Hi everyone, how are you doing, hopefully great! 😊 I hope you're looking forward to continue with the story, I'm bringing a chapter with lots of action... The final battle is coming! 😱 I'll tell you that it will be divided into three chapters 😊
Thank you so much to all of you who are there, for your support 😍 If you feel like leaving me a review, I'll be happy to read it. You are food for my soul ha ha ha 😍
Thank you so much in advance for reading! 😊
And now... Get your wands out! Let's fight!
The Last Battle
CHAPTER 52
The dome
Night had fallen over the ruins of Hogsmeade village. There was not a single window lit in the whole place. Not a single lamppost. There was not a soul.
Due to Scotland's rainy weather, many of the collapsed buildings had begun to be covered in moss. Many of the facades had been bombed, and large gaps exposed the inside of houses and shops. There was rubble everywhere. Beams jutted out. The Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop had become a storehouse of ashes; all the feathers had been charred in some fire, as the blackish state of the furniture showed. The façade of the Three Broomsticks Inn was still standing, but a quick glance inside showed that part of the bar had been pulverised, and almost all the tables were overturned and full of dust. Dark stains were everywhere. The top floor of the Hog's Head Inn had a large gaping hole in it. And its recognisable sign, with its distinctive wild boar's severed head, hung precariously from one of its hinges. Swaying in the wind, it stood stubbornly in place. Almost like a mute vindication. One corner of the sign was missing a piece of wood.
Aberforth didn't stop walking as he passed his old business and home. He didn't even turn his head. Tonks continued to walk behind him, a respectful step further back, watching his back with distress. Ron slowed his pace, glancing nervously at the facade. Hermione stopped altogether and peered through the open door. It looked just like the Three Broomsticks. Everything was in disarray, and a mess. Dusty. Cold.
They passed the Post Office. It was still in pretty good shape. The door, at least, was closed. And the walls were intact. The window panes were history, though. There were no owls to be seen inside, of course.
They crossed in front of Zonko's Joke Shop, which looked exceptionally gloomy. They were used to seeing its shop windows full of lights, colour and movement. There were two dusty mugs on display behind the dingy glass, unmoving, which they knew had once been responsible for biting off the nose of anyone who tried to use them. It seemed as if all the magic of the place had evaporated. Like an abandoned amusement park.
The small group walked up the main street and stopped at the corner. Peering around it. Generating a couple of Tracking Spells. The road was still clear. No one had bothered to guard the ruins of the village.
With no one living there, with no one who could become a potential ally for the Order of the Phoenix, and no one else's wand to help them, Voldemort hadn't paid any attention to it. And how wrong he had been... The village, in and of itself, was all the Order needed.
Aberforth was the first to open and walk through the door that led into Honeydukes. Tonks followed, and then it was Ron's turn, who held the door open while Hermione scanned the surroundings they left behind and generated two Intruder Charms before entering as well.
It was still just as the couple who ran it had left it when they fled. The shelves were filled with dusty packets of sweets. It didn't smell like candy. The mechanical witch who used to stir a cauldron full of chocolate wasn't moving. The scale on the counter was rusting from the winter damp. No one was there.
"Something must have gone wrong?" Ron muttered then, breaking the silence. "Where are they...?"
And then they heard it. Someone was ascending the stairs leading to the cellar. Everyone was immediately alert. Aberforth rounded the trapdoor to surprise whoever it was from behind. Tonks hid behind a shelf. Ron and Hermione faced them head on, wands held high. Although, if everything had gone as planned, it wasn't necessary. And it wasn't.
Neville, predictably, then appeared through the opening in the floor. His small eyes looked around at the display that had been organised, and he smiled apologetically. Recognising the hooded ones. The Phoenix Masks they wore. All the wands lowered.
"We've arrived early. We were taking a look down the passageway while we waited for you," Neville said, smiling apologetically. Finishing climbing the stairs. Accepting Ron's hand for it. "Looks like it's clear. There was a box on top of the trapdoor, so it doesn't look like it's been discovered, if they've examined the place at all..."
"Good sign," Tonks admitted, taking a last look around. Making sure nothing was out of place. Luna then followed Neville up the stairs. A dreamy smile was already on her pale lips.
"The boxes downstairs have chocolate in them," she reported, by way of greeting, as if it were a particularly relevant piece of information. "Do you think we should get some? For the Dementors... If it's been preserved with Gulping Plimpies fingernail powder, it'll have been kept in good condition over the years..."
Ron bit his lip under his Phoenix Mask to keep from laughing. Although he couldn't see Hermione's face, he could see in the stiffness of her shoulders that she was holding back with all her might from embarking on a detailed explanation of why Luna's assumption was, inevitably, incorrect.
"Gulping Plimpies...?" Aberforth growled, allowing genuine confusion to show in his sullen voice.
"I don't think they kept it that way, Luna," Ron hastened to comment. But he couldn't restrain himself from adding, "I'm pretty sure they used Heliopath snot. And that's not such a good preservative," he replied, deadly serious, as if it were beyond dispute. Luna nodded her head, gravely, as if in deep agreement. Not catching his sarcasm.
"Oh, for — " began an impatient Hermione.
"Come on, let's go downstairs," Ron hastened to interrupt her, almost laughing in spite of himself. He grabbed Hermione's wrist, who had raised both hands and gasped for air as if she could no longer contain herself in the face of such stupidity, and pulled her down the stairs. "The rest of our squadron is on its way. Next comes Hermione's, and then Tonks's. We've got a castle to take back."
They had barely been inside the Forbidden Forest for fifteen minutes, and the trees had already taken over their entire field of vision. The trees and the darkness. Every branch their feet broke crunched through the vastness of the forest, creating an endless echo among the trees. The temperature that late June night was reasonably warm.
Harry held his wand raised before him, illuminating the path with an effective Wand-Lighting Charm. He looked up again, scanning the night sky once more. Restless. But it was not visible because of the lushness of the trees. There was no illumination above their heads. No moon was visible. And it had better stay that way until they reached the grounds. There was a full moon that night...
"This must be the clearing," Remus muttered next to him, slowing his pace. He held his wand flat in his palm, like a compass. Harry stopped as well when the man did. They were in a sandy hollow, surrounded by gnarled trees. Oaks, pines, yews... Or, at least, gloomy versions of them. Everything was greyish, almost bluish. There was no colour in this place.
"Did they detect our presence?" Harry muttered, breaking the silence. Both Remus and he were focused, listening for any sound that might alert them to danger. "I'm surprised there aren't any barriers..."
"I don't think so," Lupin opined, also quietly. "There weren't when Dumbledore ran the school, either. There never was any need for them. The Forbidden Forest, in itself, is the best barrier one could wish for. We are fortunate enough to have as our guide the only person who knows it through and through..."
Harry could only agree with him. But he didn't get a chance to reply, because seconds later, he began to hear a growl. For an instant, he feared that his former professor was undergoing his inevitable transformation prematurely. But, after a fleeting glance, he saw that this was not the case. But he continued to hear that curious growling. It was like a... buzzing. A murmur. Approaching. And the possibility of an unexpected creature surprising them gave him goosebumps. He could still hear the voice of a terrified young Draco Malfoy, barely eleven...
'The Forest? We can't go in there at night — there's all sorts of things in there — werewolves, I heard.'
Suddenly, a sudden light blinded him. A powerful spotlight. Double. He heard the rumbling again, much closer. A few feet away from them. He inhaled sharply, reaching to raise his wand, but then he understood. He recognised the sound. He recognised the light.
"What the — ?" Remus mumbled next to him. Confused.
But Harry let out a gasp of surprise, and a smile stretched his mouth. He put his forearm over his eyes so that the light wouldn't blind him, and now he could see the silhouette of the light blue, semi-rusty flying Ford Anglia, formerly owned by Mr Weasley. The car arrived in front of Remus and him, and slowed gently beside them. The lights of the huge headlights flickered as if to greet them. Harry was tempted to pat him like a hound.
"Harry!" called a loud voice a few yards away.
He looked in that direction. A huge, hairy mass was walking towards them, dodging through the trees. Hagrid's coat was more threadbare than the last time he had seen him, and there were small twigs in his thick black hair. He carried his crossbow and his quiver full of arrows.
"Hagrid..." Harry murmured, his voice cracking. It was such a familiar voice... and he felt such a warm emotion in his heart that he could have cried. His friend's voice had brought back beautiful memories of his old school. When everything was easier. When they were still happy... The candles in the Great Hall, the crackling of the fireplace in the Common Room, the clatter of students in the corridors, the rustling of quills in exams, the barking of Fang, the cheering of the Quidditch pitch...
Hagrid advanced heavily towards him, and Harry couldn't restrain the urge to hug him tightly. He couldn't get his arms around his waist, but he sank into his friend's coat and let the feeling wash over him. It had been years since he'd seen him... Hagrid let out a heavy sigh that ruffled Harry's already dishevelled hair, and gave his back a squeeze that made a couple of vertebrae crackle.
"Harry, boy..." he murmured in his husky voice, his huge hand patting his back excitedly. Making the boy cough. "Yeh've grown..."
"You got our message," Lupin interjected, managing to smile at the scene. Hagrid nodded and pulled away from Harry, giving him a tender smile beneath his bushy beard.
"O' course. Here I am, ready fer anythin'. I hope I'll be useful..."
"You already have been... Is there any news? The Dark Lord still hasn't shown up at the castle?"
"Not at all," Hagrid replied decisively. "I've checked. He's not here."
"That's good... So how's the recruitment going?"
Hagrid snorted loudly. Looking a little more frustrated.
"No luck with the Acromantulas. They've wanted nothin' ter do with me fer years... But I found this little chap," he gave the same look to the motionless Ford Anglia that he used to give Norbert, his old baby dragon, "an' he's followed me here. Grawp said he'd fight," he added with proud satisfaction. "I've left him with Fang. I have also gathered the Thestrals. And... now it's jus' them left."
Remus nodded affirmatively at that information. "Thank you very much, good work. So let's get to it. Where are they...?"
"They've got one o' their camps a bit further on," Hagrid pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Still..." the big man seemed to hesitate, "are yeh sure abou' this?"
"We lose nothing by trying," Lupin smiled wistfully. "We need all the help we can get tonight. We know they won't fight us, Voldemort can't give them anything they want. And besides, his rise to power hasn't been very pleasant for them either. So they may be in favour of helping us."
"They're very particular," Hagrid insisted, arching his eyebrows slightly.
"Still, as long as we're here..." Lupin replied, starting in the direction his friend had indicated.
Hagrid pursed his lips and snorted listlessly, almost without ruffling his thick black beard. Harry smiled at him and started to walk after his former teacher. Muffled but heavy footsteps told him that Hagrid had finally followed. And the sudden illumination of headlights, and the sound of tyres, that the Ford Anglia had followed.
After barely an acre, they came to another clearing. Surrounded by thicker, gnarlier, older trees. The group stopped. They were not alone.
There was the sound of kicking on the ground. And the snorting.
Centaurs.
Sewers. Cold, and damp, only the faint murmur of drops falling to the sodden ground broke the gloomy silence. A narrow tube of slippery stone surrounded them. And only the light of the wands broke the darkness.
"It's here, Dad, stop."
Arthur turned on his heel as he squatted through the narrow tunnel and pointed his wand light at his youngest child, who was trailing behind. Ginny squinted, blinded, but pointed upwards with the light of her wand. She pointed to a round manhole cover above their heads. The iron was partially covered in greenish mould, and fortunately, it was of sufficient diameter for a grown man to pass through without too much effort.
Fred, behind his sister, raised his wand.
"Alohomora," he muttered, pointing towards the exit.
The heavy manhole cover spun around a couple of times and stayed in place. Ginny stepped back a little, wand held high, as Fred advanced to stand underneath it. He held his wand with his teeth and pushed with his hands. The cover gave way and slid partially aside, leaving the passage open. A dim light illuminated the cold tunnel and made the wand light unnecessary. A flickering, orange glow. A delicious scent, warm, and sweet, invaded their nostrils. Also, a different smell that they identified as burning coals or embers. Suddenly, a small but quick figure loomed over the hole, blocking the light.
"Mr and Mr Weasley!" a sharp voice shrieked. "Many Weasleys!"
"Dobby, are there any Death Eaters up there?" Ginny whispered, still holding her wand high in the air.
"No, miss!" the elf cheerfully denied. Arthur let out a relieved sigh.
"Careful, Dobby, I'm coming up," Fred warned him then.
He shifted slightly in the narrowness of the tunnel until he managed to wriggle enough to cling to the edge of the hole and climb up. As soon as his trunk was through the opening, he was instantly surrounded by a dozen house-elves, dressed in little aprons, who were watching him with intrigue. Dobby, in front of them all, dressed in a jumper, boyish-looking trousers, and several little hats on top of each other, stared at them with his big green eyes the size of tennis balls wide open. The light they had sensed from below came from some stone fireplaces, dull and smoky, with empty cauldrons hanging on hooks above them. The tables of the Great Hall were there, as sturdy and imposing as they remembered them, partly filled with the remains of delicious dishes. Dinner was already over.
"Dobby is glad to see you again!" exclaimed Dobby, throwing himself on top of Fred and wrapping his thin arms around him. Fred, who had bent down to help Ginny and the others up, nearly lost his balance and fell back down the hole. "It's been a long time since you've come for lunch. There's still Yorkshire pudding left over from dinner, sir, you used to like it so much..."
"We're not here for food this time, Dobby," George replied, climbing out of the hole after Ginny with a small smile. His father, behind him, gave a disapproving grunt.
"You used to come here to steal food...?" he complained, resignedly. "Don't let your mother know..."
"Professor Dumbledore told you why we're here, didn't he?" asked Ginny, scanning the little creatures with her eyes. All the elves were still looking at them curiously. But they didn't seem particularly upset.
"Oh, yes, he contacted Dobby, miss," Dobby squeaked, bowing sharply. "It's an honour to be a party to such heroics, and —"
"Okay, okay... So you know what you're supposed to do is do nothing, right?" Ginny interrupted him, arching an eyebrow. "Just keep quiet and don't tell anyone that you saw us come in..."
"Certainly, miss," replied another of the house-elves in a high-pitched voice. "And we will do it as efficiently as possible."
There were murmurs among the rest of the elves, and they all bowed to them, eagerly. After thanking the elves for their trust, Ginny slipped back into the sewer, ready to let the rest of their comrades know that the way was clear. The rest of them made their way to the door hidden behind the Pear Portrait that decorated one wall of the castle basement.
Arthur pushed the door open with his shoulder just a few inches, just enough for his right arm to pass through the gap and illuminate the dark corridor with his wand.
"Clear," he muttered, pushing his glasses back on his nose. "Come on, we've got to get to the third floor..."
Ron was the first to reach the hidden entrance inside the statue of the One-Eyed Witch on the third floor. With his feet firmly placed on the slippery tunnel, he pushed the hump from the inside, opening the passageway, just a little. He scanned the outside with his blue eyes, and soon spotted Mad-Eye a few feet away. Which gave him the reassurance he needed to open the passageway all the way.
"At last," was Moody's curt greeting. "You're late."
"It's a long walk from Honeydukes," Ron replied, climbing over the hump and jumping down the other side. "It's seemed longer than Harry said it was..."
"Don't complain, we've had to deal with Dobby and his elf club..." protested Fred, leaning on the railing overlooking some descending stairs, his arms folded. "If we'd known you were going to be so long, we would have accepted the food they were offering..."
"Chicken wings and gravy —" said George, dreamily.
"Or Pumpkin Pasty —" added his twin, enthusiastically.
"Oh, yes. Or —"
"Shut your big mouths," Moody exclaimed impatiently, his fake eye spinning around like crazy. Watching their surroundings with a frenzy. "Constant vigilance!"
"Leave them, Mad-Eye," snorted Arthur. "Save your strength for the Death Eaters. The rest are coming after you?" he questioned, seeing Tonks appear through the opening.
"Yes," the young woman corroborated, pushing her short pink hair out of her eyes as she landed in the corridor. "We've gone ahead, and Neville and Luna are with them... They're on their way."
"Then let's move on. Granger, Ronald, with me," Mad-Eye urged as soon as Hermione's feet touched the ground behind Tonks, carefully stepping off the hump. "We've got to hurry..."
"Wait, Impatient-Eye," Fred exclaimed, trying not to speak too loudly. "Take a few Floo powder as well, just in case... It's not your job to open the fireplaces, but just in case something goes wrong and the plan has to be changed..." he muttered. Both his twin and he rummaged in the pockets of their respective robes. "We've brought plenty..."
They were wearing two worn, rather bulky coats, long and dark brown, and so wide that they seemed to be several sizes too big for what they needed. But everyone knew why. In them, they carried the crème de la crème of their useful gadgets. Bombs of all kinds, Portable Swamps, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators, and a thousand other things.
Ron, Hermione, and Tonks held out their hands to receive the small sachets of Floo powder, which they hastily stowed in their belts.
"Will you have enough to hide spares in the castle's armour, as you suggested?" Tonks asked, studying their long coats.
"Of course," George crooned, patting his pockets. Magically enlarged, though it wasn't noticeable, of course. "If you run out of spares, check the armour. Or look for us."
"Let's split up, then," Arthur proposed, taking a glance around. "We need to protect the Hospital Wing, it's going to take a while. Fleur told us she's on her way... Molly, Ginny and the rest are already in the Gryffindor Common Room with the students. Tell Luna when she arrives to go to Ravenclaw as soon as possible. Tonks, go to Hufflepuff, you know..."
"Depending on how long it takes Vaisey to get here, it might be best to tell Slughorn to get into Slytherin," Hermione thought pragmatically.
"Perhaps that would be the quickest," Arthur admitted. Giving himself a few seconds to consider that option. "I'll call for the fireplaces to be opened, then."
"Have you all finished your chat?" Mad-Eye growled then, already starting to walk down the stairs with a limp gait. "Granger, Ronald, I said, with me..."
Ron and Hermione, once they reacted, followed him at a jog. Arthur sighed at his impatience.
"All right... We'll be in touch. Constant vigilance," he advised, with a tiny smile, copying Mad-Eye's usual phrase. "Good luck, everyone."
"We can't go down the Grand Staircase, can we?" Ron suggested, panting slightly at the quickening pace they were at. He had even put a hand to his side, to press against it, as if he had a stitch. The echo of three pairs of feet echoed through the silent corridors, along with the intermittent tapping of Mad-Eye's gnarled walking stick.
"No way," Moody replied firmly, stopping at another corner. He waved his wand, casting a Human-presence-revealing Spell, and then continued on when he found nothing. He hobbled violently to a quickened pace. "Let's go through passageways. Even if it takes twice as long. Snape mentioned to us that there's never any security inside the castle at night, but I don't trust it one bit. It seems surreal to me... Constant vigilance."
Hermione was in third place, following Ron. She was also waving her wand, trying to anticipate the presence of any Intruder Charms. Anything that would set off an alarm and alert the enemy to their presence. The silence was eerie. She had never been used to walking around the castle at night. Besides, there was an indescribable feeling in the air. As if there was electricity. The unmistakable trace of magic, as if everything around them was enchanted. But it was a different magic than it had always been. She didn't feel the warmth she had always felt within those walls. It was dark magic. It was as if the whole castle was shrouded in grey. It quickened her pulse. It sharpened her senses, ready for anything. And she never thought she needed to feel so alert in such a place. Her school...
And then she noticed a detail. They were walking with their wands lit, illuminating the path before them. Because the oil lamps wouldn't light. Nor were the torches. And that was new. In their student days, they would light up magically as they passed, when they detected their presence. But now they didn't. Why were Death Eaters interested in darkness? So they wouldn't be seen? There were dark corners everywhere. Shadows...
"And don't you think that perhaps the Grand Staircase is the least protected?" Ron protested. "If there's no one watching, I say we get down to the first floor as soon as we can, so we can get the —"
"I said no," Alastor interrupted, changing direction. Heading towards the entrance of a small, doorless passageway, next to a suit of armour. Shrouded in shadows. The most opaque shadows Hermione had ever seen...
A shiver ran up and down her spine... Wait a minute...
"But what if — ?" Ron tried again, impatiently. His wand turned towards Mad-Eye, to light him up.
"Silence, I said!" growled the ex-Auror in a louder voice, hurrying towards the doorway...
"NO!"
Moody nearly went into cardiac arrest at Hermione's sudden scream. He staggered in mid-stride and spun round, his prosthetic eye spinning frantically in its socket, and looking as if he might be able to cast a curse at Hermione. But the girl didn't give him a chance, grabbing his robes and pulling him hard, knocking him off balance. Pulling him away from the shadows. Ron stopped, stumbling, bumping into both of them.
"You chit of a girl! What do you think you're doing? You'll give away our position...!" Mad-Eye muttered through gritted teeth, almost forgetting not to shout, half an inch from the girl's face.
"H-Hermione?" gasped Ron too, bewildered and frightened. He was looking around, searching for what had alarmed his friend so much.
"The shadows," Hermione managed to articulate, out of breath. With the adrenaline from what had been about to happen still making her hands shake. "They're magical. They're dangerous."
Moody's aged face didn't alter in the slightest. Both of his eyes were staring at her.
"What?" he finally snarled, without separating his teeth.
Hermione turned on her heel and, from a cautious distance, pointed her lit wand at the passageway they had been about to pass through. She approached the darkened corner slowly. However, no matter how close she came, the darkness did not lessen. The shadow seemed to engulf the light from her wand. She dared not come much closer.
'The Dark Lord has used dark magic, very old magic, to enchant them so that they devour all who hide in them. They kill for real. The body disappears. Never hide in the shadows from now on. Always carry your wand lit in dark places and stay away from those shadows that do not disappear in the light.'
Hermione felt a jolt in her chest. Draco...
"I've heard of this kind of magic," she muttered, still staring into the dark corner. "The shadows are enchanted to devour everything. Light, people... We can't go this way. And they are everywhere. They must be activated at night, that's why there's no surveillance. The shadows are more than enough. We have to watch out for dark corners. And warn the others."
She turned resolutely and looked at her two companions. Ron was watching her with wide eyes. Mad-Eye had softened his scarred features.
"Good catch, kid," he murmured, blinking his healthy eye. "Let's take the Grand Staircase. It will be safer. I'll send a Patronus to the rest."
They continued on their way, leaving the dark passageway behind them. Ron couldn't get over his astonishment.
"Shadows that eat people... Come on, that's all we need!"
"— I'm just saying that I don't hold out much hope! They're probably changing the password more often than ever..." Seamus protested, shaking his head. His voice sounded breathy from running down the corridor, and, at the same time, from trying not to speak too loudly.
"That first year told us that he'd only been here a week ago. Because of Potions detention, didn't you hear him?" Dean replied, also out of breath. They rounded the corner and finally made their way down the first-floor corridor, revealing the tall stone gargoyle that concealed the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "They couldn't have changed it so quickly..."
"I hope it's true, because if it isn't, we're screwed," Seamus said. "We'll have to wait for a teacher. And it might be too late to connect the fireplaces. And we're not going to be able to protect that many students in a battle like this..."
"Relax, come on," Dean muttered patiently, slowing his pace. "Worry when you have to, and not before... C'mon, let's give it a go."
They positioned themselves in front of the gargoyle. All the students agreed on how ugly it was. It was visible even in the darkness around them.
"Dark magic."
The gargoyle then moved faintly, almost stretching out, and then stepped aside to let them in. Dean let out a single satisfied chuckle.
"I told you so," he said cheerfully, raising a hand for his friend to high-five. Seamus did so, a slightly tight smile on his face. Blinking rapidly. Dean then started to walk, beginning to climb the steps. Seamus swallowed, watching him. Feeling his legs suddenly paralysed. Unable to follow. His chest heaved. Anxiety ate at him.
"Dean..." he called. The solitary word left his mouth without first passing through his brain. His friend stopped with one foot on an upper step and one on the step below. He turned towards him and their eyes met. Dean could tell at once that something was wrong with him.
"What?" Dean questioned, interestedly. Softly. Doubt shining in his black eyes. Seamus opened and closed his mouth. His lips were trembling. His throat had closed.
Seamus scrutinised his friend's face helplessly. His best friend. The most important person to him in that castle. In the whole fucking world.
He felt a shiver run up his arms. Bristling on his skin. Tears pressing behind his eyes. A battle awaited them. The last battle the Order of the Phoenix could fight. With all the strength they had left. Life or death. And they were going to help them. If they lost, it was over. There was no way they were going to get out of there alive. And even if they did, what life awaited them in a world ruled by Lord Voldemort?
Everything would change that night, one way or another. Everything changed after the war. Visible aftermath, or not. And he had to tell him...
He had never told him. And he regretted it with all his might after the night the Death Eaters took over the castle. Thinking he had lost him forever, without having told him. But he came back to his side. And the need to tell him the truth receded into the background. And life went on. And the war was more important than anything else.
And, that night, the possibility of losing Dean without telling him had come over Seamus again. He didn't want to make the same mistake. But... how could he lose him? It was impossible. He couldn't lose him. He could not assimilate such a possibility. People died. But they didn't. They were not going to die. And he clung to that childish, naive delusion with all his might.
What if they won? What if everything went back to the way it was? What he was about to tell him would remain a reality forever. And that terrified him more than the battle that was to come. He knew Dean didn't —
He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. He didn't.
"Nothing," he muttered, forcing a smile. "I'll go first."
Clenching his jaws as soon as he finished speaking, he walked past Dean to lead him up the stairs. But his friend stopped him as he passed by, grabbing his arm. Forcing him to look at him.
"It's going to be okay, all right?" Dean whispered, eyes locked on his. "We're going to win. You'll see."
Seamus stared at him for several seconds, stunned. He tried for a moment to say something, but ended up just smiling and nodding. Pretending to be calmer. Dean smiled back, squeezed his arm tighter, and allowed him to continue climbing. Following him.
The Headmaster's office was a large, round room, filled with various gadgets that had resisted being removed from the place despite Professor Dumbledore's absence. Maybe they hadn't been able to. Perhaps they were protected by magic. The full moon illuminated everything, peeking through the dark, wide-open curtains. They stood in the centre of the room and looked around, feeling in their hearts that they shouldn't be there.
Dean raised his hand and the tip of it lit up, but Seamus pulled his hand down with a quick gesture.
"Don't let them see the light from outside," he justified. Dean was quick to nod apologetically, and to turn off his wand in an instant. Seamus swallowed hard and made an effort to adjust his vision to the dim light, looking in different directions. "Take out the Floo powder. Let's connect the fireplaces and get the hell out of —"
His voice cut off abruptly as he felt Dean's nails dig mercilessly into his forearm. He inhaled sharply in pure surprise and turned to face him quickly. No air in his lungs. Dean was staring across the room. Frozen. Paralysed with terror.
Feeling almost in a dream, in a nightmare, Seamus found himself looking in the same direction as his friend. And he could only feel his legs give out. And he knew it was all over. And he barely saw out of the corner of his eye how Dean raised his wand hand. Trembling in violent shakes. Without letting go of Seamus's arm.
Two red eyes, their pupils elongated like a snake's, stared back at them from across the room. A hood partially covered the ophidian face of the king of shadows.
"Good evening, young men," Lord Voldemort greeted, his high, reptilian voice reverberating in the silent room. His wand was sticking out of the bottom of his long sleeve. "Did you really think you could enter my castle without my knowing? Fools."
And anyone in the grounds who looked up at the high Headmaster's Tower would have seen the eerie green glow that reflected off the windowpanes.
"Here it is," muttered Mad-Eye, as they reached the door behind which was Professor McGonagall's office.
"How do we get in?" Ron asked, looking around compulsively. Apparently, discovering that the shadows around him could devour him had doubled his fear. "Is there a password? Do we open with a spell? Perhaps we could have entered through the window with a —"
Without letting him finish, and to the young man's surprise, Mad-Eye knocked politely on the door with his knuckles. Ron stopped mid-sentence, and his puzzled expression made Hermione smile sheepishly despite the tense situation. They had removed their masks for the moment, shielded as they were by the darkness and solitude.
In less than ten seconds, Professor McGonagall yanked open the door and stood in the doorway. Clearly freshly awakened, though she didn't look it. Dressed in a nightgown and dressing gown, with plush slippers, and with her black hair, streaked with grey, loose, falling on either side of her face. She held her wand in her hand. And, although it was clear she didn't know who she was meeting, she didn't look uneasy at all. In fact, she almost looked annoyed. Ready to argue. As if it were customary for her to be awoken in the middle of the night to discuss unpleasant matters.
Her greenish, feline eyes glittered in the gloom. Skimming over them. Recognising them. And then she did seem to unsettle slightly. They saw her cling quickly to the doorframe, threatening to collapse. Bringing her other hand to her chest. Eyes widening in dismay.
"Good night, Minerva," Moody greeted gently and politely. As if he sincerely regretted waking her. Then he added, with an air of decision more like his own, "We've come to reclaim Hogwarts. Forgive us for not telling you. It was top secret."
The woman stared at him for a few more seconds without changing her anxious expression. She gave Ron and Hermione a long look, then let out a faint smile.
"It's about time, Alastor."
Professor McGonagall was unrecognisable. She hadn't put her usual tight bun on the top of her head, nor had she bothered to take off her dark maroon cotton nightdress. She had merely draped a plaid cloak over her shoulders and slipped on a pair of narrow-toed ankle boots. And she was ready. Her simple bearing was enough to exude the same strength, elegance and respect as always.
The woman preceded the group, heeling lightly in the nocturnal silence of the castle, leading them down various corridors and flights of stairs. Sometimes more concealed, sometimes less discreet. Always with her wand lit before her. Avoiding the shadows. She looked used to moving around at night. Ron and Hermione followed her, wands held high and eyes on every corner. Mad-Eye followed close behind, limping with the speed of a person twenty years younger.
When they reached the Entrance Hall, without having touched the Marble Staircase, they crossed it almost at a run. And it was then that Ron dared to break the silence.
"Do you think we'll make it?" he asked quietly. Only for Hermione. She gave him a quick, sympathetic look in return.
"Of course we will. It's Professor McGonagall. She can do anything."
"But she's never done this spell before. Even Dumbledore said so. And it's very, very, complicated. It's almost impossible to cast it on the first try..." the boy expressed his concern, taking care not to raise his voice.
"Dumbledore explained all the details of how to do it. And McGonagall has understood the instructions, she knows what the spell is... It will work," Hermione assured him, also in a low voice. "Professor Dumbledore isn't here, but he's given us everything we need to win."
Ron added nothing. The small group passed through two inner corridors leading out of the Entrance Hall and arrived at double doors leading to the Transfiguration Courtyard. McGonagall waved her wand quickly and the doors opened for them. Allowing them to step outside into the cold.
The Transfiguration Courtyard consisted of an inner garden, open to the night sky, and surrounded by a cloister made up of columns and arches. The lawn was neatly trimmed. To their right, a huge oak occupied one of the corners. The cold breeze ruffled their hair and clothes. The leaves of the huge oak swayed in rhythm. Ron's agitated breathing could be heard above the rest of them. Hermione felt her hand tremble and she tightened her grip on her wand.
"Let's get started," Minerva murmured, taking a couple of steps across the grass. Ron and Hermione followed her. Mad-Eye, on the other hand, remained in place. Alert as a hound. With the next gust of wind, which they all strained to resist, the ex-Auror straightened as tall as he was.
"Don't move..." the man grumbled. And then he raised his gnarled wand, waving it rapidly before him. Clouds of tiny golden stars materialised across the courtyard. Paralysing Hermione's heart. The Human-presence-revealing Spell. "They're here," he snarled, fiercely, advancing into a combative position. "Quickly, Minerva!"
As if that had been the trigger, suddenly the grounds changed. In the blink of an eye, they were surrounded by hooded figures. Suddenly, everywhere they looked, behind every stone pillar, a masked figure that wasn't there before was staring back at them.
"MINERVA!" Mad-Eye shouted. But there was no need. Professor McGonagall was already immersed in her task. Waving her wand in front of her, her green eyes glinting with concentration. Swinging her arm one way. Then another. A spell forming, building with the movements of her wand. Her non-dominant hand held back the luminous magic that was being cast before her.
And the Death Eaters around them attacked.
Ron, Hermione and Mad-Eye moved in unison to surround the woman, and from all three wands, three powerful beams of white light shot out in different directions, illuminating the courtyard. Creating a shield around her. Dozens of spells instantly began to slam into the barrier, ripping ripples like pebbles on the surface of the water.
The cloud of magic that had been created in front of the teacher's body then glowed brighter. Two more quick flicks, and she pointed her wand at the night sky. The magic followed her, rising, becoming a different kind of lightning, golden, thick and shining like gold, which remained active for a long time. Throwing harmless sparks in all directions. Whose power shook her clothes violently. The lightning rose many metres, until it surpassed the castle, and then began to spread out in all directions as if it were a bubble of molten copper. Creating a dome above them. Covering Hogwarts and its grounds.
During the long seconds that the professor had to keep the beam active, while waiting for the grounds to be completely covered, Ron, Hermione and Mad-Eye did not lower their wands, keeping the protective barrier around them active. Giving her time. Curses surrounded them from all directions. They hit the white shield all around them, sending out electric sparks and terrifying crackles. The enemy closing in.
The faces of the three contorted with effort, fighting with all their might to keep their magic strong, joining their spells together to reinforce the shield. Even though the Death Eaters' attack was doing its best to crack it. Hermione's wand trembled in her hand. She couldn't think. If she thought, she would faint. She was concentrating all her energy, every muscle in her body, on keeping the Shield Charm active. Her thick hair flew around her, flying in an uproar every time a spell hit the magical barrier before her and created a shockwave.
"Hold on!" she heard Mad-Eye bellow. Ron, beside her, wheezed with the effort. "HOLD ON!"
Harry couldn't remember the last time he had run so fast. Maybe it was that time when he was in the fifth year of primary school, and Dudley and his friends chased him from the school gates to a laundrette, which little Harry ducked into in the hope that he could give them the slip. Needless to say, it didn't work out as he had hoped, and the next day the beating was doubled. And, at that moment, running like a madman through the Forbidden Forest, stumbling, scratching his arms and legs on the undergrowth, and accompanied by half a hundred centaurs, he thought that maybe this time running would be worth it. Or maybe not. But, like that time almost ten years ago, he had no intention of stopping.
The sound of hoofbeats around him was deafening, but he didn't need to hear him to know that Lupin was running beside him. Harry dared a glance at the sky.
The full moon was peeking timidly out from behind a diffuse cloud. Barely half of the bright circle. But it was enough. He tightened his grip on his wand as he heard an animal growl next to him. He turned his head towards his former teacher, risking tripping over something in his distraction, and what he saw running on all fours beside him was nothing more than a huge, panting, furry form. The great fangs gleamed in a flash of ivory.
Harry looked ahead again. He had taken the Wolfsbane Potion. It was still him. He knew who to attack. And he was a very useful weapon.
Before Harry knew it, the Forbidden Forest had ended and a great rising esplanade opened up before him. The grounds at the front of Hogwarts. Illuminated now in a warm coppery colour, as the dome they had planned to create lowered lower and lower until it encompassed the entire grounds.
It had worked. The first part of the plan had been a success.
Though not entirely. He could see spell lights, reflecting off the castle walls. Coming from some inner courtyard. His companions were fighting. They were not entirely alone there. There were enemies inside the castle. They had contemplated that possibility...
The sound of hoofbeats increased. The centaurs overtook him easily, making him fear for a moment being crushed by them, and galloped up the hillside. Towards the Stone Circle, and the Wooden Bridge, leaving Hagrid's hut behind. Harry could hear the Thestrals whinnying. The headlights of the Ford Anglia followed him from the left.
Without the stillness of the place being disturbed except by a sudden draught, three people suddenly materialised in the middle of a corridor on the third floor. Three hooded figures, firmly attached to an old, dirty glass bottle. After two seconds, necessary for their bodies to get used to the new place they were in, they separated their hands from the bottle. One of the hooded ones immediately approached one of the windows in the corridor, peering outside and taking the opportunity to leave the old bottle on the windowsill, ready to forget it there.
"Where in the castle are we?" questioned a masked Narcissa Malfoy, still in the centre of the corridor. "It's been so many years since I've —"
"Third floor," replied Draco, standing next to her, instantly. He pointed to a door a few feet away. "It's the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom..."
"They're creating a shield. A dome," Lucius said in a whisper from his position by the window. His wife and son moved closer to him, also gazing at the bronze-coloured surface that was finishing encircling the castle, disappearing into the horizon. It glowed spontaneously with scattered sparks that seemed to be telling them that it worked like a charm.
"How could they do such a thing...?" Narcissa murmured, showing a graceful, suspicious admiration.
"They've got old Dumbledore with them now," Draco conjectured, not taking his eyes off the dome. "It must be some kind of barrier. To prevent anyone from entering the grounds."
"We're in time, then," his mother added, though she didn't seem particularly proud of it. "I doubt the Portkeys will be able to get past it. Maybe no one else can come."
The Order of the Phoenix had attacked Hogwarts. In the middle of the night. The news came as a shock to all Death Eaters. No one could even remotely explain how they had managed to get in. Apparently, having freed Albus Dumbledore from Nurmengard had given them the strength, the confidence, and the tricks to try and take back what was theirs. But they had not considered what they were up against. Lord Voldemort was no ordinary enemy. He always knew everything. That was what made him so powerful and terrifying; nothing ever happened without him knowing. So the instant the Order set foot in Hogwarts, Voldemort sent an urgent and unexpected message to his troops, to any available Death Eater, urging them to come and defend the castle. He provided them with several dozen Portkeys, and ordered them to report there. Ready to fight.
"Those of us who have taken the last batch of Portkeys will be the Dark Lord's last reinforcements," Lucius corroborated, with a frustrated sigh. Almost worried. His mask was tinged with a bright copper colour from the shield. "This dome is a problem..."
His parents were looking up at the sky, at the magical dome, but Draco was looking down. There were lights everywhere. Spells. A battle was already being fought on them. Too quickly. The tip of his wand, in his left hand, then began to flicker with a bluish light. Draco glanced sideways at it. His grey eyes glinting with disdain. He ended up ignoring it haughtily and returned his gaze to the window. Unmoved. But such a sign had not gone unnoticed by his father.
"Draco, go find your squadron," he urged, firmly. Draco moistened his lips behind his mask.
"I'm going to find Nott first," he muttered, dryly. Without looking at him.
"He's no longer part of your squadron," his father argued, in an icy hiss. Draco didn't flinch.
"I know that."
"Then don't talk rubbish," he said firmly. Draco said nothing in reply. Lucius, filled with cold anger, and somewhat shocked, as well as surprised, at his son's rebellious attitude, turned to his wife. "Stay where you are. I'm going down to —"
"You're not going anywhere," Narcissa corrected, firmly, glaring at her husband almost angrily through the holes in her mask. He let out a deep, exasperated sigh. As if he couldn't believe she was going to give him trouble too.
"I'm going down to fight," her husband protested, articulating every word. "To help. It's my duty. I told you you shouldn't have come. You don't have to —"
"And I told you not to think for a moment that I'm going to let you fight anyone," his wife interrupted. Without paying any attention to him. "We've come because it was a direct order, but you two are in no condition to —"
"I'm perfectly fine," Draco argued coldly. But his father spoke too, as if he hadn't heard him.
"Of course I am. Draco, go down and lead your squad," he ordered again, in a tone that brooked no reply, as he saw out of the corner of his eye his son's wand, in his hand, light up again. Summoning him. But Draco did not even reply, and it was his mother who spoke again.
"Go downstairs with your son, and help him," she urged, emphatically.
"I don't need help," Draco said, louder. Again, though, he was ignored by his parents.
"Narcissa, for Merlin's sake, you have to understand that —" Lucius began, with little patience, but his wife interrupted him once more.
"The only thing I need to understand is that I'm not going to lose you again," she said, breathlessly. "That I'm sick of this endless bloody war. That you're risking your lives for —"
"What are you saying?" Lucius hissed. Sounding dumbfounded. Even Draco's mouth had opened behind his mask. His mother had never spoken like that before...
"I'm saying it's not worth it," Narcissa mumbled, her voice trembling. With fear. With anger. "That I'm sick of it. That I've been almost five years without you, and I almost lost my son. Nothing He promises us is worth this. He's never thanked us for anything. The only thing he ever did was get you out of Azkaban, and he didn't even do it thanks to Draco getting the Death Eaters into the castle, like he promised. It took him two more years to get you out. He did it when it suited him best, because he needed to distract the Order..."
Draco, unable to close his mouth, did manage to turn his eyes to look at his father. And though he couldn't see his expression, he knew he was stunned by his wife's words. Draco had never met anyone who could leave his father speechless. Only his mother.
Then Draco heard him clear his throat sharply. Pulling himself together.
"Don't say... such blasphemous things," Lucius slurred, his voice as cold as ice. His wife shook her head in despair. Unimpressed. "The Dark Lord is going to be the leader of the wizarding world," he said, articulating clearly. "And we have to be on his side. It's... the only way to survive. It's the cleverest position."
"What if the Order wins?" Narcissa whispered then. Draco's heart skipped a beat. Lucius was silent for a long moment.
"Don't talk nonsense," he hissed.
"They've managed to get in here, Lucius," Narcissa said, vehemently. "And you've seen that dome. It's incredibly powerful —" she sighed emphatically. "They're ready. They're going to —"
"So are we. We'll take down the Order tonight, and... then it'll all be over," he assured then, a little more gently. As if, once he got over his shock, he could understand her concerns. "The war will be over. We'll live in peace, you'll see," he pulled himself together slightly, and spoke more firmly, "I'm going down to help, as he ordered. And Draco's going to go and fulfil his duties as General of —"
"I'm going down to find Nott," Draco spat, in turn, curtly. His father gave him a look that could cut through steel. A look that would have made him shrink in on himself if he were still a boy. But he wasn't anymore.
"You are going to go and fulfil your duties as General of the Shadows," Lucius finished, staring at him unblinkingly. Without patience. "You will not disappoint the Dark Lord now. We'll only get a good position if —"
"I don't care about our position, Lucius!" Narcissa shouted in her turn, pulling her mask off in an outburst so that her husband could see her broken expression. "I don't care about anything right now! I care about you! And about our son! All I want is you! And I want you both alive!"
"Narcissa..." Lucius mumbled, lowering his voice slightly. Taking another step forward. "Draco deserves — deserves the future that's rightfully his. And the Dark Lord can give it to him..."
"I am capable of carving out a future for myself," Draco protested, unable to contain himself. Unexpectedly offended at that statement. Suddenly thinking that he didn't need anyone to give him a future. He could earn his own future. And he was surprised to think so.
That was not the attitude he was supposed to have. That he was allowed to have. It wasn't... what he had been taught. And yet it felt... right. Even though he knew his parents would disagree. But, thankfully, he was ignored by them completely. Engrossed in their own discussion.
"I didn't think that, after my mistakes at the Ministry, it was possible, but it seems that now luck is smiling on us," Lucius continued, not listening to Draco. "He's willing to do it, to give us a better future. But only if we are useful, if we help him win..."
"Then I'll go down to fight too," Narcissa spat, resolute, almost sarcastic. "If you're going to fight for our son's future, I'm going to —"
"I'm not useless!" Draco shouted then, in an outburst, finally catching his parents' eyes. Surprised to hear him raise his voice. "I know how to fight, I'm a soldier! I've been fighting alongside the Dark Lord for years in your absence, Father! And a crippled hand doesn't change that!" He clenched his wand tighter in his left hand. "I'm twenty-one bloody years old, stop treating me like I'm some incompetent child who — !"
But he suddenly fell abruptly silent, and his parents understood why. Lord Voldemort's cold, high-pitched voice was suddenly heard all around them. No, inside them. As if he was whispering in their ears. He was speaking to them inside their minds. To all of his Death Eaters.
"Watch the fireplaces. Stop them from evacuating the students."
Draco had to hold onto the window with one hand, dizzy and overwhelmed by such an invasion of his mind. His heart was pounding in his chest, racing terribly. His mother had closed her eyes and was clutching her head in both hands, faint. Lucius had managed to keep his composure, but it took him a few seconds before he was able to speak.
"You heard him," he whispered. In a calmer voice. "The Order seems to want to connect the fireplaces. We need to go to the Common Rooms. I'll go down to Slytherin's —"
"We'll go down," Narcissa said firmly. "I'm not leaving Draco alone with his hand like that —"
"I'm going to find Nott," Draco declared in turn, determined.
"Silence!" Lucius exclaimed, waving both arms roughly. "Narcissa, you shouldn't be here. So don't intervene. It's my last word. And you, boy, you can't do anything for Theodore," he snapped at him without delicacy. "It's a full moon, he should be transformed by now. You can't help him, he won't recognise you. He'll kill you right away. Don't you dare go near him. Go with your mother to —"
But a beam of light passing close to his head and hitting the window behind him made him mute. The glass exploded into hundreds of tiny shards, creating a shower of glass that fell on top of the Malfoy family, causing them to shrink back in inertia.
Lucius carelessly pushed Narcissa out of his way in less than a second, raising his wand at the same time. Stepping in front of his family. From one corner of the corridor, a group of three people, dressed in robes, had just made their presence known. Covering their faces were the Phoenix Masks, the hallmark of the Order.
"Confringo!" one of the Order members shouted again, casting a spell directly at Lucius. The latter generated a quick Shield Charm that launched the beam of light back at its creator, who managed to deflect it into a wall. Several chunks of stone were torn away, showering the floor with debris and puncturing the smooth wall.
"Flipendo!" Lucius countered in turn, waving his wand deftly. But his opponent blocked it with a swift counter-spell that caused the beam to disintegrate. Another member of the Order took the opportunity to cast a spell in the direction of the Malfoy patriarch, but Narcissa took a step forward, repelling it with a quick flick of her wand.
"Depulso!" she shouted in a powerful voice, and her spell threw her enemy back several feet. "Draco, behind me!" she then cried, wand still raised, stretching out her other arm in her son's direction. "Expelliarmus!"
"Flagrante!" Draco exclaimed in return, ignoring her, moving to stand beside her. His spell hit his opponent's wand, which lit up as if it were red hot. It burst into flames. Its owner dropped it to the floor with a shocked gasp. His companion came to his rescue, standing in front of him to protect him. The one that had been thrown back also returned to the fight, still from a distance.
Draco had never seen his mother fight a real duel before. To the death. He knew she was a great witch, but he hadn't known how good a duellist she could be until he fought her to practice his own left-handed duelling skills. And she was magnificent. Quick of reflex and witty. And at that moment she was unleashed, a far cry from her usual aristocratic bearing. Her hair fell in two blonde cascades over her chest, with no hood to cover it.
"Epoximise!" Lucius shouted, and his spell caused two of the Order members to stick to each other as if they had been sprayed with a can of glue. Taking advantage of the seconds it took for them to break free of each other, the Malfoy patriarch turned to his wife, "Get down to the dungeons! I'll catch up with you in a minute!"
"I'm not leaving you here!" Narcissa howled, then launched a quick Impediment Jinx at another of their enemies, who deflected the spell, blowing out another of the corridor's windows. And then two more members of the Order appeared at the end of the corridor.
"Get Draco out of here!" Lucius shouted, glancing at her fleetingly, his expression determined. "I'll hold them off for a few moments!"
That command seemed to confuse the woman, her heart suddenly torn between her husband's life and that of her son. Lucius then created, with a circular, sweeping motion of his wand, a high barrier of flame that shielded them from the Order members. Draco took advantage of the distraction of the fire to point his wand at one of their enemies. The enemy had to put their hands to their ears, deafened by the powerful cacophony Draco's wand generated in their direction. Another swift movement, and the helpless Order member was thrown backwards.
Narcissa swallowed hard then, and made a decision. She created a Shield Charm at some flames that came too close to them and grabbed her son by the arm. Draco, already pointing his wand at another enemy, looked at her in dismay.
"No way!" he shouted, struggling against Narcissa's grip. "Father, no! I can help you!"
"I will catch you at once!" Lucius snapped at him, casting some spells through the fire barrier as well. "Get out of here!"
"Come on, Draco," his mother urged, pulling his arm tighter and dragging him to a nearby tapestry. The boy stumbled to his feet, still resisting following her. The fire barrier was fading by now, thanks to the Order members' counterattacks. By the time mother and son pushed the tapestry aside, there were no flames left.
As soon as they entered the deserted passageway on the other side, Draco clearly heard his father's voice, shouting, "Duro!"
Draco could hear a thud against the tapestry as if something had crashed into it, and he reached out instantly in its direction. Wanting to go through it again. But it was no longer a soft, ornate cloth. It was a solid wall. Hardening Charm. His father's last protection. So that no one could follow them. Not even him.
Without giving him time to think about anything, his mother kept tugging on his arm, forcing him to follow her down the stairs. Draco did so, reluctantly, unable to refuse. He was panting, full of adrenaline. Of rage. A wave of his mother's wand and the torches on the spiral staircase flared. Removing any shadows.
The silence that suddenly pressed on their eardrums, so different from the bustle of the corridor, threatened to drive him mad. Only their agitated breaths broke it. And their footsteps against the stone of the steps, as they descended in a frenzy.
"Mother..." he mumbled sharply, frustrated.
"Nothing will happen to him," the woman spat instantly, her voice slightly hysterical. "Your father is an excellent duellist. He'll find us in no time. We have to get to the dungeon —"
"Mother!" Draco shouted then, pulling the woman's hand to stop her. In the light of the torchlight, the shadows of several figures could be seen climbing the stairs, reflected in the stone wall before them. They must not have been more than a few steps down. Draco and Narcissa raised their wands at the same time.
But a sudden and powerful light blinded them. They had guessed their presence. Draco, squinting, raised his right forearm urgently to shield himself from the light. Finding himself unable to point.
"Proteg — !" he shouted out of inertia. But those milliseconds had been crucial. He also thought he heard his mother shouting something beside him.
"Bombarda!" someone shouted in front of them.
The light was instantly extinguished. No longer blinding him. But in return, the steps he had yet to descend rushed straight into his face, a terrible shockwave that hit him mercilessly. He closed his eyes tightly, still protecting himself with his right forearm. Unable to do anything. Not daring to cast a spell, for fear of hitting his mother. He found himself thrown backwards, surrounded by debris, his back slamming into the steps above. The edges of the steps dug into his back in a blow that he barely felt. But he did immediately feel the floor moving beneath him. It was falling apart. Disappearing.
And he plunged into the void.
It seemed to him that he remained weightless for a chillingly long time. He felt gravity take effect, pulling him down. He could barely take in his surroundings. Everything was happening too fast to be stopped in any way. He tried to open his eyes, but the dust, the panic and the feeling of free fall that settled inside him prevented him from doing so.
He felt the coolness of the outside surrounding him. The wind. He could see nothing. There was nothing around him to hold on to. And he was sure he was going to die. He would hit the ground, the grass of the grounds, hundreds of metres below, in a potentially fatal blow. But that didn't happen, and instead, to his surprise, he found a stop much sooner than he expected. Just as hard, though. He found himself suddenly hitting a crooked surface, collapsing instantly, landing on his side. Breathless. Gravity continued to do its thing, and Draco continued to roll uncontrollably across an uneven surface, listening to debris of various sizes landing and shattering around him.
Dizzy and confused, he realised with difficulty that he was on a sloping roof, on the outside of the castle. He deduced this from the darkness and the icy wind around him. The sound of tiles cracking beneath him. With a flash of lucidity, adrenaline racing through his brain, he made an urgent effort to halt his advance, sensing that he was still falling straight into the void from a considerable height. But at least now he was surrounded by something solid to hold on to. He kicked greedily, tangled in his robes. And he groped desperately, with both hands. The right one being utterly useless. But the left managed to cling to the tiles beneath his body. His fingertips slid across the slate surface, burning from the friction, but he ended up wedging his fingers into the gaps as if his life depended on it. And, in fact, it did. He also embedded his shoes in the tiles further down. His body stopped spinning, stopped moving. He opened his eyes wide, stunned to see his vision stabilise. His eyes fixed on the roof, catching his breath and regaining his composure. Stone debris was still falling all around him, but almost none of them hit him. He raised his head, trying to discern what had happened.
He saw the gap that the Bombardment Spell had made in the wall, in a small turret that stood at one of the castle's corners. Many metres above him, and above the roof on which he had fallen. Still panting, shaking with adrenalin, and unable to believe his good fortune, he managed to look around. The wind was ruffling his hair. The hood had fallen off his head at some point while he was spinning uncontrollably. Judging by the night view he was enjoying, he was at a considerable height. He looked again at the hole through which he had fallen. He could see that much of the stone staircase had disappeared and fallen onto the roof, just as he had. The light from the spells reflected off the walls inside the gap.
He tried to listen to his body, discovering what injuries he had. He could feel a sharp pain throbbing in his shoulder; he had a vague memory of crushing his full weight on it as he fell on the roof. But he could move it. He felt a warm liquid sliding down his right temple and guessed that he was bleeding. He must have hit his head. It didn't hurt, though. Adrenaline, possibly, masking it for the moment. He hadn't lost consciousness and didn't feel excessively dizzy, so he didn't think it was important. Then he glanced down. A wide, horizontal stone gutter bordered the roof, a couple of metres below Draco. Climbing down there would surely be the only way out of there. Taking his time, taking a deep breath to calm himself and get his timing right, Draco rolled over onto his back before letting himself slide down into the gutter. He landed rather gracefully and crouched down instantly, trying to keep his balance, leaning his body back against the roof. From that height, he had a privileged view of the Great Lake. The gigantic coppery dome loomed overhead, tinting the castle an almost burnt colour.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax for a few moments. Trying to normalise his heartbeat by taking deep breaths. He needed to slow down. To stop, and think. He couldn't go back the way he had fallen, unable to reach the destroyed turret, many metres above him. But he had to get back to his mother and make sure she was all right. She had not fallen with him, so she must still be in the tower. In fact, the light of the spells, the light of a magical battle, was quite clarifying. She was still fighting. He had to go and help her.
Something black and elongated, lying over the gutter, attracted his dazed attention. His wand. For a moment he couldn't believe it. He couldn't even remember when it had fallen from his hand, but he had taken it for granted that it had. At that moment, the only thing he was thankful for was finding himself alive by sheer miracle. The loss of his wand had seemed nothing compared to that. But when he saw it, he felt energised again. He reached out for it and clutched it tightly. And then he realised that what had really caught his attention was the light at the tip, illuminating again. Summoning him once more to lead his squadron. Draco restrained the urge to throw it into the void.
He wasn't going with them. He had no intention of fulfilling his duties. The decision had already been made. This was his first official act as General of the Shadows, and he wasn't going to follow orders. And he didn't care about the consequences. His squadron would manage without him. He didn't care if they reported him to the Dark Lord. Sure they would. But he had more important things to do.
He had to help his mother. And find his father. And, recklessly stupid though it was, Nott. He hadn't taken Wolfsbane Potion, the Dark Lord hadn't allowed it. He would be out of control. And that was a considerable problem. But he had to find him anyway. Help him. Nott was going to commit dozens of crimes that night, and Draco wasn't sure how he would recover from that...
And he needed to know if Granger was in the castle.
Her face came to his mind as soon as Lord Voldemort said that the Order of the Phoenix was trying to take over the castle. Hers, and no one else's.
Would she really be in the ranks of the Order?
Nott had driven him mad... He hadn't been able to stop thinking about the possibility since he and his friend had discussed the subject. And, going into direct battle against the Order had only set off alarm bells in his head. He had never considered seeking her out. He had been convinced she wasn't in that war. But maybe she was. Maybe she was with Potter. Fuck, of course she'd be with Potter...
And he just wanted to murder her for telling him she'd leave and not leaving...
She hadn't left. She was with the Order. More than likely. Bloody hell...
It was the only thing that had come to his mind, the only thing he'd been able to think about as they'd prepared the Portkey and arrived at the castle. About Granger being there. About finding her.
And he knew it was foolish. A stupid thing to do. That they shouldn't have any contact at all. They didn't have to. They hadn't seen each other since Hogwarts. There was nothing between them. And yet the need to see her again had come over him in such an overwhelming, urgent way that it almost hurt. To know that she was so close, that he could actually see her, that he could touch her... He couldn't resist such a thought. It was beyond him. He was going to find her. He was going to do it. And to hell with absolutely everything else.
He just — he told himself, trying to channel his thoughts in a direction that would make him feel less ashamed of himself — needed to know if she was there. And to know that she was okay. That was all his selfish heart asked of him. Ignoring any common sense. Ignoring the voice in his head that gave him a thousand and one reasons why all those thoughts were wrong.
He was making things right now. He was living the life he had always known he would live. He had his family back. He had status. And he was about to risk throwing it all away, willingly. Again.
And he cursed Nott a thousand times for bringing her back into his life, into his thoughts. He had brought her into this war, into Draco's current life, to his own despair. Because, with each passing day, he felt further and further away from the side he was fighting for. Further away from a glory he knew would never come. Or, worse, a glory he no longer cared about. He wanted his family alive. And he wanted Granger alive. And he wouldn't have both if Lord Voldemort won that night. But how could he not win...?
He had begun to question too many things when he fell in love with Hermione Granger in his last year at Hogwarts. And though he had stubbornly renounced all of them when he had enlisted to fight side by side with Lord Voldemort, silencing all the doubts in his head, that night he felt closer than ever to those new ideas he had left behind. Further than ever from Voldemort. Closer than ever to Granger.
Maybe she didn't even want to see him. That was most likely. He was a General of the Shadows. He was an enemy. There was no way she could still see him the way she did at Hogwarts... right? He didn't care. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. To get her out of there. Because it was becoming increasingly clear to him that, despite their best efforts, it was impossible for the Order to win this war. Lord Voldemort would not lose. And all he wanted at that moment was to save her.
He looked around, searching for a way out. He didn't have vertigo, he had been used to flying on a broomstick since he was a child, but he wasn't too keen on looking down either. The drop would be several dozen metres, and his muscles tensed at the thought of it. At the end of the gutter, at one end of the roof, it joined another turret. He could walk there, blow up the wall, and walk back into the castle. He didn't even know where he was in the castle, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get back inside.
He moved cautiously along the gutter, crawling at times, squatting at times, until he was within a few feet of the adjoining turret. He raised his wand, pointing it at the wall. His grey eyes glint in the dome light, bringing some life to his masked face.
"Bombarda!"
Fred and George were looking at the glittering golden dome from the narrow window of the seventh-floor corridor. How it was slipping out of sight, but not losing its sparkle. Their father stood at the adjoining window, also gazing silently at it. From there, they could see the brilliant battle of lights taking place in one of the courtyards.
"Just in time," Fred muttered in the silence of the corridor. And both his father and brother knew what he meant.
From that height, they had a privileged view of the grounds. They could see beyond the Main Entrance Gates. Where the dome had met the solid ground. And they could see everything that waited behind it.
An entire army.
What seemed like thousands of Death Eaters were gathered behind the magical dome. Unable to enter. In a gloomy wait. Waiting for their army to remove the barrier. It was a spectacular display, the largest they had ever seen. By eye, Arthur reckoned they were outnumbered three to one, at least. Other, larger hooded shadows hovered several metres above the army. Dementors.
Arthur turned away from the window with a faint sigh. "Well, yes, just in time, but it worked. Now You-Know-Who is aware that we're here. But it is clear that he will not be able to enter. He will send the dragon to destroy the dome. He will have discovered by now that his magic cannot destroy it..."
He fell silent, in time to see a glowing grizzly bear appear from the far end of the corridor. Trotting on its four huge, thick paws. The silver colour of its translucent body dulling the light of the wands. As soon as the creature stopped beside them, the small, sharp-toothed snout opened for them.
"There are Death Eaters inside," said Molly's voice, panting, as if she were running as she sent the message. "And in the grounds. We're trying to determine the exact number. We've managed to keep them below the fourth floor. We're not going to let them up into the towers. Some of them were probably already here, but we think he's managed to get several squads with Portkeys directly inside the castle. There are some comrades on lower floors, but they are fine."
The bear then disappeared in a great cloud of whitish dust. The three remained silent for several seconds, taking in the information.
"Do you think he'll really bring it?" Fred questioned, looking away from the smoke. "The dragon. We're risking everything on the assumption that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will bring the dragon..."
His father gave an unnatural smile.
"Dumbledore knows He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And he knows how he behaves. He is convinced he will bring the creature. He needs to break the dome so that the rest of his Death Eaters, and himself, can enter," Arthur pointed to the window with his thumb. "And the magic of the dome will release the dragon from his spell as soon as it touches it," he commented almost to himself, thoughtfully, looking out the window again. The dome was created in its entirety. "Even if he didn't bring it," he snorted and shrugged, "the dome keeps the Death Eaters out. Maybe if we defeat the ones here, we can get the school back. If the dragon doesn't attack us, and if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't attack us, we might have a chance."
Fred swallowed and nodded. George still couldn't take his eyes off the window. The beams of light from the grounds glittered in his pupils.
"What if it doesn't work?" George said, speaking for the first time. "What if it doesn't cross the dome, what if the spell doesn't work and the dragon is still under the influence of You-Know-Who?"
His brother looked at him, sympathetic, then looked at his father. He was slow to answer, looking at his son intently, fatherly.
"It will work. Dumbledore knows the magic needed, we just have to follow the plan. So far everything is going almost according to it. The dome will work," Arthur murmured, squaring his shoulders, giving himself some strength. "Come on, we have to deal with the Death Eaters in here..."
Arthur made to move towards his children but didn't get two steps. He stopped in mid-stride and that strange gesture caught the twins' eyes. Their father was staring at something behind them, and that something made him raise his wand slowly. The lights outside glowed in his glasses in a flickering halo, like candlelight.
"Kids," he said in a half-voice, "stay behind me."
The twins turned silently. Hooded figures watched them from the end of the corridor.
Hermione couldn't believe what she had just heard. She looked around to make sure that she and Mad-Eye were seeing the same thing. The Transfiguration Courtyard had never been so brightly lit. Hermione dared to think that not even in daylight had she ever seen so much colour. So many spells.
She opened her mouth to answer Alastor, but shrank in on herself, hidden as she was behind a pillar in the cloister, as she felt a spell hit close to her and knocked some stones to the ground, kicking up dust. She shook her head unconsciously to shake the pebbles out of her hair, and, after throwing a Blasting Curse at a Death Eater she caught a glimpse of behind another pillar, tried again to speak to Mad-Eye.
"Are you serious? You mean, go inside, we're winning?" she repeated her companion's words in disbelief, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, not losing sight of her surroundings. "You've got to be joking!"
"Go inside! Join your division!" the ex-Auror repeated, without looking at her. He was casting spells with astonishing skill, so swiftly that the movement of his sturdy arm, sheathed in a thick coat, was barely noticeable. His years of experience as an Auror showed in every flick of his wand. "This is under control, but inside the castle they may need help. Make sure the enemy isn't making their way upstairs. Minerva should be on the upper floors by now... Go and keep me informed! Hurry!"
Hermione watched him with concern. His opponents' spells buzzed around the veteran man, but he didn't even flinch, focused as he was on his target. His magical eye danced in all directions. Two more Death Eaters fell under his fire. And the girl knew he would be safe. That nothing would happen to him.
The young woman took a breath and stepped out from behind the pillar without thinking. She ran across the grassy central area, while Mad-Eye intercepted and skilfully blocked several spells cast at the girl. One of the pillars had blown out, landing in the middle of the grass, and Hermione had to jump over it to avoid tripping. She ran past the front door, through which she could not enter without being seen and cornered by half a dozen Death Eaters, and ran to a side door that led to the greenhouses. Before she reached them, a shock of red hair behind one of the columns caught her eye. She ran over and hid behind the same pillar.
"Ron!" she shouted by way of greeting, as the spells hit the stone and sent chunks of it flying through the air. She removed her mask, so that she could speak more clearly. She had to shout above the din of the place.
"Hermione!" replied the young man, stopping casting spells and turning to look at his friend. He took off his mask as well. Even in spite of it, his face was so dirty with dust that his freckles were barely visible. "This is getting bad! There's so many of them..." Hermione almost had to read his lips even though he was shouting.
"Moody told me to go inside, will you be alright in here?"
"Yeah," the boy confirmed resignedly. A spell that passed close by ruffled his hair even more. "We'll figure it out. Are you going alone?" he looked at the girl uneasily. "If anything happens, send me a Patronus, huh?"
"Don't worry. You too," Hermione murmured warmly. In a hurry. Not paying much attention. Looking around, searching for a safe path out of there.
"Hermione..."
She heard her name softly, beside her. And was surprised to have heard it above the din. And she felt fingers wrap around her arm. Ron's. She turned to him. Still frantic. Immersed in the battle. Blinking without seeing him. And, in fact, Ron barely allowed her to see him. Because he had leaned over her. And Hermione could feel his large hands hold her face tightly. His mouth pressed against hers. And Hermione's ears lost the ability to hear, as if a bomb had gone off right next to her. She didn't close her eyes, but she lost her sight as well.
It was no more than two seconds. Ron pulled away from her mouth almost an instant later. Without letting go of her face. His blue eyes looked at her intently. Fearfully.
"Just... just in case..." the boy exhaled, his voice barely audible. Hermione's mouth was open, but she couldn't speak. A spell flew over their heads. Ron released her instantly, apparently not expecting anything from her, and turned back to the battle. Hermione, out of pure inertia, turned in the opposite direction. And her feet took off running. Ron covered her retreat with several accurate spells.
Hermione burst through an open door and into the greenhouses. There, the sound of spells from the courtyard diminished. Finding herself alone, she could no longer run. She felt there was nothing she could do. She had forgotten where she was going. She leaned against one of the greenhouses. The cold of the glass against her back blended with the cold inside her. Her eyes were still wild. Her mouth was still open.
No...
No, no, no... Please, no...
She closed her eyes tightly and covered them with her fists. Letting herself slip into a crouch. Fighting for breath.
It couldn't be true... It couldn't... Ron, why...?
"Don't do this to me, don't do this to me, don't do this to me..."
She was by the greenhouses. And another kiss, which happened inside, was dancing through her memory. Superimposed on what she had just experienced.
Draco, Draco, Draco...
She sobbed against her hands. Loudly. Feeling herself faint. Not strong enough to fight anymore. She didn't want to fight, not anymore, not like this...
And then she caught herself wishing with all her might that Draco was there. Next to her. She didn't even know what for. For anything. She just needed him close. And she felt like she'd never needed him so much...
She opened her eyes again and wiped away her tears. Taking a deep breath. This was not the time. She had to go on. She couldn't think. There was too much at stake. She would... sort it out. She didn't know how, but she'd sort it out. All of it.
But first, they had to survive that night.
She stood up and put her mask back on. Taking one last deep breath, she slipped through a door in the wall and ran down a deserted, dark corridor. She lit her wand as a precaution and was careful to stay out of the shadows. The silence in the area overwhelmed her. Her footsteps echoed like thunder. She felt like she was in another world. But she had to go on. She ran up a flight of stairs, and as she ascended, the sounds of battle came back to her. Inside they were fighting too... What if they didn't make it?
Afraid of being paralysed by her own terror, she didn't allow herself to think any longer. Nor stop. She stepped through a tapestry she saw to her left, appearing in a corridor on the first floor. Lit by torches and a few standard lamps. And she found herself plunged into chaos.
A stray spell almost brushed past her face, hitting the wall beside her, drawing a gasp of surprise from the girl. A member of the Order was fighting a Death Eater to her left. Wands were moving at such a speed that Hermione was unable to keep track of them. Deflected spells were hitting the corridor walls, ceiling, floor, paintings and windows, shattering them to pieces and shattering them into dusty blocks, but his emissaries didn't even flinch. They cast spell after spell, without pause, looking to catch their opponent off guard, looking for the slightest miss.
Hermione raised her wand in their direction, preparing to help, but a fiery red glow drew her gaze to the other side. To the right, a masked but unmistakable Molly Weasley was duelling against two Death Eaters. Against Augustus Rookwood, more specifically. She could recognise him, as he was not wearing a mask. She couldn't see the other one's face.
She felt a powerful tightness blocking her chest. An unstoppable fear for the safety of the Weasley matriarch. She had never seen her fight a duel like this before, she didn't know how skilled she could be at casting spells. She didn't know how much her life was in danger.
Full of adrenaline, she didn't even hesitate; she dashed in her direction, generating a desperate Tickling Charm on the way, which, due to her moving hand, missed its target, but did distract Rookwood. The man waved his wand to block Hermione's spell, and barely had half a second to barely block another one cast by Molly. He couldn't send it back, only swiftly deflect it aside.
"Get behind me!" Molly ordered immediately, as the young girl reached her side. The girl, thinking the irony of the statement, given that it had been her intention to come to her aid, focused on the enemy before her. Rookwood cast a fast Bombardment Spell, which Hermione deflected at the last instant and blew to pieces a large painting that hung behind them, fortunately empty of any moving people. Splinters fell on both of them. Hermione moved sideways a couple of steps. Molly pushed aside the remains of the painting, which began to collapse on top of them, and so was unable to avoid the next spell.
The beam of light, coming from the other masked Death Eater, surrounded the woman like a white whip, and threw her to one side, against a wall. Hermione heard the bloodcurdling sound of the body hitting the stone mercilessly, then falling to the floor with a thud.
"NO!" Hermione shouted.
With a quick, controlled flick of her wand, the girl blew out the nearby windows and threw the shards of glass on top of the Death Eaters. Rookwood managed to shield himself from them, but not his partner. He cried out in pain as he was struck by the cutting edges.
"Impedimenta!" Hermione shouted after, throwing the Death Eater against a nearby pillar. The man crashed into it, hitting more than three feet off the ground and falling flat. He did not move again.
But Rookwood was still on his feet. Ready to fight. With a quick flick of his wand, the carpet beneath Hermione's feet shook, creating a fleeting ripple that knocked her off balance and to the floor. Leaving her momentarily defenceless.
"Ava — !" Rookwood bellowed in a hoarse, worn voice.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Molly's voice rose above the man's voice. The Death Eater, an instant later, was flying through the air, being flung without a hint of hesitation by the woman through the now broken window. Straight out into the void. Hermione, panting, and still lying on the floor, had to make an effort to relax her heartbeat and come back to reality. Still alert and full of adrenaline. She rolled over and staggered to her feet. Spotting Molly at her back. She saw her struggling to get up from the floor.
"Mrs Weasley...!" she stammered, rushing to her side and holding her arm to help her.
"Are you all right, are you hurt?" asked the woman in turn, looking at her carefully. Molly was dirty with dust and debris. Her curly hair, dishevelled and tousled around her head. Part of the sleeve of her robes had torn from the crash against the wall, revealing a nasty scuff underneath. But she was looking at Hermione with worried eyes.
"I'm fine," Hermione murmured with all the affection she could muster. Across the corridor, the Death Eater was still fighting a member of the Order, who, Hermione noticed after glancing over Molly's shoulder, had been joined by a young man who looked a seventh-year student. Judging by his flashy striped pyjamas, his slippers and the absence of any sort of silver mask.
"My children," Molly gasped then, squeezing Hermione's forearm very tightly. "Arthur... Have you seen any of them?"
"Ron," Hermione managed to articulate. Her tongue felt huge as she spoke her friend's name. 'Just... just in case...'. "He's in the Transfiguration Courtyard. I haven't seen anyone else."
"All right," Molly replied, looking slightly more relieved. Though equally tense.
"Mad-Eye has asked me to let him know how things are going around here," Hermione specified. Looking around as she spoke. The Order member and the Hogwarts student had finally defeated the Death Eater, who had been bound with a thick magical rope and left in a corner.
"We're trying to keep them on the lower floors," Molly said, still struggling for breath. "I don't know what's going on with the fireplaces, if they've started evacuating. I haven't had any notice."
"I'll find out," Hermione muttered. "Is my squadron in position?"
"No, they've gone down to the first floor as reinforcements. We think He's managed to get some Death Eaters in with Portkeys. We're trying to find out how many," Molly explained, taking off her mask for a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead. "I've run into the prisoner, the French girl —"
"Samantha?" Hermione mumbled instantly, interrupting her. Her heart gave a worried flutter. "Is she here? What's she doing here?"
"She's... come to help, I understand," Molly mumbled, pursing her thin lips into a grimace of frustration. Looking equally displeased about it. "Her squad were calling for backup a while ago... They're the ones who came from Muriel's house. They're on the third floor."
"I'm on my way," Hermione decided instantly, locating a nearby staircase. "Tell Moore she's in charge of my squadron, please."
Molly squeezed her forearm again.
"Be careful. Very," the woman said, looking at her with those eyes so much like her daughter's. Hermione nodded, unable to speak, and then the two parted.
Hermione had to create an Ascension Charm when she reached the top of the stairs, as a good portion of them had collapsed and made access to the upper floor impossible. Making her way as best she could between the rocks of a landslide, she came to a new corridor, a landing that led to several flights of magically moving stairs. It was also lit by the magic of dozens of spells. The chaos there was absolute, and the young woman couldn't help but stop with a start. Suddenly paralysed by the unusual scene before her.
A large flock of owls were flying all over the place, mercilessly attacking the hooded people in the corridor, attacked in turn by Order members and students. The Death Eaters were barely able to keep up, cursing everywhere as they were pecked at by the furious animals. A few owls lay dead on the carpet. In the middle of the crowd, a long blonde hair caught Hermione's eye. And so did the Death Eater who appeared out of nowhere and pointed at it.
"Engorgio!" Hermione shouted, pointing at the enemy. The man, or woman, screamed as they felt their ankles rapidly and unstoppably increase in size, swelling like footballs, causing them to lose their balance and tumble down the stairs.
The young Lovegood girl turned in her direction as she noticed her help and, after casting one last Banishing Charm on the group of Death Eaters she was fighting, aided by two other students, ran towards Hermione. It wasn't even necessary to speak to thank Merlin that the other was all right. They clung to each other's forearms and looked into each other's eyes. Luna's lips curved into a peaceful smile, as if no battle was going on behind her.
"The owls...?" Hermione managed to ask awkwardly, unable to disguise her confusion.
"They're on our side," Luna said as if it were obvious. She was dirty, dishevelled and sweaty, but she retained the aura of calm that always accompanied her. "I brought them from the Owlery. They're helping us."
Hermione barely held back a giggle, watching the last Death Eater fall behind them, defeated by one of the students and pecked by one of the birds.
"How's it going in here?" Hermione questioned, too. "Are there more Death Eaters in here than we thought?"
"We have located six of the Portkeys, and calculated an average of six Death Eaters for each one. Only on this floor," Luna replied, looking at her with her big dreamy eyes. "We're a bit overwhelmed in the basement as well. I'm going there now. Ginny sent me a Patronus. It was a very cute horse. Some of the students are rebelling. The vast majority are on the Order's side, but some — let's just say the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named training has been effective."
"The students are attacking us?" Hermione was alarmed, almost breathless. It had been mentioned as a possibility, but hearing it was too much for her heart to bear.
The young blonde smiled. She still had her composure, though she looked a little sad this time as well. She squeezed her friend's forearms in support.
"There are few of them, and luckily they seem to be under control. Some of the older ones are staying behind to help," she pointed to the boy and girl behind her. "For the rest, we're trying to evacuate them. But there's a problem with the fireplaces. Dean and Seamus haven't made it to the Headmaster's office yet, or at least they haven't helped from there. They were supposed to be in charge of connecting the fireplaces, but they're still disconnected... And they need reinforcements in Ravenclaw Tower as well," she reported efficiently.
"Connect fireplaces, Ravenclaw Tower, got it," Hermione listed, as if it were a History of Magic lesson she would have to repeat later. "I'll tell Flitwick to go to the Headmaster's office, he was covering that area. Leave it to me, you go down to the basement. If you need anything, send me a Patronus."
"Got it. Watch out for Wrackspurts if you go that way," she pointed to the flight of stairs to her left. "I saw a flock hovering over a group of Death Eaters earlier... Of course, I didn't tell them anything. Screw them."
Hermione, for once, didn't even feel like correcting her. She just gave her a fleeting hug and ran up the stairs that the Death Eaters were blocking just before, but which the students who were with Luna had already made passable.
Severus Snape was in the basement, specifically at the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. In front of him, Amos Diggory and Nymphadora Tonks were fighting fiercely against several Death Eaters who were trying to enter the room. Snape among them. Inside, the younger students were waiting for the fireplaces to be connected to the Floo Network so that they could be evacuated.
A bright, harmless spell from Snape threw Tonks into the stacked barrels that concealed the entrance to the Common Room, stunning her momentarily. But she managed to pull herself together and continue the fight. As Snape knew she would. He meant her no real harm. And Tonks knew it.
When it seemed that the corridor was almost clear, with only Snape and two other companions left, a new troop of Death Eaters came to their rescue. Snape clenched his wand tightly, irritated. No one had warned him of anything. Neither side. And he suspected that Lord Voldemort was aware that they were planning to enter the castle. Even if the Order refused to see it. The number of Death Eaters inside spoke for itself. There had never been such a large number.
The Order had risked a lot with this attack. They had prioritised speed and surprise over a methodical plan. A thousand things could go wrong. The dome would be effective in keeping more Death Eaters out, but who knew how long it would hold... And then what? Because it was clear that the Dark Lord would find a way to destroy it... He didn't understand what they had in mind.
But they had Dumbledore on their side, everyone knew they had managed to rescue him and bring him back into their ranks. And Dumbledore had approved that plan. So the old man was sure that they had a slim chance. It was hard for Snape to see it that way, but he trusted that man more than anyone else.
He was trying to maintain his position as a spy until the very last moment. Attacking the Order ineffectively. He didn't really believe they had another chance. If the Order lost that night, it would all be over.
He would help in any way he could, but he had no intention of sticking his neck out or exposing his cards until it was absolutely necessary...
Snape cast several quick spells, very flashy and colourful, but not deadly to his opponents. And then he felt the ground tremble slightly under his feet. Everyone stopped their attack, and Snape saw that Tonks and Amos were watching something happening to their left. He heard a sort of rising murmur reach his ears, and before he knew it, dozens of house-elves were rushing towards them, shrieking with their shrill voices. To his left, the portrait of a gigantic silver fruit bowl concealing the entrance to the kitchens had been opened, and the house-elves came to the rescue unbidden. The insults they hurled were some of the harshest Severus had ever heard.
Snape managed to avoid the stream of bloodthirsty little elves by sticking to the wall. And another Death Eater, on the other side of the corridor, as well. The hood fell, revealing his face. He wore a mask, but Snape recognised him instantly. His nearly bald head, surrounded by thinning brown hair, and his complexion, were unmistakable.
"Where is that animal when you need it?" Wormtail shrieked in his high-pitched, hysterical little voice at another Death Eater who was trying to defend himself from the elves, next to him. "The werewolf, where is it? Get it down here to help!"
"It's been sent upstairs!" the other shouted in annoyance, backing away from the pans of a rabid elf, while others at his side were busy hoisting another Death Eater into the air. "To the Divination Tower! To keep watch while we destroy the dome!"
Snape frowned. Were the Death Eaters planning to destroy the dome from the inside? From the Divination Tower?
He scrutinised Wormtail for several seconds. Him. That friend of Potter and Black who had soured his childhood and youth at Hogwarts. The Secret Keeper of James and Lily Potter. The one who betrayed them. The one who was to blame for Lily's death. He was there, alive, and one wand flick away from being wiped off the face of the earth. The other Death Eaters were busy with the elves, no one would notice if he —
To his right, taking him by surprise, Snape heard the sudden cry of Amos Diggory.
"YOU!" cried the little man, his glasses dancing dangerously on the bridge of his nose. "YOU KILLED MY SON, YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD! YOU KILLED MY BOY! IT WAS YOU!"
A hasty, ill-considered beam of light shot from Cedric Diggory's father's wand and shot through the air straight at Wormtail, but he managed to block it at the last instant. New spells were hurriedly cast by Mr Diggory, blind with pain. Snape looked at him. A father's pain. A pain he would never understand.
And yet he did not hesitate. He pointed his wand at Wormtail, knowing what he had to do.
"Expelliarmus!" Snape shouted. Wormtail's wand flew out of his hand and was lost in the darkness of the corridor. The man once known as Peter Pettigrew let out a high-pitched shriek of terror.
Now he could do it, Snape said to himself. He could cast the Killing Curse. But he didn't.
Amos Diggory did.
And Snape did not intervene. Giving up his revenge, after all these years, to Cedric Diggory's father.
Ernie Macmillan was sweating. He, and another boy he didn't know, a seventh-year student, were engaged in a fierce battle with two enemies. They couldn't stop. They couldn't breathe. They were no match for them. And that was precisely why they had to fight with everything they had. As they had never done before. The lights of the spells gleamed blindingly in the narrow, windowless corridor they found themselves in. The torches barely seemed to illuminate the place.
He managed to Stun one of his enemies with a quick Stunning Spell, but the other tried to do the same to the student next to Ernie. The young man managed to defend himself but then had to turn sharply to avoid a potentially lethal spell that grazed him. His feet stumbled on the cold stone, and he tumbled towards the wall to his left. Into a pitch-black area, hollowed out between two torches. A gap that would accept neither the illumination of fire nor the illumination of spells. The young man collapsed hopelessly into the penetrating darkness. And he did not come out again.
Ernie turned his head, looking for his companion. Expecting to see his legs sticking out into the illuminated area, or to see him stagger to his feet. The shadow-shrouded gap wasn't that big, it couldn't hide him completely. But none of that happened. The black area remained intact as if nothing had fallen into it. As if his companion had not fallen to the floor. As if he had vanished. In his bewilderment, Ernie forgot about the Death Eater in front of him. He forgot to fight back. He stared at the empty wall for two seconds longer than he could afford, and that distraction was his big mistake.
With a blinding beam of green light, the stones of the wall shook, and Ernie fell to the ground like a rag doll. Dead.
"NO!" shouted a strangled voice at the beginning of the corridor, which Ernie no longer heard.
Hermione let out a shriek and waved her wand without even pointing, without seeing, without thinking. The fire from the torches doubled in size, and flashes of fire shot towards the Death Eater in front of her. He howled as he was engulfed in the flames. The stone in the corridor did not burn, but he did. It took him long seconds to stop screaming.
A terrible silence then enveloped the corridor. The lighting was brighter now, thanks to the charred body, robes still glowing, of the Death Eater. Hermione was breathing with her mouth open, shaking from head to toe. She pulled off her mask, needing to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, unable to look at the corpse of her former classmate. Unable to assimilate the hopelessness of the terrible situation. Unable to bear not being able to do anything for him.
She clutched her fist to her stomach, forcing herself to breathe heavily. To hold back the sobs that crawled up her throat. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes. She didn't need to light her wand. The firelight illuminated the dark corridor, revealing which shadows were real and which were enchanted. She had to go on.
She took a few steps forward, approaching the Death Eater she had killed. Plucking up the courage at his appearance, she examined his robes. Her heart pumping hard against her ribs. With an eerie thought suddenly jolting her limbs. She'd rushed. She hadn't even thought about it. And she needed to check that she hadn't —
No. He was a Knight of Walpurgis. He wasn't wearing the silver skull brooch, indicative of the rank of Black Sergeant. Nor was the one standing Stunned a few paces away. Neither of them were Draco. She knew they weren't, he would never have —
'I've never killed anyone. Not with the Killing Curse. Yes, with other spells, but not that one. Not ever.'
Then she heard quick footsteps coming from ahead. Without even seeing whoever it was yet, she raised her wand to point it at her mysterious new companion. Cautious and alert. Full of adrenaline.
But she came face to face with a silver mask with a phoenix engraved on its surface. It was someone from the Order. Who had raised both hands as they found themselves being pointed at by Hermione.
"I'm on your side," the figure hastened to confirm. The trembling female voice echoed in the silent corridor. Gasping as if she had run there. Probably alerted by the resounding fire with which Hermione had attacked her enemies, and their screams.
She hurried to remove her mask so that Hermione could see her face. Hermione met dark eyes. Kind eyes. Terrified eyes, that glowed in the flickering light of the torches. Familiar eyes.
Hermione hastily lowered her wand, slightly embarrassed to realise that she was still pointing it at her interlocutor. It took her a moment to recognise her. Her face was clean now, and it was obvious that her hair had been washed recently. Still, her clothes were covered in dust, and there was a gash on her thigh, tearing the trousers she wore under the dark, open cloak. She was fighting.
It was Samantha.
Hermione blinked, suddenly unsettled. She had gone up there with the intention of looking for her, among other tasks, but to have her suddenly standing before her left her speechless. Her brain still replaying Ernie's death, lying on the floor a few feet away from them. Unable to remember everything she wanted to talk to her about.
That girl knew Draco...
Samantha looked around in turn, scrutinising the scene. The charred Death Eater, still smouldering. Hermione saw her nose wrinkle helplessly at the unpleasant smell of burning flesh. And then her expression twitched in pain at the sight of Ernie's body. Probably not knowing him. But understanding from his attire that he was on their side.
Hermione then removed her mask, not looking away from the girl's empathetic expression. Unintentionally sympathising with her. And her gesture caught Samantha's gaze. Judging by the way she scrutinised her, with simple kindness, Hermione knew she didn't recognise her. Of course she didn't. She hadn't even seen her face when they'd rescued her from the prison...
"I'm Hermione. We met at Nurmengard," she offered, taking a couple of steps closer to her. Samantha's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "What are you doing here? Why did you come here? You're in grave danger here..."
Samantha still seemed to need a couple of seconds before she could speak. She seemed unusually surprised to have run into the person who had freed her. Or so Hermione deduced, seeing her watching her as if she were some sort of apparition.
"Muriel... Muriel explained to us what you were up to, and I wanted to come and help," she managed to articulate then, in a low voice. Still scrutinising Hermione's face inch by inch. "I... I don't know how to fight like you do. I've been told to stay out of this. But I'll do what I can, anything. I want to help put an end to all this."
"This isn't your war," Hermione objected softly, looking into her eyes. Samantha smiled then. With sadness.
"I've been a prisoner of the Death Eaters for over two years, and my parents have been kidnapped and tortured by them as well. And the Dark Lord has taken over my school by force. It's my war," the girl protested sharply. Hermione sighed to herself. She really could have been a great Gryffindor if she had studied at Hogwarts...
"Thank you for helping us in Nurmengard," Hermione said. And, she added, in an impulsive burst, "Why were you there? I thought you were a valuable prisoner. That you were being held somewhere else, closer to the Death Eaters... Closer to Draco."
Samantha opened her mouth to reply, almost resignedly, but then she heard her last words. And her whole body seemed to break down. Her brow furrowed slightly. Looking at her with renewed astonishment. As if she was even considering that Hermione wasn't who she said she was.
"H-how — how do you — how do you know that?" she mumbled. Looking strongly confused, though not accusing.
And Hermione only allowed herself to hesitate a moment longer. To quiet her conscience. To pretend she had doubts about what she was going to do. But it was clear to her. Too clear. And she didn't even have the strength to feel remorse for the reckless folly she was about to commit.
"Draco told me," Hermione whispered, still looking into her eyes. "He told me about you. Could you...? Is he all right?" she asked next, finding herself almost speechless. Samantha looked like a wax statue at this point.
"W-what? How?" she articulated, again with difficulty. "Did he... talk to you about me? W-when? That's not — he said you hadn't seen each other in years," she pointed out, breathless. Hermione cocked her head slightly. Cautious. She didn't know Draco had told Samantha about her…
"When did he tell you that?" she wanted to know, confused, in a neutral tone.
"About — before they took me to that prison. He's fine," she hastened to answer, realising that she had missed Hermione's earlier question. "He was the last time I saw him. While I was in Nurmengard. And... well, actually, he spoke of you to Theodore, not me. Theodore Nott. He —"
"Yes, I know Theodore," Hermione hastened to assure her. Then she sighed deeply. Measuring her next words. "So — are you aware that — we — ?" she wanted to clarify, awkwardly, assimilating that detail she hadn't expected. She saw Samantha shiver. But she also saw her nod, her expression controlled. And Hermione then found herself in the position of confessing, "Actually, we've — we've been seeing each other recently. But he doesn't remember right now."
Samantha seemed unable to close her mouth. Hermione could hear her breathing shakily.
"Remember? How could he not — ?"
"I had to... alter his memories. I've altered his memories of the last few years. He doesn't know we've seen each other since we left school. He thinks he's never seen me again. He needed to get back into His ranks safely. I had to protect him..." she heard herself saying. Speaking without thinking. In an unsteady tone she couldn't contain. And that was the first time Samantha looked away. Her eyes moving rapidly in their sockets.
"I didn't know," she whispered, almost to herself. "I mean, I didn't expect it..." She seemed to need to take a deep breath. She also turned to lean her back against the wall. As if she needed a moment to compose herself. "Pardon, it's all so —"
"Complicated. I know," Hermione corroborated. Quietly. Samantha pressed her lips together, closing her eyes for a moment. And Hermione felt her chest tighten. That girl... was it possible that — ?
When she opened her eyes she looked at Hermione again. More self-possessed.
"And there is no solution?" Samantha asked, with greater composure. "Is it a definitive spell?"
It took Hermione a moment to understand her question."The altering of his memories? No, I can... I can reverse it."
Samantha just blinked. Musing.
"And — and why don't you — what are you waiting for?" she asked, sounding almost impatient. Hermione let out her breath in a weak giggle.
"For that, I'd need to see him first..."
"He must be here," the young brunette assured her with renewed emphasis. "In the castle. Tonight. I am convinced of it. He's a General of the Shadows now, they wouldn't come to such a battle without him. They are the first to be summoned. They don't always gather all the Knights of Walpurgis, not even the Black Sergeants, but Generals are always in battles like this... If they've brought Death Eaters in on Portkeys, as they say they have, Draco has to be among them."
Hermione stared at the floor. She wasn't listening to her own heart now. She wasn't listening to anything. Draco was a General of the Shadows...
"I don't know if I should do it," she heard herself saying. Without thinking about it beforehand. With a blank mind. Samantha looked at her with renewed surprise. Blinking in disbelief.
"What?"
"He has been promoted. He's someone important among his own. If we lose, if his side wins —" Hermione swallowed. Her ears ringing. Her vision flickering. "His future is guaranteed. It's not good for him to have me in his head. Maybe this is for the best. He'll be safe if —"
"He has you in his head," Samantha interrupted. As if she could hardly believe her ears. "I'm telling you. No matter what you've done to him, you're there. And you can't deprive him of the truth, it's not fair... No, en aucun cas, listen to me," she spat, interjecting nervous French, muting Hermione's start of protest. "You're right, he's someone important in the Dark Lord's ranks. And he doesn't want to be. Maybe... maybe you two can stop this war. Together," the young woman's voice trailed off only on the last word. The rest had sounded firm. Her eyes looked the same. Almost frantic.
Hermione stared at her for a few moments and felt her heart again. Racing. Feeling her own hands again. Getting angry at herself. What was she thinking? She wasn't going to give him up after all they'd been through. Not without giving everything. She refused. She would fight to her last breath. She would fight for both of them. She would.
'Then it's temporary. You just have to find me and break it.'
"I don't know how to meet him without endangering him..." Hermione whispered, squinting her eyes in concentration. Her brain boiling again. "I shouldn't even — I shouldn't be spending time on this, I'd have to —"
"Then leave it to me," Samantha offered quickly. Pushing herself away from the wall to stand in front of her again. "Let me help you. I know the strategies they use, how they usually position themselves, and I know his squad. I will find him, I promise. Tell me a place to meet and I'll tell him to go there. Trust me."
Hermione held her gaze. And, indeed, she entrusted everything to that girl.
"The Ancient Runes classroom. Sixth floor. In an hour."