Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Seventeen: At the Frontlines

Harry's walk turned into a ride.

The Pitch was deserted and Harry's solitary feet sunk into the moist green grass, Firebolt firmly in his hand. It had been tricky getting up to his dorms to snatch his firebolt without being seen by the Ron or Hermione, but this, the end result was worth it. Harry closed his eyes and let the smell of the wet grass and sweet mid-spring air fill him up before swinging onto his broom.

Life was wonderful from fifty feet in the air. He could breathe--something he'd quite forgotten how to do. The wind was crisp against the excited flush of his cheeks and the pounding at his temples lessened. How small things looked from up there. So simple, you'd think. Unbelievable what complicated lives such small beings had. It would be great if he could stay up there forever, enjoying life from fifty feet away.

No one can abandon you at fifty feet up because you're the only one around.

It really was enchanting: the sun only just gone to bed, and the horizon was a canvas of deep blue and black shadow. Normally, from fifty feet up the world was just a blur of color and noise, but now with the stands empty of the students, and the pitch quite devoid of anything other than his own self, Harry was realizing just how beautiful it all really was. Especially with warm honey amber beginning to glow from the windows of the castle as the deep blue of the horizon was soon enveloped fully by the black of night.

And Harry knew this meant that unless he wanted to get slammed with a detention from McGonagall, he had better get back to Gryffindor tower.

Harry was flurrying down the corridors, when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye-- a black shadowy form standing stoically at one of the windows. Even from behind, Severus Snape was instantly recognizable.

But there was something foreign about him-- he was staring at the window with a hand pressed against the glass, and his head hung low. Knowing he'd be given a detention for disrupting him, Harry was nevertheless won over by his curiosity. He cautiously stepped towards Snape's rigid figure and cleared his throat.

"Professor Snape?"

Snape spun around, and Harry took an alarmed step back. Harry had never seen such deathly pallor: Snape's face face glowed white in the shadows, and there was an unsightly, newly healed cut about three inches long along his left cheek.

Something was obviously very wrong, and stunned by Snape's ugly gash, Harry couldn't help but ask. "P-professor, your face! Are... you all right?"

Snape betrayed no emotion except for his stormy beady eyes-- but what was behind them was as mysterious as the man himself. Yet instead of snapping at Harry or deducting points for being a presumptuous busy-body, Snape merely nodded 'yes' to Harry's question and turned back around to stare out the window.

"It's after hours, Potter, get to your dorms."

"Who did that to you," said Harry. "What's happened?"

Snape, miraculously, responded. But the voice wasn't his... it belonged to someone else... someone despondent and lost and angry. "I did it to myself... in a way..." the bitter amusement in his voice left Harry quite unnerved. "Now do as you're told Potter. Off you go."

For the past few days Harry had felt much the same as Snape looked: beaten, weathered and bitter. And he knew well how quiet reflection could do wonders for the spirit so, for perhaps the first time in his academic career, Harry obeyed Snape ungrudgingly and willingly.

The corridors were surprisingly empty and not even a whisper of Peeves was to be heard. But Harry found practically all of the Gryffindors lounging about the Common Room. The confined air was thick with the smells of hot butterbeer and pepper imps, and a noticeable mustiness that always seemed to surface on such damp days.

The fifth years were attracting the most attention, as Ron had received his newest mail-order catalogue for the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and was taking great pride in describing the latest offerings from his brother's franchise.

"They've come out with an improved Skiving Snackbox," said Ron as Seamus, Neville and Dean pressed their noses over his shoulder to the catalogue. "They're called Pox Pops: 'succulent candy-coated bon bons that cause the eater to break out in a rash reminiscent of chicken pox. The rash is temporary, non-inflammatory and disappears within one hour. The fastest and safest way of being sent out of class in a hurry.'"

"Oy, but have they ever raised their prices," said Seamus with a frowning brow, "the new snackbox is fifteen galleons!"

"But they last all year. Worthy investment," said Ron proudly, "worth every knut. Harry! Where've you been?"

"Thinking," said Harry, throwing himself down on the floor next to Hermione.

"'Bout what," was Seamus' inevitable question.

"Oh... lots of things... mainly about that game I missed this week."

Hermione let the pillow she was sitting on come hurling straight at Harry's head. "You moron! Ron's only just stopped talking about that and now you've got to go and bring it up again!"

Harry laughed, rubbing the side of his head. "That's gonna leave a bruise, Hermione."

"Well, a woman's scorn is a fury."

"Speaking of injuries," said Neville, "did anybody else see Professor Snape today?"

"He wasn't in class," said Hermione immediately.

"Yeah," said Neville, "but I saw him outside a bit after supper, and he was just standing all quiet-like. Had this nasty cut--"

"Right along his face," said Harry immediately, "yeah, I just saw him on the way up here."

"Do you know what happened?"

"He wouldn't say," shrugged Harry. "It was weird, though. He was all sullen and serious."

"Doesn't sound so out of the ordinary to me," said Dean happily, and the rest of the class laughed. Except for Harry, Ron and Hermione: there was nothing at all funny about it.

"Yeah," said Harry, "well everyone, I'm off to bed."

"Bed," said Ron, "but it's only half past eight!"

"Yeah, well I've had a bloody long day." He stood up and stretched. "'Night everyone."

The words were yet fresh upon his lips when they were overpowered by a boisterous, bold voice that hammered through the common room.

"Attention all students!"

It was Professor McGonagall's voice, augmented ten-fold, and it made Harry's heart skip about three beats. The room fell into a hush immediately.

"Attention all students! This is an emergency evacuation of the premises! Prefects will round up their houses immediately and lead the students out to the Great Hall."

The students could not move for quite some time.

What had McGonagall said? Evacuate the premises? It didn't make sense, and Harry sat still, awaiting McGonagall to explain herself as she surely had to do.

The tense silence lasted not more than a heartbeat before her voice thundered once again.

"I repeat: this is an emergency evacuation of the premises! Prefects will round up their houses immediately and lead the students out to the great hall."

"Come on," said Hermione jumping to her feet, her prefect instincts taking over at once, "everyone let's get moving now."

Her voice was shaking and Harry held onto her gaze as the Gryffindors hurried to file into a single line: Hermione was terrified. So was everyone else in the room.

And Harry felt ill upon the realization of just what this evacuation could mean.

But it's not possible. Dumbledore is simply taking precaution. They'll tell us so in the hall.

The other houses were filing into the great hall which was loud with anxious murmuring. 'What d'you reckon it's all about,' asked a passing Hufflepuff. 'Can't imagine what we need to evacuate for,' said a Ravenclaw, 'this is Hogwarts.'

"Standard," Ron was saying with diminishing enthusiasm as they lined up alongside the other houses. "Standard procedure, evacuations are. Like Sirius said, they take everything seriously."

But Ron had said this about seven times since they left the common room, Hermione hadn't replied to him even once, and Harry was now quite aware he was saying it only to keep himself convinced.

Professor McGonagall appeared in front of the Gryffindor line, just as Snape did so for Slytherin, Flitwick for Ravenclaw and Sprout for Hufflepuff. Her mouth was twisted into a frown, but gone was the scowl from overtop her square glasses. The look in those beady eyes was more or less the same that was to be found on everyone else's: worry.

"Gryffindors, follow me."

Harry could hear the other heads of house order the same thing, and they filed out of the hall, through the great oak doors and down the high front stone steps.

"Professor," said Harry, hustling to the front of the line as they walked down the steps, "Professor McGonagall, what's going on? Why are we leaving the school?"

But McGonagall's face was white as a ghost, and suddenly Harry wanted very much for her to keep the reason to herself.

"Down this way, students. To the carriages, which are ready to take you to the station--"

"The station," cried Harry, "but where are we going? None of us have any of our belongings and what if--"

"Where all students will promptly board the Hogwarts Express," she announced loudly, talking over Harry, "Gryffindor, this way!"

Harry frowned. "Professor," he said feverishly, pulling out of the Gryffindor ranks to hurry next to her, "all we want to know is what's going on! Where are we going once we get to the train and--"

"Please, Harry," she said with a sudden softening of her voice that stunned Harry into silence. "Please, no questions."

She was earnest and Harry firmly held his tongue. Especially when a white figure appeared behind her-- Dumbledore.

He looked wan and drawn, and was staring at Harry pointedly. "Harry, I must insist that you listen to Professor McGonagall," he said with quiet severity as the Gryffindors filed past them. "And you will stay with the students at all times. I want you to promise me that."

Harry nodded, searching Dumbledore's eyes for some sort of answer to the confusion around him.

"Dumbledore," came a fervent voice, "Dumbledore..."

It belonged to Snape, who now faced Dumbledore head on, turning his back squarely on Harry. He was nodding as Snape spoke, his voice too low for Harry to hear, and Dumbledore dropped his eyes down as Snape rolled up his sleeve to expose his forearm.

Harry's heart pounded-- he couldn't see Snape's forearm, but he knew all too what Snape must have been showing Dumbledore: the Dark Mark. And the explosion that seared his forehead just as Snape rolled his sleeve back was complete confirmation of what Harry could scarcely admit:

The Death Eaters were rallying.

Snape must have asked Dumbledore something with his eyes only, because Dumbledore nodded wisely and Snape promptly hurried away.

"Harry," said Dumbledore as he watched Snape hurry away, "remember, you are to stay with the students at all times, is that quite understood? At all times."

And with a sway of his robes, he hurried off after Snape. The two men disappeared into the shadows of the castle, and Harry was left standing silently as his heartbeat rattled within him. The students were still filing past him and he finally found it possible to move again, although his thoughts were still consumed with what had just happened.

Harry plowed right into the stationary frame of Parvati Patil. She was facing opposing traffic, her arm extended in front of her, pointing at something that had made her go entirely rigid.

"Parvati," said Harry, "you're liable to get run over just standing in the way with everyone--"

"What in Merlin's name is that?"

Harry followed her finger to see what she was pointing at. The shadowy black and blue cliffs beyond the Quidditch pitch seemed to be moving. But it didn't take long to realize it was some thing moving down the hills--something impossibly large. Harry couldn't see its features, but there was no doubt as to what it was.

"Harry," Parvati was whispering, "is that a... a..."

"A giant," he finished.

She gasped and they watched breathlessly as the giant stopped at the edge of the far North tower of the castle and bent down. Harry's heart quite forgot how to beat as he held his breath in dreadful expectation of what was about to happen. But nothing could have prepared him for the unfathomable.

And the breath was knocked out of his body by what he saw.

When the Giant raised its colossal body, it hurtled a monstrous boulder that slammed into the top of the divination North tower, erupting the night with an earth shaking explosion, and sending shards of brick and mortar into the air like confetti.

It meant only one thing.

"The castle," he breathed, "it's unprotected!'

Parvati screamed and the students, whom had all been stunned motionless broke into a hysterical, frenzied stampede.

Harry was pushed forward by the screaming students, but he kept looking back over his shoulder as they ran, too hypnotized to look away.

He struck Hogwarts. The castle is unprotected. But, that's not possible! It has to be a dream, this just can't be real!

But it was real, all of it. Harry was really being pushed and shoved by screaming students, McGonagall really was screaming at the students to 'get into the carriages', and Harry was really watching the Giant make a second move. He made a swing at the north tower again with what must have been a massive bat and the ground rumbled again, setting off another wave of screams from the students.

Hermione was standing at the side of one of the carriages, Ron next to her, barking orders at the Gryffindors ("Keep it moving, you lot! Keep it moving"). Her face lit up on spying Harry.

"Thank goodness," she shouted with shaking panic, "there you are! Come on then, let's get in!"

Harry hurried to them, seeing fear in their eyes just as they surely must have seen it in his. Hermione swung open a carriage door and Harry had one foot inside, when he stopped completely. Something was gnawing at him to turn around.

Another figure had surfaced.

It was still a giant of a man, but considerably smaller in breadth and height. And even though it was much too dark and too far away to see faces, Harry strained his eyes. He was praying to find that he was indeed mistaken, hoping that the man who was now confronting the Giant was not the man Harry almost certainly thought it was.

But Harry knew Hagrid all too well.

"Guys," he said quietly, too mortified to hardly even breathe, "It's Hagrid."

The three stared wordlessly at the nightmare before them. Hagrid looked like a little boy alongside this full grown giant, and his normally menacing crossbow was posing little threat as he aimed it at the Giant. The Giant raised its arm, holding onto a massive club, and let it come swinging at Hagrid.

Hermione screamed. Harry was too horrified to do it himself.

Hagrid's body stumbled backwards and went crashing to the ground.

"No," said Harry, "Hagrid, please! Get up, please!"

Harry's heart was threatening to beat right out of his body.

Hagrid did stand up, and raised his crossbow once more. But whatever Hagrid was trying to do, it wasn't working and the Giant let another blow come barreling into him. This time Hagrid went flying backwards off his feet and to the ground.

Hermione grabbed hold of Harry's arm and squeezed it so tightly that he lost feeling. "He's all right," she was whispering, "he's all right, he's okay, he'll get up in a second, any second."

But Hagrid wasn't getting up, and no one was coming to help him. Dumbledore, someone, anyone! Where were they? It's Hagrid, Harry! The first friend you ever had! It's Hagrid!

Harry's pulse was racing and, finally, he just snapped.

The pulsing on his forehead was nothing compared to the adrenaline coursing through his body with every beat of his heart-- it fueled a fierce and raging anger and his body trembled as it consumed him whole.

It exploded-- this power, this passion-- and Harry burst into a run, only to be yanked back by Ron.

Ron was still holding onto Harry's jacket sleeve and was staring at Harry with pleading eyes. "Dumbledore and the Order have enough on their plate without having to worry about you too," he said urgently. "This is no time for heroics."

Harry broke free of Ron's grip. "This is precisely the time for it. It's Hagrid, Ron. How can I just stand here while that thing--"

"That thing is a full-grown giant, and you're a sixteen year old kid! Harry, you'll get yourself killed! There's nothing you can do..."

Harry put his arms around Ron and pulled him into a tight, quick hug and whispered fervently, "You don't believe that anymore than I do."

And before Ron and Hermione could remonstrate, Harry dashed off back towards the castle. He could hear Ron and Hermione screaming for him to come back, but Harry sped up his sprint. He wasn't thinking, he was acting on pure gut instinct. Instinct which told him to bring down Hagrid's aggressor at any cost.

The pitch is a good ten minute walk from here-- I need something faster.

Harry raised his wand into the air and shouted "ACCIO FIREBOLT!"

He kept his arm outstretched as he ran and soon heard a light rushing wind and the smooth, polished wood of his broom slid comfortably into his waiting fingertips. Not missing a beat, Harry hopped onto the broom and pushed it into high speed.

The world whizzed past him and soon the pitch was directly in front of him. As was the Giant which, unfortunately, was a good deal larger than Harry had anticipated: some twenty feet at the last. Harry's hands were wet from sweat and they slid nervously as he tried to grip his broom: the Giant had spotted him. He was grotesquely disfigured, with a lopsided mouth that revealed a set of sharp, jagged teeth. His skin, a pasty blue-ish color was covered in boils and even from his distance, Harry choked on its nauseating, stomach-churning smell.

He saw Hagrid's limp and motionless body lying on the pitch behind the Giant, but his view was soon blocked by the Giant's club which looked to have been fashioned from an actual crag-- craters and all.

Harry was thrown into panic.

The Giant swung and Harry dove, missing the blow but feeling every bit of its power by the wind of the swing: his broom shook from the force of it. Harry pulled up again and circled the Giant, hoping to confuse it.

Concentrate, Harry, concentrate.

He flew backwards as the Giant marched towards him, holding his wand out straight ahead of him. The shot was clear and Harry shouted "IMMOBULUS!"

The Giant let out a surprised yelp as the blast hit him, but that was all. He merely shook his head and let out a deafening, rumbling roar that shook Harry's broom. In the blink of an eye he'd raised his club and made another vicious swing at Harry. Stunned by the failure of his charm, Harry dove out of the way too late. He missed the force of the blow again, but was sent flying off his broom by the gale of the swing. His body plummeted a good ten feet and landed with a painful thud on something very hard, his glasses flying off his face.

They landed with a shatter, and the world around Harry went blurry.

He could hear the monster and smelled it, knowing it was entirely too close for comfort. He searched frantically for his glasses but felt nothing but grass and ricl. He squinted ahead and could make out something horribly large hurtling at him and he braced himself for the worst.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Harry blinked stupidly, thankful he was still alive but thoroughly confused as to how.

"Harry, hurry, get up-- where are your glasses-- oh really, Harry!"

He heard 'oculus reparo' and felt his glasses being slid onto his face and the world came back into focus. Ron and Hermione were in front of him, smiling. They were standing on a rocky bit of soil on the grounds beneath what was left of the north tower, and above them a giant, crag-like boulder was hanging in mid air.

They pulled Harry to his feet and he shook his head, "What are you doing--"

Ron winked at him. "You didn't really think we were gonna let you have all the fun yourself, did you?"

The Giant was obviously upset that his boulder had been deflected, and he raised his club.

"Move," Harry shouted, and the three of them hopped onto their brooms and sped off in every direction, missing the crash of the bat by mere seconds. They flew up into the air, and circled the giant.

Harry's stomach flip-flopped when he looked down to see that the rock he'd just been sitting on seconds before was now nothing more than a mound of sediment.

Not a very thing heartening to see.

"Why haven't you stunned him yet," shouted Ron as they flew, and before he could answer, Ron drew out his wand and pointed it at the Giant. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

The jet of light bounced off the Giant, who again barked unpleasantly, and then began bearing towards them once more.

"Because charms don't work on him," Harry shouted back as they continued to fly in a circle above the Giant. Ron looked sheepish and put his wand away.

"He's too big," Hermione shouted, "simple charms just can't affect it."

"Yeah," said Harry, his mind racing, "but with the power of three... listen: we need to get as close to him as possible and then with the three of us hitting him at the same time, it should do the trick."

"Close to that thing," said Ron, "how can we-- move!"

Harry dove as the Giant's club came swooping past him. He straightened out his broom and rejoined Ron and Hermione.

"How can we get close to a thing like that without getting wiped out?"

Harry bit his lip in thought and then pulled up next to Hermione. "Hey Hermione, think you can do a Woollongong Shimmy?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"It's just a high-speed zig zag, that's all. When I say 'go,' all of us do a Woollongong as fast as your broom will take you, right for it, and then on the count of three we stun him, all right?"

Ron and Hermione had no choice since no one else was coming up with any other options. Besides, time was running short: Hagrid was still showing no signs of movement.

The three flew ahead about thirty feet, turned around and hovered for a moment, staring ahead at their target.

"Ready? Okay, GO!"

Harry zoomed forward, and he could hear Ron and Hermoine close behind them on their brooms as he veered from left to right, left to right, left to right. His eyes were watering from the force of the wind against his face, and the broom shook under his fingers from the speed as he pushed it as hard as it would go. The Giant was now mere feet from him: its club was poised in the air, but he was obviously puzzled by exactly what to do with it with the three of them cutting so sharply to the left and right.

"Here we go, you guys! This is it! ONE, TWO, THREE! STUPEFY!"

Harry's voice was tripled by Ron and Hermione's behind him and he was momentarily blinded by the blast of white that shot forth to the Giant. This time the Giant let out a surprised roar, but it stuck in his throat: his body went rigid, arm still poised in the air to strike. He'd been caught off guard and off balance, because the Giant tipped sideways and went crashing to the ground.

The threesome erupted into shouting and whistling, and landed on the ground. Harry ran to Ron and Hermione and threw himself on top of them, hugging them tightly as he could.

"We did it," Ron was shouting, "we actually did it!"

"Come on," said Harry, not wanting to waste another second. He rushed across the field to where Hagrid still lay and his heart plummeted to see that it was every bit as bad as he feared.

There was a bloody gash to the side of Hagrid's head, which was dirty and scratched. His pant-leg had been ripped, and the fabric of his trousers were drenched in blood.

Harry threw himself over Hagrid's limp torso, tears filling his eyes. "Hagrid, please, please, don't be dead. Hagrid, please."

And then Harry felt it: his body rose as Hagrid's chest inhaled ever so slowly.

Harry raised his head and wiped the tears from his eyes, breaking out into a smile. "He's still alive," he said excitedly to Ron and Hermione. "He's... he's going to be okay, you'll see. Hagrid, are you awake? It's me, Harry..."

"Let me take a look at that cut," said Hermione, kneeling alongside Hagrid. Her face was twisted in pain just looking at it. She shook her head. "Oh Harry... he needs a Healer's help..."

"Can't... can't you think of anything to at least... help him even a little?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Potions, yes, but I'd have to find the ingredients and... I somehow don't think we have the time." She stood back up. "We really shouldn't be here at all, Harry, it's dangerous."

"Yeah," said Ron, "who knows, another Giant may be on his way."

"Maybe," said Harry unconcernedly. He ripped off a thick strip of fabric from Hagrid's trousers and lifted his head delicately. He tied the coarse fabric around Hagrid's head as a sort of very primitive bandage, and Hagrid's eyes twinged as Harry pulled the bandage tight. He let out a low moan and Harry saw his breathing become more pronounced.

"I think... I think I can handle it from here," said Harry. He knew Ron and Hermione were scared, hell he was scared. "You two get to safety, and I'll be right behind you. I promise."

"No you won't," said Hermione flatly.

Harry looked up at her and frowned. "Hermione, I said that I promise. Now, I don't know what the hell is going on around here anymore than you do, but I do know that I'm not leaving here until I'm sure that Hagrid's going to be all right. You two need to get back to the station, and I promise you that I will be right behind you... besides, with my Firebolt I'll probably end up beating you two to the station anyway!"

Ron and Hermione were not impressed with this idea, but Harry was furiously adamant. "GO ON!"

"If you're not at the station in twenty minutes, we're coming back for you," said Ron.

"You won't have to, I'll be there."

Ron and Hermione reluctantly climbed onto their brooms and within seconds, Harry was alone again.

There had been another, greater reason that Harry had been so determined for them to get to safety. His scar was getting all the more painful as the minutes wore on and if, if, Voldemort or his friends should appear, he didn't want Ron or Hermione to get caught in it. He loved them too much.

Harry focused his attention back on Hagrid, racking his brain to think of something to ease his pain. He tugged at Hagrid's sleeve, wanting to keep him awake.

"Hagrid? I know you can hear me. It's Harry."

Hagrid stirred, and blinked his eyes slowly: they were watery, red and they were smiling at Harry.

"Harry," he said with a weak, crackling voice, "you have ter go... the frontlines... too dangerous 'ere..."

"I don't know what the hell is happening or what you're talking about, but I'm not leaving here without you. Now, what happened, Hagrid, what is it?"

Hagrid was painfully groggy. "Janus the Giant, he's with Voldemort... he's coming... Dumbledore doesn't know how they did it."

"Did what?"

But Hagrid was wincing in pain and he bit his lip as the pain apparently ripped through him.

"Where did he get you, Hagrid?"

"I... dunno... think... me leg's busted..."

Harry ripped open the bloody trouser leg and nearly wretched. To his horror, not only was Hagrid's bone very visibly sticking out of the ghastly, bloody mess of a wound, but a large and jagged piece of rock was stuck in it as well.

"Hagrid, not only is it busted, but that club of his must have been the size of Fang..."

Harry stopped in mid-sentence, having to cover his mouth, unable to keep talking. He closed his eyes tightly, concentrating on keeping his breathing normal, because he felt like vomiting right there on the ground. He was sweating, panicked and hopeless, but didn't want Hagrid to know it. "Don't worry," he said with forced optimism, "we're getting out of here."

Harry racked his brains, oh why couldn't he think of an appropriate spell? He shook his head and cleared his mind, resolving to focus on what he could do, not what he couldn't. "Sorry I'm such rubbish at this. we'll get you cleaned up properly in no time, but for now?" He pointed his wand at Hagrid's leg. "Mummitus."

The gash still remained, but white bandages appeared and wrapped themselves about Hagrid's leg.

Hagrid sighed, "Thanks Hrry... still 'urts..."

"I know, but like I said, we'll get you mended up proper soon."

"Harry, I... I can't tell yer how much..." he smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry smiled and shrugged it off. "Hey, you'd have done the same thing for me. Now, we've gotta get a move on to join the others-- they've all been taken to safety Ron and Hermione are waiting for us there. Don't reckon you can walk at all?"

"Doubt it."

"That's all right, Mobilicorpus should work just fine. Here, hand me your--"

Harry stopped.

He could hear a rustling in the grass, and the hairs on his neck stood up. And then, in the very next instant, the prickling on his forehead burst into a blazing firestorm and he knew, all at once, precisely who was coming.

"Stay down, Hagrid," said Harry quietly and urgently, "Stay down and keep perfectly still-- it's Voldemort."

Harry dove for cover under Hagrid's massive arm and peeked out from under it to find that he was entirely correct in his assumptions. The Dark Mark was looming above them and popping up like hooded spirits rising from the grave were the death eaters, a entire legion of them in all of them. And then in the front of them, not even thirty feet from where Harry hid, was a particularly tall and painfully skeletal man who pulled back his black hood to reveal a pair of burning red eyes.