XLII. This is Ourselves (Under Pressure)

Please note: Throughout this and the next chapter, Harry and the other POV characters are all very unreliable narrators with limited perspectives. It's going to be unclear who's still alive and who has died. If not knowing these things will upset you, I recommend not reading this or the next chapter (also a cliff-hanger) until I post Chapter 44, which has answers.

xoxoxox

24 March, 1981

It was already early afternoon when Harry startled awake. Sunlight streamed into Gideon's bedroom above Prodigious Clocks, but his boyfriend's side of the bed was cold. Under a mass of bandages, Harry's left arm throbbed.

How did I get—why am I here?

For a moment, the last thing he could remember was the dead cold of the North Sea.

Then the rest of the previous night slammed back into him.

Lily's frozen face when she saw her husband's shredded legs.

Sanguini slapping Harry and then leaving the Dearborns' house without a word.

Poppy arriving in secret and eventually assuring them that Sirius and James would live.

Lupin breaking into silent sobs at the news.

And hours of talking. Of telling the full group what he could of his conversation with the Dementors. Of telling Pel, Lily, and Gideon everything else just as dawn was breaking.

Harry sighed. Pel hadn't spoken much, and Harry couldn't find the words to even begin. As he was leaving, though, the old barrister had looked him long in the eye and—

Harry flinched, sure Pel would hit him like Sanguini had.

Instead of a fist to his face, it was lips that brushed against his forehead.

"Wh—what?" Harry stuttered.

"That's absolution, my young friend," Pel said quietly. "In case you need it. Dalcop hasn't been right with himself since the Invasion, you know that. He's been looking for a good way to die for a long time now. An' I'm glad he found one."

Harry wiped at his suddenly wet eyes and forced himself to stop thinking. Spending the rest of the day bundled in blankets, pretending that the world didn't exist, was far more attractive.

The door clicked open and Gideon ducked in. "You're awake. I was getting worried." Behind him flew Chronitus, the Prewetts' clockwork bluebird.

Looking regretfully at his blankets, Harry remembered he was an adult. "Yeah. Where's Rhys? And why are we here?"

"Don't you remember? You were dead on your feet and covered in blood, so we figured sending the two of you back to the school was a bad idea. And Fabe has Rhys down in the shop. Sprog likes pulling his mustache." Gideon gave him a clinical look. "You look awful. Maybe you should stay in bed."

Best words ever.

"Maybe, just for a bit." Harry scooted over to the side.

The man shucked off his shoes. "Could do with a good kip."

Smiling, Harry watched the clockwork bird flitter about, butting its head on the walls and chirping, "The time is cur-ren-ren-ren, cur-ren-ren-ren—"

"Ruddy thing's on his last legs," Gideon muttered as he cast a Silencing Charm at Chronitus.

Long minutes passed as they lay in the sunshine. Harry was just starting to drift off when Gideon's voice and an arm tightening around his waist pulled him from his doze.

"I'm sorry," Gideon whispered. "I'm sorry I'm so glad that Dementor Kissed you."

Harry snapped his eyes open and rolled to face the other man. "No. Don't apologise for that. I'm…I'm glad it did too. I mean," he licked his lips. "I still miss the people there, but this…this is my life. And if it weren't for Voldemort and the war, it would be exactly the sort of life I'd want for myself."

"Good," Gideon breathed in his ear, manoeuvring Harry onto his side and settling himself firmly against his back. "So no more barmy mental conversations with Dementors. Don't scare me like that again. I thought…I really thought I'd lost you for a moment there."

"Says the bloke who got brained by a rock," Harry huffed.

Gideon ground himself against Harry's arse. "It was a very big rock."

"I'm sure it was absolutely prodigious."

Both groaned as Harry arched back. "Fabian's okay with Rhys for a bit?"

Calloused hands were already making short work of his borrowed pyjamas, carefully avoiding his injured arm. "Mm-hmm. If we're lucky, kid'll have pulled out the prat's entire mustache by the time we're through."

"You sure think—oh Merlin fuck—a lot of your stamina."

Gideon just chuckled and bit into that spot on Harry's neck.

xoxoxox

Much later, Harry returned to the Dearborns' with the Prewetts and Rhys, the evening Prophet tucked under his arm.

Lily's hair covered her face but not her snores as she sprawled in a chair between James' and Sirius' beds.

"Oh," she mumbled when Harry gently shook her shoulder. "Sorry…'s been a long day. Um, Mr. Pepst helped for a while, but he wanted to…to make arrangements for Mr. Shicker."

Harry cringed at the thought of Dalcop.

"Remus and your friend Loch left for Morar a bit ago. It's a full moon tomorrow." Lily bit her lip and looked helplessly at James' form.

"How are they?" Harry asked, taking in the sight of his heavily-bandaged father and godfather, both looking too young, too still, too pale. Poppy said they'd heal, at least for the most part. She said—

Lily shrugged. "They're just—they'll be okay. James woke up once, a little. But…well, Madame Pomfrey she said it would, you know, be awhile."

The gashes in Harry's arm throbbed in sympathy. Poppy had healed them as best she could, and neither had lost limbs, but... "But some magic is too destructive…it'll take time, Harry."

"Harry," Lily sighed. "Any magical travel could impede their recovery. Can we—can we stay here until they're in better shape?"

"Of course." He blinked. "Guin and Doc—they wouldn't have minded. And I don't think anyone would think to look for you here, so you'll probably be safe from—" Harry stopped himself from saying anything related to the prophecy in front of Fabian, "—from, er, things."

"Thanks." Lily gave him a knowing little smile. "So, any idea how likely it is that someone'll figure out what we did?

Harry snorted and held out the newspaper. "They're pinning it all on Voldemort."

A photo of the broken Azkaban dominated the front page.

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED ASSAULTS AZKABAN!
How many prisoners are dead? How many walk amongst us again?

"Alice did that with her Terra-thingy Spell?" Lily gaped at the picture. "You said, but I didn't think…. That's—that's impressive. Terrifying, but impressive."

Too right.

Harry didn't want to think about the headline's screaming questions. How many more will we have to fight now?

"Not everyone in Azkaban was a Death Eater," Lily murmured. "They're…they're dead because of us."

"Voldemort would've killed anyone who didn't join him," Harry snapped, desperate to believe his own words. "The—the decent ones were going to die anyway."

Lily watched him with troubled eyes. "He saw you though, didn't he" she finally said. "V—Voldemort. He saw you and he knows it was you and your friends who were there."

"I don't know what exactly he saw." Harry sighed. "But I told the Dementors my name, so…. Yeah. He knows."

Gideon tensed. "If he thinks you lived through the whirlpool, he's going to come after you."

"Yeah. I reckon so. And either way, he'll want Hogwarts. The Ministry's there, Albus is there." And he probably thinks Lily and James are still there.

"I'm staying at the castle with you then," his boyfriend said firmly. "Fabe, you either come with us or find someone to stay with. You are not going to be alone in the shop."

"Keep your hair on, little brother. I'm a big boy," Fabian chided. "Though it's a fair point. I'm thinking I'll ask Loch if he wants to bunk in your room for a bit. Give him a nice place to stay."

The group fell silent but for Rhys mumbling nonsense against Harry's chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ariana smiling at them from her portrait.

"I don't—" Fabian bit out unexpectedly. "What are we supposed to do now? After everything we learned yesterday, how are we supposed to fight this?"

"What we learned yesterday," Lily shot back, "was that Dementors have a weakness. They can be hurt. And if you can hurt something, you can kill it." Her green eyes blazed in the firelight. "We know exactly what we need to do. Tomorrow we start teaching everyone we can the Patronus Charm. Corporeal if possible, but every little bit will help."

"But You-Know-Who—"

Lily cut Fabian off. "If Voldemort got the Dementor's powers, then we have to believe he got their weakness too. So we're going to take advantage of it, we're going to make him fear us because of it, and we're going to annihilate the bastard. That's how we end this."

Harry stared.

Wow. Go Lily.

Fabian suddenly burst into giggles. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It was a grand speech, Lily, really grand. I was just imagining my butterfly annihilating a Dark Lord."

xoxoxox

25 March, 1981

"I don't think that's a happy enough memory," Harry told a young woman the next day. "It has to be strong enough to fill you up, to make your whole body warm."

She tossed her feathered hair with a glare. "I'm a junior assistant for the Floo Regulation Department. I barely managed an A on my Defence OWL, and you think I can cast a patronus?" Even the snap of her Droobles chewing gum sounded waspish. "Moron."

Harry sighed. It was just another variation on a theme he'd heard over and over again for the last two hours. Glancing around the Great Hall, it looked like Gideon and Alice were having similar conversations.

Most of the Aurors and Auror trainees stationed at the school were making progress, or had previously mastered the non-corporeal spell. But their plan to teach the Patronus Charm to all the Ministry workers and upper-year students was meeting opposition, even with the rumours that the Dementors were roaming free. He wondered if Lily and Fabian were having similar issues in their Hogsmeade training sessions.

"—you can't even do it, so why should I bother?" Across the room, a well-dressed wizard looked down his nose at Alice.

"Fine. Die." Alice shrugged and moved over to some seventh years.

Harry was tempted to give the same response to the young woman. Once the full moon is over, I'm getting McGonagall to let Lupin come here. He's actually good at teaching it.

"Miss, I know it's difficult, but it's so important that you—"

"Harry!" a too-familiar voice cut through the Great Hall.

Goddammit.

Horace Slughorn was already moving his way. The witch seized her chance to escape.

"Afternoon, Horace," Harry managed in a neutral tone.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, you gave me a turn!" The Potions Master huffed, absentmindedly mopping his wet brow. "How ever did you sur—that is to say, ah, what are you getting up to with all these people?"

"Oh," Harry blinked. "Sorry, I expected Professor McGonagall would have told you. We're helping everyone learn the Patronus Charm, what with the Azkaban falling and the Dementors leaving."

"Yes, yes, bad business, my boy. A very bad business." Slughorn pressed his fingers to his lips, staring at Harry with wide eyes. "Oh, Harry. You're a good man. Very…very brave. I wish—that is—I want—could we perhaps…have a chat—a private chat—"

"Harry, can you help me for a tick over here?" Gideon called out.

Gideon, you're my hero. The way Slughorn's acting, he was about to profess his undying love for me or something.

"Excuse me Professor," Harry said and, without waiting for an answer, hurried over to the knot of Auror trainees surrounding his boyfriend.

xoxoxox

29 March, 1981

A few days later, the Great Hall was still playing host to Patronus lessons. Harry bounced Rhys on his knee as Gideon almost seemed to make a corporeal patronus. Again.

Over by the Slytherin table, Remus Lupin had miraculously gotten a gaggle of Ministry minions to produce patronus vapour. The sour girl who'd sneered at Harry was now beaming at Lupin.

"He's a very good teacher, isn't he, little man?"

Rhys babbled.

"Oh yes, excellent point, Rhys."

"You're good with him."

Harry looked up to find Alice, who'd been foul-tempered since Azkaban. "I guess?" he said with a shrug. "I've got no idea what I'm doing, but I'm trying my best, is all." Rhys started wriggling, and Harry smiled. "Someone has to."

Alice gave him a shrewd look. "I always figured you were an orphan." Before Harry could respond, she'd wandered away.

Gideon scowled, his hand passing through his penguin patronus. Again.

"You really are almost there," Harry encouraged, but his boyfriend just swore gustily.

Perhaps magically-alerted to the presence of foul language in her Great Hall, McGonagall materialized in a swish of tartan. "Mr. Prewett! Language!"

Gideon flushed with a muttered, "Sorry Professor."

The Acting Headmistress' lips quirked into something that was almost a smile. "I admit, I find myself wanting to say much the same." She sighed and brushed non-existent lint from her robes. "I'm not fond of waiting for the hammer to fall."

"You think Voldemort's coming here too?" Harry asked.

"Well, where else would he go, Mr. Aberforth?" McGonagall shot back incredulously. "You-Know-Who now has his army back—though Azkaban hopefully has left them much impaired—and very few worthwhile targets to attack. We must be prepared, especially for Dementors."

"But if you think that he's going to attack Hogwarts, why aren't you sending the students home?" Harry shot back. "I don't get it!"

McGonagall's eyes flashed in warning. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she pulled Harry and Gideon into an alcove. "This is the safest place in Britain, gentlemen," she hissed. "Half the students come from homes with no protections at all, and those homes that do hardly compare. If Death Eaters attack students outside of Hogwarts, it is likely that no one will come to help them, do you understand? Nearly all the Aurors still alive in Britain are already behind these walls, and they will not be leaving, lest we be attacked in their absence."

"But what about their families? We can't just abandon them to—"

The headmistress actually hissed. "This is a war, Mr. Aberforth. I have neither the time nor the resources to check every new person that comes through our gates! I will not have another Barty Crouch Junior, do you understand? Not when more than six hundred children are counting on me to protect them!"

Her hand clenched into Harry's shoulder, but her eyes were suspiciously misty as she glanced at Rhys in his arms. "The Order is keeping watch on Diagon Alley, and we hope that they can help families elsewhere if need be. But sometimes—sometimes practicality must be valued over our morality, Harry. You know that. Sometimes there is no good choice."

He felt exhausted by the knowledge that she was right.

Good thing Ab didn't agree with that when Macnair captured you, a traitorously honest voice pointed out in Harry's head. His stomach squirmed.

McGonagall pursed her lips before awkwardly patting Gideon's shoulder. "Take heart, gentlemen. Hogwarts has never fallen to an enemy." And then she was gone, off to discipline some rowdy seventh-years.

Harry hugged Rhys to his chest.

xoxoxox

30 March, 1981

"Harry, check the supply of burn paste and self-sanitizing bandages while I tend to this foolishness," Poppy snapped as she bustled past him, her eyes flashing. "Here you are, Mr. Hagrid, drink it all down. Though what you did to deserve such bites—"

"Ah, they didn't mean nothin' by it, Madame Pomfrey," Hagrid protested, looking up from tickling Rhys. The half-giant's arm was wrapped in thick bandages from wrist to shoulder. "An' with You-Know-Who likely comin', I had ter warn everyone in the forest, get 'em ter leave. Bit odd, though. Never seen the thestrals so riled up." He turned to Harry. "Yer friend Colin seemed a mite peeved with me. Definitely wasn't holdin' ta movin' from his patch."

"Colin—my Colin the thestral—did that? Seriously?"

Hagrid just shrugged.

"I don't see burn paste being counted, young man." The matron frowned at Harry. "Stop distracting my minions, Mr. Hagrid!"

I'm her minion? Harry wasn't sure if he was insulted or delighted. Before he could decide, Gideon ducked into the Hospital wing.

Harry beamed at him.

Poppy looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes. "Well, now I know I've lost your help, Harry. I'm no match for strapping young redheads."

Gideon frowned, nonplussed. "I can come back later—"

"Oh for goodness sake. I'll watch the little one, Harry. You're both healthy, randy young men and war's hanging over all our heads. Go, enjoy yourselves for a few hours."

Seriously? Harry's apron was off in a flash.

"But mind that you don't get too carried away," Poppy added. "I've enough to be going on with as it is without you two needing potions for battered bums and sore knobs."

"Wha—huh?" Gideon gaped at the matron. "I—I was only coming to see…huh?"

Harry's face burned, but he took the chance to hustle Gideon towards the door. "Merlin, Poppy. Boundaries. There are boundaries."

xoxoxox

1 April, 1981

"C'mon, Rhys, please," Harry begged two nights later, bouncing the baby in his arms. "It's, like, five in the morning."

Rhys Dearborn had no pity for the desperate, a point he drove home with a particularly high-pitched wail.

It's not healthy for parents to depend on Sleeping or Silencing spells, Harry reminded himself firmly.

"Cut that racket!" a portrait of an old man with an onion tied to his belt barked.

"Oh, bugger off," Harry snapped. "I'm having a worse night than you are."

Feeling entirely sorry for himself, he continued meandering through the darkened corridors of the school. Lately, a nice long walk was the only thing that could appease Rhys into going back to sleep.

The baby was just grudgingly settling down when Harry found himself approaching the staffroom. Light bled out from the under the door, the sound of muffled sobs within.

This isn't right.

Narrowing his eyes, he cast a shield and Sleeping Charm over Rhys after all.

xoxoxox

Not two minutes earlier, Minerva was swearing under her breath as she tightened the belt of her dressing gown. No one should have to traipse through these halls at this hour. Thrice-damn you, Horace!

Granted, her Acting-Deputy Head's note had been marked 'Most Urgently Urgent!' Knowing Horace, however, that could mean anything from needing time off for a dinner party to the looming spectre of imminent death.

The man in question startled violently and nearly dropped his wand when she burst into the staffroom. "Minerva! I hadn't—I hadn't expected you so soon!"

She arched her brow, lips set in a tight line. "And? Why am I up and about so early? Honestly, Horace, this is practically unciviliz—"

"I—yes—I'm sorry, I truly am…" Slughorn blustered, face beet-red. "So very sorry…but I…oh Minerva—oh…Avada Kedavra!"

Minerva had always wanted to believe that she was fast enough to transfigure something to block an oncoming Killing Curse.

She wasn't.

But she was quick enough to turn the man's waistcoat into a straitjacket even as the curse struck her full in the face. His wand rolled across the floor.

"Horace?" she gasped. Blood from her suddenly-gushing nose soaked her face.

The Potions Master sagged to his knees. "I—I'm sorry—oh, I can't even manage—"

"Incarcerous!" another voice shouted furiously. Ropes shot out from behind Minerva and wrapped themselves around Slughorn.

She turned to find Harry Aberforth, a wand clenched in his hand and infant strapped to his chest. "Thank you, Mr. Aberforth," she managed in a level voice, tasting blood on her lips. "That was very gallant of you, though Professor Slughorn was already suitably restrained."

The young man glanced at the strait-jacket and flushed.

"I'm sorry," Horace burbled again. "Oh Merlin, I can't even cast a Killing Curse correctly, but I—"

"Clearly you don't want to kill me quite enough, old friend," Minerva snapped, her mind whirling with betrayal. A flick of her wand made the strait-jacket tighten and Horace whimpered. Serves you right. "Now. Talk."

"I—I'm sorry, but I had to. The Dark Lord, you don't understand…"

"Say something useful, Horace, before I demonstrate some of my more inventive transfigurations."

"I—I helped him, long ago, when he was a student." Horace seemed to fold in on himself. "It seemed like nothing, really, just an innocent request, you see—I didn't see the harm, even though the topics weren't entirely...above board. His interest was only academic, he said!" Red-rimmed eyes looked at her pleadingly. "You—you understand, don't you Minerva?

"Given that all I hear is nonsensical blubbering, no, I do not." Minerva tightened her grip on her wand, reminding herself no permanent damage until I have clear information. "Get to the point, Horace."

Slughorn's eyes flitted nervously between her wand and Aberforth's. "I'm sorry…I mean to say, I told him things…but I don't think he ever actually did any of them… But then he came back years later. Threatened to ex—expose me, say that I'd given a student illegal information...unless I vowed to help him when he asked. Three years in Azkaban minimum, I'd get...But he never asked for anything, not for years! Not—not until Barty Crouch Junior…"

He knew. He knew that Crouch was going to kill his father. Kill Albus. Minerva clamped down on the urge to do something entirely too Gryffindorish.

"So Voldemort blackmailed you into taking some vow, then wanted you to help take out leaders of Hogwarts and the Ministry. Great," young Aberforth practically growled.

"I tried to tell you!" Horace wailed to the boy. "I wanted to, the Dark Lord wanted information on you as well, he knew you were at Azkaban. In the Great Hall, I wanted to tell you everything, I swear!"

I'll just forget about any connection between Aberforth and Azkaban, Minerva quickly decided.

The boy kicked the Potions Master in the gut. Minerva sighed. I should probably stop him.

"Well you didn't," Aberforth said coldly. "Now why would he want you to attack Professor McGonagall?"

Slughorn nearly dissolved into sobs, but something in the boy's face stopped a further descent into ridiculousness. "Because…because I'm the Deputy Head."

Minerva froze.

Dear Merlin, no. There are six hundred children in this school.

Aberforth clearly didn't understand, looking ready to kick the man again.

"I should have used a potion, not the Killing Curse…I just don't hate you, Minerva. We're friends," Horace moaned. "But I—I thought…you're a Gryffindor. Poison just didn't seem sporting—"

"When?" Minerva choked out. "When, dammit?"

"When what?" Oh do keep up, Harry.

"Professor Slughorn here, as Acting Deputy Head, is my immediate successor," she spat. "Upon my death or incapacitation, control of the castle—and all the protective enchantments that surround it—would pass automatically to him. He would have the power to raise or lower them at will." Her heart was beating fast, too fast. "So, old friend, I ask again. When is Voldemort coming here?"

Horace looked up at her with a lost expression. "Dawn."

"Fuck," Aberforth whispered.

"Language," Minerva chided absently. "The Dark Lord will be expecting Hogwarts to be defenceless. Which, thanks to Horace's failure, it won't be."

"So what do we do?"

Oh Albus, I wish you were here. With another flick of her wand, an alarm bell started peeling through every corner of the castle. "What do we do? Why, Mr. Aberforth, we fight."

"And him?" Aberforth glowered at Slughorn.

Minerva stared her colleague hard in the eyes. "I believe that Auror Moody will have some scintillating suggestions."

Horace whimpered. Pathetic.

"But what if—sorry—but what if you die in the battle?" Aberforth said with a deep frown. "Will he still become Headmaster?"

"Please don't kill me, don't kill me! I'm sorry, I—"

Minerva was regrettably too slow to stop Harry from kicking the Potions Master again. "Horace," she sniffed, "I suspect Pomona will prove quite an improvement over you. Consider yourself sacked."

xoxoxox

The Quad Battlements

The alarm had been raised, the castle woken. Just as dawn was breaking, every Auror, teacher, Ministry worker, and—Harry smiled grimly—bartender in Hogwarts was mustering on the battlements high above the quad.

Well, Harry corrected himself, some Ministry workers were mustering. A good majority were suspiciously absent. Cowering in the kitchens, I expect.

Flitwick, Sprout, and a few other professors also weren't in attendance, but given that they were guarding the students all sequestered in the dungeons, he figured they more than earned a pass.

"Morning," Gideon muttered as he hastened over. "Bloody evil of them to attack before breakfast."

"They don't call him a Dark Lord for nothing," Harry agreed lightly. Next to him, McGonagall quirked a smile.

"Alright!" Alastor Moody stumped away from Griselda Marchbanks and positioned himself in the centre of the battlements. "We've got reliable intelligence that an army of Death Eaters is headed our way, and damn soon!" He paused as the crowd erupted into whispered conversations. "Shut it and listen! Headmistress McGonagall has assured me that every defensive charm and enchantment on the castle is now active. Fianto Duri, Protego Inimicum, Clypeum Odii—everything that'll keep anyone with hostile intent off the immediate grounds! As soon as the Death Eaters get here and we see how they're arrayed, we'll—"

"Uh, sir?" Remus Lupin interrupted, pointing towards the grounds.

As one the crowd rushed forward to peer over the side.

Really? Harry frowned and glanced at Gideon. His boyfriend gave him a tiny nod of agreement. McGonagall was arching her brow. That's…that's all of them?

True, a hundred and fifty or so Death Eaters weren't to be scoffed at. But we're in the most defensible place in all of Britain! And hell, just nine of us took out more than fifty at Loch Morar…

He squinted. It was hard to tell from a distance, but most of the Death Eaters massing just outside the wards seemed thin, bedraggled. They milled about in disorder as a dark-haired man without a mask stalked in front of them.

"One's trying to pass onto the grounds!" Alice Longbottom called, and an expectant hush fell over the defenders.

The Death Eater, a reedy bloke with wild hair, hedged towards the invisible ward line. The leader flicked a spell at him that bowed his back, and the man sped up.

Four steps later and his body was pulverized into fine blue dust. A cheer rang from the battlements.

Well, bloody hell. That's effective.

"Maybe we'll be done in time for breakfast after all," Gideon murmured.

Another Death Eater, cringing back even more than the first, was forced to try.

"And that's why Hogwarts has withstood attacks for a thousand years," McGonagall said with a feral smile as the man disintegrated. "Our spells can't reach them through the defences, but if we're fortunate, they'll take care of themselves trying to bring them down."

The defenders continued to watch as the Death Eaters did just that. Gideon and Harry grinned when chain lightning electrocuted a good half-dozen.

Some minutes later, Harry was wondering if the elves could bring everyone some tea when the Death Eaters all abruptly Disapparated.

This time the cheer was deafening.

"Shut it," Moody bellowed over them. "They aren't dead—they had to go somewhere!"

Another older Auror frowned. "They were in poor form, even before they started attacking the wards. Months in Azkaban…I don't think most could Apparate far."

"Hogsmeade," Alice said firmly.

Moody nodded. "Alright, let's—"

"What is that?" a Ministry worker shrieked.

Following his gaze, Harry rubbed his eyes.

The hell…?

The surface of the great lake was crawling.

Harry shuddered at the sudden memory of the insects that had scurried over his body in his coma dream. "Gid?" he asked in a voice that was smaller than he would have liked. "Gideon, what's going on?"

Gideon just shook his head and then looked at McGonagall. The Headmistress had gone terribly pale.

Moody and Alice didn't look any better.

The lake was undulating, writhing like a living thing, its dark surface rippling with ghastly whites and greys.

"Professor?" Harry tried. "Minerva, what's going on?"

It was Remus Lupin who found his voice. "Those…those are Inferi."

Harry's breath hitched. Necromantic zombie things. I read about those for Ab.

"But…but how—so—so many?" he stuttered. "And so fast? They're moving too fast!" Watching the lake come alive with the dead, Harry could only think of hundreds—thousands—of maddened bees skittering over each other on a honeycomb.

"Oh, the poor Giant Squid," Gideon whispered. "And the merpeople… Merlin."

The army of the dead began to spill out over the banks of the lake, bending their course toward the castle. Still more continued to rise from the water.

"Minerva," Moody said in a hollow voice that terrified Harry more than anything else. "The principal defences are intent-based enchantments. Inferi don't have intent…There's one or two for Dark Magic, but…?" His magical eye stared at the Inferi. "Minnie, can the wards keep them out?"

Oh God.

"No," she whispered, horror etched across her face. "Not forever. A few dozen, certainly, but that many? McGonagall shook her head dumbly. "No, that many...they will get through."

In the silence, Harry imagined he could actually hear the sounds of the Inferi crawling closer.

"How do we get the kids out?" Alice asked. "They can't stay here!"

McGonagall, Marchbanks, and Moody shared a glance. "We can't open the Floo, the castle is on lockdown," Marchbanks said slowly. "Voldemort could be waiting to use it to access the castle."

"Apparition is impossible. The secret passages all go to Hogsmeade," Minerva whispered. "And there are likely Death Eaters there. We'd be sending them to a slaughter."

No one said anything more, and Harry immediately understood. They can't evacuate the castle. He desperately gripped his wand and cast a spell.

xoxoxox

The Dearborn House

"Lily!" the albatross shouted in Harry's voice, "Be careful! Death Eaters probably headed to Hogsmeade. An army of Inferi—yeah, fucking Inferi—coming towards the school. We can't get the students out, but we're going to…to try to fight."

The moment the albatross patronus finished delivering its message, the Prewetts' Aggression Alarm Clock began blaring through the village.

A thrill of fear shot through Lily. "Inferi? Death Eaters?"

Across from her, Pel Pepst just shook his head, eyes wide.

James stirred, half-awake but still bed-ridden. "I'm gointa fight," he slurred, clumsily reaching for his wand. "Gotta help."

Like hell you do.

Lily cast a Sleeping Charm on her husband without a second thought.

"My baby is going to grow up with both his parents," she growled at Pel as James slumped back.

"Yes ma'am," the solicitor quickly agreed. "But what about the kids at the school? If bleeding Inferi get inside the castle…"

The children. James. Sirius. There are too many people who can't fight for themselves.

Lily's legs felt numb. "We just need somewhere safe. Somewhere no one can get to them, no matter what."

Nowhere is safe. Oh God, nowhere is safe.

Movement from across the Dearborn's front room caught her eye. "Ariana?" The girl waved again frantically. "Ariana, we haven't time for—oh, for goodness' sake, what is it?"

The girl's eyes glinted. With a soft schnik, the portrait swung open.

What in the—

Pel and Lily peered into the darkened tunnel.

"You're full of surprises, my dear," Pel murmured to a beaming Ariana. He glanced at Lily. "Where do you reckon it goes?"

She smiled into the darkness. "Where else but to her other portrait? Oh Ariana, you're brilliant."

xoxoxox

The Quad Battlements

Everything was a blur of motion. As Inferi kept rising out of the Lake—God, it must be thousands—Moody barked orders, Aurors divided into teams, McGonagall and Marchbanks pored over a map of Hogwarts drawn on the air in golden lines.

"Prewett, Lupin, Aberforth," Moody snapped. "You three are on the West Tower with the Bravo team. Longbottom," his expression softened. "If you're up for fighting—"

"Sod that, Moody!" she spat.

"You're on the West Tower too, then. I'll take point on the Astronomy Tower with Bones, Kettleburn, and Alpha team—"

A silvery fox patronus scampered through the air towards them. Moody shot a hex.

"Merlin, it's a patronus, you paranoid git," someone muttered.

"Harry, I think we have a way to evacuate the children! Meet me in Albus' room."

Harry blinked as the patronus dissipated.

Marchbanks rounded on him "Well? You heard her, Mr. Aberforth. Get yourself to the Hospital Wing!"

"But the fight! I'm needed—"

"Enough!" she snapped. "That is an army of Inferi out there, young man! The children must be our first priority. So go and get the children evacuated!" Marchbanks gave an exasperated huff. "And besides, were you really planning on having an infant accompany you into battle?"

Harry dumbly looked down at Rhys, still strapped to his chest, still sleeping soundly under the influence of the Sleeping Charm. Oh. He's just been so quiet…

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Aberforth. Ten points from Gryffindor for a shocking lack of situational awareness!"

"But—but I didn't even attend—I'm not a Gryffindor," Harry sputtered.

The Acting Headmistress fixed him with her most disgusted 'professor' look. "Oh for the love of Merlin, Aberforth, of course you are. Now get moving!"

"Yeah, okay." He turned to Gideon, suddenly unwilling to leave his side. "I'll be quick. I'll see you on the West Tower."

A hand brushed his own.

"'Course you will."

xoxoxox

Private Room, Hogwarts Hospital Wing

The room was empty but for a lightly snoring Albus and a still-tiny Fawkes. The phoenix chick chirped sleepily, then promptly fell back asleep.

Well, Lily? Where are you? We're kind of in a bloody rush here!

Albus' window looked out onto the far side of the grounds. It was a bright spring morning, mild and calm. You'd almost not know that an army of corpses is attacking the school.

Seconds crawled by.

Harry fell to staring at Ariana's empty portrait. The lazy fluttering of corncockles on the wind—as if they had all the time in the world—seemed to taunt him. Scowling at the offending pink flowers, it slowly dawned on him that there was a bright splotch of red paint in the centre that he'd never noticed before.

And then he realised that the red splotch was getting bigger.

This is not normal...

In moments the red was recognizable as hair which streamed out behind a person running at breakneck speed.

The portrait somehow popped itself open and—

"What the hell? Lily? How—"

Lily Potter fell out, clutching her side and panting. "Portraits...connected…tunnel!"

Harry peered around her, gaping at the long dark tunnel that somehow stretched into the distance even though Ariana's portrait was hanging on an outside wall.

"What? How?" he managed.

"Dunno," Lily gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Magic. Pel and I got your patronus, and…we were trying to think…of ways to get the children out…Then Ariana just…opened up! I always knew portraits could travel between their frames, but this?"

"Albus. It has to be." Harry suddenly just knew he was correct. "He did some transfiguration experiments with Ariana's portrait," he said, craning round to look at the swirling corncockles again. "I don't think it was just flowers he added."

His mother's counterpart threw up her hands. "Whatever, we'll figure out the magic later. We have to get the children evacuated."

"But we think the Death Eaters are going to Hogsmeade, so—"

"We aren't going to the Dearborns'," Lily interrupted. "We're going to stay in the tunnel. All of us. I'm betting it isn't accessible unless Ariana lets you in, so it's the safest place. Mr. Pepst is already getting Sirius and James inside."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Sure. Impossible tunnels between paintings are a great place to hide six hundred kids. Sure.

"O—okay, whatever." He started unstrapping the baby from his chest. "You take Albus and Rhys. I'll find Flitwick and Sprout—they've got all the students down in the dungeons—and get the kids here."

Lily nodded and cuddled Rhys to her chest.

"Okay, I'll go get them, get them all out, and then get back to the battle. Shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

xoxoxox

The West Tower

Two dozen Aurors, Ministry workers, and civilians stood silently on the west tower.

Remus really wished there were more of them.

Shoulder to shoulder, he and the other defenders watched waves of Inferi smash into the protective enchantments around Hogwarts. A gruesome mountain of writhing bones and rotted flesh was building up against the invisible barriers that ran the length of the grounds.

And yet still more and more and more corpses rose from the lake in an endless chaos of white and grey and black.

Remus' breath caught. "No enchantments could stop that many. They're really going to get through."

Next to him, Gideon Prewett nodded.

The didn't have to wait long. Moments later, the combined weight of thousands of Inferi shattered the defences, and they spilled onto the grounds through ragged tears in the enchantments. "That's that, then," Alice said in a hollow voice.

Terror speared into Remus as the horde of the dead rushed forwards. He knew that they were reputed to be fast and exceptionally strong, but...

Oh dear Merlin.

Some were nothing but bones. Ragged, rotting flesh hung off others, flesh that snagged and tore as they scampered over each other.

Panicking Aurors flung volleys of curses, filling the air with Blood-Boiling red, Lung-Liquefying yellow, and Killing Curse green.

What the hell are they doing?

"You—you daft fools!" Alice Longbottom cried. "Dawlish! Dressler! They're Inferi! They don't even have blood, and they're already dead!"

From the battlements over the quad, a veritable storm of birds erupted, the flock making straight for the front lines. They exploded the moment the birds struck the Inferi, coating the corpses in—

"Is that—" Remus muttered, squinting.

"Dunno," Gideon said. "Probably oil from the kitchens?"

Another volley of birds streaked onto the field and burst into dozens of little fireballs.

The Inferi went up in flames.

That had to be McGonagall. "See?" Remus snapped to the Aurors. "Fire! You use fire on Inferi!"

Two more volleys of bird bombs streaked onto the field.

"Oi!" Alice called, "did Harry teach you two any of his fire spells?"

Gideon glanced at him and grinned. "I can do the oil. You do the fire?"

Remus nodded.

Alice's smirk was positively feral. "Let's go then! Terraeunda!"

Remus watched in wonder as a massive wave of earth thundered across the grounds, cleaving a deep trench. Lines of Inferi immediately fell into it, writhing in a massive stream of rotting flesh and jagged bone.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Alice said. "Light 'em up!"

Seconds later, Gideon and Remus's spells filled the trench with a seething river of flames.

The grounds of Hogwarts burned.

xoxoxox

The Forbidden Forest

"Aw, come on now!" Hagrid pleaded. "I'm tellin' ye, it ain't safe. Get yerselves outta here, please!"

The herd of thestrals ignored him, though Colin—Bless Harry, but ain't that just a daffy name fer such a noble creature?—at least knickered and met his eyes. Pro'ly still feels bad about that little nibble he took. Sweet bugger, he is.

The half-giant plopped down on a nearby rock. He'd been in the Forest all night, trying yet again to get everyone to understand that You-Know-Who was probably going to attack soon.

No one would listen.

Aragog, the unicorns, the hippogriffs—everyone—kept ignoring him! Even the ruddy bowtruckles. Hagrid sighed. His boarhound Dozer lumbered over and licked his face, tongue dragging awkwardly over Hagrid's beard. "Don' suppose you can convince 'em, can ye boy?"

Dozer leaned in for a good scratch behind his ears, but then snapped his head up, peering intently into the Forest. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

"Boy? Ye hear somethin'?"

Hagrid stood slowly, skin prickling as the thestrals drew closer to him, their frames taut and white eyes fixed ahead. With a start, Hagrid realised that unicorns and hippogriffs were joining them. Through the trees to his left he spied some of Aragog's grandbabies.

He slowly raised his crossbow. "Who's there, then? Show yerselves!"

Colin bared his teeth.

They prowled out of the dark undergrowth on silent feet, dozens and dozens of pairs of eyes shining just a dab too much for regular folk.

These ain't regular folk.

"An' who're you lot?"

The largest of the group smiled, revealing teeth chiselled to fine points.

"What're we gonna do with him, Greyback?" a heavily-scarred woman asked eagerly. "Can we have 'im?"

Fenrir Greyback. Hagrid's fingers hooked on the trigger of his crossbow. "Aye, I've heard a' you, he said. "On You-Know-Who's side, are ya? Well, you and yours aren't welcome at Hogwarts! Get yerselves gone!"

The werewolf studied him. "We have our orders, giant."

Dozer growled low. Hagrid raised his crossbow. "You'll have ta get through me then!"

"Yes," the Greyback agreed softy. "I suppose we will."

xoxoxox

Hogsmeade

Fabian scrubbed a hand across his face and tried to pay attention to whomever was speaking. It's too bloody early for this shit.

Most of Hogsmeade had been jolted awake. Some, like him, had been warned of incoming Death Eaters by a patronus or owl. Others had passed on the message.

"What are we going to do?" some old berk wailed.

"The children!" another fretted.

A hand touched Fabian's elbow. Loch gave him a tired smile and—much more importantly—a steaming cup of coffee.

"Oh hell, mate, you're my hero," Fabian muttered.

Most of the villagers glared or turned away.

Tossers.

"They'll put up Anti-Apparition spells," Bernard-with-the-hairy-mole whimpered, looking anywhere but at Loch. "They'll block the Floos! We have to get out before the Death Eaters come!"

"Bollocks," the owner of Honeydukes snapped. "We have to fight! This is our home! All militia to the staging point! If you aren't a member and want to fight anyway, follow me!"

Some of the villagers turned and ran towards the Three Broomsticks.

Many more Disapparated while they had the chance.

The Aggression Alarm above the clock shop screamed into life and let out a long, piercing wail. Fabian clapped his hands to his ears, his dropped coffee a passing regret.

Shit, shit, they're here. Here we go, here we go!

"C'mon!" he shouted back to Loch as he sprinted after the crowd.

The werewolf hadn't moved. "How many Death Eaters did they say were coming?"

"Dunno exactly—Gideon thought a hundred or so! Come on, mate!"

"The people here are no match for them," Loch whispered.

Fabian took the words like a punch in his gut. "We took out dozens of them at Morar, and there were only nine of us!" he snapped. "C'mon!"

"You had a plan at Morar." Loch stared at the village, as though he was seeing it for the first time. "No. You're going to lose like this." Without another word, he shook his head and Disapparated.

What? Loch? Suddenly alone, Fabian could only blink in shock. He's…he's abandoning us? I didn't think…

The shriek of the Alarm wrenched him out of his disappointment. Fine then. Go.

He ran off to join the militia without looking back.

xoxoxox

Private Room, Hogwarts Hospital Wing

I swear to God I'm going to curse him bald, I really am.

"Mr. Lockhart! You are holding up the line!" Sprout snapped.

"But Professor, I've important personal items in my trunk and I shan't be leaving them!"

Harry closed his eyes. Evacuating six hundred and some students was taking a lot longer than ten minutes. Between pleas for favourite plushies and family heirlooms, not to mention question after bloody question…

Flitwick hurried over. "Mr. Lockhart, continue into the tunnel so that—"

"My grandfather's on the Wizengamot. I'm well aware of my rights, I assure you!" The young man folded his arms triumphantly, chin jutting out. "Have a house elf bring me my things, and I'll—"

"Now!" Sprout's face was turning an alarming shade of puce.

Yeah, we're done here.

"I say! You can't make—"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Stupefy."

Gilderoy Lockhart dropped unconscious to the ground. With a badly-smothered smile and a flick of her wand, Sprout levitated his limp form through the portrait hole.

"Anyone else want to be a prat?" Harry asked the wide-eyed crowd of children. "No? Brilliant. So shut your gobs and get your arses in the fucking tunnel. Now."

The exodus continued in a much more orderly fashion.

"Sorry," Harry muttered to Flitwick, without a trace of apology in his tone.

Flitwick gave him a stern look, but whispered under his breath, "Mr. Aberforth, I've wanted to muzzle that pompous little plonker since his first year."

xoxoxox

The West Tower

Fires raged across the Hogwarts plain, filling the air with the reek of burning flesh.

Remus blinked away the sweat trickling into his eyes.

They'd burned hundreds of Inferi to ashes, but the Lake kept vomiting up more and more.

At the back of his mind, an inquisitive voice questioned where Voldemort had found so many corpses, but it was drowned out by the exhausted need to keep them burning, keep the fires burning.

"Don't stop," Gideon's voice rang out over the spellshot. "Keep them back!"

Alice screamed another earth-cleaving spell.

Remus smiled grimly as he filled the trench with yet more flames. We can do this. We have to do th—

His ears popped with a piercing pain that nearly sent him to his knees. The blue sky disappeared into swirling black storm clouds. Remus didn't need to see the venomous green of the Dark Mark hanging over them to know that Voldemort had arrived.

With an enormous clap of thunder, the Dark Lord's storm raged down upon them.

Rain, freezing as the North Sea, washed over Hogwarts in a torrent that left Remus shaking and blind. Crouched helplessly against the parapet, he wondered that the flood really was just water—wouldn't a Dark Lord use acid or something?—but as the water on the tower rose to his calves, an even colder thought struck him.

The fires.

Dear Merlin, he's putting out all the fires.

Alice's hand squeezed his.

xoxoxox

Hogsmeade

Pain blossomed in his right leg, but Fabian's hand was steady. An overpowered Concussion Hex smashed into his opponents' heads, wet clouds of gore bursting from their ears.

Those blighters aren't getting up again.

Most of the Death Eaters were fresh out of Azkaban, so fighting a few at a time was easy enough. Hogsmeade, however, seemed to bepositively crawling with pale-faced, black-robed blokes who were out of fucks to give.

His injured leg was a problem.

This isn't half as fun without Gideon. I do the big spells, he covers my arse. That's how it works.

Just in time, Fabian noticed a snap of light heading his way and managed a shaky Protego. He answered with a Malleus Deorum that pummelled into the Death Eater and sent his crumpled form into a wall. Hammer of the Gods. Merlin, even its name is brill.

A flash of sizzling purple flame caught his eye.

Down the street, a hulking man grinned at one of the Pippin boys and incanted a spell Fabian didn't recognize.

That….that isn't some wet sod straight from Azkaban.

Purple flames burned through the air again, and the potioneer's son lay still.

Bastard. Fabian narrowed his eyes and let another Hammer of the Gods fly. The man got off a partial shield, but still went crashing through the windows of Gladrags.

Fabian would have gloated, but even as the man went flying he managed to cast something that wrapped around the redhead's ankle like a rope.

Oh shi—

Fabian's feet left the ground, his whole body pulled through the broken front of the robe shop after the Death Eater. Crashing into a display of singing socks, Fabian barely rolled out of the way of more purple flames, scrabbling to find his feet—

A wand point dug into his forehead.

"You're Prewett, aren't you," the man grinned down at him. "One of the Heroes of the Lake?"

"My heroism is hardly limited by geography," Fabian heard himself say. Have to get away, gain the upper hand somehow…

The socks started a chipper chorus of God Save the Queen.

The Death Eater laughed. "Witty, Prewett. I think I'll—"

Something smashed into the man's head from behind, crumpling through his skull in a great spurt of red and grey.

Fabian gaped at the shaking Gladrags girl with whom he'd once had a bit of a fling. The marble mannequin head in her hands dripped blood onto the shop's floor.

"Did I…did I get him?"

He glanced at the corpse, its brains muffling the socks' song. "I—I'm guessing so," Fabian said. "Merlin, thanks for that." The girl just stood trembling, gaze vacant and face pale. "You alright there, love?"

Her eyes snapped into focus. "Dammit, Prewett! I—I have a name! I just—I just saved your sorry arse, the least you could do is use it."

"'Course," Fabian said quickly, scouring his memories. Stella? Selene? Shit. Serendipity? Se…Se… "Thank you…Celeste. Really." Or was it Cecily? Or maybe—

A wary smile appeared.

Yes! It's Celeste. I am a genius.

And hell if she isn't pretty. Don't know why I gave up on this one so easily.

The screams of a Death Eater being sent flying past the shop brought Fabian back to reality.

"I should go…Battle and all. You know."

"Yeah." Her blue eyes didn't look away. "And I should go…I've got a bunch of little kids hidden down in the cellar…"

"Yeah." Actually, she's more than pretty. Maybe even beautiful.

"Yeah."

Someone outside was screaming again.

Hell with it. I'll probably die today anyway.

Heedless of his injured leg, Fabian crossed the floor and pulled the Gladrags girl—Celeste, her name's Celeste—into what he was sure would be a desperate, searing kiss, all warmth and softness and—

—a knee to his stomach sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Merlin's sake, Prewett! There's a war on and you want to snog?" Celeste glared daggers at him as she smoothed down her robes and licked her lips. "You really are a cad." The spell she flicked at his leg burned and itched like mad, but it sealed his wounds. "Now go, get out. Go fight. Or—or whatever."

He couldn't help but laugh as he picked himself up and headed for the door. "Yes ma'am."

xoxoxox

The Halls of Hogwarts

Relieved to have finally shut the portrait door behind Professor Sprout and the students, Harry sprinted from the Hospital Wing alongside a shockingly spry Filius Flitwick. He kept trying to catch a view through the windows of what was happening outside, but all they showed was more and more rain.

"This storm's not natural!" Flitwick shouted. "Not at all!"

A stitch pulled in Harry's side, and he struggled to keep pace with the tiny professor. "Can you stop the rain?"

"I'll head to the Astronomy Tower and—oh Merlin!" Flitwick skidded as he rounded a corner.

"What—" Harry stopped dead next to him at the sight of a trio of Dementors gliding through the corridor.

"Expecto Patronum!" they cast in unison.

Harry's albatross didn't even come close to the Dementors before Flitwick's prowling lizard thing chased them away, its very sharp teeth glinting.

"What the hell is that?" he gasped, staring at the silvery creature. "Wait…is that a…your patronus is a dinosaur?"

Flitwick beamed. "Relatively compact beasts, velociraptors, but frightfully intelligent. Aren't you, my dear?" The patronus was preening. "Now, go and tell Minerva, Auror Moody, and the West Tower commander that Dementors have arrived."

Harry shook his head as the dinosaur loped off. "But wait, at least some of defences are still up! How did Dementors even get in here?"

"No wards or enchantments can keep Dementors out, nothing but the Fidelius charm," Flitwick said, a dangerous look darkening his normally cheerful face. "I must go to the Astronomy Tower and see about this storm."

"I'm for the West Tower."

"Then here we part ways." Flitwick gave a little bow. "Good luck, Mr Aberforth. Good luck to us all."

xoxoxox

The West Tower

The torrential rains abruptly stopped. Remus had just enough time to peer out over the grounds—Inferi washed back, but already wading through floodwaters—before Gideon drew his eyes away with a muttered, "Well, shit."

Remus looked up and immediately wished he hadn't.

Above the tower, the dark storm pulsed like a pumping heart, and then exploded into hundreds of smaller black forms.

"Time to think happy thoughts, Lupin."

"What?"

Misery hit him like a blast of winter.

— "Don't you see? Our son is…" —

— "He's our son, Lyall!" —

— "He's a monster! A beast! He's not our son anymore!" —

Please, no.

All the Dementors of Azkaban bore down on Hogwarts.

Before Remus could breathe, the tower was swarmed by a whirlwind of snapping black cloaks.

— "Dammit, Hope, I can't love a monster! We'll have to…at least send him away." —

Remus closed his eyes.

A strangled scream sounded to his right, but all he heard was his father's voice. His own voice.

— "Please, Daddy, please don't leave me alone tonight!" —

Something heavy fell at Remus' feet.

— "It's…not your fault, son. But—but we can't deny what you are." —

Remus distantly felt his knees crash into stone, felt his stomach roil at a fetid, rotting stink far worse than Inferi. It didn't matter. Nothing matters.

There wasn't anything anymore. No pain, no time, only the endless aching nothing.

Hogwarts will fall. It'll be just another graveyard filled with monsters.

The word clicked something alive in him, like flint sparking a flame.

— "You aren't a monster, Mooney! Sod anyone who says otherwise." —

He blinked bleary eyes open. The Dementors were everywhere, the foul air around them heavy with breathless anticipation.

They're monsters. Them and the Inferi. And Voldemort. All monsters.

I'm not…I'm not like them.

—"Trust me, my family is full of monsters! I know monsters, and you're not one." —

He found he'd stood up.

James and Sirius were right. I'm really not a monster.

Chin raised and shoulders squared, Remus Lupin glared into the storm of Dementors.

I'm nothing like them. Not at all.

The thought didn't fill him with happiness, not really, only the bone-deep knowledge that it was absolutely true.

And it was enough.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Silver light cut through the darkness.

A Dementor hovered over a prone Gideon Prewett.

"Get it!" Remus' wolf patronus shot at the monster—too bad I couldn't do corporeal—and sent it spiralling off the tower.

"Yes! Get them all!"

Next to him, Gideon stumbled to his feet, legs shaking.

Cries of Expecto Patronum rang out, and one after another, more patronuses popped into being, the tower itself seeming to glow silvery-white.

"Drive them back, drive them back!" Remus shouted, the blood thundering in his veins as the Dementors scattered to the skies. He grinned at the sight of a glowing flamingo and silver pangolin chasing down a trio of the monsters. A luminous shark darted after fleeing black cloaks. Though who the hell has a giant spider crab for a patronus? he wondered, watching a patronus as terrifying as any Dementor. Merlin.

"Oh shit," someone screamed, pointing to the storm of Dementors forming again above them. "They're going to come back!"

"But they never come back after a patronus that quickly," another gasped. "Why? Why are they doing this?"

Like Harry said after Azkaban. Because they're more frightened of Voldemort than they are of us.

Remus' smile didn't dim. We can do this.

The small army of patronuses mustered in the air.

His wolf crouched. A silver baboon bared its fangs.

As one, the Dementors dove towards the tower.

Their patronuses charged.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Remus turned to see Gideon's face scrunched in concentration.

It's corporeal, he managed it!

Gideon's glowing penguin dove straight for the lead Dementor. Remus pumped an exultant fist into the air as the bird attacked the monster, stabbing into the Dementor's neck, face, and chest.

The Dementor's shrieks echoed over Hogwarts. Within seconds it was hanging limp in the air, grey shadows streaming like blood from its many wounds.

The penguin aimed itself at another Dementor—

Yeah, get it! A savage grin split Remus' face.

—which turned and fled, a flock of black cloaks following swiftly behind it.

Cheers rang from the West Tower, even as the penguin finally disappeared and Gideon's arse hit the ground.

"That's…that's really hard," the man muttered.

"That was—that was—wow! Well done!" Remus' face hurt from smiling. "But really, Prewett, a penguin?"

"Sod off." Gideon cradled his face with his hands. "Nothing wrong with penguins."

Remus sobered as he looked out over the grounds. "Everyone! The Inferi are still coming! Come on, get back to the fight! Alice," he called over his shoulder, "are you ready to dig some more ditches?"

He turned when there was no response.

Huddled against the parapet, Alice's blank eyes were looking at…nothing.

"A—Alice?"

Remus' stomach heaved as he checked her pulse. She's alive, but… "Alice, answer me, come on!"

Gideon touched her shoulder, but the Auror just slumped over, eyes unblinking.

"Oh God."

xoxoxox

Hogsmeade

The Death Eater they'd been chasing fell with a strangled gasp, but so did the villager who'd been fighting next to Fabian.

Goddammit! I have to get better at shield charms, I just have to!

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He just bought a clock from us last Christmas, dammit all—Fabian gave him a regretful last look and crept behind Dogweed and Deathcap's plant store—

What the holy buggering hell happened here?

He hadn't the slightest clue what spells could have created the giant green tentacles that were bursting through the greenhouse windows.

Yeah...I'll just avoid those. Fabian stepped back to catch his breath.

A moment later, one of the foot-wide appendages darted through another window farther down and snaked around the neck of a hidden Death Eater.

So...so the tentacles dissolve skin. Fabian watched in horrified fascination as the screaming man died. Good to know.

After a few minutes of very careful skulking about, Fabian crept out of an alley and back into the centre of the village.

For once in his life, he didn't have anything to say.

Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Too many weren't wearing black.

High Street was a mess of mud and blood and crumbled stones. Curses rang out from his left and Fabian threw himself back into battle, getting a Protego up in front of Rosmerta just in time.

And then there were only screams and spellshot, as time was measured by the flashes of shields raised and shields broken.

xoxoxox

The Halls of Hogwarts

Harry raced down the halls. The West Tower had never felt so far from the Hospital Wing.

Through every window he passed he could see the army of the dead and the flooded trenches that cut across the grounds like battle-scars.

But Hogwarts still stood, despite all the Death Eaters, Inferi, and Dementors that Voldemort was throwing at the castle.

Wait…

Voldemort's throwing everything he has against us…

Harry's foot faltered.

So where the hell is he?

. . .

He should be here. He should definitely be here.

A leaden dread settled in his gut.

This is all wrong.

His mind leapt back to the night of the Ministry Invasion. It's just like when I saw Dalcop's wife's name in the paper. And when I realised the Death Eaters we were fighting were just patsies…

He barely felt the sudden weakness in his knees.

Everything that night was a distraction. Just a distraction.

Somewhere in the distance a rapid burst of explosions sounded.

So where's Voldemort?

"No charms or enchantments can keep Dementors out, nothing but the Fidelius charm," Flitwick had said.

Harry swayed. We've all been thinking of Voldemort as a wizard, haven't we? That the intent wards would keep him from the castle. But he's not a wizard. Not anymore, not really.

Just how much of him is Dementor now?

The portraits in the hallway were all peering at him, leaving Harry feeling strangely naked, too exposed.

Where's Voldemort?

. . .

Oh.

He closed his eyes.

He's already here, isn't he?

Of course he is.

Fingers numb, Harry fished the Marauders' Map out of his mokeskin pouch.

xoxoxox

The West Tower

There are just too many.

Remus' arm ached from spellcasting. The Aurors around him were sagging with exhaustion. Gideon had passed out after trying to follow his corporeal patronus with more fire spells, and lay curled under the battlements next to a still-blank Alice.

No matter what they did, there were always more Inferi, swimming through the floodwater in Alice's trenches and scrambling over ground too wet to burn.

He fired another Blasting Hex straight down. It scattered part of the massive mound of Inferi at the base of the tower, shattering many of them into pieces, but…

But then the pieces—arms, legs, torsos—just kept on crawling back. With mindless resolve the dead attacked the walls, pulling, wrenching, tearing at the stones of Hogwarts.

They're ripping the castle apart.

He could make out crowds of Inferi doing the same by the Front Gate battlements.

The West Tower shuddered and lurched.

Remus sighed as the floor beneath him tilted again. Not long now.

"We can't win this!" someone panicked.

"No," Remus agreed. "We can't."

He lobbed another fireball at the horde below anyway.

xoxoxox

The Halls of Hogwarts

Harry frantically kept scanning every nook and cranny of the Marauders' Map, but there was no sign of Voldemort.

It just didn't make sense.

I thought he would come. I really thought he would be here.

Strange rustling and wrenching sounds brought his eyes to the windows.

Holy bloody hell.

Far across a courtyard, hundreds of Inferi were throwing themselves at the base of the West Tower. They clambered over top of each other, mindlessly clawing and wrenching at the stones.

Harry flicked his eyes back to the Map. Gideon Prewett, Remus Lupin, Alice Longbottom, and a bunch of others he vaguely recognized were still clustered atop the battlements.

Sod Voldemort. I said I'd see Gid on the tower, and I will.

He took off at a run. Hogwarts blurred past as he darted through the Arithmancy corridor, down a flight of stairs to the third floor, across the hallway that overlooked the courtyard, and past Flitwick's classroom.

He paused just to make sure that Voldemort wasn't anywhere on the Map—

A roar suddenly thundered through the school, sending the portraits crashing to the ground.

No.

Before Harry's eyes, the West Tower on the Map exploded into scattered drops of ink and broken lines. The names of those atop it shredded themselves into heaps of ragged syllables at what had been the tower's base.

No.

Here he spied a Long, there an udfoot, a Dawl, and others. Tangled together next to a misshapen Alic, the letters rewett dripped ink like blood.

Harry's mind couldn't make sense of what his eyes were telling him.

I don't I don't I don't malfunction Map's broken I don't I can't please Gideon I don't

He dumbly looked out the window at the place where the West Tower was supposed to be. A thick cloud of dust rose around skeletal frames scampering over rubble.

no, everything is fine, it's fine, Gideon's fine, we're fine he's fine

Behind him came another earth-shattering crash. The Map's drawing of the Quad battlements shattered into ink spray, the name Marchbanks fracturing into single letters.

Voices in his mind were screaming, some in rage, some in anguish. Some simply kept whispering that everything just had to be okay, really. But they faded into the background as Harry stared at the parchment and watched Hogwarts crumble down around him.

The broken rewett stared back at him.

Gideon fell. He's gone.

The words felt branded on him, burned into his eyes. In the distance, he could hear the Inferi. Probably making their way into the castle now.

But Gideon fell.

Breathless, he watched the rewett, as though it would somehow put itself back together, find the P and the Gideon that it was missing.

It didn't.

And then movement elsewhere on the Map did catch his eye, an intact name in a boneyard of broken ones.

Tom Riddle was on the second floor, coming out of a—

A lavatory.

Harry was running again, eyes blinded with furious tears. Hate him—kill him—make him hurt—make him scream!

His heart beat to the rhythm of every hideous spell he knew.

Bone-Breaking. Blood-Boiling. Lung-Liquefying. Crucio, Crucio, Crucio!

Harry's feet pounded a path to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

xoxoxox

The Portrait Tunnel

Six hundred and some students sat in a narrow tunnel, and yet there was little sound but for shivering breaths and the occasional sniffle. The children of Hogwarts waited.

Rhys curled his hand through Lily's hair. Next to her, Albus, James, and Sirius slept under Poppy's watchful eye. Pel Pepst stared into space, a sleeping first year tucked under each arm.

Please. Please. Please.

Lily didn't quite know what she was praying for, really. Maybe it was please don't let my friends die. Or please don't let Voldemort win. Quite probably please just make it all stop.

The baby in her arms squirmed, a chubby foot brushing against her swelling belly.

Lily's eyes widened when a fluttery something, a jolt that wasn't her, kicked back from inside. There was shock and delight in the laugh that pierced the silence of the tunnel.

Sprout shot her a scandalized look.

"He—he kicked!" Lily breathed. "The baby! I've never felt—he kicked!"

The Herbology professor's glare melted into a tremulous smile. "That's wonderful, dear."

Lily sat back, Rhys still playing with her hair, and put her hand on her stomach.

Please. Oh Harry. Please.

xoxoxox

Hogsmeade

The village stank of fire and fear.

Through the stream of blood dripping into his eyes, Fabian surveyed the knot of surviving militia members. They were bunched together, hemmed in by the raging inferno of the 'Sticks at their backs and the throng of Death Eaters before them.

No way out. He took a shaking breath. That's that then, I suppose.

Though most of Voldemort's lackeys were hardly up to scratch after a stint in Azkaban, in the end the people of Hogsmeade just weren't warriors.

A shrill old bird in torn prison robes screamed on and on about Mudbloods and blood traitors.

Part of Fabian wanted to giggle. Azkaban really didn't do Black's mum any favours.

When Rosmerta started flinging defiant insults back at the bitch like curses, Fabian gripped his wand and found his smile.

May as well have fun with it, I reckon.

"Care for a last dance, Rosie?"

xoxoxox

The Hogwarts Grounds

A bloodied Griselda Marchbanks scrabbled up from the ruins of the battlements. Precious few others were doing the same. The still forms of the people—the children—who'd been fighting at her side stained the grey stones red.

Others were staggering to their feet, but not Minerva McGonagall. Marchbanks solemnly regarded the younger woman's broken body. She's always been such a bright girl. Backbone of steel.

Bastards.

Dementors were circling overhead again. Griselda could almost taste the way they were savouring the moment.

In front of her, the thousands in the army of the dead scuttled and darted over stones and corpses, advancing towards her.

Marchbanks smiled.

Well hello there, Death. I've been waiting for you.

xoxoxox

The Forbidden Forest

The thestrals and hippogriffs were flagging, and the acromantulas had fled.

From his hidden vantage point, Ronan the centaur sighed as the werewolf leader landed another blow on the half-giant.

He'd always rather liked Hagrid.

When Ronan spied the shredded remains of the unicorns, he turned his back in disgust and took refuge in staring at the skies. Bane and Magorian had already done the same.

The battles of men are nothing to the centaur, he reminded himself. And now is the reign of Pluto, bringer of chaos, ruin, and death. There is nothing to be done.

He blinked. An unexpected gleam pierced through the clouds. Ronan shivered from top to tail.

How…unexpected.

Venus had never aligned with Pluto in the spring, never so fully eclipsed it, at least not in the long memory of his kind.

Ronan turned his gaze back to the half-giant across the glen, a good man fighting a losing battle against a werewolf king.

The centaur notched an arrow and took aim.

xoxoxox

The Halls of Hogwarts

Harry rounded the last corner in a storm of fury and grief, heart cracking with the thought Gideon fell, he fell…

He'd barely even glimpsed Voldemort's form gliding swiftly down the corridor before he barked out the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"

His magic stuttered through his wand into a feeble wisp of silver smoke that guttered into nothing.

Oh God, oh God.

I wasn't thinking of good things, wasn't believing…

What have I done?

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the thing that Voldemort had become.

White bones gone grey peeked through the flesh rotting off his frame. The Dark Lord's mouth twisted into a blistered, mangled hole that seemed twice as big as it should be, lips stretching obscenely across his face.

—Not Harry, please not Harry!—

"Expecto Pa—" Harry gasped again, his voice dim and distant.

He wasn't sure when he'd fallen to his knees, when Voldemort had gotten so close to him, when the Dark Lord's hand—slimy, grey, and cold—had wrapped around his throat.

— Ab? Get up, Ab, please! —

Voldemort's features burned incandescent with rage. "You shall all pay for this!" he hissed into Harry's face. "She was mine!"

Realization filtered up through the screams in his mind.

Oh. Second-floor lavatory.

Right.

For just a moment, Harry felt a thrill of delight. "Espeto…Espexto…" he tried again, but the fight in him was ebbing away.

— Gideon fell. He's gone. —

Some distant corner of his mind observed that Voldemort had tightened his grip, that he was leaning forward, lowering his mouth onto Harry's. This again.

It didn't really matter all that much.

A deep, rattling breath shocked through the corridor.

Harry fell into nothingness.

xoxoxox

As always, huge thanks to the best beta ever, AverageFish. Check out their completed Severitus story More than One Way to Skin a Cat (story ID: 13283547)!

Notes

The title of this chapter is the final line of Queen and David Bowie's unspeakably awesome song "Under Pressure" (1981). Coincidentally enough, it was released the same week that Voldemort attacked the Potters in canon (week of Halloween of 1981). Thus far, I've been careful to make sure all song references are contemporaneous with the setting. This one isn't, but I don't care. The song has been fundamental, in various ways, to this entire story.

The layout of Hogwarts: Honestly, I have no idea, and the internet was thoroughly contradictory. I ultimately whatevered, though according to the HP wiki, the quad battlements and West Tower do exist.

Ariana's tunnel: Canon implies that it's the Room of Requirement which creates the link between the two portraits. I obviously went a different route and envisioned Albus himself creating this in the course of his magical experiments with the painting.

Dolohov: In case you're curious, the purple-flame curser Fabian fights and Celeste-the-Gladrags-Girl kills is Antonin Dolohov (who used the same curse on Hermione in OotP). In canon he was one of the people responsible for the deaths of Fabian and Gideon Prewett in 1981.

Next on The Second String: Things get really weird for Harry in Chapter 43, "The Pompatus of Love," the final action climax of this story.