Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 41 - Betrayal

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A/N: For those travelling about Hogwarts in their mind and getting a bit turned around, Charles J. Mize's map in the Lexicon is how I sort of see the geography.

Both moon and comet combined to bathe the Forbidden forest in a shimmering light that flashed through openings in the forest canopy as Harry ran to join the battle of Hogsmeade. The strobing, scintillescent light pulsated - a drumbeat of energy striking Harry's eyes, amplifying the sensation of power already hanging in the air. It was an energy like none Harry had ever experienced. Each gulp of air was like breathing in sparks. It was a rain of magical force, soaking the forest floor, filling rivulets and streams, and cascading toward the forest's heart. Like the marching of spiders to Aragog in Harry's second year, the energy was running somewhere, preparing for something.

The flashing light, blindingly bright then deathly dark, was disconcerting, so Harry closed his eyes as he ran and used his second vision. He reached out his mind and discovered dozens upon dozens of Centaurs filling the forest. Milling about nervously were yet more creatures, some Harry did not recognize. None hid motionless as Harry had often seen before, resting or waiting to strike. Instead, from the smallest insect to the largest beast, they were all moving about, their auras pulsating with anger and fear. Stranger still, swirling about the forest's agitated life, were hundreds of ghosts, moving in and out of Harry's vision as if wishing to be seen and then unseen. Harry ignored them all and did not slow down until he came upon the grounds of Hogwarts.

The Quidditch pitch loomed large to his left. There was the flicker of a memory, a sharp pang in his chest, where now lay hidden the Heart of Asha. He stopped, taking in a gulp of air and placing his hand over his sternum, remembering the sudden pain, the blood pouring from his body, soaking the snowy ground. He'd been here before; he'd even flown here, but, for some reason, now he felt cold, fearful of where he stood, but longingly fascinated to relive those last dying moments. Goosebumps raced up his arms as he recalled the sensation of being torn from his body. Sir Nicholas had sensed it, had seen it. It was here that Harry had died; it was here that Dumbledore reached beyond the brink and pulled him back.

The stabbing sensation grew more intense, as if Greg Goyle's broomstick were piercing Harry's chest again. Placing his hand over his heart, Harry did not flinch. On the contrary he hoped, for a moment, that perhaps this might be it. Maybe he was about to die and a part of him, a very small part, truly wanted it to be so. Why had he stopped Duncan from committing suicide last year? It all seemed so pointless. He reached into his pocket, wrapped his fingers about his wand and--

"I though this was the spot."

Harry spun. It was her - Helena, the ghost Harry had met at Sirius' castle. She shimmered as she walked gently across the grass in her bare feet toward Harry. Her smile was radiant and her eyes warm. She wore the same flowing robes as when Harry saw her in Greece and, as then, she looked regal.

"You're... you're here," he stammered. "Why?" The ghost, more beautiful and more radiant than ever, stepped over and placed her hand against Harry's face. It was warm and caressing. Harry's heart skipped, that the touch of a ghost could be anything but frigid. Still, he did not pull away; there was something powerful, drawing him toward her.

"Where is your beloved, Harry? I had heard you made amends. Why then are you not together?"

He looked back at the forest, realizing that he'd just left Gabriella alone with Dakhil. Why had he left her? Somehow, standing next to Helena, leaving Gabriella didn't seem right. He looked toward Hogsmeade. A huge pillar of smoke rose high in the night sky. The red and yellow glow from the burning town below flickered from its plumes. Every few seconds a jet of wand light would streak across the sky. Yes, the town was being attacked, but why leave his love?

"There's a... a, erm... battle... er, a war." Thoughts of death quickly fading, Harry struggled to think of why he shouldn't be with Gabriella. "The... the darkness is upon us. You... you knew it was coming." He remembered. "It's here now. I have to protect the town, my friends, the people I love."

"Such lofty ambitions, my little blind dragon," she said with a tone that was not gentle, but rather somewhat scolding. "How many women are left to grieve when their men go off to war?"

"There are women who fight this battle," countered Harry.

"There always are, Harry. There always have been." She kissed his forehead, sending a shiver down his spine, and began to float back toward the forest after letting slip a breathless sigh. "Go... go play your little game. It will not last long. Can you not feel it - the vortex of death that draws nigh?"

The moment she asked the question, whispers of death snaked about Harry's ears. Souls... many souls would pass over tonight. He suddenly grew cold and began to tremble considering the magnitude that Death was hissing into his ears. Would so many die tonight? Would he?

"I won't let it happen," he said defiantly, but Helena just smiled and waved with regal indifference.

"Soon," she said peacefully, "it will, at last, be time to sleep." Her image shimmered more brightly than the celestial battle above, and then began to wane.

"If you need us, call," she said softly as she faded to mist. "One of us is always near, and never forget, Harry Potter... you are one of us."

She winked and was gone. Whatever sensation of cold he had, passed into nothingness as if the whispers of death followed Helena, leaving Harry to his destiny. He knelt to the sod, trying to gather his bearings. When he touched the grass, the earth rumbled. He jerked his hand away, wondering what he'd done, then realized that it wasn't him at all. To his left, a giant moved out across the front of Hogwarts. He was familiar, one of the giants that had attacked Hogwarts last year. One that later had helped rebuild it. Harry watched as the giant moved in behind Hagrid's hut and then sat down, a club as large as a Redwood tree clutched in his right hand. He was looking down, speaking with someone.

"Hagrid?" Harry whispered to himself. Slowly, he stepped closer and then, seeing the half-giant smoking a pipe, he was sure. "HAGRID!" He ran. The world around him froze; the air stood still. One hundred yards away... There was a rush of adrenaline pulsing through his body, an intense rush of emotion far stronger than when he saw Ron and Hermione, filling an emptiness Harry did not know he had until now. Seventy yards away... Here was someone he knew that would welcome him, no matter the darkness he had caused, no matter the swirling mist of death that followed him. Fifty yards away... It was an unconditional commitment they shared for each other. It was family; it was love. Thirty yards away... Suddenly, there was a tree where, only an instant before, none stood. The giant had swung his redwood and it was hurtling toward Harry, nearly as fast as he was hurtling toward Hagrid.

Harry leapt, higher than he had ever leapt before, holding both palms downward and casting a spell to launch himself still higher. While the immense trunk was sliding beneath him, one of its branches flew toward his head. He had to hunch his shoulders, bringing his hands up to protect his face from the tree's needles and cones. The spell holding him skyward faltered; his altitude dipped. His left foot caught on the thick bark of the trunk and it sent him flying into a fantastic aerial cartwheel. He was completely out of control and plummeting toward the ground.

THWUMP!

Two huge arms caught him, like two great vines of Devil's Snare, and quickly wrapped him tight. Harry's face was completely covered by Hagrid's beard, the smell of peppermint humbugs wafting from the half-giant's pockets.

"Hold on there, Brohm! Yeh lumberin' fool," called Hagrid. "No need teh swing that thing till they sound the alarm. This could be one of the students! Now then... who do we have here?"

Hagrid tried to pull Harry away, but Harry was clinging to him like an octopus. Suddenly, Hagrid realized the person he was holding was weeping.

"There... there," he said consolingly, still trying to figure out who was in his arms. "Yer safe here; that I can promise yeh. Professor Black has seen to it. Harry sniffed.

"Black?" he muttered.

"H- Harry?"

The young wizard lifted his head from beneath the bracken of Hagrid's beard. "What do you mean, Professor Black?"

"HARRY!" Hagrid squeezed; Harry's back popped. Whatever part of his spine had been thrown out of alignment during his acrobatic stunt was now cracked back into submission. "I'd heard yeh were in the caverns, that yeh was hurt. Yeh know better than teh be out on a night like tonight, specially if yer injured." Hagrid held Harry out, straight armed, to see what might be wrong with him. Finding nothing obvious he set him to the ground. The earth rumbled again. The giant was pulling back his redwood tree.

"Brohm!" yelled Hagrid. "Mind yer manners. This here is Harry Potter. You remember Harry, don't yeh?" The giant's brows furrowed as he examined Harry. He smiled, then pounded the butt of his tree into the earth three times. It knocked Harry to the ground.

"Good!" said Hagrid, pleased the giant had remembered. "Now be off with yeh. Check the rest of the grounds fer Dementors and no killin' students!" The giant nodded and lumbered off, shaking the ground with each footstep and falling Harry each time he attempted to regain his stance.

"Now," continued Hagrid, "let me get yeh back to them caverns before somethin' really bad happens." He reached as if he was going to pick Harry up again.

"No! Wait!" said Harry, holding his hand out. "What's that you said... a new professor? Black?"

"Why, the new Head--" Hagrid stopped himself. "Shouln't a said that." His tongue rolled over his teeth, searching for something possibly lodged between two molars. His eyes left Harry's and roamed toward the forest. Harry knew Hagrid was going to try to evade the question.

"Erm..." he began, now picking at his fingernails. "Just a new professor, that's all."

"I thought Remus was supposed to be Headmaster."

"Well, a course yeh did. Everyone was supposed to think that."

"What's that supposed to mean?

"Ayyy... shouldn't a said that neither."

"What are you saying Hagrid," Harry pressed. "Remus has been lying to me? He isn't really the Headmaster? Why? What happened? Who is?"

Hagrid took in a deep breath and exhaled through his whiskers. "Harry, you don't know, but your father and Remus... they were two of the most pigheaded, strong willed wizards teh graduate from Hogwarts." He paused. "And the most bloody brilliant. How do yeh think yer mum and dad got past You-Know-Who three times?" He placed his arm on Harry's shoulder; Harry slumped a bit. "But there are too many Wizarding families that still believe that Black was on You-Know-Who's side. They don't care what the Daily Prophet says, or what awards Sirius has been given by the Ministry." Hagrid knelt down on the ground, coming eye level with Harry.

"Well... Professor Dumbledore wanted it teh happen this way, but Headmasters don't get teh choose their successors. That's the Minister's job, but even Arthur Weasley couldn't figure out a way teh make it stick with out a stink. It was Professor McGonagall who figured how we might make it work: Appoint a werewolf while they search for a new Headmaster, he was a professor after all, well liked by most the students, and knows his way around the Dark Arts. Only temporary, of course. She knew, like we all did, that after a few months the war would come to the doorsteps of Hogwarts. And when it did we would call on Sirius to help protect the school. Folks might think he was in with You-Know-Who back in the day, but there's not a wizard around that doesn't know the power behind the name of Black. With people desperate and with the Minister's approval, everyone would agree that appointin' Sirius Headmaster teh protect the school was the right thing teh do. He'd certainly be a better pick than a werewolf."

Harry took offence. "What's wrong with a werewolf?" he snapped.

"Exactly what I said, Harry. Gentle creatures they are, if yeh know how teh handle em, but some folks don't understand creatures the way you and I do, eh?" He patted Harry on the back. Harry wasn't sure that agreeing with Hagrid on the gentleness of werewolves was exactly the point he was trying to make.

"And Sirius wasn't in with Voldemort! He was framed by Peter!"

"The point is... if we get through this night," said Hagrid, looking up at the fiery comet, "we'll have Black to thank. I've never seen such spellwork since... since... well, since Professor Dumbledore, and that's sayin' somthin'. There's nothin' that can make it onto the castle grounds; he's made sure a that." Hagrid paused and stroked his beard, seemingly impressed, or frightened by what he knew Sirius had done. He clucked his tongue. "Nothin'."

"But he never told me," complained Harry. "I've been working with him all month long, rebuilding his castle by hand - one stone at a time. I broke my back lifting those bloody rocks because he was so weak. It was hard work, so... you know... I mean... he had to rest a lot. There'd be hours I'd be out in the sun and he'd be in... resting... but that's... that's... that dog! I'll kill him!" There was a flash of anger in his words, almost as if he'd actually meant it. But he didn't... did he? Harry started to scratch at his right arm. It was something else, something crawling into his skin, agitating him.

"Now Harry, there weren't supposed to be nobody that knew; there still ain't, not for a while anyway. And I still want to keep me job, see? So, let's keep mum 'bout the whole--"

Whooomp - Woosh! Whooomp - Woosh!

Both Harry and Hagrid looked to the sky. A dozen dragons were crossing in front of the light of the comet. There wings were dark, but still shimmering scarlet in the moon's light.

"Chinese--" Hagrid began.

"--Fireballs," Harry finished. "And three Opaleyes. There." Harry pointed. There was a faint jolt that travelled to the fingers of his right arm. He turned his forearm so that he could better see the mark upon his arm. The dragon was emitting a bluish light and its shape was moving. At first it appeared as the Hungarian Horntail, but then it looked like the marks that he had known last year, each representing one of the four houses of Hogwarts. The mark on Harry's wrist, however, the Viswa Vajra, remained dark in stark contrast to the movement of the dragon. Something was in conflict and he knew that it was coming from the dragons. He reached out his mind to speak with them, calling to the Chinese Fireball in the front. Realizing that, as he spoke, he already knew the creature's name.

"Dhajang! Hear me!" Harry called.

The rhythmic beat of the dragon's wings faltered. "Speak with your own kind, Horntail!" it cried back. "You have no power over the dragons of the east!"

Not sure why, Harry clenched his fist, pointing the Ring of Onyx directly at the creature. "HEAR ME!" he called again, this time with insistence. He could feel his thoughts reaching out, trying to mentally pull the dragon toward him. The creature screamed; Harry stopped, realizing at once he was harming the beast.

The dragon was forced to pull down and turn toward Harry, but once Harry released him, he swung around in a great aerial roll and continued toward the mountains with his comrades. But before they had disappeared over the trees, Harry heard him say to the others, "Singehorn's words were true - the boy has the ring. We know what needs be done. Destroy them all - fire and ember. Tonight, dragons regain the world!" Harry's knees went weak and he held Hagrid's arm for support.

"Enough of this talkin', Harry. Yeh need to get inside."

"That doesn't make sense," muttered Harry to himself. "Why so many? It... it can't be." He looked at his friend. "Hagrid, I could see it in his mind. More dragons, many more dragons are on their way. They... they intend to attack the town. While the most powerful magical beings in the world are tearing each other to shreds, they intend to vaporize them all."

"That's crazy, Harry. There aren't that many--"

Whooomp - Woosh! Whooomp - Woosh! Whooomp - Woosh! Whooomp - Woosh!

Hagrid didn't finish what he was saying. The night sky went black as more dragons, pressed toward the mountains. Each hailing from another corner of the earth, they were gathering, Harry knew, planning for the attack to come. He could stop one dragon, maybe two, but that was all. If the wizards fighting in town were to join together to defend themselves, they might repel the assault and save the town. The possibility that Death Eaters, with Voldemort as their leader, would cease fire on Harry's words alone was preposterous.

None of it made sense. As the pace of his pulse quickened, Harry felt compelled to talk to Singehorn, to find out what was happening and to stop it if he had the power. So, there at Hagrid's feet, Harry sat down in the grass, clasped his hands together as if he were arm wrestling himself and closed his eyes to meditate.

Hagrid began to say something, but Harry held his hand up and said desperately, "Shhhh. I need to concentrate, Hagrid. Only for a moment."

As Harry reached out his mind, calling for the dragon, he half expected that there would be no answer, that Singehorn would reject Harry's request, but it was quite the opposite. Almost immediately Harry found himself at the bottom of the great stone stairs in the middle of a vast desert plane. He looked upward, expecting to see Singehorn, the man, seated on his great crystal bench, waiting for Harry to climb the staircase. The crystal bench sparkled in the dusty sunlight, but Singehorn wasn't on it. Harry reached up and pulled himself over one large step to get a better look. Nothing. No one was--

"You won't find what you're looking for, Harry, if you always travel the same path."

Harry looked to his right and swallowed hard at the sight. There stood an enormous man wrapped in battle armour with fierce yellow eyes that flamed through his helm. Against his dark skin, the man's smile was brilliant white in a menacingly jovial sort of way. His right arm bore a great steel shield upon which was carved a scene that Harry recognized at once - it was the tapestry that Dumbledore had shown him at Hogwarts, where Asha had died and the world had been consumed by flame. In Singehorn's left hand was a golden chain. Thick links, each larger than Harry's hand, coupled together and trailed down to the ground, disappearing into the sand behind the dragon. It looked like a massive whip, yet Singehorn could flick it with ease and, if he were to flick it at Harry, it would snap him in half like a twig. But what, in the real world, did all this mean? Singehorn was not a man, he was a dragon. Dragons wore no armour and they certainly didn't wield shields or chains. The dragon stepped toward Harry, the chain dragging through the sand.

"I wondered how long you'd be," he said only now his expression was more sombre. When his smile receded, Harry saw yet more scars on Singehorn's face that were not there when last they met. He also noticed a trail of blood in the sand and followed it up to see that it was dripping from the wrist that held the golden chain.

"Where are you?" Harry asked, almost impertinently.

"I'm right here, standing before you," said Singehorn, holding out his arms, drips of blood swirling down the golden chain to the sand below.

"You know what I mean!" Harry snapped. "Katana said you were in the east. Igneus travelled with you. No one would say why. And now... now, when I ask for only a few dragons to guard the northern mountain pass to Hogwarts, there are dozens of dragons... most coming from the east. I don't need to look toward the sky to know in my heart that the Hungarians are gathering, as we speak, to join them. Like the houses at Hogwarts looking to join against the darkness, so too are the dragons. But why? For what purpose? Are they here to attack the light as well? WHERE ARE YOU?"

Harry was angry. He was angry at himself for being played like a pawn in some greater chess game; angry at being betrayed by those he trusted; angry for believing that dragons could be anything but... He turned away, unwilling to carry his own thoughts to their logical conclusions, part of him still wanting to deny what he'd seen in the night sky, what he felt in his heart. It would be a battle to end all battles.

"Primate, tell me again. You sense in your heart that the Hungarians gather... as we speak?" Singehorn asked. He looked surprised, concerned, as if he feared that his great scheme had been uncovered by a mere wizard.

"You know it to be true!" Harry yelled. "Is that why I am Primate? Did you pick a boy because you thought you'd fool me and the rest of the Votary?"

Singehorn began to laugh. It was deep rolling laugh. He was genuinely pleased. "I have chosen well," he rumbled.

"Then it's true!"

"Harry, in the east there raged a battle to determine our fate. For centuries my kind has fallen captive to the hands of Wizards. No more. We are not pets to be persecuted, speared and murdered. In this, our moment of triumph, we shall end the dominion of Wizards. But how, Harry? How? That is why you must help us. And you will help us... help us all realize the true dream. It is your fate. This I know, for Soseh has told me so."

"No! I won't! I won't let you--"

"All things come to an end, Harry. And, when we meet that end, we can only hope to look back on what we've done and be satisfied that we did more good than harm, that we left our charge in more noble hands." He stepped heavily toward Harry, dragging the chain behind him, but Harry jerked away. "Is it so much to love our earth more than all else? You have discovered the cleansing power of both water and fire, Harry. Use this knowledge, and you will see that--"

There was screech, like nails on a chalkboard, that filled the air, but came from nowhere. Suddenly, a gash appeared across Singehorn's breastplate and his thick blood began to ooze down.

"Well," said the dragon with an odd smile. "I am mistaken. Even here, the sands of time trickle through the hourglass, if only one grain at a time."

There was a pop. Singehorn's eyes grew wide with surprise. He coughed and blood spurted out over Harry's robes. Then his eyes narrowed, fire growing in them. He turned and roared a deafening roar and the scene filled with flame, then all was dark. Harry reached out to grab Singehorn, but instead found his arms wrapped about Hagrid. He gasped, trying to understand what had just happened. Were the dragons already attacking? Had Singehorn been stricken by a wizard?

"Hagrid... Hogsmeade... we have to get to Hogsmeade. The dragons... I think they're attacking."

"Harry," Hagrid said with concern, pulling the young wizard to his feet, "you're speakin' gibberish. The dragons are flying toward the mountains, not Hogsmeade. What happened?"

Harry was dizzy; somehow unsure of himself. He was sworn to defend the dragons, but he would not put his friends, his family in harms way. There was an inner turmoil swirling within his soul. How was this possible? Whatever moral compass he held true to was spinning wildly. He seemed to mutter to himself, walking toward the front gates that led to Hogsmeade, but staggering along the way.

"How many, Hagrid? How many are fighting now... in town?"

"One thousand... maybe two," Hagrid answered, pulling on his beard.

"Total?" Harry asked hopefully.

"That's just on our side, Harry. Word is there's that much already in town and twice again as much marching in from the south. They're a ragtag bunch, most not a match fer trained wizards, but as soon as yeh mow down one line, another comes up from behind. We could sure use some help. I've asked, but the Centaurs won't leave the forest teh help. They're waitin', fer what I don't know, but somethin's afoot."

"Two thousand... maybe more," said Harry, defeated. "Everyone's so focussed on their enemy they can't see, they won't see, the real threat. If they keep fighting..." He shuddered, thinking of the consequences. "If the dragons attack as one, silently, swiftly, there's no way anyone can survive. The whole town and everyone in it will be vaporized. We have to warn them!"

"Dragons?" said Hagrid sceptically, looking back over his shoulder to where he'd seen the creatures fly. "I think yeh need teh lay down, Harry." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and the young wizard pulled away, just as he had done with Singehorn.

"I have to make them understand!" he yelled.

"Harry, it might as well be trench warfare. They're battlin' fer their lives. You'd be hard pressed teh get close enough teh anyone fer them teh hear yeh. And if they did, they wouldn't believe a word comin' from yer mouth. I never heard of dragons bandin' together like that."

Hagrid was right. At best he might convince some on his own side of the danger, but not all. And the few that listened wouldn't just apparate away and give up the town. Maybe McGonagall, he thought hopefully, but then he sighed. When did she ever listen? Maybe Remus... Harry looked up at the full moon realizing the Remus would be of no help on this night.

"I have to do something!" Harry cried out in frustration, almost to the point of tears.

He passed the front gates of Hogwarts with Hagrid just behind him. There was a loud clang as the locks fell into place, sealing the gates shut. Harry noticed at once that the power, the palpable energy that had been in the air was no longer there. It was as if someone had suddenly sucked away all the moisture in the air on a humid day.

"Did you feel that?" Harry asked Hagrid. "It's gone."

"Feel what?" Hagrid asked, looking about to see if there was some danger nearby.

"The magical rain," spoke a voice from the darkness in front of them.

"Sirius?" asked Harry, pulling his wand to the ready, unwilling to trust anything, or anyone tonight. "Lumos!"

The light was intense and bathed the surrounding area with its glow. Some ten meters in front of them stood Sirius Black and Ginny Weasley. If it hadn't been for Ginny, Harry might have blasted Sirius just for the hell of it.

"What are you--"

Before Harry could finish, Ginny had cried out his name, run over and wrapped him in her arms, kissing his neck and squeezing him so tight he could feel the Stone of Cinnabar push up against his ribs.

"You're okay!" she declared, almost as if asking a question, holding him out and looking him up and down. Harry tried to say something, but before he spoke, Ginny stuck her thumbs in his mouth, pushing up his lips, looking for signs that he might have been turned by Draco's venom. "Thank, Merlin," she said with a sigh.

"I tried to tell you," said Sirius.

"As if I could believe anything after tonight!" Ginny snapped. She put on her best imitation of Sirius... "Guard the gates, Ginny. Tell me if you see anything unusual. You don't think dozens of dragons flying overhead is unusual?"

"Not if the Primate of the Votary has summoned them." Sirius smiled as he looked at Harry, which only made the young wizard's heart sink further. "I can't think of a more powerful ally than--"

"Sirius," Harry interrupted and, leaving questions about the Headmaster of Hogwarts for later, he told his godfather why the dragons were really gathering. It was not a force to support the wizards battling against Voldemort and his minions, but rather a destructive power, hoping to destroy both the brightest and the darkest in the Wizarding world in one surprise attack. After listening carefully to Harry tell what he had seen in the sky and what he'd heard from Singehorn, Sirius was still unconvinced.

"Harry, are you so certain that you're reading the signs correctly?" he asked. "The chain... maybe it wasn't a whip. Maybe it was--"

"He told me that he wanted me to help them end the dominion of wizards! They're going to attack, Sirius. We have to clear the town! Everyone needs to disapparate away."

"That's impossible," said Ginny. "Even if we wanted to, there are too many to convince and too little time."

"Then move them," Harry suggested. "Pull everyone to the lake."

"If we left our defences to cross the lake in boats," said Sirius coolly, "we'd be slaughtered."

"Too bad the lake's not frozen," said Hagrid. "They could apparate across... at least most the way... until they got close to the school."

This idea intrigued Sirius. "It might be possible to freeze the surface. That would give them something to stand on when they got near the shore, but it wouldn't get them to safety, not quite. They'd be out in the open for longer than I'd care to plan for, and running the rest of the distance won't be easy on a frozen surface."

"They could use the water to protect themselves against the fire of the dragons," said Harry, hopefully.

"Dragons won't be the first threat when they're exposed in the open on the surface of a frozen lake. There's no cover and, once we get near to where we can't apparate, it will be nearly impossible to avoid a Killing Curse. With so many trying to cross at the same time, it won't be hard to hit someone. That goes for your dragons too, Harry. If there are as many trying to murder us as you say, we can't give them a free shot to swoop down and breathe fire. The Hogwarts Lake holds a lot of water, but it's not enough to shield a whole army against an onslaught like that. It might be next to the most magical place on earth, but there's nothing magical about the water of the lake."

Harry listened to Sirius' words. They were strong, knowledgeable, and correct at every level. But there was something in his tone, something tickling at the back of Harry's mind, trying to draw something to the fore. Harry had had such conversations with Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster would state simple fact and try to get Harry to draw his own conclusions. It was hard to believe that Sirius was trying to do the same thing at a time like this, but, in his heart, Harry knew that Sirius was doing just that - he was being professorial.

While Harry turned these thoughts over in his mind, Sirius turned to Hagrid and said, "My friend, please return to the forest. Warn the Centaurs that the dragons may not be our allies. They, better than most, know how to pierce a dragon's breastplate." Harry shuddered at the thought as Hagrid started back through the front gate. "Oh, and Hagrid, tell them that they may have to support the flanks of a hastily assembled retreat."

"Yes, sir," said Hagrid grimly. "Harry, Ginny, take care of yerselves. I'll be watchin' for yeh." Hagrid lumbered down the lane, returning over the path the two had just travelled, toward the Forbidden forest. As the gate swung shut it pushed out a blast of magical energy that struck Harry's face - a cool wind at the edge of a parched desert. When the door shut, the energy vanished and Harry felt parched. Sirius then turned to Ginny.

"Ginny, stay at the gate and continue to stay alert. We may have to retreat back to the school. Forgive me for dismissing your observations about the dragons."

"Remember that when I take my N.E.W.T.s," she said with a smile.

"I will, Ms. Weasley," answered Sirius with a smile and then his eyes narrowed. "Right now, I'm going to get Harry to Hogsmeade. We'll try to meet with Professor McGonagall. If you see anything at all, send me word. If there's imminent danger, you know what to do."

"Yes, Headmaster." Ginny nodded. She hugged Harry once more and whispered, "Be careful."

Sirius and Harry began walking briskly toward the town, keeping their eyes forward, hoping to get a better understanding of the battle before them, rather than Apparating right into the centre of the fray. Harry could feel the explosions rocking the earth beneath his feet. They were silent for the first few minutes and then Harry began to speak.

"Why didn't you--"

"Because I was told not to. And, because you never asked. I would never lie to you, Harry."

"No? So you were really just going to take naps when you left me to lift the castle stones all by myself."

"Have you ever been to a meeting at the Ministry?" Sirius asked. "Tedious chatter filled with drivel. It's all I can do not to sleep! I use my wand to spray water on my face, just to keep me awake."

"I thought you looked cleaner when you--" Harry stopped and then he muttered to himself, "Cleaner... Cleansed by both fire and... water... The falls!"

"Excuse me, Harry?"

"The falls." He looked at Sirius. "I know you won't believe me, but there's... there's a lake in the middle of the forest, with a great falls dropping in from overhead. It's magical. Hagrid doesn't believe it exists, but I've been there. Ron's been there." Then Harry's shoulders fell. "But you can only get to it as the sun crosses the horizon. By then, it'd be too--"

"Or when the moon is full," corrected Sirius.

"What?"

"You really don't get out much at night, do you Harry? A little blessed temperament given you by your mother I suspect."

"You... You know about the falls?"

Sirius chuckled to himself. "Late one night, your father stumbled across the waters when we were creating the map. He stopped on the shores and was pulled in. The way he put it, he thought he was about to die, when the waters spoke to him and then just spit him out. Stranger still, he went in recuperating from a nasty hex, and came out blemish free. It wasn't long after, he started dating your mother.

"Some believe that those waters, Harry, are the source of Hogwarts magical mysteries. Perhaps even the Fountain of Youth. Often the Ministry approached Dumbledore, seeking to investigate the falls and streams of the Forbidden Forest, but they lie in the land of the Centaurs. Dumbledore insisted that all wizards are forbidden to travel there, which, I suppose, explains why you and Mr. Weasley have both been to the water's shore." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.

A streak of wandfire flew above the treetops and continued on over their heads. At the same time the scar on Harry's forearm began to burn. It felt as if the skin were being twisted into dozens of tiny knots, a cauldron of turmoil. It glimmered in the darkness and Sirius noticed.

"Are you being summoned," he asked.

"No. This... this is something different. It's like I'm being told to stay away." Harry glanced to the sky and then back toward Hogsmeade. The pillars of smoke rising above the town were growing larger with each passing moment. Harry was growing anxious, desperate to put meaning to everything that was happening. "I... I don't understand, Sirius!"

"Yes you do, Harry. More than I, anyway." Sirius put his arm about his godson. "Listen to your heart. What's it telling you?"

Harry looked to the ground, grinding his teeth to put the pain of his arm out of his mind. "The water... what do you think about the water at the falls? Would its purity be enough to protect us against the dragons?"

"One does not use that water. If it chooses to protect us, it can. Of that I am sure. But will it choose so? That I do not know." Now it was Sirius' turn to look toward the sky. "These are the kinds of riddles Remus is good at." He sighed and then, stroking his beard, looked to Harry. "I think we should find a way to break up the battle. Pull them all out of Hogsmeade and give the dragons more than one group of wizards to strike. Merlin protect those they choose first, but the others should be rattled enough to pay attention."

"But the only way to the falls," said Harry, "is through the castle grounds. We can't give up the castle."

"All the evil and giants of Europe could strike the castle walls. They won't break. No one will harm the castle this evening, Harry. "Believe me. No one."

"Then... then we lead them right past the castle and into the forest. And the Centaurs... the Centaurs--"

"Will love having an opportunity to spill Dementor blood. All this waiting... they've been moody for months."

"Months?" asked Harry. "Aren't Centaurs always moody?"

"Yeah, well... lately they've been worse. Believe me, it takes a Headmaster to tell the difference."

Harry had to smile. His godfather really had changed. He should have noticed, but he'd been so tied up in his own thoughts that he failed to realize that his own family had been watching over him the whole time. Sirius waved his wand and a parchment appeared in his hands. He opened it and revealed the town of Hogsmeade dotted with names. There were so many, it was nearly impossible to make out who was who.

"Our forces are organized by about a dozen covens with nearly a hundred wizards each. Let's see if we can find Professor McGonagall and try to coordinate this as best we can. Three battles, I think. One on the castle grounds between Hogwarts and the lake. One near Terntalag, the city of the Centaurs, surrounded by the waters that feed the falls. And the last near the falls themselves. It's there that we'll make our stand against Voldemort. Yes... three should be enough. We'll spread about to give the dragons something to think about and draw Voldemort in to his own doom." Sirius held the map closer to Harry's wandlight. "Ah! There she is! Let's go!"

Sirius ran about twenty yards, and stopped, preparing to cast an Apparation spell. He turned to find Harry frozen, a look of horror on his face.

"Harry, come on. We need to get to McGonagall!"

Harry didn't move.

"What's wrong?" Sirius said, quickly pacing back. "Harry, why aren't you moving?"

Harry looked up at Sirius. "James," he choked. "Cho and James... they're at Terntalag. If he finds out... He won't go to the fall, Sirius. He'll go to Terntalag."

"Listen to me, son," said Sirius, his eyes meeting Harry's to offer assurance. "Voldemort has about", he looked up at the moon, "another four hours left on this planet. If we have to, we'll make him think James is hidden at the falls and by the time he figures it out, it'll be too late."

Harry looked at Sirius in disbelief. "Make him think that James is at the falls? How?"

"We have someone very close to Voldemort... on the inside." Sirius paused seeing the uncertainty in Harry's eyes. "Trust me," he added.

"I've heard those words before," said Harry cynically. "Who shall betray me tonight, Sirius? Dragon? Centaur? Or Wizard?" Harry's words were sharp and biting. "I thought... I thought maybe on this one night we might realize our strength, the strength reflected in the Fountain of Magical Brethren." Harry shivered, crossing his arms and rubbing his own shoulders. "For the first time in a long time Sirius, I... I don't know what to do. I mean, it's not like I was with Singehorn. It was a vision for Merlin's sake and I've been fooled by those before." For a moment he held his godfather's eyes in his own. "Maybe you were right. I can't risk Hogwarts on something that..." He shook his head and looked up to his godfather. "A thousand wizards... I- I can't."

"Well," said Sirius smartly, "that's a pleasant surprise. The unflappable Harry Potter isn't sure what he should do. Maybe... just maybe... he might need some help. Imagine that." He put his arm about Harry. "Well, this is one decision that's not yours to make. There's a reason they call me Headmaster."

"But Jamie."

"Harry, sometimes to win, you have to give up a little ground. There's a reason Voldemort is attacking upon the light of the third full moon and it has nothing to do with Jamie. He's attacking tonight because we want him to attack tonight. The cogs of his fate were set into motion the night Dumbledore died. Sure, the dragons complicate things, but we have a way to deal with that. No, Harry, tonight, it will be the Dark Lord's turn to face Death's door, and this time we'll be ready to make sure he passes through and stays there."

Harry, staring at the burning of Hogsmeade, let the glow of his wand fade to darkness. From where they stood he could hear screams of pain and of vicious cruelty. Sirius' words were firm and held a confidence that made Harry believe, if only for a moment, that what he was saying might actually be true. Tonight, Voldemort would die. Without blinking Harry held his wand high and said, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's tell Professor McGonagall. It's time to sound the retreat."