Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six - The Only One He Ever Feared
Harry could not have said how long he kneeled on the floor, cradling the body of his godfather. Though his knees ached from resting against hard stone, it could not have been many minutes. Yet he remained unconscious of the flashes of light that sailed around the room. He didn't care if a stray curse struck him. He knew only that Sirius was gone. Nothing else mattered. Not even, he thought, if he were to die himself…
Then he heard the whispers. It was remarkable that he should hear anything in the midst of the chaos surrounding him. But still he heard them. He glanced up through tear-filled eyes. The crumbling stone arch rested only a few feet away. Its black curtain swayed slightly. He thought perhaps it had been disturbed by an errant spell, but he could hear something beneath the distant sounds of fighting. There were voices speaking to him from the other side of that veil. If he strained himself, he could almost hear what they were saying…
"Sirius?" he asked tentatively.
He knew it was insane. Sirius was dead. He was laying motionless on the floor, his body growing colder by the minute. And yet Harry had heard his voice, whispering to someone, from just on the other side…
He wasn't aware that he had stood up. That he had left Sirius's side. He had already closed the short distance between his godfather's body and the stone arch, lifting his hand as if to grab the black curtain. He was about to pull it aside, when a strong grip caught him by the arm, forcing him backward.
"Harry, stop!"
It was Remus. His scarred face looked ashen. His prematurely graying hair was tousled from the fight. But he was unhurt. Harry turned away from his panicked stare to gaze back at the curtain.
"I heard him…" he said vacantly, "On the other side of that veil… I heard Sirius…"
"He's gone, Harry…" Remus replied, "You can't have heard him… He's gone…"
"No," insisted Harry with a flash of anger, "I heard him! He's trying to tell me something. I think… I think he wants me to join him…"
"He's dead, Harry!" Remus insisted, his voice choked with the emotion he was trying to keep in check. He gripped Harry by the shoulders and hung his head, "He's dead… He wouldn't want… He wouldn't want you to follow…"
The sobs he was trying to hold back. His firm grasp on Harry's shoulders… It snapped him back to the present. The fighting must have ceased. And odd stillness haunted the room. Unconscious Death Eaters lay strewn about the hall, while the members of the Order that were still standing looked upon Harry's grief in stunned silence. Harry turned away from the arch and buried his face in Remus's chest, gripping his back tightly as Remus returned his tortured embrace.
For only a moment, they were allowed to indulge in their shared sorrow. Then, from nearly twenty feet above them, a harsh, mocking voice cried out, "Is he dead?"
Harry was the first to pull away. At the top of the steps, poised as if she were a mere breath away from slipping out the door, was Bellatrix Lestrange. She must have recovered from the curse that had rebounded from Harry's shield charm. While her comrades had all been incapacitated or captured, she alone stood free and untethered.
A twisted smile warped her hollow, gaunt features as she repeated, "Is he really dead?"
She sounded almost as if she couldn't believe it herself. But she had been knocked out. She hadn't seen Sirius fall. She hadn't seen him slip away…
An unpleasant giggle bubbled up from her throat. "He's dead! He's dead!" she screamed with laughter, "Sirius Black is dead!"
From across the hall, Kingsley fired a spell at her. But Bellatrix, although certainly mad, was not a poor duelist. She deflected the spell easily, and still laughing, turned and dashed out the open door.
Without a thought, Harry ripped himself away from Remus. He was already halfway up the stone steps before he heard someone shout, "Harry, no!"
But he didn't stop to see who called to him. Other voices joined the first, all shouting his name. Harry ignored them all.
The door she had vanished through led him directly into the Brain Room. Nell sat on the floor, nursing her broken ankle, while Millie and Blaise crouched on the ground next to Ron, who was still giggling feebly. They must have seen Bellatrix rush by, for there was a terrified look on Blaise's face as he asked, "Harry, what…?"
Harry sprinted by him without a word, following the black hem of Bellatrix's robes as it flashed out of sight, through the next doorway.
She had found her way into the circular hall. Just as Harry burst into the room, she slammed the door shut behind her. The walls began to rotate again. Harry stood, rooted to the spot, his anger growing as he watched the blurred blue flames of the candles gather speed.
"Which way?" he snarled as the wall ground to a stop, "How do I get out of here?!"
It was as if the room had been waiting for this very question. A door to his right immediately sprang open, exposing the long, dark corridor leading back to the lift. It appeared empty, but as Harry hurtled down the hall, he could hear the rattling of a lift rising above him. He pounded the button, glancing left and right and cursing the fact that there were no stairs in sight.
Despite his impatience, he didn't have long to wait. A second lift had arrived, and soon Harry was gliding upward, gritting his teeth as he stepped into the dark, vast atrium.
It wasn't hard to spot Bellatrix. The atrium was empty and silent, but for the sound of her feet running swiftly across the wood floor. Harry pelted after her, dodging the spells she aimed at him over her shoulder. She burst into laughter again and sang, "I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!"
This wasn't true, of course. Harry knew that Bellatrix was not to blame for Sirius's death. It was not her spell that brought about his end. That had been predestined many months ago, when Harry agreed to help him destroy that cursed locket.
And yet Harry's grief needed an outlet. He could not vent his anger against a locket that was already broken beyond repair. But the woman who danced in front of him, rejoicing in his godfather's death… She would pay. Her laughter and taunts echoed all around him. She dared to mock Sirius… To tease Harry for his tears… She, who had tortured Blaise and tried to kill his friends…
She should have been the one to die. Harry wanted her dead. He wanted to kill her.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A ripple extended outward with Harry at the epicenter. It flowed out in all directions, gathering in speed and intensity, until the air shimmered with a greenish haze, like a mirage. The shockwave hit Bellatrix, who screamed as she fell forward, sliding across the slick, polished floor. She was not dead. Without his wand, Harry's magic lacked finesse. It was powerful, but wild. Without direction. Bellatrix was uninjured, though when she turned to glare at Harry, it was with a look of shock on her face.
"Expelliarmus!" she shouted, pointing her wand at him. But nothing happened.
"Impedimenta!" roared Harry. Another wave of magic struck Bellatrix, strong enough to pick her up off the ground and throw her against the golden fountain that stood in the center of the atrium.
She had managed to keep hold of her wand. Recovering quickly, she dove around the side of the fountain, keeping some distance between herself and Harry as she screamed, "YOU… HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?"
"What's the matter, Bellatrix?" Harry shouted back, "Afraid to face little baby Potter?"
She responded with a jet of red light, fired from around the head of the gilded house-elf.
"Protego!" said Harry, crossing his arms protectively in front of him. Her spell rebounded, just as it had before. It struck against the house-elf's head, knocking it clean off and sending it scraping across the floor, where it left deep gouges in the wood.
Bellatrix had moved to the other side of the fountain, keeping it between herself and Harry as they circled the base. He thought perhaps he had frightened her with his power, but Bellatrix continued to laugh maniacally.
"Afraid?" she cried, "I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant! I learned the Dark Arts from him… I know spells of such power that you, pathetic child, can never hope to compete…"
Pain seared across Harry's scar, accompanied by a fury that was similar, yet unrelated to his own. Bellatrix's incessant cackle faded into oblivion as Harry's own mad laughter swallowed it up.
"Will those same spells protect you from him?" Harry taunted, "The prophecy is gone, Bellatrix! And he knows… He knows, and he's not very happy with you…"
"What?" asked Bellatrix with a gasp. For the first time, he heard real fear in her voice. "What are you saying?"
"It's gone!" Harry said with vicious triumph, "I smashed it! Right on the ground at Lucius Malfoy's feet! Your precious prophecy is gone, and Voldemort knows about it! He's coming for you, Bellatrix… He's coming here!"
"LIAR!" she shrieked, "YOU HAVEN'T SMASHED IT!"
The pain in Harry's scar was becoming unbearable, yet still he laughed. A harsh, angry laugh that started in the pit of his stomach and welled up uncontrollably. How could he ever have wished for Bellatrix's death, when it was far more pleasurable to see her fearful panic? He closed his eyes against the pain and gave himself up to the sheer madness of his delighted fury.
"That's enough, Potter," said a high, cold voice.
Harry opened his eyes. Tall, thin, and draped in robes blacker than the shadows of the atrium itself, stood Lord Voldemort. His terrible, snakelike face was turned toward him. His scarlet, thin-pupiled eyes bore into Harry's green ones.
Harry stopped laughing, but he wasn't afraid. Even with Voldemort's wand pointed directly at his heart, it still beat with fevered excitement. This is precisely what he wanted. It was Voldemort who had placed the curse on that locket. It was Voldemort who had brought suffering and death, first to Regulus Black, then to his brother. Every awful thing that had ever happened to Harry could be traced back to Voldemort. And now he was here, and Harry was just angry enough to want to fight him again.
"He is not lying," Voldemort commented, more to himself than the shivering form of Bellatrix Lestrange that lay at his feet, "I can see it in his worthless mind. The prophecy is gone, and months of preparation… Of careful planning… All wasted… My Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again…"
"Don't let it get you down," said Harry, "I've only defeated you, what? Three? Four times now? Maybe this will be your lucky shot!"
Voldemort's red eyes flashed with rage. "This will be the last time you mock me, Potter. The prophecy no longer matters. It will be irrelevant if I kill you now. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Harry, in his arrogance and thirst for revenge, had not expected Voldemort to deliver the killing blow so quickly. He'd thought there would be another duel, like when Voldemort had toyed with him in the graveyard before his lackeys. But this was different. Voldemort was not making an example of him before his servants. He was merely disposing of a nuisance.
There was no way of blocking the killing curse. Wandless or not, Harry couldn't have protected himself if he tried. If he had been prepared, he might have dived out of the way. But it was as if he was glued to the spot, unable to defend himself against the jet of green light that hurtled toward him…
From behind, the statue of the golden wizard sprang to life. It leapt from its plinth, landing with an earth-shaking thud directly in front of Harry, throwing its arms wide just as Voldemort's curse made contact. The lethal spell glanced harmlessly off the shining gold chest of the statue. Harry fell backward, stunned at what had just happened.
"How did you…?" Voldemort began, as if he believed Harry had been the source of this magic. But then he froze, and with a horrible hiss breathed a single word. "Dumbledore!"
Harry followed the direction of Voldemort's hateful gaze. With a mixture of anxiety and relief, he saw Albus Dumbledore standing on the other side of the fountain, near the lifts.
Voldemort lifted his wand and sent another jet of green light hurtling toward Dumbledore. The elderly wizard turned and vanished with a whirl of his long cloak ,only to reappear behind Voldemort. He waved his wand with a light swish toward the fountain, and the other figures immediately sprang to life.
Bellatrix screamed as the statue of the witch charged toward her. She fired spell after spell at the figure, only to have them bounce harmlessly off the gleaming gold body. The statue soon had her pinned to the floor. Meanwhile, Harry lost sight of the goblin and the headless house-elf as they scurried toward the row of fireplaces. The golden centaur had galloped toward Voldemort, who fired a spell at it, shattering it into a million pieces.
The golden wizard who had protected Harry began to thrust him backward, away from the fight. But Harry struggled to hold his ground, desperate to see what would happen next.
"It was foolish to come here when you knew your plan had failed, Tom," Dumbledore remarked calmly, as if he and Voldemort were exchanging words over a cup of tea, "The Aurors are on their way…"
"By which time, I will be gone, and both you and Potter will be dead!" snarled Voldemort.
He sent another get of green light at Dumbledore, but it missed, striking an empty desk on the other side of the atrium, which promptly burst into flame. Dumbledore flicked his own wand in response. He hadn't uttered a word, but the force of the spell that emanated from him was so strong that Harry, still guarded by the statue, felt his hair stand on end. Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air. The spell slammed against it, causing no visible damage, but filling the air with a deep, unsettling ring, like a church bell.
Before Voldemort could counter with another offensive spell, Dumbledore had waved his wand above his head in a great circle, as if brandishing a whip. A thin trail of flame followed the wand's arch, before coiling around and snapping forward. Voldemort's shield evaporated as the rope of flame wrapped itself around him.
For a moment, Voldemort seemed to struggle futilely against the barrier. Then the tendril of flame became a long, black serpent. It dropped to the floor and turned toward Dumbledore, hissing and poised to strike.
"Do not attack!" Harry screamed as loud as he could in parseltongue. The snake froze, its body swaying off the ground, as if confused which master to obey.
Voldemort swore and abruptly vanished, only to reappear a moment later, standing atop the now empty plinth in the middle of the fountain. Harry tried to warn Dumbledore of the danger, but with his attention still focused on the serpent, his words came out as an unintelligible hiss. Voldemort fired another bolt of green light at Dumbledore. At the same moment, a large crimson and gold bird appeared out of nowhere. It was Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix. Harry watched in awe as the bird swooped over Dumbledore's head, catching the bolt of light with its beak and swallowing it whole. Then he burst into flame and fell to the floor - small, wrinkled, and flightless - but quite alive.
Dumbledore waved his wand and the serpent, still teetering on its thin body, was reduced to a cloud of black smoke. Then he turned, raising both arms above his head. At the same time, the water from the fountain rose up and encircled Voldemort, trapping him inside like some sort of strange cocoon. For a moment, his indistinct form writhed within the swirling mass, thrashing about as if testing this strange prison for weak points. Then he disappeared, and the water fell, splashing over the low edge of the fountain and drenching the floor.
Bellatrix, still trapped under the statue, screamed for her master and began to sob pathetically. Harry was preparing to run out from behind his own golden protector when Dumbledore yelled, "Harry, stay where you are!"
Harry didn't understand the fear in his voice. Voldemort was gone. Surely now it was all over?
Then the pain in his scar returned, worse than it had ever been before. Harry was sure this was the end. He was going to die.
He was locked in the coils of a dark creature with red eyes, bound so tightly that Harry no longer knew where his body ended and the creature's began. It was as if they had become fused together, distinct, yet inseparable. And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, though his voice sounded raw and ragged.
"Kill me, Dumbledore…" he hissed.
He knew what he was saying. He could feel his own lips moving. But he was blinded by his pain, unaware of what was going on around him.
"If you want to defeat me, you'll have to kill the boy…"
Harry wanted the pain to end. It didn't matter if he had to die. Surely death would not hurt so much as this. He wouldn't have to see any more of his friends get hurt or killed… He would be with Sirius again…
He wouldn't want you to follow…
It was Remus's voice that spoke into Harry's ear, his voice sad and choked with emotion. Those were the words he had uttered, right after Sirius died. Harry had been prepared to run through the black veil, but Remus held him back.
And then Harry remembered something else he had heard… Something his godfather had once said…
There are different kinds of families. There are the ones you're stuck with, then there's the ones you choose… And now, Harry and Remus are my family…
Sirius was gone, but not everything was lost. Harry still had his friends. Blaise and Millie, always willing to follow Harry into any misadventure. Hermione and Nell, who had joined their crusade almost without question. Even Draco and Theo, who had fought their own fathers in order to defend their friends…
You and Remus… Take care of each other…
Harry could not give up now. He could not die yet. He needed to make things right. There were still people he needed to protect.
The pain faded away. The coils of the dark creature loosened their hold. Then it was gone. Harry was laying facedown on the cold floor. His glasses had been knocked off his face. He was alive and whole.
Voices echoed all around him. More voices than there should have been. Harry opened his eyes, spotting his glasses lying within reach of his hand. He put them on, then raised his head to see Dumbledore leaning over him, concern etched deeply on his wrinkled face.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
"I'm… I think so…" he replied shakily, "But… Where's Voldemort? Who are all these… What…?"
The atrium was full of people, and more were still coming. The room was lit with emerald green flames that burned in the fireplaces along the hall as more and more people arrived, most dressed in bathrobes and nightgowns.
As Dumbledore pulled Harry to his feet, he saw the statues of the headless house-elf and the goblin leading a stunned Cornelius Fudge through the crowd.
"He was there!" shouted a man in a scarlet smoking jacket. He pointed at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix Lestrange had lain trapped only moments before. "I saw him! I swear, it was He Who Must Not Be Named! He grabbed a woman and disapparated!"
"I know, Williamson, I know!" Fudge gibbered. He was wearing a pair of pinstriped pajamas that exactly matched his cloak. "Merlin's beard! Here! In the Ministry of Magic! It doesn't seem possible… How can this be?!"
"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, apparently satisfied that Harry was unharmed, "You will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber, bound by Anti-Disapparition Jinxes. Perhaps they will be able to answer your questions on what brought their master here tonight."
Several of the newcomers raised their wands when they realized Dumbledore was there, but the gesture was halfhearted, as if they weren't sure what to do. They turned toward Fudge, awaiting his reaction.
"Dumbledore!" gasped Fudge, beside himself with amazement, "You, here? I… I…"
"Cornelius, a minute ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for the past year!" Dumbledore declared in a thunderous voice. Harry was sure his speech was directed not just at the Minister of Magic, but at all the witches and wizards who were gathered there, "It is time you listened to sense! Lord Voldemort has returned, and we are at war!"
