The Way of the Sword

There were things in life that Harry Potter would never understand. Why girls spent so much time working on 'natural' makeup. Why Ron was better at Chess, but Harry was better at Checkers. Things like that. One thing tended to pop up a lot - how could structure degenerate into such chaos so quickly? There were Death Eaters everywhere.

They came with the setting sun, just as the dance was beginning. Harry and Hermione were late, and it was that alone that ensured that they were relatively unharmed in the initial blast. They had been standing there; Hermione in an old-fashioned Muggle shoulder less dress, the palest silvery-green with detached sleeves. He was crouching behind a table in his best dress robes. Ron was moaning slightly, his mangled leg being cleaned up by Ginny. Draco and Susan Bones were cleaning up bloody students. Those will still breathed. Padma stared blank faced at the corpse of her twin sister, Parvati. Harry had his arm twined around Hermione's elbow, both of them trying to figure out what to do. She had a cut running down her face, one that almost mirrored the one she had gotten only months earlier. But they both knew. If something didn't happen soon, no one was getting out of here.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign that he was stressing immensely. Hermione found a stick and used it to keep her hair up. Harry ran his hand down her back absent-mindedly, feeling the lines of her back tattoo. He and Hermione had gone out and gotten a tattoo over the summer, and Hermione had gotten "the itch", as she said. It was cherry blossoms and lions, a tree and a wand. Beauty, strength, nature, magic. The elements of her life. He was starting to fall for his best friend, and hard, but he wouldn't tell her, not until this was all over. He couldn't do that to her. If he told her, he knew, and she reciprocated, then he would make her a widow at a young age. He couldn't do that to her.

"How are we going to get out of this?" whispered an ashen faced Malcolm Baddock, who held a shaking Laura Madley. Harry's face was set. "Padma, come over here. Now." he said. Padma got up and walked over, nodding as Harry whispered something in her ear. Hermione tensed when she heard what he was going to do, but gripped his arm, solid as iron and was steadfastly arguing with him. In the end, he gave in. He could deny her nothing.

"Alright, everyone. Listen up, and listen well, because I'm only going to say this once. We have exactly one shot to get out of here. Vicky-" he patted her arm "-you're the fastest runner. I need you to scuttle over to the other tables once we're finished here and tell them the plan. Orla, I'm going to need you to sound the alarm when the time is ready. This is what we're going to do."

The plan was simple. Orla would ring the bell left by the High Table at a signal from Harry. Harry, and a few others, were going to charge the assembled Death Eaters, who were trying to regroup after the retaliation of the students. Vicky Frobisher and Daphne Greengrass would start getting the scattered groups of surviving students and teachers ready to run like hell; a few students would creep to the front and force the doors open. Harry planned to create as much chaos as possible - they would be breaking windows, setting fire and hurling tables and benches, etc. Hermione summoned Dobby and had him prepare Madame Pomprey, writing a letter to send to the Ministry. He then told Dobby to send someone to start the Hogwarts Express, or to prepare the Floo Network at some of the bigger shops in Hogsmeade. Vicky and Daphne were to tell everyone to go home as fast as possible - many of the pureblood or mixed blood students were asked to take the muggleborn's with them. Any student who had a parent in the Ministry was told to not go home, but to go to a relative's or a friends. Harry had planned this in his head a long time ago.

He looked at the rag-tag group of kids that would be running with him.

Padma Patil, resplendent in shimmering blue robes. Her eyes were red, but no tears came. The Death Eaters had taken away her other half, and she would be damned if they got away with it. Her wand : 12 1/3 inches, mahogany, unicorn hair. It was funny, what bits of information floated up to his brain.

Neville Longbottom, in his neatly-pressed black and gold robes. Bellatrix Lestrange was there, and although Harry hated her for taking Sirius away, he would let Neville have her. He had earned the right. He was stock still, fingering his wand and muttering to himself. He asked Ginny to tell his Gran and his parents how much he loved them, and he hoped that he made them proud.

Draco Malfoy, arrogant while standing still. Arrogant, but he had seen his own father kill his friend. That was enough to send anyone over the edge. Even a Malfoy. He tossed his cloak, green and black, over the face of Pansy Parkinson, his only real friend throughout his entire life. Killed for standing there. He understood power, craved it, would trample people for it, but he would never do it just for the fun of it. Everything in life should have a purpose, even it's end.

Justin Finch-Fletchley. Petrified his second year, taunted for his muggleborn status, but strong nonetheless. He was tall, the tallest out of the group. He knew he was the biggest target, other than Harry and Hermione. He didn't care. He had said that there were things in life greater then one's self, and the fight for Good was one of them. He wanted to fight back, to not roll over. He was a soldier.

Kevin Whitby. The littlest Hufflepuff, proudly showing off the yellow trimmed black robes he had worked so hard for last summer. He was pureblood, and his father and mother pureblood proponents, but his best friend was Vicky Frobisher, Gryffindor half-blood, and where she went, he would go. And vice-versa. They stood together. He would ensure that she got out safely, no matter the cost to himself.

Terry Boot, silent in his plain black and blue robes. A quiet boy, with no real friends, until Hermione had taken him under her wing. He was fiercely devoted to her, devoted as she was to him and Harry. Harry liked him as well, but he knew that Terry Boot would walk barefoot, to hell, to save Hermione. Just as Harry would. They understood one another. Terry was silently scanning the room through the planks of wood of the tables, surveying the scene and relaying information to Hermione.

Hermione Jane Granger. She who secretly held Harry's heart. The only one brave enough to attend the Hallowe'en ball in a muggle dress. Stately as a queen, with her hair smoothed back and a single, shimmering, moonstone on her forehead. Harry's eyes drank her in. Her dress was cut in formal riding style, so she would be able to keep up when they ran. She had left her hair down again, fixing the fine, white-gold chain that held the moonstone in place. A fancy choker - A Christmas gift from Harry - diamonds and white gold. A simple ring - from Ginny and Ron and the twins. She gripped her wand almost carelessly, but she was tensed, as if ready to spring. Harry slipped his arm from hers down to her waist. "Are you going to be alright?" he murmured.

"As good as it's possible to be in these situations," she whispered right back. Harry sent the runners ahead and took a deep breath. He was ready. He could handle this.

Who was he kidding? He was sixteen years old! He should be trying to get Hermione to go with him to the Astronomy Tower, not fighting for the right to exist. Oh, Voldemort, he thought. You're going to pay heavily for this. "Gin," he whispered, "tell the others to get ready to lift the badly injured." She nodded, then stopped when Padma grabbed her by the arm. "Take Parvati with you," she whispered in an anguished voice. "Make sure she gets buried in the proper way." Ginny nodded, brushing away a tear. "Do you want me to take Pansy too, Draco?" she asked softly. He jerked his head in affirmation, holding up his cloak to kiss her forehead one last time.

"Dobby," Harry whispered, and the house elf appeared in front of him, shaking in terror. "Go to Dumbledore's office. Get Gryffindor's sword for me." Dobby nodded, squeaking when Hermione grabbed him. "Go to the Room of Requirement. Get a sword for all of us, one that's proper for each of us." Dobby nodded, and vanished. Harry looked at Hermione quizzically. "The more we throw them off guard, the better. Besides, we won't really have much time to use it, except maybe you." She smiled.

Dobby reappeared, awkwardly carrying several swords. Each of the runners took their swords and held it firmly in their left hands. None of them shook. They were ready. Orla muttered lumos; Harry saw her beacon and nodded. "Nox," she whispered. The Runners stood up. Best to go while the Eaters were still regrouping.

"Hold on," said Hermione in a fierce whisper. She grabbed one of the fanciful looking poles that normally lined the back wall, each presenting a class banner. She tore it off, then yanked off her left sleeve. "What on Earth-" said Justin, until she unwound her sleeve.

It was a Phoenix rising through the sun, surrounded by four stars. "My sign," she whispered. "We will run under my banner. Let them know just who they're fucking with."

"Good Lord, Granger, did you just curse?" said Draco in an almost amused tone. Hermione glared at him. He shrugged. "I never thought you had it in you. Of course, I would have never suspected that you would willingly run headlong into a group of deranged fanatics with a wand and a longsword, either. Shows how much I know, eh?" Hermione smiled against her will. She attached the sleeve to the flagpole, where it swung gently. "I'll tie it to my back or something," muttered Padma.

"Let me carry it," came the smallest voice. A small boy stepped forward. Edgar Bones, jr. The only survivor to the massacre led so many years ago; it had been days before they found the silent infant amongst the ruins of his own home. His family had died a mere month before Harry's. He had almost no family left. He grabbed it from Hermione's hands, holding it with his left and wielding his wand with his right. "I'm ready," he said stoutly. He was barely a year younger than Harry, but in some ways, seemed years older.

"Let's roll," said Harry. The others strode forward. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm. When he turned around to ask her what was wrong, he instead was met with her face pressing into his, and a pair of soft lips he had only dreamed about against his.

"I love you, you know, carus pectus," she whispered. "I just wanted to tell you."

"I love you too, Hermione Jane Granger, and if we get out of this, I'm taking you to Hogsmeade."

"Sounds fine with me. Let's go," she said, and they turned to face destiny. They got into line. They clasped hands. And they ran.

---

(A/N: Up until now, the story has been told from Harry's POV. From this point on, the story will be told, in third person, by unnamed students and faculty. The POV changes as the Runners, Harry and Co., make their way to the front.)

At first, all I can see is their feet. Then I look up, and I am in awe.

They're like the kings and queens and knights we used to read about, that our parents used to tell us about as children. Backs straight, standing tall. They walk rapidly, but without fear or hesitation. They know what awaits them on the other side of the hall. Behind me, I hear students scuttling over. We've been told to gather near the front, then when the bell sounds, to throw off as many hexes as possible as we get the injured out of there. It's our turn to move up. I say a prayer for the students. For it to be as quick as possible, and if God would show the grace, that they may live.

--

For six years, I have taught them, and watched over them. I've taken off points and given twice as many. I see the youngest one bravely carry some strange flag. Hermione's standard, I hear Ginny Weasley call it, as she levitates her brother and two corpses. They Are marching towards an uncertain future, and it makes me weep to think that it is a 16 boy and girl who lead the way. I see they Are holding hands, and I smile. About bloody time. I pick up a sniffling first year and prepare to make my way up to the next overturned table. I see Padma muttering. A prayer to her God or Gods, I suppose. I have none, but if I did, I would offer mine to them. They who think so much of our lives that they would sacrifice theirs. Oh, I know they have other reasons, but they could easily stay back and let the adults handle it. Only, now they Are the adults.

Run, I think. Run, and be free. --

It's probably the first, last, and only time the houses will be united in such a way. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shoulder to shoulder - who would have thought? But they are, and they are marching in total tandem, making their way up to the front. It's almost as if they've rehearsed all of this. All of them, save Harry and Hermione, have their wands upright, their swords (where did they get swords? I hear whispered in the background,) held tightly at their side, tips in front of them. Harry and Hermione Are clasping hands. I hear Ron Weasley has been badly injured. What in Merlin's name did they think; that he'd abandon them? Not bloody likely. Some Gryffindor girl is whimpering over Ron; it's not his sister. The boy next to me tells me it's Lavender Brown. Who? I wonder, but my eyes Are drawn back to the nine students who march towards Death. They march, unafraid.

One, the dark haired Indian girl, looks at me. Her face is drawn in pain; I wonder why. Remember the cost, she mouths towards me. Remember the cost, and remember that it's worth paying. And I will. The boy next to me shakes my shoulder; it's time to head up one table. I spare one last glance for the nine students. And I hope, one day, I get to meet them.

--

They're picking up speed. Trotting now. My heart breaks; has it come to his? I hear snatches that Voldemort himself has reappeared, ready to finally finish Potter once and for all. Will he do it? I look to my left.

There are over a hundred Death Eaters up there. Granted, some of them couldn't perform the lumos spell in their current condition, but more than enough to handle nine children. And children they are, at least to me; but I am old enough to be their great grandmother, so that's besides the point. I am so proud of them. They understand more than some of the adults do; the understand that there is a price to pay, and sometimes that price is blood. Their blood. And they will shed their for mine. And our families. That is the greatest gift any one could ever give; to lay down their life for their fellow man. Not wizard, not muggle, but man.

Normally, I would worry that they would not understand what they're doing. I see a taller, dark haired boy look at Hermione and Harry, and then place his hand on their touching shoulders. He understands. They understand. And they will do whatever it takes to make sure they get out of alive. And they will do the same for him. --

They're almost there. Harry Potter. The hero of many. He-who-makes-girls-swoon. He holds his arm up. Mutters lumos. His wand glows. A bell sounds.

And all hell breaks loose.

Windows shatter, attracting the attention of the Death Eaters. And You-Know-Who, who stares hungrily at Potter. I can't believe they didn't notice him before. Fools. Owls Are flying in, attacking the Death Eaters, shitting in their eye and blinding them. He-Who... VOLDEMORT, does not move, merely stares at Potter. Then realises that he is not alone.

Harry Potter. Champion of the Wizarding World. Triwizard Champion. Incredible Qudditch Seeker.

But most importantly, the boy who has Hermione's heart. To Harry, that's all that matters.

Hermione Granger. Broke the record of possible OWLS. Smartest witch to grace the halls of Hogwarts. Sixteen years old, and has already developed several useful defense charms.

But most importantly, the girl who holds Harry's heart. That's all that's important.

Draco Malfoy. Cunning, sly. Full of cunning. One of the best Potions students in centuries - a real whiz.

But most importantly, the boy who kissed Pansy's wounds better when she fell and defended her honour to any who tried to defile it. That's what's important.

Justin-Finch Fletchley. Incredibely charming and sweet, very mindful of his manners, full of grace. A wonderful writer and story teller.

But most importantly, the boy hugged the first years when they cried and missed their homes, telling them humourous stories to make them laugh and forget their worries. To him, their safety is a priority.

Terry Boot. Got the most OWLS out of all the Ravenclaws. Excellent at charm work, even truly impressing Professor Flitwick.

But most importantly, the boy who helped tend the ill students, volunteering his time with Madame Pomprey. He wanted to make people feel better. That's what counted, with him.

Padma Patil. Bested Hermione in Arithmancy. Accounted to be one of the most stunning beauties of Hogwarts this century.

But most importantly, the twin sister to the outgoing Parvati Patil. One half of a whole. And to Padma, her memory must be honoured and avenged.

Neville Longbottom. Clumsy, shy, but incredible at Herbology. The sweetest boy you ever knew. He would always defend you.

But most importantly, he didn't want Ron die, or see Ginny cry. So he must try to end it now. That's what made him go.

Kevin Whitby. The youngest. Exuberant as only the young can be, he'd swap jokes with anyone, even befriending some Slytherins. He could always cheer you up.

But most importantly, he comforted a despairing Vicky after some of the meaner Slytherins had taunted her. No one can break you but you, he had told her. And to Kevin, his purpose was to remind everyone of that.

Edgar Bones, JR. The last of an old house. Short, plain, but with a smile that could charm the pants off of a dementor, it was said.

But most importantly, he had to make sure that no one else lost their family like he did. To him, that was his purpose in life. He waved the flag.

Voldemort rose to greet them. I stared as I was hustled out by a frantic teacher as they approached him. I saw something so beautiful and incredible, I would have not believed it had I not seen it with mine own two eyes.

--

They were running full hilt now, and Hermione removed her hand from Potter's grasp. As they charged up the stairs, and the Death Eaters got prepared to fire, Hermione jumped into the air, her wand out, and she flew towards a group of Death Eaters. She was screaming as she rammed into them, screaming "ego sto solers!" They fell down, and the melee began. I saw Padma Patil physically kick one unconscious as she fired off hex after hex. Edgar Bones felled one with his flag, waving it madly as he shoot off curses. Harry and Hermione fought side by side. Draco slid under tables as he scrambled from his enraged father, ramming furniture into unwitting Death Eaters. Neville confidently flicked off spells as he searched for the couple who had torn his family apart. Kevin jumped from table top to table top, alternating between spells and well-placed kicks. Terry had his hack to Hermione and Harry, using the Protego spell to good use as he shot off Jelly-Legs and Stupefy's.

They all fought so bravely. A few of their friends added to the chaos, but no one joined the fight. That was theirs.

Madame Pomprey rushes up. She finds the Weasley boy first, and mends his leg. He stands up and tests it out. It's perfect. His sister.. I think her name is Ginny? rushes to him and hugs him. He bends over to whisper in her ear. She nods, a grim look on her face. Ron rushes to Lavender Brown, kisses her forehead. Even from where I'm standing, I'm confused.

"Get them out!" he yells. "Run for Hogsmeade! Hagrid, get the wounded. RUN!" he yells.

And before anyone knows what is happening, he and Ginny are running back into Hogwarts. "Ron, NO!" shouts a professor. He ignores her.

"Ginny! Come back!" comes a frantic voice. She ignores it.

As they charged in, they both turned their faces and wands to the Great Doors. Together, they cried "Colloportus!" The doors shut with a heavy bang, and everyone knew that no one was getting in. Lavender Brown screamed as they led her away, flinging her hands towards Hogwarts. A plea for her love. --

No one knows what happened in there, save that they all survived, although barely. Two days later, the Great Doors opened as the sun rose. Billows of smoke streamed out, and several figured rolled out. They had won, but the price was heavy. Out of a thousand students, 498 were dead. Half of the staff was gone, obliterated. The inside of the castle is demolished. Fires raged. But they had lived.

I mean, at least, they were breathing. It's highly unlikely that Padma Patil will ever truly leave St. Mungo's.. I understand Neville goes to visit her once a week, along with seeing his parents. The Bones boy, he can't talk. Silenco charms, if they're not removed before a certain period of time, can be permanent. Draco is in a wheelchair - Neville dragged him out physically. They share a pad somewhere in the U.S. now.

Justin Finch-Fletchley is the head of International Cooperation. Who knows? I think he might make Minister of Magic. It's possible. He's a good man, if a bit gaunt. Distant, it seems.

Kevin Whitby is the new Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. Hagrid left to live in France with Olympe Maxine. Nice bloke, has quite a gift with animals. Also, he's missing his right hand. It doesn't stop him, though. You should see him go! Bloody amazing, I tell you. He even manages to pacify dragons.

Ronald Weasley isn't doing too badly for himself. He runs the magical game department. He was offered a lot of spots on Qudditch teams, but managing and strategy is his thing. I see him sometimes; my dad is a Cannons fan, and I've even gotten to sit next to him. Very, very nice guy. He always buys me butterbeer and levitating balls, and every birthday and Christmas, I get new items from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

And of course, Harry Potter. Well, it's Harry and Hermione Potter now. No one knows where they are exactly. Oh, Mr. Weasley talks to them all the time; they pop in to the Ministry once a month, just to chat. I saw them once. You should see the rock she has on her hand. Amazing, I tell you. You could kill a manticore with it. It would blind a basilisk. They're always with Terry Boot, who's married to Ginny Weasley. That's right, Ginny Weasley.

They roam the world, now. Fudge excommunicated them after the battle. Lousy git. Tried to snap their wands, but they simply disappered. Once the story of the Battle of Hogwarts was leaked out, he was physically ousted from his office. Serves him right.

The Potters and the Boots roam the world. They are the Hunters. With a capital H. They hunt evil. Hundreds of Dark Wizards have been sent to Wizarding Prisons across the globe because of them. I know that they have children, who stay with their various aunties and uncles. I saw little Rena Potter with Mr. Weasley once; she has her father's jet black hair and green eyes, but her mother's nose and smile. she's gorgeous. Yael Boots has his mother's red hair, but his father's blue eyes and saucy grin. Everyone says that they're very well-adjusted, happy children. I heard Rena say once that her father is the most "lovinglest, handomest, nicest man on Earth."

And you know? I think she's right. My father asked her what her mummy and daddy taught her at night; we all thought Charms or Defence Against the Dark Arts. She looked at my father with her big green eyes, and said, solemnly,

"The Way of the Sword."