A/N: Think I am as tired as the next at how long I've been dragging this along without getting to the heart of the matter, but, I promise, it's soon coming. As my first story on here, I've done a poor job of plotting it all out, and have gotten myself a little too carried away. If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with me, and especially to those who've left a review. If you haven't would love to hear your remarks, good or bad, advice or whatever else you like to add. This is perhaps one of the longest chapters I've written, two chapters in one, but wanted to get as much out of the way at once as I could. This is the final chapter of Part II, the next kicking off the final Part III, and will, after another chapter or two or three, start revealing just what in the hell is going on. Pardon the "filler" in this chapter, but as my story, it's the sort of action I enjoy!:)
Chapter Thirty: The Recruit
The three sitting, talking leisurely while they awaited, merely glanced to the door to welcome the expected fourth, but
at the entrance of a fifth, all jumped to their feet.
"Minister!" echoed quickly around the room.
"Minister, I was not aware you were planning a visit to the castle, and at this hour?" McGonagall stood behind her desk, a degree of alarm evident in her voice. The Minister of Magic did not just drop in, unannounced at ten in the evening.
"I wasn't," he answered simply. Though he stood tall, he looked all too tired and worn. These last few months had not been kind to him. "And please, it is only Kingsley amongst friends."
"Of course," McGonagall responded. "Then to what do we owe this honor?" Shacklebolt's eyes flashed to Krieg at her question.
"Seems I owe Krieg a favor." In turn, all their gazes now turned towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "He has been assisting me... with a most difficult task," Shacklebolt seemed weary, hesitant to reveal much more.
"Oh," McGonagall intoned. "I was not aware one of my professors had been assigned any additional responsibilities," she said it disparagingly, just as she meant it. "Should not the Headmistress of the school have been informed?"
"Forgive me, Minerva, but between the Wizengamot and the Daily Prophet, well..." he sighed heavily, "I've been trying to keep this on a need to know basis."
"And now?"
"And now you need to know," he said simply as he and Krieg stepped forward to join the circle about her desk.
"Well then," she beckoned for him to continue. "What is the meaning of all this secrecy then?"
"I do not intend to run in the upcoming election," he announced quite unexpectedly. "Politics," he slewed with an undisguised loathing, "does not suit me, but," he emphasized, "before that time comes, I have taken it upon myself to bring this whole, dark chapter to an end, once and for all."
The three, McGonagall, Slughorn, and Flitwick, all offered a brief nod. No one would argue the success Shacklebolt has had in righting the wrongs, nor in his efforts to bring all those responsible to justice - if only perhaps a little too heavy handedly.
"To right the ship, I've had to make some hard decisions," he recognized, as if reading their thoughts. "Following the final battle, the people needed some security and stability in their lives, and as such, the burden fell upon me to purge the darkest from amongst us. We created a list, a "most wanted,", if you will, which initially consisted of thirty-eight individuals. With every resource and method I've had available, I've unleashed the Aurors upon them unrelentingly, and we have now been able to dwindle it down to four." He rested here, the weight of it all seemingly atop his chest.
"But these four, of the highest ranks of His lieutenants, the worst of the worst... they have so far alluded our effort. They have run deep underground. The strength of their dark magic, coupled with that still lingering in the left of their forearm, has presented us with a challenge, hence my request of Krieg's services."
"But what could he offer that your Aurors-" McGonagall started, but was interrupted.
"We have been using an Invesio," he said low, his eyes darting up towards the portraits of the previous Headmasters as if daring any to be listening on.
Slughorn humpfed. Flitiwck squeaked. McGonagall herself blinked several times before his last words finally set in. "An Invesio..? But that's... impossible. One hasn't..."
"It seems Dumbledore, in all his cleverness, was able to perform one last miracle before his untimely passing. He deemed to leave it to me in his Final Will," Shacklebolt revealed.
McGonagall was shaking her head with disbelief. "But even then..."
"I do not mean to overstate. It has taken a great deal of time and risk to perfect, and even then, we have had only limited success. The device has proven itself to be every bit as difficult as legend has told of it. Up until two weeks ago, I had been the only one capable of successfully using it, and here I do not mean to boast, as it was only the weakest on that list that I was able to uncover and trace. The higher on the list I rose, the more arduous the task became, until I was no longer able. I turned to several others, those I believed more powerful than myself, to attempt. All was in vain, until I was pointed in the direction of Professor Krieg here."
"And he has..?"
"Succeeded where I fell short. He has personally detained..." Shacklebolt faltered here for a moment, "or removed... three of the next highest on the list, until we arrived at the final four."
Krieg's three co-professors eyed him with something between awe and bewilderment. Krieg, being a German, had remained out of the war for the most part, as all of continental Europe had.
"And now?" McGonagall asked.
"And now we are once again at a dead end," Shacklebolt said. "I admit, I am not convinced of the idea myself, but I have agreed that if you should be sold of it.... as Krieg was recommended to me, he has in turn recommended another whom might be able to succeed where we have not."
There was absolute silence as his last words sank in, the meaning of them, and why he was here at Hogwarts finally becoming evident.
"No, absolutely NOT!" McGonagall was so emphatic that she slammed her palm down hard atop her desk. All flinched back a step at her sudden ferocity.
"You!" she turned her ire upon Krieg. "How dare you?!"
"Headmistress," Krieg kept up with the formalities. "If any are able..."
"Enough of that!" McGonagall did not relent. "You have no right!" she beat her hand against her desk once again. Flitwick and Slughorn both faded into the background, looking to one another worriedly, eying for the door. "I invited you here to help teach the boy to protect himself from those wolves, not throw him amidst a den of them!"
"Minerva, please," Krieg kept his cool. "You do not understand the full urgency of the matter."
"I understand I am being asked to send a boy to do a man's job, once again! Hasn't he done enough, faced enough already?! And why on earth would you even begin to assume he would be able where you two have not?!" she was red in the face. "The answer is NO!" she turned back to Shacklebolt.
"Minerva, I..." Shacklebolt tried to interject, he'd hardly been able to properly explain himself earlier before she had turned on him.
"Enough!" she practically spat. Shacklebolt instantly regretted garnering her attention back to himself. "You are the Minister of Magic - you have a whole army of Aurors to command as you please - you will leave him out of it!" she rattled off.
"Minerva," Krieg stepped forward. "I have known Harry for only a short amount of time, but just the same, he has impressed upon me... I think everyone in this room has Harry's well being as their top priority, but-"
"But nothing. The answer is NO!" she refused to let him go any further. "This is the most absurd thing I have ever heard, and I am the school master of immature children!"
"Minerva, will you listen?!" Shacklebolt raised his booming voice, finally drawing hers and everyone else's undivided attention. "I would have never considered such a prospect..." he went on, "and as I have already said, I am still not sure I support it whole heartedly, but..." he drew a deep breath. "We have uncovered some alarming intelligence, there has been rumors spreading..." he spoke ominously. "There is someone looking for Harry, as you well know, and whomever it is, he is spreading around a lot of gold in his efforts. We have learned that he has enlisted the help of at least two of these last four I have told you of. Considering their renown ruthlessness, coupled with the events that have already transpired in India, I hope you can see the urgency at hand?"
"I see all the more reason to keep Harry hidden and away, here, safe, while YOU do YOUR job and find them!" McGonagall cut at the Minister.
"That is assuming, Minerva, that Harry will remain here," Krieg stopped her cold. "He has not forgotten why he is here, nor of what awaits him out there. Why not let us help him, while he might still allow?"
"This is ludicrous," McGonagall still defended, but some of that fire had been robbed from her. There was another long pause before she spoke again, and when she did, it was only in the faintest of whispers. "Allow me... let me try."
"Minerva..." Krieg voiced his doubt.
"If you are willing, I would not deny you, Minerva, but do you understand that if you were actually able... The Invesio is not apparation. It is too dangerous to attempt to send any with you. You could potentially arrive before who knows what, without any proper support."
"Ha!" she laughed cynically. "You are afraid for this old woman, but not for the boy you wish to throw to them?!"
"I have not said I support the idea," Shacklebolt defended, "but is he, or is he not, the one who defeated the Dark Lord to begin with?"
"That was - that was different," McGonagall protested. "The circumstances were different."
"You have seen for yourself what Harry is capable of, all of you have," Krieg turned to the other professors. "We at least owe it to him to let him try."
"Owe it to him?!" McGonagall bit. "And what if it did work? What if we were to drop him right into all four of their laps at once, he all alone?! After everything else, we owe him that?! Hardly!"
"Well, that is one point we will have to..." Shacklebolt revealed his own misgivings on this particular piece of the plan.
"No," Krieg stated. "If such a scenario were to occur, it would not be Harry you would have to fear for."
"Don't be ridiculous, Krieg. There are a thousand different scenarios that could unfold using the Invesio, and all of them equally as dangerous!" McGonagall kept up the fight.
"Eh hem," a reluctant, squeaky voice coughed, drawing everyone's eyes to him. He squirmed in place for a moment, garnering his courage to go on. "With all do respect, Headmistress," Flitwick spoke with unease. Everyone appeared as if they had been stunned. "It has been eight years now since I first had the pleasure to meet Harry Potter," he began, his eyes traveled off to that distant past.
"In that time... well, as Krieg has already stated, I doubt there is one among us who would not acclaim to the young boy's talents, and who, after all he's sacrificed for us, after all the time we have spent with him and taught him, as much as he has taught each of us... I do not need to speak of how dear we all hold him, how much we all wish to shelter and protect him from those the Minister speaks of, but has he not been the one to protect us all along?"
McGonagall looked as if she wanted to argue, but Flitwick went on.
"It was... heartbreaking," Flitwick shook his head as he looked to the ground. "What you told of Harry in India, and so soon after the war," the squat wizard seemed to choke on his own words. "Then, I was not so sure of your plans for Harry's return to Hogwarts. At the least, I... well, I am no Gryffindor," he chuckled abashedly. "Not the sum of all my long years have I faced such trials and tribulations as Harry Potter, but still, he never ceases to amaze me, to inspire me."
"I was alarmed by the state the poor boy was in upon his return," Flitwick said in barely more than a whisper. "But as high as he had built that wall to hide himself, only that much more did it reveal of his fear, but not for himself... I believe we all saw that war still raging within him. He had closed himself off to everyone and everything except for his studies. He is here not to hide, but to prepare himself - to prepare to go back out there, alone, to end this madness, to protect those he loves. He's been through so much and still the story refuses to end. The book refuses to close," Flitwick went on, though it seemed as if he were speaking only to himself.
"If Harry is the only one able, which I have no doubt if any can, then he... if we were to try to shelter him from this, withhold this information and not help him, and something more were to happen... These four Death Eaters, I think they have already proven that there is no low they wouldn't stoop to, to achieve their goals, and if it involves Harry Potter, all the better for them. They know all his connections, all those closest to him, all the ways to goad him out. If we wait and something were to happen to one of them... well, I for one would not want to live with the consequences. He has been left standing on the ledge, and one misstep, I fear he might slip away forever. I think he has earned our honesty, that we at least owe it to him to tell him what is happening, and to let him decide what part he would like to play in this, and if we can in any way help him..."
McGonagall was finally left speechless, just as they all were, but it was she who was left with her head hung, staring at her hands. He deserves your honesty.
"Krieg," Slughorn was the first to break the silence, speaking up softly. "I likewise have seen Harry's progression, but perhaps not from as good an angle as you. If the worst scenario Minerva has spoken of were to occur, that the Invesio should deliver him to all four at once or something worse, are you absolutely sure Harry would truly be as readied as you say?
Krieg eyed the tall, plump Professor of Potions carefully. "Before I arrived here, Professor, it had been a long time since I had been challenged in a duel. As we all have, for sixty days now I have been working with Harry on many things, amongst them dueling, and in those sixty days, I have dueled with Harry sixty times. At first, though he could put up a good fight, the boy still had much to learn. After the first few weeks he was finally able to get the better of me. I have not been able to claim a victory in our last sixteen. I have not been able to touch him in our last four."
Though they had all seen Harry's accent, they all nonetheless stared at Krieg with disbelief at this revelation. Krieg was a renowned Warlock to say the least.
"You do not have to take my word for it," he smiled crookedly. "I have asked the Minister to bring four of his best Aurors with him..."
. . . .
Hermione crept slowly, stepping ever so softly, even though her Luminos would give her position away regardless. The silence of the Library was so deafening, that there simply felt something dangerous about disturbing it.
On that very first row, she spotted her first clue. There was a book laying discarded upon the ground - the book that they had heard fall. She moved to it, carefully looking about herself before bending down to pick it up. "Toad Stools and Tampering Fools," the title read - insignificant. She moved to replace it within the shelf, but then paused. Just through the gap it left, she had a perfect view of the table she and Ron had been studying at, the latter still standing there, fumbling with his wand. There was no doubt, someone had been spying. After rolling her eyes at Ron, she moved on.
Aisle by aisle, she weaved up and down, stressing to keep the quite, but without any further sign or clue. She was so absorbed in looking and listening for the slightest hint of sound or movement, that she did not notice the orb of her light seemingly restricting more and more with each passing row. The darkness crept in, coupled with an odd chill in the air the further she drew.
She had been on edge, an eery tingling coursing up and down her spine, but as she reached the end of the Library without so much as a footfall being heard, she straightened back up, readied to give up the search. Whoever it was, they had made it out. She turned to head back up the center aisle in search for Ron... and then that's when she saw it, a long shadow cast out from her light at the end of the very last aisle.
Hermione startled, but the object did not move. "Hello?" Hermione called, raising her wand higher while squinting into the darkness. It was hard to see. She began taking careful steps down the row. Halfway there, she was brought up short.
"Oh!" Hermione stopped in her tracks. Indeed there was someone there. "Hello?" she called again, her eyes piercing into the shadows. From what she could make out, it was a small girl - had to be a first year - standing as still as stone, her head hung with long, black, wiry hair draping down, covering her face.
"Everything okay?" Hermione beckoned. "Are you lost?" she let her guard down, drawing ever closer to the girl, but the closer she drew, the more and more it looked like the girl was anything but okay.
The young girl was not dressed in robes, but in a worn, tattered and dirty muggle dress. Her wiry hair looked to be wet and knotted, decrepit even, and the closer Hermione got, the girl looked to be shivering.
"You do not have to be afraid, everything is going to be fine," Hermione spoke softly, reassuring the apparently terrified girl. Hermione had gotten near enough that she started to kneel down to be at eye level with the frightened girl. She had been so overcome with concern for this terrified little child, that she did not notice her light had been nearly snuffed out, nor of the increasing bitterness of the air about them.
Just as her knee hit the ground, the little girl's face shot up. It was hideous. A terrible shrieking, the likes of which there was no equal, suddenly filled Hermione's head. She dropped her wand to clench at her ears as her face twisted with the pain of it, something, anything to deafen the ear shattering wail.
Hermione felt her own mouth fall open to scream at the sight of the small girl's weathered, wrinkled face, at her biting, rotten teeth, at her cold, black beady eyes, but the piercing shriek inside her head was so much, so consuming, that she wasn't sure if she had even made a sound. And then it all happened so quickly, she did not have a chance to defend herself. The little girl was swooping right for her, her fingers with long, yellowish nails reaching out like talons.
She felt herself being grabbed, pinched, consumed, but she had lost all her senses. "WHERE-IS-HE?!" was shrieked so loud inside her head that she was sure it had exploded. Images began blitzing past her mind's eye so fast that they were nothing but a blur.
She was spinning, swirling, being tossed out of control, losing her own mind, and then... just as fast as it had all started, it stopped. She was standing at the top of a stairwell, looking down at a boy she once knew, loved with all her heart, but now hardly recognized.
His black, raven hair was longer than she remembered, but ever much as disheveled. His skin was pale, glowing even in the torches light. And those eyes... no longer hidden behind his moon-ringed spectacles, sparkled that emerald green.
"Harry..." she felt his name on her lips. "Harry," she called out pleadingly to him. "Harry!" she reached for him, tripping down the stairs, but no matter how fast she ran, they did not seem to end.
"Hermione..." she heard him call back up, his voice strained and distant. "Hermione..." he called as he was being pushed further and further away.
"Hermione!" her eyes finally jerked open. Harry was gone. A redheaded boy was knelt over her. "Merlin!" he sighed heavily. "Nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Hermione tried to sit up, but all her strength was gone. "What in the bloody hell happened?!" Ron helped her.
"I don't..?" she found words hard to come by, her brain jumbled. As Ron got her up to a sitting position, she felt something warm run down either side of her face. She lifted one hand to touch at her ear before bringing it back to her eyes. It was red.
"Your... your ears!" Ron said aghast. "They're bleeding!" he sounded near panic. Hermione shook her head, unable to make sense of anything. "Come on, we need to get you to the infirmary!" he tried lifting her by the arm.
"No!" Hermione stopped him. "Where is she?!" she suddenly remembered, looking frantically about them.
"Who?" Ron asked. "There was no one here. I just heard you scream, came running, found you like this..."
"You didn't hear her?"
"No, hear what? I told you, I just heard you scream and then came running."
"I..." Hermione started, but then, she could not remember exactly what had happened.
"Come on, we need to get you to Madam Pomfrey," Ron repeated.
"No!" Hermione again refused, pushing him away to struggle to her own two feet. "I just need..." she wobbled, almost fainting, before Ron grabbed hold and steadied her.
"I'm taking you to the infirmary," he now insisted.
"Ron..." she looked to him, pleadingly. "Nothing happened..." she tried, only soliciting a scoff from Ron. "If word gets around, Harry..." was all she needed to say before Ron finally understood. He didn't like the idea, but, Harry had gone bonkers enough already, they'd still yet to hear from him, and this would only drive him further away. "Just help me to my room, I'll be okay."
Ron paused, considering their options. "Fine," he finally relented, slinging one of her arms over his shoulder and placing his own around her back to help guide her. "But you're doing my Transfiguration essay!" he smirked to her.
"Heh," Hermione laughed weakly.
. . . .
He didn't like it, not one bit. Hermione wouldn't say a thing more of what had happened to her, but right now she needed rest. He'd get it from her tomorrow, whether she liked it or not.
He had left her safely in her room, but not before he'd completed a thorough search of her dorm, and not until she had managed to perform a few healing charms on herself - she had adamantly refused to let him try.
And now here he was, back in the castle's dark and empty corridors, and once again alone. He kept his wand in hand, treading softly as he went, his eyes alert for any movement. He'd had enough surprises for one night. They'd get to the bottom of this tomorrow, he reassured himself.
It was coming around a corner, Ron having momentarily turned around to check his rear when he ran smack dab into the chest of another.
"OMINIWHO!" Ron practically screamed like a girl, his face turning as white as a sheet as he fell to the floor, but not before slashing his wand through the air to blast the arm off a defenseless statue.
"Oi!" two fell back in the opposite direction, shouting, equally alarmed.
"Dean? Seamus?" Ron grumbled, rolling onto his back. "What in the bloody hell are you doing?!"
"Er..." they both stammered, looking to each other for support. "Nothing..?" Dean stepped forward to give him a hand up.
"Riigght..." Ron looked suspiciously between the two. "Just out for a late night stroll, I imagine?"
"Y-yeah... that's it," they tried latching on to Ron's given excuse.
"Now you two know I've caused too much mischief myself to fall for that. Fess up or I'll hex the both of you to kingdom come!" Ron could only hope they'd buy that last part, but he seemed in such the disgruntled state that his two friends were weary.
"Alright, alright," Dean said. "Don't get your knickers in a wad!" The two looked to one another uneasily again, a silent argument taking place. "He'll want to see this..." Dean whispered to Seamus.
"See what?!" Ron demanded. The two looked urgently around the empty halls first to ensure no eaves droppers, before Seamus leaned in.
"Dean was up in the bleachers of the Quidditch the other night with..." Seamus ground to a halt with Ron's glower at Dean. "Er... by himself... when he saw two come out onto the grounds below..."
"What were you doing in the bleachers at this hour?!" Ron glared at Dean.
"Ah, never mind that, mate. Come on, you've got to see this, there's not much time!" Before Ron could say anything else, the two left it at that as they took off for a side exit they knew of out the castle.
"What's this about?" Ron, however, did not give in on his questioning. He'd had enough excitement for one night, but still, he followed them all the same. "If you get me into any trouble..!" he swore, thinking more of with Hermione than with Finch.
"You think they'll come?" Seamus asked Dean excitedly as they snuck their way into the Quidditch Pitch.
"Who?" Ron demanded. "Who's coming?" he asked, looking around nervously, but there wasn't a soul in sight.
"They've been here, right on queue now, three nights in a row." Ron did not understand their excitement, but he did not turn back. He followed them all the way up along the winding stairs into the bleachers, all the while pestering them for answers they would not give.
"I... I can't begin to explain it..." Dean seemed mesmerized by whatever was to come. You'll just have to see it for yourself."
"Quite now," Seamus shushed them. "It's three til," they made it to a covered suite reserved for the professors to keep out of sight.
"Three til midnight," Dean answered Ron's confused glare.
"Whoa!" Seamus stopped in front of them. "Would you look at that!" he said hushedly, but at the same time, he could not completely contain his excitement.
"What?!" the other two tripped forward
Ron had no idea as to what was going on, but in the pitch below... he didn't know what to make of it. There was a labyrinth of stone pillars, some short, others rising up over twenty, thirty meters high. Winding its way between them was a never ending maze of thick hedge, lining the edges of either deep trenches or mounded hills. Right at the center of it all, in the only clearing available, five wizards in black robes stood huddled together. One was speaking, pointing, but they were too far away to hear it.
"Well... this is new," Dean muttered.
Apparently finished with his instructions, the other four began to fan out, disappearing into the shadows. The one left at the center flourished his wand above him, sparking a green, opaque web of energy, like that of a force field. It began at the far end of the pitch, rising up to form a dome about it, until it finally closed back in on itself at the opposite end. Completed, the dome shined bright for the briefest of moments, before it just as quickly began to dim. It had no sooner finished than the door at the far end opened and a thick fog began to usher out.
"What's going on?" Ron whispered, his eyes glued to the scene below.
"I don't..." Dean started, "they're kicking it up a notch. Just watch... there," he pointed to the gathering mist at the far end, just before the now closing door.
A small bead of white light burst out the fog, speeding towards the one at the center. He did not move, standing as still as a statue as it danced around him.
One, two, three-four, more beads shot out, reaching to all four corners of the transformed pitch. Without warning, the hovering mist began to swirl rapidly, pulling into a tight cyclone a rippling white smoke. Then, with a loud crack, it exploded.
"Aghh!" there came a loud cry from the far left corner, followed by a flash of red. The three hiding in the bleachers instantaneously heard three distinct pops echo from about the arena, as what was left of the posse of four rushed to their comrades aid in that same white smoke.
They materialized in an arc about the corner, cutting off all chances of escape. Another crack, but this time of splitting stone, and the tall pillar which stood in that corner began to tilt and fall in on them.
"Watch out!" they all three fell away. With their backs turned in retreat, they all missed it, but not the three in the stands. As the pillar fell, a form dashed its way up it, all the way to the very end, leaping off its tip before it had made it halfway to the ground.
Flipping his legs up, the wizard somersaulted into the air, flourishing his wand. A red stunner struck down one of those retreating. Realizing their error, the last two turned back on him, but just as he hit the ground, he disappeared in another cloud of smoke. Their carefully aimed stunners slashed right through where he had just been, doing nothing more but swirling the last of the mist left.
"Where'd he go?!" one of them shouted frantically.
"I don't know, you see him?!" the other called back. Nothing. The two held their positions, eyes darting back and forth, crouched, wands raised ready to strike, but the pitch was quite and still.
From their perch, the three boys scanned the arena just the same, but saw nothing. The third left, the one at the center, still stood there, unmoving.
"Burns! Help me!" one of them suddenly screamed. Vines from a nearby hedge had crept out around a pillar and had snuck up on him, entwining him rapidly, pulling him back into the stone. As his partner rushed to him, he struggled like mad, but it was useless.
Finally reaching him, Burns started slashing his wand fiercely back and forth, cutting through the vines, but they seemed to grow out just as fast.
"Aye! Behind you!" the one caught in the vines bellowed.
"Stupefy!" Burns spun on a dime, firing his curse. Their attacker was closing fast, dashing at an unnatural speed in a line right for them. Just as Burns' spell was about to strike him - the wizard making no attempt to block it - the three in the stands flinched, but...
Pop! Their assailant seemingly apparated back into that cloud of smoke - the stunner passing right through - only to instantly reappear still in stride. Burns fired off curse after curse, but the wizard apparated likewise with each, right on course. He was moving too fast. He was going to collide with the one named Burns like a speeding steam roller out of control.
"Agghh!" Burns yelled as he shielded his face with his arms as the impending collision came.
And then...
Pop!
And nothing...
Burns slowly let down his arms. There was no one in sight. All was quite and still once again. He turned back to his partner, but... he was not there. A swoosh of rippling wind caught his attention. His ears perked.
Bam! Burns just barely managed to jump away as his partner fell from the sky, landing with a hard crunch, right where he had been standing.
"Madock!" Burns started, meaning to rush to his fallen partner's side, but then froze. "Damn," he cursed as he felt the wooden tip of a wand press into his back.
"Hello again, Burns," his attacker whisped, before loosing a strong stunner at point blank range. Burns' unconscious form as sent tumbling forward.
"Insane," Ron mumbled, wide-eyed at what he had just witnessed.
"Wicked," Dean seconded him.
"Unreal," Seamus finished. "He took them apart."
The entire fight had not lasted a full two minutes. But then, the fight was not yet over. The one at the center, standing amongst the only clearing, had still yet to move.
The assailant stalked towards him, no longer bothering to conceal himself. Reaching the fifth, the other made a slow, wide arc about him until they were standing face to face.
"What's..." Ron tried.
"Sshh!" Dean hushed him. Ron hushed as a nervous lump built in his throat. He followed suit with the other two, leaning in over the railing to watch what would happen next.
The two remaining wizards below just stood there, looking across the twenty meters or so that separated them.
"What are they doing?" Ron asked in a rushed whisper.
"Just shut up and watch," Dean bit at him.
Dean had no sooner finished his rebuke, than they all jumped as the fifth and last whipped his wand through the air, loosing several curses at once.
Pop-pop-pop! Echoed across the arena as the opposing wizard apparated and disapparated in quick succession, dodging each. In the blink of an eye, the distance between the two had been closed.
The attacking wizard swung his wand down onto the other like a sledge hammer. What sounded like a clasp of thunder rattled the pitch as their two wands met. The three boys had to shield their eyes from the blinding light.
And then it was dark again. Their eyes readjusting, they saw the attacker was back at the fringe of the clearing again. He fired a spell, but the fifth deflected it, sending it into the ground with a burst of soil and grass.
And then the assailant was feinting around the other as he cast spell after spell. The defender was able to block them, but the attacker steadily closed on him.
Pop! The one being attacked suddenly retreated into the cover of hedge, pillar and trenches. The one left at the center abruptly rose into the air, flying - somehow without the use of a broom - only to climax and come hurdling back down.
He wielded his wand like a sledge hammer again, beating a spell into the earth below him as he hit the ground. The very foundation of the pitch rippled like a tidal wave, speeding out in every direction in a perfect circle. Everything it met tumbled and collapsed flat onto the ground. The labyrinth was wrecked.
The three boys found the fifth down below, picking himself up from the unimaginable attack as the other came sprinting at him with the speed of a wild cat. The defender loosed spell after spell at the aggressor but he simply slapped each away as if it were child's play, countering with his own spells.
It was a replay of before. Ron flinched as the two were about to collide in a murderous fury, but just as the calamity was about the occur, the one at the center now disappeared in a cloud of gray smoke.
The attacker matched him, however, evaporating into a pillar of white mist as he continued his pursuit. The three boys watched awestruck at the clouds darted around the arena, only partially materializing to cast a spell or two before they disintegrated again into vapor once again.
The battle persisted at a blinding pace until the white finally cornered the gray at one end. The two clouds collided, first spinning together like a violent storm with clasps of thunder until they suddenly dropped like lead, crashing into the ground.
It was hard to see from their height, but the two each appeared to now have two wands apiece, one in both hands, parrying and striking at each other in close proximity.
Their spells collided and then held as they rotated the joined wands around in a wide arc like two fencers with epees.
"Raaah!" the attacker roared, issuing out a wave raw energy, ripping his wands apart with a mighty, blinding explosion. The three in audience were forced to cover their eyes again as a shock-wave rippled through the ward.
The attacker parried, sending another powerful spell hurdling at the one tripping backwards. The fifth managed to deflect it, but the aggressor was right on him once again, striking and countering all that the defender tried.
At each others throats, the attacker began spinning like an out-of-control ferris wheel, his arms and wands held out, pounding madly at the defenders shield, each blow crashing like a sledge hammer against an anvil. Sparks, like those of one of Ron's brother's fireworks, were bursting out in every direction
The defender was losing. As powerful as he obviously was, he still was no match for the attacker. Ron was just thankful he wasn't the one down there.
With each furious blow, the wizard fell back and back, losing his balance all the more. Then, doing something none of the three would have expected, the attacker dropped, spinning, sweeping one of his legs out to catch the others.
The defender, off kilter as he was, somehow managed to see it coming and was able to jump to avoid the attacker's sweep, but faster than any could follow, the aggressor swept his wand up with an upper cut, striking the defender still in mid air, sending him hurdling backwards.
It was not over. With unimaginable speed, the attacker flourished his wand again and caught the other with a spell about his ankle. Slinging him like a toy, he sent him flying towards the wall.
All three of the boys winced at the gruesome blow. Their attention was drawn back, however, as the attacker charged the fallen wizard with a hair raising battle cry, rapidly closing on him. All three waited with baited breaths.
The one fallen struggled to his feet, but seeing this, the attacker, still in stride swept one of his wands forward with a blood curdling yell. The field exploded, coming apart in a long, wide gash, earth flying every which way.
There was no escaping this. The defender tried to shield himself as the tsunami struck, but he was swept up all the same, sent crashing back into the ward, before falling limp to the ground.
"Alright, alright..." they heard him wheeze from across the pitch, raising an uneasy hand to stop the other. "Enough!"
The attacker relented, slowing his gate to a walk as he put away one of his wands, using the other to renuverate the fallen wizard.
"I - I... that sure sounded a lot like Professor Krieg..." Seamus whispered in awe, still watching the warlocks below.
"Yeah," his two friends agreed.
"But who's the other one?" Ron asked in disbelief. And just as he said this, the clouds overhead parted just enough to let in a speck of moonlight. It wasn't much, not enough for the other two to recognize him, but Ron knew him all too well to miss it. Harry...
. . . .
Harry passed by his classroom. He spent most his nights here, always training, always studying, but not tonight. He was too exhausted. The duel with Krieg and the Aurors he had matched him up against had taken everything out of him, and he figured one night of sleep wouldn't kill him.
"Good evening, mighty Sir!" the proud knight Cadogan greeted him. "Another rousing battle slaying dragons? Offing dark wizards? Saving damsels?!"
"Padfoot," Harry said simply, giving the knight the password.
"Oh, very well," Gregory swung forward, allowing Harry in. Harry limped up the staircase to his dorm, shucking his robes as soon as he entered, eager for a shower. But as Harry passed through, he was brought up short. Something shimmered from atop his unused bed in the firelight.
Approaching it wearily, Harry saw that it was a golden mask. It wore a solemn expression, its lips stern, its features still. It was solid, except for two thin slits at the narrowed eyes. There was a note laid beside it. Harry picked it up.
Even in your solitude,
I hope that you can remember
better days amongst your friends,
even if as a stranger.