The Harpsichordist

Chapter 18: Good Vibrations

Harry kept getting distracted by side skirmishes as he tried to make for the doors. First he had to wrest Draco Malfoy off several second years, taking great pleasure in slamming his right fist into Malfoy's nose and then, when Malfoy had his hands over his nose in shock, planting it firmly in his right eye. Sometimes you didn't need a wand, really.

Then Harry had to direct Crabbe towards Dumbledore's Army, because Crabbe had had to Stun his own father and didn't know where his mother and aunt were, and was worried about them, in a very slow and irritatingly earnest way. A redeemed Slytherin. Who'd have thought.

Harry pointed him in the right direction and continued towards the doors, his head pounding.

Then there was a succession of completely random Muggles, witches, and wizards who kept telling him to fix it, to solve it, to get rid of the Death Eaters. He was just one person, for Merlin's sake -- didn't any of the qualified wizards know any jinxes of their own?

"Stay together!" he ordered person after person, usually accompanied by an annoyed "Stupefy!" at a disheveled Death Eater.

They all approached him with desperate eyes, shocked voices, awed and gaping mouths, as though his status as The Boy Who Lived should have been enough to prevent this entire massacre -- for it was a massacre.

Harry encountered Tonks at one moment, expertly dodging curses and doing as much damage to the Death Eaters and their apprentices as possible. She gave him a grim nod and an even grimmer smile as they continued in opposite directions.

He lost count of the small bundles of black robes -- students who'd fallen. Anger built up in him, a red rage that made him want to scream and tear things apart. Students dying all over the place, just because he'd let a rat free two years ago.

Breathing became more difficult as he approached the rubble that had been the doors; he could see Ron and Hermione scrambling over them, too, ducking and dodging a handful of hexes that were thrown in their direction. Harry's scar began burning more fiercely than ever, though the rest of him was chilled through.

Standing in the doors were Lord Voldemort and the two Lestranges. Behind them slithered a huge snake, and behind the snake hovered a horde of dementors.

This wasn't fair.

* * *

Never had Ron faced Death like this, never been so close to it. He could feel it breathing down his neck, a palpable pressure that made his eyes go wide and his breathing shallow. Not even last June at the Ministry had he been so afraid for his life, so afraid of screwing up.

Hermione beside him was letting out a constant stream of words, and though they hit his brain they seemed all jumbled up:

"In a circle -- over here -- Ron, we need to -- Harry -- protect them -- buffalo."

The word buffalo jolted him momentarily. "Huh?"

"Buffalo," Hermione repeated, turning to face him, obviously exasperated. "When a herd is attacked, the strong circle around the outside to protect the weak. We need to get the wizards to form a circle around the Muggles."

"How in blazes do we do that?"

Hermione's confident voice trembled just the slightest. "No idea."

A black robed figure came charging out of the crowd at them, his wand held high. He saw Hermione and made a beeline for her. Ron vaguely recognized a Slytherin seventh-year.

"Avada --" the Slytherin began.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted, before Hermione had even begun to move her wand.

The boy's wand went flying out of his hand over his head; he followed it with his eyes, mouth open in shock.

"Stupefy!" said Hermione while the boy was gazing idiotically upward.

He thunked to the ground.

"I hope he gets trampled," Ron said savagely.

"Ron!"

"Well, I do," he said defensively. "He tried to kill you!" He felt a smug surge of satisfaction as well that he'd been able to protect Hermione -- that was what a boyfriend did, wasn't it?

Hermione shook her head but didn't reply. Her mouth was open slightly and her eyes wide, blinking very fast and irregularly. Ron reached for her hand and squeezed it. Hermione sent him a grateful, sad look.

She thought she was going to die, he could see it in her face. And she wasn't afraid of it, just sad and regretful. Ron wondered how he felt about it, but couldn't find the courage to ask himself.

All around them, people were pushing past each other, terrified, remarkably quiet. Ron would have thought they'd be screaming, but they weren't. Instead there was a wide-eyed disbelief painted on their faces and a steely "better you than me" look in their eyes as they jostled each other in an attempt to stay out of the line of fire.

The Death Eaters, from what Ron could see, were methodically killing each person they encountered. It made him sick. The witches and wizards had their wands out, yes, but they were just holding them limply, not even using them to try to defend themselves; as people ran and fled, a new person would be suddenly put in the line of fire. The Muggles never had a chance, either.

"Oy!" Ron finally shouted to the person nearest him. It was a plump wizard clutching his wand as though he expected it to spell itself.

"What?"

"You need to be ready for it -- when you're next in line, you've got to try to Stun them. Don't you even know the Stunning spell?"

"Er.. yes... I mean, we learned it --"

"Then defend yourself, you blithering idiot!"

He felt, rather than saw, Hermione's reproachful stare. Defensively, he went on, "Well, we can't defend all of you at the same time! When a Death Eater comes toward you, don't just go all limp!"

The man looked shocked, but he nodded in a frightened sort of way and held his wand a little less timidly.

"That's a good idea," said Hermione suddenly. She turned and saw a similarly timid witch trying to hide behind a fat Muggle man. "Hey!" she bellowed, in a surprisingly loud voice. "Hey, you! Defend yourself!"

The witch looked up, completely terrified.

"You've got a wand, use it!" Hermione roared, waving hers in the air.

Ron let out a wild whoop.

He and Hermione began pushing through the crowds together, shouting and bellowing, "Defend yourself! Use your wand! Don't just stand there, idiot!"

Death still lurked, but it had retreated somewhat.

* * *

Ginny scrambled into the crowd of students, angry as hell. Dumbledore should not have let Rigel be killed... it was just completely unfair. He was such a nice kid, too.

She needed to find Luna, Neville, Colin, Parvati, and all the rest of Dumbledore's Army.

"Luna!" she shouted into the mass of black robes that surged past her, hurrying on to huddle in the inner chamber. They'd be safe there, yes, but trapped. There were no doors out of that room.

As she jostled into the crowd, her elbows and ribs quickly became sore from being hit by fellow students, and her feet kept being stepped on.

"Luna? Neville! Parvati?"

Faces streaked by, all pale, all scared. Some of the Muggleborns looked terrified, and more than a few of them were yelling for their parents, clearly not sure whether they should go with the flow of bodies or struggle and find their parents.

Someone thunked hard into her and she stumbled. The mass of people around her was such that she knew if she fell, she'd be completely squashed. She felt her knees give way, felt the floor coming up to meet her. She could already envision herself as a bloody mangled heap on the floor, and then it would be a closed casket funeral, and who would say the eulogy?--

She grabbed the first thing that she came into contact with.

"OW!! Ginny?"

It was Neville, and he sounded extremely pained. He reached out with two very strong arms and hauled her up.

"Neville!" she blurted, feeling the floor straighten itself out into the right place again. "Thank you -- I'm so sorry..."

Then she saw that he was cringing and trying to bend double. "I am so sorry," she said again, coming to a horrid realization. "Did I grab--"

"Yes," he said in a strangled voice. "I'll be fine, don't worry," he added, obviously lying.

Ginny was buffetted by a passing student, and Neville instinctively reached out a hand to steady her. "Look," she said, "I can cast a healing spell if you like--" Her face felt hot.

Neville went pink, too, but nodded. "Please."

Extremely embarrassed, Ginny pointed her wand between his legs and mumbled a Numbing Charm.

"Thanks," Neville breathed, straightening up.

Ginny forced her mind away from the fact that Neville had... You-Know-Whats... and back to the matter at hand. "We need to find the D.A.," she said in what she prayed was a business-like tone. "Harry's gone to do whatever it is he does, and Ron and Hermione are in the crowd -- where's Luna?"

"I'm here," said Luna placidly. "I hope I don't have to kill anyone," she added calmly.

Ginny didn't have time for Luna right now. "Fine," she snapped. "Where are the rest? Parvati, Lavender, Colin--"

"Shout for them," suggested Neville.

This was so sensible that Ginny was startled. Then she opened her mouth, filled her lungs, and practically sang, "Dumbledore's Army! To me!"

The flow of students rushing past her became suddenly jumbled as two dozen of them started struggling the other way, out of the chamber and towards Ginny, Luna, and Neville.

It took about twenty seconds for everyone to sort themselves out, and during that time, Ginny's ears were assaulted by a horrible barrage of "Avada Kedavra!"s and shocked yelling, combined with an extremely heartening roar of Hermione's: "You've got a wand, use it!"

When everyone was there, Ginny yelled, "This is what we've trained for! We need to help the Muggles! Use Stupefy, use Expelliarmus! Use whatever you know!"

Then she raised her voice further and bellowed at the crowd of students huddling in the antechamber, "You lot! If you want to help your parents and keep them from getting killed, get on out there and start fighting!"

There was a hesitant cheer from somewhere in the middle of the group -- Ginny rather thought it was one of the Creevey boys -- and then suddenly everyone was cheering, yelling, shouting. She felt a surge of hope. If they were going to die, by Merlin they were going to die fighting.

The students of Hogwarts surged out to meet their attackers.

* * *

It happened just as Ron and Hermione reached the doors. As they dodged the odd hex, scrambling up and over the wooden wreckage towards Harry, who was running at an angle to them, Hermione heard Ron's fast breathing suddenly halt, and then heard a rushing in her own ears. It was suddenly very cold.

"Oh, no," said Ron. He pointed.

Hermione shook her head slightly. No. No, this could not be happening. That was simply not real; she would wake up any moment now and realize that it was just a bad dream she was having before the concert. It was just nerves.

Hermione experienced one of those odd moments where you suddenly fall into your own body, wake up, and take a long slow look around. This is my life, she suddenly thought. Oh, Merlin, this is really happening. We are trapped in the Great Hall of a magic school, attacked by Nazi-esque Death Eaters, and there are hundreds of dementors waiting to swoop in and suck out our souls. She clutched Ron's hand.

"Something happy," she whispered. "Oh, Merlin, something happy -- I can't think --"

"Yes, you can," Ron said vehemently.

No, she couldn't.

Where was Dumbledore? He should be the one facing this, not three students, not Harry, not yet. It wasn't June, it wasn't seventh year, Harry wasn't ready!

Hermione cast a frantic look back towards the Great Hall, fully aware of how sweaty her hand was, clasped in Ron's. After a few seconds searching, she found him: Dumbledore was striding through the crowd, deflecting hexes on his way towards Harry.

Please, hurry, Hermione thought desperately. We can't face this alone.

* * *

Ginny felt the cold coming and knew what it meant. She could even hear Tom Riddle's voice in her head, and had to shake it to clear it. But it was like an old wireless set heard through a wall, relentless and blurry.

"Stupefy!" she cried, aiming at a Death Eater, who ducked. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Protego!"

You foolish little girl, said Tom's voice. You know this is the only way.

No, it's not, Ginny told herself. She was alive, she deserved to be alive, and she was doing a damn fine job of helping others live.

"Stupefy!" One down.

* * *

Luke could now see dementors.

They were tall, much taller than a normal person, and made of rotten, decomposing flesh barely covering over their sickly skeletons. Instead of a head with a normal face, they had a skull with an open, gaping mouth, black as night. As they accumulated in the entrance hall, Luke felt the temperature drop, which was odd, because he hadn't noticed it since his death. And it wasn't just a temperature drop, it was like they were trying to suck in more than just warmth and air.

And there were over a hundred of them hovering in ranks behind the tall man with the red eyes and the two Death Eaters he recognized as Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. He'd seen them during Tonks' time in Azkaban, watched her duel them to a standstill to retrieve his body and return them both to Hogwarts.

Then he realized that the tall man with the red eyes had to be Lord Voldemort himself.

And then he was further shocked when Lord Voldemort turned his face up to Luke and sniffed. It was a face that would have been more at home on a snake -- flat nose, thin lips, bony cheeks -- and Luke wouldn't have been surprised to see a forked tongue dart out to taste the air.

"I know you're there," Lord Voldemort said to Luke. "I can't see you, but I know you're there."

* * *

Wendy and Severus were crouched just around a corner at the top of the marble staircase. To Wendy, the entrance hall was empty except for three people standing just outside the doors. According to Severus, though, there were a hundred dementors there.

"What do they look like?" she asked Severus. It was so cold! She shivered.

"They hover; they're dressed in black, but it's ragged cloth. You can't see anything underneath their hoods. And they're at least ten feet tall, thin."

Wendy swallowed a dry lump in her throat. "Is that why I feel --" she began, but Severus shushed her.

The figure in front was speaking. "... you're there," it said. "I can't see you, but I know you're there... You should be dead, Muggle!"

Hope suddenly surged. Luke had to be alive, or a ghost, or something -- Voldemort was talking to him, he wasn't completely gone. She would see him again, she knew it.

* * *

Hermione instantly understood whom Lord Voldemort was addressing, though she couldn't believe it. "Luke," she breathed to Ron.

"Huh?"

Hermione ignored him and watched Harry, who was inching forward; there was a large chunk of door between him and Lord Voldemort, and he was using that as a shield, keeping low and out of sight.

Suddenly, Hermione knew what she had to do.

"I need to find Ginny," she whispered to Ron, then scuttled away along the walls before he could stop her or ask why.

The hall had gone very, very still. No doubt everyone was feeling the presence of the dementors. The Death Eaters had stopped their attacks and were watching their master as though awaiting further orders. The wizards and witches watched the Death Eaters and dementors; the Muggles watched the wizards and witches. The students watched their parents, those still alive clinging to each other.

Hermione didn't want to count, but her brain did it for her -- there were about seventy small bundles of black robes and at least twice that many fallen Muggles; scattered here and there were clumps of colored robes, of wizards and witches, and Hermione's inner counting mechanism told her that there were sixty-two clumps, each of which probably had five people in them. She blinked her eyes to clear the blurriness and hugged the wall as she tried to make her way covertly to Ginny, who was about thirty feet from her, thankfully standing by the wall as well.

Look at me, Ginny, she thought desperately. See me, Ginny. I'm trying to reach you, I need your help on this...

Voldemort was speaking again, this time calling for Harry. "Harry Potter!" he shouted. "The one destined to destroy me -- come out and fight!"

Hermione blinked. That was needlessly melodramatic. She couldn't help but let out a snort, then tamped down on it. The snort, though, had attracted Ginny's attention. At last. Ginny began scooting cautiously along the wall towards her.

"What?" she mouthed at Hermione.

Hermione couldn't think of a clear way of expressing it with lip-readable commands, so she gestured to Ginny to come closer, and inched further along herself. Finally, they were just inches apart.

Dumbledore had strode up again to defend Harry, and he and Voldemort were exchanging witty repartee -- or something like that. It didn't matter, any of it.

"Resonance," Hermione said as quietly as she could.

Ginny blinked. "What?"

"My audition -- I told you, right? Resonance, matching pitches, right?"

Ginny's eyes widened.

"Golden bubble and so on," Hermione said urgently.

"Yes, but how can we do it without attracting everyone's attention? I mean, the Death Eaters will hex us as soon as they notice us."

"Oh. We'll just have to duck, then, won't we?"

* * *

Ron's attention was not drawn by Dumbledore's eloquent speech to Voldemort about "Now is not the time, Tom; wait until he is older." It was drawn, rather, by the ten foot long snake that circled around underneath the dementors.

It had to be the same one that had attacked Dad -- really, how many snakes were there that were that big and under You-Know-Who's command?

Something niggled at the edge of his brain, something obvious that he knew he was missing.

Memories flitted past, memories of Harry's confession that he had been the snake; memories of Quidditch, memories of his first days at Hogwarts, meeting Harry and discovering the mystery of the Stone. So innocent, they had been: now in the face of these dementors, he felt as though their first year had been a walk in the park.

Ron remembered Harry saying it was as if Dumbledore thought Harry ought to have a chance to face You-Know-Who, and indeed, so many things had come together perfectly that night, when they'd first gone down the trapdoor: Hermione's studies, Ron's chess skills, even that silly flute Hagrid had given Harry for Christm--

Oh.

Ron fumbled with the flap of the satchel that was still, somehow, around his neck. If this worked, it would make all that practicing worthwhile.

* * *

Luke saw several things happen all at once:

Lord Voldemort sent a Killing Curse at Dumbledore;

Harry yelled and sent his own jinx at Voldemort;

the dementors surged past Harry and Voldemort in a mass of skeleton and black;

the crowd began to panic and trample backwards, only to find itself trapped between the dementors, Death Eaters, and the walls of the Great Hall;

Ginny let out a pure, exquisite tone that dripped like a jewel through the air;

Ron began to play a tune on his recorder;

and the blue shimmery gunk from the concert began to swirl and form shapes in the air.

* * *

As Ron, for some unknown reason, began to play a tune that Hermione vaguely recognized, Ginny opened her mouth and began to sing a single note that somehow blended with Ron's tune, even though her note never wavered. Hermione tried to match it.

Immediately a Death Eater sent a curse their way. Not breaking the note, Hermione ducked. The curse impacted against the wall over her head, and bits of stone exploded outwards. A few pebbles hit her on the head. She yelped in pain.

Ginny's voice stopped. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, and the Death Eater who'd tried to curse them found his wand flying high out of his reach. He ran after it, and Ginny took another breath and sang again.

Hermione sang what she thought was a matching pitch.

Ginny winced. Way off.

Hermione tried again. Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise. Apparently not.

Again. Ginny shook her head vehemently. Further off.

Again -- a little closer! Ginny gave her a thumbs up.

With the production of almost-matching notes, a blue shimmer appeared in the air around them, like a wall, shielding them from the outside, and from the curse that another Death Eater sent their way.

Hermione let herself be startled for half a second while Ginny took another breath and let out another note.

This time, Hermione could hear that she was really, really, extremely close, but Ginny shook her head.

All the while, the blue shield was growing stronger and stronger, Ron's recorder tune was growing louder and louder, and the dementors' progress into the hall had slowed from a rush to a crawl.

Hermione concentrated once more, thinking of the time in Luke's office when she'd first matched pitch... such ecstasy, such happiness. With that firmly in the front of her mind, she listened to the note, thought of her throat, and sang.

It matched.

* * *

When Ron put the recorder to his lips, he suddenly recalled that snakes didn't have ears. He hoped to Merlin and Circe that this would work, because if it didn't, he had probably just painted a big target on the front of his robes.

Fortunately -- though it was quickly becoming unfortunately -- the snake appeared to be able to hear him, or sense him, or smell the sound on the air, because it lifted its great head and hissed, sending out a long tongue to flick the air.

After a second or two, during which Ron's phrases became very short because his lungs were occupied in breathing fast, the snake's eyes turned to Ron.

He nearly dropped the recorder.

The big eyes were out of focus, making the monster look sleepy. Its head moved back and forth ever so slightly, weaving gently and sinuously. It listed a little to the left.

Ron felt a hysterical giggle bubble up from his stomach and quashed it before it could mess with his breathing.

The snake's tongue flicked the air once, twice more, as though it were trying to lick the music out of the air. All the time, its eyes stared towards Ron, who didn't dare blink.

His mind began to spin with inappropriate images: perhaps he ought to sit cross-legged, put a turban on, and charge tourists three Sickles to watch the miracle of the snake-charmer.

Something was happening to the air -- he could hear Ginny and Hermione's voices singing in unison on the tonic note of his tune, and turned to find them. He spotted them about twenty feet away, standing by a wall, surrounded by a glowing blue shield that evidently protected them from curses, because despite the Death Eaters trying to jinx them, they were unharmed.

The snake suddenly thudded sideways, unconscious. Ron's shoulders sagged with relief, but he didn't stop playing. If this thing was anything like Fluffy, he needed to keep playing.

* * *

As soon as Luke saw the Killing Curse impact with Albus' body, he was so shocked and angry that he didn't even think. He swooped down to Voldemort and flew straight at him.

To his immense surprise, he didn't pass through.

His vision wobbled a bit, spun sideways, and then he was looking on the scene from a spot about six feet up.

Harry, who had not hit Voldemort with his first jinx, tried a second time. "Stupefy!" he yelled.

Luke's view of the scene altered, coming from lower down, and then he understood -- he was seeing out of Voldemort's head, and Voldemort had just ducked.

Muggle! came a voice. What are you doing?

I don't know, Luke said before he could stop himself. You're a fucking bastard for killing Albus. I wish I had hands so I could throttle you.

But you have no hands. You are dead. And as Voldemort thought these words, he also said, "Crucio!", shooting a beam of red light towards Harry, who dodged out of the way.

I'm not dead, Luke protested. I'm not a ghost -- none of the Hogwarts ones can see me.

Harry's next curse came very close to hitting Voldemort. Luke felt a surge of triumph.

Think you can distract me? said Voldemort.

That's what I'm doing, aren't I? Luke retorted, rather smugly.

What happens to me does not matter here. They will not kill me -- they cannot kill me. And my dementors will feast.

You're a sick arrogant idiot.

I am the most powerful wizard of all time, Voldemort said. You will leave me now!

As Voldemort cried, "Avada Kedavra!" Luke found himself being pulled out of the wizard's body and shot along the beam of green light, straight towards Harry, who did not duck in time.

* * *

Harry thought he was dead when he felt the bolt of green light impact his chest. But it didn't happen. He saw green for a moment, stumbled in shock, then blinked and found Voldemort standing in front of him, staring down at his hands, which were empty.

A few splinters of wood lay in a pile at Voldemort's feet.

Voldemort looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"I will kill you some day, make no mistake, Harry Potter."

Then with a swish of his cloak, he and the snake were gone.

I thought you couldn't disapparate from Hogwarts, thought Harry absently, staring at the spot where Voldemort had been.

Then his spirits sagged and his blood went cold. There were a hundred dementors still inside the Great Hall.

He summoned up thoughts of getting out of this alive, of meeting up with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny -- especially Ginny -- and cried, "Expecto Patronum!"

* * *

As Voldemort's spell hit Harry, Luke became slightly dizzy and once again felt himself be absorbed into a body. Inside, he found himself surrounded by a bright glow, a warm, ever-loving and infinitely kind light that made Luke feel as though nothing could ever go wrong again. Optimism, hope, confidence -- it was all there, surrounding him in an indescribable glow.

From a faraway distance, he heard Harry cry, "Expecto Patronum!"

The glow around him contracted, squeezed itself into his consciousness, and squirted him out through Harry's wand.

He burst out into open air again, free, exuberant, infinitely powerful. His vision was clearer than it had ever been -- the witches and wizards were vibrantly colored, the Muggles painted in a slightly more muted palette. Hermione and Ginny, whose voices had become a pedal note to Ron's remarkably appropriate tune, both glowed blue. Rigel Lestrange, lying by the makeshift stage of the concert, was also blue, but a deeper, more vibrant blue, and connected with him were hundreds of small blue fibers. Looking around, Luke saw that these fibers connected with most of the fallen bodies, whose auras -- many different colors -- pulsated slightly, like heartbeats.

And the dementors were not just skeletons, but skeletons of a black so dark it seemed to be a hole in the world, each surrounding a pulsating red center that Luke now knew served as the equivalent of a heart, circulating the magical anti-energy that the dementors used to suck warmth and life out of the air.

He heard Harry gasp below him and heard a cry of shock from Wendy, who he suddenly spotted lurking at the top of the marble staircase, held closely by Snape, whose mouth was open in amazement. Luke looked down at his body -- he had a body, a golden body that looked exactly like his own, down to the tiny hole in the left thigh of his pants, the same pants he'd worn to the Halloween Ball, so long ago.

Luke flew down to where Ron was still playing the recorder, the boy's fingers and mouth on automatic, his eyes open in shock.

"Keep going," he said, and was thrilled to hear his own voice, only it was a little richer, a little fuller, than ever before. He raised his voice and spoke to the again-silent crowd. "Do you all know this song?"

He heard a laugh from Wendy, who had come running down the marble staircase.

Ron reached the end of the tune and started again, and Wendy sang along:

Do you hear the people sing,
Singing the song of angry men,
It is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!

And a few Muggles in the audience joined in:

When the beating of our hearts
Echoes the beating of the drum,
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

The dementors' forward progress went from slow to standstill. One witch, face to face with a dementor, her wand having fallen to her side, picked up the lyrics and began singing with immense bravery:

It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!

The dementor backed away, shrinking slightly into itself, its hood turning this way and that. All around the hall, the dementors were backing off from their victims, the ones surrounding Luke in the air grouping together as if for protection.

The blue shimmers from the concert had clumped into thick snowflake-like structures six to ten inches across each; Luke reached out and wafted one towards a dementor. When the flake landed, the dementor let out a horrific shriek and began to claw at the blue flake, its body smoking at the point of contact.

The crowd sang,

When the beating of our hearts
Echoes the beating of the drum,
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

Luke flew around the hall, directing more and more flakes towards the dementors, not sure if anyone below could see them. More and more flakes landed on the dementors; they shrieked and clawed, and finally fled out through the entrance hall, their cries reverberating off the stones.

Do you hear the people sing,
Singing the song of angry men,
It is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!

The Death Eaters on the floor found themselves surrounded by a singing crowd. One of them, whom Luke recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange, tried to send a jinx towards a Muggle man, but the jinx bounced back and hit the Death Eater, who crumpled to the floor.

"Expelliarmus!" said a wizard next to the Muggle, and all the Death Eaters' wands flew into the air to be caught by the surrounding crowd.

When the beating of our hearts
Echoes the beating of the drum,

Hermione stepped forward, smiling with immense relief and satisfaction. "Incarcerus!" Ropes flew out of the end of her wand and tied themselves around the arms and wrists of each of the dozen Death Eaters huddled in the middle of the hall.

There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

* * *

The crowd began to cheer wildly, people crying and laughing at the triumph of victory. All Wendy could do was stare, though, as the golden figure of Luke descended gently through the air to land in front of her.

She rushed towards him, but stopped just as she reached him. She put out a hand to his arm and hesitantly touched him. He felt real, he felt solid and warm.

Wendy burst into tears and flung herself into his arms. "Oh, my God," she sobbed. "Oh, my God, I can't believe it."

Luke's hands found her hair and stroked it gently.

"How long do you have?" Wendy asked. Everything was blurred through the tears.

"I don't know," said Luke. "A few hours, perhaps. It's hard to stay here. It's like I keep getting distracted from reality."

He felt so real that if his skin and clothes hadn't been glowing golden, he might have been a normal person, not some magical incarnation. She couldn't believe it.

"What happened?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

* * *

Severus had hurried down the marble staircase after Wendy, and now he watched, feeling distinctly awkward, as she embraced the returned Luke.

"Oh, my God," she kept saying.

Severus left her to it and hurried past the rejoicing crowd to Rigel Lestrange's body, which lay on the floor a little ways from the stage.

He knelt down beside the crumpled form and shook his head slightly. Too many dead, simply too many. And it was only just beginning.

To his great surprise though, he saw that Rigel was still breathing. Severus pressed his hand to the boy's forehead: it was hot to the touch, fevered.

"He's not dead," he said aloud.

The nearest witch, who turned out to be Molly Weasley, turned from her rejoicings. "What do you mean, he's not dead?"

"He's not dead," Severus repeated. He looked into her startled eyes. "He's still alive."

Mrs. Weasley brought two plump hands to her mouth. "Merlin," she breathed. Then she was distracted as Ron and Ginny Weasley came running up to her and threw themselves at her, clearly relieved to find her still alive.

Severus stood up and looked around. Fudge ought to be here somewhere; as Minister, he really should be the one taking charge. He'd probably hidden in the middle of the crowd at the first sign of danger, Severus thought scathingly. Minerva would do -- and there she was, crying unrestrainedly while giving out orders to those around her.

He hurried through the crowd to her.

"Rigel's alive," he said without any preliminaries.

"And then, Stebbins, you'll need to bring -- What did you say, Severus?" Minerva asked.

"Rigel's alive," he repeated. "He's feverish."

Her eyes widened. "Check the others," she said at once. "And check Albus..." her voice broke.

But most of the little black bundles scattered around the hall, Rigel excepted, were already sitting up one by one and rubbing their necks, heads, or shoulders, depending on how they had fallen and whether they'd been stepped on in the crush of people earlier. Adults, too, were apparently coming back from the dead all around the hall. Cries of relief and joy and surprise came from all quarters, equivalent cries of dismay from those whose loved ones weren't reviving, who had been trampled during the fight. It was still a miracle -- so many had been thought lost, and now they weren't.

Someone would have to take Rigel up to the hospital wing, Poppy would need to see to the fever, but first Severus had to know...

He went out past the rubble of the doors to find Albus' body, which had fallen just outside the Great Hall. Potter and Granger were already there. Potter was on his knees next to the old man's form, head hanging. Granger knelt awkwardly behind him, her hand on his shoulder. Severus swept around them to Albus' other side.

His eyes were open but blank, and on his mouth was a faint smile.

He was clearly dead.