The Sword
"Have you heard from him recently?"
James did not even need to ask who Sirius was referring to. In recent days, he too had been wondering what had happened to the wayward werewolf. He'd slowly grown distant since they'd left Hogwarts, though not in a way that had concerned them until recently.
Neither James nor Sirius had allowed the man to go without financially. He had always been welcome to stay with either of them where he'd be fed, sheltered, and even given a dose of Wolfsbain the night of the full moon. Nonetheless, Remus had been unable to secure any long-term employment, and he'd become rather disillusioned with the wizarding world.
"You don't think he's, well, you know?" James asked worriedly.
Remus had often half-joked about finding a pack of his own kind to live with. Thus far, he'd been deterred from doing so, but James could not dismiss the thought entirely.
With the ongoing war and Greyback declaring himself and his pack to the Dark Lord, it was a most concerning possibility.
"This is Moony we are talking about," Sirius pointed out, even if he didn't seem to be convinced by his own argument.
"I know," James sighed tiredly. "I don't want to believe it…"
"But it is possible, isn't it?" Sirius cut in. "Our lot haven't exactly treated him well."
"We always have," James countered. "We've always been there for him."
"Is it enough?"
James swallowed deeply and released a deep breath
Harry was confused by the conversation.
He'd never believe that Remus would turn his back on any of them, but he did have the benefit of hindsight. Taking his father's and Sirius's perspective into consideration and remembering just what was transpiring around them, he understood their doubt.
Day in and day out, people were being implicitly betrayed by those they believed they could trust. Britain truly was a hotbed of distrust and paranoia because of the Dark Lord and the unknown men and women who had chosen to follow him.
"I'm going to look for him," Sirius murmured as he stood. "I'll let you know when I find him."
James nodded, and the two men shared a final look of concern before Sirius took his leave of the cottage.
The Potter lord shook his head.
"James?"
He smiled as Lily entered the room, though it fell when he caught sight of her expression.
"What's wrong, has something happened?" he asked.
"No, well, yes," Lily answered, her skin paler than usual.
She appeared to be lost, and she deflated as she looked almost pleadingly at her husband.
"I'm pregnant."
Silence met the declaration, and James looked as though he'd been slapped in the face. His mouth fell agape, and his eyes bulged in what would be a comical manner if the situation wasn't so severe.
Harry looked on with bated breath, as nervous as Lily undoubtedly was to receive the man's reaction.
"Pregnant," he whispered, dragging a hand through his hair. "You're bloody pregnant!"
Lily was taken aback by James suddenly springing from the chair and wrapping her in his arms. He picked her up off the floor and spun her, laughing joyously as he did so.
"You're pregnant," he repeated as he put her down.
Lily nodded, her eyes shining with tears.
"You're not angry?"
"Angry? Why would I be angry?"
"The timing is not the best, James."
The man nodded.
"It isn't," he conceded, "but that doesn't change anything. We're going to have a baby, aren't we?"
Lily rolled her eyes at him.
"Of course we are," she assured him. "I'm just scared, James."
He offered her a smile as he took her hands.
"I'm sure I will be too," he admitted. "It's okay to be scared. That doesn't mean we can't be happy."
"What about the war?"
"Fuck the war," James returned. "There's not a thing I wouldn't do to keep you both safe."
He placed a hand on Lily's stomach, and the two fell silent, simply revelling in the moment and taking some joy from what it was they were sharing.
Harry sighed deeply as he was returned to the room on the seventh floor.
The words of his father would turn to ash in his mouth only a couple of years later when Voldemort had come for them. Somehow, sharing in the intimacy of the moment only made it worse for Harry.
To see how happy his father was to learn he would have a child…
It hurt to know what was to come of James, Lily, and even himself, but he also felt a new sense of pride in being the son of James Potter.
He'd been a man of his word and had sacrificed himself to give his wife and son even the merest of chance of escaping Voldemort. Ultimately, it had been for nothing.
Harry may have lived, but both James and Lily had perished, leaving a son behind to fight a war that no other could finish, and now, here he was.
The life he'd lived since that fateful Halloween night had led him to many moments he'd sooner forget and the many more unpleasant ones that were yet to come.
Still, perhaps there would be some happier ones amongst them, just as there had been for his mother and father.
That remained to be seen, and although Harry was somewhat hopeful, it was difficult to imagine them when all seemed so bleak.
Almost a month had gone by since the attack on Hogsmeade, and although no other on such a scale had followed, smaller ones had been occurring daily. The Death Eaters, however, had reverted to their previous tactics of striking hard and fast, and the Aurors would arrive after the Dark Lord's followers had left.
It was frustrating, to say the least.
Nonetheless, Harry knew it was only a matter of time before the monstrosities Voldemort had created would make another appearance, and this time, he would be ready for it.
Having returned to Hogwarts, he'd immediately set about the task of finding a suitable way to combat them using the basilisk venom. He had considered imbuing projectiles but had ultimately decided against such a vessel.
It posed too much a risk to any other who would likely be fighting alongside him, and he did not wish to be responsible for their death, even inadvertently.
No, using a concoction within a phial or even an arrow or javelin would not do.
Instead, Harry had opted to use a blade, but he was loathe to get within arm's length of the things Tom had created. There was no telling what could befall him.
A sword.
He'd decided that using a sword would be the most suitable weapon; however, he'd only encountered problem after problem throughout his various experiments.
Any blade he conjured was immediately destroyed by the venom the basilisk had so willingly provided, and the same had occurred with any other he'd purchased for the purpose.
From what he had learned via the research he'd been conducting, only a goblin-forged blade would withstand the venom and even absorb the properties of it.
Try as he might, Harry had been unable to obtain such a blade and had all but given up hope on the venture until he remembered one in particular. The solution had come to him through further research and remembering the brief conversation he'd shared with the headmaster.
The Sword of Godric Gryffindor.
Of course, none had seen it in almost a thousand years. However, from what the Sorting Hat had divulged, the garment knew the location, and Harry intended to discuss with it this very evening.
For now, he had something else to attend to, but obtaining the sword, if at all possible, was at the top of his list of priorities.
It was likely he would have need of it soon enough, after all.
(Break)
Being in hiding was not how she'd envisioned spending her birthday. It had been close to a month ago now that they'd arrived at the house in France, and oddly enough, it was Theo who was keeping their spirits up.
It was a difficult adjustment to make, particularly for their mother, who had spent the better part of two decades married to their father and barely leaving the large manor they'd lived in.
Still, the woman was making the best of their situation, and Harry had done more than any of them could have asked of him.
With that being said, it was not so easy being kept in the dark for days at a time. At Harry's suggestion, they remained in the house and received no mail, not even The Daily Prophet.
Isabella spent her time studying the various volumes on becoming a Healer and completing menial tasks around the house. Theo was continuing to study for the NEWTs he hoped to sit the following year, and their mother seemed to be in a daze for the most part, seemingly taking each day as it came.
It was far from ideal, but they were safe, and that was all that mattered.
"Isabella, would you come here, please?"
She sighed as she placed the book she was trying to read on the bedside table before taking her leave of her room, pausing at the sight that greeted her in the kitchen.
"Happy Birthday," Harry greeted her with a grin.
Isabella could only blink as she spotted the large pile of gifts, the platter of various foods, and the cake resting atop the table.
"Aren't you going to blow your candles out?" he chuckled. "I don't want to eat cake with wax on it."
Isabella rolled her eyes and did so, cutting him a generous slice and quirking an eyebrow as he bit into it.
"This is good," he declared with a beaming smile, and Isabella shook her head at the flecks of chocolate around his lips.
"Oi, if Potter's having cake, I want some too!" Theo declared.
"It is really good," Harry reiterated teasingly, eliciting a scowl from the other boy. "I think I'll have some more."
"Sod off, Potter," Theo growled, snatching at the next piece, grinning triumphantly as he reached it first.
Harry pouted petulantly.
"You can wait for more, Harry," Violetta huffed. "Honestly, this is why I only had one of each," she added, ignoring Harry's frown as she moved the cake out of reach of both boys. "Why don't you open your presents?"
Isabella accepted the package she was handed, acutely aware that only Harry could have gotten them for her.
He didn't have to, and yet again, she was reminded of just how kind he was and how much he'd done for them.
She was lost for words as she continued unwrapping the gifts. An assortment of books, clothes, and even perfume lay before her amongst various other odds and ends.
It was overwhelming, to say the least, and as she looked towards the still-smiling Harry, he held yet another gift for her.
"This one is from me," he explained.
Tentatively, she accepted it, and as she removed the paper, her eyes widened.
Within was a bag designed for Healers, and judging by the weight, it was full of all the essentials she was hoping she would one day need, many of which were heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic.
Only qualified Healers were able to purchase these.
"How did you get this?" Isabella whispered.
"I suppose being me does have its perks," Harry chuckled.
"Have you been exploiting your fame, Potter?" Theo asked almost proudly.
"Wouldn't you?"
Theo nodded.
"I'm a Slytherin."
Harry's sudden burst of laughter took them all aback, and as Isabella looked at him, he stopped as though he had caught himself.
"What's funny, Potter?" Theo pressed confusedly.
"Well, if I hadn't of met Malfoy, I would have been a Slytherin," he revealed. "The hat was determined to put me there. I had to convince it not to."
Theo's eyes widened comically before he too chuckled.
"I can see it," he murmured. "That would have been interesting. There would have been a lot of people upset by that. The Potters have traditionally been Gryffindors. Both of your parents were, weren't they?"
Harry nodded, though he laughed again.
"They were," he confirmed. "But not everything is always as it seems," he added coyly.
Before anyone could question him further on the matter, Violetta began serving them food from the platters, which served to distract them enough from what they'd been discussing.
Isabella hadn't had much of an appetite in recent weeks, but it had returned now.
The presents were of course, a welcome addition, but simply being here with her mother, Theo, and Harry to share her birthday had cheered her up considerably.
"Hungry?" Harry asked as she accepted another plate of food from her mother, her third helping.
"Maybe," she answered with a smirk. "I might even eat yours if you're not careful."
She laughed as Harry wrapped his arm around his plate protectively.
"You'll get a fork in your hand if you try it."
"And from me," Theo warned. "You too, Potter, if you get greedy with the cake."
Harry held his hands up innocently, but he eyed the confection with clear intent.
"I mean it, Potter."
"There's more than enough for everyone," Violetta said pointedly. "Besides, Isabella should have had the first slice."
"She should have been quicker," Harry grumbled, and Theo nodded his agreement.
"Well, she can have the next slice," Violetta declared, cutting her a generous piece and placing it in front of her.
Isabella smiled and slowly took a forkful into her mouth, feeling amused by the staring of Harry and her brother.
Much to their relief, however, they didn't have to wait long for their own, and they fell into a companionable silence whilst they finished their meal.
When they were done, Theo decided he would lie down to recover from the sheer amount of food he'd consumed, and their mother busied herself by clearing the table, leaving Isabella alone with Harry.
"You didn't have to do all of this," she sighed.
"It's your birthday," he replied simply. "You shouldn't have to go without just because of everything that is happening."
Isabella nodded gratefully.
"Thank you," she whispered sincerely.
"Besides, I'm sure you'll make use of that bag."
It took Isabella a moment to understand the meaning of what he'd said, and she deflated.
"I'd rather I didn't."
"Me too," Harry sighed, "but we both know it's likely."
She nodded reluctantly as she took his hand and gently squeezed it.
It was odd. She'd grown up with the stories of Harry Potter and had imagined he'd grown into a pompous, arrogant boy, much like how Draco had proven himself to be every time Isabella had met him.
Despite her father's open disdain for him, Harry was nothing like she'd thought.
Unexpectedly, Isabella had grown rather fond of him since meeting him in that dingy pub in Knockturn Alley. It was strange to think that the young man who had gone out of his way to ensure she enjoyed her birthday was the same she'd heard her father speak of in such an unpleasant manner, the same the world was looking to for a solution to the ensuing war.
To many, he was a hero for fighting the Dark Lord and his followers, but it was much more personal to Isabella. He'd saved her, her mother, and even Theo when he had no obligation to.
Beyond standing against the Dark Lord, Harry was the kindest person she'd met, and that damned grin he wore, even now, was something that was as frustrating as it was endearing.
"What is it?" Isabella sighed.
"Nothing," Harry returned as he stood. "I should get back. There's so much I have to do."
Isabella nodded her understanding.
"I really do appreciate everything you did for me today," she said sincerely, tentatively wrapping her arms around him and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied with a smile.
She took him by the hand before he could leave.
"I know you can't make any promises, but at least try to be careful. I'd rather not spend my life putting you back together."
"I can promise I'll try," he chuckled. "You know that's all I can do."
"I suppose that will have to be enough," Isabella sighed, grinning at him.
He returned the gesture, and she reluctantly released his hand so that he could be on his way.
Isabella watched as he faded into a black smoke and shook her head. It was one of the many mysterious things about Harry Potter she didn't understand, but it was easier to ponder his quirks than it was to dwell on the fact that he was not there anymore.
No, he was off saving the world, or doing whatever Harry Potter did when he wasn't fighting Dark Lords and Death Eaters.
Isabella snorted at the thought.
A part of her still bought into the notion that Harry lived a continuously fascinating life when, in fact, she knew he appreciated the simpler things.
Peace.
He wanted little more than a life of peace where he could restore his dwindling family.
It was so simple, and yet, it was all he craved.
Isabella could appreciate that, though she had no doubt he would soon attract the attention of those who would one day expect a life in the spotlight.
She shook her head at the thought and hoped Harry would not find himself in such a marriage if he lived.
If he lived.
That thought alone was one that haunted her during the lonely nights away from Britain.
If Harry died, what would become of her home?
It did not bear thinking about, and instead of dwelling on it, Isabella chose to revisit the gifts she'd received, a light frown creasing her brow as she read the note attached to the Healer's bag.
You're going to be a fine Healer, Isabella.
Harry x
It was succinct, but it warmed her chest as she read the words repeatedly, reminding her that there was much to look forward to when the war was over.
(Break)
"Without a full specimen, there is nothing else they can tell us," Sirius explained disappointedly. "They know how they can be killed, but not necessarily how easy it will be."
Albus nodded his understanding.
The Unspeakables had been studying the dismembered arm Harry had managed to sever from one of Tom's enhanced Death Eaters. Unfortunately, it provided only something of an insight into how it had been created.
That, however, had not stopped the workers of the Department of Mysteries from trying to garner more information, though as Sirius informed the rest of the Order, their efforts were to no avail.
Nonetheless, knowing how to destroy the Death Eaters was half the battle won, though Albus did not envy anyone facing them.
"Headmaster!"
Severus burst into the kitchen, his breathing laboured and his expression one of deep concern.
"What is it?"
"Tonight," the man wheezed. "He is going to attack again tonight with the werewolves and those things."
Albus nodded grimly, holding up a hand to maintain calm amongst the Order of the Phoenix gathered members.
"Do you know where?"
Severus shook his head apologetically.
"I do not. I overheard Narcissa and Lucius discussing it. I have not been made privy to the attack."
"What do we do?" Minerva asked worriedly.
"I will alert the Aurors," Sirius declared, immediately taking his leave of the kitchen.
"The rest of us will wait," Albus decided.
He did not like merely waiting, but there was little else that could be done until Sirius sent word of where they were needed.
"Harry?" he queried as the youngest of the group stood.
"I need access to your office."
"My office?"
"It is important."
Albus felt as though he was missing something, but he had no reason to distrust Harry.
"Very well," he agreed. "Fawkes?"
The phoenix appeared in a column of fire, trilling comfortingly.
"Would you be so kind as to take Harry to my office?"
Fawkes trilled once more and seized the young man by the shoulders, the duo vanishing in another burst of fire. What Harry could possibly need in his office was lost on Albus, but he would not have made such a request at this moment if it wasn't urgent.
"I hate waiting," Cedric Diggory grumbled restlessly.
Albus understood the sentiment.
Often, waiting was much worse than anything else they'd face, the anticipation being particularly trying on the nerves.
Still, there was nothing else for it.
With an imminent attack, they could only wait until further information was passed on to them, and only then could they act accordingly.
(Break)
"You could have warned me," Harry grumbled as he was deposited in Dumbledore's office, where Fawkes immediately flew to his perch.
Shooting the bird a final look of disapproval, he shifted his attention towards the reason he had come here and found it resting atop the uppermost shelf.
He stepped around the desk so that he could see the Sorting Hat in full before clearing his throat.
"Bee in your bonnet, Potter?" it asked.
Harry nodded.
"When I was speaking with Dumbledore before, you mentioned you knew the whereabouts of Gryffindor's sword."
"I did."
"I was hoping you would be able to share the location with me," Harry responded hopefully. "I have need of it."
"Impossible," the hat declared. "Only one who truly embodies the qualities of Godric may be granted the sword. I remember Potter, and I stand by my word. You would have been great in Slytherin."
Harry could only shake his head.
"You won't tell me."
"No."
"Then I suppose I will have to ask the man himself," Harry decided, taking hold of the resurrection stone and turning it over in his hand.
"I did wonder if I would be summoned."
The man who had appeared in the room was tall and broad with it. Godric's eyes were alight with mischief, and he fondly looked around the headmaster's office.
"Good grief," the hat whispered in shock. "Godric, is it truly you?"
Gryffindor dipped his head in the hat's direction.
"It is me, George."
"George?" Harry questioned.
"Named for the bravest of the Saints," Godric answered with a chuckle. "He never did like the name," he added quietly, nodding towards the hat. "Now, what can I do for you, young man?"
"I was hoping I could make use of your sword," Harry explained. "The hat claims to know where it is, but it won't tell me."
Godric hummed thoughtfully as he shook his head.
"Ah, well, that could prove to be difficult," he admitted. "The magic that conceals it relies on George cooperating and the individual truly possessing the qualities I hold most dear. There's only one way it can be retrieved. You must place the hat upon your head and allow George to pass judgment on how worthy you are to wield it."
"Okay," Harry agreed confusedly. "What if he doesn't agree?"
"Then I'm afraid there is little that can be done," Godric answered.
Harry frowned as he looked towards the hat, who appeared to be rather smug. With nothing to lose, however, he summoned the weathered garment and put it on. This time, it did not fall over his eyes, though he could feel an odd presence within his mind.
The hat couldn't read his thoughts or his memories, but it did seem to be able to read certain parts of him.
'Hmm yes, there is that same courage within you Potter, but so much more. Wit and wisdom are not lost on you, and there is certainly loyalty. Ah, and there is the cunning and ambition you have in spades, young man. My, you are not the same boy I met when I first sorted you, but my original assessment stands. You would have been great in Slytherin, but I cannot ignore such boldness. Your enemy is great, a fierce foe, yet you intend to stand before him, nonetheless.'
Harry flinched as something struck him on the head, and as he removed the hat, a golden-handled sword clattered to the floor.
"Excellent," Godric declared, clapping enthusiastically as Harry retrieved it.
The blade was heavy in his hands but not unwieldable. He gave it a few practice swings and smiled as he nodded.
"I will return it when I'm done," he assured the founder and the hat.
"I have no doubt you will," Godric replied with a bow. "May it serve you as well as it served me. George, it was good to see you."
With that, the man faded from view, and Harry returned the hat to the top shelf.
"Not a word, Potter," it requested. "I would prefer that none learned of the name Godric gave me."
"Your secret is safe with me," Harry assured the garment as he removed his trunk from within his pocket.
There wasn't a moment to lose, and as he inspected the basilisk venom, he hoped the results would be different this time. He didn't know how he would explain the destruction of a priceless artefact, let alone to the Sorting Hat, who would never forgive him if anything was to go awry with the sword.
(Break)
Once again, Sirius found himself pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in his office, bemoaning that this was where he would remain whilst the fighting took place.
To him, waiting was all but intolerable, but he understood his position.
Although he would not be in the thick of the action, it would be him to direct traffic, to direct the Aurors and other experts to where they would be needed most.
It was trying on his nerves, and although he would never get used to it, there was not another he would trust.
"What is it?" he asked as the door to his office opened and breathless Aurors entered.
"Two attacks, Minister," the man answered. "One in Truro and the other in Leeds."
Sirius nodded.
"Send a team to each and hold the rest in reserve," he instructed. "Help will arrive for both shortly."
"Yes, Minister," the man complied, taking his leave of the room.
As he did so, Sirius sent his own message and poured himself a generous measure of whiskey. As had become the custom when the Death Eaters attacked, tonight would indeed be a long one.
(Break)
More than an hour had gone by since Sirius had left Grimmauld Place, and with each passing moment, the members of the Order grew only more restless whilst they waited for word from the man.
Albus managed to remain seated, focused on the task at hand whilst the others had talked quietly amongst themselves, though none able to hold a conversation of substance.
It was the sudden arrival of the familiar, ethereal dog that pulled them all from their thoughts as it spoke in the voice of the Minister of Magic.
'Truro and Leeds,' it announced. 'Aurors are already there.'
"We will head to Truro," Cedric declared as he stood, gesturing to himself, his father, and the Weasleys. "It is not far from where we live."
Albus nodded his agreement, and the sizable group were gone only a moment later.
"Then we will go to Leeds," he decided for the rest of them as he sent a message to Harry to join the first at his earliest convenience.
What awaited them, the headmaster didn't know.
With Tom as their enemy, there was never any certainty other than the inevitable death and destruction the man and his followers left in their wake.
(Break)
It was the sound of explosion upon explosion that greeted them from only a few streets away when they arrived in the centre of Truro and without hesitation, the group consisting of the Weasleys and the Diggorys hurried towards the sounds of fighting.
Cedric was the first to reach the street and quickly found himself amongst a trio of Aurors who were doing their utmost to fend off an attack from a gathering of Death Eaters.
"Nice of you to join us, Ced," Tonks commented.
He smirked at the metamorph who had been his partner since he'd joined the Aurors. The woman never failed to make him laugh, even during the direst and most unpleasant situations they faced.
"Working late?" he asked.
They'd finished their shift hours prior, yet Tonks was still dressed in her uniform.
"Not all of us have a pretty girl to go home to," she replied, diverting a curse sent her way.
Cedric said nothing.
He'd told no one that he and Cho had broken up a few weeks ago. With her finishing her final year at Hogwarts and him working what seemed to be every hour of the day, they'd spent little time together this year.
They'd mutually decided to end things, the two of them simply having grown apart in recent months. There was no animosity, just the realisation they no longer felt the same for one another.
"Watch out!"
He shouldered Tonks out of the path of an incoming blasting curse, flinching as his shield buckled under the force. Returning fire with a spell of his own, he frowned as it seemed to have little effect.
"Oh, shit," Tonks cursed as the Death Eater pressed on towards them, uninjured and undeterred by what had happened, its demonic, red eyes glowing ominously in the darkness.
This was one of them, the very same thing Harry had faced in Hogsmeade that had left him quite severely injured.
Worse yet, a chilling cacophony of howls rent the air, announcing the arrival of the werewolves.
"That's not good," Cedric groaned, conjuring a thick stream of water towards the Death Eater in a bid to slow it down and freeze it in place with another flick of his wand.
The relief he felt, however, was short-lived.
The Death Eaters simply severed its own leg just below the knee, and the limb was replaced even before it took another step.
Another howl, and Cedric looked around. This one had been much closer, and he could hear the not-so-distant snarling of the beasts.
"We need to retreat," he urged.
Tonks would not wish to flee any more than him, but remaining where they were was not advantageous. Soon enough, they would be surrounded by werewolves and the monstrosities Voldemort had created.
"RETREAT!" Tonks instructed.
For one of the Aurors, the command came too late as he was set upon by a pair of werewolves and his screams filled the air as he was quickly torn limb from limb.
It happened so quickly that none had time to react.
Those screams would undoubtedly haunt Cedric, but he did not have time to dwell on the demise of the man, not when the werewolves were congregating close to them, and the Death Eater continued to bear down on their position.
As it went, it did not appear that they would be receiving any assistance from the other Aurors or members of the Order, who could scarcely be seen amongst the debris and ensuing fighting.
No, they were very much alone, outnumbered, and seemingly left to fend for themselves.
"Any ideas?" Cedric asked as the Death Eater came within a dozen or so feet of them.
Before Tonks could answer, a familiar coldness washed over them, and the Death Eater suddenly staggered, a guttural roar of agony being forced from its lips.
Cedric's eyes widened at the sight of the blade that exploded out of its chest, and as the roar became a higher-pitched screeching, the Death Eater keeled over.
Where it had been, stood a sword-wielding Harry Potter, whose presence seemed to bring something of a lull over the battlefield.
Harry, however, did not pause.
Bringing his wand to bear, he sent wave upon wave of blackened, icy flames towards the encroaching Death Eaters and werewolves, halting their progress and giving the Aurors and Order members a brief reprieve.
"Don't just stand there," he growled. "Get your arses moving!"
Cedric was all but dragged behind a pile of rubble from a collapsed building by Tonks where they would have a semblance of protection from the errant spells that began flying.
"Focus on the werewolves," she instructed. "Keep them away from Potter."
Cedric nodded and set about the task of doing so. Given how large a pack Greyback had at his disposal, it wasn't easy.
Nothing in this war ever was.
(Break)
He had little time to dwell on the momentary jubilation he felt at the success of the sword in putting an end to the Death Eater. Once the shock of his arrival had waned, Harry found himself inundated with enemies to face.
This time, however, he would not repeat his previous mistake.
Spell after spell left his wand in his bid to keep the Death Eaters at bay, and much to his relief, the Aurors and Order members had chosen to focus their attention on the werewolves.
Not that it made Harry's task any easier.
Shoving a blade through the back of an unsuspecting opponent was one thing, but getting close enough to the rest was another entirely.
Were he alone, he would implement the cloak to do so, but with so many spells being cast around him, it was too risky to attempt.
No, he needed to find a way to breach the admittedly impressive defences of the Death Eaters so that he could get within striking distance, a challenge unto itself.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He avoided the killing curse and deflected a flurry of other spells that had been sent towards, using the moment to conceive a way he could progress towards the Death Eaters.
With so many hurling magic around the streets pell-mell, doing so was all but impossible, and it didn't help that they began their own retreat, firing the Dark mark into the sky.
They were attempting to escape, or so Harry thought.
Nonetheless, he pursued them, fending off the wayward werewolves and was joined by Cedric, Tonks, and another Auror that had been seeking shelter with them.
"We'll focus on the werewolves," the former assured him, almost splitting one of the creatures in half with a severing curse.
Harry nodded gratefully as he toyed with the idea of banishing the sword towards one of the Death Eaters, though he quickly decided against it.
It was invaluable to him, and to lose it could prove to be catastrophic.
Perhaps he could use it in such a way in the future, but for now, he was certainly limited by his own unwillingness to part with the blade for even a second.
"Where are they going?" Cedric asked curiously as the Death Eaters and werewolves continued to retreat.
"I don't know," Tonks answered warily as all pretence of fighting was abandoned and they watched as the Dark Lord's followers vanished amongst the buildings.
"Stay alert," Harry urged, his grip tightening around his wand.
They had not left the area, but before he could ponder just why that was, the ground began to tremble beneath their feet.
"Bollocks," Harry cursed as an enormous chunk of stone skipped past them, thankfully missing its mark as it came to a rest amongst the other debris.
He didn't need to hazard a guess as to where it had come from.
It hadn't occurred to him until this moment that Truro was dangerously close to another place he had been monitoring closely in recent months, and as the first of the giants made itself known with a roar that shook the buildings around them, Harry could only brace himself for what was to come.
"Bloody hell, how many of them are there?" Cedric whispered fearfully.
"Around thirty."
They seemed to emerge from every possible avenue and alleyway until the gathered members of the Order and the Aurors were looking upon a sight that most would only see in their worst nightmares.
"Any ideas?" Cedric asked.
"No," Harry answered as he readied himself.
"Bugger," Cedric said simply, the same sentiment being shared by the others.
Harry snorted as he nodded.
"Come Death, come," he murmured, reaching for the Thestral talon tied around his neck.