Dark Daughter

Chapter 16: The Gathering Light and the Receding Darkness

Amy, Mike, Cho and Harry were making slow and steady progress through the trees and up a rocky mountain, stumbling on the uneven footing.

"Shouldn't be far now," Amy assured them as she panted heavily. "Our rings are glowing brighter by the second."

Amy passed a water bottle that the centaurs had given her to each of them, who took a swing, barely quenching their thirst, before they had to replace the cap.

"Amy," said Harry, voicing something that had been worrying him for some time. "What do we do if we're caught? What if they find us and take the Sorting Hat?"

"We'll have to get it back then, won't we," said Amy, not looking back but pulling a large branch out of her way.

"You never give up, do you?" asked Cho, who was right behind her.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, nothing stops you," she explained. "No matter what, you just keep going."

"I guess it depends," said Amy thoughtfully. "I'm not giving up our mission, that's for sure. This is what makes or breaks the world, you guys, and I don't care what gets in my way, I'm not going to let Voldemort take over."

But in truth, her every step was like the entire war within itself. She fought the Darkness in her heart. It kept telling her to go back, to leave. She told the voice that she wasn't going anywhere except ahead, to victory. Over and over again she was reminded that it was hopeless, that she would never make it there in time, it wasn't worth the pain. No, no! I'm doing this, even if it kills me! NO!

She faltered many times in order to gather her strength against the Shadow. Also, the Darkness felt like a weight, it would drag her backwards--physically! She would stagger back without being able to stop, always claiming that her father was trying to push them away, while the others didn't feel a thing, but they trusted that she alone could feel it and were too caught up in their own tasks of building their courage to pursue the mystery. She pulled herself onward, exhausted by each stride.

Oh God, she thought desperately. How am I going to do this? I'm so tired.

Yes, stop, hissed Voice. Rest--sleep. Come now, sleep!

Amy's eyelids drooped. She was actually drowsy because of what the Shadow was saying! She stumbled and fell to her knees. So tired. She didn't rise. So weak. Can't go any further.

"Amy?" said Mike suddenly. He hurried to her side and tried to heave her to her feet. "C'mon, Amy, get up."

She just slumped to the ground. You can't do anything! Suddenly the Mark on her arm burst with intolerable pain. It had never hurt like this before. She gave a yell of anguish and then . . . it diminished. What was going on? Her Mark then began to burn very dulling, throbbing like a dying light bulb. But with each throb, it would hurt a little more.

"He's coming," Amy whispered, not sounding like herself at all, but much older and her voice much deeper. It reminded everyone of Madam Maxime from the year before.

Mike released her in surprise and fear. Harry then cried out in agony. His scar was burning too.

"She's right," he grunted, though his voice was his own "Voldemort's--coming, we've got--to--get out--of here!"

"Come on Harry," said Cho, pulling his arm around her shoulders and guiding him over to the bushes, but Harry's feet moved very slowly and reluctantly, though his body was strong enough to move.

Mike put his hands beneath Amy's arms and tried to drag her too, but she wouldn't budge.

"What's going on?" cried Cho as a powerful wind began to blow, but none of the trees or vegetation was moving.

"I don't know," yelled Mike, his curly hair whipping his face.

A bizarre force began to pull the teenagers away from the bushes that they were trying to reach. Like a great lasso around the four, it pulled them towards some large rocks.

"It was a trap," called Cho as the wind howled in their ears, affecting only them. "We must have walked right into a trap!"

Amy was shaking with cold--or was it the cold? She seemed to be trying to fight something--something within herself.

"Something," said Mike, more to himself, because no one would be able to hear him over the wind now, "very fishy is going on he--"

Someone grabbed him from behind and hit him hard around the head. Stars danced before his eyes, but he stayed miraculously conscious. Cho screamed as a figure in a black robe with his or her hood up pulled her into the depths of a cave. How had they gotten into the cave? Mike wondered. Last he knew; he was outside in the wind. But there was no wind now; it was chillingly still and silent.

Cho screamed again and this time her cry echoed into the cavern, sounding like twenty Chos had screamed at once and were still shrieking. Mike was pulled away too, but strangely, he had no strength to fight.

This must be the Dark Magic of the cave, he thought, trying to reassure himself, but failing. It makes you weak so you won't be able to fight You-Know-Who's Death Eaters.

Amy seemed only half conscious. Something was wrong with her, but he couldn't understand what, something was making him feel oddly disoriented. He shivered with cold. The air was very frigid here, almost like the dungeons, but worse--a thousand times worse.

Harry was a little ways ahead of Mike, his scar burning as though there was a Magical Mine inside it, exploding every few seconds. Amy occupied a state of semi-consciousness. The Voice was louder than ever, shouting at her, telling her that she was loosing, that she would never make it, that she was worthless. Cho wanted to struggle--she wanted to fight. But the power of the cave prevented her, like Mike, from doing so.

After being robbed of all weapons and other items that might have allowed their escape (including the Sorting Hat), they were thrown roughly into another cave-dungeon. Amy crumpled. The others sat up and looked at her. Gathering all of the strength that she could possibly muster, Amy, shivering, lifted herself from the ground and crawled over to sit by Harry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry I scared you."
"What was going on?" asked Cho. "What was wrong with your voice?"
"I should have told you sooner," Amy breathed. She looked solemnly around the dungeon. "Voldemort is part of me. He's in my blood. All year, ever since he regained power, I've been fighting a--a sort of--Darkness--in my heart. Sometimes it comes in a Voice form and other times it stops me from doing something good by making my feet heavier. The whole time we've been on this mission I've been fighting to even take one step. The Darkness is Voldemort, but he doesn't know that part of him is in me. I have to keep telling the Voice 'no', but it just tries harder to pull me back."

There was a stunned silence from all of the Heirs. Amy waited patiently for any questions, not caring that they might think she was mad.

"So Voldemort is in you, but he doesn't know that he's in you?" asked Mike.

"Yes," Amy explained, her voice still no more than a whisper. "It's the link between the two of us."

"D'you think you'll ever be able to get rid of it?" asked Mike timidly.

Amy paused. Yes, there was one way . . . but . . . it would be impossible . . . she'd never make it.

"No," she breathed. "I think I'll have it forever, but it'll lighten up a lot if the Dark Lord is killed."

Because it won't be here any more and I--

"When," Cho reminded her, which was very strange because it was usually Amy reminding them (Cho in particular) not to give up hope.

But she only put her arms around her knees and buried her face in them.

"It's over," she cried. "We can't do anything more. There's no shred of hope or help this time. We're trapped!"

No one argued with this. With Amy giving up, her strength and encouraging words gone, they had nothing to hang on to. Maybe she'd made a mistake.

"So we're just giving up," said Harry dismally.

"The world is falling to Dark," sobbed Amy, whose emotional line had snapped. She was so exhausted, so weak with grief and shock. All of her adrenaline was spent, which had been her main source of fuel.

"I can't do this!"

* * *

Jason, Ron and Draco still had one more camp to penetrate. Personally, Ron was in aw at how lucky they'd been. Why hadn't the Death Eaters come back? Was it the Callers? Maybe they caused the Death Eaters harm. With unanswered questions buzzing furiously around his head, Ron tried to think of something to say to his comrades.

"We're almost done," he said.

"Something's strange," said Draco softly. "Why haven't they come back?"

"I don't know," said Ron, further perplexed that not even Draco knew. "Black?"

"Dunno," said the youngest dully, clearly his mind was somewhere else.

"What's the matter?" asked Draco, actually sounding worried.

"Nothing," said Jason in the same dull voice.

"Yes there is," insisted Draco.

"Jus' thinking 'bout Derek," Jason told them. Dragging his feet slightly. "I've got this feeling that something really awful has happened to him."

"It's just a feeling," counseled Ron. But the look on the boy's face showed he had to say something else to ease his friend--friend. "I'm sure he's fine. I bet he's helping Madam Pomfrey as we speak!"

Jason gave half a smile. Ron turned to Draco, thinking that they needed to talk about something else. He cast about for a subject. "You've changed."

"Huh?"

"You've changed since we first got in this bloody forest," Ron repeated.

Draco didn't understand what he meant.

"You're not like you used to be," said Ron, finding it hard to put into words how Draco had changed and wishing he'd chosen a different subject. "You're not as--well--bad as you were before. You really have changed."

"You keep saying that," said Draco thoughtfully. "But I s'pose so. I think everyone did, some for the worse, but most for the better."

"You don't sound so much like a slimy Slytherin," smirked Ron.

"Hey," said Draco, smiling broadly, which was a very strange sight and made all of the difference in the world. "Don't you dare insult the greatness of Slytherins, you of little intelligence--you of Gryffindor!"

Jason snorted, the last thing he'd have ever imagined doing with Voldemort trying to take over the world and his friends in danger.

"So long as you don--" he began but then the ground started to shake violently.

"What the hell . . . ?" Draco shouted.

The shaking persisted and then a great rumbling erupted from behind them, as though a thousand feet were hitting the ground. All three spun on their heels to meet an awesome sight. Galloping toward them was an army of centaurs, each with a quiver of arrows on their backs. The leader was a strong, muscular creature, dark as the sky and quite as menacing. Transfixed, none of them moved, which might have proved stupid if the leader hadn't spotted them and stopped, their massive hooves dispersing a storm of dust and dirt from the forest floor.

"You there," said the huge centaur, prodding his enormous dark finger right in Draco's chest. "Are you a member of the--the Order of the Phoenix?"

"W-we are," stammered Ron. They were helping them, anyway. "A-and wh-who're you?"

"I'm Pholus," he said magnificently, placing his giant hand on his chest. "My Lord Chiron sent me here to help defend the world against the works of this--Volley-Morph fellow."

"Voldemort," Jason corrected him timidly, though the name that made him shudder.

"Ah . . . " said Pholus, lowering his hand. "That does sound a bit more frightening." He shot out his chest again as though he'd shown some private part of his body and said quickly and deeply, "Not that anything frightens the Captain of the Centaurs!"

"Is that you then?" asked Jason stupidly. "I mean--you're the Captain of the Centaurs?"

"Yes," said Pholus. "For the time being. Centaurs are not usually involved in wars, especially those of humans," he made a face that showed obvious disgust at the thought of humans and their battles. Jason scowled. "But, Lord Chiron made it clear to me that the stars instruct us to do so. The heavens always direct our lives."

Pholus looked up at the sky, probably expecting to see stars above, imprinted against the dark sky, but he saw only the shadowy cloud that the dementors had conjured. He sighed and continued to stare, his face guarded and stony.

"Do you need us for something?" asked Jason.

"Yes," said Pholus, his head snapping back to them. "We went to the cave and asked your leaders. They informed us that many of you were on missions, and that is clearly true." Pholus made another face as though to say that the idea of humans telling the truth was ludicrous. This time Ron joined Jason in his scowl.

"They said to look for a group that was helping students," continued Pholus. "They informed us that there would be two groups. One that consisted of mainly adults and another of children."

"We're not exactly children," said Draco with some difficulty.

"Not exactly?" boomed Pholus, who clearly didn't like the word. "What are you then? You are humans, are you not? You are not adults, are you? I believe that the word of human young is children, is it not?"

Draco recoiled, but he knew very well that he had to finish his statement and answer the centaur's question.

"We're children," he muttered resentfully. "Just a bit old for the title."

"Ah," said Pholus, stroking his chin. "Age is wisdom indeed. I see that you are eager to given the title worthy of one of such wisdom. Clearly you gained more that others, young blonde, but you still have much to learn, you can be sure of that!"

"Yessir," said Draco quietly, his wisdom kicking into gear.

"Have you freed all of the students?" Pholus shot at Ron.

"No," Ron said clearly. "We still have one more camp to go."

"We will help you then," said Pholus. "Who is your leader?"

Ron pushed Draco forward, who seemed bewildered.

"You?" thundered Pholus, chuckling. "You?"

"He's a great leader," said Jason defensively, making Draco go pink as he stared bolding into Pholus' dark face.

"Very well," said Pholus, gaining his usual control. "We are going to help you fight off a great army of these Death Eaters. Chiron tells me that they should be coming very soon to oppose you."

"How long do we have?" asked Ron. "How can we get ready?"

"You cannot ready yourselves for this," said Pholus, a trace of depth in his harsh voice. "And there is very little time. The Death Eaters will be coming from the north. We must use those of the next camp to help us." Pholus paused. "Let us go then."

Two of the centaurs at the front of the mass allowed Jason and Ron to climb awkwardly onto their backs while Draco rode atop of Pholus' mighty back. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable for the three humans, and the centaurs galloped towards the gates of the next prison with their apprehension mounting. It had been many thousands of years since their kind had involved themselves in the wars of humans or other creatures, even within their own forest. Centaurs were not accustom to war or battle and never killed anything if not to eat or use its body in some useful way. The murder of humans, as much as they mistrusted them, was against all that they had been taught as young ones.

Draco explained to Pholus what had happened after they had left the Valley of the Centaurs. He explained how Amy had conceived a plan and how each person in the cave had gone out to look for anyone and any thing that could help. Pholus accepted their story without question.

After that, the only sound heard in the forest was the thundering of the army's feet as they galloped towards the prison. It emerged through the trees. The prison wasn't glowing like the other two this time, though. The place was silent. The gates were rotting, as though they'd been there for many years. Bewildered, Draco slid from Pholus' back, landing on his feet with a thud. He walked parallel with him. They stood before the giant (and almost magnificent) archways, expecting something to happen.

Draco extended a trembling hand and stuck it through the entrance. Nothing happened. He took a step. Nothing. Feeling that perhaps the Death Eaters had deserted the place, he strode into the camp. It was by far the largest of them all, and the most terrifying, though apart from its size it looked no different from the others. A dark feeling of dread hovered about the place. There had been pain here. Suffering. Death. There still was.

A faint cry of anguish broke the still and rigid air. There were quick attempts by someone or something to stifle it.

"Who goes there?" cried Ron, jumping from the centaur's back.

"Ron?" a gruff voice answered weakly.

The centaur on which Ron had been riding clamped a hand over the boy's jaw. Ron gave a muffled yell and yanked the hand away.

"That's Hagrid!" he half-screamed.

Ron and Jason flew to the place were the cries had come and found Hagrid in a small dungeon ten feet below them with about four other prisoners. Hagrid looked dreadful. His face was pale, his hair was wilder than ever and there was a large cut across his normally ruddy face. In his muscular arm he held a bundle of robes. Later it proved to be a young boy, about twelve, whose face was bleeding, as was his abdomen. Hagrid had the boy wrapped in his overcoat, which was spotted with blood.

Jason looked closer. It was Denis Creevey. He looked around the rest of the dungeon, whose occupants were sheltering behind Hagrid and staring up at them with eyes as wide as tennis balls. One was a house-elf that Ron knew as Winky. She was bending over a fourth year called Jacob Dorny, sponging his head with her blouse. Jacob was motionless, but apparently breathing steadily and he had no obvious injuries, though that accounted for nothing. Another was Madam Hooch, who had an arm around Alicia Spinnet. Alicia was trembling but looked up at Ron as though he was a god.

"Can you get out?" he asked them kindly. "It's all right, we're sent by Dumbledore--well--we're working for him anyway."

Dennis whimpered into Hagrid's chest, who put a hand comfortingly on his head as though he was baby.

"I can carry him," Ron suggested, holding out his arms. "If you need to get Dorny."

Hagrid handed Dennis over to Ron tenderly. It was easy to hold him, almost like cradling a small child. This wasn't good, because Dennis had always been small and he had undoubtedly lost a lot of blood. Ron doubted that he would survive very long without medical care.

"I want my brother," Dennis squeaked.

"Shhh," cooed Hooch as she emerged, taking the boy into her arms like he was a baby. "We'll get you help soon."
"What happened to Dorny?" asked Jason. "It's not serious is it?"

"Don' think so," said Hagrid. "Was tortured a lot, passed out after awhile. Nothin' we could do."

"I understand," said Jason. He hesitated. "What happed to Creevey?"

"I dunno," Hagrid told them somberly. "The Death Eaters jus' threw 'im in with the rest of us."

"It was horrible," whispered Alicia. "I think he was attacked by something. Got big scratches all across his belly and . . . "

Her voice trailed away. Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she reached up and grasped it, as though they'd been close friends for years.

"Whoa," said Hagrid, stopping dead at the sight of Pholus and his heard of centaurs.

"Hagrid," said Pholus formally. "Lord Chiron was worried about you."

"And I him," said Hagrid politely.

"We've come to help fight the war against Voldemort," Pholus informed the newcomers.

"There are more people," said Madam Hooch, as though she thought that Pholus thought this was it. "I mean--we need to get them."

"Yes," said Pholus thoughtfully. "You must go look for them. When any of you find someone, bring them to us if they are injured, we have a medic--come here Damian--and he will tend to your wounded." Pholus stared down at the pitiful bundle that was Dennis, then to Jacob, motionless in Hagrid's arms, and said; "I see that you already have work for Damian. Bring them forward."

Ron noted that Pholus never let his voice reveal too much emotion, other than mirth. The centaur that seemed to be Damian stepped from the silent heard. He many bags slung around his human shoulders and back, with a thick belt that held countless leather bundles of what smelled like herbs, while numerous blankets were lain across the part of his back that was a horse.

Madam Hooch laid Dennis in his arms. He didn't move, but merely whimpered.

"A Chimera!" exclaimed Damian softly, so as not to alarm Dennis. Looking up he told Hooch, whom he presumed to be Dennis' mother, he said, "He's very lucky. I've never treated a Chimera victim with wounds this--erm--mild."

The centaur laid a mat on the ground and began to treat the boy, Hagrid hovering over him all the while with Jacob lying in his arms. The others disbursed. Ron, Jason and Draco (who'd become inseparable) had to leave each other's sides in order to help others. They had become the leaders of the people they'd found and therefore could not cling to one another.

Ron was paired with Alicia, who still looked deeply shaken. Jason was accompanied by Winky and Draco by Madam Hooch. Ron went down the edge of the spiny prison walls, where many of the prisoners were crying out for help.

"We're coming!" called Alicia.

The locks were easily broken with stones and some chambers were only blocked by boulders, which Ron and Alicia pushed aside with ease. Somehow, in the absence of keepers, had become weak and aged. Ron was relieved to find that not many of the captives were as gravely wounded as Dennis, though many were in the same state as Jacob Dorny, whom had been tortured.

"Something's not right," Draco whispered to Madam Hooch as they pulled two first years from the depths of an under ground cavern-dungeon. "This is too easy."

"The Death Eaters were summoned away, or something," Hooch explained. "They all apparated in the middle of whatever they were doing, as though something had forced them to do so."

Amazed that she hadn't told him this before, Draco opened his mouth to reply, but then someone screamed from within the cave. There had been twenty people in this cell.

"What happened?" he called.

No answer.

"He's gone mad," said a sixth year Ravenclaw girl, standing next to Draco. She had dark brown hair, a tanned face (though at the moment it was quiet pale), blue eyes and, Draco normally would have noticed, she was very pretty. "He watched his friend die and he was tortured more times than I can count; I don't think he could stand it."

"Will you help me get him out?" asked Draco. "Please."

"Sure," said the girl.

"Thanks . . . erm--what's your name?"

"Shane Fawcett," she informed him. "And you're," her eyes scanned over his hair and pale, pointed face, "you're Draco Malfoy."

"Don't use the name Malfoy," said Draco scornfully. "I'm not one of them."

Shane seemed to understand, though no one really could. Draco lowered himself into the cave to find a boy with light brown hair and freckled face, probably about second year. He was shivering and almost sobbing. Draco took off his cloak and wrapped it around the shuddering boy.

"You all right?" he asked. "Can you get up?"
Only a whimper in response.

"Owen," cooed Shane, as she jumped down beside him. "Owen, it's all right, we're here to help. This boy is going to help us out of here."

"Come on, Owen," said Draco, taking his elbow. "The Death Eaters are gone!"

"They killed him!" Owen cried suddenly and it occurred to Draco that maybe this boy really had been driven mad. "They killed him! They killed Orla!"
"We've got to get out of here, Owen," said Shane. "Please, come--"

There was suddenly a great roar of screaming from above. There were the sounds of hundreds--thousands of feet running. Hooch leapt down next to them.

"The Death Eaters!" she screeched. "You three have got to get out of here!"
"Owen won't move!" wailed Shane as she and Draco endeavored to lift the boy from the ground.

"They killed her," Owen continued to whisper. "They killed my best friend!"

"They're going to kill you too if you don't move," snapped Draco.

"Let them!" shouted Owen insanely. "I don't care!"

Draco looked at Madam Hooch and then at the shivering, muttering boy. He didn't want to leave him, but he knew that he was needed in the battle overhead. Shane shook her head at him and stood up.

"Owen," she said feebly. "You stay here. We'll be back!"

Madam Hooch clambered out while Draco and Shane looked their last upon Owen Cauldwell. Grimacing, Draco climbed out. He extended a hand to Shane, who took it. As he heaved he up, something glimmered in her eyes--something that Draco was in too much of a hurry to analyze thoroughly.

It was a horrific sight. The centaurs and the humans were immersed in battle with hooded figures, both human and dementors. Also, a few giants scattered the horizon. Hagrid was fighting a particularly large one with ease, mostly because it had arm missing. The students fought valiantly and some appeared to be a match for the Death Eaters, but others were almost helpless.

Two Death Eaters were closing in upon the wounded, wands raised. With angered cries, Draco and Shane charged. With a blast of uncontrolled magic, the Death Eaters flew backwards and landed, unconscious, some twenty feet away. The two looked at one another in surprise and then looked down at the injured people, who were too weak to move. They nodded.

Draco and Shane spent most of the battle defending those who were fatally wounded. This was no easy task, because they no wands until Shane ran and stole the wands from the Death Eaters that they'd knocked senseless. She ran back triumphantly, carrying the wands. Draco took the one she handed him and he was grateful to feel the smooth piece of wood under his pale fingers again. He felt braver and of more use.

Someone clutched his robe. Draco turned sharply. It was a boy called Lucan Moon and he was in his house and year. He had a large cut across his skinny, rat-like face. But Draco had learned that Moon was anything but rat-like, quite the contrary. He would never understand why he wasn't in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, except for his nastiness, perhaps. Moon's right arm was bloody, as was his side.

"Malfoy," he whispered pleadingly.

Draco bend down low to listen, maybe Moon had something important to say. "What is it, Moon?" he asked, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Moon gave a shudder. "Y-your father . . . " Draco bent closer. Moon looked ready to loose consciousness. Please, he prayed inwardly, please not now! "Planning . . . "

Draco grabbed the collar of the other boy because of anger and frustration. "What is he planning?" he asked fiercely. "Tell me, hurry!"

Moon didn't seem to notice and breathed, "Magi--Mine . . . Attack . . . eh--"

Suddenly his eyes lost the gleam of life that had once inhabited them. They were cold as stone and just as hard. He was motionless. Realizing what had just happened, Draco released Moon's collar. He stared at the body of the boy that had slept in the same dormitory with him for five years. He's dead, he told himself numbly. And then a wave of emotion filled his chest and he clasped a clump of robes on Moon's chest, held it to his face and began to howl in misery.

Shane put a hand tenderly on his shoulder while keeping a look out. Draco let his tears fall onto the body freely. Dead! Dead! Draco couldn't ever remember feeling so incredibly horrible. He sobbed for a great deal of time. And then, remembering that Amy Evans was still fighting to kill Voldemort, he rose and put all that he had into fighting the battle.

* * *

The rain was beginning to fall again. Great heavy drops outside their cave. Amy was still curled in the pitiful ball. Harry was gripping his hair, feeling depressed and waiting for death. Cho was reflecting on her life, ready for it to end. And Mike was hitting his head repeatedly on the rock wall in a vain hope that he might not have to think at all.

All was hopeless. Hopeless. And then something happened to the four that could never be explained, nor dismissed.

* * *

Amy drifted from consciousness. Something or someone was screaming, terrible, pitiful, screeches. Amy wanted whomever it was to stop so that she could slip off into oblivion again. But it persisted. Suddenly, she could recognize the screamer. She'd heard her before. Lily Potter.

An image was emerging out of the darkness. Amy became more and more aware of her surroundings and her situation. It was another memory. And there was Lily, shrieking and cowering on the floor, doing all that she could to shield her tiny son. Amy knew this memory well by now; it had haunted her thoughts for many nights now. But the first time she'd seen it had been--right before the attack--hadn't it?

And then, as though she'd pushed a button on the channel changer, the scene in front of her dissolved. There was darkness for a while and Amy waited for something new. Soon the images before her depicted people--students. A cruel voice laughed. It's high-pitched mirth filled her with hate for the creature. Students lay before her, they too screamed at the sight of her--no, it was Voldemort. He raised his wand and shouted the Cruciatus Curse at them, and watched them writhe helplessly on the floor. When the curse was removed she looked into their eyes.

Oh, their eyes. The fear. The pain. They were pleading for them to help her. But she couldn't--or could she? There was one way--one way to stop this.

And then her vision morphed into Dumbledore's face. He blinked at her. And yet again, Amy found herself looking into his blue eyes. And something in them changed the way she felt about life. In her heart, she knew that he would be with her. The eyes told her that in the end it would all be okay. She could do it--she had to do this!

With newfound strength, Amy said aloud, "I will!"

* * *

"Say wha . . . ?" said Mike, removing his head from the wall.

"We can't give up," said Amy. "I was wrong! We can't despair--we just can't!"

"Will you make up your mind already!" said Mike angrily; who would do anything Amy told him to.

"Evans," said Harry quietly. "How do you ever expect to get out here? We have no hope."

"There's always hope," whispered Amy, speaking more to herself than to Harry. "Dumbledore w--"

"Dumbledore?" burst Harry. "Dumbledore's dead! Dumbledore didn't care! He could have easily saved himself but he didn't--he didn't! He just left us here! We could have been out of here it weren't for him!"

"Ah, Harry--" Mike began but Harry continued.

"He was planning to die all year long!" he yelled. "He just left us--the Heirs of Hogwarts--to do the work for him! He was always talking about death. Things just got too hard for him! He doesn't care! Why didn't he save himself? He could have! But no--he just deserted us!"

No one spoke. Cho and Mike were beginning to agree. Why didn't he just save himself? He could have come back and helped. He really had left them alone.

"You don't really believe that!" said Amy her eyes brimming with tears. She felt that it might be true. Dumbledore had spoken a lot about death. But she refused to believe that her hero wasn't as strong as she thought. "H-he wouldn't leave on p-purpose! Voldemort was re-really strong. Besides, even if he did mean to die, he wouldn't leave us alone!"

"Yes he would!" exclaimed Harry. "Why wouldn't he? He was always just using me to defeat Voldemort for him--just because of the protection in my blood! Why wouldn't he leave?"

"You talk about death as though it's just packing up and heading for the door! He couldn't stop it!" Amy said angrily, but tears crept down her cheeks. She brushed them away. "Besides he was very old. He wouldn't desert us and you know it!" She drew a shaky breath. "He loved us."

Silence. No one had ever dared to say that Dumbledore loved them. It was hard to think that he wasn't just wise and powerful, but loving, kind and forgiving. No one had ever said that he even loved. Before Amy or anyone could say anything else, Fawkes, the phoenix, flew into the cavern with a loud screech, appearing out of thin air. He was carrying a ragged--something--a cloth it seemed--in his talons.

Harry remembered the last time Fawkes had appeared when he had been in need. And he'd made a similar entrance, bringing exactly what he'd needed. Harry suddenly realized that he'd brought that same thing. The Sorting Hat! The swan-sized bird perched itself on Amy's knee. He took one look at her begrimed and bloody face and let a tear fall from his beady eye.

"Fawkes," Amy whispered, disbelieving. The phoenix laid his head against her brow but she pushed him away. "No time, Fawkes. Can you get us out of here?"

The bird whistled softly. No. He lifted the ratty thing that he'd dropped in her lap with his beak. He held it up to her. She stoked his head gently and lovingly.

"Thank you," she breathed. Tears seeped down her cheeks again. Dumbledore had helped--he had--one way or another. He'd sent his help to those who were loyal to him. Amy struggled to gain control of herself. "F-Fawkes . . . I--"

The sounds of footfalls were approaching their cell. Harry, Cho and Mike tore their eyes away from the Hat and looked up.

"Put it away!" hissed Mike.

Amy stuffed the Hat down her pocket. "Fawkes," she murmured. "Fawkes get out here! Distract the Death Eaters at all costs."

The phoenix whistled reassuringly and took to the air. Within seconds, he'd vanished. They were rigid with fear and apprehension. Finally, four Death Eaters stood before their cave's entrance, looking menacingly down at the four.

"Well, Evans," said one, it was Lucius Malfoy, who was the only one any of them recognized. "You've created quite a stir tonight. The Dark Lord has decided to give you his final offer. Though, this time, if you refuse, he will kill you."

"Go to hell!" Mike burst out angrily.

"I'll give you a bit of hell!" screeched Malfoy. "Crucio!"

Mike fell to the floor and began to convulse. Cho sank down beside him, but knew better than to touch him or say anything to Malfoy. At last, the Death Eater removed the curse. Panting heavily, Mike rose to his knees, leaning heavily on Cho all the while.

"Torturing my friends won't shift me," whispered Amy so that no one but Harry could hear her.

Somehow, this triggered a strange response of feelings for him. Something told him that he needed to protect her. He knew that something bad was going to happen to his cousin. On an impulse, he grasped her hand. Amy looked into his bright green eyes with hers. She loved him. For a fleeting instance, he knew it, and he held it in his heart for the rest of his life.

The emerald orbs of hope held something else. Harry spent as much time as possible to discern the expression. Was it fear? No! Courage--more than he'd ever seen in eyes before. But was that all that he saw? It ran deeper--in the very core of her heart. But--

An unknown Death Eater grabbed Harry's arms with his powerful ones and forced them behind his back. The same was done to the others. Malfoy was restraining Amy again. They were forced to climb the mountain. It was unsurprisingly difficult without the use of their arms. The Death Eaters seemed to know that if they let go of them, the four would bolt, even one without the others.

Mike, in his weariness from the curse, stumbled more than the others. And each time fell to his knees; the Death Eater would kick him hard in the stomach. Amy prayed that it would work, that they would be able to kill Voldemort. She didn't know who or what she was praying to, but she prayed all the same. She pleaded with that unknown but powerful force as she staggered up the mountain. She begged that Mike would be strong enough to defeat Voldemort--that she too, would be strong enough.

Finally, they reached the top. Amy gasped. The peak of the mountain was like a stone platform. It seemed ancient, like it had been built for something else. The flagstone floor was cracked in several places on each slab. On the far side of the platform, was a magnificent thrown, and seated on it was a dark creature, wrapped in a black cloak, hooded. It's deep, glowing, red eyes shown in their direction.

The thing that they all knew was Voldemort rose menacingly from his thrown and walked slowly towards them. He stopped in the middle of the peak, waiting. The Death Eaters dragged their petrified prisoners with them as they formed a small circle around him. Each of the Heirs was an equal distance apart.

Voldemort's terrible, hissing, cruel and cold voice sounded in the air, more appalling than any of them could ever imagine, even the Death Eaters, "And so . . . the valiant Heirs of Hogwarts arrive at last. I have been waiting for you." He turned to Amy. "Accio Sorting Hat!"

The Hat soared out of Amy's pocket and into Voldemort's hand. She made a grab for it and found that her arms were no longer held behind her back. Neither were any other Heirs. The Dark Lord seemed to know that none of them would move. A surge of hate filled each of their hearts but all forced it back. No, they couldn't do that. They needed love.

Oh, please, let us find the love we need!

The Voice started again in Amy's head. She fought it back. And then something remarkable happened. From her heart, came a bizarre sensation. As though warm liquid was spreading from her chest to the rest of her body, Amy felt the Darkness reside and love overcome her heart and soul. Her breath caught in her chest. This was the most glorious feeling she'd ever felt in her entire life! She suddenly knew that she could do anything with this power--anything! She also knew that she had to get the Sorting Hat.

Abruptly, strange words burst from her mouth, "Ades dum!"

She extended a hand and the Sword of Slytherin soared into it. The Heirs all did this as one, as though it'd been practiced. Amy understood that they all felt the Love that she did. But something else happened then, something that none of them would have ever expected.

As Amy extended her sword like a wand and the other Heirs did the same, she saw Voldemort with new light. He was just a poor boy who'd never seen the true value of life and love. Poor Tom had never had someone to help him understand. She knew that the only way she could save him, was to love him, and with this love, rid of his power and of his life. She had to free his soul.

Harry watched Amy. Suddenly, he realized what he had seen in her eyes. And then her heard in her words, "Children aren't supposed to kill their fathers. If they do, the consequences can be awful!"

The love in his chest did not fade, and so his emotions were shielded. But something told him that Amy, in killing Voldemort, was going to kill herself. She had that connection. He was her father. She had spoken with Voldemort about it on the cliff. She knew that she was going die.

Amy didn't stop to consider. Those that she loved flashed by in her mind as she yelled the word, "Now!"

And the Heirs of Hogwarts yelled in unison, "Ardere-aris!"

A small explosion took place on the mountaintop. Voldemort let out a long, high-pitched scream that rang in their ears and dreams for the rest of their lives. It twisted their hearts and the loving power that had filled their chests left. Suddenly the four were filled with fear and two of them pain.

The Death Eaters dropped to their knees, crying out in pain and clutching their arm. Shortly afterward, they rolled onto the ground, motionless.

As Voldemort writhed, trying to keep hold of his soul, Amy did the same. A pain as she had never known coursed throughout her body. It was beyond all agony she'd ever felt--a thousand times worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Her chest and her very heart were going to explode. The Mark on her arm burned and she felt the skin break--she was bleeding! Amy screamed her goodbye to the earth.

Harry knelt, his scar burning worse than it ever had. Cho had her arms around him, trying to comfort him in his discomfort. She and Mike watched Amy helplessly, knowing what was happening too, like Harry. Something told them not to touch her.

Abruptly, Voldemort stopped screaming, but Amy did not. Light was swirling from her chest, like a wild tornado. The light, however, was dark as night almost like smoke. While Voldemort didn't move, in fact, he wasn't even there. All that remained was a heap of robes and a puddle of blood.

Amy's screaming lessened. Harry looked up, his scar dripping blood. No! Was this a sign that her soul was leaving her body? He knew that it was inevitable. He just had to watch his cousin die. But he would be with her, even if he couldn't touch her. He would endure the pain of watching.

And then a face appeared in the dark light, much like the echoes Harry had seen the night of the Third Task. It was that of an old man and he was apparently pushing something back into Amy's chest with all of his might. His eyes were blue, they were the only color in his face, and they glowed like stars in the heavens, giving them hope. Without warning, the dark light changed to bright light, shining so brightly that they were temporarily blind. When the three had recovered all of their senses, the old man was staring at them, seemingly exhausted and he grinned at them, smiled and then vanished.

Harry, Cho and Mike automatically knew who it had been. Dumbledore. Mike ran over to Amy as the light spun back into her chest. She slumped into his arms, seemingly, smaller, dirtier, paler and thinner than ever.

"Amy!" he cried shaking her shoulders. "Amy please . . . wake up!"

Harry got up to see if his cousin was all right. He was surprised to find that he needed to lean on Cho. He didn't feel any attraction to her now, just like she was an old friend.

"She won't wake," whispered Cho, helping Harry sit on his knees next to her.

"I thought that man--Dumbledore, wasn't it? I thought he gave her back her soul."

"He did," said Cho. "But that's not enough. Voldemort was part of her." She was surprised to find that she wasn't afraid to say the name. "He died, so part of her died too. I don't know how anyone can save her. She's still fighting to stay alive. Just because she managed not to loose her soul with Voldemort doesn't mean she won't die anyway."

"How can you say it like that," asked Harry, his voice trembling. "Like it's nothing!"

"There' not much we can do, that's all," said her voice began to shake too, the emotion setting in.

Harry patted her shoulder. Mike was silent. And then, from far off, they heard cheering. The battle must have been won.

* * *

The effect had been the most powerful feeling Draco had ever felt. A sudden wave of power had made every tree sway and the Death Eaters falling to their knees in pain, clutching their left forearms and then loosing consciousness.

Everything and everyone was silent. The battling centaurs and students were stunned. From far off, they heard a terrible shriek--high-pitched and cold. It chilled every one of their bones and turned their blood to ice. Draco shuddered. He knew who was screaming. Voldemort. Dark light, like a shadow in the form of light, burst from the tallest mountain's peak. They watched in awe. Finally, the screeches and the dark light diminished.

No one breathed. Then cry rang out from one of the younger students.

"Look! Look a the sky!"

Everyone's attention was directed skywards. The black and blood red clouds began to melt away like water from the shoreline. The starry heavens were open for them to see. The dementors were wilting in nothing. Everyone watched the dark creatures with astonishment, but not moving a muscle, not even the centaurs moved. The cold diminished. Now they were only faced with the frigid air of the night, but in their hearts, the chill of fear was gone, replaced by the heat, pleasure and comfort of hope.

The students slowly inspected the fallen Death Eaters to find that the Dark Marks on their arms were bleeding profusely. Slowly and steadily, a roar erupted from the crowd of centaurs, students and other things fighting the Dark Lord. Some of the centaurs were jumping into the air in spite of themselves while almost all of the students had leapt up at least once.

"It's over!" Shane kept repeating, tears in her blue eyes. "It's all over!"

Draco lifted his face to the sky. It was over. Over! The moon was only a crescent, but it's light gave more hope than the sun ever had. The sun probably would have set around now, come to think of it. Shane threw her arms around him and he returned the hug.

All over the place, complete strangers were embracing and kissing. Jason ran up to them and didn't hesitate to hug both Draco and Shane.

"We did it!" he shouted, jabbing a fist into the air. "Voldemort is gone!"

Ron came and enfolded them all and soon, Hagrid joined them, along with Madam Hooch. All was a happy blur. Shane didn't release her arms so quickly. She stared at Draco, and he realized what she was thinking. He felt it too. She reached up and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. He smiled broadly.

"Yeh've changed Malfoy," said Hagrid behind Draco, who jumped a foot in the air.

"Don't call me that!" said Draco, grinning a little. He had indeed changed. "I'm not like them anymore!" Hagrid looked taken aback. "But you're right. I have changed!"

* * *

McGonagall was practically cradling Severus Snape in her arms. The others were gathered around the two. He lay motionless, his upper torso held against her chest. This was not so much an act of love, but companionship and understanding (though that comes out as love in the end anyway).

"Severus," whispered Minerva. "Oh, please Severus . . . wake up."

The potions professor was barely breathing and the occupants of the mountainside cave had no help to offer. Sirius actually felt worry for his old enemy, as did Fred and George. Minerva had her cloak wrapped tightly around her colleague, but it helped very little. Fred ripped off a piece of his own cloak.

"We need to treat his arm," he said. "It's bleeding a lot."

The twins took to doctoring the hated professor while Sirius spoke to Minerva.

"What does this mean?" he asked, studying Snape's pale face with astonishment rather than hate.

"I'm not sure," said the Transfiguration teacher thoughtfully. "He and Evans were definitely talking about it. At least, they thought something would happen to their arms."

"I was wondering what that meant," said Fred, finishing on Snape's arm.

"You think he'll be okay?" asked George. He was surprised that he was even worried at all, after all, he'd loathed the man he was now praying would stay alive.

"I'm not certain," breathed Minerva. "But I do--"

Snape suddenly began to stir. His eyelids opened a fraction of an inch. He gazed around, his eyes not truly taking in what he saw. The pale and ill man breathed, "He's gone."

* * *

"They're cheering," said Hannah Abbott, trying discern the sounds coming from the distance.

"That must mean they've won something," said Charlie. "But who is it?"

"Hey, look," said Mordicus, pointing up at the sky.

"Hold still," said Hannah, finding it rather annoying now that Mordicus was awake to disobey her orders.

"But look!" cried Mordicus. "The clouds are--they're disappearing!"

All of the people in the camp looked up. The clouds were sliding away into nothing. The darkness was gone and they could see, almost feel the crescent moon shining down upon them. The stars had never glimmered so brilliantly all of their lives.

Molly and Arthur kissed passionately and embraced their son. Mad-Eye Moody and Mundungus Fletcher actually hugged. This was a sure sign that it was all over. The night was quite cold, but their lightened hearts seemed to glow like a fire, emitting warmth and light in the darkest places of the camp.

The uninjured students jumped up and down repeatedly. Cynthia Sinistra was hugging her students. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had their arms enfolded around each other. Many people were crying. It was unexplainable, but all of them knew deep down in their hearts that the Dark Lord was truly dead.

Argus Filch was actually smiling and two students came timidly out of the shadows towards him. Karen Bundy and Katie Bell embraced him around the neck and he patted their shoulders awkwardly. The sight would normally have made others laugh. In fact, this instance would later become a legend at Hogwarts. Janet Greengrass (of Slytherin) and Natalie MacDonald (of Gryffindor) were hugging too. It didn't matter how different their backgrounds were; nor their placement of houses, nor their parents, nor what powers ran in their blood, all that was important was that the Dark Lord was dead. None of them had ever experienced such love around them, not even in their own homes and, oddly enough, most of the people were complete strangers.

As Dean and Seamus broke away, Dean said, "You-Know-Who really is dead, isn't he?"

"That's defiantly the way it seems," said Charlie.

After the celebrating was over, the group of adults gathered all of the students with the help of Hannah and Mordicus, though Flint could do little more than holler commands at the Slytherins. Charlie gave his parents a last hug and led the prisoners to the edges of the forests.

* * *

(A few minutes before Lord Voldemort's fall)

Ginny, Joanne, David, Aria, Dobby and Krum stood rooted to the spot. A werewolf was advancing upon them. David and Joanne recognized it as the one that had chased them earlier.

"Split up," David said out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll take Aria. Ginny, you take Dobby. Do it--NOW!"

They all bolted in different directions, David hefting Aria into his arms while Ginny slung Dobby over her shoulder and ran with him hanging over her back. David panted like a dog, aware that the wolf was chasing him. After a few minutes, he began to grow weary. He couldn't run for much longer. And as he thought this it became even more difficult to move on. He tripped and felt face first on to the ground. Aria flew from his arms.

"Aria! RUN!" he cried. "GO! I'll be okay! RUN!"

Aria scrambled to her feet and streaked away, staring over her shoulder in fear for David's life. David turned over to find himself face to face with the wolf. This was the end! It had to be!

"No!" he screamed. He didn't want the pain.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a club-like branch hit the wolf hard in the head. Blood seeping from its already scratched face, it snarled and turned to its attacker. It was Joanne. She stood her ground, holding the stick like a cricket bat, her teeth bared like the wolf's. And then, abruptly, there was a wild, howling, shriek. David looked away towards the forest and realized that it was coming from the tallest mountain. Smoke-like light was bursting from it into the clouds.

David was staring at the werewolf. It was lying on the ground, shaking and convulsing. Suddenly, the screaming from atop the distant mountain stopped and the werewolf's form began to change. The front legs shortened and the claws receded into fingers and toes. The fur was gone, except for a mop of sandy hair on top of its head. And now a man lay before him.

He was shivering. Ragged and loose clothing just barely clung to his features. Blood spattered much of it, but it seemed very old. His face was bloody and his arm stuck out at a weird angle. The werewolves were turning back into humans! But that must mean . . .

He hurried over to the limp form lying on the ground but Joanne got there first. Aria hung back nervously. The man opened his eyes and stared blearily up at them, focusing on Joanne.

"Sir?" she whispered.

The man's breathing was harsh and ragged as his clothing. "Little girl!" he rasped, grabbing her by the collar. "The Dark Lord! You have . . . go get . . . parents! Hurry!"

"It's all right, Sir," Joanne told him, giving David a look that said all too clearly not to interfere. She had it under control. The man his attention on her and he didn't need anything to distract or confuse him. "We know about V-Voldemort--"

"Don't--say . . . name!" cried the man, looking terrified.

"What's your name?" Joanne asked loudly.

"Lunar Noctiluca," gasped the man called Lunar.

"Lunar," said Joanne clearly. "Voldemort's dead! It's all right. Everything's okay now. He's gone for good."

Lunar seem relieved by this and slumped back against the earth, panted like a dog. His face was rigid with pain.

"Ve vill haf to get him to the village," said Viktor behind them. "He vill stay in one of the houses."

"Yes," said David distractedly, staring off, towards the forest.

They all looked at each other. Everyone knew what was distracting him. But none could find the voice to say what they knew it was. All knew in their hearts that Voldemort was gone. But all were frightened that, upon voicing their beliefs, they would be proven wrong.

Suddenly, Lunar spoke softly from the ground, "He really is gone. I can hear children cheering. . . ."

He fainted.