Once inside his office, Harry turned around and carefully locked the door behind him. He then went straight to and sat on his chair. He took out the mokeskin - to which he had added an undetectable extension charm - Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. He then carefully fished out from it an ancient-looking copy of a Guide to Advanced Transfiguration Year Seven. It was, without a doubt, one of Harry's most treasured possessions, more valuable to him than the entire contents of his Gringotts vault. Nobody knew Harry had this book, not even Ron and Hermione. And doubtless Hermione would go mad as a bag of ferrets if she knew Harry had it. For it was nothing but a repository of all the spells and charms - majority of which self-invented - that Dumbledore ever knew in his long life. Dumbledore himself (or rather, his painting) gave it to Harry some time after the Battle of Hogwarts. And Harry was exceedingly grateful for it: the book had more than made up for the gap in his magical education, having missed his seventh year in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes. And although by now Harry knew by heart most of the book's contents, sometimes it would still surprise him and a stray bit of knowledge would appear in its pages as Harry riffled through it as if in response to Harry's particular need at the time. And although there were many instances in which Hermione kept pestering Harry about where he had learned a particular spell or how he did a particular feat of magic, Harry simply refused to satisfy her curiosity and kept the existence of the book continually secret. After a while she gave up prying, attributing Harry's uncommon magical skills to a surge in his power that soon became apparent days after the Battle of Hogwarts.
For that was exactly how Harry came upon this book. After having slept for more than thirty six hours after the Battle, Harry awoke in the small hours of the morning and decided then and there that it was the best time as any to return the Elder wand to Dumbledore's tomb.
As he was walking along the deserted halls of the destroyed castle under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry chanced upon the statue head which reminded him of the tiara Horcrux inside the Room of Hidden Things. Its eyes were still moving, and rather despairingly, Harry thought. It was obvious the staff and the house-elves of Hogwarts still had too much on their hands to attend to the repair of the battered castle. Harry waved his wand and whispered Reparo! but instead of just the one statue repairing itself, there was a whirl of movement along the entire length of the corridor and thirty other statues and suits of armors were similarly restored, each and everyone looking as if it were newly-forged.
Harry stared around, disbelieving, then back down at the phoenix wand in his hand. He was completely stupefied: did his wand…did he just…what the hell was that? He tried again, this time directing his attention to a broken window nearby. And the exact same thing happened. All the broken windows along that corridor, not just the one Harry was aiming at, were completely restored to a pristine condition. Unable to account for the mystery, he decided to head to the Headmaster's office and seek Dumbledore's portrait's opinion.
Harry found the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office fully restored, but as soon as it had seen him approach, it sprang aside and allowed Harry entry even before he could make the request. He then thanked the gargoyle and climbed up the moving staircase.
He heard voices inside and a woman giggling, though Harry was sure it well could not have been Professor McGonagall - the mere thought was rather disconcerting. Summing up his courage, he knocked on the door and the voices immediately ceased. He pushed the door open and was unsurprised to find the room quite empty.
"Harry," Dumbledore's portrait exclaimed in pleasure.
Harry self-consciously walked in, as most of the portraits of the former Headmasters were frankly staring at him. He noticed that Professor Snape still did not have a portrait of his in the room, and Harry resolved to do something about it first light of the morning.
"Harry, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore said, beaming down at him.
"Professor, something, er, strange happened."
"You mean stranger than you coming back to life after being hit by the Killing Curse? Well, let's hear it then," said Dumbledore and he settled back into his chair as if he were waiting for a classical music concert in front of him to begin.
But Harry did not immediately reply. He did not know how to begin and he wasn't sure if he had not exactly dreamt the entire thing. He looked up at Dumbledore's portrait which was waiting patiently for him to speak. Then taking a deep breath, he started narrating what had happened with the statues and windows in the corridor. After Harry had spoken, everyone remained quiet, Dumbledore now looking pensive. All the other former Headmasters then turned their faces to Dumbledore, waiting. Finally, he spoke.
"I'd like to speak with Harry alone please, if I may?" Dumbledore said quietly, addressing the room. Though taken aback, the other headmasters complied, all giving Harry and Dumbledore curious looks as one by one they left, Phineas most reluctantly.
But Dumbledore had asked Harry first to perform a spell that would prevent the other former Headmasters from secretly listening in on their conversation, telling him the incantation and the proper wand movements that went with it. Only when Dumbledore was fully satisfied that they could not be eavesdropped upon did he return his attention back to Harry.
"Do you know where I have kept hidden the real sword of Gryffindor?" Dumbledore said, peering down his long nose at Harry.
"Yes, sir. I saw it in Professor's Snape's memories."
"Good. There is something there that I have left especially for you. I'd like you to retrieve it now."
Then Dumbledore's portrait swung forward, revealing the secret panel inside. At first Harry thought it was empty, but then he espied towards the back something small. A book, he realized. He reached a hand inside and took it out. Dumbledore's portrait swung back into place.
Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Year Seven. It looked like it had seen better days, not unlike that of the Half-Blood Prince's Potions book. Harry turned a puzzled look up at Dumbledore's portrait who was smiling benevolently down at him.
"I made it for you, after discovering that you have, uhm, shall we say, a certain facility in learning things from old books?" Dumbledore said delicately, his eyes twinkling, but Harry did not mind, for he had started opening the pages and discovered with a leap of excitement that it was just as heavily-graffitied as Snape's book had been, with all the notes written in Dumbledore's loopy handwriting.
"As you have learned by now, I had known for some time that I had very little time left and would most likely not be around for your seventeenth birthday. I therefore assumed that you would have to abandon your education to search for the Horcruxes. And though I expected your triumph over Voldemort, alas, the final outcome of the war was impossible even for me to discern. I also surmised the possibility of you gaining powers as a result of your brief dalliance with Death."
Harry looked up back at Dumbledore, eyes questioning.
"How many times have you heard it said in the Muggle world, Harry, that sometimes the only thing that can hold a person back is himself? For we are often fettered by our fears and preconceived notions that we do not allow ourselves to consider the possibility that we can be more, that we can do more. You, Harry, on the other hand, had seen and lived through something that no human being had ever experienced before. Your awareness and certainty of the limitless boundaries of this life, I rather thought, would likely have a freeing effect on your own magic and abilities. That, and the fact that you will no longer playing host to a piece of Voldemort's soul. And I see I have not been proven wrong. This book, Harry, will help guide you in using your newfound abilities. And you may very well need them. Who knows how many people by now have correctly surmised that you are now the owner of the Elder wand, and how many of those are fully aware of its import?"
Harry nodded, now realizing the full extent of his burden. He found he could not much speak, feeling a painful lump in his throat. And though he was talking to Dumbledore just as he would have if Dumbledore had been alive, Harry somehow felt he wanted to see and talk to the real thing, but knew he could not.
"My only request is that you keep this book to yourself and yourself alone, do you understand?" Dumbledore said and looked down at Harry in that characteristic way that made him feel he was being X-rayed. Harry nodded his assent. He understood it to mean that he could not let Hermione or Ron know of this book.
"You will learn later as to why after you have read the contents. And I suggest that you start reading on how to perform magic wandlessly, as I feel that, it will be your most pressing need."
"Thank you, Professor," said Harry, having found his voice, "I don't know what to say. This is probably one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. I'm not sure if I deserve it," Harry said earnestly.
"But you do, Harry. I just hope that you'll be as lucky as I had been in finding someone deserving of passing your knowledge to," Dumbledore said, gazing down at Harry with affection.
But it was not the only gift he received that day. Half an hour later, he found himself standing before Dumbledore's open tomb. Harry took his time rearranging the reposing body, and felt surprisingly no revulsion for touching Dumbledore's corpse at all; rather, he tended to it caringly, tenderly, repairing and carefully relaying the torn shroud upon the emaciated corpse. Following the old wizard's instructions, Harry trained his two other wands on the elder wand. Immediately the wand began to vibrate and Harry placed it inside the coffin. The elder wand lengthened and snaked around to the edge of the tomb then it widened and flattened itself against its marble confines, forming a bed of wooden coffin underneath Dumbledore's body. To the unknowing, there was nothing to betray its true valuable nature. Then using the Geminio spell, he duplicated Draco's old wand which he then placed on Dumbledore's chest. Now the dissimulation was complete and Harry was satisfied. Using his two remaining wands, Harry at last resealed the tomb.
Suddenly he felt movement just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He wheeled around, facing towards it, his wand at the ready. But what happened next, nothing could have prepared him for. Out of the gloom and dark of the forest, emerged, one by one, what must be the entire number of centaurs living in the Forbidden Forest - the males first, then the females along with their younglings, then they ranged themselves along the entire length of the forest's edge facing the castle. Finally there emerged the biggest centaur Harry had ever seen, a good head and a half taller than the rest of them, and more wild-looking, too, with his huge mane of stringy hair, who then took central command in front.
Harry took a slight step back, though he was not afraid. He did not know whether he should prepare to defend himself, hex them, or simply run away. But then the chief centaur (for what else could he be?) started to speak.
"Harry Potter," he said in his stentorian voice. "I am Diomed, the chief of this tribe. It is a great honor bestowed upon you that you should set eyes upon our centaurides (Harry knew he was referring to the females but he did not allow his eyes to wander over to them for fear of offending the males) and our younglings, Harry Potter. But we have been watching you, young wizard. We saw what you tried to do, back in the Acromantula's den. And though we will not speak of it, we know what you have just kept hidden in the former Headmaster's tomb."
He paused, looking Harry straight in the eye. Harry gazed steadily back at the chief though keeping his expression placid.
"But I only did what I had to do," said Harry, keen to downplay his actions. "There was nothing special at all about what I have done. It was just the right thing to do."
"Perhaps, you may believe so. But it is not often that we centaurs are made witness to such heroic acts of self-sacrifice. We applaud you, Harry Potter. And we honor you." He nodded his head majestically at Harry, and to Harry's supreme amazement, started going down on one knee. The rest of his tribe soon followed, including the younglings and the still heavily-bandaged Firenze, whom Harry had just noticed and who was aided by the long black-haired female standing beside him.
Harry was deeply moved. It was obvious from the awkward way they knelt down that the action was not something they were accustomed to. He did not know what to do and wondered if he should return the gesture. But before he could do or say anything, the centaurs began standing back up again. So Harry expressed his gratitude by a simple nod of the head.
"You, Harry Potter, shall have our tribe's abiding friendship and as a token of our word we offer you this," and he presented to Harry a set of bow and arrows. He gestured for a young centaur to bring the items to Harry. The young centaur immediately obeyed, cantering right up to Harry and kneeling down a bit so Harry could reach out and take the proffered gifts. Even in the dark, Harry could see the gleam of the bow's golden burnish of wood.
"The bow and arrows that you now have in your hands were made by one of our ancestors thousands of years ago. They will never age, nor need care, nor decay in any way. And the arrows will never fail to find the mark you set them upon, no matter the distance."
Harry wanted to protest. He did not think that centaurs set too much store by material possessions and therefore must not have too many of them. The bow and arrows must be of great value to their entire nation. But he did not want to offend them either, for he knew they were rather a proud lot.
The chief must have sensed Harry's hesitation for he spoke again.
"They are gifts, Harry Potter. But you need not worry. When the time comes, the bow and arrows will eventually find their way back to us. They only come to those who deserve it."
"Thank you," said Harry, "I'm exceedingly grateful."
The chief centaur gave Harry another long look and then said, "Farewell, Harry Potter." And with that the centaur Chief abruptly turned around and disappeared back into the gloom of the Forbidden Forest, his tribe immediately following behind him until at last only Firenze was left. For a long time, he and Harry stood looking at each other, and Harry felt keenly the poignancy of parting, of saying goodbye to someone you wished you could have known more but now could not.
"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Firenze softly said, but his voice carried over to where Harry had been standing just the same. "Until we meet again." He raised a hand in farewell and then he too turned to disappear back into the Forbidden Forest.
Harry sat bolt upright.
That's it! The centaurs' arrows! He knew that the ancient Hellenic wizards were only able to get rid of the Teumessian fox by setting upon it the Lailaps, a dog that was destined to always catch its prey. But there was no evidence at all that the Lailaps had broken through its curse as well, as the Teumessian fox had obviously done. But the bow and arrows the centaurs had given Harry were similarly designed. The centaurs must have seen this coming. They were inveterate stargazers after all. They must have known about the Supervoid, probably known about it longer than the Muggles did. And that's why they gave the golden bow and arrows to Harry. They knew the weapon would be needed.
Harry hurriedly put away Dumbledore's book back into his mokeskin. He then stood up, intending to rush to Hogwarts to possibly consult with the centaurs but suddenly, the unmistakable form of a Patronus drifted through the walls.
"Harry…help…" the silvery form of a red deer spoke in the strangled voice of William Turbitt. A frisson of fear ran down Harry's spinal column. Howard was the more senior of the two. Protocol dictated that he be the one to call in for back-up.
Harry sprang to action. Grabbing his trench coat and quickly donning it, he rushed back out of the office and towards the secretaries' desk.
"Liede, quick! Where exactly did Donaghy's team go? Something's gone wrong with their operation," Harry barked, pulling out his mokeskin and taking out Draco's wand. The secretary's eyes grew wide. Harry without a wand was already a force to be reckoned with, Harry with his Phoenix wand was absolutely invincible, but what could have happened that would necessitate Harry to use two wands? Liede shuddered at the thought.
Around them all movement ceased: Harry was never one to be seen in a state of agitation. No matter how intense their operations got, Harry had always kept his cool. Sensing something was up, all the Aurors in the room bolted to Harry's side, at the ready.
Just then all the fireplaces flared to life and everyone in the room turned his head towards it. Then their eyes flicked to the notice board of Aurors out on a mission. There were only two names: Howard's and Will's.
Harry turned his attention back to the secretary. "The address, Liede?" he said a bit impatiently.
"We sent them to the Flooer's house, Mr. Potter," Liede said, the parchment from which she was reading the case facts was shaking, "A Mrs. Morag Macsween in Gleann Mòr." She cast an anguished look at Harry. "But they would have followed SOP and Apparated meters from there," said Liede, her voice quivering.
That was true. Though they could never match Harry skill for skill, ever since Harry joined the Auror ranks, his comrades had sharpened their skills to at least complement his.
"Issue the Floo out and inform the higher-ups," said Harry.
"Already done." Liede promptly replied, reining in her fear.
"I'll be first team, Harry," one Auror said.
"I'll do recon," another said.
"No, it's best if I do recon. We don't know what we're facing here. We're running into this operation completely blind." He then doled out assignments to the rest of the Aurors.
He turned back to Liede. "Hand me a Portkey." The secretary rootled around in her drawer for a suitable Portkey and extracted a broken handle of a floor mop. She handed it over to Harry who took it without a word.
"Portus," Harry said. The handle glowed and he held it out for the men coming with him as the first deployment team to take. The second batch would follow a minute behind them.
"Priority of life," Harry whispered.
"Priority of life," the others firmly echoed. They all placed a finger on the wood and instantly Harry felt the now familiar tug behind his navel and he and the other Aurors were pulled into a vortex of wind and colors, towards their destination, towards where he hoped Howard and Will were still waiting, alive.
Harry felt his feet slam on the ground. As the mission was situation critical, the Aurors immediately Disapparated and Apparated in a grid several feet away from each other. Harry ducked down and surveyed the area. Ahead was the wizarding village of Gleann Mòr that Muggles were unable to see. The town served largely as a supply depot and temporary housing for families of Ministry personnel stationed at Azkaban. But the name Macsween did not ring any bells to Harry, and he did not associate the call with the critical nature of the town. That had been his mistake - and only, he decided.
It didn't take him long to register the mass of black clouds whirling around the island of Soay, almost completely enshrouding it. Wizards and witches have already gathered on the tip of a finger of land facing Soay.
Harry sent Aurors to look for Mrs. Macsween and they came back promptly with bad news. She narrated that the storm cloud first started as a mist which was not an unnatural occurrence in Soay but she had noticed a certain difference in its character. There was something different too about the lapping of the winds and the seas that only one who had lived in these islands for most of her life could possibly notice. This she had tried to explain to the two Aurors who arrived earlier, though it was obvious to her that they did not believe her. Then they left to take a look at Soay and that was the last she saw of them. The storm cloud though had alarmingly grown in size and strength since then and it had only been the last half-hour.
Harry mentally worked himself over. Why did he not take the call? There was nothing at all flaky about the Scottish woman, as the Aurors who interviewed her gathered. Harry should have made certain whether the emergency Floo had been legitimate or not. God, Howard's kids were still so young, so young.
Harry shook his head clear and focused his entire mind on the task at hand. Now more than ever he needed to be able to think clear. He had the team quickly secure the immediate vicinity, set up the staging area for the mission, and the onlookers herded away. He knew Muggles from Village Bay on the other side of the island would have noticed the storm clouds by now and members of the Muggle Obliviator squad would soon be arriving, which meant more reinforcements, a good thing.
Harry stood looking out towards Soay. Harry had only been here in these parts a few times - his job necessitated frequent visits to Azkaban and he had made a few detours in these islands. It was believed that the site was holy to ancient wizards and frequent sacrifices were made there, mainly of the island's famous sheep. But the facts of the legends were long ago lost in the mists of time. He remembered Soay as being completely barren of trees - like the rest of the islands in the entire archipelago - and there not having a square foot of flat surface to stand on.
He considered his options. The Homenum Revelio spell would not work this far from the island. It was only ever designed to be used in a confined space; else, it would pick up human beings within a thousand meter radius around him. From his vantage point the only thing that could be seen of Soay was the angry swirl of dark clouds circling it. He looked up at the sky, which was thankfully clear, and then behind him at his men awaiting further instructions. A little off away, a couple of Aurors from the second team were cordoning off the kibitzers. Then he looked back at the Auror - Gavin, a classman - standing just behind him, in a defensive position to Harry. A look passed between them and the young man imperceptibly nodded. He understood Harry was about to make a move, though what, he had no idea. Gavin in turn turned his gaze back to the other Aurors, a look similarly acknowledged and relayed. The message was passed: Stand Down.
Harry then walked towards the edge and peered down the angry, unforgiving sea below him. Without a word he stepped off the cliff. He heard the screams of the civilians behind him but paid them no heed, focusing his wits and senses instead on what he needed to do. As he was falling halfway the length of the cliff, he Transfigured himself into a seabird. He shot across away from the island then up towards the sky joining the million other seabirds flying around the islands, the civilians none the wiser.
He did not have the time to relish the freedom, the exhilaration, flying often gave him. Already several minutes had passed since they had arrived on the island. He rose higher and higher, far above the swirl of clouds covering Soay until he had a clear view of the island below him.
 | |
| Soay, St. Kilda |
Making up his mind, he dove straight down, dead center in the eye of the storm. Immediately he slammed against a strong barrier of wards, so strong it might well have been solid. But Harry persisted until finally he reached the ground. He landed a few feet away from the injured Aurors. At first, Turbitt, looking as if he was struggling to remain conscious, did not notice the seabird that had just landed near him. But Harry made cautious, if deliberate, steps towards his men and Turbitt finally noticed the gannet that did not move like any bird he had ever seen before and thus became instantly alert.
"Harry?" he whispered. Harry shook his bird-head, he did not want the suspects to know something was up. He assessed the situation, still in his bird form, turning his head this way and that to see whether they could be seen, his wings spread out sensing out the magic in the air for signal charms. There were, but only against Apparators to the island. When finally Harry deemed it safe enough, he transfigured himself back to human form, crouched down before the two men and completely hidden from view of anyone inside the dome.
"How many?" Harry asked as he quickly assessed the Aurors' injuries. He wanted to make sure that he could move them out of the island without causing further damage, though he only had but a rudimentary knowledge of diagnostic and healing spells.
"Four…a witch…three wizards…." William said, wincing in pain, then he turned a guilty look towards Harry. "Harry…I'm…sorry…" he started to say but Harry cut him off.
"Don't speak. It was not your fault. The entire island was cloaked in layers of disabling spells, crippling hexes…" Harry quietly said, belying the turmoil in his veins, the darkening of his mind. These Aurors never stood a chance. The moment they Apparated into the island they were dead. He tried to calm his blood, concentrating instead on his wand movements, trying to heal Turbitt's injuries as best he could. They were simple enough: mere cutting hexes, though quite a few penetrated deep into his body. Normally an Auror would have no trouble deflecting these curses but the protection wards were Apparation-triggered, something that his men would have no way of knowing.
But Howard's injuries puzzled Harry. He made several passes of his wand along the elder Auror's body, trying not to think of Howard's cold, sweaty, and extremely pale skin, his rapid, shallow breaths, his eyes, unfocused and staring into the distance,.
"It was the Halobates curse, Harry. The woman, I heard her cast it," Turbitt spoke more steadily, having regained some of his strength due to Harry's ministrations.
Harry turned a disbelieving look at him but there was no lie in the other Auror's eyes. The curse that liquefies internal organs. Although it was easily blocked by a focused Protego-Expulso charm, there was, however, no cure for the Halobates curse and therefore quite lethal: a most painful way to die. Harry turned back to Howard. A quick run-through of his wand confirmed Harry's worst fears: Howard's internal organs were indeed starting to liquefy.
Then Howard seemed to sense Harry's presence. His gaze started to focus a little and turned it towards Harry who was valiantly trying hard to keep his emotions in check.
"I…love…them…." he struggled to say, his clear blue eyes looking directly at Harry's emerald green ones. Harry nodded and briefly saw in Howard's mind the elder Auror's most cherished memories of himself with his family. Harry's jaw clenched tight.
He leaned back on his heels, scouting around him for something he could turn into a Portkey. Finding none, he removed his belt. Still kneeling down, he carefully lifted Howard's body onto his lap. Harry's mind now was a cloud of mingled grief and fury. He nodded to William who reached out a hand to touch a part of the belt. With both men now secured to him, Harry whispered "Portus." The belt glowed and away they were pulled into the maelstrom of wailing wind and clash of colors.
As Harry had intended, they were immediately transported back in Gleann Mòr inside the tent that was the Auror staging area where he knew St. Mungo's Healers would be waiting. William and Harry, who was still cradling Howard in his arms, appeared standing on both feet as Aurors had been trained to do, though Turbitt rather shakily. The Healers immediately converged around them and tended to William's injuries but Harry carried Howard's body all the way to the emergency pallet that had been set up by the Healing team. He carefully laid down Howard's body on the wooden platform, and only then did he allow himself to look at the elder Auror's face again. But no longer could the other Auror return Harry's gaze, not ever more.
Harry gently slid Howard's eyelids closed. No one foolishly tried to offer him sympathy. In fact, everyone in the room was giving him a wide berth, having found something implacable in Harry's facial expression. He gave one last look at Howard's still, pallid face, then turned on his heels and strode purposefully out of the tent.
"Aurors!" he called out, wind whipping his thick black hair. The civilians outside gasped, a few called out his name, relieved to find their hero well and safe.
His men came near, those guarding the civilians casting a barrier shield against them. The other Aurors asked about Will and Howard. Harry told them then gave a quick appraisal of the conditions in the island, barking out particular instructions to his men. When everyone knew his job, Harry nodded to them and said, "Wait for my signal."
Gavin made as if to protest, but Harry shook his head.
"I'll be fine," Harry said. "Step back." The Aurors did as they were told. Harry waved his two wands, and a golden Protective Shield, transparent as glass yet hard as stone, bloomed around him. Harry surveyed his men for an instant, hoping against all hope that he was not about to lead any more of them to their deaths. Briefly, he thought how grateful he was that Ron was not here but dismissed the thought as being selfish. The lives of these men were not worth any less than his best mate's. Then without a word he Disapparated, Shield and all. The rest of the Aurors looked at one another, then straightened themselves to their fullest heights and raised their wands. They were ready.
By itself, Apparating was not exactly the most pleasant sensation a wizard could ever experience, but Apparating with a Shield full on was sheer bloody torture. It felt like hard, thick panes of glass were being folded and squeezed along with his body into a suffocating tube. But Harry endeavored. Ahead of him, he heard large popping sounds like the crack of a bullwhip as his shield broke against the barrier wards. But the howling cyclone surrounding the island masked the noise of his approach. And then he was back in Soay, back behind the stone outcrop where he found Howard and Will. He tried not to look down at the trail of blood and the unmistakable sign of a body being dragged on the ground. He quickly set to work, removing the layers upon layers of disabling charms and hexes on the island, enabling his men to Apparate in (to Portkey in his men as one group was a sure way to have them wiped out in one go).
Now more than ever he was grateful for Dumbledore's book, otherwise he would never have the knowledge sufficient enough to try and disable these charms. His task was made even more difficult by the fact that some charms were interconnected with each other so that Harry could not remove one without triggering an alarm - those he left alone. The others, he tried to disable as fast as he could. After a few minutes working, sweat had started to bead on Harry's forehead and upper lip despite the cool climate and the air being constantly stirred by the surrounding cyclone.
When finally he deemed it safe enough for his men to Apparate into the island without being crippled by multiple hexes, he sent his stag Patronus to them. Then he waited. He felt surprisingly calm, his nerves steady. The battle was far from over.
At the first crack of the unmistakable sound of Apparition, Harry immediately Apparated to just outside the edge of the Protective dome. The other arriving Aurors arrayed themselves in a tight grid behind him.
Like lightning Harry immediately waved his wand and a large clanking sound like the slamming of iron bars echoed in the air. Thick bars of golden light shot out from Harry's wand encasing them in a golden web of light, over and above the criminals' shield. He tried to make it impervious to Portkeys, but the other side was a completely unknown entity. That done, Harry set about dismantling the suspects' Protective wards and found several easy enough for him to remove, including the Obscuris charm which hid the suspects inside from view.
At last the suspects were revealed, exactly as Turbitt told Harry. Two of the men he recognized at once. One was John Leechman, a known petty thief not unlike Mundungus Fletcher and the other was Ice Bill, your all-around henchwizard for hire. So long as one was willing to pay, he'd get the job done, including murder. With absolutely no compunction, with chillingly no remorse.
Then there was the third wizard, a young man, really, who looked to Harry no older than seventeen. He looked quite nervous, as well he should, with the entire force of Ministry Aurors ranged against them. He looked as if he did not even know why he was there at all but Harry was not about to take anything for granted.
And then there was the witch, the one who cast the Halobates curse at Donaghy. Harry directed his full attention to her, his men could deal with the rest easy enough. She stood, chanting, though Harry could not hear the words, in front of a coffin in which lay a fully decomposed human body so that only the skeleton remained. She was wearing a headdress, a cow's horns with a glowing sun disk in between, and a turquoise necklace.
Despite himself, Harry was astounded. The woman was clearly attempting to resurrect someone from the dead. No spell could bring the dead back to life, Harry, Dumbledore's words echoed in his head but this woman was evidently making a serious attempt, serious enough that she was willing to sacrifice other people's lives for this one.
The woman's eyes widened in terror when she saw that their wards had been breached but she did not cease her chanting, instead it seemed she began to spit out her words double time.
But one ward still remained which Harry had extreme difficulty even identifying and so could not dismantle. Then he took a step back, considering the wards, then started feeling the magic the way Dumbledore had done in Regulus' cave. Then his brows began to furrow. He looked closely at the ward again and thought he saw a stain of red color glistening in the transparent structure, the way colors would appear on the surface of a soap bubble. He made several passes of his wand against the dome anew, this time looking for specific signs. What he discovered completely pole-axed him. He waved his wand again, and again he got the same results. Harry threw a disbelieving look at the witch who continued with her frenzied chanting, the sun disk on her head now glowing so brightly it hurt the eyes.
It was a Placental Shield. The ward was anchored on a stone that was dipped in a placental potion. A witch or wizard had to tear open a woman's belly - while she was still alive - and immediately extract the placenta in order for the placenta to be usable.
Harry's mind raged furiously. He was so angry his eyes must have crossed from the rush of anger filling his brain. He prowled the outside of the shield now like a hungry jackal knowing there was no way he could possibly bring it down, not unless he was able to find it in himself the will to tear open a pregnant woman's stomach. Because that was what made the Placental Shield nearly impossible to break: the ward acted as if it was still protecting an unborn child within. And like the Unforgiveable Curses, you have to mean to destroy a life, an innocent life, to effect a spell that would destroy the shield. And Harry could not do it, his own magic was protesting at the very thought.
And he was losing time. The witch was now pouring what looked like slimy white flesh from a large jar into the coffin, maggots as long as a man's hands slipping in and out of the pallid flesh. And then she imperiously beckoned the youngest wizard to come nearer. She said something to him, and he nervously held out his right arm, presenting the crook of his elbow to her. The witch drew out a long knife from inside her robes and made an incision in the young wizard's flesh. She turned his arm so that the blood gushing out from his veins would pour into the coffin. If there had been any doubt in Harry's mind about what the woman was attempting to do, it had now vanished. Then she roughly pushed the young man's arms away when the blood sacrificed seemed enough. The woman then resumed her fevered chanting over the corpse.
Harry banged his fist furiously against the dome. He had never before felt quite this impotent. He noted how the lump of flesh was growing on the skeleton. He had very little time left. He knew the moment the corpse was fully resurrected, the suspects would immediately Portkey away.
Harry considered the wards again. He knew that air was a more passive substrate for magic than earth and therefore the Shield would be stronger aboveground. But where the ward had to anchor itself upon solid earth, in theory, it might be weaker. He then started gouging the earth just outside the Placental dome. The witch's eyes widened. She did not know Harry was quite adept at elemental magic. Deeper and deeper Harry made excavations into the ground until he felt a slight give, a weak spot, in the ward. Harry then trained his two wands on the weak spot and then raised his other fist, concentrating magic in it, then pummel-bludgeoned the shield. It gave an almighty shudder but the dome held. Harry knew he could not really destroy its magic, not unless he could imagine himself ripping apart a woman's belly, and mean it.
Harry was breathing hard now. Think, Harry, think! Then it hit him. Protecting life: that was the essence of the Placental Shield, the essence of his own mother's sacrifice, of his own sacrifice at the Battle of Hogwarts. A corner of his lip curled up into a humorless smile. Then Harry turned to himself, feeling his own magic, then, again, for the magic in the ward but with a different purpose this time. There, he recognized its protective quintessence, and he latched his own magic to it. He felt his magic adapting, and tiny filaments of multi-colored lights began arcing and leaping in and out of his body, like coronal bursts, as his magic attuned itself to the protective nature of the shield. Everyone in that island stared at each other. They had never seen anything like it.
Finally, Harry sensed no more difference between the wavelength of his own magic and that of the shield. Then looking the woman straight in the eye, he stepped into it and immediately the Placental shield collapsed, its magic instantly dissolving into Harry's body.
With a speed Harry did not expect, the witch cast the first spell against him. A telltale lurid black-and-purple light issued forth from her wand: the Halobates curse. But the magic of the Placental shield still held and it did nothing to Harry. The entire Auror force then hurled their own barrage of curses against the suspects and all the three wizards went down like a ton of bricks, though Ice Bill made a futile attempt to put in one against the Aurors who were simply too quick for him. However, the witch remained unscathed. She cast curse after curse - all deadly, all dark - against Harry and the other Aurors but Harry had prepared his men well.
A blast of abrasive wind hit the Aurors, but Harry remained standing. Two Aurors at the back of him, however, were thrown back off their feet and into the air but Harry flicked his wand over his shoulder and the two wizards were pulled back to the ground, landing on both feet, though visibly shaken. Harry was not going to lose any more of his men, not if he could help it.
Suddenly a billowing, roaring noise rushed around them.
Fuck! Harry would recognize that sound anywhere. Fiendfyre! There were only two ways to effectively end the curse. One is for the original caster to stop the curse himself, if he were able, and the other was to conjure holy water and only a fully ordained priest could legitimately bless water. There were no priests in the British Auror roster. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The billowing hot air took form and a full, enormous dragon fire-creature appeared in front of them.
"Get out of here!" Harry bellowed out to his men, as he frantically pulled down the encapsulating dome he himself had erected to allow them to Apparate away. But nobody moved: no Auror would willingly leave a comrade behind, and certainly not if that comrade happened to be Harry. Hoping to buy some time, Harry desperately shouted the spell anyway "Aqua Benedictum!" just as the dragon-fire creature made towards one Auror, and much to Harry's surprise the charm worked. The water that gushed out of his two wands was able to douse the rampaging creature.
Blood pounding in his ears, Harry concentrated all his power against the witch. This had to end now. It was clear to him that the sun disk was powering her spells as it continued to glow with blinding intensity. Harry also noted how she had not let go of the body inside the coffin and continued to chant in some Eastern European language Harry could barely recognize, while at the same time casting curse after lethal curse against Harry and his men.
Harry had noticed as well that the formerly white flesh had now become pinkish in hue and had increased in size while the slimy maggots had started shrinking. It now started forming the upper torso and thighs of the skeleton and black veins had sprouted and spread and ramified all across its entire length.
The black veins reminded Harry of Dumbledore's blackened hands. There was no external force that could ever have defeated the powerful wizard; it was his own heart, his guilt-ridden heart that ultimately caused his downfall. Harry looked at the witch who did not run away the moment the first Aurors arrived, knowing that an Auror down meant the rest of the force was sure to follow, with Harry Potter leading the charge. Despite the overwhelming odds, she continued with the resurrection attempt. And Harry knew exactly what to do. He sent a simple spell towards the body in the coffin, incinerating the flesh to a black hardened mass.
The woman made an animalistic cry; she looked positively deranged with her long black hair streaming in the wind and her eyes wide with dark malevolence. She began walking backwards until she was almost upon the edge of the cliff, screaming words at Harry he did not understand. But Harry merely stood looking stolidly back at her. The battle was lost. With one defiant look, she wrenched the necklace and head-dress from her body and hurled them out to sea. At once, the howling wind and swirling clouds ceased. Harry shouted "Accio!" but nothing happened, the spell was echoed repeatedly around him and still the headdress and necklace did not come. Harry ran towards the edge of the cliff, Petrifying the witch as he passed her by. And without pausing to think jumped off the cliff. It was a sheer drop of almost four hundred meters but Harry had no choice. He transformed back into a gannet, slowing his descent by flying in a circular pattern down. Less than thirty meters from the surface of the sea, he dive-bombed into the water, instinctively drawing a third eyelid close to protect his eyes.
His keen gannet eyesight had seen the still glowing head-crown soon enough but the necklace was harder to find against the dark background of the ocean floor. He dove after the glowing head-crown, catching the tip of a horn in his bird-mouth, and, aided by its glowing light, at last saw the necklace as it drifted slowly down to the bottom of the sea. He dove after it, hooking it to his bill when he finally reached it. Harry knew he was pushing his gannet-body to the limit but, if he needed to, he could always transform into another animal more suitable to the water. And then with the natural grace and speed of his seabird-body he quickly changed his direction and swam to the surface. He burst out of the water and flew swiftly back to his men. Once again, he transfigured himself while still in mid-air back into human form, landing gracefully onto the ground on both feet in front of the witch – now subdued by two Aurors on both her sides – and deftly catching the necklace and the crown as they fell in his hands.
Upon seeing the two artifacts in his hands, a look of profound sadness appeared on the witch's face and for the first time since Harry saw her she looked completely human, not the lamia she seemed minutes ago. She gave Harry one last bitter look then suddenly, she seized up and her body began to twitch, her eyes rolling back into her head. Her skin started to wrinkle and shrink right before their very eyes. She was convulsing so hard that she was shaking the two Aurors holding her that they had difficulty keeping her upright and slowly she fell down.
"Finite Incantatem! Finite!" shouted Harry and the other Aurors but it was too late. She collapsed, dead on the ground, her entire body looking like a dry, old desiccated tree.
It was over.
The two Aurors straightened up and stood there for a time, looking uncertainly at Harry. He nodded to them and they left quietly to join the others in the mopping-up of the scene.
Harry capped his eyes with one hand, suddenly feeling very weary. Was it really only an hour ago that this entire ordeal had begun? An hour ago when he and Howard had been exchanging jokes in front of his office. He looked down at the woman's body on the ground, feeling rather bitter himself. What had she accomplished? Four lives lost, including an innocent unborn child, for one who was already dead. And Harry's mind railed at the stupidity of it all.
Just then he saw the Head of their Department striding towards him.
"I heard you made quite a show today," Dick Pendrill said evenly the moment he reached Harry. Harry did not answer.
They stood there looking down at the woman who was the cause of it all.
After a while, Pendrill spoke again. "I'm sorry about Howard. He was a good man."
"How was Will?" Harry quietly said.
"He'll be fine. You saved his life. Another minute more and he would have lost so much blood multiple organ failure would have set in."
Harry did not say anything but instead surveyed the scene. Other Aurors had begun interrogating the remaining suspects. He also saw a few members of the Muggle Obliviator squad hanging on the edge of the crime scene.
Pendrill broke the silence once again, turning his face full towards Harry. "It was not your fault, Harry," he said, finally saying what he wanted.
Harry simply looked at him. "I'll be at my office," Harry quietly said. "Sir." Harry nodded to his superior and with that Disapparated on the spot.
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