Hello everyone, how are you? I hope very well 😊 I come with the last chapter of the three that correspond to the last battle. 😱 Are you looking forward to the outcome, and which side will win? Chan chan chaaan! 😱 I recommend you to have some water next to you, you're going to sweat with this chapter ha ha ha πŸ™ˆπŸ˜ˆ

Thank you so much to all of you who are there, as always 😍😍 I really appreciate every favourite, follow, and, of course, comment. I read you with great affection 😍😘.

In my imagination this chapter was like a film, amazing and exciting... and, how hard it is to write it down, gosh! πŸ˜‚ Ha ha ha I wanted to write it as epic as possible, I hope you like it a lot! πŸ™ˆ

Thank you so much in advance for reading, I really hope you enjoy it! 😊

And, without further ado... fire!

The Last Battle

CHAPTER 54

Fire

"Hermione, go on!" shouted Fred, as he ducked around the corner, narrowly dodging a curse that did make a hole in the wall. George then leaned out, casting several spells at the Death Eaters in the next corner. Relatively simple spells, but colourful and outlandish. Allowing his twin brother time to throw a pair of Decoy Detonators.

Hermione, also hidden behind the wall, with no room in the corner where Fred and George kept the Death Eaters from advancing, shot him an outraged look.

"I'm not leaving you here!" she shrieked, offended. And her voice was almost muffled as the loud bang of the Decoy Detonators deafened them. George wasted no time and peeked around the corner to attack the, he hoped, shocked Death Eaters.

"There's no time, the dome has to be protected!" Fred insisted, turning to look at her in the meantime. "Go the other way! The tower's right there! We'll cover you and keep them busy here!"

"We'll catch up with you in no time!" George reaffirmed, turning to them. Fred walked past him to take his place in the corner. With a Weather in a Bottle in his hand. "The ghosts are on their way! Hurry!"

The girl hesitated, looking at them in anguish. But she saw Fred defending himself skilfully, focused, effective at keeping the Death Eaters in place, and she realised they were right. It was her duty to continue. Though her heart prevented her from doing so.

She turned and ran down the corridor they had just come through, intending to make a detour to the entrance of the Divination Tower.

"Don't go down the Fat Lady's corridor!" George shouted at her, as the young woman ran away. "We've set up a Portable Swamp at the entrance!"

Hermione could only hear her breathing under the hard silver mask as she ran at full speed. She saw a battle or two at the end of some corridor, but ignored them. She ended up finding, and speeding through a side door that led to the Divination Stairwell, by which she gained access to the North Tower. The Divination Tower.

There was no one there. Without pausing for breath, she began to run up the stairs. Leaning against the smooth white stone walls to keep herself from stumbling. She could see the coppery light of the dome intermittently illuminating the steps whenever the girl passed one of the windows that decorated the circular staircase. She looked up, wheezing, needing to see how much longer she had left. She had a few flights of stairs to go. She had to hurry with β€”

A frightening roar above her head caused her to trip over herself and fall face first onto the steps in sheer shock. And then she saw something rush at her. A gigantic ball of fur.

Hermione let out a scream and rolled over herself down the steps. Managing to keep the creature from reaching her. It landed half a dozen steps higher, making the ground shake. The girl tried as best she could to stop rolling, to stop her fall down the stairs, as soon as she was within a minimally safe distance. She managed to get down on her knees, facing the creature. Wand held high.

She was waiting for the attack of Death Eaters. People. Wands, human reflexes. She hadn't even considered encountering such a being.

It was a terrifying mixture of animal and person. It had a huge wolf's head, disproportionate to its body, and a chest similar to a human's, covered in thick, tousled black hair, as if it were dirty or damp. Arms twice as long, more human-like, though ending in thick paws. The feet were also identical to huge wolf paws. Claws, black and deadly, scratched the ground at their feet with every step. The huge, panting, half-open mouth leaked a trickle of saliva onto the stairs. A long, whitish scar ran down its cheekbone. The eyes, small, glassy, decorated with multiple blood vessels, stared at her.

They were blue. Strangely beautiful in comparison to the rest of its appearance.

Hermione stayed crouched, almost lying on the steps, and crawled further down, trying to move even further away from the creature. Her wand trembled, but she did not lower it. The creature was easily six feet tall, though at the moment it was not standing upright to its full height. It was on all fours, attentive, ready to pounce on her at any moment. Slowly descending the wide steps. Pushing its prey back.

Hermione tightened her grip on the wand, feeling it in her hand. She barely dared to breathe. She had to attack. But she needed to do it at the right time. The creature's reflexes and speed were superior to her own. She had to choose the right spell to use, not just anything could penetrate that rough, furry skin. And she would have it on top of her before she could try another spell. Luckily, it wasn't the first werewolf she'd killed in this war.

The werewolf snarled, shivered from head to toe, and took two steps closer to her. At a speed the girl hadn't expected. Hermione crawled back more quickly and held back a louder gasp. Despite what her instincts were screaming at her, she looked it in the eye. It was a lycanthrope. A lykÑnthrōpos. 'Wolf-human'. Underneath that frightening appearance, there was a human. A human who, perhaps, meant her no harm.

It wasn't Remus. And the Dark Lord had no werewolves, as far as they knew. It was common knowledge that, since the death of Fenrir Greyback in Godric's Hollow, his entire lycanthrope community had abandoned the war. Who was it then...?

Greyback…

Greyback.

'I couldn't save him. Shit, I β€” Greyback... attacked him... I attacked him, but I didn't manage to β€” I don't know if he's okay. I-I think β€”'

Those blue eyes...

Hermione opened her mouth with no purpose. Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes instantly misted over.

"Nott?"

At that whisper, at that whimper, the creature flinched and snorted through its large nostrils. Hermione put a hand to her mouth. Holding back a sob.

"Nott β€” oh, my God..."

The creature snarled again, snorting as if something inside it wanted to escape the prison that was its body. Hermione's eyes strayed to the blood staining its mouth. Blood that certainly didn't look like its own.

The girl then took off her mask, and set it down on the floor.

"Nott, please..." she whispered. "It's me, Hermione. You know me. Please, I'm just going to β€”"

But the werewolf let out a terrible roar accompanied by droplets of spittle, and before the girl could finish raising her wand, another creature the same size as the one in front of her leapt above her and fell on top of Nott. Clutching his neck with its powerful jaws. Another werewolf.

Hermione shrieked and fell backwards in shock, again rolling down several steps. She managed to stop her descent and glanced up the steps in alarm. Both creatures were clawing and biting at each other. Trying to defeat the other. Slamming each other against the outer wall. Breaking the inner balustrade, at the risk of falling down the stairwell. Tearing away debris. Emitting terrifying roars.

She knew that second werewolf.

"Remus..." Hermione wheezed in a whisper. He was going to kill him... "REMUS, NO!" she managed to shout, above the howls. "Don't hurt him, it's Theodore Nott! He's a good person... He's not himself!"

Before she could say anything else, Lupin sank his teeth into Nott's neck again, pushing him to the ground and pinning him there as the younger man wheezed and gasped uncontrollably, trying to free himself. And Hermione understood: he was holding Nott down, not trying to kill him. Remus had taken Wolfsbane Potion and was still in control of his mind. And he had listened to her. And he was giving her a chance.

The girl regained her balance, scrambled to her feet, and ran up the stairs at full speed. Past both creatures, as close to the wall as she could. Barely dodging their long limbs. She didn't stop once she passed them and kept going up. Leaving the roars behind.

She saw the top of the stairs. She saw the circular trapdoor that led to the Divination Classroom.

She stopped, clinging to the balustrade of the staircase. Panting heavily.

'Recruit all the help you can find and, if necessary, wait at the entrance. Don't go up that tower alone.'

Hermione managed her time well. And she took advantage of the fact that she needed to catch her breath to think. She didn't know if anyone was up there. She had to check first. If so, she had to wait for the reinforcements promised by McGonagall and the Weasley twins to arrive. And Harry.

But what would Nott be doing up there if there was no one in the tower...?

Then she became aware of a sudden change in the lighting. She turned her head in the direction of the window. The light from outside was no longer subtle and coppery. It was bright and cold. She pressed her face to the glass. And she saw it.

A bluish beam was streaking across the sky. Straight at the dome. From the Divination Tower.

There were enemies up there. And they were already destroying the dome.

She couldn't wait. No way.

She pulled her hood tightly over her head. She had lost her mask downstairs and didn't plan to go back to retrieve it. She made sure her belt was sufficiently packed with bombs. She pulled out the small sack she carried hanging from a ring on her belt and held it in her hand. With her teeth she loosened the string that fastened it shut. And then she took out another object from the little beaded handbag. A shrivelled hand. Quite unpleasant to look at.

The Hand of Glory, Draco had called it. He'd given it to her just before they'd left the Ancient Runes classroom together. He hadn't let her leave until he'd made sure the girl had Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in her arsenal, and explained how to use the hand to ensure a quick escape. 'Just in case,' he had said.

Draco had wanted to make sure she was safe. He had in no way intended for her to use it for this. To put her life on the line. But she had no choice. She lit the candle on the hand. And prepared herself. She placed her feet firmly on the floor. And then she raised her wand towards the trapdoor. She knew she had only one chance. And she had to be quick.

One last intake of oxygen, a wave of the wand, and the trapdoor magically opened. The ladder fell before her, with a thud. And Hermione threw the small sack into the room, through the opening, in less than a second.

She heard angry voices almost instantly. It had worked.

Without hesitation, she climbed up the ladder as fast as she could. The more than familiar circular, predominantly crimson-coloured room opened up before her. It was dimly lit, illuminated only by the light from the coppery dome, which filtered in a sizzling glow through the wide glass windows. The room was crammed with dozens of round wooden tables, covered with tablecloths, tapestries, and crystal balls in the centre. The many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. Thick, patterned carpets covered most of the floor, which rose in tiers towards the wall, like a small amphitheatre. Huge cushions of various sizes, a few velvet stools, and the huge decorative fabrics hanging from the ceiling completed the picture. Professor Trelawney's armchair sat next to her desk, her books, and her astrology charts. Beyond were the stairs leading up to her chambers, on the opposite wall, by the windows. And scattered around the classroom were a dozen Death Eaters. Several of them were gathered near one of the windows, while one pointed a wand out through a hole in the glass.

Although her eyes couldn't see it, since the Hand of Glory was working properly, Hermione knew instantly that the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder had worked. The Death Eaters were whirling around in a frenzy, wands held high, bewildered by the sudden impenetrable darkness around them. There were two enemies immediately beside her, flanking the trapdoor. They were the first Hermione had to attack.

"Petrificus Totalus! Brachiabindo!"

Hermione waved her wand from one Death Eater to the other as fast as she could. They both fell under her attack. She hurried around the room, not standing still for a moment, to prevent the hooded wizards from guessing her position through the path of the spells. It did not take them long to begin to recover from the shock and try to find her in the darkness.

They didn't seem to mind killing their comrades in the attempt.

"Confringo!" one of the Death Eaters shouted. Pointing a metre to the left of where Hermione was standing. She didn't bother to move. She felt the power of the blast shattering a table near her, and the debris falling on her, and her cloak fluttering, but she didn't move from her spot. Her wand was pointed at the Death Eater who was casting the bright bluish beam through the window.

"Incarcerous!"

Quick, thick ropes bound and gagged that Death Eater, sending them collapsing to the floor. Immobilising them. Done, spell stopped. She hoped in time. But there were still too many of them. She had to be faster.

She moved again, confusing them, making them attack the place where she had been seconds before. But she was running out of time. She ducked between the tables, using them as a shield. Two quick Impediment Jinx to slow down two attackers, and she threw a velvet stool directly at the head of another of them, knocking them down. But then she saw the rest of them turn directly towards her. The powder had stopped working, and the young woman's position was now visible.

She managed to cast a fast Shield Charm, just before a violet bolt of lightning slammed into her. At the same time she dropped the Hand of Glory and her hand darted to her belt. She threw a Freezing Gas bomb to her left, and a quick Smokescreen Spell to her right. Trying to go back into hiding. It was her best weapon.

"Bombarda!" shouted a man to her left.

Hermione dived to the side immediately, before the spell hit her. She fell behind a table, hitting the carpet hard. The bright beam of light slammed into the stone wall, ripping a hole in one of the fabrics hanging from the ceiling and tearing off debris that fell on the girl. Hermione spun sideways and threw the table flying at her enemies. She hit a Death Eater who had gotten too close, knocking them to the ground.

Hermione had to get to her feet. She was at a disadvantage. Diving to the ground had been a mistake. The Death Eaters were closing in. She didn't have time to grab another bomb.

"Stupefy!" she cried, as she rose to her knees. Her enemy blocked the spell, and she created a quick Shield Charm. And another. And another. But then a beam hit her. Knocking her backwards. Causing her to roll. She stopped as she crashed into a table, which destabilised and landed on top of her. Hermione waved her wand frantically and sent it flying away, with no time to aim to throw it at an enemy. She had to get to her feet. She had to get to her feet...

"CRUCIO!"

Hermione instantly felt a sharp pressure on her chest that cut off her breath. Crushing her down. Unable to catch her breath, she felt an indescribable, sharp, lacerating pain spread through her limbs. Her back arched on the floor, no longer able to control her body. Her shoulders contorted. Her throat managed to emit a piercing scream of pain and terror.

And suddenly everything stopped. Her body suddenly relaxed almost painfully. She inhaled frantically, audibly. She knew she had to do it, that it was urgent that she do it, but she couldn't move. She needed to stay curled in on herself, sobbing desperately against the carpet. Trying to become master of her body again.

"Who the hell are you?" a female voice hissed above her head.

Before she could regain control of her limbs again, she felt a hand grab her by the hood, grabbing a good lock of her hair as well, and forcing her to her feet with a strong yank. The young woman cried out in pain and surprise, finding herself standing upright again.

As the girl stood on her feet, at least precariously, the hand pulled harder on her hood, possibly deliberately taking several strands of hair with it, and revealing her face. Hermione looked her adversary in the eye, her face still contorted with suffering. Still wheezing.

Bellatrix Lestrange was scrutinising her inch by inch. No mask at all. Her thick-lidded black eyes, narrowed, glittered with suspicion.

"I know you," she whispered then, almost to herself. "I think it's you β€” yes, you're Potter's little friend, aren't you? The Mudblood. You were with him at the Ministry." Her eyes ran up and down her face, and the corners of her lips lifted. "You've grown up, but it's you, you vermin..."

And, having said that, she shoved her to the floor again. Hermione heard laughter all around her. She fell hopelessly sideways, slamming into one of the velvet stools in a sharp thud that left her without breath, then landing on the floor with a groan. She curled in on herself, holding back the pain in her side, but then raised her head as fast as she could, trying not to lose sight of the woman. The dull ache throughout her body, the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse, was slowly subsiding.

But she didn't have her wand in her hand. She must have lost it during the Unforgivable Curse. It had to be on the floor, nearby, but she couldn't see it. And it would be unwise to look for it while Bellatrix's eyes were on her.

The Death Eater gazed down at her from her mighty stature. Her eyes, wide, watched her with an animalistic intensity. Her breathing hinted at the thrill of having found such prey. As if she was considering a thousand and one atrocities to do with her.

Bellatrix ran the tip of her tongue over the surface of her teeth before adding, "Did you really come here to play hero and stop us from destroying the dome? On your own? I can't believe you're so stupid... But anyway," she fiddled with her wand between her fingers, smirking insidiously, "you're just a Muggle, I don't know why I'm surprised... Release Gibbon," she ordered then, in a louder voice, without turning her head. Still looking at Hermione. The girl heard some footsteps moving away. "Let him get on with his task... I'm going to entertain myself for a little while," her voice, trembling with anticipation, turned into a terrible high-pitched chuckle, like metal cutlery scraping a plate. In less than a second, her arm stretched out and pointed her wand at the girl, "CRUCIO!"

Hermione's piercing shriek echoed through the room. There was nothing she could do. She could only scream. Squirming, her body taut as a bowstring. She couldn't make the pain subside, no matter how much she arched and curled on the floor. No matter how hard she clutched her own body with her hands.

She could not defend herself. Not being pain the only thing she felt. She was defenceless.

"Don't worry, it's all right," she heard a voice, almost a distant echo, say those words. Definitely not to her, but she heard it anyway. "There's been an incident, but the dome will soon be eliminated. We just have to β€”"

And even above the haze of suffering, above her own screams, Hermione heard that voice transform into a strange sound. A strangled sound. A splash. A thud. Murmurs. Slightly more excited voices. Movement.

And then Hermione's pain stopped. And this time she forced herself to recover more quickly. Because something was happening, and she needed to be prepared for it.

She opened her eyes with difficulty. She couldn't see through the tears, but she managed to blink, though her eyelids were terribly heavy. And she managed to look around, still from the floor. The Death Eaters around her had turned, their backs to her. Even Bellatrix, though her wand was still pointed at her. Hermione saw her profile, now alert, no longer satisfied, staring across the room. Something was happening. The light was suddenly flickering all around them, and she didn't quite understand why.

Hermione managed to peek through the gap between the long black robes around her. Trying to see what they were looking at.

A new figure silhouetted at the far end of the room, where Hermione guessed the entrance to the tower was. Facing them. A tall, masked, hooded figure. Imposing. Two skull brooches on their robes. A new Death Eater. A General of the Shadows.

And there was another Death Eater lying on the floor near the newcomer. And Hermione could see the pool of blood around them, sliding across the floor.

And then she realised why the light was flickering. Because every single lamp and chandelier in the classroom was flickering on and off. In a non-synchronous way. Darkening and illuminating the place. Hermione watched as all the Death Eaters turned their heads more or less covertly, glancing around nervously. Alert. Bewildered.

The General of the Shadows was the only one who remained completely still. There was something strange about them, though. Their black robes billowed almost imperceptibly, as if a current of air was stirring them. And Hermione could see... tiny lights around their silhouette. Sparks. They were created in their robes, travelled a few centimetres of fabric and disappeared. Like lightning in a storm. As if their body was electrified. Magic. Overflowing with magic.

The Death Eater carried a long wand in their left hand. But it had not yet been raised.

'I can't be on the battlefield with you, that's what's dangerous. If I see you there, if I see you fighting, I'm going to β€”'

"What do you think you're doing?" Bellatrix exclaimed, breaking the silence loudly. Without a hint of concern. Speaking to the newcomer. "Who are you...?"

Hermione knew. She knew. And that was precisely why she struggled to sit up. Propping herself up on her elbows. But they shook, with the remnants of the Cruciatus Curse still in her system. She lost strength and fell to the ground again, with a groan.

Bellatrix continued to speak, "Are you part of the bloody Order of the β€” ?"

'I'll kill anyone. Either side. I know I will.'

And Bellatrix's voice was muffled by what happened next. The lights flickered faster, in an insane manner. And then everything burst. Literally. Every single pane of glass in the place burst into a thousand pieces. Every chandelier. Every window. Every crystal ball. Everything burst in a shockwave, a wave of air, a wave of magic, which, in fact, also shook the robes of everyone present. The newly-arrived Death Eater was the only one who didn't flinch. Their wand had not waved at any point.

And then, under cover of darkness, startled and frightened, all the Death Eaters awoke. And they moved to attack. But he attacked first.

A quick wave of the General of the Shadows wand and one of the long, red drapes hanging from the ceiling fell before him, floating, hiding him from view. A possibly non-verbal Hardening Charm and the fabric stiffened, acting as a wall. Stopping the first attacks, hastily perpetrated at him by his fellow Death Eaters. His enemies. The provisional wall cracked under the power of the attacks, but the fragments did not even touch the ground. They were thrown forward by the Death Eater, and flew through the air, straight at his opponents. Hermione covered her head with her hands, but none of the shards hit her.

Three Death Eaters managed to stop the debris and smash them to pieces before they were hit. Two others were knocked down. But none were able to recover before their lone opponent waved his wand in two swift, opposite, horizontal movements. Decisive and firm. A Death Eater to his left collapsed to the floor in a splatter of blood. Another screamed and clutched his legs, also collapsing to the floor. Hermione saw Bellatrix pass before her, walking sideways, keeping her eyes on the enemy. Not participating in the battle.

The rest of them did attack again. Dozens of bright enchantments were then heading towards their lone enemy. Like a rain of baleful stars. But he had created a Shield Charm. Which was standing before him imperishably. Enduring every curse. Every spell. One after another. Several at a time. Endlessly. And Hermione had never seen anything like this. She had never seen a Shield Charm withstand such a number of spells without having to be cast again. Bellatrix was heard to shout something.

A flick of the wand from the General of the Shadows, and the Shield Charm disappeared. But he wasted no time, and, with another flick of his wand, sent a wide Slowing Charm at his nearest opponents. Then he strode forward with determination. Knee on the ground, he stabbed his wand into it. And the floor split open in several canals before him, tearing up the carpet, kicking up stones, rubble, and moving uninterruptedly through the room. Creating several furrows dug into the stone. The Gouging Spell knocked down and obliterated a good number of his opponents.

Another determined wand movement, still kneeling on the ground, pointing it straight ahead at another opponent. Instantly, large spines erupted from their body, now frighteningly similar to a sea urchin's, drawing a horrifying scream from them. The two remaining Death Eaters seemed petrified with dismay.

"Oppugno!" the lone Death Eater shouted aloud, pointing at the spiky remains of a crystal ball lying on the tablecloth of a nearby table. These instantly came to life and flew straight at the last two Death Eaters, viciously attacking and tearing them apart. Murdering them.

Just like all the others. He had killed them all.

Only Bellatrix was left standing.

Fresh from not having moved in all that time. As she watched her opponent's technique, not bothering to tire. She wasn't even panting, unlike the General of the Shadows in front of her. Hermione tried to prop herself up on one elbow again, barely managing to do so. Then she saw something black on the carpet beside her. Her wand.

"Who β€” are β€” you?" Bellatrix hissed, not parting her teeth. Her interlocutor did not answer. He merely breathed loudly, most likely with his mouth open. And then he moved into a defiant combative position in front of her.

Bellatrix then let out a howl of rage and did not hesitate to attack with all her might. She used her entire body to cast a spell at her opponent, which he managed to hurriedly deflect aside. However, the power of the spell threw him several steps backwards, causing him to trip on the step of the lower tier and fall backwards to the ground. The witch continued to cast spells at great speed, waving her wand with superhuman swiftness, advancing towards him at the same time. Continuous beams of light illuminated the room and forced a weakened Hermione to close her eyes, blinded. Her opponent blocked the spells one after another from the ground, crawling backwards to get away from her.

"Confringo!" Bellatrix shouted. The Death Eater, not bothering to block the spell, rolled across the floor as chunks of the upper tier flew off with the force of a bomb. Landing where he stood before.

"Ebublio!" the Death Eater shouted. He stopped rolling, spun around nimbly and landed on his knees. But the woman managed to wave her wand and send his spell effortlessly against a nearby table. It was instantly surrounded by a huge bubble, beginning to rise up the room. Another flick of Bellatrix's wand and she flung the bubble in the direction of her opponent. He waved his wand as fast as he could, but only managed to remove the Ebublio Jinx in time, lest he too be trapped inside. But then it was the table, with no bubble to cushion anything, that crashed into him.

He was thrown backwards, hitting the step of an upper tier and falling to the floor again, this time face down. Surrounded by the wooden remains of the table. And, for the first time, he seemed to have trouble recovering.

"You have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this," Bellatrix hissed, taking a few measured steps closer. "I can take that mask off you dead or alive..." and she raised her wand in his direction in one swift, firm gesture.

"NO!"

Hermione's scream stopped everything. She herself found it too shrill to be her voice. She felt it escaping not only from her mouth. It was coming from all over her skin. Something was escaping from her skin. Something that flew through the air faster than the wind, sweeping across the room. Picking up the dust of battle, the debris, the shards of glass. Dragging them forward. Without waving a wand she didn't even have in her hand. But it was magic.

Bellatrix then fell flat on her face, as if knocked down by a gust of wind. The General of the Shadows on the ground covered his eyes with his forearm, shielding himself from the rain of thin glass.

Hermione had regained control of her body and mind. And she realised that she could stand up. Or rather, by the time she realised it, she was on her feet and with her wand back in her hand, pointed at Bellatrix. Bellatrix, scrambling up from the ground, spun around to face her new attacker. Hermione was prepared to see the utmost insanity in those cruel features, but what she saw was utter stupefaction. She didn't bother to stay defensive, nor did she bother to point her wand at the young woman.

"Get away from him," Hermione spat, wand held firmly in front of her. Bellatrix let out a hysterical laugh.

"Why?!" she yelled, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets. She turned to look at the Death Eater. He had managed to get to his feet, leaning against the upper tier. "Who the hell are you?! Tell me or she dies!" she shouted then, now pointing her wand at Hermione. Not understanding the situation seemed to be unhinging her more than the betrayal of one of her own.

The General of the Shadows had managed to get down from the dais and take a step forward, back to the same height as his opponent. Composed. But he did not attack again. Instead, he removed his hood with the same hand that held his wand. And the mask was tossed carelessly aside in a languid, provoking motion.

And Bellatrix's wand plunged thirty centimetres in a free fall. No longer pointed at the girl.

"You..." she stammered. And Hermione had never heard that woman sound shocked. "Have you β€” ?" she tried to speak, but all of her was trembling with fury. "What do you think you're doing?"

Draco didn't answer. He looked his aunt straight in the eye, his grey eyes glowing brightly in the gloom. His face, serious and menacing. Almost arrogant. He was panting heavily from the frantic duel he had just presided over, but he regarded the woman with a cold gaze imbued with caution. He moved his left hand again, this time to his own neck, and fumbled free of the clasp that held his black robes, letting them slip heavily down his body until they fell to the floor. He was left with only his civilian clothes and body armour. And then he turned his body into a combative position again. Wand raised. Ready to fight.

He began to walk sideways with controlled strides, not taking his eyes off the woman. Hermione mimicked him, on the other side. Surrounding their enemy. Bellatrix then remembered the girl's presence as she felt her moving behind her as well. She turned her head quickly to one side and the other. Locating them in place. Not wanting to lose sight of them. Her face was tense and alert. Angry.

"Don't you dare..." Bellatrix mumbled. Threatening and imposing. But neither of them stopped walking. "I don't know what you're up to, but I swear to Merlin you'll regret it... Can you explain to me what the hell you're doing? Has everyone turned out to be a traitor? Now you're on the Order's side, you miserable maggot?!" she shrieked more contemptuously, shaking with savage rage.

"No, I am not."

Those were the first and only words Draco uttered. And then he attacked.

A quick flick of his wand, and a whitish blast shot through the air towards his aunt. But she only had to move her wand to the side to block it easily. Hermione waved her wand from her side, sending a tentative Tickling Charm at her enemy. Testing her reflexes. Distracting her. Bellatrix turned her body fully towards her, seeing out of the corner of her eye her intentions, and blocked the spell. And then she waved her own wand, sending a table, tablecloth included, flying towards the girl. But it was Draco who, from the other side, waved his wand and broke the table cleanly in half. The remains fell on either side of Hermione, without hitting her.

Bellatrix gasped in disbelief. She turned to her nephew. Pale.

"You waste of life..." she mumbled menacingly. As if she couldn't believe it. "You're nothing but a β€” wretch..."

"Impedimenta!" Hermione shouted from behind her. The hex hit the woman in the leg, knocking her to the ground with a scream. Bellatrix, with a shriek of rage, spun around to face Hermione. Attacking her in response. A tap on the ground with her wand that sent a sudden tremor along the pavement. Hermione tried to keep her balance, but her foot slipped with a splash of blood and she fell sitting sideways.

"Orbis!" Draco shouted from his position, pointing at his aunt. "Tarantallegra!"

He knew he wasn't going to defeat her with that. But he could distract her. Making sure to draw her spells. Giving Hermione time to get up again, now vulnerable on the floor. And it worked. Bellatrix had to wave her wand frantically in her nephew's direction, protecting herself, as she managed to get to her feet again. But neglecting Hermione, who was quick to get up and take over from Draco with a rapid sequence of curses that threw the witch off balance.

Bellatrix was defending herself superbly, though. With her legs spread wide to steady herself, she was spinning back and forth continuously, fending off both opponents. One of Draco's hexes struck her in the side, drawing a scream from her, but her combat armour protected her. Even so, the power of the spell threw her to the side, sending her crashing to the ground again and eliciting a shriek. Without bothering to move from her position, she raised her wand in her nephew's direction with a scream of rage.

"ATTACK!" Hermione ordered.

And Draco had no hesitation in obeying. Trusting her blindly. Without bothering to defend himself, or create any sort of shield, he waved his wand in a swift sequence of movements, generating a new attack. The Entrail-Expelling Curse. Complicated to cast. Not very useful in fast-paced duels. But powerful. And he knew Hermione would give him the time to conjure it.

The hex Bellatrix had cast against him was evaporated in a protective barrier Hermione had placed in front of the boy from the other side. Draco was ready by then, and cast his spell a second after Hermione had vanished her Shield Charm. Magically synchronised. Bellatrix blocked the majority of the curse, but they watched as a blast of subtle light did pass through her. Throwing her aside, and sending her crashing into one of the walls. With a scream of agony. She was wounded. Possibly badly. But she wasn't going to stop.

They had her cornered. But that also took away the effectiveness of a two-pronged attack. Now they were both facing her.

Bellatrix then rose to her feet. With her hair covering part of her face, she effortlessly blocked a spell coming from Hermione. And another. And another. She advanced towards them, her face contorted. She was panting, snorting, and uttering frustrated, enraged screams. Casting no Shield Charm. Merely creating incantations that clashed in midair against the spells the two youths were casting at her. Flying off in opposite directions. Shattering walls. Puncturing the ceiling fabrics. Lamps. Shattering tables.

A spell hit Draco. He failed to block it, but his shoulder guards did. Still, he was thrown backwards, slamming his back against a table. Knocking it over. Bellatrix shouted in triumph as she cast a second spell at her nephew. Hermione blocked it, standing in front of him in one swift leap.

"BOW!" shouted Draco behind her, and Hermione didn't need him to repeat it. She fell to her knees on the floor, and ducked all the way down, leaving the way clear for the boy to cast a new attack on his aunt from above her. Bellatrix, confused, failed to defend herself and a deep gash appeared on her right hip. Causing her to fall to the floor on her side again, the pain betraying the strength in her legs.

By then Draco was on his feet again, moving to the side without missing a beat. Drawing his aunt's spells towards him again, giving Hermione time to get to her feet as well. He waved his wand to generate another quick cut on her cheek, distracting her. Another swift movement and the protection of the female Death Eater's left thigh was broken.

Hermione was back in the fight with alacrity. Waving her wand, she raised a table into the air. And Bellatrix concentrated on following the trajectory carefully, as she rose to her feet, ready to counterattack. But she saw the table speed past her. Going straight for Draco. Already poised. And he moved it in another direction with a vertiginous flick of his wand. As if hitting a Bludger with a Beater's bat. Throwing it straight at his bewildered aunt. Who screamed in pain. She managed to break it, but not get rid of the debris. Which hit her. She spun for cover but stayed on her feet. And another spell from Draco hit her in the chest, tearing a breath out of her. Knocking her back. And another from Hermione had the same effect. And then it seemed to dawn on her that she would not be allowed to move forward. That she couldn't beat them.

And then she burst.

"ENOUGH!" Bellatrix suddenly thundered, stamping her black heeled boots on the floor.

And only Bellatrix Lestrange's powerful, upset voice could manage, with a single word, to stop a duel in progress. Draco and Hermione stood still, wands still raised at her, too stunned by her scream to react. The Death Eater had lowered her wand, not bothering to stay defensive. She was breathing heavily, watching them through tousled strands of her thick, curly black hair. A long trickle of blood flowed from the cut on her cheek, and the witch seemed to notice. She brought a single, sharp-nailed finger to the wound, scooping up the crimson liquid. Then she brought it to her lips, wiping it with her tongue. She kept looking into their eyes, alternating between them.

The silence that had taken over the room, compared to the frenzy of moments before, was almost more terrifying than the battle itself.

"It's over," Lestrange said softly. A silky whisper. "I'm not going to waste my time on this. I was going to leave you alive and hand you over to the Dark Lord, boy. He knows what to do with traitors. But I've changed my mind," she sneered in an almost childish tone, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "And I will make you suffer myself. I deserve that right. We are family, after all. Though that can be solved..."

Now it was she who began to walk slowly up the tower, like a feline stalking its prey. Draco and Hermione were turning, not moving from their respective places, following her movements. Still pointing their wands at her.

Bellatrix then looked away from her nephew and fixed her black gaze on Hermione. Her face contorted instantly into a grimace of utter disgust.

"But first of all β€” what do we have here?" she hissed through her teeth. "Fighting side by side with a filthy Muggle?" she added, almost in a choked voice. As if she were nauseous. "Can you sink any lower, nephew?"

She spat to the side and raised her wand to point it at Hermione. The girl raised her wand higher in an effective reflex, ready to defend herself.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Draco warned then, in a powerful shout. Raising his own wand, decisively, in the direction of his aunt. But the woman did not attack. And it was obvious at that moment that she had no intention of doing so. Without moving any other part of her body, she turned her face to look at her nephew.

And then, against all odds, she smiled.

It was a terrible smile. Far more terrifying than her screams or her spells. A cruel smile, wide and cynical, accompanied by a look of satisfaction. With it, she reminded those present that she was a woman without scruples, ruthless and sadistic. A woman who would show them no mercy. For she knew no such feeling.

A laugh, weak and mocking, as terrible as her smile, escaped from between her teeth.

"Well, well, what an interesting turn of events," Bellatrix whispered, shuddering. But it was one of excitement. "Why, nephew, why shouldn't I touch her?" she asked both questions with irony, with mock gentleness. But a second later gasps of rage came over her again. They saw her grit her teeth and grimace. "What is the meaning of this? What the hell has happened to you, you idiot? What do you want?"

Draco said nothing. He was trying his best not to take his eyes off his aunt. The woman's lips twitched into a trembling smile. Incredulous. As if Draco was laughing at her.

"I'm going to force the truth out of you," the witch whispered. Draco raised his wand higher, waiting for her attack. The Torture Curse. But it didn't come. He didn't even see her lips move. She only locked her eyes on his.

And Draco felt the light around him fade. As if he had closed his eyes. But he hadn't. And then everything around him changed.

He saw Granger before him, kneeling, in the Ancient Runes classroom, a memory from just minutes before...

He felt her pressed against his chest, as he held her in that bed in the Order of the Phoenix shelter, seconds before she erased his memory...

He saw himself naked next to her on Blucher Street...

He saw himself in front of her, inside the cupboard of that house on Privet Drive, with his hand on her throat...

He saw himself next to the Whomping Willow, at night, watching her running through the grounds, away from him...

He saw himself still at night, surrounded by wooden beams, trying to cover her with his own robes as cautiously as possible. With his fingers brushing the ends of her hair, away from her head, so as not to wake her up. Wiping his face with his forearm, before picking up the pile he had created with his shoes and clothes in his hand and standing up...

He saw himself sitting in a boat, with her on his lap...

They were seated on a lonely bench in front of McGonagall's office, Draco resting his hand behind her, supporting his weight, bringing his face closer...

He saw Granger appear before him, by the back door of Hog's Head, separating from her lips after giving her the first of many kisses...

And then he opened his eyes. And his mouth. And inhaled deeply. And the remains of the shattered Divination classroom came back to him. And he found his face pressed against the dusty carpet. And he understood what had happened. He hadn't been able to use Occlumency against his aunt...

"β€” enough! Enough!" Hermione's voice came to him then. Frantic and desperate. Draco blinked and turned his face, looking for her. She was still almost where he had left her, maybe a couple of steps closer to him. Glaring at Bellatrix angrily. Panting heavily. As if the duel had continued while his mind was being searched by his aunt. It was more than likely that Hermione had tried to stop the intrusion into his mind by attacking the witch.

Bellatrix was on her feet, standing tall with arrogance. Looking at Draco almost out of the corner of her eye now. Nose flaps dilated and mouth curved downwards. As if he were an excrement stuck to the sole of her shoe.

And Draco wondered slowly if his aunt had really, really seen it all.

"All this time... you bastard," the woman said softly. And the coldness in her voice was the best confirmation. She had seen it. "I suppose even in the best families there are black sheep. First it was my sister Andromeda. And now it's you. But at least she was honest about her disgusting impulses. You β€” you have no shame. Your mother's never been particularly strong, but at least she knows her place. I don't think she'd mind losing such a scion, who's turned out to be another stupid Mudblood-lover... A traitor to his blood and his family. A cowardly liar," she spat, with more contempt. Her voice echoed in the silence of the tower.

"Are you finished?" Draco mumbled then, contemptuous. His body still limp, not allowing him to rise from the floor. He felt his brain butter at the unexpected, aggressive invasion of his memories. But he could still talk superiorly. It was his speciality.

The corner of Bellatrix's mouth twitched slightly. And then she chuckled again, disdainfully. Watching Draco manage to cautiously pull himself up onto his elbows. With visible effort. But then the woman had to press a fist to her belly, as if in sudden pain. She coughed weakly. A nasty cough. The almost-successful Entrail-Expelling Curse...

"Look at you. Shame on you," the witch hissed even so. Pulling her hand haughtily away from her belly again. "You're just a smug little boy who has no idea what life is really like. You should show a modicum of appreciation for the life you have been offered. You have no idea what the Muggles have done to us, you haven't lived it. I always told Cissy that she was parenting you in the worst way. You're just a spoiled, pusillanimous idiot β€”"

"SHUT UP!" Hermione shouted, raising her wand a little higher. The tip glowed with a menacing spell. Bellatrix glanced sideways at her with a venomous smile now curving her lips.

"Not half a word, Mudblood. Don't you dare speak to me like that. I have killed others of your kind for far less," she warned, in a silky whisper. Then she looked back at her nephew. "This is a family matter..." she muttered sardonically. But then she took a deep sigh and lifted her chin a little higher. Her eyes glittered. "You know what? I've thought of a little game. Sometimes I feel like having a bit of fun. After all these years, killing in a hurry is starting to get repetitive... And some people deserve a lot more than that," she tapped her palm with her long, crooked wand. Almost like a mischievous teacher. Immune to the outrageous things she was saying. She kept looking at Draco. "I want to see how far you'd be willing to go. How far your feigned heroism will go. How much do you really care about this scum," she gestured at Hermione with a quick nod of her head. "She's already endured one Unforgivable Curse, let's go for the other two... IMPERIO!"

And she was quicker than either of them thought she would be. She raised her wand decisively, opening her frenzied eyes wide. The tip lit up, tinging her face an almost cadaverous white.

And Draco felt like the world was falling in on him.

"NO!" he shouted loudly, grabbing his wand from the floor at full speed. But it was too late.

Hermione waved her own wand, but the counter-spell wasn't powerful enough. And Bellatrix's greenish-yellow curse flew across the room and landed squarely on her chest. Making her stagger.

Draco pointed at his aunt from the floor. Belatedly, but he did it. And she wasn't quick enough to attack Hermione and protect herself. Draco's hasty spell threw the Death Eater violently through the air. Causing her to hit and knock over some of the tables in the upper tiers, overturning them, and breaking several. She disappeared from sight, hidden in the wreckage of the furniture.

Time slowed down in Draco's eyes. Hermione, wide-eyed, palpated her chest where she had received the curse. As if waiting to see what would happen. Draco felt as if he could barely breathe, but he didn't need it to leap to his feet, almost stumbling in his haste and the weakness of his limbs.

"Granger..." he gasped, approaching her as fast as his legs would carry him. As he listened to his aunt scream and struggle to stand, buried as she was under the wreckage of wood and cloth. "Granger!" he repeated, as soon as he was in front of her.

He tried to hold her face with both hands, tightly, vaguely aware that he might hurt her. The right hand, useless, merely pressed against her profile, not holding her at all. The left hand did dig its fingers into her skull. They trembled. He needed to see her eyes. Examine her gaze. As he felt the dread replace the blood in his veins.

What was his aunt going to make her do? Murder herself? Throw herself down the tower?

The girl, at the sound of his voice, and the feel of his hands on her face, looked up and fixed her gaze on him. Her mouth was ajar as if she did not understand what she was seeing. Or what she was feeling. Her eyes were fixed on him, but also somewhat blurred. As if she couldn't see him clearly. Or didn't recognise him.

Draco then felt something small and hard touch his chest, over his shirt and body armour. So softly that, if he hadn't had every nerve in his body on edge, he wouldn't have noticed it. He looked down. A wand. He had a wand pressed against his sternum. And it was something he couldn't understand.

"Crucio."

A thousand daggers flew out of Merlin knew where, and stabbed into the length of the boy's body. Or so he felt. He bellowed in pain and fell to his knees on the floor. Every muscle in his body twitching, ceasing to function, burning and breaking. He tried to curl in on himself. Clinging to himself. Wanting it to stop. Begging in his mind for it to stop. He couldn't speak, only scream. He heard a laugh he recognised as his aunt's, though he couldn't see her.

As his thighs began to shake more violently, he fell to the floor on his side, writhing. Feeling that his bones would snap sooner or later. He heard himself howl. He opened his eyes, he didn't even know how. Feeling something liquid trickle down the corners of them. And he saw her standing over him.

Hermione was staring at him. Mouth ajar, gaze unfocused, and wand pointed at him. No hint of empathy, no suffering from torturing him. She didn't seem to feel anything. She didn't recognise him. And she didn't care.

Another scream from the young man echoed through the huge classroom. And then everything stopped. Hermione pulled her wand away, stopping the spell. Draco remained on the floor though, still squirming residually. Panting urgently. Still shuddering. Hermione stepped over him with a long stride and slowly made her way across the room. Skirting the corpses of the Death Eaters Draco had finished off minutes before. Without looking at them. Almost as if she were in a trance.

Draco was still shaking so uncontrollably that he couldn't stand up. But he tried to turn and follow her with his eyes. He saw her go in the direction of one of the windows. The copper-coloured shield flashed golden glints across the patch of sky Draco could see from where he lay.

The dome...

No...

Draco managed to reach out and retrieve the wand. He raised his arm shakily and tried to point it at Hermione as firmly as he could.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

But the young woman, with inhuman reflexes that Draco knew she wouldn't possess if she wasn't under the effects of the Imperius Curse, turned instantly and blocked his beam of red light with skill. With an unperturbed expression. Draco didn't even wait for the trembling in his body to stop completely. He propelled himself onto his elbows and managed to get onto his hands and knees. He raised his wand again.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted again.

He couldn't remember any other spell. He just wanted to disarm her. He couldn't even think of doing her any harm. The girl stopped again and turned, to block his spell again, only this time she sent it back without even flinching her face. Draco managed to protect himself at the last second and keep his wand.

He staggered to his feet and, out of necessity, leaned on the nearest table. He didn't know where his aunt was, and to be honest, he'd almost forgotten she even existed. Gasping, he raised his wand decisively and cast another Disarming Charm. Hermione had to stop walking again to turn around and fight the spell off. Her intention was clearly to get to the window, but the young man's spells were distracting her and she was forced to stop in order to counterattack.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco uttered then. Desperately. Faster, trying to catch her off guard. To no avail. She blocked his spell again with ease.

Draco then decided to go further. And attack her without pause. One Disarming Charm after another. Praying, against his own sanity, that one would hit its target. He needed to stop her.

Now, being attacked faster, without pause, she had to stop walking altogether, so she could turn towards the boy, her back to the window. Hermione fought off all the spells. Draco's dazed mind flashed back to that Defence Against the Dark Arts practice class. The duel he had against her, surrounded by their classmates at the time. Looking into each other's eyes, feeling the thrill of knowing that they were hiding something, something that only they knew...

He knew the girl was a fantastic duellist, but, thanks to the Imperius Curse, being deprived of her own mind, she was even better. Her face remained impassive, almost relaxed, as she fought off all of the boy's spells. Automatically. Without even thinking. As if attacking Draco didn't bother her at all. But something in her eyes glittered with frustration. Draco wasn't allowing her to accomplish her mission. Her mission to destroy the dome. And that bothered her. She waved her wand and cast a thick beam of light at the boy. He blocked it with fortunate reflexes. And he attacked her again. And he saw the impatience grow on the girl's face. Another spell. And another. And another.

And then she seemed to have had enough. Draco saw it in her eyes. And then Hermione's wand was raised, pointed straight at his face, with vigour. With a twitching expression. Furious. And the young man found himself unable to move.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Two words Draco had never thought he'd hear leaving that mouth. But he saw her lips move, almost in slow motion. And the green light of the spell forming on the tip of her wand as she spoke the words necessary for the Killing Curse. A light that illuminated the young woman's face, turning it a sickly, almost malevolent colour.

And Draco could not allow himself to hesitate. He threw himself to the side, straight to the floor, making no attempt to block the spell. Landing flat on his face on the carpet, hidden in the wreckage of the tables. He felt the warm air rush through the room above his head. The green light blinded him and he shut his eyes tightly. He felt it shatter the tables and stools in front of him. Bits of wood and splinters fell on his body, as well as various cushion fillings. He tried to shield himself from it all by reflexively putting his arms over his head.

Bellatrix, somewhere, was laughing loudly as she watched Draco fight for his life. She had not been involved in the duel at all. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely watching how it would most certainly be the young woman who would end up killing him. His aunt was an expert at torturing to the point of insanity, and what she was doing was a clear demonstration of that.

Draco lifted his head and tried to see the girl through the wreckage of wood and cloth that everything around him had become. Trying to ignore the fact that Granger had just cast the Killing Curse on him. She was standing just a short distance away from the window. But still with her back to it. Concentrating entirely on him. Eyes fixed on his despite the distance. Almost waiting to see his reaction, to see if he was still alive. As if daring him to attack again. Draco rose to his feet, standing stably. Pulling himself up to his full height. And raised his wand in front of him again. Pointing it at her. Showing her that he didn't intend to stop.

Hermione didn't change her face. But she did wave her wand again, in a wide horizontal motion in front of her, never taking her eyes from his. Burning eyes. Filled with a fire that crackled in them almost terrifyingly.

"Incendio."

And then a real fire reflected in the girl's dark orbs. A stream of bright orange flames left Hermione's wand, reaching the flammable ground. Creating an encirclement of fire in front of her, between the two of them, filling the dark room with a sudden, glowing, sight-damaging light.

Draco took two steps back automatically, seeing himself separated from her by a high wall of flames. His eyes widened as wide as saucers.

That had been a very bad decision. The fire was enchanted to hold itself in an encirclement, but even magic was unpredictable. There were a few flashes, and several flames leapt into the air, reaching other areas of the room. And everything in there could burn. The cushions, the carpets, the wooden tables, the huge ceiling fabrics...

Draco, breathing rapidly, looked in all directions. Hermione's intention, no doubt, had been to force him out of there. To scare him with fire so that he would leave, so that he would stop bothering her. Trapped in the Imperius Curse, she was incapable of realising that she too would die hopelessly, consumed by her own fire. No escape was possible. Draco could see her turn her back again, and finish approaching the window. Wand in hand.

Bellatrix's laughter echoed through the room. And Draco located her then. She was several feet back, near the trap door leading out of the tower. Away from the flames.

"She doesn't seem to want you here, nephew!" The Death Eater's amused eyes glowed with firelight. A wide grin revealed her blackened teeth. "She'll finish the job for me, and the flames will devour her... An ironic end befitting her kind."

But Draco couldn't even hear her. He raised his arm and pointed his wand at the source of the fire. At the large circle surrounding the girl.

"AGUAMEN β€” !"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Bellatrix squealed then, quick as a gazelle.

"NO!" Draco shouted. Seeing his wand leave his hand helplessly, arcing through the air and then landing out of sight. Quite possibly in the fire. And he was barely able to assimilate such a loss. Barely restraining himself from diving into the flames after it.

But a new bluish light in front of him, countering the yellowish illumination of the fire, diverted his attention. Hermione had managed to create a spell unknown to him, and a continuous beam of light began to be sent out of the window. She had begun to destroy the dome.

"Oh, she's going to destroy the Order's shield?" Bellatrix whispered in a mocking voice. As if talking to a small child. Sounding perfidiously pleased. "Tonight's will be the Dark Lord's loudest and most acclaimed victory... How ironic, a Mudblood destroying the Order's protection and handing victory to the Dark Lord... What do you think, nephew?" she giggled. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Stop it."

Draco didn't even answer. He was forced to back away. The fire was starting to advance everywhere, still slowly, but it was devouring whatever flammable material was in the room. The smoke was beginning to be a problem. He had to move a few more steps away as the fire spread across the carpet, before him, flames advancing in his direction. But, in doing so, he was also moving away from Hermione. And that was not in his plans.

His aunt had hatched a malevolent plan on the fly with frightening effectiveness. She had not left loose ends. She could kill them both and finish her task of destroying the dome in a matter of seconds. He was unarmed, without a wand. Hermione was defenceless under the Imperius Curse. But his aunt wanted to see him suffer. This was all happening because of him. She wanted to punish him for his betrayal. And Draco couldn't think of anything. Any idea would end with them both dead.

Damn it...

The boy couldn't think, couldn't breathe. And he was running out of time.

'Let me explain again, Granger, this is the only thing we can do for each other: kill each other. This is the only thing that your ilk intend to do by coming to our world. Any other kind of interaction is out of place. This whole conversation shouldn't be happening. I am the descendant of a long line of pure-bloods, and you are a simple, insignificant Mudblood who should never even have known the wizarding world. So report me to Dumbledore, or do whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me. You don't matter to me. Here at Hogwarts, unfortunately, I have to put up with your presence; but when we leave, if I ever see you... I'll kill you, Mudblood. You're at the top of my list. We are two sides of the same coin. Natural enemies. That's the way things have always been, no matter how much idealistic fools like Dumbledore insist otherwise.'

"GRANGER!" Draco shouted at the top of his lungs, above the crackling flames. Without moving from his spot. Bellatrix made an attempt to point her wand at him, startled by his shout, but seemed to think it was absurd. After all, he was unarmed. And he was just talking. And he could do no harm like that.

The girl turned her head at the sound of her name, but did not lower her wand, which continued to shoot a bright blue beam out the window. Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know how much time he had. How long she had to maintain the spell until the dome was finished. But he sensed it wouldn't be long.

"GRANGER, STOP!" the young man shouted again. "You don't want to do this, damn it! You have to resist! Try to resist the Imperius Curse!"

The girl looked at him with the same expression she had worn for the last few minutes. Listless, relaxed. Almost haughty. As if there was no importance whatsoever in what she was doing. And she soon returned her gaze to the window. Still, the hand she was holding her wand in was trembling. And Draco hadn't noticed that detail before. And he felt himself being flooded with hot water.

The fire was taking over more and more of the room, reaching the corpses of the Death Eaters. Burning them, just like everything else. And Draco felt the urgency take hold of him. He looked around, desperate. He saw a table beside him, near the circle of flames. It was still mostly intact. The tablecloth covering it had begun to burn, but from the bottom. The top wasn't burning. He could β€” maybe he could jump over there. Over the flames. And, assuming he survived, he'd reach the girl. Yeah, and then what?

She'd kill him. She didn't recognise him. He was an enemy to her. A real enemy.

He had to get into her mind, get the Imperius Curse out of there. Bring her back to being her. He needed her. But he knew that Legilimency would be useless. And he had no wand. He had to get into her some other way. In an impossible way.

"Granger!" he called again, trying to make his voice heard above the roar of the flames. "Granger, listen to me! You have to wake up! We have to get out of here, don't you see all this?! Look at the fire, dammit! You're going to kill yourself! Get out of there!"

Hermione hadn't even looked at him this time. He hadn't influenced her at all. She still had her wand pointed at the window. And no, she didn't seem to mind the fire. As if she wasn't as flammable as all the material around her. And the temperature was still rising. Ashes flew through the air. Draco was breathing in hot air.

"You're destroying the dome!" he shouted again, more frustrated. Desperation. Panic. "The dome, do you hear me?! You can't do this! You need it to free the dragon! You have to stop! Stop!"

Draco heard Bellatrix growl excitedly behind him, finally learning of the Order's true plans. But he ignored her outright. The sweat trickling down his forehead dripped into his eye and blinded him for a few moments. He ran his forearm over his face, trying to wipe it away. The heat continued to rise. He couldn't breathe. He could feel the ash seeping inside him and burning his throat.

He needed her to recognise him. He needed her to resist the Imperius Curse. He knew it was possible to resist it, but it was by no means common. Very few people had the ability to do so. And he had no idea if Granger was among those people. At the moment, that didn't seem to be the case. But he couldn't stop.

"It's me! Granger, it's me! It's Draco! Damn it, you know me! You β€” you know me! Come on, fuck β€” LOOK AT ME!" he demanded, loudly, again getting no response. Not even a glance. Desperately, he bent down and grabbed one of the stools nearby, still free of flames. He held it with one foot against the floor and violently yanked off one of the legs. Then he threw the leg across the flame barrier. A metre away from the girl. She didn't even flinch from the smoking projectile. With a scream of rage, Draco threw the rest of the stool. It shattered as it smashed against the section of wall next to the window. Again at Hermione's side. Again without upsetting her.

He heard Bellatrix's laughter again, above the hoarse roar of the fire. Draco brought his left hand to his hair, tussling it desperately. Tugging at it. His hand was shaking. And he couldn't take his eyes off Granger's back, on the other side of the raging flames.

"Granger, don't do this to me..." he mumbled, panting, between his teeth. Breathless to scream again. "We were so close, damn it..."

He was starting to feel dizzy. The heat was suffocating him. He felt the dust clinging to the sweaty skin of his face, and he sensed that he was covered in soot. He tried to gasp for air to shout again, but the ash suddenly choked him. He began to cough desperately, feeling suffocated. He bent his body to rest his hands on his knees, still coughing hoarsely. He turned his face, trying to visualise his aunt. She was still near the entrance to the tower. Far from the flames. Or at least as far away as possible. Her wand was ready to extinguish them if necessary and they made an attempt on her own life. She was close to the exit. But she didn't seem willing to miss the death of both youths.

Draco managed to swallow a nonexistent mouthful of saliva and found himself with enough breath to speak again. But he didn't know what else to say. Nothing was working. He couldn't use magic. Hermione could undeniably hear him, but she wasn't listening. Nothing he said mattered to her. Her minutes were numbered. The dome would be destroyed at any moment. And so would the tower. The structure would not stand forever against the destructive power of fire. The walls were made of stone, but the beams supporting the roof, many metres above them, were made of wood. The fire would reach them sooner or later.

Draco cried out as he felt a piercing pain in his left leg. He leapt backwards, away from the embers that had leapt towards him. His leg guards had protected him for the most part, but an area of his calf had come into contact with the fire. The boy extinguished the burning embers that were setting his trousers ablaze with swift swipes.

They were about to die. Draco could see no other outcome. Not if it was up to him. Because he didn't know what else to do. His brain, his body, his survival instinct, urged him to keep fighting frantically, to keep shouting at her, but his common sense told him it was pointless. Shielding his aching eyes with his forearm, he looked again at the girl's back. He could not save her...

And then he diverted the few energies that fluctuated inside him into making his brain work. To wonder if there was anything, anything at all, he wanted to tell her. Even if she wouldn't listen. Even if she didn't care. But he couldn't even think of anything concrete. What was the point anymore? They weren't getting out of there. They were history. And besides, luckily, she already knew everything.

Although there was one thing that β€”

His brow furrowed of its own volition. Surprised that he had suddenly remembered something like that. It was completely incongruous with the situation. And unnecessary. Absurd. But... he didn't want to die without telling her. If there was life after death, Draco would regret every second of that new life for not telling her. What did he have to lose?

"Granger!" he shouted with renewed impetus, towards her back. Though his voice broke in the middle of the brief word. But he swallowed, barely hydrating his throat, and continued without thinking, "Granger, you'd better be listening to me! Remember I sent you a Patronus when we attacked Godric's Hollow?" He didn't even hear his aunt's exclamation of surprise in the distance, and just continued, "I managed to do it. You explained to me how to do it... Do you know what memory worked for me?"

His voice lost some of its strength, but he knew she had heard him. Hermione's face didn't change, though. She didn't look at him either. And yet...

Was it his imagination, or was the girl's wand trembling more strongly now?

Bellatrix noticed that detail as well. Her brow furrowed. Realising that something was wrong. But she didn't seem to consider it too dangerous yet. Still, she looked at Draco again, sizing him up. Watching as he moved closer to the girl, as much as the fire would allow, with now purposeful steps. Until he was in front of the initial circle of flames. Not taking his eyes off the girl. Seeing her through the glowing fire.

"That day in the greenhouse," Draco revealed, trying not to lower his voice, though he felt himself beginning to choke dangerously again. And he wasn't sure if it was his own words or the smoke replacing the oxygen in the room. "When we decided to start all this. The day we decided we wanted the same thing, the day that β€” that I accepted that it was what I wanted. Everything about you had always driven me crazy with remorse, crazy with fear, but that day β€” that day was β€” fuck, I was happy," he let out a disbelieving laugh. As if he thought his own words were absurd. But he didn't stop talking. "You were my stupid happy memory. It could only be you. So stop being an idiot and let's get the hell out of here!" he shouted louder, restraining himself from stamping his foot on the floor. Having to take a step back instead as the flames swung menacingly in his direction.

"How can you be so foolish?" Bellatrix scoffed, quietly. Almost bored. Still, Draco heard her. "You think she's going to resist an Unforgivable Curse just for such nonsense? This is magic, you big git..." she spluttered after that. And she cast a fleeting, half-hearted Water-Making Spell at flames that threatened to reach her.

Draco continued to stare at the girl. Blinking frantically. Fighting against the hot air from the fire that dried out his eyes, and the ashes that splattered his face. A shelf full of porcelain cups ended up collapsing near him, scorched by the fire. Startling him, and making him take a couple of steps back. Protecting his face as embers flew in his direction. His forearm guards failed to repel them all. And Draco felt his skin burning with pain.

"Hermione, you can fucking do it, come on...!" he continued to shout, still with his arm in front of his face. Or at least he tried to, for another fit of coughing came over him. He coughed again in desperation, controlling his retching. After a couple of seconds, and a couple of laboured breaths, he managed to catch his breath and shouted, "I'm not leaving here without you, and I'm not going to die for the fucking Order of the Phoenix, so defend yourself! Resist!" he coughed again, residually, breathlessly. He brought his forearm closer to his mouth in an attempt to repel the smoke, uselessly. "Wake up! FUCKING WAKE UP! HERMIONE!"

The fire was now climbing up the long, wide red fabrics hanging from the ceiling. Soon it would reach the horizontal wooden beams that held up the pointed roof. Soon it would fall on them. And it would all be over. Draco was shaking uncontrollably, sweating from every pore of his body, coughing almost non-stop, and dizzy to the point where his vision was beginning to blur.

He took a couple more steps back, and his legs collided with something, suddenly. Something firm. Professor Trelawney's armchair, in the centre of the room. Still free of flames. Draco dug his fingers into the leather, grateful to have something solid nearby, but his eyes searched for the girl again. He could barely see her through the smoke now.

He had to go. He had to leave her there. She was, irretrievably, doomed. But he could leave. Turn around, run to the trap door behind him and get out of there. Dodging the flames. Provided his aunt didn't kill him in the process, of course.

If he stayed there, he would die too. He was going to die. Devoured by fire.

He couldn't save her. He wasn't going to save her.

And he wasn't going to leave. He couldn't leave. He couldn't move. Not without her. He understood with despair that dying with her was quicker. Easier. Less painful. How could he not die with her?

Draco blinked, torn from his thoughts, as he sensed that something had changed. Something he didn't identify at first. The lighting in the place. Everything was redder now. Less bright. The spell. The spell directed at the dome. It was gone.

Hermione's wand, though still held up to the window, was twitching in her hand so violently that the spell had apparently ceased to be workable. Draco saw her eyelids twitch. He saw her blink rapidly. Looking around, looking over her shoulder. And he thought with shock that it was the first time she had moved of her own volition in a long time. The young man let out the last breath he had left in a gasp of sheer shock. Was it possible...?

Bellatrix, behind him, let out an animal howl. She had also noticed that the spell was gone.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the witch shouted. "I will hear no more blasphemy! I will finish the β€”"

And then her voice ceased to be heard. Instead, ominous crackling sounds from above drew their gaze. The decorative fabrics on the ceiling were burning brightly, their overhead anchors disappearing, charred. And these were falling irretrievably over the classroom, gliding like huge, fiery pyres that threatened to bury them.

Bellatrix screamed in rage, and concentrated on waving her wand to push away the flaming remnants of the fabrics that were falling directly on top of her. Draco, meanwhile, awoke as if he had been slapped in the face. A violent adrenaline rush gripped every muscle fibre in his body. And then he managed to move. He bent down and rammed his shoulder into the side of his former Divination teacher's leather armchair. Giving it a violent shove. A kick. Causing it to fall sideways, to roll across the floor, onto the circle of fire. The leather did not burn. And it opened a momentary passage through the flames. Draco ran after it. Leaping on top of it, while the piece of furniture was still wobbling on the floor, so that in two swift strides he could pass through the flames.

He felt the burning breath of the fire hit his face, but suddenly he was on the other side. He had crossed the barrier. And he didn't even think to stop. Ducking to narrowly avoid one of the fabrics that was already almost landing on the floor, he threw himself on top of Hermione, pushing her as close to the wall as possible, as far away from the burning fabrics as he could.

And then the wooden beams supporting the now burning roof collapsed on top of them with a crash. Bringing with it a great deal of debris and a huge cloud of dust that threatened to bury them. They heard Bellatrix scream, more vulnerable than they were, standing in the very centre of the room. Disappearing from sight amidst the fire and debris.

Draco fell on top of Hermione with all of his weight, slamming and crushing her to the floor, hurting her without a doubt. Not caring about such a thing, he merely wrapped his arms around her head, around her thick hair, hiding her under his chest. Under his body. To protect her. Not with magic, because he didn't have any. He had no wand. But he could take any burning fabric that fell on them. Which never came. He felt a cloud of dust pass over them, forcing him to close his eyes. Shaking their clothes and hair wildly. He heard the clatter of stones sliding over each other. Everything around him shaking. After three eternal seconds without feeling any pain, without feeling the fire licking at his back, he opened his eyes. His heart was pounding in his throat. And he was breathing fast. And he had the crook of Hermione's neck in front of his nose. And her tangled hair. He felt fingers digging into his side, holding him down. He turned his face, following her throat. Searching for her face. Looking for her eyes. Trying to understand.

Granger's eyes were open. As well as her mouth, so that she could gasp quickly as well. And she was looking up. Draco kept turning his face further. He saw the girl's arm, stretched above their heads. A stream of light was coming from her wand. A Shield Charm. It had protected them from the beams that now hovered above their heads, smouldering and turning to ash before their eyes, motionless in the air, unable to reach them.

Draco felt the girl's body jerk beneath his as she waved her wand, tossing the remains of the beams to the side, away from them. And undoing the Shield Charm. And then she looked at him. And Draco, as soon as he saw her eyes, frantic and terrified but steady, knew it was her again. She had woken up. Stunned and breathless, Draco looked out the other side, upwards. Towards the window. He could see the copper dome in all its splendour. It was still intact. The spell had not been cast long enough.

But the whole tower was falling apart.

The stairs leading up to Sybil Trelawney's chambers were still standing; but the chambers at the top were gone. The whole of that area had collapsed, probably falling outside, and in its place a great gaping hole revealed the night sky, dome included.

Then they heard grunting before them both. And, without agreeing to it, still lying on the floor, they both turned their heads away from the window. Looking for Bellatrix.

She had approached them, moving away from the exit trapdoor to do so. She was standing in the centre of the shattered classroom, unharmed, watching them. All around her, smoke swirled in dirty clouds. The still smouldering embers of the fabrics were scattered around her. The fire surrounded her, churning with vivacity. Her face, contorted. Her body, trembling with rage. With her thick black hair covering part of her face, so furious she didn't look human. As if she had just ascended from hell itself.

A piece of a beam, partially charred, fell behind her from above. But Bellatrix didn't even flinch.

Draco, breathing fast, looked to his left. Towards the stairs that once led up to Trelawney's bedroom. Their only escape route. They couldn't get across the room to the trapdoor.

He reached for Hermione's arm, not looking at her. Clutching it tightly when he found it. Eyes fixed on Bellatrix.

"You have survived two of the Unforgivable Curses," the witch whispered. Her voice, despite her crazed appearance, and the oppressive situation, was so soft it was frightening. But they heard her clearly. "We have one more to try..."

"Stand up," Draco gasped, out of breath. Pulling at Hermione's arm as he pulled himself to his feet. "We have to get out of here..."

"You're not going anywhere," Bellatrix said with evident rage. She pushed aside the remains of a beam, and hurled it in their direction. Hermione waved her own wand in a lucky gesture, still on her knees, to turn them into an innocent cloud of bubbles. "I'm going to finish you, you monstrosities..."

"Hurry!" Draco urged again, shouting loudly, finally getting to his feet and urgently tugging at the girl to lift her to her feet. But Bellatrix was raising her wand in their direction with a scream of fury. And they both saw the greenish glow illuminate the tip.

The last of the Unforgivable Curses...

And suddenly they were both blinded. But not by a greenish light. Everything in front of them began to sparkle. Colours everywhere. Sparks. An unexpected shower of fireworks that mingled with the flames of the place. Catching Bellatrix off guard. Dazzling and cornering her, she was suddenly surrounded by explosions of colour. Fire-breathing dragons flew around her. Sparks that formed top hats. Two huge W's exploding overhead.

Draco was dumbfounded. Unable to take in what he was seeing. Who...?

After watching his aunt cast a desperate Vanishing Spell, causing the fireworks to multiply by ten, he woke up from his stupor.

It didn't matter where it had all come from. They had to make the most of it.

"Out! OUT!" Draco bellowed, pulling Hermione in the direction of the stairs. They ran up them, arriving at the remains of what had been Sybil Trelawney's bedroom. Now without walls, without a roof. With the remains of her personal belongings buried in the rubble of the tower. Open to the night sky.

The cold night wind hit them as they approached the edge. The view from there was dizzying. The rubble of the wall and collapsed roof piled up to their right. Draco stuck his head out and tried to look in all directions. Upwards. Down wasn't a viable option, no way. But there was nothing else up there either. The Divination Tower was at one of the castle's apexes. There was no structure nearby to flee to.

He followed the rubble path with his eyes. It led to what was left of the circular, pointed roof of the tower. Almost all of it was gone. But there was a window, a bay window, still standing. It overhung the roof, with its own roof over it. The only stable surface he could see. Away, at least, from the fire inside. They couldn't stay inside the tower. Not with Bellatrix.

Hermione, who seemed to approve of his intentions to go out that way, pushed him from behind in the direction of the rubble, so that he would go first.

"CLIMB! QUICKLY!" she urged, indeed. Turning to watch Bellatrix, armed with her wand, unlike him. The Death Eater was still downstairs in the classroom, fighting the huge fireworks. The fire was still alive around her, somewhat diminished in part by the collapse that had buried it.

Draco began to climb up the pile of unstable rubble. Steadying his feet on each wobbly stone, and holding on with his left hand with all his might. He could only lean and crawl on his right forearm.

The air outside cooled his weary lungs and whistled in his ears. He managed to climb high enough to get below the unstable roof. He clung to the remnants of a wooden beam sticking out to one side, and then looked back. The girl was still standing at the foot of the rubble, waving her wand rapidly in the direction of the interior.

"Climb up!" Draco ordered, urgently. Stretching his right arm out towards her. But Hermione was still looking inside, and shouted words that puzzled Draco.

"GET OUT, QUICKLY!" she urged, desperately, to the inside of the tower. And Draco barely managed to frown, amidst the frenzy. Who was she talking to? Who else was in there? Had people from the Order arrived? He didn't give a damn...

"GRANGER, CLIMB UP!" Draco repeated at the top of his voice.

And luckily, the girl didn't need him to repeat it to her. She turned and began to climb up the rubble as fast as she could. Slipping on the loose stones. Draco saw a spell fly from inside the tower and disappear into the distance, not reaching her. Hermione grabbed onto his offered forearm as a firm grip as soon as she had it in her grasp. Draco bent his elbow to lift her with one hand into his position. With a grunt of effort. As soon as he had her at his side, he bent down and wrapped the same arm around her thighs, standing up to lift her over his head. And the girl was able to grab hold of the roof tiles.

"UP TO THE WINDOW! CLIMB UP!" Draco shouted, breathlessly.

"Draco...!" he heard her protest in disagreement. And he knew why. She had the wand. He was unarmed. Bellatrix was behind them. He should be leading the way.

"I SAID CLIMB UP!" he bellowed, adamant. Without thinking. Still pushing her by the legs. Giving her no chance to move back.

And it was only when he saw her resting her arms on the tiles, and fighting against his grip to bend her knees and lean them too, managing to climb up on her own, that he looked back again. The coloured lights inside the tower had disappeared. Only the illumination of the fire could be seen again.

With added urgency, he shifted the weight of his feet and leapt up to reach the edge of the roof with his left hand. He then managed to rest his right forearm. He climbed as best he could, with only his arms, unable to support his feet. The roof was hot. The fire inside the tower, beneath them, tempering it.

He saw Hermione to his left, already kneeling on the horizontal roof of the bay window, reaching out to him with her hand. Trying to help him.

Then something exploded under his nose. Hermione screamed, having to pull her hand away. A swift spell had hit a section of roof between them, sending several tiles flying through the air.

Draco closed his eyes, startled by the noise, but managed to hold on to the roof. He turned his head and saw that Bellatrix was already at the foot of the rubble, in Trelawney's shattered bedroom. Thick black hair flying around her head. Face twitching. And the wand raised. Draco heard Hermione scream above his head. And he saw his aunt shield herself from a brilliant hex. Hermione was distracting her from above. Covering the boy's climb.

Draco kicked his feet until he managed to rest them on the remains of the wall, managed to give himself momentum, and clambered up to the roof at last. Then, crouching down for stability, he stretched to reach the narrow roof of the bay window to his left. He managed to land the upper half of his body safely on the surface. Instantly, he felt a small hand resting on his back. Frantically tugging at his clothes. Trying to pull him up.

Draco managed to finish climbing and was on his knees, panting urgently from the effort of the climb. Granger was kneeling too, next to him, clinging to him. With the hand she had used to help him up still clutching his clothes frantically, perhaps in fear that he would fall. While with the other she cast all sorts of spells at Bellatrix. Without pause.

They were on top of the roof. At the top of Hogwarts. The Divination Tower, the tower they were in, was the second highest tower in the castle, after the Astronomy Tower. The cliff on which Hogwarts sat was at their feet, and, beyond that, the Great Lake stretched out before them. Like a smooth, shimmering cloak. The dome shone brightly above their heads. They could still hear the fire roaring inside the tower below them.

The wind shook them at that height in an eerie way. Giving them a dreadful vertigo. Their clothes flapping over their bodies. Draco stretched an arm out in front of the girl's chest. Trying to pull her back. Stabilise her. Unarmed, he couldn't help her. He couldn't fight at her side.

He looked around, frantically searching for a way out. But there was none. They had reached the end.

They heard creaking. The roof couldn't hold forever. The fire inside was still active. It would collapse at any moment.

"Draco!" Hermione howled beside him. Draco looked at her, seeing only her profile. Her eyes flickering frantically, as she waved her wand expertly in Bellatrix's direction. Unable to look at him. "Get ready!"

Draco didn't move a muscle. Because he failed to understand such an order. And he didn't flinch, certain that he hadn't heard correctly. He just stared at her. Without breathing. And it seemed to him that even time stood still. Granting him a few unreal seconds, just to be able to look at her. The dust on her skin. The frizzy halo that was her chestnut hair. The strength of her clenched teeth. The way her eyes sparkled. The determination he saw in them. How her spells intercepted or repelled Bellatrix's spells. Without fail. Without hesitation.

And he knew he would follow her beyond the end of the world.

"DRACO!" the girl shouted again. And then she did turn her face in his direction. And her dark, glassy, frantic, determined eyes were locked on his. And Draco's world moved again. "JUMP!"

And Draco wasn't quite sure what happened next. He saw the girl stand up beside him. Push herself up on her legs, and stand up. On the roof. Her hand in his. Interlacing their fingers. Holding on to them tightly. With all her strength. And Draco saw himself standing beside her. The Great Lake at their feet. And the girl took a hasty step and rushed forward. And Draco followed her.

And he jumped.

And they jumped.

Into the void.

And it was the second time that night that Draco felt weightless. Surrounded by nothing. Supported by nothing. Her hand in his as the only solid surface.

"DEPULSO!" Hermione shouted next to him. Pointing backwards.

Draco noticed instantly. Just as their feet had barely left the roof, an unexpected force hit them from behind. A shockwave, coming from behind them, from the tower, that threw them forward violently. Pushing them away from the tower. From the structure of the castle. From the sharp cliffs at their feet.

And the touch of Hermione's hand in his disappeared, both of them letting go with an inevitable yank from the violence of the momentum. Draco found himself flying hopelessly through the air, but then the sensation changed and he was plunged into the shock of freefall. Falling into the void. The air hitting his whole body violently. Stretching the skin of his face unbearably. Not allowing him to open his eyes. Spinning around uncontrollably. His clothes rattling around him. His limbs useless, flailing about to no purpose.

He barely had time to feel the panic sweep through him. Everything was too fast. Too frantic. Gravity pulling them down irrevocably. Natural. Pure physics.

"β€” mentum!"

He heard someone shouting something over the whistling of the wind in his ears. And then he felt his stomach turn as he noticed that everything slowed down. The wind wasn't deafening him now. The skin on his face was no longer so tight. He could move his limbs if he wanted to. What...?

He opened his eyes, realising he could. And found himself face to face with copper-coloured sparks. Right under his nose. Approaching at full speed. The dome? A reflection.

And then Draco found himself submerged in the water.

Suddenly immersed in absolute silence. He felt the force of the liquid envelop his body, replacing the wind. Clinging to his skin. To his clothes. Compressing him all over. The force of the blow against the surface leaving him momentarily limp. He found himself unable to breathe. Everything had stopped, but the rush of adrenaline was still in his system. His survival instinct took over and he kicked with all his might. Trying to ascend. He didn't know where he was, but he had to ascend.

And then the night chill hit his icy face. He coughed reflexively at the water clogging his lungs. And it took two almost agonising breaths to feel that his brain was not fading. He felt the water rushing into his mouth, and he coughed again to expel it. His body barely responded. He forced himself to function and managed to stay afloat with difficulty, forcing his legs and arms to move. And then he looked around him. Hogwarts Castle, hundreds of feet above, caught his gaze. He was in the Great Lake, no doubt about it. And he was alive.

He saw the Divination Tower, over his head. He could still see the flames, rising higher and higher into the night. Everything was almost in ruins. The roof had collapsed. In fact, he saw huge stones falling into the water from above, landing a few feet away from him.

He couldn't make out his aunt from that distance. But he was sure she was still in the tower. And she couldn't have survived such a collapse...

Survive.

And then something collapsed inside him.

"Granger..." he whispered, in a strangled voice. He didn't hear his own voice, though. His ears were deafened by the change in altitude of the fall. He craned his neck this way and that. "G-Granger..."

No one was there. She wasn't there. He couldn't see her. He couldn't hear her.

He began to breathe faster and faster. Looking in all directions. Turning with difficulty on himself. Almost forgetting to move his arms to stay afloat. Stones were still falling in the distance from the Divination Tower. But it was the only movement he could see. It was night. The light from the dome barely allowed him to make out the outline of anything. The surface of the lake was not smooth, small waves were lapping at it, creating confusing undulations. He was seeing shadows everywhere around him. He was in the middle of the lake, many metres from the castle. Hermione's Banishing Charm had pushed them a long way away. The shore was far away.

"Granger!" he shouted. And his exhausted voice barely rose in the night's silence. Though he, again, did not hear himself. His jaw was trembling. He was freezing. The water was freezing. He could not speak without stammering.

He took a breath of air and dived. Searching for her beneath the surface. But his eyes could see nothing in the dense darkness. He couldn't see three feet in front of him. Just total blackness. He tried to dive forward, feeling with his hands in all directions. She couldn't have fallen far from him. If he had survived, she had to have survived too.

But she was gone. And he didn't understand.

Their hands had let go.

Why had he let go of her?

With her lung capacity suffering, he had to rise to the surface again. He took a hasty breath.

"Grang β€” fuck!" he cursed with a scream. Rubbing his ear desperately with one finger. Pinching his nostrils with thumb and forefinger and blowing hard. Panting. Needing, whatever it took, to regain his hearing. "HERMIONE!" he yelled next, urgently. His broken voice rising in the night. And now he heard his own voice, like a distant echo.

His hearing was beginning to come back. Now he could hear himself splashing in the water. But everything was spinning around him. He only saw water moving around him. He tried to say her name again, but nothing came out of him. No sound. He had no breath. The ash was still in his throat. He swallowed water again, unintentionally, and had to cough hard. His cough turning into a sob. He kept looking around. In all directions.

He made out a dark lump. Was that...? He didn't know what it was. Was it something? He had to check it out. He had to. Without thinking, he swam out. As fast as he could. Towards a single shadow in the middle of the darkness. If it wasn't her...

It wasn't. The lump disappeared when he reached it. It was just a shadow. A mirage. But he didn't stop, his chest heaving uncontrollably. He swam on. She had to be there. Close. Anywhere. He wasn't going to stop. He had to β€”

"Draco!"

He heard it. He heard that. The boy was slow to react. In fact, he didn't. He simply saw a splash to his right. And he could only turn his face. But then something rushed at him. A large lump that threw itself over his shoulders. Splashing water. Submerging him. Making him gulp water. He kicked to ascend again. Coughing desperately. Still feeling something clutching his shoulders. Something heavy. He heard someone coughing at the same time as him, before he could wipe the water from his eyes and open them again.

And Hermione was in front of him. Grinning from ear to ear. Her face glistening and soaking wet. Her hair stuck to her skull. Her hands trying to hold on to him and stay afloat at the same time.

"Are you okay? Are you okay?" the girl was babbling urgently. She was shivering too. Perhaps from the cold too. And she was determined to touch him all over, as they bobbed in the water, ignoring his desperate attempts to stay afloat under her weight. She tried to hug him with one arm. Climbing onto his shoulders. Clinging to the back of his neck. Pulling him close, pulling him closer, to press several hasty, wet kisses to his face. On whatever patch of skin she could reach.

Draco needed his arms to keep him afloat, so he couldn't do the same. He couldn't touch her to check that she was real. But she was touching him. And her nervous hands were solid against his skin. And her breath felt warm on his cold skin. And he knew she was real.

She touched his face. She rubbed it hard. And Draco guessed she was trying to wipe the dirt from his cheek. Still smiling at him, beaming. Then she looked up.

"We did it," the girl gasped, her voice cracking with cold. But full of happiness. "We did it, Draco..."

The young man, stunned, just stared at her. Just breathing. Breathing for real. And then he followed her gaze. Towards the sky. Towards the glittering dome.

She was right. They had made it.

They were alive. And the dome was intact.

From the top of the Marble Staircase, Lord Voldemort was staring Harry in the eye, his two snake-like pupils fixed on him. No one else existed at that moment but the two of them. The scar in the shape of a lightning bolt burned again as if it were on fire. And Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut to contain the pain, not daring to close them. Blinking in front of the Dark Lord might be the last thing he ever did.

Someone hooded, whose face Harry couldn't see, passed him up the stairs. Straight towards Voldemort, wand in hand. Ready to fight. And the dark wizard threw the wizard aside with a swift and spectacular bolt of emerald lightning. The handrail of the staircase on either side of him cracked under the power of such a curse. The Order member fell to the steps, undoubtedly dead. Voldemort hadn't even taken his eyes off a paralysed Harry.

"NO!" shouted the young Potter, as he saw the victim fall.

Voldemort began to walk. He had descended two stone steps, when another Order sympathiser lunged at him as well, generating spell after spell. Voldemort blocked them with just two lazy flicks of his wand and the person also fell dead on the stairs. The stairs cracked under the power of the Killing Curse.

Harry had to close his eyes for a moment, blinded by the powerful wave of magic that floated through the place. But when he opened them, he saw that his enemy was still not taking his terrible red eyes off him. And that he was still descending steps with parsimony, killing without so much as a flinch anyone who stood between him and Harry, who tried to be a protective shield for the young wizard. Leaving a trail of corpses behind him, he kept looking his target in the eye.

"ENOUGH!" Harry shouted in desperation. "FIGHT ME IF YOU'RE A MAN!"

Lord Voldemort didn't stop. And Harry wondered if what was turning up the corners of his mouth was a smile.

"I am not a man, Harry Potter. I am much more than that."

A third person tried to stand between them. To attack the dark wizard. And met the same end as their companions.

And Harry reacted. Stepping back. He had to get him away from the people. He couldn't let anyone else die because of him.

He had to get him away from there.

Turning his eyes away from Voldemort for the first time. Harry ran to his right. Without thinking. Towards the first open area he could see, which turned out to be the Great Hall. Without stopping to see if Voldemort was following him, convinced that he would, he burst through the high open doors, finding himself in front of the large room. The four tables were conspicuous by their absence. The ceiling of the Great Hall mimicked the sky outside. At that moment, it was dark night, and bright stars and constellations were illuminated in the vast vault, and a golden glow gave it a special touch it had never had before. The dome the Order had created.

There, the battle was as fierce as in the Entrance Hall. Harry visualised his 'escape' plan at lightning speed. Behind the table usually occupied by the professors, on the dais, there was a door leading to a room of old trophies. It was his only way out. There, after wandering down corridors he didn't really know, he thought there had to be an exit to the outer walls. In the grounds he could lose him. He had to get him away from everyone, get him out of the castle without any more bloodshed. He had to make him so worried about his own victory that he would call for the β€”

A sudden tremor ran through the entire room. It made everyone present, on both sides, sort of jump without moving from the spot. Some lost their balance and fell to the floor, Harry among them. The spells suddenly ceased in the Great Hall. No one seemed to know what was happening. There was another tremor, which caused another bounce in the crowd. It was as if something huge had hit the floor in the next room. Or as if something huge was trying to break through the floor.

A third tremor, and this time the floor cracked. A long line ran through the room from side to side. Raising clouds of dust, gravel and debris. Harry didn't even make a move to get up from the floor, as shocked as he was. Dumbledore had been half wrong, half right. Voldemort had indeed brought the dragon to fight.

What they hadn't counted on was that it was already inside the castle.

A muffled roar tore through the sudden stillness of the room. And no one managed to move. A few shouts of surprise were heard. A moment of silence before the storm, and then a fourth and final tremor took hold. Stronger. Decisive. And the crack in the ground opened wide, much wider, as if someone had placed a bomb a metre underground. Everyone, whether near or far from the site of the explosion, took cover or ducked unconsciously to avoid the cloud of dust and debris.

A colossal figure, bright copper-coloured, covered in bronze scales like the light of dawn, emerged from the hole in the ground, rising into the cramped space that the enormous Great Hall had suddenly become. It was outlined against a magical, starry ceiling, which soon disappeared into rubble as well, to accommodate the huge creature.

Wyvern of Wye spread its huge bat wings, crashing into the walls of the Great Hall on either side, tearing debris from them, and roared again.

Harry, still lying on his back on the floor, stared at it in horror. It was colossal.

This was not what should be happening. In fact, it was the worst thing that could be happening. It should be outside the dome, trying to get inside. It was supposed to be going through the dome to break free of the spell that bound it to Voldemort. But why would it go through the dome when it was already inside? Voldemort didn't need to bring in more Death Eaters. He didn't care about getting rid of the dome to get the rest of his army inside. The dragon would kill them all.

And Harry found himself alone before a huge dragon. For the second time in his life. But what he felt as a fourteen-year-old, when he faced a Hungarian Horntail in a controlled First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, was nothing like that. He couldn't even see, amidst the rubble and dust, where the rest of the warriors that were previously dispersed around the room were. Nor was it relevant.

The dragon couldn't see him, it was blind, but it could feel him. Harry knew that. And he also knew that, on Voldemort's orders, it was after him.

Without pausing to think, driven almost by a primal instinct for survival, he picked himself up off the floor as best he could and ran blindly back towards the exit of the Great Hall. Ironically, between Voldemort and a dragon, he preferred the former. In the Entrance Hall, there was a disparity of action. Some watched in amazement at what was going on in the Great Hall, and others continued to fight even as the sky fell on their heads. Harry strode down the Entrance Hall, feeling the dragon behind him as he went. He didn't know if it flew, but judging by the sound of destruction he heard, he thought it probably just crawled.

"It's going to tear Hogwarts apart stone by stone. I've got to get it out," was all he managed to think, desperate. He had to get it closer to the dome. Whatever it took.

Almost at the bottom of the stairs, Voldemort had stopped, and was watching the scene with a mixture of solemnity and vain gloating. He thought he was in control of the situation. He thought he had won. He thought so much so that he didn't even flinch when he saw Harry Potter run past him, through the Entrance Hall towards the door opposite the Great Hall, a double door that led to a corridor leading to the west side of the grounds. A violent flapping of wings behind him told Harry that the dragon had taken flight, even though it was inside the castle. There would not be a single wall left standing...

He stepped through the door and into a wide, empty corridor, which neither Death Eaters, Order members, nor Hogwarts students had bothered to enter. It was short, barely five metres of windowless passageway, with no decoration other than a couple of dusty old paintings, now empty. And, despite the speed with which he passed through it, he was aware of how his footsteps echoed on the thick stone floor with each stride. He did not look back. He had no time. His legs obeyed only one command: to run. His eyes had only one purpose: to look ahead so as not to stumble. He didn't have time to stop to turn the rusty iron knob and open the door, so he raised his wand, miraculously still in his hand, and sent it flying through the air with a blast. When he reached the thick wooden door, he brought his shoulder forward, gave it a hard shove and pushed it open with a bang. Despite everything, the noise that was heard was disproportionate. As if something the size of a six-storey building had crashed into a rock wall, sending it flying through the air.

And something like that had really happened.

At the same time that he was through the door, the dragon had burst through the wall above him into the grounds in the same way. Harry barely dared to look up, as stones of all sizes flew around him. He hadn't even had a chance to see the moonlight, as the dragon's body had blocked it. He was forced to create shield after shield over his head to avoid being crushed to death by the centuries-old stones that had made up the castle's structure, walls and decorations for millennia. He knew, without seeing it, that the entire front façade of the castle was collapsing without remedy.

He kept running, barely seeing where he was going. The darkness was too pervasive. He reckoned it must be around four or five in the morning. He managed to make out the silhouettes of what lay to his right. The greenhouses. And part of him, the only part of him that wasn't adrenaline-fuelled to the marrow, guessed where he was in the grounds.

The Quidditch pitch was not far away.

The roar the dragon emitted at that moment was such that the glass in the greenhouses burst as if an Erumpent horn had exploded inside. And, though the young man did not see it, so did all the windows and stained glass windows within a mile of them. Harry created a new Shield Charm, this time vertical, to protect himself from the sharp shards.

Taking advantage of the only advantage he had, that of being a small, insignificant, silent being compared to the monstrous reptile that was chasing him, he ran zigzagging in the shadows, knowing that the colossal animal would have a hard time following his trail. Still, he didn't manage to outrun it by more than ten yards, and by the time the boy finally reached the huge Quidditch pitch and burst through one of the small side gates to reach the inside, the dragon was hot on his heels.

Harry found himself in the depths of the pitch, in one of the corridors leading to the stands. He paused for a brief moment, leaning his back against a wall. Fighting for breath. Feeling such pain in his chest that he struggled to puff it out to inhale. His side ached. And his lungs, with each hurried breath. And he could barely contain his gagging. He had never run so fast in his life.

He heard a clatter above him, and felt the corridor shudder. Dust falling from the ceiling. Managing to move in the panic of being trapped by a collapse, he made it through the corridor, finding himself back outside. The cold night air hit his face. And he saw the centre of the field before him. He moved forward until he stood at the railing of the stands. Holding on to it. For a moment, he was puzzled that the dragon was nowhere to be seen, but then he saw its huge silhouette hovering above his head. And, turning in mid-air, it smashed one of its wings into the stands to his left. Fleeing from the cloud of dust and wood splinters, Harry dived to his right, slipping through the seats and into the inner scaffolding of the stands.

At that moment he was thankful that he was still a boy, relatively scrawny and agile, adept at escape thanks to the childhood he had lived through. Continually running away from his cousin and his bully friends. He thought that, ironically, it was thanks to his terrifying childhood that he was still alive.

He heard a loud crash above him. And everything around him creaked and lurched. And then Harry saw the huge snout full of gleaming scales squeeze through the gap between the seats through which Harry had disappeared. Tearing out several. Lifting wood and splinters.

The young man crawled as best he could between the wooden planks that supported the stands, as he felt the dragon follow him relentlessly, smashing its huge head into everything in its path. Opening a hole the size of his huge skull, but in no way could it let its gigantic body through.

Realising that the upper tiers would not hold, Harry tried to climb down as far as he could, descending beam by beam, frantically lowering himself, until he felt the grass beneath his feet. Still, he kept hearing suspicious creaking noises above his head that told him the structure would not hold for long. He ran towards the area where the seats ended and connected to the centre of the pitch, dodging around the surrounding structure, trying to escape the wooden death trap.

When he reached the end of the stands, with the area of the pitch in front of him, he stopped dead in his tracks. Still listening as the dragon continued to tear the upper stands apart with its jaws, searching for him. Lord Voldemort stood before him, in the centre of the Quidditch pitch, some fifty yards away. He could barely see more than a black shadow, covered in a cloak as dark as night. But he knew it was him.

There was no escape. He had no way to defeat him. He could not face Lord Voldemort and a dragon. Neither separately, Merlin's beard. A direct attack on either enemy would be suicide. And he no longer had a plan, nothing to fool him with. As soon as the dragon had him in range, he would devour him. Wyvern of Wye was ruthless under Voldemort's orders. And Voldemort didn't even bother to attack him. He knew the dragon would finish him off. No matter what Harry told it, he could never convince the dragon otherwise...

Or could he?

He could talk to it.

"WYVERN!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, looking up at the upper tier, where he could hear the sound of wood cracking. "Wyvern, stop it! You don't have to do this...!"

He couldn't even finish the sentence when he noticed that the whole structure around him began to crackle suspiciously. Without even thinking, he ran towards the centre of the field, running away from the debris that section of the stands was turning into. He barely made it a few metres, just enough to avoid being crushed to death, when he heard a mighty roar behind him, and saw the grass before him suddenly light up. As if a bonfire had been lit. The sudden heat at his back, along with the ashes flying everywhere around him, forced Harry to jump forward and roll several feet to avoid being burned. As he turned to get a clear view of what was happening, he saw that the dragon had poked its head out of the wreckage of the seats and emitted a fireball that completely burned the area of the stands closest to it.

The flames and smoke lit up the night like a giant pyre.

Harry staggered to his feet and managed to get further away, walking backwards. He felt a burning pain in his left side that made him prefer to curl up and sleep for hours.

Voldemort still hadn't lifted a finger, now thirty metres away from Harry. And the boy decided he could afford to ignore him. And concentrate on the dragon.

The creature shifted its gigantic body and came to rest on the top of the stands. Above the burning debris. The fire it had created itself surrounded it, but didn't seem to do it any harm, of course. It turned its neck to look at the young Potter with its milky white eyes. And Harry stopped running.

"Wyvern, stop!" Harry shouted again at the top of his lungs, glaring at it. "You don't have to do this. You've looked after this castle for centuries, you can't tear it apart like this for Voldemort! He's not worthy of controlling you like this! No one is!"

"I'm sorry, Harry Potter."

The deep, familiar voice of the dragon rumbled in his head. It had been years since the last time, but it was impossible to forget the feeling. And Harry felt like closing his eyes tightly.

"I am under his control. He can do with me as he pleases. I can't resist."

"You don't have to do this," Harry groaned aloud, even though he knew he wouldn't be heard. Or so he thought.

"He controls me, he can get into my will, into my mind... Can you do it?"

Harry swallowed. How could he get into the mind of an ancient dragon, controlled by the darkest wizard of all time, and set it free? He felt like a complete useless failure. For years, creatures stronger than him had entered his mind, wearing him out, making him suffer, and he had learned nothing. He had never known how to defend himself. The Basilisk, Voldemort himself, now the dragon, Snape...

Snape. The Occlumency classes. He had never mastered it. He'd never even practised Legilimency. And it was the only way he knew how to enter someone else's mind.

"No, I can't," he answered in a whisper, watching the flames that were advancing further and further, slowly devouring the pitch. Neither Voldemort nor the dragon had moved from their positions.

"He's already won, then."

Harry couldn't think. He looked up at the glowing dome that was the solution to all their problems. And the dragon was already inside it. There was no reason now for it to go through. It was no longer of any use to them.

He took off his round glasses, in a frustrated movement, and allowed himself to stare at the Quidditch pitch ground. Blurry now because of his short-sightedness. It was the end. He couldn't enter the dragon's mind. He didn't know what spell was needed to rip it from Voldemort's yoke. All he could do was talk to it. And that wouldn't do forever...

'You should have tried making conversation with the Hungarian Horntail from the Triwizard Tournament and asked her nicely for the golden egg. It would have been easier.'

The words that Ron had spoken so many years ago pierced through the fog of his mind all at once, making him frown at the incongruity of his thoughts. The Hungarian Horntail... Why had he remembered that? It was of no use to him now. Yes, it was already the second time in his life that he had faced a colossal dragon. But they were different situations. The time before, he had had a plan. A plan that went well. But his current plan had gone completely awry. And what he'd done that time wouldn't work with β€”

Or would it...?

"WYVERN!" he shouted, drawing the dragon's attention. He put his glasses back on. "WELL, ALL RIGHT THEN! OBEY VOLDEMORT! I DON'T CARE! HE'S NOT GOING TO WIN BECAUSE OF YOU! I'M GOING TO DEFEAT YOU TOO, YOU STUPID BEAST!"

Harry turned his head, making sure that Voldemort was still motionless behind him. And he couldn't be sure, given the great distance between them, but he could have sworn that something in Voldemort's face changed. As if he was frowning, puzzled. Probably because of his reckless and absurd bravado. But Harry turned his head as he heard Wyvern let out a deafening roar. He saw it raising its huge wings, flapping them, frantically freeing itself from the debris.

"VOLDEMORT CAN'T WIN, AND HAVING YOU WON'T CHANGE THAT! YOU'RE NOT THAT POWERFUL!" Harry continued to shout. Angering it. Provoking it. Trying to restrain himself and not run back at the sight of such a beast planning to throw itself at him imminently. The creature's stomach began to light up.

"Unfortunately, you're about to find out just how powerful I am, Harry Potter..."

As Harry once again felt the dragon's voice echoing in every nook and cranny of his mind, the boy closed his eyes and concentrated as he never had before. Screaming, with every cell of his brain, inside his head... "Accio broomstick!"

Then, the dragon broke free of the debris altogether. And it launched a great puff of fire in his direction. But Harry was quicker.

The door leading to the Changing Rooms had burst open, and a broom had whizzed out, planting itself in front of him in a matter of milliseconds. The boy, without a moment's pause for thought, grabbed the Cleansweep, which he assumed belonged to the school brooms, and took to the air at full speed. Dodging the fireball that set the grass on fire behind him. With the icy night wind chilling his face. The dragon rose on its hind legs and tried to catch him, missing him with its huge maw by barely a metre.

Harry was deafened by its roar of rage. He pressured the broom and managed to ascend above the Quidditch pitch. He heard a heavy sound behind him. The dragon was following him. It had taken flight. Setting the broom fully upright, Harry launched himself straight into the golden dome that covered the sky above their heads.

The broom was no marvel, and certainly no match for the power of a mighty dragon's wings. But it didn't matter. Not for what he had in mind. In mere seconds, he knew he would reach the dome, flying at that speed. He felt the heat of the dragon's breath on the tail of his broom. He felt its growls ruffling his robes and hair. The flapping of its huge wings threw him slightly off course. He clung tightly to the handle, pressing his chest against it. He squinted to shield his eyes from the wind.

A little more...

Just a little more...

Just before he slammed into the glowing dome, when he was almost so close he could count the sparks it was made of, Harry abruptly changed course. He swung the broom round and flew around the inside of the sphere, almost touching it with his head. He sped off in another direction. Knowing that the wings of the giant dragon were faster than his broom, but also had a much larger body to move.

And it crashed.

The dragon let out a thunderous roar as it flew through the glowing dome. Harry, not daring to look back, threw himself headlong back into the centre of the field, trying to get away from the area of destruction. Not knowing what was going to happen now. He heard the dragon's bloodcurdling roars over his head. Not sure if they were of pain, or relief, or fury. He was going so fast that he didn't stop in time, and practically had to jump off the broom when he hit the ground, landing on the grass and rolling in a tangled mess. When he stopped spinning, and everything stopped spinning, he looked up and contemplated what had happened.

The area of the dome that Wyvern crashed into had disintegrated. Bright stars stuck to its scales, to its tough skin, making it glow in the night. The dragon fought against the sparks that covered it, beating its wings hard. Without succeeding in eliminating them. And then it decided to move quickly away. And headed back to the Quidditch pitch as well.

Harry, seeing the huge creature approaching, almost without flapping its wings, almost plummeting, only managed to close his eyes tightly and cover his head with both arms, still lying on the ground.

The impact was chilling.

Everything shook as if a skyscraper had collapsed. The dragon's body landed against the ground of the field, barely being slowed by its wings. Still roaring with despair. Alive. And Harry didn't dare to look up, to lift his cheek from the grass, or to stop covering himself with his arms. He just listened.

And then there was silence. And there was a snort. And Harry felt a sudden surge of panic. He had no idea if it had worked. If it hadn't, he was dead. But, for the moment, death was not coming. He was still breathing, still lying down. And he didn't hear the dragon's frantic attempts to reach him. Just a slow movement of air around him that also made the ground rumble slightly. Footsteps. Giant steps.

Slowly, feeling every part of his body tremble, he opened his eyes. He raised his head. Wyvern was standing before him. Lazily circling around him. It did not attack. It just stared at him with its empty white eyes. The remains of the dome were also falling into the void in glowing shards from high in the sky, like huge shards of glass. Disappearing into thin air magically. The stars that covered the dragon's body had disappeared.

Harry was breathless. He closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in his arms, against the ground. Defeated. Stifling a sob. Please... Please...

"Thank you, young Potter. I'm free again."

The boy grinned from ear to ear against the grass. Sobbing again. They had done it.

He raised his head again. And turned it to look at Voldemort. He was still motionless. He seemed certain that he had won. That, at any moment, the dragon would finish the boy off. Believing that not only had he managed to destroy the dome, allowing new Death Eaters in, but now he had finally cornered Harry Potter. He hadn't heard that the tables had turned. He could not have known. He thought the huge beast was still playing in his favour.

Harry averted his gaze to look at Wyvern. Then he looked back at Voldemort.

"Finish him," he muttered in a low voice.

The dragon stopped its pacing. It spun around and looked at the most powerful dark wizard of all time with its glassy white eyes. And its mouth parted slightly, revealing its sharp, powerful teeth. And its soft growl echoed throughout the pitch.

And Voldemort, only then, realised that something was wrong.

And he did something he had never done before, in all his long life: he took a step back.