Brave New World Book Three Chapter 17

"Bastard," Malfoy hissed, and raised his wand arm. And I could only watch, terrified, as he began to invoke his next curse.

One of the two young Death Eaters who'd stepped forward at Voldemort's taunting of Goyle hurled himself at Lucius Malfoy, knocking him off his feet before he could finish the curse. Malfoy swore and stumbled back to his feet, reached the youngster, and jerked down the hood and mask that covered his head -- revealing the lightest blond hair imaginable.

Draco. Taller, beginning to fill out from the slenderness of his adolescence, but not that much changed from a year ago.

Lucius stared at him in outrage, and then balled up his fist and struck Draco in the face; Draco went sprawling.

"I did it for you, Father," Draco cried, spitting blood and scooting away from Lucius. "I couldn't let you shame our family that way!"

"The boy has a point, Lucius," Voldemort said coldly, stopping the elder Malfoy in his tracks. "And I do not recall giving you permission to dispatch Severus. Yet."

It didn't calm Lucius down, much, but it certainly reminded him who was boss; he straightened and made a bow to Voldemort.

"Forgive me, my Lord," he said. "I was... overcome. The excitement of the moment."

"See that it does not happen again," Voldemort advised softly, and Lucius nodded, pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped Draco's blood from his hand with disgust.

Severus, through the fading spasms of Crucio, watched the whole exchange with considerable interest.

Curious, I thought. He's seemed to recover faster than Minerva. But then he's used to it.

"So," Voldemort addressed the faculty and students, "you will not fight, even in self-defense. You won't even protect your own... Is it possible --? But no. I sense no Obliviates used. Very well. There is one other option... now, where is she?" he said in mock puzzlement, and scanned the grim faces of the students. " -- Ah, yes. Virginia Weasley, come here."

He cast Imperio with a casual wave of his hand, and Ginny Weasley's body jerked and she pushed, unwillingly, toward the front of the dais.

"You, I think, are not immune to persuasion," he said as she helplessly moved toward him.

Oh, blast -- I've forgotten to ask Severus where Ginny Weasley fit into this --

Voldemort's head swung round in that eerily reptilian way, and his eyes met those of a very angry and defiant Ronald Weasley.

"I said no. Leave her alone. Deaf as well as stupid, are you?" Ron challenged him.

"A Weasley too, by the look of you," Voldemort said smoothly. "The youngest brother? Let me see, that would be Ronald?"

Ron nodded grimly and clenched his wand tightly in his hand -- and swiped his other, trembling, hand down the side of his school robe; he must be sweating. I certainly was.

Harry pulled away from me and stood facing the mirror, terrified for his friend. For the young man who used to be his friend.

"She doesn't know," Ron said. "None of us do. Not so bloody all-seeing and knowing as you think, are you?"

It was a foregone conclusion that Ron was going to get it; I hoped it was only Crucio.

It was. And at the moment Voldemort cast the curse, Harry Potter leaped into the Phoenix mirror, wand at the ready; it gave a shudder and swallowed him whole, and when the ripples on the surface calmed I saw he'd landed in the Great Hall, between Voldemort and the doors to the Entrance Hall.

I don't know how Potter didn't break any bones, but he rolled with the impact and came to his feet; several of the Death Eaters cursed, and Voldemort spun around to face his nemesis.

"There you are. Almost late for your great day, Harry Potter. Or I should say, my great day. Turn your wands away from the boy," he added sharply to the Death Eaters. "No need to protect me." He turned his attention back to Harry, and took another step toward him.

"No," Harry replied steadily, giving him a lie (sort of -- I hadn't told him much, after all).

"It is a potion that gives the drinker immunity to curses. And, as you can see," he said with a laugh, "it heals old wounds and infirmities. I'm rather more presentable than the last time you saw me, true? And between you and me," he said confidentially, leaning in toward the boy, "I'm rather more powerful as well. Powerful enough to beat the Boy Who Lived -- without my wand."

He straightened and said playfully, "Go ahead if you don't believe me. Give it a try."

"Do you? Well, then, there's nothing for it, boy, but to get on with it." Voldemort stood straight, and the teasing look abruptly disappeared, replaced by pure malice. "Try it, Boy Who Lived," he sneered. "Try to be the savior of the Wizarding World."

"Not for the Wizarding World," Harry said quietly. "What's it done for me but brand me a freak? What's it ever done but produce madmen like you, and get my parents killed?" His voice grew stronger, and he rose to his full height. "I'll fight you. But I'll do it for Ron and Ginny," he said with a look to them, "and Hermione and Neville -- all the people, directly or indirectly, that you have harmed. For Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. For Sirius. For Snape."

I sought out Severus in the crowd, still motionless on the floor but for the occasional spasm.

"Take the first shot, boy," Voldemort snapped. "I'll not attack until you're through. And then I'll be rid of you, once and for all."

It was a small hope, but it was there. Please see my previous comment regarding Evil Overlords and Grand Gestures.

Harry took his dueling stance, and calmly -- so it seemed -- cast the first curse.

That was evidently the signal. Every Hogwarts wizard in the Great Hall raised their wands and started throwing hexes and curses -- depending on their skill level -- at the Death Eaters surrounding them (all except Vector and her group, still busy defending the Anteroom door).

I couldn't see Severus: there was a huge crush of combatants on that side of the Great Hall. The older Slytherins had poured off the dais after casting effective Expelliarmus charms, and several elected to use fists on their unarmed opponents. Figg had left the dais as well, and was casting Avada Kedavra about with impunity and a frightening competence. Alastor and Minerva were still on the dais, Alastor throwing curses right and left with a wild grin on his face as Minerva guarded him, blocking curses and occasionally throwing an offensive one herself. They were doing well.

Oddly, Harry had chosen Crucio. I don't know how he knew it: maybe Alastor had been tutoring him. I hoped to God he knew Avada Kedavra as well.

Voldemort barely bothered to parry it. He simply waved his hand negligibly, and deflected the curse, laughing at the futility of Harry's effort. Voldemort's lips moved, but I couldn't make out the words; there was simply too much noise in the Hall.

And then Voldemort lifted his hand again, red eyes blazing, and cast his curse. A sickly green light burst from his fingertips and shot toward Harry.

There are no effective counters or blocks for Avada Kedavra, and Harry knew it. He simply waited.

The problem -- from Voldemort's point of view, at least -- was that it didn't work.

Harry's body simply absorbed it -- that's the best way I can describe it; he staggered for a moment, and lifted a hand to the scar at his forehead. Then he regained his footing and stared at the older wizard, and a smile creased his lips. He'd had enough, it seems. He calmly lifted his wand and I saw him mouth "Avada Kedavra."

The same beam of green light shot from his wand and enveloped Voldemort. He writhed in agony -- which wasn't right, I knew; the Killing Curse was considered instantaneous, though no one could say for certain that it was painless. And then, gradually, flames began to lick around the hem of Voldemort's robe.

He tried desperately to put them out, even fumbling for his wand when unwanded efforts proved fruitless: but the eerie flames crept upward until he was totally engulfed, bits of flame shooting upward and licking at the ceiling of the Hall. One unlucky Death Eater was too close and his cloak caught, and he was almost instantly immolated.

Perhaps that's what gave Voldemort the idea -- assuming he was still capable of thought -- because he suddenly lunged for Harry and seized him, and they were both struggling in the pillar of fire.

The Hogwarts folk kept fighting through it all, but the Death Eaters, attention drawn to Voldemort's plight and vastly outnumbered, seemed to lose their spirit; many turned and fled, or tried to.

And then the blasted mirror clouded with the greasy smoke that poured out of the fire surrounding Voldemort and Harry, and we couldn't see a damned thing.

"Shite," I said viciously, and several of the Firsts gave nervous, hysterical giggles, and I shut them up again.

I was not going to stay here any longer, not knowing what had happened -- whether I had to find a way to get the Firsts and Seconds out, or whether they were safe. I dragged myself upright and made for the door, and to my surprise it slid open under my hand.

"Stay here," I said sternly told the students, "and if you hear someone outside, don't make a sound. I'll come back for you if it's safe."

I slipped through and broke into a run, making for the staircase -- and then skidded to a halt and backtracked, and addressed the mural.

"Keep them safe, please," I begged its occupants, "and let them out if I'm not back in two hours?"

Nimue nodded matter-of-factly, but Merlin sneered. (A very familiar sneer; I wondered just how far back Severus could trace the Anglo-Saxon side of his family.)

Nimue gave Merlin a disgusted look over her shoulder and boxed his ear with her book.

"There are Death Eaters in the castle," I said impatiently -- though part of me wondered if the tactic wouldn't work with Severus -- and Merlin left off rubbing irritably at his ear and sat up straight, suddenly intent. "I don't know if you can -- look, just do anything you can to keep the little ones safe, all right?" He nodded grimly and pulled his wand from his sleeve, and I took off down the corridor.

I could smell the smoke long before I made it to the Great Hall -- oily, clinging to the back of my throat; that's what happens with burning flesh. I wasn't well pleased to think I was inhaling Voldemort, but I pushed aside my squeamishness and kept going until I peered around the Hall's doors.

The dining tables and benches were in splinters, the House banners in shreds -- one still aflame; the ceiling had lost its glamour and was scorched and soot-stained. Up at the dais Hermione Granger was tending to Minerva, and some of Vector's students clustered around her prone body; the other students were trying to help each other. Alastor, unharmed to all appearances, was stumping about the Hall, grimly checking the dead Death Eaters' bodies for signs of life and handing their wands off to some of the students. Molly and Poppy had beaten me down here; Molly was flitting about attempting to triage the wounded, and Poppy was bent over a small, scorched figure in the middle of the Hall. There was a thick electrical charge in the air, and the distinctive smell of ozone mingled with the smoke.

I made for the Slytherin side, where I'd last seen Severus, debris and splinters crunching underfoot.

Goyle was bent over him, supporting his head. Blood streamed from Severus' mouth and nose and ears, and his eyes were closed.

"I couldn't help him, Professor Hunter," he babbled when he saw me. "Someone attacked me, and by the time I got down here they'd trampled him --"

He showed me Severus' left hand and clumsily unwrapped it: it had been crushed (again) under someone's boots.

"It's all right, Gregory," I said, hastily ripping open Severus' top coat and neckcloth to feel for a pulse at his neck: it was there, but very faint, and I looked around desperately for Poppy or Molly. They were both occupied.

There were far too many injured, mostly students: I had no right to stay with Severus, when there wasn't anything more that I could do for him than Goyle could.

"Get Madam Pomfrey's attention as soon as you can," I told Goyle as I rifled through Severus' pockets and came up with a clean handkerchief. "Stay with him. I don't think we dare move him before she sees him."

He nodded and took the handkerchief from me, and carefully wiped at Severus' bloody face as I moved away, stopping only long enough to retrieve his wand and shove it in my back pocket.

I stumbled from student to student, recruiting those who could still walk to take the others to the Infirmary or care for those that couldn't yet be moved. There were a couple of cases of hysterics, but for the most part they were remarkably calm. And most of the non-magical injuries were among the Slytherin boys who'd waded into the fray fists flying against men taller and heavier than they.

Gryffindors might be more renowned for their physical courage, but never let it be said Slytherins were lacking it.

A Death Eater had fallen on top of him -- a large and heavyset man -- and I had a job, pulling him off the diminutive Charms Master. Filius' eyes were wide and blank, and there wasn't another mark on him. He'd been hit with the Killing Curse.

When I regained some composure I closed his eyes, wadded up my teaching robes under his head, and jerked the Death Eater's cloak off to drape it over Filius. I don't know why; it did him no earthly good. But it made me feel marginally better.

There was a sudden disruption in the Entrance Hall -- the distinctive pops of Apparition -- and everyone froze; the able-bodied pulled their wands and took defensive postures.

"That you, Bill?" Alastor shouted, and everyone relaxed, trembling, as Bill Weasley stepped through the doors.

"We're on it," Bill assured him as a large group of Aurors joined him at the doors and stared, aghast, at the damage. "The grounds and Hogsmeade are crawling with Aurors. If there's any left, we'll find them."

"Then get your arses in here and help get these people to the Infirmary. And separate Voldemort's folk from ours and identify the bastards," Alastor barked, easily falling into his most commanding manner. He hadn't been Chief Auror for nothing; they hustled to comply.

It seemed like the triage and transport took hours, but it couldn't have been more than one. By the time I'd helped the last, limping Sixth Year out of the Great Hall and rescued the students from the third floor secret room, Poppy had Severus installed in the Private Ward.

Brave New World

Book 3, Chapter 17