"ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ, ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜱɪɢɴɪꜰʏ, ᴛᴏ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴠɪꜱɪʙʟᴇ. ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ɪɴ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ; Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀʀʏ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴜꜱ."
― ᴊᴇᴀɴ ʙᴀᴜᴅʀɪʟʟᴀʀᴅ
Chapter Seventeen: I Await A Guardian
Fleetingly, Ruby had considered breaking off from the rest after they'd fled the Great Hall and joining the Slytherins, who knew the dungeons best and thus would lead the way down.
Follow the plan. To the letter. That was the last thing Tee had told her before he'd swept out into the middle of the Great Hall disguised as Harry; six hissed words that made her spine shiver.
Don't do anything stupid. You can't save anyone unless you end up killing someone else in the process. An eye for an eye. A limb for a limb.
She could only think of each terrible step he must take toward Voldemort. What's between you and your death, Tee? What makes you so sure of yourself? What could you have over the most powerful Dark wizard in all living memory?
And in her mind's eye, she saw him grabbing the kelpie by the reins — screaming at Dementors and taming kelpies; you always knew he wasn't normal. He is the Heir of Slytherin, after all.
It's in your blood, isn't it? Halfblood scum, bastard boy, Muggle foundling... Each word left a sticky trace in her mind. How had she been so blissfully oblivious?
Ruby shut her eyes as she walked, Voldemort's words resounding through her head and tears blooming under her eyelids as misery caught at her throat.
... I can trace my ancestry back to the great Salazar Slytherin himself.
No coincidence, she realised, only the truth she'd denied to give herself a semblance of safety on the outside. Now that she'd come home again, she could admit it to herself. I only lied to myself because I had to survive, because Harry had to survive.
But it has to be.
But Voldemort was a monster, infinitely powerful, Lucifer incarnate, not a sobbing, incoherent, bloodstained schoolboy curled up on the muck-covered floor of the Chamber of Secrets. Could a man's shadow be greater than himself?
I must have a dark side also if I am to be whole. Ruby didn't know when or if Tee had said those words to her or if she had heard them elsewhere. Perhaps it had come in a sort of dream.
You know it to be true.
"Tee is Voldemort," she said hesitantly under her breath as she stared into the back of the person in front of her, very quietly and solemnly, like a confession of love or admitting to murder.
How long has he known? Since the Cave?
And then...
Why didn't he kill me?
Blood of the mother. He has to finish what he started. Unless he doesn't know.
He's the reason they're dead. He must know that.
"Penny for your thoughts?" asked Lavender Brown, who had been matching Ruby step-for-step and gazing at her, wide-eyed, for the past ten minutes as if she could scarcely believe Ruby was real.
I mustn't frighten everyone. "Nothing, it's nothing," she assured Lavender, following it up with a forced smile. First, everyone talks about the Dursleys, then I leave Lockhart's dead body behind, and then I go up and down the country with Voldemort.
Thinking about it all like that made her stomach feel like it was filled to the brim with tapeworms.
It would have been oh, so much easier if she had hated Tee. If only he hadn't been so angry and pathetic and so strangely lovable.
She had better stop thinking about it, or else she'd start crying, and then she'd have to explain.
Everyone in front of them had stopped walking; whoever was leading the pack must have decided they'd retreated far enough into the dungeons. The familiarity, for once, was calming. Ruby sat down heavily against a pillar, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"Cold down here, right?" said a voice to her immediate left.
She looked up in surprise; a face was very close to hers, peering at her strangely. His arms were folded with his shirtsleeves rolled up, one flesh, one metal glinting in the candlelight and expression somehow empty and cold — she didn't even recognise him until someone whispered into her other ear, Anthony. She hadn't looked at him so clearly in McGonagall's office, so hyperfocused as she was on Harry and Tee.
Not him, but also inexplicably so him. Darker hair, taller, gaunter, more vacant eyes, and wasn't Anthony — the Jabberwocky — supposed to be talking a mile-a-minute, not standing there silent?
The last time I saw you, you were half dead.
"I've been waiting for you," said Ruby, very quietly, as if she was not whether she had been or not. And then, all in a rush — "You've changed."
"Oy vey," said Anthony, his voice different too — deeper, in that awkward stage of cracking and soaring — and she did not understand anything but the sarcasm. "I'm who I needed to be to survive. You've changed too. Who are you?"
For a full minute, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth, and she was unable to answer.
Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin, she remembered, the image of Anthony comatose and wounded last year leaving a lump in her throat.
And then, for reasons beyond her comprehension, Anthony tilted his neck back a little and laughed.
He shrugged. "Of course you'd change, too. Dad always says so... intelligence is the ability to adapt to change. I just wish..." His face fell, shoulders slumping forward "...I wish you trusted us more. Trusted me more," he added, flushing ever so slightly and ducking his head.
"I'm sorry," said Ruby, and she truly did mean it. Her throat was thick with awful things. "I just didn't think anyone..." She glanced at Lavender, who had sidled up to her like a cat in midwinter. "I didn't think you'd want to stick around for much longer if I did tell the truth."
"I don't think anything you did could be that terrible," said Lavender softly, her eyes half-shut and not a hint of a giggle in her tone. Ruby felt ill at that undeserved admission of complete trust. If only I was the person you think I am.
She remembered summoning Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets to save Harry ― oh yes, she'd done her fair share of great and terrible things, just as she wondered that she would, turning her blackthorn wand over in her hands in Ollivander's dusty shop nearly three years ago.
"The truth is," said Ruby, "I have."
I killed...
Don't say it. Do you think they'll ever so much as look at you again? How ashamed they'll be of ever, ever trusting you.
Both gazed at her, steady and quiet. And she knew they would wait as long as it took her to put it all into words; they had waited this long, after all.
All of a sudden, the sound of many, many feet reverberated through the dungeons.
Death Eaters!
By instinct or nature, her hand was on her wand, and she saw everyone around her do the same; until Percy Weasley staggered into the light, followed by a crowd of students.
People were scrambling to her feet all around her, and Ruby squinted through the ever-growing mass of people, trying to figure out what was happening.
"It's the Muggle-borns!" Lavender whispered excitedly, leaping to her feet too and pulling Ruby along with her headfirst into the crowd.
Percy held his hand up, and everyone quieted.
"Everyone's accounted for," he announced, and a cheer went up. He paused. "Almost everyone. We're missing one person."
"Who?" a few people shouted.
As if she'd known already, a pit of dread began to form in her stomach. Her heartbeat slowed to a shattering, heavy rhythm.
"Harry Potter."
"You believe yourself to be the ruler of your own world, Tom, yet inexplicably never at fault for the consequences of your actions," said Dumbledore, his voice calm and steady as ever as he approached the Dark Lord. "This is perhaps your greatest delusion."
Behind him, Fawkes took off, soaring high above the grounds like a red-gold firework.
Dumbledore's wand seemed to glow, a length of yellow-white elder lit by the eerie reflection of the Dark Mark, long enough to be mistaken for a thin dagger.
Elder, which repels darkness. In fact, the air around it seemed to glisten with pure light.
Voldemort flinched at the aspersion; still, Tee could hear the sneer in his voice, words terse and biting, as effervescent and seductive as he remembered Grindelwald's had been. "You always liked to pontificate. Save me your pathetic aphorisms, Professor. And yes, I will remake this world in my own image."
Tee had not been noticed yet, standing as he was in the shadows. Maybe he had tugged them around himself on purpose.
Voldemort and Dumbledore began to circle each other, two giants shaking the earth with every step, clearing the ground for battle. Now, the two had started to trade spells — curses, mostly likely — tearing the air violently and leaving behind the smell of ozone — both unerring yet neither reaching their target.
Tee, still unnoticed, began to step back, further out of the light and into the warm cloak of darkness, until his back hit something warm and solid.
Both he and the other person froze. Then, he turned and reached out, grasping a loose piece of fabric, and pulled.
In his hand was a large, silvery bolt of fabric, and in front of him—
"You!"
"Me," Harry Potter agreed. His eyes glowed eerily green. Perhaps it was simply the contrast of light and dark.
For the first time in a long while, fear stung Tee's throat.
Should I be afraid of him?
He'd seen the shadows in the Great Hall. An Obscurial shouldn't be able to do that.
An Obscurial should be dead.
Why did you survive that night, you... cockroach? Why can't either of us get rid of the other?
Bathilda's words came to mind: either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.
Fate.
A heavy pit had settled at the bottom of his stomach.
So you can't die unless he kills you... and the Dark Lord can't die unless you kill him.
Does that make you... immortal? By nature? Or...
"When did you even meet Voldemort?" asked Harry, stepping closer, his voice tight and accusing.
Menacing, thought Tee. But he's just a kid.
"He was after your time. Why do you care so much about how he died? Why do you care so much about him? What's he to you?" He gave Tee a disgusted look, eyeing him from head to toe.
What's the point in lying?
"Harry..." Tee placed a hand over his heart. "Lord Voldemort was always with me."
For a few seconds, Harry seemed confused. And then, realisation and horror began to spread across his face.
"Get away from me!" Tee had been shoved; half-dazed, he stumbled back slightly. "Does she know?"
"Who?"
"My sister."
"What do you think?" asked Tee icily, frowning down at the younger boy.
"Don't try and turn her against me, Riddle; it won't work," said Harry through gritted teeth. "You're barely older than me, and you don't have a wand."
"Going to kill me, Harry?" A harsh laugh escaped him, carried out into the night. "You're so angry. I'm angry, too. We're both Parselmouths, both half-bloods, both orphans. We even look something alike—"
"I am nothing like you!"
Harry was shaking; Tee latched on to the thing he knew he must fear most. Each word sent a cold thrill through him; how long since you've wielded this power?
"Both monsters... both feared. Admit it, Harry. You know it to be true!"
At those last words, Harry tensed. Then, he shut his eyes, took a breath, and seemed to relax slightly.
"But you want to be a monster, Riddle," said Harry in a much milder, calmer tone. "That's what makes us different."
Tee felt his eyes widen.
Is that what I want?
Life isn't about getting what you want. Life isn't fair, you know.
Just then, as he was about to enlighten Harry Potter as to the state of the world, a sound like a cracking wineglass started up. Despite himself, Tee turned on his heel, taking his focus off Harry for the time being.
A massive, misty dome hovered over the castle, a network of cracks spreading across it, buckling under its own weight.
So that's what the Hogwarts wards look like, he thought numbly.
"What!" he heard Harry mutter. But it was obvious what was happening. The dome had been overloaded.
It's not like Dumbledore can do anything about it now.
The sounds of fighting in the background stilled. The wind seemed to stop blowing.
"Rabbits in a burrow..." he heard Voldemort whisper, his voice carried out on the wind.
...about to be eaten by wolves.
The dome burst apart with a sudden, high-pitched screech and a flash that tore the sky apart like a thousand bolts of lightning; at once beautiful and blinding and harsh, then falling slowly, slowly in glimmering dust like spun silver, that lit the castle grounds with a soft, fairy-like light.
Unable to help himself, Tee reached his hands out towards it, powder-fine shards of magic collecting in his palms like a fistful of snowflakes.
In that light, there were no more shadows, nowhere to hide.
Harry Potter had drawn the Invisibility Cloak back over himself. Still, neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore would be fooled by that in close enough quarters, not even if he was completely silent.
Maybe they were not paying attention; because suddenly, Dumbledore said, in a very quiet and strangely gentle voice, "And what are you doing here, Tom?"
All of a sudden, he felt terribly, uncomfortably seen.
Every line he remembered in Dumbledore's face had been creased deeper, like a sheet of paper repeatedly folded and re-folded. His hair had gone from greying auburn to a stark, almost luminescent white, yet his steady, penetrating gaze was unchanged. The infinitely judgemental gaze that had looked upon him in the Transfiguration Professor's office many, many times...
What am I doing here? he thought crossly. This isn't my battle to fight.
Tee shifted his feet from side-to-side. In his mind's eye, he saw the office around him. "I was summoned," he said sullenly.
"Years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices." Dumbledore looked incredibly sad and ancient. "Let me help you."
Am I nothing more than everyone's regret? But he didn't dare speak that to the air.
"He wants to kill you," said Voldemort, his face still obscured by the hood, although Tee could see his glowing eyes narrowing to furious slits to match the heat in his tone. "He has always suspected you. Always hated you."
I've always hated me, too.
Yes, he could remember, remember wanting to tear the skin from his flesh and drain the dirty blood from his veins. And the Dark Lord's finally managed it.
"I will not harm you, I swear."
"I am the only one you can trust."
"Tom, I only want to help you atone—"
Voldemort laughed, the sound harsh and grating in the night air. His voice was acidic. "See? He will never understand. This is the way of the privileged. Judgement and hypocrisy. Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies."
"What you have done, Tom, is truly grave, but it is not too late for your soul to be saved," said Dumbledore in a strident tone.
"Tom Riddle is dead," whispered Tee, unsure whether either could hear him. There's only me. I'm all that's left. He's nothing more than a memory. Tom Riddle was a boy who had been, above all, defined by his misery; Tee had come to the sudden realisation nearly fifty-one years later that he no longer wanted to be so. "Stop talking about him like he's here to listen."
Voldemort, at least, had not paid any attention.
"A theologian, panhandling his rhetoric in the streets is more convincing! He means to use you as a weapon against yourself!"
The shards of the Hogwarts wards were beginning to collect in the grass, their light dimming. Tee reached a hand out to where Harry Potter had been, trying to feel around discreetly, but found only the empty air.
He must have slipped away. Unwittingly, Tee had provided the perfect distraction.
"Now, Professor, we seem to have come to an impasse," said Voldemort with the utmost gleeful delicacy, "there are hundreds of children trapped inside the castle with nowhere to go. Will you give your wand to my young associate and come quietly, or will magical blood be spilt tonight?"
For a second, Dumbledore's wand hand twitched towards Tee, and he might have considered surrendering after all. But then, his fingers tightened around his wand, so that Tee could see his knuckles pale in the fading light.
Dumbledore's eyes seemed to darken. "I gather blood will be spilt either way."
"Afraid to die, Dumbledore?" Tee could hear the tense, vicious smile in Voldemort's voice.
"Projecting the machinations of your own twisted mind upon others will only harm you, Tom."
All of a sudden, Tee felt something very ancient and primal within him stir, telling him to get away and hide. But he was too confused to heed it.
Another deafening sound shook the air, and fire poured out of the sky. Tee only had time to see Dumbledore launch himself at Voldemort before his lungs filled with smoke; the last thing he felt was the embrace of the spring-soft ground.
The second he'd caught sight of Voldemort approaching them, for it could be none but he, with the glowing red eyes of Harry's worst nightmares — Harry took off in a blind sprint.
Cowardly, he knew, and he hated the idea of running away — but he didn't fancy his chances any more than a snowball's in hell. Better to warn the rest so that they'd have some idea of what was coming.
At best, I'll just get in the way.
At least, he'd been standing right under the Whomping Willow when the firebomb or whatever it was went off — now he was standing under the smouldering boughs, still wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak and shuddering in shock, waiting for his heart to stop pounding so hard against his ribs that he feared they might shatter.
He made himself as small as possible, trying to regroup his scattered thoughts.
Voldemort… Voldemort is…
Not now.
He swallowed tensely.
It was a good vantage point; the Whomping Willow stood atop a small knoll, giving Harry an uninterrupted line of sight of most of the grounds.
A group of ten-or-so Death Eaters lingered near the tree, all indistinguishable except for the slight differences in the designs of their masks; Harry didn't really get a good look before they started talking.
"So Rookwood's done his job properly for once, has he?" began one of them in a deep, rumbling voice that sounded somewhat familiar, only Harry couldn't quite place it.
"It appears so," said another, who sounded somewhat familiar, too.
"But does Dumbledore truly expect us to slaughter the children?" Asked the first.
"The old fool would not risk it!"
The third Death Eater's voice startled Harry; unexpectedly, it was a woman's.
"There, the guard," said one of the men, pointing towards the Astronomy Tower; Harry could barely make out the miniature figures of the professors atop it in the distance.
"I see your cousin, Bellatrix!" spat one of the men, and a chorus of jeers followed.
The woman — Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry realised in a cold rush of terror — straightened up, and made a gesture with her wand like a vicious slap. Though she stood a few feet from him, the man before her stumbled back as if he had been hit.
Harry understood now. Many of the people Voldemort had brought with him were little more than cannon fodder; this group, the Death Eaters proper, had hung back for the right moment.
And now they had all gotten on their brooms and were going after the professors on the Tower; ten Death Eaters and Bellatrix Lestrange was one of them — Harry didn't like the sound of that.
He waited until the Death Eaters were out of earshot and then began once more to hurry towards the castle.
"Just get us up to speed here, alright?" asked Anthony, hurrying along the corridor. "Who is Tom Riddle, why is he here and why is Professor McGonagall treating him like a live mine?"
Whilst Harry's doing his best to provoke him?
Ruby took a very deep breath.
"Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin. He's here, because..." She swallowed, her heart stuttering in her mouth "... because I summoned him. And I'm not sure what history he has with McGonagall. You'll have to ask her."
Anthony didn't look impressed at that; he scowled, in fact. Ruby couldn't blame him, not with his history with Slytherin's monster.
Although she could be quite sure of the main problem with Tom Riddle.
"Hang on, hang on, stop!" Hermione threw her hands up. "You did what? Summoning? Necromancy!"
She crossed her arms, giving Ruby a very teacherly cross look.
"Mione, maybe this isn't a good time," Ron started.
"Don't 'Mione' me, Ron!"
"Honestly!" Ron cut in. "You can lecture her later! Harry's out there!"
"How are we getting out there?" asked Anthony, gesturing to one of the windows looking out on the Dementor-infested castle grounds.
At that moment, an ear-splitting, shattering sound seemed to emanate from everywhere. Instinctively, Ruby clapped her hands over her ears, crouching down on the floor.
"What was that?" Anthony mouthed, copying her.
"Dunno," said Ron, shifting nervously from one foot to another, "probably a group of unicorns come to say hello."
No, thought Ruby, sick to her stomach now. Something terrible just happened, and we all know it.
Hermione gave him a cross look, peering through the window again. She'd somehow managed to get up onto the ledge, pressing her palms flat against the window for balance.
Just then, people started to come past them, older students, from what Ruby could tell. Ron managed to flag down Percy, and a tall, dark-haired Hufflepuff boy decided to come over and speak to them of his own accord.
"What's going on? Where's everyone going?"
"Hold off the Death Eaters," said the Hufflepuff at the exact moment as Percy said, "Alert the Ministry of the situation."
"You don't think they've noticed the Dark Mark over the castle, have you, Perce?" asked Ron in an offended tone.
"Of course," said Percy, his face nearly as red as his hair. "But..."
"But I thought they might be interested in keeping the likes of Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass safe from harm," the Hufflepuff cut in.
If Thaddeus Nott's even got a heart, thought Ruby doubtfully.
Hermione scoffed. "Don't you think the Death Eaters know to avoid their own kids?"
The Hufflepuff boy coughed. "The Apparition ward is still intact, as far as we can tell. So we're going to... collapse every entrance. At best, it'll cut their numbers; at worst... we live a bit longer."
"You think they want to kill all of us? But why..." Anthony trailed off. He sniffled a little bit, rubbing his nose with the back of his flesh hand.
"Why does anyone do anything these days?" asked the Hufflepuff dryly, patting Anthony on the shoulder. He nodded at Ruby. "Diggory, by the way, Cedric Diggory. Don't think we've been introduced."
She was just about to respond when one of the windows swung open, and someone clambered inside, shuddering.
Standing closest to the window, Hermione let out an uncharacteristic shriek, then stepped back, looking embarrassed.
"It's just me," said Harry breathlessly, looking as if he'd seen a ghost, his ears looking slightly singed at the tip and the ends of his fingers a sooty colour. He turned in a half-circle, scanning everyone's faces as they stared back at him blankly. He nodded at Hermione and gave her a quick hug — Ruby remembered they must not have seen each other for weeks.
"Where've you been, mate?" asked Ron. "Why'd you go out there?"
Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore's back, right..." He trailed off, trembling as if cold. "Death Eaters — trying to get in from the Tower, wards are out. Voldemort's out there too. Don't think he noticed me, though. And we—" He stared directly at Ruby "—we need to talk."
"What's going on?" asked Ruby, placing her hand on his solid, warm shoulder; maybe to make sure he was alright, maybe to keep him at arm's length. She couldn't quite tell. Maybe both.
"We'll give you some space," said Diggory loudly and beckoned at the rest of them to leave, which they did, although Hermione kept craning her head around as if she wanted to say something.
Harry walked a few paces in the other direction. He then turned around as if expecting her to follow before he continued storming off.
"Are you angry at me?" asked Ruby, half-running to catch up with him.
Suddenly, Harry spun on his heel, his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl, tight and tense.
"How long did you know?" His voice was pure venom, eyes glittering with spite. Ruby froze.
"He never told me," she said defensively, crossing her arms. And I don't think he knew, at least not until the Cave. Her mind was racing. But how does Harry have it all figured out? Did they talk about it?
"Well, that's convenient."
"He saved your life," Ruby pointed out. "You'd be dead if not for him." If not for me, too, she thought, somewhat angrily.
"You can't just brush things off like that — not about Voldemort!"
"I'm sorry the conditions weren't morally appealing!" snapped Ruby, throwing her hands up in frustration. "What was I supposed to do? If you want to say I regret it, I don't! I'd do it all a thousand times over to save you!"
"You'd do it all, would you — you'd go — go like him?"
"Are you that frightened of me?" asked Ruby, making her voice even more indignant than she felt.
"You need to stay away from Riddle and whatever rubbish he's been filling your head with. But, look, Ruby — it might not be your fault," said Harry, his shoulders sagging. "It's not your fault. It's that you always try to be some kind of, I dunno, guardian, all by yourself."
"I know you can tie your own shoelaces and everything; I get it," started Ruby. "I knew you'd say no if I asked."
"And sometimes you might need someone to say no to you before you go dealing with someone who wants to kill you!" said Harry exasperatedly. "Of course I would have said no!"
Ruby started to stammer something out, but Harry cut in, "Don't you realise he's probably been working with Voldemort all along?"
But he hasn't, thought Ruby, he hasn't even tried. Although it did seem like he was going to let Peter get away from Sirius. He almost let him touch the Dark Mark.
"Drop the shield, boy, and I'll spare you."
"What makes you think I need to be spared?" Tee had answered, "Don't you know who I am?"
But maybe not... maybe not all along.
Harry shook his head, deep in thought. "No... It's what he doesn't, isn't it? Play people against each other. He wants us to fight." He lifted his head, seeming a little more composed. "We'll talk later."
If there is a later.
She nodded tensely and set off down the stairs towards the main entrance, Harry following. A steady series of thundering booms shook the castle; Ruby counted the seconds between them, precisely one hundred and twenty seconds separating each round of earth-shattering noise. How much longer could the castle stand this constant assault? The firelight in the alcoves flickered as they made their way down.
"Are you doing that?"
Harry shook his head, and Ruby felt intensely sick to her stomach. That could mean only one thing; the expansive but finite supply of Founders' magic that powered Hogwarts must have been shifted nearly entirely to its walls to hold off the Death Eaters attempting to make their way inside.
And once the Death Eaters surged through, the students inside would be helpless as trapped rabbits in a collapsed burrow.
A corona of light coated each black velvet curtain obscuring the outside world; the grounds must be on fire, thought Ruby.
We're all going to die.
"AGAIN!" came a shout as they drew closer to the entrance; Cedric Diggory, standing on a table amidst tens of voices, hundreds of jets of light and torrents of masonry rumbling to the ground in an ever-growing heap. Ruby picked out more familiar faces that she hadn't yet encountered, the Weasley twins, Colin Creevey, the other Slytherin half-blood in her year, Tracey Davis. When she turned to look back, she noticed Theodore Nott standing on a balcony and surveying the chaos.
Ron got a few good hits in, with Hermione behind him pointing out the weaker points in the ceiling.
Harry was staring fixedly at the crowd, frozen in place. Then, suddenly, an excited look spread across his face.
"I can seal the entrances! Cedric! CEDRIC, OVER HERE!" he shouted, waving his hands in the air to get the other boy's attention.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Ruby under her breath. "Didn't halfway sealing the Great Hall entrance nearly do you in earlier?"
"This is a bit of a do-or-die situation, though, don't you think?"
"Maybe so, but it doesn't mean you have to be an idiot!"
But it was too late for sense; Cedric had already noticed them. Ruby gathered her robes up, so the hem didn't brush the floor and hurried after Harry.
"GET CLEAR!" came the next shout. "GIVE HARRY SOME SPACE!"
From here, she could see everyone scrambling back; little red-haired Ginny lingered a little until one of her brothers yanked her back.
Hurry, Dumbledore, whatever you're doing out there!
Then came the familiar cold of the shadow monster, creeping from where Harry stood, oleaginous and greasy, like a river of liquid obsidian.
"I propose a hostage situation," Tee had said. Well, Voldemort certainly has one now.
The worst thing that they could possibly do was to seal themselves in.
She didn't need the fire-marble. Ruby could see it. The stairs littered with the dead bodies of students. The Great Hall stained with blood.
Voldemort's planned it all this way. He was never the hostage. We were.
If we're the hostage, what's the ultimatum?
"STOP!" shouted Ruby, cupping her hands around her mouth to magnify her voice, but it was lost in the crowd. She pushed her way to the front, nudging past cloth-covered shoulders until she reached Fred and George standing behind Ginny, standing on her tip-toes to whisper in their ears.
"EVERYONE, STOP!" Fred bellowed, his magically-enhanced voice shattering the air. Everyone around them cringed in pain, and Harry staggered back, the tattered shadows retreating as he shook them off with an irritated, exhausted expression.
But just as Ruby had feared, it was too late. Black-cloaked enemies came pouring just as the last tendril of shadow dissolved.
A chill filled the hall.
"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!" she heard Harry shout, wisps of shadows swirling about — all bravado, the exhaustion was palpable in his voice. Ron and Hermione had reached him first before he lost his footing, and together they stumbled back from the entrance.
Instinctively, she stepped back behind the twins. Someone leapt down — Cedric — screaming something about holding the line.
Ruby peeked around George; Cedric was standing, alone, directly in front of the row of Death Eaters. She counted thirteen.
Cedric, impressively well-built for a sixteen-year-old, looked very small in front of thirteen Death Eaters.
Fred was forcibly holding Ron back from going towards the Death Eaters, but he broke free and stumbled a few steps forward.
"Take hostages," said one of the Death Eaters, and his voice filled Ruby with ice. He gestured a black-gloved hand at Cedric. "I like this one. He's feisty."
"Impedimenta!" snapped Cedric, aiming at the speaker as he lunged forward.
"Protego!" shouted the familiar, snobby voice of Percy Weasley, striding out of the crowd with his wand trained on the Death Eaters, glowering at them all through his horn-rimmed glasses with a look of intense disapproval.
Now, the crowd began to separate; some backed away, and some rushed forward.
"There's hundreds of us," said Cedric, standing tall and straight-backed, Percy's shield shimmering before him, "and about a dozen of you."
Despite herself, Ruby felt a little heartened, enough, at least, to step out from behind George.
The Death Eater who had spoken — their leader, perhaps — tilted his head.
"Take him, Alecto."
Percy's shield burst on first impact as the Death Eaters surged towards them. Spells flew in all directions; a stray curse shattered the Ravenclaw hourglass, raining sapphires like massive hailstones.
Here we go, thought Ruby, wiping her clammy hands on her robes so she wouldn't lose her grip on her wand and started throwing jinxes as well.
Not that she was much help; it was the older students, Gryffindors mostly, who had pushed their way to the front and were taking most of the fire.
In a moment of sudden terror, she realised that Harry was probably still close to the front, given that he'd been holding the entrance hall closed when the Death Eaters broke through and started pushing her way forward, disregarding the twins shouting at her to stay back.
It wasn't good.
There was a lot of screaming and bleeding.
She had underestimated how much damage thirteen Death Eaters could do in a short time.
There was so much blood.
A student she didn't recognise was lying face-down in a pool of it. They couldn't possibly be alive.
She felt sick. There was bile in the back of her throat.
"Incarcerous!"
Cedric was struggling and bound — Anthony, too — Harry— Ron squirming in one of the Death Eater's grips, too, biting and snarling.
The fighting had stopped. It didn't matter how many of them fought back. It was inevitable. Everyone had realised it; they were going to take whoever they wanted; nothing and no one was coming to stop them.
"Walk, shadow freak."
The Death Eater who had grabbed him — Alecto, second-in-command, Harry gathered — jabbed her wand into his back indelicately.
An involuntary shudder ran down his spine; her inflexions were a little too close to Aunt Petunia's.
Why hadn't he held on a little longer, he wondered as he stumbled out, hands bound behind his back, onto the charred Hogwarts grounds, still lit by the Dark Mark. Deep down, he knew it was inevitable. But still…
The sounds of fighting caught his attention, and he looked towards the Astronomy Tower.
"Keep moving!" growled Alecto.
Harry scowled as he nearly stumbled over his feet, his eyes fixed on the leader's back ahead of him. He stole a glance at the Astronomy Tower, trying to tell if the professors were fending off Bellatrix's group. As long as they didn't make their way into the school, there might be a chance.
There won't be half a chance for us, he was quite certain, watching the leader shove Cedric along. He had settled into a pit of hopelessness; they were all going to die, more likely than not. His stomach felt like it had been flipped inside out.
They were being marched out across the charred ground to meet Dumbledore and Voldemort, still locked in a tense battle. Harry watched Voldemort summon ice from thin air, trapping Dumbledore in a wintry prison; the Headmaster broke it from within as if it were no more than a wineglass, sending deadly-sharp shards shooting back at Voldemort.
"My Lord!" shouted the leader. "My Lord!"
He shoved Cedric down to his knees, and Harry followed beside him.
"Well, Dumbledore…" spoke a high, cold voice that Harry remembered last emanating from Quirrell's mouth.
"… our guests have arrived."
Dumbledore seemed, if anything, shocked. Then, after a brief moment of silence, he turned back to Voldemort.
"Leave the students out of this," he demanded. "This is our fight."
"No!" snapped Voldemort, his voice contorting with rage. "You always wish to dictate terms, Dumbledore — come here, Amycus!"
The leader, the one who had been standing behind Cedric, hurried forward.
Harry kept his face downcast, his heart beating in his throat. His scar was stinging — burning — at least, the pain was a distraction. Maybe Voldemort wouldn't notice him. Maybe—
"We've brought all of them, My Lord," Amycus murmured, the pride evident in his voice. "Even… Harry Potter."
"If you want to kill him, you'll have to get through us first!" someone shouted, though they sounded frightened.
Shut up while you're ahead, Ron, thought Harry, and he felt close to vomiting.
Alecto gripped the back of Harry's hair and forced his head up with a sharp tug, causing him to cry out in pain.
Now, he looked upon Voldemort properly; the bottom of his stomach had melted as that scarlet gaze regarded him with a quiet, cold glee. Voldemort was like a Dementor himself. Harry couldn't tell whether the fear or revulsion was stronger as he finally, finally, looked into the red eyes that had been the last thing his parents saw before they died.
"Let's play a game, Professor," Voldemort went on, but he did not look at any of the hostages except Harry.
Dumbledore was watching Voldemort, trying to figure out how to outsmart him at his own game, perhaps.
Ruby was on the other end of the line from Harry. The shortest Death Eater had grabbed her, last of all. She exchanged a worried look with Harry and then went right back to staring at the ground.
Ah, thought Harry. It's always been about Dumbledore.
"How much will others suffer in order for you to allow me to cut this boy from his cocoon — to allow me to take him out of Hogwarts and kill him as I should have nearly thirteen years ago?"
Harry's blood ran ice-cold in his veins.
Someone whispered a curse — Amycus — Harry didn't quite hear what was said — and then Cedric began to scream and tremble next to him, anguished cries filling the night. Harry couldn't bear to listen — he wanted to clap his hands over his ears.
All of a sudden, he stopped.
Harry allowed him to glance cautiously to his left, where Cedric was struggling to compose himself, breathing shallowly and unevenly, tilting his head back to stop the tears from running down his face.
It was Amycus who was screaming now, cupping one hand to a stump streaming with red blood and his wand hand, still holding his wand, nestled in the grass.
Dumbledore lowered his wand.
"I refuse to permit you or those who do your bidding to harm my students," he said furiously. "This is yet a school, Tom — indeed, a school which you once attended, which sheltered you for many years in your childhood. We will not be terrorised."
Harry couldn't see Voldemort's vicious grin, but he could hear it.
"Sentiment will do you no favours. Harry Potter is mine, or else the rest are dead. Pick up your wand, Amycus. With your other hand."
Why am I holding back? Why am I letting him do this? Harry wondered, wriggling in his binds. Storm and wind — no man can hold me, let alone rope.
He allowed the pit of fear in his stomach to unspool and felt his fingers grow cold and sharper than knives. They sliced through the rope smoothly, and he felt Alecto begin to back away as shadow billowed under his eyes.
What now? He looked about, the shadows clouding his vision.
"There you are," he heard Voldemort taunt. "What an excellent job Dumbledore has done in raising you — another child grown rotten under your care —"
Harry saw well enough to register Dumbledore's eyes growing wide with fury — and saw him draw his wand in a great arc, Stunning each one of the Death Eaters standing behind the hostages.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Voldemort, and the green jet of light that emanated from his wand was horribly, sickeningly familiar — Dumbledore summoned the dirt beneath him to form a shield, which vaporised on impact.
"What are you waiting for?" Harry heard Ruby shout from down the row. "Run!"
Harry stumbled to his feet, still disorientated, but at least he had his hands free. He rummaged in his pockets for his wand, coming face to face once more with the silhouette of the younger Lord Voldemort.
That was not enough to make him scared; what did, however, was how the Dementors were moving.
Once again, they were awake.
There's nowhere to run.
After the blast, the air was filled with smoke and ash.
Tee clung to the damp grass in the dark morning, his nose pressed against the still-wet ground to ward off the charred stench surrounding him.
Death smells like soot, too.
Fawkes had apparently made the executive decision to self-immolate over the first wave of Voldemort's army to reach the castle. Most of them were dead, now, a pile of bodies and smouldering rubble for the rest to step over on their way inside.
Something was crouched over him; something nearly like a body, the right size and shape but not quite as warm and solid.
It was the locket-wraith, looking none the worse for wear, even though he must have shielded Tee from the blaze.
"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself," snapped the locket-wraith as he looked down at Tee, having abandoned his one-shouldered cape. "You look pathetic."
"So much for the master soul's help," said Tee, sitting up and pulling his legs under him. It looked as if Voldemort and Dumbledore were negotiating in the distance; at least, they weren't trying to kill each other for now. Not that Tee was sure that anything they did served him.
The wraith stood, his pale thumbs poking out on either side of his pockets. He regarded Tee again as if he couldn't possibly fend for himself. Given the wraith's actions, Tee supposed he was meant to say thank-you but couldn't seem to muster the requisite humility to fathom doing such a thing.
"I'm not weak," said Tee.
"And yet you are not the Dark Lord."
"Nor are you."
A displeased expression flickered across the wraith's face. "I suppose not. The Dark Lord is an image with no resemblance." The wraith reached out to him, and to Tee's surprise, he felt a hand caress his face, ice-cold and only half-corporeal, like the whispering wind. "You are the only one of us who can be considered a faithful copy. The rest of us are all... perversions of reality."
The rest... who?... but he was not mentally prepared to question that.
How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? He felt sick. The air, and his lungs, were clogged with dry smoke. He remembered the albedo in his pocket, slippery like solid silk.
If you gaze long enough into the abyss... the abyss will gaze back into you. Yes. They were right. He was different. He could feel it deep in his bones.
Tee squinted once more into the distance, realising that Dumbledore and Voldemort were not alone — he counted thirteen people — and some on their knees — prisoners? Hostages, perhaps?
"What's his game?" asked the wraith.
Tee scowled. "Potter — Potter, Potter, Potter — that's all anyone here seems to live or die on."
Even me.
"Why doesn't he just kill him?" asked the wraith glibly. "He's just a boy."
Tee scowled once more, thinking back on their conversation. "Maybe not." He rubbed the back of his head, which hurt. How long had he been out? He didn't think the wraith would be all that helpful when it came to questions.
"Well, wake me up when it's over," said the wraith through a barely-muffled yawn.
It was only after the locket swung shut that the Dementors started to wake up collectively, like a herd of horrid birds.
One, he could handle — a few more with someone watching his back, like Sirius earlier — but this many!
Tee scooped up the locket in one fluid motion and leapt to his feet. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he stumbled over to the nearest corpse and pried a wand out of its stiff fingers.
He couldn't think of anything particularly happy right now — so much for a Patronus.
"I await a guardian," he muttered dutifully. "Expecto Patronum."
Not even the faintest wisp of silver light.
And even if I did have an unbroken soul, he thought sullenly, who in the afterlife would waste their time guarding it?
Then I hope this lot won't find me particularly tasty?
He was loath to find out, striding away from the castle, where they were all concentrated, whilst thinking very hard about absolutely nothing and hoping that they indeed wouldn't care much.
They were not, to his relief, paying very much attention, drawing instead closer and closer to the group of people he'd seen earlier, finally coming close enough to make out everyone's faces. Tee flicked his finger against the locket, which answered with a dull, tinny ring, and no wraith.
"Nowhere to run, Potter!" he heard Voldemort crow triumphantly.
Dumbledore's eyes darted quickly in his direction, taking in the crowd of Dementors. A silver phoenix Patronus went sailing over Tee's head, pecking viciously at the Dementors behind him — but that lapse in concentration was a fatal mistake.
At that very moment, Voldemort leapt towards him, glowing binds appearing around Dumbledore's wrists. Unable to help himself, Tee took a tentative step forward as Dumbledore faltered; now, Voldemort bore down upon him, and Tee thought he might be about to deliver the killing blow—
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Harry. Voldemort's wand shot through the sky, whistling in the wind, and landed in Harry's outstretched hand.
Tee saw Harry falter a little, holding both his own wand and Voldemort's, seemingly not quite sure what to do with either.
The most crucial point was this; more importantly than disarming Voldemort, Harry had distracted him, giving Dumbledore the few seconds necessary to perform the counter-spell on his restraints and regain his footing in the duel.
Technically cheating, thought Tee to himself, crouching in the shadows.
Dumbledore looked as if he wanted to end this now; the fight had been wearing on for hours, and the rest of the Death Eaters must have worn down the castle's defences by now. Without his wand, Voldemort was fighting a losing battle. As far as Tee could tell, the Apparition wards were, despite the general destruction, still fully functioning. The battle was as good as decided.
But then, the Dementors who had not been driven away by Dumbledore's Patronus rushed forward. Voldemort's last card, Tee supposed.
The effect was instant. Both wands slid out of Harry's grip as he stood stock-still; of all the students, he seemed to be the most affected by the Dementor's dark presence. Even at a far range, Tee saw his horror-struck expression. Tee felt himself grow cold and hopeless also, his thoughts too scattered for mental defences to do any good against the creatures.
A red-headed boy standing beside Harry, trembling at the Dementors' presence, drew his foot over Voldemort's wand so that it could not be easily summoned, lifting his miserable face to the wind; Tee could see upon it a look of resolve.
"I await a guardian," he whispered again, wrapping his arms around himself and tucking his chin into his chest for the little warmth that gave him. Still, once more, nothing and no one appeared.
I need a smoke.
He just wanted to feel normal for a few minutes. Warm and comfortable, and sleepy.
But something else drew Tee's attention, interrupting his moping. He noticed Ruby standing near the end, in the semicircle that had formed around Voldemort and Dumbledore. Something she was wearing, a necklace perhaps, floated in the night air as if held by a ghost. A silver light contained inside glowed brightly.
Intriguing, he thought faintly, and cast a warming charm (which did very little).
Patronuses and Dementors had been on Ruby's mind all night, of course, along with everything else. So when Tee had emerged from who-knows-where amongst them, she hadn't been surprised.
They were still far enough for her to think straight when Hermione turned to her and, seemingly out of the blue, asked: "What about your mum's necklace?"
She began to reach for it when she realised that her hands were still tied.
"I'll get it," whispered Hermione. Then, with a cautious glance at Voldemort, whose attention was elsewhere, tiptoed around Ruby and started picking at the knots.
"How'd you get untied?" asked Ruby.
She felt Hermione shrug. "I flexed my wrists when they cast the Incarcerous Spell on me, so I had a bit of slack." The last of the knots came loose, and Ruby wriggled her hands out of the cords.
Well, it was a good thing she thought of that, thought Ruby, this time managing to pull the necklace out of her jumper. It was already warm in her hands and spinning frantically, but it was the sand in the hourglass that drew her eye — now, it glowed pure silver, the same colour she'd seen only a few times before.
It was obvious what she was meant to do with it, and yet, Ruby realised that this was likely the last time she'd ever be able to draw on the false Time-Turner's power if she did.
With a heavy sigh, she tapped her wand to the tiny hourglass and said, as Sirius had, "Expecto Patronum."
The effect was immediate. Silver light that seared her eyes burst from the hourglass, causing her to stumble back. Ruby opened her eyes a crack, just enough to see everyone in reverse silhouette.
The Dementors began to fade out of sight, and with them went their cold presence. Then, the light slowly faded, too, leaving only the rosy tint of the morning peeping over the horizon behind.
The silver light had consolidated into the form of a doe; a creature like Dumbledore's phoenix, Bathilida's owl, and Remus's wolf — a Patronus. She regarded Voldemort with large, liquid eyes.
"You appear to be outnumbered." That was Dumbledore. In the commotion, he had positioned himself in front of the rough semicircle of students.
Voldemort lifted his head as if signalling to someone. Ruby realised that Tee had been lingering behind them all this time.
The silver doe nudged her way between Voldemort and Dumbledore. Ruby felt someone tug on her hand.
"What were you saying about running before — let's go!"
As soon as she took a step back, it was clear that Voldemort had realised that it just wasn't worth it, and he probably wasn't going to get at Harry or anyone else that day; he took a single step back and then ascended into the air, gliding almost like a Dementor himself until he was nothing more but a speck in the distance.
A meeting had been called in the Great Hall; everyone sat huddled together in blankets (spare from the laundry room). The tables had all been pushed to the sides of the room once more to make space.
Harry couldn't help but notice that the room seemed to have divided into two; those who had been pro-Umbridge, and those who had been against her. A distance of about six feet separated the two groups, and it was a lien that no one, apparently, dared cross.
From hearsay (Colin Creevey, mostly), he'd gathered that once Bellatrix's group had gotten to the Astronomy Tower, they'd been effectively held off by the professors, who all looked the worst for wear. Remus Lupin had a whole set of fresh cuts crisscrossing the old ones, and Professor Sinistra had been Stunned ten times and was currently recuperating in the Hospital Wing. Either way, none of the Death Eaters had been able to make it down into the school. So, apart from the damage Amycus and Alecto had caused earlier in the night, the students had remained mostly unharmed, especially since the Death Eaters had been mysteriously summoned away — when Voldemort retreated, Harry supposed.
It was comforting to see Dumbledore sitting in the Headmaster's place once more, and yet more comforting still, seeing him very publicly fire Dolores Umbridge, no longer in Professor McGonagall's chains but still looking downcast and fuming as she stormed out of the Great Hall.
"Coming?" asked Lupin, nodding at Harry and Ruby. "We're going to try to figure out what to do about Sirius... I thought you two ought to be there."
"Sirius Black!" Harry stammered out. The betrayer! He thought of the mysterious, cloaked man from earlier and shot Ruby a dirty look. How many dangerous people had she brought to Hogwarts!
"He didn't betray our parents, Harry!" said Ruby indignantly, sweeping to her feet and stomping after him. "I've been trying to tell you—"
"We're about to find out," said Lupin sternly. He turned towards the professors' table, and the two followed.
"I want you to be right," said Harry as they walked, having cooled down a bit. We could do with more people on our side.
Harry swallowed nervously as he drew closer to the foot of the table, unable to take his eyes off the skeletal man. If he looked his father, and his father had been Sirius's closest friend... perhaps if he truly was guilty, Sirius would react in some way.
Sirius was similarly fixed on Harry, his sunken eyes wide.
"James," he whispered in a dry, raspy voice.
"No." That was Remus, with a hand on his shoulder. "This is Harry."
Sirius leaned forward; the movement looked like it might snap him in half. "Yes... yes... you have your mother's eyes."
That drew Harry's attention to the bloody bandage wrapped around his forearm.
"One of the Death Eaters took a bite out of him," Lupin explained as he sat down. He winced; Madam Pomfrey hadn't gotten to him yet. Harry watched him tap his wand to the deepest cut, and mutter, "Episkey."
Lupin leaned back in his chair slightly, gaze trained on Sirius.
"So it was all Peter, was it?"
Sirius scowled. "Don't put words in my mouth, Remus. And yes, it was all that filthy rat!"
"They fought outside," Ruby cut in, "when we were trying to sneak in Hogwarts."
"How convincing," said Lupin tightly.
"He was going to kill Pettigrew," Ruby added in a bright tone, but Sirius waved her off.
"Not helpful, kid."
Unbidden, Harry took a step forward and sat at the foot of the table.
"Look at me," he demanded, and Sirius lifted his head. "Why should I believe you?"
"I would have rather died than betrayed my friends to Voldemort," said Sirius softly, and Ruby shuddered. She bent and whispered in Harry's ear, "That's what he said in the memory to Pettigrew, too."
Another voice spoke — Dumbledore, who had abandoned his black cloak for royal purple robes with a constellation pattern, took up the head of the table. "I must wonder then, Remus... if Sirius were truly in league with Peter Pettigrew, why their stories differ. What I meant to say is, if Sirius Black did blow up the street on the first of November, 1981... why is Pettigrew alive to stand amongst Voldemort's ranks? Both Harry and Ruby saw him last year, and it appeared that he had been in hiding as Ron Weasley's pet rat."
"Peter is not innocent, but that does not mean that Sirius is not guilty," said Lupin staunchly. "One might have turned on the other in the certainty that followed Voldemort's demise."
"But he was your friend," Ruby put in.
In an uncharacteristic fit of anger, Lupin slammed his fist on the table, making them all jump. "So was Peter! So was James! We were all friends, and now one of us is a Death Eater and one of us is dead!"
"Peter was jealous of both Sirius and my dad — and you, too," said Ruby, sounding as if she were giving a school presentation — her hands were even folded in front of her. "Muggles have a saying about crime — motive, means, and opportunity. Sirius had two of them, and that's why you're suspicious. But he definitely didn't have motive!"
She turned back to Dumbledore, as if expecting him to give some kind of assessment. When he didn't, she sat down.
"What do you think, Remus?" queried Dumbledore, with a slight glance at Sirius. "Are we merely paranoid, or do we have a right to further suspicion?"
"She'll vouch for me," said Sirius, nodding at Ruby.
"She's a child," said Lupin acidly.
Now, Sirius turned to him again. His eyes softened. "Harry, you've been very quiet."
He'd been thinking.
"Those... those Dementors," started Harry. "They inhabit Azkaban." He thought of how hopeless and cold he'd felt as the creatures drew close, how the worst memories of his life had flashed before his eyes. "What will they do if he goes back?"
Sirius sat straight, but Harry could see the fear behind his eyes. "Kiss me, probably. Suck my soul out of my mouth."
Harry leaned closer. He remembered how Aunt Petunia had trembled to look in his eyes; could this man stare into his mother's eyes, knowing that he'd killed her?
"He doesn't look like a murderer," he decided, after a few minutes had passed. "Don't send him back there."
"How would you know what a murderer looks like?" asked Lupin, and Ruby shuddered again, but Harry was silent. He'd said his bit.
"So why were you in London not twelve hours after they died, Sirius, laughing hysterically in the midst of a dozen corpses?"
Lupin was staring at Sirius very intently; it was the same kind of focused, piercing look that Dumbledore sometimes had.
For a few seconds, Sirius was silent. He swallowed before he spoke. "Revenge, Remus. I went after Peter because he deserved to die for what he'd done. And he must have known he couldn't win the duel; so he blasted the pavement to bits and ran with his tail in between his legs — scuttled down the sewer like the filthy rat he is."
Something seemed to come over Lupin; he put his head in his hands, his whole torso heaving up and down. When he lifted his head, an expression of distraught relief had come over him, and he stood up, the chair scraping on the ground, went right to Sirius, and hugged him.
Immediately, Harry exchanged a look with Ruby, who mouthed (very indiscreetly, he might add), "Legilimency!"
He noticed Snape in the corner, eying Sirius as if he were a fly he would very much like to swat, and decided to get up before he got any ideas about coming over and melted back into the crowd, which was buzzing with conversation.
The conversation Harry was most interested in eavesdropping on, however, was the one that was going on between Tom Riddle and Professor McGonagall, which Anthony had alerted him to about four seconds ago. The two of them crept over to the side, picking up Ron on their way.
"—it's hardly my fault, Minerva," a slightly-singed Riddle was saying crossly, his arms folded over his chest.
Professor McGonagall looked eminently furious; the gash on her cheek only served to enhance the expression.
"Dumbledore should turn you out," she hissed.
Riddle smiled — a charming, boyish grin, but Harry could detect no mirth in it, only mockery. "I'm not homicidal on most occasions."
"The fact that you even find that amusing makes it clear that you are already too far gone!"
Harry had never heard her so exasperated (or so Scottish, for that matter).
"I'm sorry you were infatuated with me," Riddle deadpanned.
Beside him, Ron appeared to be choking on his own saliva.
"Well — well — I never!" said Professor McGonagall, even more infuriated than before.
Riddle remained silent.
"I tried to help you, you ungrateful—"
"I don't want your bloody pity!" Riddle shouted back, his voice resounding off the ceiling and causing more than a few people to stare. He spun on his heel (making sure his robes swirled dramatically around him, Harry noticed) and then stormed past the boys and out of the Great Hall, slamming the double doors behind him with a loud clang that resounded through the whole room. Even Dumbledore looked up.
Professor McGonagall straightened up, scowling, and finally noticed the boys standing there.
Harry was busy wondering how he hadn't noticed that Tom Riddle (and thus Lord Voldemort) had a distinctly Cockney accent, and so Anthony put in, with a little wave and a smile to go along with it:
"Hi, Professor McGonagall!"
She had her points-from-Ravenclaw face on but said nothing, instead sweeping away with a frown back up to the teacher's table.
"Where'd he come from again?" asked Ron.
It was Harry's turn to scowl. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
Why couldn't Ruby do the explaining for once? He'd do the Voldemort bit later, he imagined, particularly after a good night's sleep.
He picked his way back to where they had been sitting before; Hermione turned around, cradling Crookshanks, looked the three up-and-down, and said, somewhat warily, "Where have you two been?"
"Did you know Professor McGonagall had a teenage romance with our mystery friend?" Anthony blurted out.
"What mystery friend—"Hermione's expression darkened "—Oh, the one Ruby summoned. How'd he die, then?"
"Hermione," Ron reprimanded. "You can't just ask how people died."
"Why not?"
"I dunno, er, tact!"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes; a couple hours together, and they were already bickering. Suddenly exhausted, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned his head against the wall, shutting his eyes.
Not that he was expecting it to all come good in the wash; after all, Voldemort or near-enough Voldemort was wandering the halls, and Voldemort himself was sure to venture back; but for now and until the next major crisis, Harry thought they might be alright.
A/N:
First of, I do want to apologise for my extended absence - other than real life stuff, I did have a bit of a perfectionist freak-out with this chapter which resulted in discarding material from previous drafts (as well as the fact that in my head and on the page, this chapter looked very different) and it being double length certainly didn't help matters.
Anyway I hope you enjoyed the third year finale and I'm aiming to have the first chapter of fourth year (picking up somewhere during summer 1994) out by late September or early October :)