Chapter 24 The War Begins
Eyes are Watching
Hand Suspended
Clocks are Ticking
Plans upended
The War Begins
“Must be a storm coming,” an edgy voice broke the silence, “We’ve still got a chance to back up now.”
The sentence echoed through the house, upsetting dust, merging with the chill that was slowly creeping in, but there was no response. It hadn’t been a question, though, anyhow, simply a statement. Three pairs of eyes opened wide all of a sudden. Painfully wide.
The tall skinny youth that had been seated at the head of the table got up and began to pace the room. His right hand fluttered from his pocket, where his wand lay, to his left arm, which he gripped painfully, like someone who wants to claw some kind of pain or demon out from under his own flesh.
“Something’s happening mate, we’ve got to go, bloody plan or not!”
“No!” the other young man was sitting rigidly in the ancient (and very stiff) chair, staring at a huge tapestry full of names woven beautifully into the dusty material. Dead names, they were; lost names, and empty spaces where names should have been. “We’re not bloody moving!”
The third figure nodded and held up a crumpled piece of paper that he had been clenching and unclenching in his hand. His face was a sickly color and he was gritting his teeth.
Suddenly, a fourth figure appeared in the doorway. His face was drawn and pale and he looked slightly nauseous. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Shush.”
There was really no need to for that, though, because now the little chill had become a bone-crushing cold and muffled voices could be heard from outside. The Death Eaters had arrived.
“Ready then, Longbottom?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“They’ve come for us.” It was a soft whisper as they heard the door being torn down.
“No, mate, they’ve come for the order of the phoenix and they’re going to get the shock of their lives, take as many as you can down with you.”
As the Death Eaters poured into the room four figures stood there, side by side, wands held out, with grim, challenging smiles on their faces.
***
“This is hopeless, Hermione, we’ll never destroy it and find the other one in time.”
“Stop whining, Harry, we only have to destroy it not find the other one, everything can be destroyed.”
“Doesn’t mean we’ll be the ones to do it.”
“Harry, shut up!”
The raven haired boy let his head drop to the wooden table and sat there listening to his friend flip through pages furiously. All their lives depended on it. The locket was proving the most difficult one to destroy. Ron had burned his hands and Hermione had almost burnt her hair off when the last explosion had occurred.
The sound of heavy books being thrown to the floor brought both their heads snapping up. Harry began running towards the noise and rounded a corner.
“Just me, Harry, this is urgent, you wouldn’t happen to know where a good Atlas would be?” Harry just stared at his former professor like he had grown several heads. Remus was the last person you would expect to be throwing books around.
“I do.” Hermione stepped over two of the books on the floor and walked down the aisle. Her hand came up and caressed the bindings until it settled over the right one. “Here you go, Professor,” she said, “Maps of the entire Wizarding World with some very detailed notes and annotations.”
“Thank you, Hermione, I’ve got to go now, but we’re running out of time so you should get back to your work too.”
She was back at the table, her head bent over one of the texts even before he finished his sentence. Harry shook his head and watched his Professor leave hurriedly, turning the pages of the atlas as he walked. He wondered what it was for and gritted his teeth. Ron told him that what anyone else did was none of his business, that he had to destroy the Horcruxes before they all got killed because he was the only who could do it. But he couldn’t stay in this dusty library and watch them all get killed while he tried desperately to destroy it.
He looked down at the books and decided to busy himself with putting them back in their places while Hermione figured it out. She could do it, she had to. Suddenly a small piece of parchment caught his eye and he picked it up. Remus must have dropped it.
His eyes opened wide as he read and re-read the letter several times. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a shriek from Hermione.
“Harry, hurry up and get over here!” he ran over to the small table to find her waving a large volume around triumphantly, “It was because the locket was Salazar’s. The Horcrux isn’t the only Dark Magic in here that’s why it’s been much more resistant than the others.”
Her hand came up to the burnt tips of her bushy mane and Harry felt a pang of guilt for getting his friends hurt because he couldn’t do this properly, without their help. “Hermione, this is Ginny’s Handwriting, look at this, it’s a bloody battle plan –she’s-”
“Harry,” Hermione’s voice was low and had a hint of regret in it, “Harry, Ginny’s gone, alright, and you know she was never the planning type, just wanted to go out and throw herself into battle, she wouldn’t waste her time with plans.”
“But, Hermione, look at it!”
The girl grabbed it and studied the parchment, her brow furrowed and she pulled out her wand. Harry could barely hear her muttering through the pounding in his ears.
“It’s not her handwriting, someone’s put a spell on it to make it look like Ginny’s, but I can’t seem to find out who it was. Look we don’t have time for this, we have to destroy this thing before it’s too late, we’ll find out what this is all about later. Now look at the notes I’ve written. You need to perform this spell very carefully…”
***
The ground almost shook beneath him as Dean stood before the wall. He took a deep breath and began climbing up to take his new position. Once he reached the top he began pacing the long stretch that was his, his eyes fixed on the ground below, waiting for the first sight of the terrible things.
His heart was turning cold with anticipation and he repeated the spell over and over in his mind, trying to get used to the unfamiliar taste of it. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the ground at the edge of the small wood ahead and he jumped into action. A flick, a flourish, and then he brought it down in a hard sharp, movement. He quickly whispered the spell that had Slytherin written all over it. Maybe this was what courage was. Trusting something you didn’t know all about, taking a risk to save everything, a risk that could cost everything. He watched the small, fluttering creature as it zoomed off into the dark, glowing silvery in the tense air.
Finally, it reached its target and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. The results were exactly what they were supposed to be. It hadn’t been a trick. He raised his wand once more and cast the same curse again and then looked around at his friends. Seamus wore a determined expression as he cast curse after curse and when Ernie’s wand lit the air around him Dean noticed a glint in the boy’s eye.
***
“It didn’t bloody work, I’m going back to H-”
“You’re not going anywhere, Weasley,” a voice hissed from the corner of the room and Ron stopped mid-stride, his wand arm dropping to his side, “Now start acting more like Harry!”
Ron began to pace the room with an annoyed look on his face. He even shot Kingsley a few glares as the man guarded the door, but he had a strange feeling that something had gone wrong with the plan, that it wouldn’t work.
Suddenly bangs and crashes echoed from the floor above and Kingsley leapt into readiness. His wand held up straight before him and his face trained on the doorway he was now facing, the man looked quite frightening.
He brought three of them down before they even came through the door.
***
The dust rose and mixed with the stink in the air, making Neville’s nose itch. He shuddered a little as he looked down at the Death Eaters lying on the ground. Some tied with anti-apparition charms, some knocked out and some…dead. He closed his eyes as the last of the Dementor-induced images flashed before his eyes, but he wouldn’t be weak. He wouldn’t let it break him now.
They had cast the charm together. It was the strongest Patronus Neville had ever seen in his life and he knew in his heart that the nightmares of his companions were a lot worse than his. None of them moved; the four young men stood there back to back, still tense.
Suddenly footsteps echoed from the stairs and all of them turned their eyes that way as one. A small figure came clambering down the stairs, wand held before him, and announced in the familiar squeaky voice they had heard for six years: “Well boys, come on now, we’ve got a war to catch up with.”
***
Screams ripped their way through the abandoned halls of the ministry. Agonized; almost hysterical screams. There was something legible that came through the pain, though.
“You’ll never get them, V-voldemort!” Ron screamed as he writhed around on the floor under the curse, “Never, never, never…”
“That’s it, Potter,” Voldemort hissed, “Scream in pain.”
Ron looked towards Kingsley who was lying bleeding on the floor and then turned his gaze to RAB whose head was rolling from side to side as he fought whatever demon was haunting his mind. The last Dementor was approaching him and he would have his soul sucked out of him if something didn’t happen soon.
Ron’s mind was bursting with the pain. Thousands of knives were tearing at every inch of his body and his limbs were jerking at odd angles. The only thought in his mind was that he needed to do something, that Harry wouldn’t have been reduced to this mess if it was really him.
He gritted his teeth and tried to suppress the screams that issued from his mind and then he saw it. Lying a short distance from his flailing legs was a large Muggle radio. The Portkey.
He let out one more “Never!” and kicked at the stone that was within his range, his leg cracking painfully as it collided with it. He didn’t realize that the pain had stopped until he saw the Portkey hit RAB’s leg and take him to Madam Pomfrey. Then, he suddenly noticed the flaming red lock that was hanging over his eye and realized that the Cruciatus Curse had been lifted and that although his leg was still jerking spasmodically it was all over. Voldemort was looking down at him, his disgusting face full of a blind rage as he added everything up.
His Death Eaters, his finest strongest Death Eaters, had been killed for nothing. Ron tried forcing his face into a grin, but it twitched painfully and all he could manage was a frightening sort of grimace as he waited for the killing curse.
It never came.
Voldemort suddenly let out a terrifying shriek and disappeared. Ron breathed a sigh of relief and three seconds later RAB reappeared in the room with a pop, leading Remus and Susan Bones behind him. The girl leaned over Kingsley and began hurriedly muttering spells that could save his life and Ron felt himself being lifted off the ground. His last words before darkness took him were:
“The War Begins.”
