Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Chapter 44 - Comes the Hosts, Gathering

Warnings: Character death, blood and gore.

The Inferi crawled across the lake bottom, mer-people bodies floating to the surface of the lake. A single Giant Squid tentacle floated up too, limp and lifeless. Dean and Seamus had their backs to the wall and their wands out ready as the first of the pale, dead heads crushed against the warding wall that dipped down into the water. They did not expect to have to do anything but watch and wait; the wards as heavy and as firm as the headmaster had been able to make them.

"Why don't they stop?" Dean finally asked in shocked horror as body upon body was crushed and broken by sheer weight of numbers.

"Because they are dead and have only one order to follow, probably something like, 'go forward and destroy'. So that's what they do, just keep coming forward, the ones at the back never realising there is a barrier and never stopping."

"But that's stupid," the dark youth remarked, shaking his head.

"They're dead, Dean, they don't have a brain, only the magic animating them," Seamus said in exasperation them both young men stiffened. "Oh God, is that Neville and Luna? Holy Mary, Mother of God!"

"What do we do? What do we do?" Dean mewled, staring in horror as their two dead friends began to dig and claw at the barrier, setting the rest of the Inferi off too.

"Pray to God and Merlin that they don't dig their way under the barrier before reinforcements get here," Seamus growled and shot a bolt of fire at the nearest digger.

A cloud of steam boiled away, the inferi unhurt by the hex. The hole they were digging got deeper as the sandy bottom of the cove was excavated away. Dean frowned then shuddered as the ward seemed to bulge and flex under the terrible pressure of the bodies behind it. The crushed mass of bodies was now over six feet deep, the lower ones unable to move under the sheer weight of numbers. Seamus launched another hex which sent a shiver through the warding wall and another boil of steam to obscure the view.

"You know, Seamus, I don't think you should do..."

The ward broke with a scream, the bodies tumbling forward and slamming into the duo, sweeping Dean off his feet and tossing Seamus against the far wall. Dean screamed as the dead tore him apart, unable to get his wand out under the crush. Seamus let out a scream of pure anguish and blasted random fire across the writhing tangle of limbs before he caught his senses and set up a wall of flame to drive the dead away. Again and again the bodies lurched into the flames, setting themselves and their rags of clothing alight. It did not stop or even deter their determination to drag the living down into their shared death and Seamus was losing strength. When he saw Dean emerge from the crowd and throw himself into the flames all hope died. There was no retreat, no reprieve and no recourse. Screaming his loss to the world, Seamus cast the Immolation Spell on himself and plunged into the mass.

~~*~~

Pansy and Goyle strode along the corridors of the school, blatant in their intent to do harm. This was their moment of triumph; this was their hour of glory. Their Lord was coming and their parents would be so proud of them! At the junction of the Great Hall and the upper reaches, Pansy called a halt and motioned for Goyle to listen carefully.

"I am going to deal with that bitch, Granger; I want you to go to the hospital wing and take out Madam Pomfrey. Without their medi-witch they are going to be stuffed. As soon as you have done that, meet me at the side door and we'll open the wards. If you aren't there in twenty minutes, then I will do it without you and the same for you, okay?"

Goyle thought about it for a few moments then nodded ponderously. "Kill Madam Pomfrey, then meet you at the door in twenty minutes, yes." He moved off in the right direction while Pansy slipped into the Great Hall, hugging the shadows behind the staff table.

There were others already eating and drinking, trays of food laid out on the Ravenclaw table. What looked like a pile of fur near the far door turned out to be a sleeping werewolf, a white bandage across its furred ribcage. Pansy wondered briefly what that was doing in the Great Hall instead of the infirmary, but her attention was diverted by a slight disturbance near the far doors. She spotted a head of silver blond hair in the hallway beyond the doors and slid along the wall, into a recess containing a suit of armour to spy on Malfoy.

He glanced up a stairway Pansy hadn't noticed before, a smile of pure love creasing his face as he held out a hand. Warmth suffused Pansy until she realised he was not looking at her but at ... Granger! Rage made Parkinson's teeth grind together as the Gryffindork slid her arms around Malfoy's waist, laying her head on his chest. Even worse, Malfoy bent his head and buried his nose in her hair. The tableau held for a few moments, then Malfoy drew back just a little to stare down at the ugly little bitch.

"It's nearly time, love, I can feel him getting closer and I want you and the next generation to stay safe. Remember, if it all goes to hell in a hand-basket, just go, okay, preserve the little one at all costs."

"Stop worrying about us, we'll do fine. I am going to help in the Infirmary so there's not much chance of harm there, we'll be safe," she assured Draco, claiming another light kiss. "You take care, I don't want to lose you, I'm not cut out for single motherhood, I swear."

Draco half laughed as he kissed her soundly again and left her in the hallway to bound up the stairs. Hermione watched him go then set off with her head held high, a determined stride taking her off to her new post. They had agreed that, if it was possible, one of them would not go into battle but at least try to preserve one parent to raise Lysander. Hermione had drawn the short straw for the final battle, or at least the Battle of Hogwarts. She was so deep in her thoughts she failed to hear the step behind her until a spell slammed into her back and she almost head-butted the wall as she lost her balance.

"You bitch, you sleazy, conniving, underhanded whore! How dare you corrupt the Malfoys by allowing your spawn to fester and blackmail him with it?"

Hermione knew the voice, was half up onto her knees, a protego almost shielding her when another spell hit her low in the belly, causing her elbows to buckle and her knees to tremble. Whatever Parkinson had hit her with was making her feel very ill and cramped. She must have mumbled something because Parkinson was laughing now, a slightly hysterical laugh that reminded Hermione of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"It's the Slytherin version of the Conceptus Charm, we call it the Morning After Spell, it aborts any little inconvenience up to two months after the conception. It gives you a margin just in case the papa can be blackmailed into offering a contract," Pansy said chattily as she watched the other girl flounder into a sitting position on the floor. "If you were more than two months gone, whoops, sor-ry, it can get extremely painful."

Parkinson was a gloater, Hermione realised, useful if you wanted to gain a few minutes grace. "What-what makes you think I'm pregnant?" she asked, clutching her abdomen as a cramp nearly tore it in half.

"That was a touching goodbye to MY BOYFRIEND," Pansy screeched, sending Crucio at the girl, not exactly a full version of the curse but enough to make Hermione writhe when added to her cramping. Not satisfied, Pansy sent another blast of the curse then grinned evilly. She had read a spell in an old book her mother had given her many years ago and had always wanted to try it. She was half way through the chant when Granger managed to get her wand out and cast a weak Expelliarmus at her, just enough to make Pansy stagger, her spell leaving her wand before it was quite completed.

Hermione let out a mighty groan as she was slammed back onto the flagstones, her consciousness fleeing from the spell and the blow. Parkinson caught her balance and hurried over, kicking Granger in the ribs but there was no response, she was out cold and not breathing. Pansy cackled, giving the corpse another kick for good measure before hurrying on to the rendezvous point. Behind her, on the floor, Hermione took a very long, slow breath, once every minute, no more, no less.

~~*~~

Goyle stood in the doorway of the infirmary watching the hustle and bustle before him. There were people and werewolves, lots and lots of werewolves in the ward. Two, sometimes three werewolves shared a bed and even more lay curled up on the floor under the beds in a sort of cave. Kids, the fourth-years who hadn't been able to Floo out, were helping with the injured, holding bowls and giving patients drinks. There had never been as many people crammed into the infirmary at one time, as far as Goyle knew.

At the heart of the bustle Madam Pomfrey was tending a bloody wreck of a foreleg on one of the werewolves, her wand flashing as she cast spell after spell on the wound. The wizard beside her was also casting spells, a red haired woman taking things away and hurrying to bring things over as they worked. Finally the bleeding stopped and the flesh and fur began to grow over the wound in a smooth grey tide. Madam Pomfrey slumped a little and turned away only to spot the large boy standing in the doorway. She hurried over.

"Mr Goyle, are you hurt?" she asked in concern as she did a quick visual survey of the seventh year.

"No Madam, I'm fine, I just have to ... Pansy told me to ... that is, kill you," he stammered, taking out his wand. "Sorry."

"Pansy Parkinson? Now why would she tell you to do a silly thing like that? Can't you see we have a lot of wounded to attend to here?" Poppy asked cajolingly, not liking the look in the boy's eyes, they were glazing over. All around the ward, people stopped to listen; suddenly realising there was a problem.

"I know, but Pansy said I had to 'cus Draco wasn't about to give the orders. I think he defected to the Light. My father said I wouldn't have the resolve to cast the killing curse, that I was too soft to be effective, but I think he meant too stupid. So he had the Dark Lord give me a bit of a help, you know, soon as I have to do it, I would just be able to. So, I'm sorry, you've always been good to me, but..." He raised his wand and spoke the words with awful deliberation.

Poppy suddenly found herself spun around on the spot, the green light making her feel sick, a heavy weight knocking her off her feet. Someone cried out in horror and another curse slashed overhead, another dull thud of a body hitting the ground. The whole castle shook as if something very heavy had struck it a single blow, the impact making the flagstones dance under their feet. Molly appeared in her field of vision pulling the weight off her and crying silently as she helped haul the mediwitch to her feet. "What hap... Oh no! Roger!"

"He took the curse for you," Molly muttered, her arm around the woman's shoulders as a couple of kids hurried over to carry Goyle's unconscious body to a side room on her signal. When they had time they would have to ask someone to come and take the boy away, probably to Azkaban. Another pair came over and hovered for a second, wondering if they should take the dead mediwizard away too, but Poppy wasn't done. Bending swiftly, she closed his eyes and kissed his forehead gently before they were allowed to take him, shock still very much cocooning her in its comforting shell. Roger had always been a good friend to her, a link to her dead husband and daughter, the last link to her youth and love. And now he was gone, unbelievable!

Molly nodded knowingly and steered her friend over to the next patient. Sometimes hard work was the only way to cope with the grief when it was so raw and vital. Other wands in the hospital ward were carefully put away as the two women went back to their life saving tasks.

~~*~~

The headmaster staggered and slumped to the ground, clutching his chest and panting as if he had run a long way. Minerva McGonagall gave a small cry and knelt at his side, an arm around his shoulder. Snape knelt on the other side and poured a few drops of potion into his gasping mouth. The old man coughed and shuddered but finally sat up under his own power, a lone tear falling onto his cheek. "Roger was just killed," he murmured brokenly, Minerva gasping and shaking her head slightly. "Oh, my son, so..."

"Headmaster, the wards are down!" Harry yelped as the slight sparkle on the very edge of Hogwarts land suddenly went out and black clad figures began to move forward, their battle with the red clad opponents becoming a running one.

"Damn, that's torn it, time for us to go down and..." The rest of the sentence was lost as the Order members moved out, ready to join the battle right in front of the school.

Harry went to follow but an old hand clamped on his arm, holding him in position. "Not yet, Harry, not yet," the headmaster said, carefully climbing back to his feet again.

"Why?" Harry cried, trying to pull away but the older wizard was stronger than he looked.

"Because it is not your turn yet, this is but the opening salvo in the battle, the main event has not even begun, and you must conserve your strength for your meeting with Tom, whether it is today or tomorrow or next week even, you must be strong and ready to face him when he comes!"

"In the meantime my friends are getting mowed down like old grass?" he snarled bitterly, shaking off the hand but not leaving the balcony.

"Even so. It is the hardest thing you will have to do, my boy, the very hardest."

Harry glared at him but didn't argue the point as he went back to his peephole through the crenulations, beating his fist gently but constantly against the cold, hard stone.

~~*~~

When the Hogwarts wards went down the militia from Hogsmeade nearly broke and ran, but the Auror contingent and Aberforth Dumbledore's strength of personality held the line. The Death Eaters faltered for a moment then realise they had the opportunity to advance on their original target. Half the force Apparated forward over the holding line, the rest continued to hold the militia for a few more moments before their comrades were firmly in position, then they too Apparated out.

The militia slumped against their hastily raised fortifications before Aberforth reminded them that it was not over yet, rallying their flagging sprits once again. Tired, hungry and footsore, the militia gathered their reserves and set off after the Death Eaters who were beginning to engage the fresh forces of the Order of the Phoenix in the inner gardens of Hogwarts.

Rufus Scrimgeour did a visual check of his people and nodded grimly. Singling out one of the youngest graduates still left on her feet, he sent Merrilie Winters to Apparate back to headquarters and raise the next wave of Aurors. They would need the reinforcements as soon as possible and not by tomorrow as he had thought.

The girl took his written order and requests to the Minister, stuck them inside her robes and Apparated out with barely a salute. Kingsley Shacklebolt moved up next to his commander and asked what they were up to next. Scrimgeour snorted in grim amusement.

"Let's see if we can dispose of some more of these masked clowns before they infest Hogwarts any worse than they already have."

"Don't you mean invest," a smart arse asked from the centre of the tired crowd.

"Nah, I think infest does it for me," Scrimgeour replied with a tired grin. "Let's do this people."

They moved out cautiously.

~~*~~

Terry Boot was down to one werewolf. Black Bess, as he had christened her, was limping as heavily as was he. They had fought trolls time and again, taken out untold numbers of enemy werewolves and even a couple of the less wary Death Eaters, but now they were tired and at the end of their stamina. Which was why, he supposed, they made a mistake. The troll they had picked up a few hundred metres into the grounds seemed to be the Einstein of trolls, and as tenacious on their trail as a bloodhound.

Bess had nipped his heels until they bled, and been clipped by a foot in the process, hence the limp. Terry had cast Stupefy so many times his voice was getting hoarse but nothing affected the huge, shambling hulk. If they had not been so tired they could probably have outrun the creature, but they had both had enough, too much, really. Terry stumbled again and Bess ran into his legs, lost her footing and landed a paw on a discarded blade, slicing the pad wide open. She yelped trying to limp on two legs, slowing them both just enough that the troll managed to take another swing at her. Terry threw his weight onto her back, slamming her into the dirt and covering her body with his as another troll approached from the opposite direction, both creatures raising their clubs to beat the pair to death. Incapacitated and incapable of doing anything to save themselves, wolf and man waited for death that didn't come.

There was a surprised troll grunt then a double thump, and Terry raised his head just enough to see hooves in front of his nose. Strong hands reached down and lifted him as easily as if he was a child, settling him on a broad, horse-smelling back covered in rich chestnut hair.

A second centaur lifted Black Bess and draped her across the withers in front of Terry and a deeply amused voice murmured that he should hold onto his puppy. Stunned and disbelieving, Terry did as he was told and the centaur he was riding turned carefully to slip between the trees of the Forbidden Forest and out of sight. The rest of the Centaur herd hovered on the edge of the tree-line, shooting at any black cloaks that got too close to their home now that the ancient wards were down.