Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

Into Viktor's agonized groan, Harry was already moving. Maybe it turned out useless, maybe the crumpled figure of Samantha was just a dead corpse, but you couldn't be sure, not with something as unprecise as gunshots. Harry's hand grabbed his friend's shoulder.

"Ron - I'm going to catch her, and I need your help. One nitro ball over their heads - not too big, for God's sake, nothing to hurt her. And then smoke balls, clouds, everything - c'mon!"

Ron's ball came up.

Harry sent it forward, downward, feeling deeply grateful for the reliable quality of his friend's nitroglycerine balls, for the fact that they'd trained multi-layer charms so hard, until Ron could master balls with a fuse inside.

The ball, smaller than Lousy's leather ball, shot away and raced toward the group. It seemed almost too far behind when it blew up with a flash, the resonant bang reaching the tower more than a second later.

No, it hadn't been too far behind, quite the opposite! The group down at the ground hadn't recognized yet the Squad members high up on the tower and seemed to believe they were attacked from behind; they had gone down, seeking cover from an unknown attacker, as could be watched from their twisting and looking around.

"And now smoke balls - cover me!" Harry was about to jump upward.

Ron's face showed a desperate grimace. "I don't know how to make smoke balls! I'll come with you - water and nitro's all I can offer." He was mounting his Firebolt.

No time to argue ...

"Harry - I can make smoke balls, if you can shoot them." Ginny's voice sounded strangled, her eyes wide open, her face - scared as hell, and still ...

"Okay - c'mon."

Jumping, Harry realized that Rahewa was already up. She hadn't waited for an invitation - small wonder, there hadn't been any, never would have been. Too late.

"Now, Ginny."

It took her a second, in mid-air and busy with the accelerating Firebolt, then a black shape erupted from her wand and shot forward, barely faster than the speeding broomsticks.

The shape wasn't round at all. It didn't matter; Harry's spell grabbed it and sent it forward like kicked from a Giants' leg, right into the middle of the large spot in which figures were pressed to the ground, looking here and there, almost aiming toward each other.

Harry found the time for shooting a steam ball - water until it reached the ground, exploding in a cloud, soft compared to other means, but the steam kept hanging in the air for a few seconds, blocking the view, and this was all that counted now ... And if the heat would burn some faces, if the steam was peeling skin from their cheeks, blinding some eyes, even better.

Then Ginny's next pile of smoke came out, quickly slowing down in the air, and Harry sent it forward.

Ron wasn't bothering with water balls - he left this type completely to Rahewa, who kept sending one after the other onto the figures closest to Samantha's body, with astonishing speed and great accuracy. Ron was shooting nitro balls, small ones, aimed toward the air above the spot, keeping them flat, blowing up with impressive bangs, blasting the dark smoke across the area.

---

Harry dropped all thoughts of balls and guns. He dived down - a short glance along the closest figures in their army dresses, none of them an immediate threat, no gun aiming at him, not with the wet bullets that came every few seconds from Rahewa, then his attention was at Samantha.

Never before had he dismounted that fast. He was at her, sensing, finding a small, wavering flame of spirit in that motionless body. Blood on her chest, astonishingly little. He moved his hands under the bundle.

Samantha opened her eyes. "Harry - you're really mental to come. Too late, I'm afraid." A shadow of a smile.

"Shut up." Harry took her, praising every minute of hard training with Kenzo and others: Samantha was no lightweight, felt heavy, but was lifted nonetheless, hung over his shoulder - a step, and he was back at his Steel Wing. And now jump! No matter if double weight and more, and this wonderful broomstick did, Harry was up, just enough to steer over ground, keeping low to use the cover from the whirling clouds.

There was another bang behind him, followed by sharper, lighter reports. So they had finally started shooting.

The small flame of life in the body on his shoulder seemed to flicker and was about to fade.

"STAY ALIVE!"

Harry was shouting with his mouth, with his mind, with all his senses, except those required to steer toward the entrance.

Something picked at his back. There was a moment of pain like from a piercing needle.

He ignored it - whatever it was, it couldn't be serious, there was no part of his mind free for checking, not while he fighted in keeping a weak spirit alive, and reach the door - where a figure was watching, saw him coming, and opened the door just at the right moment to let him pass, fly through, passing the Entrance Hall, reaching the Great Hall, passing it also, to dismount already close to the staircase that led to Madam Pomfrey's rooms.

"Don't you dare to die!" Harry stormed upstairs, his mind aching from a desperate grip at a small flame which would have been gone moments before, had it been on its own, and his muscles unaware that they were working beyond their limit. Somehow, somewhere he gathered the strength for a few more seconds.

There was the door to Madam Pomfrey's territory. He went inside - there was the doctor witch, and she had a table ready.

Harry bent forward and caught Samantha's weight in both arms, then he laid her on the table - not too gently, not when a head banging onto wood was less important than his mental grip around the tiny remnants of life in this body.

"... okay - leave her with me."

"Can't ... she'd die ... have to keep her." He couldn't say more, and only with pauses in which his mind was too busy to speak.

It seemed enough. Madam Pomfrey lost no time and was already tearing open the blouse.

Harry closed his eyes, put his hands around Samantha's head, and fully concentrated on the task of keeping this body alive, holding a tiny spirit which seemed to wait for the first instant of missing attention to disappear.

Someone pushed a chair under him. He sat down, then the world around him was gone.

---

The weak spirit seemed amused. 'Harry, why bother? There's a new world waiting on the other side.'

'No.'

'Ah, c'mon - don't be so stubborn. You're violating the rules, you know that? I'm supposed to be gone, for quite a while already.'

'I don't know such a rule.'

"Of course you don't - you're alive. This rule isn't made for living people.'

'You can tell me a lot.'

The spirit continued arguing and presenting more reasons - its body had ceased to function, was no longer a base of existence, a space in which to live. Harry behaved obsessively, to no avail, sooner or later, he would have to admit -

'Then use a sphere - it's bodiless.'

The spirit found this very funny, seemed to laugh, teasing him. In an inexplicable way, this spirit appeared totally different from Samantha and had its own perception of things. Later, thinking back at this episode, Harry's only explanation was this, he hadn't talked with Samantha, who was lying unconscious, her mind somewhere else, no, this animated dispute had been fought with a deeper layer. And this understanding would open a door ...

But here and now, Harry kept ignoring commands and pleas, arguments and jokes, desperately holding this little bit of life which was very ungraceful, not appreciating at all how he refused to let go.

'Harry, you just can't see reason.'

'I've heard that before.'

The spirit seemed to listen. 'Well, then, for the sake of peace, and because things are looking somewhat better now - I won't go, Harry, you can let it drop.'

Was it a deception? But a moment later, Harry felt a rush of power in his opponent - partner? - a wave of new energy, nothing to get excited about, just enough to be alive without his help.

'It's okay now - thanks anyway.'

---

Slowly, carefully, as though releasing cramps in his mind, Harry lowered his mental grip to come awake. He opened his eyes.

Madam Pomfrey, in a white overall, pretty blood-stained, was working at Samantha's chest, which also was bloodier than before and showed an opening considerably larger than the small hole from the bullet.

Then she registered Harry's open eyes. "So you're back. That just fits - she's back, too."

"How's'she?" With surprise, Harry noticed his trouble at speaking, his tongue feeling too heavy to be moved.

"The worst is done. I'm not really a surgeon, but I had to open the chest. Normally it's impossible, because this is no high-pressure room here - the lung wings deflate instantly, and that's it, after a few seconds. But here - don't ask me how, but she made it through. I've closed the chest a moment ago, and the rest's common business - don't worry about all that blood, looks worse than it is."

Harry nodded, too tired to speak.

Madam Pomfrey examined him closer. "Hold on, Harry - I'm with you in a minute, when this mess is cleaned a bit."

"Hm fine." Probably so, except he couldn't even get up from this chair.

Then Madam Pomfrey stood before him, a glass in her hand. "Drink that, Harry."

"Hs it?"

"Something to keep you alive - you have a magic burn-out syndrome, the worst I've ever seen; gives me some idea how Samantha managed."

Harry sipped a bit - enough to find the strength for more, to gulp it down. A taste like chocolate, only burning stronger, maybe like chocolate with brandy in a fifty-fifty mix, nothing he'd try voluntarily.

His tongue seemed to work again. "Hot stuff."

"I bet." Madam Pomfrey examined his back. "Okay, Harry, come over. Sit down here and drop your shirt."

"What? ... Why?"

The witch laughed. "In case you didn't notice - there are a few holes in your back. It's just birdshot, by the looks, but your shirt's done. Can you manage, or shall I cut it from your back?"

Harry took off his shirt and inspected it while Madam Pomfrey was busy in his back. He twisted when a short pain came through, to hear an angry, "Keep still!"

Clank ... clank, and a third clank. Next moment, the witch showed him a surgical tray with three tiny pellets. "That's it - I closed the holes, it wasn't deep. And now, Mr Potter, you'll lie down for a while."

"No - no time." Harry tried to rise, suprised about his staggering feet.

Madam Pomfrey grabbed him and half pulled, half pushed him into the next room and to a bed. "It's not because of your back, that's harmless, but a burn-out syndrome - I'd send you into your own bed, except you won't stay there. Lie down."

It wasn't a bad idea, just to lie down for a moment, on this wonderfully smooth ... Harry was off before finishing the thought.

* * *

He came awake from a gentle hand at his shoulder, and from Madam Pomfrey's voice. "Harry - get up, it's suppertime, and some food's more important for you now."

Suppertime? He had slept through lunch and through the afternoon. Then he was fully awake. "How is she?"

"She's fine - no, she's sleeping now; try later ... Yes, I'll let you in." The witch smiled. "Get yourself something to eat."

Madam Pomfrey was right. Until Harry had reached his dormitory to change into a new shirt, his stomach had already started groaning in protest. But something else felt more important, although the Gryffindor table was the right place for both. And there they were, alive, apparently unhurt, thank God - Ron, Ginny ... where was Rahewa?

"She's okay, Harry, we reached the tower without being hit. How's Samantha? Where have you been?"

"Samantha's alive; she'll be okay in a while. I had an - er, burn-out syndrome, whatever that is, from helping her. Where's Rahewa?"

"I think she'll be here any minute - calm down, she's okay, really, nobody's hurt for all I know, except Samantha, of course. Burn-out? What's that?"

Hermione answered. "Magic burn-out - something like a circulatory collapse, except it's the magical power, not the body. Pretty dangerous, and highly unusual." She glanced at Harry. "What did you do?"

"I told her not to die." Harry explained a bit more about Samantha's injury, and what Madam Pomfrey had done while he was holding this spirit, draining all his power.

Hermione looked at him, then looked at the table. "I'm ... I'm glad she's going to make it. She was crazy, walking out to those bastards. The others tried to stop her - Lupin, McGonagall, but she said - she said you never know, unless you've tried."

Ron made a solemn face, and his voice resonant. "A woman has to do, what a woman has to do."

Harry giggled. "Yes, that's her. Tell me, what's going on now, how does it look outside?"

Ron explained that the Muggles had placed themselves in a ring around the school, keeping cover, shooting every now and then - it could be heard even from their places when a shot hit one of the steel blinds that protected the windows.

But the Muggles kept distance.

"At the beginning, they tried to come closer." Ron looked satisfied. "Then Lupin and Snape sent them a greeting, and I helped with a few nitro balls. Since then, they keep where they are ... It's a bunch of cowards, really - but of course, one step outside, and you'd be dead."

Harry wasn't listening with full concentration. Rahewa hadn't arrived yet, for him reason enough to feel worried. He interrupted his friend.

"Say, when did you see - "

He stopped himself: here she came, indeed alive and unhurt, although not looking well. With any other girl, Harry would have sworn she had stopped crying a minute before, but Rahewa? Impossible, except - no, there was no way it might have to do with her mother ...

And now she saw him - and twitched!

Harry dropped his fork, was up, and reached her. "Rahewa, are you okay?"

"Harry ..." She had really cried, and would do it again any second now. "Lousy ... they shot Lousy - he's dead."

"How - " He stopped himself, then walked with Rahewa to the staircase and out of sight. "What happened?"

"After we were back in the school, I ..." Rahewa sobbed. "It took me a while until I remembered that nobody had taken care of him. Then I went into the Entrance Hall, but the teachers didn't allow me to open the door." She looked pleadingly. "I wanted to call him, Harry, but ... Then I went into the southern tower, to check from an embrasure. Professor Snape's holding guard there - he said ..."

Rahewa's voice broke, then steadied again.

"He saw it. Then I wanted to have a look, and he asked me if I'm sure, and I said yes, and he said but only a moment, before they start shooting at us. I'm ... I just didn't think of him in time." She was crying again.

Harry took her. "Don't blame yourself. We've been too busy saving Samantha, and we did ... I think she forgot, too, was too preoccupied with her job in the Entrance Hall."

---

They kept in the staircase for a while, none of them showing any intention to be seen in public with reddened eyes.

Then Harry gathered himself, which felt simpler from one second to the next while burning rage was superseding sorrow and misery. He cleared first his own eyes, touched the girl.

"C'mon, Rahewa - let me straighten your face."

Smoothening the swollen skin, he said, "When this is over, we'll bury him near Hagrid. That's the best company for a dead dog I can imagine."

Rahewa looked at him. "What are you going to do, Harry?"

"What do you mean?"

The dark eyes stared at him. Then she said it aloud. "You know what I mean."

Harry nodded. "I'm not sure yet."

"Let me come with you."

Harry took his time, to recheck what he had checked already before. "Not this time, Rahewa - mostly because you have no Invisibility Cloak, and without that, it would be a suicidal task, even if you'd paint your Firebolt as black as my Steel Wing ... And there's another reason - you'd kill them, but you're too young for that."

"No I'm not."

Harry didn't smile. "Not for doing it, I know. But for living with it."

They returned into the hall - Harry hadn't finished eating, and Rahewa hadn't started at all. When he sat down, Ginny asked, "What's with Rahewa?"

"Lousy's dead. He's been shot, and she was blaming herself for not thinking of him in time."

Ginny turned to her brother. "Ron - if you enter a tower and watch through the embrasures, I'm sure you'll find that they came a bit closer. Go and send them a big nitro ball - and if the size and the distance together is too much, wait till Harry's done here."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that has some appeal."

Hermione said, "There's a teacher in every tower, holding guard. And even if not - if they hear the explosion, everybody'll know who to ask. There aren't that many students who can throw nitro balls."

Ron looked at Harry. "She's right. We'll use acid, that's silent - the ball, I mean, not the Muggles where it comes down."

"Really?" Hermione was looking fierce. "Charlie didn't say much, when that ball came."

Ron's face turned white. He stared at Hermione, then, without a word, stood up and left.

Hermione looked at Harry. "What are you - hired killers?"

Before Harry could answer, Ginny hissed, "You should train your bearings, Hermione. The hired killers are outside - maybe you realize it when they've shot Viktor." She left, too.

Hermione's cheeks were burning. "Crazy, altogether ... The strategy works so well - one teacher wounded, that's all, and just because a dog was shot nobody will miss but - " She stopped, suddenly remembering how this wounded teacher had come across the dog. Her entire face turned dark red. Next moment, the face was hidden behind her both hands.

Harry swallowed the remark he'd planned, and took the time to sense a bit more. "You're scared, right?"

"And what if I am?" Hermione's voice sounded shrill. "If this here's getting out of hand, some people will go out and fight, and Viktor'll be in top front - only he's not as lucky as you. If I had known what you were doing, you and Ron and Ginny and Rahewa, I'd still be screaming. It's a miracle you came back alive - such things only happen with you around, Harry."

"It's no miracle. We had the surprise on our side. And besides, I was even hit."

"You were hit??" Hermione seemed ready to scream now.

"Just a bit of birdshot - three pellets; Madam Pomfrey took them out."

Hermione looked miserable. "Harry - please, please don't start a one-man war. One day more, or two, then they'll be gone - they have no standing, they're cowards - "

"Cowards are the most dangerous ones. And what I'm going to do - I'll wait a while, and then I'll have a look at Samantha. Hermione - go find Ron, and tell him you're scared as hell, and that this was the reason for your remark."

Hermione didn't protest, only her expression made it clear that right now she was dreading this idea more than the lunatics outside.

"Try his office."

Hermione nodded, then looked alarmed at seeing Harry's head nod toward the staircase and his encouraging smile. However, she rose, straightened her shoulders, and walked toward Canossa - to be found on the first floor left.

* * *

No, he wasn't going to start a one-man war. But then, he wasn't going to sit idly either. First of all, though, he was going to see Samantha.

"Come in, Harry." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "She's still asleep - if you want, you may wait here ... And if you don't mind, you could tell me what's going on outside."

"They're shooting every now and then, and we just keep hiding - that's all, in a way. You should know better - aren't there any other cases?"

"Remus got a few splinters in his face, from a bullet bouncing off the wall." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Could have been more dangerous, but it was the right side - I mean only his glass eye was at risk."

Doctor talk - not Harry's favourite, but this doctor had saved Samantha, so he did some conversation with Madam Pomfrey for a while, part of his mind absent, watching, until this part stopped him in mid-sentence. "She's coming awake."

Madam Pomfrey grinned. "You should stay here, Harry - seems the best solution for you and my patients together. Give me a minute, then you can talk with her." She left the room, and was back shortly afterwards. "All right - she's weak, but fine."

Samantha looked incredibly small - not at all like that broad-shouldered woman Harry remembered, and her blonde hair had darkened from sweat. She looked - vulnerable.

Harry stepped closer and sat down on a stool. "Hello, Sam - I'm awfully glad to see your eyes open."

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Harry ... Poppy told me that you saved my life."

"Then she's confusing something. It was her who put you together again."

"Unlike Humpty Dumpty, huh? Which means she's not a king's horse. When I heard this rhyme the first time, I thought it was funny. And now ..." Samantha spoke slowly, with pauses in-between to catch breath. "I've found out how Humpty Dumpty must have felt ... It's not funny at all."

"You'll be your old self in a day or two."

"Not quite, Harry. You don't forget something like that. And I remember a weird dream ..." Another brief smile. "Someone was talking with you - wasn't me, somehow, but I was listening. You're a very stubborn young man - I mean, thank you ..." Samantha looked as if ready to cry.

"Hey, Sam, don't shock me - you'll be okay, it's just your current weakness."

"Yeah, probably ... You were crazy, absolutely crazy - "

He stopped her. "If so, then I'm in good company, just here in this room."

Something like wondering crept in Samantha's eyes. "Well, not really. It should have worked, Harry. Did almost, until ..."

"What happened, Sam?"

"We were talking. They were playing soldiers - demanded that we surrender. I said I'll tell inside ... Then this guy stepped forward and shot me."

"What guy?"

"The one you caught - the same who had shot at you." Samantha grimaced. "Harry, I've got a lesson: first shoot, then ask."

---

Watching him, she had seen something in his face, something that raised her concern. "Don't have funny ideas, Harry. Poppy told me nobody's hurt ... Leave it like that."

Then she saw something else. "It's true, isn't it? ... Say - did somebody help you? I could see only you."

"Yes, we were four, but relax - they're okay, all that happened were three pellets of birdshot in my back."

"Four ..." An expression of disbelief appeared in Samantha's face. "They must be still crazier than you. I can guess one, maybe two ... Who's the fourth?"

Harry smiled. "Ron, Ginny, and Rahewa: Ron for the nitro balls, Ginny for the smoke balls, and Rahewa because nobody could stop her. But without her shooting, we wouldn't sit here and talk, Sam."

"No." Samantha smiled too. "I always had a lucky hand in meeting the right people - well, with that exception, of course. But that was your acquaintance, Harry."

Again, something in his expression worried her. "There's something else. What's wrong, Harry? ... No, tell me right now, not knowing is worse than - "

"It's Lousy. He ... they shot him before we could take him inside."

Samantha closed her eyes. It didn't help, some tears were welling up through the closed eyelids. Then she said, "I'm so sorry ... It's my fault; I didn't do it in time."

"Rahewa said the same. Don't blame yourself, Sam ... The three people who would have done it were too busy - you were shot, Rahewa was fighting to save our back, and I was - er, keeping you."

After a moment of silence, Samantha asked, "How did you do it, Harry?"

"Very simple: I came, grabbed you, and - "

"You know what I mean."

Yes, he knew. "I'm not sure. On the way back, I could feel how you were about to - to go, so I shouted at you. I mean, not in words - you know, I did it before, sending some mental energy to other people. And - well, I knew, the moment I'd let go you would be ... So I kept there while Madam Pomfrey was doing her work. It was ... I was talking with something - it wasn't you - er, I mean, not your mind. Then, at some point, I could feel fresh energy ... That's all."

The crying had apparently cleared away something in Samantha. There was a little sparkling in her eyes. "Harry, you've found the answer to the impossible question."

"The what?"

"The impossible question. Never heard that? It goes, 'What's more intimate than sex?'"

Harry blushed a bit.

Samantha smiled. "To be honest, sex is more fun ... But even so, I won't complain."

* * *

No, he wasn't starting a one-man war. It had been started already, and if this was no war, then it would be difficult to explain the difference. And one-man was wrong, too, assuming these street rats outside could be called men. Except that now, the term field rats suited them better, heehee, because they were lying on the ground, or on a stripe of canvas, or they had dug holes in the ground in which they could sit or stand, covered from the school.

Lower than a house rooftop, Harry was gliding along the borderline which formed a ring around Hogwarts. He was hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, which covered himself as well as most of the Steel Wing, leaving only the tail fin exposed. Altogether, Harry was practically invisible against a dark night sky.

His vague ideas about some action had culminated to a specific planning. It had happened when he'd heard from Samantha how she'd been shot. So the others had seemed surprised and angry? Well, he was more than angry, remembered a characteristical signature in his haragei, and if he would sense that signature somewhere down there, somebody was in for a surprise.

Provided this lunatic could feel surprise. Insane, that was the only explanation. Unpredictable - not even his fellow maniacs could rely on his behaviour, as Samantha's description had shown.

This insanity gave Harry some trouble. What if he found him? He couldn't kill him, not such a clear case for high-security psychiatry. In a way, it was nonsense, unlogical, but ... He couldn't, period.

Then what else?

Harry didn't know yet. Maybe the question wouldn't arise - maybe he wouldn't find him, because the lunatic was no longer part of the besieging people, or somewhere too far away from his ring-shaped course, or he was sleeping, and his mind pattern might feel totally normal during sleep.

Although Harry sensed not much of sleep down there. Excitement about doing the real thing, sobering up because it was cold and dirty and uncomfortable, frustration from a school which had - simply and literally - shut tight. Like a hedgehog curling to a ball, needle-sharp spines to the outside.

Like dogs, barking madly at such a tiny fortress, they had shot at window blinds and other prominent spots of the outer walls. This had been in the afternoon - and now it was night, and cold, and this war already lasting some hours.

At least it didn't rain.

Harry felt glad about the weather too, more glad about a night close to new moon, clouds covering most of the stars. And if really someone detected a moving tail fin - he would be warned by somebody's startled mind. However, it was unlikely - at night, staring at the same spot for longer than a moment, you could imagine almost everything.

Low murmur, every now and then. And there - a group, discussing louder than the others. If they had a tank with a cannon, they'd show those damned wizards what it meant to hide in an old building, erected at times when arrows and spears were the weapons against which to protect, astonishingly well suited for this type of siege.

A tank, huh? But they hadn't.

For a moment, Harry was musing how wizards could fight against a tank - a large piece of metal, to some degree clumsy. Metal would be vulnerable, against spells, that was. A tank alone would be an easy target, while with people outside, it would look different -

He almost missed the single source of anger and frustration, mixed with tiredness. But then it was unmistakable - this wavering, these quick changes of emotion ... The lunatic.

He had found him.

And the man was alone, not part of a group. Maybe because of his unthoughtful doing, maybe the others couldn't stand his company anyway, or he couldn't theirs ... It didn't matter why; important was only that it would simplify a task that looked already difficult enough.

And now?

A stunning spell made quite some flash, unfortunately. Almost every spell gave a visible sign, come to think of it. So that was out of the question - and no sound either, because sound would be carrying far in such a quiet night.

That left just one alternative: aikido - the art of combat without weapons, without light, without a noise.

---

Harry memorized the vulnerable spots learned from Kenzo, where pressure would block the blood support to the brain, would cause unconsciousness within seconds ... Until then, he had to suppress every shout, every cough - but with direct contact, he could help a bit with his mind power.

No haste ...

Waiting in the air, silently, motionlessly, he caught the mood, the surrounding, his mind melting into the scene, his getsumai no michi registering contours, details, for more than fifteen minutes.

Then he moved downward and forward like a falling leaf.

Only feet away, Harry touched down. Dismounting in one long step forward, he was at the man. His hand pressed over a mouth that had been about to open in surprise and horror, while his other thumb found the soft spot behind the ear and pressed hard. At the same time, his mind formed a deafening, muting shockwave.

A choked cough was all that came out. Then the tension in the body faded, and Harry could feel how the muscles were slackening. The body slumped down, with his own body following.

Carefully, he draped his Invisibility Cloak over the figure and himself, then he sent his "Stupefy", half a whisper, his lips touching the wand.

Done. The genuine unconsciousness could fade, and would so within the next minute.

First-aid charms for transportation were too noisy and made too much light. But Harry had gained experience in carrying bodies over his shoulder, only hours ago. The man felt lighter than Samantha, which was just good because Harry had to move him under the cloak.

Careful now ... if he'd step on dry wood at this moment - there was his broomstick, he had it, was up, was in the air.

Harry gained height behind the line of enemies - the safest method as none of them were checking behind, and if so, then just the ground, not the air. The man's weight on his shoulder caused him trouble while steering; his natural balance for climbing was out of reach - otherwise, he would have heeled over from the weight. Even so, climbing as slowly as possible, the muscles in his stomach were aching.

With sufficient height, Harry crossed the ring-shaped front line again, reached the tower, and spiraled down to the platform - empty at that time of the night.

He touched down, dismounted, and dropped the weight, slightly gentler than a bag of potatoes. Then he sat down behind the stone railing and - for the first time since the last hour out of the firing range - stripped off his Invisibility Cloak.

Looking at the motionless bundle, he realized that his decision had been taken the moment when he'd shouldered the unconscious body to climb up. He would deliver the man to Samantha ... Maybe first to Lupin, as long as Samantha was still out of combat.

It made him feel better.

---

It would be interesting to hear their comments. Of course, he had violated a rule - okay, an unspoken one, nobody had explicitly said that it was forbidden to fly through the air in full view of a hundred guns, heehee, which was some excuse, should one be necessary. But more important - he could deliver a result, and results had a way to justify the methods.

Harry manacled the man with a tying spell, moved him to the wall near the door, and finally destunned him.

With a groan, the man came awake, looked around, and saw Harry - sitting two steps apart. His eyes widened. "Dirty Harry?"

"Yes, it's me. I found you, and caught you."

Another look around. "Where are we?"

"This is a tower of the school. If you'd look down, you could see your cronies - at daytime, I mean."

"They're not my cronies - a bunch of dirtbags, they are, stupid fuckheads - "

"Whatever - for us, you're all the same, except that you're here now. I could have picked any of them, but it was you who shot our teacher."

"Did I? ... Yes, right, that woman - stupid bitch, standing there and - " The words drowned in a pained moan.

Harry stopped his spell. "Watch your language! In the morning, you'll meet her - and this time she'll have her wand, only that I forgot to catch your gun too. It'll be a bit unbalanced, but that's just fine - and I'll watch, and I'll relish every second of it."

A sneering grimace. "You think you're great, huh? Think you've got me, and can tell me what to say, and not to say. A wet fart you have, you." The man struggled to get upright.

Harry didn't move. "Keep down. If someone sees you from below, they'll think you're a wizard and will shoot you."

"They won't hit a barn door if it's banging in their face, them." The man walked to the railing and looked down. "Assholes ... can't shoot, can't listen, can't get anything straight - "

"Sit down! We don't need all attention on this platform."

"And what if I don't?"

The man's voice was mocking, reminding Harry of scenes between him and Draco Malfoy, except they had taken place when they were first and second-years.

Next moment, the man had jumped up onto the narrow railing. For a moment, he kept balancing with his hips, due to the tied arms, then he had steadied. "See - I can do what I want."

"You bloody ..." Harry rose to catch the man - Viktor would give him hell if the Muggles realized that this spot was a good target.

"Fuck you, Dirty Harry!" A sneering - the man's last, because he turned and jumped, headfirst, into the dark.

Harry suppressed the urge to come forward, to look down. Frozen in mid-step, he listened - with his ears, his haragei - until, after two endless seconds, he heard the muffled sound and felt the instant when a broken neck cut a pattern which would waver no more.

* * *

To some degree, it was like vacation, only that inside the school buildings there was a permanent nighttime, with the windows tight and candles providing light. But classes stayed cancelled, with all teachers positioned at some stratetic place, should the Muggles start something other than lying in cover and shooting every now and then - probably more from boredom than with any hope for hitting someone.

And - according to Dumbledore's principle in times of a crisis - there was food offered all the time.

So Harry had no trouble finding a late breakfast, after a night which had been short - first because of his hunt for a lunatic, then because he'd been sitting up at the tower platform, finally because he had done another flight under his cloak, this time not hunting a person, not hunting at all, actually, as his targets didn't move, didn't escape, wouldn't move soon either.

He was sitting almost alone at the Gryffindor table, which was just fine as it saved him from the decision what to tell, and whom.

Then he went to reach Madam Pomfrey's territory, still unsure how to handle the issue toward Samantha. All he knew was that she should hear the story. Entering her room, he found Samantha chatting animatedly, with someone he'd never guessed, not in a thousand years.

Snape.

Samantha beamed at him. "Hello, Harry - say, have your ears been tingling?"

"Huh?"

"Severus was just telling me stories of Hogwarts - your father played a role in some of them."

Harry looked at Snape, perplexed. "That's funny - he never bothered to tell me."

Snape had a dry smile. "I'm very selective with my audience, Harry."

Harry turned back to Samantha. "You look an awful lot better than yesterday."

"Tell you a secret, Harry - that's because I feel an awful lot better."

"That must be the company."

Samantha laughed, while Snape, to Harry's astonishment, blushed a bit. Then Samantha said, "He's been shot too, Harry."

"What??"

Unbelievable - Snape turned red. "It's nothing - no more than a bruise, no comparison to Sam's injury."

Sam? ... Very interesting.

And only now, Harry recognized Snape's left shoulder, looking swollen under the shirt, apparently from some bandage. He glanced at him questioningly.

"It's ridiculous, Harry, really. I've been playing in the open with all the dark wizards for so long, and nothing happened. And here - hiding in a tower, watching through an embrasure, and guess what - didn't I catch me a lucky shot? Clean in, clean out - Poppy put it together in a minute, nothing serious, really."

Even so, Snape showed no intention of leaving Madam Pomfrey's sanctuary. However, he moved his arm to show that he wasn't badly hurt.

Harry said, "So at least some of them can shoot."

Samantha looked less joyful than a moment before. "Maybe it was the same."

"No, it wasn't."

And only when two faces turned to him, Harry realized that this remark had been none of his brilliant ones.

---

"As you know for sure." Samantha's voice wasn't questioning at all.

"Erm - yes."

"Because you took care he won't do it again."

"Not quite - he did it by himself. He jumped from the tower."

"Yeah, sure." Snape's voice was thick of sarcasm. "Got lost, somehow, what with the darkness, and the unknown territory, and made a wrong step - slip happens, every day again - "

"He knew what he did!" Harry explained how the lunatic had found his way up to the tower, and how he had found another way down to the ground.

Snape looked at Samantha. "That's our Harry, son of James - and Lily, not to forget; this stubbornness must come from her side, because even James was obedient in comparison."

Harry stared at him, a fire glowing in his eyes.

"Don't look at me that way," muttered Snape, with a slight hint of guilt in his voice. "I'm telling only the best of your parents, while you ... Dumbledore will be delighted, hearing that story."

"No he won't." Samantha's eyes met Snape's. "Because he won't hear that story, right?"

Snape shrugged, then grinned. "My lips are sealed, but so what? Sooner or later, someone will find a corpse outside, and then - you know, Albus doesn't even need to know that he was the one - he can count with his own fingers, really, he can."

"So?" Samantha smiled. "He's counting a lot, if nobody is around watching."

Somehow, for some reason, two faces were again glancing at Harry, for him reason enough to blush. Then Samantha asked, "What did you have in mind with him, Harry?"

"Well - I thought I'd bring him to you, I mean once you're up again."

"A present!" Samantha laughed. "I'm flattered, Harry, really, I am. And what did you expect me to do with him?"

"I don't know - it was just ... He was insane, I mean literally, you could feel it - er, in his mind, I mean. And somehow, I was blaming myself that you've been shot, that's why - "

"What nonsense is this?" Samantha looked genuinely upset.

So Harry had to confess that he had met the man in the Giants' camp, without following her advice. "I just couldn't - not him, and yesterday night it was the same, so I thought maybe you know what to do - and then he was too quick for me."

Samantha waved dismissively. "Gone and off - for the better of all, I'd say ... Harry, this story isn't suited for public, but I'm really pleased - there must be some dark, vindictive streak inside me, a real surprise, that is ..." Her face showed little surprise, and considerable pleasure.

"Well, then ..." Harry stood up, to wave goodbye and to leave, after a visit that hadn't gone quite as expected.

Two faces followed him, as if waiting until he had closed the door.

* * *

In the late afternoon, a noise from outside gave Harry reason enough to storm upstairs to the tower platform as fast as his legs would carry him, to find Viktor with his binoculars, following the origin of that noise.

A helicopter.

The metal bird was flying low. It had inspected the place with the tents and the cars, as Viktor reported, and was now turning a slow circle around Hogwarts - very much following the same course Harry had taken a night before.

"Dumbledore notified the Muggle government," said Viktor without dropping the binoculars, "I think that's the response."

Harry snorted. "Very impressive."

Viktor stared at him. "Some people have a look before they start acting, and some of them are Muggles. If I was the commander of a task force, that's exactly what I'd do - sending an explorer to hear what's going on."

Harry eyed through a hole in the ornaments of the stone railing, clearly a better alternative than exposing a head into the visible range. "Viktor - there's movement, some Muggles are walking." He made room for Viktor who put his binocular toward the hole.

"Yep." Viktor grinned. "These bastards know exactly what's going on. The helicopter means, pretty soon they can expect some visitors - official ones, Muggles. Harry, they're walking to the camp - the rats are leaving the sinking ship."

Harry grinned maliciously. "They'll find a lot of water around."

Viktor hadn't listened, maybe because some other Squad members were just arriving at the platform. He continued reporting. "Yes, the first of them have reached the cars. They're packing - no, they're standing around, looks as if they're discussing something. It's strange, none of those cars has left so far - maybe they're waiting for the others."

Harry didn't think so.

For a while, nothing new was happening. More Muggles reached the camp, but neither would any of them drive away, nor could Viktor report the appearance of some official forces.

One after the other, the Squad members left the platform, among them Harry, leaving back only Viktor, who was staying for his own curiosity as much as for his official duty - in both aspects contrary to Harry's own situation.

Then it was supper time, and still no sign from the Muggle government.

Harry was discussing the situation with Ron and Hermione. "For what I can see," he said, "the Muggle government's reaction is even slower than that of our own ministry. Remember the Battle of Hogwarts - we've been waiting for help, only it never came."

Ron wasn't sure. "They've sent a helicopter ... Maybe it takes that much time, or there are other places where those troops are required - more urgently than here, the people in the helicopter could see that we're not at risk. Or maybe something has stopped them."

The latter was a possibility, in a way a very realistic one, still - Harry didn't think so.

"There's yet another reason possible," said Hermione, "and that's the most likely one - the Muggles don't really want to catch them, all they want is to end the fight. So they leave enough time that those people can get lost, before the cavalry appears at the scene."

Ron looked at her. "Is this your thought or Viktor's?"

It earned him a cool glance, telling Harry that his friends were on speaking terms, up to some point, and below a certain temparature. "Maybe we think the same - that happens sometimes, you know."

Harry couldn't suppress the remark. "Does it?"

Ron looked from one to the other, recognizing only that he'd just witnessed an exchange, fully aware of every word said, without registering the message. But something else worried him more.

"Then why don't they leave? Until a few minutes ago, not a single car has left the area."

Hermione shrugged. "Could be they know quite well how the police or whatever they'll send is proceeding, and there's enough time. I guess the others will come in the morning, which leaves the entire night to disappear - unnoticed by anyone. That's how I'd do it."

---

Her assumption was pretty accurate. Next morning, sooner than planned, Harry had to get up - Viktor wanted the complete Squad ready, should there be some action required from the Hogwarts side.

Although it didn't look that way.

A Muggle task force - anti-terror units, as they learned later that day - had arrived at dawn, with three helicopters, dropping figures in heavy combat dresses almost simultaneously all around Hogwarts, plus a convoy of trucks which appeared near the camp. The task force scanned the area and collected a few people - the others had obviously used the time to disappear.

Without their cars, though.

Then, after a long while, some figures in combat dresses came to the building, to talk with the teachers inside. Meanwhile, Viktor had some trouble to keep his Squad at bay - they wanted to fly around, watching the action, while Viktor considered this as the last thing on his mind.

Up on the platform, groaning every now and then, they could watch how the greater part of the task force left on trucks, taking with them the attackers they had found. They left behind about a dozen anti-terrorist fighters, with jeeps, tents, and two trucks, easily distinguished from the civil cars which still were standing at the same places as two days earlier.

Light streamed into the buildings - the blinds had disappeared. This alone raised the mood quicker and stronger than the events outside - there was no haragei needed to notice. In the afternoon, Dumbledore called the entire school to a short meeting in the hall.

"My dear friends," he said, "I'm glad to tell you that the time of fear and danger's over - Hogwarts is free again. Nobody from the school was killed; we had two injuries, both of them without permanent damage - obviously a confirmation that we had the proper strategy" - the Headmaster smiled - "regardless of the voices who had objections in the beginning. As of tomorrow, we'll have regular classes again. In two days or so, the school will be open as before - which means you can walk outside at your convenience. Our Flying Squad will have to do patrol duty still for a while - just to be on the safe side, and as an early warning system - the same system which has saved us from serious casualties some days ago. I thank you all for your efforts, for your courage, for your patience - I'm proud of you."

The applause would have been louder, and longer, hadn't there been quite some questions. "What about those people outside?"

"These are official forces, detached to protect us. Mr Pritchard is their commander. He told me they will stay for the next two days, should some crazy soul have the idea to come back."

"How many of the lunatics did they catch?"

"About thirty, as Mr Pritchard told me. We assume this is less than a quarter of the number that had been surrounding our school."

"What will happen to them?"

Dumbledore had a short grin. "I didn't ask Mr Pritchard this question because I know that he has no answer to that. The official situation between Muggles and wizards is still very unclear - and compared to some other places, what happened here was relatively harmless."

"Why did they leave their cars behind?"

"Very simple - they couldn't use them any longer. Mr Pritchard told me that each of those cars is sitting on four perfectly flat tires, and that nearly every window pane has disappeard. He wanted to know how this could happen, but I couldn't give him an answer, because I don't know."

Surprised laughter, and another applause.

Harry was busy watching Dumbledore's face, halfway expecting to meet his eyes, while the Headmaster kept looking somewhere else.

But two other faces had turned to him. Hermione said, "It's surprising how little this news has surprised you, Harry."

Ron said, "No, not at all. Disappearing panes - for Harry, that's old stuff, he did it already at the age of eight - er, I mean, he did it himself at the age of eight. Right, Harry?"

Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore's voice caught their attention.

"Mr Pritchard told me something else. They found a dead Muggle, just before the school. Apparently, this Muggle tried to climb the outer walls, to attack us from inside. At some point, he slipped and fell down, breaking his neck. This is something like poetic justice - the only casualty in the entire story."

"That's not true." Harry felt reasonably upset.

Hermione watched his face. "So you know more?"

"It's not true that this was the only casualty - Lousy's dead; doesn't he count?"

It wasn't the answer Hermione had expected. Even so, she had the decency not to comment on that, and not to ask again.

Harry reached the teachers' table, to have a look at Samantha, who had been dismissed a while ago by Madam Pomfrey. "Hello, Sam - everything okay?"

"Yes, Harry, thanks for asking - only the weightlifting will have to wait."

"You lift weights??" Snape, sitting next place, stared at Samantha in disbelief.

"Not particularly, no. Maybe Poppy had the impression, but as far as I'm concerned, the weights can wait forever."

Harry felt pleased, hearing the original Samantha sound for the first time after the shot. "Say - what about a new dog?"

"Well ..." Samantha looked a bit embarrassed. "Let me think it over, Harry. For now, it's not an option. The hut is uninhabitable - they've shot so many holes through the walls, you might as well sleep under the open sky. Besides, I wonder why they didn't burn it to the ground."

Snape said, "I'd guess they had no ammunition to set it on fire."

Samantha nodded. "Anyway, the hut's a mess."

Harry asked, "So you move inside?"

Samantha beamed. "Yup. Winter's coming soon - let's see next spring what to do with the hut."

Yes, the cold weather in this northern part of England was certainly one reason for a big Texan girl to look for a warm and cosy place inside the thick walls of Hogwarts. Harry wouldn't disagree with that, feeling sure that Snape, sitting at her side, wouldn't disagree either.

* * *

The next day, immediately after classes, with the last daylight fading, three people met outside for a final ceremony - Harry, Rahewa, and Samantha. The hole in the ground was ready, also the wooden crate - not a real coffin, however the surface neatly polished.

Rahewa protested, when coming to see that the crate was already closed.

Samantha shook her head. "It's better that way, honey. He's been hit by more than one bullet - when he was dead already, I mean, probably because this was the only visible target. Those bullets ... Keep him in memory as he was alive - complete, joyful, and so incredibly quick."

Rahewa nodded, her eyes already brimming with tears.

Using two ropes, Samantha and Harry let the crate sink down into the ground. Then Samantha looked down.

"You've been left behind by your former people, and you've been left behind by me ... I'm sorry, doggie-boy. I was your boss, Lousy's boss, and I did a lousy job - please forgive me."

With an angry movement, she turned aside, her back toward Harry and Rahewa.

Harry touched Rahewa's shoulder, indicating that it was her turn.

The girl stepped forward, her voice thick with tears. "Farewell, Lousy. If nobody takes care of you there, don't give up, just hold on. I know someone, in a little while, who'll check whether you're okay ... Bye, Lousy."

Samantha had turned, looking sharply at the girl, relaxed a bit at registering Harry's signal, no longer caring whether two students could see her tear-stained face.

Then Harry looked down at the small crate.

"Lousy, we didn't have much time together - my only comfort is, you've been the happiest dog I ever saw. If you meet Hagrid, say hello from me. And now, watch - that's my goodbye for you."

He held the leather ball on his fingertips, had his wand pointing, his mind concentrating, then inhaled deeply to gather his full force.

"VOLITOLLITE!"

He felt the pain in his fingertips while the ball shot up, up - up into the evening sky, a slight bend toward the Magic Forest, without sloping more, until even the sharpest pair of eyes had lost contact.

Rahewa left, not wanting to see how the soil was falling onto the crate, how the hole was filling.

---

When a small pile of earth marked the dog's grave, Samantha turned to Harry. "Say, what did she mean? For a moment I thought she ... I was quite worried she'd do something ..."

Harry explained whom Rahewa had in mind with her goodbye, and that she had been realistic - for the earthly side of things.

"So that's why. It's horrible - Harry, a shot's more merciful than that, dying for months and months. By some accident, I know what I'm talking about."

Harry took the joke for what it was - Samantha's way of cheering up. Then he took his courage.

"Sam, when the time comes ... I'm looking for a new place for her, spoke with my lawyer. I'm talking about adoption - I can't do it myself because I'm too young, according to the law."

"Did you find someone?"

"There are some candidates."

Then Samantha saw his face, saw how Harry's eyes met hers, and understood ... and gasped. "My God, Harry - it's quite a step from a dog to a girl. Although, I wouldn't know anyone who'd match Lousy's character that much. He didn't know what's fright, nor does she."

"I'm just asking, you know ... Spinbottle said, it should be settled beforehand; it would simplify the legal proceeding."

"What makes you think I'd qualify for that?"

"Remember the day when you found us here? It was ... the way how you talked with her. Sam, you're not the only candidate - if that's nothing for you, just say it. It's just - you know, she's not suited well for the faint-hearted, so ..."

Samantha glanced at him. "You're not for the faint-hearted either, Harry. Erm - can I have some days before answering?"

"Sure." Harry grinned. "To be honest - I feel easier, now that I've asked you."

"Yeah - only, somehow, the burden's moved to the other side, huh?"

They walked back to the building. Reaching the entrance, Samantha stopped. "Harry - I have to think it over, and maybe I have to check something. But if bad comes to worse - if your other candidates would shy off, I won't let her stay out in the rain ... That's all I can promise for now."

"That's a lot, Sam - I'm grateful for that." Harry smiled. "By the way - I wouldn't be surprised to hear that your checks turn out promising - er, that's just a guess ..." His voice trailed off, fading under a hard stare.

Samantha cleared her throat. "You won't, huh? ... Awfully good to know."

Harry grinned. "I thought as much - that's why I said it."

"Yes, I bet. This is none of your business, young man, and besides, you didn't strike me as the most objective guy in this context, so just keep your nose to yourself, okay?"

"Will do, although - okay, I'm not objective, but to quote someone else, I'm telling only the best - I mean, should I ever be asked."

Harry made a quick side-step, to show his beaming smile from a safe distance. These Texans had a way - would hit him first, and ask then.