I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.

You have until midnight.

Half an hour.

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Minerva McGonagall looks out the window, scanning the grounds from her vantage point. Her fingers tighten on her wand; she breathes in as the fresh night air swirls into Gryffindor Tower through the open windows. On either side of her, students do the same.

She doesn’t fear for herself. Her hatred of the Dark Arts, of the Death Eaters, and especially of him, gives her all the courage she needs. She won’t give Potter up. She won’t condone anyone else giving him up. But in truth, his need to search the castle is only a small part of this battle. Her blood boils as she realizes that she’s not just fighting to protect Harry Potter. She’s battling for Hogwarts. For truth, and for courage.

She wishes, though, that it hadn’t come to this, to students risking their lives. Tilting her head down, Minerva studies the dark grounds, watching as a group of fighters dart past with lit wands. Anxious whispers and quick footsteps echo through the otherwise noiseless night.

Hogwarts. She had spent forty-one years of her life here, teaching all the students who passed through. And now, this might be the end of it all. She knows they won’t make it through the night unscathed. Lord Voldemort is coming, with his legions of servants. Death Eaters, and other creatures. Hogwarts is threatened.

A tear slips unnoticed down her cheek. Forty-one years. I suppose that will have to be enough.

She will do her duty to her school.

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Bill Weasley waits by the oak doors as the other two other fighter groups exit swiftly. He scans the crowd still lingering in the Entrance Hall, searching it desperately for a hint of silver hair. Suddenly he spots her- Fleur. Her beautiful features are set and determined.

In the nine months they had been married he’d told her countless times how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. How much he treasured her. Now, in this moment, all those assurances come crashing down on him.

All those days and nights spent together, all those quiet whispers exchanged as they made love, all of them pale and diminish in comparison to this night. This night could be their last.

Without thinking, he leaps away from the doors, pushing his way through the slowly thinning crowd. “Fleur!”

She turns, sees him, steps forward. Sprinting the last few steps, he catches her hands, and she leans into him. Their lips meet, and for a moment nothing else matters. Nothing else even exists beyond their embrace.

None of the kisses they’d shared before, even on their wedding night, contained as much passion. He drinks in the sweet smell of her hair, relishes the feel of her body entwining around his. She slips her hands up to his neck, resting them in his hair.

And for a moment, there is nothing but the two of them. Two lovers in the hall of a castle, during a dark night, on the eve of battle, sharing a final kiss.

But it can’t last forever, and they break apart. As he stares deep into her loving eyes he whispers the phrase he’s said more than any other. But never before has it meant so much. Because never before has he said it, knowing they may well be the last words he ever gives her.

“I love you.”

And she whispers back, equally passionate, even as tears slide down her cheeks. “I love you, too.”

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Remus Lupin paces behind a row of students. He checks his watch. 11:49. Eleven minutes. He continues pacing, his eyes scanning the castle walls, but his thoughts are far away. His thoughts are resting in a cozy room with three people. He sees them as they were when he left.

One is an older woman with dark brown hair, and kind eyes. She sits in a rocking chair, her concerned gaze focused on her daughter. The younger woman stands by a crib, holding a baby in her arms. The vibrant hue of her hair is already fading, despite her attempts to hide her distress. Her dark eyes stare down at her son. A mop of turquoise hair covers his tiny head, hair that alters colours even as he sleeps peacefully. Teddy Lupin sleeps on in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware that his father has just left the house. Soon, his father might leave the world.

Remus shudders suddenly, clenching his fist around his wand. The danger, the hopelessness of the situation strikes him fully for the first time.

Lord Voldemort and his legions of Death Eaters are coming.

And who waits to oppose them? A mixed group of students, teachers, and members of the Order of the Phoenix. Those that are left, that is.

Remus exhales shakily. The sudden despair that had filled him ebbs away, replaced by a sort of bravado. They may be at a disadvantage, but they don’t have to lose. He breathes in deeply and hardens his resolve.

He won’t lose. Not tonight. Tonight he fully intends to survive, and go back to Dora in the morning. Go back to Dora, and Teddy, too. For a moment the memory of the two of them threatens to engulf him. Be careful, she had warned him, trying to appear relaxed even as she clutched Teddy tightly to her. Be careful, and come home.

Standing in the nearly silent night he sees her pale, heart-shaped face before him. Her lips tilted into a smile. Her eyes dancing.

He wishes he had a way to guarantee that he could keep that promise. To ensure that whatever happens tonight, he will come home. And he wishes, that he’d taken her close one last time. That he’d given her one final kiss. Told her he loved her.

“Dora. Teddy.” The words fall from his mouth, crawling into the night. “I love you.”

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One husband. Seven children. What if she doesn’t make it? What if they don’t make it?

Molly Weasley attempts to steady herself. Next to her, Pomona Sprout mutters something about Venomous Tentacula.

Molly reaches down to smooth her robe, her hands shaking. From the top of the Astronomy Tower, the sky and the stars seem close enough for her to touch. The vantage point provides a far-ranging view of the surrounding grounds. Far off in the distance, the small lights of Hogsmeade can be seen.

Soon the grounds will be flooded with Death Eaters.

She tries to take in a deep, calming breath, letting it out slowly. This isn’t the end, she reminds herself sternly. You will be fine. Your family will be fine. Charlie isn’t even at the castle. Ginny’s safe in the Room of Requirement, assuming she stays there.

No, she will. She knows this is dangerous. It’s too dangerous for her. It’s too dangerous for any of them. For all of us.

Her motherly nature, her desire to protect the ones she loved from harm, starts to kick in. It berates her for letting any of her children be here. For letting them fight.

What if they don’t make it? She sees, in a flash of memory, their dead bodies lying on the ground, one by one, in quick succession. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny. And Harry. Because she loves him like a mother, that brave, burdened boy.

To her left a student moves forward, staring at the grounds. Far below a pack of people with glowing wands pass by. Molly mimics her, leans forward, searches the group.

They’re too far away to see clearly, but she imagines the one leading is Arthur. She can easily picture him, his red hair messy, his glasses crooked.

Oh, God, don’t let Arthur get hurt. Not again. Not like that. She had suffered before, watching him hover on death’s brink. She doesn’t think she could do it a second time.

Closing her eyes tightly, she prays for her family. Her family, newly reconciled with Percy.

Don’t let them die. Don’t let any of them die.

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Kingsley Shacklebolt stands near the steps to the castle, surveying the starry night. He watches the other groups fall into place, and then beckons to the one behind him. Striding forward confidently, he leads them forward, to their place along the wall. As they walk, they pass by the others.

Remus stands there, half-turned to face Kingsley, who pauses and then strides over to him.

“Remus.”

“Kingsley.” Remus’s voice sounds hoarse, slightly unsteady. For a fleeting second, his eyes seem to glisten. “My friend, if…if something happens- If I don’t…will you tell Dora, I’m sorry? And tell her…tell her I love her.”

His voice breaks on the last words, and he lifts a shaking hand to cover his eyes. In that single moment Kingsley understands Remus completely. He feels his friend’s pain, and sorrow.

“I think you should tell her yourself,” he responds, his deep voice quiet. “If anyone else tries, she’d probably clobber them.”

Remus chokes out a laugh, lowers his hand. He nods. Then reaches out, clasping Kingsley’s hand. Their eyes meet and both men seem to relax.

“Best of lucky, Kingsley.”

“Same to you, Remus.”

They maintain their grip on one another for a moment, and then let their hands fall. Words are few, but the meanings are plenty.

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“Here’s where we part, George, my old friend.”

The twins face each other in the corridor, Fred about to head upstairs to check on another passageway while George remains below. Both are aware of the danger hanging over their heads, over the castle. Both know the risks. Both know the odds.

But rather than let despair take over, they handle the matter the way they do best.

“Don’t let any Death Eaters get you; else Mum’ll throw a tantrum.”

“Maybe I should let You-Know-Who do it himself, see if he’s a match for her fury.”

“Now there’s an idea, why didn’t we think of that one before?”

“Ah, well, suppose we should just take as many of them with us as we can, right?”

“Right you are. We’ll show the whole lot of them just how much damage a couple of pranksters can do.”

“Cheers.”

“See you later, George.”

“See you later, Fred.”

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You have until midnight.

Friends exchange final hugs and handshakes. Couples share one last kiss. Families watch each other from afar, quietly wishing.

You have until midnight.

As the final seconds tick away, the castle falls utterly silent. Not a sound is heard, from the grounds to the towers. In that moment, all those within the castle, all those ranged on the grounds, all are united against their common foe.

Midnight.

The combatants, the Defenders of Hogwarts, await the inevitable, with courage in their souls and love in their hearts.