A/N: I originally hadn't intended on posting this here, however I was told that this could also stand alone as a "one-shot" story even though there is a bit of a cliff hanger at the end. I had been asked by an author at another site to contribute the second instalment to her story, and this labour of love is the direct result of that.
There's a bit of angst because of the way I felt she set up the first chapter. Conversely, as with all my writings, you must remember to "read between the lines", as it is well known that Harry is an imperfect observer. I cannot, and will not, stomach an R/H pairing of any sort, even if it is only temporary and doomed to failure. I have nothing against Ron, in fact I do like him a great deal, it's simply that I am very possessive of Hermione, and feel that the only suitable character for her is Harry (as it is perfectly supported in canon).
The "quill" Harry speaks of was one of two items Dumbledore gave him at the end of the first chapter, and is a Portkey that will take him to the school infirmary should he be injured.
The "phoenix necklace" is the second item, which is a protective charm that blocks minor curses and jinxes.
For those interested, the first chapter can be found here:
I highly recommend reading it and posting a review, (though you must be a mugglenet member to do so) as it does "set the stage" for this posting.
AND for those of you awaiting the next instalment of Harry Potter and the Godric Parallax… I'm diligently working on it, and promise to get it out soon!!
Thank you for reading, and I do sincerely hope that you enjoy this little diversion of mine,
Lycanthropy
The Swaying of Trees
Original idea and story by ObSeSeDHaRrYPoTtErLoVeR, whom graciously asked me to participate in her wonderful version of the final battle.
*****
Harry stood waiting in front of the overly large oak doors that sealed the entrance to the school as they went through the intricate patterns of unlocking themselves, in-between Dumbledore; the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the current years Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Serverus Snape - who appeared, if at all possible, even more ashen faced than usual, his pale and sallow skin white as bone.
Snape grasped his left fore-arm through his black robes and began nervously rubbing it up and down, as he too watched the huge locking mechanisms in their motions. His voice without a hint of its usual haughtiness broke the silence that had lingered since he had informed Dumbledore that something was definitely amiss in the Forbidden Forest.
"Headmaster…" began Snape, struggling to keep his voice from shaking, "the Dark Lord is here. The mark burns now clearer than ever…"
Harry glanced over at Snape as the words escaped his lips. He discovered that he did not like seeing his Professor this way. He was used to his calm collectiveness, his cunning and shrewdness. He was not at all used to seeing Snape in such an uncontrolled state of fear… he was absolutely terrified of Voldemort.
Though Harry had a difficult time admitting it to himself, he had grown to respect the once Potions Master. It had been just over a month ago that the Dark Lord had discovered Snape's true loyalties. Harry had been caught unawares by Voldemort at the Riddle house - seeing the Weasley twins' dead bodies lying motionless in the middle of the living room floor, angry and distraught at arriving too late to save them, when the double spy intervened and revealed himself...
In the battle to escape from the hordes of Dementors and Death Eaters, Harry had discovered one of his rescuers many secrets. Serverus Snape was an Animagus - an acromantula. Harry had been later shocked to find that Snape was in deed the giant spider that had attacked both him and Cedric Diggory in the centre of the maze during fourth year…
The opening of the giant front doors pulled Harry out of his musings, and he followed the Headmaster out to the grounds with Snape in the lead. He looked around to see a scene similar to that outside of the Quidditch World Cup, also back in fourth year. Tents of every shape, size and colour were scattered about from the edge of the lake to the start of the quidditch stadium. Wizards and witches in the dark blue colours of Magical Law Enforcement Office and in the midnight robes of Hit Wizards ran to and fro delivering messages as they positioned themselves for battle.
Snape motioned Dumbledore and Harry to the top of a small knoll overlooking Hagrid's hut and the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He still appeared nervous and apprehensive as he opened his mouth to speak, only to stop when a tall imposing figure dressed in Aurors robes limped up the hill towards them, standing as straight and proud as his much injured body would allow.
"Yes Kingsley, is there news from Amelia?" asked Dumbledore, turning to face one of the last of the Order.
Kingsley winced as he put forth great effort in straightening himself before answering, "The Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones, has asked me to relay that the Ministry has been made as heavily guarded as possible with the assistance of the International Confederation of Wizards, and begs to be allowed to send more forces, including herself, here to Hogwarts to further defend its walls and to assist in the destruction, and or capture of He Who Must Not Be Named," he paused and cracked a conspiratorial wink at Harry before finishing, "She expressly demanded that I use her words."
Harry couldn't believe that this was the same Kingsley Shacklebolt he had first met two years ago. Though still tall, with shaven head and a gold loop for an earring, this version had been maimed and nearly killed by Voldemort and his supporters. His eyes didn't shine like they once did, and he lost a tremendous amount of weight from his recovery time at St. Mungos. Harry recalled that it had taken most of a year of therapy before the Auror could even walk again, his awkward gate a testament of his will to survive. Still, he had been luckier than both Tonks and Moody… Harry had yet again been powerless to prevent their deaths. At least Kingsley was still alive.
Harry vividly recalled tightly holding a shaking and sobbing Hermione before the common room fireplace. It was the beginning of seventh year, and they had been devastated at the news of the two Aurors deaths, murdered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and her Master. She had been inconsolable then, as she had grown especially close to Tonks over the sixth year - her tears had both burned and scarred Harry's heart terribly.
*****
"Wha… why Harry? Why Tonks… She was still so young," bawled Hermione, covering her face with both hands and in the throws of crying hysterically.
The sight of her in such a state caused Harry to feel as if his insides had been shattered - cursed into a thousand irreparable pieces. Without thinking he rushed forward and held her fiercely, alternating between running his right hand through her hair and rubbing her back with the other.
Hermione continued her sobs as she removed her hands from her face and buried her head into his chest, throwing her arms around him and clutching him for dear life as she rubbed her eyes and nose back and forth across his robes.
Scents of peach and citrus reached Harry's consciousness as he too buried his tear streaked face into the top of her head and brushed her hair with his cheeks. It pained him beyond his means to see her this way. It was so similar to when she had lost her parents not months before. He had begged all of the Gods that she not ever suffer in that way again, but apparently his prayers fell upon deaf ears…
"It's because of me," whispered Harry into her hair.
"Harry we've already been through that!" she yelled into his robes, "Please don't start blaming yourself again! It's not your fault that Voldemort's a monster," she finished, pulling away slightly, but not enough to let their hold of each other loosen. She looked up searchingly into his eyes for any sign of doubt to what she had said.
She was so close to him that he could both feel and smell the sweetness of her breathe. He looked into her eyes and saw what he already knew - her eyes weren't brown, as everyone including herself thought, but almond coloured with fine streaks of orange and green, and they shimmered with intensity and a staunch determinism Harry had admired ever since second year. His soul drowned in her eyes and he was forever drawn to her. He desperately wanted to let her know how he felt for her, but he wouldn't make her a bigger target for Voldemort than she already was… and she already belonged to someone else…
She pushed herself up onto her toes, not breaking their eye contact, tilted her head ever so slightly, and brushed her trembling lips against his. Harry used every once of mental control he possessed to not respond though his heart so badly wanted to.
When he failed to lean into her offering, she pulled back once more and again explored his eyes. Still clutching him tightly, and he - her, she seemed to find what she was looking for and breathlessly whispered, "Would you please hold me for a while on the couch? I… I don't want to let go."
"I don't either…" mouthed Harry in soft response, thankful for the opportunity to break eye contact as they moved to the sofa. He could not lie to her eyes, and if he lingered upon them for another moment longer - his body would betray him…
Somewhere along the way, in the near past but far too late, Harry had fallen in love with his best female friend, and as miserable as he was, and feeling guilty for betraying Ron, he nevertheless breathed in and took in as much of her smell as he could. There, in shared warmth and mutual understanding, they fell asleep - neither releasing the other…
*****
He had not told anyone of the swelling of hatred for his mortal enemy that had begun consuming his heart that night, nor the fact that he had taken to carving a notch into his wand for every death of one his friends caused by Voldemort - swearing that before killing the foul creature, he would torture it with the Cruciatis Curse an hour per notch. And in the following morning, he added two more to a group of over twenty. The markings were no longer unnoticeable, but any inquiry had been quickly and efficiently stifled by the dark and foreboding look in Harry's eyes.
Harry suddenly remembered that he had also been angry at Ron that night. Understandably he had been at The Burrow with what was left of his family, but he couldn't help but feel that he should have been there with Hermione. After all, even though she had vehemently denied it when confronted, Harry had strongly suspected that they had been secretly seeing each other for a while. Why else would Ron have been acting so distantly from him?
Harry was certain that Ron had changed on that one fateful night at The Burrow during the summer holiday… Ginny had cryptically said that her brother and Hermione had to "sort" some things out, but when Harry had gone to get them for dinner as Mrs. Weasely had asked, he found them both kneeling on the floor, hugging each other. They hadn't noticed him peaking through the door, and in a way he was glad for it, but in another - he wasn't at all. He felt betrayed in a way, as if they didn't trust him enough to let him know…
"Please inform the Minister that it would be more prudent for her to maintain a presence at the Ministry, especially if we need to send the students there. But do thank her never the less," said Dumbledore with a slight inclination of his head.
"Will do," answered Kingsley. He briefly took hold of Harry's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze of support, and then left.
When Dumbledore turned his attention once more to Snape, Harry continued to watch Kingsley as he limped back down to the base of the knoll. The proud Auror reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a quill, identical to the one the Headmaster had offered to him in his office, and tossed it to the ground.
Harry gave a soft smile of understanding - he too had come out to fight the final battle, leaving the quill behind in Dumbledore's office. Like Kingsley, he recognized the time was now, and no other. They either defeated the Dark Lord and his minions, or they died trying. And Harry accepted that they both shared a desire to end this war on their own terms. He would not be too late, nor would he be powerless, to prevent the deaths of those he cared for - this time.
"Do you not hear it Headmaster?" said Snape, staring at the forest trees.
"Yes Serverus, I do," answered Dumbledore sadly.
"I don't hear a thing," whispered Harry, continuing to tilt his head side to side, searching for whatever noise it was Snape was referring to.
"The silence Potter," replied Snape, not taking his black eyes off the forest. "The forest should be teaming with sounds, yet there is none… The Dark Lords' army is here. Attack is now imminent."
"It will be night soon; I suspect he will begin his assault in the cover of darkness. Have Remus and his friends taken your potions?" said Dumbledore, gazing at the forest also.
"Yes Headmaster, but how can we sure of a full moon tonight?" questioned Snape, turning to look at Dumbledore.
"Rest assured there will be… The power of the mind is a wondrous thing is it not Harry?" said Dumbledore, squinting his eyes as if penetrating the forest in search of the hidden enemy.
Harry nodded in unspoken agreement, his mind focused on his two best friends sheltered within the castle, standing watch over the students. Whether he survived or not, he vowed they would... He continued to hope and pray that this time, he would be strong enough.
"Let's also trust that Viktor and Madam Maxime have been successful in their attempts, and that they arrive in time to help us," said Dumbledore as he turned and motioned for both Harry and Snape to follow.
As the three wizards headed back towards the giant oak doors, Harry took notice of dozens of witches and wizards, also dressed in Ministry robes, flying on brooms and circling about the castle. He found himself recalling the night he had given his Fire-Bolt to Ron when they had stayed up late talking in his bedroom at the Burrow back during the summer before sixth year...
*****
"Oy mate, I can't take this from you!" said Ron in astonishment. "What are you going to ride? I know you haven't gotten yourself a new one… Or did you?" finished Ron, sitting up at the edge of his bed dressed in new flannel pyjamas and with the beginnings of a wide grin.
"No Ron, I haven't got another and I have no intention on doing so," snapped Harry in irritation, sitting up at the edge of his bed also. Once again, Ron had completely missed the point. "I am not playing quidditch this year, or the next for that matter, I simply won't have the time. Dumbledore has asked me to continue with the D.A. so I'm going to need lots of extra training sessions with him and the rest of the order."
"But then how are we supposed to win the cup this year? Ginny doesn't want to be the seeker anymore," said Ron in a somewhat accusatory tone.
"Ron, I have a psychopathic murderer hell bent on trying to kill me. Do you think I care about some stupid game?" Harry answered in exasperation. In truth, Harry cared a great deal about the cup, but circumstances had changed dramatically since his Godfathers death, and what was important in the world had changed just as severely with that loss.
"Stupid game?" responded Ron incredulously. "You're starting to sound just like Hermione… You're changing Harry."
"Didn't you hear what your own brother blurted out at dinner? Bill said Voldemort -" Ron flinched at the name, "- himself killed all those Ministry guards at Azkaban! All those Death Eaters that were put away are free again. Do you even think that you're safe? And what about Hermione and her parents, who's going to look after them? The situation has gotten nothing but worse! None of us is safe until I am powerful enough to beat Voldemort," another flinch from Ron, "and I won't be able to learn enough to be able to do it if I'm constantly at the quidditch pitch!" Harry half yelled in return.
"Okay Harry… I got it," said Ron, whose ears had turned scarlet from mild embarrassment, "I understand you've got a lot going on… I just wish things were like they used to be…" he sighed, casting his eyes down to the floor and sitting on his hands.
"I know Ron," sighed Harry in return, "and I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"It's alright, I understand," said Ron nodding. "I'll just… I'll just hold on to your broom for you for a while… until you want it back."
"Thanks Ron," replied Harry as he turned to lie back down.
"Um Harry?" started Ron, "What you said sounded like you're going to have to fight err… him on your own."
Harry chastised himself over his little slip. He had not yet revealed the prophecy to his friends, and he had no intention of doing so.
"You know what I meant Ron… Let's not talk about it anymore okay? I'm awfully tired," said Harry, turning his back to his best friend and pulling the covers up.
"Oh… okay… Well… err, goodnight Harry," said Ron.
Harry could hear the rustling of Ron's bed covers, and though he very much wanted to reply… for some unknown reason, he couldn't bring himself to do so…
*****
"Are you alright Harry?" questioned the Headmaster as they reached the front doors.
"Hmm… Oh, yes Professor. I've just been thinking about my friends… I hope I can stop Voldemort from breaching the castle," answered Harry, turning back to look at the wall of trees that made up the forest, and feeling a bit awful for treating his best friend so poorly that night.
"You have been a star pupil Harry, your skills and power now far exceeds any expectations I may have had. Your friends rightfully have placed their faith in you, as have I… That being said, don't forget the influence of your heart, it is that that beats in you that makes you dangerous to Tom," said Dumbledore, as he too turned to scrutinize the trees.
Distant cracking noises could be heard echoing throughout the forest. As the first sounds reached Harry's ears the flyers above him and the witches and wizards surrounding the castle froze as they too looked to the direction of the sounds. Silence within the camp reigned, and Harry's nerves were instantly set ablaze and on end.
"Line up! Line up!" shouted an older wizard at the small make-shift army around them.
Quickly and efficiently, well over a two hundred witches and wizards began assuming their battle positions, looking like well trained soldiers. Harry knew though, that once Voldemorts army of monsters initiated their first attack, chaos would quickly over take them. The Sorting Hat had shown Harry scenes exactly like this one that had taken place six times prior in the schools long history. There always seemed to be a Dark Wizard or Witch who thought they could overcome the schools defences… but then again, there had never been one as cunning, nor as powerful as Voldemort.
The cracking noises grew in their intensity and frequency, and it seemed as if every single eye was fixed upon the forests before them. Very quickly the air became bone-chillingly cold, and Harry watched as his breath, and those of the soldiers, condensed and frosted upon exhalation.
"Dementors!" shouted one of the flyers above, "Over the trees, hundreds of them!"
Several hooded and cloaked figures dressed in the midnight blue robes of the Unspeakables, rushed to each corner of the row formation. They each hurriedly raised their wands and shouted incantations. Blue lines shot up and out into the air and crisscrossed one another. Their individual spells joined to form a force field of shimmering blue light that arched across the sun-setting sky and touched the ground, surrounding them all. Sparks flew off the shields and in every direction as hordes of Dementors ricocheted off the shield in their attempts to penetrate it.
From within the ranks of the front right corner came the traitorous beams of green light, striking and killing the cloaked spell-casters. Disorder immediately in-sued as several wizards attempted, but failed repeatedly to re-cast the complex shield spell of the Unspeakables. And in a state of panic, others fought to subdue the traitors, a few made corporeal Patronus', and still others stood still and tried to remain in formation. Screams and the loud "banging" sounds and colours of various spells reigned as nightmares of worst memories coursed through defenceless minds.
Upon seeing the shield falter, the Dementors successfully renewed their aggressive assaults. The few wizards who were capable of creating Patronus' found themselves unable to maintain them as dozens of the dark creatures swept down upon them like birds of prey. The overwhelming feelings of death and disparity quickly consumed many of the make-shift soldiers and they fell to their knees, shaking uncontrollably.
"There's too many of them!" shouted Dumbledore, whom Harry had forgotten was right next to him, as he ran forward to the centre of the ranks. "Help me Harry!"
Harry ran forward, instep behind the Headmaster and followed by Snape. Dumbledore raised his wand high into the air and a large glowing phoenix burst forth, circling the faltering dome.
Snape did the same with his wand, and a large glowing sphinx bounded out and charged the Dementors who had reached the ground and were in the process of administering the "kiss" to several of the fallen. A satisfied curl escaped his lips as his Patronus saved the lives of people he did not know…
Harry was both calmed by the return of Snapes cool and collected demeanour, and surprised by his Patronus. However, he quickly realized that he shouldn't have been, the Potions and DADA professor only feared Voldemort, and currently, he was not here - and his haughtiness, air of superiority, and love of riddles definitely explained his guardian.
But Dumbledore and Snape's Patronus' were not enough. Dementors seemed to be coming from every possible direction. The foreboding feelings hadn't diminished in the slightest and several of the Ministry flyers had fallen off their brooms. Medi-witches and wizards ran everywhere in their attempts to aid the injured.
Harry knew his Patronus was powerful, but even added to Dumbledore's would not be enough. He quickly raised his wand to cast it anyway, thinking that it would buy them all time until Dumbledore could come up with another plan - when a sudden memory from the middle of last year hit him…
*****
"Jeez Harry, I thought you were in a foul mood back in fifth year… But this is ridiculous!" complained Ron heatedly as he stormed out of the Room of Requirement after a tense and unsuccessful D.A. meeting.
"You know Harry, Ron's right. You were a bit hard on every-" started Hermione tentatively as she took a step to stand next to him.
"Oh sure!" snapped Harry, turning from the door to face her. "Take Ron's side why don't you! I knew you would! I have lots of practice to do Hermione, so just leave me alone!"
Hermione gave him a look that strongly suggested that she had said those exact same words to him over three years ago before finally retorting, "Don't bite my head off Harry. I'm on your side if you remember correctly."
Harry gave a brief grunt of frustration as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously. "I'm sorry Hermione, it's just… It's just that I feel so helpless! Everyone's out their fighting my battles while I'm stuck, cooped up here, and doing nothing to stop Voldemort," he sighed, replacing his glasses and looking to her for support.
"I understand how you feel Harry, but you've got it all wrong," she said earnestly.
"Yes?" questioned Harry, straightening and expecting an explanation.
"Everyone has a roll to play in this war Harry. Ron does, I do, the Order, the D.A., you, Dumbledore, everybody. You are doing lots. You're teaching us how to defend ourselves, and most importantly you're giving us hope. And that is stopping Voldemort from controlling us through fear. Your roll for now is a teacher, and that's a vital one. You are giving us the ability to fight, and in doing so, the belief that we all have a fighting chance to survive this war. I, and I'm sure Ron does too deep down, thank you for that Harry," she finished urgently, grabbing his arm.
"How can you think so highly of me Hermione?" he said shaking his head in disbelief.
"You're a great wizard Harry, but most importantly, and I'm saddened that you don't see this yourself - you're a great person. I've watched you grow from an insecure young boy into a passionate, loyal young man…" she answered softly, and then in a most teasing tone she grinned and added, "I have many reasons, but those I'll keep to myself so that your already inflated head doesn't explode!"
"Thanks Hermione," he said smiling. As she had not released his arm, he gave her hand a gentle caress and continued, "I'm just a bit frustrated is all, I'm sure I'll get over it… I really don't know what I'd do without you."
"Me neither Harry… me neither…" she sighed, then said excitedly, "Now, as far as relieving you of your frustrations…"
Hermione let go of his arm, turned, and walked a few feet away towards the centre of the room. Several untamed thoughts flashed through Harry's mind all at once, each wilder than the next and he blushed furiously as he watched her move.
Hermione turned to face him once more - catching his feverish colour. Her eyes widened and sparkled in agreeable surprise, before she yelled, "Harry!"
"What!" Harry shouted, his voice strangely high pitched and wide eyed in return.
Hermione laughed aloud at the mortified expression on Harry's face. And just when he thought he could take his embarrassment no longer - she pulled her wand from her robes and assumed her duelling stance - smiling devilishly she then said, "As my Great-Gran would say… Sur la garde!"
Before Harry could properly defend himself, Hermione cast her first spell, and he could have sworn that it had been a Cheering Charm - for they duelled for what seemed like hours, and he had not felt that wonderful in years as neither cared nor noticed who was besting whom. He hollered and whooped, light-headed and free - feeling just as he had the first time he ever flew on a broom…
*****
"Everybody!" screamed Harry at the top of his lungs, "Cast Cheering Charms at each other!"
Those close enough to hear him cast uncertain glances towards Harry and Dumbledore, Snape simply nodded and began casting the recommended spell in all directions and at everyone within his line of sight. Harry, thankful to the Professor, began doing the same, quickly followed by Dumbledore and those nearest to them.
Quite abruptly the deafening sounds of cries and screams switched to song and laughter. The makeshift army had become like one massive Patronus. The Dementors were both stunned and confused, so much so that the dozens nearest to them fell to the ground like millions of grains of sand. The remaining Dementors immediately and without hesitation fled back to the forests, having never before seen their kind destroyed…
The cheers grew louder and several wizards had to be physically restrained from running out into the forest in pursuit. Many were still under the influence of the charm as they congratulated each other and returned to formation. Some had sobered more quickly and began the unfortunate task of moving those that perished to the edge of the lake so that they could be sorted and dealt with properly at a later time. But it was not more than a few minutes later that all thoughts of victory rapidly vanished as the close proximity of cracking noises of breaking and falling trees reached their ears.
The make-shift army knew what the originators of the sounds were, and Harry looked on with sympathetic eyes as more than half of them trembled in uncontrollable fear of what was coming. And yet bravely and silently still, the make-shift army of witches and wizards held their positions as Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry ran forward to the front; becoming the first line of defence against the second wave of oncoming evil.
He turned his gaze to the forest trees, watching as the tallest of them began to crack and sway, as if moved by some unstoppable force of nature. He brought his wand to his head, feeling the coolness of its wood, so that the centre of it rested against his fore-head and the nub of his thumb placed between his lips, just as he had witnessed Godric Gryffindor do in preparation for the defence of Hogwarts against Salazar Slytherin as seen through the eyes of the Sorting Hat - knowing that it aided in the focus of energies and concentrating them into the wand.
The trees swayed and cracked violently, being uprooted and tossed much like angry toddlers throwing uncooperative sticks aside. There was no mistaking just how powerful and dangerous the new arrivals were when the final line of trees crashed to the ground before them.
Gasps and shuffling of feet could be heard from behind Harry as the first of fifty giants appeared into the clearing, each standing twenty feet in height and holding large trees for clubs. They were easily three times the width of Hagrid's brother Grawp, and naturally immune to most forms of magic - deadly combinations to any opposing witch or wizard. They too stood in some semblance of a line, as if assessing the strength of the small Ministry army until their eyes settled on their apparent objectives - the lone forms of Harry, Dumbledore, and Snape.
The giants then raised their weapons high and charged, screaming and spitting.
Harry lowered his wand, and with is left hand he clasped the phoenix necklace dangling from around his neck. His thoughts once more returned to his best friend Ron, and the owner of his heart, Hermione, as he prepared for the fight of his life - praying that Charlie and his dragons would arrive in time to save the day.
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