Chapter 49 - Pursuit

Looking over his shoulder every other step of the way, Harry had seen dark forms issuing from the nearest edge of the central dome. The only light was that of their wands scattered from the stone terracing. It was not until the shapes were closing in on them that Harry saw they were not vampires, but more like shadowy blankets rippling through the air.

"Lethifolds!" Harry called out to Ron ahead of him. "Living shrouds! Slash with your sword, and don't let them wrap around you."

Harry knew little about the creatures. They were incredibly rare, shaped like thick cloaks, and would fold about their victims, suffocating them before they dissolved their flesh for the nutrients. Some said lethifolds and dementors were cousins. A patronus charm might turn them away, but he could cast nothing but light spells.

He and Ron turned to face the attack. A few of the creatures attacked each of them. The friends responded with slashing strikes of their swords. The rubbery assailants were tougher than they had hoped. Their sword cuts barely marked the dark hides of the monstrosities.

The lethifolds swooped past and banked around in formation, regrouping for another attack. Harry and Ron climbed the terraces while they had the chance.

Again and again the lethifolds attacked. The aurors killed a few after several slashes and stabs with their swords, but more were arriving from the direction of the dome. Each time the squadron of creatures wheeled around, the two men scrambled up the stone steps towards the colonnade, where the exit must surely be.

Both of them were tiring from climbing, from striking with their swords, from ducking and dodging their attackers. As Harry turned to face another attack, he saw the terracing below them littered with defeated lethifolds. Yet more were arriving. Harry swapped his sword to his left hand while his aching right arm wielded his lit wand. They were so close to the colonnade now, but these creatures of darkness were grinding them down, draining their energy.

Creatures of darkness, Harry thought. Wand lights. What if the only spell that worked could help?

"Lumos maxima!" Harry yelled in desperation.

The blinding flash of light scattered the shroud-like beasts as a blast of wind scatters papers. Spurred on by new hope, Harry and Ron sprang up the few remaining tiers to the column-lined walkway.

"Look for the exit!" Harry shouted, rubbing his eyes.

"This way," Ron said, beckoning.

Harry followed him, but turned to repel another assault with all the wand light he could summon. This time, he shielded his eyes. He repelled the lethifolds again.

Harry and Ron had crossed the temple directly across from the entrance. The exit was only three-quarters of the way around the perimeter, leaving them a distance to run, weaving through the black columns. The lethifolds, a cloud of them now, struck again.

This time they attacked, not in formation, but from all angles. A blast of light from Harry's wand turned some of them. A flash from Ron's repelled a few more. Caught off-guard, Harry swung his sword at another assailant and stumbled when the strike missed. A lethifold following the previous flopped on Harry, wrapping itself over his wand arm. More followed, but Ron slashed and stabbed with his short sword. Harry struck again and again at the one around his arm. It fell from him, seeming to limp down the terrace as it slid away.

The men leaped for the exit archway. Harry heard a clatter behind him and turned to see Ron's sword on the floor below the arch. Ron was beyond, still in the temple. Two, then three of the odious lethifolds fell on him, rolling him and wrapping around him.

"Get Hermione!" Ron called out.

Several more of the flying beasts hit the archway, covering it like a curtain, unable to pass through and preventing Harry from getting back in.

Harry searched about him in desperation. He was in a rough, cavernous area scattered with broken boulders and stones. He glanced back at the arch and noticed a figure some way to his left. It wore a dark grey and hooded cloak with a chain around its waist. It looked like a monk. The figure turned towards Harry. He could see no face, just two glowing green eyes.

It twisted the opposite way and let out a piercing shriek — an alarm.

Harry could not leave his best friend. But neither could he get back through the arch to save him. If he did not move, more monks would appear. He could already hear raised voices. He turned and ran, reducing his wand's light to a faint glow.

There was a tunnel entrance leading off from this new, rock-strewn cavern. He sprinted down it, his limbs aching, his lungs burning, his sword and wand still gripped in his hands. He increased the light. Running as fast as he could, he might hit a wall or trip. If the monks followed him, they would catch him, collapsed and gasping on the floor. He ran on with more care for where he was going. At least it was downhill. After all the fighting and climbing, if he had needed to run uphill, he thought his lungs would have burst.

Harry staggered on as long as he could, wand in one hand, the other helping to propel him along the tunnel. All the time, the path led him down into the subterranean darkness. Eventually, the shock of events and the fatigue of his actions pulled him to a halt. He listened. He had stopped panting from his earlier physical exertion and could hold his breath for a few seconds. Harry heard the voices. The monks, cultists, or whatever they were, must still be chasing him.

He doused his wand's light and continued by touch alone. The foolishness of the action struck him. There was only one tunnel. He was in it, and his pursuers knew this. They would not forget him or pass him just because he had turned out his light. He needed speed, not darkness or silence. He lit his wand and fled along the passage as fast as his trembling legs would allow.

The tunnel became steeper as he ran. He was moving so swiftly, so recklessly, he could not stop himself running in to the water. Its sudden presence dragged on his legs and he fell, face first, into the flood. He twisted around and sat up.

He had run into a flooded chamber, three times as wide as the tunnel, several times as high, and long enough that he could see no end. As the echoes of his splashing died, he heard the voices again. They were closer than Harry wished, and they were coming from all around him. But of course they were: they were echoes, and he was in a long, reverberating passage.

Harry got to his feet and continued towards the far end of the flooded chamber. The water was knee deep. It would slow him down, he knew, but it would also slow those who were after him. He waded on.

The water was black in the light from Harry's wand. By that light, he saw the ripples spreading out from his wading shins. Those ripples reflected from the walls and came back to join the others, churning up the water's surface in a commotion of wavelets. In a hypnotic way, the movement of the water calmed the turmoil in his mind as he strove onwards.

Harry noticed other ripples which did not fit with those he was making. They had an intent, wove their own path. Something else was in the water. Harry hoped it would leave him alone and let him pass. That did not seem likely given recent events in this nightmarish place.

As he went on, Harry saw other movement. Ripples spread out, forming v-shaped wakes. The water was alive with movement, with swimming creatures. He hurried on, only now realising the water was up to his waist. He used his free hand to sweep the water behind him, as though swimming one-handed. Harry would do anything to leave this place sooner.

Harry felt a strange pulling sensation at his side. He reached into the water with his free hand to investigate. Something had attached itself to his skin. He grabbed it, but it thrashed and slipped from his grip. Harry surged with revulsion. Whatever was in the water with him was trying to feed on him!

He pushed on harder than ever. Again and again he felt the bites and reached down to squeeze the eel-like things until they released him. With relief, he realised the water was now thigh-deep. He pushed on, twisting and wriggling, hoping to make it impossible for the dwellers in this dark lagoon to attach to his skin.

With a sickening lurch, he fell forward, his head ducking under the water. The floor had disappeared from under his feet. He lashed out with his arms and legs, his hand instinctively gripping onto his wand. His foot found some purchase. He pushed towards the surface again. He could feel that the water vermin were biting him, but he concentrated on swimming forwards.

Testing with his foot, he discovered he was within reach of the floor again. He stood, raising his torso from the water. He held his wand in his teeth and used both hands to pinch and release his assailants. The creatures twisted from his grip as he tried to lift them above the surface. A dozen or more he detached from his body, but they were gone before he could see them. At least they had gone.

Harry grabbed his wand again and pressed on. He was rising from the water at last! A few paces later and the water was only to his ankles. He splashed on a way until he was back on the dry gravel of the path. Harry sagged and panted for a moment. Then he heard the harsh, guttural voices again, clearer than ever. He turned to see a glow at the far end of the flood. He dimmed his light and ran on, out of the chamber.