Chapter Fifty-Two: Fires Everywhere
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Black smoke swirled.
It obscured the high street, so thick and dark, it felt like the tunnel of apparition had never ended. Harry had stepped into the compressing black, had turned with deliberation and determination, and the darkness had simply remained. The only proof of his arrival was the acrid air that assaulted him, seeping through his every pore. The ash that coated his lungs the second he tried to draw breath.
Harry glanced up, blinking soot out of his eyes. His ears were full of crackling. Crashing. And screaming. There was a lot of screaming. Shadowy shapes ran frantically past. It was like the mist at Brycetown all over again. But this time, it was Diagon Alley that was burning.
"Merlin," Ron breathed from somewhere behind him.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the thickening smog. There were bodies. Shapes laying limply on the littered ground, half buried beneath chunks of white marble that had surely once formed the crowning shape of Gringotts. Spells lit up the sky above it, flashes of color peeking through the smoke. He swallowed past the painful lump in his throat. Tried not to think about how small some of the shapes were.
"Harry, we gotta find Robards." Ron was by his side; his eyes, too, sweeping the scene.
Harry nodded wordlessly, trying to make sense of the destruction around them. Gringotts was on fire. The building had crumbled, leaving a dark gaping hole up ahead. The dragon that had adorned its facade lay on the broken cobblestones in pieces. Smoke shifted, revealing a sagging line of shattered shop windows leading straight to the bank. Like perfect little markers showing the path. He drew in a sharp breath, barely noticing as a wizard in soot covered robes ran past, almost knocking him flat.
"He'll be in Gringotts," he said, turning to the others. Hermione nodded, her eyes trembling slightly. Someone screamed in the distance. An awful, blood-curdling cry. There was the sound of more stone crumbling. Distantly, he heard spellfire.
"Let's go," Ron said sharply. And Harry nodded, returning his gaze to the remains of the bank. The shouts seemed louder there, cementing his theory. Though it was the terror in his heart that steered him.
He stumbled, picking his way across the splintered ground. Seeking out the gaping black void ahead, where Voldemort had surely gone. Stepping past every broken store and casualty. It was Siggy's cottage all over again, but ten times worse. He had told Robards he was dangerous. Had told him.
Someone moaned at his feet. He froze, his eyes tracing torn black robes. Blood smeared fabric. A familiar face.
"Tonks!" Hermione gasped, dropping to her knees.
His heart sank as he stared at the blood pooling beneath her neck. Her purple hair was all tangled up in it, nearly black in the light. Another shape lay beside her, unmoving. Black Auror robes. He couldn't tell if…
"She's alive." Hermione's choked voice was barely audible. She crouched, bringing her wand to the gaping wound on Tonk's head. She siphoned the blood away, the motion almost mechanical. Someone yelled in the distance again. A long, drawn out wail.
"Go on," Hermione said, her other hand digging into her bag.
Ron grasped her shoulder. "We should stay together."
Another scream rent the air, mingling with the crackling of the flames, and there was a terrible crash from the direction of the bank.
"I'll be right behind you." Hermione pushed Tonks' hair aside, still stemming the blood with her wand. Her other arm was elbow deep in her bag, searching for something in its expandable depths. "Just go, for Merlin's sake. Before more people end up like this." Her voice caught and broke apart into a shaky mess as she fumbled with a vial of dittany. Robert slipped it from her fingers, pulling out the cork.
Harry blinked, not quite able to get Tonk's bloodied face out of his eyes. He couldn't focus on the second shape enough to make out a face. Just a tangle of bloody hair. Robert leaned across his field of vision, and icy shards tore at his stomach.
Ron was still arguing with Hermione. He turned, not quite aware of doing so. His eyes fell on the bank, and the tangle of spells above it. They could help Tonks. And Tonks would be all right. Maybe. But how many others were hurt up ahead? He only realized he was running when he stumbled, almost falling over another shape. Another body. Ron cursed behind him. Someone else called his name. He righted himself and pushed ahead, stumbling over broken steps and chunks of marble. The yells grew louder..
He hadn't insisted. Had been content to stay at St. Mungo's and bask in his blessings, and meanwhile Robards had led an entire team into this slaughterhouse because he, Harry, hadn't adequately prepared him for the danger ahead.
How many were dead because of him?
The darkness was suddenly obsolete. The spellfire louder. The screams echoed.
He was inside Gringotts.
For a moment, he froze in the sudden dark, trying to make sense of the space. It was unnatural. A spell-cast sort of black that weighed on everything. Even the air felt heavy. And then a flash of violet lit up the broken hall. The light lingered for only seconds, casting weird shadows through the swirling dust. And yet the scene it revealed blazed permanently across his eyes, leaving a different type of scar.
The lobby was shattered. Cracks ran along the walls, in places so violent that only gaping holes remained. The once impeccable, smooth tile floor was barely visible beneath chunks of broken stone and plaster. Torn shimmering metal. Pools of blood. And worst of all: the goblins. They lay still. Unmoving. Their bodies half buried beneath collapsed furnishings, or pieces of marble. Looks of terror or surprise were etched across frozen faces. One lay beneath an overturned tunnel cart that had found its way into the entrance hall. All out of place. And further on, larger bodies. Black robes. Just as still. He could hardly tell if they were alive. A trail of blood, and death, and wreckage led through the remains of the once vibrant hall. The furthest wall was gone; just a gaping hole leading down into the blackness of the tunnels. And within, a tangled mass of aurors surged and shifted, fighting a force that seemed to be pushing them apart.
A single black-robed form was arching gracefully through the air. Visible for just a moment before darkness resettled. He heard the distant thud of the auror hitting the rock wall as he blinked it out of his eyes.
"MacMillan!" someone yelled, and Harry's heart sank. He rushed through the hall, the sounds of battle swirling around him. Adrenaline rising within. Shapes reemerged from the dark as his eyes adjusted. He stumbled across a chunk of stone, leapt over it, hurried forward. His feet pounding against the cracked tile.
"Here!" Robards yelled, and another flash lit up the hall. Red this time. Harry saw Robards rush forward in the wake of the spell. There was an inhuman roar that sent chills down his spine, and then violet light flashed again, and Robards slid back, his hands shielding his face from the sudden rush of power.
The aurors shifted then, breaking the loose semi-circle they stood in, and he saw the cloaked form beyond them. Thin. Ghastly. A flash of scarlet eyes brimming with pure evil. Chills ran down Harry's spine.
Voldemort's mouth was curled into a vicious sneer, and an unearthly hiss escaped him, swelling to unbearable levels. He lifted his arms, his tattered cloak trailing ominously. And more magic rushed forth. For a second everything glowed blindingly white. Harry felt the force of the spell from halfway across the hall, and he stumbled as screams erupted up ahead. There was a crash, and the terrible rumbling roar of a landslide.
The tunnels were collapsing. Voldemort was going to bury them all alive.
Heart thudding, he leapt across another pileup, narrowly avoided a jutting metal rod, and leapt the last ten steps into the fray. And he was in the thick of it. The tile crumbled to dirt as the collapsing tunnels loomed overhead. The smell of earth and iron was suddenly sharp and overpowering. And Voldemort hovered ominously up ahead, red eyes glinting.
This was it. No going back.
Harry's wand slipped slightly in his sweaty fingers as he took aim.
"Potter!"
Robards was on the ground, half-buried beneath a broken off section of track. His eyes flashed painfully in the semi-darkness as blood trailed down his cheek.
He couldn't see the others anymore. Were they all buried? Missing? Dead?
"He's too powerful!" Robards managed. "Fall back."
And do what? Harry's hand shook very slightly. Voldemort let out an ear-splitting hiss, and a hundred graveyards flashed across his vision. A thousand dead Cedrics. There was a green glow around him. He wasn't sure if it were real.
"Fall back, Potter," he heard Robards say again. But he couldn't do that.
There would be no one else left.
"Diffindo!" he yelled, slicing his wand through the air, sending a blast of energy at Voldemort. Green light flashed in the darkness of the cave. Voldemort hissed again. The awful sound of it echoed in the tunnels, which trembled. Harry saw him raise his arms, and suddenly there was darkness. Pitch black.
Harry froze, staring into nothing. His ears on alert as his heart hammered. And then the green of his Diffindo blazed again, blinding him. The heat of it flared across his face when suddenly he was yanked back. He fell, crashing into the rocky floor as the spell screeched overhead, exploding into the wall behind him.
"Hell, Harry!" someone said. And he turned, making out Daniyel's face in the semi-darkness. Behind him, he caught a flash of red at the end of the hall. Robert paused, taking in the scene.
"Thanks," Harry gasped, rolling onto his knees and cautiously raising his head. Voldemort was floating still, looking murderous.
"He absorbed my spell." He drew in a steadying breath. "Threw it back at me…"
"Yeah." Daniyel's face was grim. He raised Dumbledore's wand, staring past Harry. He opened his mouth to say something else, and then his eyes widened as another flash of light lit up the space. Red this time. Harry rolled sideways, losing sight of Daniyel and Robert as he barely avoided the new onslaught of magic.
He ran, the ground shaking beneath him. Voldemort was screaming now, his cries indistinguishable over the roar of magics blasting through the tunnels. The walls were trembling, rocks crashing down. The endless flashing of spellfire left Harry constantly blinded. He threw a Stunner in Voldemort's direction, losing its path as he skirted around a falling cart. Jagged track sliced into his shoulder. He barely felt it.
A Confringo exploded overhead, and more rocks rained down, crashing against the Protego he hurriedly threw into place. The sound grew temporarily muted. But Voldemort was still out there, throwing magic left and right with no regard for where it hit. Harry caught a shimmering glance of him through his shield as his eyes scanned the cavern. Voldemort looked wild. Absolutely inhuman. And Harry briefly wondered if he would even notice if the ceiling caved down and buried him whole.
Robert ran past, attempting a binding spell, but Voldemort simply shifted to the side and it flew harmlessly past. He was too strong. Too ruthless. Too easily able to evade them. But perhaps if they could distract him, attack from multiple sides at once. Perhaps there'd be a chance.
"Expulso!" Harry yelled, dropping the shield. Already running, throwing himself out of the way of the rebound as Voldemort's fury blew past him, singing his hair. "Hit him together!" He crashed against the ground again. Tiny rocks cut into his forearms as he slid forward.
He spit out a mouthful of dirt, and he was up again. Running to the side. Past Rose Zeller, who was sitting propped against a rocky wall, staring at the scene with a glazed look of horror. To his left, he saw Robert's beam of red light fly at Voldemort. A Stunner. Probably.
"Stupefy!" he yelled, his own spell joining the fray. He paused only long enough to see the two disparate beams of light flashing through the darkness. And then he was running again, Shield Charm at the ready, when he heard Daniyel's voice ringing through the cavern.
"Glacies!"
The blast of ice exploded past him, carving a frozen path through the dirt. Leaving goosebumps on his skin. It engulfed Voldemort just as the Stunners hit. There was a terrible whoosh, and then a sudden, unearthly, silence.
Harry paused, wand half-raised as he appraised the icy encasement that contained Voldemort. A foggy mist rose from it, infusing the tunnels with a subtle blue glow.
The silence stretched. One second. Two. Someone let out a gasp, which seemed to echo. Then the sound of footsteps. The crunching of gravel. Harry turned to see Robert hurrying toward Robards, who was still struggling to extricate himself from beneath the fallen track. Behind him, Daniyel stood frozen, relief carving years off his face.
There was more movement now. Harry let his eyes sweep the tunnels, his heart still thundering out of time. Was it really over?
Several feet away, Rose had climbed unsteadily to her feet and was staring at the devastation, one hand braced against the rock wall. Their eyes met briefly as Harry tried to locate the others. Robards, still trapped as Robert worked to free him. Adrian Pucey was sitting a short distance away, leaning against an outcrop of rock and clutching his side. Blood and grime stained his robes in equal measure. Alicia Spinnet was hobbling toward him. Ernie's unmoving form was still crumpled against the far wall.
Harry spurned himself into action, hurrying toward Ernie as Ron and Hermione appeared at the edge of the entrance hall.
"Blimey!" Ron said, the words echoing through the cavern. "Is he in there?"
Harry drew in a shaky breath as Daniyel replied. It was done. It had to be done. Daniyel hadn't lost his ice magic. Thank Merlin. If the ice could keep Voldemort contained, they could get him to Azkaban, or Nurmengard. Follow the plan.
Get back to Ella.
And Riddle? Hell, Harry would live with him. That was fine, wasn't it? And anyway, he'd been quiet all this time.
Harry reached Ernie, and stopped, his heart thudding. His eyes trailed past the blood splattered across Ernie's face. Soaking his hair. The bend in his neck. He didn't reckon a neck should bend that way. The cold inside him now had nothing to do with Daniyel's Glacies. His hand trembled as he reached forward, searching for a pulse. Finding only silence.
Merlin…
Harry dropped to his knees, his mind reeling while his heart hammered away. Uselessly filling up the empty silence. As if it could beat hard enough for two.
Ernie…
He was used to death. To bodies at crime scenes. Out in the field. At Ministry explosions. He had seen so many bodies. Dead civilians. Dead goblins. Dead Siggy.
Dead Ernie.
How many of those out-in-the-field crime scenes had he navigated with Ernie by his side?
Dead Ernie. Dead Siggy. Dead Cedric.
His heart wrenched, flooding him with pain that was nearly physical. His hand shook on Ernie's chest. He was so still. So silent. And then, as the tears broke free to dampen his cheeks, there was a terrible crack.
Harry whirled, his body reacting before his mind could even catch up. His Protego was almost instinctive as shards of ice shot straight at him. They crashed heavily across his shield, as he struggled to push them back. From himself. From Ernie.
He stared as, somewhere beyond the blizzard of ice, Voldemort reappeared. Pure fury carved his twisted face. He seemed unmarked by his minutes spent beneath the ice. The only visible difference was the fury, practically pouring out of him. His arms stretched up, magic spilling free in shockwaves. And icy shards filled the cavern. Chased the others through the tunnels as if they were alive. He heard Rose scream.
He saw Daniyel throw himself out of the way as ice pelted him. Behind him, Robert twirled his wand in a fluid motion as the shards sliced at him, redirecting some of the ice back at Voldemort. Away from Harry, and Daniyel, and the aurors lying unconscious or trapped beneath fallen rocks and dirt and wreckage.
Voldemort roared. The sound was terrible. Inhuman. Like a banshee or a rabid dragon. And the ice abruptly flared, like a thousand torches. And suddenly the tunnels were burning. Flames were everywhere. Violent. Alive. Harry couldn't comprehend this magic. It was illogical. Unstoppable. Where was he drawing the power? Voldemort was inhuman; like some sort of twisted god who controlled chaos and fire. And in the sudden glare, Harry saw the cave again, in bright flaming detail.
The tunnels stretching to the vaults were caved in. The tracks broken. Flaming rocks tumbled down from the cavernous ceiling. More aurors lay unmoving in the distance. How many more were dead, like Ernie? He saw the robes of one prone auror catch fire. They flared with sudden intensity and there was a terrible scream. Hermione and Ron sprinted across the cavern, ducking beneath the flames. Hermione's wand twirled through the air.
He had to do something.
He broke the shield, and the air was suddenly hot. Too acrid to breathe. Smoke billowed into his lungs.
"Augumenti!" Harry gasped, coughing. Throwing a blast of water at the nearest fire. But instead of dousing it out, the fire caught the spray of water. Latched on to it. As if he had thrown oil or lighter fluid or something equally bizarre. A line of fire ran straight to his wand. To his sleeve. All in an instant. It burnt through his robes before he could even cry out. Pure agony exploded across his arm and the wand slipped from his fingers as he stumbled, crashing to the floor, somehow managing to pin the burning arm beneath him. His eyes were streaming, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but let the pain rake through him.
"Harry!" Hermione screamed from somewhere in the distance. He had an impression of her running toward him as the fire mercifully burnt out. Though the pain remained. He tried to breathe as screams and fire still clashed overhead.
"Harry! Look at me!" Hermione was suddenly in front of him. Soot stained. A chunk of her bushy hair was burnt away, and a bubble shimmered across her face. "I've got dittany," she said, jabbing her wand at him, and the air suddenly grew mercifully clear as a bubble blossomed around his own lips.
He drew in a shuddering breath, trying to focus on her face as she rifled through her bag. Her voice was muffled. "Just hold on."
He tried to hold on. To keep his eyes on her as everything grew hazy and the edges of his vision turned black.
Not now. He cursed, fighting with his consciousness. Trying to hold on to this bizarre reality. Don't be bloody useless. Snap out of it.
His eyes couldn't seem to focus. They drifted. Past Hermione's burnt bushy hair. Past her busy hands. Across the blazing cavern. Not really seeing it. Except he saw Rose across the way. Her curly hair flying oddly as blood streamed down her face. Saw her raise her wand and mouth the words, more so than scream them.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He watched, in detached fascination, as the jet of green light flew across the cavern. In slow motion. In an instant. It connected, hitting Voldemort in the chest. A perfect shot.
For a moment Voldemort glowed. A venomous, lurid green. The energy shimmered around him. He roared, the sound wild and violent. Inhuman. The cavern walls shook with its echo.
"Merlin," Hermione gasped, freezing beside him.
And then, in one breath, Voldemort whirled. The green energy whirling with him. Leaving a shimmering emerald trail. An afterimage so bright, Harry almost didn't realize the spell was flying again. Away from Voldemort. Moving a mile a minute. A hundred miles a minute, as it tumbled through the fiery air. Dead-pin straight.
Tearing right at them.