Harry's mop, or as Faraday would have it, Muggle's Broom, picked up speed. Soon the rows of similar looking large square houses disappeared from view, giving way to taller buildings and more crowded boulevards. People on the sidewalk would point at him, but that was the last thing on his mind right now. . . . He didn't know anything about Muggle law, but he wasn't worried that riding a flying mop with Muggle equipment would be considered a violation of the International Statute of Secrecy. His hands were numb and tingling as he gripped the iron handle high in the air in the bitter cold of winter, and his eyes were watering from the strong wind created by the drones' propellers.
"Harry, do you know the train's route?" Faraday said on the phone.
"I have to get to King's Cross Station first," replied Harry. "If I can see where the tracks lead from there, I should get a good idea of where the train is going. . . ."
"You'd better get some altitude then. Open the app on your phone — you can adjust the drone's direction and altitude from there."
Harry clicked on the drone icon in Faraday's list of apps, and a map appeared on the screen, with tiny red dots moving quickly to indicate the two drones. Harry moved the slider up, and the drones lifted the mop higher. It was hard to keep his eyes open for long now, with the cold wind blowing in front of him and the gusts from the propellers, but he could just make out a huge, sooty building below.
"I've found King's Cross station!" Harry cried into the phone, then squinted to see the tracks, which looked like nothing more than slender sticks from up here. Finally, he spotted one of the tracks running alongside the others, a little off to the side, heading north on its own. Muggles might assume that it was no longer in use.
"Listen, Harry. Someone's approaching the building I'm in, and from the way they're armed with weapons and wands, I'm guessing it's the Dawn Breakers," said Faraday breathlessly. "I'm hiding for now, but not for long. . . . The safety of the children may depend on you."
"What do you mean, Faraday?" exclaimed Harry. Despite the cold, his grip on the phone was slick with sweat. "What if I get there and have no way of contacting others? I can't fight them alone! You have to tell my friends somehow!"
"Harry, I was quite impressed with your speech at the Ministry of Magic the other day," said Faraday quietly. "You said that ordinary people, not heroes, could win this war, and now it's time for you to prove those words to yourself. You won't need any great spells or powerful wands, just a good use of your brain and somehow save those children. . . ."
Even as he spoke, beyond the receiver, the creak of the door opening and the sound of footsteps on the hard cement floor grew louder.
"There's someone in there!" someone shouted menacingly into the phone, and the footsteps grew faster and louder. "Knock him out!"
"Good luck, Harry," said Faraday, and the line went dead.
Harry stared at the beeping phone for a moment, then fiddled with the app, adjusting the drones. Now he was all alone. . . . Even when he'd chased the Hogwarts Express in a flying car in his second year because of Dobby, he'd been with Ron, and he'd been a wizard then. But now, thirty years later, he was flying alone to fight powerful enemies with nothing but a plastic wand to rely on, but he had no other choice.
As he flew over King's Cross station, the dirty buildings and cars on the street now looked tiny, like toys. Harry opened the map application on his phone, pinpointed his current location, and pointed his mop north. He remembered flying over this route with Ron, and if he kept going, he'd eventually find the Hogwarts Express; for now, it was important to find the train as quickly as possible. Harry zoomed out of the map with his fingers, trying to figure out from his childhood memories which path the train had taken. When he finally found a spot where fields, moorland, and a small village lay side by side, he sped up the drones.
After an hour or so, he could feel nothing in the fingers that had stiffened and gripped the cold metal handle out of pure instinct, and his knees ached from holding the mop. Without the use of magic, he would surely die if he fell to the ground . . . like Romilda Vane, whom he had failed to save. At that thought, Harry's increasingly blurred vision cleared for a moment, and it was then that he saw what he was looking for on the distant plains. The Hogwarts Express, like a crimson snake in the distance, was making its way through the middle of the grassy wasteland.
"I've got it! Now all I have to do is get on it!" Harry shouted to himself.
He maneuvered his phone to speed up the drones, wiped the tears from his eyes that stung from the gusting wind, and fixed his eyes on the long, red shape. The train came closer, slowly but steadily, and as it did, Harry lowered his altitude a little with his thumb on the phone. Maybe he and Faraday had been worrying for nothing. . . . Maybe the train would make it to Hogsmeade without incident and drop off the students safely as usual. . . . But being on that train and making sure the kids were safe seemed more important than anything right now.
It was then that a flashing orange light directly below him made him look away from the train. The eerie glow came from a drone. It hadn't been long since he'd started studying electricity, but he at least knew that it wasn't a good sign to have a reddish glow coming from electronic equipment. Harry picked up his phone to check the status of the drones Faraday had summoned, and saw that the battery bar was dangerously low and turning red.
"Please, just a little more," Harry muttered. He suddenly longed for the Firebolt, which had always carried its master, no matter how long they had flown. The propellers of the drone in front of him began to slow noticeably, and the mop carrying him tilted forward. Harry slid back as far as the space would allow, struggling to keep his balance. . . . The only good news was that the drone hanging behind him was still working. The Muggle's Broom quickly lost altitude as the train approached. Now he could see more clearly the dry grass sprouting in the fields it crossed, and the dark earth beneath it, and the train was no longer a crawling crimson snake, but a moving red wall cutting off the middle of the land. The drone's orange lights now flashed the same red as the Hogwarts Express, and acrid gray smoke rose between its propellers.
"Just a little further . . . we're almost there . . . " Harry was now close enough to see every detail of the train's transparent windows. He scanned the corridors for help, but the children crammed into the tightly closed compartments were too busy chattering to look outside. The mop was now flying so low that it was almost parallel to the train. His initial plan was to jump onto the roof, but he didn't have enough altitude for that. His broom was slowing down, and if he kept flying like this, he might just miss the back of the train.
Harry stretched his hands out in front of him, holding on to the handle with just his legs, as he had once done as a Seeker in a Quidditch match. As his center of gravity shifted forward, the drone hanging precariously in front of him plunged downward in an instant. Just before the Muggle's Broom slammed into the side of the train's rear carriage, Harry released his leg and jumped up, throwing his arms out. With a thud from below, the broom and the drones it was mounted on slammed into the train, causing a small explosion. Harry clung to the slippery red roof of the train and barely managed to stay on it, his legs flailing in the air like a man trying to get up from the water just before drowning, and finally he lay on his stomach on the roof, gasping for air.
"I'm too old for this . . . I sure am," Harry muttered to himself, and then, gripping the metal roof with his bare hands to keep from slipping, he carefully stepped over the small, fenced-in scaffolding that hung from the back of the train.
As he was about to push open the windowed door, he saw a small boy, who appeared to be a freshman, walking down the empty corridor. He had shaggy brown hair and a plain-looking face, but something about the way he looked out the window made Harry stop. If he was that young, he couldn't be a prefect or Head Boy, and there was no reason for him to be patrolling alone. Then the boy pulled a black object out of his pocket and put it to his ear, and Harry gulped as he realized it was a walkie-talkie.
"This is Buchanan. I've just arrived at the scene of the explosion, nothing suspicious. Probably just someone setting off a firecracker for fun," the small boy said, looking at the spot where Harry had just hit with the Muggle's Broom he'd been riding. The boy turned and spoke into his walkie-talkie. "Still, I'd like to request more scouts, just in case. I'll keep an eye on the area."
The boy who called himself Buchanan was unmistakably a disguised Dawn Breaker. . . . No one was supposed to recognize him, so it made sense to disguise him as a first year. The walkie-talkie must have been placed in a special locker to avoid confiscation during the electronics search, or it must have been hidden on the train beforehand. Now that he had seen the conspiracy of the Dawn Breakers unfold before his eyes on this train, at least he knew that he hadn't come here for nothing, but Harry felt even more helpless: How could he get help without being seen by these little impostors?
When he looked up again and peered through the window, Buchanan, who had been pacing around, finally pushed open the door to a compartment in the distance. Without hesitation, Harry pushed through the door and began to walk quickly down the corridor, crouching as low as he could. Fortunately, the next compartment was unoccupied at the moment, although there were some belongings on the seats, and Harry slipped inside and sat down by the window. From now on he had to keep his wits about him. If he was caught without his magic, he would be overpowered and all the children in here would be taken before he had a chance to tell anyone what was going on. . . . A cold sweat broke out as he remembered that his three children — James, Albus and Lily — were also on board.
At that moment, his attention was drawn to an owl in a cage across from him, its head tucked under its wing. Yes, he could write a letter by owl post — but could he get help fast enough? Just then, he heard voices from the hallway and quickly took off his cloak and threw it over himself to cover his face. The children, laughing among themselves, fell silent as they entered their compartment and saw him. Through the blurred vision of his cloak, Harry was aware that three small figures were looking at him.
"Who's that?" One of the boys slammed the door shut and crouched down in the farthest seat he could find, and the other two sat down around him, scattering small objects wrapped in paper on the empty seats — they must have brought some snacks.
"Strange, he wasn't here before we left," a girl whispered this time.
"Who do you reckon he is? A new professor?" another boy hissed, this time with a deeper voice than before. "And what would he be teaching?"
When Harry was sure the three were not impostors disguised as children, he pulled down his cloak and revealed his face. The startled children took one look at his face, almost instinctively recognizing the lightning scar on his forehead, and let out a shrill squeal.
"Okay, everyone, calm down, don't make a sound," said Harry quietly, scanning the faces of the three children who shared the compartment with him. Unfortunately, he didn't recognize any of them: a chubby blond boy who reminded him of Dudley as a child, another boy with dark hair and a lot of freckles on his face, and a girl with short red hair and a thin frame. They looked to be in their second or third year, and he could tell they were Ravenclaws by the white and blue scarves they wore.
"You're Mr. Harry Potter, right?" the girl said, her eyes wide. "How long have you been here?"
"I'm sure he's been here since we departed," the boy who looked like Dudley said with a grin. "Mr. Potter has the best Invisibility Cloak in the world, it would be easy to hide from any of us."
"I appreciate your concern, children, but let's not tell anyone I'm here," Harry said, pointing to the owl cage in front of him. "And I need to get a letter sent in a hurry — could I borrow your owl?"
"Wow, it's a secret operation, isn't it?" The dark-haired boy exchanged a conspiratorial grin with his friends and pulled a scrap of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill from his pocket. "My owl's name is Diana. It would be an honor for her to serve you, Mr. Potter!"
Harry took the parchment and began to scribble a letter to Hermione. The redheaded girl, who had been staring at him the whole time, opened her mouth and spoke in a low voice.
"Hey, Mr. Potter — I heard a rumor that you became a Muggle. . . . That's a lie, isn't it?"
"Of course it is, my parents always said it was just a rumor he spread to hide himself for a while," the chubby boy said with a confident voice. "Look, he really is working on a covert operation."
Harry nodded dryly, although he was a little annoyed by the constant interruptions. He finished the letter requesting that reinforcements be sent to the train immediately, then opened the door to the birdcage. The ash-feathered owl that had been pretending to sleep clicked its beak in annoyance, but reluctantly stretched out its leg and let Harry bind the letter to it.
"Now, Diana — I need to get this delivered as soon as possible, okay?" said Harry seriously, and Diana's eyes opened wide and she clicked her beak a few times reassuringly before sitting on Harry's outstretched arm. Seeing that no one was in the hallway, Harry quickly opened the window and let the owl fly out.
The three children, now clinging to the window, watched with Harry as the owl flapped its wings and flew away from the train. Just then, a black drone swooped down from higher in the sky, swift as a hawk swooping down on its prey, and opened fire with its machine gun. The poor owl was hit by a hail of bullets, and in an instant it fell to the ground in a bloody heap, feathers flying everywhere.
"No, Diana!" the dark-haired boy cried out in shock, while the girl quickly covered her screaming mouth. Harry stared blankly at the spot where the owl had just been, feeling as they did, and shook his head to clear his mind. How naive of him to think that all he had to do was get on the Hogwarts Express and everything would be fine. . . . He had to do something, anything, to let the Ministry of Magic and the grown-up witches and wizards know what was going on.
"We have to find a way to contact the outside world," said Harry gravely, and the children looked at him with frightened faces. "Do you know anyone who can use the Patronus Charm?"
The dark-haired boy shook his head quickly, wiping away a tear that was rolling down his cheek, and the chubby boy and the redheaded girl exchanged glances for a moment.
"Rumor has it that Scorpius Malfoy knows the spell," the girl said.
"But he's not on this train . . . . Merlin's beard," hissed Harry. "Then maybe there's another adult on this train —" He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. "Just tell them you don't know who I am, okay?" he said quickly to the children, then covered his face with his cloak and pretended to be asleep.
The compartment door swung open and Harry could see a small figure step in behind the cloak. It was obviously Buchanan, the Dawn Breaker disguised as a first year who had just been patrolling the corridors.
"Who's that?" said Buchanan sharply.
"Oh, I think it's the new professor," the girl replied nonchalantly. "We didn't see his face either. . . . He must be very tired."
"Really? I don't think he's been here before."
"You were too small to see him, little one," the chubby boy snapped. "If you're a first year, why are you snooping around someone else's compartment?"
"Why is he crying?" said the Dawn Breaker in disguise, ignoring his words. "Is that the one who just stupidly let out an owl?"
"Yes, that's right, and you're going to buy me a new one or get lost!" shouted the dark-haired boy, Diana's owner.
The tension in the room was almost palpable. Even though he was in the form of a small child, Buchanan would be able to overpower anyone in the room, including Harry, in an instant if he wanted to. Fortunately, the disguised child left the room without a word, slamming the door behind him. Harry stepped out from behind his cloak and quickly approached the door, pressing his face close to the window. The impostor walked down the corridor, checking out the other compartments.
"Children, do not leave this place if you can help it, and especially do not tell anyone that I am on this train. Do you understand?" Harry said, looking back at them, and the Ravenclaws nodded, looking determined. "This is a covert operation, just like you said, and I'm going to get you out safely no matter what, so just stay calm and wait."
Harry stepped out into the corridor just as the disguised Dawn Breaker found his compartment and entered it, then crouched down to approach the spot he'd been eyeing through the window. Inside the compartment were four boys, huddled around their suitcases, wide open on the empty seats, gulping liquid from a small tin can. They were gasping for air and swallowing the contents painfully, looking disgusted.
"Wow, I'm thankful this is the last sip — it tastes really awful," said Buchanan, the shortest of the four, wiping the liquid from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "My Polyjuice tastes like it's been thickened with snot."
"Wanna taste mine?" Another boy in the seat across from him said, glaring at the tin bucket of water in his hand. "It musta come from the bladder of a cow that has been dead for a month . . . "
"Quiet, everyone," said the tallest boy among them. "Time's up. . . . Soon, one by one, we'll take off our disguises, change into these clothes, and spread out across the aisles." He pointed to an open backpack containing a black military uniform and red caps. "By then, the convoy will be outside. You will subdue the blood bags in your respective positions, and we will take them all out. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." Buchanan grabbed his black military uniform from the bag and stood up, and Harry quickly moved away from the window. "I'm gonna use the bathroom first, and then I'll wait in there for your signal — that's where the cowards will try to hide when the attack starts anyway."
Harry didn't have time to think before he was out of earshot and heading for the bathroom. There was nowhere to hide in the empty corridor and a surprise attack there would give him a slight advantage. Harry had just stepped into the bathroom when he heard the sliding door slam from the hallway outside. With his heart pounding and his breathing labored, Harry dove into the open stall and locked the door behind him. Soon he heard footsteps and the sound of the Dawn Breaker entering the bathroom. Harry pulled his fake wand from his pocket, ready to attack.
"Hey, who's in there?" a young boy's voice said from outside, banging on the stall he was hiding in. "Come out quick, I need to use this."
This was not a situation Harry had expected. . . . But now that he thought about it, if they were going to show their true colors soon anyway, it seemed to make sense to take care of a witness first. However, as a Muggle, he wasn't sure he could win a hand-to-hand fight against a Dark wizard.
"I-I have a stomach ache right now . . . " Harry said in a thin, shaky voice, trying to sound as childlike as possible. "Can you give me a minute?"
"Alohomora!" The voice shouted from outside, and the door to the compartment he was hiding in slid open silently. A small hand grabbed the door and yanked it open. In front of him stood Buchanan, a smirk on his young face, pointing his wand at his opponent. "Oh, look who's here — Harry Potter himself has come all this way. . . . It must've be you behind the cloak earlier."
Harry lunged at his enemy, using his size to his advantage, but his hand only grazed the ducking boy's bushy hair. Buchanan quickly scrambled backwards, away from Harry's reach, then pointed his wand straight at him and bellowed, "Stupefy!"
A flash of red light came in front of his eyes and Harry's vision went black as all the strength left his legs. His consciousness faded even as he realized he was falling to the ground, his head hitting the hard floor with a thud. . . . Then he felt a tingling sensation in his chest and his heart began to beat so fast he could hear it pounding, pumping hot blood throughout his body. Harry's consciousness returned as quickly as it had left. His skull throbbed from the impact of the fall, and he could feel the bridge of his glasses crushed against the side of his head, just above his ear. Harry remained motionless, his eyes still closed as he quickly tried to process what had happened. Yes, he could feel the heavy weight of the Anti-Stunning device dangling from his chest. . . . The device must have administered a stimulant at the exact moment its owner had passed out, bringing him back to reality.
Harry squeezed open his eyes to see the Dawn Breaker in a boy's body approaching and looking down at him with his wand carefully pointed at him. Buchanan kicked Harry sideways with his foot, forcing him to lie flat on his back, and then, relieved that he hadn't stirred, lowered the wand in his hand a little. At that moment, Harry was on his feet in a flash and swung Buchanan's arm back, sending his wand crashing into the wall and breaking in half with a loud crack. He then pointed his plastic wand at the panicked boy's exposed neck and pressed a button. A small projectile shot out and stuck to his skin, and Buchanan twitched and fell backwards with a jolt of electricity. Harry snatched the broken wand from the disguised child's hand and threw it away, quickly loading a fresh projectile into his own wand. Fortunately, the current through the small body seemed to be substantial; even after the Taser wore off, Buchanan remained stunned, unable to get up.
Harry removed Buchanan's belt and tied his hands behind his back, then took a handkerchief from his chest and tied it tightly over his mouth before hiding him, along with his broken wand, in the bathroom stall where he had been earlier. Harry stood in front of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was pale from his time in the cupboard, and his eyes were bloodshot with fatigue behind his round glasses. His graying hair was disheveled, with a few stray strands. His heart was still pounding from the stimulant he'd just been given, and his vision was blurred and throbbing from the blood rushing through his body. After turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on his face a few times, he was able to regain some composure.
Now he had to start planning again. . . . Would there be any way to contact the outside world? Come to think of it, there were two adults on the Hogwarts Express besides the children: the driver and a witch who pushed the trolley. If he could contact them and let them know what was going on, they might be able to use magic or other means to get outside help. . . . The problem was, he didn't know how many other Dawn Breakers were on this train besides the disguised kids in the compartment Buchanan had just been in. . . . If he got caught going to the front of the train, things could get worse than they already were. Barring a stroke of luck like the one he'd just had, confronting the Dark wizards would be impossible at this point.
Just then, a loud creaking noise in the corridor outside the bathroom interrupted Harry's thoughts. Harry had just raised his wand in self-defense when the door swung open and a plump woman entered. It was the same old witch Harry had known since childhood, with the same slightly hunched back and dimpled face, pushing a cart full of various snacks.
"I thought I heard a noise in here. . . What — aren't you Harry Potter?" the Trolley Witch said, startled. "Has something happened?"
"There are intruders on this train." Harry gestured to the toilet stall where he had just tied up the Dawn Breaker. "I've subdued one of them, but there are a few more. . . . I need to call for reinforcements, do you happen to know how to use the Patronus Charm?"
"Patronus? No, I'm a Squib! But people have been calling me a witch ever since Minister Ottaline Gambol hired me to work on this train about two hundred years ago," said the woman, her face beaming with pride. "And the driver of this train is also a Squib."
"So you're saying there are no adult wizards here? Is there any way to send out an alarm?" said Harry desperately.
"Well, if we need to make contact, we can always borrow a student's owl," the witch said.
"I tried that, but it didn't work," said Harry gloomily. He'd thought he'd had some unexpected luck in meeting the Trolley Witch, which made his current situation all the more frustrating.
"As far as I can tell, the Dawn Breakers are going to raid this train soon. . . . If we don't alert others now, the adults won't start looking until evening when they realize the train isn't coming. By then, all the children on board will be gone, and we may never find them again!"
"Why don't you hide among them and see where the children are being taken?" said the Trolley Witch casually. "Maybe you can find a way to contact your friends later."
Harry was about to reply, but then he spotted Buchanan's black uniform and red hat that had fallen in the midst of the scuffle and picked it up.
"Well, if I can blend in with them in this, I suppose it's possible. . . But if I have to show my face, I'll have a hard time blending in unless there's a riot. Do you happen to have any emergency weapons on this train, something that could cause quite a scene?"
"Of course there is!" exclaimed the Trolley Witch. "And it's right in front of you!"
Harry looked around in anticipation and took a closer look at the water tap, wondering if it had a special function like the one in the girls' toilet to open the Chamber of Secrets. But the Trolley Witch grabbed him and turned him back to her.
"Not that — I am the weapon!" she said in an annoyed tone. "I've been in charge of security on this train since it went into service . . . and it's my job to stop any rascal from getting off or any villain from getting on."
Harry studied the witch's hunched back, petite frame, and dimpled cheeks. He doubted that the friendly woman pushing the food cart he'd seen since he was a boy would be able to hold off the Dawn Breakers for more than a few seconds. Besides, a Squib wouldn't be able to cast any useful spells.
"You don't believe me yet? I stopped your father and Sirius Black from getting off this train, Mr. Potter, as well as brothers Fred and George Weasley. Not stopping your clever son and Scorpius Malfoy from jumping is the only blemish on my two hundred year career."
"I guess I have no choice," said Harry helplessly. "If they really do stop this train later, I want you to make as much of a fuss as possible so that I can slip in. Oh, and there's a spy in this section that I knocked out, is there any way to erase his memory?"
"There isn't, but I have some Draught of Living Death here," the witch said, pulling out a clear liquid in a small glass vial. "It's made from asphodel and wormwood, and I use it as a sleeping potion when I get too bored on the way back. . . . Two sips of this and he won't be able to wake up for days, no matter what they try."
Harry poured some of the potion into Buchanan's mouth, who was still stunned in his childlike state, and soon he was snoring and falling deeper into sleep, true to her word. For the time being, he didn't have to worry about Buchanan waking up and giving Harry any trouble. After the Trolley Witch left with the cart filled with all kinds of treats, Harry took off his clothes and changed into the military uniform. He didn't know what Buchanan actually looked like, but even with his hat pushed down and his glasses in his pocket, it was hard to say that the person he saw in the mirror was him. . . . He could only hope that the Trolley Witch would cause quite a stir.
Harry was pushing his bangs flat to cover the lightning scar on his forehead a little more when he suddenly heard the faint sound of propellers. Harry hurriedly opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. The corridor was empty, as if none of the children had noticed. Then, from a compartment in the distance, a man in a black uniform and red hat stuck his head out and waved to him, and Harry nodded and quickly turned away. He approached the window, opened it and stuck his head out in the direction of the sound. His eyes stung from the strong, cold wind blowing in his face, but he could clearly see a huge helicopter hovering high in the sky. . . .
They were passing through a small patch of forest beyond the wasteland, and out of the corner of his eye he could see shapes moving across the plain, hidden by the trees and their shadows. It was the perfect place for an ambush. Harry looked up again, just in time to see a dark figure jump from the helicopter. The shape, which looked more like smoke than an object, circled the sky and began a slow descent toward the Hogwarts Express. Not long after the black smoke left Harry's line of sight, the steel ceiling of the corridor in front of him collapsed with a thud. Several children, now realizing that something was wrong, came out of their compartments, screaming at the sight of a bulge in the ceiling above them. . . .
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. There were more clunks, and each time the ceiling caved in from the direction of the sound. It was then that Harry realized that it was Eisenbein standing on the roof, and that it was his two steel legs that were making the ceiling do that. The next thing he knew, Harry's body was floating. . . . No, the whole train was floating. Beyond the windowsill, which Harry barely held onto with both hands, the view of the fields disappeared, replaced by a blue sky dotted with clouds. New cries of children erupted from the compartments and corridors, and as the train swayed and twisted through the air like a writhing snake, cages of owls and suitcases slid out of open doors into the aisles and rolled around.
When the train finally stopped jerking, it floated to the side of the tracks and moved out into the middle of the plain, then plunged down as suddenly as it had risen. Harry's body floated up, colliding hard with the ceiling before falling back to the floor, the view out the window obscured by the dust that had swirled outside. Clunk. Clunk. There were two more clunks on the ceiling and he caught a glimpse of a figure in a dark cloak falling to the ground. Harry pushed himself to his feet, holding onto the windowsill as he gritted his teeth at the pain from the blow to his head.
The dust from the crash began to settle and about thirty trucks, all black with canvas-covered cargo beds, rumbled out of the woods. With them came hundreds of Dawn Breakers in black uniforms and dark robes, pointing guns and wands at the train. The children, now almost all in the aisle, screamed in despair, and the older students spun in the air, trying to Disapparate, only to be blocked by an invisible wall and bounced back. The doors to three compartments burst open and a dozen adult men, all dressed in black military uniforms like Harry's, stepped out into the hallway, wands raised.
"Listen up, everyone! It's time to change cars!" A man with horn-rimmed glasses and a pimply face shouted. Harry realized it was Warren, a soldier of the Death Troop. . . . He must have somehow escaped with Eisenbein when their Factory had fallen. Warren pointed his wand at the ceiling, and with a loud explosion, the roof on that side of the train was ripped away, letting in a flood of sunlight.
"Solarsorge!"
A green orb rapidly rose from the tip of Warren's wand through the hole in the ceiling and exploded like a firecracker in the sky, sending blinding light in all directions. Children squealed as they shielded their eyes from the bright Dawn Mark, and screams erupted everywhere as the terror spread. Harry's eyes flickered to find his own children among them, then he turned away. Now was the time to keep his head cool. . . . He couldn't save any of them now anyway, and the biggest task at hand was to blend into the convoy without being spotted. As Harry turned to look out the window, Eisenbein, standing in front of his men, had just raised his Elder Wand and pointed it at the Hogwarts Express. The doors of the carriages burst open with a creaking sound like something breaking.
"Get out of here!" yelled Warren, his magically amplified voice echoing through the train as the Dawn Breakers lining the aisles fired red flares of menace. The children scrambled and jumped through the open doors into the wasteland below. Robby Leach and her men in gray uniforms stepped out, snickering with malice on their faces. With a flick of her wand, dozens of tables, each with a basket, appeared out of nowhere in front of the train.
"Put your wands in these baskets! You won't be needing them anymore," said Leach derisively.
A tall boy raised his wand to attack, but in an instant, a dozen flashes of red light shot from the Dawn Breakers' ranks, sending him flying and crashing into the train. The students, stunned by the sight, stepped forward and began throwing their wands into the basket.
"We're running out of time! Hand over your wands and get in the truck!" yelled Warren as he herded the remaining students on the train outside.
Harry, who was still standing in the aisle watching the scene through the window, looked to the side. Warren and the others checked the compartments one by one, pulling children out of hiding and shoving them roughly outside. Harry did the same, checking the compartments on his side, all of which were empty. "Homenum revelio," said Warren, and Harry felt the strange sensation of a shadow of something invisible falling over his body.
"Okay, all the compartments are empty. . . . Hey you, did you see who's in the bathroom?"
"Buchanan's down!" shouted Harry in a deliberately harsh voice. "I think he's been attacked by a student lurking in here — he needs medical attention!"
"Someone will take him to the infirmary later," Warren said, looking back to the other side of the train where Harry was. "That just leaves the two people on the engine side — take care of that."
At Warren's command, the three Dawn Breakers drew their wands and began walking to the front of the train. Warren took one last look at the empty carriages, glanced at Harry and motioned for him to disembark. Harry nodded, trying not to show his face, and slowly stepped off the Hogwarts Express. Next to him, a group of frightened children were sobbing and climbing into the trucks. The members of the Pain Troop, led by Leach, chuckled as they occasionally shot Cruciatus Curses, eliciting screams of agony from the writhing children. The Slytherins who were being recaptured, having just escaped after months of imprisonment, looked particularly distressed, shaking from head to toe as they climbed into the trucks, their faces pale with utter terror.
Harry approached the trucks slowly, taking his time. The Dawn Breakers ahead of him were too busy watching the children they held captive to look in Harry's direction, but if they watched his face closely enough, they would instantly recognize his true identity. . . . The best way to blend into the procession without being seen was to take a ride in one of the trucks, but the driver's seat was already occupied by the Dawn Breakers. If he took advantage of the commotion, he might be able to overpower one of them and take his place, but when would the Trolley Witch come out?
At that moment, an blast went off at the engine end of the train, shattering the windows and sending the Dawn Breakers sprawling on the grass. An even bigger explosion soon followed, blowing apart the entire engine and sending a huge plume of flame into the sky. It was as if a small volcano had exploded . . . the pieces of coal in the engine caught fire and hit the ground like little meteorites. The children all screamed and fell to the ground, and even the Dawn Breakers retreated in surprise. Only Eisenbein stood still, his head cocked in curiosity as he watched the spectacle. The Dawn Breakers slowly approached the flaming engine, wands and rifles pointed at it.
Slowly, a small figure emerged from the thick black smoke that billowed around them. Soon, an elderly woman with a broad smile on her face, pushing a cart of untouched treats across the grass, emerged from the raging flames. Under the bright light of the Dawn Mark hanging in the sky, the Trolley Witch slowly stepped out of the flames, looking completely unreal.
"Anything off the cart, dears?"
The Dawn Breakers opened fire. But the bullets did her no harm, bouncing off her solid body, which seemed to be made of steel, and sparking away.
"What would you like? Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?" The Trolley Witch smiled, deep dimples digging into her cheeks. "Here, try this first. It's going to be hot!"
The witch picked up a pumpkin pasty from the top of the wagon and threw it at the nearest empty truck. It exploded like a grenade, turning the truck into a fireball and blowing away the five soldiers who had gathered around it and had been firing their rifles at her.
"I can't use magic, but a long time ago the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries experimented on me and gave me very special powers . . . "
The Trolley Witch smiled and raised her hands to the sky, and the fingernails on them quickly grew into long, sharp spikes. Even Harry, who had hoped for such a fuss, watched the bizarre scene with his mouth agape, as did the Dawn Breakers and Hogwarts students.
"Minister Ottaline Gambol has entrusted me with such an important mission. This train doesn't like people getting off it, so leave us alone and get lost!"
"Fire the Killing Curse! Keep firing it!" shouted Robby Leach. The Dark wizards in black robes pointed their wands and began firing intense flashes of green light, and as if on cue, machine gun shot numerous bullets. The Trolley Witch approached the ranks, ignoring the bullets that rained down on her like a drizzle, and slashed at each Killing Curse with her long nails as it flew by. She grabbed a handful of Chocolate Frogs from the cart and threw them at the nearest enemies, and the frogs tore themselves out of their wrappers and scampered away, clinging to the Dawn Breakers' faces to distract them. She threw another Pumpkin Pasty, and five Dark wizards fell to the ground in the explosion. Harry had been watching in awe before he realized what he had to do; he walked over to the nearest truck and threw open the driver's door.
"We need backup! Get over there!" said Harry, and the nervous driver jumped out of the vehicle, drawing his pistol. Harry put his plastic wand to his neck and fired; the driver crumpled to the ground, paralyzed and convulsing. "Hey, somebody help! There's a man down!" yelled Harry, climbing into the driver's seat of the truck instead. He gripped the steering wheel and watched the situation nervously through the glass at the front of the vehicle. Pandemonium was breaking out outside. . . . More and more of the Dawn Breakers hesitated and backed away, the flames from the Trolley Witch's bombs smoldering and scorching the grass. The white-robed Healers and doctors on the Dawn Breakers' side were busy lifting their fallen comrades onto stretchers and carrying them to the back, while nearly a thousand Hogwarts students sat with their hands over their heads, unable to flee in terror.
It was then that Eisenbein, who had been standing still watching, finally took action. He flicked his wand, and the Pumpkin Pasty the Trolley Witch had thrown at him blew up as it bounced off. She screamed and lunged at him, brandishing her razor-sharp nails. Eisenbein calmly swung his wand again, and with a snap, her long nails broke off one by one and fell to the ground. The Trolley Witch, however, continued to charge like an angry beast, brandishing her shortened but still sharp nails.
"Avada Kedavra," said Eisenbein in a small but clear voice, and a bright flash of green light struck the Trolley Witch square in the face as she approached his periphery. The old woman, who for two hundred years had provided tasty treats to countless children who had traveled by the Hogwarts Express, fell backwards, her face still filled with rage and madness.
Eisenbein stared down at his victim's corpse for a moment, then swung his wand at the children huddled to one side. There was a brilliant flash of red light that shot out of the end of his wand and turned into a large crimson net that enveloped the children, causing the wands that had not yet been placed in the basket to fly out of their hands or pockets and into the distance toward the back of the stopped train. It seemed to be the most powerful Disarming Charm Harry had ever seen, working on so many people at once. . . .
"Roberta, get Roberts to wipe out all our traces. We've already lost some time."
At Eisenbein's words, Robby Leach nodded stiffly and called for her men. The children, still shaken by the death of the Trolley Witch that had just occurred in front of them, piled into the back of the truck like animated dolls. Even the back of Harry's truck rattled slightly as the cargo area behind him filled with passengers. As soon as the Dawn Breakers had finished loading the prisoners, the line of traffic began to move along the railroad tracks, starting with the trucks at the front full of the prisoners, and began to make their way out of the wasteland left by the unquenched flames.
Once the dozens of other trucks had left, Harry followed them. In the rearview mirror, at the devastating scene of the derailed train, Dark wizards were dousing the flames with streams of water from their wands, aided by drones spraying water from the air. When the flames were under control, the Dawn Breakers behind them used their magic to dig a huge pit and shove the train's wreckage and scattered luggage into it. Cruelly, they threw many owls into the pit, cage by cage, along with the body of the Trolley Witch, and buried them in the dirt. Harry shuddered at the shrill cries of the poor birds as they disappeared one by one into the ground.
By the time the professors and parents realized that their children had been kidnapped, there would be no trace of the Hogwarts Express anywhere along the long train tracks. Now the only person who could alert the Wizarding world to this massive kidnapping was Harry himself.