Harry Potter and the Final Curse

Chapter 14 - Party Crasher

On a snow-covered, windswept peak in the mountains that overlooked Hogwarts, a small group of people surveyed the castle in the valley below. They all wore heavy, fur-lined winter coats to prevent them freezing in the chilling cold, as snow heavily fell around them. Leading them was a man, a man of utter contempt, whose self-designated purpose in life was to become all powerful. He would stop at nothing to accomplish his goal, even if it meant killing everyone that got in his way. The castle in front of them was just part of one step in his plan, and his power would increase exponentially if he could only capture it.

Kneeling down in front of his Master, a servant held the Tome of Death open for him, acting like a podium. The Master carefully turned the pages of the book with one hand, the other hand held tightly onto his wand.

The only natural illumination available to them upon the mountain was the moonlight, shining faintly through the slightly cloudy sky. It was possible to see, to a certain extent, but it was near impossible to pick out any details, such as the writing in the Tome of Death. Therefore a second servant stood nearby, holding a torch aloft so that his Master could see. The beacon of light must have looked strange from the castle, a potential giveaway of his plan, but his spy had informed the Master that nearly everyone would be assembled in the Great Hall and would not notice it.

"Hold it still, Goyle!" snarled the Master after he lost his place in the book due to his kneeling servant fidgeting.

"Sorry, Master," said the servant humbly. "Please forgive my incompetence."

The Master looked at him with contempt, and shook his fist in anger. "You are fortunate that you still curry my favour from the time you recovered my prized possession, but that is now wearing extremely thin! One more transgression and I will be compelled to use force!"

The servant kept quiet in fear of upsetting his master even more. He was thankful that his master rarely killed his subordinates for minor transgressions, although his punishments were severe enough that anyone, foolish enough to incur his wrath, would often wish death as a quick release from the pain.

The Master re-found the page in the tome he was looking for, before turning his head back and issuing an order to one of his minions. "Crabbe!" he ordered.

A man that stood not far behind him, standing in the darkness, answered. "Yes, Master Malfoy, sir?"

The Master looked infuriated. "How many times I have told you - do not address me with my real name! You never know who might be listening!"

"I am sorry, Master!" cowered Crabbe, getting on his knees to beg. "Please .... please do not harm me!"

"But what sort of Dark Wizard would I be if I let all infractions to go unpunished?" smiled the Master wickedly. "Sorry, Crabbe, but an example must be made. Crucio!"

With his Master's wand pointed at him, Crabbe rolled around on the ground in complete agony, creating a haphazard snow-angel where he lay. After about thirty seconds, the Master relented and turned his attention back to the true matter at hand.

"Now, have the preparations been made?" asked the Master impatiently as Crabbe, still suffering the agonizing after effects of the Crutiatus curse, groggily picked himself up from the ground and faced his master once more.

"Yes, Master," he said fearfully. "Everything is ready, awaiting your command."

"Excellent. It will begin momentarily. Inform my beloved to join me by my side."

"Yes, Master," obeyed Crabbe. He set off down the mountain to where the rest of his Master's men would be camped.

* * *

At eleven o'clock on Christmas night, it was clear that the party in the Great Hall was starting to wind down, and it was likely to end around midnight; although many students thought the night was still young (mostly the older students), most seemed to be showing obvious signs of fatigue, and had now stopped engaging in the more energetic activities. The celebrations had been a great success, and it certainly would be one to remember for years to come.

Stewart and Flora had been dancing together for about an hour now, although both still kept a respectful distance from each other. Harry had long since given up dancing himself, and was now just watching the couple from a nearby table, of which he was the only occupant of, lazily drinking a goblet of the punch that had been prepared for this evening; the punch was fairly nice, a blend of various fruits including pumpkin and orange, but Harry wished it had a little more kick to it.

Professor Lal, who it seemed had just come from one of the punch bowls, joined Harry at the table. "Are they still at it?" he asked, his eyes following Stewart and Flora as they meandered slowly around the dance floor.

"Yep," yawned Harry, slouching on his chair. "And it doesn't look like they'll quit any time soon. Probably afraid to let go of each other. Either that, or someone placed a permanent sticking charm on their hands."

"Well, good for them," beamed Professor Lal. "I've had to watch Stewart pine after Flora for years now. It's about time it finally happened; they make a lovely couple."

"Did seriously no-one try and set them up before?" asked Harry, turning to face Professor Lal slightly but still keeping one eye on the dancing couple.

"We did actually, many times in-fact, but they seemed to resist every attempt to get them together."

"What sort of things did you try?"

"Well, the most notable one happened a couple of years ago," described Professor Lal. "We decided to try the blind-date scenario, so we booked a table in the Three Broomsticks and paid Madam Rosmerta a little extra to make everything perfect. You should have seen it - they had the nicest table, in the best location, laid out with the finest crockery and cutlery. Anyway, we told Stewart he was going to meet one of Hermione's cousins, and we told Flora a similar story."

"So what went wrong?" asked Harry curiously.

"Flora got cold feet and just didn't turn up at all, even though she promised us she would. Stewart actually did go, although he sat there at an empty table for three hours before finally giving up. It was very sad to see him wander back to the castle late at night, with a defeated look on his face. After that attempt, we didn't try anything too major."

Harry smiled smugly. "So I was able to do something that no-one else could?"

"Well, I guess so," said Professor Lal. "But those two are still a long way off being a couple. Dancing is one thing, but dating is a whole different story."

Harry and Professor Lal continued to watch Stewart and Flora on the dance floor. Although it was initially enchanting to watch the two of them, it did get a little boring as time went on, and Harry found himself almost nodding off.

"So, now that you've been here a couple of months, how are you finding teaching?" asked Professor Lal, which snapped Harry out of his tired stupor.

Harry sighed. "It's ok, I guess. Much harder than I thought it would be, though."

"I know what you mean, and the kids don't make it any easier for you, especially your own flesh and blood."

"Yeah, Shalin and Keshini, right?" asked Harry. He remembered that both were in Hufflepuff; Shalin in his third year, Keshini in her fifth. Both were highly competent students, and a real credit to their father.

"That's the ones in Hogwarts anyway," said Professor Lal. "I have a third one, Ameya, who left a couple of years ago, and is now climbing the career ladder in the insurance business; he was always the ambitious one, probably why he was sorted into Slytherin."

"Three kids?!" exclaimed Harry, looking at Professor Lal in amazement and almost choking on his goblet of punch. "How on earth do you cope with three of them?! It's hard enough trying to keep just one in check!"

"Well," he mused, taking a sip from his goblet. "I suppose you get used to it, although there was very little choice in the matter. Luckily mine seem to be as good as gold most of the time. Did you not consider having any more then?"

"Actually, we did; we always said we wanted at least two, preferably a boy and a girl. The trouble was, we couldn't seem to have another one, no matter how hard we tried, and believe me we did a lot of trying."

Despite the fact that Harry trusted Professor Lal, he wasn't about to discuss intimate details about his family life with him. The fact was, that about a year after Lily was born, Harry and Ginny had tried desperately to have another child, but without success. Despite Ginny's large family openly showing their support, their presence only really seemed to make matters worse; the fact that Ginny was one of seven children made her seem inadequate compared to her mother, and the fact that Sarah, Charlie's wife, had recently given birth to twins didn't help matters either. Eventually, things got so serious that they tried fertility clinics, both wizarding and muggle, but none of their methods seemed to bear fruit. After several years, they stopped really trying, although they didn't completely give up hope.

"Anyway," continued Harry, "I suppose we were fortunate in a way. Lily steadily became a real handful, and we might not have coped if we had another child vying for our attention."

"Yes, Lily can be a bit of a tearaway, can't she?" smiled Professor Lal. "I've lost count how many detentions I've given her for playing up in class, although she seems to have gotten a lot better of late."

"That she has," said Harry, happily. "Anyway, although it's nice chatting to you, I better go and do some work. The security arrangements don't check themselves, you know."

"By all means, Harry," said Professor Lal. "I need to have a chat with Minerva about something, anyway."

Harry pulled himself off the chair, where he was slouched, and downed the entire contents of his goblet before setting off towards the main doors on his duty.

* * *

Back on the mountain overlooking Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy continued to plan his nefarious plot to capture the school.

"Where the hell is Crabbe?!" said Draco under gritted teeth. "He should have been here by now!"

"I don't know, Master," quivered Goyle, still knelt down, holding the Tome of Death for his master.

"I didn't ask you," said Draco, giving Goyle a swift kick in the stomach. "It was a rhetorical question!"

"I am here, Master," said Crabbe from behind him, diverting his attention from punishing Goyle.

"What took you so long?!" barked Draco, pointing his wand directly at Crabbe.

"Sorry, Master," said Crabbe, flinching slightly, "but she was reluctant to leave the camp."

"Yes, Draco," said a cool female voice, belonging to a woman covered head-to-toe in a thick winter coat. "You expect me to leave the nice warm tent and come out into this weather?"

"Then come here then," said Draco sweetly. "I have more than enough warmth for both of us."

The woman let out a small playful laugh. "Indeed you do, lover," she said sexily. "If only you showed the same compassion for your lackeys as you do for me."

"They don't deserve my compassion," said Draco, casting an evil look upon Crabbe and Goyle. "They can't give me the things that you can."

Draco opened his arms and invited the woman closer. Wrapping his left arm around her, his right still clutching onto his wand, he enjoyed the proximity of her womanly body.

"Now," said the woman, securing her arms around Draco's waist, "Crabbe tells me your plan is ready to begin?"

"That it is," said Draco. "It all begins with one spell." Draco fixed his eyes upon the Tome of Death and read the page it was on once more. He raised his wand high into the air, "Creo Grandis Tempestas!"

* * *

Shortly beforehand, Harry had finished doing his security sweep of the Great Hall and surrounding area. He quickly checked on what Stewart and Flora were doing (they had now stopped dancing and were sat down at opposite sides of one of the small tables, chatting), before he went to see what was happening in the classroom used as the staff headquarters.

Passing though the Entrance Hall, Harry headed for a corridor on the other side. Many students, who had got tired of all the dancing, were now flopped out on one of the many couches. He noticed a couple of students were kissing in one of the corners, one of whom he was sure was Alison Jameson.

Harry only had only a short walk down the corridor before he got to the classroom, and he went though the door. Inside the brightly lit classroom, Aurors Albert and Chris sat at the teachers' desk going over a floor plan of the school. Tonks, Harry figured, was probably off mingling as she so frequently did. The room was otherwise empty, aside from a lone boy, sitting silently in the corner.

"What did he do?" Harry asked the Aurors, pointing at the boy in the corner.

"Oh, him?" said Albert, sounding like he had forgotten about the boy. "Managed to smuggle in a wet-start firework from somewhere. I caught him just as he was about to set it off in the boy's bathroom. He's just taking a little time out while he thinks about things."

"Aside from him, everything's been normal," said Chris. "It's been a lot easier than I expected."

"Indeed," said Albert, "and if we had Neville here then things would be even easier."

There was flash of light from outside the window, followed immediately by a sharp rumble of thunder, and the unmistakable sound of heavy rain lashing against the windows.

"Rain?" asked Albert, crossing over to the other side of the room to look out the only window. "I thought it was too cold to rain?"

Suddenly, a very strange sensation came over Harry; he felt faint, and lost all sense of direction for a brief second, as if he'd just been punched in the face. Regaining his composure, Harry then realised that room was now in complete darkness.

"What the hell happened?" asked Harry.

Harry expected to at least get some kind of response from Albert and Chris, even if they could provide no answers, but there were no voices at all to be heard, aside from his own as it echoed slightly.

"Hello? Is there anyone there?" he called out into the darkness.

There was still complete silence, which was starting to get a little disconcerting.

Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. "Lumos!"

The thin ray of light emanating from his wand cast a faint glow around the room allowing him to see what was going on. Scanning the room, Harry could find no trace of either Albert, Chris, or the boy sitting in the corner. Then he realised that this wasn't even the same room; it was some sort of classroom, although not one that Harry recognised. He didn't have a clue where he was at all apart from the fact he was sure it was still Hogwarts, due the insignia displayed on the wall, and he could still hear the muffled sounds of the storm outside.

Harry's initial thought was that he Apparated unintentionally, but he then quickly realised that was impossible inside Hogwarts. Whatever had happened, he realised he wasn't going to find out what it was by staying here in the darkness. He attempted to relight the quashed torches lining the walls of the classroom, but he was unsuccessful; there seemed to be some sort of dampening magic that was preventing him from doing so. Magic of this kind was difficult, and beyond the ability of most wizards.

Harry therefore continued his exploration using his wand to guide him, and the ray of light fell upon a door. He approached it cautiously, opened it, went through and found himself on some sort of windowless corridor that stretched out to his right and left. This didn't help to pinpoint his location either, as many corridors looked like this, especially when it was this dark. There were no portraits here either, at least none that he could see anyway.

While trying to debate which way was the best, the sound of something fragile breaking on the floor came suddenly from somewhere to his right, which decided the route for him. He slowly walked in that direction, his wand illuminated the path ahead, until he eventually came across the remains of a ceramic urn that had evidently toppled off a small wooden table nearby. Not far away from the wreckage, a small boy with sandy-coloured hair was huddled up on the floor next to the wall; the boy turned his head to face Harry as he approached, but the light from the wand, now shining directly in his eyes, made it difficult for him to see.

"Who ... who's there?" the boy asked, visibly shaking with fear.

Harry recognised the boy at once. "John?" he asked, with a mixture of surprise and happiness. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," he replied, nervously. "Is that you, Mr. Potter, sir?"

Harry went closer to John, and lowered his wand a little so that the young Hufflepuff could see. "It's me alright, John," confirmed Harry. "What are you doing down there?"

"Well," he started to explain, "everything went black, and I ended up here somehow. I fumbled around in the darkness, trying to find where I was exactly, when err ... that happened," he said, pointing at the remains of the urn, "so I sat down incase I broke anything else. Was it expensive? Will my father have to pay for it?"

Harry smiled. "I see. So it's not just me that's been affected by whatever's happened," he said, thankful he hadn't gone mad. "Well, don't worry about the urn, John. Thanks to a little magic, it can be as good as new within a few seconds. Observe." He pointed his wand at the urn, and the broken pieces snapped back together instantly. He then picked up the newly restored ornament and placed it back on the table where it belonged. "See? Good as new."

John was clearly impressed at Harry's spell-casting. "But," he questioned, "you didn't even say anything! I thought you need to say an incantation or something?"

"I'm sure you would have found out yourself soon enough, but words are not always necessary to accomplish magic," explained Harry. "Wands, and the motions involved, are not strictly necessary either."

John, unsurprisingly, looked very confused; Harry himself would have found such a statement baffling when he was that age. He tried to elaborate a little bit further, to try and make things easier to understand.

"The thing that fuels magic is the thoughts and desires of the person casting it," continued Harry. "However, magic created purely through the mind is usually highly erratic, which is why we need wands and words to help us focus it into something more tangible. I'm sure you must have already done magic just using your mind, even if it wasn't intentional."

John thought back on his life for a moment. "Does your bedroom walls changing colour overnight, count?" he asked. "That was what happened when we first moved to the house we're in now. The bedroom I was given was painted a purple colour, which I really hated. Anyway, I dreamt that we painted it a nicer colour, and when I woke up it was blue."

"Sounds like magic to me," ratified Harry. "Strong emotion, such as fear or hatred, is often a catalyst of wand-less magic. The trouble is it can also get you into trouble, like the time I blew up my aunt Marge."

"You must have been really angry with her," assumed John. "What did she do?"

"I'd rather not go into it," said Harry, uneasily. "Let's just say she said some things that were not very nice. Anyway, for a more comprehensive explanation of all this thought magic, I suggest you read the relevant chapters in your Magical Theory book."

"Oh, you mean the book written by that Albert Waffle bloke?" asked John.

"Adalbert Waffling," Harry corrected him with a smirk. "Although I bet his mates call him Waffle."

John lightly chuckled, dispelling his fears regarding the situation a little, then stood up from where he was sat on the ground, and joined Harry at his side. "Do you know what's going on?" he asked, gazing apprehensively at the darkness surrounding them.

Harry contemplated how to answer that question. On one hand, he could tell the truth, which, despite being the noblest thing, would probably leave John even more nervous than he already was. On the other hand, he could lie about it and pretend it was nothing to worry about. In the end, Harry decided on using the approach he would have rather heard had his and John's roles been reversed. "To be honest John, I don't know," he admitted. "I can assure you though, that you'll be perfectly safe in my company, and that's a promise. Just follow me closely and try to stay calm."

"Ok, then," said John quietly.

Harry set of slowly down the corridor in front of him, his wand guiding him, with John shortly behind him in tow. After a couple on minutes of uneventful exploration, he decided to make small talk.

"I take it you weren't at the party, then?" asked Harry, glancing briefly at John's casual jeans and T-shirt. "I know you probably would have made more of an effort."

"No, I didn't want to go," said John, "so I stayed in the common room with some of the others. Parties were never really my thing, and I decided to take advantage of an empty dormitory to practice a few spells."

"Oh? Does that mean you've got your wand on you?" asked Harry, hopefully.

"Yes, I have," said John, pulling it out from where it was stowed in the left pocket of his jeans. It was an unusually short wand, around eight inches long, made of oak and containing the hair of a unicorn; Harry clearly remembered the day he helped John to buy it from Ollivanders, and it still looked brand new.

"Good," nodded Harry. "I assume you must know the spell Lumos, don't you?"

"Yes, but I still can't get the hang of it," groaned John. "It works for about ten seconds before fizzling out."

Harry smiled. "Do you remember what I said a moment ago about the theory of magic?" he asked, trying to goad John into coming up with the solution himself.

John thought hard for a moment. After mumbling to himself for a moment or two, he finally came up with the answer."So err..., I need to really want to cast the spell?"

"Exactly," happily confirmed Harry. "Desire is essential for spell-casting. Since it's pitch black now, you should have all the desire you could ever need for it to work. Try it now."

John, although still looking a little unsure, readied his wand. "Lumos!"

The spell seemed to have worked correctly and did not extinguish after ten seconds. Although John's ray of light wasn't quite as strong as Harry's, it still was powerful enough to help in their exploration.

"Excellent work," congratulated Harry, giving him a silent clap. "We'll make a wizard out of you yet."

John seemed to be very pleased with himself, and for good reason. While he excelled at the more academic side of things, John had always found the actual magic part difficult, even with simple spells; this was the first time John had successfully accomplished an actual spell in front of his teacher.

With his newfound confidence in his abilities, John optimistically began to help Harry as he attempted to solve the mystery of what had happened tonight.

* * *

Meanwhile, on top of the mountain, Draco Malfoy was nearly finished with a series of powerful spells, designed to facilitate his capture of Hogwarts.

The woman, who Draco held tightly with his free arm, was admiring his spell work. She was pretty mean with a wand too, but Draco, to her eyes, was a true master. "Very nice, my love," she said. "So that's the storm spell, the relocation spell, and the darkness spell, what's next?"

"Just one more," said Draco, calculatingly. "We still need to drop the bubble-ward surrounding the school. With it still in place, there's no way we can capture the school."

"But you can do it, right?" she asked.

"A spell that will do the job is right here in the Tome of Death," said Draco, showing her the page. "But it is tricky to perform, and will require immense concentration."

"Do you want me to leave you in peace then?" asked the woman. "I could ensure that the troops are ready to go?"

"No," said Draco, calmly. "You are a welcome distraction."

* * *

Harry and John continued to walk carefully down the pitch-black corridors of Hogwarts, their wands lighting the way, still unsure as to their precise location.

"Mr. Potter, Sir?"

"Yes, John?"

"How come you never told me you were famous before I got here? From what I've heard round here, you're the most famous person in the wizarding world."

"That's a slight exaggeration," said Harry. "I am quite famous, for one or two things I did a few years ago, but I prefer not to publicise it. Anyway, I though you might have gathered that I was famous when that guy asked for my autograph in Diagon Alley."

"I guess I didn't notice that," shrugged John.

"Not surprising really. We were outside Quality Quidditch Supplies at the time and I expect you were enthralled by the new Firebolt model that they had in the window display."

"Yeah, that did look like a pretty cool broom," remembered John. "How much do you reckon it costs?"

"Too much," said Harry. "The Firebolt brand is considered by many to be the best around, and has been for the last twenty odd years. Naturally, the fact it's so good means it comes with an inflated price tag, and only the very rich, or professional teams, can usually afford them."

"So I take it you never had one then?" asked John.

"Actually, I did," said Harry with pride. "I still have it, in fact, although it's well past its usefulness now. I didn't buy it though; it was a gift from my godfather, who also left the house in Grimmauld Place to me after he died."

"You godfather sounds like he was really nice," commented John. "My godfather is my Uncle Brian, but he hardly gives me anything. All he got me on my birthday was a card," he added, disappointedly.

"Sirius was a great guy," said Harry, reminiscing back twenty years. "He wasn't a relative though, rather a very good friend of my father. Anyway, enough about the past - If you really want a broom to call your own, I suggest you take a look at either the Comet or Cleansweep models. By the way, how are you actually finding flying?"

"It's much harder than I thought it would be," moaned John. "I keep falling off. All those TV programmes and films made it look so easy."

"Have you ever considered coming along to the Seeker club?" suggested Harry. "I'm sure we can help you with your flying, even if you don't want to be an actual Seeker."

"I did think about going, but I'm always so busy with homework and spell practising, and never seem to find the time."

"Well, if you ever need help, don't be afraid to ask for help from either one of the teachers or one of your fellow house mates. Most will try and help you as much as they can."

"Ok, sir, I'll keep that in mind."

Harry and John continued slowly onwards, the faint sound of the storm reverberating in the otherwise silent corridor.

"You sure it's not just a power cut or a fuse has blown or something?" John suggested after a few minutes of uneventful exploration. "My dad always checks the fuse box at times like these."

Harry tried his hardest to suppress a chuckle, but to no avail. "An interesting suggestion, John, but I'm afraid that won't work. There's not a single volt of electricity running through Hogwarts, so there's no real need for a fuse box. In fact, there is so much magical energy around that, if it did have electricity, it wouldn't work anyway. Can you imagine the utilities bill this place would run up if it did?"

"Well that explains why the handheld games console my parents got me for Christmas doesn't work. I just assumed it must be a dud. Will it work once I take it outside of the school?"

"It should do," assumed Harry. "I've never had to test the theory myself though."

They continued onward until they came to a T-junction in the corridor, and Harry shined his wand down both directions. Going left would lead them into a featureless corridor much like the one they had come down, while in the distance down the right corridor they could just about make out a window.

They decided to take the right path with the hope that the window would be able to help locate their position. As they approached the window, it was now possible to see the severity of the storm outside. The wind was howling wildly, the rain thicker than anything they had seen before, thunder and flashes of lightning occurring every few seconds. Harry was glad he wasn't out in the midst of it.

"I don't think I've ever seen a storm this fierce," said John, wiping the condensation from the window. "I can't see anything at all outside; it's so close it looks like it's right inside the wards surrounding the school."

"There's no way this storm is natural," said Harry, "and I'm betting whoever is responsible for it was also responsible for plunging everything into darkness and transporting us to a different part of the castle."

"That's powerful magic, isn't it?" asked John anxiously.

"It certainly is," confirmed Harry, uneasily. "Controlling the weather is an extremely advanced branch of magic that few witches and wizards can accomplish. Even then it's hard work, and they can only make minor changes. Creating a storm like this is near impossible."

"Yes, it's frightfully bad weather out there," said a voice suddenly from behind them.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been casting the same spell for about ten minutes, the spell needed to nullify the wards surrounding the school, and was probably the most intricate Draco had ever seen. Aside from the lengthy incantation, which needed to be spoken eloquently, the spell required a series of precise wand movements; if any part was even slightly wrong, the spell would fail.

As a result of his wordplay and wand movements, a crackling ball of sliver-coloured energy was starting to form on the tip of Draco's wand. Once the ball was of sufficient size and power, it would be hurled at the barrier, destroying it.

The woman accompanying Draco kept one eye on the Tome of Death, checking the progression of the spell her lover was casting. "Almost there," she said quietly under her breath, as to not disturb Draco. "Almost there."

After a few more minutes, the ball of energy had grown to the size of a beach ball; it was now ready.

With one final flick of his wand, Draco sent the spell hurtling towards the apex of the barrier, where it would have the greatest effect. An immense look of satisfaction formed on his face as the spell hit its target.

* * *

Shortly beforehand, back somewhere in Hogwarts: -

Harry and John turned around in shock, and came face to face with Nearly Headless Nick, his ghostly form looking even more eerie in the darkness. Harry was no longer fazed by the sight of ghosts, but John, still a novice in the wizarding world, was visibly terrified.

"Sir Nicholas," said Harry, breathing a sign of relief. "You scared me half to death."

"Well now you know at least half of what I feel like then," smiled the Gryffindor ghost. "By the way - do you know who turned out all the lights?"

"Nope," said Harry, truthfully. "We're actually a little lost. Do you know where here is?"

"This place?" pondered Nearly Headless Nick, glancing around in every direction. "I believe this is the fourth floor, on the north side of the castle. I can't be anymore specific than that I'm afraid."

"Have you seen anyone else on your travels?" asked Harry.

"Can't say I have, no. You're the first ones since the lights went out."

"Did ... did you get transported to a different place t ... too?" quivered John, just summoning up enough courage to speak.

"No, I stayed exactly in the same place, drifting along the corridor on one of my patrols. You say you two were moved from one place to another?"

"That's right," said Harry. "I was in the temporary teacher's headquarters at the time and John was in his common room. I think it's reasonable to assume that everyone in the castle, except for you ghosts, was transported somewhere else."

"But for what purpose would that serve, aside from just being an inconvenience?"

"I suppose to get people out of the way," imagined Harry. "Maybe someone knew nearly everyone would be in the Great Hall, or thereabouts, and put them somewhere where they wouldn't get in the way. Those of us who weren't in the Great Hall were still affected, but not quite so severely."

"So everyone at the party has been trapped somewhere, then?" assumed John. "But why?"

"There's only one possible explanation," said Harry. "The school is about to be attacked. With most people out of the way, it will be an easy target."

"I'm no expert on defensive magic," said Nearly Headless Nick, "but surely the barrier will prevent them from getting through?"

"It should do," said Harry, "The barrier is invulnerable to damage, both physical and magical. The only way to get through it is by dispelling it from the inside, but no one knows how to do that apart from a few select teachers. Unless..."

"Unless what, Professor?" asked John.

A look of sudden realisation dawned on Harry's face. "The storm!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't I realise this earlier? The wards are designed to protect themselves against energy! With the energy of the storm on the inside, the wards focus their defence on the inside, leaving it weakened on the outside! A powerful and carefully placed spell might be able to ...."

CRASH!

A very loud resounding bang was heard, similar to the sound of glass shattering, causing Harry, John and Nearly Headless Nick to flinch.

"Oh, no...," said Harry fearfully.

* * *

Back on the mountain, Draco was laughing hysterically as the giant bubble ward that surrounded the castle crumbled into oblivion. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! It worked! It worked!"

"Indeed it did, my love," said the woman, happily. "It looks like we are now clear to attack."

"Then let us waste no more time," said Draco. "Come on, my love, the castle awaits our capture."

* * *

Back in the castle, somewhere on the north-side of the fourth-floor: -

"Quickly!" said Harry hastily. "We have no time to lose! We have to prepare to defend the castle!"

"But there are only three of us!" said Nearly Headless Nick. "And one of us is a ghost!"

"And I'm not good enough at magic to be of any real help," said John.

"Damn!" cursed Harry. "Alright then, here's what we do - I'll go down to the Entrance Hall, the most likely place of entry for an attacker. Sir Nicholas, you scour the castle as quickly as you can and find anyone, and I mean anyone, that might be able to help; even Peeves is you persuade him. And John, you .... err..."

"I can help search for people too, sir!" said John, hopefully. "I may not be able to walk through walls or anything, but I'd like to help in anyway I can."

"With bravery like that, John, I'm surprised you weren't sorted into Gryffindor," remarked Harry, smiling proudly at him. "Very well then. You go and find who you can; I'm sure we're not the only two people that weren't at the party."

"Yes, sir!" said John, saluting with his wand hand.

"And remember," added Harry, just as John was on the verge of running off, "if you run into anyone other than an ally, defend yourself in anyway you can. A simple spell you should probably already know is Rictusempra. Even if it doesn't work correctly, you should at least be able to slow them down a little."

"Yes, sir!" said John.

"Excellent," said Harry. "Let's get going!"

Harry ran off down the corridor to his right, which should lead him to the main stairs, where he could reach the Entrance Hall with ease. John set off in the opposite direction to Harry, while Nearly Headless Nick disappeared through a solid wall leading towards the middle of the castle.

It wasn't easy running this fast in the dark, as Harry soon discovered when he almost tripped over a stray school bag lying in the middle of the corridor, but he quickly recovered and was back on his way. Harry ran what felt like a couple of hundred yards before he finally reached his goal: The main concourse through the school, which would lead him eventually, down several staircases, to the Entrance Hall.

Harry had quickly descended two flights of stairs, which left him on the second floor, and was about to walk down the remaining stairs when -

"Potter!"

Harry turned around quickly, and looked back up the stairs he just come down, in order to see where the voice had come from. Shining his wand in that direction, the light fell upon a greasy-haired man, the sight of whom was neither comforting nor sinister.

"Potter," repeated Snape, walking down the stairs to join Harry on the same level. "I thought it was you."

"Professor Snape, so glad to see you," lied Harry. "Where did you end up when all the lights went out?"

"The girl's bathroom on the second-floor," said Snape with some annoyance. "The one that no-one ever uses."

"You mean Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" smirked Harry. "Of all the places to end up..."

"Enough of this chatter, Potter," sneered Snape, looking extremely agitated. "This is serious."

"Of course," agreed Harry, straightening his composure. He then shared with Professor Snape, his appraisal of the situation, and also described his dealings with John and Nearly Headless Nick. Snape, it seemed had come to the same conclusions as Harry.

"Then we must go, without any further delay, to the Entrance Hall, "Snape concluded. "Hopefully, the two of us can hold them back before reinforcements arrive."

Harry and Snape quickly went down the remaining staircases and finally ended up in the Entrance Hall. The hall was completely devoid of life; where dozens of students had been before there was now no-one at all. The only things remaining were the furniture, along with food, drinks, and a few personal possessions. It was clear that everyone here had been taken against their will, probably transported to a secure part of the castle.

"There's nobody here," said Harry, stating the obvious. "Where do you think they've all gone?"

"My best guess is somewhere in the dungeons," thought Snape. "There are places down there that are perfect for containing hundreds of people. Anyway, we should focus on the task at hand and worry about their fate later. I suggest we create a defensive position; on the staircase would be best, where we can gain the height advantage."

Harry agreed with Snape's plan and they went immediately to work. They levitated the various pieces of furniture into place, creating a barrier which they could hide behind. After a few minutes, everything was set, and Harry and Snape readied themselves behind the barrier they had created.

It came as some relief to both of them when a few of the torches lining the hall spluttered back into life, the dampening spell clearly starting to wear off. The light from the torches created sufficient illumination so that using the Lumos spell was no longer really necessary, so both Harry and Snape extinguished their wands ("Nox!"). The solace created by the new light, however, left them slightly unprepared for a loud pounding sound coming from the great oak doors. It was evident that someone was trying to force them open.

"Those doors may be sturdy," said Snape. "But they won't resist a sustained attack."

The waiting for the inevitable collapse of the doors was unsettling; each second the doors held felt more like a minute, and the irregular claps of thunder making it even more difficult to accurately judge the passage of time. Harry wished the doors to hold, but a small part of him wanted them to breach, just so he could end this laborious waiting. After what felt like ten minutes, the doors finally cracked, sending splintering daggers of wood to every corner of the Entrance Hall.

It wasn't long before someone entered through the large jagged hole created in the door; a man, dressed in black robes similar to a Death Eater's, came through, seemingly unaware that someone was lying in wait. Harry felled him with a well targeted stunning charm before he had time to react. A second man entered soon after, but was almost instantly dispatched by Snape.

"Resistance, sir!" shouted a man from outside the door, loud enough to be heard over the din of the storm. "They have assembled a defensive position!"

"I don't care!" irritably shouted a man back, obviously the leader of this group. "The Master has ordered the capture of the castle, and you will do as he wishes."

"But, sir!" questioned the first man. "There's people still around in there!"

"There may be one or two people still remain, but that's all! Our spy reports that nearly everyone has been safely secured! I'm sure you can handle a couple of insignificant stragglers! Now go in there now before I'm forced to do something you'll regret!"

"But, sir....."

There was the unmistakable sound of a man's last gasp of breath and slump to the ground.

"Now," said the leader of the group angrily, "does anyone else have a problem?! No? Then get in there and take out those people!"

Moments later, half-a-dozen men rushed through the broken door. Harry and Snape were only able to take down three of them before the rest managed to find cover of their own. Curses of all shapes and sizes were thrown between the two sides, neither showing an obvious advantage. The one thing the enemy did seem to have, however, was plenty of reinforcements.

"There's too many of them," panicked Harry, firing an Offensio spell at the direction of one of his attackers, just as two more rushed through the door into the hall.

"We must do our best," calmly said Snape. "The fate of the school rests on our shoulders."

Enemy reinforcements continued to flock into the Entrance Hall at a quicker rate than Harry and Snape could dispatch them. They were becoming steadily outnumbered, and the enemy seemed like they had an inexhaustible amount of troops on their side. Things were starting to get desperate, until: -

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" echoed a voice in the hall. A large china vase was thrown from the darkness above, striking one of the enemies squarely on the head, knocking him out cold.

"Peeves!" shouted a female voice. "Take cover!"

Harry and Snape took advantage of the disarray Peeves had caused in the enemy lines and promptly dispatched two of their foes. With a Poltergeist now on their side, it seemed the balance of power in the Entrance Hall had tipped more in their favour. But the battle was far from over, and it was highly doubtful that this would be the only place the enemy would try and gain entry.

Peeves continued to reign destruction from above, throwing a wide variety of items including one very large portrait of a man with a walrus moustache who wore a top hat.

"I say, that is uncalled for," the man in the picture said, as his wooden frame broke upon the head of one of the attackers.

Harry and Snape continued to battle on. A blizzard of curses flew up and down the hall; some people, perhaps, would have called the display of vibrantly coloured spells pretty, but Harry was too concerned at keeping himself alive to really notice.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, firing a stunning charm at one of his attackers, hitting him directly in the face.

Snape, almost at the same time as Harry, took down another attacker with a well-placed Blasting curse. There was no doubting it, Snape was an excellent duellist, more than a match for most men; Harry himself had fought him before, and hoped that he would never have to face him again.

Slowly but surely, the battle for the Entrance Hall was drawing to a close; The enemy reinforcements had apparently dried up, having either retreated or been taken out by Harry, Snape, or Peeves. There remained only half-a-dozen or so attackers remaining, but Harry felt confident that, despite still being outnumbered two-to-one, they would be able to win; the enemy had been of fairly low caliber, probably little more than wand fodder, to serve as a diversion while the more capable troops tried to gain entry elsewhere. After about five minutes or so, Harry's side had succeeded in reducing the enemy numbers to one; the lone man, obviously realising that he was the only person remaining, attempted to escape by fleeing through the hole in the main doors. Harry stunned him unconscious just as he was scrambling through the gap.

Snape, didn't look particularly pleased of their victory, still retaining his bland composure; Harry, on the other hand, showed his happiness openly, even though he knew full well that the battle to defend the school was far from over.

"We did it!" rejoiced Harry. "Thanks for your help, Peeves," he shouted at the ceiling of the hall where Peeves was floating about in a playful manner.

Peeves didn't answer, but instead made a rude noise and flew off deeper into the castle, not caring that he knocked over an expensive glass sculpture in the process.

"The damn menace caused more destruction than the entire squad of wannabe Death Eaters," spat Snape indignantly.

"At least he helped considerably," pointed out Harry. "We might not have won if he hadn't been here."

"He may have speeded up the process, but I'm sure we would have prevailed without his help," said Snape arrogantly. "What I do want to know, is how someone managed to persuade him to help?"

"I dread to think," thought Harry. "Anyway, we should focus on the task at hand, starting with sorting out this lot." He gestured towards the bodies of the attackers.

Snape nodded. "Indeed. I suggest we bind those that still live and secure them in the chamber over there," he said pointing out a door on the far side of the hall. "It has no other exits, and we can seal it easily enough."

"Agreed," concurred Harry. "Ok then, lets clear this lot up as quickly as possible."

Snape started first, checking whether the fallen attacker nearest to him was still alive, before securing him with a binding charm. After he had bound three people, Snape used a levitation charm to move all three into the small chamber. Harry followed suit, binding and transporting another three people.

After a couple of minutes, the two of them had cleared away most of the bodies that lay strewn around the Entrance Hall. While Snape was over in the chamber, Harry was in the hall, busy binding another man, unaware that someone was stirring behind him. All Harry heard was the cry of a curse being cast.

"Detrimentum!"

Harry, with his mind focussed on the task of binding, didn't react as quickly as he should have done. After quickly crouch-diving to his right, Harry quickly drew his wand and turned around to face his attacker. The violet-coloured ball of energy flew past his left-hand-side, just as Harry retaliated. "Stupefy!"

The attacker, a man who had just about managed to pull himself up from the ground, collapsed back down. After breathing a sigh of relief for such a close call, Harry then realised that there was someone else up and about; standing in the ragged hole of the doorway stood a figure dressed in a heavy winter coat. Harry instinctively pointed his wand at the new arrival, ready for further combat.

"Tut-tut, Harry," teased the figure, who spoke with the soft voice, belonging unmistakably to a woman. "What's the first thing they teach you in Auror training? Never turn your back on the enemy, even if you think they're unconscious."

Harry knew who that voice belonged to instantly; there was no way he would have forgotten, having been haunted by the mere memory of it for the last fifteen years. Harry tried to think of something witty to say as a retort, but the shock to his system made him unable to do so. In the end, he just said, "Err ... Hello, Felicity."