Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter 19: The Long Night

'Harry,' Ron started again when Harry refused to respond. Hermione wasn't listening, for which Harry was grateful - she was still casting any spell she could think of to shrink Ron's arm, widen the hole, or blow the whole bloody wall up if she had to.

But Voldemort seemed to have thought of all those possibilities already. The wall held Ron's arm firmly in place as the cavern descended on top of them.

'No.'

A large rock fell on Harry's shoulder; he winced in pain.

'You have to!' shouted Ron, 'or just leave me here!'

'NO!'

Harry tore rabidly at the sleeve of Ron's robes until his fingernails dug into Ron's skin - painfully, he knew, but pain didn't matter at this point. He could get a better grip without the sleeve in the way.

Despite their desperate situation, time moved at a crawl. Dirty and tired, Harry focused on getting millimetres of Ron's arm at a time through the unyielding gap in the wall. It was slow, slow - and then Harry's arms gave way, insisting on rest for an instant, and all progress was lost. He growled like an animal in frustration.

He tried again desperately but made even less headway than before. Harry took a step back and fixed his attention on the wall - he could tell that Ron was speaking insistently to him again, but he blocked out his words and Hermione's cries.

Though it was an even madder idea than pulling Ron's arm out of solid rock, Harry started to throw himself against the wall near where Ron's arm was trapped over and over.

SLAM!

I WON'T LET YOU HAVE RON!

SLAM!

NOT AN INCH OF HIM!

SLAM!

NOT HIS ARM, NOT HIS LIFE!

SLAM!

It was hopeless, but Harry wasn't holding anything back. He ignored the flaring pain in his side and kept going, his heart aching at the prospect of harming Ron in anyway.

HE'S MY FRIEND!

SLAM!

MY BEST MATE!

SLAM!

YOU CAN'T MAKE ME DO IT!

SLAM!

I LOVE HIM LIKE A BROTHER!

SLAM!

YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!

CRACK!

And just like that, a tiny fracture appeared that ran all the way down the stone wall. More little breaks emerged from the first. Harry backed up, amazed and unsure, as chips, then bits, and then hunks of stone fell off the wall.

A moment later, Ron's arm was free. He gaped at Harry in amazement, but there was no time for commentary.

They made a run for it, the Cup still clutched in Ron's left hand.

***

Every time Harry thought it was over, there was something more.

They returned to Grimmauld Place and set the Cup in the centre of the sitting room. They were all exhausted and filthy, while Ron was also pale and a little bloody from Harry's initial attempts to pull out his arm. But Hermione wouldn't let go of that arm, and Ron's fingers gripped the Cup, and Harry couldn't possibly sleep with a Horcrux under their roof, so they stayed awake.

'How do we destroy it?' asked Hermione hoarsely, staring at the Cup.

'Should we try a spell?' Harry asked her in turn.

'...I don't know.'

'I don't either,' said Harry.

Ron stood up slowly; Hermione, still holding his arm, stood up with him. 'Ron?' she asked.

'I'm going outside,' he said dully. 'Let go.'

Hermione did so.

'Stay here. I'll be back in a minute.' Ron walked to the stairs and went outside. Harry heard several sharp metallic clangs against the sidewalk. Hermione got up to pursue him, but Harry stopped her with a glance.

The dim clanging continued in rhythmic contrast to the disharmonious howls and barks of Remus in his transformed state. He was being kept in a room underground near the kitchen with a reinforced door; without Snape to concoct the Wolfsbane Potion for him, he was a feral werewolf. Harry wondered how anyone was sleeping tonight.

The clanging stopped. When Ron returned, he set the Cup - perfectly intact - in front of Harry.

'You made it look easy,' Ron said by way of explanation, rolling his shoulder.

'We could try melting it down,' Hermione suggested. Her hand settled lightly on the Cup and then leapt back as if burnt. '...There's a very simple spell for melting gold,' she continued after a moment, staring suspiciously at the Cup.

Hermione waved her wand in a circular motion and said, 'Conflare!'

Nothing happened. Harry got an odd, disturbing sensation from a curt golden glint as the spell vanished that the Cup was insulted by the effort.

'It was worth a try,' Hermione offered, settling back into her seat and staring at the Cup in puzzlement.

'We'll try something else,' Harry assured her, though he thought it might take a while, and he was exhausted enough to leave the Cup intact overnight after all.

Then they all heard the door downstairs creak open. Ron got up before anyone else and walked to the stairs, looking toward the entrance.

'It's Fred and George,' he whispered to them.

His observation was confirmed by a loud, 'Hey you!'

'Shut up!' Ron whispered fiercely to the twins. 'It's three in the morning! People are sleeping!'

'Not you, though, are you?' said one of the twins as they tromped on the stairs toward them. 'Well look here - Harry and Hermione too. What's this, a secret meeting?'

'No!' Harry denied abruptly as the twins skirted around Ron and plopped down on a threadbare couch nearby. 'No, just having trouble sleeping.'

Fred smirked. 'All of you?'

'Yeah,' Ron replied in a don't-even-think-about-asking kind of way.

The twins looked at their little brother wryly. 'What happened to your arm?' asked George.

The sleeve of Ron's robe was ruined, and there was still some blood. 'Cut myself. Accident.'

Fred snorted. 'Right. Well -' their attention turned to Harry '- glad to see you up. We just finished that simulacrum of you.'

'And by just finished, we mean about five minutes ago,' George added.

'Yeah, we've been holed up away from the shop all night where no one could bother us so we could focus,' said Fred. 'We brought some forms for you to sign.'

Harry frowned. 'Forms?' he asked. The twins both tapped some papers in their laps with their wands, and they appeared on the table in front of Harry, along with an inked quill.

'Release forms - so we can use your likeness without getting sued up our arses.'

Fred pursed his lips. 'You know, I always wondered how the Famous Wizards cards got away with using your name, what with you having been too young to sign off and all -'

'You could make a mint on a lawsuit,' muttered George. 'But see, we don't work that way. We're being all nice and direct about asking permission.' He smiled toothily. 'Please?'

It seemed incredibly silly after all they'd been through that night. Harry picked up the quill and was about to sign when Fred sputtered, 'You have to read them!'

'What does it matter?' asked Harry, proceeding to sign his name.

'That's a terrible habit to get into,' George warned. 'What if we put something about you signing away your soul to us in there?'

Fred shuddered. 'Or signing away your royalties!'

Harry finished signing and walked around the table. He handed them to the twins, and he couldn't help but smile. 'I guess that's one extra soul you've got now.'

'We're not monsters,' protested George. He glanced at Fred. 'Of course we're giving you royalties.'

'Wonderful,' he said in a tone that plainly showed he couldn't care less. Then he frowned. 'Wait a minute! I thought it was supposed to be a decoy for me - you're selling it?'

From the cringes on Fred and George's faces, it seemed like they'd been hoping to avoid this conversation. 'It's for a good cause!' George said hastily.

'Verity suggested -'

'Word got out -'

'We have nearly a hundred pre-orders already -'

'It's the ultimate Death Eater deterrent!' exclaimed Fred, standing up and pacing the room. 'Think of it - a Harry Potter in every home!'

'But it's not real!' Hermione protested.

'They know that,' George dismissed with an eye roll, 'but imagine: a Death Eater comes knocking -'

'- out comes Harry Potter -'

'- the Death Eaters don't know he's not real -'

'- unless they get close -'

'- yeah, because we couldn't get the scar right -'

'- it's sort of a squiggly thing, but there's nothing we can do about it. We learned that magical marks like that are nearly impossible to duplicate exactly.' Suddenly, Fred asked, 'What're you doing with that?'

He was staring across the room at the gleaming gold Cup.

Harry cursed himself for not having thought to put it away. 'Nothing,' he told them insistently.

'Nothing? At three in the morning? Tell me another one,' said George. 'Seriously, what is it?'

'We're trying to break it,' Hermione told them. Harry couldn't believe she'd said it - but Hermione looked back at him defensively, as if to say your way wasn't working! 'It's an experiment,' she added, sounding lofty and important.

Fred was sceptical. 'And Mum says we're the ones wasting our time.' The twins moved to the table. 'Well, come on then, give it here.' He held out his hand to Hermione, who was closest to the Cup.

Harry blinked. 'I don't think -'

'Oh, let us have a go, it's the least we can do,' said George. He leaned over to pick up the Cup, but Ron's hand flashed to the handle, holding it down.

'We're the experts on breaking stuff,' stated George, glaring at Ron and giving his handle a tug.

'It's dangerous,' Ron argued, tugging even harder on his end but not breaking George's grip.

The twins grinned. 'Even better,' they said in unison.

'I'm not kidding.'

'We're not either.' George abruptly yanked the cup away, and Fred moved in to block Ron.

'Wow,' they both said together as the gold from the cup gleamed in their eyes.

'You lot sure are into shiny things lately,' commented Fred. He tapped his finger on the Cup. 'Who owned this one? Hufflepuff?' he queried jokingly.

'How'd you know?' Ron demanded seriously, not getting the joke in time to stop himself.

Fred and George looked around them in surprise. 'For real? Are you trying to compete with Borgin and Burkes now?' asked George.

'Like I said,' Hermione grated out, 'we're trying to break it, not sell it.'

'Fine, fine. You've tried a good old-fashioned gold melting spell?' wondered Fred.

Hermione crossed her arms.

'Right, sorry. Of course. Well then,' said George, 'it must be magical. Let's try draining the magic out of it.'

Harry's chest clenched in instinctive alarm. 'That's not a good -'

'Emulsum magicum!'

Harry felt the roar in his ears before he heard it - a primal, deep, guttural howl that turned into a high-pitched, teeth-rattling screech.

The cup crashed to the floor as Fred and George covered their ears. A dark wind swirled around them; it took the shape of clawed hands, and each wrapped around one of the twin's necks. The violent whirlwind lifted them all off their feet, and they swirled about the room, crashing into walls.

Ill and bruised and surrounded by a creeping sensation of darkness, Harry reached out and grabbed a curtain; it held just long enough for Harry to get out his wand before it ripped off its rail.

He struggled to hold onto the wand. Casting about in his mind for some spell that could help, he shouted, 'Expecto Patronum!' and fixed his thoughts firmly on his time with Ginny at Beauxbatons, Ginny's smile, Ginny's kiss, Ginny's everything -

The silver stag erupted from his wand, strong and proud, completely unperturbed by the howling, crashing wind. The wind died down, but only just - and when the stag tried to butt its head against the purple-black hands choking Fred and George, it was smashed against the wall. It shook its head and got up, but Harry was starting to feel faint...he didn't know how much longer he could hold the spell...

Then a terrier joined the stag - and then an otter. Harry's determination deepened. 'Attack!' he tried to yell, but he was sure they couldn't possibly hear him above the wind. He couldn't even hear himself.

Yet the three stood together in the eye of the storm and, in unison, dove at the claws again. They all disappeared as soon as they hit them, and Harry's heart briefly sank until the claws opened, releasing Fred and George, though they were still trapped in the whirlwind with the others. Harry swore he heard a harsh moan on the wind...the Patronuses had done something...

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!' he tried again, summoning all his love for Ginny to the forefront of his mind.

The stag reappeared - and it was more aggressive. It stamped at the ground and huffed air through its nostrils. The terrier and otter soon joined it again, and then two more - a small, furry creature and a large, hairy thing with lots of legs.

Each one threw itself into the whirlwind. The whirlwind buckled, groaned, and then screeched as if in pain. Harry's battered body was smashed against the window, and he heard the glass crack. The impact nearly dislodged his wand from his hands, but he held onto it for dear life.

The whirlwind swooped around several more times, slower and slower, until it met its end. The Patronuses were gone again - Harry exhaustedly dropped his wand as he fell to the floor and didn't move until he was pulled to his feet by Ron.

Melted, simmering, red gold burned through the floor. Everyone was badly bruised and somewhat bloody - Fred and George each had deep claw marks in their throats. A fire seethed in the carpet; the twins shot jets of water at the gold, and the water hissed into smoke.

For a few minutes, with everyone coughing, gasping, and groaning, they stared at the floor. The gold was melded to the floorboards.

'...I think it's dead,' Fred announced.

'Quite,' George agreed, though he stared at it as if expecting something more to happen. After some moments more, he was cheery again. 'Well, that solves that problem.'

Ron yanked his shoe out of the wall and put it back on. 'Which of you has a spider for your Patronus?' He crossed his arms.

Fred whipped out his left wrist and pretended to look at his watch. 'Gee, would you look at the time -'

'We should get these nasty cuts looked at,' said George. He touched the marks with his finger and hissed at the sting. 'Give our best to Mum!'

'Better that she not see us like this!' added Fred, cringing at the thought of her finding out about the events of that night. 'She'll blame us for being the oldest.'

Harry looked around; the room was obliterated. There were toppled cabinets and chairs, holes in the walls from elbows and legs, glass shards under their feet, and a badly cracked window.

'She's not the only one,' muttered Ron bitterly. 'I told you it was dangerous!'

The twins smirked and turned around, walking in unison toward the stairs.

Then both turned back again at once.

'...Say...don't you think all that noise ought to have woken someone up?' George asked his brother.

Fred stared back ominously. 'Definitely.' He turned to Ron. 'Where's Mum and everyone?'

'I don't know; we've been out,' Ron replied. 'Maybe they thought it was Remus?'

'Yeah, maybe if there were about five of Remus in here,' objected George.

'Someone would come down to check out the noise,' Harry finished. The twins were right; someone should have heard all that. Where was the Order?

Hermione was already walking toward the door. 'Tonks ought to be awake with Remus anyway. She certainly should have heard everything.'

Harry took charge. Either the Order was gone on urgent business, or... 'They must have left a note or something - look around,' he ordered.

The group tore through the house; Harry went to check the bedroom he shared with Ron, Ron checked his mum's room, Hermione checked her room, and the twins went together to check in the kitchen.

But they found nothing - no one was home, and there wasn't anything saying where they had all gone. An eerie silence had fallen over the house. As the twins checked the rest of the rooms - but for the one where Remus was holed up in werewolf form - Hermione met up with Ron and Harry. 'If I were leaving and wanted us to know, and I couldn't find us with a Patronus, I'd have left a note on the door.'

'There wasn't a note,' Ron stated immediately. 'We all saw the door when we came in.'

'Let's double-check,' said Harry.

The three went outside and searched around for a note. Within moments, Harry found one; it had been suspiciously crumpled into a ball and thrown into an overgrown shrub - at first glance, it was just a piece of trash that had been blown there from the neighbour's yard. 'Here!' he called to them. Ron and Hermione came running; Harry flattened out the note as much as he could, and they read it together:

Harry,

Werewolf attack outside Derby.

Neville

***

Fierce howls ripped through the air around Derby. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, and George pursued the echoing noises through the rolling terrain, and after several Apparitions they caught their first glimpse of a grey wolf's silhouette stretched wide across the landscape. They ran fast and hard in chase of it until Hermione was panting and red-faced.

'Stop,' she said. She came to a halt and leaned over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily. The twins weren't built for speed either; they gasped for breath.

Harry could hardly believe that all this was happening in one night.

He turned his head and saw a brief blip of red light. 'This way,' he said quietly, and they moved slower toward the source, not knowing if they were approaching an Order member, an Auror, or a Death Eater.

His legs burned as they climbed a steep hill. When they neared the top, Harry reached a stilling hand back toward the others and listened intently to the commands crowed from above.

'- head northeast and outflank them! Bragge, reinforce the barrier! Quincy, I want confirmation on the second pack's movements!'

It was Scrimgeour.

Harry waved his hand to direct the others to go back down the hill. But as Harry backed up, he nearly stepped on Ron. He turned around to see what the hold-up was - he gulped when he saw three unfamiliar Aurors pointing their wands at them.

'Up,' said the female one sternly.

Scrimgeour soon became all too visible. He turned toward them as they were prodded in his direction. Harry looked away at the cold smile of satisfaction on his face.

'Harry, old friend.'

Harry looked up and glared. 'We're here to help, Minister.'

'Ah, I see. Were you there to help at the Smith residence when you broke in?'

A spell sounded like a bomb blast not too far away, and the ground shook mildly beneath their feet. 'This isn't the time,' Harry grit out angrily.

'No, it's not. Put Mr Potter under arrest.'

'What about the others?' asked the rough female Auror.

'They're not important. Let them go.'

The Aurors tried to come between Harry and Ron. He couldn't see inasmuch as he could feel the twins reach into their pockets - 'Don't do anything dumb,' he urged the others as he was shoved forward. They were surrounded, and Harry wouldn't let the others get themselves into trouble on his account.

One of the Aurors grabbed his arm. 'Should we take him to the Ministry, sir?'

'Leave him with me,' replied Scrimgeour.

The Auror's hand snapped away, and Harry gave him a dirty look. Then he felt bad about it because the Auror looked chastised and ashamed, and he was only doing his job. Harry watched as Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were shoved aside by the remaining two Aurors and several others on the hill.

Harry stood by Scrimgeour's side; he turned for a moment to bark out more orders, and then addressed Harry again. 'It's a disaster out there,' Scrimgeour remarked to him.

Harry stood silently and simmered. Scrimgeour sighed, and his hand fell awkwardly on Harry's shoulder. It was the worst attempt to be fatherly that Harry had ever endured.

'I'm not here to make your life more difficult, boy. We're on the same side. You'll be interrogated and given a slap on the wrist. The wizarding public doesn't care about what you did at the Smith house so long as you're still on our side.'

Harry shrugged Scrimgeour's hand off his shoulder. To his surprise, Scrimgeour let out a harsh laugh. 'You're bruised, bloody, and recalcitrant as ever. I respect that.'

He ignored Scrimgeour and looked about the landscape instead. He saw a glimpse of a wolf's tail and the leg of a man the wolf dragged along the ground. Someone close by shot a spell at it, and the wolf yelped. The tail fell lifelessly to the ground; the man who it had been dragging did not rise.

An Auror rushed up to the Minister. 'Sir!' he said. His eyes caught on Harry and did not leave him. 'We need to move our position. The werewolves are getting closer.'

'Have we got an updated count yet?'

'At least thirty, maybe forty, sir.'

'More than we thought.'

'Yes, Minister. They're everywhere. There's a pack of them east of here and another we just managed to lure out of the town.'

'We can't fend off forty werewolves,' Scrimgeour stated baldly.

The Auror kept staring at Harry. 'No, Minister. That's why your command centre needs to move.'

Scrimgeour scowled and rebuffed him. 'We've moved twice tonight already. If we're going to keep moving we may as well retreat - and we are not going to do that. We cannot. I don't care if we have to round up every able-bodied witch and wizard in the Magical Law Enforcement Department - even the clerks! Wake them all up and get them out here to hold off these damn werewolves! We must hold through the night!'

'...Yes, Minister.'

The Auror left. 'This is by far the biggest attack of transformed werewolves for two hundred years. We have forty confirmed casualties already - all Muggles,' Scrimgeour told Harry bleakly. 'Say what we may of You Know Who, he does make history.'

Harry couldn't give Scrimgeour the silent treatment any longer. This was too important. 'Is he out here tonight?'

Scrimgeour eyed him warily, then turned back to watching the battle unfold nearby as several more Aurors came in to reinforce the command centre. 'Not that we can tell. Fenrir Greyback is probably in command of them, not that a pack of wild animals can be commanded by anyone.'

Over the next few minutes, the battlefield was very clearly coming closer to them. 'Let me help,' Harry implored Scrimgeour. 'I can fight.'

Unmoved, Scrimgeour remarked, 'I think not. You're far too important to risk.'

Harry was getting more and more frustrated with being told that. 'But you just said you need every available -'

'You're not available,' Scrimgeour cut him off. 'You're under arrest.'

'Where are my friends?' Harry challenged him.

'Fighting, I'd imagine.'

Harry was furious, but he calmed down considerably when he realized that they hadn't taken his wand. Not wanting Scrimgeour to remember, he kept it hidden and decided to wait until the time was right.

Another Auror rushed over - Harry recognized Dawlish. 'Minister, we absolutely cannot hold them back anymore. We must move you and...' he gave Harry a desperate glance. He continued to speak, but Harry couldn't hear it over the sound of several wolves howling in unison not far off.

Scrimgeour sighed. 'How are the Muggles holding up?'

'The defences of the town are wavering,' Dawlish replied, his face exhausted and worried. 'And sir, we've spotted Death Eaters.'

'Death Eaters?' Scrimgeour and Harry both said at once. Dawlish nodded grimly.

'That's impossible,' sputtered Scrimgeour. 'The werewolves would go after them too! They don't distinguish friend from foe when they're transformed!'

'That's what we thought, but one of the wolves jumped at a Death Eater and another stopped it. We think a select few of the pack leaders may have taken Wolfsbane Potion - they may have their wits about them.'

'That would explain why this attack is so well organized,' conceded Scrimgeour reluctantly. 'This changes things considerably -'

'Minister!' shouted a breathless man who stumbled over. 'The werewolves are retreating!'

'What? I thought they were winning!' Harry blurted out, causing Scrimgeour to glare.

'They were! But they're all running off now! And the Death Eaters are leaving as well!'

'Why?' demanded Scrimgeour. 'There must be a reason!'

He stalked over to the man, and that was when Harry's chance came. No one was looking. He took out his wand.

'Potter!' Scrimgeour roared, looking around just in time to see Harry Apparate away.

He didn't leave the area - he needed to find Ron and Hermione. He Apparated instead to where the dead werewolf lay and made a run for it into a wooded area nearby. He made it there without being seen.

Harry felt more secure with trees on all sides, but he still didn't know where his friends were. He kept his wand at the ready and walked quickly, crumpling leaves and snapping sticks underfoot. Then he heard a deep male voice in the distance and stopped abruptly; it didn't sound like Ron, and he wasn't about to be dragged back to Scrimgeour.

The voice was so far away that it was hard to make out any words at all. Then Harry was certain that he heard his own name spoken, and once he had that starting point figured out, the syllables following were clearer:

'- Potter is here. We have two packs rounded up.'

There was another voice, softer and even harder to make out. All Harry heard clearly was: '...Greyback?'

Then the first voice again: 'The Dark Lord says to put him down if he won't cooperate. He won't risk Potter.'

The next thing Harry heard was two loud pops from the couple Apparating away. What was that about? he wondered. The attack was being called off because he was there? Even Voldemort considered him too bloody important to risk? Why? Was it just Voldemort's pride - was it just that he wanted to be the one to kill Harry, so no one else could go near him?

Harry's hand closed tightly on his wand, and his nostrils flared in anger. This was ridiculous -

A form shot out at him from the brush nearby - large, grey, and snarling. Harry didn't even have time to think that he was done for before it was on top of him; a sharp pain flared out from his ribs as the gigantic creature tackled him to the ground.

Its teeth, gigantic and yellow, met Harry's wide-eyed stare. Its breath was putrid against his face and fogged his glasses. It growled low and deep, but though it snapped at him several times and caused his heart to leap with dread, it didn't bite.

Harry knew, he just knew, that it was Greyback.

And Greyback was flashing him an unpleasant, wolfish smile.

Harry's hand was still on his wand, but Greyback's back paw was crushing Harry's wrist to the ground. He tried to move it, but that just produced another growl from Greyback, so he stilled.

'If you're going to kill me, just do it,' he told Greyback in a raspy voice - it was hard to breathe with the wolf's heavy paw on his chest.

Yet Harry knew that was the last thing Greyback would do; he'd either leave him intact, as Voldemort wanted, or tear him slowly to pieces. For starters, Greyback tore Harry's robes from the neckline down to his chest with his teeth, though he avoided piercing Harry's skin.

Harry gasped in surprise and darting pain as the wolf scratched him hard on the chest. Blood seeped from the deep claw marks, and Greyback dropped his nose to it and sniffed.

Then Greyback raised his head again and licked his own lips. His eyes stared coldly into Harry's foggy glasses, and Harry wondered how long Voldemort's orders would hold enough sway over the wolf to prevent him from lapping at the blood, from biting and breaking and killing...

The flash of green light was sudden and swift; it surrounded Greyback like a shroud for an unforgettable instant and then vanished along with the darkly playful gleam in his eyes. The werewolf's corpse toppled limply onto its side.

Harry kept his eyes on the shadows as he pushed the dead werewolf off him, but his saviour did not appear. As he peeled himself off the branches digging into his back, he thought he heard the crackle of footsteps on the ground - but with another far-off pop, whoever it was vanished.

Harry didn't know to whom he owed his life.

He struggled to his feet, all the aches and pains of the night rapidly catching up with him. Even holding his wand was painful for his abused right hand, and there were at least two varieties of dirt in his hair now. He was alone in the dark, and the sounds of nature were making him jumpy. A loud shout perked his ears; he listened as several sets of footsteps approached and cautiously made his way behind a tree.

'There's a dead one up here,' called a voice.

Harry sighed with relief; it was Bill. 'Hey,' he said, emerging from behind the tree.

'Harry!' Bill greeted, lowering his wand. His mouth opened in alarm, but Harry didn't know why. He rushed forward and gripped Harry's shoulders hard. 'Were you bitten?' he demanded.

'What - oh, no. I'm fine, really.'

Bill's grip relaxed but did not recede. 'You're bleeding. We should get this looked at.' He turned Harry around and walked with him in the direction Bill had come from.

Harry chuckled - it turned into more like a cough when the pain in his ribs kicked in. 'Yeah, some of it was from before, though.'

'Before?'

'Never mind. Have you seen Hermione and Ron around?'

Bill nodded. 'They're with Tonks trying to convince her to get you out of Scrimgeour's clutches. It looks like you managed that on your own.'

'Yeah,' Harry said again. It felt like his ribs were on fire. He clutched them with his free hand, and Bill hurried him along, a look of worry showing on his scarred features. Soon after, Harry's tired feet didn't lift up high enough to avoid tripping over a tree root; Bill caught him before he took a tumble.

'Just tired,' Harry told him, brushing off his concern.

Then he saw a gathering of several Order members - including Ron, Hermione, and Neville - in a clearing up ahead. The three spotted him and ran up the hill, grinning until they saw the injury on his chest - which made them pause with concern.

'I'm all right,' he said again. 'Wasn't bitten, I swear.'

Hermione burst into a relieved, tired smile. 'Let's get back to Grimmauld Place. Mrs Weasley just left - she can look at it.'

'And then we can have a well deserved rest, seeing as we won somehow,' Neville piped in. 'It's been a long night.'

'You don't know the half of it,' Harry emphasized.

Yet as they Apparated away, he couldn't help but feel a Portkey-like tug in his stomach; despite all that had happened that night, he knew they hadn't won at all.