Death Before Dishonor

DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mêlée

Looking back on it, Harry supposed the effect was inevitable. As Voldemort fell dead to the ground, there were only two ways for the Death Eaters to react: either surrender, or continue the fight. When the slender woman who had stood to Malfoy's right in the circle went for Dumbledore, the choice had obviously been made. But she went down, shrieking, as Sirius came into range, and Harry watched Dumbledore twist out of the way of her neighbor's curse. Then there was chaos as the other Death Eaters reacted, and he saw Malfoy reaching for the wand Voldemort had dropped, saw the circle closing in on Dumbledore--suddenly, Sirius' hand was on his shoulder, pulling him back--and more voices filled the air as the rest of the Hogwarts staff came pouring out of the open gates.

His wand was suddenly warm in his hand once more, and every defense spell he'd ever learned came to Harry's mind. From the corner of his eye, he saw a mad-looking Death Eater advance towards Sirius' back, his eyes filled with rage.

"Stupefy!" he cried, and watched the man crumble, unconscious. But his voice made other Death Eaters turn, and he saw many look to him with rage in their eyes. Only he, Sirius, and Dumbledore were within the circle; the other teachers were still running in their direction, not yet close enough to demand the enemies' full attention.

"Keep your back to mine, Harry!" Sirius shouted over the multitude of spells in the air, and he did as he was told.

It was chaos. Events happened too quickly for anything but reaction, and Harry cast and cast, throwing out every spell he'd ever learned, acutely aware, all the while, of his godfather doing the same at his back. Within moments, Dumbledore had reached them, and together they formed an impromptu triangle in the very center of the mass of Death Eaters. They should have died, and would have, had the Death Eaters possessed any cohesion at all, but from the very first moments, the Death Eaters were confused and fragmented. With Voldemort gone, they had no leader--until Lucius Malfoy began shouting orders and the others began to respond. There was a green flash of light.

Abruptly, the senior Death Eater's voice stopped. Risking a glance, Harry saw that Malfoy had crumbled to the ground, lifeless and limp. Snape had entered the fray.

Only a step behind him came Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall, and suddenly the odds against them weren't so bad. The rest of the Hogwarts staff, accompanied by many faces that Harry knew: his classmates and his friends. But there was no time to think, only to react--and the battle went on. Distantly, he knew when allies fell, but enemies were falling at a much faster rate. He heard Dumbledore shouting orders, and soon the Hogwarts teachers and students had formed a line against the scattered and leaderless Death Eaters. Harry abruptly found himself between Ron and Hermione, both of whom managed to spare him a grin even though their faces were grim with concentration. Sirius, he noticed, had bolted away, moving towards the center of the line.

Several others joined Sirius: Snape, Remus, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, all of whom pressed forward against the Death Eaters, making the center of the Hogwarts line bulge forwards and drawing the concentration of enemy attacks. The five of them strode forward, striking out with lethal precision that Harry could only envy. However, he had his hands full where he stood between his friends, but no mater how tired he grew, knowing that Ron and Hermione were beside him was enough to give him strength. Afterwards, he could never have answered to how many spells he had cast that day, but he knew that by the time the Death Eaters had surrendered, his hands were shaking with exhaustion.

As the air went quiet, Harry looked around, trying to ignore the way his head was spinning. The Hogwarts line was ragged, now, broken here and there by fallen comrades. But the Death Eaters numbered less than thirty, and there were many bodies lying upon the ground before them. Some seemed merely unconscious, but others, like Voldemort and Malfoy, were clearly dead. There were places were the previously immaculate grass was burnt and stained beyond repair, and Harry knew in that moment that the lawn would remain preserved that way as a monument to all who had fallen. It was fitting.

The professors were moving forward, he saw, to deal with the prisoners. Under Dumbledore's leadership, the teachers quickly began to round up the Death Eaters, sorting out the live from the dead, and Harry could see several older students being pressed into service to help. Most of the teachers looked exhausted, but functional; some were more battered than others, but he could see the relief on their faces. They had won.

"Harry? Are you okay?" It was Ron, on his right, clutching his elbow, and Harry turned to his friend. He nodded.

"I'll be all right. It's nothing Madam Pomfrey can't fix." And at the moment, he did not care about his own dizziness, or about the horrible ache left from the torture he'd suffered at Voldemort's hands. For the first time since he was eleven, he felt free. There was no pain in his scar, and there never would be again. Without meaning to, he whispered, "Is it really over?"

Ron's bruised face split into a grin. "Yeah. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yeah." With a shaking hand, Harry reached up to push his glasses up his nose; as usual, they'd been trying to slip off. With a start, he realized that this was probably the first time in his life that he'd managed to not break his glasses while doing something like this. "Are you all right?"

"I got a little scorched by somebody, but I'm okay," his friend replied, making Harry realize that Ron did look a little burnt around the edges. His red hair was standing straight up, too, in a manner that was usually reserved for Harry. For some reason, that made him laugh, which felt wonderful. Other than that, though, Ron looked fine, so Harry turned to his left.

"Hermione?"

"I'm fine, Harry," she smiled, and she looked it. Somehow, Hermione had managed to escape without a scratch. He grinned in return. Typical.

"What about everyone else?" he wondered, thinking suddenly of the bodies lying on the ground.

"They didn't let anyone under the fourth year come out," Hermione explained quickly. "Professor McGonagall left Neville in charge of the younger students."

Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief. He could only imagine how hopeless Neville Longbottom would be in a situation like this. As much as he cared for his fellow Gryffindor, Harry knew that Neville's clumsiness and forgetfulness would only have gotten him killed. Suddenly, though, he thought of all the others who he hadn't seen yet, and he opened his mouth to ask of Ginny, Fred, George, and so many others when a sea of red hair converged upon him.

"Harry!" Without warning, Ginny flung her arms around his neck, making Harry stagger in surprise. For a moment, he thought he might fall under the sudden weight, but Harry found himself laughing instead. It felt good, so he hugged her back. When they broke apart, it was to the sound of Ron's laughter.

"Well, I guess some things don't change," Ron quipped.

"I'd hit you if I wasn't afraid of hurting you," Ginny snapped back, and her older siblings laughed. "I was worried about him, you prat! And you can't say that you and Hermione didn't spend as much time moping around the castle as I did, Ronald Weasley, so don't you even think about making fun of me because of it!"

"Go, Ginny!" Fred cheered, even as his several voices asked,

"Are you all right, Harry?"

He tried to nod, but suddenly he was surrounded by more than just the many Weasleys. Pressing in on him were Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and so many others. They all fired questions at him, and Harry grew dizzy from trying to listen to everyone at once. While part of him felt elated, another part of him was becoming very tired...and the attention was quickly becoming too much. There was an emptiness inside his heart that just wouldn't stop growing, even surrounded by friends. Desperate for a way out, Harry glanced around the field and saw Dumbledore kneeling by Fawkes' body.

A wave of sadness swept over him, and he shoved his way through the growing crowd, unmindful of the surprised objections that followed him as he made his way to the headmaster's side. Fortunately, though, none of his classmates tried to accompany him; they seemed to understand that he needed to do this alone. Once he had reached the dead phoenix, though, he stood quietly, unsure of what to do. Finally, he knelt down at the phoenix's head beside Dumbledore. His hand shook as Harry reached out to touch Fawkes' still face.

"Fawkes..." he whispered. How could you thank a dead phoenix for saving his life? In his mind's eye, he saw it once more: how Fawkes had knocked him aside and dropped his wand in front of him, then how Dumbledore's phoenix had flown in front of him, taking the killing curse and saving Harry's life. He didn't understand...

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

He didn't trust himself to speak. He only nodded, his eyes fastened on the dead bird. Finally, he managed, "Is he really...?"

"Yes, Fawkes is really dead," the headmaster replied. "He returns to life after a burning day...but not after this."

"Why?" Harry whispered.

Dumbledore sighed, and his sad blue eyes came up to meet his student's. He clearly knew that Harry wasn't asking why the phoenix would not return to life. He was asking why Fawkes had to die. "I suspect there are many reasons, Harry," the headmaster replied. "First of which, of course, is that Fawkes has always been extraordinarily fond of you."

"What else?" There was something he was sure Dumbledore wasn't telling him, and for the first time in his life, he saw the old man hesitate.

"The second is that Fawkes did what Dumbledore was going to do," came the voice from behind him. It was Sirius, and Harry twisted to briefly look at his godfather as his words sank in. His head whipped around to stare at the headmaster.

"What?"

Dumbledore rose, and so did Harry, who barely felt Sirius' hands land on his shoulders, but was glad for the comfort all the same. The headmaster gave Sirius a stern glance for a moment, but smiled slightly at Harry. "You noticed, of course, that my animagus form is that of an eagle?" he asked, eliciting a nod from Harry. "As such, I was the only one who would have been able to reach you in time--not that such a small thing as speed would have kept your godfather from trying, of course."

"But you would have--?"

"Yes," the headmaster replied simply.

Harry stared. "Then who would have killed Voldemort?"

Dumbledore only nodded towards Sirius, and once more, Harry twisted around to look at his godfather, who responded, "Believe me, Harry, that we were working every moment to save you," Sirius said softly. "We only knew that Voldemort expected us to attack him in Hogsmeade, and knew that would be suicide...I'm so sorry that we could not do so sooner."

"He said I was bait for one of you," Harry nodded. Sirius squeezed his shoulders gently, but he turned to face Dumbledore once more, demanding, "You would have died for me?"

"I would have," Dumbledore said levelly, his blue eyes meeting Harry's. "As it turned out, though, Fawkes took that option out of my hands. He chose to do so instead."

Harry was shaking again, and he didn't know if it was from emotion or exhaustion. "I don't understand."

"Nor do I, Harry," the headmaster replied quietly, and then Dumbledore stepped forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. "But what really matters, in the end, is that the war is over. Voldemort is dead this time, and although many died to defeat him, what we can do best is to rebuild the world well enough to honor their memories. Let us use well the future they have given us, and let us have peace."

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Author's Note: First, let me say thank you for all the wonderful reviews! You've all been great about supporting this story, which is my first foray into Harry Potter fan fiction. It's been great fun, and is almost over now (but not yet!). Thank you again for reading, and please tell me what you think!

Oh, and if anyone is interested in a sequel, let me know. I've a few vague plot bunnies rumbling around in my head, so I might be persuaded to write one after I finish the massive project known as Promises Unbroken. Please review!