Chapter 107: Wedding The picturesque valley surrounding the Burrow glistened beneath the radiant summer sun, casting its warm glow over the rolling hills and lush green meadows where the sheep leisurely grazed. Above, the cloudless sky painted a deep sapphire hue. Smoke billowed from the Burrow, the quaint and inviting home of the Weasleys, as Molly busied herself preparing a celebratory feast. Within the tent erected in the tranquil backyard, a flurry of activity ensued. Professors Flitwick, Hagrid, and other esteemed Hogwarts faculty members wielded their magical wands to craft an extravagant setting for the forthcoming wedding ceremony. Delicate lace tablecloths, shimmering crystal glassware, and exquisite china adorned with enchanting depictions from magical folklore floated gracefully in the air and adorned the lengthy tables. Cascades of vibrant flowers ascended towards the lofty ceiling. "It's truly remarkable, like something out of a fantastical tale!" remarked Sam Brightwood in awe, as he surveyed the enchanting scene. "Indeed, Molly always manages to bring an extra touch of magic to everything," Charlie remarked with a smile, glancing towards his determined mother who was engrossed in animated conversation with Fleur. "I suspect they've delved into another debate over the proper kneading techniques," Ron mused jokingly, observing the lively exchange between his mother and sister-in-law. "Fleur can be quite steadfast, but crossing paths with Mum in such moments is a venture one ought to avoid." Hermione and Harry exchanged knowing glances, containing their amusement. "Potter, Trapper, where do you fancy yourselves?" barked Moody from within the tent. "Assist me with these floral arrangements!" Eager to divert his mind from the recent somber events surrounding Dumbledore's demise, Harry promptly hastened to offer his help. The haunting memories of witnessing the great wizard's murder in Malfoy's presence and Snape's treachery lingered heavily in his thoughts. "When my time comes for marriage," Fred declared, adjusting his robe collar, "I shan't tolerate such frivolity. Everyone shall attire themselves as they please, and I shall bewitch Mum still, ensuring her peace until the affair concludes." "She appeared rather decent this morning," remarked George. "She shed a tear over Percy's absence, but who truly misses him, I ask? Oh, bother, they've started to arrive—just look at that!" At the far end of the courtyard, a colorful array of figures gradually materialized. Within mere moments, a vibrant procession formed, winding its way through the garden towards the tent. Sorceresses sported exotic blooms atop their hats, enchanted birds fluttered gracefully, and wizards displayed glistening gems adorning their accessories. As the lively crowd approached the tent, the din of excited conversations swelled, drowning out the gentle hum of the bees. "I spy some Veela cousins in attendance," George noted, craning his neck for a better view. "It seems we must acquaint them with our English customs. Allow me to address this promptly..." With a mischievous grin, George led the giggling girls towards the tent. Meanwhile, Ron took charge of attending to Mr. Weasley's elderly Ministry colleague, Perkins. Harry found himself entrusted with the care of a kindly, somewhat hard-of-hearing elderly couple. He discreetly tended to his grazed finger, sustained during the floral arrangements, ensuring not to draw undue attention. Suddenly, a sharp sound reverberated through the meadow. A figure elegantly clad in a striped three-piece suit with a floral motif briskly approached Nora. "Oh, wow!" Ron exclaimed, marveling at the newcomer. "He's quite the charmer, reminiscent of Barney Stinson's style." "You seem to have missed those Muggleology lessons once more, Ron," Hermione teased in a hushed tone, as the affable Dedalus Dingle, a close acquaintance of Dumbledore, caught up with them.
"Hey guys!" Dingle greeted them, extending his hand for a handshake. "How are you doing? Last time I saw you was at the funeral. Didn't expect such a joyful event after such sad occurrences..." Harry's face darkened. "Fine, thanks," he muttered. "How are the Dursleys?" "Oh, they're doing fine! They're currently under the care of Gesti and our old friends..." A lump formed in Harry's throat, and he hurried towards the tent, mumbling something about needing to help with the decorations. "What's wrong with him?" Fleur asked in her velvety voice, waving her wand to weave the beautiful bright blue and pink flowers into garlands. Ron shook his head, watching Harry walk away. "Ever since You-Know-Who returned, Harry has been tormented by something. Especially after Dumbledore's death..." Fleur sighed with sympathy in her gaze. Her blonde curls cascaded down her shoulders, giving her the appearance of a celestial being in her pearl dress. Suddenly, she looked up and froze with her mouth half-open, staring at something behind Ron. "Oh my God... What is that?!" Hermione adjusted her glasses and smiled, sweeping her gaze over the gathered Slugs. "Nice to see everyone here, Nikola." Before them stood a tall, athletic man with thick dark hair swept back. His perceptive gaze peeked out from beneath furrowed brows, revealing extraordinary intellect. Tesla was dressed in an elegant dark suit adorned with sparkling buttons and slim trousers that accentuated his slender figure. Electric discharges occasionally flickered across his clothing. He nodded briefly at Hermione but said nothing. Meanwhile, sounds came from behind the floral arch once again: "Hey, where's Astolfo? I was expecting some dramatic entrance from him!" Ron looked around until a floating figure in a pink cloak and an ostrich feather hat emerged from behind the arch. Landing in a pirouette, the "knight" threw back his hood, revealing the face of a mischievous youth with pink strands of hair. "Ta-da! Sir Astolfo has arrived in person!" he proclaimed with a ringing voice. Ron, Harry, and the others burst into laughter at the sight of the ridiculous outfit and extravagant manners of the Slug. Astolfo dramatically removed his hand from his forehead. "Oh, I see signs of delight on your faces! Couldn't hold back tears of admiration?" "Oh, just hush, Astolfo," Mordred couldn't help but interject, narrowing his crimson gaze. Harry didn't notice Tonks and Lupin arriving. "Hey there," he said when he stepped out of the tent, recognizing the familiar voice, and saw Tonks and Lupin standing at the front of the queue. Tonks had transformed her hair to blonde for the occasion. "Arthur said you're the one with the curly hair. Sorry about yesterday," she added in a whisper as Harry led them through the passage. "The Ministry has made a big fuss about werewolves, and we thought our presence wouldn't do you any good." "It's alright, I understand," Harry said, addressing Lupin more than Tonks. Lupin gave him a brief smile, but when he looked away, Harry saw that his face had once again turned sorrowful. He didn't understand what was bothering Lupin, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Hagrid had already managed to cause some damage. Misinterpreting Fred's instructions, he sat down on five regular chairs instead of the magically enlarged and reinforced one placed for him in the back row, and now they resembled a handful of gilded matchsticks.
While Mr. Weasley was fixing the damages and Hagrid was apologizing loudly to anyone who would listen, Harry hurried back to the entrance of the tent and found Ron there, talking to a rather eccentric wizard. He had a slight squint, with white, cotton candy-like hair that reached his shoulders and a hat with a tassel dangling just above the tip of his nose. He wore a yellow, egg-yolk-colored cloak that made eyes water upon a single glance. A strange emblem resembling a triangular eye hung from a golden chain around his neck.
"Xenophilius Lovegood," he introduced himself, reaching out his hand to Harry. "We live nearby, over the hill. How lovely that the kind Weasleys invited us. By the way, you are familiar with my Luna, as far as I know," he added, addressing Ron.
"Yeah," Ron replied, "but where is she?"
"She lingered a bit in your charming garden to greet the gnomes. They're swarming there, it's marvelous! Not many wizards understand how much we can learn from wise little gnomes, or, as they should be properly called, Gernumbli gardensi."
"Our gnomes can teach you plenty of swear words," Ron said, "although I think they learned those from Fred and George." He glanced sideways, meeting the gaze of his stubborn Slug. "Or from Mordred."
Amidst the general merriment, no one noticed a new figure silently emerging from the archway. A delicate girl with pink hair and futuristic armor shyly stood to the side. Sam was the first to notice her. Harry glanced at the girl. Her violet eyes were fixed on the ground, as if Mash were waiting for a remark or an instruction.
"And here comes Mash," he reached out his hand for a handshake.
Mash looked up, then gratefully smiled and shook the extended palm.
"Long time no see, Mash!" a gruff voice immediately chimed in, and Hagrid, grinning, enveloped the girl in his massive arms. "How are you, little one? You've grown up so nicely!"
Mash laughed, returning the hug from the giant. Meanwhile, Astolfo had already joined them, dancing and humming a cheerful tune.
"Hey, let's dance, everyone! Today is a fantastic day, perfect for celebration!"
He skillfully lifted Mash and spun her around in a dance, his pink cloak's hem swirling like a whirlwind. The girl hung on his arms, giggling with surprise.
"Astolfo, I'm going to die right now!" she exclaimed, laughing.
"Oh, come on, don't be such a spoilsport!" Rider dismissed her carefree. "Save your reserve for battles. Here, we need to have a blast!"
Ron, clutching his sides, bent over with laughter, watching their antics. Even Nikola Tesla, usually focused and rational, allowed himself a smile at the picturesque scene.
"You can't deny it, the wedding is going to be truly memorable," he remarked.
While Astolfo twirled the laughing Mash in the dance, a sound of heavy footsteps echoed from behind the floral arch. A tall figure in black armor with golden motifs appeared in the passage. Jeanne Alter confidently approached the guests, her long spear clinking against the cobblestones with each step. Bright white hair was tied up in a high ponytail, revealing determined features with piercing amber eyes.
At the sight of Jeanne, the merriment slightly subsided. Everyone watched with caution as the imposing figure of the maiden approached them, unfazed by her intimidating appearance. Finally, Jeanne stopped, planting the shaft of her spear into the ground.
"And what is happening here?" she coolly inquired, surveying them all. "Is this how a wedding is supposed to be celebrated?"
"Hey, back off, Jeanne!" Astolfo's voice rang out. Rider landed beside her, still holding the breathless Mash. "We can't all sit around with stone faces! Let people have some fun!"
Jeanne shot a glare in Astolfo's direction, but before she could reply, Harry called out to her.
"Hello, Jeanne! Nice to see you again. How have you been?"
Jeanne's gaze softened slightly as she turned to Harry. Her cheeks took on a faint blush, but her voice remained low and restrained.
"Everything is fine... Harry. I'm just disappointed by the recklessness of certain individuals."
She glanced again at Astolfo, who paid no attention to her words. Rider waved nonchalantly at Mordred, urging her to join the dancing. Harry laughed, looking at Jeanne.
"Well, we're celebrating a wedding here, nothing wrong with that. Maybe you'd like to join us?"
She frowned, stubbornly shaking her head.
"I am a warrior, not a servant of merriment... However, if you insist, I will stay for a little while."
Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at Harry from under her brow. The brave wizard only smiled indulgently, accustomed to her independent nature. In Jeanne's heart, though, joy ignited. Harry laughed, looking at Jeanne.
"Well then, promise to be extremely cautious," Harry embraced Jeanne by the waist and pulled her closer. "I wouldn't want to scare you with my clumsiness."
The witch hesitated for a moment, but then reluctantly nodded and placed her hand on his shoulder. The spear slipped from her loosened grip with a clatter.
"Alright... But just one dance!" she stubbornly declared, unable to hide a tiny smile.
Harry nodded, feeling the tension in her body from embarrassment and excitement. But he didn't show it, gently leading Jeanne in a slow waltz, allowing her to adjust.
From the outside, their figures against the backdrop of the festive illumination looked like the embodiment of a beautiful legend – the valiant wizard and the graceful warrior, their steel melting in each other's embrace.
Jeanne pulled away slightly from Harry, and at that moment, her figure was enveloped in a radiant glow. When it dispersed, a completely different girl stood before him.
Her appearance had changed – now Jeanne was dressed in flowing dark blue robes embroidered with golden patterns. Waves of light hair cascaded over her shoulders, and crimson roses were woven into her hair, giving her the air of an incarnated legend.
Harry stared in astonishment at this transformation, unable to contain his smile of admiration. Jeanne coquettishly shielded her eyes with her lashes, then looked at him with a playful audacity.
"Well, Harry? I suppose not long ago, I only inspired horror and disgust in my previous form. What has changed?"
She gracefully twirled in the dance, allowing him to fully appreciate her new appearance. Harry, never taking his eyes off her, simply chuckled softly.
"It's simple, Jeanne. From the very beginning, you were only a part of yourself, but now you stand before us in your true magnificence. You are a beautiful warrior and maiden, the embodiment of France itself."
He lightly lifted her under the waist, once again sweeping her away in a flowing waltz to the melody emanating from the open tent.
"I was young and foolish to fear your strength and unwavering determination. But after everything we've been through side by side, I finally see your light, concealed beneath your armor."
Jeanne leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her light locks cascaded down her back, resembling a shower of silk strands.
"Oh, Harry..." she breathed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I never realized that you saw me this way..."
Her cheeks blazed with fire, and her heart pounded in her throat. Jeanne suddenly understood how much those sincere words of admiration meant to her, coming from someone she cherished so dearly.
The music flowed with velvety hues, carrying Harry and Jeanne in a graceful stream of dance. Their figures merged into a single elegant silhouette against the backdrop of festive illuminations and floral garlands.
Suddenly, Harry winced as if struck by sudden fatigue. Memories rushed in like a whirlwind, causing cold drops of sweat to fall on his forehead. He was back there again, on the lavender field surrounded by the mutilated bodies of French villagers...
Those were the first nightmares that haunted him after meeting Jeanne during the Tournament. Harry had seen her other side – merciless and furious, sparing neither women nor children on her bloody path. It was frightening and repulsive, yet intriguing at the same time...
Jeanne looked at him with concern, swaying in the dance.
"Harry? What's wrong? You suddenly turned pale..."
He shook his head, trying to shake off the haunting images.
"It's nothing, just... some things from the past came back. Memories."
Jeanne smiled sadly, her palm gliding along his cheek in a soothing caress.
"You saw my darkest sides, that's true. But it was necessary in those times – to fight until the last breath, without mercy."
She leaned her temple against his forehead, and in that gesture, Harry felt something more than just a friendly embrace. It was as if a fragment of Jeanne's soul flowed into him, enveloping him in an enduring light and strength.
"But you accepted it and managed to see the real me, Harry," she whispered barely audibly. "We are bound now, inseparable, and if necessary, I will follow you..."
Her words hung in the air, barely audible amidst the festive buzz, but filled with a much deeper meaning. Harry nodded fervently, still struggling with the lingering visions of past cruelties. Deep down, he understood – Jeanne would now become his ally and support in any possible wars. Such was their destiny – to walk together in darkness and light.
The celebration was in full swing. The musicians played lively melodies, interspersed with traditional English and French dance tunes. Astolfo and Sam had already danced their hearts out, drawing the other guests along with them.
At some point, a wave of excitement spread over the crowd, and people began to form a semicircle. Fleur stepped forward, radiant, holding a magnificent bouquet of crimson roses in her hands. She playfully winked at her husband Bill, and he nodded encouragingly in return.
"Come on, girls, form a semicircle!" Fleur announced. "It's time to determine who will be the next to get married!"
Squeals and giggles filled the air as the unmarried witches and sorceresses hurried to form a semicircle behind the bride. Only Mordred stood slightly apart, wearing a detached expression, not joining in the general excitement.
"Hey, Mordred!" Ron called out with a gruff voice. "Come over here, don't be shy! Maybe you'll catch it too!"
Mordred remained silent, but Hermione tugged at her hand and practically pushed her into the circle.
"Come on, participate!" she teased with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Who knows, it might be your destiny?"
Mordred only made a displeased face.
Fleur turned her back to the girls and prepared to throw the bouquet over her shoulder. Jeanne stood still, arms crossed over her chest, unperturbed by the proceedings.
At the last moment, she suddenly turned to look at Harry, as if seeking his approval. He smiled encouragingly at her, and Jeanne felt her heart flutter.
The bouquet soared above the heads of the girls in a tight, fluffy cluster. Mash followed its flight and in a decisive moment, she tilted her head back, making a swift lunge. One hand moved faster than the others, snatching the bouquet with snake-like agility.
A unanimous cheer erupted from the astonished crowd. Momentarily stunned, Jeanne surveyed the attendees, clutching the bouquet in her hand. Then her gaze settled somewhere in front of her nose and fixed on the ground, and she allowed herself a shy smile.
"Wow, what a catch!" Sam whistled, patting Jeanne on the shoulder. "Next time, offer your services as a Quidditch Seeker, d'Arc!"
The crowd buzzed with lively chatter, exchanging jokes. Even Nikola Tesla smirked, observing the scene. And Harry continued to radiate a happy smile, casting an admiring glance at Jeanne from under his brow.
1
Immersing himself in the crowd to get away from Ron's drunken uncle – that gentleman seemed unable to comprehend whether Harry was his son or not – he spotted an old wizard sitting alone at a table.
Harry approached the old Doge, who resembled a cherished dandelion with his halo of white hair and a crushed top hat on his head. After getting acquainted, they decided to raise their glasses of champagne and start a conversation. Recalling Rita Skeeter's article about Dumbledore, they suddenly discovered that they had different views on the matter. Doge assured Harry that all the accusations were false, but their conversation was interrupted by the cunning Auntie Muriel, who was in awe of Rita Skeeter.
The fidgety redhead cousin, accompanied by Muriel, joined them. Sharp debates ensued as they discussed Rita Skeeter's book. Auntie Muriel insisted that Dumbledore concealed some secrets about his sister, casting doubt on the purity of his intentions. Harry, with a bewildered expression, watched them with a troubled gaze, recalling his own childhood difficulties and realizing that nothing is as it seems at first glance.
Muriel's words instilled vague suspicions and stirred up excitement in Harry's heart. She spoke about her mother's friendship with Bathilda Bagshot, who claimed to have witnessed a fight between Aberforth and Dumbledore at the gravesite. Enthusiastically sharing this information, Muriel captivated her listeners and sparked excitement. Harry tried to understand what to believe, realizing that something strange and mysterious lay in this story.
"And let me tell you something else," hiccupped Muriel, putting the glass down and speaking. "I think it was Bathilda who spilled all to Rita Skeeter. Remember, Skeeter hinted in her interview about an important source close to the Dumbledore family? By God, Bathilda was there during the whole story with Ariana," she claimed. "She's the very source!"
"Bathilda wouldn't talk to Rita Skeeter for anything," whispered Doge.
"Bathilda Bagshot?" Harry asked. "The author of 'A History of Magic'?"
That name was on the cover of one of Harry's textbooks, although, admittedly, not the one he read with the most attention.
"Yes," Doge replied, grasping at his question like a drowning man reaching for a lifebuoy. "An extremely talented historian of magic and a longtime friend of Albus."
"Now they say she's completely lost her mind," Auntie Muriel happily reported.
"If that's the case, it's even more dishonorable for Skeeter to take advantage of her condition," Doge said. "And relying on Bathilda's accounts is even more unreliable."
"Well, there are various ways to extract memories from her mind. I'm sure Rita Skeeter knows them inside out," Auntie Muriel said. "And even if Bathilda has completely lost it, she probably still has old photographs, or even letters. She knew the Dumbledores for many years... so I think it was well worth a visit to her in Godric's Hollow."
Harry, just taking a sip of butterbeer, choked on it. Doge pounded on his back, and Harry couldn't take his teary eyes off Auntie Muriel. Finally regaining his voice, he asked:
"Does Bathilda Bagshot live in Godric's Hollow?"
"Yes, she always has. The Dumbledores moved to that area after Percival was imprisoned, and she became their neighbor," Auntie Muriel grumbled in response.
Harry felt squeezed, emptied. In the six years of their acquaintance, Dumbledore had never mentioned that they both lived there and both lost loved ones in Godric's Hollow. Why? And how far was it from Lily and James's grave to the burial place of Dumbledore's mother and sister? If Dumbledore visited them, perhaps he passed by Harry's parents' grave? But he never spoke about it to Harry... never bothered to say...
Why it mattered so much, Harry couldn't explain, even to himself. Yet he felt that Dumbledore's silence about their shared places and experiences was equivalent to a lie. He stared ahead, barely aware of what was happening around him, and didn't notice Hermione breaking free from the crowd until she took a seat next to him.
"I can't dance anymore," she panted, taking off her shoes and rubbing her feet. "Ron went to get butterbeer. Strange, I just saw Victor storm off from his father, looks like they had an argument..." Hermione looked into his face and lowered her voice. "Harry, are you okay?"
The music suddenly stopped on a piercing note. In the ensuing silence, a radiant patronus emerged out of nowhere – a huge sparkling lynx. From its glowing mouth came the cracked voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt:
"Fudge is dead. The Ministry has fallen. Death Eaters and Scrimgeour's forces are battling for power. They're getting closer."
Everyone fell silent, even the patronus faded in horror. But the sepulchral silence was only broken by screams and the sound of shattering glass coming from the direction of the Burrow. The guests froze at the terrible news they couldn't believe. Fleur paled, clutching Bill's hand, unable to cope with the sense of horror and fear that engulfed her.
But Harry couldn't afford to stay in shock. He stepped forward decisively, trying to take control of the situation:
"Did you all hear that?! The Ministry has been taken over! We need to act immediately!"
He stopped, realizing that this was only half of the truth. How could they know that the castle had also come under attack? But then Lupin and Tonks burst in, waving their wands and shouting:
"Attack! Death Eaters and Inferi are coming through the valley!"
Tonks skillfully deflected several fireballs that flew out of the darkness, while Lupin shielded them with protective charms. Everyone reacted quickly, but the situation seemed increasingly hopeless.
"Quick, everyone to the Burrow!" Lupin barked, conjuring a Patronus in the form of a werewolf. "Guys, take action! Veelas, guard the guests!"
Astolfo and Mordred stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to draw their weapons, and Nikola Tesla prepared to do something, but then ragged Inferi with burning eyes burst into the crowd. The crowd screamed in horror as the wizards huddled together, ready for battle.
"Harry!" he heard a shout and immediately saw Sirius, who firmly grabbed his shoulder and led him aside. Harry felt a wave of relief at the sight of his godfather, but he had to refocus immediately, dodging incoming spells.
"Grab Jeanne and Ellen! Quickly, to the castle!" Sirius shouted. Harry felt a surge of relief at the sight of his godfather, but almost immediately he regrouped, dodging another onslaught of spells.
But the ground trembled beneath their feet, and the ominous figures with burning eyes inexorably approached. They had to act quickly and decisively, or everything would be lost. Harry understood that this was only the beginning of terrible events that could destroy everything he was accustomed to and loved. He tensed his willpower and tightly gripped his wand, ready to fight to the end. This was his battle, his world, and he would not surrender without a fight.
Inferi, demons from the depths of hell, suddenly broke free from their dark dungeons, cackling with madness, driven to frenzy by the freedom granted to them by a cunning wizard. Their eyes, burned by fire, shone with a deathly light, their fanged mouths let out howls that drove people insane. Following them, Death Eaters poured onto the clearing, unleashing a hail of deadly spells on the guests.
Coming to the aid of their friends were Jeanne, Astolfo, and Mordred. Jeanne's sword slashed through the monsters with a single swing, cutting through their ranks. Mordred and Astolfo worked together, with Mordred protecting Astolfo from behind against enemy attacks.
But from the darkness came new cries – mighty shadows were already rushing onto the clearing. Gigantic brutes, each with limbs like a giant's, grabbed defenseless guests and threw them to the ground.
"Trolls!" Hermione cried out, recognizing them. Following the giants, the source of all this nightmare emerged onto the clearing – a group of Death Eaters led by a curly-haired dwarf and a girl in black armor.
"Oberon and Passionlip!" Tesla hissed through clenched teeth.
The hero of electricity turned around, preparing to unleash his abilities, but his confusion dissipated as soon as he saw the formidable Servant standing before him, towering ten feet tall. His shoulders were draped with a lion's mane, crossbow bolts protruded from his torso, and in his hands burned an ancient weapon – a giant club.
"And Hercules..." Tesla whispered in horror. "Gods, what a nightmare!"On the clearing, an atmosphere of pitch-black madness and fear prevailed, as if the devil himself held his party here. Harry and his friends faced gigantic and terrifying monsters that showed no intention of compromising. Everything around them burned and thundered, screamed and fell. But even in this chaos, Harry couldn't help but notice how Tesla, Mash, and Robin Hood fought alongside him, despite their fear and danger.
With each passing minute, the enemies grew stronger, and the forces of the Weasley couple and other defenders of the house grew weaker. Their attempts to protect their loved ones and their home from the attack seemed futile. They fought with desperation and bravery, but their eyes revealed the inevitable defeat.
"Get out of the way, you freeloaders!" growled a hoarse, rumbling voice. At the center of the cataclysm stood a mighty hairy man, with enormous fangs on his face resembling a Beast from ancient legends. In his hands, he tightly gripped an impressive bow, shooting one arrow after another.
Tesla distracted a swarm of Inferi, directing bright electric arcs towards the enemy. But now Mash and Robin Hood, the Servant of Fred and George, joined him. The young archer assumed a classic stance and carefully aimed, helping his allies clear the path.
"Run!" Harry heard Sirius shout through the howls and crashes. He turned and saw his godfather waving his hand frantically, urging them to follow him away from the Burrow.
Harry rushed towards him, dragging Helen and Sam along. Ron and Hermione ran side by side with them, and Fred and George ran alongside. Sirius tightly clutched the portkey pendant. The air around them crackled with flashes of spells, waves of heat washing over them.
With one final desperate effort, Black pulled the pendant, and they all disappeared into the heart of the whirlpool, leaving the tormented Burrow behind forever. At that very moment, the powerful body of Hercules crashed onto the ruins of the house, mercilessly trampling the remnants of former comfort...