"But…but…"
Hermione felt that it was perfectly reasonable for her to be confused, her mouth hanging agape. She'd been presented with a ghost. A phantom. A spectral shadow that had no right to be there. Perhaps, in a certain light, a guardian angel who'd responded to her private pleas. Not knowing what else to do, she placed her hands on his cheeks, holding him in place, trying to ascertain whether Matthew was truly there. He was perfectly solid and warm and, most importantly, real. And those tears she'd been doing so well to keep at bay threatened to finally overwhelm her.
Her attention was solely focused on the boy, as one might have suspected. It meant that she wasn't able to see how everyone else was reacting to the surprise arrival. Many of them would have already been astounded by the sight of the Tardis, let alone the apparent return of someone everyone had thought was dead. But what about Sirius? Or Lupin? Or Dumbledore? How might they have been responding to the shock? Or were they too busy trying to get back to their feet after the tumult they'd faced.
"You're here…" Hermione whispered.
"Yes, and I'd like to know where here is," Matthew remarked.
He sauntered out of the Tardis, his shoes crunching against the grass underfoot. He cast a curious eye over their surroundings, as well as the people joining them. He wasn't hiding his bemusement, and Hermione didn't know whether that perplexed her even more. If he was standing there now, if he was alive, then surely he should have had some sort of clue as to what events had recently unfolded. But then that raised the more pertinent question as to how he was alive, and she was sure that nothing was going to make sense until she had that answered.
"That's…um…that's Malfoy Manor."
Matthew turned around to cast his gaze on her. For how long had she dreamt of that happening again? How desperately had she wished to have him standing in front of her at least for one last time? Now it was happening, it felt strange to be speaking to him as if the events were normal, as if she were remotely capable of ignoring the giant elephant in the room. But then Harry's life was still in danger, which was the only thing powerful enough to keep her burning curiosity at bay.
"Malfoy Manor?" Matthew echoed with a frown. "Why the hell would you be here? I go for five minutes and you decide to go on a group trip."
Hermione scowled. "Are you seriously going to joke about that?"
He took a step back. "I know you're still angry about my expulsion, but you must understand how confusing this is. I need some sort of context!"
She was truly at a loss for words. If Matthew felt that things were confusing, then Hermione was going to have no chance of understanding. And why was he focusing on his expulsion as the reason for her ire, when so much more had taken place since then? In truth, it felt like she'd experienced a whole lifetime since that day, a point at which she'd thought nothing worse could happen. How wrong she'd ended up being.
Hermione was about to argue and complain about his flippant nature, but then she caught the eye of their headmaster. Dumbledore was hovering close by and he shook his head, as if he somehow knew what she was about to do. Perhaps he was also wary about Harry's prospects, understanding that opening that particular can of worms would only create a massive delay. Hermione had to begrudgingly accept that line of thought.
"Mister Mormont…it's good to see you," Dumbledore remarked, his voice giving away some of the emotion he must have been feeling at the return. "And in the nick of time, as well. I'm afraid to tell you that, as of this moment, Harry is inside that building."
Whatever Matthew had been expecting, it evidently hadn't been that. "I beg your pardon?"
"He was captured by Voldemort and his supporters," Hermione said, taking over the explanation.
"Why is this the first time I'm hearing of this?!"
"Trust me when I say this is the earliest we could have told you…"
"Well, it explains why so many people are with you, at least. I was starting to think you'd made some new friends."
"We're taking this as seriously as you'd suspect," Dumbledore replied.
"And you're sure Harry is here?"
"He…he managed to contact me," Sirius said, looking just as bamboozled as everyone else by the development.
"And Voldemort?"
The headmaster nodded his head gravely. "I believe it's safe to assume that the Dark Lord is also a current resident of the manor, which is why we're approaching this with relative caution."
"Frankly, we've waited long enough," Moody barked, the one person who was apparently willing to overlook Matthew's impossible presence.
Hermione had to assume that the retired (at least officially) auror had seen far too many strange and improbable things to bat an eye when someone came back from the dead. That was the only explanation for his calmness, when Hermione felt like her head was going to explode at any moment.
"We've found a stumbling block in the form of the wards around the perimeter, halting our progress before it has properly begun."
"But that Tardis of yours could help," Sirius suggested. "It could bypass the wards without us having to bring them down. That way, they won't even know we're here."
"I'm afraid that light show we just experienced would have surely made them aware of us finding them," Moody countered. "Which means we've got an even greater ticking clock working against us."
"The Tardis should be able to land on the other side of the boundary, yes," Matthew told them. "But I am slightly wary. For some reason, the landing was more difficult than usual. I'd be worried that the same song and dance would happen if she tries moving, but if the Death Eaters already know we're here, there isn't much to lose."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Sirius asked.
Dumbledore raised a hand. "We can't rush into this. That's a sure fire way of getting ourselves, and Harry, killed."
"The longer we spend going round in circles, having this same discussion, the likelier it is that Harry will be dead by the time we reach him. He's my godson, for Merlin's sake! It's my job to keep him safe, and nothing will stop me from doing that. Not a bunch of Death Eaters, not Voldemort, and certainly not you, Albus."
"I have to agree with, Sirius," Matthew said. "You know I'd be the first to rush into danger, especially if it meant helping Harry. But…there are some people here who I'd rather not let inside the Tardis…"
"I'm sure Snape will keep any snide comments to himself."
"He wasn't talking about me!" the potion's master argued.
"He's worried about the Ministry," Hermione pointed out, giving the boy a sad smile.
Matthew shot her an appreciative look, one she couldn't exactly enjoy with everything else that was hanging over them. "Precisely. I've done well to keep her a secret, particularly from them, and now you want me to just let them track their muddy boots through the door?"
"Are you being serious?" Scrimgeour complained, his tone just as sour as his wrinkled face. "We're here on official business. Are you going to stand in the way of the operation? Because that sort of obstruction could have certain…legal ramifications…"
"Has the Ministry not already taken enough from me?"
"I don't think we need to be threatening one another," Amelia Bones interjected. "As far as I'm aware, Mister Mormont, there are a number of questions I have about how you're standing here, but there's one thing I know for sure. And that's that the Ministry has failed you."
Matthew appeared surprised at the admission, perhaps even more so than Scrimgeour. "It's nice of you to own up to that."
"As a small form of compensation, I'm sure my colleagues would be willing to remain tight lipped about whatever we might see inside…that box of yours. If there was time for an oath of secrecy, I'd take it, but we've already acknowledged that time is now very much against us."
The boy bowed his head. "Fine then. But I won't apologise for how bumpy the ride will be, no matter how short it is."
Hermione wanted to know how everyone else was acting normal, overlooking Matthew's arrival in the effort of focusing on Harry's plight. She wanted to raise her voice and to demand answers as she watched the party carefully enter the awaiting ship. It was only because of a tight grip on her arm that she stayed in place, Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes scanning her worried face.
"How…" she tried to begin.
"I don't know," he replied. "But I'm of the impression, Miss Granger, that he doesn't know about his death. As difficult as this might seem, I'm going to need you to ensure that remains the same until we have Harry back in our custody. I'll be instructing everyone that red sparks in the air mean we've accomplished that, which should hopefully get everyone still standing back to safety. After that, once we're certain that Harry is alive, then I'm sure nothing I say will stop the interrogation from happening. In fact, I'll be right behind you and Harry in the line to get some much needed answers."
xxxxxxxxxx
If Harry hadn't already been in awe of Enola, then her ability to change her persona would have frankly been astonishing. The door opened without warning and all that softness that had decorated her face was gone in an instant. Harry wondered whether that meant the emotions and feelings she'd shared with him had been a lie, trying to figure out which performance was the real deal. Or maybe both facades were fake, and she was keeping her true self hidden from everyone.
As the door opened, Enola returned to her full height and shot the intruder an imposing glare. It was a man Harry was yet to meet, though he wasn't in any rush to go through formal introductions, largely based on the unpleasantness of the man's face. But the more interesting aspect of his interruption, ignoring the fact that he'd been brave enough to disturb Enola during her so-called work, was the sound of commotion happening outside. People were seemingly running about in hectic fashion, shouting and yelling different orders and complaints, noises that they were only privy too now the seclusion of his prison cell had been compromised.
"What do you think you're doing, Carrow?" Enola hissed.
It was quite frightening to watch her in action. She was once again hinting at the power that fuelled her body and, although Harry wasn't the direct target this time around, he couldn't help but shiver at the spectacle. Maybe that was just his mind remembering what it had been like to face her in her full fury. Maybe he was just appreciating what sort of strength it took the young woman to stare the older man down.
"We're under attack," Carrow explained quickly, cutting to the chase. "Potter's little friends have arrived, and they've already somehow broken through the wards."
There were a few things that Harry had to acknowledge in quick succession. First of all, it was rather remarkable just how willing the Death Eater was to answer Enola, especially when Harry had experienced just how stubborn and proud a bunch they could be. Secondly, it couldn't be ignored just how scared Carrow sounded, as if they hadn't considered that capturing the fabled Boy Who Lived would come with consequences. Or maybe they'd assumed the protections around the property would keep them safe.
Then there was the fact that people were here to save him.
Understandably, Harry hadn't smiled too much since he'd been captured. There was a massive grin on his face now as he processed the news. People cared about him enough to put their lives on the line. That should have concerned him, as the prospect of people dying in his name became likelier, but he was too relieved to embrace that guilt. Who was on their way to hopefully rescue him? Surely Dumbledore, with the power he possessed? But was Sirius nearby too? Was he about to be reunited with his godfather at long last?
"How have they managed that?" Enola asked.
"How should I know? And why should I care? All that's clear is that, if we survive this, Malfoy will be getting crucio'd for a month straight at least. He promised our Master that the wards were foolproof, only for them to fail at this sign of trouble."
"Perhaps he double crossed us…"
"You don't think he would, do you?"
"There must be someone who's sabotaged our efforts? How else would Potter's friends have known where we are? I think we're dealing with a mole in our ranks."
Carrow shook his head. "That's a problem for another day. Because there's rumours of something even more troublesome…"
"Pray tell…"
"The blue box! Those who have seen the attackers claim that they're supported by the blue box! The one that crashed into the graveyard. The one that Potter's infernal friend owned. How can it be here if he's dead?"
"A quandary that's probably too large for your simple mind, Carrow."
From what Harry could see, the Death Eater scowled. "If they're right, then we have to make sure that his friends can't get to Potter. That's the first thing our Lord instructed."
"And that's why you're here now?"
"I was sent to ensure he was still locked away."
"Well, as you can see, that's still the case so your work here is done."
"What if we take matters into our own hands?"
"Meaning?"
"There's a way in which we can know for sure that these traitors, these mudblood-loving fools, won't win tonight. If Potter is already dead by the time they get here, then it'll all have been for nothing. They'll probably hand themselves over once they realise what's happened, choosing to face execution rather than living with their own failures. The way I see it, the Dark Lord will reward us for our quick thinking."
"You want to kill him?"
"It's about time, don't you think?"
"I think that's a splendid idea."
Enola had been keeping Carrow by the doorway, ever so slightly out of Harry's line of sight. He quickly grew worried that her true loyalties were coming to the fore, and that he was about to meet his end at the hands of someone he'd come to wish was on his side. But then he spotted Enola holding her wand and the sound of Carrow's body crumpling to the ground filled the air, joining the overarching chaotic ambience. And, as if nothing had happened, she was returning to Harry, wand still in hand.
"It looks as if you have a number of people who have your back," she remarked.
Harry was struggling to keep up. "Did…did he say that the Tardis was here?"
Enola smirked softly. "You might just have written Matthew off too early."
"But that's…that's not possible."
"I've found it's best to cling onto faith whenever it presents itself."
"What are you going to do?"
"I've been trying to consider my options over the last thirty seconds, and only one choice makes sense."
Without giving Harry fair warning, Enola was once again sending a burst of magical energy towards him. For what he felt was good reason, he flinched as the force came surging towards him, only for it to connect strongly with the manacles around his wrists and feet. They fell away with little resistance and he flexed his limbs with a content groan. But Enola didn't give him much time to enjoy the new sense of freedom, holding out a hand for him to take.
By the time he was standing on two legs again, Harry was swaying about, with it having been an alarming stretch of time since he'd last experienced it. He wasn't going to take it for granted again anytime soon. Enola was on hand to support him, making sure he remained upright to help their potential escape rather than trying to spare him any blushes. But he wasn't going to admit that he was enjoying how close she was currently standing, a point he felt that could be made after they were free from the life threatening danger at the very least.
"Are you in any fit state to fight?" she asked pointedly.
"I…I think I can manage."
"That's precisely what I wanted to hear."
At first, Harry thought that she was offering him her hand once again, as if she wanted to head into the battle with their fingers laced. Harry might not have complained about that too vociferously. But it turned out that she was instead handing him a familiar object. A slim rod of wood. Eleven inches, made largely from holly with a phoenix feather at its core. He doubted he'd ever been so happy to see an inanimate object.
"My wand?"
"No flies on you."
"How…?"
"They obviously took it off you as soon as you were captured but, with you being locked up and everything, their security around it has been lax, to put it mildly. I thought it was best to keep it around just in case something like this happened."
"But…this means you could have given it to me ages ago! How much time have we wasted?!"
"Excuse me, but I wouldn't be arguing with your saviour so strongly. What would you have done if I'd reunited with your wand earlier? You would have freed yourself, charged through the manor, and then gotten yourself killed. I was waiting until the opportune moment. I'd say we're facing that right now, if you'd like to get a move on."
Harry shook his head, wondering what other tricks the girl had up her sleeve. That question was answered fairly quickly as soon as he came to the doorway. As he'd pictured, Carrow was lying on the floor, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. But, unlike he'd imagined, it wasn't just a simple stunning spell that had been used to keep him at bay. There was a thin hole in his chest, no larger than the circumference of a galleon, and it prompted Harry to give his companion a wary look.
She didn't seem affected by the sight. "What? If you're going to be squeamish over killing a Death Eater, then you're not going to last long. Now, are you going to follow me, the one person who has a remote chance of getting you out of this place, or are you going to let down all those people who are here to save you?"
When she put it like that, he didn't really have much of a choice.
xxxxxxxxxx
"Absolutely not."
Most of their party had already left the Tardis following its short hop, doing well not to dwell on the impossibility of its dimensions. That also meant that the fizzing sounds of spells were already ricocheting nearby, which explained why Hermione was itching to get involved. Yet Matthew, the one person who she didn't know how to deal with, was standing in the way, blocking the doors and her route to the battlefield.
"There are wizards out there who'll be shooting to kill," Matthew continued. "This isn't like some duelling club. One hit and I could…I could lose you, Hermione. I'm not going to have that on my conscience, especially when I know I could do something to prevent that from happening."
Hermione wanted to divulge how she'd already gone through losing him, which meant she could understand where he was coming from. But she was willing to listen to Dumbledore's advice for the time being, keeping those urges at bay, no matter how much they ate away at her. And it also came with the added bonus of feigning ignorance as to how painful an experience that was, allowing her to further argue against his orders.
"By locking me away in here?"
"Exactly," he said with a nod of his head. "I'm glad you understand. Because, as long as those doors are closed, no one is getting in and no spell is hitting you."
"I think you already know that I'm not going to allow you to leave without me by your side."
"Allow me?"
"I'm perfectly capable of locking those doors."
"You wouldn't dare."
"You'd be surprised at how good I am with the controls nowadays."
Again, she couldn't go into detail as to how that was. She couldn't tell him that she'd tethered herself to the ship, linking her magical core with the ship. Even now, she could tell that the connection still lingered, perhaps a relationship that would prove to be a permanent one. Hermione believed that that link gave her greater access and understanding to the way the Tardis operated, meaning she'd easily manage to keep the boy inside if he forced her into action.
"Hermione…I'm trying to look out for you."
"And I'm doing exactly the same for you. If we stick together, we're infinitely stronger. And there's also the not-insignificant factor that I can tap into my pure magic, especially when I'm in danger. That's a tool we'd be foolish not to use."
Matthew sighed. "I want you glued to the side of my body, do you understand?"
"I'm never going to grumble about that."
"Your parents are going to kill me if they hear about this."
xxxxxxxxxx
Another body fell, a slashing hex leaving the Death Eater down for the count. Lupin wasn't the sort of person who typically enjoyed violence. Most people would describe him as a mild mannered man, never one to rush into an argument. But the environment called for a different personality, one he tried his best to keep at bay. The hidden urges of the wolf were driving him now, providing him with a survival instinct that kept him moving, a subtle blood lust encouraging him to fire off more spells.
A nearby garden wall exploded into a flurry of stone and moss. Lupin craned his neck to examine the damage, spotting at least one body decorating the ground. The alarming part was that they looked to be sporting auror colours. The even more alarming part was that he couldn't mourn the loss, nor even consider potentially helping them. Because there was always another opponent making themselves known, hiding around the corner.
And they hadn't even made it inside the house yet.
Lupin didn't want to start taking stock or counting numbers, knowing that it would only serve to slow him down. But he was growing steadily more aware of the fact that the party they'd formed was limited, a relatively small number of wizards. Would they be overwhelmed before long? It didn't have to be the case. He kept reminding himself that they weren't there to take the house. They weren't there to win the war. All they had to do was hold back the Death Eaters until Harry was under their protection.
It almost sounded simple when put like that.
"You were right about them bringing in new recruits."
Lupin's comment was directed at Moody, with the curmudgeonly ex-auror acting as his closest partner in the fight. Although Moody had been officially retired for quite some time, he was showing off his repertoire of imaginative spells now he'd been given the chance to do so. It was perfectly clear how he'd built up such an impressive reputation, mowing down anyone who got too close with expert precision. The magical eye of his was working over time, swivelling in every which direction to keep its owner secure.
"You sound surprised," Moody fired back at him.
Lupin had his back up against a wall, occasionally poking his head out to analyse the developing situation. "I'd just hoped that you'd be wrong for a change."
"Whatever people think of him, Lord Voldemort isn't a fool. This is as much of an attack on his pride as it is his hiding spot, and he's not going to stand for that without some resistance. He'll throw everything he has at this."
"Isn't he already doing that?"
"I reckon this barely scratches the surface. The only thing working in our favour is that we've got the element of surprise. It means a lot of his reinforcements are still on their way. If we can get to Potter and cut a hasty escape, we might just survive another day."
"It's nice to hear you thinking positively for once."
Moody did an impression of a smile. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
"Has he been seen yet? Lord Voldemort?"
"He's not an idiot. He'll be letting his lackeys do the hard work, acting as cannon fodder. But the longer the attack lasts, the likelier it is that he'll show his pale face."
"So the same point applies - we need to be quick about this."
"Frankly, we shouldn't have to worry about the Dark Lord. Once he knows that Dumbledore is on his patch, that'll be the only thing he focuses on. Besides Potter, of course."
"And there's been no sign of him yet, either."
"We won't get that until we're inside the house and I spy with my little blue eye…Shacklebolt breaking down the ground floor door on the east wing. We have a point of entry. Do you reckon you can get there without being shot at?"
"Maybe if you're willing to cover me?"
"Only if you're doing the same."
"Then we have an agreement."
"And remember…"
"...constant vigilance?"
"No, don't get yourself killed. I can face as many Death Eaters as you want to throw at me, but I'd be saying hello to an early grave if that Black of yours found out I was partly responsible for your death."
xxxxxxxxxx
It was a good job that he had Enola by his side, because Harry would surely have gotten lost inside the building and inadvertently walked into someone who most likely wanted him dead. As it was, the girl led him down a series of hallways, occasionally stopping him when spell fire could be heard. The manor was in turmoil, slowly being torn into something unrecognisable. What may have once been lavish decorations had been either dirtied or destroyed, though Harry thought that was only the first form of justice that needed to be bestowed upon his captors.
At one point, two people crashed through a wooden door, the force enough to blow it from its hinges. A man wearing a black cape was on top, lashing wildly at the person underneath with what looked like a knife. Enola looked poised to strike but Harry acted first, a hasty Stupefy sending the Death Eater careening into a nearby window, where they promptly fell the few storeys onto the ground outside. If there was a satisfying crunch, then Harry wasn't able to hear it over the ensuing chaos around them.
"Nice work," Enola praised him, and it was still able to send a warm glow through his body regardless of the situation.
"That's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what I can do," he replied. "You haven't seen anything yet."
She arched an eyebrow. "I didn't realise that you were one to boast."
He wasn't. In truth, Harry had never liked to make a big deal of his abilities, a personality trait that stemmed from his time with the Dursleys, who'd made it abundantly clear that it was best if he remained in the shadows. But Enola brought out a different side to him. There was a desire to impress her. He didn't want to be the damsel in distress, needing her to rescue him (though he really did). She surely wouldn't give him a second look if she thought he was just some fool who'd gotten himself captured.
Harry's first instinct, other than trying to make himself look good, was to inspect the person he'd just saved. Though, as it turned out, he hadn't strictly been able to do that. He'd been too late. The savage slashing of the knife had ripped through the person's face and throat, and Harry didn't have the stomach to look at the sight for very long. The Ministry employee, judging by their bloodied robes, was one Harry had never met before and he attempted to wrap his head around how someone could die in his name without having known him.
If his intervention had resulted in anything, besides a heavy dose of guilt, it was that the smashed window gave him his first proper look at the spot he'd been holed up in. The manor's gardens were lush and expansive, and they were also littered with people fighting for their lives. Harry did his best to spot people he could recognise. Was that flash of purple the hair of Nymphadora Tonks or a spell looking for a new target? What if he shouted out and told them that he was there, that he was alive? Would that give them a better chance of winning?
Enola evidently picked up on where his thoughts were leading, for she quickly tugged him away. "Don't even think about it."
"Why not?" he countered frustratedly.
"Because if you start raising your voice, it isn't just going to alert your friends. The Death Eaters will instantly know that you're free and they'll refocus their efforts on correcting that."
"...you might have a point."
"I usually do. Now, we need to keep moving. Staying in one place will just ensure we end up dead a whole lot quicker."
Enola was insistent, encapsulated by the strength in which she dragged him further away from the window. Perhaps someone had caught sight of him. Perhaps that would inspire them to keep fighting, to keep looking for him. Was there a chance that they'd give up if they didn't find him straight away? Would they retreat if it looked to be a lost cause? That was all the inspiration Harry needed to keep moving, besides the steady grip that Enola continued to place on him.
She led the way, Harry dutifully following behind, as they navigated yet more damaged hallways. It was a latticework of varnished wood and expensive carpets. Harry idly wondered why one house needed quite so many corridors but maybe that was why Voldemort had chosen it as his hiding spot in the first place. Even if people breached the property, they'd end up getting lost extremely quickly. Unless, of course, they had a handy guide who also packed a punch when it came to her magic.
Enola was moving so quickly that Harry might have missed it in his efforts to keep up with her unrelenting pace. She was heading in a straight line, but they moved past an intersecting hallway that led to the right of them. Harry happened to twitch his head in that direction, spotting a figure crouching in the shadows, his arms covering his head and blonde hair. Malfoy looked to be whimpering, unwilling to join the fight, hoping that he could steer clear of the danger by making himself as small as possible.
Harry hesitated, observing the other boy. He wasn't totally sure whether Malfoy was returning the look, thanks to how dark the surroundings were. But, if he was, then the Slytherin didn't react in any outward fashion. What was Harry supposed to do? Was he supposed to feel sorry for Malfoy? Was he supposed to help get him out? He'd started to see how his long-serving enemy had been forced into that lifestyle, meaning it wasn't necessarily his fault for being there, meaning he didn't deserve to die.
"Harry," Enola said insistently. "If you continue to slow me down, I'll start to think you don't actually want to be saved."
"I'm coming," Harry told her.
And so he carried on moving, knowing that he couldn't jeopardise the rescue mission for the sake of a boy he'd never really liked. Too many people were putting their lives on the line for him to throw it all away. But, this time around, he was sure that Malfoy had been staring at him in fearful fashion, a reminder that he was just a young man. A young man who'd made a lot of bad mistakes, most of which he didn't deserve to be forgiven for.
But saving his life didn't have to mean forgiveness.
"Wait."
Enola turned sharply. "What now?"
"I have to do something."
Without further explanation, Harry turned back on himself, heading back for the intersection they'd just left behind. If Enola followed him, then he didn't pay her much notice. His attention was solely directed on the blonde-haired teenager whose head poked up from the protection at the sound of Harry's return. Was that hope in his gaze? Or was it self-loathing, as if he didn't want the ignominy of being rescued by his sworn saviour?
Harry held out his hand all the same.
"We might just have a chance of getting out of this mess," he explained, quickly looking back on the off chance that more Death Eaters would be on their tail. "And…and I don't think I should leave you behind. If we survive this, there could still be a place for you at Hogwarts. But you have to make the choice to accept it."
Harry truly didn't know which way the coin was going to fall. If he knew anything about Malfoy, it was that he was an utterly proud individual, one who didn't wish to be helped by anyone. But all signs of that dignity had been eroded away just by the mere fact that he was hiding from the fight, which suggested that the boy had changed since being taken out of the school. And, if there was one thing a Slytherin was always going to place above everything else, it was survival.
Malfoy took his hand.
xxxxxxxxxx
Hermione was starting to regret her decision to leave the Tardis, if only because Matthew refused to slow down at any moment. The pair had left the sanctuary of the ship and had charged across the gardens of Malfoy Manor, clouds of mud and dirt kicking up as spells collided with the ground around them. Only once they'd reached the building itself did they give themselves the chance to suck in desperate breaths, the two of them panting heavily.
"I really need to do more exercise," Matthew complained.
"It's not something they tend to offer at Hogwarts," Hermione said, making the most of the momentary respite. "I used to hate P.E at primary school, but now I'm regretting that it's no longer on the curriculum."
The sound of glass shattering caught their attention. Matthew's demeanour, as it so often did, shifted in an instant, his expression hardening. Clinging onto her hand, he dragged her towards the noise of the altercation, discovering that someone had taken a short yet significant fall out of the window. Matthew's walking stick appeared in his free hand, preceded by a billowing wave of magic that Hermione had thought she'd never see again. It was strange to feel so joyous on a battlefield.
He poked the body with the cane. "Well, they're dead."
Hermione looked towards the offending window. For a moment, she was sure that she caught sight of a mop of black hair but it was gone before she could properly process it. She did well not to dwell too much on the sight of the deceased figure. She'd known what she was getting into upon leaving the Tardis. And the person was a Death Eater, which severely limited the remorse she was willing to feel. But it didn't make it much easier to contend with.
"You two should be paying a lot more attention to your surroundings."
The voice was a grimy one and Hermione instantly felt her heart drop, knowing that they'd been careless in standing out in the open. The man who greeted them had short yet greasy hair atop a recognisable face. Crouch Junior. Hermione shivered at the sight of him, being brought back to her temporary capture in the courtyard. Matthew seemed to sense her discomfort, opting to stand partially in front of her, perhaps an act designed to protect her from the brunt of any attack that was on the horizon.
"My Master's going to be very happy when I tell him I'm the one who killed you," Crouch pressed on. "The Mudblood girl who should have already died at our hands. And you…we thought we'd got rid of you."
Matthew frowned. "Meaning?"
Crouch was about to reveal everything. He was about to ruin everything by telling Matthew what had happened. If the boy didn't know for whatever reason, then Hermione wasn't going to stand by and watch the fallout unfold. She felt her magic surge in retaliation, looking to protect Matthew now she'd gotten him back. Her powers were fuelled by the knowledge that she'd failed once before and, somehow, she'd been given a second chance. She wasn't going to waste it.
Her wand erupted in a golden display, connecting heavily with Crouch before he could get another word out. It landed squarely in his chest and he was thrown through the air, eventually falling some distance away. If Hermione had been panting before, then it was on a whole other level now. She was running on fumes, her experiences in the Tardis still eating away at her, and she knew that she was solely running on adrenaline. That wouldn't be able to keep her going for much longer, especially if she conducted outlandish acts like that again.
"How did you do that?" Matthew asked loudly. "That…that was nothing like your normal power level! There was…there was pure magic there, I'm sure of it! It enhanced the spell!"
Hermione grinned at the recognition, even if it was a little bit weary. It was nice to know that her earlier efforts had worked in her favour. Not only had the Tardis located the Death Eater base and (hopefully) Harry, it had helped her control of pure magic reach the next phase. She'd been optimistic that that would be the case, but to have it proved was a much needed reassurance. The only problem was her stamina, her body steadily growing weaker whenever she tapped into that internal resource.
"Would you believe me if I said it was just down to practise?"
She couldn't exactly tell him what she'd been up to, not if Dumbledore was right with his theories. If Matthew didn't know about his death, then explaining why she'd been in the Tardis would have represented an absolute minefield. No, that discussion could wait for when they weren't having to constantly worry about becoming target practice. But, if she'd been concerned about Matthew being suspicious of her new abilities, then those qualms were quickly washed away by the brilliance of his smile.
"You're amazing! Completely, unfalteringly amazing!"
Without missing a beat, he wrapped her up in a hug and it felt like Hermione's dreams had finally come true. How desperately she'd yearned to experience this embrace one last time. How she'd cried at the thought that she'd hugged him one last time without even realising it. It explained why she held onto him with fierce conviction, savouring the sheer familiarity of his closeness. In the end, they only pulled away because there was a fight that needed seeing to.
She looked back towards where Crouch had landed. Amidst the growing battle, it was difficult to spot him.
"Do you…do you think I killed him?"
Matthew held her at arm's length. "I honestly don't know. You put all your might into that spell and it caught him by surprise. But I'm not going to waste any time checking. Crouch's fate is less important now that we've made it to the house. Unless it's not too late to take you back to the Tardis…?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "I much prefer hugging you than hitting you, Matthew, so don't test me."
He brought her into another hug, perhaps just to get away with his rookie error. There was also the sense that it was a move for his own comfort, grounding himself in her presence to help him cope with the carnage unfolding. And maybe it was for her benefit too, his silent way of telling her that it would be alright if she had killed Crouch, albeit inadvertently. It didn't have to change who she was, nor would it alter the way he felt about her.
"It's weird…" she mumbled. "...it shouldn't be this cold when I'm in your arms."
The penny dropped as soon as she'd uttered the words. As predicted, Voldemort had called for reinforcements at the first sign of trouble. They just weren't solely of the wizard variety. A vast swathe of dementors were quickly arriving on the scene and, much to their disappointment, the wards weren't acting as any sort of deterrent to their approach. Any optimism Hermione had felt about succeeding threatened to ebb away, but she did her best to hold onto it, knowing that was exactly what the creatures wanted.
She looked at Matthew, whose mere presence was enough of a good memory to shield her from the worst of the dementors' effects. Yet the boy looked to the sky in trepidation, his typical confidence waning in the face of the threat. Hermione understood what was bothering him so much. One of the few times he'd shown an overwhelming weakness was around the monsters, the harshness of his past working against him and providing a bountiful feast for the dementors. From the look on his face, he was concerned that he wasn't going to be able to look after her.
So it was a good thing that she was perfectly happy for the roles to be reversed for a change.
She slipped her hand into his, drawing him away from those cold thoughts. "You're going to be okay. You're with me. I'm not going to let them reach you. You're with me, okay?"
And there was nothing that the world could throw at her that would stop that from being the case again.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sirius was being driven by a desperate need to see Harry. He needed to be the one who rescued him, to prove that he had every right to be his godfather. Whilst most wouldn't have seen Harry's disappearance as anything to do with him, he'd been the one to drop him off at the Ministry. He was the one who hadn't even considered that someone could infiltrate the organisation. And so he would be the one who rectified everything.
The dementors had presented him with another stumbling block. Mowing down dark wizards didn't rest on his conscience too much, but the monsters held a certain sway over him. Thanks to his time in Azkaban, their presence would always bring him out into a cold shiver, even more so than the rest of their victims. Therefore, it wasn't the ideal conditions to be fighting in. His spellwork was becoming increasingly frantic and careless, reducing the impact whenever he was able to hit an opponent. And the more spells he needed to use to take down one person meant they had more opportunities to do the same to him and…
…well the rest didn't need explaining.
Knowing that he needed to somehow compose himself, Sirius opted to take shelter in what looked to be a small courtyard, complete with an utterly needless fountain. Though the Malfoys had always been ones for pointless extravagance. The sanctuary allowed him to be temporarily cut off from the battle, providing much needed physical distance between him and the dementors. And, whilst he was there, he could try every door in the vicinity in the hope that one would be unlocked, in the hope that one would lead him straight to Harry.
He was already holding his wand, which meant he wasn't too unnerved when he felt someone else standing behind him. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of acting shocked or jumping in surprise. Instead, Sirius slowly spun around and maybe he did gulp at who he saw, but only silently. Again, it was all about maintaining appearances, preserving the performance. Not even Voldemort himself was going to impact that strategy.
The Dark Lord smirked, as if he knew that he'd gotten one over Sirius just by being there, no matter how hard the Black patriarch kept the nerves hidden behind a mask. Voldemort's wand was held lazily, his arms resting by his side, whilst Sirius' grip tightened in anticipation and anger. Perhaps he wasn't going to be the one to personally rescue Harry after all. But taking down the man responsible for the whole ordeal would be a pretty good forfeit.
"Sirius Black," Voldemort said in greeting. "A lost soldier. A fallen son of the Dark Mark."
Sirius flared his nostrils. "You know just as well as I that I was never close to being in your service."
"And yet you still represent a lost cause to me. Your family held such potential, only for you to throw it away."
"A decision I'd make again in a heartbeat."
"Sadly, if the natural world has taught us anything, it's that the runt of the litter must always be put down for its own good."
Sirius straightened his back, readying himself. "You took my godson from me. You took my best friends from me. Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I'm going to enjoy it."
xxxxxxxxxx
The three of them were making steady progress through the house, eventually being able to hurriedly charge down a staircase. Enola hadn't said anything about Malfoy's sudden involvement, only going as far as raising her eyebrows in silent appraisal. Harry liked to think that meant she approved of his decision, one he was still debating whilst they ran. Or maybe it was just because Malfoy provided extra knowledge about the manor's layout, hopefully leading them to a quicker exit.
The issue was that, now that they were on the ground floor, the fight was even more furious. There was no opportunity to hide or to take a breather now. They were in the heart of the battle, constantly ducking as the walls splintered from spell fire. It meant that, as much as they may have wanted to, they were unable to head for the main doors, where the majority of duels were taking place. Harry could almost taste the open world, a return to normality, yet could feel it slipping away once more.
Before he could properly complain about the increasing number of hurdles he was being presented with, Enola was leading them in the opposite direction. The hallway was narrower and a great deal less flamboyant than the rest of the house, suggesting that it was used more by the servants. It was also much quieter, which explained why their guide had chosen that potential avenue for escape. It wasn't as if Malfoy was offering much, pitifully clinging onto Harry's sleeve as if he was worried he'd be cut adrift.
Their progress was halted by a figure standing in their way, dressed all in black. The attire forced Harry to make a few quick assumptions, based largely around the fear that they'd been spotted by a Death Eater. As the person moved more into the light, Harry's concerns were only abated fractionally by the fact that Snape was the one to be greeting them. The potion's master looked at their strange group, showing more surprise on his face than Harry had ever seen from the sour man.
Harry was crestfallen. They were so close. Snape lifted his wand and their fates were surely sealed. Because it didn't matter that the professor was supposedly on their side. It didn't matter that his allegiances were murky at best. Snape had been given the chance to do precisely what he'd dreamed of ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts. He'd cut him down and it didn't even have to ruin his reputation. He'd be able to claim that another Death Eater had done it, and that he'd only been able to watch in desperation.
Snape yelled a curse.
It collided with something behind them, something which landed heavily on the wooden floor. Having flinched at the sound of the spell, Harry risked looking back, surveying the scene. A man lay prone, only a few steps away from where they stood. He'd evidently been trying to make the most of their brief hesitation, looking for the glory of being the one to kill Harry Potter. But Snape had intervened before it was too late. But Snape had saved his life.
Harry was sure he was getting a migraine, and it wasn't down to the level of noise around him.
"Come with me," Snape instructed. "I should be able to apparate us to the far boundary of the wards. That…box belonging to your friend will provide the necessary shelter."
Harry didn't know what to focus on. Snape's decision to put aside his grievances would have been mind blowing on any normal day. But then he'd also given confirmation that the Tardis was situated nearby, which raised a whole host of questions that Harry doubted he was going to have answered anytime soon. Had someone figured out how to fly it? Had Hermione worked out the kinks? Or was Enola right to still hold faith in regards to Matthew?
He might have only trusted Snape as far as he could throw him, but Harry wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He closed the distance between him and the professor, with Malfoy only too eager to do the same. Harry was perfectly willing for the adult to take control during the apparition. It was that process that had gotten him into this mess, so he was all too happy to take a break from it. And he would have encouraged Snape to kick into gear if Enola hadn't been standing still.
She hadn't moved since Snape's arrival, not even during his potential attack. Now that the chance had appeared for them to finally leave, it looked as if she were frozen. Harry held up his hand to the others to make them wait as he slowly approached the girl. She was wearing what could only be described as a sad expression, and he could feel his stomach dropping as he considered what that meant.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "Come on! This is what we wanted! He might look like he's on Voldemort's side, but Snape has just proved that we can trust him. At least with this. I don't know how long that's going to last."
"What I wanted was for you to get to safety, Harry," Enola replied.
"That's what we're doing!"
"That's what you're doing. I…I still have a role to play here. I'm more useful to you here."
Harry held her hand, hoping the strength of his grip would convince her to change her mind. "Don't do this. Please."
"You don't have to worry about me."
"Saying that isn't going to make me think any differently. If they find out that you helped me…"
"They won't."
"You can't know that for sure."
"But I do know that, if they start sniffing around, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. And, if that's not enough, I know I've got a sweet and handsome boy waiting for me if I ever need to make a sharp exit."
"What's taking so long?" Snape complained. "We've only got a small window of opportunity…"
Enola gave him another smile. "Go."
Harry was torn between acting on his instincts or listening to her instruction. "But…"
She leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. There was a hint of finality about it, Enola putting an end to the argument in the quickest and most effective way. Dumbstruck by the sensation of her lips, Harry didn't resist as she gave him a slight nudge, encouraging him to join the impatient Snape and Malfoy. He looked at the girl one last time as she gave him a small wave in farewell, before his world was being thrown into the dizzying realm of apparition.
xxxxxxxxxx
They'd resorted to flinging spells carelessly behind their back, fleeing from any potential attackers and, more importantly, the dementors. Some of the trained aurors were able to produce their own patronuses, bursts of warm light flickering through the manor grounds. Hermione didn't have much faith that their efforts would last for much longer, feeling the sapping effects of the creatures herself. How much more could her body take before it finally gave up?
One of the monsters made a dive for them and it would have come perilously close to colliding with Hermione, if Matthew hadn't been on hand to intervene. Even then, he didn't have time to muster any sort of magical protection, physically using his body as a barrier. The dementor seized its opportunity, sucking at the boy's face, making it seem as if his very soul was on the verge of leaving his body, before it had had enough for one bite.
Matthew stumbled, landing heavily on the cobbled path, and Hermione recovered from the shock to hold him. His face was deathly pale but the only thing keeping her going was the fact that he was still conscious. Much like Harry, he'd been knocked clean out by the dementors in the past, so clinging onto reality had to be seen as a step in a positive direction. Not that Hermione was planning on congratulating him anytime soon.
"What did you do that for?" she snapped, though her icy tone was soothed by her hand caressing his face.
"If you're still surprised by the things I do, then you're never going to learn your lesson," he replied weakly.
"You haven't changed, have you?"
It was perhaps one of the things she'd been most fearful of, concerns aggravated by the fact that she didn't know how Matthew was even there in the first place. She'd been worried that he might have been an imposter. Or, in the likelier event that he wasn't, that what had happened on Diagon Alley had fundamentally altered him as a person. But there he was, putting his body on the line in her name just like the total idiot he'd always been.
The dementor, encouraged by its first taste, looked to be returning for a second nibble. More daunting was the fact that it was bringing some friends along with it too, sensing the weaker target that Matthew represented. So, against her best wishes, Hermione abandoned her post, getting back to her feet. His protests could just be heard over the din, but she chose to ignore his complaints. It would have been far too easy to simply stay with him, cuddling into him as the dementors attacked.
Hermione Granger wasn't one for the easy option.
Whilst she might have been turning a deaf ear to his pleas, she focused her mind on acknowledging his presence. She removed every thought from her head besides the memory of the Tardis landing right in front of her. She pictured the blue box forming amidst the powerful storm. She imagined the doors opening and Matthew standing there. If she held a more positive memory, then it had surely slipped her mind. Because if her love could return from the dead, then anything was possible.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Never had she experienced such an overwhelming onrush of warmth and contentment. It was almost powerful enough to take her breath away as the magic moved from her body, into the wand, and entered the physical world in the form of a dazzling light. The ethereal force morphed and twisted until it formed into a growling bear. It initially reared back on its hind legs, giving a warning to the dementors that they foolishly opted to overlook.
Following her silent instruction, the bear charged, careening into the first creature that had kickstarted the attack. It wailed and screamed as the positive energy swarmed around it, desperately fleeing the immediate area. It took another roar from the bear for the others to get the message, sending them back out onto the battlefield. There, they were met with the other patronuses of the aurors and, although their presence was muted compared to Hermione's creation, the combination was enough to encourage most of the creatures to sound a momentary retreat.
Now it had protected its owner, the bear ambled back through the air, plodding on large paws until it was looking directly at Hermione. She reached out a tentative hand and placed it upon its bowing head, feeling the magic dance around her fingers. Knowing its job was done, the patronus faded, robbing the world of its light and returning them to relative darkness. And Hermione felt her already weakened body start to stumble.
The tables were turned as Matthew supported her, keeping her on two feet. "Should I even ask how you managed that?"
She craned her neck to look up at him. "I had pretty good inspiration."
He held her more tightly as one knee threatened to give way. "Don't worry, I've got you. I've got you."
Hermione told herself that she was allowed to give into sleep, that Matthew would ensure she made her way back to the Tardis safely. But it was that very ship that kept her eyes from closing. A scarlet eruption engulfed the black sky not too far from the blue box, and suddenly any thought of sleep was pushed to one side. Others on the battlefield were having a similar reaction, watching the sparks descend in either bemusement or happy understanding.
"Does that mean…?" Matthew slowly began.
Her breath hitched. "Harry."
xxxxxxxxxx
"Oh, I was praying I'd run into you."
Lupin knew that Moody was ever so slightly insane. That was further proved by the fact that his reaction to coming across two notorious Death Eaters was to lick his lips. It had the bonus of unnerving one of their opponents, though Lupin could tell that Lucius Malfoy's stomach for oddity was smaller than that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"You need to get a cleaner in this place," Moody pressed on. "It's in one hell of a state."
"Shut your mouth."
Malfoy looked particularly distressed. His normally pristine mane of blonde hair was tousled and messy, standing on edge in places. His sharp face had been cut on one cheek, giving him an almost feral look that was accentuated by the fury in his eyes. Lupin could understand the sentiment. Not only had Malfoy's day taken a significant nose dive, he'd thrown his life of luxury away to support the Dark Lord and now the last reminder of that lavishness, the house they were standing in, was being torn asunder.
"I have to thank you," Bellatrix said in that awful high-pitched voice she possessed. "Killing Potter's best friend wasn't enough. Getting rid of his pet wolf will be a nice new string to my bow."
She didn't get the chance to do so. The pair were standing there one moment, and then the wall to their left was imploding the next. They were buried in the resulting rubble and, for a few moments, Lupin and Moody stared at the wreckage in bemusement. When the bricks started hovering, apparently by their own accord, Lupin decided that it was probably time for them to head back the way they'd come from.
Particularly when a flash of red in the sky caught his eye.
xxxxxxxxxx
For a short while, they traded spells, taking it in turns to try to get one over the other. For a short while, Sirius was able to give just as good as he got. But the overwhelming presence of the dementors was always going to scupper him. Voldemort's superior power and skill was always going to come good in the end. One hex sent him stumbling backwards. Another caught him on the wrist and the pain was enough to make him drop his wand.
He was well aware of the fact that Voldemort was toying with him. He was well aware of the fact that the fearsome Dark Lord could have ended the contest right at the very start if he'd wanted to. All it would have taken was a simple killing curse, something he was all too familiar with. What was happening now was akin to an animal playing with its food, the moment before it finally went for the jugular and put its prey out of its misery. It was a concept he knew intimately thanks to his canine tendencies.
"I almost expected better from you, Black. You've built up a noteworthy track record, so much so that I thought this was going to be a challenge."
"Tell me…is Harry still alive?"
"Sadly, you'll never find out one way or another."
"I reckon you wouldn't be this nervous if he was dead?"
"Do you mistake my expression for one of concern?"
"You're worried that you're going to let Harry slip out of your hands yet again. And you're right to be sweating. Because I might be about to be killed. That's fair enough. But I'll have hopefully held you up long enough for someone else to have found him."
Voldemort's poor excuse for nostrils flared and Sirius was at least comforted by the fact that he was going to go out on a high. If his last act was to annoy the darkest wizard of their age, then that was pretty good going. It certainly honoured the legacy of the Marauders. He contemplated reaching for his wand as Voldemort raised his own, but made the decision to stand still. He wasn't going to die in a compromising position. He'd face that fate head on. He'd look death in the eyes, safe in the knowledge that he wasn't going to triumph today.
"You've misjudged your position, Tom."
Now, Sirius had never been the biggest fan of Albus Dumbledore. It largely stemmed from the revered wizard doing nothing to help him get out of Azkaban for twelve years. His decision to put Harry with the Dursleys for the majority of his childhood also hadn't earned him any favour. But, despite all that, he was big enough to admit that he was more than a little overjoyed as Hogwarts' headmaster casually strolled into the courtyard.
"Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed. "I was wondering when you might turn up, you old fool."
"You're sounding stressed, Tom. Were you not expecting us to show up?"
"I might be curious as to how you found us, but you've had the unwavering ability of being a thorn in my side for far too long. If I get to put that to an end tonight, then all is not lost."
Voldemort acted first, swinging his wand in a sharp arc, a beam of sickly green energy careening towards them. Dumbledore, unperturbed, nudged Sirius out of the way, meeting the force with his own ribbon of orange magic. The two spells collided with one another, connecting their two castors in a furious stalemate. Sirius took the opportunity to finally retrieve his wand and, with Voldemort understandably distracted, he got in a cutting hex of his own for a small dose of immediate vengeance.
It was enough to break the initial battle, the Dark Lord yelling in frustration and anger at the nuisance plaguing him. Sirius was of half a mind to blow a raspberry at his foe, hoping it would antagonise him even further. He stood next to Dumbledore, the two of them forming an unlikely partnership given their shared history. Sadly for the Marauder, their mutual opponent took more of an interest in him for having the audacity of landing a physical blow.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The curse was an accurate one, yet it never got close to reaching Sirius. The top of the fountain was wrenched from its foundations, thrown into the path of the spell. The killing curse turned it into rubble in an instant, but it had been enough to stop it in its tracks. Sirius steadied himself with a breath, using the close call as a reminder for him to take the fight more seriously. He'd been given a second chance, a fighting chance to see Harry again.
It was no wonder that he nodded his head at Dumbledore in a way of saying thanks for the timely intervention.
The old man wasn't stopping there, his focus still on the fountain. With a subtle flick, the water escaped its confines, rising and crashing until it came together in an imposing sphere. Having already been incensed by his killing curse not being successful, Voldemort quickly found himself enveloped in the watery prison and Sirius was able to watch him scramble against the twisting current. It took a tidal wave of energy of his own to free himself, powerful enough to force Sirius and Dumbledore backwards.
The dark wizard refused to be overshadowed in his own backyard. Enraged by being momentarily bested, the outswinging of his arms was joined by the shattering of windows around them. Sirius doubted that Lucius Malfoy was going to be too thrilled about the level of purposeful destruction, especially by the very person he'd named as a guest, but he probably had other things to worry about. The shards of glass weren't given the chance to tumble to the ground, Voldemort lifting them up menacingly, poised to strike.
It was only because of Dumbledore's quick thinking that he erected a shield in time, though Sirius did his best to contribute to the protection. Whilst unable to completely stop the attack, the barrier slowed down the glass and steadily wore it down into grains of sand, all of which rained down upon them. It wasn't the sort of distraction that one could normally contend with when faced with such a terrifying enemy, which was why Sirius tried to quickly shake himself free of the debris.
Except another distraction arrived in the nick of time.
They had their backs to the battlefield, but the red sparks illuminated the surroundings so brightly that they were hard to miss. Their arrival was also evident from the way Voldemort's face somehow grew more irate, as if he was cottoning onto what the signal might have meant. Sirius wanted to run as fast as possible to the Tardis, which seemed to be the origin of the fireworks, but he wasn't about to abandon Dumbledore after the other man had come to his aid.
In the end, he should have known that the experienced wizard was only appeasing him by keeping him around. A jet of energy formed a crater in the nearest wall of the house, potentially leaving those unfortunate enough to be inside with some painful injuries. Almost copying Voldemort's trick, Dumbledore whipped up the bricks and broken fragments into a perilous tumult and, one by one, they battered into the Dark Lord until he eventually relented, disappearing with a swish of his cloak as he transformed into an ugly cloud of smoke.
"Coward," Sirius coughed. "I always knew he was the sort to retreat instead of die fighting."
"I'm not so sure he's retreating," Dumbledore informed him. "If the signal is true and Harry is being taken to safety…"
"...then he's going for the Tardis."
xxxxxxxxxx
The last time Harry had been inside the ship, it had been a dark and despairing affair. So, to see it all lit up in its usual majesty was a turn up for the books, one that left him wondering if he was just imagining it all. Perhaps his days of imprisonment were finally catching up to him, if they hadn't already done so. It was a point that was further exacerbated by the fact that he had Snape and Malfoy for company, a friendship group he'd never expected to be a part of.
After the potion's master had alerted everyone else to their success, they'd found shelter in the Tardis. Some of those closest to the box had already passed through the wards, opting to apparate to safety rather than experiencing what the ship had to offer. Other aurors looked to be continuing the fight, evidently hoping to fill plenty of cells at Azkaban that night. Harry tried to look past them all, praying that he'd spot some of the people he was most desperate to see.
Malfoy, already knocked down a peg or two compared to the pompous boy Harry had once known, was looking around the console room in a mix of wonder and trepidation. Harry supposed that he'd greeted the Tardis with a fairly similar expression. It also had to be Snape's first time experiencing the grandiose nature of the vessel, though he was evidently putting his qualms to one side in favour of making sure the two teenagers were safely stowed away.
"Harry!"
He definitely had to be imagining things. That was the only explanation. He spun on the spot, coming face to face with the owner of the very ship they were standing in. Matthew, or whatever the construct of his addled mind was, was holding onto Hermione, who had to rest on the lowest rung of the staircase once they were inside. Once it was made clear that she wasn't going to fall over without his support, that left Matthew free to hug Harry tightly and unashamedly.
And he was solid. He was there.
"They didn't even tell me that you'd been taken!" Matthew said in a rush. "How did it happen? How long have you been gone? I know I'm careless but I think I'd notice that small detail. And…is that Draco Malfoy? In my Tardis? Is the little snake trying to hijack the ship for his master? Because he should know straight away that he's got more of a chance of taking me as a date to the next Yule Ball…"
Harry had never been able to keep up with Matthew when he got into full flow, but it was on a completely different level with everything that was going on.
"Matthew…what…how…"
"Harry Potter!"
What now?!
Wanting to throw a multitude of questions at Matthew, whilst also wanting to check on Hermione's tired state, Harry knew that he had to push those desires to one side. He moved to the edge of the edge of the console room, standing by the doors, but he didn't dare cross the boundary. Voldemort, somehow looking angrier than Harry had ever seen, was standing there. Some of the Order looked to have been in the process of retreating, but they hung back, unwilling to face the Dark Lord on their own.
As it was, Voldemort wasn't looking at them, his eyes trained solely on Harry.
"Face me!"
"He'd rather not!"
Matthew joined him by his side. If it was at all possible, Voldemort grew even more furious at the sight of the other boy. At least he was just as perplexed by Matthew walking around as if nothing had happened. It was the first time that Harry had been fine with having something in common with the Dark Lord.
"Make him attack you," Matthew whispered into his ear.
"I think I must have heard you incorrectly…" Harry hissed back at him.
"Trust me on this."
His friend - his impossibly alive friend - moved away, retreating to the console and abandoning him to face Voldemort on his own. Harry didn't know what to make of what was going on. He couldn't trust reality when it was throwing so many curveballs at him. He couldn't trust whatever forces had brought Matthew back to him. But he could always trust, without a doubt, that same boy to have a trick up his sleeve and to have his back.
"I'm tired of running, Tom," Harry said. "You've delayed this moment for long enough. Have at it."
Voldemort didn't need much more of an invitation. He leant on his trusty comrade, the killing curse once again being used to fell Harry. But, just as had happened in the graveyard, the spell cannoned off the wards of the Tardis, the pure magical energy acting as a worthy shield. Voldemort tried his luck again, and earned the same lack of success.
"Bingo!" Matthew cried, as he flicked a switch.
Harry had looked back to his friend at that, which meant he only caught the tail end of what happened next. With a yell, Voldemort was ripped from where he stood as if he'd opted to apparate. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he'd had enough of things going wrong, his pride broken and bruised beyond repair. But the glowing smirk from Matthew - a smile that shouldn't have even been possible - suggested that something else was in play.
"You can thank me now, if you want," he remarked, hopping down the steps and sparing a second to scowl at Malfoy.
Harry rubbed his head, the migraine from before a full blown brass band in his head. "What did you do?"
"I just needed an imprint of Voldemort's magical signature, hence why I needed him to fire a spell at the Tardis shields. Once that was logged into the systems, I was able to reverse engineer the systems that have gotten you out of tight spots in the past, like with the dragon."
"So…instead of teleporting him in here…"
"I forcefully apparated him to somewhere else. Well, the Tardis did. I set the controls to random, so he'll be dealing with an unfortunate bump right this very second. It won't kill him, but it'll definitely annoy him, which is always good fun. And it'll slow his efforts down, which means, once we've got everyone out of here, we shouldn't have to deal with any of his nonsense for at least a week. Which also means that we can have a much needed chat. Because I've got a list of questions as long as one of Hermione's essays."