Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Chapter Thirty — Right the Wrongs

"Arise our hero

Judah save us, Judah save us!

Prize so dear, victory gave us

Freedom gave us truth!"

-Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Hayo Haya"

Saturday, November 15, 2003

Early on Saturday morning, the preparations for battle had begun. Only half a dozen children remained at Hogwarts, though a group of refugees the size of Hufflepuff House had taken over the school. The teachers patrolled the hallways and planned offensive tactics with the witches and wizards willing to aide in the final battle. Madame Pomfrey gained Ginny Weasley’s help in stocking the infirmary. The charms and wards on the building were finally completed, dampening magic in all but a few select rooms, to keep an attack from taking them all by surprise.

And in a small conference room, the corners and center of the spell sat down to work. A projected map of the Hogwarts campus was displayed atop the table, and Minerva paced, pointing at features as she went. "He won’t want to battle on the Quidditch field, too open. He could come out of the forest, right? Over to this field near the lake... but the lake is full of our allies, the merpeople would destroy any Death Eaters who fell in..."

Harry was drumming his fingertips on the table as McGonagall paced, while Hermione played with James, Ron spun his chair in circles, and Remus Lupin glared at Harry’s noisy fingers in aggitation. Hours of planning had produced only a few ideas and no certainties. "Did Riddle play Quidditch?" Harry asked quietly.

Minerva stopped short, jerking around to face him. "I... I don’t know. I was born while he was at school here. Albus would’ve known." She winced, as if it was her fault that Dumbledore was no longer able to impart his knowledge.

"Hermione, why don’t you go down to the trophy room and check the Quidditch plaques for the fourties and fifties?" Harry asked. "I’ve got a theory."

"I’ll go," McGonagall countered. "I can’t stay here any longer. Waiting is driving me to the bloody brink of insanity." She spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, though not before grabbing the back of Ron’s chair and hissing out, "If you don’t stop spinning in that sodding chair, it’s ten points from Gryffindor!"

Ron watched her receding back and the slamming door of the conference room with a bewildered look on his face. "Did she just threaten to take points?"

"Did she just say ‘sodding’?" Lupin countered. "I’ve never heard her say that before. Bloody hell, I’ve never heard her say ‘bloody’ before!"

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned over to keep James from rolling off the table. "Everyone says ‘bloody.’ Except Americans, and they’re certainly an odd lot. Hermione, how much have you been feeding my son? He’ll be as heavy as Dudley by the time you’re through with him!"

She stuck her tongue out at him in as immature a manner as she could muster and dragged the boy into her lap. "You certainly weren’t looking after him. And since Ron got sick of playing babysitter, guess who’s taken the place of surrogate Mum?" she shot back rather nastily.

At Harry’s wince, she started to apologize — but he beat her to it. "Mione, I’m sorry about that. You’ve been doing such a wonderful job. If I’d known you didn’t want to -"

"Harold James Potter, not another word. He’s absolutely adorable and better behaved than any child of a Weasley would be. I’m just worried about you both." Hermione shifted the baby in her arms, tickling his sides gently.

"James doesn’t have a godmother. Be his godmother?" Harry burst out, shocking even himself with the abrupt request. "He didn’t have one, before," he felt compelled to explain, "mostly because of what happened to Sirius. I was afraid that Rach and I would die and it would happen all over again, though it really seems like a load of bullshit -"

It was Hermione’s turn to wince. "I’ll do it. Gladly. Just... why now? What made you bring it up?"

Harry shrugged. "Tomorrow, I face off with Voldemort. There’s no guarantee that any of us will survive." Ron paled a bit at the statement and looked down at his hands, followed by an uncomfortable grunt from Remus. And then there was a thick silence, the severity of their situation dampening any happiness or nervousness that might have resulted from the request in any other time.

"Need some help?" a new voice asked from the doorway. George shot a hesitant glance in his brother’s direction before slipping over to take a seat next to Hermione. "There’s not much to do out there that someone’s not already doing. A few of the Aurors are off getting the older residents up to par on their curses, but they refuse to let me near them. Not that I’m surprised."

Hermione shot him a questioning look, but he shook his head. Before she could press the issue, Harry jumped in. "We’re just trying to decide where Voldemort will likely attack. Minerva’s checking a few things out. Until then... Professor Lupin, what have you been doing since Sir- um, since I left?"

Lupin paled slightly at the mention of his friend, but shook it off. "I’ve been teaching Defensive Magic at Beaubaxton. Madame Hagrid sent me up as soon as she heard the news. About you, I mean."

"Madame Hagrid?" Harry glanced around blankly.

"You were gone," George offered, pulling James into his lap. The baby squealed and waved his fists around happily. "Hagrid and Madame Maxine married. He Apparates over to France after hours. Or he would, if we weren’t under siege here. We ARE under siege, correct?"

Harry stared at George blankly. "He- Hagrid got married?"

"Yes, George, we’re under siege," Remus finished, rolling his eyes at Harry. "Honestly, Harry, you haven’t bothered to talk to Hagrid since you returned, have you!"

"He won’t speak to me." Harry shrugged and turned back to business. "Madame Hooch nearly got hexed off her broom while she was flying patrol over the Forbidden Forest this morning," he continued, as if he hadn’t just proclaimed that one of his closest friends refused to look him in the eye. "Since the tunnel from the Shrieking Shack was closed up, I assume the others were too?"

George gave a start, glancing at Lupin for help. "The... Honeydukes’ tunnel? Please, tell me someone remembered that one? It exits near -"

"The Trophy Room," Hermione finished, a look of horror spreading across her face. "They’re going to try to take Hogwarts through the tunnel."

"And Minerva’s there now," Remus added, launching himself to his feet and out the door. Within moments, Harry found himself abandoned, wand lying uselessly on the table. No magic, no help. He sunk deeper into despair, despite the child smiling up at him.

~

By the time Remus reached the hall, he could hear the shouts and screams. Had they misjudged that much? He caught sight of several black-robed figures clustered outside of the Trophy Room and heard shouts of spells. He thought he heard Minerva’s voice shouting back, but couldn’t see her in the mass of people.

There were residents of Hogsmeade there, too, fighting alongside McGonagall. George dodged around Lupin and shouted a spell at a Death Eater immediately, plunging into the fight as his Auror training demanded. The force of Death Eaters didn’t seem to be growing any smaller, nor did the number of defenders decrease.

And then Remus remembered. Magic dampener on the hallways. He dashed forward and punched the nearest hooded figure in the face, sending the man toppling to the ground due to the extra strength given to him by his curse. There was a moment of confusion, and three more downed Death Eaters, before everyone caught on to what he was doing.

In mere moments, the attack had become a fist fight little more coherent than a bar brawl. He lost track of whom he was punching and how many were rolling on the ground in pain from his werewolf enhanced strength. There was a familiar voice calling orders from nearby. Pushing his way through the crowd, Remus pulled abreast of Minerva. "Where’d they come through? Only wands as weapons?"

"It was the Honeydukes’ tunnel, Minerva, I forgot about it completely," Lupin apologized. "If there are any other weapons, they haven’t been used." He shoved a Death Eater away, putting his bulk between the enemy and the Headmistress.

With the Death Eater knocked away, he had a moment to try to see how the battle was proceeding. It was chaos — dozens of people smashed into a corridor which should normally hold only a few students, all fighting for their lives. There were too many people wearing black, and he couldn’t tell whether they were Death Eaters or defenders. Lupin noticed George and Hermione fighting side by side before forcing his attention back to the Death Eaters near to him. With each man who fell, it seemed a dozen took his place, a seething mass of hooded black robes swarming from the tunnel.

Lupin pushed forward, toward the tunnel exit, in hopes to shut it before another round of combatants could emerge. His way seemed too easy, until he realized Minerva was at his side, helping him push through the punches and duck the attacks. Remus found himself slammed face-first into the wall and elbowed his attacker in the ribs, only to look up and catch sight of another Death Eater slipping out of the tunnel.

A Death Eater holding what looked suspiciously like a Muggle handgun.

The Death Eater swerved and pointed the weapon at the nearest defender, and Remus watched in shock as the man crumpled to the ground after a loud explosion. There was a scream from somewhere and Remus threw himself at the Death Eater, stopping him his only objective.

But someone else saw him first. He felt someone grab him around the middle and throw him to the ground, and looked up into a blank-faced Death Eater mask. He spared only a moment’s glance before looking over to the cloaked figure with the gun.

The gun fired again and Remus yelled in pain as something lodged in his gut, something that burned like fire. He stared at the barrel of the gun in sheer panic as the Death Eater steadied his arm to fire again.