Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Masks of Real Heroes	By : Aelys_Althea Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 17755 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Many thanks to the wonderful J. K. Rowling who offered such a beautiful world for amateurs such as myself to frolick in. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction and all characters and original storylines of Harry Potter belong to her!

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
Chapter 26: Attack To Destroy
If he hadn’t believed Bill’s words before, the firelight polluting the sky in a rich yellow above Hogwarts upon their arrival was indication to Harry enough that something was wrong. As they cracked into appearance on the outskirts of the castle’s wards, there was a momentary pause in movement. A ripple of uncertainty seemed to run through them all, at the sight of the light bathing the darkened sky through the trees overhead, at the distant calls of words indiscernible.
Harry flinched at the suddenness of Sirius’ movement when he turned sharply towards Bill. A scowl painted his face. The pair locked eyes momentarily and Bill only shook his head, replying to an unspoken question. Harry wondered briefly what it was.
“Come on, then,” Sirius growled, and without a glance towards the rest of them started up a quick trot through the woods following a path of his own making. Reaching out his hand automatically, Harry locked his fingers in Draco’s before following Ginny and Neville in Sirius’ footsteps. Soft footfalls thumped behind them as Bill took up the rear. A glance over his shoulder showed Harry the young man’s face set into grim lines, shadowed hollowly in the contrasting light and darkness of shrouding night and distant fire.
Not a one of them made a sound other than the faint pants of exertion, the crunch of branches underfoot. It didn’t seem appropriate in the face of the distant cries growing louder and louder. Harry didn’t think he could have spoken anyway. A lump had settled in the base of his throat, tightening painfully at each scream that erupted from the darkness.
They had attacked? Voldemort had attacked, with his followers? Death Eaters, Sirius had called them, and reportedly the man had a vast contingent at hand. It was almost incomprehensible, impossible to believe, a hypothetical possibility not yet realised. And yet, as the thick woods gradually cleared to reveal the castle, it could hardly be denied. Their line stuttered to a momentary halt as the castle came fully into view.
Someone had lit a roaring fire in a ring around the castle grounds. Flames dances ten feet into the air, spitting sparks aggressively towards the sky. The wavering flickers nearly blocked out the sight of darkly cloaked shadows swarming over the grounds, though brief flares of magic swinging wands briefly illuminated their shrouded forms in a myriad of vibrant colours. Spells directed towards the sturdy castle walls grumbled ominously upon impact, loosing distant clouds of thick dust from the walls with each hit. With every impact an upwelling of fearful cries spilled through the stonewalls of the castle. It was almost as thought the school wailed in its own fear rather than simply echoing the cries of its occupants.
Yet even so, the castle wasn’t entirely undefended. Even from where he stood Harry could make out a number of distant figures lining the walls, facing the black-cloaked intruders and deflecting nearly as many spells as hit from the black-cloaked attackers dancing like vengeful hornets across the grounds.
Sirius cursed under his breath. “How many are there?”
Bill shook his head. “I don’t know. There were at least two dozen by the time I left, but it looks like more now.” His face was pale and twisted in worry in the orange-yellow glow f the fire. “Dad left as soon as we saw them to tell Mad-Eye. Hopefully he’ll be bringing reinforcements.”
“They’re holding them off… a little bit,” Neville murmured. Harry glanced towards him; the other boy had taken hesitant steps towards the castle, a frown of determination crinkling his brow. The firelight flickered off the locket hanging around his neck. For a moment, Harry was concerned he would throw himself at the flames.
Sirius evidently felt the same. He clasped a hand on Neville’s shoulder, half-turning the boy and meeting his eyes intently. “Neville, I still think you should stay behind.”
With a violent shake of his head, Neville tugged himself from Sirius’ grasp. “Like hell, Sirius. Not going to happen.”
“But it’s you Voldemort wants –“
“And so what if it is?” Neville turned his frown back towards the castle. His face glowed, and not just from the reflection of the flames. “I’m not going to sit back and just let him overrun Hogwarts. My friends are in there!”
Sirius paused for only a minute. Troubles conflicted in a war across his face. Harry couldn’t blame him. As the current leader of their small group, he was basically responsible for the welfare of his charges. It had only been Neville’s adamant demands and, in failing that, the declaration that he’d follow behind if Sirius even considered leaving them at Grimmauld Place, that had dissuaded Harry’s godfather from doing just that.
He fixed his jaw a moment later, however, and gave a curt nod. “Alright, then. Just don’t get yourself killed.” Neville smiled grimly, but only nodded in reply. Sirius continued. “We need to get inside, preferably without getting burnt. I’m positive that’s not normal fire, so I doubt any Anti-Flammable Charms will work. Bill? Suggestions?”
Rubbing a hand over his chin, eyes still staring widely at the figures darting about on the other side of the flames, Bill clicked his tongue. “The lake. If we wade into the shallows a little, then –“
“Good enough for me,” Sirius murmured, and without further comment started off at a jog once more party towards the Black Lake. Harry felt himself tugged along behind Draco as their party started moving once more. Sirius made certain to keep them on the outskirts of the forest, effectively obscuring them from view even with the glaring spotlight of the fire.
The booming yells of cast spell and cries of fear gradually faded as they drew away from the fight, even if the crackle of flames followed alongside them like a persistent hound. By the time they’d reached and begun skirting Hagrid’s hut, the only other sound was their own heavy breathing and the brittle crunch of grass beneath their footsteps once more. Only the occasional, exceptionally loud wail echoed across the distance.
As the lake came into view, a low hissing interrupted their progress. Sirius nearly stumbled to a halt at the sight of Squirt’s three heads peering curiously through the dark over the side of its trough, frills flaring. The dim illumination from Hagrid’s hut, coupled with the barrier of fire standing a good twenty feet beyond it, made the hydra’s eye’s glisten, reflecting off a couple of limp salmon lying discarded at the base of his enclosure. An overturned barrel left Harry with the impression Hagrid had been mid-feed when he had fled in aid of the castle.
Sirius only paused momentarily to shake his head in exasperation. “Trust Hagrid to get himself a hydra.”
“Where did he even get one?” Bill wondered through faint pants, shaking his own head. “Honestly…”
Harry exchanged a wavering smile with Ginny that bordered on the hysterical; Squirt’s appearance was a familiar feature in the horrific novelty they had just stumbled from. Neither said a word as Sirius urged them onwards once more, a wave of his hand encouraging them all to pick up their pace once more. Ginny did pause, however, to scoop up a stray fish and lob it at the hydra as they departed.
If the Black Lake was cold during daylight summer hours under the cover of evening in what barely constituted spring it was positively freezing. Even the Death Eater’s fire crackling on the shoreline – it didn’t extend into the water, thankfully, though Harry wouldn’t have been surprised it if had – didn’t assist in taking the edge off. It didn’t help that only when they were knee deep in water did Bill think to suggest a Waterproofing Charm. The damage was already done.
Not that it slowed Sirius when they gained the inside of the fire wall. Shaking like a dog, the wizard beckoned his string of followers once more and continued at a trot up the hill towards the castle. From this aspect, with the fire at their backs, Hogwarts was a hulking giant of shadow. Only star-like pinpoints of light from high windows dotted the darkness.

“‘Hidden entrance,” Sirius murmured, jogging confidently towards the castle walls. “If I remember it right, it was definitely around here on the map.”
He was nearly swallowed by the shadows at the foot of the castle. Harry squinted to peer into the darkness, watching as Sirius set to tapping the smoothed stone and brushing through tall grass to edge around the exterior. Harry couldn’t see what it was he was searching for; there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his random taps on weatherworn stone, reaching first high then low, then taking a scuttle of steps to the side and repeating at varying heights. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and fought to prevent his teeth from chattering. He wore little more than a jumper and jeans that seemed suddenly inadequate for spring weather.
It was with a sigh of relief, then, when Sirius found what he had been searching for and, with an exclamation of triumph, beckoned them all towards him. They quickly flooded into a round tunnel that had sprung, quite literally, Harry suspected, from nowhere. Their footsteps echoed hollowly off man-made walls, resounding with a loudness that caused Harry to cringe, certain the Death Eaters wouldn’t miss their passing.
The inside of the castle was a ghost town. Ghoulish echoes of distant cries added to the sound of their footfalls, only intensifying the impression. Harry didn’t recognise the area of the castle they emerged from – through a mirror, as it were – but that wasn’t particularly surprising. Even after spending months within the castle walls he still found himself stumbling upon more unfamiliar corridors than he could count.
Taking the lead once more, beckoning to his charges with that same urgency that now drew a snort from Draco, Sirius set a steady jogging pace through the network of hallways towards the distant sounds of resounding voices. A mask of determination had slipped over his usual worn expression; it added a cold cast to his features that Harry hadn’t seen before. Dread settled on the nervousness that already swirled in his gut.
Trudging up stairwells – they’d reached the ground floor, though Harry hadn’t even realised they’d been wandering through the dungeon’s labyrinth – Bill finally broke the nervous silence. “Sirius, I’ve got to find Dad. He should be back by now, surely. And the professors; I’ve got to got and help.”
Sirius paused for only a moment. He spared Bill a glance, nodding curtly. “Do what you have to, Bill. I’ll drop the kids off with the rest of them.”
“I’m coming with you, Bill,” Ginny panted between steps.
“No, Gin, stay with Sirius, I’ll –“
“I’m coming too,” Neville overrode him. The frown furrowing his brow brooked no argument.
“No, you won’t. Either of you.” Sirius didn’t even turn as he barked at the pair of them. “You’ll just as likely get yourselves killed or trip up an Order member if you try anything.”
Neville spat indignantly. “We will not! We can help –“
“The best help you could offer be would be staying away from Voldemort. Not to mention getting rid of that locket.”
Neville had no argument to that. From behind him, Harry saw his hand raise to the chain looped around his neck. They’d only briefly had the chance to explain to Sirius and Bill what it was – there’d been no time for surprise, even. Not with the urgency of the news Bill brought.
“I’d guess they’d probably be at the Great Hall,” the elder Weasley suggested. Patting Ginny’s shoulder briefly, giving her a quick, awkward kiss to the temple mid-stride, he raised a hand of farewell. “Take care, you lot. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Draco snorted once more at Harry’s side, but otherwise no one objected to the caution. A chorus of ‘good lucks’ followed him, though Harry noticed that each face immediately slipped into an expression of mounting worry as he disappeared around the corner.
That was one of their number down already.
As it turned out, it looked to be every student of Hogwarts in the Great Hall. Slowing to a panting halt at the doors, Sirius eased open the half-closed doors and led them into the midst of buzzing, frantic voices, milling youths and wide-eyed stares. The house tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, benches rearranged in patterns that Harry could discern no order from. First glance suggested there to be an absence of teachers entirely, which could only be expected. Every teacher was most likely protecting the castle. It would surely take a communal, focused effort to face so many foes. Harry was surprised they’d lasted as long as they had.
But the voice of Madam Pomfrey pierced through the crowd like a dart. Harry couldn’t make out her words, but she appeared to have taken the prefects under her guidance and directed them towards taming the masses. It was only half working; the first years especially looked to be on the verge of mental breakdown. Most were very visibly trembling. Harry could hardly say he blamed them.
Casting a quick glance around the room, Sirius turned towards Harry and his friends still following closely on his tail. They were a bubble of stillness in the hubbub, like a stone wedged in the seabed amidst a tumultuous current. He fixed each of them with a meaningful stare; the meaning was lost to Harry, but whatever Sirius himself got out of it seemed to reassure him.
“Alright. I’m going after Bill. He’s right, every able wand that can should offer a hand.”
“Then why can’t we,” Neville growled, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Because,” Sirius heaved a frustrated sigh, “you’re hardly trained for warfare. Don’t try telling me you are.”
“I can fight –“
“One on one, sure. Duelling, I’ve no doubt. But this is a battle, Neville. It’s entirely different. It takes as much luck as skill in such circumstances.”
Ginny raised her chin, the determination still firmly affixed on her face. “If it’s just as much luck, then we could be of help.”
Sirius shook his head. “No. You haven’t practiced you’re luck enough.”
“That doesn’t really make sense,” Harry murmured.
Sirius gave him a tight smile. He reached out a hand and clasped him on the shoulder. Such touches was only mildly discomforting nowadays, and in comparison to everything else going on Harry could easily overlook it. “Maybe not to you. But regardless, you’re not leaving this room.”
“But –“
“No, Neville. If you want to be of help, knuckle down and try to think of a way to destroy that Horcrux without the Sword. You’re smart kids, you’ll think of something.”
Harry felt a moment of exasperation at the condescending tone, a feeling expressed in varying degrees by his friends from their raised eyebrows and rolled eyes. Sirius only smile tightly once more in reply. “Right. Look sharp. No fighting, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t defend yourselves if it comes to it. Wands at the ready.”
As one, Ginny, Neville and Draco obliged. When Sirius frowned questioningly at Harry, he shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t have it with me.”
Starting as though he’d been slapped, jerked backwards a step. His smile slipped into a baring of teeth that caused Harry to flinch. With a hard grasp, Sirius caught Harry’s free shoulder in a tight squeeze. “Why the hell not? What can you do without your wand?!”
Draco swooped in barely a moment later. In a motion to fast Harry couldn’t quite determine its sequence, he smacked Sirius’ fingers from their claw-like grasp and shunted him backwards. Sirius turned his bared teeth – now more of a snarl – onto Draco, who seemed entirely unfazed. “Because, Black,” his voice was cold. “Harry practices wandless magic. Surely you knew that by now.”
It was silly. Ridiculous, really. The murmurs of hurried conversation, the terrified whimpers, still rung around them. Explosions still slammed into the walls of the castle, seeming to shake the room like a quake. But Draco and Sirius apparently disregarded as much for an abrupt face-off.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius growled. He turned towards Harry. “You use wandless magic? Only wandless magic?” Harry gave a subdued shrug, nodding slowly. He felt like he was being interrogated. “And well? What about defensive spells?”
Draco smiled a twisted smirk at that. It didn’t seem directed at Harry, more at the situation, but Harry still cringed in shame. “No, not defensive spells, but otherwise –“
“Then where the bloody hell is it?”
“He can’t do them with his wand, either.”
“I’m not talking to you, Malfoy,’ Sirius growled. Indeed, he wasn’t even looking at Draco anymore. “Where’s your wand, Harry?”
Harry struggled to speak; he wasn’t even sure if his voice would be heard over the chorus of those around him. “I-it’s in Feather-, it’s in my room.”
Groaning, Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his own wand tugging through the short locks. ‘This won’t work. You’re going to have to go and get it.”
“I can’t really use it –“
‘It doesn’t matter! it’s better than nothing, right?”
The stare he fixed Harry with stilled any further argument on his tongue. Harry had thought Sirius angry, but the spark in his eyes, the widened pupils and knitted brow, were hardly the marks of rising temper.
It's worry. He’s worried about me. Even if it was irrational, even if his suggestions amounted to nothing, Sirius was worried enough to push Harry into any direction that might heighten his chances of surviving. Of lasting through what was rapidly evolving into a dangerous battle. It was that realisation that caused him to still further objections and nod with a quick jerk of his head.
“Oh, so Harry’s allowed out of the Great Hall but I’m supposed to sit here like a good little boy?”
“Shut up, Neville. It’s for your own good and if you thought about it for a moment, you’d realise it too.” Neville looked like he might pop a vein at Sirius’ words, but instead squeezed his lips closed so firmly they turned white. Grasping Ginny’s hand, he spun on his heel and strode away as quickly as his legs could take him. Harry watched them disappear into the sea of students in seconds.
The abrupt warmth of an embrace tugged his attention back to Sirius as his godfather engulfed him in a crushing hug. It knocked the air out of him so that he couldn’t have spoken even if he’d had anything to say. “You look after yourself, Harry. Go and get your wand, then come back to the Great Hall. Don’t take a second more than you have to.”
Harry could only nod tightly into Sirius’ shoulder. The hug was constricting, though more from its sheer force than from his mental discomfort. But it was over within moments, and Sirius had spun and disappeared in the opposite direction to Neville and Ginny.
Draco stepped up to his side, watching Sirius progress towards the Entrance Hall. “He’s probably right, you know. I know you don’t like using it, but just in case. We should take any precaution we can, yes?”
Meeting his friend’s eyes, Harry nodded shortly. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like his wand, only… He couldn’t seem to get it to work the way others did. It seemed to lead him via an extensive scenic route to his destination rather than the shortcut the teachers preached it to be.
That and… no. No he didn’t really like it. Not with it being what it was.
“Maybe it’ll work this time,” Draco continued. “Magic works better when you’re emotionally invested; when it really counts. When you need to protect yourself. Or,” he smiled down at Harry. “When you need to protect someone else.”
Harry didn’t get a chance to consider Draco’s words before he wrapped his fingers around his wrist and tugged him from the Great Hall. He was towed like a train carriage through the Entrance Hall, stumbling up stairs in Draco’s wake. He didn’t complain, though. Draco knew the way to his rooms as well as he did – better, most likely – so it was hardly a problem who led the way.
As they reached the upper levels, they begun to pass a series of familiar glassless windows. With each passing glimpse into the night, Harry beheld a snatch of the situation outside. It was only a faint impression, blurred by distance and awkward angles, but it was an impression nonetheless.
The ring of fire appeared to be contracting, creeping closer towards the castle, constricting like a squeezed fist. The shadows that dotted the courtyard slunk forwards in contorted leaps alongside it. There seemed to be no overall strategy to the movement to the encroaching contrast of light and dark; if anything, the Death Eaters seemed to simply be revelling in the motions of their own vicious spell-casting. More than once he caught the cackle of laughter that followed a flaring fireball and the rumble of struck stone.
He couldn’t see the defenders at all. With a sinking feeling, he realised they were most likely backed up to the castle. Still there, still defending, yet driven backwards. Evidence of their continued defence, however, burst with beams of white light, in rippling barriers and counter-curses, before the spurting attack. The enemy curses struck the defences like fired arrows against raised shields in a sea of medieval warfare. The crackle of spells sizzling into Protego Charms could be heard even from the corridor Harry and Draco strode through.
And in the distance…
“Draco, what is that?”
Pausing, Draco fell backwards a step to peer through the window. His eyes visibly widened.
“Are those giants? And shooting at them; are they centaurs?” Harry heard his own voice as an incredulous whisper.
Draco nodded slowly, his eyes fixed upon the figures that thundered from the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Their shapes cleared from a blurry mass of shadow as they neared the fire, morphing into individual forms. Dozens of creatures, impossibly tall, humanoid creatures, ploughed towards the castle. Their passage rumbled like a rolling boulder, several boulders. The stomping was punctuated by the split and crack of wood as they swung makeshift clubs of unmodified tree trunks and paddles of deadened branches.
Looping around their feet, as swift as sparrows darting through the air, half-man, half-horse beings cantered in wide circles. Bows fired arrows in showers at the giant’s heads, lassos caused the towering figures to stumble in jarring steps. Some even fell. But numerous as they were, the centaurs were doing little to slow the oncoming tide of giants.
“Those centaurs, are they from –“
“The Forbidden Forest? Yes… yes, I think they are. There’s a couple of herds in there. Those giants though…”
“They’re his?”
Harry didn’t really need an answer. It spoke for itself. Draco nodded anyway though. “He must have been recruiting. Who knows what else he’s got up his sleeve, what other magical creatures are on his side.” His fingers around Harry’s wrist trembled slightly for a moment, before he tugged them back into motion.
As Featherwood’s rooms came into sight, a shudder, larger than any before, shook the castle. Like an earthquake, it didn’t pause after it’s initial tremble, but vibrated with increasing force as it continued. Draco stumbled to a halt, slumping against the wall for support. Harry followed him, falling back first at the cold stone and sliding down to a crouch.
When the shudders of the walls finally stilled, Harry and Draco remained frozen.
Lurching back to his feet, Draco cast Harry a wide-eyed glance. “What the hell was that?”
Harry shook his head, rising to his own feet. His legs trembled awkwardly as he moved to the nearest window, wavering with echoing tremors of the castle. The sight that spread before him made him catch his breath.
Statues. Stone statues were scattered across the grounds. Only, they weren’t statues at all, at least not anymore. Statues didn’t move, didn’t heft heavy maces and swing at offending assailants. Didn’t flourish broadswords with the skill of the knights of old.
“Statues?” Draco’s voice was hushed, awed, in Harry’s ear. He didn’t need to nod for confirmation. The evidence lay before them.
They were larger than humans, larger than the centaurs. Maybe that was what gave them a better chance against the giants. For charging head down towards them, it was with visible strain that the giants grounded themselves from they thrust them away, flinging the stone figures from their feet. The cracks of collision resounded nearly as loudly as the curses blasted to the walls. It didn’t do much, but the statues slowed their passage at least. Reminiscent of gladiators battling head on, the opponents swung their weapons like their lives depended upon it. For the giants at least, it likely did.
As Harry watched, the tides gradually turned. The statues seemed to be making the best of the towering invaders. At least until the lead giant, a mountain of a creature, swung his club and crumbled his opponent’s head from its shoulders. Roaring in triumph, the giant swung back his foot and smashed blunt toes into the decapitated head. Like a football, the head launched through the air in frantic cartwheels and smashed into the upper walls of Hogwarts.
Harry could have sworn the castle groaned in pain.
The idea seemed to have taken hold. Harry could see the slow cogs turning in the giants heads even before it fully begun and it sent a shiver down his spine. With unblinking eyes, he watched as body pieces were ripped from the statues. With horrifying ferocity, the humanoid creatures lobbed them like shot-puts at the stonewalls. Harry was reminded detachedly of a twisted re-enactment of trick-or-treaters at Halloween, tossing eggs at the houses of residents who refused them candy. Except instead of yolk running down windows, stone crumbled in torrents of dust from the castle’s heights. One impact overhead caused a shower of crumbs to rain down before the window Harry and Draco peered through.
Taking a step back, Harry spun and ran to Featherwood’s rooms. “We need to get back to the Great Hall,” he threw over his shoulder, but didn’t wait for Draco to reply. Pushing through the door and stumbling through the shadowed quarters, he immediately fell to searching for his want.
It was in his room, he remembered. In the bag he’d brought retrieved from his uncle’s house. Hastening through the living room, Harry lurched into the bedroom and fell to his knees beside the bed. With fumbling fingers, he dragged the bag from the hidden depths and thrust his hand inside. The feel of cold, polished hardness caused him to pause. The feeling was… unfamiliar. Vaguely foreign but distinctly recognisable.
Drawing it from his bag, his eyes locking onto his fingers and tension seizing his chest. There was no way he could see the object as anything but a weapon. Some might argue otherwise – most, in fact – but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t see it as otherwise, not with all the evidence of what it could do. It was practically made to injure people; the very thought made him want to thrust it away from himself. He never wanted to hurt anyone, even at the expense of his own safety. It was, Harry thought, the primary reason he so struggled with Defence Against the Dark Arts. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, never, and using such a weapon would only… He shuddered to think about it, disgust drawing a bitter, lingering taste on his tongue.
At least, it lingered until Draco’s words rung through his mind. When you need to protect someone. Staring down at the weapon resting awkwardly in his lap, he swallowed forcibly. Perhaps this wasn’t what Draco meant; though more ruthless than Harry – of that he was certain; he suspected most people were, and that wasn’t always a positive on his part – Draco would hardly be one to use offence as a defence. Not every time at least. But even so, the word protect… it resounded passionately through his mind.
Harry had never been in the position to defend someone before. He’d never had anyone he wanted to protect. There was the time his uncle had threatened Lyssy, when he’d first taken her in, but it was a passing fancy and afterwards the man seemed to forget she existed entirely.
Now, if he used this weapon, even if it ended up injuring someone else… to protect someone he cared about wouldn’t be… it wouldn’t be bad, would it? Harry wasn’t really good at magic; everyone marvelled when he managed something because he tended to grasp what he could understand quickly and apply it practically with ease. But in general, he was incompetent. And it had little to do with inexperience; he knew that. Hell, he could barely produce fire because, well… realistically speaking, combusting energy into flame should be exhausting. It should be hard. So for Harry, it was.
But maybe, just maybe… if he could manage to defend… it was worth trying, wasn’t it? Worth carrying the weapon just in case? To protect Draco; to defend Neville, or Ginny, Pansy or Blaise or Ron or Hermione. Professor McGonagall, or any of the other teachers, the other students, known and unknown. He could try. Couldn’t he?
“Harry?”
Draco’s voice called him from his thoughts. Stuffing the weapon into his pocket, Harry started to his feet and hurried in the direction of his friend’s voice.
Draco met him at the door, his head poking into the darkness and eyes blinking rapidly, grasping for light. In his arms, Lyssy kneaded the folds of his sleeves, lambent eyes flashing in the gloom.
“Here, I found…” Draco held out the cat awkwardly, placing her gingerly into Harry’s abruptly reaching arms. “I think she was waiting for you.”
Nodding, Harry shifted the cat to his shoulder. She butted his head gently. Where you go? Worried, silly kitten, I worried. He gave her a small smile and patted her head affectionately before turning to Draco.
“Come on. We should go back.”
Without even nodded, Draco spun around and started back down the corridor. In seconds, they’d left Featherwood’s rooms behind them.

The silence that enveloped every Hogwarts students was worse than the frantic cries and nervous whispers. Slipping though the double doors of the Great Hall, Harry and Draco made their way uneasily through the frozen students.
They’re like statues themselves. Only, there was nothing imposing about these ones, and Harry doubted any knew how to wield a sword.
Draco was the first to spy their friends. Ron and Hermione appeared to have been recruited by Madam Pomfrey and were comforting the younger students – and some of the older ones too – with varying degrees of success. In contrast, Blaise and Pansy seemed to have cloistered themselves in their own little world upon one distant bench. They murmured to one another so quietly that despite the surrounding silence, not a breath or whisper could be heard. Neville and Ginny were seated just beside them, but both were as tight-lipped as when they had stormed away from Sirius. Neville fiddled with the locket around his neck absently, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
Sinking onto the bench beside them, nestling Lyssy gently into his lap, Harry leant into Neville’s field of vision in an attempt to catch his eye. “Neville? Are you… do you feel sick?” For he looked so pale Harry thought him on the verge of illness.
Neville blinked rapidly, gaze drawing back into focus. “Sick?” He shrugged heavily. “No, not really. I just feel so bloody useless here.” His voice was low, but heads still turned towards them at his words.
“Not useless,” Draco murmured, perching himself on the bench beside Harry. He somehow managed to modulate his voice so that Harry doubted any of the now listening ears could detect a word. “We’ve a job to do, too –“
“Which I don’t have one fucking clue what to do about,” Neville growled, even lower than before. His lips pulled back in a snarl, and Harry found himself unconsciously drawing away from him. The Gryffindor boy was angry – more angry than seemed appropriate, even given the circumstances – and it seemed that the crushing grasp he now had on the locket was doing little to relieve such anger.
Another rumble through the castle caused them all to turn their faces overhead. The candle’s suspended magically in the air wavered slightly, as though shrinking from the roof for fear of collapse. The magical sky roiled and morphed in a turbulent mass of purple clouds and sparking lightning. It was as though it had darkened in mourning of the ensuing battle.
Moments passed in uneasy silence, until the heavy dragging of footsteps announced the arrival of Hermione and Ron. The pair sunk down onto the bench and floor respectively, shoulder sagging. They looked drawn, exhausted; Harry couldn’t blame them. At least he, Draco, Neville and Ginny had gotten a decent sleep in the last twenty-four hours. He doubted the two Gryffindors had been quite so lucky.
“You right, mate?” Ron nudged Neville with his elbow. The other boy only grunted in response. He seemed to be becoming more depressed by the moment. Ron sighed. “Still no luck then?”
Harry assumed he was talking about the Horcrux, that Neville had informed them of their finding. Hopefully away from listening ears; Harry couldn’t imagine that the presence of a piece of Voldemort’s soul in the midst of frightened pupils would be looked upon favourably.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Hermione muttered, rubbing a hand through the lines creasing her forehead. Her fingers pressed red imprints into pale skin. “Dumbledore didn’t tell you anything else about how to destroy Horcruxes?”
Neville shook his head. “He just told me that the Sword of Gryffindor was a fool proof method. And since we had the Sword…”
“Which we now don’t, yes, I know.” Hermione’s voice was all practical efficiency, devoid of even a hint of condescension. Rather, despite her weariness, she appeared to be deeply in thought. “Why the Sword though?”
“Maybe ‘cause it was Godric Gryffindor’s?” Ron suggested. He was similarly frowning in thought, though his rapid blinking and the occasional rub of drooping eyelids suggested he was on the verge of slipping into sleep. “The opposite of Slytherin, or something?”
“Except that Horcruxes aren’t a product of Slytherin,” Draco muttered. His own face was clouded in thought. “I highly doubt the Dark Lord is in fact the heir of Slytherin, despite popular belief. Which means that the ancient blood feuds of the four founders would mean nothing.”
“It was just a suggestion,” Ron replied, lips down-turning. “No offense, jeez.”
“None taken,” Draco replied graciously.
“There must have been some reason for it,” Hermione ploughed on, riding straight over the disruption. “Perhaps it was spelled to act upon Horcruxes somehow?”
“Could we do something like that?” Ron straightened his back slightly, suddenly focused. “If we got a sword, o-or a weapon of some sort, do you think we could spell it to kill a Horcrux?”
“Destroy it, Ron, not kill. They’re not living. And I don’t know; we don’t even have a clue of what the spell could be.”
Ron slumped into his seat once more, sliding backwards to lean against Hermione’s legs. “Damn, you’re right.” He sighed heavily. “There goes that theory.”
“Not entirely.” Ginny leaned forwards slightly, her voice low. “Maybe we can figure it out. What do we know about the Sword?”
“Sorry, Gin, I don’t think this is time for a lecture in the history of magical weaponry.”
“Be quite, Ron, I wasn’t talking about that. I meant –“
“What do we know?” Neville finally spoke up. His voice was still disgruntled, but at least he was participating in the brainstorming. Another rumble overhead drew all eyes, but it passed quickly and he continued. “Other than that it was Godric Gryffindor’s? It’s just an ordinary sword, isn’t it?”
“You used it to kill the basilisk, though, didn’t you?” Harry broke his own silence, raising an eyebrow towards Neville. “That’s what you told me; when you were in second year, that Fawkes brought you the Sorting Hat and –“
“I pulled the Sword from it…” Neville’s tone had taken on a thoughtful quality. It was a welcome relief from his grumbling. “And you’re right, I did kill the basilisk with it. But an ordinary Sword could do that, right? Couldn’t it?”
“Maybe we’re focusing on the wrong things entirely,” Hermione broke in. “The Sword appeared to you, didn’t it? As a true Gryffindor –“
“Didn’t we just acknowledge that this wasn’t anything to do with the Founder’s blood feuds?” Hermione stuttered to a halt as Ron cut her off. She opened her mouth briefly then clicked it closed. A flash of annoyance flickered across her face though Harry thought it was more directed towards the realisation of the hiccup in her reasoning than at the interruption itself.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Neville murmured near silently. “Dumbledore said something to me once, about the Sword. I didn’t really consider it important at the time, but maybe…” He frowned down at his toes, fingers picking idly at the locket.
Ginny inched up the bench towards him, tugging his fingers from the Horcrux. “What did he say?”
“That the Sword of Gryffindor will utilise that which will draw upon its true strength, upon that which will make it stronger.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Ron pressed his palms into his eyes, grumbling in frustration. “That doesn’t help at all.”
“Did he mean you as a person? Or as a Gryffindor?” Draco suggested. “To ’utilises that which will draw its true strength’; maybe it just had to be wielded by a Gryffindor, simple as that.”
For whatever reason, Draco’s thoughts didn’t ring quite true. Harry couldn’t pinpoint why exactly, but he apparently wasn’t the only one who thought as much; Ginny was shaking her head slowly, frowning thoughtfully at the floor.
Eats it. Does it eat it? When you sleep and eat, stronger. Makes Cat stronger, to eat more.
Harry couldn’t help the small smile that tugged wearily at his lips at Lyssy’s own suggestion in spite of the situation. He was only mildly surprised that she was contributing in the conversation; the little cat was doing more and more of such recently. Harry wondered if she was simply listening to the thoughts as they passed through his head.
“I don’t think ‘eating’ is what Neville’s talking about,” he murmured, scratching a finger under Lyssy’s collar. Draco glanced quizzically towards him, but he only shook his head, waving aside the unspoken question.
A brooding silence ensued. It could have been the tired nervousness of their minds that slowed any progress in the matter, or perhaps the solution simply didn’t exist. Maybe there was simply no other way to destroy Horcruxes other than with the Sword. The thought speared through Harry forebodingly.
Though the rumbles around the castle had continued unendingly throughout their discussion, when a particularly explosive collision trembled the building’s foundations, the entire student body started, cowering fearfully. An echo of voices beat at the doors to the Great Hall, rising in volume until with a burst the double doors folded inwards and figures streamed through the opening.
At first, mind clouded in fear, Harry thought the Death Eaters had finally broken through the Order and professor’s defences. His heart starting beating again as he recognised a number of the faces of those striding into the hall. Rising to his feet alongside Draco, in tandem with every other student, he watched as the defenders of the school, familiar and unfamiliar, wove through the trembling audience. McGonagall and Sirius, Snape and the Weasleys – there were at least six of them now, all identifiable by the vivid colour of their hair – Emmaline Vance and Dedalus Diggle. A man that looked enough like Neville that he had to be Frank Longbottom. Madam Hooch, Sprout and Flitwick, Moody… Every teacher, alongside over half a dozen other faces that Harry didn’t know. There didn’t appear to be any casualties, but he didn’t recognise enough of them to be certain.
Each face was set in grim lines and smudges of soot across pale skin. Patches of dark blood stained clothes on almost half of them. One of the Weasley boys – one of the twins – appeared to still be bleeding from a wound in the side of his head. The sight of it churned Harry’s gut.
This is real. This is actually happening. For despite it all, despite watching he giants and the centaurs, even after beholding the fiery onslaught of spells from the Death Eaters and feeling the warmth of their conjured flames, it hadn’t quite sunk in. Clutching Lyssy tightly to his chest, his eyes flickered between the newly arrived wizards and witches. Almost without thought he took a step closer to Draco’s side.
Snippets of words could be heard from Order members and professors alike, despite their deliberately hushed tones. They appeared in deep conversation, discussing with one another in huddled groups of two or three, whispering to Madam Pomfrey as she wrung her hands worriedly or muttering charms that glowed white as they stuck the doors to the Great Hall in what Harry could only assume were protective charms. The Hogwarts students waited anxiously, tongues stilled with fear, in such profound silence that the hushed words rung sporadically with unnatural loudness.
“…too many of them for us to face head on…”
“What do we do? Send them… the students…?”
“Lupin shouldn’t be far off. We can only hope he’ll manage to bring them…”
“And him? Has anyone seen –?”
Even those faint words drew a tremor of nervousness from the listeners. A nervousness that spiked into terror as, with a resounding BANG, a force struck the doors to the Great Hall.
Students shrieked in terror. More than one wailed in a cracking moan that bounced in echoes off the walls. Another strike, the doors quaking violently, and as one the mass of students, professors and Order members in the hall shrunk back to the far end of the room. The press of bodies was barely a mild discomfort to Harry now – or perhaps his nerves were simply too high-strung already. Sobs and moans battered at his ears so loudly that he couldn’t hear himself think.
“Silence!”
The bellowing call of McGonagall immediately stilled every tongue. Another strike to the double doors caused further shrinking, but everyone maintained their attentiveness.
Casting a hard glance over her pupils, McGonagall spoke with resolute firmness. “We will proceed through the staff entrance at the back of the Hall. I will not abide pushing, shoving or fighting for precedence. We will move in an orderly fashion and we will do so without fuss.”
Gesturing towards a single door – it looked far to small to admit hundreds of students – McGonagall nodded towards the stout form of the Hufflepuff Head of House. “Following Professor Sprout, you will make your way through to the inner sanctum of the castle. Further directions will be given shortly.”
It was remarkable how a few simple directions managed to instil focus, collectedness even, amongst the terrified students. Whimpers still quavered through the air but there was a definite air of determination on a number of faces Harry glimpsed. Or perhaps he mistook what was instead simply eagerness to flee from what was likely to become another battlefield.
Like a sentient creature, the mass of the student body flowed towards the staff entrance. It was slow moving, students pouring through the small opening with the viscosity of honey.
A hand suddenly grasped Harry’s elbow, long fingers locking firmly. Glancing to his side, he met Draco’s eyes. “Stay beside me,” he whispered. “Please.” Harry nodded. He didn’t need to be told twice.
Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the sea of students – drawn with the current or moving purposely to fulfil their roles as prefects, Harry didn’t know – and he could only distantly see Blaise’s head between pressing shoulders. Neville and Ginny were just behind them, the Gryffindor girl speaking frantically into Neville’s ear. At first Harry couldn’t hear a word of it over the stomping of feet, but when it reached his ears he paused and half-turned towards them.
“… if it did do something. Killing a basilisk wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, left it unchanged, surely? It- it’s a magical creature!” She spoke hurriedly, tripping over her tongue in her eagerness.
Neville frowned back at her, tugging at the locket around his neck. “True, but I still don’t –“
“Listen, what if it doesn’t just ‘utlise’ that which makes it stronger? What if it absorbs it, too? Sort of… eats it.”
Harry started at the mirror of Lyssy’s thoughts. Eat it? What –?
But Draco, similarly listening, appeared to have understood in a way Harry didn’t. Slowing slightly to draw closer to their friends, he ducked his head and spoke in swift, low tones. “You’re saying it’s imbued with some of the magical properties from the basilisk? What, with it’s venom or something?”
Ginny glanced towards him, nodding shortly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. When Neville,” she turned towards him. “When you stabbed it in second year, the Sword of Gryffindor… what if it absorbed some of the venom?”
Stumbling slightly with the motion of the moving crowd, Neville shook his head. “That’s a helluva leap to make, Ginny. We have no way of knowing how realistic that theory is.”
“But you have to admit, it’s a possibility.”
“It is. A possibility. But we don’t know. And it would be a huge risk to take; what, we go down to the Chamber of Secrets, snag a basilisk fang and see what happens when we stab the locket?”
“I…” Ginny trailed off, turning from Neville’s frowning face and biting her lip. Neville patted her arm consolingly, but she seemed more saddened by it than anything.
“It’s worth a try, though.” Hefting Lyssy further into his arms, Harry met Neville’s eyes stare for stare. “Honestly, Neville, it is. What other options do we have?”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
Harry shrugged. “Then at least we’ve have tried something. It’s better than sitting here doing nothing, right?” He widened his eyes imploringly. “Please, Neville. It’s the last one, isn’t it? Destroy that Horcrux and it’s just him.”
He could see the collective efforts of himself, Draco and Ginny were getting through to Neville. The hesitancy on his face was still strong, but it wavered slightly. Another insistent bang on the doors of the Great Hall drew all of their eyes. A push at Harry’s back nearly sent him stumbling from his feet as the tide of students behind him struggled to press themselves forwards. Neville, stumbling himself, frowned worriedly as he continued. “How would we even make it there? We’d have to slip past the Death Eaters, make it to the Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and Parseltongue our way into the Chamber. All without the Death Eaters noticing. It’s suicide.”
“We’d be signing our own death warrants if we did nothing, though,” Draco reasoned. “What have we got to lose?” He gave Harry’s arm a tug as, finally making it to the staff door, he passed through the adjacent room. What appeared to be a long, low-ceilinged hallway, almost a tunnel, jam-packed with students like sardines in a can pressed their way further into the bowels of the castle. They inched forwards at a snails pace, winding slowly through corridors that were bent like a labyrinth, so twisted that within minutes Harry couldn’t point with certainty towards the direction they’d come from.
Harry didn’t notice Neville’s hesitancy, not through the uncomfortable wading through the tight hallway. It was not until the Gryffindor boy locked his jaw and finally nodded that he even glanced back at him. “Fine. But I’ll go by myself. It’s too dangerous for all of us to try and come along.”
“Neville, don’t you start –“
“No, Ginny. It’s too dangerous.” He clasped her hand firmly in his own, eyebrows drawing upwards worriedly as he met her gaze. “What would I possibly do if something happened to you?”
Ginny, on the verge of protesting, didn’t get a chance to reply for in that moment, like a river pooling into a lake, they filed into a cavernous room nearly as large as the Great Hall. The walls were absent of windows and candles, but an ambient light illuminated the scene. Low chairs that looked like couches bereft of cushions and a number of hospital-like beds ran in lines the length of the room. Only a single door at the far end, opposite to that which they had entered, provided a break in the smooth, monotonous stonewalls.
Buzzing of conversation hung in the air; apparently with distance from the enemy the students of Hogwarts had regained their composure. At the centre of the room, Sprout and Flitwick were directing students. To the side, Madam Pomfrey bent over the seated figure of someone, an Order member perhaps that Harry didn’t recognise, and pressed gently at their temple. Students of all houses sought seating, folding themselves into huddled groups and peering around themselves anxiously.
Harry, Draco, Neville and Ginny barely got a chance to assess their newest waiting room before they were interrupted by one entirely Harry unexpected. Snape descended upon them like a raven, black robes billowing, and regarded their quartet with piercing black eyes.
“Longbottom, come with me.”
“What?” Harry wasn’t sure who was more startled, Neville or Draco. Draco blinked incredulously at his Head of House while the Gryffindor boy seemed so surprised that he forsook even a glare at his most hated teacher. “Where? Why?”
“Don’t ask questions. Follow me.” With a swirl of his robes, Snape departed. It was eerie how he could disappear so effectively amidst the students despite his height.
“What the…?” Neville looked faintly horrified as he stared at the path of Snape’s passage. As though he could provide answers, he glanced towards Draco. “Do you…?”
“No idea,” Draco replied. “But I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you. He’ll be back if you leave it too long, and you’ll be lucky to escape with your head.”
Though still frowning, Neville nodded. He touched Ginny once more on her arm before weaving through students and similarly disappearing. Ginny peered anxiously after him, but when Harry suggested they find somewhere to sit and wait for him she ceded her watching and followed their lead.
They didn’t have long to wait. No sooner had the sat down beside Pansy and Blaise than Neville had appeared before them again. A frown furrowed his forehead and the worry on his face had intensified.
Sparing only a feeble smile for Ginny, Neville turned – surprisingly – to Harry. “Look, I don’t have much time; Snape says we need to go somewhere. I don’t know where, but it sounded like we won’t be back anytime soon. I,” his voice caught for a moment and his head tipped down towards the locket that swung like a pendulum from his neck. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this, but –“
‘For Merlin’s sake, Neville, just give us the locket,’ Draco said harshly. Neville swung his eyes towards him, blinking in surprise. His flickered his gaze between the Draco’s determined expression and his outstretched hand.
“What’s all this?” Pansy shifted in her seat, shifting her own gaze between them curiously. “What’s that you’ve got, Neville?”
Neither boy answered her. Slowly, hesitantly, Neville slipped the locket from his neck. “You can hold it till I get back?”
Draco shrugged. “Sure. We have to wait for you, anyway. How else would we get into the chamber? You said it was locked by snake-tongue password, didn’t you? I’m not sure about everybody else, but I’m certainly not a Parseltongue.”
Smiling wanly, Neville nodded his gratitude. “I’ll try not to be long.” And he darted away just as quickly as before.
“What’s all this about?” Pansy repeated, leaning over Draco’s shoulder to peer at the locket. Draco handed it into Harry to draw it from Pansy’s curious eyes. Harry took it obligingly, looping the chain around his wrist before tucking his hands around Lyssy once more. Pansy scowled at the lack of reply, but asked no more.
The professors were making short work of stabilising the situation. McGonagall, standing at the head of the room, briefly informed them in a pointless explanation of what they already knew, that they were to remain calm and follow the directions of the adults around them. That Ministry support was sent for an on its way, and that they would remain safe if they stayed put.
Speculative murmurs followed. There was nothing to do but wait and that probably made everything worse. Leaning against Draco, Harry kept up a steady stroke of Lyssy’s ears, the chain of the locket clinking softly with every movement of his wrist. Ron and Hermione appeared shortly after McGonagall’s announcement, dropping into their own seats and succumbing to similar silence. Even Pansy seemed to have little to say.
Neville didn’t return. Long minutes passed, and Ginny seemed to become more and more with each moment of his absence. The distant rumbling throughout the castle was muted somehow, smothered. Harry had to wonder how deeply embedded in the castle they were. Were they underground? The prospect made him feel slightly claustrophobic.
Everything was stillness and hush. Only briefly did one of them voice a comment – Hermione speculating if the teachers needed any help, Ron informing his sister that George, one of the twins, had received a head wound but was alright – but anxiousness quickly stemmed idle chatter. Harry, fighting to ease the tension from his shoulders, had to wonder how long they could all remain in such a state before snapping.
He didn’t have a chance to find out. The rumbles had been distant, and Harry almost felt as though they were moving away, perhaps even ceasing. Until a buzzing feeling drew his eyes to the distant wall, beside the door they had entered through. It looked warm, if such a thing were possibly visible. Pushing himself up from his slump against Draco, he frowned at the faded stone. It could have been his imagination, but even at such a distance, he could swear it… vibrated? Like cement under a jackhammer.
Draco turned to speak to him, just opening his mouth, when the collision hit. At least, Harry assumed it was a collision. It could have been an explosive spell of sorts. He wasn’t sure. It hardly mattered. All he knew was that the wall caved in with a shower of tumbling bricks that put the giants’ work to shame.
Screams erupted. Dust whooshed into the air with the speed of a vacuum. Bodies lurched to their feet, stumbling in their haste to retreat from the tumbling onslaught of showering stone. In an avalanche the far wall crumbled, rolling jagged stones as large as tables across the room. To Harry’s horror, he caught a glimpse as a young girl, stumbling in her retreat, became crushed beneath one such rock with a cry that abruptly cut off with a sickening crunch. He could swear he heard it from across the room.
Shouts of professors and Order members broke through the terrified screams. Directions were thrown at students but hung suspended, unheeded. Stumbling over his own feet, clutching Lyssy tightly to his chest, Harry met Draco’s wide-eyed stare before lurching into retreat.
Black-clad figures swum through the dust into the room. Hoods concealed faces, but it made little difference. There was no confusion as to their identify. Wands raised and before most of the students had made their way across the floor a dozen curses blasted through the air.
Harry wasn’t sure if he would have been hit if Draco hadn’t bodily thrown him to the floor. The room spun around him and he wasn’t sure if the flat expanse of stone before him was a wall or the floor. His vision blurred, fogging, and it took him a moment to realise his glasses had nearly dislodged from his face.
Pained cries clogged heavily in his ears. The feel of cat claws digging into his shoulder should have been painful, but he barely felt it. Fingers fumbling frantically, he clutched onto the nearest body. Draco? He couldn’t see him!
Another explosion, terrifyingly close. Harry ducked his head as a scattering of fragmented stone cascaded over his head. Chips flicked his skin in sharp stings. He squeezed his eyes closed, squeezed the arm in his grasp. The undulating ring of the aftershock echoed in his ears.
“…arry… Harry, come on, get up!”
Draco’s voice. It was muffled, as though he spoke through a woollen blanket, but it drew Harry lurching to his feet, towards the sound. Draco’s face swum into view, blonde hair hanging limply in his eyes and a smear of dust smearing across half his face. His expression was frantic, terrified – which was bad. Draco never showed when he was scared.
Harry barely had a chance to cast a glance at his surroundings – rubble strewn across the expanse of floor, couches splintered beneath piles of rock, figures scrambling frantically before the oncoming tide of Death Eaters – before Draco was tugging his arm once more. They were next to the wall; or what had been a wall. A yawning hole bit into the very centre.
It was likely that it was because they were shadowed by the wall that they had escaped the notice of the intruders. They likely could have pressed themselves to the floor, buried their heads and hoped for the best, to be overlooked, but Draco was evidently taking no such chances.
Harry blinked frantically as he watched him visibly set his jaw, sparing only a brief glance over his shoulder before starting through the newest exit to the room. Moved in a half-crouch, shoulders hunched and head ducked, he pulled Harry from the room. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry scanned quickly for familiar figures – Ron, Hermione; where was Pansy and Blaise? And Ginny? – but he didn’t see any of them. His gut clenched at the sight of limp, half-concealed bodies flung like ragdolls across the room. They looked like students. Black figures stepped over them, on them, as they cornered the remaining occupants.
Oh God, what if…?
He didn’t know what. If they were his friends? The thought made him nauseous, but then the thought of anyone, familiar or not, crushed beneath stone or blasted by a Killing Curse, was devastating.
“Less thinking, more running,” Draco barked, coughing around a lungful of dust. Harry flinched at the harshness of his voice but hastened to comply. Behind him he could swear he felt the gazes of Death Eaters turn towards them, realising the escape of potential targets. The thought steadied his feet, giving them wings for flight.
The hallways the fell into, clambering through the broken wall of the hidden room, were unfamiliar. Draco didn’t seemed to care. His coughing stopped after a few moments, and only their rhythmic panting matched the slap of their shoes on the stone floors. When the echo of shouts finally died in the distance, they slowed to a stop.
“We need to do something.”
Harry nodded at Draco’s words, though his mind blanked. “W-what can we do? How can we help them?” His breath was coming heavily, and not entirely from exertion. He clasped absently at the curled form of Lyssy pressed painfully tight to his shoulder.
Grasping Harry’s wrist, Draco brought the locket wrapped around it to head-height. “This. We can destroy this.” He prodded the locket for emphasis.
“But what about everyone else –“
“You think we can do something? That if we go back we can help them?” Draco’s voice was thick with emotion but his gaze was steady.
Harry opened and closed his mouth mutely, grasping for a reply. Draco made sense, but the thought of leaving them, any of them, was…
“Look, I know. But we’d be about as useful in a fight as a Spitting Wasp against an elephant.” His hand still drifted to his pocket, to his wand, as though regretting the words. Harry felt his mind flicker briefly to his own pocket. “What we can do is get rid of this. Even the playing field, even if only by a little bit.”
“We don’t know if it will work,” Harry mumbled. The more he thought about it, the greater their dependence upon the theory, the more outlandish it seemed.
Draco shook his head. “No, we don’t. But what the hell else can we do?”
He’s terrified, a voice in the back of Harry’s mind murmured. A mirroring mental whimper from Lyssy echoed the sentiment. Swallowing the scratchy taste of dust, Harry nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
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The Masks of Real Heroes