Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 70
Retribution
The throbbing in his scar increased until it rivaled the jackhammer action of his heart. Harry stared in awe at a hand that seemed inexplicably steady despite the chaos within his body. Not daring to remove his Invisibility Cloak just yet, he leaned out of the shadowy bathroom doorway to get a better view of the main action.
The entire area of the north wing appeared to be one large cavernous room along the same lines as the music room. He suspected the floors were of the same rich wood, although with the thick velvet curtains drawn, it was difficult to tell. The lights flickering in the wall brackets illuminated the corners of the room weakly. By the irregular dark shapes revealed, Harry concluded every scrap of furniture had been stacked haphazardly along the walls. It was as if the Death Eaters were preparing for their own danse macabre.
Neville was huddled against the wall like a discarded bundle, trembling visibly. One look was all it took to confirm he had been unhinged by Harry’s failure to check in according to plan. That was easy enough to rectify, Harry thought, as a few steps along the perimeter of the room was all it took to put him at Neville’s side.
“Don’t nod, don’t change anything in your demeanor to make them think you are any less scared,” Harry whispered in Neville’s ear. “I had to take a slight detour, but our plan is still on track… So far, you’re presenting them with exactly what they expect “ continue to satisfy their presumptions until I give the signal.”
Despite her best efforts to channel the madness of her late aunt, Bellatonks had clearly been unnerved by the intimate interchange between Voldemort and his monstrous pet. Her eyes flickered nervously from one to the other even though she could not have understood that the snake already suspected her.
“Tell me, Bella, did your captive bring any friends with him?” Voldemort tossed the question into the air flippantly, yet the sudden squinting of his eyes betrayed that he was examining her minutely. “It’s so difficult to have a lively party without guests.”
“He was their advance scout,” Bellatonks reported with conviction, then realized her mistake.
“Really?” Voldemort intoned with glee as all other conversations in the room hushed in anticipation. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense to wait for him to alert the others? Trap them all in one big round-up?”
“I assigned that menial task to Pettigrew,” she retorted haughtily.
“With all that extra time on your hands, WHY HAVEN’T YOU BROUGHT ME THE GOLDEN BOY HIMSELF?” Voldemort roared. He made as if to turn away in disgust, then whipped around with his wand held high above his head. “Cru--”
He was caught short by the fact that Bella was no longer there; only a few motes of scintillating light remained to mark the spot where she had stood just moments before. Worried murmurs stirred among the dark robes and grotesque death masks of the assemblage.
Before Voldemort had a chance to re-establish his iron rule over the dissent, everyone’s attention was redirected to a whirl of motion appearing not far from where Bella had Disapparated. With a painful crackling noise, Kingsley Shacklebolt materialized from the bowels of a tornado, the wind dying away almost immediately.
“So glad to hear we’re not gate-crashing,” he offered with a mock salute of his wand.
With a sound like balloons popping in a mad staccato sequence, the remainder of the Order’s reinforcements Apparated around the gloomy edges of the room.
Pandemonium broke out instantly. Shacklebolt valiantly took on Voldemort, even though the abominable red eyes seemed to sweep the entire room like preternatural search beams scouting out their preferred prey. At the far end of the room, Harry spied Tonks returned to her normal appearance, fighting at Ginny’s side as they both closed in on the same retreating Death Eater.
Harry barely had time to jump out of the way before an errant jet of red light singed the rug at his feet even though he was still hidden beneath the Cloak. He stood as close to Neville as he dared, inching him slowly with his hip into the darker shadows lining the room’s perimeter. Soon, very soon, it would be show time and Harry needed to complete his sleight of hand as imperceptibly as possible.
Taking a moment to survey the stricken faces turned in her direction, the Headmistress elaborated, “Aberforth reports that the rest of your party has called for reinforcements in preparation to clash with dark forces. They were lying in wait for them in the abandoned wing of the house… I believe Voldemort is among them.”
“I have to be there, not here!” Lupin moaned in desperation. “I promised myself I wouldn’t leave Harry all alone when this moment arrived!”
Lupin’s determination was such that he likely would have made it to his feet had not the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey physically restrained him. Ron rushed to lend his assistance as it appeared for a moment that Lupin might actually overpower the two women.
“It’s no longer your fight, Remus,” McGonagall consoled him as he settled back with a disgruntled huff. “From what Ron tells me, you made sure your party didn’t get caught before the excursion had even begun… And Harry’s not alone. Tonks and Kingsley are with him and the reinforcements include Moody, Bill Weasley, Hestia Jones, and a whole slew of other experienced fighters.”
The haunted look Lupin turned to her showed that he was far from convinced.
“Please be reasonable for once, Remus!” Pomfrey scolded. “How much assistance do you realistically think you can provide while lying on a stretcher? Because a leg that’s fighting off an invasion of Dark Magic is not going to support your weight for very long!”
Ron made as if to say something, but the Headmistress immediately rounded on him as well.
“Don’t even suggest it!” she cried in an exasperated tone. “You and Hermione are not lending your assistance, either. You’d be more of a hindrance than anything else!… Besides, Harry sent you to look after Remus and he’s clearly demonstrated he’s incapable of keeping a cool head under the circumstances.”
“That’s unfair, Minerva,” Lupin added in affronted tones.
“It might actually please you to learn that all the tests on the silver spurs came back negative,” the Headmistress commented in a more conciliatory voice. “No poison of any kind, although the tips were indeed hollow as Ron suspected.”
“What about the silver itself?” Pomfrey inquired anxiously.
“Horace was setting up his alchemical apparatus when I left. His preliminary analysis revealed some sort of strange alloy had been incorporated, but he couldn’t identify it immediately.”
“But it’s fueled by Dark Magic?” Pomfrey sought clarification.
“Of that there can be no doubt,” the Headmistress agreed solemnly. “One has only to look at those tendrils trying to worm their way through Remus’ body.”
Shacklebolt was being worn down by Voldemort’s indefatigable barrage. By the complacent expression in the red eyes, though, it was evident Voldemort considered him a negligible opponent, a gnat to be swatted only until his true adversary arrived. Harry had no doubt that if Voldemort could have delegated this task to an underling, he would have done so. With very little effort, he visualized the scene: Voldemort watching like a heinous spider from the darkest recesses of the room, safely out of firing range as his serpentine familiar draped itself around his legs.
He had already double-checked Neville’s bonds were loose enough to be shrugged off at the crucial moment. He was merely waiting for Voldemort to be distracted enough to give him a few extra seconds’ window. Harry stood paralyzed, sensing the fear he had buried in his bowels dig its claws into his heart. He knew there was no convincing it to let up, not anymore. The time of his appointment with destiny had arrived.
Shacklebolt barely managed to dodge a particularly virulent volley of red beams and practically collapsed, panting, against the wall. Sensing imminent victory, Voldemort approached cagily, wanting to draw the maximum fear from his victim before delivering the killing blow. He turned his back to concentrate more fully on finishing off his opponent and Harry took this as the ideal opportunity.
In Shacklebolt’s direct line of sight, he swung the Cloak from his body and allowed it to drape artfully over Neville. Then drawing his wand, he boldly announced, “Sorry I’m late. Beastly directions, you’d think all the lanes were invisible! You should’ve tied balloons to the mailbox -- I hear it’s all the rage with Muggles.”
Instantaneously, Voldemort whipped his body in Harry’s direction, a malignant grin spreading slowly across his face. Harry barely noticed Shacklebolt had recovered sufficiently to lend some assistance to Ginny as she wore down a masked Death Eater. It was a position permitting them both to keep watch on Harry’s movements nearby.
“Perhaps a Dark Mark would have been more to your liking,” Voldemort suggested venomously as he shot a beam of purple light towards Harry’s feet.
Harry dodged it instinctively with a combination move that allowed him to return a volley simultaneously. “That’s for evening affairs only “ every wizard knows that!” he returned with outward insouciance.
“I would’ve thought the rotting bones of your martyred parents would have been enough to lure you -- or is that werewolf handler of yours incapable of performing the functions of an ordinary bloodhound?” Voldemort sneered with dark delight.
“Lupin had a previous engagement,” Harry returned, dodging the barbed words along with the hexes. Impassively, he volleyed another spell towards Voldemort.
“I’ve always heard werewolves abandon their cubs,” Voldemort returned with a inhuman cackle.
Despite his outward coolness, Harry was terrified to the core. Instead of allowing senseless fear to engulf him, though, he embraced the fear, acknowledging that it was his lifeline to survival. As the barrages continued back and forth between them, Harry became more practiced at erecting a shield bubble just at the ideal moment to repel Voldemort’s onslaught. Let the tyrant think he had him on the defensive, Harry plotted inside his head; meanwhile, he would be getting the measure of how his enemy fought and timed his attacks -- all crucial elements if the plan was to succeed.
Every time he felt those red glowing eyes trying to bore themselves into his brain, Harry deliberately broke eye contact. He tried to keep his movements as casual as possible, but the fear gnawing at the base of his spine just dug its teeth in more deeply.
As they fell into an erratic rhythm of sorts, Harry sensed that time had somehow become elastic, as if he could frame a thousand thoughts in the space between every heartbeat. Yet he could not speed up his breathing or his movements; they were both tied to the same mundane timetable as everything else around him. Only his mind was free of all constraints. Fleetingly, he suspected this was the very reason warriors eschewed using the Felix potion in battle: its glow of confidence would bar them from achieving the fabled plateau.
A hundred new ideas clamored for attention within his brain, struggling to break free. Finally, Harry gave in to the outrage he had unconsciously been harboring for the past year. “You were so sure you’d defeated him,” he hissed. “The only wizard you’d ever feared, because he could see through you, through your grandiose schemes, through your delusions -- and into the emptiness where your heart should have been.”
“Dumbledore is dead,” Voldemort replied darkly. “No one returns from that journey.”
“Yet his legacy lives on,” Harry pressed. “For while you sought to undermine that which he held most dear by having one of his very students assassinate him, he laid the groundwork for your downfall by entrusting others with the seeds of your undoing.”
“Grand words that mean nothing,” Voldemort mocked. “Dumbledore was always the same: rhetoric, lofty ideas…. The world is ruled by power, actions, by those who don’t hide within their ivory towers.”
“That’s true. He gave three of us the bare bones of your dastardly plan. A trail that seemed like it could lead anywhere and everywhere at once,” Harry acknowledged.
If Voldemort was shocked by the revelation, one would have never known it as the cavernous room resounded with his maniacal laughter.
“But it was your sadistic arrogance that was the key to unlocking everything, unraveling your plans like a moth-eaten tapestry,” Harry expounded. “You see, Riddle “ that is your true name, isn’t it “ pain isn’t much of a motivator for most people. Sure, you get a few like Bella, who seem to relish being on both the giving and receiving end “ but for the most part, it’s the absence of pain that people crave. Something you should have remembered when you entrusted your most valued possessions to your loyal followers. Objects reminding them of all the agony and tears with which you had ensnared them. Objects they would just as soon abandon…. Lucius Malfoy….Dolores Umbridge…Severus Snape… Why even Regulus Black sought to substitute his family’s heirloom to undo your schemes.”
“You don’t have a good head for maths,” Voldemort countered disdainfully.
Despite outward appearances, Harry sensed that his brief enumeration had rattled Voldemort to the point where the man was going to become reckless. All that was needed was a last bit of goading.
“Care to take your chances, Riddle?” Harry taunted.
With a huge breath, Voldemort shot a beam of virulent green light directly at Harry’s heart. Knowing he had all the time in the world, Harry returned a mighty Expelliarmus charm so his white beam perfectly intersected the one from Voldemort’s wand. He held his breath, endlessly it seemed, as the beams of contrasting light inched towards one another in mid-air.
He heard Neville’s stifled gasp, an involuntary reassurance that he was still standing by under the Invisibility Cloak. In the infinitesimal moment before the beams connected, Harry deftly placed his wand in Neville’s outstretched hand. By the time the subterfuge had registered in Voldemort’s narrowed eyes, the intensity of the Priori Incantatem phenomenon had fused both his and Neville’s hands to their wands, preventing either one of them from letting go.
Harry moved a few steps away to quickly refold the Cloak and tuck it away under his shirt, double-checking that his secondary wand was within easy reach. He watched the wide-eyed fascination which came over Neville’s face as he witnessed firsthand the reaction of two brother wands which resisted being used against one another. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Shacklebolt cast a shield bubble in the direction of the high ceiling. If enough of the others remembered to do likewise, it was just possible the scintillating golden shell already closing over the three of them would be forced to remain within the confines of the north wing. Otherwise, he and Neville would have to battle Voldemort without their reinforcements close at hand.
Hermione raised her head slightly to get a better look at Lupin’s leg. The tendrils of Dark Magic had receded to just below his knee, but they were still pulsating angrily. After the last draught Madam Pomfrey had forced upon him, though, the shadow of constant pain lurking in his eyes had finally receded.
“Remus, what happened to Wormtail?” Hermione whispered as she knelt down next to him.
“I’m not sure I rightly know,” he admitted, looking away towards the far wall.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to talk about it right now,” the Headmistress suggested softly from where she was seated nearby. Seeing that Ron was also intent upon the conversation, she added, “Although we’d all like to hear.”
“I’m feeling surprisingly better since I finished the chocolate Poppy thrust at me,” Lupin admitted wryly.
“Dark chocolate for Dark Magic, I always say,” Pomfrey mumbled from where she was closely monitoring the situation at Lupin’s feet.
“I think the key issue would be whether or not he’s still alive,” the Headmistress commented gingerly. “Aberforth should probably be informed as he and Hagrid are keeping watch on the Conundrum itself.”
Lupin nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if I can be of much help. Pettigrew did his best to keep me from changing into my Animagus form, to make sure that I drowned. My only goal was to get him off me so he wouldn’t drag me down with him. Once I changed shape, my thoughts were of simply staying alive… When I resumed human form, only his silver arm was attached to my foot. I severed a major portion of it as it made swimming much more difficult.”
“Then you didn’t kill Pettigrew?” Ron asked, only to be immediately hushed by Hermione. “Sorry, Remus, but that is what they’re all intent on dancing around.”
“Quite all right, Ron.” Lupin smiled weakly. “On the contrary, Pettigrew tried to kill me. He lost his balance, and when I foolishly bent over the edge of the cliff, he drew me down with him…. But, I assure you, my conscience is clean. If a Patronus demonstration will serve to con--”
“Not for another twenty-four hours, at least,” Pomfrey reminded him sternly. “Please don’t make me have to confiscate your wand.”
“Harry, I can’t let go!” Neville cried, his eyes wide with panic as he stared down at his trembling hand.
“That means everything’s going according to plan,” Harry replied in an undertone. “Voldemort can’t release his wand, either. Now the wands will take the measure of the two of you.”
“Are you sure, Harry?” Neville asked nervously as the ball of light that had formed when the two spells collided seemed to quaver uncertainly first in Neville’s direction and then back towards Voldemort.
“Yes, Neville, I have the utmost confidence in your mettle,” Harry replied reassuringly. “If it helps, I’ll lend you a bit of support.” With those words, Harry rested both his hands on Neville’s wand arm. “Remember the Felix potion,” he breathed as an added morale booster.
All around them the golden motes of light formed a gossamer web, a scintillating candy shell separating the three of them from the others in the room. From the corner of his eye, he could see many of the Death Eaters had become distracted by the unexpected phenomenon, making it that much easier for the Order members to disarm them.
Harry quickly returned his attention to the glowing arc formed by the dueling spells. The ball of light came to a standstill, almost as if it dared to consider this new development. Harry was fairly certain he was not imparting anything but confidence to Neville through his touch, but he concentrated on pushing the ball back anyway. Slowly at first, then gaining momentum, the light moved away from Neville and closer to Voldemort’s wand. Harry knew he only had moments for the next part of his plan.
Leaving Neville to address “ or ignore “the desultory diatribe flying unchecked from Voldemort’s lips, Harry crept closer, noting how much of his opponent’s energy was being consumed in the struggle with his wand. Without allowing himself a second to reconsider, Harry whipped out his secondary wand and performed the complicated movements of the Sectumsempra hex. Voldemort’s eyes were still registering shock that Harry had produced another wand when cracks started to spread hesitantly across his upper body. Instinctively, Harry retreated a few steps to consider whether his feint had been successful. Almost in slow motion, the fissures widened across Voldemort’s torso and neck, dark purplish blood beginning to ooze from the wounds.
Voldemort slowly fell to his knees, his red eyes darkening visibly with pain, yet he still maintained his iron grip on his wand. By the shuddering breaths that rose from his torn chest, it was clear the dark wizard might just cling to life long enough to retaliate once the wands broke free of the Priori Incantatem spell.
On the other side of the golden web, Harry could see the lashing form of Nagini as the snake writhed in frustration at being prevented from coming to its master’s aid. Harry ignored the painful thorns that drove themselves into his scar as its monstrous voice issued forth.
“You and your impossstersss will not sssuccceed. My Masssster ssstill hasss many sssecretsss at hisss disssposssal,” the great snake hissed, swishing its mighty tail in anger.
As the ball of light finally touched the tip of Voldemort’s wand, the spectral forms of his most recent victims formed an extensive chorus of strangers “ many of which Harry suspected were Muggles. With dismay, he watched the familiar pointed features of Draco Malfoy as he detached himself from the crowd and bounded over to Harry’s side.
“I know we’ve never been friends, Potter, but I need you to be my agent of retribution,” Draco’s spirit breathed. “That man is more monstrous than anyone can imagine. Today, he’s organized a hunting trip in the countryside for visiting dignitaries. Previously, he entertained domestic associates using me as the fox.”
Harry felt his resolve hardening as he grit his teeth in silence.
“He knows how to reverse the Sectumsempra spell,” Draco continued, “and will do so just as soon as he’s able. See how he’s mentally staunching the flow of blood to give himself extra time… You have only seconds to finish the job.”
“What do you propose I do?”
“The simplest thing of all, Potter. A projectile through his heart will kill him almost instantly in this state. He cannot concentrate on holding his wounds together and do much else at the same time. Magic is not required…. In return for my guidance, please tell my mother and father “ yes, they both live for the moment “ that I’m sorry I turned out to be such a disappointment, but I never stopped loving them.”
“I will, Draco, I promise,” Harry whispered into the wistful eyes of his schoolmate.
Vainly, Harry searched the room for anything which could be used as a weapon, but it was too dark to see many details. He remembered seeing various sharp garden implements in the shed and there were always the knives in the kitchen. But how to penetrate the golden web still encasing him?
“Can I summon objects from other areas of the house? Do you know, Draco?” Harry pleaded fervently.
With utmost sadness, Draco shook his head. “Your measure as a man is being weighed; outside objects would just rebound uselessly “ if your outgoing charm was strong enough to penetrate the shell in the first place….Hurry, if you wait until your parents’ ghosts arrive, it will be too late.”
Harry had nothing with him except his clothing, his Invisibility Cloak, and his secondary wand. He gazed at the wand in his hand, wondering if the wood was strong enough to survive such an impact. There was only one way to tell.
With three running steps, he was at Voldemort’s side, barely avoiding the puddle of blood that was forming around the crumbled form. Harry’s forehead erupted in a geyser of such agony it took all of his concentration just to keep his eyes focused. Gripping his wand in both hands, Harry plunged it with all his might into Voldemort’s heaving chest. With a roar of primal anguish, Voldemort’s grip slackened as his head started to roll back.
Above them, the golden motes of the web evaporated into nothingness and the ambient noises of the room engulfed Harry like a tidal wave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nagini’s tongue dart out menancingly in his direction, then flick towards Tonks who was quickly moving in to assist him.
“Watch out, Tonks!” was all he managed before a blinding flash of green light engulfed the figures before him. He wanted to move to their aid, but something was preventing him. As in a dream, he looked down at the torn sleeve of his right arm, the very arm that had guided the final blow. In the rictus of death, Voldemort’s long fingered hand had wrapped itself around his forearm like a huge hairy spider.
The horror of it was overwhelming as Harry let out a blood-curdling scream. Instantly, there were others at his side. He sagged against Neville as Shacklebolt expertly pried the dead fingers open one by one. As he felt the release of the extra weight from his forearm, a strangely cold sensation seemed to wreath his entire arm in flames. Perplexed, Harry looked down at two small puncture wounds in his flesh slowly filling with dark red blood “ his blood.
Shacklebolt followed Harry’s line of sight to the great serpent ring Voldemort wore on his lifeless hand. The jewels in the eyes sparkled vehemently in shifting shades of green and red that made Harry dizzy. Distinctly, he heard a gasp from behind as Shacklebolt turned the ring over to display two virulent spikes on the serpent’s tail.
He heard Ginny’s voice wailing, “Haaarrrryyy…” as the room spun like a cyclone full of light and swallowed him.
“I can’t believe it took Dad so long to convince Mum to go to dinner with him,” Fred commented as he Apparated into the living room of the Dumbledore residence.
“Good to see you, Elphias.” George nodded to the elderly wizard who was conscientiously organizing first aid supplies on a side table. Turning his attention back to his twin, he whispered, “Well, you can’t blame Mum for being suspicious. I don’t ever remember them going out to dinner by themselves!”
“With everyone away, it was the perfect opportunity,” Fred returned with an arched eyebrow.
“What are we then? Invisible?”
“I’m sure there’ve been times your mother has wished just that,” Aberforth’s jovial voice rang out at he draped a friendly arm around each of their shoulders. As he led them up the stairs, he added, “Glad to have your help with the returning troops.”
“Then it’s all over?” Fred asked.
“And we missed it!” George finished.
“Don’ rightly know,” Hagrid volunteered from the window seat as he lowered the Omnioculars from his face. “Nothin’ to report. No waverin’ in the Charm neither, not since tha’ wobble this mornin’.”
At the eager look that passed between the twins, Aberforth cautioned, “Not that you can just barge in, either; Neville has to ferry you over. The Portkey he established during the earlier instability won’t work a second time.”
What if Neville is, er--” Fred began hesitantly.
“Incapacitated?” George supplied with conviction.
“Then in the continued presence of the Fidelius Charm, no one else will be able to access the Potter estate. Those who are already there, however, can just walk out, probably even Disapparate “ but they won’t be able to return without Neville.”
“Nobody’s streamin’ out so far,” Hagrid added.
“But Bill and Ron are over there without us!” Fred cried.
“What if they need reinforcements?” George’s voice carried a note of urgency.
“Then they will notify us as they did before,” Aberforth assured them calmly. “But you should know, Ron and Hermione were dispatched on an auxiliary operation; we just learned that they’ve successfully returned to Hogwarts. As far the group down there,” he indicated the pastoral countryside draped in the lengthening shadows of afternoon, “Bill and Ginny are in--”
“Ginny’s down there?” George screeched, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets.
“I take it Arthur didn’t tell you,” Aberforth commented softly. “At Remus’ urging, he granted Ginny permission to join the Order earlier this week.”
“Even though she’s underage?”
“Even so.”
“That certainly explains the whole pretext of getting Mum out of the house,” Fred returned knowingly.
“If she got wind of this, she’d go absolutely ballistic,” George retorted.
“Probably still will,” Fred conceded.
Hagrid chuckled deeply. “Per’aps someone shoulda tol’ yeh tha’ Ginny ‘erself struck the final blow tha’ brought down Bellatrix!”
“Bellatrix Lestrange?” Fred clarified.
“The head loony bird, herself?” George emphasized.
Aberforth nodded with a grim smile.
“And during all this, Dad’s stuck at a second-rate pub in Ottery St. Catchpole,” Fred observed.
“Ginny’s going to be the one to get all the glory,” George echoed.
“There’s just no recognition for the constant danger involved in covert operations,” Fred commiserated.
Tonks heard Harry’s strangled warning and instantly whipped in the direction of the serpent bearing down upon her. Its forked tongue seemed to taste the air before it settled its sinister eye upon her and hissed menacingly.
The realization that the snake recognized her as the one who had impersonated Bellatrix hit Tonks like a bolt of lightning. So there was a great cosmic reason why she’d always hated snakes, she thought.
Taking a few steps back to allow for extra time, Tonks raised her wand above her head and delivered a silent and forceful Avada Kedavra! A beam of green light sprang forth from her wand and caught the serpent right between its glowing eyes. It seemed to stop in mid-air, its gigantic body collapsing upon itself as if all the oxygen had been let out of a gruesome balloon. She was about to move closer to investigate when Ginny’s anguished cry ripped the air.
She had seen Harry deliver the killing blow to Voldemort through the golden shell, Tonks reminded herself, it was all over -- it had to be. All the other Death Eaters had been rounded up and summarily lashed together by Moody himself.
She arrived at Harry’s side just as Neville and Shacklebolt were struggling to keep his sagging body from slipping to the ground. Ginny’s eyes were glued on the two pin-points on Harry’s forearm that were just beginning to pool with blood. Wordlessly, Kingsley indicated Voldemort’s ring and turned eyes full of dread upon her.
“There’s no time to get him back to Hogwarts, you know,” he whispered gravely.
“Then all we can do is treat it like an ordinary snakebite,” Tonks suggested briskly. “We don’t have any antidotes with us. Does Moody have his flask?”
Almost instantly, the familiar silver flask was being pressed into her hand. “Now hold Harry steady; keep him as vertical as possible so the venom can’t flow as easily to his heart,” Tonks ordered.
“Here, let me help,” Ginny offered as she gently took the flask and splashed a bit over Harry’s forearm. Harry flinched in response and tried to pull his arm out of Ginny’s grasp as she struggled to hold it still.
With a steady wand, Tonks cut incisions over the puncture wounds as Harry’s body thrashed helplessly.
“It’s almost over, Harry.” Moody’s gravely voice was surprisingly soothing as he intoned the next spell to draw the blood down and out of Harry’s arm. This was the trickiest part of the procedure: one had to avoid draining too little blood “ and risk that some of the toxins still remained, or drain too much blood “ and risk irrevocably stopping his heart.
“Thanks, Mad-Eye,” Tonks replied as she wrapped a comforting arm around Ginny’s stricken form. “It’s going to be all right,” she assured Ginny. “Moody’s an old pro at this.”
Encouraged by Moody’s spell, Harry’s blood gathered into large garnet globules before dropping from his arm. Everyone stepped back in alarm as each drop ignited into brief flame as it hit the wooden floor then sizzled ominously.
“Definitely laced with Dark Magic,” Hestia Jones confirmed what everyone was thinking. “I’ll send a Patronus to Hogwarts to let them know that Harry will be on his way shortly.”
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: Harry welcomes assistance from all sources; Ron and Hermione are barred from joining the main battle.