The Village
He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in his office, the carpet already worn thinner here from where his predecessors had evidently done the very same in their own moments of worry.
'You are much more valuable alive than dead, Sirius. You are the Minister of Magic. There's not anyone who can be trusted to replace you. I'm sorry, but you need to think of the bigger picture."
'And what about you?'
Harry had offered him a smile of acceptance.
'As much as you hate it, this is my war to fight. Maybe in another life, it could have been as simple as you doing whatever you felt you needed to keep me safe. That's not the hand we've been dealt this time.'
'So, I'm supposed to wait and see what happens?'
'Yes,' Harry had answered simply.
Sirius cursed under his breath as he poured himself a generous measure of Firewhiskey to calm his nerves. It was not often he partook in drink anymore, but he could think of no other occasion that it was more needed.
At least being in the thick of the action, he had a semblance of control over the outcome. Here, he was relying on the sporadic reports that would flood in and then the eventual result.
It did not sit well with the last of the Marauders, but deep down, he knew that Harry was right. At this pivotal point of the war, it would not do for him to be killed.
The country did not need such an upheaval in the midst of what was unfolding around them.
Nonetheless, it still did not sit right with Sirius.
By nature, he was a man of action and merely waiting around was something he would never be comfortable.
Shooting a glance towards the clock, he readied himself for what he expected to be a long night.
Severus had assured Albus that the Dark Lord would be making his move tonight, though he'd been unable to provide little else of worth.
For now, the Aurors and the Order were all but blind to what was to come and would have to react accordingly.
Sirius could only hope they were ready for anything that could be thrown at them.
Much to his relief, it appeared that the giants remained incapacitated and it was not a full moon so there would be no werewolves to contend with. However, that only served to instil a different sense of unease within him.
If both the werewolves and giants were of no use to him, what exactly would the Dark Lord be implementing tonight?
(Break)
She pulled the hood up over her head as she stepped into the shadows of the alleyway she had chosen to watch for the arrival of her mother. The note Isabella had sent was short and direct.
Mother,
Meet me at the same place we visited for my thirteenth birthday at 9pm. Tell no one.
Isabella x
She would come.
Isabella had no doubt in her mind that her mother would drop everything to ensure she was here for her daughter, and as a church somewhere nearby sounded the hour, a gentle crack broke the otherwise silence that reigned in the small village.
"Isabella?" her mother asked as she approached.
The woman was deeply worried, concerned by the sudden and unexpected letter she'd received.
Without hesitation, Isabella pulled her into her arms, revelling in the feeling of being with her mother once more.
"You weren't followed?"
Her mother shook her head confusedly.
"Your father is out," she whispered. "Something is happening, something big."
"I know," Isabella murmured. "That's why I asked you to meet me here. This is your chance to escape from him, to start a new life."
Her mother offered her a sad smile.
"You know that isn't possible. There is no escape from him, and I will not leave your brother. Besides, we have nowhere to go, my girl. I cannot access to the vault and I have no gold."
"It's all been taken care of," Isabella assured her as she took her hands. "We have somewhere to go and Theo will be coming too, tonight."
Her mother shook her head in disbelief.
"I'm sure you have done your best, Isabella, but you do not know your father the way I do. He will find us…"
"No, he won't," Isabella cut in urgently. "Someone is helping us. Please, you need to trust me. I have a portkey that will take us to a home outside of Britain. We can stay there as long as we need to."
"And what happens when the war is over, girl?"
"I have gold. Lots of it waiting for us if the worst happens."
"You do not seem best pleased by that," her mother pointed out questioningly.
"I'd rather it doesn't come to that. Please, mother, you have to trust me. I know it isn't easy, but this is real. You can ger away from him and the war. We all can."
Her mother hesitated as she gazed into Isabella's pleading eyes.
"Not until you tell me who we are putting so much faith in."
Isabella hesitated for only a moment.
"Harry Potter."
"Potter?" her mother scoffed in disbelief.
Isabella nodded.
"I trust him," she said sincerely. "He provided somewhere safe for me to stay these past weeks and he's been helping Theo when he could have killed him for what he's doing for the Dark Lord. Harry helped him, mother, and he will help you."
"Why?" her mother asked suspiciously.
"Because I helped him once," Isabella admitted. "I could have given him away and he likely would have been killed. We've been friends for around two years now."
Her mother shook her head but was cut off before she could speak.
"I really trust him, Mother, more than I have anyone else. He's an amazing person who hasn't let me down and the best chance we have to be free of father and the Dark Lord."
"I don't know, Isabella. Life with your father is all I've known."
"Misery with Father is all you've known. It's all any of us have known."
"What if I'm scared?"
"Do you think I'm not?" Isabella returned gently. "I'd bet Theo is too, but he is doing the right thing, Mother. He wants to be free of them."
With a sigh of uncertainty, her mother finally nodded and Isabella pulled her into another tight embrace as she removed the portkey Harry had given her.
"Ready?"
"What about our things?"
Isabella shook her head.
"This is a fresh start. Everything has to be left behind."
The revelation undoubtedly saddened her mother, but she agreed with a nod, and Isabella activated the portkey, breathing a sigh of relief as they were torn away from Britain to what she hoped would be a greener pasture for her, Theo, and their mother.
(Break)
'You found it," Rowena whispered reverently as she eyed the diadem on the table before her.
'He hid it well,' Harry replied tiredly. 'I'm afraid he has used it for his vile practices. I do not think I will be able to save it.'
Rowena nodded her understanding.
'Perhaps wisdom is something that should be gained from experience. It seems that it was rather unwise to create the diadem. It would have been wiser to focus on the things that matter. Maybe things would have been better between Helena and I.'
'You have an eternity to make-up for it,' Harry pointed out. 'Whenever you are ready, I will send you on your way, both of you.'
'Can you truly do it?' Helena asked.
Harry offered the ghost a smile.
'I can.'
She looked towards her mother, and the two women simply shared a brief look before the younger nodded.
'I'm ready.'
It had not been the news the Ravenclaws had wanted, but Harry had told them only the truth of what had happened to the diadem. If anything, Rowena seemed to be relieved despite her disappointment and Helena had been granted the redemption she had sought for her errors in youth.
Perhaps it was not quite the conclusion they'd hoped for, but it was done. The diadem had been found and the Ravenclaws could now rest peacefully in the knowledge that it was no longer lost.
His reflection served to distract him for only a moment before the thoughts of what was to come invaded his mind once more, even if he didn't know what to expect from this evening.
Snape was adamant Voldemort would be making his move, that the Dark Lord was unusually excited.
That alone was enough to give Harry pause, and yet, as he eyed the map and checked his watch, he knew that he would have to face whatever was coming.
As he'd expected to see around this later hour, Nott was on the move and Harry frowned as he noticed another dot trailing behind him.
Draco Malfoy
The blond was keeping enough distance that he wouldn't be discovered by Theo. Evidently, the boy had not been careful enough in making his escape.
"Bloody hell," Harry cursed as he vanished within the folds of his cloak.
He had not come so far with his preparations for them to come undone by the likes of Malfoy.
No, that wouldn't do, not when tonight could prove to be so pivotal in the outcome of the war.
(Break)
He looked upon the hairless, scarred remains of what had once been his most loyal followers, their vacant expressions having unsettled him for months, were now something of a comfort.
They couldn't speak, they had no need of food, water, or even air. They existed only to serve him.
"Go," the Dark Lord instructed. "You know what you must do."
Without a word, all thirteen of them vanished and Voldemort smiled to himself anticipatorily. They lived only to serve him and he had no doubt they would do so well.
"My Lord."
"Lucius, you are aware of what I expect from you."
"I do, My Lord. Have you had word from Draco?"
"He summoned me only a moment ago. I will be leaving shortly, as will you."
"Of course, My Lord," Lucius replied quietly, accepting the dismissal and exiting the study.
Tonight, the tide of the war would turn, and Britain would get a true reminder of the power the Dark Lord wielded. His followers were abundant, more so than any force the Ministry could muster, and their beliefs firm.
Although it could not be denied that setbacks had been suffered, that would change this very evening.
Come the morning, the fear the magical population felt thus far would seem as though it had been a minor discomfort when compared to the new wave of terror that would wash over them.
With a nod to himself, the Dark Lord vanished from his muggle family home and appeared a short distance away from Hogsmeade where the sounds of violence and destruction already filled the air.
(Break)
His breathing was heavy and his limbs trembling as he made his way through the corridors of the school. In only a few moments, Theo would be able to use his portkey, and he did not wish to delay his departure any longer than necessary.
He'd betrayed his father and the Dark Lord, and though he did not regret doing so, his life was very much in danger now, as were those of his mother and sister.
Theo swallowed deeply at the thought of what would happen if either his father or the man's master were to catch up with them and he shuddered once more.
The agony did not bear pondering.
At best, he could hope for a quick death, but he knew he would not be granted such. Both would draw out his suffering until they grew bored of his screams, or there was simply nothing left for them to destroy.
Theo's breathing only became more frantic from the mixture of anticipation and fear that crept up his spine.
He needed to get out of here.
What little composure he'd managed to maintain all but evaporated as he sprinted the final two staircases to the sixth floor where he entered the tunnel Potter had shown him, only to yelp as a curse splashed against the wall next to him.
"Going somewhere, Nott?" Draco asked, equally breathless from where he'd run to keep pace with Theo.
"Away from here," Theo replied defiantly. "You might be willing to die for him, Malfoy, but I'm not. I don't want any part of this war."
"You're a traitor!" Draco sneered as he raised his wand.
Theo shook his head.
"I choose to live," he returned. "I choose my family over a monster."
Draco's eyes narrowed in fury.
"Avada Ked…"
Before Theo could raise his wand or attempt the impending curse, Draco was cut off, and he screamed as he was lifted into the air, his arms swinging backwards with a loud snapping sound.
From within the shadows, Potter emerged, eyeing Draco with utter contempt.
"I always knew you were an idiot, Malfoy, but not so stupid to attempt to commit murder in the school. Not even your father will be able to save you now."
Draco whimpered as Potter tore his left sleeve away, and even Theo was surprised to see the Dark Mark marring the skin on his forearm.
"It just gets worse for you."
Much to Theo's surprise, Draco grinned through his next wince of pain.
"It's too late," he hissed. "I already summoned him."
Potter laughed as he stood only an inch away from Draco and nodded.
"I know," he whispered. "I'm already expecting him."
Draco's eyes widened, though he slumped forward unconscious as Potter hit him with another spell.
"Go, Nott," he urged. "Your mother and sister are already waiting for you."
Theo nodded and hesitated for only a moment.
"Thank you, Potter," he offered sincerely, turning sharply as the ground beneath their feet trembled. "What was that?"
"Hogsmeade," Potter sighed. "They're attacking Hogsmeade. Use your portkey now," he instructed firmly.
Theo did so, flinching as another explosion sounded, this one much closer than the last.
Feeling the portkey activate, the motion f being pulled to his destination lasted longer than he thought, and he lost his footing upon arrival, slamming hard into the ground.
"Theo!"
It was his mother who pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him. Theo breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted his sister only a short distance away.
Both were undoubtedly concerned, but Isabella more so as she looked out of the window into the distance.
"What's happening?" she asked.
Theo swallowed deeply.
"He's attacking Hogsmeade. Potter sent me away before I could learn anything else."
"Harry's going after them, isn't he?"
"Harry?" Theo pressed with a frown.
Isabella nodded.
"I asked him to help us, Theo," she explained. "It's a long story."
Theo was surprised by the revelation but no less grateful for what Potter had done. Without him, he'd likely be dead now if he and Draco had failed to find a way into the castle, though he could not help but think that doing so would prove to be a mistake on Potter's part.
"Well, we have time, don't we?"
Isabella rolled her eyes at him and continued watching out of the window.
It was then that Theo realised his sister had somehow grown rather close to Potter. How? He didn't know, but he found himself rooting for the boy who had saved those that mattered to him.
For now, nothing else mattered.
"Where are we?" he asked curiously.
"Somewhere in France, I think," their mother answered. "We're not in Britain anymore."
Theo nodded as he realised that he might never see his home again. Still, he was alive, and that was the best he could have hoped for since the night his father had summoned him to his study to inform him of the task he'd been given.
He was alive. Against all odds, he yet breathed.
(Break)
Hogsmeade was under attack, and yet Albus was not going to be there. No, he had opted to wait for the inevitable arrival of Tom who believed he would be able to retrieve his Horcrux from within the school whilst the Order and Ministry were distracted.
His former pupil would be in for a rude awakening.
Albus readied his wand as he approached the sixth floor, having decided to make his stand against the Dark Lord even before he could access the castle. From within the hidden passageway, he would be able to ensure the man could not gain the entrance he sought.
The headmaster, however, paused as a large, ethereal cat appeared before him and spoke in the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the recently appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
'I have just been informed of several simultaneous attacks takin place across the country. I am being forced to deploy Aurors to each of them. I will keep you informed of developments.'
Albus released a deep breath.
He should have known Tom would not only create one distraction. T was in his best interest to keep the number of Aurors in Hogsmeade low. The question that did bother him now, however, was just how many attacks had been organised.
Albus shook his head of that thought.
He needed to focus on the task at hand. Just one mistake on his part would be all Tom needed to seize an advantage.
Reaching the tapestry that Harry had described to him, Albus stepped around the canvas and entered by tapping the pattern on the bricks with the tip of his wand.
He frowned as the feeling of recently cast magic washed over him and he recognised Harry's own and the presence of two others he was not so familiar with.
"Unpleasant," he murmured to himself as he deduced what had happened.
One of the trio had left via portkey and two others, Harry amongst them, via his own form of transportation, his companion, unwillingly.
He reminded himself that Harry was capable of handling himself and, instead, turned his attention towards the long passageway that stretched out before him.
Tom would be arriving soon, which gave him time to prepare for the impending confrontation.
Using the protections the school provided and his own ingenuity, he set to work, and it seemed that it was barely the briefest of moments after he'd finished that he sensed the dark disturbance ahead of him.
The ground continued to tremble beneath his feet from the explosions in the distance, but Albus was focused on only the tall, pale figure that approached, the man proving to be surprised to see him.
"I would urge you to leave, Tom."
The Dark Lord sneered.
"Have you become so cowardly that you now hide from the war in a tunnel, Dumbledore? How very cowardly. Stand aside and I will make your death painless."
"I think we both know I will do no such thing."
Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously as he brought his wand to bear.
"Then I will ensure you suffer every indignity imaginable, you old fool."
Albus braced himself for what was to come, and the first onslaught did so without delay, the spells of his foe blocked by the formidable protections of the castle.
"We both know they cannot keep me out indefinitely."
"Perhaps," Albus observed, "but my duty has always been to the school. You will not enter lightly, Tom."
With a snarl, the Dark Lord sent another flurry of vicious spells, evidently intent on not prolonging this confrontation.
Albus, however, had other ideas and he raised his own wand to defend himself, the castle, and the students within from the monster trying to breach the defences that kept them safe.
(Break)
From the very moment Harry had arrived in Hogsmeade, he found himself embroiled in nothing short of carnage. Buildings crumbled as people fled, and the streets were awash with smears of blood and limbs that were strewn across the village.
Without preamble, he'd portkeyed the unconscious Draco away so that he would not fall into the hands of the Death Eaters, and thrown himself into the fray, quickly locating a gathering of red-robed men and women.
"How many?" he asked one of the Aurors.
"Too many," the man answered worriedly.
With a nod, Harry peeled away and raised his wand, sending a stream of fire towards a figure bearing down on them. The robes went up in flames, but the pace of the assailant did not slow.
Instead, they raised their wand in response, and Harry was forced to divert a trio of spells sent towards him.
Despite being burned, there was no scream of agony nor relenting in the return fire, and Harry frowned as the robes continued to smoulder until the hood had burned away entirely.
Staring back at him was a pale, red-eyed man, hairless and with glowing runes etched into his skin.
What it was he faced, Harry didn't know, but as he landed a severing curse that removed the man's arm, he balked as the limb simply regrew and he summoned his wand back to his nearly minted hand.
"What the…"
He managed to duck below a sudden onslaught that came from his right, and his blasting curse was swept aside with little effort from the new foe. Beneath the hood, he could see the same glowing eyes and runes.
With a shake of his head, Harry pressed on, engaging both, simultaneously casting and avoiding the return fire, his frustration growing as his own spells seemed to have no effect.
They simply shrugged off bludgeoning curses, and even his darker spells seemingly did nothing. A blood-boiling curse would usually end a fight after only a moment of being under the effects, but not this time.
The Death Eaters, or whatever they were, fought on tirelessly, not slowing at all despite the damage they sustained.
"What are these things?" a voice mirroring his own frustration questioned.
Harry too was wondering the very same thing, and even as he removed the head of one with another blasting curse, the woman picked it up and reattached it with a wave of her wand.
Something was wrong.
Nothing should be able to survive this, and yet, Harry found himself forced to avoid another flurry of spells from the woman he had decapitated.
He growled irritably as he conjured a cursed, black flame, only for it to be snuffed out before it could reach its target by one of the other abominations.
"Fuck!" Harry cursed, at a loss as to what else he could try.
He was unprepared to face such a thing, and not being granted the required time to ponder his next move before being set upon once more.
"Potter, we've been called away!" one of the Aurors called. "There are other attacks."
"GO!" Harry urged, seeing no benefit to the Aurors being here.
Whatever these things were had decided to focus on him. They did not breathe, they did not tire, and they did not bleed. Whatever these monstrosities were, Harry knew he had his work cut out for him, but with no Aurors to concern himself with, he no longer needed to hold back.
Raising his wand once more, he released a deep breath.
"Fiendfyre!"
If the accursed flames failed as everything else did, then Harry was at a loss as to what else he could do.
However, as the fire spewed from his wand, another explosion rent the air, and he felt himself propelled backwards until he hit something unforgiving.
With his vision blurring, he felt something heavy collapse on top of him, squeezing the air from his lungs.
With his final breath, Harry activated his portkey, knowing his fight here was done, though he cursed himself for what had unfolded.
Whatever had happened to the Death Eaters was magic beyond his understanding, but he knew that if, as he suspected, Voldemort was behind it, the magic could be all manner of unpleasant creations of the Dark Lord.
(Break)
As he rebuffed another attack from Tom, Albus took a deep breath as he twirled his wand beneath his fingers. Some of the rocky debris were hurled forward and impacted against a hastily conjured shield courtesy of his foe.
The Dark Lord growled as he pressed on, his next attack being intercepted by a spell of Albus's, the two meeting in mid-air in the limited space between them, dissipating in a shower of sparks.
Tom remained undeterred as he responded with another flurry of violent magic, which caused the walls around them to tremble as Albus blocked it once more.
Here, they seemed to have reached a stalemate, but the headmaster knew better than for the man to concede defeat. He'd thrown all he could into his efforts to reach this far, and with a piece of his soul up for grabs, he would give no quarter.
Albus was not inclined to either and his will to prevent the man from entering the school was wrought from iron. Even if it cost him his life to prevent it, Tom would not be roaming the halls of Hogwarts tonight.
Nonetheless, Albus knew that something would have to give, though it seemed that neither would concede an inch to the other.
"You're waning, old man," Tom mocked.
He was old, and Albus felt every one of the years he'd lived, but he was far from waning. If anything, he was only getting started and it was time to remind Tom why it was Albus had been the one wizard he had always been wary of confronting.
Raising his wand, the headmaster directed his magic to gather more of the scattered debris, the dirt and the rocks being swept up in a frantic vortex as it ploughed towards the younger man.
It was only the briefest of flashes, but for the first time, Albus saw a flicker of concern in the Dark Lord's eyes. His defensive magic was indeed excellent, but his proclivity towards and favour of the Dark Arts blinded him to other magic that could be wielded.
Inevitably, he would find a way around this particular creation, but in doing so, he would need to grant Albus a respite, and the headmaster vaguely wondered what was happening outside the castle.
The explosions had ceased some moments prior, but he did not have time to focus on that.
Taking another deep breath to continue on with his own fight, he sent forth a flurry of spells to make Tom's task much harder, taking a little satisfaction in the success he was having.
Albus had never enjoyed violence, but knowing he was still capable of keeping even the most dangerous of men at bay was a welcome revelation for the headmaster.
(Break)
"What is happening?" Sirius asked worriedly as a panting Dawson, a Senior Auror, appeared in his office.
The man's robes were significantly burned, and his skin was awash with blackened soot.
"The Magical Catastrophes team has arrived at Hogsmeade," he explained. "The fire is under control but the damage is significant, Sirius. The Aurors were pulled out before, so no further casualties and the Death Eaters are gone."
Sirius nodded grimly.
"Any word from Harry?"
Dawson deflated, his expression shifting to one of concern.
"The latest report I received from those at Hogsmeade was that he'd arrived there. They were moved on before the fire, so I cannot say."
Sirius felt his heart sink into his stomach.
"Was Voldemort there?"
Dawson shook his head.
"There has been no sign of him."
Sirius once more paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.
"I will go to Hogsmeade," he decided. "I can't just wait around here."
Dawson made no attempt to stop him and Sirius disappeared with a gentle crack, his nose filling with repulsive smell of burning wood, scorched stone, and seared flesh as he arrived in the smouldering village.
"Bloody hell," he choked as he took in the scene before him.
"The village is off limits! Oh, it's you, Minister."
"What's happening Robards?"
The man shook his head.
"The attacks have been dealt with, for the most part," he answered. "There are a few skirmishes still happening around the country, but support has been sent where it is needed most. Here, I don't even know where to begin. The residents are reporting that around a dozen Death Eaters arrived and all hell broke loose. The Aurors were fighting them off, and then Potter arrived. That's when it gets a little strange, Minister."
"Strange?"
Robards nodded as he beckoned for Sirius to follow him.
"They say that these Death Eaters were different," he explained. "One man saw Potter light one on fire. The Death Eater kept fighting and didn't make a peep, not even when his robes were burned away. He says the Death Eater was bald and had red eyes."
"Voldemort."
"No," Robards denied. "This Death Eater had glowing runes carved into his skin. I thought the man was exaggerating, as they often do. That was until I saw this."
Sirius frowned as Robards pointed to a dismembered arm that was indeed inundated with several runes carved into it.
"What is it?"
"That is what we need to establish," Robards sighed, "but it gets stranger."
"Stranger than this?"
Robards nodded.
"According to the witness, it was Potter who hacked this arm off. What makes it stranger is that the arm grew back, and the Death Eater continued fighting."
Sirius scoffed in disbelief but sobered when Robards showed no sign he was jesting.
"It's concerning," the Auror continued. "What I find more concerning is the state of the arm. The flesh is dead, Minister and it's not recent. In my experience, this is seen in corpses we find around a week or so after the person has been killed."
"Necromancy?" Sirius asked worriedly.
"It seems that way, Minister," Robards replied. "We will know more when this arm has been looked at."
Sirius swallowed deeply as he surveyed the damage to the village once more.
"What caused that?" he asked, nodding towards a deep crater in the ground a short distance away.
"Judging by the smell, it seems that the explosion was caused by a volatile concoction of potion ingredients. The witness says he saw one of the Death Eaters throw it at Potter when he…"
Robards broke off.
"When he, what?"
"When he cast the fiendfyre."
Sirius could only nod.
"Has Harry been…?"
Robards shook his head worriedly.
"The last anything was seen of him was when he was thrown into that building by the explosion," he said apologetically.
The building in question was little more than a pile of rubble that had been badly burned by the fire, and Sirius immediately knew no one could have survived it.
"His remains?" he managed to choke.
"I cannot see how there would be any," Robards returned. "The residents got to it as soon as they could. There was nothing, not a trace."
Sirius frowned.
"Not a trace," Robards reiterated in a whisper.
"So, he…"
Robards placed a finger to his lips.
"I expect so," he said reassuringly.
Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.
"I want to know what that is," he said firmly, gesturing to the discarded arm. "Bring it to my office; I will have it looked at."
"Of course," Robards complied. "I will finish up here and bring it in, Minister."
"Thank you, Gawain," Sirius said appreciatively, wondering just where his godson was.
Robards firmly believed that Harry was alive and well, and the man had proven his intelligence by keeping that to himself.
Still, Sirius was concerned.
Harry would undoubtedly be hurt, and rather significantly, which only gave him another thing to worry about along with the state of the country. Voldemort had truly committed to this attack, and Sirius dreaded the various reports that would flood in throughout the coming hours, informing him of the number of dead and the damage sustained.
It would be a long night with long days to come, and yet, the Minister could only ponder the whereabouts of his godson.
(Break)
Despite his earlier success, and even with the help of the castle defences, Albus truly felt the fatigue beginning to set in. Having learned from his mistake in allowing a moment to mount some offence, Tom's own attack had been relentless and unwavering in his pursuit to break through.
Something surely had to give. With both determined as one another to see an end to the confrontation, it was only a matter of time.
Thus far, Albus had managed to repel all that Tom had to offer, but as a smirk crested the lips of the Dark Lord, the headmaster knew the impending onslaught would be unlike the others.
With a guttural roar, the passageway shuddered under the force of the dark mass that careened from his wand, and although Albus managed to conjure a powerful shield to intercept the attack, he was sent sprawling, coming to a halt, having skidded several feet from where he'd been standing.
Laying on his back with his breathing laboured, he felt depleted as an equally tired Tom stalked towards him. Evidently, the exertion of magic had taken much out of the Dark Lord, though not as it had on Albus.
With a shaking hand, the headmaster managed to raise his wand as Voldemort bore down on him, the tired smile of the man triumphant.
"It was inevitable," the Dark Lord murmured as he raised his own. "Goodbye, Dumbledore. Avada Ked…"
Before he could finish the incantation, the ground between them erupted in a fountain of earth and debris, followed by an inhuman screech.
Albus remained where he was, dumfounded by the plethora of spitting and hissing that followed as the enormous serpent that had emerged repeatedly lunged at Tom, who was hard-pressed to defend himself, especially with his eyes closed so tightly.
He seemed to be attempting to reason with the creature, to no avail.
The basilisk proved to be as relentless as the man, undeterred by the fact the passageway was barely able to accommodate its ample size, it's mind set on tearing the Dark Lord limb from limb.
Realising the creature would not listen to him, Tom bid a hasty retreat, vanishing in a cloud of blackened smoke as he screamed in fury.
Albus dared not move, his own eyes closing as the creature began turning to look at him. It was not often he was gripped by fear, but as he could sense the serpent coming closer, he felt it along with the helplessness of the situation.
Expecting to feel the large fangs penetrate his flesh and bone, he braced himself, only to feel a gentle nudging of a reptilian nose against his chest.
He heard the movement of its body once more, and as he chanced the slightest of glances through the smallest gap he dared open his eyes, he saw the tail vanishing through the hole it had created.
In all of his years, he'd never seen such a thing, and he silently thanked the magnificent beast for its intervention.
Harry had explained that Salazar had placed it here for the protection of the school, and it had indeed come to Albus in his moment of need.
Taking another moment to recuperate, his legs were unsteady as he stood and took in the sight before him. With a final shake of his head, he took it upon himself to collapse the passageway entirely as he took his leave, intent on finding out how the others had fared in their own tasks this night.
(Break)
He groaned as he tried to move. Harry didn't know how long he had been lying on his kitchen floor, but the pain tearing through his body had yet to abate. His back and ribs were throbbing, and simply breathing felt as though a knife was being jammed between each of his ribs.
More concerning, however, was the blood leaking from his arm and another significant wound in his thigh where a sizable splinter of wood was protruding from.
He'd been woefully unprepared to face such enemies. How could he have been ready for something that seemingly couldn't be killed?
No, that was untrue. Everything could be killed; he just needed to figure out how to tackle this particular foe.
Harry cursed under his breath as he pushed himself into a sitting position, grimacing as his head spun from the pain and nausea.
Although he was not in immediate danger of dying, he knew he was not in a good way. With the status of Hogwarts unknown to him and being unwilling to place himself in such a public setting as St Mungo's, he could only think of one other place he could get the help he needed.
Harry didn't have the first clue how to remove the wood wedged in his thigh, nor where to begin with his back.
He knew some useful healing spells, but here, he was out of his depth.
With a shake of his head, he retrieved one of the other portkeys from within his robes and took a moment to compose himself before activating it, groaning once more from the unpleasant sensation of being hooked through the navel and torn away from his home.
(Break)
Theo had surprisingly taken her involvement with Harry well and had even thanked Isabella for his intervention. Without it, she couldn't fathom the suffering her younger brother would have endured.
"You're worried."
Isabella nodded.
"Harry said something big is happening tonight," she murmured. "With the Dark Lord going to Hogwarts…"
She shook her head and Theo wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Potter will be fine," he tried to assure her.
Isabella offered him a weak smile, only to frown as a thud sounded from the adjoining room and their mother screamed.
Drawing her wand, Isabella entered the living area followed by Theo, both freezing at the sight of the injured Harry sprawled on the rug in front of the fireplace.
"Merlin," she whispered as she kneeled next to him, not knowing where to start.
The wood embedded in his thigh was concerning enough, but he was bleeding heavily from another wound, and the rattling of his breathing was not a good sign.
"Where does it hurt?" she asked.
"Everywhere," Harry chuckled humourlessly. "Back, ribs, leg. Lungs, I think. Potions…in my trunk," he added in a wheeze, pointing to his inside pocket.
Isabella nodded as she reached in and retrieved it, finding her hand covered in blood when she did so.
"Mother, I'll need your help."
The pale woman nodded as she took up a position next to her.
Isabella rifled through the trunk until she found a box helpfully labelled, indicating that this was where Harry stored his potions. Opening it, she was unsurprised to find almost every concoction any well-equipped Healer would carry, and she began removing the phials she would need.
"Drink this," she instructed, uncorking a Blood-replenisher and handing it to Harry.
He did so and followed it up with a Potion to alleviate the considerable pain he was in.
"I don't suppose this is the ideal way for us to meet," Harry snorted, addressing Isabella's mother.
"No," the woman agreed. "I'm still coming to terms with all of this."
Isabella barely followed the ensuing conversation as she focused on repairing Harry's ribs, placing a hand on them when she'd finished and shaking her head.
"The lung is punctured," she informed him as she handed yet another potion to the boy. "It will take a few days to heal, and the leg, probably longer. It will be easier to open it up to remove the wood, and then I will have to stop the bleeding before I can begin healing it. It's going to hurt."
Harry waved her on.
"That's nothing new," he sighed, his pain seemingly subsiding.
"Is there anything I can do?" Theo asked.
Isabella shook her head.
"Not unless you've been secretly training to be a Healer."
Receiving no reply from her brother, she continued with her efforts and took a deep breath.
"Your back isn't broken," she murmured, "but it's not in a good way. There's significant muscle damage and your spine is badly bruised. There's not much I can do for that other than treating it with a Bruise Salve. Your leg is another matter entirely. The wood is embedded in the bone and the muscle is a mess. I won't know how bad it is until I get the wood out."
Harry nodded.
"Will I need some salve on that too?"
Isabella rolled her eyes at him.
"Shut up, Potter," she grumbled as she set to work, wincing at how firmly the wood held.
Having already deduced what she would have to do, Isabella carefully opened the wound a little wider to relieve the pressure before summoning the splinter out of the bone.
Harry cursed at this, but she was focused on stemming the bleeding.
It took only a few moments, and when she was done, she breathed a sigh of relief as her mother bandaged the leg and fed Harry another potion to begin the healing.
"We need to let the potions do their work and then I can begin knitting the muscle and bone together," she explained. "You're going to be sore for a few days, and you certainly won't be able to travel, not for a week at least."
"It looks like you're stuck with me then."
Isabella offered him a sad smile as she took his hand.
"What happened?" she asked, unsure whether or not she truly wanted to know.
Harry shook his head.
"I don't know," he murmured tiredly. "I was at Hogsmeade when this happened. I don't know anything about Hogwarts or anywhere else."
"What about Malfoy?" Theo asked.
"He's not going anywhere," Harry assured him. "Other than prison. I need to get a message to Sirius. Can you pass me a quill and some parchment?"
Isabella did so and Harry penned a note before closing his eyes.
Theo did not react to the Thestral that seemed to materialise from his chest, but Isabella and her mother were taken aback.
"Mallory, take this to Sirius," Harry instructed. "Wait for his reply."
The Thestral vanished in a plume of smoke and he laid down, exhausted from what he'd endured this evening.
"Are we safe here?" her mother asked.
Harry nodded.
"No one will find you here," he promised.
Hearing it from Harry seemed to reassure her and she relaxed for the first time since they'd arrived.
"Come on, we'd best get you to a bed," Isabella sighed as she stood. "You can stay in mine."
"Oh, that is a treat," Harry quipped.
Isabella shook her head as she levitated him from the ground.
"Are you going to make this difficult?" she asked.
"I might," Harry returned, grinning despite the several injuries he was carrying. "If I have to suffer this indignity, why shouldn't I?"
"I see the Pain Potions are working," Isabella snorted as she entered the room she had taken for herself and deposited Harry onto the bed. "You need to rest."
"I don't think I could do much more if I wanted to," he replied tiredly, falling asleep only a moment later.
Isabella left him to it and used her wand to clean the blood off her hands and clothes before returning to the living room.
"Will he be alright?" her mother asked.
Isabella nodded.
"He will be," she murmured worriedly.
For now, that was the truth, but with the war only getting progressively more violent, she could not help but think that she had yet to see the worst.
"You care about him," her mother said flatly.
"I couldn't let him die."
Her mother tutted.
"You know what I mean, Isabella."
Isabella shook her head.
"We are friends, Mother," she returned. "I've helped him and he's helped us."
"That's it?"
"What else would there be?"
Her mother quirked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing else on the matter, choosing to kiss her on the cheek before heading towards her own bedroom.
She seemed to be taking the upheaval well enough, but Isabella knew that it would not be so simple moving forward. Despite everything, her parents had been married for close to two decades, and it would be a considerable adjustment for her mother, let alone her father, when he discovered what had happened.
Not that he deserved anything less.
With a shake of her head, Isabella transfigured the couch into a bed and conjured a duvet before climbing in.
For the time being, this would be her life now, and though she had not expected the turn of events that had taken place, there was a part of her that was glad Harry was here, even if he was injured.
She lay there for a while, willing sleep to come, but being unable to settle, she decided to check on the boy a final time and took a seat next to the bed he was resting in.
Taking his hand, she brushed her thumb across the back of it, doing her utmost not to think of what her mother had said.
She and Harry were friends, well, she liked to think they were.
Over the past few weeks, she had been staying at his house; he had stopped by regularly to check on her, and they had spent considerable time together. So much so that she was truly worried for him, even if she knew he would come through this particular incident just fine when he'd recovered.
"Thank you."
Isabella froze as Harry spoke.
"You're welcome," she whispered gently.
In his weakened state, he still managed to offer her a somewhat mischievous smile, and Isabella felt her chest fill with warmth.
Instead of returning to the transfigured bed, she leaned back in the chair she was sitting on, keeping hold of Harry's hand as she slowly drifted into a sleep of her own.