Well of Shadows
Volley'd and Thunder'd
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Twenty Three
~ Volley'd and Thunder'd ~
For a very long moment all of the assembled Death Eaters, and other minions stood staring with slack jaws and wide eyes at the unbelievably massive creature that towered in their midst. Ginny, from
where she lay in the mud, watched with mixed relief, hope and amusement as the Griffin focused its brilliant green eyes on her. The two dark wizards standing over her seemed frozen in place, both
left speechless at the sight. Finally, Voldemort seemed to regain the use of his thin-lipped mouth.
"Harry Potter," he snarled, reaching down with one bony hand to grab Ginny by her throat. With unnatural ease he lifted her up and callously tossed her to Pettigrew, who was barely able to catch her in his arms in time. Voldemort glared across the torn and scorched lawn and, in a tone of voice that could give people nightmares, loudly demanded, "Surrender, boy, or the girl will be the first to die this day."
The Griffin opened its jaws wide and unleashed a roar that turned knees into jelly.
"I think you've managed to piss him off," Ginny noted with a smirk, struggling feebly in Pettigrew's less-than-secure grip. Her entire body was aching with the dull after-effects of the many Cruciatus Curses that had been placed upon her. She was also battered, bruised and --in the case of her back-- rather burnt.
"Master," Pettigrew hesitantly began to speak, "perhaps it would be prudent for us to fall back. Regroup inside the forest--"
Voldemort angrily waved for his servant to be quiet, his eyes not leaving the hulking form of the Griffin that was glaring daggers at him. He hissed sharply, "Shut up, Pettigrew, you coward! You are the most spineless creature I have ever known!"
Ginny managed a small chuckle, finally managing to get her feet underneath her and stand more or less upright. Pettigrew shifted as she moved and brought his trembling silver right hand up, so that it was clasped lightly around her throat. Ginny ignored the slight pressure and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Good help is so hard to find these days, isn't it, Tom?"
***
Dumbledore was creeping cautiously along the footpath leading around the lake. Following behind him were the half dozen Aurors who were accompanying him in his attempt to recover Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter from the battlefield that had once been Hogwarts' grounds. Glancing over his shoulder after a particularly deafening roar from the Imperial Arch Griffin, the headmaster silently assessed his comrades.
With the exception of their superior, the battle-scarred Gurney Halleck who was bringing up the rear, the five Aurors were all fairly young - as far as witches as wizards went. All of them had, at one time or another, been students at Hogwarts and were thus familiar to Dumbledore.
Right behind him was Will Masen, an athletic young wizard that had been especially good in both Herbology and Potions. Next was the slim, platinum blonde figure of Josella Playton, who was a few years younger. Jenny Paige had been a schoolmate of Bill Weasley and just as redheaded, as was her younger sister, Lisa, who was now in her fourth year. Close behind Jenny was Bryce Hammond, who in counterpoint to the others' anxious faces, appeared almost bored with all that was happening around them. Last before Halleck was Tal Whitman, a handsome black man with a muscular build that was offset by his relaxed demeanour.
All-in-all a fairly well-rounded group, Dumbledore thought, turning his attention back to the path. With a bit of luck, we should be able to pull this off.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" came an unexpected whisper from Halleck, who had quietly moved up the line to join the headmaster in the lead.
"Of course not," declared Dumbledore in a hushed voice. He smiled faintly and added with a small amount of black humour, "If I were, it would most likely be doomed to fail before we even got started."
A subdued, but rapidly rising in volume, mutter was being carried through the air by the communication aspect of the Portkey bracelets everyone on the team wore. Dumbledore listened, with his typical benevolence and some bemusement, to Ron's anxious voice.
"What if this doesn't work? What if something goes wrong? What if--"
"For pity's sake, Ron, calm down!" interrupted Hermione briskly. "The only person down here that's allowed to panic at the moment is me!"
The headmaster was prevented from further listening to the conversation when Halleck tapped him on the shoulder and directed his attention across the grounds. There, standing in the middle of a ragged and still smoking crater, loomed the hulking form of Harry's Animagus. The almost glowing white furred and feathered Griffin was hunkered down in a low crouch, his flaming emerald coloured eyes glaring a promise of imminent death to where Voldemort and the shivering Peter Pettigrew stood.
Dumbledore watched and listened keenly as Voldemort shouted at Harry, threatening Ginny's life if he did not immediately surrender. The Dark Lord's demands seemed to reach the young Animagus, as a flicker of shimmering magic surrounded the Griffin and the massive creature transformed back into the tall and lean figure of Harry Potter.
The various Aurors taking part in the rescue operation had crowded around Dumbledore and Halleck, observing what was transpiring with interest. Tal Whitman, crouched down next to the professor, shook his head in wonder and asked, "What the blazes is Potter doing?"
"I believe he is preparing to look his opponent straight in the eye," answered Dumbledore, his eyes fixed on where Harry was standing defiantly.
"He's going to look You-Know-Who in the eye?" asked Halleck incredulously. As Tal had done only moments before, Gurney shook his head and declared, "The boy's mad."
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Do not worry, Harry knows what he's doing."
Jenny Paige, on Dumbledore's other side, chuckled humourlessly. "Who's worried?"
"It is almost time to move. Get ready," was all Dumbledore said. He knew, from prior experience with both Harry and Voldemort, that the two opponents would not waste much time with meaningless banter and would soon be launching curses and spells through the air. He reached for his bracelet and spoke. "Remember, Minerva, do not activate the defences until the time is right."
"How will we know when that is, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"I suspect it will be fairly obvious."
***
"Ha - nk G - u're o - ay! Ca - hea - ?"
Ron's voice, relayed from the bracelet dangling around Harry's slender wrist, was broken and so badly distorted that the Boy Who Lived could not make heads or tails of whatever it was his friend was saying. Clearly the backlash from the dispersal of the Well of Shadows, coupled with Malfoy's proximity to Harry at the time, had damaged the device - leaving Harry incommunicado for the remainder of the battle.
Having returned to his natural form, Harry slowly made his way to the edge of the crater, moving in the direction where Ginny was being held. His eyes jumped from her to Voldemort to Wormtail and back in rapid succession, the sight causing his jaw to clench painfully in barely repressed anger. He had clearly missed most of the fight, but Ginny's cries of pain had roused him back to wakefulness just in time to see Voldemort batter her down in preparation for another application of the Cruciatus Curse. This, coupled with the Order's summary of the battle before, had raised Harry's temper to dangerous heights.
"Harry, I am so delighted that you've finally joined us."
Harry let his eyes slide over to Voldemort and he bared his teeth in a silent snarl as he took in the appearance of his nemesis. The snake-faced man was paler than he remembered and the front of his robes were scorched and blackened, but the smug superiority in his gleaming red eyes had not changed in the slightest.
Biting down the urge to immediately start hurling curses --preferably lethal ones-- Harry dredged up a smile and observed as casually as he could manage, "Let me guess, the truce is over."
"More than that, Harry," Voldemort declared flamboyantly. "It is over, undone, nullified, negated, invalidated, abolished--"
"I get the idea, Voldemort," Harry interrupted, unwilling to waste time listening to Voldemort recite that particular page of the thesaurus.
Voldemort did not appear too put out by Harry's abruptness and quickly struck at the heart of the matter. With a wave in Ginny's direction, where she was still being held in the grip of Wormtail, he demanded, "Surrender yourself to me, Harry, and I shall spare her life."
Harry smirked in disbelief. "Somehow I doubt that."
"So you'd rather have me kill her?" asked Voldemort, looking mildly surprised at Harry's response.
"I have a counterproposal," Harry offered.
If he had eyebrows Voldemort would have surely raised them. "Really?"
"Let her go and get off Hogwarts grounds immediately..." declared Harry, his tone completely without inflection, "and I won't kill you and all your Death Eaters where you stand."
Voldemort may not have been able to arch any eyebrows, but he did blink in astonishment. He stood there, on the slight bluff he, Ginny and Wormtail were standing on, and spent several seconds staring. Quickly gathering himself once again he shot Harry a calculating look and scoffed, "You're bluffing."
Harry responded blandly, "Am I?"
"You're not a killer, Harry. You know that just as well as I do," Voldemort proclaimed, sounding as though his statement were one that Harry should be ashamed of.
"Are you so sure about that?" challenged Harry, still keeping his voice and face bland and utterly devoid of any emotion or expression. This time Voldemort was clearly unnerved by how Harry was conducting himself and Harry took the time to silently call out, Ginny.
Ginny, struggling feebly in Wormtail's grip, stilled for a moment, ~Harry?~
Harry had to fight down a sigh of relief. Instead he continued to match gazes with Voldemort, while trying to reassure Ginny as best he could. Hold on, Gin. I'm coming for you.
~Just be careful...~ was her reply as she resumed her nearly exhausted efforts to free herself from Wormtail.
Have you ever known me to be otherwise?
*All the time.* put in Loki's sly voice.
Harry restrained a groan as Heracles added, *It's practically your trademark; getting into trouble.*
His attention immediately snapped back to Voldemort as the dark wizard drew himself as high as he could and proclaimed, "This is the last chance I give you, Harry."
"You do not know who you're going up against, Voldemort," asserted Harry calmly.
"Quite the contrary, Harry," countered Voldemort snidely. He motioned the various Death Eaters, vampires, zombies, goblins and trolls that were milling about to attention. Stretching out his arm he pointed a thin and bony finger at Harry and ordered, "Get him. Alive, if possible. If not... I will understand."
Although the Death Eaters showed an understandable amount of reluctance to advance on where Harry was standing --after all he was the Boy Who Lived for a reason-- the other dark creatures were not as hesitant. In fact, to Harry's mild surprise, most of Voldemort's minions turned away from their task of besieging Hogwarts and began to march towards him.
The bulk of Harry's adversaries, from what he could tell by reading their auras, were vampires. He watched silently as they slowly approached him, affecting a look of utter nonchalance as they drew steadily nearer and he began to get a clearer idea of their numbers.
I don't like being in the presence of so many corpses, he finally decided as a dozen or so vampires abruptly surged ahead of their fellows.
*Corpses? What are you going on about?* asked Merlin in some confusion. *Aside from some zombies and vampires --who were dead to begin with-- nobody's been killed.*
Harry nodded as he saw a half dozen other vampires detach from the main group to his left and begin to circle around him. Yet.
Merlin's voice sounded alarmed as he began, *Harry...*
Ginny's in danger, Harry cut him and the other members of the Order off before they could begin to protest properly. He narrowed his eyes as he turned his watchful gaze away from the approaching vampires and to where his girlfriend stood. Nothing else matters beyond that.
Returning his attention to the large group of vampires that were now circling around him like a school of waiting sharks, Harry did a quick head count. Ordinarily the number of undead that currently surrounded him would have given Harry a moment's pause. Instead, his concern for Ginny overriding everything else, he looked to the one vampire that was standing still - clearly the eldest and the leader of this particular brood.
Raising his eyebrows a fraction Harry observed mildly, "Thirty to one."
"We like to come prepared," smirked the vampire, whose platinum blonde hair put Harry slightly in mind of Draco Malfoy - whose inert body lay somewhere behind him.
"My instructors have always said that the best way to cope with being outnumbered is to get a bigger stick," replied Harry, retaining his calm. He glanced casually behind the smug vampire, at the steadily burning remains of the Forbidden Forest. The flames were leaping high into the air and, under the still dark and tempestuous sky, casting long and dancing shadows all around.
With only a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, Harry gathered the Order's magic to him and directed it towards the blaze. The crackle of the flames was interrupted by loud cracks of wood splintering, catching the attention of everyone watching. Covered in a layer of flames, one of the massive trees that the Well of Shadows had up heaved during his approach to Hogwarts, rose slowly and steadily up into the air.
Harry allowed himself a thin smile as the blonde vampire turned back to gape at him. He stretched out with the power once again and began plucking and tearing the extra branches off the floating tree trunk, rounding its shape off into a rough log. Even with the trimming he was making, the log was still a good fifty or sixty yards long and thicker than he was tall. Harry's smile grew steadily with each crack of a branch being torn away.
"Well, guess what?"
With remarkable speed, moving faster than one could expect for such a large object, the burning tree trunk rolled into motion. Hovering between two and three feet of the ground the blazing log skimmed over the upturned grounds and smashed squarely into the onlookers. Bodies were knocked through the air as if they were nothing more than rag dolls, while screams of surprise, shock and terror sounded as the burning log mowed its way across the lawn.
Harry chuckled under his breath and, once the blonde vampire turned his stunned attention back to him, smiled as evilly and wickedly as he could manage.
"My stick is bigger than your stick."
***
Ginny could feel herself grinning in much the same way as the Cheshire Cat would. Both Voldemort and Pettigrew were watching as Harry decisively and systematically worked his way towards the low rise they were standing upon. While the Dark Lord stood rigid with his hands clenched into fists, Pettigrew was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. She found their aghast expressions most satisfying.
"This should prove entertaining," she quipped, causing Voldemort to whirl at her with a venomous glare contorting his narrow features. Despite herself Ginny cringed, thinking that he was about to hurl a curse (probably Cruciatus) in an attempt to shut her up. Fate, however, chose this moment to intervene in a most spectacular manner.
"Stupefy!"
The sudden cry of the Stunning Spell, uttered simultaneously from seven mouths, distracted Voldemort from Ginny. He pushed past her and Pettigrew, staring in disbelief at the sight which greeted him.
"What in Slytherin's name?"
"It's Dumbledore!" declared Pettigrew.
Voldemort glowered dangerously, baring his small and pointy teeth, and hissed, "I can see that, you bumbling twit."
Indeed, Dumbledore, with Gurney Halleck and five other Aurors whom Ginny did not immediately recognise charging alongside him, had entered the fray. They were approaching from the direction of the lake, which was where the Dark Lord's forces were spread their thinnest. Ginny watched with an overwhelming sense of relief as the headmaster felled a trio of cave trolls with a single spell as he and his companions began working their way toward them.
Ginny could see that Voldemort was about to order those of his minions which were not matching off against Harry to deal with this latest threat. He managed to open his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a single word a series of loud explosions rocked the already ravaged and upturned grounds.
The defences, Ginny realized, looking up at the castle walls.
Coinciding with Dumbledore's charge, Ron or whoever was in charge of the Situation Room, had triggered the active. defences that Harry had installed around Hogwarts during the previous year. All along the walls of the school, garnering varying degrees of surprise from those Aurors and teachers arrayed there, the masonry was coming alive.
Stone gargoyles were shifting about on their precarious perches and, with seemingly demented grins on their faces, were raising their hands high above their heads to gather and hurl balls of flickering azure fire at the intruding throng below. The brilliant blue flames smashed into the ground, or occasionally a group of zombies, exploding on impact with an astonishing amount of force.
At the base of the towering walls arrays of long and thick iron spikes burst outward and upwards, impaling those few zombies and trolls that were still beating against the stonework in gruesome sprays of blood and gore. A similar set of spikes emerged higher up, this time slanting down so that none of the attackers could attempt to scale the walls without encountering even further resistance.
"Why is it that Gryffindors always believe hopeless gestures are noble ones?" asked Voldemort in an aggravated tone of voice. He was seemingly ignoring the fact that almost a third of his forces had been done away with since the battle had been joined. His teeth still bared in a silent snarl he motioned to Pettigrew, "Wormtail... kill her."
"Killing me isn't going to help you one bit, Tom," Ginny protested weakly.
"Perhaps not, but it will most certainly shut you up once and for all."
*Brace yourself, Virginia.*
Ginny, who had just resumed her apparently futile struggles against Pettigrew's less than secure grip, paused. She continued to put up a slight token resistance, far less than what she was truly capable of, regardless of her injuries, and silently asked, For what?
Sun Tzu's voice was tinged with both concern and amusement. *We're about to transfer you to a safer clime.*
"I'm sorry, Ginny. Please, don’t take this personally," Pettigrew was saying, shifting about to take a firmer hold around her neck with his ordinary left hand.
"I really don't see how I could take it any other way, Scabbers." Ginny wheezed as he clutched his hand tightly over her throat. "And if it was at all possible, I'd rather not 'take it' at all."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to turn out this way," he muttered in a low voice, clearly not wanting Voldemort to overhear what he was admitting. Fortunately, however, the Dark Lord was too busy watching with mounting anger as the defenders up on the castle walls joined in with the now animated gargoyles and started hurled curses and hexes down upon the attackers. Ginny, despite her precarious position, was slightly surprised by the tremulous and regretful tone Pettigrew's voice had taken as he almost whispered, "I never did."
*Any second now...*
*If all goes as planned,* Joan assured her, *when Wormtail 'ere begins focusing 'is magic through 'is 'and, we'll be making some big waves in ze ether.*
And if all doesn't go as planned?
*Did you make out that will, as we suggested?*
Ginny swallowed nervously, I thought you were joking...
Pettigrew reaffirmed his grip on her throat with his normal hand, while at the same time bringing his gleaming silver right hand up in front of them both. Ginny continued to struggle a small amount, not wanting to alert the treacherous man to her impending escape by suddenly ceasing to prove recalcitrant. Turning her head to the side, as much as she could against the grip he had on her, Ginny glared venomously into his watery eyes.
"I hope you rot in hell."
"I rather expect I shall," Pettigrew agreed, surprising her slightly with this candid admission. But, any further opportunity to speak was abruptly halted as, amidst the fire and chaos of the battle being waged, Pettigrew set his face into a mask of grim determination. Sucking in a deep and slightly tremulous breath, he began to speak the Killing Curse. "Avada--"
Ginny recognised the signs, as she was subjected to them, immediately. It was almost identical to normal Apparation, the way the world rapidly faded to black as a prickling sensation swept over her entire body, but subtly different at the same time. In the moment she had before that quick twist into timeless nothing, Ginny felt her eyes grow wide at the realization of just what the Order had planned as her means of escape.
Forced Apparation.
The act of forcibly removing a person from one location to another, rather than letting them attempt to do so themselves. It was difficult to achieve even under controlled and careful moderated conditions. Those that attempted it had little choice but to go along for the ride with whomever it was they were forcing through, as the backlash such an act created was extremely dangerous to any caught within its radius. Put in Muggle terms it was rather similar to setting off a space rocket and staying behind - right underneath the actual exhaust. Naturally every Ministry in the world considered it criminally dangerous and unequivocally illegal.
Ginny watched, as the world faded back into being and blossomed back into life, as she found herself Apparating back into existence. Thirty or forty yards away she saw Pettigrew being caught unawares in the resulting detonation caused by her forced Disapparation. The blast was not fiery in its nature, but that did not lessen the damage it caused Pettigrew, who was literally caught standing at ground zero.
All told, it was a rather surprising series of events, particularly as Ginny had only had a split second to realize what was about to happen. Even now, as Pettigrew was sent hurtling into the air with a crack like thunder, she could scarcely believe the Order had done what they had. The fight must have been even more dire than she realized for them to attempt such a dangerous gambit. Of course, Ginny's surprise was nothing compared to the expression now on Voldemort's gaunt and pale face.
Blinking and swaying uncertainly on her feet, Ginny looked around. She was, she quickly gathered, about half way between Voldemort and where Dumbledore was currently fighting. This, unfortunately from her point of view, put her almost twice as far from Harry as she had originally been. She blinked again, aware of the rubbery feeling in all her muscles and the intermittent blurring of her vision, which was coming in waves.
Well, she thought as she looked around at the skirmish surrounding her, I think we can safely say that didn’t go exactly as planned.
*Yer out of the line of fire, aren't yeh? What're yeh complaining about?* asked Loki, sounding a bit indignant as well as a trifle abashed by their failure to transfer her fully out of the battle zone. Ginny did not respond. Instead she watched with a strange feeling of detachment as Hogwarts' new defensives wrecked havoc across the battlefield.
From one of the battlements a length of chain, with links as thick as Ginny's wrist, reached out and wrapped itself around the waist of a nearby troll. As the dull-witted creature struggled to free itself, the chain lifted it bodily into the air and, with an almost casual flick, tossed it all the way to the edge of the burning forest - where it landed with a resounding thud and a considerable amount of splatter. Its task completed for the moment, the chain retracted back into its hole with a whiplike crack.
Then the battle-scarred lawn, the world itself, tilted at a horribly wrong angle.
Ginny reached out with her arms, trying to steady herself even as her knees began to buckle beneath her. With a grimace of renewed pain, she hoped that the ground --which was rushing up to meet her-- would not smack her too hard.
***
"Now?"
"Now."
***
"You were supposed to get her back inside the castle where she'd be safe!" Harry snapped with palpable aggravation. He was so angry with the Order at the moment, for failing to convey Ginny to safety, that he was actually speaking out loud to them.
*Sorry, Harry,* apologised Quetzalcoatl as he tried to explain, *but forced Apparation is hardly an exact science.*
Sun Tzu quickly added an authoritive, *Of course it isn't - it's magic; which by definition is inherently unstable...*
"As much as I'm sure this will become a thrilling debate," interrupted Harry, "could you, please, keep your minds on the matter at hand?"
He leapt nimbly over the still-flaming tree trunk that he had used earlier to clear away the bulk of the foes which had been facing him, but had now discarded. He found himself almost on top of a pair of zombies and a lone goblin mercenary. Responding to their presence almost as he was landing, Harry cast a powerful fireball and launched it at the nearest zombie. It struck the undead creature in the chest and instantly engulfed most of its body.
In a blur of motion a razor-edged chain --one of Hogwarts' active defences-- shot out from the wall of the nearby Astronomy Tower and, with deft precision, sliced through the remaining zombie's legs at the knees. The legless cadaver toppled over like a felled tree just as the chain snapped back and decapitated it, disappearing from view before the body hit the ground.
Harry turned to face down the goblin, ignoring the smouldering lower half remains of the first zombie between them. The goblin looked from Harry to the bodiless legs --which were walking aimlessly about-- and back to Harry. Clearly deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, the mercenary quickly discarded his glaive and buckler. Turned on a heel he began to flee as quickly as his stumpy legs could carry him.
"Oh, having second thoughts are you?" Harry called after him, casually reaching out with one foot to trip the wandering pair of zombie legs.
*Considering how unintelligent he obviously was, probably only first thoughts.*
*If that.*
Isis, unlike some of her companions, was still paying attention to what was happening around Harry. *Three vampires to your left.*
Harry turned his head in that direction and, upon confirming Isis' warning, lifted his wand and snapped out, "Lusus Naturae!"
Immediately a thick tangle of pointed saplings erupted up from the ground at the approaching vampires' feet. The small but rapidly growing plants speared upwards and impaled each of the vampires a dozen times over. Only one, however, was struck through the heart and burst into flames - thus ensuring the demise of his two companions as they were quickly engulfed in the fire that spread through the trap ensnaring them.
Turning away from the impromptu funeral pyre, Harry looked to where he could see Ginny - lying motionless on the lawn. Knowing that she was at least still alive, thanks to the bond provided by their link to the Order, he asked after her condition, Gin, are you all right?
~As well as can be expected, though I don't know how long that'll last~ she replied after several agonizing moments of silence. Though her thoughts were strong and steady, Harry could still feel the underlying current of pain beneath them.
At least none of Voldemort's underlings are heading your way.
~I guess they're either too stunned to move or think I'm already dead.~
Probably the latter, he offered, since they're definitely moving against me.
It was Beowulf's calm voice that interrupted them as he concisely directed Harry's attention to what was happening not far from where he was standing. *There's a Death Eater preparing to cast a Bone Splintering Curse.*
Harry turned to where the Death Eater was chanting, preparing one of the more complex curses which required more than a simple incantation to cast. The man was just about ready to direct the lethal curse at Harry, something which Loki immediately began to comment upon. *He's almost finished too. You'd better--*
"Nausaem Irae!" Harry barked.
Almost immediately the Death Eater seemed to fold himself in half and collapse. His movements were jerky and uncontrolled as he scrabbled with both hands to pull his mask away, as the potent sickness hex began to work its way through his system.
*--hurry,* finished Loki, just as the fallen wizard began to convulsively expel the contents of his stomach - with such force that he would soon be vomiting up blood as well. Harry only had a moment to consider possibly stunning the Death Eater when Loki shouted out, *Behind you!*
Spinning on a heel Harry just managed to evade the outstretched arms of the zombie that had crept up on him. Planting his feet firmly he grasped one of the thing's wrists and, applying just the right amount of force, twisted to launch the zombie over his shoulder. The zombie, unprepared to perform triple somersaults, could do nothing as it was sent flying head over heels into a pair of onrushing vampires that Harry had detected at about the same time.
~Be careful~ Ginny cautioned him, clearly following the fight even though she was no longer an active participant.
Always, love, reassured Harry as he found himself abruptly turning and staring into the burning gaze of Voldemort.
"You may have the proverbial nine lives of a cat, Harry," Voldemort declared as they made eye contact, "but even an additional eight won't spare you from my wrath!"
*Ooooh, he's getting angry,* Osiris blithely remarked.
*Practically livid,* agreed Iphicles.
Harry refrained from groaning and turned his attention away from the Dark Lord and back to the latest set of opponents that were slowly making their way towards him. Again, he spoke to the Order out loud, "Would you forget Voldemort and help me with these zombies?"
A soft and dulcet voice spoke up, *There are a lot of them.*
How observant of you, Miko, Harry agreed. He spun a web of mystical energy between his hands and formed a weighted steel wire net which he cast at the nearest zombie's feet. Now be a dear and make sure none of them manage to sneak up behind me.
*Come on, Harry,* urged Romulus, *there must be something more we can do to help.*
Pausing in his activities for a second to consider, Harry nodded his head. Well, there is one thing you could try.
*What?*
"Start praying."
***
The fight was not going well. This much Dumbledore could easily discern. In spite of the heavy casualties incurred by both Harry and Ginny thus far, as well as the school's defences and the efforts of the other defenders, they were still badly outnumbered by Voldemort's minions.
The vampires in particular were giving Dumbledore and his six companions a great deal of trouble. The problem lay in the fact that, as preternatural creatures, the vampires were a great deal stronger and faster than an ordinary witch or wizard. It was the speed, more than anything else, which was causing them difficulties as it made it particularly hard to score a hit with a curse when the target was moving so rapidly.
Voldemort's legion of zombies, as well as the surviving trolls and goblin mercenaries, were not as difficult to deal with. Still, what they lacked in ability they made up for in numbers and --in the case of the trolls-- enthusiasm. The zombies were little more than nuisances, as they tended to get in the way a lot, but could prove dangerous should they manage to get in close enough to their intended victim to use their hands and teeth.
Fortunately most of the Death Eaters seemed intent on Harry.
With the anti-Portkey wards that Draco Malfoy had created now removed, as Minerva and Ronald Weasley had reported shortly after Harry's awakening, he and the Aurors could now easily pull out of the fight by means of being retrieved via the bracelets they all wore at their wrists.
Dumbledore, however, was dubious about Harry and Ginny's chances of survival should it come to that. While it was obvious that Harry was fully capable to removing himself from the battle, Ginny was just as obviously powerless to do the same. This, of course, meant that Harry --who would never abandon her-- would not be leaving the fight until it was properly over.
The problem could be solved rather easily if only one of them could reach young Virginia. Each of seven rescuers carried two spare Portkey bracelets in their robes, taken off the Aurors that had remained in the school, one for Harry and the other for Ginny. It would not take long to slip the bracelet onto the young witch and have her retrieved to the safety of the underground Situation Room.
Unfortunately, the vampires were proving... difficult to get past.
"What d'we do now?" asked Josella Playton, in between incinerating a zombie and stunning one of the few remaining goblins.
"I think we should switch to Plan B," Dumbledore declared sagely as he directed a concentrated beam of sunlight from his wand at a pair of onrushing vampires.
Will Masen, who was pressing his arm against bruised ribs, asked, "And what might that be?"
Dumbledore frowned as only one vampire was caught in the beam of sunlight and ignited into flames. The other ducked beneath the deadly light and rolled clear. Spotting another of the undead trying to speed in from his left, Dumbledore turned his wand in that direction and conjured up a small barrage of wooden stakes. As the vampire jerked its arms up before combusting into dust, he answered the Auror's question.
"I'm not altogether sure as I have not yet thought it up."
"Great," muttered Tal Whitman.
Bryce Hammond, who was standing back to back with Jenny Paige, stated blandly, "Think it up fast, headmaster, or we're dead."
Dumbledore was about to respond when something completely unexpected happened. A zombie, which had been shuffling towards the tightly clustered group, was abruptly knocked off its feet - a gleaming silver trident deeply embedded in its back. Looking past the fallen creature, which was trying to claw its way forward in spite of its impediment, Dumbledore sighted the source of the spear - though in truth he had already guessed it.
There in the shallows of the lake shore, only their upper bodies lifted out of the water, were row upon row of merpeople. They were lined up by the dozen in orderly ranks, male and female alike, and all armed with their customary spears and tridents. Dumbledore recognised the mer-chieftainess, whose name could not be properly pronounced by anyone who still had a tongue, raising one arm high in the air before dropping it down as a signal to launch the first volley of spears.
"Nobody dies until I give them permission!"
The clear and resonant voice called out from the direction of the burning Forbidden Forest, diverting Dumbledore and the others' attention away from the merpeople's entry into the fight. They appeared through the thick smoke from the burning trees, striding side by side, were the Professors Proteus.
"You are late," called Dumbledore, pretending not to be relieved by the sight of them and their secretly assembled allies.
And what allies they were! Not since before the time of Merlin had centaurs joined themselves in battle with men. Yet, trotting out of the devastated forest, were nearly two dozen of the magical creatures, a few of which were familiar to the headmaster. Unadorned with any clothing or protection and armed with ancient blades of elvish design, the centaurs shifted about for a short time --clearly assessing what lay before them-- before galloping into the fray with uncanny speed and precision.
Using her wand to ensnare one dumbstruck Death Eater who had been standing near the forest edge with a web of shimmering rope, Hilary Proteus explained their delay. "Have you ever tried to commute through the Forbidden Forest --or what's left of it-- with a small army behind you, while trying not to let on that you're coming?"
Dumbledore, and his six companions, did not let the arrive of the Proteuses and the centaurs distract them too much from the fight. Even though the numbers of foes pressing against them had slacked somewhat, as the vampires and other minions were suddenly forced to deal with the new arrivals as well, Dumbledore knew that he and his companions were not out of the woods yet.
Still, when he could, the old wizard managed to catch glimpses of the pair as they made their way from the forest edge to where he and the six Aurors were fighting. They moved with such grace and economy of movement that it was almost a beautiful thing to watch. As Dumbledore was doing, they concentrated mostly on those vampires which rushed out to meet them - matching the undead speed and agility with what seemed like almost casual ease. The many zombies, scattered trolls and few remaining goblins were dealt with as they came across them.
"The pair of them are nuts," summed up Halleck, who was also watching the pair out the corner of his eye. He was bleeding from a cut to his cheek, but paid the wound no heed as he cast a Petrifying Charm on an approaching troll. "Either that or I took a blow to the head earlier and didn't notice."
"I'd say a little bit of both, Gurney," quipped Hilary as she and Gregory surged to within a dozen yards of Dumbledore and the Aurors.
At that moment, when most of their attention was involuntarily focused on the two professors, a pair of vampires struck. The first barged forward with little or no subtlety in his approach and quickly fell to a speedily conjured stake from Will Masen. His companion, however, had been crafty in his approach. He placed his hands on the first's shoulders from his position behind him and levered himself up an instant before his comrade burst into flames.
Vaulting high in the air and over the heads of the defenders, he landed in their very midst with a hiss of glee. He leapt across at the two Aurors directly in front of him, Bryce and Jenny, brushing sharply against Dumbledore as he did. As he staggered from the knock he had received, Dumbledore saw the vampire knock Bryce away from Jenny with a swift backhand that sent the young wizard tumbling to the ground with a crack of broken bone.
Jenny, her eyes following Bryce's fall, stood helpless before the vampire. Dumbledore could see that none of the other Aurors would be able to bring their wands around in time to do anything to save the red-haired witch. He felt his body tense with terrible expectation as he waited for the vampire to kill her, unable to do anything but watch.
The blow was faster than the human eye could easily follow and so utterly unexpected that it was not until the sharp crack of knuckle meeting jaw and the soft pop of that same jaw being dislocated, that Dumbledore realized that fate had suddenly chosen to intervene.
"Good dogs don't bite!" said Gregory as he slammed a wooden stake into the dazed vampire's heart. The vampire looked down, seemingly surprised to see the stake buried in his chest, and managed to look up at Gregory with a shocked expression before bursting into flame.
"He didn't know what hit him," noted Hilary, just behind her husband.
"I hit him," replied Gregory, lending Bryce a hand as the Auror struggled back onto his feet. Once he was standing upright and steady, the professor released him and turned to Dumbledore to ask, "You all right?"
"Reasonably so, my boy," Dumbledore assured him. He then turned in one particular direction and admitted, "However, our own attempts to reach young Virginia have yet to bear fruit."
Gregory came to stand at the headmaster's shoulder, Hilary stand on his other side. He grinned in that familiarly lopsided and slightly mischievous manner. "It's just a matter of time, sir."
Dumbledore remarked ruefully, "Time does not appear to be on our side at the moment."
"Not to worry, Albus, time owes us --and them-- a favour or two," Hilary declared, her hazel eyes shining brightly with the eagerness of being joined in battle. She raised her wand and directed it at a knot of a dozen or so vampires that were slowly approaching. "Excelsior Solarum!"
A brilliant light washed out of her wand, momentarily putting Dumbledore in mind of the massive search lights he remembered the Muggles using to spot attack airplanes during the Second World War. It was very similar, mostly in its intensity, range and breadth - which proved more than enough to engulf and quickly disintegrate the vampires caught in its brilliant glare.
Dumbledore was about to congratulate Hilary on the remarkable feat, which very few witches could have pulled off, when he saw something that caused his heart to skip a beat. A pair of Death Eaters, unmistakable in their black robes and masks, had come within only a couple of paces where Ginny lay unmoving in the mud, some fifty or so yards away.
"No!" he cried, clutching helplessly at the air before him. "We're too late!"
"Actually, I think we're right on time," observed Gregory with remarkable calm.
***
To put it delicately, Voldemort was furious. He had not been this angry in decades, not even when Harry Potter had teleported the Dark Lord and several of his Death Eaters into the frigid wastelands of Siberia the previous year.
He had been growing increasingly frustrated as the afternoon wore on, mostly because of the stubborn resistance of Potter's girlfriend and then Potter himself. The arrival of Dumbledore and half a dozen Aurors on the battlefield had elevated that frustration into anger. His carefully crafted plans, months --years-- of preparation, were being disrupted by a rag tag bunch of second-rate wizards.
It was only when those thrice-accursed Defence Against the Dark Arts professors had appeared out of the Forbidden Forest, accompanied by more Centaurs than any wizard had seen together in one place since the days of Merlin, that his anger had begun to boil into a black fury that threaten to consume him. His assault was no longer being disrupted...
...it was being flushed down the toilet!
"What are your orders, Lord Voldemort?" asked a sibilant voice to his side. Voldemort turned his head a fraction, until his peripheral vision could see the vampire brood leader that had come to stand just behind him. The pale-faced creature motioned at the battle taking place before them. "The battle does not proceed in the manner you led us to believe it would."
"I have not yet begun to fight," Voldemort ground out through clenched teeth.
"Perhaps now would be a good time for you to start."
Voldemort whirled on the vampire, his thin lips parted in a incensed snarl as he drew his wand and levelled it at the undead creature's chest. "Solaris Lux!"
The vampire howled in agony as it burst into flames, the power of Voldemort's spell amplified beyond what it would normally be thanks to his unchecked anger. Disintegrating into a shower of rapidly fading cinders, it was only a matter of heartbeats before all trace of the vampire was completely gone.
"Bah!" exclaimed Voldemort as he turned away from the few remaining sparks and the ash which drifted on the light wind. He focused his crimson gaze back on the chaos-strewn lawn and muttered unhappily to himself, "I am surrounded by incompetent buffoons! The girl was right - good help is hard to find!"
Although clearly Potter and his friends knew where to find such good help.
No, he realized after standing to watch for a time. Potter was not the one in charge here. Nor was it that old fool, Dumbledore, or any of his lackey Aurors. It was those Defence professors, whom his spies had identified as Gregory and Hilary Proteus. They were the ones directing the flow of battle, at least with regards the galloping centaurs. It was incredible in a way - almost as if they knew what was going to happen before it did.
After a lifetime, and more than that, of assessing his enemies and others, Voldemort was adept at recognising a cunning foe. Someone who was crafty, devious and unafraid to break the rules where it suited them - much like any self respecting Slytherin. He had even learnt how to appreciate such cunning in those rare enemies that displayed it. And he was rapidly concluding that the witch and wizard leading this renewed assault against him were either incredibly cunning... or quite perfectly out of their minds.
Just then two of his Death Eaters caught his eye. He recognised the one as Nott, the other might have been young Timothy Flyte, though Voldemort was not sure. The pair had abandoned the seemingly hopeless attack on Potter and had moved to reclaim the girl, Weasley, no doubt hoping that regaining custody of her would provide a lever against the Boy Who Lived. It was a sound idea and, providing it worked, Voldemort decided to reward them for thinking it.
His lips were just curling into a ghost of a smile as Nott and Flyte grabbed the girl and tried to pull her up. The smile died before it was even half-formed when the girl, now lifted onto her hands and knees, promptly ceased to be a girl. The two Death Eaters were so obviously unprepared to the transformation that she was able to dispatch them both in a matter of seconds with sharp kicks from both her front and back legs.
"She's an Animagus?" he said in disbelief.
"Indeed," confirmed a vampire standing at his side, one which had apparently decided to brave Voldemort's presence and temper. The vampire's eyes were alight with amusement, even though his voice was without inflection. "Hogwarts seems to have turned out a great number Animagi over the years."
Voldemort could not identify the exact breed, he was not an equestrian of any sort, but he could tell at a glance that Virginia Weasley's Animagus form was a truly magnificent example of the species. The mare she had become was equal in size to a large unicorn, perhaps the tiniest fraction smaller, and her shiny chestnut coat was lit up by the fire consuming the Forbidden Forest so as to be almost the colour of fresh blood.
Neighing loudly, and startling several trolls, the mare rose up onto her hind legs and kicked in the head of one zombie that was lurching unsteadily towards her. As the zombie fell to the ground, its head crushed like a ripe melon, the mare snorted indelicately and started off in a lightning-fast gallop to where Potter was currently dealing with several vampires.
"They are decimating our forces," commented the vampire. He nodded to where a quartet of centaurs were wheeling around by the foot of the Astronomy Tower. "The centaurs are also causing mounting casualties. We should withdraw our troops while we still have troops to withdraw."
"You dare to suggest such a thing to me? That we retreat?" Voldemort asked in a dangerous voice, his burgeoning fury growing as he watched the chestnut coloured mare --with short white socks on all four legs he now saw-- butt a zombie away from Potter.
The vampire did not seem perturbed by the Dark Lord's tone and stated matter-of-factly, "This is not a battle we can win. Not without an exorbitantly high price."
Voldemort watched as Potter, a broad grin on his face, placed a hand on the mare's shoulder and leapt up onto her back with practiced ease. He held a wickedly curved goblin scimitar in one hand, appropriated from one of the mercenaries, and his wand in the other. The pair moved with such smooth grace that Voldemort could have sworn they were one being, practically a centaur in the unity of their motions.
"Victory is worth any price. Even the unlives of all your brood."
"I take my orders from the Council of Ancients," the vampire countered. "Not you."
He sneered. "Your precious council has--"
The brood leader quickly interrupted him, "Not given you such latitude as to order us to commit suicide."
Voldemort grit his teeth so tightly that they ground audibly together as he turned away from the vampire to survey the battle once again. He came about just in time to see a trio of gargoyles, on the castle walls, spread their stone wings wide and lifted themselves up into the air. Hovering high above the school grounds, two of the animated guardians began to rain their blue-flamed fireballs down upon the attackers. The third, however, swooped down like a great bird of prey and fell upon a pair of panicking vampires - rending them limb from limb with its stone claws.
Not far from where this was happening, near the North Tower, a group of centaurs were engaged in a scuffle with several cave trolls. The centaurs were stamping around the trolls, herding them this way and that while occasionally sneaking in to land a cutting blow with their ancient elvish blades. The other centaurs, it seemed, were scattered about in twos and threes, striking at whatever dark creature crossed their path as they cantered to and fro.
"Very well then," he declared unhappily, after having just seen Potter decapitate a vampire while charging past on the Weasley girl's back. He seemed so comfortable riding the mare that the pair were almost a match for the graceful centaurs. Clenching his hands into tight fists, his nails digging deep into his palms and actually drawing blood, Voldemort spat out the order to retreat, "Signal for your people to draw back into the safety of the Forbidden Forest. The trolls, zombies and remaining goblins will serve to cover your escape. They are expendable. My Death Eaters and I shall rendezvous with you at the agree upon location at midnight tonight."
"By your command, Lord Voldemort," accepted the brood leader, bowing at the waist.
Straightening up, the vampire turned to leave, but paused for some reason. Voldemort was about to turn and see what caused his to pause, but the vampire spoke up before that was necessary.
"What of your servant?" he asked with a nod of his head at Pettigrew’s torn and bleeding body. "He is not too grievously hurt. He might yet live."
"Perhaps," Voldemort agreed viciously, "but for his failure I intend to see that he will not enjoy it!"
***
"They're falling back."
Ginny could feel the relief seeping into Harry's voice as he stated what was quickly becoming very obvious. As he said, Voldemort and most of his followers were withdrawing into the burning cover of the Forbidden Forest - leaving the trolls, zombies and goblins to cover their retreat. This close to the castle they could not simply Apparate away, the wards set down by the Founders still in place despite everything that had happened during the day's long course.
*Hah! We have emerged victorious!* crowed Loki, projecting the mental equivalent of pumping his fists in the air and doing a little jig.
*Not decisively, Loki. This was but one battle in the war,* Sun Tzu's cultured voice chided lightly, but he still sounded pleased that the reprieve they had been waiting for had finally come about.
Slowing to an easy canter, Ginny watched as the remaining vampires seemed to blending into the flickering shadows and disappear, while the Death Eaters literally turned and ran into the depths of the forest. The goblin mercenaries tried to follow, as did some of the smarter trolls, but both groups had been reduced to a bare handful of survivors each and quickly found their escape being cut off by the centaurs.
Thinking about the centaurs, and her current similarity to the magical beings, reminded Ginny of the exhaustion which seemed to permeate her entire body. She was suddenly aware of the unsteady trembling of her muscles and the effort of will it was taking to remain standing. Harry's weight, not too much for her to bear under better circumstances, was also beginning to become a tiresome burden.
Harry? she asked. Could you get off me, please? Before I collapse...
"Of course."
He had no sooner said he would than he had, swinging his leg over Ginny's back and dropping to the ground by her side. Had she still been human she would have sighed with relief, but settled instead for a low neigh and snuffle. Harry was tenderly rubbing his hands over her quivering flanks when, before Ginny could begin the transformation back to her human form, the tall and majestic form of a centaur trotted up to them.
"Harry Potter," he greeted in a solemn voice, nodding politely.
"Uh, hello Ronan," he replied, sounding rather surprised to see the red-haired and chestnut coated centaur.
Ronan nodded again and almost smiled. "It is most gratifying to see that you have learnt a little more than 'a bit' since last we met."
Harry seemed to fish for words for a moment before answering. "I suppose so."
You've met him before? Ginny asked him.
~In my first year... serving detention with Hagrid in the forest...~ he replied, not letting his eyes stray away from Ronan, or the long and curved sword the centaur was holding casually in one hand - its blade coated with blood and grime. He swallowed and said, "Thank you for your help."
"No thanks is needed, custodian of the phoenix," Ronan told Harry. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, "Mars is bright and the evening star moves swiftly."
"Erm..."
Ginny was as perplexed as Harry looked and asked, What the devil does that mean?
~Damned if I know~ he answered, sounding a little bemused. ~You have a better chance of finding corners on a circle than you do of getting a straight answer out of this lot~
"Your... professors... sought out our assistance in this matter," continued Ronan. He pointed with the tip of his sword to where Dumbledore, the Proteuses and the Aurors were busy hexing a cluster of abandoned zombies. "We were obligated to aid them."
"Professors?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"You know them as Gregory and Hilary Proteus, I believe."
Harry stared at the centaur with wide eyes. "They went to you for help?"
"You should rest now; the battle is over. We shall to pursue the Dark Lord's forces through the forest as best we can," Ronan spoke, using his free hand to wave to his fellow centaurs, motioning them to start their pursuit. The centaurs swiftly began to abandon the upturned and scorched lawns of Hogwarts, vanishing amidst the burning trees and into the forest. As they departed, Ronan turned to join them. "Farewell, Harry Potter. We shall not meet again until you, and your mate, become teachers at Hogwarts."
"When? But - but..."
Sighing as she returned to her true form, Ginny shook her head and waved for Harry to be quiet as Ronan galloped off. "Oh, let it be for now, Harry. I couldn't care any less about centaur mysticism at the moment."
Shutting his mouth and swallowing any further protestations, Harry turned to look at Ginny as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. His eyes raked over her figure, a quick down and up movement that assessed her condition - which was something of a mess, she knew.
"You look like a drowned rat," he said affectionately as he made his way to stand at her side. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, prompting a smile as he continued, "I'm amazed you're still on your feet."
"Ordinarily this would be the perfect time to come up with some witty remark about buttered toast," she said with a depreciating humour, reminding Harry of what he had said after the fight he had entered into on Christmas, "but right now I'm too tired to have hallucinations."
Harry looked at her, concern filling his eyes, and reached out to take hold of her elbow with a steadying hand and asked, "Does it hurt much?"
Ginny shook her head and lied, convinced that he was not able to see through her rather pitiful attempt at deception, "Not especially. Just a sort of dull ache really."
"Come on, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," Harry suggested.
"Actually, I think you're going to have to carry me," Ginny said.
Harry was close enough to catch her before she collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.
TBC...