Chapter Twenty-Three
The enchanted ceiling of the Grand Hall was dark and scattered with stars, and below it the four long House tables were lined with disheveled students, some in traveling cloaks, others in dressing gowns. Here and there shone the pearly white figures of the school ghosts. Every eye, living and dead, was fixed upon Professor McGonagall, who was speaking from High Table at the top of the Hall.
“…evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the words, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, the evacuation point.”
Many of the students look petrified. But as Harry skirted the walls, scanning the Gryffindor Table for Ron and Hermione, Ernie Macmillan stood up at the Hufflepuff Table and shouted, “And what if we want to stay and fight?”
There was a smattering of applause.
“If you are of age, you may stay,” Professor McGonagall said.
“Where’s Professor Snape?” A girl from the Slytherin Table shouted.
“He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk,” Professor McGonagall replied and a great cheer rose up from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.
Harry moved up the Hall alongside the Gryffindor Table. As he passed, faces turned in his direction, and a great deal of whispering broke out in his wake.
“We have already placed protection around the castle,” Professor McGonagall was saying, “but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects—”
But her final words were drowned out as a different voice echoed throughout the Hall. It was high, cold, and clear; it seemed to issue from the walls and ceiling themselves. Like the monster it had once commanded, it might have lain dormant for centuries.
“I know that you are preparing to fight.”
There were screams amongst the students.
“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.”
There was silence in the Hall now, Harry turned to catch sight of Sirius and Remus amongst the crowd of Order members—Remus’ magic was pulsing in a faint glow around him, and Sirius was bristled, his eyes wide and mouth open.
“Give me Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, “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.”
The silence swallowed them all again.
Remus’ and Sirius’ eyes locked on Harry’s own as every head in the Great Hall turned to stare at him.
Then a figure rose from the Slytherin Table and Pansy Parkinson screamed, “But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”
Before Harry could speak, there was a massive movement.
The Gryffindors in front of him had risen and stood facing, not Harry, but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stood, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward Pansy instead. Harry swallowed, awestruck and overwhelmed, as wands emerged everywhere, pulled from beneath cloaks and from under sleeves.
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson,” Professor McGonagall said in a very clipped voice, “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”
There was a grinding of benches as the Slytherins stood and trooped out of the Hall.
“Ravenclaws, follow on!” Professor McGonagall instructed.
Slowly, the four tables emptied. The Slytherin Table was completely deserted, but a number of older Ravenclaws remained seated, along with even more Hufflepuffs. Half of Gryffindor remained in their seats, necessitating Professor McGonagall to descend from the platform before the High Table and chivvy the underage on their way.
“Absolutely not, Creevey, go! And you, Peakes!”
Harry hurried over to the Order members, gathered at the top of the Gryffindor Table, “Where are Ron and Hermione?”
“Haven’t you found—?” Arthur began to ask, looking worried.
But he broke off; Kingsley had stepped forward onto the raised High Table and began to speak.
“We’ve only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast!” Kingsley called out, “A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix. Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall, joined by Madam Hooch, are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers—Astronomy, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor—where they’ll have a good overview. Meanwhile, Lupin and Black—” Kingsley indicated Sirius and Remus—“Arthur Weasley”—he pointed toward Mr. Weasley—“and myself will take groups into the grounds. We’ll need somebody to organize defense of the entrances of the passageways into the school—”
“Sounds like a job for us!” Fred said, indicated himself, George, and Lee. Kingsley nodded his approval.
“Alright, leaders up here, and we’ll divide up the troops!”
Harry had begun moving toward Remus and Sirius, but was confronted with Professor McGonagall standing in front of him, “Potter!” She said, “Aren’t you suppoed to be looking for something?”
“What? Oh! Yeah!”
“Then go, Potter, go!”
“Right—yeah—” Harry tried to see around Professor McGonagall and caught a glimpse of Sirius and Remus, speaking to a huddle of overage students, who were all looking up at them with determined faces and wide eyes. Remus looked pale, but Harry caught the subtle scent and glow of his magic in the air. Sirius looked brimming with energy, using his hands to gesture as he spoke. Ayala and Diana had joined Remus and Sirius' group; Tonks and her father were with Arthur and Molly and their huddle of students; and now Kingsley stood with Sturgis beside the teachers.
Harry tore his eyes away, and hurried out of the Great Hall, sweeping up the marble staircase and along a deserted corridor.
In the silence, Harry pressed his hands over his face and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate…Voldemort thought I’d go to Ravenclaw Tower.
There it was: a solid fact, a place to start. The Horcrux had to be related to Ravenclaw House but no one in living memory had seen the diadem…
No one in living memory.
Harry’s eyes flew open and he tore back the way he had come, now in pursuit of his one last hope.
Harry forced his way through the crowd of students by the front doors and called out, “Nick! NICK! I need to talk to you!”
Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, was hovering a few centimeters off the ground by the tide of Gryffindor students.
“Harry?” Nick made to grab Harry’s hands with both of his own, making Harry’s hands feel like they had been thrust into ice water.
“Nick, who’s the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”
“The Grey Lady of course,” Nick said, looking rather offended, “but if it is ghostly services you require—”
“It’s got to be her! Where is she?”
Nick’s head wobbled a bit as he looked around, peering over the heads of the swarming students, “That’s her over there, harry. The young woman with the long hair.”
Harry saw a tall ghost floating by the wall of the entrance hall. She caught sight of Harry looking at her, raised her eyebrows, and drifted away through a solid wall.
Harry ran after her, going through the door near where she had disappeared in the wall and chased her down a long corridor—she glided smoothly down the passage away from him.
“Hey—wait—come back!”
She consented to pause, and turned to look at him. She floated above the ground in front of him, and she was beautiful. Not Ginny beautiful—but still Harry had to admit it to himself. She had waist-length hair and a floor-length cloak.
“You’re the Grey Lady? The ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?”
"That is correct.”
“Please, I need to know anything you can tell me about the lost diadem.”
She raised her chin, “I am afraid I cannot help you.”
“This is urgent,” Harry said fiercely, his temper and panic flaring, “This is about defeating Voldemort! I need you to help me see it done!”
She stared at him, “It is not a question of—” her voice faltered, “My mother’s diadem—”
“Your mother’s?”
“When I lived,” she said stiffly, “I was known as Helena Ravenclaw.”
“Listen,” Harry said, “There’s no time to explain, but if you care about Hogwarts, if you want see Voldemort finished, you’ve got to tell me anything you know about the diadem!”
She remained quite still, floating in mid-air. And then she said in a low voice, “I stole the diadem from my mother. I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it.”
Harry listened raptly.
“My mother never admitted the diadem was gone. She concealed her loss, and my betrayal. But then she fell ill, and she became desperate to see me one last time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so.”
She took a deep breath and threw back her head, “He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was furious at my refusal, and jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me.”
“The Baron?”
“Yes, the Bloody Baron,” she said, “When he saw what he done to me he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chain as an act of penitence, as he should.”
“And the diadem?”
“It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree.”
“Where was this tree?”
“A forest in Albania.”
Harry’s blood was cold, “You already told someone this story, didn’t you? Another student?”
She closed her eyes and nodded, “I had no idea…he was flattering. He seemed to…to understand…to sympathize…”
“Well, you weren’t the first-person Riddle wormed things out of,” Harry muttered.
So Voldemort had managed to find the location of the diadem. He had probably traveled to retrieve it after graduating and before working at Borgin and Burkes. But the diadem…once it had become his precious Horcrux could not have been left in that lowly tree…No, the diadem had been returned secretly to its true home, and Voldemort must have put it there the night he asked Dumbledore for a job.
“Thank you,” Harry said to the Grey Lady, turning back the way he had come, “Thanks a lot!”
As Harry rounded the corner back into the entrance hall he checked his watch: five minutes until midnight, and though he knew what the last Horcrux was, he was no closer to discovering where it was…
It was very dark on the grounds but above their heads, the night sky was strewn with stars. It felt as if the stars were making their presence known on purpose; as if they were signaling—look how much the light is winning.
Beseechingly, Sirius’ eyes sought out the constellation of the lion. How ironic, Sirius had said often as a young lad, that Regulus was named for the brightest star in Leo, and was the Black brother that was actually sorted into Slytherin.
It didn’t feel so ironic anymore.
It felt right.
The star was so luminous tonight…it felt as if Regulus himself was looking down on Sirius from above. As if Regulus were cheering them on.
“You’re here,” Sirius murmured up at Regulus, "And we're finishing what you started."
Moony stood next to him, his sharp eyes on the tree line of the Forbidden Forest.
Ayala and Diana stood behind them, marshaling the crowd of overage students with soft calls of, “Remember your Shield Charms!" and "Never leave your back exposed!”
Remus abruptly turned and called out over their hushed whispering, “It is almost midnight.”
The students went still and silent, their wands held tight in their hands, and all eyes focused on Remus.
“Our group was chosen to confront those that seek to enter Hogwarts by means of the Forbidden Forest,” Remus explained, “Because three werewolves fight on our side tonight."
The students did not quake, they held their heads high before nodding in turn toward Ayala, Diana, and Remus. Only after this was done did their eyes flash to the dark tree line and widen, the reality of where they were and what it meant coming down upon them.
“This is a battle,” Remus said, his voice clear and steady, “You will duel as such. There will no time for instruction once the wards are broken. You must call upon all that you have learned these last seven years, and above all, you must remember what you are fighting for.”
The students' faces hardened, even in their youth. Sirius remembered being seventeen and thrown into a war—he hoped this new generation would not have to fight as bloody long as he had to. Would not have to dedicate their lives to it like he had. Would not have to sacrifice…
Sirius’ train of thought ended as he felt a warm hand find his in the dark. Sirius looked up at Moony’s face as their fingers intertwined and they held on as tightly as they ever had before.
Remus’ face was shadowed but his eyes were burning with intensity as he held Sirius’ gaze. A moment passed, and then Moony stiffened.
There was the sound of about a dozen figures Appararting just beyond the wards.
“Until the very end,” Remus said softly into the night. Sirius looked up at him, and knew Moony’s eyes were seeing beyond the impenetrable darkness of the Forbidden Forest…seeing what approached them.
Sirius gave Remus’ hand one last squeeze, “Until the very end," he said, mirroring their wedding vows back to Moony.
Jets of light shot out from the darkness—as if cast by the trees themselves—but Sirius had never been afraid of the Forbidden Forest. Not when he had Moony by his side.
A window above Harry shattered and he leapt aside as a gigantic body flew in through the window and landed heavily onto the stone floor. Something large and furry detached itself, whimpering, and flung itself at Harry.
“Hagrid!” Harry cried, fighting off Fang as the enormous bearded figure clambered to his feet, “What the—?”
“Harry, yer here!” Hagrid stooped down and bestowed upon Harry a rib-cracking hug, then ran back to the shattered window, “Good boy, Grawpy! I’ll see yer in a moment, there’s a good lad!”
Beyond Hagrid, out in the dark night, Harry saw burst of light in the distance and heard a weird, keening scream. He looked down at his watch.
It was midnight. The battle had begun.
“This is it, Harry,” Hagrid panted, “Time ter fight. Just saw Lupin and Black dueling below—blimey, they’re good, al’righ’. Bu—where’s Ron and Hermione?”
“That,” Harry said, fighting to keep his nerves in check, “is a really good question. Come on.”
They hurried together along the corridor, Fang lopping along beside them. Harry could hear movement through the corridors all around—running footsteps, shouts—through the windows he saw flashes of light in the dark grounds.
“Where’re we goin’?” Hagrid puffed.
“I dunno,” Harry said, making another random turn, “but Ron and Hermione must be around here somewhere…”
The first casualties of the battle were already strewn across the passage ahead: the two stone gargoyles that usually guarded the entrance to the staff room has been smashed apart by a jinx that had sailed through another broken window. Their remains stirred feebly on the floor and the ugly stone faces made Harry thin suddenly of an ugly stone effigy of a warlock, onto whose head Harry himself had placed a wig and a battered old tiara. The shock shot through Harry like Firewhisky and he nearly stumbled.
He knew, at last, where the Horcrux was waiting for him…
He was roused by Professor Sprout, who was thundering past, followed by Neville and a half dozen others, all of them wearing earmuffs and carrying large potted plants.
“Mandrakes!” Neville bellowed at Harry as he ran, “Going to lob them over the walls!”
Harry knew now where to go and he sped off with Hagrid and Fang galloping behind him. As they reached the end of this corridor, the whole castle shook and Harry knew, as a gigantic vase blew off its plinth with explosive force, that the castle’s wards had been shattered, and it was now in the grip of more sinister enchantments than those cast by the teachers and the Order.
“It’s alrigh’, Fang, it’s alrigh’!” Hagrid shouted but Fang shot off and Hagrid pounded after the terrified dog, leaving Harry alone.
Harry forged on through the trembling passages, his wand at the ready, and hurtled around a corner to see Fred, Lee, and Hannah Abbott, surrounded by a small knot of students, standing beside another empty plinth, whose statue had concealed a secret passageway. Their wands were drawn and they were listening at the concealed hole.
“Nice night for it!” Fred shouted as the castle quaked again and Harry sprinted by.
And then Harry skidded around a final corner and with a yell of mingled fear and fury he saw them—Ron and Hermione, their arms full of large, curved, yellow objects. Ron had a broomstick under his arm.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Harry shouted.
“Chamber of Secrets!” Ron said.
“What?”
“It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” Hermione panted, “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant! The basilisk!”
“What the—?"
“Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” Ron said simply.
Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects in Ron and Hermione’s arms: they were great, curved fangs, taken, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk.
“But how did you get in there?” Harry asked, “You need to speak Parseltongue!”
“He did!” Hemione said, “Show him, Ron!”
Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise.
“It’s what you did to open the locket,” Ron said apologetically, “I had a few goes to get it right, but,” he shrugged, “we got there in the end.”
“It was amazing!” Hermione said, “Amazing!”
“So…” Harry was struggling to keep up, “So…”
“So we’re another Horcrux down,” Ron said, pulling out the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s Cup from his jacket, “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”
“Genius!” Harry yelled.
“It was nothing,” Ron said, though he looked delighted with himself, “So what’s new with you?”
As he said it, there was an explosion overhead and all three of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream.
“I know what the diadem looks like and I know where it is,” Harry said quickly, “He hid it exactly where I hid my old Potions book! Come on!”
As the walls trembled again, Harry led the other two back through the concealed entrance and down the staircase into the Room of Requirement. It was empty except for two people: Ginny, and an elderly witch wearing a moth-eaten hat.
“Ah, Potter,” Mrs. Longbottom said as if she had been waiting for him, “You can tell us what’s going on.”
“Is everyone okay?” Ginny asked.
“So far as we know,” Harry said, swallowing tightly before continuing, “Are there still people in the passage to the Hog’s Head?”
“I was the last to come through,” Mrs. Longbottom said, “I sealed it. Have you seen my grandson?”
“He’s fighting,” Harry told her.
“Naturally,” the old woman said proudly, “Excuse me, I must go and assist him.”
And with surprising speed, she trotted off toward the stone steps.
Harry looked at Ginny, “Ginny, I’m sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in.”
Ginny nodded at him, her eyes blazing, and took off after Mrs. Longbottom, “But then you’ve got to come back in!” Harry shouted after her.
“She can fight,” Ron said seriously, looking at Harry. Harry balked.
“She’s got a lot to lose, mate,” Ron continued sagely, “She’s got you, and our whole family is out there. Plus she’s the best Quidditch player Gryffindor’s got ‘sides from you, she’s always been one of the best in the D.A., and don’t go on about her being underage—she’s bloody more mature than us! Just because she’s a girl and you’re in love with her doesn’t give you the right to treat her differently! I would never do that to Hermione—”
There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.
“Is this the moment?” Harry asked weakly, still feeling slightly affronted at being called out by Ron. But when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, Harry raised his voice, “OI! There’s a war going on here!”
Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms around each other.
“I know, mate,” Ron said, “so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”
“Never mind that,” Harry said, “Just hold it until we’ve got the diadem.”
“Yeah, right, sorry,” Ron said and he and Hemione set about gathering up the fangs, both pink in the face.
It was clear, as the three of them stepped back into the corridor upstairs, that in the situation within the castle had worsened. The walls and ceilings were shaking worse than ever; dust filled the air, and through the nearest window, Harry saw burst of green and red light so close to the foot of the castle that he knew the Death Eaters were very near to entering the place.
Harry turned and saw Ginny at the next window, which was missing several panes, her wand drawn. Even as he watched, Ginny sent a well-aimed jinx into a crowd of fighters below.
“Good girl!” A figure roared as he ran by, and Harry saw Aberforth, his grey hair flying as he led a small group of students past, “They’ve breached the Forest and the north battlements!”
Ginny turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“Ginny, that was excellent! We’ll be back in a moment,” Harry said, meeting her eyes, “Take care of yourself, okay?”
Ginny nodded and turned back to the window as Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran back to the stretch of wall beyond which the Room of Requirement was waiting.
I need the place where everything is hidden, Harry begged and the door materialized on his third pass.
The furor of battle died the moment they crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them. All was silent. They were in place the size of a cathedral with the appearance of a city, its towering walls built of objects hidden by thousands of long-gone students.
“This way…” Harry said, “I think it’s down here…”
Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth they went, splitting up to look for the statue wearing a wig and a tiara. Harry’s breath was loud in his ears and then his soul itself seemed to shiver—there it was, right ahead, the blistered old cupboard in which he had hidden his Potions book, and on top of it, the pockmarked stone warlock wearing a dusty old wig and what looked like an ancient, discolored tiara.
“Hold it, Potter.”
Harry turned around. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him, shoulder to shoulder, wands pointed right at his chest. Behind them stood Draco Malfoy.
“That’s my wand you’re using, Potter,” Draco said, pointing his new one through the gap between Crabbe and Goyle.
“Not anymore, it’s not,” Harry panted, “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?”
“My mother,” Draco said. He looked terrible. His eyes had deeper, darker rings about them than Remus’ used to after a Full Moon, and his skin still had that greyish tone as if he hadn’t seen sunlight in…well…two years. He was so thin that his chin was so pointy it might’ve been able to cut glass.
“So how come you three aren’t with Voldemort?” Harry asked.
“We’re gonna be rewarded,” Crabbe said, his voice was soft, and it eerily reminded Harry of Teddy’s voice, it was that much like a small child.
“We ‘ung back, Potter. We dediced not to go. Decided to bring you to ‘im,” Crabbe said.
“Good plan,” Harry said in mock admiration, “So how did you get in here?”
“I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year,” Draco said, his voice was very brittle, “I know how to get in.”
“Harry?” Ron’s voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the wall to Harry’s right, “Are you talking to someone?”
Harry lunged for the tiara but Crabbe shouted, “NO, Potter! Crucio!”
Crabbe’s curse missed Harry but hit the stone bust and it flew upward; the diadem soared into the air, dropping out of sight in the mass of objects on which the bust had rested.
“STOP!” Draco shouted, “The Dark Lord wants him alive—”
“So? I’m not killing him, am I?” Crabbe yelled.
A jet of scarlet light shot past Harry by inches: Hermione had run around the corner behind him and sent a Stunning Spell straight at Crabbe’s head. It only missed because Draco pulled him out of the way.
“It’s the Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!”
Harry saw Hermione dive aside and his fury that Crabbe had used the Killing Curse wiped all else from his mind. He shot a Stunning Spell at Crabbe, who lurched out of the way, knocking Draco’s wand from his hand; it rolled out of sight beneath a mountain of broken furniture and boxes.
“DON’T KILL HIM! DON’T KILL HIM!” Draco shouted at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry. Their split second hesitation was all Harry needed.
“Expelliarmus!”
Goyle’s wand flew out of his hand and disappeared into the bulwark of objects beside him; Draco jumped out of range of Hermione’s second Stunning Spell and Ron, appearing suddenly at the end of the aisle, shot a full Body-Bind Curse at Crabbe, which narrowly missed.
Crabbe wheeled around and screamed, “Avada Kedavra!” as Ron leapt out of sight to avoid the jet of green light. The wandless Draco cowered behind a three-legged wardrobe as Hermione charged toward him, hitting Goyle with a Stunning Spell.
A roaring billowing noise behind Harry gave him a moment’s warning. Harry turned and saw Ron and Crabbe running as hard as they could up the aisle towards them.
“Like it hot, scum?” Crabbe roared as he ran.
But he seemed to have no control over what he had done. Flames of abnormal size were pursuing them, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch.
“RUN!” Draco screamed and grabbed the Stunned Goyle, dragging him along; Crabbe outstripped all of them, now looking terrified; Harry, Ron, and Hermione pelted along in his wake, and the fire pursued them. It was not normal fire, that was certain. As they turned a corner the flames chased them as though they were alive, sentient, intent on killing them.
The fire mutated; became roaring, flaming beasts—serpents, chimaera, dragons, and wolves rose and fell again. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle vanished from view and Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped dead, the fiery monsters circling them, drawing closer.
“What can we do?” Hermione screamed, “What can we do?”
“Here!”
Harry seized a pair of heavy-looking broomsticks from the nearest pile of junk and threw one to Ron, who pulled Hermione onto it behind him. Harry swung one leg over the second broom and with hard kicks to the ground, they soared up into the air. The smoke and heat were becoming overwhelming. Harry could not see a trace of Draco, Crabbe, or Goyle anywhere. He swooped as low as he dared over the marauding creatures of flame to try to find them, but there was nothing but fire…
What a terrible way to die…Harry had never wanted this for anyone…
And deep down, part of Harry felt certain, that Draco did not deserve this.
And then Harry heard a thin, piteous scream from amist the terrible commotion, the thunder of devouring flame.
Harry wheeled in the air, his glasses giving his eyes some small protection from the smoke…and then he saw them. Draco, with his arms under the unconscious Goyle, the pari of them perched on a fragile tower of charred desks, and Harry dived. Draco saw him coming and raised one arm, but even as Harry grasped it he knew at once that it was no good—Goyle was too heavy and Draco’s hand, slick with sweat, slid out of Harry’s hand—
“IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” Ron roared and as a great flaming chimaera bore down upon them, Ron and Hermione dragged Goyle onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching in the air once more as Draco clambered up behind Harry.
“The door, get to the door!” Draco screamed in Harry’s ear, his voice cracking, and Harry sped up, following the others through the billowing black smoke.
All around them the last few objects unburned by the devouring flames were flung into the air as the creatures of the cursed fire cast them high in celebration and Harrys aw the old, discolored tiara…
“What are you doing, what are you doing, the door’s that way!” Draco screamed but Harry made a hairpin swerve and dived. The diadem seemed to fall in slow motion as it dropped toward the maw of a yawning serpent, and then Harry caught it around his wrist and swerved again as the serpent lunged for him; he soared upward and straight toward the place where, he prayed, the door stood open. Ron, Hermione, and Goyle had vanished and Draco was screaming and holding Harry so tightly it hurt. Then, through the smoke, Harry saw a rectangular patch on the wall and steered the broom toward it, and moments later clean air filled his lungs and they collided with the wall in the corridor beyond.
Draco fell off the broom and lay face-down, gasping, coughing, and retching, his thin shoulders heaving. Harry rolled over and sat up. The door to the Room of Requirement had vanished, and Ron and Hermione were panting on the floor beside Goyle, who was still unconscious.
“C-crabbe,” Draco choked, “C-crabbe…”
“He’s dead,” Ron said harshly.
There was silence apart from panting and coughing. Then a number of huge bangs shook the castle and Harry staggered to his feet. The battle was still going on all around him. He could hear screams and panic flared within him.
“Where’s Ginny?” He said sharply, “She was just here!”
“Harry, what’s that on your arm?” Hermione asked, getting to her feet.
“What? Oh yeah—”
He pulled the diadem from his wrist and held it up. It was still hot, blackened with soot, and etched upon it in tiny words were: Wit beyond measure is humankind’s greatest treasure.
A blood-like substance, dark and tarry, seemed to be leaking out of the diadem. Suddenly Harry felt it vibrate violently and then break apart in his hands. As it did so, Harry thought he heard the faintest, most distant scream of pain…
“It must have been Fiendfyre,” Hermione whispered, her eyes on the broken pieces.
“Pardon?”
“Fiendfyre—cursed fire—it’s one of the substances that destroys Horcruxes, but I would have never, ever dared use it…” Hermione’s eyes met Harry’s, “This means, if we can just get the snake…”
But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of dueling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts.
Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them dueling masked, hooded figures.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran forward to help. Jets of light flew every direction and the man dueling Percy backed off, fast. Then his hood slipped and they saw a high forehead and streaked hair—
“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, sending a neat jinx straight to Thicknesse, who dropped his wand, “Did I mention I’m resigning?”
“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen ot he ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him—he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin.
Fred looked at Percy with glee.
“You actually are joking, Perce…I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were—”
The air exploded.
They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet—one Stunned and one Transfigured—and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the word was rent apart.
Harry flew through the air and all he could do was hold as tightly as he could to that thin stick of wood that was Draco’s wand, and shield his head in his arms—
And then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness. Harry was half-buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a terrible attack. Cold air told him that the side of the castle had been blown away, and hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was bleeding copiously.
Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his insides. It was a cry that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could cause.
And Harry stood up, swaying… Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the castle had blown apart. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.
“No—no—no!” Someone was shouting, “No! Fred! NO!”
And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.