A Surfeit of Wands

Chapter Six: Red Sky at Night

Harry lay where he had fallen, clutching his Cloak around him, one foot still in the rabbit hole that had tripped him. There was a sharp pain in his left leg and he wondered if he had sprained something. Stupid, he told himself, stupid. What a stupid way to die.

'Where are you boy?' The Death Eater's voice was soft and enticing as he paced to and fro across the bracken. Harry knew that the man had seen him fall, knew that he had a rough idea where Harry was, despite the Cloak. It could only be a matter of time before he was discovered.

'Imperio.' The spell missed Harry by inches and he felt it wash past him, felt the sudden brief surge of desire to do whatever this man commanded... and then it was gone.

'Come here, Harry. There's a good boy. Come to me.' The Death Eater extended a hand in a ghastly parody of friendship, and gave an encouraging smile. After a few moments, the hand dropped and the smile was replaced by a scowl and a curse. Despite the tension, Harry grinned under his Cloak.

The grin vanished abruptly when the Death Eater raised his wand again and, with a muttered 'Incendio!', set the bracken ablaze less than a foot from Harry's face. He forced himself to remain motionless, eyes fixed on his opponent as the flames flickered and went out. Harry made a mental note never to complain about wet bracken again. Small fires flared up and died around him but none were any closer than the first.

The Death Eater was still pacing systematically across the bracken. Harry knew he would have to do something. If he stayed where he was, discovery was inevitable. He was just as likely to get caught if he allowed the Death Eater to flush him from his hiding place - a panicked attempt at flight would be disastrous.

He looked around for inspiration. In the field beyond the yew tree, another black-robed figure was approaching, and there were others beyond that one. He could not take down the man in front of him without revealing his position to several others, which would certainly be fatal. He needed a distraction.

Moving infinitely slowly, Harry pulled his wand from the pocket of his jeans, careful not to make any sudden movements which might dislodge the Invisbility Cloak. Without moving his head, he let his eyes range left and right, taking in everything in view. The sheep stared blankly back at him.

The sheep. The sheep.

Careful to keep his outstretched arm under the Cloak, Harry pointed his wand at a large rock balanced on top of the drystone wall. He closed an eye to sight along the wand, knowing he would only get one chance at this. 'Reducto,' he mouthed, and the rock disappeared in a silent explosion, showering the sheep in dust and small pebbles. The animals panicked and scattered, bolting in all directions.

'Over here!' The nearest Death Eater whirled and ran towards the yew tree. 'He was here!' Seizing the moment, Harry jumped to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction. Twisting and turning like a snipe, ignoring the pain in his leg, he ran for a short time back down the hill, hoping to mislead his pursuers, but when no shouts or spells came flying after him, he stopped and began to make his way upwards again, towards the circle of standing stones. Arriving at the brow of the hill, he looked around wildly, but there were no Death Eaters in sight. He stumbled towards a heap of fallen or discarded stones and flung himself down upon them, covering himself with the Cloak and trying to steady his uneven breathing.

--

Hours passed. Once, Harry looked at his watch, only to find that it had broken at some point during the day's events. Periodically he looked up at the sun, tracking its progress as it moved slowly across the late afternoon sky. He had no idea how long it would take his owl to reach Hogwarts, even if it knew the way, but he suspected that help was unlikely to arrive before the morning - and, even then, his rescuers would arrive in Mold and not on the hilltop. He wondered if Lupin would guess where he was, when they failed to find him in Mold. The thought of Lupin made him take out the mirror he had been given, but the glass was cloudy and the image distorted; clearly, it would be of no use as long as he remained inside the stone circle. He considered sneaking outside the stones to use the mirror but dismissed the idea almost at once. From his vantage point, he could see Death Eaters crawling all over the countryside. Jets of red and green light split the air and he heard harsh voices - familiar and unfamiliar - calling to each other across the fields. At one point, a spell burst into a shower of red light in the air above him, and he flinched, drawing himself tightly into a ball, in case it was a signal. As the minutes passed and no one came to find him, he relaxed. Whatever magic the Death Eaters had been using to locate him obviously did not work while he was within the circle. He would have to tell Lupin - if he ever saw Lupin again. Caradoc Dearborn would have been interested too, he thought a little sadly. He wondered if Caradoc had spent his last moments like this - hiding from his enemies, praying they would not find him. He wrenched his mind away from the thoughts, trying to focus on more cheerful things, but the images persisted.

The rocks cut into his skin, and he wriggled, squeezing himself into a gap between them, before pulling the Cloak back over him. He was desperately thirsty now, and afraid of becoming dehydrated. The sun beat pitilessly down upon him and he wondered if it were possible to get sunburn in Wales this late in August. He didn't know. Head buzzing with disconnected thoughts, he made himself as comfortable as he could and settled down to wait.

--

'What do you mean, you've lost him? You can't have lost him!' The voice was harsh and clear. Harry jumped. He must have dozed off. Another voice answered, stammering in an undertone so that Harry was unable to make out the words. It didn't matter. He had recognised the first speaker immediately. Walden Macnair. Harry shivered. If Macnair was here, Lucius Malfoy could not be far away.

Macnair spoke again. 'I'll have a look. You get back down there and watch the bike. That's where he'll be heading.' He sauntered into the circle of standing stones, humming tunelessly through his teeth. Harry tried to squash himself into the smallest possible volume, grateful for the fallen rocks which had seemed so uncomfortable only moments ago. At least Macnair was unlikely to step on him accidentally. Macnair paced around the circle, small eyes darting this way and that. He peered behind each of the standing stones as if he expected to find Harry standing behind one, waiting to be discovered.

Finally Macnair came to a halt only a few yards from Harry, head cocked as if listening. Harry stopped breathing. He watched in horror as Macnair raised his head and sniffed the evening air, once, twice. Then Macnair turned and walked towards the place where Harry lay motionless. He paused for a moment, standing right in front of Harry - then brought his foot down hard on Harry's stomach. Harry doubled up, winded. Macnair laughed, an ugly laugh, and kicked the Cloak aside, then brought his foot down again, harder this time, until Harry coughed and tears stung his eyes. Macnair bent down and grabbed a handful of Harry's hair, yanking him to his feet. He dragged Harry across the grass and pushed him down until Harry was lying on his back on a flat stone in the very centre of the circle. Kneeling beside Harry, he whispered, 'Quiet, boy. I'll make it quick.' From inside his robe he had produced an old-fashioned razor and was stropping the blade expertly on the edge of his leather belt. Harry's eyes widened in panic. He twisted and struggled, arching his back and kicking in a desperate attempt to throw Macnair off, but the Death Eater only laughed and backhanded him casually across the face, knocking his head against the stone slab so hard that Harry actually saw stars. He lay there dazed, staring up at Macnair.

'Good lad.' Macnair's tone was absentminded, almost friendly. 'I'll bet you're wondering why I'm not dragging you straight off to the Dark Lord.' He ran the razor's edge experimentally along his thumb, and nodded to himself. 'It's simpler this way. I like things to be tidy.' He grabbed Harry's hair again and jerked his head backwards, exposing his throat. Harry swallowed.

And then Macnair's eyes widened in surprise and he toppled forwards, landing on top of Harry and knocking the breath from his body for a second time.

'Wotcher, Harry. Not barging in, are we?' Tonks grinned at him. Harry went scarlet, completely lost for words. Tonks glanced at the rock in her hand and tossed it carelessly to one side, then bent to help Harry, who was having very little success freeing himself from beneath the unconscious Macnair.

'Let me.' Shacklebolt was beside her and between them they managed to shove Macnair sideways so that he rolled off Harry and onto the soaking bracken.

Harry lost no time getting to his feet. 'Is he - is he - ?'

'Dead? Don't think so.' She cast a regretful eye at Macnair's still form. 'I tried, but I couldn't hit hard enough.'

'Bloodthirsty little maniac, aren't you?' Kingsley Shacklebolt commented in a cheerful voice. His eyes met Harry's. 'I suppose you know the hillside is crawling with Death Eaters.'

Harry nodded. 'They were chasing me. They are chasing me,' he amended. 'What happened to you?'

Shacklebolt looked embarrassed. 'I got thumped on the head. Less viciously than your friend here. It's a good thing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hasn't recruited the lovely Nymphadora yet.'

Tonks stuck her tongue out at him, looking pleased. He made a point of ignoring her.

'I'm glad you're all right,' said Harry, and meant it.

'So am I.' Shacklebolt was smiling.

Tonks sniffed. 'I found him round the back of the café, in a pile of bin bags. Good camouflage, by the way, Kingsley. I pulled him out of the rubbish and we came looking for you.'

Shacklebolt took up the story. 'When we couldn't find you, I went back to Hogwarts while Tonks scouted the area. Remus thought you might head here. Time to go?'

'Hang on,' Harry mumbled, remembering something. 'My Dad's Cloak. It's over here -'

'We'll find it.' After a brief search, Shacklebolt found the Cloak and held it out to Harry, who took it from him gratefully. 'Right, Harry. Hold on to me. Tightly!' He wrapped his arms round Harry and Disapparated.

--

They appeared immediately outside the main gates to Hogwarts. Harry disengaged himself from Shacklebolt and stood quietly for a moment. He had never Apparated before and the experience left him slightly nauseous and unsteady on his feet, although, he admitted to himself, it was vastly superior to either a Portkey or travelling by Floo.

'Accio brooms!' Tonks muttered. Three brooms flew out of a clump of gorse beside the wrought iron gates, and she had to duck to avoid being hit. Shacklebolt stretched out a lazy arm and caught them, grinning at the surprise on Harry's face.

'We're not out of the woods yet,' he explained. 'This is the quickest way back to the castle. We don't want to be caught in the open.'

Tonks agreed. 'If it was me chasing you, I'd have this area covered,' she said, sounding completely serious for the first time. 'They know we can't Apparate straight into the grounds and it's still a long way back to the castle. On your broom, quickly, and let's go. Keep between Kingsley and me. On my signal.'

Harry grabbed the broom Shacklebolt handed to him. It was a Nimbus 2001, older, slower and much less manoeuvrable than his Firebolt, but a good, reliable broom all the same. Tonks made a chopping movement with her right hand and the three of them took off. As they climbed into the damp evening air, Harry saw his companions exchange glances and get out their wands. He risked a glance behind him. Four - no, five - dark shapes on brooms were descending towards them from the clouds, robes flapping in the breeze.

'Shit! Harry, keep between us. Keep your head down!' He had never seen Tonks look worried before. It wasn't a comforting thought. They were about forty feet above the ground now and streaking towards the castle. Harry sneaked another look behind him. The Death Eaters were gaining on them. They weren't going to make it.

Red light cut through the air, narrowly missing Shacklebolt's head. Glancing over his shoulder, he flung a curse back at its caster, who was still some fifty feet away. On Harry's right hand, Tonks was muttering furiously as she aimed her wand at another of their pursuers.

'Incendio!' Flames curled among the twigs of the Death Eater's broom and thick grey smoke rose up into the sky. The man stared in horror at the fire, and began beating at the flames frantically with his robes, to no avail. Beside him, Harry heard Kingsley Shacklebolt laugh.

'One down, four to go!'

The Death Eater abandoned the struggle and fell back, concentrating instead on nursing his crippled broom back to the ground. Tonks flashed Harry a quick smile. He grinned back, knowing that she was trying to cheer him up. Their situation was still desperate.

Ahead of them the castle rose black and forbidding against the setting sun. Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. There were lights in some of the windows, and he fancied he could see tiny figures moving around.

The Death Eaters were almost upon them now. Shacklebolt gripped his broom with his knees, squinting as he took careful aim. Red light shot from his wand and his target went limp, falling from his broom and tumbling towards the ground. There was a nasty crack as he hit. Harry winced.

And then Shacklebolt cried out beside him, clutching his useless arm, as his wand fell away, spiralling and spiralling earthwards, growing smaller and smaller as it fell. Shacklebolt slumped forward on his broom, face contorted in pain.

Harry whipped out his wand, ready to join the fray, but Tonks placed a restraining hand on his arm. 'No, Harry! The only thing that matters is that we get you down safely.' She looked across at Shacklebolt. 'Think you can get down all right?'

'No problem.'

'All right, then. I'll sort this lot out.'

'Nymphadora - '

'Don't call me that,' she broke in, and then, in a softer voice, 'I know.' Their eyes met for an instant and then she looked away. To Harry she said simply, 'See you later,' and turned her broom, climbing to meet the oncoming attack. Harry blinked. He half-turned to ask Shacklebolt what Tonks had meant, but his escort was already racing towards the castle. Harry followed, looking back to watch Tonks as she drove her broom straight at the three remaining Death Eaters, scattering them like birds. By the time they had recovered from the surprise attack, she had soared above them, and was diving again. Harry saw one of the Death Eaters raise a hand to his face as he searched the sky, and realised that Tonks had placed the sun behind her so that she could not be seen. A shower of red sparks flew from her wand, enveloping the Death Eater, and he fell from his broom.

Three down. Two to go. Shacklebolt and Harry had reached the castle entrance now, and they dismounted, Shacklebolt leaning heavily on Harry as they halted to watch the end of the fight. Harry had forgotten what a superb flier Tonks was, but he remembered it now as she twisted and jinked to avoid the spells flung at her from all directions, her broom almost a living thing beneath her. There was a Death Eater on each side of her, both hurling spells almost continually. Harry watched, open-mouthed, as Tonks rolled beneath her broom, hanging onto it by her knees, and then dropped like a stone. For a moment it seemed certain that she must hit the ground, but at the last second she jerked the broom up sharply, coming up in an almost vertical climb that tore the breath from Harry's lips in an admiring gasp. Light burst from her wand again, and one of the two remaining Death Eaters stiffened and fell. Tonks dragged the broom round in a horizontal circle to face the last of their pursuers and as she did so a jet of red light struck her broom. It bucked underneath her, flames licking hungrily along the shaft. Harry heard Shacklebolt's horrified intake of breath beside him. With an obvious effort, Tonks forced the broom back under her control, but the Death Eater fired again. From this close, it was impossible to miss. The broom hung for an instant in the air and Tonks leapt from it into space and fell, tumbling over and over. Above her the broom exploded in a sheet of flame that lit up the evening sky like a torch.