Another Story

Chapter Seventeen

In which everything is set in motion

A thin mist was beginning to roll in from the Dark Forest, and as Dumbledore glanced at the clouds overhead, he knew that it would not be long before it began to rain. Whether that would be an advantage or disadvantage to them, he could not say. Looking into the eyes of his companions, Moody and his pair of Aurors and Arabella Figg, he could see that they too were busy sizing up the situation as students rushed by them to take their assigned places. The clouds over Hogsmeade still reflected the poisonous green color of the Dark Mark in the sky.

Albus smiled softly as he watched Minerva approaching, holding up the hem of her robes as she trod across the damp grass. She had shepherded most of her students into their places, giving them last words of advice and encouragement. But trailing in her wake were two proud young lionesses with their wands drawn: Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.

“Bill and Charlie Weasley have reported sighting dementors. They are approaching the castle from northwest. Do we have a plan for this eventuality?” questioned Minerva crisply.

Moody and Dumbledore exchanged glances. This was a well-coordinated attack.

“The forest is covered as is the gate and the Quidditch pitch where the wards are most likely to be breached. I am afraid that the wall on that side of the castle is not so well defended,” answered Albus.

“Then we shall attend to it,” said Minerva.

“Are you certain?” he questioned.

“We won’t let you down, professor,” said Ginny before Professor McGonagall could answer.

“They won’t be missed at the gate, and someone must look to it,” added Minerva, feeling a swell of pride at her student’s quick reply.

“Very well,” nodded Albus. “But be careful. All of you. You know what those creatures are capable of,” he added. His eyes lingered perhaps a moment too long on Minerva.

Hermione resisted the urge to shiver as strode across the lawn in the direction of the wall where they suspected the dementors would attempt to gain entrance to the school grounds.

Dumbledore watched them go before looking at his companions.

“Will they need reinforcements?” asked Ames, the younger of the two Aurors.

“Perhaps, if we can find them,” said Albus, turning his attention back toward the doors of the school for a moment, just in time to see Harry and Ron racing down the steps.

They had been assisting with the evacuation of their dormitory, which was proceeding more slowly than planned.

“Sir,” called Harry, before coming to a stop, “is everything ready?”

“Almost,” he replied, taking the sword of Godric Gryffindor from where it rested. “This is for you, Harry,” he said, presenting it hilt first to the young wizard.

Harry smiled rather grimly as he took it.

“I hope it proves as useful as when I last had the chance to wield it, sir,” he said, examining the edge of the fine blade.

“As do I,” said Dumbledore. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be, professor,” Harry replied.

“Me too,” said Ron, taking his wand from his pocket.

“Professor Lupin is waiting for us at the gate. I suggest that we all take our places. It should not be long now,” Dumbledore told them, glancing at Moody and Figg as well.

“Good luck,” growled Alastor quietly, clapping both Harry and Ron on the shoulders before clumping away with his Aurors toward the Dark Forest.

Figg pursed her lips slightly and said to Dumbledore, “When this is all over, Albus, I expect you to tell me everything about you and McGonagall.”

“Gladly,” said Albus with a bemused expression, though his eyes remained serious.

She nodded once before quickly walking toward the Quidditch pitch, one of the greatest weaknesses in Hogwarts’ defensive spells.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances and managed to smile slightly despite the tension before following Dumbledore toward the castle gates where they would stand in defiance of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Ron found himself unexpectedly thinking of Durmstrang.

“But that won’t happen here,” he thought as he walked behind Harry and the headmaster.

~

Ginny and Hermione could almost feel a change in the air as they passed the school greenhouses. They had been standing with their head of house when Ginny’s older brothers had brought the news after a quick reconnaissance ride on their brooms. They had not anticipated an attack by the dementors of Azkaban, especially one from the opposite direction as the main forces of Voldemort, which they now believed to include several giants and a number of werewolves who had taken oaths of loyalty and obedience to the Dark Lord in retribution against the Ministry of Magic and its harsh rules governing their lives.

The air seemed to grow colder and smell slightly sour. There could be no doubt that something evil, or rather a lot of evil things were coming their way. Ginny pulled her cloak closer about her shoulders against the chill and the unpleasant feeling that was creeping into her stomach. How close were the dementors? They felt as though they were very near, but then there would be a great many of them as all of Azkaban had been emptied. She glanced at Hermione and saw that she was already turning pale. Professor McGonagall who stood between the two students looked as determined as ever, or else she was better at masking her fear.

“How will they get through the wards and the walls, professor?” asked Hermione. She wiped her sleeve across her forehead as she spoke. She was sweating despite the coldness in the air.

“The wards may impede their progress, but as for the walls ... they have ways of getting through them,” answered Minerva.

She was proud of the two girls. When she had said that she would need at least two others to stand against the dementors, they had not hesitated for an instant. Hermione and Ginny had simply drawn their wands and exchanged a determined look before nodding that they would go with her. The two elder Weasleys brothers had appeared for a moment to have the strong desire to dissuade their sister, but both had held their tongues on the matter, speaking only to wish Ginny good luck.

“Remember, ladies, you need good, strong happy memories in order to fight these creatures. I suggest that you collect them now before the dementors begin to affect us in earnest,” she advised them.

“I’ve never conjured a Patronus,” Ginny admitted.

"I haven't done it in quite some time,” said Hermione.

“It isn’t easy, but it is our only weapon against our foes,” Minerva reminded them. “I know that both of you are perfectly capable of conjuring one, or I would not have brought you with me.”

~

Remus was staring down the path that led to Hogsmeade when Dumbledore, Harry, and Ron arrived. The gates were just being shut as a matter of course. Once the wards were breached, the Dark Wizards would either apparate onto the grounds or take out the sturdy wooden gate with a blasting curse. In either case closing the gate was more symbolic than strategic. It was a sign that they would not go down without a fight.

He turned toward the Dark Forest for a moment, watching a large number of students gathering there with Hagrid, Alastor Moody and company, and Professor Sprout. The majority of the professors had been divided between the pitch and the gate. The werewolves, he surmised, would choose the forest route. It was the one that he himself would have chosen if he were on the other side.

The school grounds flickered with magical torch light that kept the darkness and shadows at bay. They were beginning to sizzle as dew started to collect. Remus could smell a hint of rain in the air. It would begin drizzling soon. The grounds would become a muddy battlefield.

“Is everyone in place here, Remus?” asked Dumbledore, watching the young professor’s face as he grew very somber.

“They seem to be. I heard that Minerva and ... Ginny and Hermione will be keeping the dementors at bay for us,” he hesitated. Remus had wanted very much to have Ginny by his side, somewhere that he could hope to protect her during the battle, but that was not to be.

“With some luck they should be able to make their bargain with Voldemort unprofitable and drive them away,” nodded Albus, watching Harry as he tucked the sword away within his robes and took out his wand.

Harry looked at the crowd of students standing on either side of the gate, divided into ranks and standing in almost stony silence with their wands at ready. He smiled as he noticed that his fellow Gryffindors seemed less anxious and more alert than many of their peers. Some of them had been groomed for two terms for this battle. Not that Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff students had not been ... They simply had not taken to the weekend training exercises with the same relish as their peers from the house of scarlet and gold. Even Neville Longbottom looked ready for a fight, and that was saying something.

Harry spied Professors Vector and Sinistra standing among the students. Aging Vector leaned down and whispered into Sinistra’s ear. The Slytherin professor, who had turned the younger students to which she was temporarily head of house over to Mister Filch and the prefects, gave a jerking nod and frowned. Harry would have given a pile of galleons to know what they were talking about. He knew that some of the Slytherin, and perhaps even Ravenclaw, students could not be trusted as they had joined the enemy. Most of these students, including Malfoy and his ‘bodyguards’, were standing among the students to the left of the gate. He could not understand why Dumbledore had not locked them in the dungeons.

Then he smiled and realized that Vector and Sinistra had probably been advised of that situation and would dispatch them at the first sign of treachery. It would give those falsely accused a chance to prove themselves.

Harry caught a glimpse of red hair flashing in the flickering torch light. Bill and Charlie were just joining another group of students. No time remained for reconnoitering on their brooms. Harry was glad to have them there at the gate with them. Bill had, according to what Ron had said during the evacuation, left Egypt in a hurry to join them. Just as Charlie had left his precious dragons to be a part of the stand against Voldemort. Their presence comforted him. And he could see that Ron felt the same way. Their parents were with the professors and students at the Quidditch pitch while Percy had elected to make his stand at the edge of the forest. If only Fred and George were there too ...

There was a soft rumbling sound in the distance. Harry and Ron looked at Dumbledore and Lupin expectantly.

“I believe they have nearly finished with Hogsmeade. They will turn their attention to their main objective soon,” said Dumbledore regretfully. It had been decided a long time ago that both the village and the school could not be defended by their meager forces. Hogsmeade had to come second in their priorities. It was an unfortunate necessity of war.

~

Severus felt something soft and warm beneath him. It felt good and familiar. He was no longer floating and that comforted him somehow. He flexed his fingertips and felt a soft material underneath them. Everything was so warm, so pleasant. He caressed the fabric for several minutes with his eyes closed and smiled. This was wonderful.

Sensation began to return to his body slowly, just a little bit at a time. He knew that he was lying in a bed with blankets piled around him and a soft pillow positioned just so under his head. He wiggled his toes. It was such a relief to him to be able to do those simple things. It seemed to him as though eons had passed since his senses had functioned properly, since he had been able to experience the world outside his mind.

He opened his eyes very cautiously. The world was so bright! He recognized his canopied bed and his home in the dungeons. It came into focus gradually. He was glad it did not overwhelm him as he feared for a moment that it would. Severus breathed deeply, savoring the breath, the soft scent of potions’ ingredients coming from the other room and of a fire in the hearth that had burned low. The deep inhalation made him aware of a taste upon his lips, a potion that had been given to him hours before. It was almost deliciously sweet.

He was content to remain there for a long while, feeling both a little sleepy and quite snug, until a nagging little thought began to pull at his newly conscious mind. Something important was going on. Something that he was expected to take part in. Something that had taken his beloved from his side. He wasn’t certain exactly what it was. It worried him a bit, though he was not entirely certain why.

Severus turned his head to the side and looked toward the door, wondering if she would be away from him for very long. He wanted to see her very much, to tell her that he was feeling better and that he loved her. Severus wanted those things more than anything he could imagine.

His eyes fell on the stand by the bed. A wand was laying there. It required a moment of thought for him to realize that it was his wand. Poppy Pomfrey had removed it from his robes and placed it there, though Severus certainly did not know that.

He reached toward the wand, but his arm felt very heavy, as though it were made of lead. He sighed softly and gave up for the moment as he continued to wrack his brain concerning what was going on.

There was a mild tremor, so slight in fact that were his senses not strangely heightened, possibly as a side effect of the potions he had been given, Severus might not have noticed it. His eyes widened as it subsided. Was that a blasting curse?

“Impossible,” he thought to himself.

His pulse quickened as a word flitted through his brain.

“War,” he whispered out loud in a thick voice.

Severus strained for a moment, pushing the covers aside and exposing his skin to the cooler air of the dungeon. He felt even more awake and alive as the chill brushed against his skin. But he was also weak and knew it. A medical professional would have been horrified by the idea of him leaving the bed. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was in the hospital wing preparing to receive casualties once the fighting got underway, and Severus was alone.

He took his wand from the stand and looked at it for a moment. He knew what was required of him. A battle, he surmised, was being fought outside the castle. It was his duty to fight against the forces of darkness. The time had come when he could at last show his true colors.

“And Hermione is out there,” he reminded himself, easing his legs off the bed and his feet onto the floor with his wand grasped tightly in one hand.

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