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The Refiner's Fire | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 618 Summary: In the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter learns to come to terms with the death of Sirius. As he heals and grows emotionally, he learns how to enjoy life again. But there's a war on, and Voldemort's primary objective is to kill Harry Potter, by any means necessary. As a result, Harry and his friends have a very adventurous sixth year at Hogwarts. Canon-based with some OC. HG, RHr, RT. Hitcount: Story Total: 381608; Chapter Total: 14335 |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: Many thanks to Kelpie, my brilliant Brit-picker, and to Blakevich, Starfox, Shawn and Pilar for beta reading! BTW, in case you don’t know, a “triage centre” is the place where injured people are evaluated as to the urgency of their need for treatment. They’re divided into “immediate care,” “can wait a little while,” “need surgery,” things like that, so the doctors can see patients in an emergency situation, emergency room or military hospital more efficiently. You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPRef inersFire Harry sat very still in his beech tree, studying the situation below him. There were so many Death Eaters and only one of him. What was the best thing to do? He’d been there for probably half an hour now, watching them rushing through the forest looking for him. Voldemort had just reminded them scornfully to search higher in the trees, since Harry could turn into a cat. He’d sat still long enough to catch his breath and get some strength back after his fall out of the tree as a raven. He was bruised and battered, but nothing seemed to be broken, for which he was very grateful. The Death Eaters were on the far side of the woods now. If he was going to move, this was the time to do it. He’d heard Voldemort calling orders to his followers from the graveyard, so he must still be standing disdainfully on his father’s grave, as he had been before Harry escaped from the graveyard. Harry carefully pictured the biggest headstone he could remember in his mind, then a spot a few feet behind it. That headstone was on the edge of the graveyard, some distance from where Voldemort was standing. Holding fast to the vision of the spot near that big headstone, Harry Disapparated with as small a pop as he could manage. Instantly, he was standing behind the huge granite monument, which was taller and wider than he was. Voldemort was about twenty yards away. Harry stood there a moment, wishing desperately he was wearing his black Hogwarts robes rather than his scarlet Quidditch robes. He couldn’t risk the spell light required to Transfigure them into a darker colour. He felt as if his robes were glowing in the dark, they seemed so bright in the dim light of a stormy evening. At least it isn’t raining anymore, he thought miserably, shivering in his wet clothes. Sticking to the concealment of the headstones as much as he could, he made his way closer to his enemy. Voldemort’s attention was on the sight of his followers’ lit wands as they continued to search the forest. Harry moved closer and closer, until he was only twenty feet from the monster who’d made so much of his life a nightmare. He raised his wand to send a curse at his enemy, and, just before he sent it, Voldemort turned and looked right at him. ”I wondered when you’d get tired of hiding, Harry,” he said smoothly. “You wanted to face me man to man, eh?” ”Man to monster, more like,” Harry snapped. “Whatever,” he said with maddening calmness. “Wands at the ready, then?” Voldemort sketched a mocking half-salute, shooting his first curse while he was still mid-bow. His high, cold laughter filled the graveyard as the young man ducked and rolled, dodging the curse easily. Harry fired back, and soon there were curses filling the air with violently coloured light. He tried an Impedimenta charm, then an Expelliarmus, and various other charms and hexes, to no avail. He finally started resorting to the Dark spells he’d learned. Fight fire with fire, he told himself as he sent a Bone-Removing Curse at Voldemort. A Death Eater behind Voldemort screamed as his body turned to a screaming mass of jelly with no real form, because all of his bones had disappeared. Harry knew the man would die of suffocation since he had no bones to give his lungs room to breathe, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. Voldemort was as adept at dodging curses as Harry. The returning Death Eaters soon learned what the safe distance was, and stayed beyond that. They formed a silent circle around the battle between Harry and Voldemort, just watching, like jackals waiting for another animal to make a kill so they could steal it. Voldemort was discovering that he and Harry were frighteningly evenly matched. He sent Killing Curses, Crucios, various jinxes, and other horrific things at the boy, and Harry eluded or blocked every one. “Attack!” Voldemort screamed at last, and the Death Eaters acted as one, shooting spells and hexes at Harry so fast he couldn’t dodge them all. He shot back as quickly as he could, then Disapparated back into the woods to catch his breath and try to recover from his wounds. Oh come on, this is just not fair, Harry thought, shaking his head in disgust. He was becoming discouraged as well as injured. “Help me, help me, help me,” he whispered desperately as he rubbed his thumbs on his wounds, trying to heal himself so he could get back to work fighting his nemesis. “Harry? Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Voldemort called in a chillingly cheerful voice. “Come out and play, Harry! You’re taking all the fun out of this by hiding.” “Call off your dogs so you can fight me one to one, you coward! Then I’ll come out and play,” Harry called in a mocking voice, instantly Disapparating to another part of the forest. He saw the wisdom of this choice when he reappeared and saw a score of spells all aimed at the spot where he’d been mere seconds before. He sent Bone-Removing Curses in quick succession at several of the Death Eaters, hitting every one of them. Five more down, less than forty more to go, he thought resolutely as he changed positions to avoid return fire. He kept dodging spells, all the while working his way around the edge of the graveyard, trying to sneak up on Voldemort. Time to stop fighting face to face — an ambush sounds like a good idea, he thought. A Death Eater caught sight of him and fired a Leg Locker Curse at him. Harry cast a Petrificus Totalis on the man, then removed the Leg-Locker holding him in place and raced away. He sensed a spell coming from behind him and quickly ducked, the spell whizzing by just where his head had been a heartbeat before. Harry fired an Impedimenta spell over his shoulder, slowing the man down and giving Harry time to get away. Suddenly, spell fire came from three directions outside the graveyard, and Death Eaters were going down. Harry glanced around — help had arrived! His heart lifted with joy and renewed energy, and he headed for Voldemort again. Glancing skyward, he could barely make out Ron and Hermione on brooms, watching the action below, and Ginny on her Firebolt hovering off to one side, watching for injured D.A. members who needed her healers’ services. Their strategies were being used in the real world. Hope they work! he thought as he raced across some open space to get close to Voldemort. Soon, battles raged all around him, giving him the freedom he needed to take on his nemesis. Now Harry and Voldemort stood face to face, fighting with such intensity that their wands were blurs, the movements they made to avoid each other’s spells looking like a macabre dance. Harry threw up shield after shield, dropping them only long enough to fire back. Voldemort had to duck to avoid his rebounding spells, which went past him and killed or injured his own men and some of the D.A. members as well. The Death Eaters, sensing this, moved farther away from Voldemort and Harry, drawing the battling D.A. members after them. The D.A. members outnumbered the Death Eaters, especially since both Harry and Voldemort had killed or maimed a good many of the Death Eaters, but the students’ lack of real-world experience showed in their hesitation to cast spells at times. Those who hesitated went down under a hail of curses, but those D.A. members who went boldly forward were rewarded with victory over their enemies more often than not. Some D.A. members, as well as some Death Eaters, were caught in crossfire when they stopped to watch the astounding battle between Harry and Voldemort. Nobody had ever seen such a fight as these two were waging. Dumbledore and Remus were fighting alongside the D.A. members, trying to protect as many students as possible while battling the enemy. The Order members finally arrived, and were saved from attack by D.A. members only by the red Phoenix emblems on their robes that appeared momentarily when a wand was pointed their way. The D.A. members had the Hogwarts crest on their robes which showed up in purple sparks momentarily when wands pointed their way. There was no other way anyone could think of to show the Order members and the D.A. who they should not fire upon. Each Order and D.A. member knew that he or she needed to dodge as soon as that emblem showed, or they’d be targeted more easily by Death Eaters. So far, they were following their instructions fairly well. The tide of the battle with the Death Eaters was turning, little by little. Ginny’s healers flitted around on brooms, dropping out of the sky to land beside injured D.A. or Order members, helping those they could, sending the ones not badly wounded right back into battle, but doing so with heavy hearts. Neville landed beside Seamus, who’d caught a glimpse of Harry’s battle and hesitated just long enough to be shot off his broom and caught in crossfire between three Death Eaters and an Order member. Seamus lay on the ground panting with pain. Neville knelt beside him, doing what he could for him. Neville kept an eye out for attacks, his wand held loosely in his hand as he worked on his friend. When Seamus’s wounds were bound up as well as Neville could manage, he turned to lift his friend onto his broom to take him out of the battlefield. Suddenly, he saw Rudolphus Lestrange looking right at him, an evil grin on his face. “Ah, unfinished business,” Lestrange said with a sneer, lifting his wand. “Care to join your parents in St. Mungo’s nutters’ ward? Or shall I just kill you outright?” From his kneeling position, Neville shot a full body bind which hit Lestrange just after he’d fired a purple spell at Neville. Neville grabbed Seamus and rolled away as fast as he could, trying to protect his friend from Lestrange’s hex. When he heard the man’s body hit the ground fully paralyzed, Neville walked over to him and began kicking him repeatedly, oblivious to the battle raging around him. “I should” kick “do a Cruciatus” kick “on you.” kick kick kick “I’m angry enough to do it” kick kick kick kick “really well,” Neville growled between kicks. “You and” kick “Bellatrix had” kick “no” kick “right to torture” kick kick kick “my parents” kick “or anyone else that way!” kick kick kick kick kick. By this time, the man’s face was a bloody, soggy mess and most of his ribs were broken. Neville was no longer a podgy, weak little boy, and he put a lifetime of pent-up rage and grief behind each and every kick. He backed away from the man, panting, astonished at what he’d done. Neville glanced at Seamus, who gave Neville a weary thumbs-up. Neville managed half a smile back at Seamus, then conjured ropes to bind his prisoner, and put a Silencio charm on him as well, then picked up the man’s wand and, making certain Lestrange saw what was happening, very deliberately broke it in two. “You won’t be hurting anyone else for a while,” Neville snarled as he threw the pieces of the broken wand as far away as he could. He rubbed his arm, which had a long ugly burn on it from the purple spell Lestrange had shot at him. “Come on, Seamus, let’s get out of here,” he said, hoisting the wounded boy onto his broom and flying behind the lines. “Neville, you’re hurt!” Ginny said as she landed beside him. “I saw you get hit. How’s Seamus?” “Seamus got caught in a cross-fire. I did what I could for him,” Neville said apologetically. “You were brilliant. I saw you fighting that man,” Ginny said, looking at him seriously as she bent to check Seamus. “And then I saw you kicking him.” “He tortured my parents,” Neville said simply. “Well done, all around,” Ginny replied. “How badly are you hurt?” “My arm got burned, that’s all,” he said, doing his best to mask the pain. “Let me see.” Ginny examined Neville’s arm, then got a potion out of her kit. “Take this, it will help.” “We need to save that for the fighters,” he protested, pushing it away. ”You’re as much a fighter as a healer. Don’t argue with me. Take it,” she commanded, and he complied meekly. “You should rest a while,” she added as he handed the flagon back to her. “No, I’m fine. I’m still needed out there,” Neville said, jumping on his broom and taking off before she could stop him. “Be safe, Neville,” she whispered as he flew away. She did what she could for Seamus, then gave further instructions to the healer squad members who’d been assigned to stay on the ground to take care of the wounded. Ginny got back on her broom and started scanning the battlefield again, looking for injured D.A. and Order members who needed her healers, and she kept an eye on Harry. He’d been hit repeatedly by spells from both Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and he was already badly wounded when the D.A. arrived — she could tell from the way he moved. But he kept getting back up and going back into battle, and it was his own rule that those who were still able to fight should be allowed to do so. He wouldn’t appreciate her interfering in his battle, and her being near him would just give Voldemort another weapon to use against him. They’d had this discussion many times already. She knew what he wanted her to do — stay on her broom and observe, commanding her healers as Ron was commanding the fighters. “Did you know how hard this would be for me, Harry?” she whimpered, her heart in her mouth as she saw him fall again. He got up, his face set and hard, determined not to quit until he’d conquered his enemy. The wind whipped his black hair away from his face, the scar livid against his pale skin. Ginny knew it only brightened in colour when it was giving Harry pain, so Voldemort was doing something to hurt Harry through the scar, or Voldemort’s rage was making it hurt, or it could be just being so close to the evil git was causing the pain. Whatever the case, Harry had to fight while suffering excruciating scar pain. He can barely see when it hurts like that, she thought, scared to death for him. He seemed to feel her thought, because he glanced up, looking directly at her, and gave her half a smile just for a moment. Her heart turned over with love for him. Please, please keep him safe! she prayed, then went back to work guiding her healers to the wounded. The battle between Harry and Voldemort was still raging full force, but Voldemort’s expression had changed from sneering arrogance to concern. He seemed to be getting desperate, flinging spells out wildly. Harry was a stronger opponent than anyone could have expected. How could a mere school boy be such a challenge to the Dark Lord? Suddenly, Voldemort changed into a serpent and tried to wrap Harry up in his coils, but Harry changed into a phoenix and vanished before the snake could crush him. He reappeared and changed back into himself a few feet away. “Man to man?” Harry said laughing derisively. “Man to snake this time. You’re pathetic.” “Pathetic, am I?” Voldemort screamed, enraged. His wand suddenly developed a dozen whip-like lashes, flaming red-orange, out of the end. He whirled it at Harry, who managed to evade most of them, but was cruelly cut by several on his back, buttocks and legs. He stood bleeding and panting with pain, but still unbowed. “Is that the best you can do?” Harry taunted him. He had no idea why he was provoking the monster. His own temper was well beyond the breaking point, but Harry seemed to be seeing things with crystal clarity. Rage made you lose control. He was doing his best to infuriate Voldemort. If he became truly enraged, he would let his guard down and Harry could kill him. He was certain of this, as certain as he was that the sky was blue and he loved Ginny Weasley. “You’re such a bloody coward, you bloody great wanker,” he snapped. “Always standing behind your Death Eaters, having them wear masks to try to make them more scary. Whooooo, I’m scary, I’m wearing a mask, big scary Death Eater!” he snarled, skipping out of Voldemort’s range. “Big scary Voldemort. Have you looked at yourself? You’re not that old, only about seventy, right? But you look like you’re a thousand years old, just a decrepit mummy with red eyes! You’re not doing much to keep up appearances. You could’ve probably won more followers if you’d kept Tom Riddle’s appearance. At least he wasn’t disgusting to look at, except for his perpetual sneer.” Harry had no idea what he was doing. Words just poured out of him unchecked, as he danced away from the more and more erratic spells Voldemort was casting. “You want scary? Try some of THIS!” he yelled as he sent a bolt of pure power at Voldemort. Voldemort jumped just in time, but the ground beneath the Dark Lord disappeared, leaving him screaming as he fell into a massively deep hole that tried to close over him. He managed to stop his fall after twenty feet or so and levitated himself to solid ground a few yards away. “That was dismal, Potter,” Voldemort scoffed. “Can’t you do any better?” He lashed out with his magical whip again, so fast that more lashes caught Harry, cutting cruel stripes on his back and left arm as he twisted out of the way. Harry and Voldemort got back to the serious work of lobbing spells at each other and dodging the ones that came their way. Both of them were wounded and bleeding, and visibly weakening, but Harry had, by far, the worst injuries of the two. Apparently Voldemort’s immortality spells also covered quick recovery from wounds, because his minor injuries healed up right before Harry’s eyes. Harry was beginning to feel faint from loss of blood. If only I could have a break — just a few minutes to rest, he thought desperately. Without warning, the sky burst open in a multitude of colour as firebombs rained down from the sky. Fred and George Weasley were on their brooms, lobbing bombs at Death Eaters wherever they could. When these “bombs” exploded, those closest to them were either petrified or covered in oozing boils. Some of the bombs featured Ear-Hair Growing jinxes, which made the victims ear hair grow until the person’s whole head was encased in a wiry web of thick ear hair, including a rich, gooey coating of wax. Fred and George could be heard chortling as they watched the mayhem their bombs were causing. Once in a while they’d accidentally catch an Order or D.A. member in the splatter from the bomb, after which they’d shout, “Sorry!” or “Oops!” and reverse the spell. The Death Eaters were being overwhelmed by the fighters on the ground and the aerial attack by the Weasley twins. Some of the spells from the Weasley bombs managed to hit Voldemort, but only enough to make him angrier. He was bruised, battered and bleeding, but so enraged he didn’t notice his wounds or the boils caused by the Weasleys’ bombs. He shot at the Weasley twins’ brooms but missed, their many years of Quidditch making it easy for them to dodge the spells being aimed their way. Harry wished he had some time to deal with his own injuries, but he had to strike while Voldemort was tired and bleeding and distracted by the Weasley twins. He tried his Bone-Removal Curse again, but Voldemort moved away just in time. Part of it hit Ernie McMillan, whose legs turned into jelly and let him fall. Ernie looked stunned for a moment, but then, realizing he wasn’t really in pain, he battled on from his position on the ground. Harry had a bleeding scalp wound which was dripping blood in his eyes and onto his glasses. He shook his head trying to clear his vision, thankful the Impervious charm built into his glasses was keeping them clean. “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort said, suddenly catching Harry with his guard down, and Harry’s wand went flying. “Now, let’s see. What shall I do to you first, now that you’re disarmed?” the monster said, tapping his finger idly against his teeth. “Oh, I know! Crucio!” He laughed in delight as Harry writhed on the ground in agony. As he suffered unbearable pain in every cell of his body, Harry heard a small voice in the back of his mind saying, I don’t have to do what he says. He doesn’t have control over me. It’s all in my mind, and my mind says “NO!” He screamed the last word aloud as he spread his hands wide and concentrated — a golden sphere suddenly appeared around him, a difficult but very effective type of shield charm he’d found in his Dark Arts books. It required tremendous effort to sustain, but it was the best thing he could think of at the moment. He needed time to get to his feet, wipe the blood from his eyes, and get back to battle. This sphere would give him this, as long as he could concentrate well enough to hold its strength. It was a very tricky charm to manage at the best of times, and these weren’t the best of times. He managed to summon his wand and slid it into his pocket. He was deep into wandless magic now — the wand couldn’t help him do what he needed to do. Through the shimmering light of the sphere, Harry could see Voldemort’s unnatural red eyes wide in disbelief. Nobody had ever broken a Cruciatus curse — nobody! “What magic is this?” Voldemort screamed as he began blasting the sphere with every kind of spell from Reducto to Avada Kedavra. Nothing penetrated the sphere. Inside the sphere, he could see Harry standing upright now, a gleam of fury in those green eyes despite the blood pouring down his face from his scalp wound, the boy’s teeth gritted as he called on every ounce of power he had to fight Voldemort’s attack on his protective sphere. The sphere held. Ron and Hermione were busy directing the offensive from their brooms high above the conflict. They heard Harry yell “NO!” and then Voldemort’s scream of rage when Harry broke his Cruciatus curse, glancing down just in time to see their best friend lying on the ground, battered, bleeding but still defiant as he created the golden sphere around him and rose to his feet, glaring insolently at the monster before him. “I’ve never seen him do that one,” Ron commented briefly as he went back to studying his troop movement. “Me either. He looks about done in,” Hermione said worriedly, her voice breaking with emotion. Ron glanced at her, then placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Harry wants us to do what we’re doing. This is the best way we can help him. It’s killing me not to be there next to him, helping him, but we have to do this right now. All these people’s lives depend on our decisions up here.” She nodded, tears in her eyes, a soft sob escaping her. “So many of them are down.” “You have to sacrifice some soldiers to win a war,” Ron said, his face grim. “I never thought it would be so hard, but you can see from here, we’re winning. You can see it, can’t you?” he asked, suddenly worried that he was convincing himself of something that might not be true. “Yes, we’re winning. The battle’s nearly over, actually. I think we need to reinforce the line over there,” she said, pointing to the left flank. “And we need to remind the squad leaders to tell their people to stop watching Harry fight. That’s where a lot of our casualties have come from, people standing and watching.” “Doing it now,” she said, sending the message to the squad leaders. It was gratifying to both of them to see the quick responses of their squads. Gawkers stopped gawking and got back to their jobs, and the left flank was strengthened by an additional squad in a matter of moments. As Harry held the sphere, his mind spun wildly. Think of something! he thought C’mon, brain, work! As he stood wondering what he could do next, a flash of golden light burst inside the sphere and Fawkes landed on his shoulder. Fawkes’ tears healed the wound in his head, stopping the bleeding so Harry could see clearly again. The phoenix sang his liquid song, the notes of his ethereal music filling the sphere and lifting Harry’s heart. He stood completely still, drinking in the tranquillity and soaring joy that quickly filled his spirit due to the phoenix song. “Thanks, Fawkes,” he said, resting his cheek against the bird as if he had all the time in the world to do so. “I know what to do now.” He moved the sphere until it was within inches of the Dark Lord. Voldemort’s eyes widened. The sphere before him seemed to be growing, as did the boy inside it. Voldemort hurled spells at it repeatedly, to no avail, his spells bouncing off the sphere and hitting people randomly all around him. Still inside the sphere, Harry swiftly changed into a phoenix, flying at the level of Voldemort’s face. As Harry changed, the sphere wall began to dissolve and the phoenix that was Harry burst through what remained of the sphere’s wall directly at his enemy’s face, Fawkes following closely behind. The two beautiful scarlet birds pecked, scratched and clawed at the monster’s face, holding on despite his every effort to get them off of him, their golden tail feathers lashing in fury as they attacked. All the healers were fully involved in working on casualties, so Ginny had landed to attend to some wounded herself. As she worked on her old boyfriend Michael Corner, she tried to smile at him, hoping to cheer him up a bit. He was seriously wounded, but Ginny wouldn’t give up on him. She heard Voldemort shriek and looked up to see two phoenixes striking his face with beaks and talons repeatedly. Like everyone around her, she stared transfixed at the horrible sight. The entire battlefield seemed to be in suspended animation, all faces turned to the sight of the phoenixes attacking Voldemort. Voldemort screamed in agony over and over. His skin hung in tatters. Silver and red blood ran down his ruined face and over his body, pooling on the ground. The two phoenixes flew away from him, having done what they could to stop him. Voldemort was still fighting, but he was fighting phantoms. The phoenixes had clawed his eyes out completely. His evil, red, snake-like eyes were no more than oozing holes now. He was firing spells blindly, sending Killing Curses in every direction. Death Eaters, D.A. and Order members alike, those who were still able to do so, dived for cover. Ginny shook herself out of her stupor and levitated Michael Corner slightly off the ground so she could get him behind a headstone for protection. One of the phoenixes flew right into her face, knocking her down and breaking her Levitation spell so she dropped Michael. The phoenix stayed suspended where it was, drinking in a Killing Curse that would have killed Ginny if the phoenix hadn’t intervened. Voldemort Disapparated just as the phoenix hit the ground and lay all too still. “Nooooo,” Ginny moaned. “Harry?” she cried anxiously as she turned the bird over. Beautiful green eyes caught hers for a heartbeat, focusing on her in recognition for an instant before the light of life faded from them. “Harry! NO! HARRY!” she screamed in agony. She jumped back in horror as the bird’s body was consumed in flames, a small pile of ash all that remained of the phoenix that was Harry Potter. “NOOOOOO!” she screamed, rocking back and forth, beating her chest with her fists as her heartbroken screams echoed through the graveyard. “NOOOOO!” “Ginny? What is it?” Ron said, quickly landing next to her, Hermione right behind him. She pointed mutely at the pile of ashes before her. “What’s that?” “H-h-harry,” she mumbled, turning to her brother and holding onto him desperately. “Harry?” Ron said, dumbfounded. He looked at the pile of ashes. “How did he get burned to ash? He was still fighting, the last time I looked at him.” Hermione burst into tears, falling to her knees sobbing, her hands over her face as she rocked in grief. Ron knelt next to her and put his arm around her comfortingly as he tried to understand what Ginny was saying. “He became a phoenix. He saved me from a Killing Curse,” she moaned. Ron was silent a moment, his body taut with nerves, holding his sister as she sobbed against his shoulder and keeping one hand comfortingly on Hermione, who was completely bereft. He was too shocked to react. His best mate, dead? No, it couldn’t be. He stared at the small pile of ashes, not willing to believe the truth they told. Then he relaxed and a low chuckle began deep in his chest. “He’s brilliant,” Ron said, grinning. “Well done, mate.” “Huh?” Ginny said, pulling back to look up at her brother. He turned her around and showed her the pile of ashes, which now contained a baby bird. He tapped Hermione gently on top of the head to get her attention. “He took on the magical abilities of the phoenix when he changed into one,” Ron reminded her. “They’re immortal. They die, then are reborn from the ashes. Look, Hermione. He’s all right.” Ginny sobbed, reaching out toward the baby bird. “Oh, Harry, I was so scared! Come on, love, I’ll carry you in my pocket.” Hermione laughed in delight to see the ugly little bird. “Oh, Harry! Well done!” Fawkes dived in front of Ginny as she reached out, flapping his wings at her, violently chasing her away from the baby bird. He picked the little phoenix up in his claws and lifted into the air again, the two of them disappearing in a flash of golden light. “Harry? Where’s Fawkes taking him? Where. . .?” Ginny said in shock, tears streaming down her face again. Ron and Hermione could only gaze back at her, horror-struck. What just happened? “Fawkes will take good care of him,” Dumbledore said as he limped up to join them. “He’ll take him to Hagrid. I asked Hagrid to stay in his hut so he’d be there if Harry was injured in Animagus form and needed his help. He should be fine,” he assured her, patting her shoulder kindly. “Is it over?” Ginny said in a tremulous voice, looking around the graveyard. Her healers were working frantically, doing their best to help the fallen. Those who were still upright were helping the Order members tie up the remaining Death Eaters. “Yes, it’s over,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I cannot tell you how proud I am of all of you. Well done.” “I wish we could’ve done it with no casualties,” Ron said, his eyes stricken as he saw several still forms lying beyond the graveyard fence. Hermione stood and leaned against him, heartsick and suddenly exhausted. “How many did we lose?” Dumbledore asked sadly. “I don’t know. Ginny?” Ron said. “I know of three dead, and I’ve lost count of the injuries. Some of them are serious. We need to get them to Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible,” she said. “Some of them may need St. Mungo’s, but I’d rather Madam Pomfrey made those decisions. A lot of these injuries are well beyond my knowledge.” “We’ll get them transported as quickly as possible,” Dumbledore said. “Portkeys will be a little hard on them, but that’s the fastest way,” he said, musing to himself. “I’ll talk with the Order members and arrange something. Try to get all the wounded together if you can. It will make things easier for us.” As the Battle of Little Hangleton raged, Lucius Malfoy attacked Hogwarts, with Draco and the Slytherins who had become Death Eaters attacking from inside the castle while Lucius’s group of Death Eaters attacked the outside. Unfortunately for Draco Malfoy, the teachers were on to him. McGonagall and Flitwick soon had the entire group surrounded, bound and quickly secured in the dungeons. The professors deliberately kept Snape away from the action with his House so his secret assignment as a double-agent would be as safe as possible. The dragons and Hagrid’s giant half-brother Grawp put up a good defence of the gates, wounding or killing many of the attackers. Flames lit up the night from the dragons’ attacks on the intruders, and bodies flew through the air as Grawp made good use of his club. Despite their best efforts, some Death Eaters managed to get inside the gates. They stormed the castle walls and were amazed when the gargoyles, which everyone thought were merely decorations, leaped off the walls and began fighting off the attackers, hitting, running over, punching any enemy within reach, then trampling on the fallen until they were no more than messy piles of gore. The staff, older students and First Year D.A. rained spells down on the Death Eaters from the ramparts of the towers, putting up a powerful defence. Firenze, the Centaur, had been transported to a tower by a Levitation Charm of Professor Flitwick’s. Firenze proved what an excellent marksman he was, every one of his arrows flying straight and true, leaving only death in their path. The suits of armour and the many statues in the castle left the corridors and raced outside, fighting with an otherworldly fury. During a fierce but brief battle, scores of the magnificent trees on the grounds were decimated by spell fire, but the Whomping Willow proved to be as good a defence of the castle as anyone could want, tossing anyone who came within range of it well away from the walls, and seriously injuring many of the Death Eaters. The castle’s wards held, the inhabitants were victorious and many of the Death Eaters who were not dead or seriously wounded were soon rounded up and secured in the dungeons, along with the Slytherins who had turned against their school. McGonagall said some rather unladylike things as she saw Lucius Malfoy’s white-blond hair catching the moonlight as he retreated through the gates with a straggling group of other escaping Death Eaters close behind. A couple of hours later, Hagrid was busy setting his cabin to rights after racing from dragon to dragon to tend wounds while doing his best to keep an eye on his cabin in case Harry arrived needing his help He’d just finished bandaging Grawp’s wounds, who had been a surprisingly good helper when it came to treating the dragons. Medical supplies were strewn everywhere. “Here, what’s this?” he said as Fawkes appeared in a flash of light and landed on Hagrid’s massive bed, laying the baby bird there for Hagrid’s inspection. “A baby phoenix? Fawkes, is this Harry?” he asked, bending over the little bird. Fawkes blinked, and prodded Hagrid to get on with taking care of him. “Right then, Harry,” he said kindly. “Let’s see what I can do for you.” He examined the baby phoenix and then put him on a blanket in a box next to the fireplace to stay warm. Fawkes made a nesting spot in the blankets and settled into it, keeping the baby bird warm under his wing, crooning comfortingly to him all the while. Hagrid put healing ointment on the wounds he found on the little bird, then made a strengthening potion for him and managed to convince Fawkes to let him give it to Harry drop by drop. “There now. That’s about all I can do for the moment. I’ll just carry you up ter the hospital wing and when you can change back, Madam Pomfrey can take care o’ you, how’s that?” he said tenderly as he wrapped a scrap of blanket around the little bird. The baby phoenix never opened his eyes, just moaned in pain as he was handled. “Och, Harry, I’m sorry to hurt you,” he rumbled as he held the tiny bird between his gigantic hands. Fawkes flew beside Hagrid as the gamekeeper made his way up to the castle, which was a nightmare landscape of bodies and debris. Two greenhouses were destroyed from various blasting spells that had been used to try to breech the castle walls. Professor Sprout and some student assistants were frantically trying to round up plants that had been tossed out of the buildings, and save those that were under debris. Professor Flitwick was busily restoring gargoyles to their proper places on the walls. Professor McGonagall was repairing statues and armour and sending them back into the castle. Professor Sinistra was on top of the Astronomy Tower repairing the ramparts there. Madam Trelawney was fluttering about her tower, which was now missing an entire wall. Scarves that had been blown off the tables by the power of the attack now fluttered hopelessly, hanging out of holes in the wall. Other staff members were occupied picking up the dead and wounded, or starting the cleanup and other repairs on the castle. Mr. Filch ran around wringing his hands, so distraught at the mess everywhere that he had no idea where to start working — nor could he find his cat, Mrs. Norris. Death Eaters who hadn’t yet been taken to the dungeons lay trussed up like so many bundles of firewood, in groups here and there across the grounds. The giant squid gave a loud belch, creating a small waterspout for a moment. He had managed to capture a few Death Eaters himself, and had enjoyed his snack. In the future, students would be a little more cautious when hand-feeding him despite his seemingly gentle nature. Hagrid opened the door to the hospital wing. Beds were everywhere. Madam Pomfrey had recruited help from St. Mungo’s because there were so many casualties from the Battle of Hogwarts, and so few people with any training at all in healing or even first aid left in the castle once the D.A. went to Little Hangleton. “Madam Pomfrey?” Hagrid said quietly, his face serious. “I have a patient for you.” ”I thought they’d cleared the grounds of wounded people. Did you find someone by the gates?” she asked, her face a study in tense concentration. “What’s wrong with him? Where is he? Or she?” “Here,” Hagrid said, then opened his hands to show the ugly little baby bird. “Is that Fawkes?” she asked, but then she noticed the phoenix perched on a statue by the door. “That’s not Fawkes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is it Harry?” “Yeah. I reckon he’s hurt pretty bad. I gave him a strengthening potion for birds and did what I could for his injuries, but he needs a lot more than I can do for him,” Hagrid said sadly. “I know you’re busy. . .” “Bring him over here,” she said, moving to the quietest corner she could find, then conjuring a bed and curtains to pull around it. “Put him there.” “He needs to be kept warm,” Hagrid said. “Phoenixes need heat to get their strength back.” Just then, Fawkes flew to the bed and lay down beside Harry, nestling the small bird under his breast as if Harry were his baby. Fawkes fluffed his feathers around the baby phoenix until the baby was completely out of sight and began crooning to him again. “I don’t know much about phoenixes, Hagrid, but I do know about people. If he’s bleeding, we need to treat it. Can he change back to himself?” “I don’t think he has the strength ter do it righ’ now,” Hagrid replied, brushing a tear off of his cheek with the back of his trembling hand. He had stayed strong as long as Harry needed him. Now that he was turning his friend’s care over to the nurse, Hagrid’s emotions were threatening to overwhelm him. “I have forty injured people to deal with here, and not enough help. If Harry’s here now, surely that means the battle is over?” Madam Pomfrey mused to herself. “The rest of them will be returning soon. Oh no, that means more injured people.” She put her hands to her face, panicked for a moment. “Where will we put them all?” “Why not use the Great Hall?” Hagrid suggested humbly. “Oh, that’s brilliant!” she exclaimed, patting his arm gratefully. “Thank you, Hagrid. Can you help us move them?” “O’ course,” he rumbled, blushing at her praise. “Can I move Harry first? I can take him in me pocket, see, and carry several beds stacked up, if you can get the people down there without beds.” “Levitation charms will work for that. Let me get things organized here. You go ahead and get Harry settled. I wish we’d thought of this before we put him to bed,” she muttered as she strode down the aisle between the closely-packed beds. “Fawkes? I need to move Harry again. I’m sorry,” Hagrid said gently as he petted the phoenix. Fawkes reluctantly got off of the baby bird and allowed Hagrid to pick it up. He wrapped the little bird in the scrap of blanket he’d used before, being careful to keep his head free so he could breathe. Then he stowed the blanketed bird in his roomiest pocket. He held the pocket open. “C’mon, Fawkes, there’s room in there for you too, if you want to stay with ’im.” Fawkes flew to Hagrid’s outstretched arm and then made his way into the huge pocket in Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat. “There ya are, snug as a bug in a rug,” Hagrid said warmly. “You’ll be safe now, and warm too.” With that, he started stacking beds and soon was carrying five beds at a time down to the Great Hall, followed closely by several healers with injured people levitating weirdly in front of them. Before long, the Great Hall was set up as a hospital and triage centre, with the house tables all shoved against the walls behind the staff table. Those patients with the worst injuries were in one section, those with less serious injuries in another. Nobody was in danger of dying, except Harry, of course. The castle wards had protected the inhabitants quite well. Only those who had exposed themselves on the ramparts to fight had any injuries at all, but out of a population of a thousand or so, having forty injured people wasn’t a bad ratio. Some time later, the survivors of the Battle of Little Hangleton began arriving, bringing with them casualties, prisoners and the bodies of those who’d perished in battle. Madam Pomfrey sent to St. Mungo’s for more help. There were far more injuries than she could treat, and she didn’t have enough medical supplies to treat so many at one time, either. When Ginny arrived, she and Madam Pomfrey went to a quiet corner to confer about the wounded. The Battle of Hogwarts wounded who were in the “worst injuries” section were soon reclassified as “mild” injuries once the Little Hangleton casualties arrived. Injured Death Eaters from the Little Hangleton battle had been Portkeyed directly to Azkaban for treatment there. Once they knew what Dumbledore wanted done with their injured enemies, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick hurried to the dungeons and Portkeyed the injured Death Eaters there to Azkaban as well. Most of the Order of the Phoenix casualties had gone straight to St. Mungo’s for treatment. Madam Pomfrey put Professor Snape in charge of getting all the casualties settled in beds and their care organized so she could attend to Harry’s injuries. When she arrived at his bed, she found not only Hagrid, but Ginny there, as well. “How is he doing?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “I know he has multiple wounds and he was bleeding a lot the last time I saw him as a human,” Ginny offered, “but Fawkes won’t let me look at him.” Her face was set in grim determination. She scolded herself. I will do this job like any other. I will not fall apart. Harry needs me! “I think we need Professor Dumbledore to talk to Fawkes for us,” Madam Pomfrey surmised. No sooner had she said this than the headmaster parted the curtains around Harry’s bed. “There you are,” Dumbledore said with a smile as he entered the curtained area and saw Fawkes on the bed. He bent down and patted the bird. “How’s our patient?” Fawkes crooned something mournful-sounding to Dumbledore that seemed to make sense to the professor. “Ah. I see,” he said, his face instantly sombre. “What is it?” Ginny said nervously. “Fawkes says he’s very weak. He’s lost a lot of blood. Fawkes has stopped the bleeding with his tears, but his tears didn’t close all of the wounds, and there are other things wrong with him that Fawkes can’t manage, which has him quite distressed. He isn’t used to not being able to heal wounds.” Dumbledore leaned over the beautiful bird and stroked him gently. “Thank you for what you’ve done,” he said kindly. “Let’s see what else we can do for him.” The phoenix reluctantly got up and moved away from the tiny bird, which was panting and flinching in obvious pain. When Fawkes moved, the baby bird began shivering, as well. Dumbledore did a Warming Charm to keep the bird comfortable, then gently turned him this way and that so he and Madam Pomfrey could examine him. His face grew more and more serious as he examined the bird. He straightened up and sighed heavily, then looked up at Madam Pomfrey. “Poppy, we need a healer here. I’m going to change him into himself, but his wounds are quite serious. He will need immediate treatment by a healer we can trust to keep his secrets.” “I know just the one,” she said, and bustled out of the enclosed space around the bed. She soon reappeared with a man who already looked quite tired. “This is Marcus Pomfrey, my brother,” she said as they entered the curtained area. “Are you sure he’s who you think he is?” Ginny snapped, doing her best to protect Harry. “Does he have a password?” “Password?” the healer said, looking at Madam Pomfrey oddly. “It’s to protect this student — he’s been attacked repeatedly this year, and. . .” Madam Pomfrey began. “The only student I see in here is a girl,” Marcus interrupted impatiently. “What’s going on?” Dumbledore walked over to the man. “I must impress upon you the importance of maintaining this patient’s privacy,” he said with utmost sincerity. “I will Memory Charm you, if I must, to protect him.” Marcus’s eyes widened. “It’s Harry Potter, isn’t it?” Dumbledore nodded. “Of course, I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect his privacy. I’ve admired that boy his whole life. Poppy’s told me what a fine young man he is, besides being a hero.” He looked at the bed, seeing the phoenix there next to the baby bird. “He’s the baby bird?” “Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “What kind of bird is he?” Marcus asked Dumbledore, still unconvinced that this bird was actually a student. “A phoenix.” Dumbledore’s expression was quite serious. “Who transfigured him?” Marcus said, looking at the bird without touching it yet. “He’s an Animagus. He transfigured himself,” Dumbledore told him. “This is one of the many secrets of Harry’s that you must keep.” “I didn’t know it was possible to become a magical animal. Wow.” Marcus swallowed hard, giving himself time to adjust to this new concept. “I don’t know how to treat birds,” he muttered to himself. It was apparent that his mind was racing, trying to sort out where to start. “I can change him back, but he will be in tremendous pain. Being a phoenix has kept him more comfortable than he would have been otherwise,” Dumbledore responded. Marcus straightened up and looked Dumbledore square in the eye. “If you want to Memory Charm me when this is over, or at any point during my treatment of him, that’s fine with me. It will be an honour to take care of Harry Potter. Try to leave me my medical training when you do it, though, all right?” he added with a nervous half-smile. “Certainly,” Dumbledore promised. “I’m going to put a Silencing Charm on this area so we won’t attract undue attention. And Professor McGonagall will be standing guard outside the curtains so we won’t be disturbed.” When he saw Ginny’s eyes widen, he added, “Harry’s loved ones will be allowed in, but no one else. There are a great many students who want to speak to him, you see, but he’s just not strong enough, and won’t be for a while, I imagine.” Ginny nodded. She reached out toward the baby bird, and for the first time, Fawkes didn’t chase her away from him. She touched the little bird’s downy cheek, which was encrusted with blood, then his sharp little beak, his tiny talons. Tears ran down her face as she pulled her hand away from him. She’d done her best not to disturb him, but she just had to touch him for some reason, perhaps only to see if he was really there. She looked up at Dumbledore, who had waited quietly while she grieved over the bird. “Are you ready for me to do this now?” he asked her kindly. She nodded again. Dumbledore tapped the bird with his wand three times and the tiny bird swiftly changed into Harry Potter. Dumbledore levitated Harry for a moment so he’d fit on the bed better. “Why is he in Quidditch robes?” the healer asked as he began looking at the boy, using both his eyes and his wand to examine him. “He’s the Gryffindor Seeker. When he caught the Snitch, it took him to Voldemort,” Dumbledore explained softly. Harry was stirring, moving just a little, seemingly about to wake up. “Poppy, do you have the non-drowsy pain potion at hand?” Marcus asked. “He’ll need it when he wakes up.” “I’ll go get it,” she said, then rushed out of the curtains. “I want him to be awake as much as possible so he can help me with my examination,” Marcus explained in response to Ginny’s raised eyebrows. “What caused these cuts?” he asked as he examined the deep gouges in Harry’s left arm and across his back. “V-v-voldemort made a wh-wh-whip come out of his wand,” Ginny explained, nervously at first, then forcing herself to look at Harry’s wounds clinically, not as severe injuries to the boy she loved. “It had a lot of lashes. They were red-orange and looked like fire. Harry . . . he screamed so badly when it hit the first time, but after that, he was quiet.” “You mean he passed out?” Marcus said, looking up at her. “No. He just refused to make a sound. Harry’s like that,” she said simply. “He wouldn’t give that monster the satisfaction of hearing him in pain.” Marcus’s eyes widened. This must be a very strong young man to not cry out under such abuse. He pulled gently at the edges of the wounds, trying to find out how tightly Harry’s Quidditch robes where bound to the wound edges. “This is going to be very hard on him. The fabric has melted to his skin,” he commented sadly. He began using his wand to cut away Harry’s Quidditch robes so he could examine the rest of Harry’s body, then glanced up at Ginny. “Miss Weasley, would you step out so we can examine him thoroughly?” “I’ve taken care of Harry through several illnesses,” she said defiantly. “I’ve treated wounds, fevers and other illnesses, and bathed him repeatedly. I have six brothers. I don’t need to be protected from the sight of his naked body,” she snapped, growing angrier the longer she spoke. Marcus’s eyes twinkled a moment, admiring her spunk. “Yes, I’ve heard from Poppy what a fine healer you’re going to be, and what good work you’ve done already. But I know you care about him, too — I can see it in how you behave with him. He’s your boyfriend, correct?” “Yes.” Her lip quivered a bit as she said it, but she was holding her tears tightly in check. “Then you might not want to see what I’m going to have to do to examine him. It might upset you too much.” “I’m going to be a healer. I may as well learn on Harry. He seems to need my services more than anyone else I know,” she said sadly. Marcus looked up at Dumbledore and saw him give an approving nod. Madam Pomfrey also agreed. “All right then. Here we go.” With a wave of his wand, he vanished Harry’s clothes, except for the edges of fabric that were stuck to his whiplash wounds. The boy was a mass of bruises, burns and open wounds, blood covering nearly his entire back and most of the front of his body. His legs had a few open wounds from the whip as well as cuts from other spells, and three long, deep gashes went from his mid-back to the bottom of his bum. Some injuries were still oozing blood. Fawkes moved around Harry’s body, dripping tears into every open wound, but his tears had no effect on the deep gashes caused by Voldemort’s whip. “Why aren’t the phoenix tears healing those?” Ginny asked. “Something in the spell that created the whip is making these wounds resistant to phoenix tears. We’ll have to heal them the old-fashioned way,” Marcus said grimly. “The old-fashioned way?” Ginny asked uneasily. “We’ll treat the wounds and wait for Harry’s body to heal itself,” Marcus replied grimly. He sighed at the sight of Harry’s abused body, then levitated him, turning him slowly in the air so he could check for wounds on all sides. He laid the boy back in bed, resting him on his right side since most of the whip wounds were on his left arm and the left side of his back. He put a cushioning charm on Harry’s body and drew covers up over him. They floated weirdly a couple of inches above him, just giving him privacy, not warmth. A Warming Charm was added to keep him comfortable. Marcus straightened up and looked around at the group quite seriously. “He has numerous internal injuries, some internal bleeding, spell burns and spell damage over most of his body, from the looks of things. I won’t fool you — he’s in very bad shape.” |
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