The atmosphere was far more somber and serious in the French Ministry of Magic when the group arrived for the summit the next morning. All of the same people were in attendance as at the luncheon, but they were not here to mingle – today was about business. It only intensified Harry's anxiety as they filed into the auditorium.

The spacious room was comprised of two levels: a lower level for the two hundred or so representatives, and an upper gallery overlooking the proceedings for guests. Harry, James and the Delacours wished good luck to Dale Greengrass and the French representative before heading up to the upper levels to spectate.

After everyone got settled, a dark-skinned wizard took to center stage to begin the proceedings. He launched into his introductions, but Harry could not understand the language he was speaking – presumably of African origin.

"Are there subtitles or something?" Harry whispered to James.

"Put on your translation device," James muttered back, pointing to the small magical earpiece mounted in front of Harry's seat. He picked it up and nestled it into his ear, and suddenly the man was speaking perfect English.

"...to the 573rd annual summit of the International Confederation of Warlocks," said the Supreme Mugwump. "We will begin with a roll call, then move to general business."

The long and arduous process of collecting roll began. Harry watched as Dale Greengrass fidgeted in his seat below, seeking to make eye contact with his allies among the other delegates. Some, like the American and French representatives, gave him reassuring nods; others, like the Egyptian and Turkish ambassadors, barely acknowledged his presence.

Once every country had announced their presence, the Supreme Mugwump introduced a number of proposals to be voted on by the entire body. Harry found the process rather dull; most had to do with rather menial topics like budget allocation and membership dues. He had expected the highest wizarding government in the world to be more focused on international affairs...instead, they seemed more preoccupied with funding their own continuance than anything else.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the Supreme Mugwump opened up the discussion for any nation to bring a vote to the floor. Harry felt the energy level of the entire room raise up, and assumed that this was when things would get serious and important issues would actually get resolved. Sadly, this was the furthest thing from the truth.

First, the Chinese delegate ceded the floor to an animated businessman, advocating for reduced tariffs on his magical creature exportation business. To Harry's shock, the man was widely booed and openly ridiculed by the other delegates until his shamefully withdrew his petition from the floor. Next, the Mexican delegate requested a pause on their membership dues because of economic turmoil in their nation, which was also shouted down by a non-receptive body.

"Is this really necessary?" Harry whispered to James.

"These are rather frivolous matters to bring before the voting body," James shrugged. "Still, I've heard these meetings can get rather...nasty at times."

Indeed, most of the proposals brought to the floor struck Harry as inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Who besides Percy Weasley cared enough about cauldron thickness regulations to bring it to the highest government in the land? But the delegates were all too eager to roundly mock each new proposal brought forth, as though they took some perverse pleasure from it.

Would the same prove true when James got up to speak? Would they treat the threat of a rising Dark Lord with the same indifference as import tariffs? Did they consider any regional issue to be beneath them, or only those that didn't affect them? Harry sincerely hoped they would at least hear his father out when it was his turn.

Soon, the moment came. Dale raised his wand during a lull in the conversation, and the Supreme Mugwump called upon him. He stood to his podium and cleared his throat.

"Dale Greengrass, representing Great Britain, wishes to raise a matter of the utmost importance," Dale announced. "I would like to call upon James Potter to provide testimony."

The entire room began to murmur as James stood from his seat and headed for the stairs to join Dale on the floor. Harry wondered how many ICW members actually knew who James was. Did they all subscribe to the Daily Prophet? Were they aware of Fudge's smear campaign against him? How far had Lucius Malfoy's slanderous tactics extended beyond the British Isles?

James took to the podium in place of Dale and cleared his throat. "Nearly one year ago to the day, the dark wizard who fashions himself as Voldemort returned to power in Britain," James addressed the group. "He has successfully infiltrated the British Ministry of Magic and controlled the press to convince the public that he is threat to them. However, he poses an existential threat to our nation, and once he takes control, that threat will be posed to the world at large."

Harry's eyes scanned the room as James spoke, to gauge the reaction to his words. Most paid close attention, looking mildly intrigued, though some looked downright bored or dismissive, like the Chinese delegate. You think you're safe from Voldemort because of the distance between you and Britain? Harry thought irritably. By the time he sets his sights on you, it'll be far too late to stop him.

"I fought Voldemort during the last war in Britain, and I can attest to the danger he represents to our world," James continued. "He will not be satisfied with just one country under his control. He seeks to rule over the entire planet with an iron fist, implementing blood purity measures along the way, and he has already begun amassing the troops necessary to do so. He has conscripted giants, werewolves and vampires from the continent in order to realize his aims."

"Point of order!" shouted a voice from across the room; everyone turned as the Austrian delegate stood at his own podium. "We have seen a dramatic reduction in our werewolf and vampire populations this decade. Why should we believe they pose a threat to us?"

"Many are emigrating to Britain in order to join Voldemort's ranks," James responded. "They will eventually return to their homelands with an army at their backs."

"But I thought we solved the werewolf problem already!" protested the Egyptian delegate. "Didn't we vote on that 'miracle potion' a year ago, the one invented by this man's own wife? What kind of conflict of interest is this?" Many others grumbled their own discontent with this fact.

"Many werewolves are rejecting the treatment and choosing to seek vengeance against the wizarding world for decades of mistreatment," James explained calmly. "I would also point out that this body did not vote to make the potion mandatory during last year's summit, which created this problem in the first place."

"Why can't Britain take care of this matter itself?" another delegate piped up. "Don't they have their own 'Great Defender' in Albus Dumbledore? Does he not still reside on the Isles?"

"Indeed, I do," a booming voice sounded from the upper levels; Dumbledore stood to address the room from his balcony seat. "However, this threat is beyond what I can handle on my own. Mr. Potter is correct – more reinforcements are needed to combat the threat of Voldemort."

"We cannot afford another war!" groaned another delegate. "The Grindelwald campaign decimated our reserve troops, and we still haven't recovered our recruiting numbers fifty years later!"

"Which is why we need to stop Voldemort now before things get out of hand," James said firmly. "I propose the requisition of one thousand ICW troops to help Britain deal with Voldemort before he can extend his sphere of influence."

"One thousand troops?" scoffed an African wizard. "That is over half of the available volunteer units, most of whom are under-trained!"

"And it will be far less than the number required to handle Voldemort once he sets his sights beyond Britain," James warned. "This is a necessary measure to stop him from growing any more powerful than he already is."

"How do we know this Dark Lord of yours is even in Britain?" protested the Mongolian delegate. "I thought he had fled to Albania!" Others murmured in agreement with this...so they HAVE been reading the Prophet, Harry thought.

"Perhaps the gentleman from Albania can weigh in?" suggested the Supreme Mugwump. All heads turned towards a skittish wizard in purple across the room, who shakily stood up as prompted. Harry realized with dread that this was the man he'd seen hanging around Lucius Malfoy the previous day at the luncheon.

"We, er, have not received any reports of Dark activity in our country in the past year," the Albanian delegate stammered. "Perhaps this so-called 'Dark Lord' is not as dangerous as advertised? Perhaps he has seen the error in his ways and retreated to solitude?"

"Why would he have come back in the first place if that was the case?" James demanded. "Why go through the trouble of a complex blood ritual and make his presence known to Britain once more?"

"There is no evidence that this man had any ill-intent," scoffed the Estonian delegate. "He may simply have wished a new body to live out his remaining days."

"I was there!" Harry bellowed from the balcony, standing to point accusingly at the man. "He kidnapped myself and Neville Longbottom, stole his blood, then tried to murder both of us!"

"Order! Order!" protested the Supreme Mugwump, as the room descended into hushed murmurs at Harry's outburst. "Young man, you have not been nominated to speak, so please refrain from—"

"None of you are safe if Voldemort takes over Britain!" Harry continued, glaring at the slack-jawed representatives. "He didn't go through all this trouble just to lie low, and he certainly won't be satisfied with one country! You'll be next if we don't stop him n—"

"That's quite enough!" bellowed the Supreme Mugwump, hitting Harry with a Silencing Charm. "You will desist, boy, or be removed from the gallery!"

Harry threw himself back into his seat in frustration. The delegates continued to eye him from below, but they looked more amused than concerned, as if it had been a petulant teenage outburst rather than a plea for help. How can they be so arrogant? Harry grumbled to himself. How can they deny the obvious threat that's knocking on their door? Fleur rested a calming hand on his arm, but Harry angrily shrugged her off.

"I believe we should bring this to a vote," said the Supreme Mugwump. "All in favor of the proposal to mobilize troops to Great Britain?"

Dale raised his wand in a 'Yes' vote, as did the delegates from France, America, and several other European and North American nations. A handful of the witches and wizards that Harry had spoken with yesterday did the same, but to Harry's dismay, it wasn't nearly enough to pass the measure.

"And those opposed?"

The rest of the room raised their wands – a clear majority. Among them were the Albanian delegate, whom Harry now strongly suspected to be in Malfoy's pocket, and to his shock, the Bulgarian delegate and several others from the Balkan nations. Harry turned to his right, spying Krum among the others in the gallery, shaking his head and muttering angrily to himself.

"The motion is denied," said the Supreme Mugwump after a cursory count. James patted Dale on the shoulder and left the floor, heading back to the stairs with slumped shoulders. To Harry's disgust, jeers and laughter followed him, as the opponents of the measure openly celebrated its defeat. He didn't see what was so funny about the situation – the wizarding world may have just signed its own death warrant.

James returned to the gallery and slumped in his seat, looking thoroughly dispirited. "You did what you could," Sebastian Delacour reassured him. "We can always try again next year."

"If there is a next year," James grumbled.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes and ears. The proposal had come and gone in barely five minutes. And now it was over. The entire trip was a waste. There would be no international aid coming to Britain. They were well and truly on their own in this war now.

A recess was called shortly after for lunch. The room filed out to the foyer, where trays of food and drinks were again waiting for them. James ignored all of it, heading for a quiet corner to seethe in silence. He kicked a chair over in frustration, turning curious heads towards the disturbance and drawing more nervous chuckles at his expense.

"Give him a moment," Sebastian suggested to Harry. "Zis was an unfortunate blow."

Dale Greengrass shuffled over to their group, looking utterly defeated. "I'm ruined," he groaned. "Once the Wizengamot hears that I defied official Ministry policy, I'll be voted out for sure."

"You did what was right," Harry said firmly, clapping the man on the shoulder.

"As if that's any consolation!" Dale lamented. "I'm not a fighter like your father – I'll be useless once I'm out of office! Keeping my seat was the only way I knew how to keep my daughters safe."

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He knew what a risk Dale was taking by choosing a side, and it now appeared that he'd picked the losing side. The Greengrass name was soon to be reviled in Britain right alongside the Potters.

Krum marched over, looking absolutely furious. "I cannot believe Groshev betrayed us," he grunted. "Filthy coward...he could not even look me in the eye."

"What happened?" asked Fleur. "I thought 'e was on our side."

"So did I," said Krum. "But I spotted him speaking with Lucius Malfoy towards the end of the luncheon yesterday. He has been avoiding me ever since...I fear money may have exchanged hands."

"Not necessarily," Sebastian Delacour said thoughtfully. "He may simply 'ave seen how ze wind was blowing, and sought safety in ze pack. Even if 'e believes the Dark Lord is a threat, he may believe 'is country will be spared for not joining ze fight against him."

"Still, it did not 'elp to have Lucius Malfoy following us and spreading lies at ze luncheon," Fleur lamented.

"When I get my hands on that bastard…" Harry snarled. He scanned the room for signs of Lucius, but he was nowhere to be seen. Clearly he knew he'd done what he needed at the luncheon and didn't need to stick around the crime scene to reap his rewards.

"Lucius Malfoy will have his day of reckoning," said a sage voice, as Albus Dumbledore glided across the foyer towards them. "Today was a dark day that will undoubtedly set us back. But we will persevere and overcome these challenges, as we have many times in the past."

"A lovely sentiment," Harry huffed – he wasn't in the mood for Dumbledore's empty platitudes at the moment. "What happens now?"

"We go home and get to work," Dumbledore said simply. "There will be much to accomplish in the fallout of today's events. With any luck, it will galvanize the undecided to join the fight and prevent our nation from slipping further into the grasp of Voldemort."

Fat chance of that happening, Harry thought. Dale Greengrass was evidence enough of the public's unwillingness to stick their necks out for the cause. Once he was inevitably thrown out on the streets, it would kill any remaining spark of hope in those still sitting on the fence. Harry could not comprehend how Dumbledore saw any positive outcome coming out of this.

"A valiant effort today, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore appraised James as he rejoined the others. "We will need that passionate leadership in the months to come. I hope you have not given up the fight."

"Never," James growled. "I'll sooner go down fighting the entire damn continent."

"It will not come to that," Dumbledore reassured him. "History will judge us fairly for what we attempted to do here today. The Confederation will come to see the error in their ways eventually."

"I hope it's not too late by then," James grumbled. "C'mon, let's head home. I'd rather get back to Britain now and start planning our next moves."

Sebastian nodded and reached out to take their arms to Apparate away. But before he could do so, a disturbance across the foyer caught his attention. All eyes were following the trajectory of a silvery Patronus, gliding overhead across the room towards them. It stopped before their group and sat on its hind legs – Harry realized it was a tabby cat. And when it addressed Dumbledore, it spoke in Minerva McGonagall's voice.

"Hogwarts is under attack!" the cat said in a distressed tone. "Werewolves have breached the boundaries – come quickly!" And the Patronus dissolved into mist, leaving a shocked group pondering its implications.

"Harry, go home with the Delacours," said James at once, drawing his wand. "Wait for my word. Albus and I will go and fight."

"I'm not staying behind," Harry said firmly, drawing his own wand. "Don't try to stop me."

"But it's not s—"

"Dahlia's there!" Harry shouted. "I'm not sitting around if she's in danger!"

James eyed him nervously. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's get to the Portkey hangar at once."

"No need," said Dumbledore. "I can take us there directly. Take my arm."

Harry and James did so, linking arms with Dumbledore on either side as the Delacours, Krum and Dale Greengrass looked on in horror. Dumbledore whistled a small refrain, which was answered by Fawkes, who seemingly materialized out of thin air and alighted on his shoulder. Then, Harry felt a rush of flames consume him as he was lifted off his feet and taken away from the French Ministry.

Harry knew something was wrong as soon as their feet touched down at the gates of Hogsmeade. It was midday when they departed from France, but a gloomy darkness lingered here, an unnatural haze smothering the landscape. It should have been a warm and sunny June afternoon – instead, it looked and felt like a cold winter evening.

Harry, James and Dumbledore ran up the dirt path towards the school, as the sounds of conflict slowly came into earshot. The screams of students rent the air as they were assaulted, causing the hairs on Harry's neck to stand on end. It was a Saturday, with exams now over to boot, which meant students were likely scattered all over the grounds enjoying the day. Perfect conditions for a brutal attack.

They heard a snarl from their left, and turned to see a stray werewolf eyeing them. It was fully transformed, hair covering its entire body as it stalked them on all fours. It pounced, lunging at the group, but Dumbledore calmly flicked his wand, causing vines to sprout out of the earth and pin the yelping creature to the ground.

"How is this possible?" James wondered aloud. "It's daytime, and the full moon isn't for another two weeks!"

"Not if someone created their own full moon," Harry said, pointing to the sky. A glowing orb hung unnaturally low in the sky, casting its eerie light across the landscape. It had to be the same spell that the apparition of Tom Riddle cast in the Chamber of Secrets, causing Lupin to transform prematurely.

"I will deal with the moon," Dumbledore said at once. "You two focus on keeping the intruders out of the castle."

Harry pointed his wand towards the Quidditch pitch at once. "Accio broomsticks!" he bellowed. They heard a distant bang, and a moment later two brooms rocketed across the grounds towards them. Harry and James each mounted one and shot off towards the school.

The sight was even worse from the sky. Harry saw dozens of furry beasts romping across the grounds freely, on the hunt. He saw a number of prone forms lying in the grass: students, victims, most of them unmoving. Please don't be dead, Harry thought as he zoomed onward, looking for any other stragglers trying to reach safety.

A keening scream caught his attention to the right, and Harry spotted three younger students cowering in a corner against a castle wall, as two werewolves circled around to capture their prey. "Go!" James shouted; Harry dived, making a beeline towards the action. He flew harder than he ever had in a Quidditch game, knowing that a split-second could be all the difference between life and death.

One of the werewolves pounced. Harry summoned a large boulder and launched it at the werewolf, knocking it askew as the students cowered in fear. He rolled off his broom and leapt to his feet, staring down the two snarling werewolves. "Stay behind me!" he shouted to the three terrified girls cowering behind him.

Harry sent a Stunner at the werewolf to his left, who was circling around him; it bounced harmlessly off its pelt. Right, he remembered, werewolves have curse-repelling hides. He would have to aim precisely at their heads, or else use Transfiguration as Dumbledore had done to neutralize the threat.

The other werewolf recovered from its boulder blow and began to close in. Harry conjured a thick wall to prevent it from slipping behind him, then fired a series of rapid Cutting Curses at the other as it charged. Two of them connected, opening thick gashes across the werewolf's face and causing it to roar in pain. It stumbled backwards, spitting angrily at Harry, but eventually turned tail and retreated, off to find easier prey.

The other werewolf leapt over the wall and lunged at the three students hiding behind Harry. He turned just in time to pin it to the wall with a conjured metal cage. It thrashed about in a rage, red eyes fixing on Harry and snapping angrily at him.

Harry felt a surge of anger well up within him as he stared down the trapped beast. You had your chance, he thought remorselessly. You could have taken the potion and been free of your affliction. Instead, you chose to make others suffer. Now it's your turn to suffer.

He conjured a heavy spear made of pure silver – one of the few substances capable of penetrating a werewolf's thick hide. The beast's eyes widened, as though sensing the end. Harry met its eyes with a furious gaze of his own, as he thrust his arm forward to finish off the creature once and for all—

"Harry, no!"

Someone knocked Harry's wand arm askew; the silver spear glanced harmlessly off the castle wall and clattered to the ground. He wheeled around; James had landed beside him, staring at him in horror.

"It's still a human!" said James, as he twirled his wand to reinforce the cage and keep the werewolf fully pinned against the wall. "It's not in control of its own actions!"

"The human it was an hour ago was in control!" Harry spat back. "It chose to come here, chose to be part of the attack!"

"We don't kill if we can help it!" said James adamantly. "You're too young to take a life!"

Harry gaped at his father. He knew James was firmly against Dark magic of any kind, but this seemed absurd to him. Why show mercy to an enemy that didn't have a shred of it in return for you? Why pass up the chance to take a dangerous enemy out of the fight for good?

"We'll discuss this later," James huffed. "Get these three to the Entrance Hall. I'm going to look for more stragglers." And he leapt back onto his broom, jetting off across the grass in search of more survivors.

"Come with me," Harry said hurriedly to the young girls. They stuck close to the wall, following it along the southern perimeter of the castle towards the door. A few more werewolves spotted them and gave chase, but Harry's quick casting and use of Transfigured traps deterred them from getting too close.

Eventually they reached the main pathway and the stone steps leading up to the great oak doors of the Entrance Hall. To Harry's surprise, the doors were wide open, and a group of students and staff stood in the doorway, forming a wall of Shields and spells to keep any unwelcome beasts out of the school. Among them Harry spotted Professors Sprout and Flitwick, along with several older students like Angelina Johnson, Cho Chang and the Weasley twins.

"Quickly, this way!" Mark Davis shouted at them, situated at the head of the group. Harry ushered the three girls forward; they scurried up the steps and slipped between the defenders and into the safety of the hall. But Harry did not follow. "Wait, where are you going—?"

Harry turned, summoning his broom and taking to the sky once more. He scanned the grounds for more students, but it seemed the worst of the assault was passed. Most of the werewolves were wandering aimlessly now, running in circles, in search of more prey that had somehow eluded them.

Then, Harry heard a loud CRACK, and turned in time to see the false moon shatter in the sky. Millions of pinpricks of light sprinkled to the ground, a cascade of sparks that extinguished itself before landing. The darkness began to dissipate as well, and sunlight filtered in through the haze, bringing light and warmth back to the grounds.

And all around him, Harry saw werewolves beginning to transform. Their fur receded and their bodies contorted back into human form – de-fanged, but no less dangerous. The witches and wizards began to run, taking off for the Forbidden Forest to evade capture. Harry considered giving chase, bringing them to justice and ensuring they went to Azkaban for their crimes…

But a pitiful moan caught his attention, and he turned to see a student lying prone on the grass nearby. He could not keep fighting – he had to turn his attention to the injured now, to make sure nobody lost their life unnecessarily. He tilted his broom handle downward and skidded to a halt before the young student.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked the girl. Then, he blinked in surprise. "Anna?"

Anna Watson blinked up at him, wide eyes searching his face. She was covered in blood, her face and arms stained red as she trembled helplessly on the ground. This was the same girl that had been badly injured at Hogsmeade earlier that year – what awful luck that she should be victimized in both attacks.

"Are you bitten?" Harry asked, searching her visible skin for signs of injury. "Let me see—"

He reached down to unclasp her robes, but she flinched away at the touch, withdrawing in on herself and holding her arms defensively across her chest.

"That's okay," he reassured her. "Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey. She'll set you straight."

Harry scooped Anna up in his arms and began to hustle across the grass towards the Entrance Hall. "We really must stop meeting like this," he quipped in an attempt to keep the mood light. "How about the next time we just enjoy a nice quiet weekend in peace, rather than get into these messes together?"

Anna did not respond to his attempts at humor; she only continued to stare blankly up at him.

"Never mind," Harry muttered. "You just relax. I'll get you to safety."

He reached the Entrance Hall, where the wall of students still stood guard, on the lookout for any more signs of a threat. "Harry?" said Fred Weasley, eyes going wide at the sight of him. "Bloody hell, what are you doing here?"

"Never mind that now. Anna's injured," said Harry, indicating the small girl in his arms. "Where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"Great Hall," said George. "All the wounded are congregating there."

They parted for Harry to pass through. He carried Anna into the Great Hall, where he could hear the pained moans and soft crying of the injured. Several dozen students were already lying in a row, in various states of distress. Harry saw gruesome injuries on many of them – arms and legs torn open, blood pouring from head and neck wounds, robes stained crimson as blood pooled all around them. Harry did his best not to dry heave as he carried Anna to the end of the row and gently laid her down.

"Stay put, and I'll make sure someone comes to check on you," he reassured her. She continued to blink up at him, staring silently, which he took as a good a sign as any. He turned to find someone that could help her.

As he walked back down the row, he paid closer attention to the many wounds he saw. For as gnarly and stomach-churning as many were, few of them looked lethal. In fact, all of the afflicted students appeared to be alive and breathing, which was a far better result than he'd expected. When he first arrived on the scene he'd pictured dozens dead, fallen on the grounds...innocent victims of a war they had no part in...perhaps even some of them close friends of Harry's...or worse—

"Harry?!"

"Dahlia!" Harry cried out in relief. He ran forward and hugged his sister tight, as she too clung to him for dear life. "You're alright, then?"

"Yes, fine," Dahlia nodded as they separated. She was dressed in her white Healer trainee robes, ready to assist the wounded. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in France?"

"I was," said Harry. "I came with Dumbledore after he got McGonagall's Patronus – Dad is here too."

"They just appeared out of nowhere," Dahlia muttered shakily. "Came pouring out of the Forbidden Forest after that damned moon appeared. Most of us made it back into the castle, but I saw a lot of students get jumped—"

"I'm sure they'll be alright," Harry reassured her, pulling her in for another hug. "I'm going to look for more survivors. You're alright in here?"

"I will be," said Dahlia, turning to look at the many injured students around them. "I'd best get to work."

"You might want to start with Anna Watson," he suggested. "She wouldn't let me see her injuries." He pointed across the Hall; the girl had gotten up and was wandering around in a daze, roaming behind the Head Table in an aimless trance.

"I'll do that," Dahlia nodded, hurrying after the girl as Harry headed in the opposite direction. He returned to the Entrance Hall, mentally preparing himself to find more students in even worse conditions out on the grounds...perhaps even the worst condition of all.

The crowd of students guarding the front door had dispersed, now patrolling the grounds and assisting the injured. As Harry descended the steps onto the grounds, he passed by the Weasley twins, each hoisting a first-year over their shoulders.

"Strangest thing," George was muttering to Fred. "Haven't seen a single fatal bite yet. Most everyone was bitten in the arms and legs – hardly any throat or torso injuries that I've seen."

"Hey, don't look a gift hippogriff in the mouth, Georgie," Fred quipped.

But George had a point. Harry passed by several other injured students, all nursing gruesome wounds to the extremities that didn't look like they would kill. Was it a stroke of sheer luck on all of their parts? Or had the werewolves deliberately avoided killing any students? Was that even possible to control in their transformed state? And what would be the purpose of such an attack in the first place?

Harry circled around the southern wall to check for more survivors. He came across the site where he'd defended the three students earlier, and to his chagrin, the cage he'd conjured was now empty. Apparently the werewolf he'd trapped within had transformed back into a human and slipped between the bars, escaping into the Forest with his brethren.

And he'll live to take part in the next attack, Harry thought bitterly. He could have prevented the monster from ever harming anyone again. If it wasn't for his father's nobility—

"Mr. Potter?" a shrill voice addressed him, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. He turned to see Minerva McGonagall approaching from the grounds. "What on earth are you doing back at Hogwarts?"

"I came with Dumbledore, and my dad," Harry explained. "Has the Ministry been notified?"

"Oh, yes, the entire Auror force is on their way," said McGonagall.

"All of them?" Harry frowned. "Seems excessive, given that the worst of it is already over…"

"This is a dire matter that will require extensive care," said McGonagall. "The grounds must be searched; the perimeter must be secured. You may want to make yourself scarce...this place will be crawling with Ministry officials in a matter of minutes!"

Something didn't sit right with Harry about that thought. He scanned the grounds; a few more older students were assisting the injured back up to the castle, but the only other movement came down at the Forest, where James and Dumbledore were patrolling the treeline, wands drawn for any sign of movement. The danger seemed to have passed – what use would the Aurors be now?

Harry couldn't make heads or tails of whatever this attack was supposed to accomplish. Voldemort had to be behind it – he was likely the only one who knew the spell to conjure the false moon, given that it had come from Salazar Slytherin's private journals. But why use werewolves? And why such a haphazard attack that barely lasted ten minutes? Had they simply not counted on Dumbledore arriving as quickly as he did? Did they merely hope to do as much damage as possible before reinforcements could arrive?

There was only one reason Harry could think that Voldemort would want to attack Hogwarts directly. One person within that he wanted. He turned and ran back inside, now with a clear mission in mind.

"Professor Sprout!" he shouted; the squat witch was helping carry an injured fourth-year into the Great Hall. "Have you seen Neville today?"

"Longbottom?" said Sprout, frowning thoughtfully. "Yes, I think I saw him and Mr. Diggory together when the attack started. You might want to check the Hufflepuff common room."

Harry felt a rush of relief at these words. He'd forgotten that he asked Cedric to watch over Neville if something like this ever happened. With luck, the older boy will have listened and made sure no harm came to the Boy Who Lived.

Harry headed towards the kitchens, passing by numerous portraits in the halls demanding to know what was going on. He ignored them all, winding in the general direction of the only common room he'd never entered before. He would not rest until he made sure Neville had not fallen into some nefarious trap…

Harry reached what looked to be a storeroom, with large barrels lining the walls in every direction. Harry approached the largest one at the back of the room, which he believed to be the entrance to Hufflepuff's common room. He knocked firmly on the solid wood.

"Hello, anybody in there?" he shouted.

There was a moment of silence on the other side. Then a muffled voice called out, "Who goes there?"

"It's Harry Potter," Harry shouted back. "Can you open the door?"

"Harry?" the voice responded in bewilderment; Harry realized it was Cedric. "Blimey, what the hell are you doing back at Hogwarts?"

"I'm looking for Neville," he said. "Is he in there?"

"Yeah, he is, but Sprout told us not to open the door for anyone—"

"The danger's passed!" Harry insisted. "The Aurors are on their way – you won't be harmed!"

"How do we know you're the real Harry?" demanded another voice that Harry recognized as Ron Weasley's. "Harry doesn't even go to this school anymore – you could be tricking us!"

Good, Ron, Harry thought internally. Don't trust anyone at face value.

"Cedric, you and I met with Nymphadora Tonks last summer," Harry said. "At the headquarters of the group me and my dad used to be part of. She called you a 'scrawny second year' the last time she saw you."

"That's him," Cedric muttered. There was a shifting of wood, and the door fell away to reveal a narrow entrance way. A group of Hufflepuffs stood guard, wands trained on Harry suspiciously.

"It's me," Harry confirmed, holding his hands up in peace. "I came with my dad and Dumbledore. Can I come in?"

"Alright," said Cedric begrudgingly. The students parted ways, and Harry stepped through the hallway into the common room. He looked around the unfamiliar space; it had an earthy feel, with warm lighting and gentle tones, thick vines hanging from the wooden ceiling and walls.

"Harry!" a voice exclaimed, and Hermione launched herself at him in a hug. "Thank goodness you're alright...I've been so worried about you, out in the world...I haven't forgiven myself for what happened—"

"It's fine Hermione, really, I'm doing well," he assured her as they pulled apart. He turned and spotted Neville in a corner, Ron standing defensively in front of him. "Alright there, Nev?"

"Fine," Neville grimaced. "Scar's been hurting a lot, but I'm using my Occlumency like you and Snape taught me."

"Good, mate, that's good," said Harry. His immediate fear proved to be unfounded – Neville was not about to be abducted. He thought for sure the prophecy was involved in this plot somehow...had Voldemort given up on it? Was this simply a scare tactic, unrelated to the Department of Mysteries?

"What do we do now?" Cedric asked. "Do they need our help up above?"

"No, you did exactly what you should have done," Harry appraised him. "You lot stay here and stay alert. Don't let anyone else come or go until a professor or an Auror gives the all-clear. I'm gonna go talk to my dad and make sure nothing else is—"

Harry froze. His eyes had landed on somebody: a third-year Hufflepuff girl, standing with her friends in the crowd. "You," he said, pointing at the girl. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in the Great Hall?"

"M-me?" stammered Anna Watson. "Why would I be there…?"

Harry drew his wand and pointed it at her, causing yelps of alarm. "What building were you in, when the dementors attacked Hogsmeade?" he demanded.

"Harry, what are you doing—?" Cedric asked nervously.

"Answer!" Harry barked at the girl, ignoring Cedric.

"Z-Zonko's!" Anna squeaked in fright. "Y-your sister f-fixed my broken leg!"

"She's been with us all day today," one of Anna's friends said defensively. "What're you on about?"

Harry lowered his wand, mind racing. If this was Anna Watson, then who was the girl he helped earlier? She didn't have a twin, did she? No, the only twins in the castle he knew of were the Weasleys, the Patils and the Carrows. Something was not right here. And as he thought harder about it, the more a nefarious plot began to unfurl in his mind.

"Nobody move," Harry ordered. And he took off in a sprint, ducking through the exit out of the common room towards the Great Hall, mind racing.

What if the Hogsmeade attack last winter had been more than just a diversion? What if it had been a test? What if Voldemort was plotting something bigger, and was seeing how the Ministry would respond to an attack on Hogwarts children? What if this attack was a diversion of its own, masking a greater plot he was not yet privy to?

As far as he could tell, none of the werewolves had killed their targets...all of the injured students he'd seen had only sustained surface wounds. They would be turned themselves, yes, but that was easily rectified by Lily's potion. So what was the purpose? To scare them? To somehow blame the Potters for their failure to control the werewolf population with their miracle potion?

To create a temporary cover to smuggle something – or someone – into the castle?

Anna Watson had been sent to St. Mungo's after the first attack. It would've been trivial for someone to gain access to her hair while she was there. Hair that could've been used to Polyjuice someone as her...to fake being injured on the grounds so that she would be let into the Great Hall, to blend in with the rest of the student population…

Harry crossed the Entrance Hall in a flash and skidded back into the Great Hall. He passed by the rows of injured students, who were progressively looking less and less like death as Madam Pomfrey hustled about mending wounds.

"...Miraculous, really, that no one was killed," Pomfrey muttered to herself as she deftly sewed up the skin that had been gouged from the upper arm of a wincing seventh-year boy. "I truly can't believe our luck—"

"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry panted. "Dahlia...where…?"

"Your sister should be at the other end of the Hall," Pomfrey muttered, waving him away.

Harry continued running, until he reached the far end of the Hall where the less severely wounded students were huddled together. Among them he saw Ginny Weasley, who sported a nasty scratch across her face that was covered in dittany but seemed to be otherwise okay.

"Ginny! Have you seen Dahlia?" he huffed.

"Harry?" Ginny frowned. "I thought you were expelled…?"

"No time for that now," said Harry. "Where is she?"

"She's right over there," said Ginny, pointing to an empty corner. Then she frowned. "Huh, that's odd...I swear I just saw her there. She was comforting the Watson girl."

Harry's stomach dropped. Where could she have gone? He wheeled around, squinting over the heads of students sitting or lying around the Hall in search of Dahlia. He saw Madam Pomfrey continuing to treat the wounded, but did not see his sister anywhere. There was also no sign of Anna Watson, or at least the girl claiming to be Anna Watson. What the hell was going on?

Then, just as Harry began to panic and run off in search of his father, a hoarse yell cut across the Great Hall, causing everyone else to fall silent:

"GET OFF ME!"

Harry wheeled around; Neville had barged into the Great Hall, surrounded by a group of students. It appeared that they were struggling with one another – as Harry approached, it looked like Neville was fighting to break free of the others who were trying to slow him down.

"Calm down, mate," Ron said, tugging on Neville's arm. "We can figure this out—"

"There's no time!" Neville protested, as he tried to wrench free of Ron's grasp. "He's got her!"

"Got who?" asked Cedric, hustling to keep up with the group of younger students.

"Dahlia!" Neville shouted. "He took her – I have to go after her!"

Harry's blood chilled. He took her...did that mean Voldemort? Was this all a ploy to kidnap a student from the castle? Why Dahlia, of all people? Was she simply the first person the fake Anna Watson had managed to abscond with?

"The Aurors are almost here, Neville," Hermione pleaded, trying and failing to grab hold of Neville's other arm. "They can help us—"

"He said to come alone!" Neville said through gritted teeth; Harry now saw that the boy's scar was bleeding profusely. "He'll kill her if I'm not there in five minutes – let go of me!"

With a mighty lurch, Neville broke free of Ron's grasp and tried to sprint across the Great Hall. But Ron managed to dive at his ankles and trip him up, sending Neville sprawling to the ground.

"Help me!" Ron grunted as he scrambled to contain Neville. Several students jumped forward to help, including Cedric, Damian, and Mark Davis. The entire Hall watched on in stunned silence as Neville scratched and clawed to break free of his captors. He looked like a man possessed, struggling to break free of the five students piled on top of him.

"What on earth is going on here?" said Professor McGonagall, crossing the room to attend to the disturbance. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Just give us a moment, Professor," grunted Cedric as he hoisted Neville's legs to prevent him from getting up. "He's just imagining things. We'll get this sorted."

Indeed, it looked like Neville had lost this fight. Mark and Cedric had his legs pinned, while Ron and Hermione held either arm and Damian laid atop the poor boy. Unfortunately, Hermione's hold on Neville's right arm wasn't strong enough, and he shook her off easily enough, pulling out his wand from his pocket. Before anyone could grab it from him, he shouted, "Accio portkey!"

All heads turned as a silver goblet, not quite matching the bronze ones around it, soared across the room from the Head Table. It flew over the heads of injured children towards the mass of students struggling on the ground. Harry plunged his hands into his robes to stop it with his wand, but he was too late.

Neville reached out and caught the goblet with his wand hand. As soon as he did so, he vanished from sight – along with the five students that had been holding him down. A stunned silence fell upon the Hall as everyone stared in horror at the spot that they had just vacated.