Transition

The Gryffindor team waited anxiously for Ron Weasley to lead them to the Quidditch Pitch. Harry, with his emerald green eyes, followed the captain’s movements as the tall redhead paced the entire length of the changing room. The Gryffindor Seeker could scarcely believe that this was going to be his last game of Quidditch.

Time had passed so quickly that the wintry months were transformed into sun-filled spring days. Every hour that passed seemed to fill Harry with something like dread. Three more months and, if he had done well in his exams, he would be graduating from Hogwarts. He brushed away his feelings and focused on Ginny instead.

She had become rather formidable as a Chaser after her fifth year. Harry thought it might have to do with her fears of being trapped inside, as well as all the practices the team had. The red-haired witch, with her long mane braided with the help of Hermione, was fiddling with her protective gloves, until Jessica Valden, a fourth year witch also playing as a Chaser, rapped her lightly with her Nimbus Two Thousand. Ginny grinned nervously and put on her gloves. Jessica in turn made sure that the gloves were fully secured before patting the girl’s shoulder gently.

“You know, there should be courses on how to manage your nerves,” Ginny remarked as she stood, too hyperactive to remain seated.

“Too late to start now,” Harry said dryly.

“For you oldies, perhaps, but it would be damned useful to us!” Jason Wall and Frederick Giles – third years playing Beaters – added.

“Come on team. Let’s go!” Ron finally announced, handling his Cleansweep Eleven nervously.

The group trooped out of the changing rooms like a group of trained guards. Harry watched Ginny in puzzlement when the witch moved away from them and started jumping up and down.

“Have you lost your mind?” her brother asked in a strained voice.

“No … I’m just one-hundred percent anxious!” the girl panted.

“Get your nerves in control, Ginevra! We can’t afford to lose!” her brother admonished. “It’s mine and Harry’s last year here and we – ”

“– want to leave school with the memory that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup!” the rest of the team chorused. Harry wondered idly if the people already seated in the stadium heard their response.

Ron, who looked pale, took a deep breath. “Right. I’ll make sure that Ravenclaw doesn’t get too many Quaffles in.”

“We’ll see that your flight is unencumbered by troublesome Bludgers,” their Beaters intoned.

“We’ll make sure to throw enough Quaffles through the enemies’ loops,” their three Chasers announced with grim determination.

“And I,” Harry said brightly, “will make sure that Ravenclaw’s Seeker doesn’t get the Snitch. I will make sure that I won’t catch the Snitch until we are leading Ravenclaw by at least twenty-five goals.”

“All right team!”

“LET’S CONQUER THE AIR!!!” the Gryffindor team bellowed.

The game was reaching its fortieth minute and Gryffindor was ten points ahead of their blue-robed rivals. Nightingale Everglade was tailing Harry as he led her through a wild goose chase. It really came as a surprise to the raven-haired wizard that she played Seeker to Ravenclaw.

At the last possible moment, he pulled up hard and watched Nightingale’s figure blur as she outdistanced him. Then he commanded his Firebolt to go higher, to fly around the pitch for a glimpse of the Snitch. His instincts were telling him to track the hummingbird-like ball.

He slowed as he passed the Slytherin crowd and smiled gently when he noticed the one person in that particular group who followed his movements. He flew swiftly about the stadium in his search for the Snitch.

He was quite far from the Slytherin stands when his skin prickled and his instincts screamed ‘danger’ to him. All of a sudden, there was a brief flash of silver. As though his broom had a mind of its own, he was already flying towards Draco. His eyes suddenly sighted on a golden blur and fighting his instincts, he made a quick dash for it. The Golden Snitch was flying so close to the ground that Harry had to be extra cautious not to be tricked of its real distance by the sandy ground.

His feet nearly touched the ground and the pillars that supported the stadium were looming even closer. The Snitch rose several feet higher and Harry was on it like the hunter he sometimes was. He had already closed his fingers over the Snitch’s fluttering wings when a great roar shook the air. His eyes shut in reflex as great clouds of sand exploded upwards.

He forced his Firebolt to back up and heard Madam Hooch blowing her whistle dimly. Harry could hear the restless murmurs of the audience but the sounds quickly became lost when the screams started. As one, Harry and those mounted on broomsticks gained altitude in a few seconds. The Ravenclaw Beaters and Ginny were in front of him, and they were watching the sea of green and silver in wide-eyed horror as the stands started to wobble.

Harry stared at the rising dust in disbelief and watched as the pillars supporting the Slytherin stands shattered in an eye-blink. It was over in only a few seconds, and when the clouds of dust settled the second time, all he could see was rubble. Reflex took over and he reached for his wand. Others had followed his example and the clear blue sky rapidly became dotted with angry red fireworks; they had called for help.

Reality finally sank in Harry’s mind and all he could think of was Malfoy. “Draco!” he shouted unthinkingly and flew to the ghastly site of broken wood, torn banners and muffled screams of pain.

Students from the other three Houses, the professors and Ministry officials that had attended the Quidditch Finals converged on the area at an amazing speed. Some of them were already helping the professors to clear the pile of rubble around the edges, while the Headmaster instructed Madam Hooch and the flyers to lift the massive wood block at the center.

Harry’s mind whirled with panicked and fearful thoughts. Alarm continued to gnaw at his soul even as he worked with the rest to lift the debris, forgetting completely about the Snitch he had unconsciously kept in his pocket. The group worked until more of the Ministry’s employees arrived and Tonks signaled them to halt.

“Mister Potter!” Harry barely recognized the rough voice. He looked down and saw Snape waving his arm, standing beside Kingsley Shacklebolt and a somber-faced witch he did not know. He landed several feet from the three and approached them anxiously.

His knees were shaking but he ignored them. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment and when he reopened them, he was looking directly into Snape’s beetle-black ones. If Harry was in the grips of horror, the Potions Master looked as though he had seen hell. His shoulder length hair was messy, his pale cheeks smudged with dirt, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, but his eyes - his eyes looked desperate and haunted.

“Yes, Professor?” Harry asked hoarsely. He heard several people coming up from behind him at a run. Ron skidded to a halt beside him – Harry could hear him pant from the exertion.

It was the tall and dark Auror who answered. “Listen – I want you and your friends, Snape and Raveneye,” Kingsley indicated at the grim-looking witch, “to scout Hogwarts perimeters with her people. Another batch is combing the castle – Professor Grubby-Plank is going to round up the owls and help them.”

“How about the Forest?” Hermione’s voice asked. The girl sounded like she was suffering from a very bad throat.

“We’re splitting up,” Snape growled. At that, seven witches and three wizards separated from the throng of people working to get the victims out from under the rubble and joined them. Among them were Professor Lupin, Starkmind, Bluestone, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody.

“Raveneye, Lupin, Tonks, Moody and Snape will be your leaders. Divide yourselves into groups of five,” Kingsley continued. “Tonks, I want your group to be mounted on brooms – I want you to check west of the castle. Moody, your group will scour south, right up to the station. Rave – take east, Lupin northeast and Snape north. Hagrid has already gone to the northwest with Firenze. Be careful.”

Harry numbly removed his hand-guards. “Hey Tonks,” he called to the Metamorphmagus weakly. “You need a broom – take mine. Be careful with it though … it’s the only thing that reminds me of Sirius.” He knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop himself. “I’m going with Snape.”

Snape got three other people almost immediately. Ron and Hermione immediately volunteered after Harry made his choice. Starkmind joined them without a word, but gave his ex-colleague a challenging look. The other groups quickly formed up and separated to the directions Kingsley had set for them.

Harry walked slightly ahead of the rest, which was unusual since he had always preferred to be the rearguard, as he often joked with Ron. He did not want to see the measuring gaze from the red-haired Weasley, and he cursed silently for crying out Draco’s name. His heart gave a painful squeeze at the image the name invoked in his mind.

“I’m changing,” he said aloud.

“What?” he heard Snape hiss, but ignored the Potions Master and took on his Animagus form. He loped off and dashed in between the huge pine trees that separated the Hogwarts school grounds from the Forbidden Forest.

“Wait up, young wolf!” Starkmind called and Harry could feel the earth tremble slightly as the half-Veela struggled to catch up.

Harry felt his chest vibrate with a low growl. He wanted to howl his fear and frustration but his ex-lover seemed to know of the turmoil he was suffering in silence. A gentle caress on his muzzle and neck soothed him a little, but only a little. He sat on his haunches and swiveled his head in the direction of the three stragglers, restraining the urge to claw at the ground.

He smelled Snape before the wizard came into view and Harry caught a whiff of fear. I wonder what he fears. Does he fear my form, or is he worried about his students? he ruminated. He felt restless and started prowling about – the human equivalent of pacing. Ron accidentally stepped on a twig and it broke with a loud snap. Harry winced, for the noise sounded amplified to his sensitive ears. Crows perching on the tree branches overhead took flight in fright.

He whined his desire to hunt, looking desperately at Starkmind’s face. The chestnut-haired wizard looked down at him with sympathy in his dark blue eyes.

“Go, Remarkable One. Start the hunt,” Starkmind said with authority just as Ron, Hermione and Snape reached his side.

Thank you, Elaviel, Harry thought hard at the wizard. He turned around and sniffed at the ground. He scented the faint musk of squirrels but that was all. They needed to go deeper into the forest.

“Starkmind, take the rear,” the Potions Master instructed.

The group of five wizards – one had turned into a black-furred wolf – spread out and searched the forest for strangers.

“It could have just been an accident – they didn’t need to go into so much trouble trying to find the culprits,” Hermione said softly.

Harry flicked his ear towards her but kept his eyes in front of him.

“Well … what if this was no accident? And how did the supports just collapse? I thought they were strengthened by magic,” Ron pointed out.

“Mister Weasley and Miss Granger,” Snape hissed. “Be silent. If the culprits are out here, you have warned them of our presence.”

A new scent warred with the familiar odors of centaurs, Harry’s companion, and other forest creatures. It did not belong to Hagrid or a stray unicorn. It smelled human and it was weak – possibly injured. The wolf’s slow and deliberate stalking transformed into a run. Blood. He had scented blood.

Harry slowed when he felt that the ground was sloping downwards and saw the tangled roots that had broken free of the earth. There were stones everywhere, and he wondered if the person in flight had lost footing and hurt himself. The smell of blood was more prominent now, and he paused. He looked for the most likely way the culprit would have taken to go up to the other side. He carefully placed his paws among the roots, feeling the ground carefully. Then he finally came upon flat ground and found a pile of jagged rocks.

He circled it, continuously sniffing the air. It was easy to see how a man on the run had fallen; he probably took it for granted that roots were the only things in his way. Some of the roots were rotten and broke easily. He analyzed the odor of the place and to his surprise, scented more human musk. They’re all male.

Snape and the others carefully made their descent. Harry changed into his human form. “Fresh blood. Human blood,” he added before Snape could question him.

It looked as though the Potions Master was about to make a snide comment but thought better of it. Instead, the black-robed wizard handed his wand to a bewildered-looking Ron, and took a small capillary tube from a pocket-sized kit that included small test tubes, as well. Snape carefully placed one end of the tube over the surface of the small blood droplet. Sampling done, he placed the capillary tube inside one of the test tubes and put a stopper on it.

“The breaks on the roots are fresh,” Starkmind observed. “Whoever is running is a male, of about seven feet tall. Thin but strong-boned.” He pointed at a spot behind Snape. “Caught his foot there, tripped, and in pure reflex, protected his face with his hand.”

“So he injured his palm,” Hermione added her own observation. Starkmind nodded.

“And sprained his right foot,” Snape concluded and stood up, taking his wand from Ron’s grip.

“Then he probably can’t go that far, unless he had help,” Ron said.

“He did. I smelled three other people,” Harry answered. He went into his wolf-form, braced himself and jumped onto higher ground. The others took it as a signal to follow him. Again they prowled, but finally came to a path, probably made by the group of people they were hunting. The warning growl that escaped from Harry’s throat surprised his four other companions.

“I told you they’d have people searching for us,” a voice said grimly. “Interesting that they have a hound with them.”

“They won’t be leaving this place alive.”

Harry wanted to sink his sharp teeth very badly in the second man’s throat, but knowing that the man was probably a wizard made him cautious. The slight rustling coming from the bushes alerted him that a confrontation was inevitable.

Laughter rang out from the screen of man-height brush, and four men stepped into view. Harry and Snape snarled angrily when they met a familiar face. The leader of the group was Lucius Malfoy.

“Lucius,” Snape hissed, his pale face showing his surprise.

Lucius Malfoy merely laughed and pointed his wand at the Potions Master. His stormy-grey eyes looked dead and unreadable. Harry knew what he was going to do. He lunged at Snape, knocking the professor off his feet as the Killing Curse flew into the air and hit a tree instead. Harry bared his teeth, warning the senior Malfoy to back off with a menacing growl. However, the wizard remained standing in his spot, and pointed his wand at Harry instead. The wolf lunged forward and clawed at the man’s chest. Someone knocked him away with a Blasting Curse and then there was an exchange of spells.

Harry limped away quickly and hid behind a tree, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. His skin tingled as the air several feet in front of him crackled and a fifth man Apparated into the vicinity.

“Darcy’s here, Malfoy! Leave them to him!” the first voice shouted.

Danger. It filled the air like pungent smoke. Harry was torn between wanting to go to this Darcy or to his friends, but he turned back. An anguished howl broke from his throat when he saw Starkmind’s bloodied and unmoving form. Snape too, was unconscious. The stranger came closer and Harry saw he was holding a strange box in his hands.

“A wolf. What are you doing here?” The stranger called Darcy asked. He smiled sickeningly at Harry. “Go. Stay if you want to die like the rest.” The man let out an ugly cackle. “It’s too late though. This is revenge in its sweet form. They wanted to hurt the Slytherins, because Voldemort was one and one of their own died because of him. But I want you all to die, because you helped the brat kill the Master.”

Harry paced back and forth, making sure that Darcy looked at him and not at Ron and Hermione, who were trying to pull Starkmind and Snape closer. This man is insane … and he is one of the Death Eaters. The box…. Darcy was still cackling madly when the wolf realized what the man was going to do. Bloody hell! This is a suicide attack. His wolfish eyes grew wide in horror and he immediately dove for the wizard.

“Too late to help them, wolf! Too late! Feel the Killing Curse at its best! The Dark Lord could not kill Harry Potter with just one bolt! But now–!” The box in Darcy’s hands exploded and harsh golden light enveloped the wizard. Harry did not even realize that he had turned human again as he tried to think of a spell to create a huge enough shield. The light was slowly expanding outwards.

“Harry…” Hermione whimpered and he whirled around. Her eyes were wide and streaming tears; Ron looked shocked. We are all going to die, Harry thought.

He walked towards them and dropped to his knees. He reached out and took Hermione’s hand while the other took Ron’s. He watched their faces and he grew cold. He could feel the energy building and when it exploded, Hermione and Ron had closed their eyes. He didn’t. I love you. He cast the thought at Ron, Hermione and Draco. There was a flicker of movement above him. He wanted to look up but found that he could not move a muscle. Then he was burning. Am I going to burn to death? He doubted the Flame-Freezing Charm could help him. Something sharp sank into his shoulders, and he screamed in sheer agony.