Things got busy in the hall rather quickly.

Harry dodged past Healers, Aurors, and officials as he made his way across the hall. Luckily, most of them had converged around Voldemort – understandable, given the near panic they had expressed when they learned that Voldemort was not actually dead.

"Daud just choked him out. Seems even he'll go down if he can't breathe, thankfully." Rulfio had explained, pulling irritably at something on his wrist. "Though, he should be dead, all the toxin we put in him. Bastard took five sleep darts without falling – and the expensive ones too, not the back alley versions. Say what you want, that's impressive."

No one really seemed to understand what the sleep darts contained, so Voldemort had a guard of what looked like most of the Auror department. There were magical shields and magical chains, as well as quite a few artifacts Harry couldn't identify for the life of him.

Voldemort hadn't even shown signs of waking up yet, but Harry certainly wasn't going to complain.

Beyond that clustered group, Harry could see Dumbledore now speaking to a still-pale and shamefaced Minister. He tried to keep himself from smirking and finally located who he'd been looking for.

Daud and his men had withdrawn at the Fountain of Magical Brethren – a Healer had reached Jenkins, it seemed, although he looked nervous. Harry supposed it was understandable, as Rulfio and Rinaldo were perched on the edge of the fountain, looming over him like ridiculous, overprotective gargoyles, while Thomas looked on from the centaur's back.

Daud was off to the side, keeping one vague eye on his men as he smoked something that looked a lot like a muggle cigarette. Harry padded over to join him, coming in close so they could talk over the noise, even though the smoke stung his nose a bit. "Dumbledore said he talked to the Unspeakables. They think they know what happened, so they should be able to send you home soon."

"Good." Daud said, and nothing more. Harry might have taken it for a dismissal if not for the way the other man watched him, quiet and thoughtful, out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you." Harry blurted, suddenly struck by the realization that he hadn't actually said it. "For agreeing to help us, I mean. I don't know if we would have made it, if you hadn't."

"What made you come here in the first place?" Daud finally turned to stare at him, apparently unable to hold the question in. "It's clear you weren't prepared for the fight."

"We…" Harry hunched his shoulders. It was true – they hadn't been. "I thought there was someone here that I needed to rescue. It seemed real in my head, but…well, you saw what happened."

Daud frowned at him, and Harry remembered who he was talking to.

"I get dreams sometimes – visions of what Voldemort's doing or thinking." Harry explained, tapping his scar. It seemed safe, somehow, to explain this to Daud. The man had no concept of his history and likely didn't care. "It's like our minds are connected – it's helped me before, but he used it to get me to come here, this time."

"Is that normal in this place?" Daud asked him dubiously. "That sort of connection?"

"No." Harry shrugged. "He tried to kill me when I was little and it just sort of…stuck. No one's been able to tell me anything about it. It's never happened before."

"Seems to me," Daud said slowly, dropping his cigarette and crushing it against the burnt Ministry floor. "that you'd be better spending less time using this connection, and more time learning about it, so that you can get rid of it."

Harry blinked, surprised. "I –"

"What will happen if someone kills him and you're still connected to his mind? Did you never wonder?" Daud interrupted, his voice rolling over Harry in heavy waves. "And even without that, he's already learned to trick you. Can he learn to possess you, turn you against your allies? Or perhaps he'll turn you against yourself, instead, and just tear your mind to pieces."

"All right, all right." Harry jumped in hastily, his skin starting to prickle. "I get it."

"You're not one of my men. I cannot order you to look after your own safety." Daud acknowledged, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. "But I'd not stand to have anyone else in my mind, not if there was anything I could do about it."

"I suppose." Harry said slowly. "I've never wanted to use this...thing. It's just…it helped me save someone, a few months back. It's not pleasant, but it has been useful."

"Useful until it's used against you." Daud said sharply, and Harry winced. The man voice softened, nearly imperceptibly. "Get rid of it, lad. Keeping it will do you more harm than good in the long run, I guarantee."

"Probably." Harry agreed, glancing over at Sirius with a nearly miserable look. "But it's the only thing I've got that I can use against him. Voldemort's older and smarter, and better at spells, even if he is crazy. So how am I supposed to beat him, otherwise?"

"Why would it be your job to best him in the first place?" Daud asked, scowling at him distractedly. "You're clearly not trained for extensive combat."

"I mean…it's not my job, exactly." Harry answered slowly. For some reason, he felt like he was fumbling for the answers. "When he tried to kill me as a baby, though, I stopped him – sent him away for a long time. Even if I didn't really have anything to do with it, people seem to think I have some sort of…power, or something, over him."

"So?" Daud stared at him, challenging. "Why's that mean you need to be the one to do it now?"

"Well," Harry said, even more slowly. "it's… since I was the one that defeated him last time, I should be able to do it again this time. No one else seems to have any idea how –"

"That's bullshit." Daud told him, harsh and uncompromising. "Unless you're trying to tell me that, out of the hundreds of men in this room, you're the only one who could possibly win this battle."

This, with a pointed look in the direction of Voldemort's defeated form, made Harry's cheeks flush. "No, that's not it! It's just that people are terrified of him, so they're going to want me to –"

"It doesn't matter what they want." Daud's voice was nearly a bark, and Harry saw Thomas turn to watch them. "It's your choices that matter. Do you want to kill him?"

Harry opened his mouth, then stopped short. He breathed for a short moment, thinking, and his shoulders slumped. "No. I never wanted to fight him. But he's always comes after me, or my friends. There wasn't really a choice."

"There's always a choice," Daud told him, and the gravel in his voice seemed to intensify. "You can leave, or hide. You can simply refuse to fight. There's always a way to remove yourself from the situation, and if everyone else is terrified, then that will inspire them to find a way to deal with their problems on their own."

Harry stared at him. His throat felt stuck.

"And perhaps your choice will be to fight, even if you shouldn't be. Even if it isn't smart." Daud's eyes were very dark, and very steady. "But make sure that it's your decision, for your own reasons, not because everyone else thinks you should. You're the one who's going to live with the consequences, at the end of things."

"I feel I should remind you both that the man you're talking about has already been taken into custody." Thomas said mildly from behind them.

"It's about more than that, Thomas." Daud growled at him, but he sounded more tired than anything. "And you know it."

Harry breathed deep and stared at the mass of people surrounding Voldemort, his thoughts falling over themselves. Five men – fierce, strange, different men, but still only five – had taken him down in minutes. How many Aurors were in the room right now?

"Ah, Master Daud, is it?" Dumbledore's calm voice broke into their bubble of privacy. They both turned to look at him. "I have just finished speaking with Unspeakable Beckett. He assures me that his department understand the issue. They are prepared to send you back as soon as you and your men are ready."

Daud gave him a nod, slow and oddly formal. "My thanks."

"And you have mine," Dumbledore responded, just as serious. "for protecting my students when I could not."

Daud blinked and lowered his head slightly in languid acknowledgement. Dumbledore turned to Harry, paused, and then simply said, "I will speak with you soon, Harry."

Then he strode back across the hall towards the gathered Aurors.

Daud made a low noise – some kind of warbling whistle – that made Harry jump. It wasn't meant for him, he realized, as the other Whalers looked up and began to rise. Still, when he turned back, the older man was examining him critically.

"Think about what I said."

"I will." Harry promised, and found that he meant it.

The others reached them, Jenkins only limping slightly now with one hand on Rinaldo's shoulder. Rulfio tapped him on the arm, looking at Harry as the others gathered around Daud. "Take care of yourself, kid."

"Yeah," Harry said sincerely. "You too, all of you."

Daud tilted his head, the other three nodded at him, and Rulfio ruffled his hair, making it stick up in all directions. Harry ducked, scowling, and when he looked back up they'd vanished across the hall, reappearing in front of the Unspeakable, who showed no signs of surprise.

Then they entered the lifts and were gone.

Harry wandered back across the hall to where his friends were gathered – Ron was hidden behind the Healers and his parents, but he could see the other four casting him frequent glances. He dropped down to sit with them, thoughts still turning in his head.

"Seriously, who were they?" Ginny asked immediately, staring at where the Whalers had vanished, while Luna peered around her shoulder with interest.

"I...don't really know, honestly." Harry answered honestly, and stared across the room at the horde of red-robed Ministry wizards surrounding Voldemort's still unconscious form. That same something was rising in his chest again, light and loose and hopeful. "But I liked them."