch a pointed look. "He knows he cannot keep a constant watch on Antares to protect him from all threats, just as he knows the Grey Wizard is waiting for the merest chance to utterly dispose of Antares after he finishes using the boy. Thus, the Dark Lord can be convinced to allow his 'godson' to be trained by as many people as possible, in as many areas of Magical knowledge as can be offered, even, yes, Veela abilities. It's your duty to make that happen."
"Very well," said Mrs. Malfoy stoically. "It will be done." Her pale blue eyes narrowed slightly, as she then commanded in an imperious tone of voice, "Help my son. Now."
"Of course I will," shot Santi irritably, before he sat at one side of the plush bed, his warm hands taking a hold of Harry's face, his expression softening with tenderness, as he whispered softly, "Antares… Harry, I know you can see me, I know what you have heard and the things you've experienced. I know you must be terrified and confused, but I will make it all stop."
Santi's handsome face turned grim, as he added in a somber whisper, "And someday you'll forgive me for this, someday I'll return all these memories back to you, and you'll be able to understand as I'll be able to finally explain it all. Now, try to hold onto the awareness that you're still in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. You must go back now! OBLIVIATE!"
Something screeched horribly, and Harry was gasping for air, feeling as if he was breaking through the surface of some deep, unfathomable lake he had been drowning in, his head throbbing with a splitting headache.
Yet he felt utterly emptied, utterly confused and disoriented as he found himself splayed on the floor, as Ulysses was letting out frantic hisses at the creature that was floating away from him in some kind of agitated state.
A Dementor!
And suddenly everything rushed back into his mind.
He had been running with Tom into the corridor that led to the depths of the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, and two Dementors had swept before them, and they had fallen, the Invisibility Cloak lying there on the floor inches away from him.
He was infused with utter despair that seemed to be pervading all around him, yet it seemed as if, for some reason, the Dementor that had been attacking him had withdrawn as though something had confused and perturbed him.
The cloaked creature screeched again as it flew away, while Harry could hear screams and bellows of cast spells coming from the main hall, as he glimpsed that the battle still raged on fiercely between Order members and Aurors against Grindelwald's followers, that many had fallen but no side was giving any quarter.
But it was the sight of his brother that made his heart thunder wildly and lodge in his throat, swamping him with horror, because the Dementor looming over Tom seemed to be sucking blurs of light from his brother, all positive feelings, Harry knew.
Tom was writhing, his eyes rolled up into his skull, letting out incomprehensible shrieks, as he relived who-knew-what kind of nightmares and fears, his body arched upwards painfully, as the Dementor kept feeding.
What happened a second later made Harry choke in utter terror, as the Dementor swopped closer to Tom, as a wide, gaping hole for a mouth was the only thing that became visible under the shadows of the creature's hood, as the Dementor began to draw in long, slow, rattling breaths and sucking noises, and Harry suddenly understood what was happening.
"NO!" he roared in such anguish and mindless horror as he'd never felt before, as he scrambled on hands and knees and threw himself over Tom's body, to shield him, as the Dementor attempted to give him the Kiss.
"Expect-o," tried Harry frantically as he waved his wand, as he felt the effects of the Dementor's presence, as the creature didn't seem to even halt, as Tom's pale face contorted to unconsciously scream again.
And Harry attempted the charm which incantation he had heard the others using, trying to think of the most joyous experience of his life, as he brandished his wand and he cried out and stuttered and tried again and again, "Expec- Expecto Patro- Expecto Patron-"
But he couldn't! He felt nothing but sheer misery, and something was coming out of Tom's mouth, and he instantly and frenziedly tried to use his hands to cover his brother's lips.
Nevertheless, the so very bright speck of light, looking so pure and beautiful, frail and precious, was floating out of Tom's mouth, as Tom's body arched even further, as Tom seemed to be giving his last shuddering breath, as the speck kept floating, through Harry's desperate hands as if they weren't there, rising in the air, towards the Dementor's sucking hole.
"HELP!" Harry cried out at the top of his lungs, screaming hoarsely, utterly desolated and distraught, feeling as if something was tearing him apart, savagely tearing his heart to pieces with sheer despair, because if his brother died, he'd rather die too, and he cared nothing about being discovered or repercussions.
"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP! HE'S DYING!"
He was sobbing wretchedly as he frantically tried to capture the bright speck, but his hands went through, and something in his scar seemed to be rising and shrieking with agonizing agitation as well.
Just when he thought that everything was lost, just as his sobs turned so distraught that he felt he couldn't breathe, someone bellowed, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
The most beautiful song bird flew into the Dementor, a robin made of blazing white light, flapping its wings as it attacked the creature again, making the Dementor finally flee, as Harry watched with wide eyes and his heart in his throat how the speck abruptly began to float back slowly into Tom's opened mouth.
His brother drew a deep intake of breath, as if being resuscitated from the dead, his chest expanding, yet then laid limply and motionless, his eyes fluttering shut.
Harry clutched Tom tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks before he went absolutely still, as he caught sight of the hem of grey robes, their savior advancing towards them.
"Two British boys?" said an astounded voice in fluent English, with a hint of a brisk German accent. "What are you doing here-"
The German accent, the color of the robes he saw, made Harry glance up wildly, instantly aiming his wand as he roared frenziedly, "Don't take another step! Don't move, or I'll kill you!"
The figure in grey cloak halted in its tracks as if thunder-struck, as it breathed out slowly, "Zwei."
"What?" spat Harry, viciously glaring at Grindelwald's follower, wand posed and ready to attack if the person even twitched an inch.
The figure suddenly drew back the hood of the grey cloak, and Harry stared at him, becoming utterly speechless.
His green eyes widened as he recognized the face revealed, from the pictures in the Daily Prophet and the image he had seen in the Mirror of Desires, the face of a boyishly handsome young wizard with short, wavy auburn hair and sky blue eyes, a face he often saw in his sleep as he dreamed about the wizard he constantly thought about, the wizard he so admired, the wizard Tom had nastily accused him of being obsessed with, and had been right.
"Julian Erlichmann," breathed out Harry, his heart hammering loudly in his chest, his pulse beating thunderously, feeling as if he was about to faint from the impression, for the fact of finally seeing the wizard in the flesh, before his very eyes.
"Zwei," repeated the young wizard numbly, suddenly losing all color in his face, suddenly looking as if he was seeing a ghost or standing before Death itself, his expression slowly crumbling with despondency, anguish, utter defeat and despair.
Yet Julian Erlichmann's expression slowly morphed, into one of fascination, as his gaze slowly roved over Harry's features with such longing, as he stretched out a trembling hand as if wanting to touch Harry's face, to feel if he was real, yet not quite daring to do so.
"Harry," murmured Julian Erlichmann quietly, as he pulled his hand away, limply dropping it.
Harry's eyes went impossibly wide, thoroughly disconcerted as he gasped out, "How do you know my name?"
Julian Erlichmann's lips hitched upwards at that, looking amused, before he frowned. "What are you doing here? Are you mad?"
Abruptly, the young wizard swirled around, as if sensing something, just as a figure glowing in golden light appeared from thin air.
"You knew!" spat Julian Erlichmann in a German Harry understood, his tone sharp, seething, and accusing. "You knew beforehand, and told me nothing!"
"Santi?" stuttered Harry incredulously, blinking, his gaze wildly darting from one to the other, thinking he must have taken leave of his senses because it seemed utterly impossible to him, so bizarre that he understood nothing, because Julian was seeing Santi, was speaking to him as if they knew each other.
Santi shot him a grim look, before he began to speak quickly to Julian Erlichman, gesturing with his hands in an urgent manner, both beginning to speak in such a fast, hurried, arguing German that Harry was not able to follow the brief conversation.
It was Julian who finally nodded jerkily, his expression somber, as he took something long, thin, and shiny from a pocket, as he tapped it with his wand and murmured an incantation, as he tossed it at Harry, saying sharply, "Take it, and leave!"
Harry deftly caught it in midair, and then stared at it, at a long, beautiful silver flute, gorgeously engraved with small depictions of magical creatures: he saw a siren's tail wrapped around the flute, along with a phoenix's feathers, the long flowing tresses of a merman, and such.
And he suddenly knew what charm Julian must have cast on the flute, as it began to slowly glow in blue magic, as he suddenly felt such agitation, such sheer, overwhelming horror and need and urgency and desperation, that he stared at Julian Erlichmann and cried out frenziedly, "Come with me!"
Julian stared at him, before he chuckled wryly and mirthlessly. "I wish I could." He suddenly grabbed one of Harry's wrists tightly, as he whispered urgently, "Listen to me, say nothing to Dumbledore, but use him. You understand? Use him!"
Harry stared at him, utterly gobsmacked, as the flute began to vibrate in his hand, as everything seemed to suddenly darken, as loud cracks echoed all around, as Julian suddenly stiffened, as Harry's flesh abruptly became covered with goosembumps, the small hairs of his arms and back of his neck standing on end, as if his body was being struck by a bolt of static electricity, because he suddenly felt sheer waves and tides of magic that seemed to be spreading all around, because he suddenly saw Gellert Grindelwald appearing in the middle of the carnage and corpses in the main hall, flanked by thirteen wizards – the man's Haupte Kommandanten, clearly.
"Grindelwald," said a hoarse, fascinated voice, and Harry suddenly realized Tom had jerked awake into consciousness, perhaps due to the overwhelming dark magic rolling off the Dark Lord, spreading and pervading throughout.
And the wizard was such a sight as Harry had never seen before or even imagined. He had seen pictures, but he hardly gave credence to his eyes, to the fact that Gellert Grindelwald, despite how old he had to be, looked nothing but awfully handsome, an air of utter self-confidence, nonchalance, and even charming airs and wicked sense of humor making him seem so appealing, despite what Harry knew of him, despite the hatred he also felt.
The wizard glowed and shimmered with power, but there was something else which turned Harry utterly mesmerized, as much as it mind-boggled him, because the wand in Grindelwald's hand was glowing too –yet it was still not being used, but nevertheless seemed to blaze with silver light in and of itself, so potently, so powerfully that Harry felt it in his bones, something rattling him, some inexplicable, strange sort of fascination taking hold of him as he kept staring at the wand and its baffling inherent magic.
Nevertheless, he noticed Julian Erlichmann again just then, as the young wizard jumped in, blocking his view, precisely obstructing Grindelwald's line of sight from detecting Harry and Tom as well.
And it was the young wizard's expression, so conflicted, so troubled and tormented, and miserable, a wild look of apprehension in sky blue eyes that seemed suddenly haunted, that it made Harry cry out frantically again, his plea heart-wrenching, profound and agonizing, "Come with me, PLEASE!"
But Julian Erlichmann didn't seem to hear him, as the young wizard suddenly dashed towards the Dark Lord, still hiding them from sight as he moved forward, and Harry felt he would never see him again, because he felt he had suddenly found him, at long last, and that he would just as swiftly lose him.
He felt he was going mad, as the flute in his hand blazed in blue light, as he could do nothing except take a tight hold of his brother and the Invisibility Cloak, as everything began to swirl around him, as he began to sob wretchedly because everything was going so wrong, as someone had caught sight of a hoodless Julian, as someone yelled achingly, "Julién!"
And the member of the Order of the Phoenix who had spoken in a French accent revealed himself, dispelling his glamour, a handsome face of a tall, hazel-eyed, blonde man appearing as he stared at Julian Erlichmann, who had frozen, going absolutely still, his face paper white as he mumbled faintly, "Laurent?"
"Your old acquaintance?" crowed Grindelwald loudly in German, with a chortle, as he advanced towards them through the mounds of corpses in the main hall, his hawk-like eyes intensely fixed on both wizards and seeing nothing else, flashing with rage as he then bellowed, "Kill him, mein Edelstein!"
And the last Harry saw was both young wizards aiming their wands at each other at the same time, Julian looking horror-struck and distraught, yet still aiming, the French wizard's wand hand trembling, yet flashes and beams of spells erupted, just as Harry and Tom were swept away by the portkey.