Sirius, as soon as he got off the mirror with Harry, scrambled for his wand.
He wasn't sure if this would work, but he was willing to give it a try.
It took a minute to pull together a happy memory enough for a Patronus, but with his heart full of red hair and laughing blue eyes, it came far quicker than expected. And took form, which was something it hadn't done since he was twenty years old. Sirius gaped at the large silver bear in front of him, waiting patiently.
Oh, Charlie, he thought to himself, heart clenching. He couldn't remember what it had been before, but it hadn't been a bear.
He pushed the realisation away, remembering his original intent. "Go to Remus Lupin," he told the bear. "Tell him; end your fight now, a bigger one is coming. It involves our pup."
The bear nodded, then gambolled off through the wall, and Sirius tried to send as much of his love and happiness with it as possible, hoping it would make it to wherever Remus was. Wherever the Order was.
Then he could do nothing but wait. He killed some time, changing out of his muggle clothes and into some duelling robes. He tied his hair back, then loosened it, then re-tied it again. He made a sandwich. He paced up and down the kitchen while eating said sandwich.
The clock on the wall ticked away, and every minute felt like days.
More than ever, Sirius hated his criminal status. It was bad enough seeing the Order go out and save lives and having to just stay home, but to know his pup was heading into danger with no more than just a few of his school friends to aid him… it was almost enough to send Sirius to the Ministry, with or without assistance. But that wouldn't help Harry. One man against however many Death Eaters, possibly Voldemort himself, would not help Harry.
Sirius took a steadying breath, reminding himself that Harry was surprisingly well-trained for a fifteen year old, that his friends had been practicing defensive magic all year.
Just as he was gearing up to send another Patronus, the crack of apparition rang through the hall. Sirius turned, seeing Remus come running into the kitchen, eyes glowing gold. The moon had only been the night before, and the wolf was closer to the surface than ever. "What's happening with Harry?" he asked urgently.
"Where's the rest of the Order?"
Remus shook his head. "Still fighting. There were more Death Eaters than we anticipated, it turned into a bit of a shitshow. Everyone's alright," he added at the alarm on Sirius' face. "Nothing we can't heal. And it's almost over. Kingsley tried to summon the on-call aurors but of course they're bloody useless. The Death Eaters seem to be clearing out soon enough. Now, Sirius, what was that message about? Frightened the bloody life out of me! Where's Harry?"
"The raid was a diversion," Sirius relayed. "Harry had a vision. Voldemort's going for the Ministry, tonight."
The colour drained from Remus' face. "Harry's going after him, isn't he?" His voice was knowing.
Sirius nodded grimly. "Yup. So you'd better get back to the Order and tell them to hurry the fuck up if they want to save this damned country."
He had a lot of faith in his godson, but there was only so much one teenage boy could do. Still, he called Harry's name into the two-way mirror, hoping to confirm his godson was safe while he waited for back-up.
There was no response.
.-.-.
It took far too long in Sirius' opinion for the Order to gather at Grimmauld Place. It wasn't even the full contingent; Dumbledore was off farting around somewhere or another, not that Sirius really gave a fuck, but he'd taken Vance and Moody with him.
That turned out to be a pretty good thing, actually; there was far less arguing without the three of them around.
"Harry and some students have gone. I don't know who," he added at the look of horror on every Weasley face in the room. "And I don't know how many. But I promised we'd send back-up as soon as possible."
"I don't understand how they got into the Ministry to begin with," Arthur Weasley murmured, and Kingsley let out a bitter chuckle. He had blood on his robes, betraying his earlier battle; all of them looked a little worse for wear, honestly. Sirius hoped they were up for another.
"They've been worming their way in for months, Arthur. Bloody Malfoy greasing palms all over the place. But I'll admit, I didn't think they were at quite this stage."
"They've blind-sided us all," Remus cut in bluntly. "But that doesn't matter. We need to get to the Ministry, fast."
"Shouldn't we have some sort of plan?" Hestia Jones asked. Sirius glared at her.
"Can't plan for what we don't know," he pointed out. "We've no idea of numbers, but with Harry involved there's a high chance Voldemort himself will be there." Several people flinched.
"Likelihood is, they've disabled the floo and put anti-apparition wards up," Tonks declared, her face more serious than most would expect of her. She closed her eyes and spun slightly, face screwed up in concentration. "Yeah, no dice. Shit." Sirius' stomach sank; if even she, as an auror, couldn't get through the wards…
"How far do the wards extend?" Fred Weasley asked, another unexpectedly serious face in the mix.
"Half-mile radius," Kingsley informed them. "That's our standard wards, at least. No idea if they've raised their own or just triggered the existing."
The twins bent their heads together, discussing it over quickly.
"St James' Park station should do it, right?"
Sirius thought over his mental map of London, trying to poke his ragged memories from the Before times for anything he might have been told about the Ministry wards threshold. Back then they had been warned of it, in case the wards had to be raised in an attack and back-up had to approach from elsewhere.
"Waterloo," Tonks piped up. "I was always taught Waterloo."
"Anyone here never been to Waterloo station before?" Sirius asked, his fingers tapping his thigh impatiently. Several hands rose, Charlie's included. "Right. Buddy up, we need to get moving."
"We can't just rush in there!" Jones started, and Sirius turned on her, glaring.
"Harry is in danger!" he roared. "Every extra second is crucial. It's already gonna take enough time to bloody run from Waterloo to Whitehall."
That shut the woman up, and there was a mild amount of chaos as everyone hurried to find an apparition partner. Sirius wasn't surprised when Charlie grabbed his hand, the redhead winking at him and stepping incredibly close. "I'm with you," he murmured.
"Oh, I'd best stay here — wait for Albus, you know," Molly was fretting off to the side, and Sirius looked up at Charlie, squeezing his hand back. Molly hadn't figured them out yet — Bill hadn't gotten the nerve to propose yet — but every day Sirius cared less and less. After his Patronus revelation, he cared especially little right now.
He wound an arm around Charlie's waist, offering a grin. "Hold on tight." Then they were squeezing together through space, gone in an instant and back again just as fast. Sirius looked around, quietly delighted that he'd actually remembered Waterloo well enough to apparate there. It had been fifteen years, after all.
They had appeared in a dingy side-street, and a few moments later Bill and Hestia appeared. Before he forgot, Sirius pulled his two-way mirror from his pocket, calling Harry's name again. Part of him hoped for an answer, but the bigger part knew there was not one coming; Harry was not in a position to chat.
Several more cracks sounded, everyone apparating into whichever spot they remembered best, and soon there were eleven of them Disillusioned and running for Westminster Bridge.
Charlie was still holding Sirius' hand.
.-.
Half a mile turned out to be a longer run than most of them expected; wizards were not generally prone to exercise. Considering keeping himself fit was one of the few things Sirius could do while confined to the house, he had no trouble keeping up with Charlie; the dragon tamer was hardly even breathing heavy by the time they made it to the Ministry back entrance; a set of dodgy-looking stairs below a fire escape with a door labelled 'Staff Only' at the base.
"I didn't know this was here," Charlie mentioned, and Sirius grinned.
"Most don't. It's for emergencies only. And considering I'm not cramming eleven of us into that bloody phone booth it'll have to do." He hoped the others were keeping track of their non-Ministry companions to guide them over. Sirius honestly had been too focused on Harry to think about it.
Luckily they heard footsteps, and as charms dropped several others came into view, some huffing and puffing more than others. Sirius strode over to Remus, who looked a little pale. "You alright, Moony?"
When he grinned, the wolf was back in his eyes. "Better than ever, old friend," he promised, and Sirius believed him.
Diggle was the last one to show up, and while he was catching his breath Kingsley jogged down the stone steps, tapping his wand on the 'Staff Only' door. It swung open, and the bald-headed auror let out a quiet sigh of relief. "This way," he urged. All of them moved forward, wands raised. Sirius was right up behind him — he was the only one who was coming fresh to this fight. More than fresh; he was begging for the chance to finally put his wand to use, do something other than sit around and wait. The atrium was emptier than Sirius had ever seen it, and the hair on the back of his neck pricked up.
"Where is everyone?" George asked in a low voice.
"Department of Mysteries, I'd bet," came Sirius' grim response. A murmur of understanding swept through the group; they all knew at least a little about what Voldemort was after down there.
They split up to take the lifts, and Sirius ended up with Remus, Charlie, the twins and Arthur Weasley. As the lift rattled along, Charlie leaned his shoulder against Sirius'. "He's going to be fine," he said quietly. Sirius' jaw clenched.
"Bloody better be."
"He's Harry," Fred piped up with a weak grin. "He's always fine."
"Terrifying in a fight," George agreed; and he would know, after months of the HA. "And if he's got our sister with him, those Death Eaters will be wetting themselves already."
Charlie visibly stiffened at the prospect of Ginny fighting Dark wizards. Sirius put a hand on his arm. "Hey, it's okay. If she's here, it's because Harry thinks she can handle it. He's protecting her," he assured, catching all the Weasley men with him in his gaze.
"They're just kids, Sirius," Charlie whispered, ragged and heartbroken. Sirius understood; he felt the same way when he watched Harry be taught multiple ways to kill a man, to fight against magic far more complex than he would learn in school. But it was too late to shelter the children, now. The best way to protect them was to teach them to protect themselves.
The lift doors shrieked as they opened, and the six of them stepped into the corridor.
They could hear the sounds of battle already.
Sirius didn't wait for the rest of the group; he surged forward, heading for the door to the Department of Mysteries. He didn't get very far, though; Charlie was still holding onto him, and reeled him back in, kissing him before Sirius even knew what was happening. "Don't do anything stupid," the redhead growled. "Alright? I'm not telling Harry I let you die on my watch."
Sirius could only nod, and then blush when Fred let out a quiet wolf-whistle. He'd forgotten other people were around.
"Well, then," Arthur said quietly, eyes wide behind his glasses. "That's, uh… that's a conversation best had later, I think."
Sirius snorted, sharing an amused look with Charlie. They had that to look forward to, then.
With that in mind, he turned to the door, wrenching it open.
Sirius had been to the Department of Mysteries twice as a young auror, and both times he'd found it utterly creepy. Now, it was just terrifying.
Several of the doors were open, though all the ruckus seemed to be coming from one in particular. There was an unconscious and hog-tied man in a Death Eater robe in the middle of the circular room, a snapped wand at his side. Sirius turned to see Fred and George quietly high-fiving.
"That's our lot," Fred confirmed proudly.
Sirius was already looking for his godson, running straight past the Death Eater and into the room where the action was. It was a large coliseum style room, stone steps leading down to a plinth on which an archway stood, a piece of faded black fabric hanging from the stone.
The old execution chamber. Of all the places to end up…
While looking at the Death Veil made Sirius' blood run cold, he wasn't looking for more than a second; the room was utter pandemonium. Duels were happening all over the room, though a fair number of Death Eaters seemed to be disarmed and unconscious like their fellows. It made Sirius grin as he launched himself into a fight with Rodolphus Lestrange, tearing the Death Eater away from a red-haired girl who looked much like Amelia Bones had when they were kids.
"You're Sirius Black," the girl declared, ducking a spell flying her way and sending back an impressive Flame-Whip hex in return.
"I am. I was framed. Harry can tell you all about it," Sirius told her. Above them, the rest of the Order was spilling in and joining the fight, and Sirius could see the relief in the girl's eyes.
Rodolphus let out a shout of rage at the intrusion, sending a particularly nasty hex Sirius' way, but Sirius deflected it with a somewhat obscure Shield spell. While Sirius had Rodolphus distracted, the girl — probably Susan Bones — was watching for an opening, and she sure as hell found one; a Stunner hit Rodolphus in the thigh and he went down like a sack of bricks. Immediately, probably-Susan was darting in, plucking the wand from the Death Eater's hand and snapping it over her knee without a hint of remorse.
"Sirius!" The voice that called out was familiar, and Sirius whirled around, heart clenching at the sight of his godson duelling Lucius Malfoy worryingly close to the Veil. Bellatrix Lestrange was looming behind them, but Tonks and Kingsley had her under control for now. Sirius hurried down the stone steps, dodging curses and sending his own in return, jumping over another bound and disarmed Death Eater — and really, it was embarrassing for them, how many of them had been taken down by a handful of school children.
"Looks like you hardly needed help, kiddo!" Sirius said once he was at Harry's side, throwing up a shield of his own to block Malfoy's Entrail-Expelling curse. Harry grinned breathlessly at him for a moment.
"Still good to see you." Harry sent a wordless jet of lurid purple magic at Malfoy, missing him by mere centimetres.
Had they not been in such dire straits, Sirius would have sat back and watched in awe as his fifteen year-old godson duelled with Lord Voldemort's right-hand man and held his ground. Harry didn't look overwhelmed at all, fighting back with determination in his green eyes. All around them, Death Eaters were realising how drastically out-numbered they were, falling to spells — many of which came from the students.
"The only reason you're not dead is because you still hold that Prophecy, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "But I've no qualms about killing your dogfather here." As if to demonstrate, he sent a Killing curse Sirius' way, and Sirius ducked quickly.
"Just fucking try it," Harry dared, and then his Bone-Breaker hit Malfoy square in the shoulder, causing him to groan in pain. Harry pushed forward, trying to press his advantage — and then over his shoulder, Sirius saw Tonks go down to a bolt of blue light, and Bellatrix turn in Harry's direction. The animagus jumped to cover his godson's back, the pair of them moving together. Malfoy tried to circle around, veering closer to the Veil, trying to find some way to separate the pair of them. The whole room could've been falling to shit around them and Sirius wouldn't have noticed, couldn't let himself notice, couldn't stop to think about anything but Harry and their opponents. The only thing that mattered was protecting James' boy. His pup.
Bellatrix cackled and shot some poor quip at him, but Sirius could only laugh and return a spell; she'd been mad before Azkaban and she was even madder now, but Sirius didn't fear her anymore; the only thing he could feel was pity. She was flagging, too, with blood soaking one arm of her robe and the hem charred, and Sirius wondered if she'd had the privilege of duelling Harry Potter yet. "No!" Harry shouted suddenly, and Sirius whipped around just in time to see Harry bat a spell away with his bare hand, sending it ricocheting back at Malfoy. The blond man was so surprised he didn't have time to dodge, getting hit right in the stomach with his own magic. It knocked him backwards — right into the middle of the stone archway.
Sirius felt the instant it happened; the voices behind the Veil — the whispers of the dead — grew louder in his ears for a single horrible moment, and the room's temperature dropped. Then, with a look of astonishment etched on his face, Lucius Malfoy was gone. Another victim of the magic that no one understood.
All of a sudden, an ear-splitting scream rent the air. Bellatrix was staring wide-eyed at the space her brother-in-law had just occupied, fury building on her face. "No!" she screeched, and Sirius moved to protect Harry from her retribution. But she wasn't going after him — she was running up the stairs, skirts flying. She was aiming for the door.
Sirius looked to Harry, who was grey in the face. His scar stood out a livid red on his forehead. "He's coming," Harry rasped, and then he was off.
.-.-.-.
Watching Draco's father fall into the strange, whispering veil seemed to take an age. Harry wasn't worried at first, more concerned with what the hell kind of wandless, wordless shield he'd managed without realising. He was preparing for Malfoy to get up and keep going — but he didn't. As soon as he touched the weird curtain, he was fading, falling through it like a portal to another place. He was gone in a moment, no sign of him on the other side.
Harry didn't have time to think about it too hard — Bellatrix screamed with rage, and then Harry's scar burst to life. He knew immediately what had happened; she had called her Master for back-up.
"He's coming," he warned Sirius, sprinting up the stairs, giving only a cursory glance around the rest of the room. He wasn't worried, not really; they'd been doing pretty well even before the Order had shown up, and Harry just hoped between Tonks and Kingsley the Death Eaters they'd incapacitated would actually stay captured. Of course, some weren't just unconscious; Harry hadn't asked his friends to kill, would never ask that of them, but he himself had no such qualms at this point. Snape had taught him to be liberal with his Cutting curses, and any other bit of magic that could give him the upper hand. Whatever dregs were still standing, it all seemed to be well in hand now, so Harry didn't waste time stopping to check on anyone. Bellatrix was headed for the atrium, and he wasn't going to let her get away.
Waiting in the lift was like an out-of-body experience, his heart pounding a mile a minute in his chest, his brain still burning with the image of Lucius Malfoy disappearing behind the veil.
How the hell was he going to tell Draco he'd killed his father?
Would Draco thank him for it?
He shook away the thoughts; he could deal with that later.
Bellatrix was screaming in the atrium when he arrived, and he shot a spell at her, but she blocked it. "How dare you!" she yelled. "You jumped-up little half-blood, I'll kill you, and pry the Prophecy from your cold, dead hands!"
"It's far too late for that," Harry taunted in reply. "It got smashed, in the fight." He spoke with utter conviction, watching Bellatrix turn white with fury.
"Impossible. You're lying!" Her words came out as an inhuman shriek, and she tried to summon the orb, but of course nothing happened.
Harry felt the Dark Lord's arrival before he saw it; a searing pain in his scar, which he had to use all his limited talent in Occlumency to shove away. When his vision stopped blurring around the edges, he saw the snake-like man in front of him, Bellatrix prostrate at his feet.
"You smashed my Prophecy, Potter?" Voldemort asked in that high, cold voice. Harry smirked.
"Yup. My bad."
A cry of rage came from the Dark Lord, while Bellatrix sobbed loudly.
"You worthless little fool! I shall make you experience pain so will long for death. Months of preparation, and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again!"
"Well, you know what they say," Harry retorted, dodging a Killing curse. "If you want a job done right, you've got to do it yourself."
He was a little glad everyone else was downstairs, not there to see him so recklessly taunting Voldemort himself. Adrenaline was surging through his veins, his plan utterly disintegrated in his mind by now. All he could do was hope that Amelia Bones had received his Patronus, and was working on the wards as they spoke. Then, out of nowhere, there was a pillar of phoenix fire and a burst of birdsong.
Albus Dumbledore had arrived.
Harry grit his teeth at the man's genial greeting, like he'd bumped into Voldemort while out for an evening stroll. But it was doing its job; the Dark Lord's attention was no longer on Harry.
"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," Dumbledore reprimanded, magic flowing from him with such force that Harry felt it like a heatwave. Voldemort conjured a bright silver shield, and the magic hit it with a sound like a gong. "The aurors are on their way."
That was a relief, though Harry had to wonder why Dumbledore had not arrived with the rest of the Order. It didn't matter now. Harry shuffled backwards towards the golden fountain, the only defensible position in the atrium.
The duel between the two most powerful wizards in the world had begun, and Harry was not going to get in the way.
Their magic was flashy. That was all Harry could say for it. They were not fighting to kill, or even necessarily to harm. Dumbledore was fighting to intimidate, and Voldemort was doing whatever he could to show he was not cowed by it.
If it would have counted for anything, Harry would have shot a Sectumsempra right then to cut Voldemort's head clean off. But that would only buy them a little time until the man resurrected himself. Hardly any time, now he had servants who knew how to do it.
All of a sudden, the golden statue beside Harry jumped to life, the metal goblin leaping to take a Killing curse headed straight for Harry. Voldemort was trying to kill him again, clearly fed up with trying to best Dumbledore.
Harry stayed crouched low with his wand in his hand. Then there was a sound like a whip cracking, and the feeling of pressure releasing in the air, so strong and abrupt Harry's ears popped.
The wards had broken.
A flurry of pops sounded, and suddenly there was a crowd in the atrium. Among them was Cornelius Fudge, wearing his pyjamas — and at the front of the group, a woman Harry knew to be Amelia Bones, her wand raised as she stared Voldemort dead in the eye.
Fudge barely had time to gasp, before Voldemort was sweeping across the atrium towards Bellatrix, grabbing her by the arm and disappearing instantly. All around the atrium, fireplaces were flaring green as witches and wizards spilled in, but Harry was focused on Fudge. The Minister looked like he was having some sort of fit, stuttering helplessly. "That was— he was— You-Know-Who! In the Ministry! Great heavens, how can— I don't—"
"Mr Potter," Amelia Bones called, and Harry stood up properly, walking straight towards her.
"Well met, Lady Bones," he greeted, making her smile.
"Well met." Then her gaze sobered. "Thank you, for your swift warning. Very impressive Patronus, by the way."
Harry smiled halfheartedly. "Thank you. I wasn't sure it would make it, I've never sent a proper message before."
"We would have arrived sooner, but it took time to get authorisation to break the Ministry's own wards," Madam Bones replied, sending a scathing look at the still-blabbering Minister. "What happened? Where's Susan?"
"Department of Mysteries," Harry responded. "She was alright when I last saw her. They're all down there, with a bunch of Death Eaters."
Bones nodded sharply, and with a call to the Aurors she was leading a group to the lifts. Harry hoped Sirius scarpered before any officials arrived.
"I will explain everything, Cornelius, as soon as I have sent Harry back to school," Dumbledore was saying loudly, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry tensed.
"Harry Potter?" Fudge jolted, as if he'd only just realised Harry was there. "What— what is he doing here? What is the meaning of this?"
"As I have said, I will explain once he is safely back at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore patiently. Harry glared at him, stepping back.
"I'm not leaving without my friends." He made sure to raise his voice, cause a scene. Anyone who hadn't already been staring at him absolutely was now.
"Harry, my boy, you have been through a lot tonight," Dumbledore placated. "You must get back to school, where Madam Pomfrey can check on you."
"My friends need to get back, too," he insisted. "Or do you not want the public to know that six school children defended the entire Ministry from two dozen Death Eaters for almost an hour and a half before anyone showed up?"
That sent a cascade of whispers through the crowd, and Harry saw Dumbledore's tiny wince.
"I just want you to be safe, my boy."
"If you wanted me safe then where were you half an hour ago when Lucius Malfoy was trying to kill me?" Harry shouted. Many of the onlookers gasped, and Fudge turned an interesting shade of puce. "He's dead, by the way. Fell through that weird veil thing. I'm assuming it kills people, at least." Harry didn't want Malfoy's disappearance to be swept under the rug without a body. He wanted as many people as possible to know what had happened. Dumbledore frowned, and the next thing Harry knew the headmaster was reaching out towards him with what looked like a bottlecap between his fingers. He pressed it into Harry's hand, then pulled back and muttered a word, and Harry was spinning, the world a riot of colour.
The fucking bastard had forced a portkey on him.
Harry reappeared in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, which was fully repaired from the state it had been the last time he'd seen it. The people in the portraits all jumped in surprise, but Harry ignored them, heading straight for the door. It didn't budge. "Let me out," he growled, shoving harder, putting magic into it. Whatever ward Dumbledore was using to keep him in held fast. "Let me out!" The shelves rattled, several of Dumbledore's strange trinkets exploding. But the door did not move.
His fury rose, green eyes bright with rage and magic. "LET. ME. OUT." He reached for the castle, and the castle reached back, and with a feeling like a rubber band snapping the door burst open. Harry jumped onto the revolving staircase, sending a wave of gratitude to the castle's magic.
He stepped out into absolute anarchy.
He'd thought the castle looked bad in the days after Fred and George had left; this was a thousand times worse in comparison. Paint was smeared on the walls, scorch marks studded the floors and walls and even ceilings. As he reached the stairs he saw students floating in giant bubbles, bobbing along merrily. He headed down, ignoring those who waved at him, looking out for any sort of familiar face. Eventually he ran into the Patil twins, who were barricaded behind an overturned desk in the middle of the third floor corridor.
"Harry! You're back!" Parvati greeted brightly. "How did it go?"
"Fine, yeah — Parvati, what the fuck happened here?"
The two sisters exchanged a look.
"We tried to keep Umbridge distracted," Padma told him. "Only, when she finally realised you'd gone, she sort of… pitched a fit. And then she tried to contact the Ministry and I guess that didn't work because she just lost it, started screaming about coups and mutiny and how the Minister was going to have everyone jailed. Then Lee Jordan let off some fireworks and she screamed and used the Cruciatus curse on him, and everything went a bit downhill from there."
Harry gaped at her. "I was gone for five hours!"
"A lot can happen in five hours," Parvati said with a sage nod. "Where are you going?"
"I need to find someone. Don't worry. Just… keep doing whatever the hell you're doing." He didn't want to know, at this point. He was far too tired for this shit.
"Just watch out for the Entrance Hall!" Padma called after him. Harry's brow furrowed in trepidation.
He understood the warning when he got there.
The Entrance Hall was now a swimming pool. Someone had turned the whole floor into a pool of water, and students were happily splashing away. There were even beach toys floating about, and a few rubber ducks — some of which exploded into soap bubbles when touched.
Harry blinked. Then shook his head, turned around, and decided to use a Parseltongue passage instead.
The Chamber of Secrets was blessedly quiet, but Harry didn't stay long, heading straight for the wall that would take him to Snape's office. Thankfully, the man was inside, and he jumped to his feet at Harry's entrance. "Potter!" He rushed forward, gripping Harry by the shoulders. "When did you get here? What happened?"
Suddenly, Harry was hit by a wave of exhaustion, the entire day's events crashing into him at once. He swayed forward, forehead resting on Snape's thin chest. "The Ministry is safe. We captured a bunch of Death Eaters, and Fudge saw Voldemort in the flesh. And Lucius Malfoy is dead." Snape tensed at that last declaration. "Dumbledore's talking to Fudge now, he forced a portkey on me. I don't know where Neville and the others are." With any luck they had been moved to the Hospital Wing, or at least away from the Ministry.
Fingers gently gripped his chin, and Snape tilted his head up, looking him in the eye. "Let me in," he urged, and Harry didn't have the energy to argue. He welcomed the man's Legilimency, shoving the memories of the whole evening his way. He wasn't sure how long they were stood like that, how much real time passed while Harry sent flashes of the last five hours, but eventually Snape pulled away. Then, to Harry's surprise, the dour Potions Master pulled him into a hug.
"You bloody marvel, Potter," he declared, and Harry laughed. "Wasn't just me. The others helped too." They had been so amazing, so much better than he'd ever imagined.
Snape smirked lightly. "Indeed. I could spend the rest of my life re-watching the memory of Rabastan getting his wand snapped before his own eyes, and I would die a very happy man."
Harry grinned; Ginny had done that, once she'd got the man tied up by his own robes. Then she'd punched him in the face to break his nose before Stunning him unconscious. It was brilliant.
"I don't know what to tell Dumbledore," he blurted.
"He will need to know at least some of the truth. The Heads' paintings will tell him you accessed your family magic to get out."
Harry blushed sheepishly; perhaps that had been a little foolish, yes, but he had just felt so trapped.
"He can't find me here," he realised all of a sudden. Snape nodded.
"I have been down here waiting to hear word — and ignoring the rebellion, quite frankly," he added, incredulity touching his voice. "But from what I have heard through the house elves, your little defence club have gathered in the Great Hall to try and begin putting things to rights. The headmistress is… indisposed."
Harry definitely didn't want to know what that meant, but he nodded anyway, turning to the open space in the wall. He paused in the threshold. "Remus was fine, when I left that veil room."
Snape's responding nod was terse. "And I am sure he continued to be fine after you were gone."
That was that, and Harry didn't press further, continuing on his way. This time in the Chamber he followed a passage he had never used, but that he knew would take him up to the Great Hall. No one seemed to notice him stepping out from the wall beside the points hourglasses — all of which were entirely empty, now.
The house elf information network had been correct; Harry could see at least half the HA in the centre of the Great Hall, gathered around the Hufflepuff table. The room was in surprisingly decent shape, considering the state of the rest of the castle. But the signs of recent chaos were there if you knew what to look for.
"I leave you lot alone for five bloody minutes!" he burst out, startling everyone. He had to throw up a quick Shield spell at the number of curses that were sent his way.
"Harry!" Angelina exclaimed, going wide-eyed. "Where have you been?"
"It's complicated. I'll explain later." He could feel the intent eyes of the other heirs burning into him. "What happened here? I got a bit of a run-down from the Patils on the fourth floor, but I'll be honest it didn't make much sense. And then there was the swimming pool."
Several people snorted.
"We've got it under control now," Cho assured. "Mostly. We dealt with the worst of it once Umbridge was unconscious."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "Unconscious?"
A number of hands pointed towards the head table, where there was a large pink blob that Harry was only now beginning to realise contained the High Inquisitor. She was encased in some strange sort of bubblegum-coloured slime, limp and distinctly ruffled.
"She's fine. We think," Justin Finch-Fletchley assured him with an uncaring shrug. "She got hit by about sixty different spells so the mix was… interesting. Took a while to reverse it all. We'll get her up to Pomfrey once we've gotten rid of the swimming pool."
"Do we have to?" Colin Creevey sighed. "I've always wished Hogwarts had a pool."
"Maybe not one in the Entrance Hall, though," Harry pointed out, and Colin huffed.
"Spoilsport."
Harry surveyed the group, counting heads. "Where's Lee?" he asked, remembering what Padma had said. Angelina scowled.
"With Pomfrey. That bitch didn't have him under for long, luckily, but… it was awful."
Harry, who had experienced more than his fair share of Cruciatus curses, nodded in sympathy.
"And the professors?"
A sea of sheepish faces. "Most of them are upstairs, dealing with the sixth floor," Blaise volunteered. "It got… difficult."
Harry definitely did not want to know.
"Right, then." All he wanted was to curl up in a corner and sleep, but clearly the universe had other things in store for him. "I think stories can wait a bit. Let's get rid of that pool, yeah?"
The group made for the doors, and Hannah slipped into the space beside Harry. "Where are the others?" she whispered urgently.
"Safe." Harry hoped that wasn't a lie.
Groans rang through the hall as the HA came to disrupt the impromptu pool party, and Harry raised his wand, pointing it at a purple rubber duck floating nearby.
And so that was where Dumbledore found him twenty minutes later; fishing second years out of the pool while they begged him to let it stay for just a couple days. The headmaster didn't look nearly as alarmed as Harry would have anticipated, given the state his school was in. Indeed, he chuckled as one ballsy Gryffindor flung himsel back into the water as soon as Harry's back was turned. "Mr Potter, a word, if you don't mind?" Dumbledore called, and a cheer went up at the sight of him, but all Harry could feel was cold dread. Nonetheless, he levitated himself over the pool, landing by Dumbledore's side, and followed the man back up the stairs.
"I was surprised not to find you waiting in my office, Harry."
"Yes, well I was surprised to find myself in there to begin with," Harry returned evenly. "Involuntary portkey, not a fun experience. Especially not with my history of them."
"Ah, I do apologise, but was necessary to remove you from that situation. Cornelius is already quite… volatile lately, I did not want to risk your safety," Dumbledore told him. Harry held back a snort; a likely story. More like Dumbledore didn't want interruptions when he spun whatever lie suited him best.
"And what about the safety of my friends? Where are they?"
"They have all been removed to the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore informed him. Immediately, Harry turned down the corridor that would take him in that direction; Dumbledore had been trying to lead him back to his office. "Harry, I must insist you come with me for a moment," the headmaster attempted, but Harry kept walking.
"I want to see my friends. I need to make sure they're okay."
"You did not seem so concerned for their safety when you led them into danger," Dumbledore said sagely, and Harry glared at him.
"They volunteered. They knew exactly what they were getting into. I'm still worried about them. Or do you not care about the lives of everyone you send into battle?"
"Those I send into battle are adults."
"I'm not," Harry pointed out sharply. "And yet you've managed just fine on that front." He was losing his temper, perhaps, but he'd had a hell of a day, and the last thing he wanted was to hash everything out for Dumbledore so the man could give him some cryptic bullshit and sweep it all under the rug.
"Harry, my boy," and there was that disappointed voice. "I must confess, I'm worried about you. You have been… different, this last year."
"Maybe I'm just growing up," Harry bit out. "Seeing your friend murdered in front of you will do that to a person."
They reached the Hospital Wing, and Harry's shoulders loosened at the sight of all five of his friends sat up in hospital beds, no longer covered in blood and dust and splinters of shelf like they had been when Harry had seen them last. They looked relieved to see him, too.
"How are you? Were any of you hurt?"
"Nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix," Ginny promised. "She wants us all to stay overnight, but we'll be fine tomorrow."
That was excellent news, and Harry beamed at her.
"Ah, Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey herself greeted, stepping out of her office. "I was hoping you would arrive soon. Go on, then; on the bed, let me check you over."
Harry didn't argue with the mediwitch, perching on the edge of his usual bed and sitting still for her diagnostic spells.
"I have pieced together the vague series of events from various members of the Order," Dumbledore began, "but I would like to hear your side of things, Harry. I am very intrigued to learn how six of my students made it all the way to London unaided."
Harry bit his lip, thinking quickly to try not to incriminate Dobby. "We rode the thestrals, sir," Luna piped up suddenly, in her usual dreamy voice. Dumbledore turned to her.
"Thestrals, Miss Lovegood?"
Luna nodded. "Yes, sir. Professor Hagrid taught us about them. They're very fast, aren't they?" Her pale blue eyes blinked owlishly. Dumbledore's lips pursed, but the rest of them were straight-faced and nodding in agreement, so he could not press further.
"Indeed. Well, then. It is fortunate they carried you safely."
Madam Pomfrey healed a cut on Harry's cheek, and tutted. "Nothing but scrapes and bruises, Potter. All six of you are lucky as sin, going up against full grown wizards like that."
Harry grinned to himself, sharing a look with his friends; luck had nothing to do with it. Those full grown wizards were not nearly as capable as they had made out to be.
"Excellent." Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Then, if you please, Harry; come to my office, and we can discuss the events of tonight."
Harry wasn't going anywhere with him. "We can do that here, sir. I trust my friends. Shouldn't they know what they risked their lives for?" He had to play this carefully, and he wished he had one of his guardians there to help him because his brain felt like scrambled egg. "Voldemort wanted me to get a Prophecy, but it smashed in the fight."
Dumbledore's eyes darted quickly to the other students, but none of them reacted. Then, he sighed. "It smashed? You are certain?"
Harry nodded. "He was really angry when he found out. I suppose it was important. But it's gone, now." He put the appropriate amount of regret in his voice, wondering what the headmaster would say next. Wondering if he would admit that he knew the full words of the Prophecy.
He did not. "Indeed, it is," Dumbledore sighed. "A shame. But do not fear, Harry; prophecies usually have a way of being fulfilled even when no one has heard them."
Anger bubbled within Harry — yes, prophecies did get fulfilled, especially when meddling old goats were pulling strings without anyone noticing, cursing babies to use them as weapons when they grew.
"Tell me, my boy. What urged you to go to the Ministry tonight? You knew your godfather was in no danger."
"Voldemort was going to take the Ministry," Harry retorted. "The Order was busy. I wasn't going to sit aside and let that happen. Which turned out to be the correct choice, considering how long we were there before the Order joined. Before you showed up." Late as always, but just in time to take the most glorious part of the fight, and control the narrative of the outcome.
"I apologise that you felt there was no other option," Dumbledore sighed. "I knew things would get difficult once I was no longer in the school. But throwing yourself into danger is never the answer, Harry."
"But it worked! Look at us, we're fine!" Harry gestured at his friends. "The Order is fine!" then he paused, "they are, aren't they?"
"Nymphadora Tonks may need some time in St Mungo's, but that is the worst of the damage," Dumbledore confirmed, to Harry's relief.
"See — we stopped the Death Eaters, prevented a Ministry coup, and stopped Voldemort from getting his hands on the Prophecy. I don't think you can be mad at us for that, sir."
Dumbledore clearly did not like this version of Harry that spoke back to him, though he was trying not to react outwardly in front of Pomfrey and the other students. "Be that as it may," he said, a hint of frustration seeping in, "it was an enormous risk to take, and to expect your friends to take with you."
"If I had seen another option, sir, I would have taken it," Harry retorted evenly. "But I didn't, and it's done, and the only person who died is Lucius Malfoy, so I don't really see that as a loss."
Something flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. "Death is always a loss, Harry."
"Rather him than anyone I care about."
"I'm sure the people who care about Lucius Malfoy would argue that. His son, perhaps."
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or curse the old man; he had no idea how Draco felt about his father. Harry would feel plenty of guilt over the situation, but that wouldn't make him regret it, and he thought — he hoped — that Draco would agree.
"It has been a long and difficult evening," Dumbledore said eventually. "I'm sure once you have had some rest, we can come back to this conversation with a more level head." His tone was unbearably patronising, but at this point Harry was ready to take any end to the conversation with both hands.
"Great. I'm off to bed, then."
"I'm sure Poppy would much prefer you spend the night with your friends here," Dumbledore started, but Harry shook his head.
"Nope, I'm not injured, I'm not staying here." He wanted to be properly reassured that his friends were alright, but that wasn't going to happen with Dumbledore lurking around, and there was no way Harry was leaving himself so exposed by staying in the hospital wing overnight.
"Harry, please—"
"I'll come see you guys in the morning," Harry promised his friends, ignoring the headmaster.
"Tell Hannah to come visit in the morning, too, will you?" Susan requested. "She'll be worried about me."
Harry gave a thumbs up, and was out before anyone could argue, making a bee-line for the Room of Requirements. It took the form of his bedroom at Seren Du, and the sight of it tore a quiet groan from his chest.
"Ceri," he called, and in an instant the elf had appeared. She looked Harry over with concern in her large brown eyes.
"Master Harry is hurt!"
"I'm fine, Ceri," he assured. "Can you— would you take a message to Draco for me, please? If he's alone. Tell him I'm back, and I'm up here." Ceri nodded and vanished, then returned a few moments later. "Master Draco is on the way. And Ceri brought Master Harry's pyjamas." She held out the bundle of fabric, making Harry grin weakly.
"Thanks, Ceri."
The elf smiled and disappeared, leaving Harry alone.
The Room could have provided a shower, but Harry was too exhausted to even think about taking one. A weak Cleaning charm rippled sluggishly over his skin once he'd peeled off his school uniform, but the clean pyjamas felt good enough. He sighed in relief as he rolled onto the bed, not even pulling back the duvet.
There were a million and one things floating around his mind — he had to check on Sirius and Remus and the rest of the Order; he had to figure out exactly what the ever-loving fuck had happened in the school while he was gone; he had to deal with Dumbledore and whatever the man had told Fudge had happened.
But all that could wait until the morning. The only thing that couldn't was Draco. Harry needed to tell him about his father before the rumours started.
The door opened quietly, and Harry looked up to see Draco slip in. The blond was visibly relieved to see Harry, and made straight for the bed, pulling Harry into a tight hug. Finally, the knot in Harry's chest began to unravel itself — he was safe, he was with Draco. It was over.
But he still had to deliver the bad news.
"Thank fuck you're safe, I was so worried," Draco breathed, scattering kisses across Harry's cheeks. "The school has been madness while you were gone, you'll never believe some of the shit they pulled, but that hag is never going to come back to this castle after tonight, I swear," he said with a smirk. Then he paused, took a proper look at Harry's drawn face, and faltered. "What happened? What's wrong?
There was no easy way to say it. "Draco," Harry sighed, fingers clenching around the Slytherin's shirt. "It's… your father died, at the Ministry. It… it was my fault. I'm sorry."
Draco froze. Harry's heart sank as he watched his boyfriend, looking for any kind of response; sadness, anger, relief. But he was just… blank. "Oh," he said eventually. "I… what happened?"
Harry told him about the fight, and the strange veil, and the spell he'd deflected with his hand. He held Draco the whole while, feeling the tiny shudders rack his body. When he finished, he bowed his head, waiting for judgement. Draco just held him back tightly. "He was trying to kill you," Draco rasped, and Harry nodded. "Then… it's not your fault. He brought it upon himself. I…" Draco shook his head, lying down. Harry eyed him cautiously, unsure if he should move closer or give the blond some space. "I never thought I'd be rid of him. Not truly. Certainly not before the Dark Lord died." He ran a hand over his pale face. "I'm free. Mother's free. My… my father is dead."
The words seemed to echo through the room. Draco stared at the ceiling for several long, silent moments. Then he looked at Harry, and his face softened. "You look exhausted." He pulled himself into a sitting position. "We can talk about… everything else, once you've had some sleep."
"Stay with me?" Harry asked desperately, wincing when his voice cracked. Draco leaned over, pressing their foreheads together.
"Of course, you daft lion. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. Harry's heart ached — his whole body ached, too, now the adrenaline was fading. But mostly he felt like he was going to cry, just from the sheer force of all the emotions from the evening, his love for Draco rising above them all.
Draco kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers, while Harry reluctantly wriggled his way under the duvet properly. He wished that his first time sleeping in a real bed with Draco was under happier circumstances, but there was no way he was letting go now. He pressed himself to Draco's chest as soon as the blond boy joined him, and Draco's lithe arms wrapped tight around him, cocooning him safely.
And Harry fell asleep like that, with Draco whispering soothingly to him, promising that everything would be alright.