(A/N: Summary of chp 27: Malfoy and Hermione finally duel, but, while the Slytherin loses the fight despite his underhanded tactic of depriving Hermione of sleep, he wins the duel with the help of Snape overturning the judges' decision. At the end, Harry finds Gates lying motionless at his bed.)
"That is all?" Dumbledore asked rhetorically. He was rarely one to waste words, and now it seemed that the headmaster had become more and more remote with every passing second.
Harry nodded. He had just finished relating every detail from last night. Almost every detail, rather. He left out his first sinister idea of leaving Gates right there on the floor.
"I confess that I find the Death Eater's actions puzzling," said Dumbledore slowly, steepling his fingers. "Why did he leave Alex alive by only using a simple Stunning Spell when there was the opportunity of killing one of Voldemort's most significant enemies?"
"If I may state my opinion, headmaster," said Snape from the far wall. "I believe this was a mistake."
Dumbledore leaned back on his chair and fixed his bright blue eyes onto the Potions master.
Snape tossed a short glance at Harry. "Perhaps this will be better discussed in private, Albus-"
"No, I'm sure Harry is as interested in what you have to say as I am," Dumbledore said.
Snape stared at the headmaster, and, upon detecting no irony, he said, "When I looked into the Death Eater's mind, I saw only madness. This, as you know, prevents me from pinpointing his location within Hogwarts-"
"What about the Marauder's map?" Harry blurted out.
"We already covered this, Mr-" He flashed a cold look at Dumbledore. "-Potter. Alex has scanned the Marauder's map several times. He's seen nothing. Not a Death Eater presence. Nothing."
"But if the Death Eater was insane, would he still show up on the map?" Harry insisted.
Snape was beginning to look annoyed. "As I don't know the exact properties of the map, I don't know for sure. But, assuming your father had any sort of talent in Charms, he could easily have overcome that loophole. Returning to the subject at hand, I believe that since we have successfully prevented Rita Skeeter from delivering any more messages, the Death Eater has gone out of control."
Dumbledore's eyes darkened into the color of navy or midnight blue. "I see."
"And, as it happens, Alex was the unfortunate victim," Snape said, lacing the word 'unfortunate' with as much sarcasm as he could.
"That doesn't make any sense," said Harry. "The Death Eater just lets Gates off with a Stunning-"
"There are several lapses in the theory," interrupted Snape. "But regardless I feel that it's the most likely scenario."
"Then shouldn't have someone heard him stun Gates?"
"There are ways to ensure that no sound is made during the incantation," said Snape. "The Death Eater is obviously as stealthy as a house-elf."
"There are too many unanswered questions," said Dumbledore. He was not looking at either of them now. "None of the portraits recalled anyone going through the Gryffindor portrait hole, and there is no evidence of any Confusion Charms."
"First the Death Eater breaches the wards," exploded Snape, completely losing his temper and normally cool control. "Then he sneaks unnoticed into the Gryffindor common room. Then he manages to curse a Firebolt class broomstick right under the staff's noses." He was ranting, raving. Harry and Dumbledore simply watched as months of frustration and fear poured out of the Potions master in a torrent of rage. "Then, somehow, the Dark Lord's underlings manage to break through a supposedly unbreakable Fidelus Charm. Now a Death Eater once again sneaks into the Gryffindor dormitories, and stuns one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Something is very wrong."
"Calm yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore placidly. "Nothing can be accomplished through-"
Suddenly, the door burst open and Professor Whams stumbled through, looking a bit sharper than what was normal. He was wearing no spectacles. Harry presumed he had lost them in his apparent rush to reach the headmaster's office.
"Albus," he said breathlessly. "I found someone. Dead."
It took a full second for these words to register, and when they did, the blood drained from Snape's face, Dumbledore appeared more remote and distant than ever, and Harry felt a chill creep into his heart. The sun went behind a cloud and the room darkened considerably
Hermione! Where was Hermione?
"Who is it?" Harry asked.
Not her not her not her.
"A house-elf," said Whams. "By the name of Winky, I believe."
***
"One of the other elves brought her up," said Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head as she put away an array of vile-looking concoctions. "I believe the name was Dobby. Poor thing, he was in tears."
"Was it the Killing Curse?" asked Snape with a strange tinge in his voice. He might have been asking an oracle of his own fate. "Or something less clean?"
Madam Pomfrey stared at him uncomprehendingly. "No," she said. "Heaven's no. If you're thinking that the Death-" She sighed and leaned against the table. "The wounds weren't caused by any Death Eater."
Now it was Harry's turn to stare. If a Death Eater had not killed Winky, then who did? Harry could think of numerous possibilities. Maybe Malfoy, still sore over his near-loss, decided to take it out on some poor kitchen attendant. If that was the case...
"The wounds were self-inflicted," Madam Pomfrey said sadly.
Harry's jaw sagged open, and a silence fell over them like a blanket. He knew that house-elf punishments were dangerous, painful, and hazardous; but never lethal. What sort of mistake had she committed for her to beat herself in such a manner? Nothing could possibly warrant such a reaction. At least in a human mind.
"When did this happen?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Dobby said it was during the night," she replied. "Otherwise he would've stopped her. Somehow I doubt that he could've, with the house-elf mentality the way it is..."
"She was a free elf, right?" asked Harry. It would be a small comfort to know that, at the very least, Winky died free. He never before really believed in S.P.E.W., but now he was beginning to see Hermione's points more clearly.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Technically, she was. She wore clothes, though she accepted no pay, and was granted full access like any other elf."
Snape shook his head. "Damn it," he muttered. "This cannot be leaked to the students, headmaster. We must impress upon Pot- Mr. Potter the direness of this-"
"I am fully aware of what must be done to prevent a panic," said Dumbledore with unusual sharpness. "And Harry fully understands the gravity of what happened. I trust him to be responsible with this information."
"Headmaster," said Snape. "If this were-"
"I am not a fool, Severus," said Dumbledore. "If you would be so kind, please go to the kitchens and address the house-elves."
Snape's jaw twisted, and he seemed to be inwardly debating whether or not to issue a retort. Finally, he gave a curt nod and stormed out of the infirmary. Dumbledore visibly relaxed.
He's cracking, warning Pseudo-Snape, sounding almost afraid. The Dark Lord's return. It's getting to him. He can't even deal with me without becoming stressed anymore. He's old, Potter. Absurdly old, even by a wizard's standards. Most men of his age would have retired comfortably by now.
"Let me see her," Dumbledore said. The reassuring blueness returned to his eyes. Like pure electricity in their intensity.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, then hesitated. "You're going to have to wait here, Mr. Potter."
The nurse led Dumbledore to a screened section of the infirmary, and, after waving her wand, she crossed the threshold and approached a white curtain. She drew it back: not far enough for Harry to see, but enough for Dumbledore. The headmaster peered through, grimaced, then shook his head. Madam Pomfrey wordlessly replaced the curtain.
One time, long ago, I had seen Albus walk into a house of mutilated muggles, Snape said. He never flinched. He never showed any sign of weakness. None of us did. It was a time in history after the Dark Lord, when the more radical elements of his following went on blind rampages, murdering anyone in their path. Those bastards were tough to hunt down, and even harder to apprehend. More often than not they died fighting. And now, here he is, now truly an old man. He's human. All of us are now. Maybe that's our problem.
In a hushed voice Dumbledore said something to Madam Pomfrey. She nodded. Somewhat reluctantly, it seemed. When they returned to where Harry stood, Dumbledore turned and cast a different - and probably stronger - charm on the screened area.
A groan issued forth from a nearby bed.
"He's awake," said Madam Pomfrey, and bustled over to a private area set apart from the rest of the wing. Dumbledore and Harry followed her.
"Mr. Gates?" Madam Pomfrey said. She moved aside and Harry saw clearly the form lying on the bed, motionless, with only a head wearing a hawk-like face appearing above the sheets of fine linen. "Mr. Gates? Can you hear me?"
"Of course I can," grunted Gates, stirring. He sounded groggy, disoriented. Upon seeing Dumbledore, he pushed himself forward with his arms, sitting up.
"Mr. Gates, I suggest you lie back down-"
"Don't be absurd," Gates said sharply, his eyes flashing. A new vigor entered them, and it was as if he had fully recovered in the space of a second. "I feel well enough."
"He can't be having visitors," said Madam Pomfrey to Dumbledore. "He had just woken from a severely traumatic-"
"That's enough," Gates snapped. "I can't be lying here with animals on the loose." Much to the nurse's dismay, he threw his legs over the bedside and stood up. He seemed unsteady for a moment, but when he managed to balance himself, he looked straight at Dumbledore and said, "Luck."
"Excuse me?" asked Dumbledore.
"It was luck," repeated Gates angrily. "Ridiculous, absurd luck. No one- No one has ever snuck up upon me before."
"Perhaps you'd like to tell us what happened," said Dumbledore.
Gates fixed him with a hard stare. "Obviously. It was late. How late, I do not know, except that I vaguely remember the moon being near its zenith. I was standing guard, occasionally glancing at the Marauder's map, when I was struck with a spell. A strong Stunning Spell. Very strong."
Dumbledore appeared puzzled. "You said you were looking at the Marauder's-"
"I know very well what I said," Gates interrupted. "He came out from nowhere. It was like he manifested out of the very wall. Stealth." He paused, as though something new had occurred to him. "Potter seems well enough," he said appraisingly.
"I wasn't attacked," Harry said. "I was left alone."
Gates said nothing, though his expression darkened considerably. He tilted his head to the left, much like a predatory bird does when it spots prey. "I was the target?" he asked softly. "Then why am I alive?"
"We cannot be sure that you were the target," said Dumbledore. "Nothing is certain, especially with an insane Death Eater."
"I was the target, that's plain enough," argued Gates. "Or..." Blood drained from his face. He frantically dug through his robe. "Where are my possessions?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded shortly and went back to her wall of drawers and closets. After digging through a variety of articles, she retrieved an ornate little chest, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. With an expression indicating that she disapproved of his going, she handed it over to Gates, who grasped it with both hands, as though he was holding his very soul.
The Hit Wizard muttered some vague incantation and the chest sprung open. "You have not been through this, have you?" asked Gates slowly, eyeing Dumbledore suspiciously.
"I would not infringe upon your privacy, Alex."
Gates snorted and drew a tiny glittering object. He tapped it with his wand, and it instantly expanded into a sort of gold goblet. Shaking his head, he shrunk it again and placed it back. As time went on, his hands moved quicker, with abrupt, feverish motions.
"Where is it?" Gates said. It was as though shock, desperation, and terror had all rolled into his voice at once. "WHERE IS IT?" he demanded.
"Alex?" asked Dumbledore steadily. "What is-"
But Gates had already dumped the contents of the chest onto his bed, the tiny objects looking like jewels against the rumpled sheets. The Hit Wizard sorted through them recklessly, as though they were little more than junk marbles. The necklace was sparkling madly against his chest, and his face became whiter with every passing second. Harry had only seen him so utterly panicked once before.
Harry was only vaguely aware that one of those glittering jewels was the transfigured form of his album.
Gates shuffled through the piled one more time. Then he did it again. When it became clear that whatever he was looking for was gone, he slowly turned towards them, his eyes like bits of jagged glass. "It's missing."
Dumbledore's expression scarcely changed. He might not have even been listening, but his next words told them that he had been. "What is missing?"
"A family treasure," Gates said. It was like a growl, the way he said it. "From my mother's side. Stolen by a damned Death Eater." He slammed his fist down onto the bed. Hard. "Again," he added in barely a mutter.
A lever clicked in Harry's head. He remembered, earlier in the year, examining the silver bracelet that Gates had seemed to infatuated with. A design like a silver snowflake. Priceless. From what Harry now knew, it came from Gates' mother, who was part of a branch from the Black family. A Black family artifact.
"Why would this Death Eater want it?"
Gates gave Dumbledore a glare that could melt iron. "Money, what else? Now we know why he attacked me rather than Potter."
"And why would he leave us both alive?" Harry countered. "He could've stolen it, then killed us."
"He's a thief is what he is," Gates snarled. "A filthy, despicably thief."
"A thief that has gone out of his way not to kill either of you, when he clearly had the chance," said Dumbledore slowly, attracting the stares of both Gates and Harry. "Twice in your case, Harry. Remember when your wand was jinxed?"
Harry nodded.
Indeed, you would be senile if you did not, Snape said sardonically.
"Why, when he could so easily use a Killing Curse upon you, did he instead go to the trouble of sorting through the chest at the foot of your bed and perform an extraordinarily complicated jinx in the dead of night?"
Harry had no answer, and, from his silence, neither did Gates. Indeed, the Hit Wizard appeared even troubled.
"And now once again you have been spared," said Dumbledore.
"Perhaps he has honor after all," said Gates, not sounding at all like he believed his own words. "Perhaps he believed himself too good to murder a wizard in their sleep."
"One does not become a Death Eater by not taking every advantage possible," Dumbledore said.
For a moment no one spoke, and Gates slowly began gathering the scattered trinkets on the bedside. One by one, he picked each one up and carefully placed them into the chest. Then, with a sudden burst of anger, he snatched a handful, raised it into the air, and smashed them into the ground. They shattered into a thousand glittering bits of dust, sparkling like glass sand across the linoleum floor. Gates stood over the shards, baring his teeth like a predator over fallen prey.
"I'LL KILL THAT DEATH EATER!" Gates roared, his face reddening with rage. "I SWEAR THAT I WILL! I SWEAR IT ON MY HONOR AND ON MY FAMILY'S HONOR!"
**
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, and the cushion before him raised into the air, hovering a few feet away from the tip of his wand. It shivered a little, probably from Harry's own nervousness, but otherwise remained stable. Now came the more difficult part. "Waddiwasi!"
The cushion was flung across the room, smacking against the far wall and falling to the ground. It had not the speed that Gates managed to achieve, but he was working on that. So far, Harry could easily match the Hit Wizard in distance.
"But," Gates would always say, talking to Harry as though trying to explain the concept of the wheel to a monkey. "Distance is irrelevant. What use is it to have the object be flung so far without causing any damage? Speed is key."
This time, however, Gates did not go into a long speech regarding Harry's weakness. Instead, he remained seated in the corner of the Room of Requirement, drinking a glass of Red Haze, watching his student carefully. Snape, whose presence was not even acknowledged, sat in the opposite corner.
"Again," was the only word Gates spoke.
Harry repeated the spell, with the same result.
At last Gates put his now-empty goblet onto a nearby French stand and went over beside Harry, taking his own wand into his hand. "You realize, of course, the implications of this duel you have with Draco Malfoy," Gates said.
"Implications?"
Gates sighed deeply turned away, folding his arms behind his back. "You understand how your godfather has damned me to ensuring that you come to no harm. You understand, therefore, that this duel can very well cause you harm. Death, in fact, if you are not careful."
"Dumbledore-"
"Dumbledore could not possibly respond quickly enough to anything that occurs within that dome," Gates said, sharply cutting him off. "You believe he can stop a Killing Curse, should the Malfoy decide to use it?" He turned to face Harry. "Are you naïve enough to believe that the Malfoy child would not dare to use it?"
Harry did not answer. He himself had seen Malfoy come dangerously close to using an Unforgivable. Twice.
Gates nodded. "This leaves me in a difficult position. On one hand, your godfather demands that you learn how to defend yourself, which will require a live duel, and on the other he demands that you come to no harm. So what am I to do, especially when harm and learning tend to come together?"
Harry did not answer, and from Gates' expression, he understood that he was not supposed to.
"You must be trained to an extent where I can comfortably believe that you are capable enough to duel Malfoy safely," continued the Hit Wizard. "While your mother's protection saved you from the Dark Lord, I assure you that no such safety net will exist here. Your scar, which, I should say, has become something of a sacred cow in the modern wizarding world, will not deflect the Killing Curse. Only instinct and wits can keep you alive. You must not push young Malfoy over the edge. He will be a true killer. He already is. I can sense it."
"He's a Death Eater," Harry said flatly. "I know that much."
"No, he's not," Gates said. "Not yet. Not officially. No, there is only one Death Eater in this castle," he said darkly. Then, with a furtive glance to the side, he added, "No, that's wrong. There are two."
Snape, who had remained silent for the entirety of the lesson, suddenly said, "And just what separates you from a Death Eater, Alex? A mark on your arm? I've seen Death Eaters who couldn't possibly live up to your deeds."
Gates jerked towards Snape, his eyes flashed. "You should tread more carefully, Severus. I know a Death Eater when I see one, and, while years may pass before full circle comes, I make sure I never let a Death Eater walk away. I have a long memory, and a longer arm."
A small, wicked grin played across Snape's lips. "Yes, I can imagine. I daresay you are taking your time with the one that is terrorizing Hogwarts."
The Potions master had evidently struck a sore spot, as Gates' expression turned choleric. "That Death Eater will eventually make a mistake and I'll be there and I'll be the one to finish him."
"And what makes you so confident of yourself?"
"Sixteen years of experience and never suffering a single defeat!"
Snape leaned forward, and if he was being malicious before, now he was being positively cruel. "You've lost on your own territory, haven't you? On Gates Manor in your youth."
Harry expected a burst of outrage, a torrent of fury that would dwarf anything he had seen so far. Instead, in an abrupt manner, Gates turned away from Snape as if the sight of the Potions master burned his eyes, and then said distantly to Harry, "We will resume tomorrow."
As Harry turned to leave, Snape said, "Potter, stay behind for a moment." Then to Gates he added, "You won't mind, I trust."
Gates stared coolly at the Potions master for a moment, then, without any clear response he went through the door, shutting it behind him. Snape and Harry were alone.
"What is it?" Harry asked cautiously.
"You don't know, Potter?" Snape said casually. "Surely something must have leaked into your mind over the course of this year."
Harry did not reply. After Snape was through with his insults, he might actually yield some useful information.
Snape's tone turned serious, and he began twirling his wand in his fingers in a gesture that Harry did not quite recognize. He carefully avoided meeting Harry's eyes. "Do you feel that you can defeat Alex in a duel?"
Harry simply stared at the Potions master blankly. It was a question he had never considered before. "Errr…"
Harry had been expecting Snape to snort disdainfully, or perhaps make a sarcastic remark, but none came. Instead, the Potions master's expression became all the more grave.
"You don't understand Alex's nature yet," Snape said. "That much is apparent. He's been planning for the two of you to duel. He's been planning for a long time."
"What?" It was the only response Harry could formulate.
"He's been sizing you up in your duels and during your training sessions," continued Snape. "He's been evaluating your strengths and weaknesses. He's learning all about you, and you, it seems, have not been doing the same."
"But he can't. He's supposed to be-"
Snape cut him off. "Forget that. Forget your godfather's petty favors. You don't understand what Alex is. He is the ultimate monster. When he makes a decision, he fulfills it. He has no concern for his own welfare. If he suffers for it then so be it. He's a man who wants to die, and shower himself in as much honor as possible before he does. And the damned necklace - that is the force that drives him."
"And what am I going to be able to do about it?" Harry demanded. "None of you have. You've been letting him wander around at whim."
"You feel it's my decision?" Snape burst out angrily. "If it was up to me, Alex would be categorized right along with the Dark Lord in threats to the ministry." He took a deep breath, then relaxed slightly. "Dumbledore's ability to make a sound choice in this matter has been clouded by another…matter. The fact remains that it is inevitable that you will encounter Alex between now and the end of the year."
"I did nothing to him," argued Harry. "I've done nothing!"
"You're missing the point!" Snape said. "Alex hates you because of the honor he thinks you stole from him, and the necklace has only served to amplify this emotion. Being assigned to act as your guardian was the last straw. In you, I suppose, he sees-" He stopped suddenly, as though realizing what he was about to say. "Nevermind."
"What can I do about him? There must be some way I can avoid this."
"No, the headmaster believes Alex to be firmly reigned and in control. For the most part, I concede, this is true, but you must factor in the devil that lurks in every mind." Snape stood up from his chair and walked across the room, as if he was beginning to reveal something of incredible import. "I've studied Occlumency for many years, Potter, and one of the facts you learn about every human mind is that there is a shadow. Even in Dumbledore's. The best of us can suppress the demon and prevent it from ruling our actions. But no one can do it completely. This shadow- this monster will rise up at inopportune moments, eclipsing rationality and morality."
"I've never seen it happen to Professor Dumbledore."
Snape let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "I have." He paused. "If there is one weakness in Albus, it's that he is too trusting. He has too much faith in people."
Fortunately, said Pseudo-Snape. We have people such as I who are not.
"When the Death Eater stole from him," continued Snape. "it made a personal enemy of Alex. And Alex never takes his enemies lightly. He will be duly stressed, and therefore more likely to succumb to his demon."
"I think his demon is always controlling him," Harry said wryly.
"Anyone can become worse than they already are," said Snape. He sighed. There was a long silence.
"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked suddenly.
Snape's shoulders visibly tensed. "Excuse me?"
"Why are you telling me all this?" Harry asked. "You didn't seem to have any problem overturning Hermione's victory for Malfoy. And you aren't even a Death Eater."
"If I didn't overturn Miss Granger's victory," said Snape. "There would've been revenge. While Draco lost the duel, the pure bloods would consider it a personal insult. They would harbor a grudge. Losing a trivial duel is a small price to pay for safety. Albus understood that, but few of the professors did, and none of the students."
"Shouldn't you have said something to her then?" Harry asked indignantly.
This caused Snape to pause. "No."
"So you're going to sabotage me as well?"
"I scarcely believe it would be necessary in your unique case," countered Snape. There was a new edge to his voice. "Besides, I highly doubt my colleagues will allow it for a second time."
"So then why are you-"
"Because it is in the best interests of everyone involved," answered Snape impatiently. "Though someone as shortsighted as yourself might not see all the ends. And you will refer to me as sir."
"Are you sure about all, sir?" Harry asked, beginning to feel a tinge of anger. "You sure you aren't just telling me so you can, through me, get your revenge on Gates? What are you playing at?"
"Leave it to a Potter to make blind and blunt accusations towards his benefactor," said Snape scathingly. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard-"
"Or maybe you're just trying to ease your own conscience," Harry said. "Remus said how you were trying to pay back something you owed. Could you tell me what that was all about, sir?"
Snape's face went white. "That werewolf should keep his snout out of other people's business. If my answers do not satisfy you, then go to him! Go to the last remnants of that quartet!"
Harry flashed him a furious glare and then left, slamming the door behind him. Gates stared at him curiously, but he did not respond. The Hit Wizard did not need to know what had just occurred in the Room of Requirement.
**
And so, before Harry even knew it, his duel with Draco had arrived, and he already found himself stepping up onto the smooth platform to face his longtime adversary.
"May your wand betray you," recited Malfoy, smirking.
"And may yours as well," answered Harry.
They were evenly matched, Harry knew. The bitter feud that they had shared over the years had now elevated to a climax, and the results would determine which of them could be called a true winner.
Dumbledore's voice boomed out, though it was hardly necessary. Everyone was already sitting in silent expectation, and the headmaster could probably have made himself heard with a whisper.
"Let the dueling commence!"
Harry and Draco began circling each other, their eyes narrowed, feet apart, wands ready. It was at that moment when Harry realized that he was now staring at a real bastard. A Death Eater in every way except in name. His enmity towards Malfoy was always there, but he never really acknowledged the full extent of it. They were mortal enemies and probably always would be.
His sleek black robes barely moved as he walked and seemed to stretch over his shoes, preventing Harry from seeing the Slytherin's leg movements. That, of course, was the point of the entire setup.
And this, Potter, said Snape wryly. This is nothing more than a ritual for young Malfoy to become a Death Eater. He's proving his worth with this duel. No more play time.
"This is it," Harry said under his breath. He irresistibly glanced towards Hermione, who was sitting at the edge of her seat, her body rigid and tense.
"What is it Potter?" mocked Draco, grinning. "Missing your girlfriend already? Well, I've got news for you. I'm going to do the same thing to you as I did to her."
"What?" Harry asked with feigned curiosity. "Lose the fight?"
"No," snarled Malfoy, his cheeks flushing. "Win the duel. The fight doesn't even matter. Stupefy!"
Harry ducked as a beam of red light streaked over his head. "Infligo!" he said as soon as he recovered.
Draco twirled his wand, summoning a massive opaque shield with a striking resemblance to the one Dumbledore had used in the Department of Mysteries. When the cone of light emanating from Harry's wand smashed into the shield, it seemed to fade away, as though being drained.
Harry stared at the Slytherin, feeling shocked. Malfoy had just performed some very advanced magic.
"Everbero!" Malfoy said gleefully.
An invisible fist connected with the side of Harry's face, and his glasses were knocked askew. Inwardly cursing himself for losing concentration, he said, "Incarc-"
But Malfoy pressed his advantage, shouting, "Everbero!" again before Harry could finish his incantation.
Harry stumbled backwards, the blow landing hard in his stomach. "Incarcerous!" he countered.
The ropes flung from his wand like a nest of snakes, soaring through the air, stretching out to grasp and entangle their target.
"Finite!" said Malfoy, and the ropes went limp and fell far behind him, sprawling out across the dome floor. "Sorry, Potter. Nice try though." He smirked.
Harry fumed under the taunt, hardly listening to Pseudo-Snape. There's that arrogance again. The confidence that renders him weak.
Then, a plan formulated within Harry's mind. All he needed to do was distract Malfoy with words, and the Slytherin would make his own fatal mistakes.
"You seem pretty sure of yourself considering you lost your last fight against Hermione," Harry said, wearing a taunting grin.
Malfoy's smirk vanished. "You watch your mouth, Potter. Better show some respect now before you end up like your-"
"Accio Rope!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the sprawl of bristling cord that lay directly behind Malfoy.
The rope, urged on by the strength in Harry's voice, sprung to life and soared home. Malfoy was hardly aware of what had occurred when the rope, encountering an obstruction, whipped around both sides of his body. Harry jerked his wand and the ropes instantly became still, the Accio attraction now terminated.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said.
The Slytherin, struggling with his binds, let out a cry of surprise as the ropes levitated into the air, and himself with them. Malfoy's feet kicked uselessly and his face became contorted with pure rage.
Harry's wand began vibrating from the strain imposed on it from the sheer concentration required for performing such a feat. Raising an inanimate object was one thing, but raising an inanimate object and a living wizard along with it was entirely another. Though the shimmering blue dome blocked out nearly all the sound, Harry could sense the audience's anticipation.
Suddenly, Malfoy tore a hand free, and he began clawing at the rope. Harry's hold began to waver, and, at once, he halted the incantation, and Draco fell gracelessly to the ground, landing heavily on his back.
"Stupefy!" shouted Harry, but his wand only emitted a showed of red sparks. It felt warm, almost hot.
You're saturating your wand, Pseudo-Snape warned.
Malfoy grinned, a bit of blood showing between his teeth. "Caries!"
A black cloud poured out from Malfoy's wand like a dark liquid before picking up and swarming into the air. A heavy, oppressive buzz filled the air, reminiscent of a drill, and a peculiar scent stung at Harry's nostrils. The scent of disease and rot. As he watched the cloud rise above him, casting a black shadow on the dome floor, Harry realized what he was staring at. It was the same dense mass of flies that he had seen Malfoy use on Neville.
"Father calls it Pestilence," Malfoy said, the flies still surging through his wand to increase the ever-growing cloud above them. "The best part about it is that I don't even have to be conscious for them to do my work. Be careful, Potter, you wouldn't to Stupefy me right now. Those flies, when uncontrolled, can do some very horrible and wonderful things."
Harry did not need to think about whether Malfoy was bluffing. He had already heard of the Curse of the Flies being used in ancient Egypt, and knew of the havoc that such a swarm could wreck upon its surroundings when loosed.
Still, that left him with very few options. As Harry apprehensively watched the cloud of flies, Malfoy stood away, arms crossed, smirking, taking his time. He was apparently enjoying his show of power.
He decided to try the direct approach first. "Stupefy!" The red streak burst through the mass of flies, burning a few of the insects into cinders, but leaving the majority unscathed.
"If you keep that up, Potter," drawled Malfoy. "You might just be able to kill them all in a few years. Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of time." With an arrogant, superior air, he drew up his wand and thrust it downward.
The buzzing from the thousands of flies crested, and all together they fell upon Harry, surging like one, massive wave of blackness.
Harry darted to the side, his mind racing. "Infligo!" he bellowed.
A cannon boom and a cone of white light shot from his wand, soaring up into the air and slamming against the approaching black cloud. For a moment it seemed to work. Where the cone went, the flies were thrown backwards, disrupting the swarm's structure and scattering the individual insects. To Harry's dismay, the flies quickly recovered, and none were fatally harmed by the spell.
It's effectiveness is reduced against so many targets, obviously, said Pseudo-Snape.
Vaguely, Harry heard Malfoy laughing. The Slytherin was now circling the dome casually, waving his arms in the air as though he was the declared champion.
With sudden inspiration, Harry dashed towards Malfoy, his wand carefully pointed to the side. He would not need it. Draco's eyes went wide, and, thinking that his opponent was about to tackle him, he tried to draw his wand. He was too late. Harry had already grabbed his shoulders and whirled him around to face the swarm of flies.
Malfoy writhed under Harry's hands, but that only made the Gryffindor hold on tighter. Harry was very conscious of Malfoy's wand, as he knew that if it was separated from its owner, the flies would go berserk. Harry could only hope that, to save himself, Malfoy would cancel the curse. He did not.
"Get off of me," snarled Malfoy, unsuccessfully trying to pry off Harry's hands.
The black cloud, adjusting itself to Harry's new position, reared up like an animal and charged. Malfoy shielded his eyes with his arms.
The force of the flies struck them both at once, sending them flying towards the dome wall. They smashed into the wall together then fell to the ground, groaning. Harry fumbled for his glasses which he had lost in midair, and was relieved to find them in one piece nearby. When the lenses sharpened his blurry vision, the first thing he saw was Malfoy - wand still in hand - climbing to his feet. The cloud hovered a few meters away, regrouping.
"Fighting like a muggle, huh?" Malfoy said, his teeth bared. He stepped away cautiously. "You'll pay for that."
Harry leapt to his feet, seeing that Malfoy was now beyond his reach. The Slytherin would not make the same mistake twice. To beat Malfoy he would need to stop the flies, and Harry had no idea how to accomplish the latter. Gates had only taught him to duel individual adversaries, not an amorphous, ravenous mass of individual insects.
With growing alarm, Harry noticed that the cloud was now ready to charge him once more. Feeling the handle of his wand, he realized that it had cooled enough for use. But what good would that do him?
"I wanted the flies to finish this for me," said Malfoy. "But this is taking too long, Potter. Stupefy!"
Harry dodged the flash of red light, a sensation of heat running over his right shoulder. He heard a slight pop as the spell struck the dome's wall.
"Stupefy!" Malfoy said again. Impatiently. Angrily.
"Protego!"
The red light ricocheted off of Harry's Shielding Charm, streaking straight back to Malfoy, who had to duck to avoid his own spell.
"I'll have you burning before I'm through!" Malfoy spat with a reddening face.
Burning! A brilliantly simple plan formulated itself in Harry's mind, and his heart sped up as he glanced at the black cloud. It was moving. He aimed his wand at it, hoping to Merlin that Malfoy had to pause after firing two successive Stunning Spells.
"Ignis!" Harry shouted, and liquid fire sprayed out from his wand, bathing the black cloud with inferno.
The black, monstrous creature that had composed itself completely of flies dissolved like a pearl in vinegar under Harry's continuous stream of fire. They broke apart, burst into flame, and buzzed in crazy circles and then died under the incredible heat. The stench of hundreds of insects simultaneously burning filled the air, the resulting smoke rising and then settling at the zenith of the dome, apparently unable to cross the blue barrier. It hung like a storm cloud, dimming the two larges forms and the thousands of smaller ones below it.
Harry waved his wand wildly through the air, spraying randomly into the air, catching the flies that had so far escaped from the flames. Many were struck and subsequently fell to the ground, instantly turning into a bit of ash. Harry jerked his wand to the side and the stream stopped, leaving little lines of fire on the floor.
"What!" Malfoy bellowed, every inch of him shaking with anger. The crisscrossing lines of fire were reflected in his coal black eyes. "Stupefy!"
The red flash of light was more like a rocket that exploded on the dome wall just behind Harry's head, singing a few hairs. The wall had not been able to absorb all the power, apparently.
Now we know what young Malfoy's governing emotion is, said Pseudo-Snape. Rage. Fury.
Malfoy was not deterred. He advanced upon Harry menacingly, casting curses with every step forward. "Everbero! Petrifectus Totalus! Stupefy!"
Harry dodged each of them in turn, but, with Malfoy's increasingly close proximity, this was becoming more difficult. He was dodging the curses so quickly that it seemed like he was doing some sort of strange dance.
"Stupefy!" Malfoy shouted. "Damn you! Why don't you just lose! Everbero!"
The last curse struck Harry in the leg, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. His jaw smacked off the hardwood floor first, and he tasted something bitter.
"You dare!" Malfoy continued, now almost raving. His eyes glowed with excitement. "You never stood a chance."
Harry knew that this was his one chance - his only chance - to win the duel. Malfoy was more furious than ever, and was preparing to deliver a final curse. The Slytherin raised his wand up high.
"Waddiwasi!" Harry bellowed, shouting the first thing that came to his mind.
Malfoy's wand shot out from his hand and flew high into the air, leaping into a great curving arc before landing on the other side of the platform. In his moment of absolute horror, Draco froze, his eyes turning into saucers.
"Everbero!" Harry bellowed.
The curse slammed into Malfoy's chest and knocked him to the ground. Harry leapt to his feet with a renewed vigor, his heart beating up into his throat.
Malfoy, the full import of his situation hitting him, desperately scrambled for his wand.
"Accio wand!" Harry shouted, and Malfoy's wand flew through the air and into his outstretched hand. He grasped it tightly, and then turned it towards its owner.
The liquid dome abruptly fell down around them, and Dumbledore's booming voice over the roaring crowd announced, "And the winner apparent is Harry Potter!"
The entire Gryffindor section was on their feet, giving him a standing ovation. Hermione and Ron were especially thrilled, jumping up and down in front of their seats. From over at the judge's table, Professor McGonagall looked positively delighted, while Snape's face gave the impression that he had swallowed something particularly sour.
It was just then that Harry realized that Malfoy had gotten to his feet. His blonde hair was disheveled and mussed, and his face was a dark, blood-red.
"This isn't over," Malfoy snarled. The Great Hall suddenly went silent. "The duel ends when I say it ends." He clenched his fists and with a furious cry he charged at Harry, his teeth bared and eyes wide and wild.
With an instantaneous reflex, he turned both wands towards Malfoy, almost as a threat. When the Slytherin did not stop, he shouted, "Infligo!"
The cones of light from the wands struck Malfoy at the same time directly in the chest, throwing him into a back flip where he crash-landed on his face. Harry dropped Draco's wand, and withdrew his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gates carefully replace his wand into his robe.
The hall once again erupted into applause, the only ones who were not clapping being the Slytherins. Madam Pomfrey bustled up onto the platform and attempted to attend to Harry and Malfoy's various bruises and cuts, but neither of them would have it. Malfoy, still positively fuming, got to his feet and shook her off, glaring directly at Harry. Clicking her tongue, the nurse gave them both a few healing spells before retreating.
"I'm going to win anyway, Potter," said Malfoy, a confident smirk returning to his face. "You just wait."
Harry barely heard him, as he was instead was focused on Hermione, whose eyes were shining. For a precious few seconds, he felt at the top of the world.
"The judges, if you would please score the winner apparent," Dumbledore said, his gaze falling onto the four heads of house.
Professor McGonagall, with a venomous glance towards Snape, gave Harry a ten and Malfoy a zero. Flitwick and Sprout's scores were along the same lines, ensuring that there was a big enough point gap that Snape could not possibly overturn the results. When it came for the Potions master's time to vote, Harry felt inexplicably curious. He should have already been celebrating, as Snape's vote scarcely mattered, but for some reason the coming score was the most important of the four to him.
Snape's quill was poised over his scorecard, quivering with indecision. At last he put it to the parchment and scrawled the two numbers that reflected his judgment. He was about to raise it when Professor Whams burst into the hall, his face red from exertion.
Dumbledore, concern wrinkling his face, stepped down from his stand and met the seemingly hysterical professor halfway. Upon seeing this exchange, Gates left the platform and joined them, and almost at once his eyes went wide and he bellowed, "THERE'S A GRENDEL AT HOGWARTS?"
A Grendel. Harry remembered the vicious creature from the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in the beginning of the year. A chill crept up his spine. Hermione and Ron - they were vulnerable!
For a moment it seemed like the words had absolutely no affect. Every remained - apparently petrified - in their seats. Then, all at once, an uproar ensued. The First and Second years shrieked and leapt from their seats, preparing to flee.
Dumbledore tried to restore calm, raising his voice over the din. "Please remain in your seats-"
Any last semblance of order was completely shattered when a heavy, ominous thumping emanated from the massive oak door on the far side of the hall. Footsteps. Gates drew his wand and slowly approached it.
Most of the seventh years jumped to their feet, and the first years were already at the doors. Someone screamed, "RUN!" and anarchy ensued. Students pushed and knocked each other out of the way as the primal instinct for survival overrode reason. Several professors, who had tried to block the tide of students, were nearly run over from the mass of people.
Harry's eyes searched the crowd for Ron and Hermione, and he just barely managed to see a flash of red and brown hair among the jostling students. He jumped off the platform and began to force his way through, sometimes thrusting his hand forward and thrusting himself into the small parting.
"Hermione!" he called out. "Ron!"
No answer.
"Follow your professors to the nearby exits and back to your respective dormitories," said Dumbledore, his voice completely devoid of any sense of panic. It seemed scarcely possible that he could retain such an aura of command over the surrounding chaos.
Perhaps he has finally resigned himself to death, said Pseudo-Snape.
Aurors jumped intro action, half of them trying to organize the students and file them safely out of the hall, while the other half joined Gates in the advance towards the main door. They were flanked on both sides of the Hit Wizard, their wands drawn. Mr. Alverton shouted out orders to his subordinates from the stand that Dumbledore had previously occupied, but few, if any, of the Aurors seemed to hear.
Harry called out Hermione's name again, but his voice was lost among the cries and shrieks of his peers. He thought he saw some bushy hair a few meters away, but when he tried to approach it, he was almost pushed over. It was like he was struggling against the current of a river.
The sound of heavy, thundering footfalls grew ever louder, and the walls began to tremble. The portraits had long since fled, and their abandoned frames remained sealed to the wall. Dumbledore himself joined the group that stood resolutely before the door.
At last the footsteps stopped, and for a moment, it was as if the monster had disappeared, and a wildly illogical part of Harry's brain claimed that it had disapparated. But, before his hopes had even taken root, there was a thunderous bash of fist against wall, and the bronze emblem worked into the door burst off. There was another crash and another. The door was beginning to buckle from the sheer damage inflicted upon it, and an unearthly roar erupted from a gaping hole. Many students bent down and covered the ears, and even the stoutest of Aurors hesitated at the sound. It was the cry of the Grendel.
"GET THE STUDENTS OUT OF HERE!" shouted someone.
The Grendel's fist met the door again and one of the decorative, reinforcing beams snapped, and a black claw with long, webbed fingers broke through, groping at the air. One of the Aurors shouted a curse but the hand did not even seem to notice. It gripped the edge of the hole and pulled, prying the ancient beams apart as though they were toothpicks. There was the fleeting image of a grotesque face with yellow, sunken eyes before the tearing resumed.
"My God," a student next to Harry gasped. "Azazel! Devil!"
If the rush was inconvenient a moment ago, now it was positively dangerous. People climbed over each other, stepped on each other backs, and fought for an exit. There was little either the teachers or the Aurors could do except watch.
Suddenly, Harry felt a hand grasp his wrist and he was yanked sideways. He emerged from the crowd and found himself standing face-to-face with Ron.
"You're likely to get killed in there," Ron said. "But then again..." He looked warily at the door. The graven images and artwork carved into it were distorted and warped from the successive pounding.
An instant later Harry felt a pair of hands clutch his arm and he turned to see Hermione, her face as white as a sheet, standing next to him.
"We were looking all over for you," Hermione said. "When you-"
"Maybe we lost each other," replied Harry.
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Very funny."
"Come on mate," Ron said urgently. "We've got to get out of here."
Harry glanced at the lone doorway which over a thousand students were trying to squeeze into, then at the massive, main door that was now being demolished by the monster on the other side. If they tried to join the crowd, they would likely get crushed, while if they stayed-
"I don't think this is going to work," Harry said.
"Well, we can't just stay here!"
"Look," Hermione said, pulling on Harry's arm. "Let's find a professor. They'll know what we can do."
Running around the perimeter, they managed to find Professor McGonagall vainly trying to restore calm. When they came up to her, a look of relief crossed her features.
Harry did not even have to ask her a question. "Mr. Potter, I want you to take Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to the staff tables. Professor Flitwick is reinforcing that area rather than here. This-" she gestured exasperatedly towards the door. "-is indefensible. Go on, and try to get as many of your peers to go along too."
Just as she finished speaking, there was a deafening crash as the remnants of the massive oak door fell to the ground, revealing a monster with a small torso and grappling arms that ended with claws that looked like razors. Its lower jaw swung back and forth as it stepped over the broken threshold, and it leered down at the small gathering of wizards before it like a God at a sacrifice.
"Tectum!" Gates shouted.
The light from his wand struck a point directly over the Grendel's head, and a thick liquid sprayed out from it in all directions, coming down like rain in a circle around its feet. Soon, it was encased in a blue dome, its yellow eyes staring curiously at the new barrier. Gates grinned, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
"No reason to fear this beast," he said with a superior air. "Not when a wizard from the family Gates is confronting it."
Tentatively, the creature extending a claw and grazed the dome's wall, and almost at once it let out a shriek of pain. The sound was so high that it made Harry's ear drums throb. With a burst of anger, it lashed out at the wall by striking it, and, to the collective shock of the Aurors, professors, and the students who were watching, its fist broke through the gel-like wall. Gates grin faded a little, and he pointed his wand at the dome, as to reinforce it.
For a moment the Grendel stared uncomprehendingly at its own hand from across the barrier, but then it withdrew and thrust its whole body through. This, evidently, was too much. The dome's exterior glowed blindingly bright for a fraction of a second, and then collapsed into thin air.
"GET BACK!" Gates commanded, and he leapt to avoid the Grendel's swiping claw.
One Auror, however, was not quick enough. With a grunt he was scooped up in the Grendel's left hand, and hung in the air like a ragdoll. Squirming, he dropped his wand, and let out a scream as the other claw came around and slashed at his body. The Grendel flipped the body in the air and caught it with its waiting jaws, and then chewed greedily upon its prey. Hermione buried her face in the crook of Harry's arm.
When the Grendel was through, it snarled and turned towards the mass of students. It's eyes gleamed, and it bared its teeth in a primeval show of aggression. A bit of the Auror's leg was still hanging from between its teeth.
"Ron," Harry said quickly. He gently untangled himself from Hermione. "You've got to take Hermione over to Professor Flitwick. I need to help Professor McGonagall get everyone away from there."
"Now wait a minute," protested Ron.
"Do it!" argued Harry, and without another word he dashed off, vaguely hearing Hermione calling for him to come back. But he could not. Not with all the entirety of the school threatened by a savage monster.
Like the knights of old, eh Potter? said Pseudo-Snape sarcastically.
"You three," said Harry sharply, grabbing a few first years by their shoulders. The only way for them to listen would be to individually confront each and every one of the students. The mob mentality prevented the group from listening to a single authority. "Go to Flitwick, there's no way you're going to be able to get through this way."
"But-"
"Just go!"
Gates stood between the Grendel and the students, his massive frame the being the only barrier. His wand was gripped tightly in his right hand, and his hawkish features stood all the more prominently as he glared up at his adversary.
The Grendel faltered, seemingly unnerved by this display of courage, and then drew itself up with a terrifying snarl. It stomped towards Gates, its long arms almost dragging on the ground, its footfalls shaking the very foundations of the castle.
Gates' wand flashed left and then right as he performed a spell within a fraction of a second. An assortment of axes and swords that hung on the stone walls sprung to life, and instantly soared to their new master, obediently stopping in front of the Hit Wizard's body. The Hit Wizard grinned, his teeth looking like fangs in his mouth.
Gates flicked his wand again and the weapons spread apart into rows and columns, all pointing directly at the Grendel, swaying in their new positions like hummingbirds. Before the Grendel could make the first move, Gates slashed his wand and the axes and swords dived down at the monster , slicing at their target, cutting at the thick skin, making it ooze purple blood. The Hit Wizard controlled the weapons masterfully, wielding them as if he was a puppeteer, making the monster roar with frustration.
The Grendel swatted at the swords as if they were flies, knocking several out of the air, sending them to the ground as useless slivers of metal. If anything, the attack only seemed to make the Grendel angrier.
Dumbledore, who was slowly coming up from behind, bellowed, "Incarcerous!"
The Grendel, caught unawares by the spell, was quickly bound by the thick cords. It writhed and struggled, snarling and snapping his jaws ferociously, stumbling drunkenly all the while.
"I don't need your help, old man," shouted Gates angrily. "Go help the children."
Dumbledore's hardening face suggested that the headmaster was irritated, but instead he said, "As you wish, Alex. I thank you for leaving the more honorable duty to me."
Gates brought his wand up, and then roared, "Engorgio!" The weapons in the air swelled to five times their original size.
The larger swords and axes were heavier and more clumsy, often smacking the Grendel on the blunt end, or even missing completely. Regardless, the flurry of objects the relative size of baseball bats made the Grendel retreat somewhat. Its yellow eyes were half-hidden, and it made desperate swipes at the Hit Wizard, beginning to learn that the weapons were merely an extension of Gates' power.
Gates, now feeling that he had the situation fully under his control, moved slowly to the left, forcing the Grendel to retreat to the right. The swords in the air were little more than silver flashes of light, the blades diving at the monster at every opening. The Grendel was becoming overwhelmed, and the pools of blood that were now scattered across the stone floor made the Great Hall look like it was partially encroached upon by a swamp.
Harry, now relaxing slightly upon seeing Gates forcing the Grendel away, became confused. In Whams' class, he learned that the Grendel was nearly impossible to defeat. the Hit Wizard was strong, granted, but was he strong enough to overcome such a foe? Harry sensed that something was wrong.
Suddenly, Harry heard a shriek of fear. For a moment he could not locate its source, but finally he spied a form struggling underneath a wooden hunk of debris on the far side of the Great Hall. With growing alarm, Harry saw that the person was directly in the shadow of the Grendel. If he was not freed, he would in all likelihood be crushed beneath the Grendel's callous foot.
Squinting, Harry saw Gates' eyes flash in the direction of the form, and a horrible realization came over him. The Hit Wizard knew that the person was trapped. He was leading the Grendel there intentionally.
But who-
Harry saw a blur of blonde hair and a lone arm thrusting up into the air. It was Malfoy.
Alex never forgets, said Pseudo-Snape. He warned Draco, didn't he?
Without thinking, Harry dashed across the Great Hall, Hermione's words burning with a painful intensity in his mind.
A saving-people thing.
Harry leapt onto the platform and ran to the other side, heedless to the warnings from the people he left behind. He was instead focused on the Grendel's every movement, every twist of thick muscle, every twitch of an arm. The monster's back was toward him, and Malfoy's fallen form was less than ten meters away. Draco was clawing at the wood - which, apparently, was once a part of the door the Grendel burst through - that had pinned his leg to the floor.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU FOOL!" shouted Gates from the other side of the Grendel. "GET OUT OF HERE POTTER!"
Malfoy's head whipped around and his eyes went wide. "HELP!" he screamed. His wand laid by the Grendel's feet, completely out of reach.
Snarling and cursing, Gates moved to the right, trying to lead the Grendel away, but he was beginning to lose control over the beast. Flecks of saliva foamed at the corners of the Grendel's mouth, and it made a few brave swiped before retreating a few meters.
"Hold on," Harry said. He drew his wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The great hunk rose off the floor a few inches, which was just enough for Malfoy to slide his leg out from under its weight. As soon as Draco was clear, he released it, and it fell heavily to the ground.
Draco tried to stand up, but quickly fell down with a groan. His expensively tailored robes were rumpled and smudged, and his face was the picture of terror. Along the right hand side, he noticed, was blood. Probably from his leg.
"Come on, grab my shoulder," Harry muttered. If anyone else had been watching, they would have gaped with disbelief. Harry would never have lifted a finger to help Malfoy under any other circumstances. At Malfoy's shocked face he added, "Grab it!"
Malfoy threw his arm around Harry's neck and, stumbling, they climbed onto the platform. Limping, they managed to get across, and they nearly fell as they tried to step down from it.
A feral roared threatened to split their ears.
Harry glanced back to see the Grendel storming towards them, its arms outstretched, its jaws opened wide to reveal rows of sharp teeth. The stench of rotting flesh invaded Harry's nostrils, and he pressed on, practically dragging Malfoy along with him, hoping that they would be able to escape.
Draco tripped and fell, almost landing smashing his face on the hard stone floor. Harry grabbed his forearm and yanked him to his feet. As he did so, a small mirror fell from Malfoy's pocket and shattered on the ground. The Slytherin looked at the mirror, then to him, his face turning incredibly white. Then, understanding came to Harry in the form of an echo of another's words.
Mirrors can be used for channeling energy…
Malfoy had cheated again, using the mirror to give himself an advantage over his opponent. That was why his spells were so strong.
Harry was about to make the accusation, but instead decided against it and threw Malfoy's arm over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Grendel coming ever closer, his progress barely slowed by the flurry of curses sent by a contingent of fresh Aurors.
They broke into as fast as a run as Malfoy's leg would allow, and, gasping, they managed to keep a from falling back, but Harry doubted that they would be able to make it. Judging from the sound of the Grendel's footsteps, and the speed that they were running at, they would never be able to cross the distance in time to enter Flitwick's small, concentrated white dome.
To his surprise, Harry found that he was neither scared nor saddened by this fact. Perhaps it was just the Occlumency, or maybe it was bravery. Regardless, Harry did not once even think of abandoning Malfoy to the rampaging Grendel. He gripped the Slytherin even tighter around the shoulders and arm, not looking back at the gaping jaws that were surely behind them.
Harry began to feel the Grendel's hot breath on his back, and Malfoy turned and let out a cry, stumbling and falling. Harry stopped and pulled, but to no avail. The Slytherin would not budge, and, for the first time in a while, Harry looked back.
The Grendel was staring right at them, a mixture of blood and saliva dripping from its jaws, its eyes wide and filled with a certain predatory thrill. The protruding lower jaw dropped the rest of the way, and Harry could look down into the impenetrable blackness of the monster's throat, its maw.
Suddenly, Harry was pushed aside by an even greater force, and he looked to see Dumbledore, his legs and arms spread apart, standing over Malfoy, facing the Grendel without a trace of fear in his face.
The Grendel grinned, or seemed to grin, and lunged.
The next fraction of the second passed so quickly that Harry could barely register what had happened. Dumbledore wand glowed a bright, vibrant gold, and out of his wand shot a missile of light shaped like a spear. It plunged down the monster's throat, lighting up the purple, throbbing passages along the way, and smashed into the side.
The Grendel's jaws snapped into empty air as Dumbledore apparated away, and, as if just sensing that it had received its deathblow, it let out a deep, prolonged moan. Its eyes began to film over, and it began to stumble, as though it was losing control of its legs. With a resounding crash like a tree falling, it collapsed onto the stone ground, its skull crunching as it struck the dueling platform.
The massive exodus out of the Great Hall did not cease. As though expecting the Grendel to leap up again and renew its attack, the students continued to force their way through the doors. With a trouble look on his face, Dumbledore tentatively approached the fallen body of the monster and crouched near its broken head. Purple blood dribbled from its mouth, and its long, narrow tongue lolled out onto the ground. Dumbledore tapped it once, and, with a sigh, it began to disintegrate into thin air. In less than a few seconds the hulk had completely vanished.
Dumbledore straightened and turned around, his eyes showing neither elation nor dismay. He met with Professor Flitwick and Gates. "It seems that the Grendel had been conjured."
"Conjured?" Flitwick asked, sounding incredulous. That was an unusual tone for the Ravenclaw. "No, that can't be right. Only You-Know-Who himself could possibly even think of-"
"Maybe it was," said Gates quietly. He sounded almost hopeful.
"That's the only way it could have disappeared like it did," said Dumbledore. "And a real Grendel would have killed us all. This conjured version was a weaker variant, as summoned creatures tend to be."
"So Voldemort is here?" Harry asked. "Now?"
Dumbledore turned his startling blue eyes onto Harry. "Yes, I believe so."
Gates drew his wand instantly. "Then let's not waste a minute."
"You have an obligation to Harry," said Dumbledore. "The Death Eater is still out there, waiting."
Gates' glare could have melted glass. "I have an obligation to my honor."
"We must first get the students into their dormitories," interrupted Professor Flitwick. "They're already beginning to fight among themselves-"
Something exploded in the hallway, and a shower of red sparks flew out from the doors. Students began running, screaming.
Dumbledore and Flitwick dashed off towards them, their wands drawn, the headmaster's advanced age causing him to lag behind a bit. Harry was about to go join them when Gates grabbed his shoulder.
"Absolutely not," said Gates sharply. "You must be taken away from here."
There was a sound like a cannon booming, and the entire castle shook violently, as though an earthquake had took hold of it. More screams. Even some of the professors were beginning to look scared. Then, they looked up.
Hovering in the sky, reflected by the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, was the Dark Mark. Underneath it, written in a small script was: Alexander Vladimir Gates and all the blood traitors, mudbloods, and vermin shall be cleansed tonight. Consider this a formal challenge.
For a moment the Hit Wizard stared up at it, uncomprehending. The definition of shock was written across his face, then: "DAMN YOU!" Gates roared. This was the last straw. "BASTARD COWARD! YOU HIDE!"
Then, slowly, something dawned upon him, and he looked down at Harry with a sinister look in his eyes. "But you know, don't you, Potter? You are connected with the Dark Lord…"
He grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him aside, practically dragging him into a side corridor. When they entered, Gates looked up and down the empty hallway and then pinned Harry to the wall, his hawkish face looking more intimidating in the torch light.
"You there," called an imperious, aristocratic voice. Phineas from his portrait. "Release him now or Dumbledore-"
Gates whirled, drew his wand, and blasted the portrait into a thousand pieces with a single curse. He returned his attention to Harry.
"Time to see what you know, Potter," Gates said slowly, venomously. His eyes were lit up with a feverish light. "I am doing you a favor. Saving the Potter family's honor. The Dark Lord is slowly taking over your mind and body. Nothing can save you. You must be sacrificed for the greater good. How much you suffer through this is your choice, not mine."
Gates jerked forward and pressed his necklace to Harry's neck. Tortuous screams and voices filled Harry's mind, all pulling and struggling for attention and relevance. He saw images and faces of old twisted souls. Dolohov's face fleetingly appeared, but it looked nothing like it had previously. His hands were covering his ears and his mouth was open in an eternal, bloodcurdling scream.
Harry's scar seared with pain, and yet Gates did not take the necklace away. He pressed it hard, staring deeply into Harry's eyes, digging, searching, probing.
"Where is it," he murmured.
More clips, a thousand times worse than his worst nightmares, surged into his mind's eye. He wanted to cry out, to release the pain, but more kept coming. With it, though, came power that filled his every limb. He felt he could lift the world with a single finger. He could kill Voldemort at whim.
And then came the contortion of memory.
Glorious memories became dark and evil. Horrible thoughts became worse. Distantly, he heard Pseudo-Snape struggling against the onslaught of emotion, but he was overwhelmed.
At last a single, prominent memory surfaced.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
In the inky blackness, Harry only saw a pair of red eyes.
The pain in his forehead crested, then fell, and the voices drifted and fell as Harry collapsed to the ground, shaking. Gates stepped away, his face displaying blatant shock, looking as though someone had just told him that Snockle-Locks really did exist.
"No," he said. His voice trembled. "No, that can't be." He took deep, gasping breaths. His eyes grew wide and he shook his head furiously. "YOU'RE WRONG!" he exploded. "YOU'RE A RUNT! AN ANIMAL! NOTHING MORE THAN A SHAM WITH A SCAR! IT'S A LIE!"
Just then, Hermione and Ron burst through the door, stopping with drawn wands a few meters away from Harry. The next second Hermione ran over to Harry, and helped him up, but he barely noticed. It was as if Voldemort himself had touched his face. He gazed at the necklace, realizing that it had happened because of the extreme concentration of Death Eaters within the diamonds. It was basically the same as having hundreds of Dark Marks pressed against his skull at one time.
"What did you do?" Ron asked shakily, his wand trained on Gates.
The Hit Wizard, who had not quite recovered, stared at him, then at his wand. Something like confidence crossed his face, then disappeared. "You think you know how to use that?" Then, turning to Hermione, he said, "Be careful on how close you are to him. Don't you know who he is?"
Hermione looked up at Gates, saying nothing.
"I should say that he's been hiding something from you," Gates said softly. "You've been sensing it, haven't you? Well, I'll tell you now." He gently took Hermione's shoulder, and simultaneously the necklace flashed. She was under the necklace's art of persuasion, much like Whams' class was when the Hit Wizard had began harassing Neville.
Gates led her away, and Harry did not have the energy to resist. He could barely stand up, and had to lean against the wall for support.
"He's a real monster, you know," Gates said reasonably, his arm still around her shoulder, as though he was shielding her.
"Get your arm off of her," Ron snapped.
Gates glanced sharply at him, but his voice remained soft. He then proceeded to ignore Ron completely. "Do you know why Potter is a monster?" Gates asked rhetorically. "He has a prophecy."
"It was destroyed-"
"It wasn't," Gates replied as though speaking to a two-year-old. Gently. Persuasively. "I know all about it now. Tell her about the prophecy, Potter."
Hermione turned to Harry, a questioning look in her eyes. Harry did not dare to look up at her. He felt ashamed, wretched.
"He's going to be a killer," Gates said. His eyes probed deeply into hers. "The prophecy said: And so shall it be that when the newly risen gains the throne, that he too shall follow in the Dark Lord's steps, and cover the world with his black shadow." He paused. "Do you deny it Potter?"
Harry tried to speak to tell her that Gates was lying, but his mouth would not respond. His throat felt constricted and tight, like he had just swallowed sand.
Hermione's eyes shined with tears. "No," she whispered. "No, it can't be."
"It is," said Gates with mock sadness. "That's why he never spoke of it. He knows that he will become a true monstrosity."
"What are we- what?" she said, her voice choking up. "How-"
Gates went around her back and put both of his hands on her shoulders, then lowered his face so that it was right next to hers. Harry could almost feel the aura of power exuding off of the necklace.
"Run," Gates said quietly. The necklace glittered madly. "Run from the monster. Run from the Dark Lord's successor."
She backed away from Harry, seemingly shocked beyond words. At once she turned and fled, disappearing down the hall.
"Hermione!" Harry managed to sputter, reaching out and nearly falling.
"Gone," said Gates in a self-satisfied way.
"No," Harry coughed. "The Death Eater is in the school. He'll-" He began to cough in long, hoarse gasps.
"Just what are you doing?" Ron snarled, beginning to lose his temper. He advanced towards Gates with a dangerous look in his eyes. "I bet you think you're real hot shit, don't you Gates? Walking around here like you're the devil incarnate. Now just what do you think you are doing?"
Harry looked at his redheaded friend, fear beginning to clutch at him. The battle with the Grendel had already strained Ron's emotions to the breaking point, and this would likely toss him over the edge. He was very vulnerable to the hibernating personality in his mind.
"That's a question better directed at Potter," said Gates smoothly. The necklace flashed and Ron froze. "After all, he's the one that's been with Granger behind your back."
Ron clearly had not expected to hear that. "What?" he sputtered.
"I see them all the time, of course," said Gates idly. "You don't, of course. I don't think they want you to know, since you're their poor, emotionally-challenged friend."
"I'm not poor!" Ron snapped.
Gates smiled placatingly. "Does this really come as a shock? Surely you must have noticed how much time they have spent together alone. When, for example, has been the last time you have been alone with Potter, or you with Granger? Why are they always alone together? The conclusion is obvious."
Ron shook his head furiously. "Harry'd never do that." Harry's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. "Go on, tell him off Harry."
Both Gates and Ron looked expectantly at him, and, while he found that he now could talk, he could not lie to his best friend. "Ron…it's true."
Ron simply stared at Harry, his mouth agape, looking completely and utterly betrayed. "How long?"
"Since fall."
Ron continued to stare, blinking rapidly, as though his mind refused to process the new surge of datum.
"See?" said Gates. "And you called me a liar. Look at the real traitor here. Look and see where Potter's loyalties lie."
For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then black clouds began to swirl around eyes that looked like pieces of jade. Blood began to pump furiously into his face, making it a bright, vibrant red. His hair turned into a raging inferno. He laughed, and it was like an echo from a deep, cavernous opening.
Gates took a step back. He apparently had not expected such a strong reaction. "Dren," he hissed.
Ron's eyes - acid green on jet black - locked onto Gates, and his mouth contorted itself into a grin. In a voice very unlike Ron's, he rasped, "Indeed. Our fates seemed to be intertwined."
Gates groped for his wand, but Dren - formerly Ron - already had his wand in hand. "Stupefy!" shouted Dren, and, as the Hit Wizard countered it with an Aegis Shield, he sprinted down the hall.
"Damn it!" Gates spat. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"
Both shots missed and struck the wall, as Dren was already around the corner by the time he managed to react. "Not this time, Alex," he called out. The voice was throaty and deep. "Not this time, or ever!"
Gates looked from Harry to the place where Dren fled, his entire body shaking with rage. His eyes were sparking and his necklace seemed to blaze with emotion. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle. Was attacking his nemesis Corlov Dren more important than fulfilling his oath to Sirius to guard Harry at all times?
"You will stay right here," snapped Gates. "Don't move an inch."
And with that, Gates sped off after Dren, his crimson robe flapping out behind him, leaving Harry by himself.
The stress from the past few minutes was giving Harry a migraine, and he was having trouble thinking clearly. In the span of no more than a single minute, he had lost both Ron and Hermione, and with a Death Eater on the prowl, either one of them could be in danger.
What are your priorities, Potter? Pseudo-Snape asked.
At the moment, Harry was in no position to duel Ron and help him recover from his fit. He could only hope that Gates could catch up with him and purge his mind of the personality without harming him. While it was a weak thread to hold on to, it was the best he could do. Desperately, his mind turned to Hermione.
She had run away in tears, practically hysterical. Even if Harry caught up with her, there was no guarantee that she would even let him near her; especially after the lies Gates had told her. But she was vulnerable, and if a Death Eater was going to attack anyone…
And he certainly could not get Dumbledore. The headmaster was busy enough rounding up the other students, and by the time they managed to organize a search it could be too late…
His mind was made up. He drew his wand and frantically looked back and forth. Another problem. Where the hell was she?
Think! Think!
Where would Hermione go when she needed solace? The library was too far away. Somewhere closer…
Where had she spent a lot of her time? Where could she be assured comfort?
The answer struck him like the proverbial ton of bricks. The kitchens!
A moment ago he was exhausted and could hardly stand. Now, a new kind of energy surged through his veins, and he sped down the hall so quickly that, had there been anyone watching, he would have been little more than an unidentifiable blur. He raced down the steps, turned, and then went down the corridor to the portrait of the fruit bowl. Almost at once he sensed something strange. His scar prickled, and his instinct cried out in protest.
Harry looked down and saw the ring he had given to Hermione for Christmas. He picked it up and let it lie in the palm of his hand. His heart began to sink as he realized the full extent of the damage done by Gates. It was temporary, granted, but the strength was disturbing.
Despite himself, he reached out, tickled the pair, and crossed the threshold of the newly-opened door.
The sight that greeted him was his worst fear and nightmare. He was indeed too late. Standing in the middle of the empty kitchen, was a lone figure holding a carving knife to Hermione's neck. Her legs were quaking and her eyes were transfixed on the shiny blade at her throat. The bearer of the knife, grinning widely, was Kreacher, and blazed onto his arm was black stamp of the Dark Mark.
And, suddenly, a slight prickling in the brain brought Alexander Gates to a halt. His real quarry was up ahead, he knew, but, even as he stood there, the prickling turned into a burning, and the long-embedded bond screamed for him to return to Potter. Cursing, he spun around and dashed down the corridor, heading directly to the kitchens.
(A/N: Another cliffhanger! This one was probably the worst, though. If it's any comfort, the next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for.
Surprised by Kreacher? It should all come together soon...I hope you all didn't think the purpose of those SPEW meetings and such was simply for the sake of fluff! Don't worry, explanations will be coming in the next two chapters. If you already knew it was Kreacher, well, great job!
I hope no one was disappointed with chapter; because this was actually one of the few I genuinely liked. The Grendel (which you all should remember me mentioning in chapter 5!) gave me lots of maneuverability in terms of description, and it was fun to write. I also tried to used animalistic words to describe Gates as he dueling, which gives the impression of him being one of the 'monsters' mentioned in the title of this chapter.
Next Chapter: Climax!