No long Author's note this time. All I'm going to say is this: Let the Battle Begin.
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Harry paced in McGonagall's office, his every movement being followed by the three inhabitants of the room: McGonagall, Fawkes, and the portrait of Dumbledore that was hanging over the desk. Dumbledore finally spoke.
"Sit down, Harry. You're driving me batty. Minerva, I should also like an endless supply of Chocolate Frogs painted into my photo. I'm having a craving for them."
McGonagall sighed. "Whatever you want, Albus. But do sit down, Harry. Let's discuss this." She folded her hands on her desk. "You say that all six of the Horcruxes are destroyed."
"Yeah. The diary, the ring, the third one we didn't find, the locket, the goblet and the snake. That's six."
"I can count, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, not really irritated, but giving it her best shot. She understood the boy's irritation and urgency well. She felt the same thing herself. "That means that the only remaining part of Voldemort's soul remains in Voldemort himself. That could mean," she pointed out, "That he will lay low until he can create another Horcrux."
"I don't think so, Professor. He wants me dead, and he doesn't want to wait for it. And, he might think I'm bluffing. After all, how did I figure out the other Horcruxes, let alone find and destroy them?"
"Voldemort has learned not to underestimate you, Harry." Dumbledore said solemnly. "I do not think it wise to underestimate him. He most certainly believes you. And I agree with you. He won't take the time it takes to recover from the production of another Horcrux. It's too difficult and too painful. And he honestly believes that seven is the luckiest number to have, and that because there were seven, all seven can never be destroyed. He always did believe in myth."
"I thought nothing was a true myth." Harry said, his brow furrowing. "I mean, everything else I thought was made up has been true in some form."
"Most of the time it is. But in this case, there is no magical protection for the number seven. It is, as is unfortunate for Voldemort, just a number." McGonagall said, pouring two goblets of Pumpkin Juice. "I have a spy, Harry, who has informed me that Voldemort is planning an attack on the school for tomorrow night." She sighed, and for a second, all Harry could see was an old woman who didn't know how to protect her home. "We want to get as many of the students away from school as we can. The seventh year students we deem trustworthy and who have no ties to the Death Eaters will be given an emergency training workshop in the Room of Requirement all day tomorrow. On all the younger students, and a fair number of the seventh years Slytherins, we've arranged for an overnight trip into Hogsmeade. Members of the Order have been arriving all day. You'll have a meeting with them when we finish here.
"Harry, tomorrow, we'll have casualties. That is inevitable. But you are the only one who can defeat Voldemort. You are the only one who is connected to him. Connected in such a way that Albus and I briefly considered that you were the sixth Horcrux."
Harry wasn't surprised, as he had also entertained the theory when Dumbledore had first told him about the Horcruxes. "I'm not one."
"No, and thank God for it. Look, the point of all this is so that you won't, pardon the triteness of this, waste your time with other Death Eaters. I know James and Lily, as well as Sirius would like to get a hold of Peter Pettigrew and Draco will probably kill anyone who tries to get in the way of him fighting his father. Ron and Hermione want to handle Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. They all apparently have personal vendettas. I'm disinclined to interfere. It wouldn't do me any good even if I did. And I imagine Sirius will take care of Bellatrix. She is, after all, his cousin."
"Professor, have you called Oliver Wood?"
"This afternoon. He's an invaluable member of the Order. You'd be amazed at what people will tell a professional Quidditch player. They tend to think the players have gotten busted in the head with Bludgers too many times and can't think for themselves. He should be arriving. And he's bringing a guest."
"You did tell him that this isn't a vacation?"
"Of course. He knows everything that's going on. He's told me that his guest graduated from Mosnars' school in South Africa as Head Girl there. When I checked our records, I found that we had invited her to join us here, but that she'd been enrolled in Mosnars since she was four. She graduated with fourteen years of instruction; very impressive resume. She was invited to be an Auror, turned down several jobs in the Ministry, including Deputy Minister, got a perfect score on both all her OWLS and NEWTS and became a Chaser for Puddlemere United."
"Wow. That's more impressive than Hermione."
"I would strongly suggest that you refrained from telling her that. Else we'll have a `who knows more about the history of their schools' competition going on."
"I'll make sure not to say a word."
"Good. Now, that's all Mr. Potter. We have meetings to attend to."
"Yes, ma'am." Harry stood, and exited the office. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he found Wood and a woman studying a painting. Wood was looking bored, and the woman was enthralled, lecturing him about the artistic importance and the history. Dear Merlin, she was a blonde Hermione.
She was tall, around five nine, which was good since Wood was six foot three. She was slender, though not lacking for curves, and pretty. Her face was angular. Striking really. Big, bright blue eyes, and high, prominent cheekbones. Her jaw was square, chin slightly pointed, eyebrows slim and arched. Her hands were narrow, slim and ringless, and currently holding Wood in place so that he didn't sneak off. She apparently knew Wood very well.
"Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Quidditch player."
Wood turned and saw Harry. "Well, if it isn't the Boy Who Lived. How're you doing?"
"Good as I can be." The two men hugged. "McGonagall told me you were coming. Apparently you're a wealth of information to the order."
"Just doing my part. Harry, I'd like for you to meet Alisa Morton."
The blonde held out a hand, shook Harry's firmly. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I've heard all about your Quidditch days. According to Oliver, you not playing on the professional circuit is the disaster of the century. I've heard you were a kick ass Seeker."
"I could hold my own." Harry ignored the sharp tug in his gut. He had always wanted to play professionally. Maybe once the war was over, and he'd put his life back in order. Maybe then, there would be time to play. "I hear you play Chaser, Alisa."
"She's damn good too." Wood said proudly. "Best player I ever recruited."
Alisa snorted. "No. I was the only one at Mosnars who looked good in the leotard we had to wear for ballet practice. The captain of my team said we needed elegance and grace as well as brawn. So we did ballet and wrestling."
Harry could very well imagine the look on Wood's face. He laughed as the three of them started walking towards the Great Hall. Wood tucked an arm around Alisa's waist. "That wasn't it and you know it. She is damn good, Harry. I've never met a Keeper who could keep her out of the rings. Except for me, of course."
"Of course." Harry grinned. He'd never dreamed he'd see the day when Oliver Wood went mushy over a girl. He'd have to make it a point to get to know Alisa. She had to be pretty amazing to get Wood. He was the pickiest man Harry had ever known.
Alisa squirmed out of Wood's grasp. "I think I'm going to go find someone with a little less testosterone. Any suggestions, Harry?"
"Pretty girl, my age, brown hair and eyes, sitting with Draco Malfoy and the Weasleys. Hermione Granger."
"I know who she is. Thanks." Alisa walked away, and Wood sighed. Harry chuckled as they walked.
"So someone finally got ya, huh?"
"Did she ever. Great girl. Year younger than me; twenty-one. She's amazing, Harry. Smart, funny, stubborn, opinionated, best damn Chaser I've ever seen and, well, you saw her, she's gorgeous."
"So how'd you meet?"
"Went with coach to recruit at her school. She was the one we were looking at. Everyone was looking at her. Ireland, the Cannons, Scotland, all the American teams, the Germans, the French, the Welsh. She had twelve contracts on the table. Gargantuan amounts of money and seven year contracts. That's unheard of. I only got a three year contract. Coach decided I'd have the best luck with her. We were the same age, I'd gotten offers from a lot of the same teams. And, he thought she'd fall for me. Well, he was wrong.
"At first, she looked at me like I was a bug or something. That made me determined to win her over. The deadline for accepting a contract was March first. So I showed up at her house during Winter Break, wrangled an invitation to stay out of her mother and eventually, slowly, wore her down into taking our offer."
"So that's it?" Harry laughed. "You two aren't a couple?"
"Oh, we are, though it took me another year after that to get her to give me a chance. She said she was focused on her career, didn't have time, and didn't want to damage her reputation by dating the Captain of her team. Turns out, she was scared. Bad experience with a boyfriend when she was sixteen. Turned out he was a Death Eater, assigned to kill her."
"Man, that sucks."
"Does it ever. For her and me. Anyway, it took me a year, but I won her over and we've been together ever since. I don't even mind the rules."
"The rules?"
"Her rules. No overnight stays. Her apartment is her apartment and mine is mine. She won't ever let me spend the night at her place. I always have to leave after dinner. It's getting frustrating."
Harry really didn't want to be having the conversation. But as Wood had seen him through some pretty awkward ones, he felt like he had to give advice. "Maybe she's afraid you'll leave if she goes to bed with you."
"I thought that at first too. But we've been together a year. Hell, Harry, I'm in love with the woman. I want to marry her."
"Then she's worth the wait. And," he added, a grin on his face. "It'll do you good not to get everything you want when you want it."
"I don't get anything I want when I want it with her."
"Which is probably part of the reason you love her so much. She isn't afraid to tell you no. It's good for you. So just grit your teeth and bear it." Harry waved at Hermione. "I had to wait for her for eight years. And God knows I did a lot of waiting."
"You and Hermione?"
"Me and Hermione." They sat down with the women, ready for the meeting to start. That was when a student who looked no older than thirteen ran in.
"The Dark Mark! It's over the school! The Death Eaters are coming!"
Everyone in the Great Hall leapt to their feet. First on most minds were the students. They had to make sure the students were safe. McGonagall stood up. "Heads of Houses to the Common Rooms. Find every student and get them into their dorms. Now!"
Everyone moved, and did it quickly. Hermione and Wood went with Harry. After a quick, desperate look around the Great Hall, Alisa grabbed Ginny's arm. "Come on, we'll go together. Better not to be alone."
Ginny nodded, then gestured to the ceiling. "Oh, my God."
Everyone stopped and looked. Voldemort was sailing down from the ceiling, resplendent in billowing black robes. He was flanked by Lucius and Bellatrix. From the main hallway, Harry could hear a rush of people. There were hundreds of Death Eaters. Voldemort spread his arms, landed in Dumbledore's chair.
"Let the battle begin."
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I know, a cliffie. But here's an additional twist. I'm not updating until I get twenty-five reviews on this chapter. So review or you won't find out what happens next.
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